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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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But of course, they were supposed to remain in the present moment. That was key. Accepting the past, not living in it. Fighting for the future, not depending on it.
And in the present moment, Ferus was asking about what plagued him. And it wasn't as if there was any reason to deny it any longer. Ferus knew about Anakin. Ferus had seen a great deal now himself. There was still much that Obi-Wan would not--could not--tell him, but perhaps this did not have to be something that he kept from him.
"The Temple," he answered, which wasn't a 'no.' Because he had already told Ferus he had seen holos of Anakin at the Temple. But this wasn't so specific, either.
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It wasn't a question, because he knew. Knew with a sudden clarity. He just hadn't thought about it in the middle of everything else, and he'd told himself to not linger on what haunted him when he'd entered the Temple ... the playroom.
The horror had hit him so hard he'd almost stumbled. He remembered the constricting feeling of fear and the sickness it left him with as he'd tried to shake it off. And he'd told himself, don't think about it or it will break you, and he'd moved on through the ruins that had once been his home.
Obi-Wan had told him Anakin had been at the temple. Ferus taken in the information in the Sith holocron he'd been given, and through it, he knew better how their twisted minds worked.
Of course Anakin would target the helpless when their protectors were at war, fighting a whole galaxy that had turned on them, only to perish. And the targets weren't children, besides. They were loose ends that needed to be tied up, a job to finish; and potential threats, should they remain.
He might have just walked in. Everybody knew him. It was easy. A slaughter.
Swallowing against the rush in his head, Ferus closed his hand tighter around the warming crystal, and his eyes sought Obi-Wan's through the darkness.
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He did not face Ferus, but he would face this. He would not hide this dark truth from his companion.
"Yes," he answered, alarmed at himself for hearing how flat his voice sounded. But it was only a moment later that he felt the wet on his cheeks that was so familiar now. He had not cried for the younglings in many moons, but he was not sure he would ever be done crying over them. So many young, promising lives cut short. By blaster or by saber, it didn't matter. They were cut down just the same as the Jedi Knights and Masters were. It was all the same to the Sith and the Clones. Casualties of--no, not the Wars. It was so much worse than war.
He remembered the beacon, calling the Jedi home to be culled among the corpses of their children. He remembered futilely changing it to a warning. It had done little to save them. But perhaps it had spared some the sight of their home in flames and their youth massacred.
Without thinking about it he said, "the Padawans fought for them. And their teachers never left their sides."
But they had all been killed. Many of them by someone they had looked up to, had considered a friend. Family.
It was perhaps the darkest betrayal of all.
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He'd come to terms with the loss slowly, had turned parts of it into anger and resentment and action, and it was some of the reason he did his part as a founder of the Eleven.
But even then, he'd never paused to think about the younglings. They were lost to the numbers, the sheer size of what had happened. Maybe it had been too difficult to go there, the same way he'd for a long time not paused to consider individual Jedi other than his Master.
And now here he was, getting details on something he'd never had to think about, and it was like ice inside him. So deeply chilling. So sickening. He swallowed again, and kept his eyes on Obi-Wan's profile, caught the glint of tears in the moonlight and could feel his own eyes sting.
Again.
He'd asked himself what kind of monster could do this, time and time again, and it was made so much more difficult to know that all along, it had been Anakin.
"They were outnumbered", he said quietly. "They planned it that way."
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And then to learn it was Anakin. That the boy he had helped raise was the one who had turned against them and led a force into their temple and home. Who had killed even the children, all in the service of the Sith.
Obi-Wan shuddered. It wasn't the chill, inside or out. It was pure grief. He did not feel much else at the moment.
"They planned it, yes--they had planted the seeds for years." The entire war. He closed his eyes for a moment, stemming those tears. "The goal was always to wipe us out in entirety. There was no mercy."
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Obi-Wan still wasn't looking at him.
Ferus tipped his head back and shifted, putting his feet against the opposite edge of the carved hole that was a window, which made his body curl up more. He felt cold, still. Vulnerable and troubled and sick, and so hauntingly sad.
"I didn't believe it at first", he said after a few moments, looking back out the window he was occupying, the pale almost colourless desert ahead. "Then they broadcast the lies."
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"I did not hear much of it until long after the fact," he said. "I only knew what I had experienced." He thought of Commander Cody--his friend--turning his troop's weapons on him. Of his near-death experience and being lost and uncertain. He thought of feeling the pain through the Force of something very wrong going on. "I had to respond as it happened. There was a signal--" he stopped a moment, then continued, "they deployed a signal calling the survivors home. It was a trap."
