This didnāt get posted to Obitine Week 2025 because I already posted it for Satine Kryze week and I figured that cheating. Since itās a prequel of sorts to my Day One fic, though, I wanted to post it here and on my ao3. Hope you enjoy!
The moment everything changes is quiet, still. Almost a dream.
Because dreams, after all, donāt have consequences. At least not lasting ones. Once the dreamers awakens, enters back into the waking world, the dream comes to a standstill. Real life, on the other handāitās messy and awkward and filled with regret. The people who make their choices must bear the weight of them, even if theyāre too heavy to shoulder.
That is what this night will be remembered for: the choices that are made, and all the things never said, never done.
The first actionsāwhat starts this whole messy thingāis that Satine Kryze canāt sleep, and sheās restlessly wandering their camp. She doesnāt know why; after the tens of kilometers of walking they do each day, she should be exhausted, practically wilting into her bedroll. It might have something to do with the dreams she sometimes has, where she relives her motherās death in startling detail, as if she herself were dying. Or it could be the odd emptiness she feels, not having him by her side. Whatever it is, whether itās fears of another nightmare or the need to be close to himāit is the thing that draws her forward, her feet picking their way delicately away from the one place she should be.
The second action happens when Obi-Wan Kenobi senses her, turning to look over his shoulder with a surprised smile. He knows she should be sleeping, getting her rest for the next grueling day, but the selfish part of him is glad to have her company. Glad that for once, heās not alone. Thatās why he goes against his better judgement and pats the spot next to him on the ground, where heās been crouching while keep watch just outside their camp.
The only one not here, of course, is Obi-Wanās Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn. The three of them have been constant companions these past months, bound together by the familiarity only adversity can bring, their only separation coming during the night when they sleep in shifts. This is probably their first time being truly alone togetherāa realization that dawns in them both with the same inexplicable mix of pleasure and thrill.
Anything could happen, they tell themselves, before squashing the thought down. Best not to dwell on that fact. Especially not as the third action occursānot as Satine settles down beside Obi-Wan, offering him the excess of the blanket draped around her shoulder.
He accepts the preferred blanket, shoulder brushing hers. Immediately, they can both feel the exchange of warmth and their bodies start to relax, soften. Theyāre not wrapped in each otherās armsāthat wonāt come until much, much laterābut thereās a comfort here, a familiarity, like they fit together.
They sit there in silence for a while, just soaking in the otherās presence. Then they start to talk about nothing of great importāabout how beautiful the sky is tonight on Kalevala, how fair the weather is, how comfortable the breeze feels on their skin. After months on the run with nothing more than the the supplies they can carry on their backs, theyāve come to appreciate pleasant weather more than most, to revel in it like a connoisseur might delight in a particularly exquisite dish.
Itās after theyāve praised the wonders of their climate that Satine pauses, turns to look at him. āWas it like this, on Coruscant? I canāt imagine they have much in the way of seasons.ā
He doesnāt turn to regard her, but he does shake his head. āThe only weather on Coruscant is rain, muggy after-rain, and blistering heat on the upper levels, and dank and cold on the lower ones. Some say the planet once had a full ecosystem with forests, mountains, oceans, and all the restābut Iām afraid itās been so long since the world wasnāt plastered with buildings that all we have of its history are less-than-credible accounts from religious texts.ā
Satine smiles ruefully. āMandalore isnāt so different. When I was a girl, I remember my parents telling me tales of how lush and beautiful it was, how it used to be teeming with all manner of flora and fauna. But thatās all they were, in the end: tales to be shared with children before bedtime, nothing more.ā
āWhat happened to it?ā he asks.
āWar. And generations of people who prioritized inventing new and cleverer ways to kill rather than focusing on how to heal what we had done to our world.ā
āThat sounds like a rather bleak childhood,ā Obi-Wan comments, almost saying it as a question.
