thesaurus | ITT: SAD JEDI

Entry tags:

!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?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Obi-Wan took a step back as the words hit him, an accusation laced in them that Ferus may not have meant but that Obi-Wan surely heard. An accusation he had heard many times before, but never from someone other than himself.

Anakin was his Padawan. He should have known. Not just that he had lived, but what had been happening to him. He should have seen and understood. He could have prevented so much.

But he had been blind.

They all had been, but Obi-Wan most of all.

Once he took that step back, he steeled himself, standing tall and staring Ferus down. There was a hint of challenge there, but it was bathed in pain and hardship.

"His connection was masked by the Dark Side," he said, voice colder than he intended. "I let myself assume." Maybe it was an excuse, though. But he tried to think back on it, on what he had been thinking and feeling when he watched the crippled body of Darth Vader catch fire on the ashen beach of Mustafar.

He'd felt a great deal of pain, both emotional and physical. He'd felt hurt and betrayed. He had feared for Yoda's life. He'd...

There'd been something else, too. Something he didn't want to examine.

He could have killed Vader then and there. It would have been a mercy kill, not a murder of a defeated foe.

But he'd felt too much, then. And too little.

Now they were all paying for it.

Just as they were paying for his blindness.

"I should have known, yes. But you can't."

"No", he said, recognising the hint of a challenge in Obi-Wan's tone and moving right past it. That was true. He didn't know what it was like, couldn't begin to touch on the idea of someone so close to him turning towards the Dark Side so completely and with such fury and momentum and the goal to kill thousands.

Something again caught inside him when his mind flickered to Roan, but he held himself in the present moment, jaw set as he stood his ground, facing Obi-Wan. He didn't feel intimidated by his stare.

This wasn't about their pain. This was about the reality of the risk they were in and all the more pain that would follow if anything happened.

So he said, "but I do know that if he finds you, he will kill you."

Obi-Wan struggled for a moment. He tried to grasp for those straws of indignation, of righteousness, before he realized that was all wrong. That wasn't what he should be doing. He let them go, feeling those threads of anger fall away.

But they had been all that was left holding back the tide of heartache that had been leaking through for the past few moments.

He looked away as it washed over him, and he fought with the memory of fighting Anakin. Vader. Of his best-friend-turned-greatest-enemy and the pain and fury in his eyes.

"I know that he will," he finally agreed, defeat and sorrow thick in his voice. Without thinking about it, he added, "he hates me."

He had believed Anakin when he had said that. And what had Obi-Wan said?

I loved you.

Edited 2015-11-16 01:56 (UTC)

"He hates his past", Ferus agreed after a moment, studying Obi-Wan a little more carefully, voice softening in response to the way the other man averted his gaze. "He wants it gone."

He wasn't sure why he felt the need to offer his perspective on this. Maybe for Obi-Wan's sake, as if that could make it somehow less personal, as if Ferus had any idea what had actually happened between him and Anakin. Maybe, mostly ... he felt that he understood how Anakin worked. How Vader worked.

He'd always had a sense for that. Even when they were Padawans together he'd known better than most what Anakin saw in himself and others. Sometimes he'd been wrong, but for the most part - and even now, years later, as the Dark Lord, Ferus had known what to say to get to him.

He'd used Senator Amidala to taunt him, to provoke him. A part of his past Vader had wanted gone so badly, and Ferus had rubbed it in his face, his failure to forget his actions, the way he had killed her.

And Vader - Anakin - had almost killed Ferus in response.

Obi-Wan was part of that same past that had him so easily provoked.

Obi-Wan nodded mutely, his arms limp at his sides. He did not look back up to Ferus. But he knew that he was right. No, it did not make any of it hurt any less; it did nothing to lessen the pain in his heart and burrowed deep within his bones. But it was right nonetheless, that this was far larger than Obi-Wan himself. He was one man, and this was so much more.

He had to look past his grief to the bigger picture, the wider problem.

Were that only so easy.

Of course, none of it was that simple either. But he could say nothing. He wasn't sure he could explain it to Ferus at all.

Ferus hesitated for a long moment, then he took a step towards Obi-Wan, starting to bridge that gap that had appeared between them.

"We have to make sure you're safe here", he said quietly. Yet there was clear emotion in his voice. He had managed to let go of most of the frustration, which left a mix of feelings he couldn't keep at bay when he swallowed and repeated something Obi-Wan had told him just the night before. "The galaxy needs you, Obi-Wan."

