Nimbus

Emerging from the inky darkness the Knight comes to rest beneath the soft blue hue of the prophecy. “Oh.” The sound of tinkling glass follows the sound of your voice. “You have… come back.” Disappointment permeates your tone. 

“Why?” You inquire more sharply than you intended. The only answer you receive is the smallest tilt of their head upward, their unseeing gaze piercing through you. It makes you sigh, “Is it reassurance you need Knight?” Carefully you raise your arms, the cloth that draped around you creating a shield, the Knight now bathed in the fractured warm glow of your light. “Do you fear you are wrong?” You hum, “Do you fear that this path breakable? Do you waver Knight?” The prodding does not grant a proper answer. Lips purse in annoyance, it was lonely in your in isolated little spire and when the jagged figure of your guest had first shown themselves you had felt eager excitement, yet they never spoke and you could have dealt with such silence but they did not come for you they came for the glowing words that loomed on high. It had greatly soured your countenance towards them. So you wished to receive something from them, a twitch would suffice.

“Have you thought that maybe you are right to doubt?” Floating down you circle the Knight, your arms draping across their spiked shoulders. A bone deep chill seeped into your limbs from the contact. “The Knight which makes with blackened knife.” You read off, “Shall duel with heroes strife by strife.” Tapping at the rigid armor you feel how your continued contact burns, yet you persist. “So much stock is put into what? Fragile glittery words?” With a flick of your wrist a bullet of dim wavering light shot out, bursting the piece of prophecy, “It’s not stone Knight,” beautiful shards of glass rain onto the stone floor, “why follow something that is so easily broken?”

Falling silent, you wait, hoping that they will react in some way, that they will give you something, anything. 

Yet you are given nothing still, nothing but a pain that makes you finally pull away. The cold lingering somewhere deep inside of you even as you put distance between the Knight and yourself. 

“It’s gone now,” You say petulantly, “and so should you be as well.” A part of you does not want them to go but that part is small and foolish, weak to its own isolated lonely existence. They do not rise immediately, their form eerily still as they linger. It displeases you so and you are tempted to admit the obvious, that the prophecy piece you had destroyed would appear elsewhere within the church but in saying that it would defeat your attempts to get a rise out of Knight. You are not so eager to be rid of them that you would insinuate yourself capable of such childish and petty desires. 

Gradually the Knight rises, it’s a methodical action that has them pausing even as they are fully standing now. Furrowing your brow you eye them, “Do you not wish to leave?” There is a faint hope that you simply cannot keep from your tone no matter how much you wish you could. An offer is on the tip of your treacherous tongue, ready to allow them further sanctuary, further companionship within your home but the Knight is gliding across the cool stone. Not granting you a wayward glance as they leave. Something hot blooms in your cheeks and your chest, it slithers and stabs at the soft sensitive tissue of your heart and mind. 

“Say it with me folks! It’s~” A shiver runs down your spine as you ever so slightly lean forward in your seat “Mr. (Ant) Tenna’s TV TIME~” Voice lost in the crowd you can feel goosebumps breaking out over the skin of your arms. It happens every time, more so actually, since you were able to procure a seat in Mr. (Ant) Tenna’s live studio audience. The feeling hit different when you could see the TV Host with your own eyes instead of through a screen. It was better, so much so that you mentally kick yourself for not doing this sooner; for feeling too shy and small to even consider getting to see him live. But you are here now and forever and you couldn’t be happier. Or well no, that wasn’t strictly true. You could be happier and you will be, after the show. 

You just have to wait and it’s a pleasant one. Tenna is in his element, bounding around the stage, working the audience and contestants. He seems to be in a good mood tonight, practically glowing with uncontained giddiness. You have to wonder what has him so happy. Maybe it’s the viewers? It was a larger turn out than usual. Or maybe it was the show? You had seen the discarded scripts and red marked papers in his trash, though they should have been in the recycling; you’ll note to fix that later, he had spent a lot of time and effort on this particular episode so maybe he was just happy it had all come together so perfectly. 

Regardless of the reason, the energy he was bringing tonight was utterly electric and whole-heartedly captivating. You watch him, the voices of the audience turning to white noise; the contestants becoming nothing more than vague shapes as you just watch him. His voice carries, slinking through your ears and burrowing into your brain. Tenna’s smile stabs into your heart, you wish you could burn it into your eyelids so even when you close them you’ll always see it. Though he has so many different smiles, so many different faces, you would need a thousand eyes just to see them all.

You let out a quiet sigh, ‘If only.’ you think. What you wouldn’t give to have every single moment be consumed by him. The meager ten televisions you have at home were nothing compared to the towering masses you’ve caught glimpses of in the studio tours. How anyone gets work done here you’ll never know.

