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ITT: SAD JEDI
Obi-Wan stood behind the little hovel he called home, tending to Rooh-the-eopie. He watched the first of the two suns sink below the horizon, halving the amount of light that bathed the desert. Dusk was here, and soon so would night, and so too would the bad dreams arrive: the images of terrified younglings and friends dying. But he closed his eyes against the early onslaught of thoughts. There was no need to let them plague him before their time; if he let them take him at any moment at all then there was no way that he could go on.
Opening his eyes, he stroked Rooh's snout carefully, calming her as she became restless. He made sure she was secured, fed and watered, then he moved onto her son, Tooh. Tooh wasn't big enough yet to be ridden, but that was alright. When he took Ferus to Mos Eisley they could walk and he would lead the eopies with them. He could ride Rooh home, or pick up some supplies and have her carry them. But the walk there would be good for them all, he thought.
Ferus Olin was inside the hut, taking care of whatever would pass for dinner that night. It wouldn't be long now before they parted ways, before Ferus took his leave to Alderaan, but for now the company was something of a comfort. Ferus was family, though they hardly got along perfectly. Ferus mouthed off, for one thing, and questioned Obi-Wan regularly. It was a little like having Anakin--
Obi-Wan stopped his thoughts again, patting Tooh and straightening up. Ferus wasn't Anakin. He never would be. But he had come closer to becoming Anakin than either of them dared talk about.
For now there was much pain for both of them.
He stood on the hill, looking east, toward the Lars homestead in the far distance. He waited for the second sun to set and wondered. He wished he could reach out with the Force to Luke, check that all was well, but he couldn't connect to him. Shouldn't, even if he could.
It was lonely in the desert, so far from everything, even with Ferus there. In some ways, Obi-Wan thought, more so because Ferus was there, comfort or not. They had both lost so much: friends, family, purpose. More than Obi-Wan could bear, he thought some days. But now they were guardians of the galaxy's hope. It would be a long, difficult job, but Obi-Wan would shoulder that burden. He only hoped that Ferus could too. He didn't know how the young man was coping. Obi-Wan barely knew how he was coping.
The sun finally disappeared, leaving him in relative darkness before the stars began to twinkle into life. He turned his chin up to the sky, searching for familiar constellations he would never find from this remote planet. He had never paid much attention to Tatooine in the past, even knowing it was Anakin's homeworld. It wasn't as if it should have mattered. But a remarkable amount of the galaxy seemed to orbit around this little planet on the outer rim.
And here they were, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ferus Olin. Two men, stripped of everything, almost ready to say goodbye. How long would they need to hold together before peace returned?
Opening his eyes, he stroked Rooh's snout carefully, calming her as she became restless. He made sure she was secured, fed and watered, then he moved onto her son, Tooh. Tooh wasn't big enough yet to be ridden, but that was alright. When he took Ferus to Mos Eisley they could walk and he would lead the eopies with them. He could ride Rooh home, or pick up some supplies and have her carry them. But the walk there would be good for them all, he thought.
Ferus Olin was inside the hut, taking care of whatever would pass for dinner that night. It wouldn't be long now before they parted ways, before Ferus took his leave to Alderaan, but for now the company was something of a comfort. Ferus was family, though they hardly got along perfectly. Ferus mouthed off, for one thing, and questioned Obi-Wan regularly. It was a little like having Anakin--
Obi-Wan stopped his thoughts again, patting Tooh and straightening up. Ferus wasn't Anakin. He never would be. But he had come closer to becoming Anakin than either of them dared talk about.
For now there was much pain for both of them.
He stood on the hill, looking east, toward the Lars homestead in the far distance. He waited for the second sun to set and wondered. He wished he could reach out with the Force to Luke, check that all was well, but he couldn't connect to him. Shouldn't, even if he could.
It was lonely in the desert, so far from everything, even with Ferus there. In some ways, Obi-Wan thought, more so because Ferus was there, comfort or not. They had both lost so much: friends, family, purpose. More than Obi-Wan could bear, he thought some days. But now they were guardians of the galaxy's hope. It would be a long, difficult job, but Obi-Wan would shoulder that burden. He only hoped that Ferus could too. He didn't know how the young man was coping. Obi-Wan barely knew how he was coping.
The sun finally disappeared, leaving him in relative darkness before the stars began to twinkle into life. He turned his chin up to the sky, searching for familiar constellations he would never find from this remote planet. He had never paid much attention to Tatooine in the past, even knowing it was Anakin's homeworld. It wasn't as if it should have mattered. But a remarkable amount of the galaxy seemed to orbit around this little planet on the outer rim.
And here they were, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ferus Olin. Two men, stripped of everything, almost ready to say goodbye. How long would they need to hold together before peace returned?
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He appreciated the gesture. And he stood thoughtful for a short moment, trying to make this information fit with the Obi-Wan he knew. He found that it didn't really, although it was still mildly comforting to know.
Ferus had no regrets about leaving the Order now, but he'd certainly had doubts at the time, had been racked by uncertainty even as he'd made his decision. He'd known of course about others that had left, or else he'd not have considered it an option. But he had known none personally. Or at least he hadn't thought so.
