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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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.

That didn't seem convincing to Ferus, and he said nothing. In time could mean anything: so instead it meant little. There was something childish in wanting a definite answer, though, and he knew that there would never be a day he could mark down as the day he'd not feel the hole inside him and the darkness that occupied it.

Obi-Wan seemed to have found his center again. He too faced a monumental loss.

Maybe, he thought. Just maybe. He didn't really believe himself but it was the best he could manage, and it'd have to be enough for the moment.

There was a pause, and then he raised the cup to his lips and he drank from the water, his eyes closed. The clear taste of it was unexpected, refreshing after these endless desert days, and he felt the tears sting again when he put the cup back on the table.

Then in a sudden rush of words that he hadn't realized he'd held onto so hard until they spilled out of him with a stifled sob, he said, "I should have been faster."

No, Obi-Wan had not expected it to help very much--it was a small comfort, in front of a great loss. But he spoke what wisdom he knew, what comforts he could give. The little truths that were helping him get through his own losses and his own regrets. Day by day. It truly was a journey.

He frowned when Ferus let out that sobbing sound, and let out those words. He did not know the details. Only that it had been Vader--had been Anakin--who had taken Roan from Ferus. That was Obi-Wan's great failing.

He didn't think he could bear to tell Ferus that he had had the opportunity to put a sure end to Vader. He had thought Anakin as good as dead, yes, but he could have done more than that. That was his failing, his weakness.

Obi-Wan crouched by Ferus, putting himself closer onto Ferus's level. Making them equals again, he hoped. He understood the sentiment behind those words, though. He would share that much at least.

"I have been here many times," he provided. "At the death of my Master. Of Siri. When Anakin..." he took a breath. "There is little good to be found in wondering what you might have been able to do. You acted as you could have. Peace will not come with regrets."

The sharing helped. It helped Ferus put his own feelings into some kind of context, and he appreciated that the distance between them grew smaller as Obi-Wan responded to him by acknowledging his own losses.

He actually smiled. Very faintly, only there for a second and without any humour, but instead, there was something like fondness there. Obi-Wan was being a Jedi Master again, he thought. But it was more than that still, and it was the blend that got through to Ferus. He brushed a hand over his face as he nodded that he understood, then shifted: moved a leg over the chair and turned his body, so he leaned against the back of the chair with his shoulder, facing Obi-Wan.

It made him more open. Perhaps even easier to read. Nothing Ferus was thinking about when he brought one hand to his lap and lowered his still-burning eyes.

"I know that", he said, quiet. "I was in the middle of a sentence. I barely saw him move. But I still think that I shouldn't have let him get that close to him. Or that if I'd been stronger in the Force, a real Jedi ..."

He might have at least had a chance. The voice in his head was almost taunting in its insistance. He couldn't have foreseen it, he told himself, only to turn around and tell himself equally harshly, it was Darth Vader. You should have known.

Obi-Wan returned that smile, thin but fond, when he earned it. It was a good sign, as faint as it was, as unhappy as it was. It was a start, and he would take his victories where he could find them.

He studied Ferus quietly as the younger man shifted, nodding slightly. Thinking about what he said.

"You are a true Jedi, Ferus," he insisted gently. "But even the greatest masters of the Force cannot be expected to see everything, to prevent all wrongs. You cannot blame yourself for the wrongs of another being."

A touch hypocritical, perhaps, but something Obi-Wan was taking steps to remember as well. But to assume one could control everything, stop anything--stop death itself--was a sure path to the Dark Side.

"The important thing is to move forward, to bring what rights you can to the galaxy. That is the surest way to honour his memory."

Ah, and there it was again - an obvious window to explain exactly why he wasn't a true Jedi, couldn't be any longer. He'd said so once before, when they first left Bellassa together. I have attachments, he'd said. Obi-Wan knew that, but he didn't know that Ferus had strayed even further from the Jedi path.

Thankfully he didn't have to hesitate over it. Obi-Wan kept talking and gave Ferus an out without realizing it. He listened, thought of Roan ... and the others.

