Obi-Wan huddled in the corner of the transport hold, wrapped in a cloak, dressed in his pants and under tunic. His hood was up, covering the obvious Padawan haircut, and he was trying to not look like a Jedi. It was hard, though; he was one, or had been beginning to be one, and he really didn't know how to hold himself differently, not without his Master to imitate. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, eyes burning from the tears he would not let fall. He refused to think about what had happened, what he'd done, the darkness that had....
The lump in his throat rose higher, and the tears pressed his eyes worse than before. He swallowed hard. He had to think, had to come up with something; he had no credits left and precious few skills, but he had to keep moving. He also had to live. He hugged his knees tighter and rested his chin on them, oblivious to the beings around him.
It was mostly a refugee ship; others had used a transport like this to get to Coruscant to escape home, and many were headed away again because there was nothing on the capital planet for them. He knew the stories. He actually had no idea where this one was going; he'd had just enough credits to purchase a lower class ticket on the first freighter going out. When he thought about it, he realized that he didn't care, that it didn't really matter. He just had to get away.
The hold was dark, filled with people and cargo, but there was a small buffet line set up on one side. He couldn't see it from where he was, but the kitchen droid's droning voice seemed to fill the room, mixing in with the soft murmur of hopeful conversation. He'd found a fairly remote corner, hemmed in on three sides with crates. The floor seemed clean, or else the dim light kept the filth from showing. No one had seemed to notice him. He was glad.
He had to do something about this bond. He didn't know if Qui-Gon were hurt, or... or dead. He forced himself to admit it, and he didn't want to know. What he really wanted was to feel the gentle tug on his braid again, but he didn't think that would ever happen. He began slowly building a wall around his end of the bond. He didn't want to break the bond, that was for his Master to do, and he'd heard that it could be painful. The last thing Obi-Wan wanted was to cause his Master more pain. Before he'd gotten very far on that wall, his exhaustion caught up with him and he dozed off.
"This one looks lost," a man's voice said softly, but it sank into his consciousness without waking him.
"I've had my eye on him since he got on. I don't think...." The woman's voice drifted off as he sank deeper into sleep.
When he woke, he was stiff. He had a good reason; the day had started with a lightsaber lesson, and ended with him curled up in this transport. His muscles were not happy with him. Still, he didn't move except to look around for anything that might threaten him, chagrined that he'd fallen asleep. He really didn't know how safe it was for him to have done so.
"You woke up."
He started at the half-familiar voice, glancing up at the young man who sat on a low box in front of him. He was human, with dark hair and skin, though not as dark as Master Windu. He was dressed in a neat, nondescript cloak, much like the one Obi-Wan was wrapped in, although he could see a blue tunic where it fell open at his throat. "Yes," Obi-Wan said warily, and then realized where he'd heard the voice. It had spoken of him as looking lost. The next words broke his train of thought.
"Are you hungry?"
The thought of food made him feel ill. "No."
"Are you in trouble?"
Obi-Wan pressed his shoulders into the wall at his back. "Why would you think that?"
"We saw you get on," the man said with an easy smile. "You haven't moved since you boarded, and we get pretty good at spotting those that could use help."
A young woman - a Twi'lek - appeared behind him and made her way through the tumbled boxes that hadn't been there when he'd fallen asleep, her cloak twitching as she walked. She chuckled lightly as she placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Don't antagonize him, Thane," she teased gently, and turned her attention to Obi-Wan. "Are you okay?" There was an almost motherly tone to her voice. He could see the blue of her tunic as well, under the cloak, and he wondered if they'd dressed to match on purpose.
He took a deep breath and forced his voice to work properly. "Yes, thanks," he said.
"You haven't eaten since you got on," she said. "You're what, fourteen or fifteen?"
He nodded warily. "I'm not hungry," he said. "But thank you." He didn't even care how she knew how old he was.
The Twi'lek settled down on the floor in front of him, her hands in her lap, cloak parted to show a loose dark skirt. There was nothing threatening about her. "My name's Genie. What's yours?"
Obi-Wan panicked. He hadn't even thought of changing his name! Obi-Wan was not a particularly common name, and it would be far too easy for someone - the Jedi Council - to track him using it. His mind spun in some fury, trying to come up with something feasible.
"It's okay if you don't want to tell us," Thane said cheerfully after a long silence. "Thane isn't my birth name."
"Mind if we suggest a name?" Genie asked, just as cheerfully. "I have to call you something, you know." He realized that Genie wasn't a very Twi'lek name, and wondered where she'd gotten it.