‘What I wouldn’t give to be one of them.’ You lament as you spot a brief glimpse of a stage hand. Envy fills you at the idea that other people get to be so close to him, get to interact so freely, get to have that perfect award winning smile directed at them. It wasn’t fair, they didn’t even seem to get how wonderful of a chance that was. Truly the grandeur that was Tenna was wasted on the general masses. But Tenna loved the people, the attention, so you tolerated the ungrateful eyes; only wishing the smallest bit that your eyes, your attention and love was enough. 

Smacking at your cheeks you shake your head about, that was such a selfish desire. He needed an audience, he deserved to be admired by everyone. So you push that thought down, back into the depths and refocus back on the show. Things have moved onto a physical challenge and you would be remiss if you were too caught up in your own thoughts and hang-ups and missed another moment of Tenna.

When everything comes to an end you don’t have the balls to actually go up and get him to sign anything like other audience members. It’s your greatest shame and new biggest regret but baby steps. You get to see him live and you never thought that would happen so you just need to take it slow. 

Cloistering yourself away in a late night cafe that oversees the TV-Time lot you set in to wait. Nursing several cups of coffee you watch as the bright lights of the studios gradually go out and the sleepy yellow street lamps flick on. Cleaning up the trash on your table you wave at the only employee who smiles politely as you leave. TV-Time has security, it’s mostly centered on the 3 main entrances. Occasionally you would see a Zapper bounding along the fence’s border but they didn’t patrol near the employee dorms, but there was a little security office with a very, very dedicated guard. From prior experience you know he takes one smoke break at exactly 3 a.m and it’s 2:59. You feel your stomach twist and squirm, it happens every time but you don’t choke and the moment the blinds shutter in the office you dart onto the lot. 

Treading the familiar path you slink through the shadows until you come upon an abnormally large fire escape. With your heart in your throat you resist scrambling up the ladder, instead carefully making your way to the top. You pause and stare at the window to Tenna’s apartment. The curtains are drawn but the window itself is cracked open and you really wish he wouldn’t do that. It’s not safe. 

‘He really needs to think about who could be creeping around.’ You lament as you make your way inside. His bedroom is dark, only the light from the lamps below streaking in through the fluttering curtains illuminates your surroundings. You remember your first visit, how clumsy and unaware you were. Unsure where you could and couldn’t step but you were past that now, navigating around his space with ease as if you lived here too, like it was your own home! There was never much of a plan in mind when you stopped by, you just liked being here, in Tenna’s home; observing all the little things about him that you could. Tonight was no different, sort of. You had a small idea and it wasn’t something you have really done before, at least not as close as you were right now. 

The first time you watched Tenna sleep you stayed in the corner like a weirdo, too scared to get close in case he woke up. You had kept a respectable distance for awhile now but you took that step of getting into his audience so why not get a closer look here too? Carefully you rest your elbows on the mattress, your head resting on your hands as you watch Tenna. His screen is mostly dark with the occasional line of static to interrupt the black. He looked more peaceful than usual and with a small glance at his side-table you were able to see why. 

‘Has he not been sleeping well?’ You wonder with a purse of your lips towards the bottle of sleep medication on the table. You feel like you would have noticed if he hadn’t been getting the sleep he needed but maybe you have missed something? That idea unsettles you more than you would like, it feels like you have failed somehow and you don’t know how to fix it. Biting the inside of your cheek you feel shame burn in your throat, ‘I’m sorry.’ you mouth to his sleeping form and Tenna lets out a sleepy sound. He shifts and the blanket slips down just as a breeze flutters through the room allowing a bit more light in from the billowing curtains. 

Blinking owlishly you feel your jaw drop. You had been preoccupied with his face that you hadn’t actually been looking at the full picture. Your mouth goes incredibly dry as you stare more blatantly than you should at his naked lower half. This was… This was unexpected. Was it hot in here? It had to be if he decided not to wear anything to bed! Sinking to the floor with only your eyes visible above the mattress you feel like you should stop looking. But you don’t because as much as you would like to say you haven’t thought about this, fantasized about this, you have and as long as it’s only looking then it’s fine. Right? 

Worrying your teeth into the meat of your lower lip you stand up a little bit straighter. Curling your fingers into the fitted sheet you pick at the fabric to keep your hands occupied. ‘I’m just looking. I’m just looking.’ you tell yourself even as you place a knee onto the bed. The mattress barely sinks beneath your weight and it’s fine that you are up here, you’re still only looking. But he moves again, shuffling more onto his back. The weight shift makes you wobble and catch yourself with a hand on his leg. Your entire body goes rigid and your gaze snaps to his face. It’s still dark, his chest is still rising and falling gently; completely undisturbed. Yet now you are not just looking, you are touching and you find yourself squeezing the meat of his thigh, a shuddery sigh leaving you. It’s warm, he’s warm and you can’t help but start kneading at the muscle. 

