“Obi-Wan?”
“Go ‘way, Bant.”
“Obi-Wan, come on.”
Obi-Wan lets his head fall against the door with a thunk. He’s sitting where he’d fallen some time before, leaning on the door, legs tucked up to his chest. After getting back from the Healing Halls, he just hadn’t had anything left. “Leave me alone,” he tries again, willing her to go before he does something stupid like get angry.
There’s a long moment of silence and then soft footsteps. She’s given up.
Qui-Gon turns away, disappointment radiating into the Force. Obi-Wan can’t find the words to beg forgiveness.
The ship takes off.
Anakin rakes his nails across his skin, willing the hot pain and the searing water to make him clean. Get it off, he thinks. Get me out of here. How does he run out of his skin? Is the skin the problem, or the mind it holds?
Water runs into his eyes and drips down his hair. It’s longer now, grown out in the three years since- since-
Since you killed them.
A knock on the door. “Ani?”
Right. He’s wasting time. He’ll have to return to the Temple in the morning, but for now, he is a husband.
Monster.
Ahsoka rearranges her things three times before accepting that the motel room isn’t going to look anything more than dismally lonely. It’s not like she has much to spread around, anyway. She’s kind of broke.
Running away from the only home you’ve ever known will do that.
She’s already smashed her comms and ditched her datapad. She wasn’t followed off-planet and logically, there’s no way the GAR could catch up to her so soon. Still, she looks out over the city before she tugs the drapes closed.
Anakin’s grief beckons at the edge of her mind as she falls asleep.