Tangle 15/? PG13 Anakin, Obi-Wan, Others
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.
~*~*~*~
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ryn’s plan, when she had laid it out for the Council, seemed to present a distinction without a difference vis a vis the original decision handed down by the Council.
Obi-Wan said, “I don’t understand. How is this any different?”
“My way leaves Kit and Stevan out of it and takes no interest in Lorethan internal affairs,” Ryn said. “If Omega is wanted for crimes committed within the Republic, and you petition for the privilege of tracking him through our territory, as a courtesy, I can give you reasonable assurances that the request will be granted. If you insist on sending a group of Jedi to Stevan directly to investigate his involvement with Omega, it will be taken as a grave insult to Clan Ardel and an attack on Lorethan sovereignty and possibly precipitate an armed conflict.” She frowned. “Make that two.”
Mace Windu looked graver than usual. “Let’s assume we are willing to take your word for all this. How do you suggest we proceed?”
Ryn drew a deep breath. “You will need to formally petition a Lorethan of noble rank for permission to pursue your hunt through our territory. I have that part covered, more or less. Then we need two more Lorethan nobles who will agree with me on your permission. I have some names in mind. The good news is, this should work. The bad news is, it will probably take a couple of days to get everything sorted out.” She scanned the Council. “But I can’t help you with the Senate. If you need some kind of authorization to negotiate with a foreign state, you’ll have to get it yourselves. Carefully. We are all walking a very fine line here, and I am going to have to ask you to take my word again when I tell you that a single misstep could result in a crisis of galactic proportions.” She caught Windu’s gaze and held it. “And I am not speaking figuratively.”
Obi-Wan thought that was an awfully high-handed tone to take with the Jedi Council, arguably the twelve wisest and most powerful beings in the galaxy, but Ryn sounded sure of herself, grounded and centered, resolute in the face of their patent skepticism, and the Council members were too steeped in Jedi doctrine to allow themselves to be ruffled by her lack of deference.
None of them knew, then, that before the Clone Wars were over, Ryn would become controversially famous for exactly this, her alarming readiness to face down far more powerful beings in positions of authority over whatever she thought was a just cause.
“The way to handle the Senate is to speak to Palpatine directly,” Master Windu said. “You have no objections to our choice of Jedi for the assignment?” If there was a trace of acid sarcasm in his tone, it was well-deserved.
“No, Master Windu.” At least she didn’t pick fights over nothing.
“Then you will accompany myself and the Kenobi-Skywalker team to the Chancellor’s office later today,” Windu said. “Dismissed.”
~*~*~*~
Anakin caught Ryn’s arm as they left the Council chambers. “Breakfast, remember? Only I’m thinking now you should come eat with us.”
Predictably, Ryn shook her head. “I need to get back and see what I can salvage from my quarters. A change of clothes would be ideal.” She cut her eyes, sharply, toward Obi-Wan, then refocused on him. “And if we get very lucky, there may be some evidence left that we can use to further our --” Her comlink beeped. “Just a second.”
“Orun here.”
“Shorty, what the hell?” Evinne’s voice said. “I tried to enter the Temple and they won’t even let me dock. They’ve got Padawans running security all over the place. What’s going on?”
Ryn grimaced. “Sorry. There was an attack on my quarters, maybe an hour and a half ago. They’ve got the whole Temple locked down now. I’ll see if --”
“Wait, an attack?” Evinne said, her voice sharpening. “What happened?”
“Seeker droids equipped with blasters melted through my windows and came in firing,” Ryn said. “And someone filled the room with toxic green gas. Nothing I recognized.”
“Ugh,” Evinne said. “But you’re okay? And Skywalker?”
“We’re both fine,” Ryn said. “I don’t think they were trying to kill me.”
News to me, Anakin thought, and Evinne, skeptically, said, “You don’t?”
“What kind of a fool sends seeker droids, toxic gas, and a couple of droidekas to commit an assassination in the Jedi Temple?” Ryn said.
“A fool who believes in overkill?” Evinne suggested. “That’s a lot of firepower, kid.”
“Not really,” Ryn said. “Not for this. Only the destroyers packed any serious heat, and who sends droidekas out for an assassination? They are completely unstealthy. Think about it. The seeker droids were modded to fire blaster bolts, but that basically makes them a ramped-up version of the training droids the Jedi use to train Younglings to deflect bolts. If there is one place in the galaxy those things would be utterly useless, it’s here.”
“Okay,” Evinne said, sounding unconvinced. “So what’s your theory?”
“I think someone wants me scared,” Ryn said promptly. “I’m not even sure how serious the attack last night was. But someone wants me scared away from the Temple.” She didn’t mention that someone was very likely Evinne’s own brother.
