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ITT: SAD JEDI
Obi-Wan stood behind the little hovel he called home, tending to Rooh-the-eopie. He watched the first of the two suns sink below the horizon, halving the amount of light that bathed the desert. Dusk was here, and soon so would night, and so too would the bad dreams arrive: the images of terrified younglings and friends dying. But he closed his eyes against the early onslaught of thoughts. There was no need to let them plague him before their time; if he let them take him at any moment at all then there was no way that he could go on.
Opening his eyes, he stroked Rooh's snout carefully, calming her as she became restless. He made sure she was secured, fed and watered, then he moved onto her son, Tooh. Tooh wasn't big enough yet to be ridden, but that was alright. When he took Ferus to Mos Eisley they could walk and he would lead the eopies with them. He could ride Rooh home, or pick up some supplies and have her carry them. But the walk there would be good for them all, he thought.
Ferus Olin was inside the hut, taking care of whatever would pass for dinner that night. It wouldn't be long now before they parted ways, before Ferus took his leave to Alderaan, but for now the company was something of a comfort. Ferus was family, though they hardly got along perfectly. Ferus mouthed off, for one thing, and questioned Obi-Wan regularly. It was a little like having Anakin--
Obi-Wan stopped his thoughts again, patting Tooh and straightening up. Ferus wasn't Anakin. He never would be. But he had come closer to becoming Anakin than either of them dared talk about.
For now there was much pain for both of them.
He stood on the hill, looking east, toward the Lars homestead in the far distance. He waited for the second sun to set and wondered. He wished he could reach out with the Force to Luke, check that all was well, but he couldn't connect to him. Shouldn't, even if he could.
It was lonely in the desert, so far from everything, even with Ferus there. In some ways, Obi-Wan thought, more so because Ferus was there, comfort or not. They had both lost so much: friends, family, purpose. More than Obi-Wan could bear, he thought some days. But now they were guardians of the galaxy's hope. It would be a long, difficult job, but Obi-Wan would shoulder that burden. He only hoped that Ferus could too. He didn't know how the young man was coping. Obi-Wan barely knew how he was coping.
The sun finally disappeared, leaving him in relative darkness before the stars began to twinkle into life. He turned his chin up to the sky, searching for familiar constellations he would never find from this remote planet. He had never paid much attention to Tatooine in the past, even knowing it was Anakin's homeworld. It wasn't as if it should have mattered. But a remarkable amount of the galaxy seemed to orbit around this little planet on the outer rim.
And here they were, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ferus Olin. Two men, stripped of everything, almost ready to say goodbye. How long would they need to hold together before peace returned?
Opening his eyes, he stroked Rooh's snout carefully, calming her as she became restless. He made sure she was secured, fed and watered, then he moved onto her son, Tooh. Tooh wasn't big enough yet to be ridden, but that was alright. When he took Ferus to Mos Eisley they could walk and he would lead the eopies with them. He could ride Rooh home, or pick up some supplies and have her carry them. But the walk there would be good for them all, he thought.
Ferus Olin was inside the hut, taking care of whatever would pass for dinner that night. It wouldn't be long now before they parted ways, before Ferus took his leave to Alderaan, but for now the company was something of a comfort. Ferus was family, though they hardly got along perfectly. Ferus mouthed off, for one thing, and questioned Obi-Wan regularly. It was a little like having Anakin--
Obi-Wan stopped his thoughts again, patting Tooh and straightening up. Ferus wasn't Anakin. He never would be. But he had come closer to becoming Anakin than either of them dared talk about.
For now there was much pain for both of them.
He stood on the hill, looking east, toward the Lars homestead in the far distance. He waited for the second sun to set and wondered. He wished he could reach out with the Force to Luke, check that all was well, but he couldn't connect to him. Shouldn't, even if he could.
It was lonely in the desert, so far from everything, even with Ferus there. In some ways, Obi-Wan thought, more so because Ferus was there, comfort or not. They had both lost so much: friends, family, purpose. More than Obi-Wan could bear, he thought some days. But now they were guardians of the galaxy's hope. It would be a long, difficult job, but Obi-Wan would shoulder that burden. He only hoped that Ferus could too. He didn't know how the young man was coping. Obi-Wan barely knew how he was coping.