You don’t know how but you find yourself nestling yourself between his spread legs. Pressing your thumbs along his inner thighs you find a low moan building up in your throat at the feel. Swallowing thickly you press a little harder, your fingers holding on just a bit tighter so the flesh bulges beneath your grip. Saliva starts to pool on your tongue making you swallow again. Leaning down you pause for a moment, staring at his blackened screen you slowly place your lips against the soft skin. You want, Oh how you want to dig your teeth in. You want it more than anything, to bite until you puncture and leave your mark on him. You want to taste every part of him, inside and out but you keep it gentle. Placing fluttering kisses up and up until you were nosing at his cock. It twitches at the mild stimulation from your panting. If you were thinking coherently you would have stopped here but you weren’t and honestly you don’t think you would have even if you were of sound mind. 

You start by placing a small kiss to the tip, your tongue poking out to swirl around the head. At the moment he’s flaccid but even unconscious Tenna responds quickly, relaxing your jaw and you taking him into your mouth you can already feel an ache forming from the sheer size of him and you just started. Another moan gets caught in your chest at the weight of his cock on your tongue. Holding it there you could honestly stay like this forever, swallowing around him as you work your tongue along the underside of his dick as much as you can. But you don’t have forever and you think you might die if you don’t get to make him cum. Bringing your hands into the equation you wrap them, as much as you can, around his cock. You can’t really take more of him into your mouth so you settle on stimulating the head while your hands do the rest of the work. Shuffling a bit more up onto your knees so you can look at him while you do this, you try your best to burn this image and feeling into your memory. The languid rise of his chest has transformed into something more labored, his legs quiver as his hips jerk upwards making you gag and your fear of him waking up is out weighed by your desire to finish him off. You feel your eyes go wide at the sudden sensation of static dancing along your tongue. It tingles and pops and oh you want to slow down and make more sense of this but you don’t have the heart when you can feel the way Tenna’s cock is beginning to throb.

Drool and precum slips down your chin, splattering against your shirt and the bed. It’s messy and the sound of your throat and tongue working are loud in your ears. Doubling down you trace along the underside of his dick, nails scraping along a pulsing vein at the same time you accidentally use more teeth than you intended and your mouth is abruptly flooded with hot tingling cum. Pulling back so you don’t choke you keep pumping him as you swallow, mouth going a bit numb. It’s a lot, more than you imagined there would be but you don’t pull off until the flow begins to slow. Even then you linger, gently sucking until the body beneath you starts squirming and you can hear the start of a low whine coming from Tenna. 

You let him go with a wet pop, your lips puffy and unable to really feel your mouth. Making your way to the bathroom on wobbly legs you rummage around for a wash cloth. Running it under the warm water you hobble back to Tenna and clean him up before tucking him back into bed. Feeling content with yourself and the events of the night you stroll happily back out the window. A little skip to your step as you bypass the security guard.

* * *

“I love the annual sexual harassment seminar.”

“Dude, you can’t just say that.”

“Why not? We get off work and an endless supply of donuts and coffee.”

“They’re already out of the donuts.”

“Yeah, it still beats working.” 

You listen to the two behind you, nibbling on your donut while hiding three more carefully wrapped in napkins within your bag. They weren’t wrong about the buffet style breakfast table with its assorted baked goods that one could gorge themselves on being better than working and yet they seem to forget what will come tomorrow. More work with zero breaks because ‘What beats a day of doing nothing? Doing everything the very next day!’ 

Settling into the worn metal folding chair let your gaze wander over your coworkers as more of them file in. You got here earlier enough to snag a seat with prime placement; close to the exit, the bathroom, and the coffee stand, truly you were blessed with such hindsight. Reaching into your bag you snag another pastry, the lights dimming as a screen begins to descend from the ceiling. People shuffle to whatever seats remain, smacking into legs and threatening to spill the only thing keeping half of these people calm with having to be here even earlier than normal. 

Mike, the one with the round head specifically, emerged from behind the jerry-rigged sound system tapping a microphone. “Alright everyone, alright, settle down. Settle down now.” His bow tie was drooping and he looked to be sweating, all eyes were on him. Waiting. “So,” Mike coughed into his fist, “Mr. Tenna is running a bit late–”,”So we woke up at the ass crack of dawn for nothing!?” A muttering of agreement spread through the crowd.

