Chapter Text
Obi-Wan Kenobi was great at hiding. He often considered it one of his best skills, spying on enemies undetected or sneaking around the rafters of a heavily guarded building. The thing about hiding, though, is that it’s usually a short-term enterprise. After a few minutes of gathering intel or staking out a prime battle position, it’s time to slink away or make a grand entrance. Living your entire life hiding out, however, was a decidedly different affair.
He had been on Tatooine for a little over a year, now, but he was still working out the kinks of staying inconspicuous enough to be ignored. He had tried to go into the small oasis near his home as little as necessary, but taking so long between trips made his eventual visits all the more noticeable. If he went too often, though, then he would be a regular, one that the other patrons would remember easily if questioned by any Imperial forces. He had decided to go in roughly every two weeks, at different times of the day, as to seem natural but also not so forced. He would usually have a drink and buy some supplies and try to get out before anyone started a long conversation with him. It was a lonely way to live, but it was what had to be done.
On his last trip, he had seen a thin woman with a heavy shawl pulled up over her head studiously gazing in his direction from her booth. He thought he had seen a long piece of blonde hair fall out from her head covering but he couldn’t be sure. Uneasy, Obi-Wan had left early that day, not sure if she was a bounty hunter or someone who may have recognized him from a most wanted list. He thought about skipping his next visit, just to be safe, but he had no choice. His eopie was on her last bit of feed and he couldn’t, in good conscience, delay in buying her more.
When he got to the oasis, he cleared his mind and tried to feel for the presence of the mysterious woman, but no disturbances came to him, so he went about his usual business. There was a big podrace in Mos Eisley today, so the cantina was emptier than usual, except for a few vocal gamblers who were glued to the holoscreens depicting the event. Podraces always reminded him of Anakin, even though he had not actually seen him win the Boonta Eve Classic. Feeling a twinge of sadness, he gulped down the rest of his drink and was ready to be off until he overheard some pirates bragging from a nearby booth.
“Yessir, that haul is gonna take care of us f’r quite awhile. We livin’ the high life, now!”
“And the Empire’ll never know it was us, they think some anti-Imperial wackos ripped off that starship! Even ol’ Vader won’t be able to figure it out.”
Obi-Wan had to grip the counter to keep from whirling around and immediately demanding more information. Surely, he hadn’t heard right, Vader, Anakin, was dead. No one could have survived how Obi-Wan had left him.
“He’s s’pose to be pretty powerful, though, huh?”
“Who, Vader? Load of bantha fodder, if you ask me. M’brother told me he heard he was just a trooper in a scary get-up.”
Suddenly, there was a large crash on the podrace and the pirates’ conversation turned to how much money they were going to make off of it. Obi-Wan felt sick, he had to figure out a way to verify the pirates’ story. He could contact Bail Organa, although it would be incredibly risky to both of them. Perhaps, Qui-Gon could help him; they had finally started communicating through the Force. Yes, he thought, meditation with Qui-Gon should do the trick.
He rushed home, his mind racing with numerous, alternative explanations for what the pirates had said. Perhaps, Palpatine was propping up Vader’s existence until he found a new apprentice? Or maybe Obi-Wan had heard wrong, the cantina’s Holonet had been loud.
Once inside, he immediately sat down and began to clear his mind.
Master Qui-Gon, I overheard the most distressing rumor in the cantina this afternoon. There is a chance Darth Vader, Anakin, is alive! This cannot be, can it Master? The state I left him in on Mustafar was impossible to survive. I know that I should have dealt a final blow, to erase all the doubt I now have, but I left it up to the will of the Force. I could not make that decision myself.
Is he alive, Master? I must know. It’s important for my mission, if Luke’s father is alive, he might come looking for him and-
*KNOCK* *KNOCK*
“What in the blazes…?” he muttered under his breath. He had been so focused that he missed the presence knocking at his door, a concerning detail for an exiled man. One hand on his lightsaber, he crept towards the entrance, trying to search the mind of his visitor. It was a woman, and she seemed tired and anxious, which assuaged Obi-Wan’s fears a bit. A bounty hunter or Imperial officer would surely be more confident to knock first.
Carefully, he opened the door. It was the woman from the bar, her hood pulled up tight over her face.
“How may I help you on this crisp desert evening, miss?”
She lifted her head, pulling her hood back. Her blonde hair was longer now, even a bit scraggly, but her face was still as he remembered. She looked cross at him.
