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“That’ll be 10 credits.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. His neck was covered in sweat, his long hair scratching against it with how quickly he looked up at the vendor, “10 credits? Surely a lower price would be most suitable.”
The Trandoshan lady frowned, “Hey, buddy, I don’t know who you are or who you think you are, but if you’re going to insult my wares you better shut your mouth and look elsewhere.”
“Insult? I didn’t mean—”
“If you don’t have the 10 credits we are done doing business.”
Obi-Wan sighed and patted his pockets. Soon enough, he was carrying more fruits and less money than he was comfortable with. The streets of Mos Eisley were swarming with people, pretty unusual with the growing threat of Imperial occupation that was bound to happen any day. The market was inflated, prices escalating every month, and Obi-Wan was beginning to suffer from it. His earnings were not as decent as when he used to work for the Jedi Order, and even then, Jedi were not expected to own much in the material sense. They thrived on peace and the wellbeing of others, and so buying fruits in some backwater bazaar for survival was not something that Knights were used to, at least not outside of wartime.
This wasn’t wartime anymore, he constantly had to remind himself. The war was over, it ended with minutes of celebration, with smoking skin and tears that wouldn’t flow. But it felt like an endless loop of déjà vu: at first when he had arrived on Tatooine, he would look at faces around him and memories would haunt him, flash behind his eyes and threaten to shut him down. Sometimes he had even heard voices that weren’t, couldn’t be there. The people he cared about were gone, he had made sure of that.
The suns blinded him as he walked back to the hidden alley where he had parked his speeder. He pulled his hood over his forehead tighter and looked down. He couldn’t afford to meet gazes with anyone, wouldn’t dare. He knew he was an outsider; his hair was too red, his skin burned with the unfamiliar heat of the desert but his paranoia was a force to be reckoned with, a blasted skill honed by years of conflict and an additional Sith Lord possibly hunting him down. As soon as he saw the red linings of his speeder, he felt his lungs expand in relief. He had begun to place his items inside the small space when a voice called him.
“… General?”
Obi-Wan froze in his place. He willed his heart to slow down. The owner of the voice sounded curious, and he hadn’t heard any blaster cocking into place or any lightsaber growl of activation. He breathed deeply, calling on the Force for a split second for help. The person’s aura seemed calm albeit apprehensive. He turned.
A man stood tall, wrapped in a thick cloak covered in dirt, sand and whatever other substance one could find in the lower neighborhoods of Mos Eisley. Whoever this man was, he either had nothing to his name or was disguised with the end to deceive and trick Obi-Wan into feeling safe.
He kept silent for a few seconds, before answering back, “Excuse me, kind sir, but you must be confusing me with someone.”
The man shook his head fiercely, his hood beginning to fall down to his shoulders. As soon as it fell, Obi-Wan had to stop himself from gasping in shock and mistrust. A clone trooper, grey-haired and with bright amber eyes, eyes he had seen into for years, all different but all the same, met his and Obi-Wan felt exposed for the first time in a while. Memories of friendly fire, young screams and the death of countless allies flooded his mind’s eye but he stopped the flow early enough to keep himself from being consumed.
The trooper sensed his wariness and held out his hands. Obi-Wan noticed that he still wore his vambraces, painted in yellow patterns, swirling lovingly on white armor and Obi-Wan’s heart sunk in recognition, “Don’t worry… I, I’m harmless, sir. I understand if you’re… not willing to speak to me.”
Obi-Wan’s throat was starched with both thirst and grief, “You’re… You were with the 212th weren’t you?”
The lone trooper’s face sparked up in emotion, something like euphoria and anguish swimming in his eyes, “Yes! I-I was. I served from the Battle of Umbara in your battalion until, well. The end of the war you could say.”
Obi-Wan frowned and turned to face elsewhere, not daring to meet the clone’s scrutiny, “The war is over. I am unaware why you would think anything else.”
The clone’s attitude melted down to sadness, giving Obi-Wan emotional whiplash. He hadn’t spoken with anyone else about the war, about anything really, in a long, long time. He kept to himself and to his house on the outskirts of the city. He wallowed in his self-imposed solitude, which was only broken by fleeting moments when he visited the Lars farm to check on Luke.