No slip-ups, no mistakes. They both knew they couldn't afford them. And while this one was already made and would have to be accepted, it was nothing they could risk leaving alone.

But Ferus thought there might be a fix, or a partial one.

"I can help with this."

Obi-Wan finally glanced up at that, at Ferus turning his words back at him. He smiled thinly, not happily. He appreciated the irony, nothing more. In that moment, he certainly did not feel as if he would be particularly useful to the fate of the galaxy.

But had had his role to play. He would work to right his mistakes.

"Can you?" he asked, instead of reflecting. It was calm, measured. He trusted Ferus to know what he was doing.

"If Bail agrees to leave me alone with a datapad", Ferus answered, tone still quiet despite what would have been a lighter string of words. But he felt confident and didn't hesitate over the response. He was already running data through his mind, twisting and turning the code he'd have to navigate, systems he'd have to slice into.

He had just said the other day that he'd miss slicing. While he took no real pleasure in the idea now, for the reasons he'd have to do it and the traces he knew he'd unfortunately have to leave, at least it would be doing something that he knew he was good at. It would be helping, in another way.

Even if that was likely enough to be the last time he'd do it. Another link to Roan that he'd sever.

"I can connect you to other Kenobis, distant relatives. Plant others in the Outer Rim. Leave little reason to trace you back to Coruscant." He almost said that he'd rather give Obi-Wan a new last name altogether, but there would be no benefit to that. It was no longer an option. "And if I find anything on you I can probably get rid of it. Or at least anything that would lead people here."

Yet another step in that complete exile.

Ah, of course. Obi-Wan hadn't been thinking about it--but it made perfect sense. It was what the Olin/Lands business had been all about. and they'd been talking so recently about Ferus's talents and that he might just find another use for them yet. It seemed that time would come sooner than they had expected.

It would further isolate him, but in exactly the way that was necessary.

"At least 'Kenobi' isn't a completely unheard of name," he said, indicating not that it shouldn't be done but that it would hopefully not be too difficult a job. Obi-Wan inclined his head respectfully. "I can think of no betters hands to leave my identity in."

Ferus nodded faintly when Obi-Wan gave him his approval. He likely would have done it regardless of what Obi-Wan would have said or thought, but him agreeing that it should and needed to be done made it easier. If nothing else because it was acknowledgement that he was right and of the gravity of the situation. Had Obi-Wan for any reason said not to worry or wait it out, Ferus knew he would have raised his voice again.

Now, he felt tired and upset, and he was thinking about Roan, was always thinking about Roan ... how he'd learned slicing from him, how they'd been doing system break-ins together, had watched each others' backs and had complemented each other's ideas on what to do in the sea of code that unravelled so beautifully in front of them every time they dived in.

Of how Roan was dead.

And for a moment he struggled with more words, wanted to tell Obi-Wan that he didn't think he could bear to lose him either, but he didn't.

Instead he said with the barest hint of a smile, to get away from his own feelings and to again try to repair some of the distance between them, "we can discuss payment later."

Obi-Wan let out a short, humourless laugh for that. He had seen how Ferus had struggled there, understood the seriousness. Ferus wasn't wrong; it was a great danger. Obi-Wan Kenobi was a known name. His only saving grace was, as he said, that at least his last name was not unheard of in other parts. It was the combination that was truly deadly, but of course they couldn't trust the Empire to leave any trace unfollowed. Not with Vader's hatred after him.

But he didn't say any of that, didn't thank him or reassure him that he would be fine.

"You'll have to speak to my creditor on Alderaan," he remarked instead. Because poor Bail was still paying for almost everything. Obi-Wan could hardly get a job. "Unless you take eopies."

Ferus gave a small, amused sound in turn, feeling relieved that they could move on from that fight, such as it was, and start to leave it behind. Not that Ferus felt any real fear that they'd manage to hurt each other too badly to hang onto each other now, but ...

It was also about letting go of some of his fears. This was fixable. He'd make it work, and then Obi-Wan could talk to himself as much as he'd like.

So he smiled a little and looked at the eopie pair, making a point to eye them.

"Well, Rooh has been an excellent companion today", he said with some exaggeration, but also a touch of fondness.