“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are the most infuriating person in the galaxy to find, even for a former Duchess.”
“Satine?!”
She dropped her scowl and wrapped her arms around him. His shock prevented him from immediately embracing her back, having not seen her since they had escaped from Maul and Savage Oppress on Mandalore. He had sent her into hiding with her sister, refusing to let her tell him where she was until the war was over. After Palpatine had declared himself Emperor, he never expected to see her again.
“I don’t understand, why are you here?” he finally asked, pulling back to look at her. “How are you here?”
“It’s nice to see you, too,” she said sarcastically before continuing. “I came looking for you. After I heard about what had happened to the Jedi, I feared the worst, but a few months ago, I saw your name on a Top Ten Most Wanted list and knew you had to be alive,” she explained, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I see you kept the beard, even in exile.”
“But how, how did you find me?” He was touched that she would come looking for him, but maybe he had not thought out his hideout plan as well as he should have.
“Bo and I had been trying to make our way to Theed, to see Senator Amidala, when everything happened,” she said sadly, eyes cast downward. “Of course, she was gone by the time we arrived. We made our way to Alderaan, next, to find Bail Organa, I knew he and Padme had been close. I wanted to see if he could help us find out what was happening on Mandalore. It was on the way there that I saw your poster in one of the weigh stations.”
“What number was I?”
“Eight.”
“Hm, I would’ve thought I was more wanted than that,” he joked. She rolled her eyes at him before continuing.
“It took us awhile to get in contact with the Senator, he’s, understandably, become quite protective of his family. Did you know he has a daughter, now?”
“Er, no, I did not. That’s wonderful.”
If she had noticed his lie, she didn’t say anything, as she finished her story. She and her sister had eventually been able to contact Bail and arrange a meeting, where he told them of Mandalore’s fate (it was given amnesty, in return for becoming a base for mercenaries employed by the Empire). Bail wouldn’t tell Satine anything about Obi-Wan until Bo-Katan had left, and then, he had only revealed that he was on Tatooine.
“So, Bo and I split up. She’s making her way back to Mandalore, to see if there is any sort of underground resistance, and I came here. I’ve been going town to town, until I saw you in the cantina last week. I tried to follow you then but I had no idea you lived so far out in the wastelands, I had to secure myself an eopie to follow you out here,” she finished, finally removing her cloak. “You chose the dustiest and most desolate planet in the galaxy to live.”
“It’s not so bad, once you get used to it,” he said, inviting her to sit on his sofa. “Watching the suns set can be quite beautiful.”
“Yes, I’m sure that completely makes up for it,” she said sarcastically, sitting down. “Not that I should complain, there were very few Stormtroopers here, especially compared to everywhere else I’ve been.”
“Stormtroopers? Is that what they’re calling the clones, now?”
“Yes, although I don’t think they’re all clones, anymore. I suppose they wanted to distance themselves from the war, since the conflict is over,” she sighed.
“Shouldn’t you be happy? You’re the one who so desperately wanted the war to be over.”
“Not like this,” she said softly, placing her hand on his. “Oh Obi, all your friends. I’m so sorry.”
“Yes, well,” he trailed off, unsure how to respond. What was there to say? He and the Jedi had failed and now they were all but extinct. Satine said nothing, instead giving his hand a long squeeze.
After taking a few moments to collect himself, Obi-Wan stood up and made his way to the kitchen. “I’ve completely forgotten my manners, Duchess. Would you like something to drink? You came a long way, if you followed me from the oasis, you must be thirsty.”
She chuckled. “You don’t have to keep calling me that, you know. But yes, some water would be lovely.”
“Old habits die hard,” he grinned, pouring her water and himself some Corellian whiskey. “To old friends finding each other.”
“To old friends being found,” she smiled, clinking her glass against his.
They spent the rest of the evening catching up, with Obi-Wan doing most of the listening. The less he had to talk, the less he would have to lie to her about everything that had happened at the end of the war. Plus, he was just happy to hear someone else’s voice, for once, he’d gotten so sick of his own. When it was time to turn in, Obi-Wan insisted Satine take his bed, which was a little alcove carved out in the side of his living room, while he settled in on the couch. He still needed to discover the truth about Vader, but for the moment, Satine’s presence had calmed him enough that he was able to fall asleep faster than he had in months.
Lava, fire, heat, flashes of blue lights sparking against the backdrop of machinery, fear.
