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A quiet evening.
That was all Obi-Wan had really hoped for, after Leia being kidnapped, leaving Obi-Wan to spring an unexpected, if ultimately successful rescue mission and barely managing to avoid a direct confrontation with Vader.
Given that he was still hunted by imperial forces, sitting down in a ramshackle bar to have a drink was probably not one of the better ideas he had, but it was far from the worst one he had ever had.
The bar was occupied by mercenaries and a bunch of patrons that Obi-Wan was sure were in professions the Empire heavily disapproved of, but given the uprising that have broken out on Delos VII just a week prior they were simply not fish big enough to garner the Empires attention at the moment.
Which meant that having a watered down drink and a bowl of meaty stew of questionable origins should be fine.
He was too hungry to care, really.
Money was sparse, and not many people ventured in a thieves' den like this one.
He had been mostly left been alone except for one brave youngster who had tried to wheedle him into buying him several drinks and handing over his credits.
Obi-Wan had declined politely – his denial emphasized by the business end of a heavy blaster that was illegal on most Imperial worlds in civilian hands.
The young man had taken one good look, gone a bit pale and hastily excused himself with none of his previous swagger.
Something in the force around him changed – intent and anticipation, and not the good kind, and it made him look over to a group of people gathering in one of the corners.
A group of heavily armoured and armed mercenaries were obviously out for something more exciting than drinks, he concluded when they closed in onto one of the corner booths, mostly hidden in the shadows.
They were itching for a fight.
Obi-Wan sighed, and wondered if he had time to finish he strew before the situation got bad enough that he would feel obligated to intervene.
“Now that looks like a mighty fine piece of ass, why don't you scram and let the girl see what a real man can do for her.”
The leader's voice cut through the background noise and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to sigh – loudly this time.
There his nice and quiet evening went.
He hastily spooned another helping of stew into his mouth, barely chewing before he gulped it down.
“You are making a grave mistake.”
A different voice, rising from the booth, clipped and with a low growl at the end of the sentence, and it made Obi-Wan choke on his strew as it went down the wrong pipe, his eyes going wide.
He covered his mouth with a hand as he tried to keep his coughing fit to a minimum as he tried to sink deeper into the shadows of his booth.
He recognized that voice.
He had heard it far too often in his nightmares – though it had been replaced by Vader's recently.
Obi-Wan managed to get his breath back again, just as the merc was abruptly yanked into the air while helplessly clawing at his armoured throat.
Force choke.
Well, that was to be expected.
Of all the people in the whole galaxy they had to disturb while necking in a dark corner, those idiots had to pick on Darth Maul?
Darth Maul.
Necking in a dark corner.
What where the odds?
He had never quite imagined Maul making out with anyone.
Obi-Wan staunchly refused to let himself follow that train of thought.
The dangling mercenary was thrown against a wall, bowling over two more of his group, and some other patrons that had been in his trajectory, and then a free for all bar fight broke out.
Chairs scraped against the none-too clean floor, weapons were drawn, and then Maul exploded right into the middle of his opponents, a blur in black and red, and using his hands and feet rather generously as weapons as he threw himself into the fray with a flurry of kicks and punches.
His opponents went down one by one, and one of the few still standing aimed a blaster at his unprotected back.
Maul twisted out of the way, just as a second figure shot from the booth and then a red light saber hummed as it ignited, the shot blocked and reflected expertly – hitting the blaster it was shot from square on, and the merc holding it went down with a yelp of pain as it exploded in his hands.
Obi-Wan blinked as he took in the details.
Togruta female, clad in well-armoured boots and bracers, tight leggings and a wide open shirt, showing off a fine pair of boobs due to the lack of any underwear that made one of the mercs swivel his head as he tried to keep his eyes on the lightsaber held in a reverse grip as well as ogling the generously displayed goods.
She looked oddly familiar, even if he could not make out her colouring in the dim light, but something about that stance...
“Hey, my eyes are up here.”
The snippy voice carried over the surrounding noise, and Obi-Wan was glad that this time, he had nothing in his mouth that could go into any wrong places on the way down.
There was no mistaking that voice, either.
Ahsoka.
He watched in detached fascination as they aligned themselves back to back and fought off their opponents, the crimson Sith blade dancing in Ahsoka's hands as Maul demonstrated his skills in hand-to-hand combat, supplemented with a generous application of telekinetic force powers.
Obi-wan stared, well hidden beneath his cowl and the dim light not quite reaching the back of his booth.
There was a fluidity and coordination to their movements that told him that this was far from the first time those two fought together – they knew each other well.
Very well, if Ahsoka's open shirt was any indication.
There was a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized he had been eyeing her assets.
Only for a very short moment, and before he had known it was Ahsoka, but – still.
Better not to dwell on this thought.
There was a fight.
Focusing on that, and staying hidden.
Needless to say, they won the battle easily, all opponents dead, knocked out or fleeing.
The smarter part of the patrons went back to their private business, pretending that the scuffle had not even taken place.
Maul took a quick look at the surroundings, and sauntered over to the bar, appropriating a yet to be opened bottle of Devarionian beer and leaned with his back against the counter.
His shirt was as wide open as Ahsoka's, showing off his tattooed chest, something wet gleaming on his knuckles. Blood Obi-Wan assumed, since Maul was missing his gloves; his heavy belt was still half-way undone and the low-cut pants were somewhat askew thanks to the buttons not quite being aligned to where they should be, revealing the area where his upper body merged with his cybernetics.
Were prosthetics that far advanced nowadays?
Wrong track of thinking.
He definitely did not want or need to know how the mechanics of Maul's artificial lower body worked.