“Hey now, hold on.” Mike tried to reason but everyone was getting loud and you think you shall take this time to use the bathroom before people start using it to hide away. Shimming out from your seat and down the dark and creaking hallway you have a brief wonder why everything in this Star forsaken studio was blanketed in such darkness. Because if it was to discourage sneaking away for an already unpaid break then everyone in upper management was in for a very unpleasant surprise. 

Swinging the bathroom door open you are met with the realization that the reason your big boss was running “a bit” late is because he was crying in the bathroom with all the subtlety of a Pippins trying to scam you. Ready to back out and pretend that this never happened you are stopped in your retreat with an escaped donut that kamikazes from your unclasped bag to the floor and rolls beneath the stall your boss was in. The sounds of crying cease immediately and the restroom goes silent as Mr. Tenna peeks over the top of the stall. His nose pops over the cusp of the door, his antenna twitching towards your frozen form. You’ve been caught, he’s been caught, and now you stare at each other unsure who will make the first move. The decision is made for you as the sound of people coming down the hall has him rearing up to the point of ramming his head into the ceiling while tumbling out of the stall. You panic as the giant CRT barrels towards you, his arms outstretched as he goes to what you can guess is barricade the door to hide what you can only assume is his shame. It’s a miracle the door holds up under the added weight but it is less so as you are now trapped between it and your boss. Your hands had come up to try and cushion the impact on your face and, Oh, Oh that was a bulge now pressing into your palms. You don’t think he’s noticed, you would have liked if you hadn’t noticed but here you were, noticing… things.

“What the? Why won't this open?”

Is he even hard right now? It didn’t feel like it but even so that was more of a handful than you would have thought. Not that you had thought about what your boss is packing beneath his too tight pants before this moment.

“Are you an idiot? Can’t even open a door? Move aside.”

Would he be proportionate to his size? Would it matter? It felt thick so even if it was on the shorter side you have to imagine it would be a good stretch nonetheless.

“Oh my stars! Open damn you!”

You find yourself squeezing, thumb tracing around where you presume the tip is and you feel Tenna go stiff in more ways than one. You are filled with immediate regret for what you have done. The bathroom’s fluorescent lights not bright enough to mask the sudden glow of his screen that is being directed at you. Rather pointedly you do not look up, if you don’t look at him and stand perfectly still then it’s like it never happened and you wouldn’t be vaguely mentioned in the next seminar on sexual harassment. Not that you are going to be around to hear it because he’s still staring and you were so fired, so very very fired. 

“That’s it! I give up!” There is a resounding thud and then the sound of stomping footsteps. It’s back to being quiet but neither of you move yet, it’s a painfully awkward 60 seconds before he is slowly removing his hands from the door. He backs away and you now get a proper look at his crotch. The material of his pants is slightly pushed out, keeping your focus on his growing erection when it should really be elsewhere. Like maybe leaving or forming a coherent apology and excuses on why you groped your boss. 

There is a faint buzzing sound and the staring contest you were having with Tenna’s clothed cock was broken. Flicking your gaze up you notice the vibrant pink hue of his screen before seeing electricity buzzing between his antenna. Fumbling for the handle you slip out as he goes to answer what you can guess is Mike begging for him to get everything under control. At first you start off in a brisk unassuming walk before the light from the restroom peeks into the hall and at that you break into a guilty sprint. Weaving through the crowd you tumble through the exit, bumping into a poor Zapper and knocking them over. The smell of coffee hits your nose and you do feel bad but you keep going, throwing an apology over your shoulder and a promise to pay them back.

Forgoing the elevator to the employee dorms you take the stairs two at a time until you are as safe as you could be behind your apartment door. Your legs give out and you slump to the ground, curling up on the cracked linoleum of the tiny entryway. The mortification truly begins to set in now, exemplified by the glow TV-Time spilling in through the open window. Lights of golden yellows and moody purples cut through the gloom and shine down upon you. Keeping your eyes averted from the face that you knew was outside, shining upon his world you inch along your floor like the dirty worm you apparently were. The indigo carpet is dry and scratchy, pricking at your underbelly as you roll, determined to hide away in your bedroom forever. Or at least until you must face the music tomorrow, you can at least pretend it will be forever. 

Tomorrow came sooner than you hoped and you walked into work as if you were walking to your own execution. Which maybe you were. Mr. Tenna was, from what you have heard from people that worked closely with him, not a very forgiving man when he perceives he has been wronged. And there was no perception of wrongdoing here, no miscommunication, no whoopsadooodle ‘My Bad~’, you groped your boss full stop. When you got inevitably fired today your one regret is maybe not copping more of a solid feel in your lapse of judgement. Stalling at the employee entrance you slide to the left and thunk your forehead against the rough brick wall. It’s not too late, you could run back home, pack your things and run away. You don’t need a reference, TV-Time wouldn’t give you a good one anyways. You can literally just leave. Nothing is stopping you!