“It’s over, Anakin, I have the high ground.”
“You underestimate my power!”
“Don’t try it.”
Burning flesh, anger.
“You were the chosen one! It was said you would destroy the Sith, not join them! To bring balance to The Force, not leave it in darkness!”
Yellow eyes, hate.
“I hate you!”
“You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.”
Mechanical limbs, black, breathing.
“Lord Vader, can you hear me?”
“Obi-Wan! Wake up!”
“…you killed her.”
“Please, wake UP!”
Shaking, erupting, yelling, suffering.
“OBI-WAN!”
He jerked awake, immediately summoning his lightsaber before realizing where he was. Satine was gripping his shoulders, her face filled with worry.
“It’s me, you’re awake, now,” she said quietly.
He dropped his lightsaber, shaking the dream off. “Sorry, was I talking in my sleep?”
“The entire house was trembling. And,” she added, holding up one of his boots. “This nearly hit me in the face, along with one of your bowls.”
“Oh dear, apologies Duchess. Must have been having quite the dream,” he grinned uneasily, trying to play it off.
“Don’t even try that,” she said testily. “We’ve slept in close quarters plenty of times and I’ve never seen you do this. What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, really, I’m fine-,”
“Ben. Tell me,” she cut him off, using the secret nickname she used to call him when they had first been together. Hearing her use it for the first time in well over a decade reminded him of the numerous intimate conversations and nights they’d shared back then, and that she would not be placated by his “half-truths and hyperbole”, as she had once so memorably said.
“Satine, I will tell you, but I have to ask you something, first. Does the Emperor have a second-in-command?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
He looked at her pleadingly. “Please, just tell me.”
“Well, yes, his name is Darth Vader. I believe he’s part machine or non-human, he wears a mechanical suit of sorts. Palpatine uses him to intimidate the last of the separatists,” she explained as his face fell. “Did you know him? Was he a Jedi?”
“I thought I did,” he murmured, burying his face in his hands. “I fought him, before I came here. I thought I defeated him, but, apparently, I failed.”
She moved next to him on the sofa and began to lightly rub his back. “I’m sure you did everything you could.”
“That’s the thing, though. I didn’t. I could have ended it, but it…it was too hard. And my dream replayed it all, including all the pain I put him through. I should have seen it coming, we all should have,” he said heavily.
“You were distracted by that despicable war, we all were,” she sympathized. “I missed corruption and treachery in my own government, and with how widespread the Jedi were, it’s no wonder you couldn’t see whoever this was turning to the darkness.”
Obi-Wan knew she was trying to soothe him, but now he just felt worse. It would have been one thing if a Jedi he barely knew had become Palpatine’s lapdog, but this had been Anakin, his apprentice, his friend, his brother. He shrugged her off and went to get a drink.
“I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but you’ll never understand. This is Jedi business.”
Instantly, all the compassion drained from Satine’s face. She whipped around to face him, her eyes narrowed. “How dare you treat me like I’m some simpleton who’s too stunted to ‘understand’ you! Did you not just hear me remind you of how my very own prime minister betrayed me, that my own government and people fell for the treachery of Pre Vizsla and I had to flee from my home?! In case you’ve forgotten, my dear Obi-Wan, you are not the only one who’s on the run, here.”
He said nothing, instead keeping his focus on the bottom of his glass. He deserved the verbal barrage he was receiving.
Snatching his bottle of whiskey, she continued her rant. “After I risk my life to come see you, to come be with you, you shut me out! And for what? The Jedi, who don’t even exist anymore!”
Obi-Wan’s head shot up, twisting around to face her. She covered her mouth and stuttered. “I-I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so sorry.”
“You’re not wrong,” he sighed. “There is no Jedi council, no Order, there are barely any Jedi at all. But I owe it to them, Satine.”
“What do you mean?”
He swallowed the last of his drink, letting the liquor burn his throat. Too ashamed of what he was about to say, he squeezed his eyes shut. “I knew Vader. Fought alongside him in the Clone Wars, had numerous missions together. I thought I knew him, I thought I could protect him. I cared deeply for him, too deeply. And now, all this,” he waved his hand around in a fleeting motion. “Could have been prevented if I had just done my duty and seen him for what he was, a troubled young man who grew into a monster, one I should have taken down when I had the chance. But I didn’t, and now the whole galaxy suffers. And that’s why I remain loyal to the Jedi, above all else, Satine. Because it’s my fault there are so few of us left.”
