thesaurus | ITT: SAD JEDI

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!caitlin,
#ic

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?

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Obi-Wan was silent as he watched Ferus pace the room and deliberate. He was fine with waiting him out, with letting him vent his pain and frustration as much as needed. It wasn't as if it was doing Obi-Wan any harm to give Ferus that space, that outlet. He knew he needed it.

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.

He'd told Obi-Wan just a few days prior that he didn't feel inclined to taking those steps, for simple lack of want or reason. Putting it like this, that he felt unable to at all, was a different thing. In truth he wasn't sure the want wasn't still lacking, sure, but ... every time he thought about what had happened he couldn't help but find moments where he could have acted differently.

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.

And there it was, another question that Obi-Wan didn't particularly want to think about or answer. Ferus was particularly on point with those this evening, though Obi-Wan hardly found that fact surprising. Ferus had always been observant and keen, even before he'd been more willing to speak his mind.

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.

Yeah, there it was. Ferus hadn't been paying too much attention the last few days, honestly - had let himself get self-centered and introspective these few days as he was struggling with himself - but the guilt and pain he was carrying now had been easily found in Obi-Wan as well.

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.

He didn't return that smile, humourless or not. He did feel very tired and, again, old. He wasn't the only one noticing his years. Obi-Wan didn't consider himself particularly old, but he felt his age in his weariness.

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."

Jedi wisdom again, but Ferus didn't mind it this time. Maybe because it felt more like Obi-Wan's own, even behind the Jedi way. He often found that level of acceptance too passive, these days, too easy; an excuse not to do anything that could matter. But spoken like this, from the heart about something extremely difficult, he could appreciate what Obi-Wan was saying, even if he wasn't sure what he was feeling himself.

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."

Obi-Wan watched the movement in silence, musing on it quietly. It was similar to something he had seen Ferus do many months ago, what he imagined must seem like a lifetime ago to Ferus, but it seemed different now. Less casual, more tired.

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.

Edited 2015-10-28 02:56 (UTC)

Darting a glance at Obi-Wan and realizing the attempt for what it was, Ferus nonetheless allowed a hint of a smile to touch his eyes. They could use the somewhat-lighter. But more than that, there was something nice and almost normal when the conversation took these turns, and it was surprising to learn as much as he was about Obi-Wan.

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.

Obi-Wan offered a wry imitation of a smile, inclining his head slightly. "You'd be surprised," he conceded, though he didn't offer any real details. They were unnecessary, and he wasn't about to go listing all of his flaws. But Ferus was a peer now, one of two left, and the only one that he could talk to, so unburdening some of those differences between them seemed like it might help. Or at least give them more common ground.

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.

Ferus shrugged one shoulder, leaning his chin on his arms. "Alright, don't tell me", he said, although despite the still-tired quality to his voice, it wasn't said with any actual annoyance. Again; this was past. Not important. "Keep your image."

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.

Edited 2015-10-28 19:48 (UTC)

That was fine; Obi-Wan didn't detect any actual annoyance in it, as much as he knew that his behaviour could often grate on Ferus's nerves. It wasn't intentional, but it was fine.

"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."

Ferus nodded, sinking further into his arms. He knew that he could sleep like this, should he want to. Sleep called him more often as of late, but he resisted it. He wasn't that kind of tired.

"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."

"I do," he replied with a half smile. "It is a necessary evil."

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."

"Yes, Master Kenobi."

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.

Obi-Wan sighed softly at the dry response and yes, the fact that he was losing Ferus again. He wasn't surprised. He knew Ferus didn't connect well any longer to the Jedi Code and Order; that was his past life. He, too, felt the distance. He didn't want it there. He had never been close to Ferus before, but he was the only one he really had left now. He knew they would keep in touch once Ferus left for Alderaan, they had to, but they had to lay the groundwork for that rapport then and there.

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.

This surprised Ferus, and he sat up a little straighter as he was pulled out of his slightly bitter mindset. He looked back at Obi-Wan, feeling a little curious but also strangely wary. That would have been barely a year ago - he'd not been a part of the Order for several years at that point, had put it well and truly behind him.

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?"

Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow slightly at Ferus sitting up straight, but he supposed that meant that the comment had worked to get Ferus's attention. Not that that had been the only purpose, but it had certainly been one of them.

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."

So she'd kept tabs on him, had she? Ferus' eyes softened at that, recalling the contact they'd had for a time after he'd left. She'd told him in a mostly playful way she'd keep her eyes on him, although he hadn't missed the serious undertone or the surprisingly gentle look on her face. He'd found it reassuring at the time, but as months and years passed, he moved on.

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."

Obi-Wan gave Ferus the moment to consider that, especially because he had indeed assumed Ferus wouldn't have known the extent to which Siri had kept him in mind. He had known they no longer kept in contact, after all. That much, as far as he knew, had been relatively brief, but it had never been his business to pursue.

