Chapter Text
Obi-wan
I lie in my bunk, staring up at the rattling durasteel roof with eyes that feel as though they will pop out. My mind is blank and I am wordless as Quinlan shouts at me from the cockpit, though I barely register him mention something about 'beats'. This certainly isn't the first time I have suffered from insomnia, or wanted the people in my life to give me space; but they always interest themselves in me.
My weary machinations are forcibly shunned by xanthas booming through the rusty old intercom on the transport ship. I curse, dreading whatever this kriffing Jedi has planned for me.
The speakers squeak in an ear splittingly high pitch, before Quin's overly enthusiastic voice shouts out over the poor excuse for music; "Alright! Mix-Master Vos aboard the party cruiser, is everyone having a good time?! Cheer if you want it louder!"
At least one of us is having fun.
He snickers down the communication, and continues; "Free cocktails for whoever guesses our destination! You get three tries!" I blink slowly at the wall and remain silent. Surely the entire council did not agree to this?
The xanthas grow louder again as I feel the ship jolt into hyperspace. Moments later, the doorway slides open with a hiss and Quin shimmies through it, with the hugest grin I've ever seen on his face. I roll over to face him, displaying a serious expression.
"Come on; you need this, I want this, and the Republic is paying- what's not to love?" He laughs boisterously, dancing over to the bunk and resting his huge forearms on it.
I feel as though my face is about to drop off, so I grunt; "Please, must we really do this?"
"Yes. Quit complaining, we aren't even there yet." He chuckles and continues; "Zeltros. We're visiting Zeltros- don't worry though; I'll slip you those free cocktails when the judges aren't looking." He titters, still fooling around.
"Pardon?" I frown and sit up, staring at his golden face tattoo. My voice is stern as I continue; "Tell me you're joking."
Quinlan smiles mischievously, shifting his weight onto one side. "The Council might not know, obviously." Pushing off the bed, he shuffles into the centre of the room and spins whilst playing air-drums.
I watch him, a rush of panic forming beads on my brow and palms. “Take me home. You know full well where we are meant to be headed. Zeltros is definitely not-"
"It's going to be awesome and you know it!" He calls out over the thumping tunes, avoiding the bigger issue. "We'll be there any minute. Hang in there Obi-wan, you old Akk-dog!" He leaps back into the cockpit, before I can respond.
This is worse than I had imagined. Zeltros is the pleasure planet of the Galaxy, what in black holes does Quin think it’s going to do for me? Aside from embarrass and irritate me down to my midichlorians. "It's what he lives for, I swear..." I sigh, burying my face into the crease of my elbow.
* * *
When I wake up, his sassy face is looming over me. I blink slowly, coming to terms with the fact I achieved sleep for the first time in days. I realise he's not just peering at me, but trailing his hand over my cheek mockingly. "Hey, is this how lover boy does it?" He laughs hysterically, sitting on my knees and crushing them with his immense weight.
I growl and kick my feet in tired protest. "Get off me."
He does so, chuckling as he hops down from the bunk and points with both hands toward the airlock theatrically. "Let's go party, beardy!"
I notice he is wearing a distastefully loud shirt covered in multi coloured Aiwha patterns, and immediately feel sick- with a lingering sense of anticipation… Making me wonder if I won't hate this as much as I thought.
Kriff. He's already winning.
"Get outta those robes Kenobi, I'll wait for you outside." With merry whistles he approaches the door, pressing a button on the console beside it. "Fresh clothes on the chair!"
With a hiss of warm air, he disappears into the blinding sunlight with our suitcases in each hand.
Already I look and feel ridiculous as I stand beside Quinlan at the reception desk of the hotel lobby. The place is elaborate and beautiful, yet oddly peaceful. It's no surprise so many visitors never leave. The warm air is thick with incense, and my own chagrin.
"I'm seriously considering a rescue call to Windu." I mumble, watching as the blue haired, and pink skinned male Zeltron at the desk fills in several papers before offering them to Vos. He wears a most pleasant smile.
Quin takes a pen and signs, quickly passing them over to me. "Mace actually agreed to the vacation idea." He pushes mirrored sunglasses up his nose, with a taunting smirk. I want to stuff the papers in his smug mouth. Exhaling, I stare down at the dotted line that would seal my fate.
"I can't believe this..." My voice is quiet as I resign myself in a single scribble.
"Chill out man; you only have a few days of this bliss." He nods at me sagely, leaning on the counter and pinching several boiled Zoosberry sweets from a complementary bowl.
"A few days of harassment." I mutter, shaking my head as the receptionist hands over our separate key cards.
"Make the most of it!"
I huff in mildly humoured defeat. The male Zeltron cheerfully welcomes us, and passes me a map of the hotel- which Quin snatches immediately. We politely thank the staff, and head up to our rooms with our suitcases.
As we board the glass elevator and begin our ascent above the vibrant hotel grounds, I notice a large beach with a small 'Beach Huttball' court on it. There are various bright turquoise swimming pools, a pool bar, and sunshades with fancy loungers littered everywhere.
My attention is stripped from the scene as Vos begins reeling off all the activities he wants to partake in. For a moment I smile, reminded of our days as Padawans. He hasn't changed. Refusing to give him any joy in suspecting I am remotely enjoying his company; I quickly replace my expression with a grave one.
"Now, whatever you do; don't drink the Zeltron spiced wines! They'll screw you over, you'll be dreaming of Skywalker playing-"
"Quinlan, stop. Please quit bringing him up already- and I know about the pink item labels." I roll my eyes, attempting to stop his train of thought. Possibly mine too.
"You're right, you came to escape it all." He smiles, pushing his shades into his dreadlocks as the elevator reaches our floor. "It seems you know more about Zeltrons than you let on." He shoots me a wink as we alight the glass case. After walking through labyrinths of lavishly decorated hallways, we arrive at two doors opposite one another.