“Oh, it’s yous.” For the love of- “I’ll take dat coffee now.” You are dragged inside by the Zapper you ran into yesterday. Upon entering the main studio you are not immediately jumped and carted off to your doom, not that it relaxes you but it does allow you to make up for your second mistake of yesterday. If only your first one could be smoothed over so easily. Ah you could see how it would go now. ‘Hey Mr. Tenna sorry ‘bout the whole sqeezin’ your dick thing yesterday. Coffee?’ and then you would get smash cut into oblivion. Best to just avoid and fake it till you make it to the end of the day and the rest of your life. 

Worming your way through your day you try not to jump at every sudden request and coworker jump scare. Everything has been perfectly normal, except for you, you assume. The idea to fake it is not working super well, this is why you are not one of the actors. This also means you have less chances to be seen by Tenna but they aren’t zero and every floor shaking footstep has you booking it in the opposite direction. Or diving under the table in the breakroom much to the confusion of those around you.

‘Maybe I should just stop running. Face the music and accept my fate.’ You think as you are currently hiding within a nondescript random closet within studio E, one that Tenna doesn’t even frequent and yet is here now.

‘I can’t go on like this. Sure the boss doesn’t have an amazing attention span if it isn’t about his work but how long will you have to live like this?’ You sigh, ‘Hiding in a cobwebbed invested closet that seems to only exist to store horrifying clown masks.’ This can’t be your life for a day let alone what? A week? A month? More? You just can’t do it! So you should just get out there and accept your fate! Grasping the handle with all the determination of someone who has already lost and can’t go down any further you throw it open only to come face to crotch with the man you were trying to avoid. Your nose barely brushes the shiny black material before you are back peddling, arms cartwheeling comically backwards as you kick the door shut like you just opened the gates of hell and only realized it was the gates of hell too late. Falling into a shelf dust descends upon you and brings with it the hard plastic feel of a mask you shall never forget. The door is creaked open, Tenna’s silhouette blocking most of the light. His screen is now the main source of illumination and feels akin to a spotlight. “Uh you okay there?” He asks, antenna down turned so they wouldn’t scrape the wooden frame. Blinking the dust away you take stock of the fact that the clown face is covering yours and you doubt that he could tell who you were when you opened the door so you shove out hand in a thumbs up gesture. Jumping up on wobbly legs you hold the mask in place as you shuffle to freedom, Tenna backing away in either courtesy or fear; you weren’t sure but he moved and you fled. 

Screw facing the consequences of your actions, you can do it later!

You’re so close to the end of the day, you have an hour to go but apparently this is when the universe decided that this was going to be the longest hour of your entire life. Which is saying something, this is TV-Time, it’s not overtime it’s funtime.

Creeping around the main studio you have avoided going into any more storage rooms or any place that has only one exit. Which wow there were so many one-ways and you had no idea how many storage rooms existed in this place until today. It’s mind boggling, your place of employment is far more maze-like than you think your mind can actually comprehend. The layout was created by a madman and you genuinely don’t know if that person is Tenna.

Slinking around a corner, your gaze darts back and forth before sprinting to the elevators. It would be safer to take the stairs but the documents you had been tasked with delivering went up floor 10 and you hauled too much ass yesterday to be able to handle that many flights again so soon. The big man was also busy unwinding in his dressing room, Tenna spent at least 2 hours after filming decompressing so once he emerged your shift would be long over anyways so you board the elevator with the utmost confidence. The light ticks up gradually like it knows that it is the end of the day and doesn’t have the capacity for speed. Muffled static filled music splutters out from the speakers, it’s just as languid and sluggish as everything else. Leaning against the back wall you feel your eyes droop a bit, papers held loosely in your arms that become clutched the moment the elevator stalls at the 4th floor. The doors slid open and! Oh, it’s just a Shadow-Guy. You relax again, giving a tired wave. He gives you a tip of his hat and hits the button for floor 7. 

At floor 5 the door opens again and the flash of red you see right as it begins to open has you praying that it’s a bunch of Pippins stacked on top of each other. It’s not, of course it’s not and you knew it wouldn’t be but what is he even doing here?! Tenna strolls on and it’s not subtle the way his antenna seem to perk up and direct their attention towards you as you try to melt into the floor. He doesn’t say anything though, just stands off to the side. He doesn’t even push a button for a floor and oh stars why is he here? The ride is uncomfortable now, at least for you though you think the Shadow-Guy is catching on with the way he sprints from the elevator the moment his floor comes up. You are literally about to follow him but Tenna presses the close doors button and you are trapped. Trapped! And he is now more blatantly looking at you but not saying anything and your stop cannot come soon enough. 

