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“That was cutting it a little close,” Ventress said as she lithely moved across the darkened cockpit.
“You do know it’s not over,” Kenobi muttered, still furiously punching coordinates into the nav computer.
“I know.”
“They’ll be after us both now.” He could feel her come up behind him, standing silently near his right shoulder. He paused a moment, taking stock of the unexpected turn of events; his nemesis had just rescued him and now they were trapped together in a small compartment for god knows how long. Fleetingly Obi-Wan wondered if she was going to try to kill him, but his heart softened as he remembered how she had handed him one of her precious lightsabers.
I want that back!
That’s fine. Red’s not my color.
Obi-Wan winced as he shifted his weight; pain seared across his right lung and his ribs felt tender. Who knows what might have happened if Ventress hadn’t come along. Maul could have dragged him off to the outer rim’s far edges and tortured him for months. The thought sent a shiver up Kenobi’s spine. Turning in his seat he looked at Asajj. She was a little bruised around the edges but otherwise seemed her usual ornery self. “Are you all right?”
Her brow arched severely at his absurd presumption. “I’m fine,” she scoffed. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She placed a hand on her hip and pointed a slender finger at him. “You should worry about yourself. Looks like those boys were trying to rearrange your face.”
Obi-Wan touched his aching right eye, already bruised and swollen. “They nearly succeeded.”
Ventress casually flicked her hand and rolled her eyes. “Any change would be an improvement.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the bulkhead. “So what’s next, Kenobi?”
The Jedi spun back to the computer and consulted the readouts. “Looks like we have enough fuel to reach this space station in the sixth quadrant.” He illuminated the location on the holoprojector and Ventress stepped forward to inspect it. “We’ll be able to switch ships there, possibly even…”
Kenobi suddenly winced, his entire body tensing as he gave a painful, wet cough. Asajj recoiled in surprise, her senses instantly tingling with concern though she made no move to help him. She watched his jaw clench as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. All the sinews in Obi-Wan’s neck strained while he breathed through his discomfort, his chest rising and falling tightly.
“Are you dying?” she asked flatly, just a hint of amusement coloring her words.
“Not yet, ” he smirked without opening his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you, my dear.”
She stepped around his seat so that she was right in front of him. “What’s wrong?”
He swallowed thickly and took another steadying breath before opening his eyes and looking up at her. “It’s lovely to know you care, but I’m fine.”
“I don’t care. I just don’t want the Jedi to blame me for your death.” Her mouth turned down at the corners with disdain. “Can you imagine the headache that would cause me?”
“I’m sure you’d manage to get through it,” he said darkly.
“You’re clearly not fine,” Ventress said, ignoring his snide remark. She stared down at Kenobi’s battered face; the sclera of his right eyes was bloody and his cheekbone was darkening into a ghastly purple bruise. “You look like hell,” she said dispassionately. “What happened to your face?”
Obi-Wan snorted. “I vaguely remember Maul smashing it through a packing crate.”
“You’re lucky he smashed only half your head.” Ventress could not suppress a crooked smile that, despite her amusement, still managed to look caustic. She reached out and gently flicked Kenobi’s forelock. “And still not a hair out of place. How do you manage it?”
“Not a problem you have to contend with, I imagine.”
Asajj ran her hands over her bald head and surprised herself by laughing. As often as she hated Kenobi she also couldn’t imagine a universe where his pithy sarcasm didn’t exist. “You give as good as you get,” she said, poking a finger into his chest.
“More than you’ll ever know.” His brow pulled up as he smiled at her suggestively.
They stared at each other for a long time, their usual banter feeling slightly more charged now that they were closed into a small space with nowhere to retreat.
When she finally broke the silence her voice was softer. “This is hardly the time or place for flirting, Kenobi.” She enjoyed his shock as she placed her hands on his armrests and arched toward him, trapping him in the captain’s chair. She brought her face right up to his and nuzzled his nose. “Aren’t you planning on arresting me once we reach Coruscant?”
Obi-Wan pulled his head away from her. “Actually I was planning to go our separate ways once we reached the space station. But I could easily contact the Council and have you brought to trial if that is your wish.”
It was Ventress’s turn to look shocked. “You’re going to just let me walk away? Why? What are you playing at?” she questioned, her voice becoming serious.
“I’m fairly certain you saved my life back there. What kind of Jedi would I be to repay your kindness with cruelty?”
The look she gave him was somewhere between suspicion and incredulity. “I didn’t save your life. I used you.”
“What do you mean ‘used’?”
“I wanted to collect the bounty on Savage. I stood a better chance if you distracted one brother while I took out the other.”
Obi-Wan had suspected as much. “It doesn’t really matter either way. If you hadn’t shown up right when you did… Well I’m sure you noticed things were about to get unpleasant.”