But yes, there was also that--informing Ferus of the circumstances of her death. Of course Ferus had assumed she had died with all the others. But no, Obi-Wan had had the misfortune of being there when she met her demise. He shook his head.

"She was killed on a mission during the Wars," he said softly.

His first thought was a sad but slightly fond, she must have hated that. The second was that he was glad she wouldn't have had to bear the pain and sorrow of the demise of the rest, of what was almost the whole galaxy turning against them.

He remained silent for a moment, still watching Obi-Wan as he thought, took it in, adjusted this new truth with the one he'd had previously.

When the Order was executed it had shocked him deeply. Of course it had. But he'd been out there, fighing like so many others, and he'd barely had time to understand what exactly had gone down. Roan was the one who had later confirmed it to him, when they'd had time to talk inbetween battles.

I looked it up, he'd said. She was on a list of dead. I'm sorry.

And Ferus had accepted that and stopped there, because why go further? It had seemed obvious enough what must have happened. The confusion and outrage over the Order and the Emperor had pushed him in different directions.

But he appreciated this. Obi-Wan telling him this, saying he'd meant to before. Of course he wanted to know the truth about his old Master.

"What happened?"

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, steeling himself against it. He had learned to live with her loss, at least as much as he ever would, but he would never forget the heartache or pain of losing her. He had thought for a moment when she died, what was the point of going on?

He had come a long way since then. But new, fresh pain compounded it.

Still, Obi-Wan would live. He had to. He knew Siri would have been displeased with him had he let himself surround himself in grief for so long. Even this monumental loss that they faced now.

He lifted his chin slightly, casting a harder gaze past Ferus to the wall. He could imagine her voice, the feel of her. And he could remember those last few moments with stark, practised clarity.

"She was impatient to the last," he said, fondness in his voice. "She went ahead to battle a bounty hunter in his ship, leaving the rest of us behind. She did what had to be done. When the ship crashed, I found her injured." He closed his eyes a moment. But then he smiled, however strained it was, when he remembered the last of it. "Her last words to me were, 'don't worry so much.'"

Ferus smiled. A sad smile, absolutely, and a small one, but there in the conflicting emotions that arose when he thought of his Master - love, affection, fondness. But there was also something rueful in hearing how she'd died in the end, how she would of course die as a result of her own noble stubbornness ... and of course, there was still the pain and grief of her passing at all.

Ferus had grieved her after the purge, although maybe not as much as he should have. But the fact was that he'd grieved the loss of her twice, and he'd accepted she was not a part of his life years ago, and that made this conversation less painful for him.

Of course it stung, and he felt deeply saddened and again haunted by tears, but he thought Obi-Wan's pain was greater than his own. He knew what it was like to watch someone die, now. He was sorry Obi-Wan had had to see it as well, but he also felt grateful he had been there with her.

"That sounds like her", he said, a particularly gentle inflection to his voice. "She used to call me her perpetually worried Padawan."

He paused, then added with a small sigh, "I really am sorry. But I'm glad she wasn't alone."

Obi-Wan's own emotions were turbulent. There was still much to consider when it came to her death. But he truly had worked through most of it. Again, at least as much as he ever would. His life as a Jedi had helped with that, even as it had also prevented him from ever being with her. But the two of them had sworn to forget about what the Code prevented them from having.

And he still remembered the flare of hate and anger he had felt in the wake of her death.

He remembered, then, sensing the Dark Side having touched Ferus. He imagined how much pain and anger must have plagued him.

Would it do any good to tell Ferus that he, too, had once conquered great loss and rage? Was it his place to tell him that he and Siri had been--but they have been nothing. Close, of course, and he had loved her. But they had not been together. They never could have been.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath as he thought about all of this, then told himself to refocus on the present. On what Ferus was saying.

He opened his eyes again, blinking back the threat of old tears, and inclined his head toward his companion.

"Of course. And her death was not in vain: it was because of her sacrifice that we were able to take the bounty hunter prisoner."

Not that that made it any easier.

It didn't. Kicking his heel back lightly into one of the chair legs, Ferus shook his head. While he'd accepted Siri was gone several times over, what she'd died for didn't justify it, didn't help it.

So he said, rather simply, "we both know some bounty hunter wasn't worth her death."

It was not the Jedi way, he knew. A life couldn't be worth more than any other. But Ferus wasn't a Jedi anymore and he felt free to speak his mind, and even moreso to think his own thoughts - and those told him that Siri was worth more than whoever she could have possibly pursued.

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, looking past Ferus still as he thought about it. But it didn't take much thought in actuality. Of course Ferus was right. Nothing could have justified Siri's death.

Perhaps it wasn't the Jedi way. He kept on that path, but Siri's life had been worth more than that.

"No," he agreed, lowering his voice. "She was worth far more."

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