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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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."

Again, Obi-Wan surprised him, because Ferus had expected him to give him an empty or maybe admonishing answer in response, something with more Jedi wisdom and lessons.

But the answer was honest. And with that between them, their agreement on the unfairness of the loss of Siri, in an isolated wasteland in a borderline-empty planet, Ferus felt closer to Obi-Wan than he ever had before.

He was quiet for a moment that seemed to stretch on as he let that answer settle. He realized that he was struggling with himself.

But then he turned his head away and said thickly, "so was Roan."

Again, Obi-Wan was more than fine letting the silence stretch on. Often silence brought the desired results and patience was rewarded. This was clearly one of those instances.

Because Ferus had all but refused to speak that name, to properly acknowledge the greatest of his pain. For him to do it at all was a good sign, perhaps a sign that he might yet recover from it. But he had meant it that it would be a long, difficult journey. He understood that. Loss was always difficult to grasp.

He thought of Qui-Gon.

Of Siri.

Of Anakin.

But that made it no easier to know how to help Ferus. Much of the healing had to come from within. But reminding Ferus of that again would do him little good.

"I understand," he said gently instead, studying Ferus, voice low but sympathetic. "The loss of someone you care for is always painful and never fair. I am truly sorry."

It was simple, perhaps, but he hoped it would at least encourage Ferus to talk about it further.

He didn't know what to say at first. The pain was too much, the pain of acknowledging, finally, aloud, that Roan was gone. Roan, who had showed him how to find himself, had taught him the meaning of home, had brought him into his family.

The loss of his partner was loud and crushing against him. It had been ever since that single second that changed everything: the saber slashed into his heart. The blood. The dimming green grey eyes, focused on Ferus' own until the last possible moment.

He'd told Obi-Wan that Roan was dead, but that hadn't been the same. Saying aloud that Roan deserved so much more than he got in the end was something he felt so strongly he thought it might have brought him to his knees if he hadn't already been sitting.

He didn't know, he realized with a sudden clarity, how to handle this. He no longer had the Jedi mind to hide behind. He couldn't accept this and let it go. He couldn't take back what he'd said and done in the aftermath of Roan's death either, just as little as he could take back the choice he'd made that had ultimately gotten Darra killed, so many years ago.

That death was what made him leave the Jedi.

Roan's death had somehow managed that a second time, and Ferus understood that without Roan to ground him, he'd felt lost. He still felt lost.

Ferus had not-quite-asked Obi-Wan at the beginning of the night if he thought he needed help, but he had known even then that if the answer had been a simple yes, he wouldn't have argued.

Help me, he thought.

I don't know what to do.

Drawing in a breath that stopped short somewhere, he felt the tears gather again in his eyes as he took in that gentle sympathy. Obi-Wan didn't know, though. Ferus knew he couldn't possibly understand.

"He saved me, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. The one underlying message was clear: no, Obi-Wan couldn't understand after all. And that was fair. Ferus's pain was unique, just as Obi-Wan's was. Neither could fully appreciate the other's. But they could certainly do their best and support each other nonetheless. And that was exactly what Obi-Wan intended to do. And he would certainly listen.

He was silent for a moment, going back to the dishes and fetching a cup. He went to the keg he kept in the corner and poured a cup of cool water. It was no longer so fresh, but he had kept this particular keg as something of a treat. It was what was left of the water he had bought from the oasis, and the last he would ever retrieve from there. It was also perhaps the best he had tasted; something crucial on Tatooine.

Without any of that explanation, he passed the cup of water to Ferus.

"He was very important to you," Obi-Wan said softly, gently prompting Ferus to continue. "To have done so much to help you."

A strangled sound escaped him, something that might have started as a faint laugh but that had nonetheless turned into a sob halfway through. Very important was an understatement, and it shuddered through him again, how incredibly important Roan had been and still was.

He'd lost his way when he'd left the Order, but he felt this so much more strongly.

"I married him", he said after another small moment that was needed to compose the words at all. His eyes were on the cup of water, and he thought, you're wasting all your water on me, but he didn't say it. He understood the gesture. He appreciated it, but didn't yet move from his spot, all but hugging the back of the chair as he sat, tense and vulnerable.