“I did notice. What does that half-of-a-Zabrak want with you?”
The Jedi’s lip curled and his nostrils flared. “It’s a long story.”
“Give me the short version.”
“Let’s just say I’m the reason he’s only half a Zabrak.”
Ventress’s eyes popped with surprise and something in her demeanor changed. “That seems rather ruthless for a Jedi.” Her tone bordered on respectful.
Obi-Wan leaned forward pushing her gently but firmly to the side. “We need to figure out how long this flight is going to take and set our coordinates.” He began pressing buttons on the consul, bringing up a star map.
She heard his chest wheeze as he breathed and noticed that he was hunched awkwardly. “If you don’t mind, I’d feel better if those calculations weren’t done by someone who’d been hit in the head several times today.”
“Well that disqualifies both of us,” Obi-Wan said as he carried on working.
She kicked his chair so that it spun to face her. “Enough. You’re hurt. Go rest.” He made to protest but she cut him off. “Get out of my chair, Kenobi.”
He thought about it for a long moment, then wrapping his hand around his throbbing ribs he nodded and moved out of the seat. Ventress settled in and turned away from him, quickly picking up where he left off with the navigation. She saw that both the space station and the coordinates for Coruscant were up on the calculator. The computer estimated the flight times were only about two hours different but they were in opposite directions. They only had enough fuel for one of the destinations. Kenobi had intended to head toward the space station where he would allow her to go free and avoid Republic forces, acquire a new ship, and then head back to Coruscant. The whole process would take him over thirty hours. She wondered if he would survive that long; his wounds were clearly worse than he was letting on.
The thought had barely crossed her mind when she noticed her fingers were wet. She looked down at the keyboard to find it was covered in blood. The computer screen, the control panel, one of the chair’s arms, and now her hands and clothes were smeared with blood. She stared at the crimson slicked across her fingers; she hadn’t suffered any serious cuts so this clearly wasn’t hers.
It had to be…
She spun around to look at Kenobi. He had his back to her, one arm clutched around his ribs, the other propped against the bulkhead to support his weight. He sagged, his shoulders arching unnaturally forward.
Ventress was on her feet and closed the distance between them in an instant, sliding under his arm to bolster him. He stumbled against her, his head lolling back weakly. “Easy,” she said. He was heavier than she expected; she always thought Kenobi looked like a skinny stick, but now that she was trying to hold him up she realized his broad shoulders, long arms, and trim waist were nothing but solid muscle.
He groaned as she shifted him to the floor. She expected him to sit and rest against the wall but instead he laid all the way down. He kept his left arm wrapped around his middle and a hand clamped over his side just under his right armpit. That’s when she saw the blood seeping between his fingers, soaking through his light tunic, even running down his right arm and dripping off his fingertips.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Obi-Wan said through clenched teeth.
“Right,” Ventress rolled her eyes. “Because you’re ‘fine’.” She peeled his fingers away from his wound and pulled his right arm out of the way, eliciting another moan from the Jedi. She leaned forward to inspect, pulling apart the already torn fabric, revealing a ghastly, irregular rent in Kenobi’s flesh. Ventress winced just from the sight of it. He was right, it wasn’t life threatening, but it certainly was deep enough to be horribly painful.
He looked pallid and his brow was beaded in sweat. His breathing was labored and his face was tight with pain. She could sense that the gash wasn’t the main cause of his suffering. “What is it?” she asked calmly, trying to reassure him that they were in this together. “Tell me the truth.”
He hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. “It’s rather painful to breathe.”
Asajj took a deep breath to steel her nerves before reaching out and gently unfastening Kenobi’s belt. She released the clasp and removed it, respectfully placing his lightsaber on the floor near his hand. Then she loosened his tabard and tunic, pulling it free from his trousers before spreading it open from neck to waist. When she revealed his chest she caught her breath. A horrific bruise spread from under his arm to his sternum; purple, blue, red and tender splotches with black edges indicated several broken ribs and very likely more severe internal injuries. She felt lightheaded just looking at it.
“Don’t move,” she said sternly. Standing, she made her way back to the nav computer and selected the route to Coruscant. Allowing the autopilot to take over, Ventress once more knelt by Kenobi’s side. “We’ll arrive at the Temple in about fourteen hours. You’re tough enough to last that long, aren’t you?”
He nodded weakly. “But what about you?”
“I can’t just leave you like this,” she said gritting her teeth.
“Are you sure you’re not becoming one of the good guys?”
She took him by the chin with mock roughness. “I’ll find a way to make you pay me back, I promise.”