Peeling out of there you can feel him following you. His gigantic shadow looming over you like the grim reaper. You want to look behind you but you’ve seen the horror movies, you know that’s a bad idea. You are not steadfast but you don’t break either as you do a drive-by drop off of the documents. Pivoting on your heel you maybe should have checked behind you because he is so much closer than you thought. It’s your second near face plant into his crotch today and you stare down your nose at… at is he getting hard right now? No, no, of course not. That would be absurd, utterly inconceivable! But also maybe?

“Is everything alright?” Tenna asks and you mumble a small “Not sure.” and it has him humming. “Is that so? Anything I can help you with?” His hips definitely twitched forward and you are remembering you are in the middle of the hallway. This is no place to be contemplating what you are contemplating no matter how empty.

“Possibly.” You say without thinking, eyes traveling down for a moment before snapping back to Tenna’s face. A blush is dusting his screen and he inches forward. 

“And what is it that I can do for you?” His voice wobbles and you know exactly what possesses you. Starting with a hand on his thigh you slide it up, feeling the limb shudder under your touch. A shaky sigh slipped from his parted lips and you just brush your thumb along the shaft of his clothed cock when at the end of the hall the elevator dings. Your hand drops and you are briskly walking towards the stairs before your boss registers what is happening. As the stairwell door closes you hear him sputter, his foot falls shaking the floor. If you were braver and more foolish you might have stayed but alas you are not. But there is tomorrow.

“See you tomorrow Mr. Tenna.”

There is a thought of seeking out Master Kenobi, that instinctual padawan need to find one’s Master and confer with them in an attempt to center oneself but it feels wrong. Obi-Wan is a Master but he is not your Master and it feels like a betrayal to go to him. You have spoken with other older Jedi, it wasn’t something that was at all unusual but given the circumstances and the man’s own feeling of unease with you being here you just can’t. There is no trust and it makes you feel all the more bitter for what Grievous took from you.

What a very un-Jedi feeling to possess. ‘I wonder if this is why the Council placed me with Master Kenobi.’ It's not the first time you had this thought, what happened to Master Qui-Gon and what Master Kenobi did is so well known that it has followed the latter ever since. You suppose that the Council thought he would be the most understanding and you can see that train of thought but Obi-Wan had actually been able to avenge his Master. He got closure, with his own hands no less, you have not been afforded the same peace. A frown pulled at your mouth and you hunched into your cloak.

‘This might be why the Council rejected my proposition for the Knighthood test.’ A groan rumbled in your chest as you pinched at the bridge of your nose. You are sure this type of self-reflection is something that Master Yoda would greatly encourage but it is not something you really wanted. ‘Not about want it is but about need, yes.’ You can hear Master Yoda in your thoughts and you concede, at least for the moment, you can try for that much. Rolling your shoulders back and straightening your spine you breathe in, holding the cycled air in your lungs for a beat before breathing out slowly through your nose. It’s no mediation but the action does at least ground you enough that you should be able to gather your bearings and find your room again. Rounding a corner you side step in time before you ram your nose into cold plastoid armor. Commander Cody and you stare at each other, that discontentment that has been swirling around is dragged front and center.

“Commander.” He speaks first. 

“Commander.” You speak slightly slower.

You know deep down that Commander Cody does not hate you, he might not like you but you know that he does not hate you, he’s just concerned about your sudden appearance and what it is doing to the chain of command. Your rank is equal, technically. Within the larger group the obvious deferment of authority goes to Master Kenobi but without him who do the troops look to first if only Cody and you are present? The answer is unclear, something else you should discuss with your new Master. 

“First Commander, Second Commander." Snapping to attention, you both turn to the trooper that just walked past.

“Wait.” Two voices say in unison, “Who’s the First Commander?” Your voices harmonize perfectly and the trooper stalls. His helmet obscures his expression but his body language screams uncertainty. 

“Uh,” He looks between Cody and you, your gazes equally expectant, “Who do you think it is?” 

“Well obviously,” You start, “It’s clearly,” Cody begins, “Me.” You look at Cody, Cody looks at you, the trooper slinks away as you raise an eyebrow and the Commander squares his shoulders. 

“Why do you think it’s you?” You venture to ask.

“Well why do you think it’s you?” You get the feeling he is staring down his nose at you.

