Chapter Text
When Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up with a start, the bile already rising in his throat, all he could do was throw the comforter off of himself and bolt to the freshener, and even as it was, he still didn’t completely avoid throwing up on himself. Before he could drop his head over the toilet or sink, his mouth flooded with vile tasting warmth and his lips involuntarily parted in horror and urgency to get the substance out of his mouth, allowing the vomit to dribble down his chin, and onto his nightshirt. The smell and taste only amplified his nausea, and he gagged again. Thankfully, he’d made it to the toilet before the next bout came, and he coughed up more liquids than he remembered consuming, grimacing at the taste...and texture.
It was certainly unpleasant, that much he was aware of as he wretched, and instead of wondering what was going on, why his body was betraying him in such a definite way, all he could do for a few minutes was think about how grateful he was that this hadn’t happened before. Illness wasn’t entirely unheard of for Jedis, but it certainly wasn’t common either. As he wiped his mouth, he pressed his other hand to his forehead. It felt normal, slightly warm to the touch, as it did every other day, and he “hmph”-ed quietly to himself as he mused over different types of possible illnesses that wouldn’t include a fever, but would include nausea. The list seemed fairly short, but then again, Obi-Wan was not a healer. He resolved that he would stop in med-bay, after his short, consultative session with Master Yoda. ...that he was going to be late for if he spent all morning on his knees and nursing his head over the toilet bowl. He groaned and sat back on his heels. His stomach gave another defiant rumble, and he took a deep breath, managing to quell it down to a soft discomfort. Maybe it was something he had eaten, he thought faintly as he laid one hand atop his stomach and stood slowly. He and Anakin had eaten the exact same thing the previous day, he mused, so perhaps it would be worth checking in with his padawan to see if he was suffering from any similar ailments. Anakin was probably still asleep, and Obi-Wan was sure that getting to sleep in was the only thing preventing his padawan from complaining endlessly about not being included in this meeting. It was a simple debriefing, Obi-Wan would certainly relay any pertinent information shared by Master Yoda with Anakin, but his young padawan’s paranoia and insecurities always led him to distrust and assuming the worst, even from Obi-Wan at times. However, when Obi-Wan informed him that Master Yoda wasn’t requiring his presence at 6 the following morning, he’d received no complaints from Anakin, only a vaguely smug smile, and it had made Obi-Wan roll his eyes in spite of himself. Anakin had then idly began to complain about Master Yoda’s fondness for meetings at the break of dawn, though it rarely affected him he would still complain until the day he died, and Obi-Wan simply told him to quit complaining, as he couldn’t bring himself to disagree. He wasn’t as much of a morning person as he let on.
Especially not on this morning. It was hard enough to rise with the suns, throwing up all the liquids he’d consumed over what felt like the past three days was simply too much to deal with so early in the day. Still half-nauseous, he trudged through the motions of brushing his teeth, combing his hair, splashing cold water on his face, and changing into a more casual and loose tunic, frowning as he clipped his lightsaber to his belt. Despite changing, and washing his face, he felt as though he could still smell the vomit, though he knew it was most likely psychosomatic. Nonetheless, it repulsed him and his stomach gave another churn. He smelled his tunic and it smelled clean enough, vomit just burned at the back of his nose and throat, and he leaned over the sink and gargled more hot water.
It didn’t completely take care of the smell, or sooth the burning, but it helped a little bit, and if he dawdled in the freshener much longer, he was going to be late for the consultation with Master Yoda. Obi-Wan didn’t like to be late.
So he pushed himself away from the sink, and headed out of his room, walking briskly, but not hurriedly, towards The Temple. Mentally, he went over his checklist for the day. After meeting with Yoda, the day was relatively clear. The ideal day to get a lot of busywork done. He would need to check in with Anakin at some point, to debrief about any upcoming missions and also to discuss Ahsoka. Anakin had complained endlessly about not being made a Jedi master, how unreasonable, how unfair it was, then when Master Joda assigned him a padawan learner, Anakin had thrown a whole new fit. He didn’t want a padawan, he didn’t have the time, he was still doing so much for his Jedi master, he couldn’t possibly take on his own padawan, it just wasn’t possible. This had not inclined the Jedi Council any further in his favour, and when Obi-Wan had said that he was completely fine with Anakin taking on his own padawan, even as cantankerous as Anakin liked to be, he knew when to fold his cards. He had reluctantly and bitterly agreed to take on the young Ahsoka, and now Obi-Wan’s only concern was what kind of Jedi master Anakin would be to her. He needed his apprentice to not only give her a skilled, proper training, but also an attentive and fruitful part. That was the part that he was worried about. Anakin could be coerced into doing things, but he could not be forced to do them gracefully.
