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 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."
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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."
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"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.
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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."
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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."
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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.
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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."
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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.
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"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.
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"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.
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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."
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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.
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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."
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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.
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He didn't answer the thanks, knowing full well what it meant, and simply inclined his head politely in acknowledgement. He picked up the cup and brought it to the counter, wiping it down quickly. Then he would finish securing the building before he went to sleep.
Nightmares would come to Obi-Wan again, he was sure, but he would wake again in the morning. He would continue on.
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He didn't have nightmares. Or at least none that he remembered - not so far. But he'd wake on occasion with dread in his bones and slightly shaking hands, and he'd fall asleep again, and sleep longer into the day than he'd mean to.
He expected no less of the next morning.