She shakes her head, a motion that frees some of the locks of golden hair from her hastily tied bun. āI didnāt grow up on Mandalore. We visited, yesāespecially when my father had Clan business to attend to. But we spent most of our time here, on Kalevala.ā
Itās now that he finally turns to regard her, eyebrows raising in surprise. āYou grew up here?ā
āNot in this particular area, no. Our familyās estate is on a cliff side, so thereās no forest cover like there is here.ā
āThat soundsā¦ā He pauses, looking down as if the right word is hiding somewhere in his lap. āā¦rather exposed.ā
The ruefulness comes back into her expression, but this time, sheās not smiling. This time, her gaze is distant, far away. Lost in some half-remembered scene from the past. āIt is. Itās how insurgents were able to assassinate my mother so easily. The garden where they killed her was only 20 meters or so from the cliff-face.ā
Obi-Wan looks away, drops his gaze to the ground. āIām sorry. I didnāt intend toāā
āItās alright,ā she assures him, touching a hand to his cheek. āYou didnāt know.ā
Obi-Wanās gaze lifts away from the ground, first resting on her arm. Then he finds her gaze, and for a moment they simply sit there, taking each other in. Itās perhaps they first time theyāve done this, the first time they have ever really seen each other, and itās certainly not their lastānot for the next year or so, or even tonight.
But then Obi-Wanās gaze drops again, and the moment is broken, never to be found again. Satine, for her part, lets her hand drop back to her lap, as if it had always been there. As if she hadnāt just touched a Jedi padawan in such an intimate, familiar way.
Thatās when she makes another action that sets them further down their path: hoping to avoid the closeness that had just sparked between them, she changes the subject. Sheāll soon realize that this has had the opposite effect from what she intended; by switching to their new topic of conversation, theyāll only grow more closer, not less. But only hindsight can allow such clarity. In the moment, they donāt see where theyāre headed, what this moment will mean for the rest of their lives.
āDid you ever know your parents?ā Satine asks this softly, as gently as her fingers touched his face only moments ago.
Obi-Wanās gaze stays on the ground, face partially obscured by the shadow the moon casts on his features. āIā¦have a few vague memories. Orā¦perhaps impressions would be more accurate. But nothing distinct.ā
Sheās glad that heās looking away, that he canāt see her blink in surprise. āHow old were you?ā
Obi-Wan pauses. Thereās the second half of that question, the unspoken part, hanging in the air between them like a ghost: *How old were you when they took you? When you were taken from your family and given a new home, a new life? *Not that he sees it this way; heās always thought of the Jedi as his true calling, his true purpose in life. But it still hurts, in that particularly way that the past always does, to wonder how differently his life might have looked if heād walked a different path.
āIā¦I was around three, I believe,ā he says finally. His gaze goes distant like Satineās gaze did only a few minutes earlier, when sheād been recalling the day of her motherās death. āI remember that they were both veryā¦ordinary. Not particularly tall or short, large or thin. The only thing I can recall about them that stands out is that they both had blue eyes, and that my motherās hair was auburn, just like mine.ā
Without really thinking, Satineās fingers wrap around the long, thin braid hanging over his shoulder, the distinguishing mark of a Jedi padawanāor at least in species with hair. āPeople often tell me I look like rather like my motherāmy eyes, my hair.ā A faint smile touches her lips. āMy father used to jest that my intellect came from her as well, seeing as he had little of his own.ā
Obi-Wanās gaze settles on where her hand lightly grasps his padawan braid, fingers running over it as if trying to commit it to memory. But notably, he doesnāt move to stop her. Instead, he continues to watch her fingers idly stroke the braid, as if he, too, is memorizing this moment. āIām afraid I havenāt the scarcest idea what my parents were like as people. I was too young to pick up on that sort of thing.ā
āWhat do you think they were like?ā
He frowns slightly. āIām really not sure. I suppose Iād like to imagine they were both good, kind, honest people who loved each other and their children.ā
Her hand lifts again to his cheek as she shows him a small but warm smile. āI imagine they would both be good and kind if they made you.ā
Chuckling softly, he looks down, smiles abashedly. āWell, Iām not certain I would go that far. I have been known to be uncharitable from time to time.ā
She slaps him lightly on the arm, feigning exasperation. āMuch more than time to time! I recall you were rather than tetchy with me when we first met. Iād even be tempted to say that you disliked me, padawan Kenobi.ā
Another abashed little smile plays his lips at her use of his title. āIām afraid you did test my patience at times, particularly when you insisted on arguing with my every word.ā
āNot every word. Only the wrong ones.ā
āAh, yes,ā he says lightly. āAn important distinction.ā
They both stay like this for a moment, enjoying the warmth that gentle banter often brings. They arenāt thinking about the fact that they are seated so close now that their shoulders and hips are brushing, or that their faces are less than a few inches apart. Right now, in this moment, theyāre only taking pleasure in the otherās company, only thinking of how good it is to be together.