"His memory", he said, feeling another surge of guilt despite Obi-Wan's assurances, "and everyone else's. Too many people died on that asteroid."

The entire resistance. He should have listened to Obi-Wan. He should have been more critical of Flame. But even thinking of her brought another wave of something sick inside him when he remembered how easily he'd decided he should kill her, and he paled and turned his head away again.

Obi-Wan inclined his head slightly, but he did not rise or turn away. He just stayed where he was, half crouched, keeping close to Ferus. He saw the struggle in him, the sickness, even if he did not know the source of all of his trouble. That was the difficulty there. As much as he knew of the loss that Ferus faced, he did not know all of what he had done or seen. Ferus had not told him everything. But he could not fault him for that.

"Of course," he acknowledged with a slight frown. He felt the loss, too, of friends and others. "Too many have been lost. In the Wars, and since."

It was a dark time. It had consumed them longer ago than anyone would want to admit.

Yeah. Ferus had seen it coming, although not as soon as he'd have liked. But that's why he proposed the idea of the business to Roan, to protect the people who had power to expose what was really happening in the Republic. Now, of course, it was something else. And ruled by a Sith.

"I hate the Empire", Ferus said. Softly, simply. Because that's where it had really, truly started, and that had been the downfall of everything he'd loved and believed in, and now here he was. Here they were. The last of a people.

And Ferus was of course still reluctant to count himself in the same league as Obi-Wan on the best of days.

Obi-Wan was torn on that comment, shaking his head slightly not in disagreement but in thought. Hate was the path to the Dark Side, to anger and further pain. It brought one little good to hate, little but danger came of it. He did not want Ferus to be at risk of that any longer.

On the other hand, Obi-Wan felt it too. The seeds of anger and hate. Perhaps not so strongly, no, but the Empire had taken everything from him.

Perhaps it was not the Jedi way, and so Obi-Wan would fight for acceptance in place of hate, but it was difficult to not feel it at all. But he had to move on.

Obi-Wan stood up again, looking to Ferus for a moment.

"I know," he said, equal in tone to Ferus. "But you mustn't let that be what drives you forward."

Again. There it was again. Obi-Wan kept leading him to say it, and he didn't even know it - or at least, Ferus assumed he didn't, but he was starting to wonder how much Obi-Wan suspected. Of what had happened. What he'd done.

Ferus looked back at him, and the moment stretched on.

He could say, it's too late for that. Or, I know the consequences. He could say anything to clue Obi-Wan in on the dark side that flickered in him, that he could reach so easily. He pictured himself saying the words. He pictured Obi-Wan both shying away from him. Pictured him somehow fixing it. Some forgotten Jedi lesson that Ferus would actually welcome. On the other hand, wariness of knowing how easily he could fail again.

Blinking, he looked away to the cup of water, half empty, and he reached for it.

He said "I know", and he drank.

Edited 2015-10-30 19:12 (UTC)

Obi-Wan felt that moment stretch on, let it wash over him, felt it stir.

It was true that he suspected. He had felt the Dark Side surrounding Ferus, even if he did not know to what extent. So to hear Ferus talk of pain and hate, it worried him.

But clearly Ferus was not yet willing to speak to him of whatever had happened, he realized as he watched Ferus drink. He could continue to prompt him, but it seemed that it would not be that night that he got any further.

Well. You could lead a bordok to water...

"Of course," he agreed, sensing a general end to Ferus's openness for now. He reached out again, touching one of the young man's shoulders and said gently, "perhaps it is time to retire for the evening."

He set the cup down on the table and nodded, then took a small moment. Just remained for a second and felt what was around him - the hand on his shoulder, the chilly desert night, the cramped home. It was surreal but with those words still comforting, and he took a breath and stood, again facing Obi-Wan.

He felt tired. More than expected. More than he knew.

Sleep would be welcome. It had been for some time.

"Thanks for the water", he said after a short moment, and cast another look out the window.

Edited 2015-10-30 19:58 (UTC)

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