“I am aware of it, sir. Believe me, every day I spend thinking back on everything I try convincing myself of it. But it’s hard.”, he chuckled. Obi-Wan’s mind tricked him into thinking it was someone else’s laugh. Someone warm and reliable, who wore a sun like an emblem and looked at him with something that might’ve been love, “It’s hard to believe it’s over, sir.”
“Trust me , then, when I say that it is.”, Obi-Wan blurted out, tired and wary and with the desire to disappear into the Force for once and for all.
He almost expected the clone to straighten up in attention, like all his troopers did all those years ago, a mirage that lived on in his dreams unwillingly. But he did not. He stayed still, looking back at Obi-Wan as if he carried all the answers. As if he was something akin to hope in their despair. Obi-Wan checked on the Force and didn’t know how to feel when he sensed the trooper’s sincere emotions.
“I’m sorry, sir. You must be very weirded out by me. If you need me to, I’ll leave.”, he whispered, dejectedly, all previous excitement forgotten. The trooper was about to place his hood over his head once again, but Obi-Wan raised a hand to stop him.
Obi-Wan tried not to be intimidated by the curious gaze on him, “It is me who should apologize. You… are probably seeking shelter or help. If you don’t mind, we can take this… much needed conversation elsewhere.”
The clone’s chapped lips gave way to a crooked smile, shy and almost as wary as Obi-Wan was feeling. Obi-Wan wanted to smile back but something on the back of his mind, memories of blue eyes and scalding skin stopped him from doing so. How dare he smile when he had caused such misery.
They climbed onto the speeder, no more words leaving their mouths as the wind would just swallow them. The trip was a blur to Obi-Wan, and it was almost a miracle they arrived at his house when all he could manage to remember of their voyage were the unruly thoughts in his head. He welcomed the trooper, not speaking of the mess in the kitchen or the lack of decoration. His house sometimes felt more like a self-made tomb than a home. Home was the larger-than-life halls of the Temple, the tree that grew in the garden, the training rooms. But home was a word he grew less familiar with each year that he went on without it.
“Sit anywhere you like. I’ll brew some tea.”, he said as he escaped into the kitchen, unwilling to hear the trooper answer back. After living alone for so long he had to gradually get used to having another living being in his space again. And as always, he started by keeping people away.
He sat down in front of the trooper, who looked so out of place in the run-down house that Obi-Wan had to double check in the Force if he was actually real. He placed the cup on his side of the table, inviting him wordlessly to drink, to buy himself some time, and yet the trooper didn’t drink. He stared at Obi-Wan inquisitively and Obi-Wan sighed.
“I’m sorry for being impolite. As you can guess, I have made a life for myself here, away from the Empire and everything. I didn’t mean to be rude to you. Please tell me your name so we can start from the beginning.”, he offered, unsure if the trooper would accept.
The trooper didn’t seem to take it personally, lighting up once more, “My designation is CT-4983, but my… friends used to call me Cub, sir.”
“You don’t need to address me as sir, Cub. I’m not your commanding officer anymore.”, Obi-Wan chided lightly.
“Sorry, sir, I-I mean—“, Cub sputtered, bringing his hands together to play with them nervously. After a second, he appeared to have calmed down, if his body language and Force signature was anything to go by, “It’s a force of habit. I prefer to call you sir, if you don’t mind.”
Obi-Wan wanted to refuse at first, horrified by the nightmares this whole encounter might cause, but he could understand not letting some things go. Force , he could understand that to the degree that he had kept a second lightsaber that wasn’t his under his bed, as if by cleaning it and fixing it he might fix everything around him. He could give Cub this one thing after so much had been taken from him.
“Alright.”, he nodded softly, afraid of the tension that was bound to break.
“Sir, may I ask something?”, Cub said out of nowhere. Whatever he meant to ask he had probably been keeping since their impromptu meeting.
“Of course. I’ll answer to the best of my capabilities.”