The sun finally disappeared, leaving him in relative darkness before the stars began to twinkle into life. He turned his chin up to the sky, searching for familiar constellations he would never find from this remote planet. He had never paid much attention to Tatooine in the past, even knowing it was Anakin's homeworld. It wasn't as if it should have mattered. But a remarkable amount of the galaxy seemed to orbit around this little planet on the outer rim.
And here they were, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ferus Olin. Two men, stripped of everything, almost ready to say goodbye. How long would they need to hold together before peace returned?
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"Perhaps," he conceded as he fetched a muffin for Ferus. He thought for a moment before he turned to pass it over to him. Mostly he thought on his actual attachments for a moment. And he tried to remember not to remind himself of the pain of losing his attachments. It just went to show why the Jedi forbade such things. "Or perhaps I'm saving Tooh for myself," he said instead, dryly.
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"Well. At least you will be well-supplied on Alderaan."
So don't
Force-throw stones, Ferus.no subject
Still.
"Yes", he acknowledged, but the next joke rang more hollow. "Assuming I can learn the profession."
That wasn't the issue, of course. Bail would provide for him as he needed it, and the cover as a botanist was for show. Of course, he'd still take care to learn enough to be believed. And he'd still work. But it would take time. He wasn't sure he had that touch.
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A small part of him was looking forward to being in solitude again, to discharging his duty as he deserved to. But a larger part would miss having Ferus's company, for all they disagreed at times.
Still. Mixed feelings were more than valid, given the circumstances.
Obi-Wan fell silent, quietly sipping his drink and saying nothing.
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He didn't want to leave, but then, he'd never wanted to leave Coruscant back then either. Certainly not Bellassa.
And as he let his mind drift in silence, his thoughts came to rest on just one of the details from his old life that he'd be giving up, amongst the thousands.
So he said softly, leaning into one hand and keeping the other around the cup of milk, "I'll miss slicing."
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This was life, now. He would get by.
He glanced back when Ferus offered that regret, raising both eyebrows curiously. It seemed a rather particular one to bring up, but he supposed it was also a suitable enough one for the very different life he would soon be leading. It wasn't as if Obi-Wan could sympathize much.
"I'm afraid I was always inclined to take the term more literally," he said mildly. "But there won't be much of that in our new lives either."
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It always felt so right to use one. So easy, satisfying. He remembered Siri reassuring him once, many years ago, that it wasn't wrong to take pleasure in his own abilities, and while he wasn't as profficient as he'd been when he was still in training, he still enjoyed the battle-mind: the knowledge of where to go, what to do, how to move, to get the result he wanted.
But when he'd let go of his lightsaber back then, for the last time, it had been a complete loss. He'd keep Garen's close, of course. He wouldn't give up something like that again.
Still, there was a difference there, as he glanced again at Obi-Wan.
"But back when I didn't have my saber, I could fight with code."
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It was Ferus, after all, who criticized Obi-Wan so heavily for standing by and waiting. Obi-Wan hated to do it, and of course Ferus would hate it more.
And yet, it seemed that was their destiny now.
"You will find uses for your skills," he advised him gently. This much he believed, though it was impossible to predict in what ways or even when it might happen. "And you will be doing a great deal of good in the meantime. Not all battles are so clearly fought."
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Because if he'd listened to Obi-Wan from the start, a lot of this could have been avoided. There might have been more than three Jedi left alive. Roan could have been here. The resistance on Bellassa would have stayed strong.
Still, this was the mistake he accepted the most, or at least as well as he could, of the ones he'd made. It was the smaller choices he'd made along the way that he obsessed over, but he didn't think he was completely wrong for falling into action rather than incation.
But he did recognise that Obi-Wan had seen what he hadn't. And that was something to bear, as well.
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And besides, it wasn't as if Obi-Wan liked waiting, exactly. He wished he could play a more active role. But he understood his role in the fate of the galaxy was a crucial one and he would accept it.
"Until the time is right," he gently reminded his companion. "No matter how long that time takes to come."
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