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He'd felt it too. Only, at the time, he hadn't been able to make sense of it, because his Force connection had been so weak. Still, there'd been a sudden moment of dread, of warning. He hadn't been able to put it into context until a few hours later. He hadn't been an Officer towards the end of the Wars. He'd served as long as they needed him and as he could, and then he'd gotten out.
He'd thought of Roan at first. But Roan had responded to the panicked communication Ferus had sent through.
It was when it came up on the HoloNet, later, that it made sense. And he'd refused to believe it, until he could do nothing but believe it. But it had still been so removed - the pain was real and crushing and horrifying, but he couldn't know what had happened, not really. Because the Jedi were dead. Because the Emperor controlled the information.
He'd grieved, and he'd moved on.
Until now, when he felt it like a physical blow, how deep that betrayal really sat. Hearing it from Obi-Wan's perspective and keeping the knowledge that this was Anakin's doing in his mind ... it brought it all back.
He couldn't even imagine living it. Not on that side. Not being a Jedi, fighting for the Republic, and getting a vibroblade lodged between your shoulder blades by the very same.
"Was that when you found ...?"
He trailed off. Again, he changed his grip on the crystal.
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His gaze trailed down to the crystal in Ferus's hands, finally noticing he had it. He felt a wash of fondness, first, then he thought much the same as Ferus had thought days earlier: he could be grateful that Siri at least did not live to see this betrayal. It would have broken her heart. And Obi-Wan was not sure if he would have been able to face her, knowing his own role in this.
There was a fresh pang of grief, but Obi-Wan did his best to bury it.
He turned his eyes back to Ferus's as he answered.
"I reversed the beacon to warn the survivors away," he said first. He and Master Yoda, of course. But he remembered well that he could not tell Ferus that. "I found Drallig,..." he paused, knowing he did not need to give Ferus those details. It would be inconsiderate at best. It would pain them both without telling Ferus anything that he needed to know. "I looked to the holoscans to find out what had happened."
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He couldn't imagine seeing so much more death on the holoscans. Obi-Wan had just said that the Padawans and teachers fought and died with the younglings. To see that, to find bodies ...
The Temple had been in ruins when he'd returned to it, and he'd felt that like a wound. The death that lingered in those broken walls felt even worse. But to actually see it, to have been there, it was something he couldn't fathom. He'd seen death, yes. More than his share. But inside his home, a place of connection ...
He turned his head away and he blinked against the tears and swallowed against something rising in his throat.
Anakin had done it.
And a small part of him could understand it.
He had no words.
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He would not share any more of that with Ferus, at least not without direct questions. He had shared enough of that pain. Ferus did not need to shoulder that burden. And at least Obi-Wan was not carrying it alone. He may not have been able to contact Yoda, but there was a small comfort in knowing the old Grand Master carried this with them.
He thought, not for the first time, that it might have been good to tell Ferus it was Yoda, of all beings, who had also lived. He might have asked Yoda for his permission to share that, but that was impossible. Yoda's exile was deep.
Obi-Wan walked away from Ferus, but he wasn't entirely sure where he was going. He knew they should both try to rest, but he didn't think that he was going to be able to sleep again soon. Certainly not without the dreams. And he could tell Ferus to sleep, but he was not his Padawan and he suspected Ferus would not listen.
He stopped once he was in the centre of the hut, staring at the far wall. He tried to shut off his mind's eye, to not let the images continue to play in his mind.
He said nothing.
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It worked. A little.
It couldn't quell the feeling of nausea that rose in him still, and his eyes darted to Obi-Wan's retreating form, and he felt suddenly and inexplicably scared. He knew that they were family. That they had some understanding of each other's pain and guilt. But he felt fear of being left alone, or of having Obi-Wan torn away as well, because he knew he wouldn't be able to handle any more deaths or disappearances. Or failures.
He swallowed thickly. There was a long moment of hesitation, but then he tried to articulate what he was feeling. "Anakin", he started, voice scratchy, a half whisper. "I feel like I could come to understand him, since I ... but not this. I can't make sense of this. Not even knowing the Sith."
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He couldn't say that he understood, exactly. But he could appreciate it, that Ferus had come closer to all of this than he likely dared speak of in any more detail than he'd given Obi-Wan already.
And Ferus would understand more if he knew more of Anakin's story, too. That some of it, at least, had been driven by fear of loss of his wife. A wife Obi-Wan hadn't even known he'd had, though he'd known that Padme had been central in Anakin's life. Ferus would understand that, he thought, but there was a danger, too, to bringing up the Senator. He wanted to protect her memory.