The kitchen became so still, Obi-Wan was half-sure that Satine was a figment, conjured up by his guilt, until he felt her hands carefully take his whiskey glass away. She then wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in close to her. Overcome by her warmth, he crumbled against her small frame. He had forgotten what it was like to be embraced, how it could be both soothing and overwhelming all at once.
Still holding him, Satine whispered tenderly. “This is not your fault, Ben.”
“Satine, it-,” he protested before she cut him off.
“This is not your fault,” she repeated, this time with a lot more grit.
“Then whose is it?”
“Palpatine,” she spat, gripping Obi-Wan so tight he could feel her nails through his tunic. “That treacherous old piece of bantha fodder. I never did trust him.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, Duchess, where did you pick up that piece of dialect?”
“Oh hush, you know it’s true. He manipulated us all and got away with it, there is no insult too low for him.”
Straightening up, Obi-Wan chuckled again. “I haven’t seen you so riled up since we quarreled aboard The Coronet. It’s nice to not be on the receiving end, for once.”
She sighed, brushing a piece of hair out of his face. “You never change, do you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“You always change the subject when I try to talk to you about anything important,” she explained, loosening her grip. “Especially when it involves your feelings.”
“Jedi are not really known for being very emotional, my dear Duchess,” he countered. “Balance is essential, something I’d assume the Leader of Neutral Systems would understand.”
“I never said I didn’t understand, my dear Jedi. Politics can be as tricky a balancing act as anything I’ve seen you do with a lightsaber,” she said, before letting go of him to pour herself a drink. “I was simply pointing out that the more things change, the more they stay the same.”
“True,” he admitted, adding. “You even called me ‘Ben’ earlier.”
She smiled. “I wasn’t sure if you’d even remember your old nickname, it was so long ago.”
“Of course I do. It’s what I go by, now,” he said nonchalantly.
“Really?” she eyes widened. “Of all the names, that’s what you decided on?”
“I always liked it, short and simple. Besides, ‘Ben Kenobi’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you agree?”
“Well, I don’t know how smart it is to go by your real last name when you’re hiding out from Imperials, but I do like it,” she agreed, before finishing her glass of whiskey.
“Kenobi is a very popular surname, I’ll have you know,” he pointed his index finger at her, which she playfully shoved out of her face.
“Yes, the galaxy is just littered with Kenobis, I’m sure of it.”
“Well, if you are suddenly the expert on this, what name have you been traveling under?” Facetiously, he crossed his arms and raised an exaggerated, skeptical eyebrow.
“A few different ones, Bo knows a Rodian who is very adept at making false identifications. The one I’m using now is ‘Vahla Johcon’, from the Yavin system. You’ll notice that it is nothing like my real name, my dear,” she smirked.
“My, my, you have really gotten quite adept at this whole ‘living in the shadows’ thing, haven’t you?”
She pushed herself up to sit on the edge of Obi-Wan’s counter, her legs dangling next to his. Despite having no support, her back stayed poised and straight. “It’s not the first time, I remember quite a lot of hiding and running around when you and Master Jinn were my bodyguards. And being dropped,” she added with a sly grin.
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help to laugh as well. “Drop a Duchess once and you never stop hearing about it.”
“Well, it did hurt, and I still have the scar to prove it.”
“Do you really, or do you just tell me that to make me feel guilty?”
Pointing her leg at him, she hoisted up her nightgown to show off a small but significant piece of discolored skin near her knee. “See?”
Holding her calf, he swiped his thumb over it. “I stand corrected.”
“I always thought it would eventually fade away but it never did,” she remarked quietly.
“I have quite a few of those, myself,” he said somberly, flashes of various red lightsaber beams and a lone blue one replaying in his mind. “Even if they fade almost to nothing, they’re never altogether gone.”
Still holding onto her leg, his gaze focused on the jagged scar. He saved her life that day, carrying her to safety from venom-mites, before losing his bearings and accidentally dropping her onto a few sharp rocks. His Force-sensitivity wasn’t as sharp as it would later become, but now, he longed for those days of inexperience and clumsiness. If he had never honed his Jedi training, or if he had stopped altogether, Anakin would have never been his apprentice, and maybe, everything would have been different.
“Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if I had stayed with you?” he asked her, his voice dry.