The hours were slow and tedious. Ventress sat in the captain’s seat and dozed on and off. When she was awake her thoughts were layered with self-reproach. Why was she taking such a terrible risk for Obi-Wan Kenobi? Of all the living creatures in the galaxy she would never have guessed she’d risk her neck for a pompous, arrogant Jedi. Especially not this pompous, arrogant Jedi. Maybe he was right; she was getting soft.
She shook her head. No, she wasn’t becoming sympathetic or tender-hearted, she was living by her own code now. And Asajj Ventress wasn’t going to fight by a man’s side and then leave him to die in a pool of blood unless it was her that put him there in the first place. Hadn’t she and Kenobi saved each other during their duel? He had put aside his disdain for her, had tossed her a weapon when she needed it, and had helped them escape; the least she could do was set aside her hatred for the Jedi and help get him back to a healer. If he’d been a Sith he’d have left her to die and made his escape without her.
She was sick of the lot of them. No more Jedi, no more Sith after this.
Kenobi groaned from the other side of the dark compartment. Ventress turned and looked at him, his body still sprawled on the flight deck, a pool of blood surrounding his right side. He was a lot tougher than she had expected. Despite being an escape pod, the small shuttle had no medical supplies, not even a spare blanket. Kenobi was forced to endure without any relief, no pain medication, no bandages, no water. But he hadn’t complained or even become frustrated. He simply gritted his teeth, accepting the situation for what it was, and tried to breathe through his discomfort. She wasn’t sure she would have shown such grace if the roles were reversed.
He began moving, his legs shifting as he took a deep shuddering breath. She decided to check on him. There wasn’t much she could do for his comfort, but she was getting sick of staring out into the blackness of space. She knelt by his side and laid a hand on his forehead. His skin was hot and sweaty, and his teeth chattered. His eyes suddenly opened and he looked up at her, his gaze unfocused. “I’m… I’m freezing,” he managed to stutter.
“You’re running a fever,” she said simply as she pulled his tunic and tabard closed over his chest. She cupped her hands over his heart. “I’m sorry there’s no blanket. I literally have nothing to offer you.”
“Your company is warmth enough, my dear,” he smiled weakly as his body began shivering from head to toe.
Ventress rolled her eyes. “You Jedi are insufferable.” She began gently rubbing his chest and left arm, trying to restore some blood flow. “Your constant positivity and charm is tiresome.”
“You think I’m charming?” he teased.
“No, you think you’re charming,” she retorted before taking his left hand in hers, massaging it until his fingers warmed a bit.
“Admit it,” he said quietly, “this is the most fun you’ve had in ages.”
She actually smiled. “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. In fact, whenever I’m sitting in the sun on a backwater planet sipping Corellian brandy, I always find myself wishing I was trapped in a small dark closet with a dying Jedi.”
He snorted gently since laughing was too painful. “Don’t worry,” he said, “soon you’ll be rid of me.”
“Yes, only nine more hours to go,” she replied with a frown.
For the first time she saw something similar to despair flash through the Jedi’s eyes. He clearly had thought more than five hours had passed. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Don’t worry, Kenobi. If you just keep blabbing on, the hours will fly by.”
He tried to smile but only the corner of his mouth moved.
Asajj softened her voice and tried to reassure him. “You’ll be just fine. We’ll arrive in Coruscant before you know it.”
Obi-Wan pulled his tunic tighter at the neck and held it in place. He had never been so cold, not even on Orto Plutonia. He’d lost all feeling in his fingers, especially in his right hand, and his nose and lips felt numb. He was a master of self-control but all he wanted was for this journey to Coruscant to be over. His chest felt like a heavy rock and his face felt like one giant bruise. He had such a terrible headache that it hurt to open his eyes. He needed relief. He needed a temple healer.
He didn’t dare ask Ventress how much longer the journey would take. She was risking her neck delivering him directly to the Jedi and he had no wish to annoy her. It hadn’t taken him long to realize his life was in her hands; he was no longer strong enough to even sit up much less make his own way home. If he got on her wrong side, all she had to do was abandon him somewhere and he’d be in dire straits.
“We’re almost there, Kenobi,” she said quietly from across the compartment as though reading his mind. “How are you feeling? Better than you look, I hope.”
He clenched his fist tighter into his tunic, too weak to move any other part of his body. “Oh, you know,” he mumbled, “slowly freezing to death, but otherwise fine.”
He heard her snort in response, though he couldn’t see her. “You’re almost as pale as I am,” she jeered.
“That tends to happen when most of your blood is on the floor rather than in your body,” he responded. He would never admit it out loud but hearing her voice was oddly comforting. Lost in a daze of pain and blood, her rich, seething sarcasm was something familiar he could cling to and he felt grateful that she was willing to distract him.