Obi-Wan sighed, folding his hands in front of him, debating how much to say. But it struck him, then, how little he had left. While he could not tell Ferus everything, who else did Obi-Wan have left to turn to? His greatest confidants were gone or unavailable. Yoda was unreachable, Qui-Gon's spirit difficult to speak to. Siri was dead. Anakin might as well have been dead, and hated him besides.
Who was left but Ferus?
"I stopped understanding Anakin far longer ago than I care to admit," he said gently, thinking on the distance that had existed between him and his former apprentice even before Anakin had turned to the Dark Side. But he was thinking again of Siri, too. "I have felt what anger and loss can do to one's choices. But I cannot fathom what drove him to all of what he did."
For all of Obi-Wan's fault and guilt, some of it was beyond him.
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"Control", he said, voice taking on something hollow. "With that much power ... anything feels possible. You decide the outcome of what happens around you. If everyone else is weaker, they're yours to control. And ..."
He hesitated. He felt shame attached to this, but he realized it was something he probably needed to share. Still, there was a moment of wondering if he'd said too much, and he glanced quickly at Obi-Wan again before looking back out the window, drawing in a small breath.
This was difficult, although perhaps less so than he'd anticipated. He'd already shown his rage and self loathing that very morning. This was just the rest of it.
So he said, finally, "anger doesn't hurt."
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So what did he say?
His first instinct was to remind Ferus that it didn't matter, that it wasn't worth it. But he did not doubt that he knew that. Ferus had made the correct choice after a great struggle. He understood that.
But all the same, Obi-Wan remained calm and steady, hearing Ferus out.
"That is the reason we warn against these emotions," he said, not so much re-explaining as reflecting generally. He sighed, stepping closer again to look past Ferus, out the window to the dunes beyond. "Why we must accept them and not let them rule us. But you know that. This isn't a lecture," he added gently, the first glimpse of his humour since he had awoken, though it was honestly forced. "I can understand the temptation to let oneself be guided like that. But we are not meant to control the Force. To take lives simply because they are deemed to be in the way..."
That. That was what Obi-Wan was struggling still to come to grips with.
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The knowledge in it wouldn't, either.
"Lives are insignificant unless they further your goals", he said slowly, feeling tense. He remembered the near-thrill of it: I can crush him I can kill him I can destroy him. Forced as it had been, he was grateful that Obi-Wan had clarified that he was not lecturing him, or he'd have been likely to stop talking - and despite that, he was still tempted now.
This was an ever bigger difference between them now than Ferus having left the Order and having changed. This was another degree of change that he had never wanted and it felt like distance.
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He reminded himself that Ferus did not think these things. That he was only reflecting on what he had learned of the Sith mindset. He wanted to protest, but the younglings, but it was moot. Ferus knew.
"It is so contrary to our teachings," he reflected. "It is difficult to see how any being can change course so drastically. And yet..."
And yet he also understood more than he'd like to say. He still remembered the cold desire to kill Magus, to enact revenge. But he was not sure it was any use telling Ferus of that. Obi-Wan had recovered swiftly--not from the pain, never from the pain, but from the anger and hate. Or, at least, he had controlled it.
He remembered Anakin watching him in that moment, and suddenly he wondered for the first time what Anakin had thought in that moment. Had he thought Obi-Wan should have done it? Killed the bounty hunter, even though he was defenceless? Likely. But Obi-Wan remembered the fear in Magus's eyes as Obi-Wan's saber had closed in on his throat and the thought sickened him.
He let himself lapse back into silence, but he looked back to Ferus again, wondering. Would this always be between them, this struggle and this difference? Likely, he thought.
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Again, he let the warming crystal change hands.
"Yet", he said quietly. What he didn't say might be clear enough: yet, me and Anakin both.
Of course, Ferus had held himself back before he could turn, but he still thought it was close enough that he didn't feel like he could count it with any great confidence. He knew he had to keep up a conscious effort to regain his connection to the Living Force now, because that's what had been damaged most by the dark side. Which maybe wasn't a surprise. It had always been his greatest flaw.
Well, maybe next to his arrogance, he thought with a grimace. He didn't like to think that he was arrogant but then, maybe that was proof.
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He brought one hand up to his face, covering his mouth as he thought. What did he say to Ferus? He did not want to insult him by saying that he understood, even if he thought that he was beginning to understand far more.
This journey was long. It seemed worse at night, somehow. The path stretched out far behind them and far ahead of them, and it was impossible to tell if they were closer to the end than the beginning, now.
But again Obi-Wan would remind himself to live in the present moment. That was simply difficult when his present goal was to protect the future. What a conflicting ideology: the immediate problem could not be solved for some time, so what would they do?
They would do it regardless. They would protect Luke and Leia. In the moment, in every moment, into the future. That was imperative.
He struggled with his words, fighting to know what to say to his companion.