You hold your head up a bit higher, “I’m a Jedi.” 

“Padawan. Jedi padawan. Sir.” Cody corrects and you feel your teeth grit.

“Padawan or not I am still a Jedi, Commander. Now tell me what makes you think you are First Commander.” 

“With all due respect Sir, I have been the first and only Commander until your arrival, it’s reasonable to assume that I would retain said position.” He’s right, you know he’s right but something about his rightful assumptions sting. Maybe it’s the reminder that you don’t fit, an unnecessary piece to a puzzle. The 212th are not your troop, they are not your men and you do not belong here. The right thing to do would be to back down, concede on this matter and accept with grace that you are in fact second but you really don’t want to. Any self-reflection is thrown out the airlock and you do what you really shouldn’t do, double down. 

“And with all due respect to you Commander, I am here now and given the nature of things it’s reasonable of me to assume that I would in fact take the rank of First Commander.” A chord of anger has been plucked, you can feel it ripple through the force and you are certain that Obi Wan has already felt it. A tingling of concern radiates out, cloying its way towards the Clone Commander. 

“Master Kenobi is looking for you.” You grumble at the same time Cody’s comm lights up. Quickly you make your escape, Kenobi’s even smooth tone chasing you away. Realistically, or more so logically you understand that running away as you are is not ideal. Everything about what had transpired was very far from ideal but it feels as if you had been struck, a stray blaster bolt running its way through your chest and burning into your heart and bruised ego. 

Hiding away in your hab you settle on the floor, lightsaber resting in front of you as you sit cross-legged. Closing your eyes you gradually unclench your fists, letting your upturned palms rest almost lazily on your knees. Breathing in, you let your mind wander outward, wrapping yourself in the force. You want to appear as centered and unbothered as possible when Master Kenobi inevitably comes to confront you about what had happened in the hallway. 

Which doesn’t take as long as you would have liked. You can feel him making his way towards you. His force signature is languid, almost soothing but there is something hiding underneath. Annoyance maybe? Keeping your eyes closed and posture loose you pull yourself back into yourself as the door to your hab slides open with a hiss. 

“Care to explain what is going on between you and my Commander, young one?” He doesn’t say it pointedly, doesn’t even put emphasis on the my but you can feel the protectiveness nonetheless. 

“I don’t know what you mean Master.” You peek an eye open, Kenobi has not fully entered the room, he lingers in the doorway. The light from the hallway backlighting him and increasing the feeling of judgement that roils beneath the surface of his calm facade.

“Lying is not becoming of a Jedi.” He states, one arm crossed over his chest as the other cradles his temple. “It is also not becoming of a Commander either but it appears Cody is following your example.” 

Well wasn't that interesting. The Commander had not informed his general of what had happened. The question was why though. At least to you it would be obvious who would be reprimanded but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the dear Commander was just as unsure where he stood with you around as you were. And why does that make you feel guilty? 

“I expect whatever you two are hiding will be handled before the next mission. Yes?” Master Kenobi is looking at you expectantly and you pointedly turn your head away, that feeling of guilt being pushed down in the wake of something more easy to stomach. Your own annoyance.

“If there is something that is being kept from you, I assure you that it will be handled. Not that there is but if there was, it will be.” Your lips purse at his furrowed eyebrows, he doesn’t believe you. Which part you aren’t sure, not that it matters because for all intents and purposes everything you said was a lie. Sort of. The situation would be handled, just not before the next mission probably. 

Kenobi’s exasperation is palpable, you wouldn’t even need the force to sense that. “Well see to it then.” He turns as if to leave before pausing, “Will you be joining us, me, in the mess hall?” 

“Oh, uh,” You falter, posture slumping, “No, I don’t believe I will be.” 

His expression doesn’t change but you can see the tension in his jaw, you’re sure it mirrors your own. “I see, have a good rest of your evening then.” You mumbled out a “You as well Master.” and then he’s gone and you are alone once more. Pushing yourself up, you discard your cloak and the heavier outer robes before grabbing your lightsaber. You were going to the training room, you speculated that movement and practicing forms would help clear your mind better than attempting meditation at this moment. 

The training room is blissfully empty, the troopers more intelligent than you and actually eating and taking time to recoup before the inevitable call into action. Starting with the basics you adjust your stance and drop into Form 1. Letting your eyes slip closed you imagine opponents closing in, their forms nebulas but many. The hum of an ignited lightsaber brings you comfort in a way that you cannot fully explain, the sounds it makes as it cuts through the air lulling. You let your body move on instinct, controlling the space without really thinking about the how. When you were planet bound, stuck within the temple while your injuries healed you had felt as if you were going to go insane. An itch had worked its way beneath your skin that had only just begun to ease, though you suppose you had traded one itch for another. But at least you could scratch it the same. So good for you. Spinning on your heel you bring your leg up, lightsaber disengaging at the same time you paused. Eyes open almost languidly, your heel held in position right on the cusp of nailing Commander Cody in the temple. 