Obi-Wan strode through the temple, robe billowing out gently around his ankles as he walked, nodding occasionally to a passing jedi knight or an apprentice, before he finally made it to the meeting room that Master Yoda was currently meditating in. Obi-Wan hovered outside the door, waiting patiently, until he felt Yoda’s steady force signature gently unfurl from the room and prompt him to come inside.
He entered the spacious room, stopping at the bottom of the few steps down into the lowered floor. Yoda was in the middle of that floor, levitating a few inches, eyes shut and back to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan waited in silence for almost three minutes, but the Jedi master remained silent. Obi-Wan couldn’t even hear him breathe or feel his force signature.
“Master Yoda--”
“Changed are you, Knight Kenobi,”
Obi-Wan was startled, not only by being cut off, but also by the cryptic, rather blunt, greeting he received. “I...am I?” He asked, a little sheepishly, as he felt he should have understood whatever underlying implications Yoda was laying down. Changed, though? They’d only just had a council meeting two days prior, when they had asked Anakin to accept Ahsoka. How much could a person change in two days?
“Mmm.” was all Yoda said in reply, and he finally lowered himself to the ground, and turned around to squint as Obi-Wan with those large, blank yet knowing eyes. How eyes could express so much and so little was a mystery to Obi-Wan, there seemed to be a whole galaxy in there, yet he couldn’t find one constellation.
“...I understand that Anakin is supposed to begin his training with Ashoka today.” Obi-Wan finally opted to change the subject, as there was no point in trying to riddle with Yoda. If the Jedi master wanted to tell him what he was talking about, he would.
“Mm...so he is.” Yoda replied, “Worried are you?”
Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “You know my hesitations about Anakin having an apprentice. He is a great Jedi, I do not know that he will be a great teacher."
“That’s why learn he must,” Yoda replied, and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why Yoda suddenly seemed to be Anakin’s biggest advocate. The Jedi master had made it clear on more than one occasion that he didn’t trust Anakin completely, and if Obi-Wan were being honest, he’d always gotten the impression that Yoda knew something about Anakin that Obi-Wan didn’t, that he was holding back, when they talked about Obi-Wan’s only apprentice.
“Be good for Anakin Ahsoka will, think I. Needs a padawan does he.” Yoda continued, and all Obi could do was nod.
“I will still keep an eye on him. Patience isn’t always Anakin’s greatest virtue, and in my personal experience training my padawan, patience is the virtue most frequently tested…” Then again, from their limited interactions, Ahsoka was no Anakin. No matter how generally aggravating apprentices could be, Obi couldn’t imagine that Anakin’s patience would be tested even 25% as much as his own were.
Yoda did not respond beyond a gravelly noise of affirmation and a nod, so Obi-Wan allowed the chamber to lapse into silence, as Yoda gazed out of one of the full length windows, before turning and squinting at Obi again, ears perking, then drooping. “Tell me, sick were you this morning Knight Kenobi?”
Against his will and inclination, Obi-Wan’s heart leapt in his chest. It wasn’t unbelievable that Yoda would be able to sense his illness through his force signature, but something about it unsettled him. If Yoda could sense it, did that mean it was serious?
Still, there was no point in lying, so instead Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes. I might have arrived to our meeting a few minutes earlier, but I was indisposed with illness…”
Yoda made another indistinct and noncommittal noise and Obi-Wan had to clench his fist to resist from pinching the bridge of his nose. For all that Master Yoda was wise and enlightening, he was also...annoying.
“Nauseous you were?” Yoda asked, though the length of the lapse in conversation should have ended discussion in Obi-Wan’s opinion. Nonetheless, he felt obligated to answer and nodded with a short, “Yes, Master Yoda.”
“Sick often you are, Knight Kenobi?”
“No, I’d say my immune system is usually infallible, like most Jedi. It takes more than a common cold to affect me.”
If Yoda made that low noise of appraisal one more time, Obi-Wan thought he might have a psychotic breakdown. There was a lapse of silence and Obi-Wan began to release a breath he hadn’t entirely realised he was holding, so close to being in the clear, when Yoda spoke once more.
“Morning sickness might you say, Knight Kenobi?”