Finally he said, "and yet you are a protector of life, Ferus. The galaxy needs you."
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He turned his head to look at Obi-Wan this time, not bothering to hide the hint of a break in his voice. He felt ... humbled, but in an uncertain way, like he couldn't quite accept that trust. He would, of course. He'd see the mission through. Obi-Wan had told him what needed to be done and what was at stake and this time he was prepared to trust and listen, and he'd see that through.
But he struggled as well. With his past actions that weren't so past. And as much as he was willing now to trust Obi-Wan, he'd lost trust in himself, and his trust in the Force was uneven.
Which would change. He'd see to that. But in the meantime, who was he?
He wasn't a Jedi. He was even further from being a Jedi now than he'd been when he'd left the Temple, all those years ago. But he'd seen and done too much to ever go back to a normal life, even if he wasn't giving the chance of that up to protect the Princess.
Obi-Wan, he thought, was more important in this fight than him. It was a thought he had without bitterness or contempt - it simply felt true. He'd looked up to the man for a long time and he'd sought his company and comfort in the end. Because he not only trusted him but valued him.
He straightened up some where he sat, and he scrubbed a hand over his face.
"But the galaxy hates us, still."
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It was a struggle to reconcile, but ultimately he accepted the duty with humility. There was no room left for pride--or anything much more than simple acceptance, really.
He dropped his hand back down from his beard, letting his hands hang down by his sides.
"Yes," he agreed, "it does. But it is not our duty or our privilege to be liked. Not anymore. We must accept that."
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"Maybe", he said tersely. "But that doesn't mean I'll resign myself to hatred and disdain."
If that was a little pointed towards Obi-Wan's own acceptance, then so be it. For all that Ferus cared about him, he could still be at odds with him.
"The Empire made me a traitor on Bellassa. I had to appear in public with the Emperor and Vader. The Eleven ... I knew what that meant for them. I used to be an inspiration", he added with a quick, rueful smile, "but they put a stop to that. There's no spirit left there now. I could feel it happening."
He'd been ready to get out. Roan had been willing to come with him, leave Bellassa with him if he had to, but then he'd-- and Ferus had stayed, blinded by his grief and fury and the promise of revenge.
And that hadn't helped the resistance he'd fought so hard for. In the end, it hadn't even been worth it, and though the role of traitor was only one he'd played, he felt like parts of it were true.
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What would Obi-Wan have said, had he known it was coming? Could he have told Ferus it wasn't worth it, to impersonate an allegiance with the Empire? Yes, likely. Would Ferus have listened? Entirely possibly not.
But there were enough regrets between them to not focus on that.
He nodded.
"A much more personal betrayal than the supposed turning of the Jedi on the Republic," he said softly. He looked over to Ferus, studying him. "And yet one of many. This Empire has done nothing if not engineer and plant betrayals and deceptions. It seems their specialty to turn friends upon one another."
And just like that, he was thinking of Commander Cody again. A friend and a comrade. Could Obi-Wan blame him for following orders from the Chancellor? For turning on Obi-Wan when his entire life had been structured around being a soldier, a follower? He wondered what happened to him after the Wars. Had the Emperor at least been kind enough to spare those Clones loyal to him? To reward them?
Obi-Wan sighed.
"One day, these wrongs will be righted. A new rebellion will rise. I am simply sorry that it was not yours."
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"It wasn't mine", he said with a sad and tired gentleness, reserved for the people and the planet he'd adopted, had grown to love so fiercely. "It was ours."
It truly had been. The Bellassans protected each other unfailingly and were brave and strong in the face of Imperial presence and the Emperor's veiled threats. He'd personally known most members of the resistance, and even as its numbers came to be counted in the hundreds, he'd tried to make sure he knew at least of everyone, had at least heard their names.
Impossible, of course. But between him and Roan and Wil and the others, they'd known all of them. And the network that was the Eleven had continued to grow. Had done so much. Enough to make Ferus a wanted man.
He'd failed them. All of them. And most of them would know him only as a traitor - the only ones that he imagined would still hold him to some kind of regard were Amie and Dona, and he hoped Roan's family still believed him.
Trever wouldn't remember him at all, Ferus thought, feeling the knowledge twist painfully inside him. He'd make sure. As much as it hurt. At least he could prevent the boy from dying for a while longer.
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He could see how. He had been impressed by the Bellassan people's dedication to one another, their willingness to stand up against injustice. He had seen how willing they had been to help Ferus and the Eleven.
Funny how injustice did that, brought people together against it.
Shaking his head, Obi-Wan did not speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was a firmer, "all the same, I think that the resistance will have paved the way for the future. Hope does not disappear so easily."
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