“Could be more than one hit,” Evinne suggested, also aggressively ignoring her family tree. “Someone wants you dead, someone else wants you scared.”
“Yeah, I’m swimming in friends,” Ryn said. “Look, I’ll come down to the docking bay and --”
“No, don’t bother,” Evinne said. “I’ll get in eventually. Listen. Is there anything you need? I mean, since your quarters were trashed?”
“Won’t know until I get in to check the damage,” Ryn said. “But everything in there has to be contaminated by that gas.”
“Clothes and basic toiletries,” Evinne concluded. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll comm you when I’m in.”
She disconnected before Ryn could say anything else, and Ryn sighed at the comlink before tucking it away.
“Lucky you have her,” Anakin suggested. “I don’t think Jedi robes are your style. But your’e going to have to wear them for a while, until she gets back, anyway. Like you said, anything of yours is going to have to go through decon before it can be used again. Same for my shirt.”
“Ah ... yes,” Ryn said. “You’re right. We should ... we should both get some clothes.”
“Indeed,” said Obi-Wan, who until now had been keeping his distance. “You are distracting passersby, both of you.”
Ryn shot him a pointed look. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before marching us through the Temple half-naked.”
Obi-Wan blinked at her tone. “We were late,” he began, but Ryn cut him off.
“Don’t even,” she said tightly. “I’ve never even heard of a humanoid culture in which it is acceptable to march a woman through a public place in her underwear.”
Seeing trouble loom, Anakin sent a wave of calm her way. “Easy, Ryn. Jedi don’t think that way.”
Ryn actually stamped her foot, which would have been funny in contrast to her self-possession before the Council if she hadn’t been so clearly unhappy. “Do they think at all?” she demanded furiously. “Who does this? It’s cruel. I had to stand up in front of the Council and argue for all our sakes in my underwear! It was humiliating and uncomfortable and cold. And every single member of the Council was wearing a cloak, but not one being offered me a cover-up. Not one! What kind of compassion is that?”
“You could have said something,” Obi-Wan pointed out. Anakin could sense both his confusion and his remorse -- he wouldn’t have hurt Ryn on purpose.
Ryn, unfortunately, wasn’t having it. “Should I have begged for a scrap of dignity in front of the Council? Would you listen to a child begging for a cloak? Would you take her seriously? I had to make them listen, Obi-Wan. I was trying to prevent a war that could end in untold deaths!” Ryn dragged in a deep breath, let it out. “I am the Council’s hostage,” she said, in a slightly calmer tone. “If they choose to have me report stark naked while standing on one leg, I will do it or die trying. I don’t even hold it against them: there is no room in my duty for a personal feud with the Jedi Council. But you, Obi-Wan ... you pretended to be a friend, of your own free will. You chose this. It is ... personal.”
She turned her back on them and stalked off, vibrating with hurt and anger, probably headed for the Temple supply room so she could stop wandering around the hallways in her black underwear and boots like an escapee from the holopages of Bad Girls.
Looks like breakfast will have to wait.
“That’s not good, Master,” Anakin said, as though Obi-Wan might somehow have missed that. “She’s really upset.”
Obi-Wan shot him the look that deserved. “No, really?”
“No need to be sarcastic, Master,” Anakin said. “Some people have nightmares about appearing in public naked.”
“She wasn’t naked,” Obi-Wan said, but the distinction lacked any real force and they both knew it. He folded his arms. “If you knew how she felt, why didn’t you say something?”
Anakin shifted his weight. Oh, stang. “I thought you were punishing us for ... for what you thought we were doing.” What we almost were doing. He looked away, unable to meet his Master’s eyes. “There wasn’t time to explain what really happened.” Not that I would, anyway. Not that it was that much better.
“Punishing you?” Obi-Wan repeated incredulously. “Anakin, surely you know me better than that.”
Anakin didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He just stared in the general direction of Obi-Wan’s collarbone.
Very slowly, as though he were approaching a wounded animal, Obi-Wan asked him, “If you thought you were being treated unfairly, why didn’t you speak up?”
But Anakin couldn’t answer that either, couldn’t explain how he’d learned the hard way that to get through a punishment you kept your head down and your teeth together and did not, for star’s sake, talk back and give them a reason to beat you down again.
Some of what seethed, locked behind his jaw, must have shown on his face, because Obi-Wan reached out to touch his arm, sensed the flinch Anakin held in check, and let his hand drop. “Anakin?”
Anakin couldn’t answer the question in Obi-Wan’s voice, because there was nothing he could say that Obi-Wan would ever understand. But since Obi-Wan couldn’t help it, either, Anakin fought down the tightness in his chest and said, “It’s all right, Master.”