"Why?" He reached out with the Force, cautiously testing them, and felt none of the darkness that had been haunting him lately. At least it had faded from his mind. Maybe because he had done what it wanted. He flinched from the thought and focused back on the two in front of him.
"Why?" Thane repeated.
"Why do you want to help me?"
Thane looked thoughtful. "Because," he said slowly, "people helped me when I needed it. I repay them by helping others."
"We are from the Monastery of Bel-Meridah, in the Maitreva system," Genie said. "You looked like you could use some help, and that's what we do. We help people. We give them a place to find peace with themselves, learn new skills, become better people. Would you like that?"
Obi-Wan sighed softly. "Yes. Very much." Well, that explained why they were dressed alike.
"I'll find a name," Thane said, and pulled out a datapad. Genie produced a small card and a stylus - something Obi-Wan had only seen on a back world somewhere, on a mission - and held it poised to write. Thane looked up after a short while. "Is Bennet okay with you?"
Genie wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You can go by Ben," she said.
"Bennet is fine," Obi-Wan said faintly.
"Want a last name?"
"No, thank you." He needed to keep at least some of his identity. "Kenobi doesn't stick out as much."
"Bennet Kenobi," Genie said, writing quickly. She gave him the card. "They'll know you if you show them this." She got to her feet as Thane stood, and patted his shoulder. "Get something to eat, Ben. We'll be landing shortly."
He nodded and watched them walk off. Still, he didn't move, resting his chin on his knees again. After a moment's contemplation, he went back to building the wall around his training bond. He watched the beings around him without looking like he was, and wondered if he would, maybe, try being just Bennet Kenobi in the Monastery of Bel-Meridah.
Obi-Wan's luck ran out as soon as he stepped off the transport. Pervan was the name of the system he'd wound up in, and it was about mid-way to the rim. He'd never been there, but from the sparkling condition of the space port and the prominence of droids, it was not only highly technical, but a wealthy planet. He spotted a Knight waiting at the busiest exit point and quickly shielded himself to hide his Force signature. Turning, he started for a different exit, one that looked like it wasn't used much. He kept his hood tight around his head as he did so, and his shields strong.
Once he got to the city, though, he realized that the space port was a sham. There were beggars on the streets, some of them truly unable to work, but it seemed as if most of them were there for a reason he couldn't determine. Then he realized that if the space port were any indication, droids were the main workforce here. He shrugged slightly, not wanting to be among them, pulled his cloak closer about him, and trudged back toward the space port, shields up in case he saw the Knight again. Before long, he'd found someone willing to take him off planet in exchange for his small skills in engine work, heading farther out-rim, but they dropped him off at the first planet they came across when he hadn't been much help at all.
This space port was dirty, looking more real than the one on Pervan. He ventured out and found himself in the heart of the city, although that didn't seem very big. Well, he admitted to himself, after Coruscant, all cities seem pretty small.
The buildings were run down, but conditions improved as he got away from the port. His stomach rumbled, and he turned his thoughts to food. He leaned against a wall, closed his eyes, and reached out with the Force, trying to find where he could get food. He had no credits and, as the bruise on his shoulder reminded him, no real skills. He rubbed at it with a grimace, where the Captain of the last transport had hit him to make him leave faster. He'd managed to dodge the boot to his backside. It had been embarrassing. Obi-Wan realized that he'd lost his focus and sighed. Not even gone for a few days and he couldn't concentrate. He reached out again, and the Force beckoned him forward.
He entered a small square and stopped on the edge of it. Many people were gathered there, milling about the large cook stove at one end, and he caught glimpses of people in green handing out food. Someone brushed past him, knocking him to the side, and he pressed himself against the wall. His stomach rumbled again.
"You sound hungry."
He turned to see a young man in the same color of green, grinning at him. "You could say that," Obi-Wan said.
"Why don't you go eat?"
"I... wasn't invited. And I have no credits."
The man laughed. "You have now been invited. And credits aren't necessary. The food isn't really great, but it's filling, and it's free."
Obi-Wan took a step forward, then paused and turned back. "Why are you helping me?"
The man grinned again. "Because you need it, whoever you are, and that's why we're here." He gestured at the cookstove, then his tunic. "We're here to help those who aren't as fortunate. It's obvious you're new here, and new to the streets. Get off them at dark. That's when the bad guys come out."
Obi-Wan nodded and moved forward hesitantly, joining in the throng. He came out with a messy sandwich, consisting of a meat of some sort in a tangy sauce. It was delicious. He drifted away, slowly, paying attention to his surroundings even as he ate. He was halfway across the square, back to where he'd come in, when he felt it again. Darkness, questing for him.
