Work Text:
"Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order."
The words are a confession and a gift, all he can offer her at what she clearly thinks is their last chance to speak to one another before she dies. He can't return her confession of love, though he might once have tried to. Now, he knows, what he felt for her was not romantic love, was not what she felt (and clearly, somehow, still feels) for him. No, he had felt an intoxicating mixture of admiration for her vision, friendship rooted in surviving life-threatening situations together, enjoyment of their stimulating arguments, and duty to protect her and her vision. These would have had him staying with her, Back Then, had she asked, but now he doubts it would have been enough for someone who is still carrying a romantic torch for him. Obi-Wan will always love her, in his way, but not more than he loves being a Jedi.
And it's his duty as a Jedi to stop Senator Merrik from killing everyone on the Coronet, even if it means losing what regard Satine has left for him. (It would also spare her having to do it; he can see the way her hand is shaking. While he learned from a young age not to put his finger on the trigger unless he was willing to kill whomever he was pointing the weapon at, she doesn't look sure she's willing.) But even as he's letting go of his fear of Satine's criticism, a blue lightsaber appears in Merrik's chest - Anakin. Obi-Wan pushes down the guilty relief over not having been the one to do it, automatically affecting disappointment with Anakin's method as a cover. He tells himself he'll pick apart that tangle of emotions when he next gets a chance to meditate.
(He has a lot to meditate on, from this mission.)