"Siri mentioned ..." he started, then trailed off as he tried to remember what it was she'd said. "She said others who had left had come back, that she'd known it to happen. I wouldn't have thought she meant you."
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That was, perhaps, why he had not told Ferus before. He hadn't wanted the boy to think that he was making the wrong decision by leaving. Clearly he had made the right one. It spoke quite a lot to their differences now, as grown men.
"No, I don't expect you would have," he agreed with a faint smile, turning back to face him now that everything was cleaned up. "But I have changed much since I was a Padawan. As have you," he added with a respectful gesture to him.
Of course, the last few months had changed Ferus even further. In the interest of not letting that heavy knowledge overtake them if it did not have to, he continued on.
"Siri had thought, at the time, that it made us all look bad. But she came to understand my decision, and to learn it had nothing to do with my commitment to the Order."
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It sounded like something he could imagine a young Siri to say, too. Something judgmental simply because she didn't have the facts. The Siri he'd known as his Master had conquered that trait, but the impatience in finding facts sometimes still showed through.
"Why did you return?" he asked after a short moment, finding that that's what he was the most interested in knowing.
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But of course, much of the context surrounding his return was unnecessarily complicated, and he didn't have cause to share most of it with Ferus. Little of it made any difference any more, as much as it would always be a part of him.
Nield turning on him. Cerasi's death. Their hard-won but fragile peace nearly shattering.
"Suffice it to say," Obi-Wan summarized, "that I did not fit in very well outside of the Order. I later called my Master back to help settle a dispute and found myself deeply missing working with him."
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He noted Obi-Wan's wording with slight amusement, though.
"I never fit in very well inside the Order", he said, thinking back. Which was true, despite how adept he knew he had been. He had been lonely. He'd felt pressure he couldn't let go of. "I could do nearly everything they asked of me. I was strong. I knew I had promise. But I was never happy."
Pausing for a moment as he thought again of Roan's eyes, crinkling with laughter the very first time he'd seen them, his voice took on a softer, sadder quality again.
"I didn't realize that until ..." a vague gesture with his head, as if indicating something beyond the stars outside, "Bellassa."
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But this was very much about both of them still. He of course recognized what Ferus was saying. He had been surprised to learn how difficult Ferus's time in the Order had been. He was glad to know his time as a civilian, the precious few years he'd had, were good.
And he felt glad that Ferus shared that little bit about himself. About where he had finally found that happiness.
He was glad for that, though of course he didn't know all of the details. But he also knew that had been taken from Ferus recently. By Vader. That meant that any happiness that could be shared was poisoned, if not dead.
And what could he say?
"I am very sorry, Ferus."
For so many things.
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There was a lot fighting inside him. So many different responses to the sympathy that was offered. There was, sorry doesn't fix anything. But there was also, I'm sorry too.
He was thinking of Roan. And he was thinking of Solace and Garen and Ry-Gaul.
And he was thinking of Trever, who he would lose in a matter of days. By his own choice. To protect him.
He didn't realize he was pacing until he forced himself to stand still, and he felt tense and vulnerable, and a small part of him was angry at Obi-Wan for having managed that so elegantly. Just by compassion.
"You told me that forgiveness is a decision", he said thickly and rather suddenly. "But I'm not sure it's one I can make."
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Of course he offered compassion. Of course he gave him sympathy. He hoped it help, though he understood also why it wouldn't.
And he understood Ferus's concerns.
"It may take a some time," he cautioned gently. He knew that it was for him. "But you have to be willing to take that step."
He was concerned what would happen to Ferus if he could never make that step.
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Where he could have saved someone.
But those people were dead or underground and either way, he had no one now, other than his fellow Jedi, the one left he knew. Obi-Wan had said there was a third but also that he couldn't tell Ferus any more than that. A part of Ferus was frustrated over that decision, but it was one he could accept.
Being a Jedi was a death sentence.
Ferus didn't know what he was, but he knew he'd have the same sentence on him now, if he ever showed his face again.
Because of Anakin.
"Are you?"
The question was asked almost before he'd realized he was speaking.
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He had noticed things about Anakin that Obi-Wan had been too afraid to see.
He sighed faintly, and looked away for the moment. How honest should he be about that answer? And how much would his pause belie the fact that he wasn't entirely certain about it?
"I wish to be," he finally said.
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With me as a Master, he'd started to say, not long ago at all, speculating about Anakin's crossing over to the dark side. Ferus had been too angry to reflect on it much at the time, but he remembered it. And he didn't think he would forget it, the same way Obi-Wan wouldn't forget his reasons for saying that in the first place.
Obi-Wan wasn't that much older than him, but right then, the years between them became even more obvious.
He smiled, faintly, without humour. It was more a small way of saying 'gotcha'.
"Not so easy, right?" he said wearily.
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There was quite a lot on his shoulders now. Both the future and the past.