Or what they could be used for.
Maul gave Ahsoka a very thorough once-over, eyes lingering as she disengaged the lightsaber and threw the hilt over to Maul, who snatched it out of the air effortlessly with his free hand before clipping it onto his belt without ever taking his eyes away from Ahsoka as she started to lace up her shirt.
“Are there by chance some exhibitionist tendencies you failed to inform me about, my lady?”
The low, rolling purr in his voice was more than just a little suggestive.
Ahsoka rolled her eyes at him in an exasperated manner that Obi-Wan remembered all too well, before her blue eyes narrowed into a glare.
“If you prefer I can forgo saving your sorry ass from blaster shots in favour of buttoning up properly next time.”
She sounded more than slightly irritated, and Obi-Wan halfway expected Maul to lash out in one of those unpredictable temper tantrums he was so well known for. Instead, he merely held out the bottle of beer as peace offering before appropriating a second one.
She accepted with a haughty little sniff as she finished lacing up her shirt one-handed.
“You are lucky that I like this brand.”
Huh.
Ahsoka had brands of beer she liked – and was somehow, somewhat involved with Maul.
Who had let her use his saber, of all things.
That spoke of an level of intimacy and trust that Obi-Wan preferred not to think about.
Obi-Wan all of a suddenly felt every single of his years.
He felt old.
Approaching ancient.
Not too long ago, Ahsoka had been prancing into battle at Anakin's side, happy-go-lucky as they came, with long limbs she had not yet grown into, overconfident in her her abilities and wearing little more than leggings and a tube top of all things, no matter how often it had been suggested to her that she should consider something more thoroughly armoured.
Or covering.
Ahsoka had insisted that as a Togruta, she needed the freedom of movement.
The child he had known back then was irrecoverably gone, just like Anakin.
All Obi-Wan had left were regrets.
In a way, he had failed her as much as he had his former padawan.
They had not parted on good terms.
In retrospect – her concerns had been warranted, and he had spent more than one sleepless night wondering what would have happened if he had bothered to actually listen to her words of warning – if it would have made a difference. Perhaps it had been destiny – or ill fate – and the galaxy would have been doomed anyway, but he had always believed in hope, and the choices people made on their own.
Both of them had made theirs long ago.
She might be alive and well, with just a few meters of physical distance between them at this precise moment, but otherwise she was as unreachable for him as a star on the opposite side of the galaxy.
He might have better luck with said star, actually.
She would never forgive him for Anakin, just as he himself would not.
It was better if she thought both of them dead.
He highly doubted that she would be pleased to see him – less so given the company she was currently keeping.
He had little doubt as to how Maul would react to his presence.
He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath – if Ahsoka ever learned the truth about Vader – Maul would have to get into line when it came to killing intent.
Back at the bar, Ahsoka removed the cap from the bottle with a sharp twist of teeth, and spat it into a corner next to it – dead on target.
She was taller now, the markings on her face slightly different and her lekku reaching half-way down her back, but otherwise she still looked so familiar that it ached in ways he had not expected.
She took a deep swig from the bottle, head thrown back, throat working as she swallowed, Maul's gleaming eyes honing in onto the movement, and then she let the bottle loosely dangle between two fingers as she stepped close to Maul, tilting her head as he placed a quick kiss against her throat, just as she slid a hand behind his neck to pull him against her.
Obi-Wan could not do anything but stare.
Maul kissed and nipped up along the line of her throat as her eyes closed in enjoyment, and then he slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss that was as passionate as it was possessive.
They seemed to be lost inside of a world of their own making, but after the debacle just a few minutes prior, this time no one dared to interrupt.
He wondered how they had ended up together.
Last he knew she had apprehended Maul on Mandalore – just before the clones turned on the Jedi and Palpatine sized power as Anakin fell.
He could not conjure up any scenario of how they could have possibly survived.
He could also see no conceivable way of Ahsoka hooking up with Maul, of all people.
And yet, here they were.
Hw watched as Ahsoka stepped back, slender sienna fingers trailing along the line of Maul's jaw as he watched her with that focused intensity that only born predators seemed to be capable of.
“How about going back to the ship?”
Her voice was a little deeper now, with a husky quality to it that he had never heard before – and did not quite want to hear right now, either.
“That sounds like an excellent suggestion, my lady.”
The eagerness in Maul's reply did not come as a surprise at this point.
They chugged down the rest of the beer, empty bottles placed and forgotten on the counter.
A quick gesture summoned two heavy cloaks and a pair of heavily armoured gauntlets from their former booth, and seeing them helping each other into their respective clothing felt...
… surreal.
That feeling only intensified when he watched Maul smooth out the wrinkles of her cloak, making sure it was properly secured with what in any other person he would have undoubtedly dubbed tenderness.
Obi-Wan ducked deeper into the shadows as Maul tugged Ahsoka securely against his side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the door opening almost soundlessly in front of them as they approached and then they stepped out into the pouring rain and were gone.
He looked down at the bowl of lukewarm stew and set his spoon aside.
He was not hungry.
He knew he should eat, but he could not force himself to.
He closed his eyes and took another deep breath.
Leia was safe.
So was Luke.
Those were the things that were important. The things he should focus upon.
To hold onto attachments and the past was not the way of the Jedi.
There was no point in clinging to the memoires of Anakin and Ahsoka.
They could never be anything but ghosts, even if they were still alive.
Knowing and accepting this did nothing to diminish the aching, hollow feeling inside of him.
Obi-Wan stood, paid for his half-eaten meal and then he slipped quietly away into the heavy rain outisde, not really feeling the cold as he became just another ghost.