Obi-Wan Kenobi is haunted by guilt after his fictitious death and deceitful disguise as Rako Hardeen. He struggles to deal with losing the trust of those he cares for most. But it takes a startling encounter with a scorned bounty hunter for the Jedi...
Thank you for reading! This is a very short story, only three chapters, but I hope you enjoy it. I started this fic because I have a LOT of unresolved feelings regarding Obi-Wan and Bane after the "Hardeen Incident". I don't know if the writers of The Clone Wars intended to ever visit this issue again, and it's something I doubt we will ever know. I hope this story helps you as it has helped me in finding closure for this surprisingly poignant story arc.
If you feel so inclined (because I absolutely adore them) please leave a review/comment to let me know how I'm doing. Bane and Obi are some of my favorite characters, and I want to do right by them.
Thank you to CaptainMazzic on Tumblr for being my awesome beta reader and for letting me use his beautiful artwork.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Obi-Wan Kenobi spit coppery blood onto the plush carpet of the darkened bedroom, shaking the hair from his eyes as he studied the man who towered over him. The Jedi was unperturbed by his bleeding lip, his panging ribs, even his throbbing knee (he was fairly sure he had a torn ligament). His only concern was the trouble in front of him, and the barrel of a LL-30 blaster now pressed against the center of his forehead.
Obi-Wan's smoldering glare was fixed on the oval, crimson eyes that blazed with an all-consuming hatred he had seen before, not so long ago on the planet of Naboo. It was after that fateful encounter that things had begun to fall apart for Obi-Wan, and this seemed to be the inevitable culmination of that event.
"What are you waiting for, bounty hunter?" the Jedi prodded, slightly shifting in the cushioned chair, his bound wrists clinking behind his back. "Here I am, face-to-face. If I remember correctly, that is your preferred method of murder."
The pressure against his forehead increased, and Obi-Wan wondered (not for the first time) just what in the hell he was doing. Why was he taunting the mercenary who had every incentive to plant a bolt between his eyes? Had things fallen so far that he had acquired a death wish?
And yet, apart from his ragged breathing, the Duros remained silent. There was no blaster-fire, no more vicious blows to Obi-Wan's face or body, and the expression on his captor's face was... odd.
Plunging headlong into the recklessness that was more characteristic of his former Padawan, Obi-Wan lifted his chin and snapped, "Kill me or release me. Either way, get on with it, Bane."
20 Minutes Earlier
"-And that is why we are expressly grateful for the aid offered to us by the Galactic Republic. Takobian ore can produce some of the hardest metalloids in the Mid Rim, and we are certain our continued trade with the Core Worlds will be-"
Obi-Wan Kenobi stared at his third glass of fuchsia wine as the Ithorian senator praised the trade agreement ad nauseam, wishing at that moment that it was a Corellian brandy. Or that he was several hundred parsecs away.