"Promise me you'll shut off your holocom?" He quirks a brow at me in an unusually stern manner. I agree, and tell him I will join him later. He hurls jestful abuse at me, barely dropping his suitcase in his quarters before heading back to the elevator.
I often wonder who let him become a Jedi Master.
My room is huge and nothing short of glamorous; with it's wide, sweeping windows and thin curtains that drape the corners. The entire space is immaculate in white and gold, utterly breath-taking. I step inside and drop my suitcase on the floor. I picture filthy images as I stare at the enormous bed, though quickly pull myself together and begin unpacking my things. In typical fashion I keep everything tidy and hide the suitcase in the bottom of the wardrobe, where I stop and remove these bold garments.
A sense of calm washes over me as I wander over to the windows, and open a small glass door. A cool, tropical breeze flutters my hair when I step out onto my own personal balcony, hidden from view with foliage and cleverly designed walls. It's just as well; I wouldn't want to treat the other guests to a view of my naked body.
After some reflection, I retreat back into the bedroom and flop down onto the velveteen sheets. My fingers stroke the fresh scented fabric. Each sensation is so wonderful; I am sent into a shallow hypnosis.
* * *
I have no idea how many hours I spend laying here, wrapped up in peaceful indulgence.
Vos brought me here for a reason, side-stepping the Council with the excuse of my fatigue. This is the type of place one visits after a bad break-up, and that's exactly how he reads my situation; he expects me to rebound on pheromones and just get over it.
However, this is Anakin; the clinginess and guilt his name alone elicits in me, is something Quinlan hasn’t considered. I cannot simply 'get over' someone who is such a large part of my life.
We are tied together, confirmed by the sense of impending doom we share. He embraces it, while I fight. We should combat our fates as a team, but we are too apart in our sentiments.
I will profit from my time here to unwind, get some headspace away from him, and gather strength for my return. I'll never be free of the Chosen One, so I better strap in and prepare for whatever comes next.
I quit fondling the bedsheets and roll onto my back. Mirrors on the ceiling; my knowledge on Zeltronian culture is reinforced, and ignites wicked thoughts. I fend them off again, making the man looking back at me frown stiffly.
I peel myself from the bed and take out a pair of loafers, cream shorts and a white shirt, from the wardrobe. Three minutes later, I’m unbuttoning it; I don’t need the Force to predict Quinlan’s complaints if I’m not casual enough. Besides, there's no reason to feel uncomfortable over five centimetres of bare skin. I remind myself I wasn’t always this prim, and determine the war has slowly changed me. My affairs with Satine and Siri both ended mutually and without much fuss; the ability to stay composed and preserve my morals has defined me until now.
Instead, I'm sliding downhill and taking the ground with me. The further I fall, the more I doubt we will come out alive. This avalanche will cause worse lateral damage than I anticipated coming from Padmé.
I snatch my key card off the table by the door, take a deep breath, and exit the room.
Wandering around the hotel grounds in search of Vos, I do what I can to ignore all the couples; though every turn displays more tangled limbs. Perhaps it’s just my mood that makes me notice. I ought to stop dwelling on self-pity.
How very un-Jedi.
Unsuccessful in finding my captor, I discover a magazine rack outside the Spa. The covers range from soft to hardcore, with a mixture of orientations and kinks. I find myself lingering on them, pondering what I would choose if I had to. Caught by a last minute inspiration; I decide to interpret Quin’s advice. Eventually I pick out a more… ‘Traditional’ copy… Albeit rather tame. Tucking it under one arm, I pray we don’t run into one another. Force forbid he ever thinks I listen to him.
My next stop is the bar; where I order a single shot of Abrax on the booking fee. The small talk with the bartender is dull, so I neck the strong liquor as soon as it arrives. The spicy aftertaste has me grimacing as I head back to my room.
Once inside, I throw the magazine on the bed and switch the holo-tv on. It bursts to life with recordings of battle droids being cut down by my fellow Jedi. Images of Count Dooku flash up on the screen whilst a news anchor delivers the latest scoop.
I turn it off, realising I can’t share anything I hear with Vos. The council is unsure of how he’s doing; everyone wants to believe his recovery is going well, but Ventress was adamant he still belonged to the dark side. We see no reason why she would lie, but we have no evidence.
After further contemplation on the matter, I resolve to broach the topic tomorrow.
Pulling on my neatly folded sleepwear, the warm sensation in my stomach indicates the alcohol has already set in. I welcome it; knowing the insomnia won’t win tonight.
Sprawling out on the bed, I get comfortable and pick up the magazine. The cover flaunts a voluptuous lethan Twi’lek in nothing but a black thong. Her dotted lekku hang over her shoulders and barely cover her breasts. Flipping it open, I try to find something more appealing- whatever that might be.
I pause when I see a heterosexual pair of humans posing erotically together in a series of images, and dip my hand underneath my trousers. After a while I realise I’m reading the text in the corner, and open a new page. This all feels lacklustre, and almost melancholic. Giving up, I put the magazine on the night stand and sigh. The uncomfortable tightness around my groin forces me to get off the bed and readjust my clothing as I walk.
“You’re a mess, Kenobi.” I murmur to myself in the refresher, before climbing in the shower and dousing myself in cold water. I wish it could wash away grief.
I realise just how much the Abrax affects me, when I almost skid across the wet tiles whilst towelling myself off. I curse silently, tying the ultra-soft material around my waist.
The sunset is shining through the windows; its beauty makes my heart ache, and I wonder what my former Padawan might be doing at this very moment. Now my heart aches in a different way.
I finally resort to meditation on the balcony, followed by slumber that only the death of a star could wake me from.