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The Things We Sacrifice

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Obi-Wan Kenobi is tired. So tired.

It has only been five years since the end of the war. Such a short time for so much tragedy. Such a short time for all hope to be lost.

First Anakin. Then Padme. Then Bail, Breha, and Leia.

Then Luke.

Somehow, Luke's death hurt the most. Only four years old, killed by Tuskens, as if a testament to Obi-Wan's total failure.

Failure to redeem the Jedi, failure to salvage the light. Failure to protect the galaxy.

Failure to save those he loved most.

He stayed a year longer on Tatooine, telling himself he had nowhere else to go. In reality, he was punishing himself. Living on the planet where it all started, and where it all ended.

But Obi-Wan Kenobi is tired. So tired.

Nothing more ties him to his past, to the Jedi, to the Light. His ideals, his morals, his beliefs. They couldn't save Anakin, after all. Or Padme, or Leia, or Luke. This suffocating freedom latches onto his soul, snuffs out Obi-Wan Kenobi, and leaves someone else in it's wake.

The decision to leave Tatooine is spontaneous, but the decision to go searching for the past is over a year in the making. Not his past, no. He has no past, no life before this. Not even for Obi-Wan's past, but for relics of a time long forgotten, in desperate hopes that the past will remedy the future, the present.

But nothing is ever simple.

The temple on Korriban is eager to give up its secrets, but not to one who wades so carelessly in the shallows of the Force. Fortunately, it only takes a small nudge to tip him into the deep, a small wave is all that is necessary to cover the last hair on his head that was still above water.

And he feels hope for the first time in years as he enters the dark, his eyes blazing yellow and a gentle smile on his face.