The question struck a nerve deep within Obi-Wan and if he were the type to snap, this would be the moment in which he’d do so. Innocuous of a question as it was, it hit exactly the wrong spot, the place where Obi-Wan hadn't wanted to look. He’d been turning a blind eye since he woke up with his stomach churning, ignoring the niggling sensation in his stomach, ignoring that nagging at the back of his mind. Morning sickness. “I--” Obi-Wan spluttered, fighting against his rising, slightly irrational, anger, and clenching one of his fists for a brief second then releasing it. “I beg your pardon, Master Yoda, but are we having this meeting to discuss myself? As I understood it, you did not request my consultation to discuss my personal health. We are supposed to be discussing Anakin, and Ahsoka--”
Yoda waved a dismissive hand, holding it up to immediately silence Obi-Wan. The silence was penetrative to Obi-Wan’s ears and it seemed to drag on long enough for the birth of a new star.
“With child you are, Obi-Wan.” Yoda said seriously, his shoulders slumping a little once he got the words out, as he turned away from Obi-Wan to gaze out the window.
“What? No, I do beg your pardon Master Yoda, but I assure you that is...that is not possible, you must be mistaken--”
Yoda’s force signature probed against him and Obi-Wan pushed it away with his own, angrily. “Impossible is it?” The Jedi master asked, turning to gaze at Obi-Wan with those blankly appraising eyes, and Obi-Wan held his unwavering gaze for the longest of minutes before deflating, anger popping like an over-inflated bubble. There was nothing left after it popped, it just dissipated into the air.
“No,” Obi-Wan finally answered with a quiet exhale. His hands had come to clench at his side, and he only became aware of it when blunt nails dug into his palms. The pain didn’t wake him up from this nightmare; it felt like a fever dream and Obi-Wan would’ve reached out to steady himself had there been a steady object nearby. Instead, he shifted his weight and tried to firmly plant his feet. “It’s...it’s not impossible.”
Yoda didn’t reply, and instead took a few more steps to gaze out of the window, and though all Obi-Wan had wanted was for him to shut up, now all he wanted to do was to plead with him to say anything. Obi-Wan felt diseased. One of his hands reflexively came to rest on his lower stomach and he almost immediately flung it away in disgust. “Master Yoda… I… This was not intentional.”
Of course it wasn’t intentional, he was standing there in the council room looking close to passing out. One of the greatest Jedi Masters of the High Council--it wasn't intentional. What great Jedi Master, the Jedi Master who had trained The Chosen One intentionally bore a child? Intentionally excommunicated themselves from The Order? A blind man with a cane could see that it wasn’t intentional, but Obi-Wan did not know what else to say. Not only was the conversation devastating, it was humiliating.
Yoda sighed again, and Obi-Wan hung his head. “Know what must you do?” Was all Yoda replied.
“...I do. I will uphold my responsibility, to all Jedi before me, and those after me.” Obi-Wan replied dutifully, and there were tears burning shamefully at his eyes, much to his disgrace. With child and in tears, he was surprised that Yoda didn’t strike him from the Jedi Council right there and then.
However, Yoda did not spurn him or dismiss him. Instead, he continued to say nothing and gaze out the window. Obi-Wan glanced out briefly, but the bustling life outside in Coruscant only made him feel empty inside, as those lives were carrying on, perhaps only just beginning, and Obi-Wan felt as though his were ending. The floor held his attention for much longer than it ever had before, and Obi-Wan had traced six different geometric patterns in it with his eyes before he finally broke the silence.
“Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan said, still mustering strength in his voice, but speaking quieter than usual. “I know I have no right to ask this of you, but please… please, do not tell the Council. I will tell them in due time, but I must… I must fulfill my duty to Anakin first, to the Council. Then, I will step down, and I will... fulfill my duty to our people.”
“Tell them I will not, Obi-Wan. Yours to tell it is.” Yoda replied, and now Obi-Wan really wanted to cry. Some small part of him knew it would’ve just been easier had Yoda refused him, and informed him that he would tell the council immediately.
Nonetheless, Obi-Wan bowed his head, humbled. “Thank you, Master Yoda. You have my word that I will tell them, and resign my place on the council, before the third trimester begins its fruition.”
Yoda did not reply, this time for several minutes, and this time, Obi-Wan could sense that it was time to take his leave. Though they had convened to discuss Anakin’s future, it seemed of little consequence now. Ready or not, Anakin would have to prepare to be a Jedi master, as Obi-Wan could not stay around to continue his training. Anakin would take his place on the council, and he would become the Jedi master that Obi-Wan had been training him to be. The thought was salt in the wound.
As Obi-Wan began to leave the room, force signature slowly retreating, Yoda’s ever steady signature reached out and twisted gently, but firmly, around his ankle.
“Knight Kenobi, think this you may not, but an honourable thing it is,” Yoda said, without turning to face him. “Continuing our race, without sacrifice cannot be done.”
Obi-Wan didn’t turn around either. He muttered thank you. He didn’t mean it.