It was raining. There was mud and blood everywhere. In the middle of the battle field were two figures. Closer inspection revealed them to be Jedi Padawans. Bant Eerin knelt in the mud, her head resting against Obi-Wan Kenobi’s shoulder as she sobbed. They had already taken the body away.

Obi-Wan hugged Bant closer to him, her cheek pressed against his chest and her body shaking. He bent his head in response to the onslaught of the driving rain, unable to distinguish between the freezing downpour and the bitter tears of the Mon Calamari huddled close. Mud-spattered, he blinked rainwater from his grey eyes, shifting uncomfortably and peering about, trying to catch sight of his own mentor. Obi-Wan’s sodden Padawan braid flopped wetly against his face, limp as the body of Bant’s master, Tahl.

“She’s gone to the Force,” he wanted to whisper to his friend. “She’s gone to a better place.” But his throat constricted, knowing nothing he could say would ease the pain of this sudden parting between master and apprentice.

Bant let out a little whimper, in which the other sensed both fear and grief. Consolingly, he grasped the Mon Calamari’s hand that was not locked about his waist, and drew his saturated robe tight around them both, little protection though it offered from the raging storm. Numb with cold, the two Padawans simply stood there, ankle deep in slick churned earth, a tiny island of conflicting comfort and loss in a sea of chaotic elements.

Barely discernable as the rain lashed him like myriad whips, Obi-Wan heard the squelch of mud and the splash of dirty water. A moment later a tall, shrouded figure entered his limited range of vision, soon identified as Qui-Gon Jinn. The Master’s eyes were blazing grief, flowing tears wetting his cheeks. Sorrow etched his craggy features, a sadness so profound it seemed to grind deep into Obi-Wan, even though he had not yet managed to meet his master’s gaze.

Then again, perhaps it was Qui-Gon who was avoiding his Padawan’s eyes.

With a quick, falsely reassuring glance at Bant, still oblivious to all around her, Obi-Wan looked up at his mentor. “Master –“ he began, but drew back sharply as he cought a glimpse of the true emotion in the other’s eyes, a look so hauntingly familir it seemed to flit onto his own features….

It was the same look, the same raw emotion he had worn and felt when Siri Tachi had broken that special bond between the two of them forever. Both of them had known it was for the best, that the pain would be far greater if the relationship continued, and yet that had not eased the agony. Now Obi-Wan knew why Qui-Gon, also, had insisted the bond be severed: because he and Tahl had done no such thing, to these consequences.

“You loved her, Master,” Obi-Wan said softly, at length, shocked.

And then he was weeping as well, not for Bant, though her loss was great, but for Qui-Gon, because he, too, had known what it was like to love.