“Sometimes, more often lately,” she admitted, tapping her fingers against his wrist. Obi-Wan’s heart raced; that had been one of their signals to sneak off when they were younger. “I don’t know if it would have changed anything, but I like to believe we would have had a good life.”
Every instinct that the Jedi had taught him was loudly insisting that he grin, make a small joke, and send Satine to bed, alone. He heard Yoda lecturing him on making attachments and how they were a dangerous distraction, he remembered Qui-Gon kindly but firmly admonishing him, obstinate that he was better off to let Satine go. But, he also recalled Anakin, teasing him aboard The Coronet, calling Satine Obi-Wan’s “girlfriend”, prodding him to open up about their old relationship. Maybe if Obi-Wan had never listened to his old masters, that bright, funny, young man would still exist, and he would have his own family, his own “good life”. Gazing up at Satine, he squeezed all of those old Jedi instincts out of his mind.
“Do you think we still could? Even just for a short time?”
Sliding off the counter, Satine looped her arms around his neck and asserted. “I think we won’t know unless we try.”
With no hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her. It had been almost two decades since they had last embraced, a long goodbye the night before he and his master left Mandalore, but now, all that time felt like nothing more than a short interruption. As they stumbled towards the bed and clothes were cast off, Obi-Wan gave himself fully over to Satine, letting himself get truly lost in her presence in a way he had never been able to before. Tonight, it was just the two of them, all tangled limbs and messy hair, with none of the guilt and fear that had defined their previous dalliance. He would still have to deal with the Vader revelation in the dawn, but for now, he could pretend that he’d never left Mandalore, never watched his mentor die, never raised the man who would betray them all, never lost so much. Her appearance was a gift from the Force, it had to be. What else could explain how she’d arrived at the exact moment he needed her? As his head hit the pillow and she grinned devilishly above him, he swore to himself that he’d try to make her time here worth the while.
Obi-Wan awoke the next morning to a loud crash in his kitchen, which considering his small home, may as well have been the bedroom. Throwing on his robe, he went to investigate.
Satine was perched on a footstool, trying to reach something in the pantry, and evidently, failing.
“Do you need some help?”
“I’ve got it, thank you,” she replied hastily, hopping down with a large pan in hand. “Do you even use this? It looks like it’s never been touched.”
“Not really, I usually eat ration bars.”
She shook her head. “I’ll never understand how you can eat those. There’s nothing to them, don’t you miss actual cooked meals?”
“I can get by on them,” he shrugged before raising his eyebrow at her. “Wait, are you going to cook? Since when have you ever cooked for yourself?”
“I’ve learned to do a lot of things since I left Mandalore,” she said simply.
“Color me impressed, Duchess.”
“I told you to stop calling me that,” she reprimanded before rifling through his cabinets for ingredients. “Goodness, you would have no idea anyone lived here judging by this kitchen. How long did you say you’ve been here?”
“A little over a year.”
“A whole year and you have a house this threadbare? What have you even been doing this whole time?”
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” he boasted, theatrically twirling a fork she had laid out. “Going out nightly, being a reckless partier, letting hundreds of beings see me in good lighting, the usual stuff for a man in hiding.”
“You’re not funny,” she huffed, pointing a kitchen knife at him. She had given up on finding any substantial food and was chopping up some fruit. “Seriously, what do you do out here? It’s so desolate.”
He plucked a piece of the deb-deb she had cut up. “I’ve been writing, meditating, keeping up with my Jedi exercises, just in case someone less bloodthirsty than yourself were to find…me.” He had to pause to remember not to say “him.”
“Writing? What about?”
“Oh, mostly Jedi stuff. I don’t know what, if any, of the Temple is left and all our records were stored there. Our history needs to be preserved. Unfortunately, it’s been hard for me to remember everything. So many wars and conflicts…,” he trailed off, suddenly very interested in the tines of his fork.
Satine gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s alright, I’m not upset, just…,” he wasn’t sure how to finish the thought. The irony of the Jedi, designated peace keepers of the galaxy, having fought in numerous wars had never been lost on him, but it was especially painful now.
After a bit of silence, Satine promptly stood up and dusted off her clothes. “Well, I think that is enough of that for the day, we have enough else to do. Come on, get dressed.”
“What? What in the blazes do we have to do?”
She motioned to his naked walls and furnishings. “Look at this place! There’s so much to done!”
“Yes, we’ve established that I don’t have much, so what’s there to do?”