He didn't know how much he could say about Roan without losing his mind. But he felt the need to explain even if just in some small way how Roan was different. So that somebody who remained would know.

Hearing that noise from Ferus pained him, but he said nothing. He had to let the young man vent in whatever way he needed, to work through this slowly.

What did surprise Obi-Wan though was what Ferus said. His eyebrows arched and he looked at him for a moment. He had understood Roan was important--had suspected, even, that there was love there, because of how close they were, how important to each other--but he had not assumed quite so much. Perhaps because, in his mind, there was still something of the Jedi left in Ferus, and such a thing was out of the question in the Order.

But there had been Anakin.

He felt glad for Ferus, as much as Ferus was hurting, that he had had that love, that relationship, that would have been forbidden to him otherwise. That he had been able to love openly and freely. But to lose that had still nearly destroyed him. But would it have been worse to never have it at all? To have fought to keep it secret from his peers?

Obi-Wan remembered when he and Siri had proposed to do that, to love in secret, and the very thought had broken his heart. And it pained him to think of how such a thing had brought about Anakin's ruin in a very real way. He was glad that Ferus had not had to go through that.

Slowly, Obi-Wan nodded, still holding out the water to Ferus.

"I am glad that leaving the Order allowed you to love freely," he said gently. "And those days of happiness will never leave your heart." Perhaps it wasn't much comfort but memories meant a great deal, especially in these days. As did the heart. "I understand that makes the loss no less real. But perhaps it will make it easier to bear."

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.

Obi-Wan was quiet still as he watched Ferus. Waiting him out patiently. This was entirely about Ferus--Ferus and Roan--now and he would help him however he could. But it was difficult. The Jedi Code was what had helped Obi-Wan move on in his mourning the one he loved. When Qui-Gon had lost Tahl, Obi-Wan had felt completely unable to help him except by the simple gesture of bringing him tea every morning. There had seemed to be no comfort available to give to his Master. Only space and time to heal. Yoda had seen that, too.

He thought of Master Yoda in exile and closed his eyes for a brief second. The Grand Master would have been much more adept at offering Ferus comfort than Obi-Wan was, he thought. But that was not an option. Even telling Ferus that he was alive was not an option.

"You can mourn in your own way," Obi-Wan offered. Because this was a present issue. Ferus had spent far longer than nine days in mourning, even if he was not with Roan's family. "That is alright. It's a shame to have not been able to do so with his family," he said, then reached out with one hand to rest it on Ferus's shoulder. "But you are not alone, either."

Edited 2015-10-29 20:13 (UTC)

Drawing in a wet breath through his nose, Ferus responded to the touch by relaxing slightly into it and then slowly moved his other hand away from the surprisingly firm grip he'd had on the chair to cradle the mug of water with both hands.

He could shatter it. It'd be easy. It'd take less than a thought. All he'd have to do was think back on that moment again - the lightsaber through Roan's heart. The dimming eyes.

So easy.

But there was no point. And it was nothing he wanted. Still, the knowledge hummed within him, deep down but steady. That would never go away. Roan would never come back. The Jedi were dead, but for the one touching his shoulder. The resistance was crushed.

Roan would never come back.

But you are not alone, either.

He blinked hard against the tears.

"I feel alone", he said hoarsely, moving his thumbs down the sides of the mug. "I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan sighed softly at Ferus's words. But he squeezed his shoulder gently before he withdrew. This was difficult, of course. He couldn't know the full extent of Ferus's pain.

"It's alright," he said gently. "I understand."

Obi-Wan often still felt alone, even with Ferus there. The loss of the Jedi left an empty hole in his heart. Ferus was his only real connection to them left. Even though his life had purpose, he would be alone in that. He would not be friends to the Larses, or to Luke. He would live in isolation, without his family.

But, he reminded him, he was not alone. And he had a purpose which he would pursue with all his heart.

But that did not help Ferus. At least not yet.

"In time that will pass." At least the worst of it would.

ITT: SAD JEDI

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