She suddenly appeared above him, her body looking oddly tall as she stood over his head. He almost laughed at her disproportionately long legs and small head but he was too weak to do more than blink. “What, my dear Lady Disdain. Are you yet living?” he managed to tease.
“Shut up, Kenobi,” she said, kneeling at his side and pulling his right arm away from his body to inspect the wound near his armpit. “I thought the bleeding had stopped a long time ago.”
“It did.”
She looked down at the bloody floor and at Obi-Wan’s blood soaked clothes. “Not soon enough, it looks like.”
He stared at her face for a long time, taking in the tattoos, the narrow eyes, the downturned mouth. “What happened to you?” he asked through chattering teeth.
She looked at him sharply and glared. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”
“Something about you has changed. You’re different than I remember.”
Ventress realized he was not talking about the present moment, but about her in general. “Just because I’m not actively trying to kill you, you mean?”
“No, not that. Well not entirely that. You’re calmer, more in control. Getting away from Dooku seems to have freed you in more ways than one.”
Anger flashed through her when she heard her former master’s name, but it dissipated almost as quickly as it flared. Kenobi was right, she was different. “You get betrayed enough times and you learn to rely only on yourself. I don’t have a master and I don’t answer to anyone.”
“It suits you, Asajj,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know your past but I do understand your anger. Now that you’re on your own and free of Dooku’s influence, you can direct that anger into something productive that serves you.”
She didn’t respond. Kenobi was the first living being to verbally acknowledge her transformation, and the very fact that he knew her well enough to notice it at all unnerved her. Ventress had always assumed Kenobi was a small minded, judgmental fool who misunderstood her. Though she still didn’t like him, she wasn’t too proud to admit that some of her ideas about him were wrong.
The computer suddenly started beeping. She looked up at the screen and read the display. “We’re coming up on Coruscant.” She stood and went to the pilot’s seat. “Do I need to transmit anything to the Temple before I land?”
“Give them my clearance code and they’ll assign you a landing platform.”
Ventress effortlessly navigated reentry into the planet’s atmosphere and made contact with the Jedi, carefully leaving her own identity out of the communiqués. They assigned her the eastern landing pad and as she brought the shuttle down she could see Anakin Skywalker and Plo Koon waiting near the Temple door. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. This was going to be tricky enough without having to convince Skywalker that she hadn’t tried to kill his master.
Once the vessel landed she made her way back to Kenobi’s side. “Come on,” she said, pulling his belt and lightsaber off the floor. “You have to get up. I’m not having them come in here to see me standing over your exsanguinated, limp body. I look guilty enough with your blood all over my clothes.”
He nodded, acknowledging that she had a point. He didn’t want his fellow Jedi making any rash moves before he’d had a chance to explain everything.
She took him by the arm and hauled him into a sitting position before wedging herself under his shoulder. Together, and with considerable effort, they got him to his feet and moved toward the shuttle door.
“Where has he been?” Anakin asked, unable to keep the slight annoyance out of his tone. “He’s always disappearing and coming back in strange non-Jedi-issued shuttles.”
Plo Koon crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. “I believe he has been to Raydonia.”
Anakin screwed up his face and looked at the Jedi Master. “What? Why?”
Before Plo could answer, the strange shuttle sitting on the landing pad hissed, emitting a white gas as the door slid open. Two figures limped forward through the cloud. Anakin’s senses were immediately on edge, telling him something was not right. Even so, he was wholly unprepared for what he saw. His master appeared, barely holding his head up as he moved forward. Obi-Wan’s tunic hung open and his entire right side was covered in blood. His face was black and blue and his right eye was nearly swollen shut. But most shocking of all was the fact that Asajj Ventress was supporting Kenobi, his left arm draped over her shoulders. Anakin instinctively reached for his lightsaber, activating it and bringing it into a defensive stance all in one swift motion.
Ventress and Kenobi instantly halted, the Jedi reaching his arm out in protest. “No, Anakin, wait!”
Skywalker looked between his master and Plo Koon who had not yet reached for his weapon but whose body language indicated he was ready to pounce at any second.
“She’s not a threat,” Obi-Wan continued.
“All evidence to the contrary,” Anakin replied, his voice hard and suspicious.
“Are we going to stand around all day at an impasse or are you going to help me?” Ventress asked snidely. “If you hadn’t noticed, Kenobi needs medical attention.”
Plo Koon’s postured eased and after a short pause he made up his mind. He crossed the landing pad and, nodding to Ventress, took her place supporting Kenobi.
Before they moved away from her, Obi-Wan reached out and gently took Ventress by the wrist. “Thank you,” he said, giving her a light squeeze.
“You owe me,” she smirked.
“I do,” Kenobi muttered as he and Master Plo turned and headed into the temple.