“Everything! If you’ve been here a year, I’m correct in assuming that you plan to be here for awhile, yes?”
He nodded, she continued. “Then we need to make this place a home, my dear Obi-Wan. Not just a replica of some generic bunk from a starship.”
“But I don’t really have much to work with, and besides, I’m not spending money on doo-dads and things just to make this place prettier.”
“So unimaginative,” she shook her head, smiling all the same. “All that time you spent on Mandalore and you learned nothing about art and design.”
“In fairness, I was pretty occupied by my duties,” he grinned in spite of himself.
Laughing, Satine went about arranging and rearranging Obi-Wan’s modest belongings. He honestly had no idea what the point was to any of it, but just having Satine around and watching her attempt to make a wall decoration out of a handful of rocks she found outside was worth the confusion.
Later that day, after she had finally exhausted all of the decorating possibilities Obi-Wan’s meager furnishings allowed, Satine curled up in his sitting chair with a dusty book she had found.
“Is that a paper book?” he asked, shocked. Flimsiplast had all but replaced paper in the Inner Rim centuries ago.
She nodded. “I found it tucked behind the sofa. Seems to just be a children’s storytelling book, but fascinating all the same. I wonder if these are still popular here in the Outer Rim?”
“Perhaps. Technology is quite outdated here, many of the droids I’ve seen are models that came out before I was born.”
“I suppose that explains why you came here,” she commented, still leafing through the book. “Less tech, less opportunities for your face to pop up on a Holonet broadcast.”
Shifting in his seat, he tried to reply convincingly. “Yes, I remembered how isolated Tatooine was from a previous mission with Master Qui-Gon. The Hutts control everything out here, they don’t seem to care about political allegiances unless it impedes on their ability to make money.”
She stared at him with a skeptical eye. “Really? You’ve dealt with these gangsters before and you thought it would be safe to hide out here? That does not seem very intelligent, Master Jedi.”
He cringed inwardly, realizing how ill prepared he was for questions about this. He trusted Satine, but if something were to ever happen to her, if the Empire was to find her and interrogate her, she could be forced against her will to reveal anything she knew about him. It was dicey enough that she knew where he lived, he absolutely couldn’t risk Luke’s well-being by telling her about the real reason he was on this desert planet.
“Well, we weren’t dealing with the Hutts directly when Master Jinn and I were here. It was right before the Battle of Naboo, we had helped Senator Amidala, then Queen Amidala, escape from the Trade Federation. We landed here looking for a new hyperdrive for her ship,” he explained, pointedly leaving out the detail about the exceptional young slave that his Master freed.
“Ah, I see,” she said, a flicker of grief in her eyes at the mention of her friend. After a moment of silence, she spoke up again.
“Tomorrow I think I am going to go back to the oasis and buy some supplies, would it be alright with you if I borrowed your eopie?”
“Of course. And where are my manners, I should have introduce you two,” he stood up, opening the door for her to go out to the eopie’s pen. She followed, grabbing a handful of feed that he kept by the entryway. “Satine, this is Rooh.”
Rooh was grazing lazily against the backdrop of the setting suns. She had found a nice little patch of desert lichens to munch on and didn’t seem interested in the store-bought feed Satine was offering her.
Sensing her frustration, Obi-Wan reached through the Force to find Rooh and urged her to come towards them. Eopies were famously stubborn but a little prod here or there was all it took for him to get Rooh to trust him. Soon, she ambled over to the couple, using her long snout to gobble up the feed Satine had brought her.
“I forgot how gifted you were with creatures,” she said, giggling when Rooh’s tongue tickled her palm. “Handy out here, the eopie I rode on yesterday was quite glad to be rid of me when I dismounted.”
“Did you wrangle it yourself?” he asked, chuckling. “My, my, Duchess, you certainly are a long way from the Mandalorian palace.”
“Well, I had some help, but none that required payment, as I didn’t want to leave any sort of money trail. This is not my first day on the run,” she pointed out. “And believe me, my dear Jedi, I am quite aware of how far from my old life I am.”
Hesitantly, he reached for her free hand. “I believe that’s something you, I, and much of the galaxy have in common.”
Tapping her fingers against his wrist, she gazed out at the sunset. “I hope we can all get back to it, someday.”
Obi-Wan said nothing. The war was over and the only hopes for the Republic were barely old enough to walk. ‘Someday’ was quite far into the future, if at all.