“Anakin ...” Obi-Wan looked helpless, and that hurt, too. “I know ... your childhood must have been very difficult. I can only imagine what Watto thought was a fair punishment.” It wasn’t Watto. It was before. And no, Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine, but Anakin didn’t speak that thought, either. “But you must know that I will never punish you for speaking the truth. For questioning.” Obi-Wan sought to catch his gaze, but Anakin couldn’t trust himself to meet those searching eyes, couldn’t trust his shields to hold. He looked down, waist-level, letting his gaze unfocus with the ease of too much practice, and finally Obi-Wan gave up on reaching him and tried a new tactic, a familiar one: “You must learn to let go, Anakin. Even pain can be an attachment. A Jedi does not cling to the past.”
Shmi was in the past; they’d had this conversation time and again, different every time but still somehow always the same.
Anakin reached for words that would be better than what he said last time, every time: yes, Master. Groping, he found a memory that almost made him smile: “Ryn says ‘the past is what got us here’.”
Obi-Wan passed from lecturing to quizzical. “Well, that is irrefutably true, but ... what does it mean?”
Anakin shrugged, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a little, no longer tensed for a blow that he knew wasn’t coming. “She also says that the present is a starting point.”
Yielding his search for meaning to a more immediate curiosity, Obi-Wan said, “What does she say about the future?”
“That it is the fall before our feet.” The memory warmed him, Ryn’s slow grin in the Temple garden, the affection in her laugh. “Or sometimes,” Anakin grinned, “she just says, ‘Hell, Anakin, try not to throw yourself off that cliff until you get to it’.” He did a good-enough imitation of Ryn that Obi-Wan smothered a grin of his own, hearing her familiar exasperation in Anakin’s voice.
“She certainly is colorful,” he murmured, sobering. “And now, apparently, very unhappy with me. I suppose I ought to take the advice I gave you and try to make things right. That young woman is collecting apologies at an alarming rate.”
Anakin lifted his eyebrows. “How do you know I apologized?” he asked. “Since you weren’t listening.”
Obi-Wan snorted. “Easy guess. Any more words of wisdom before I go track her down?”
“Let her get dressed before you try to talk,” Anakin said. “And don’t say you’re sorry unless you mean it. Ryn will know, and she’ll care.”
~*~*~*~
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ryn’s plan, when she had laid it out for the Council, seemed to present a distinction without a difference vis a vis the original decision handed down by the Council.
Obi-Wan said, “I don’t understand. How is this any different?”
“My way leaves Kit and Stevan out of it and takes no interest in Lorethan internal affairs,” Ryn said. “If Omega is wanted for crimes committed within the Republic, and you petition for the privilege of tracking him through our territory, as a courtesy, I can give you reasonable assurances that the request will be granted. If you insist on sending a group of Jedi to Stevan directly to investigate his involvement with Omega, it will be taken as a grave insult to Clan Ardel and an attack on Lorethan sovereignty and possibly precipitate an armed conflict.” She frowned. “Make that two.”
Mace Windu looked graver than usual. “Let’s assume we are willing to take your word for all this. How do you suggest we proceed?”
Ryn drew a deep breath. “You will need to formally petition a Lorethan of noble rank for permission to pursue your hunt through our territory. I have that part covered, more or less. Then we need two more Lorethan nobles who will agree with me on your permission. I have some names in mind. The good news is, this should work. The bad news is, it will probably take a couple of days to get everything sorted out.” She scanned the Council. “But I can’t help you with the Senate. If you need some kind of authorization to negotiate with a foreign state, you’ll have to get it yourselves. Carefully. We are all walking a very fine line here, and I am going to have to ask you to take my word again when I tell you that a single misstep could result in a crisis of galactic proportions.” She caught Windu’s gaze and held it. “And I am not speaking figuratively.”
Obi-Wan thought that was an awfully high-handed tone to take with the Jedi Council, arguably the twelve wisest and most powerful beings in the galaxy, but Ryn sounded sure of herself, grounded and centered, resolute in the face of their patent skepticism, and the Council members were too steeped in Jedi doctrine to allow themselves to be ruffled by her lack of deference.
None of them knew, then, that before the Clone Wars were over, Ryn would become controversially famous for exactly this, her alarming readiness to face down far more powerful beings in positions of authority over whatever she thought was a just cause.
“The way to handle the Senate is to speak to Palpatine directly,” Master Windu said. “You have no objections to our choice of Jedi for the assignment?” If there was a trace of acid sarcasm in his tone, it was well-deserved.
