ITT: SAD JEDI

[form_iii]

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?

Comments

[form_iii]

It was Ferus trailing off like that that finally prompted Obi-Wan to tear his gaze away from the night to look back at his friend and fellow Jedi. But he still didn't answer immediately, first taking a moment to finally take in Ferus again and consider this. He wasn't sure he should be telling him all of this. It was almost callous. Especially to refer to their old home, that Ferus had left behind so long ago. But Ferus himself had been to the Temple more recently than Obi-Wan. He had saved it. He felt a renewed wash of gratitude for that.

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."

[bellassa]

He swallowed at the familiar name, but nodded, looking back at Obi-Wan and holding his gaze. Yet another name to confirm dead. He assumed they all were, but it was another thing to know for sure. Like when he'd gone to the temple and found Tru's lightsaber ... it wasn't like he'd ever expected to find him alive. But the certainty of death still hurt.

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.

[form_iii]

There was a moment of silence between them again, and Obi-Wan looked away when Ferus did. He looked out to the desert for a moment more, though not for long before he stepped away from the window.

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.

[bellassa]

Ferus immediately struggled with the silence, despite having been the one to instigate it. He could feel the anxiety thrumming inside his chest, and in an attempt to soothe himself he moved the crystal from one hand to the other and took a deep breath.

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."

[form_iii]

Obi-Wan paused at first when Ferus began to speak, but slowly he turned back to face him. He studied his friend--and, yes, his remaining family--with a faint frown. But he nodded.

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.

[bellassa]

It wasn't completely beyond Ferus, and he kept his eyes low.

"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."

[form_iii]

Obi-Wan watched Ferus for a long moment, and he struggled to understand. He could listen, that much was a given, and he could withhold his judgement. But understanding was something else, when his brushes with the darkness had been so much more fleeting, so much more controlled. Most of his experience of feeling the Dark Side was in sensing its presence, of feeling the dread and warning that came to him in the Force.

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.

[bellassa]

And that was what was making Ferus feel honestly, physically ill, because he'd been there. It was difficult to think back on now, the urge to kill, the pleasure in destruction. The satisfaction in people's fear. It wasn't him, it had never been him, and since he'd thrown away the holocron he felt freer, but the memories wouldn't go away.

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.

[form_iii]

Obi-Wan shuddered faintly at Ferus's words and for a moment he struggled with them. It was absolutely chilling to hear them, especially given who they came from, and especially because of how easily he could attribute them to Anakin. He closed his eyes a moment, calling upon the Force in a small, subtle way, to warm him and provide comfort. It was a way of recollecting his thoughts, he told himself, and of centering himself against the pain those words brought.

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.

[bellassa]

Ferus shrugged faintly and kept his eyes stubbornly out the window, aware that Obi-Wan was watching him. Aware that he'd been disturbed in some way by what Ferus had said. A part of him thought, good, then he finally understands, but most of him just continued to feel sickened at his own actions, as he let them cloud his mind.

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.

[form_iii]

Obi-Wan sighed. And yet Ferus and Anakin, yes. He understood that much, and his own mind had gone there without any awareness of Ferus's own direction. He felt guilty still for comparing them but it was difficult not to, for so many reasons. But he would hold onto the differences. As much as Anakin had always been more important to Obi-Wan than Ferus, now things had changed. Ferus was the one he could trust and rely on. Anakin had turned his back on him. And while Ferus would redeem himself for his mistakes, Obi-Wan was not sure that Anakin ever would, even if he could.

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."

[bellassa]

"And you."

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."

[form_iii]

Obi-Wan gave Ferus a hint of a shallow smile from between his fingers for that comment, appreciating the return. Of course he himself did not feel particularly important anymore, not in the grand scheme of things, but it would be hypocritical to deny. It was just that his duty was more important than he himself was.

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."

[bellassa]

Thinking again of his beloved Bellassa, Ferus shook his head in disagreement. No, they couldn't count on being liked, but it wasn't something he would readily dismiss, either - as if the hatred and suspicion they both faced didn't make a difference.

"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.

[form_iii]

Obi-Wan was silent as he listened to Ferus. He did not know much of this, so it was good to hear Ferus open up about it and tell him what had happened. One of the many things that had led to the tragedies in Ferus's own story. He had heard, vaguely, of it, but only in retrospect. There were rumours among the cantinas in Mos Eisley, but it had been far too late then. And it wasn't as if he had heard or seen any real detail.

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."

[bellassa]

Ferus softened again at the simple words, the gentle sympathy. He shook his head again though, even as he tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"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.

[form_iii]

"Of course," Obi-Wan conceded softly, nothing but sympathy in his voice. He thought that he could understand the sentiment well enough, having always been a part of something larger than himself. Ferus, too--first the Jedi, then the resistance. And that was the thing, the resistance had been so much more than Ferus... and yet Ferus's staged betrayal was still a deep wound to the Bellassans.

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."

[bellassa]

Breathing out slowly, Ferus considered that for what felt like a long moment. He didn't feel particularly hopeful himself. It was a concept he didn't use to struggle with but found that he was now, which, he supposed, wasn't all that surprising after watching so much disappear.

He'd pour what hope he gained into the Princess, and if he didn't find it eventually he knew he would still guard her like she was hope embodied. That's almost how Obi-Wan had put it, besides.

But he wasn't thinking much of her. Instead he thought back on Roan.

Had Ferus' hope died with him? He thought so. He wasn't sure how to reclaim that or anything else tied to that loss. He still felt like he was split open, the edges raw and messy, unable to fit together anymore.