After a few moments go by, Obi-Wan tilts his head back slightly to regard Satine. āAnd what do you think of me now?ā
āI think I rather like you,ā she replies, smiling.
āI suppose I rather like you, too,ā he says in return.
They both chuckle at that then look down as one, both uncertain how to proceed. The uncertainty doesnāt last long, though; after only a beat or two, Satineās hand touches his face yet again, this time with almost a sense of reverance. He leans into the touch, skin warm against her hand as he meets her eyes, gazing steadily at her. Really seeing her, and letting her see him.
Neither is sure when it happened, but itās then that the final action, the one that seals their fate, begins to unfold. All they know is that at some point, in the middle of this quiet moment when she is caressing his face and he is melting into her touch, Satine starts to draw closer. To lean in, slowly. So slowly, in fact, that Obi-Wan could easily have stopped her five times over.
When the final action happens, it is with both of them choosing it, both of them deciding that this is what they want. Satine moves first, yesābut as they move together, they are both saying yes. Yes to this moment, to this kissāand ultimately, to each other.
The kiss itself isnāt long or drawn out; itās brief, gentle and tentative in the way that inexperience lovers have. But that doesnāt mean it isnāt sweet, something to be cherished forever. For both of them, this will be remembered as the first time they kissed another person in this way, the first time they have ever used their bodies to show that theyāve crossed the line from friends to somethingā¦different.
This is how they both feel, when their short kiss is over: Different. Not the kind of different that implies that they were somehow incomplete before this moment, but a kind of difference between them. A kind of draw, a pull, as if the Force itself is guiding them together.
They see it when they pause to take stock, to study how the other has responded. They can see the desire to be together, to keep pulling closer, tighter, and they move in again, this time less hesitantly. And while it is not passionate or demanding, this kiss extends beyond the short peck of their first. This kiss goes deeper, lingers longer before they take another brief moment to gather themselves, to see if theyāre both still choosing this.
When they see that they are, their lips meet againāand again, and again. Theyāre not sure how long it goes on for; neither of them really cares about particulars at this point. All that matters to them is the rightness of this, of their lips touching, of their breath mingling.
Until, without warning, Obi-Wan suddenly stiffens and turns away.
Satine blinks repeatedly, as if sheās unsure of what just has just occurred. One moment, their lips were meeting, warm and soft and sweet, then the next? Obi-Wan was pulling away as if he was never really there in the first place, like they had simply dreamt the entire thing.
āIā¦shouldnāt have done that,ā he says faintly, almost shakily.
Satine finds herself moving forward to touch him, to offer some of comfort. āObi-Wan, Iām sorry. I thoughtāā
āI know. Iā¦ā He holds up a hand to stop her approach and sighs. Drags a hand down his face. āIām sorry. I thinkā¦I think I need to be alone for a moment.ā
With that, he begins walking away from her. Just like her kiss, his movements are slow, deliberate. Satine could stop him, run to him if she wanted toābut she doesnāt. Instead, she sits there in stunned silence, hot tears rolling down her cheeks while she watches his form retreat further and further away.
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