“No, Master Windu.” At least she didn’t pick fights over nothing.
“Then you will accompany myself and the Kenobi-Skywalker team to the Chancellor’s office later today,” Windu said. “Dismissed.”
~*~*~*~
Anakin caught Ryn’s arm as they left the Council chambers. “Breakfast, remember? Only I’m thinking now you should come eat with us.”
Predictably, Ryn shook her head. “I need to get back and see what I can salvage from my quarters. A change of clothes would be ideal.” She cut her eyes, sharply, toward Obi-Wan, then refocused on him. “And if we get very lucky, there may be some evidence left that we can use to further our --” Her comlink beeped. “Just a second.”
“Orun here.”
“Shorty, what the hell?” Evinne’s voice said. “I tried to enter the Temple and they won’t even let me dock. They’ve got Padawans running security all over the place. What’s going on?”
Ryn grimaced. “Sorry. There was an attack on my quarters, maybe an hour and a half ago. They’ve got the whole Temple locked down now. I’ll see if --”
“Wait, an attack?” Evinne said, her voice sharpening. “What happened?”
“Seeker droids equipped with blasters melted through my windows and came in firing,” Ryn said. “And someone filled the room with toxic green gas. Nothing I recognized.”
“Ugh,” Evinne said. “But you’re okay? And Skywalker?”
“We’re both fine,” Ryn said. “I don’t think they were trying to kill me.”
News to me, Anakin thought, and Evinne, skeptically, said, “You don’t?”
“What kind of a fool sends seeker droids, toxic gas, and a couple of droidekas to commit an assassination in the Jedi Temple?” Ryn said.
“A fool who believes in overkill?” Evinne suggested. “That’s a lot of firepower, kid.”
“Not really,” Ryn said. “Not for this. Only the destroyers packed any serious heat, and who sends droidekas out for an assassination? They are completely unstealthy. Think about it. The seeker droids were modded to fire blaster bolts, but that basically makes them a ramped-up version of the training droids the Jedi use to train Younglings to deflect bolts. If there is one place in the galaxy those things would be utterly useless, it’s here.”
“Okay,” Evinne said, sounding unconvinced. “So what’s your theory?”
“I think someone wants me scared,” Ryn said promptly. “I’m not even sure how serious the attack last night was. But someone wants me scared away from the Temple.” She didn’t mention that someone was very likely Evinne’s own brother.
“Could be more than one hit,” Evinne suggested, also aggressively ignoring her family tree. “Someone wants you dead, someone else wants you scared.”
“Yeah, I’m swimming in friends,” Ryn said. “Look, I’ll come down to the docking bay and --”
“No, don’t bother,” Evinne said. “I’ll get in eventually. Listen. Is there anything you need? I mean, since your quarters were trashed?”
“Won’t know until I get in to check the damage,” Ryn said. “But everything in there has to be contaminated by that gas.”
“Clothes and basic toiletries,” Evinne concluded. “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll comm you when I’m in.”
She disconnected before Ryn could say anything else, and Ryn sighed at the comlink before tucking it away.
“Lucky you have her,” Anakin suggested. “I don’t think Jedi robes are your style. But your’e going to have to wear them for a while, until she gets back, anyway. Like you said, anything of yours is going to have to go through decon before it can be used again. Same for my shirt.”
“Ah ... yes,” Ryn said. “You’re right. We should ... we should both get some clothes.”
“Indeed,” said Obi-Wan, who until now had been keeping his distance. “You are distracting passersby, both of you.”
Ryn shot him a pointed look. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before marching us through the Temple half-naked.”
Obi-Wan blinked at her tone. “We were late,” he began, but Ryn cut him off.
“Don’t even,” she said tightly. “I’ve never even heard of a humanoid culture in which it is acceptable to march a woman through a public place in her underwear.”
Seeing trouble loom, Anakin sent a wave of calm her way. “Easy, Ryn. Jedi don’t think that way.”
Ryn actually stamped her foot, which would have been funny in contrast to her self-possession before the Council if she hadn’t been so clearly unhappy. “Do they think at all?” she demanded furiously. “Who does this? It’s cruel. I had to stand up in front of the Council and argue for all our sakes in my underwear! It was humiliating and uncomfortable and cold. And every single member of the Council was wearing a cloak, but not one being offered me a cover-up. Not one! What kind of compassion is that?”
“You could have said something,” Obi-Wan pointed out. Anakin could sense both his confusion and his remorse -- he wouldn’t have hurt Ryn on purpose.