Lifting a hand to press his fingers into his eyes, he said quietly, realizing he wasn't responding to Obi-Wan so much as his own thoughts but not caring, "I was going to leave. Walk away, get underground. It would have embarrassed them. And let everybody else know I was still on their side."

[form_iii]

He watched Ferus quietly, frowning to himself as he thought, too. Of course it wasn't that simple or straightforward to Ferus. And of course there would always be more to say for Ferus, on the rebellion and on Bellassa and on his planet-sized grief. He could not blame him for that in the slightest.

Obi-Wan nodded, but he wasn't sure what to say, exactly.

He had already offered sympathy. He knew it didn't do much to repeat it, especially when it was so ineffective in the first place. Ferus needed more than that. Deserved more than that. But what could Obi-Wan give him?

Far less than he would have liked, that was certain.

"The Empire's grip on the galaxy will not last forever," he said, almost more to himself than Ferus. Reminding both of them that while they were to wait, to bide their time, it was not futile. Things would come to right again.

[bellassa]

"No", he agreed, lowering his hand again and blinking against the dull imprints of colour that the pressure against his eyes had left. Again, he let the crystal change hands. It was quickly becoming a self soothing gesture, but he still felt dark as he looked again towards Obi-Wan - and then once more out into the desert. "But a lot of people won't be there to see that change."

If it were day, that probably would have come out embittered and frustrated, but the night quieted a lot of those feelings. He felt sad. He was sad. But he didn't have the energy to hide behind his anger, and was realizing how little it'd benefit him to.

[form_iii]

"No, sadly not," Obi-Wan acknowledged in a low tone. There were a great number of people who would not see the fall of the Empire and peace and order restored to the galaxy. The entire Jedi Order, but for Ferus, Yoda, and Obi-Wan himself. Should even they three live to see the twins retake the galaxy. He understood with a sad clarity that there was no guarantee that they would.

But Obi-Wan was not so foolish as to think he didn't know who it was Ferus was talking about.

Of course Ferus thinks of the man he loves in these moments. It is a strange perspective to be let into. He understands it so well, and yet not at all. And, unsurprisingly, he thinks of Siri again. But when he replies, he doesn't dare speak her name.

"There are some that at least did not see the fall of the Republic in the first place. At least they were spared that much."

[bellassa]

"You mean Siri", Ferus guessed, although it wasn't a guess so much as an assumption, really. He'd thought that way too about her just recently, that she'd at least not had to face the betrayal of a whole galaxy. It didn't surprise him that Obi-Wan was thinking about her, even if he wasn't considering why that was.

He thought again about how he was glad she hadn't died alone, and then strayed unbidden to what Enna Lands had told him when he'd brought her the details of her son's death: He would have wanted you to be with him. That will give me comfort always.

[form_iii]

"Among others," Obi-Wan agreed with a rueful smile. Because yes, of course Ferus understood. Siri was not the only one, certainly, to which it applied, but she was so important. "But yes. If we had to..." What? There was no 'we.' "If she had to leave us, at least it was in service." He had reflected much to the effect of that already, that it was a small mercy but that it was one. But it was hard to avoid thinking about it again.

And it hadn't just been in the line of duty, in service to the Republic that would have betrayed her in the future, but more specifically it was to protect the innocent. In a completely reckless way to be sure. But what had he loved about Siri, if not her attitude?

He was surprised to find himself smiling more earnestly, for all he felt impossibly, infinitely sad.

He thought for a moment before he said, "we mourn for those we have lost. But they have joined something much larger than themselves now."

He could only hope that, as part of the Force, Siri had not been forced to witness tragedy after tragedy that had occurred since her death.

[bellassa]

While Obi-Wan might be able to smile despite his loss, Ferus wasn't yet at that point, or at least not with Roan. And as Obi-Wan said that subtle eulogy over the dead they knew, Ferus felt a sudden urge to sob. He didn't, but his eyes grew wet all the same, and a suppressed shudder went through him.

It was strange to think of Roan that way, honestly. Obi-Wan wasn't saying it, but what he meant was the Force, and everything was part of the Force; of course Roan was part of that just as much as Ry-Gaul and Solace and Garen and Siri. Except Ferus had stopped thinking of death that way since he'd met Roan and it was difficult to find comfort in that idea.

Roan was just ... gone.

He'd been there, and then seconds later, he'd been a body. Just flesh and bones. Nothing else.

And he'd died just because. Siri had died in service, yes. Like she would have wanted, like she would have chosen.

Vader had killed Roan for sport.

"That doesn't bring them back", he said after a long time, struggling with the words and the thickness in his own voice. Obi-Wan would disapprove. It wasn't the Jedi way. Accept the loss and move on, don't let attachments become your reason. Well, Ferus was too late for that, and he knew it. "I know that's not how I'm supposed to feel, but ... sometimes it's all I can think about. That they're gone."

[form_iii]

Obi-Wan sighed, but he bit back the reprimand. It would have been a gentle one, doubtless, but of course he disapproved. But not so actively as Ferus might have expected. It wasn't the Jedi way at all, to hold onto attachments so fiercely. There was danger in that, in trying to possess people. It prevented both parties from moving on, in the end. And perhaps that was selfish of him to reflect on, given everything.

But he did his best to love with an open heart and to accept his losses. It was just far easier said than done. He had his own attachments even where he knew that he should not. He struggled to move on, especially from the betrayal. Forgiveness was not close at hand, for himself least of all.

So in the end he instead said, "of course. Loss is always difficult. But we go on living despite this. It is the best that we can do."