He bolted the rest of his food down even as he looked for the nearest roadway out of the crowd, and spotted an alley to his right. He moved quickly through the beings, able to move faster as he neared the edges of the square. When he reached the mouth of the alley, he raced down it, heading for the space port. If he could just get off-planet fast enough, maybe he could lose it again.
There were three ships in the hangers, and he slowed, walking toward one of them. "Excuse me," he said, stopping the man that was getting on board.
The man turned. "Yes?"
"Please, sir, I'm looking for work." He didn't want to beg.
The man's eyes hardened. "I have no need for a stow away," he said coldly.
Obi-Wan moved on to the next one, a larger transport that looked like it was carrying passengers, even with the blaster marks on the sides. The ship looked old, disreputable, and maybe they wouldn't mind that he was so young. A woman stood at the boarding ramp, her manner abrupt, but not cold. She wasn't all that pretty, with short, dark hair and what looked like gills on each side of her neck.
"Excuse me, Ma'am. I'm looking for work."
She looked vaguely interested. "What can you do?"
"Clean," he said. "I can help with repairs, engine work, and cooking, and I follow orders very well." He shifted, panic beginning to rise. The darkness was already getting closer.
She considered, then leaned back into the transport. "Hey, Alan!"
"Captain?" a voice called back.
"You need help in the galley?"
"I always need help in the galley." The man who appeared was burly, broad shouldered with short blonde hair. He stared curiously at Obi-Wan. "You worked in a galley before?" he asked doubtfully.
"Kitchen, helping prepare and serve food," Obi-Wan said, hoping they couldn't see his desperation. He considered using the mind trick on them, but hesitated. He wanted to be as much of a Jedi as he could. Besides, if he ever was found, maybe his conduct would speak well for him. He didn't think it would, but anything had to help after what he'd done.
"How many did it serve?"
"Two to five thousand."
The man looked vaguely impressed. "Got a name?"
He took a deep breath. "Obi-Wan." As soon as he'd spoken, he remembered the name he'd been given, and wished he'd said Bennet instead.
"Welcome aboard, Obi-Wan," the woman said. "He'll show you where to go." She gestured at Alan and left the ramp.
The work was hard, but he'd expected it. What he didn't expect was the first blow that fell when he didn't stack the pots the way Alan had told him. He fell against the bulkhead, ears ringing, staring up at the man in surprise. "These have to be done exactly," Alan growled, and stacked the pots again the way he'd showed Obi-Wan before. "Otherwise they don't fit."
Shaken, Obi-Wan got to his feet. "Yes, sir," he said, and went back to work, focusing on that instead of the nightmare-like memories that returned of the Masters he'd had before Master Jinn.
He got off voluntarily at the next port, barely waiting long enough to pick up the small amount of credits the Captain said she owed him. She said nothing of his nervous twitches whenever she moved too quickly, and he felt her eyes on him as he fled the ship faster than he had the first one he'd been on.
It took very little time for him to find another ship, but it took a while for him to gather his courage to approach someone. He did only when he realized the darkness was back. This time the urge to mind-trick his way onto the transport was stronger, and he could barely control the trembling in his limbs that might convince this man not to hire him. He was barely ahead of the darkness when the ship blasted off.
This job was easier in that his supervisor didn't feel the need to discipline him so heavily, as long as the corridors were clean and clear. But the ship was heading in the wrong direction, back toward Coruscant, so he left at their next port as well.
The darkness felt far away, and he took a day to gather himself together and to plan. He couldn't really afford it, but then, he couldn't really afford not to. Spending a little of the money he had, he found a ship that was heading away from Coruscant and toward the Maitreva system, and he decided that he'd head in that direction as well. If he could find a place that would allow him to be, to change - that was what Thane had said, wasn't it? - maybe, even if he wasn't a Jedi, he would still be able to do some good in this galaxy. He didn't feel the death of his dream as he turned away from the console and went to see about getting a job on the ship he'd found.
"Certainly, m'boy," the Captain boomed with a grin, clapping Obi-Wan on the shoulder. "How far are you wanting to go?"
He took a deep breath, wary now. "As far as I can," he said.
The Captain nodded. "Good choice. Show yourself to the steward, he can always use help, and tell him I said you were all right." His eyes narrowed. "If you aren't all right, you'll be dead."
Obi-Wan shuddered slightly. "Yes, sir," he said quietly, and followed the man's directions to find the steward.
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