“What… What happened? I’ve just been so confused since… since the Order was given. One moment we’re traveling on hyperspace to Utapau to assist in securing the Separatist base and the next everyone goes quiet. I tried to talk to my squadron, but everyone ignored me. At first, I was sure it was a joke, but as soon as we landed, someone had told us that you were eliminated and that we needed to head back to the Jedi Temple even though we had no orders to and…and…”
Obi-Wan understood where his story was heading and stopped him when he spied some tears on his eyes, “You don’t have to tell me, Cub.”
“No, I do, sir. I do.”, Cub gasped, tears freefalling now. His large frame shook and Obi-Wan was regretting he had nothing soothing to offer him. He was beginning to forget how to comfort others and he realized that he should change that. But it was difficult, so difficult to give others something he had failed to give in the worst moments, “I do have to tell you. I need to tell someone. The trip was agonizing. I had never been so terrified in my life, sir. All of my friends, brothers, everyone was acting like droids. I thought I had to be dreaming. We got to Coruscant and I… I walked out of the gunship and everyone started searching for all escaping Jedi, our generals and commanding officers. We were ordered to hunt down all remaining children. Children .”
Cub breathed in deeply, eyes clouded and misty. His hands shook terribly, nerves consuming him and his mind. He took a second to continue. Obi-Wan waited patiently, grieving the painful ending of the story.
“I was so scared I stood still when I found one of the kids; I couldn’t do it. My friend, Ric, noticed and began to tell the others I wasn’t following orders. He… he shot her. I… I didn’t recognize him anymore.”
Cub looked up at him, maybe expecting punishment for not saving the youngling, or whatever else he thought Obi-Wan had the right to say even though they weren’t Jedi and Trooper anymore, not to anyone that cared. He saw him as if Obi-Wan could save him from ghosts that haunted him as well, as if Obi-Wan hadn’t tried running from them too.
Seeing as Obi-Wan gave no response, Cub kept speaking, “I ran. I snuck on a transport. Kriff, I probably scared so many people. I ran away. That’s why seeing you again, sir, is so shocking to me.”, he sniffed softly, eyes looking down once more, “I thought no one had survived. I thought I was alone.”
Obi-Wan softened, frown lessening, “I also ran away, Cub. Believe me, it’s nothing I’m proud of, but nothing awaits us back there. Thinking of the past helps no one, you must live in the moment.”, the words of his master felt hollow on his tongue, when his mind was still stuck in Mustafar, still stuck on Anakin. Time went by and he stopped moving alongside its hand so long ago he didn’t notice he eroded with it.
Cub nodded shakily, paying heed to the words of a Jedi as if the Jedi were still around, as if they hadn’t been wiped out by men wearing his face. Obi-Wan sighed to himself and took a sip of his tea. It had grown lukewarm while they spoke.
“May I ask you a question this time?”
Cub raised his head and gave a short, “Yes.”
“Why is your name Cub?”
The clone sat still for a few seconds, surprised, but soon enough a tentative smile snuck on his face and Obi-Wan almost gave one of his own. It appeared he could still soothe others, even with his dirty hands.
“My brothers named me Cub because I was the youngest of the batch. I had trouble training and fighting from the start, and my Vod would joke that since I was better at crafting clothes for all of us, I had been a fancy tailor in my past life. But everyone knew clones didn’t have past lives, so we just laughed along.”
His eyes grew sad, unseeing.
Obi-Wan spoke up, “Well, it is nice meeting you, Cub. And I know it’s not my place to say this…”, words took form in his mind, and he was afraid of voicing them, but he thought of all the things he didn’t say all those years, everything he held back because of the Code or his own selfish comfort or any sorry excuse he had said to himself, “I’m not sure if clones do have past lives, but I’m glad we met in this one.”
That seemed to break the dam completely. Cub smiled, the most heartbroken smile he had ever seen anyone give him and Obi-Wan saw himself in this trooper, in this man that addressed him after so many months and days of silence. He cried and cried and cried and Obi-Wan felt like crying too, not for the first time.
But the tears wouldn’t come.
The sky turned dark outside and to his own surprise, he offered his couch to Cub, feeling the walls he had begun to build all that time ago begin to crack. And he breathed in deeply and allowed a small ray of light, of hope, to seep in.