stoptheflow | And so it begins...

Awareness came back to Siri slowly, like she was surfacing from the bottom of an incredibly deep lake. She was groggy, and confused, and felt a little like she was floating. She was exhausted... and there was no more pain, no more white hot aching in her ribs, in her hips, no more burning agony in her chest, so intense that it made it hard for her to breathe. That was... wrong, somehow. She... she should...

“For star’s sake, Obi-Wan, I’m dying. Do you have to interrupt me now?” There was something like humour in her voice, but it was a pale and reedy thing. She was dying. And he would have to watch her go.

“You’re not dying.”

Something occurred to her then, the sentimental idea of a dying woman, and she struggled to get into a pouch on her utility belt. Her fingers plucked uselessly at it, and fear, for the first time, stabbed through her. “I can’t... Get it for me.”

It took him a moment to realise what she was talking about, but he slipped her warming crystal, the one that Talesan had returned to her, and pressed it into her hand. A faint smile appeared briefly on her face.

“No... yours.” She turned her hand, letting the crystal fall into his palm. It carried memories of things they hadn’t spoken about in years, but it was the only thing she had. “Now I will never leave you.”

“You will never leave me,” he echoed.

It took all she had, but Siri reached up, brushing fingertips gently against Obi-Wan’s cheek, before her hand fell. “Don’t worry so much,” she told him softly. She knew him better, knew he would anyway, but she had to try. She had so little time. I don’t want to leave you. She could admit that here, now, at the end. So much wasted time. Her eyes fluttered closed as consciousness slipped from her grasp...

Memory rushed back in, and her eyes flew open. She was in a bacta tank. Which explained the floating sensation. And how she was still alive. Almost frantic (but not frantic, Jedi were never frantic), she pounded on the glass. Obi-Wan. Talesan. Their mission.

What happened?

Were they all right?

Had the mission succeeded?

She could see blurred figures outside the tank, but she didn’t know who they were; all she knew is that they weren’t Force sensitive. She reached out in the Force, seeking (Obi-Wan) someone, anyone familiar, even as she pounded on the glass harder. She needed out of this tank. She needed to know what happened. OBI-WAN. That she reached for him first, called to him first, didn’t bear dwelling on; and the thought that something could have happened to him since Magus shot her, since she’d almost died in his arms, since she’d been put in the tank, wasn’t one that even crossed her mind. He was there, she could feel him in the Force, bright and warm and familiar. And he could tell her what happened. How long she’d been unconscious.

She needed out of this kriffing tank.

She needed to see him.

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"No," he murmured. He didn't want her to be sorry. But he also knew how he would feel if she was expelled from the Order when he could have prevented it. It took all of his power for him to reach up and uncurl her fingers, gently, from his robe. He took a step back.

"No. Please don't apologize for... for that."

And he, then, looked deeply regretful as he added "But we can't."

She wasn’t, not for the kiss. But there was no sense in correcting him. What was done, was done. And they couldn’t do this again. No matter how much she might long to. How much she might want things to be different, when she was alone, without a need to pretend otherwise.

He uncurled her fingers from his robe, stepping away, and she did the same, retreating a step or two, her arms folding across her ribcage. “I know,” she murmured quietly, dropping her gaze to the floor of her quarters. “I know.” Regret filled every word.

He took the warming stone from his belt and stepped towards her, pressing it into her hand.

"Let's not make things...complicated. There's a war on. We're needed. We can't....we can't entertain fantasies."

He looks down.

"As much as we may want them to be real."

She nodded, curling her fingers around it, face inscrutable. He was right. Of course he was right. This was... a simple lapse in judgement. They made a mistake. Indulged in a fantasy that they couldn’t have.

His words made her clench her jaw. As much as we may want them to be real. He... She wasn’t the only one, then. She shouldn’t be surprised, not after the way he... kissed her. “Of course.” Her hand was white knuckled around the warming stone. “We have a duty to the Order. The Republic.”

"We can choose this or that, Siri. We can't have both. You know we can't."

But he finds it hard to look at her while he's saying it. He can already feel her emotions at war, matching his own.

“I know.” He doesn’t have to keep telling her. She knows. Even if their actions make it appear as though neither of them has any idea at all.

But it doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make her sadness any less, or ease the conflict in her. Conflict she knows he can sense, the way she can sense his. It doesn’t stop her from wanting to kiss him again.

"Siri, I..." He stops. "Siri. I. Will you meet me in the briefing room when you're...when you're feeling up to it. I have to catch you up on our mission."

She nods, blue eyes meeting his, briefly, before looking away. “Of course, Obi-Wan.”

He bowed and hurried out of her quarters before he found himself unable to.

The moment the door closed behind him she sank down on the bed and buried her face in her hands.

And so it begins...

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