#force4kenobi

There’s a knock outside her cabin. “It’s just me,” Percy announces, as though there is anyone else on the tiny ship they stole. “Can I come in? I’ve got dinner.”

He won’t enter without her permission, she knows. She kind of wants to ignore him, see how long he’ll stay out there, holding whatever he’s managed to scrounge up in the miniscule galley, how long he’ll let her shut him out until he gets so fed up and dumps her in the vacuum of space. But she is pretty hungry. “Come in,” she says, and even she winces at how weak it is.

The door whooshes open, and Percy shuffles in, holding a bowl of something hot and nice-smelling, relatively speaking. “Hey,” he greets her, smiling. “Soup?”

She doesn’t know how he does it. Annabeth is falling to pieces, and Percy has been… extraordinary, truly. Astonishing. It’s not that she didn’t think he could keep his head in a crisis. Percy as a padawan has been something of a mixed bag: he’s tenacious, resourceful, smart when he needs to be, but prefers to think with his lightsaber, jumping in headfirst and forcing Annabeth to put together a plan around him. But he’s kept his head and kept his emotions in check in a way that would have even impressed Master Lupa. It was Percy who had found her, hiding in a vent from the advancing clone troopers, it was Percy who had suggested that they take their escape pod and land on Nar Shadaa, and it was Percy who had expertly cased, located, and subsequently stolen them a ship for their escape. It might be the galaxy’s smallest ship, but it’s a ship, with a hyperdrive, fresher, and a single cabin, and that has to be good enough for them now. 

Meanwhile, Annabeth can’t even hold her bowl of soup without crying.

Percy doesn’t comment. “I hope you like it,” he says, soft over her sniffling. “I tried recreating my mother’s special seven-ingredient soup, but I hadn’t heard of any of these spices before, so I just tried my best to replicate it. But you should taste the real thing. It’s like sunshine in a bowl, I swear. We can go visit her, if you like.”

“Are you insane?” Annabeth hiccups around a sob. “The clone troopers are hunting us down and you want to go visit your mother?” She’s crying too hard to hold her soup, liquid sloshing over the sides, and he swiftly plucks it out of her grasp, setting it on the floor. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says. After a hesitation, he sits next to her on the bunk, ducking his head so he doesn’t smack it against the ceiling. “I’m sorry, I know, it was a silly idea. We don’t have to do anything right now.” 

“How are you so calm?” she wails, almost shrill, too full of too much emotion to be embarrassed by him seeing her like this. “Percy, what are we going to do? The Jedi, they’re--they’re--”

“I know,” he says, “but there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

And it infuriates her, because he’s right. They’re alone. Master Chiron is gone. Her family has been wiped out. The Republic has fallen, and she’s stuck with Percy, somewhere in the outer rim, powerless in her rage.

“Don’t hold it in,” he says. “Release your anger into the Force. Here,” and he takes her hand. “I’ll do it with you. Emotion, yet peace.”

“Emotion, yet peace,” she repeats. The words are practically stuck to her tongue. 

“Again: emotion, yet peace.” 

She repeats. They fall into a trance, after a while. It’s a very cold ship, and a very cold universe, but Percy’s hand is so warm, and she can feel herself growing calmer by the minute. After some time, she can breathe without pain. The fog of sorrow lifts, a little bit.

“There we go,” says Percy, smiling sweetly. “That’s it.” 

The universe around them seems to have shrunken, to just the two of them, in this tiny cabin, on this tiny ship. He is looking at her with such kindness. His hand is still holding hers. The bunk is so small, he has to duck down to look her in the eye, and this brings his face only inches from hers. She can hear him breathing, or count the flecks of blue in his green eyes. His eyes flick down to her mouth, then up again, so fast she thinks that she may have imagined it.

She breaks his gaze, turning away, suddenly exhausted. Percy has to catch her as she nearly collapses, his arms coming up around her shoulders to steady her. “Listen, why don’t you get some more rest. I can save the soup for later.” 

“Are you sure?” she mumbles. She can barely keep her eyes open.

“Yeah, of course. I’ll go get some rest, too.” 

A thought occurs to her, like a spark. They’ve been on this ship for a few days, now, and he hasn’t come into the cabin the whole time. “Where are you sleeping?” 

He waves his hand, bending down to gather up the dishes. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

“Percy.”

He pauses for a moment, face unreadable. “The pilot’s chair,” he admits. “But it’s actually really comfortable, and--”

“Percy,” Annabeth interrupts. “Don’t be stupid. Come here.” And she scoots over on the bunk, wedging herself into the corner as deeply as she can. 

“Um, are you sure--”

“I’m too tired to argue with you. Come on.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he crawls in, laying down next to her. It’s really, really too small for them to lay side by side, they have to turn on their sides, facing each other to fit. He’s so close, again. Still so warm. “Are we going to be okay?” she asks him, as though he actually knows.