“Commander.” You don’t sneer it but you know that it wasn’t said very kindly.

“Commander.” He matches your energy, his gaze cutting to your foot, “Intending to stomp the competition there?” You don’t mean it but you let out an angry hiss, leg rearing back and dropping to the ground. Your stance was still low, weight shifting to your front.

“Maybe but that would assume there is any.” You watch the crease between his brows deepen. His own body shifting, shoulders rolling forward in a stance that looked ready to charge. 

“You’re right,” Well that throws you, “I only see one person in this room that actually has what it takes to lead and stand beside the General. Sir.” That smacks you so hard that you can’t actually breath for a moment, lungs sputtering as you suck in air uselessly. Unhelpfully and entirely against your will you can feel your cheeks becoming warm, eyes misting as tears sting along your waterline. Furiously you turn away, rubbing at your face which only blurs your vision more. You feel a hand touch your shoulder and you jump, batting it away. Words start to spill from your throat unbidden and it’s like a dam has broken, flooding the training room with every unsaid thought.

“You’re right! I don’t have what it takes!” You can feel Cody listening, “It’s so painfully obvious. You see it, the Council saw it!” Slumping against a wall, slowly falling in on yourself, you scrap your fingers along your scalp. “I saw it too, I saw it the moment my Master died.” You don’t want to be saying this, you don’t even know why you are saying this, let alone saying it to the Commander who is for some reason settling down next to you. His back straight and gaze forward, as if you spilling your proverbial guts was another battle he had to endure. 

“I don’t even want to be First Commander you know,” It comes out whispered, “and you were right earlier as well. You were here, you have the experience, and you have the right to continue on as you have.” You head thunks against the cool metal behind you, “I’m sorry I’m here. I didn’t want to be anymore than you or Master Kenobi wanted me to be.” You curl your knees up to your chest. “Despite me not having what it takes I tried… I tried to convince the Council that I could take the Knighthood test..” A lump is formed in your throat making the next words come out choked. “I wanted to keep us all together so I tried.”

“Keep who all together?” His tone sounded even, you envied him for that.

“My men,” You pressed your palms into your eyes, “After what happened with Grievous, after I lost my Master and even more of my men I didn’t want to lose the rest.” A shuddery breath rattles in your chest, “But I don’t have what it takes and we’ve been scattered. I couldn’t keep us together.” 

“Oh.” You hum wetly at his quiet expletive. The training room fell silent, the only sound was the hissing of the air filtration system and the low buzz of the ship as a whole. 

Cody clears his throat, his fingers interlocking together rigidly within his lap. Glancing up at the Commander you note that he’s frowning. It’s different than earlier, softer in a way you don’t feel you deserve. “I’m sorry.”

You wave a hand, “Don’t be, you were just giving back what I was putting out. I deserved it.”

“Oh I’m not sorry about that.” Cody huffs a laugh and you place a hand on your chest in mock offense, “As you said you deserved it,” You rolled your eyes, “I’m sorry about what happened with your troop.” His posture loosened and he tentatively placed a hand on your shoulder, you don’t bat it away this time. “I understand your loss, I understand the feeling of failing and watching everything fall apart around you.” Reaching up you are less skittish when you place your hand over his. 

“How did you deal with it?” You ask and Cody sighs.

“Time I suppose,” You snort and he grips your shoulder a bit tighter, “And knowing that I have other brothers, ones that are still living, still fighting that need me.” You want to snap that you in fact don’t have that but you refrain, accepting this olive branch and staying silent. “For a Jedi you are easy to read.” Okay so maybe you didn’t accept it as silently as you hoped.

“Padawan, Jedi padawan. Remember?” You correct with a huff. 

It was Cody’s turn to let out a snort, this one a bit more amused than your own. “I’m trying to be nice.” He states, “I get it though. We aren’t your brothers, at least not yet.” The Commander rises up, his hand turning to grab yours and drag you up with him. 

Your head tilts to the side, “Yet?” 

“Yes, yet. Gives us time and we’ll give you time. Things will figure themselves out.” He speaks confidently, as if this is not the first time he has needed to do this. It was reassuring. 

“Alright,” You pause, other hand going up in a salute, “First Commander.” 

Cody’s lip twitches up into a small smile before he mirrors you. “Alright, Second Commander.”

_________