Second Time for Everything: Padawan Mine Chapter 1: Arriving Again
Crackling lightening, screams, and a burst of light.
A swamp, hurt and confusion.
Denial, burning pain, an unnatural absence.
Biting cold, but finally dropped defences.
Watching, waiting, watching.
Victory, pride, and the faintest tinge of guilty relief.
Cutting, burning pain across the neck, bringing a slight success finally.
Arid heat, loneliness, and the most intense grief and betrayal imaginable.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Death, destruction, the Force crying out-
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Fighting, fighting, so tired of the endless fighting.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Pride and companionship, brief spikes of fear soon over.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Bitter grief, put aside for the sake of the young one.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Satisfaction and companionship, fear and confusion taking over then dismissed.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Desperation and anger and sweet relief, a sense of safety.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Reach for the desperation that came before the relief.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Push away from that relief. Not yet; go further back.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Not Mustafar, back, find that desperation.
Heartbreak, twirling sabers, smoke and rage and pain.
Twirling sabers. Step, parry, slash, step.
He knew this routine. This fight.
He ducked and parried and twisted the blows he knew were coming, dancing over the obstacles he knew were beneath his feet, landing hits he knew were his and avoiding lave he knew was flowing.
He knew this fight. He'd fought it in his dreams for years.
It had been so like and yet unlike the practise spars, with each of them knowing exactly what to expect, but now it was laced with fear, heartbreak, rage, grief, determination…so different from the almost playful fights.
There wasn't much beyond the clash of sabers, the hum of emotion-laden Force, and the back-of-the-mind awareness of heat and smoke and lava, uneven ground and collapsing structures.
Soresu kata five, then three, then eleven. Ataru six. Soresu nine, fourteen, Shien twelve, Soresu one, Makashi four, Soresu two, seven, ten. Mixing up styles, but never enough. They were perfectly matched, equals.
"It's over, Anakin. I have the high ground," he said, words and memories echoing each other. He desperately wanted Anakin to yield this time.
But…the vision before him…was projected on the inside of his eyelids.
Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his eyes. He was being watched fearfully by a bunch of initiates, and with concern by two masters.
The lightsaber in his hand was his first, the one he'd lost on Naboo. His free hand touched his temple, where his braid should hang if he was a Padawan.
Nothing. He'd gone back enough. He'd succeeded.
Obi-Wan Kenobi felt a flash of triumph, and fainted.
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"What did you say happened to him?" Garen Muln asked in an undertone.
"He just went into some sort of trance during saber class," Bant Erin replied. "He was fighting and moving over rough ground, but there wasn't anyone or anything there. He was projecting. Heat and smoke, a duel, an awful lot of pain deep down inside. It was awful. Then he said 'it's over Anakin, I have the ground', came out of it and passed out."
"Who's Anakin?" Reeft asked.
Obi-Wan decided it was time to let them know he'd awoken. He blinked his eyes open, sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Bant, Garen, Reeft," he said in greeting. "When is it?"
"About an hour before late meal," Bant answered. She laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Are you okay? The healer should be coming soon. You might be out in time to eat with us."
"That…would be great," Obi-Wan said absently, because it would be great. But there were more important things to worry about, than him simply enjoying being with his three best friends. Friends he'd seen die, lit the pyres, mourned.
No. Not this time. It would be better.
"Ah- what's the date?" he asked.
Garen frowned, and told him.
It was about a month before his mission to Bandomeer, where Qui-Gon took him as Padawan.
"You haven't lost that much time, Obi-Wan," Reeft said, trying to snap him out of the near-daze brought on by his astonishing success.
Master Healer Theela arrived. "Initiate Kenobi," she said brusquely "Care to explain what happened?"
Obi-Wan's mouth went dry. What could he possibly say? He and Anakin had agreed to keep the story to themselves, except for a few trusted people, for fear they'd be locked up as insane.
"I'm not sure," he said at last. "I don't remember clearly."
The healer frowned, but said nothing. Good. The vague plan wouldn't begin until he left the temple.
