Slowly, Ferus unwound an arm and reached out, accepting the cup gingerly. His eyes were burning and he kept them fixed on the surface of the water rather than dare a glance at Obi-Wan, because in the middle of the pain and grief, there was regret and shame and something dark and unspeakable.

He knew he'd been close to losing that happiness. His heart. That's what he was thinking about, the force behind his anger, the way he'd let it fester inside him until he couldn't recognise his own reflection ... or his power.

Happiness had been meaningless. Rage and fury had been the answer. If he'd given in, he would have lost himself forever, and Roan with him. It would have been an even worse death: his memory twisted into something that Ferus could only use for destruction and death.

It would be easy to tell Obi-Wan this. He could just tell him what he was thinking and hope that Obi-Wan had some answer, something reassuring to say. Except it wasn't easy. It was hard enough to say Roan's name.

But he found that now when he'd touched on it, he wanted to say more. He didn't know what. Just more - just anything to make Roan's memory live.

He swallowed, shook his head. Finally looked up at Obi-Wan.

"I went to his family, after", he said faintly. "I couldn't even stay with them to mourn. On Bellassa, it's - it's called nine days of mourning. You're not supposed to leave their side."

And they never blamed him. They never held anything against him. Their love for him had been confusing and stifling when he felt so responsible, and all he'd been able to think was, I'm a poor replacement for him.

Then he'd gone back to the Empire. The very people responsible for Roan's death in the first place. Gone back and let them work on him.