Ryn, unfortunately, wasn’t having it. “Should I have begged for a scrap of dignity in front of the Council? Would you listen to a child begging for a cloak? Would you take her seriously? I had to make them listen, Obi-Wan. I was trying to prevent a war that could end in untold deaths!” Ryn dragged in a deep breath, let it out. “I am the Council’s hostage,” she said, in a slightly calmer tone. “If they choose to have me report stark naked while standing on one leg, I will do it or die trying. I don’t even hold it against them: there is no room in my duty for a personal feud with the Jedi Council. But you, Obi-Wan ... you pretended to be a friend, of your own free will. You chose this. It is ... personal.”
She turned her back on them and stalked off, vibrating with hurt and anger, probably headed for the Temple supply room so she could stop wandering around the hallways in her black underwear and boots like an escapee from the holopages of Bad Girls.
Looks like breakfast will have to wait.
“That’s not good, Master,” Anakin said, as though Obi-Wan might somehow have missed that. “She’s really upset.”
Obi-Wan shot him the look that deserved. “No, really?”
“No need to be sarcastic, Master,” Anakin said. “Some people have nightmares about appearing in public naked.”
“She wasn’t naked,” Obi-Wan said, but the distinction lacked any real force and they both knew it. He folded his arms. “If you knew how she felt, why didn’t you say something?”
Anakin shifted his weight. Oh, stang. “I thought you were punishing us for ... for what you thought we were doing.” What we almost were doing. He looked away, unable to meet his Master’s eyes. “There wasn’t time to explain what really happened.” Not that I would, anyway. Not that it was that much better.
“Punishing you?” Obi-Wan repeated incredulously. “Anakin, surely you know me better than that.”
Anakin didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He just stared in the general direction of Obi-Wan’s collarbone.
Very slowly, as though he were approaching a wounded animal, Obi-Wan asked him, “If you thought you were being treated unfairly, why didn’t you speak up?”
But Anakin couldn’t answer that either, couldn’t explain how he’d learned the hard way that to get through a punishment you kept your head down and your teeth together and did not, for star’s sake, talk back and give them a reason to beat you down again.
Some of what seethed, locked behind his jaw, must have shown on his face, because Obi-Wan reached out to touch his arm, sensed the flinch Anakin held in check, and let his hand drop. “Anakin?”
Anakin couldn’t answer the question in Obi-Wan’s voice, because there was nothing he could say that Obi-Wan would ever understand. But since Obi-Wan couldn’t help it, either, Anakin fought down the tightness in his chest and said, “It’s all right, Master.”
“Anakin ...” Obi-Wan looked helpless, and that hurt, too. “I know ... your childhood must have been very difficult. I can only imagine what Watto thought was a fair punishment.” It wasn’t Watto. It was before. And no, Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine, but Anakin didn’t speak that thought, either. “But you must know that I will never punish you for speaking the truth. For questioning.” Obi-Wan sought to catch his gaze, but Anakin couldn’t trust himself to meet those searching eyes, couldn’t trust his shields to hold. He looked down, waist-level, letting his gaze unfocus with the ease of too much practice, and finally Obi-Wan gave up on reaching him and tried a new tactic, a familiar one: “You must learn to let go, Anakin. Even pain can be an attachment. A Jedi does not cling to the past.”
Shmi was in the past; they’d had this conversation time and again, different every time but still somehow always the same.
Anakin reached for words that would be better than what he said last time, every time: yes, Master. Groping, he found a memory that almost made him smile: “Ryn says ‘the past is what got us here’.”
Obi-Wan passed from lecturing to quizzical. “Well, that is irrefutably true, but ... what does it mean?”
Anakin shrugged, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a little, no longer tensed for a blow that he knew wasn’t coming. “She also says that the present is a starting point.”
Yielding his search for meaning to a more immediate curiosity, Obi-Wan said, “What does she say about the future?”
“That it is the fall before our feet.” The memory warmed him, Ryn’s slow grin in the Temple garden, the affection in her laugh. “Or sometimes,” Anakin grinned, “she just says, ‘Hell, Anakin, try not to throw yourself off that cliff until you get to it’.” He did a good-enough imitation of Ryn that Obi-Wan smothered a grin of his own, hearing her familiar exasperation in Anakin’s voice.
“She certainly is colorful,” he murmured, sobering. “And now, apparently, very unhappy with me. I suppose I ought to take the advice I gave you and try to make things right. That young woman is collecting apologies at an alarming rate.”
Anakin lifted his eyebrows. “How do you know I apologized?” he asked. “Since you weren’t listening.”
Obi-Wan snorted. “Easy guess. Any more words of wisdom before I go track her down?”
“Let her get dressed before you try to talk,” Anakin said. “And don’t say you’re sorry unless you mean it. Ryn will know, and she’ll care.”