He thought for a moment of Qui-Gon reminding him to pay attention to the moment, to not let the future or the past worry him at the expense of the present. But it felt there was little in the present, now. Just waiting.
Well, and this. This was worth something at least.
"Few journeys are," Obi-Wan replied. "I've accepted that."
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Hooking his foot behind a leg of the chair Obi-Wan had previously been occupying, he pulled it towards him and kicked it lightly to make it turn so he could sit down again, backwards; resting his arms over the back of it.
"I don't think I was ever that good at acceptance", he said after a moment, turning his head to look out that window again. "Even as a Padawan."
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But perhaps that difference was more in Ferus than the action.
On the other hand, it was a miracle he even had a second chair for Ferus to do that with.
Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall. "Frankly," he confessed, hopefully adding a somewhat lighter note to the air again. "I was terrible at it as a Padawan. At least at first."
Qui-Gon Jinn had had his hands full with the young Obi-Wan. Obviously things had changed.
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He'd never really known him at the Temple, of course. He was learning a lot more about him these months than he had during his whole life as a Jedi.
"So Master Kenobi had humble beginnings?"
Oh, he'd tease, even if the jokes were tired and strained. It seemed easier than being close to tears ... or the anger. A momentary reprieve from himself.
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Just don't go rushing out to tell everyone, he thought but didn't say. Because who could Ferus ever tell? Everyone was gone. Obi-Wan stifled a sigh.
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He wasn't serious, of course. But with the way his eyes kept drifting it might have been difficult to tell. He found yet again that he was watching the distant darkness. He knew one of the moons must have risen above the horizon, as the surroundings were less black and more a deep blue gray, but he couldn't see it from here.
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"It was a rather tumultuous career," he offered, though it didn't say very much.
Obi-Wan noted Ferus looking out the window and stepped toward the window himself. He looked out for a moment, to the sky.
"It's always curious, adjusting to a new sky." This was different-- the first time he had stayed in one place for a very long time. And this time it wasn't Coruscant, which made it a particularly strange adjustment. The air was quiet. The skies clear. And it certainly wasn't the Temple's artificial sky. "And stranger still to think I won't be up there any time soon."
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"I thought you hated flying", he said softly, but didn't linger; Obi-Wan's comment had naturally sent more thoughts of Bellassa tumbling forth inside his head, and he closed his eyes for a moment as he allowed himself to picture what he'd lose. Had already lost.
The lake especially, the parks ... the quiet, winding streets and the mountains in the distance. All beneath a clear sky. One sun, two moons, and a comet that was drawn into orbit close enough to see almost once a year.
"I never paid attention to the skies before I left", he said slowly, thinking back. "They never seemed important. The mission came first."
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But that wasn't the point, really. Neither of them lingered on it at all, there wasn't much point to that. The point was the loss, and Ferus clearly still felt it very deeply. Of course he did.
It was a bit strange: Obi-Wan had never had quite the same attachments, so it was difficult to offer comfort. He had Jedi words of wisdom, perhaps, but those were of limited efficacy with Ferus. But at least Ferus here was reflecting on the Order. That they had between them at least.
He turned back to him, straightening up. "It is difficult to remember to be mindful of your surroundings," he said, "when you must also focus on your purpose. To learn how to balance your focus."
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He couldn't help that kind of response in the face of a lesson that had been worked into his very core since he was a youngling, even if Obi-Wan phrased it a little differently. It was still the same. It was something any Jedi could have told him.
It had nothing to do with Obi-Wan anymore, and so, very little to do with Ferus, and he felt like that became a distance between them. It was frustrating. They no longer spoke the same language.
It was Ferus who had changed, but it was strange feeling so far away from something that had been such a big part of his life, unable to reconnect fully. Much like the Force, actually. He was still strong with it, he knew that, but his command of it would never be what it used to be.
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So instead of any more wisdom, instead of being the Jedi Master, he went back to the biggest piece of common ground they had.
"I had meant to contact you, Ferus. After the Wars." It was probably more than evident why he hadn't in the end, but there had been that intention to check in with him when things had settled somewhat. Of course they never had.
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So what could Obi-Wan had wanted with him? It was a pretty strange thing, imagining Obi-Wan seeking him out when he'd still not been a resistance leader. He would have been a civilian again if the purge hadn't happened, little more. It would have been two eras of his life he'd never had thought would mix.
Then again, Obi-Wan tracking him down when he'd escaped an Imperial prison and was hiding in the mountains had been a shock too. Just ... oddly more appropriate, somehow.
"Why?"
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Just as there had been a few reasons to seek out Ferus, even had none of this ever happened.
But most of all...
"For Siri," he explained, arms over his chest again but bowing his head respectfully for her memory. "She had told me you had enlisted as an officer. When she passed--well, I thought it right that you should know."
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He'd assumed Siri had, as well. But it touched him to know she'd thought of him, as he often thought of her.
Lost in that for a short moment, the full meaning of what Obi-Wan was saying didn't immediately register. When it did, he frowned slightly.
"Wait ..." he said, slowly, gaze fixed on Obi-Wan. "I thought she was killed in the purge."
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