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New Fic: Piece of the Past

Piece of the Past
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars
Rated: G
Category: Angst, Implied Past Obitine. Obi-Wan Focus.
Time Frame: Post-ROTS, Pre-ANH.
Spoilers: Nothing specific, but one needs to know Satine. A knowledge of Beskar Ore  and its native Mandalore helps, too.
Word Count: 1150
Summary: Jedi aren’t supposed to form attachments. Too bad it doesn’t really work that way.
Note: It’s Revenge of the Fifth. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.


xxx

He’d had it for ages.

Just a thumb-sized chunk of it that for years had sometimes lived in a pocket but usually managed to find its way to the bottom of his satchel during his travels.

He’d forget about it until he rearranged for a long trip or dumped the bag out to find something small.

Then, as it tumbled out, he’d remember so many things he’d rather forget.

And every time, he’d think about throwing it away; about letting it loose in space or dropping it into a garbage bin or just leaving it on the ground for someone else to find.

But he never did.

He’d always put it back where he found it, or Force help him, tuck it back in his pocket again for a bit before eventually it ended up back in the satchel until the next time it wormed its way into his consciousness.

Tonight was one of those nights. He’d been moving in, putting his meagre belongings into some sort of order is his new home, such as it was.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d unpacked, or when home was more than where he laid his head.

But he wasn’t going anywhere for a while, so he’d finally done it.

Of course, the fact that this little hovel had been abandoned didn’t hurt – the price was certainly right, anyway. It wasn’t much to look at, but it would do.

And truth be told, despite the maintenance that went along with his new home, Obi-Wan Kenobi was looking forward to sleeping without sand blowing up his nose for once.

So he unpacked.

He folded his spare tunic and put it in the dresser still in the corner.

He hung his robe on a peg by the door.

He found places for all the bits and bobs of a life well-traveled.

And after a very long time, he even put Anakin’s lightsaber out of sight and out of mind.

Finally, his bag seemed empty, and his belongings were put away.

He turned the satchel over and shook it one last time, satisfied with his work for the day.

A dull thunk sounded, and he looked down.

And there it was, laying on the floor of his new home – a thumb-sized chunk of beskar ore he’d been carrying around with him for far longer than he cared to admit.

He snorted and shook his head slightly, because of course it had to show up now, when he’d already used up every bit of his self-control to  avoid smashing Anakin’s blade into tiny bits.

He nearly drew his own lightsaber, intent on destroying the rock, but he knew that wouldn’t work.

No, that wouldn’t do at all. He knew from experience, both in battle and alone in his own chambers, that beskar ore couldn’t be cut with his blade. This wasn’t his first pod race.

So instead, after staring at it for a minute, he simply walked away.

He didn’t have the energy for it tonight. He couldn’t find it a place in his new home just yet. He couldn’t pick it up and mull over it as he had Anakin’s blade. He couldn’t throw it into the sands and never think about it again. He simply couldn’t deal with it at all just then.

So he turned on his heel and left it there on the ground, looking for all the world like a simple rock to the untrained eye.

He wandered to the back of the dwelling to a corner relatively free of debris and dust, where he’d arranged his few blankets into a makeshift bed earlier that day. The sun was rapidly setting, so he figured it was as good a time as any to turn in.

He flopped onto his pallet and sighed.

He tried not to think about the rock – and failed, of course. His mind was drawn to it and thoughts whirled in his head like a sandstorm. He sighed again, thinking sleep would be a long time coming. But despite his mental activity, his body was tired. It had been a long day.

So he found himself drifting off far sooner than he’d expected. A small smile graced his lips as he fell asleep, grateful for the minor miracle of a rest well-earned.

That night, he dreamed of her. Of things he simultaneously wanted to forget and longed to remember.

And when he woke, after a small breakfast of stale bread, he headed to Anchorhead.

He took along that small piece of beskar ore in his pocket, intent on selling it. Even a chunk its size could fetch a small fortune, and frankly he needed the money. His hut was nice enough, considering the alternatives available to him, but Obi-Wan had lived too long in high society not to crave at least a generator. His beskar would go a long way toward making his hovel a home.

But as he stood outside the small jeweler’s shop, fiddling with the ore in one hand and frankly amazed that such a business could survive on Tatooine, he realized he could get much more for it if he took the ore to Mos Eisley. The scruffy underbelly of that city would better appreciate its unique qualities.

And Mos Eisley was a lot farther than he’d planned to go that day. He told himself he really should sell it another time. After a moment, he nodded to himself. His decision made, he tossed the ore up in the air once, caught it, and put it back in his pocket.

He finished his shopping and went home, satisfied with himself.

Yes, he’d sell it the next time he went to Mos Eisley. That would do nicely.

He worked on his hut nearly continuously for the next two weeks, somehow managing to find most everything he needed locally. But eventually, he had to make a trip to the big city (at least by Tatooine standards) for supplies he simply couldn’t obtain in the Wastes.

So he caught a transport to Mos Eisley. He made sure to take the ore with him, remembering his decision. But somehow, he was too busy rounding up parts for his now mostly functional moisture vaporator to remember to seek out an armor maker or a weapons dealer or a metallurgist who might be interested in his treasure.

And the next time he made it out that way, he forgot to bring the ore, having set it on his newly-constructed mantle one day when it was weighing too heavily in his pocket while he worked.

And so it went until Obi-Wan Kenobi left Tatooine in the company of a young, blond stargazer.

That chunk of beskar ore continued to be his silent companion – sometimes barely remembered and sometimes painfully present, but never entirely absent.

Never able to be excised. Not even with a lightsaber.

Just like his time on Mandalore.

A/N: For my non-Clone-Wars types - Beskar Ore is mined only on Mandalore and its moons. It is the only known material able to withstand a lightsaber strike. Satine Kryze and Obi-Wan Kenobi met, flirted, and fell in love on Mandalore. But Obi-Wan is a Jedi of the old order. You do the math from there.

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