No. For all they might hurt each other, or had the potential to--this connection was far too important for them to sever.

But Obi-Wan was calm enough, content enough, now that they had passed that little squabble. It was impossible to banish all of the thoughts that had come with it, of course, but Obi-Wan was good enough at accepting things and letting them go that he could take this moment of peace. It would be later, when silence reigned, that they would come back to haunt him.

For now he raised his eyebrows, then stepped over to the pair of animals.

"Did she?" he asked, reaching out to stroke Rooh's snout. Addressing her, he went on, "you kept Ferus out of trouble then? Good girl."

Ferus watched that little exchange with some amusement, but then his expression sombered and he shook his head. While he hadn't been in trouble, exactly, it would definitely be an oversimplification to say that he'd stayed out of it.

"Not really", he said for that reason, thinking back on the young girl who'd broken down in tears - and less importantly, on Leelee's suggestive ... everything, as well as Wyle's clear disapproval. One thing was clear: Tatooine had a lot of characters, if not a lot of people.

He tilted his head slightly and regarded Obi-Wan more seriously, studying his profile. He'd been told to ensure, if he could, that there would be little to no reason for any others to track Obi-Wan down again. But it seemed like in many ways, Obi-Wan had managed that on his own, given the ideas some of the people already had about him.

"You didn't tell me the man you exposed died."

Obi-Wan glanced up momentarily at Ferus for that, but it didn't last. He turned his attention back to his eopie, as if she were the central figure here. But he was clearly listening, and his mind was to the Gaults in an instant, even as he pet the beast of burden.

"You met Veeka," he surmised. It was the most likely guess, her being the one who would most likely have brought it up or caused any problems with Ferus. He frowned faintly as he thought of it. "He fell, when trying to escape." It was quiet, respectful enough. The man had been something of a tyrant, but he had not deserved death.

"I hope she didn't trouble you too much."

So that was her name, then. He nodded, assuming Obi-Wan was right, trusting that he'd know who the people around him where, despite wanting little to do with them. It was a Jedi trait, after all. To always be aware.

Now it was a trait of survivors as well.

Ferus remained quiet for small moment, debating what to say, but only for so long; he did want to know about this, and felt that in some small way, he owed it to Veeka. He'd helped her with something, he hoped. But he didn't know the story despite it.

"She called you a murderer."

Obi-Wan sighed softly, and didn't respond right away. It was ironic, of course, as he had very actively decided he would not end Gault's life. Orrin had accused 'Ben' of intending to kill him, but it was not his way to kill like that. He held no illusions of not having killed, of course, but he was a soldier (if a reluctant one)--not a murderer.

For a moment, he thought again of Anakin. His failure to kill. He quickly tried to dismiss the thought.

"I suppose it's only natural for her to blame me," he murmured, still looking at Rooh and not Ferus. "I was the unknown element that disrupted their lives."

Edited 2015-11-17 06:18 (UTC)

At first Ferus couldn't figure out why it bothered him that Obi-Wan wasn't looking at him, but then he realized: it was because that kind of avoidance was usually tied to guilt. Which, no matter what had happened, was something he didn't quite like to see in Obi-Wan.

Guilt meant responsibility. And yes, it was more nuanced than that, more complicated, but right then Ferus felt troubled as he remembered Veeka sobbing against him, remembered her accusations, and what he had to measure them against was Obi-Wan's lack of eye contact and a not-quite answer.

"What happened?"

A direct question would at least hopefully get him an answer, but then, he did fully expect Obi-Wan to dodge.

Ferus wasn't entirely wrong. It was simply that the guilt--the responsibility, the pain--was tied to so much more than that. He was thinking of everything that had happened, not just Orrin's death. There was a great deal of guilt, yes, just not over this specifically.

Fortunately, though with a sigh, Obi-Wan did look up at him again. He kept his hands on Rooh but turned his attention to his human companion.

"I told you," he said, voice level. "He fell, trying to get away. I had warned him, but he refused to listen."

Ferus nodded, relaxing again, having found the little display of guilt somewhat uncharacteristic. Not that it ... was, exactly - he understood it or parts of it, in light of his own mistakes, under the weight of Vader and Anakin and the rest of the Jedi - and he'd seen some of that guilt before, in Obi-Wan's regret and struggles.

He'd just never seen it in something so simple as not being looked at, and it had unnerved him. Because this, these people, it had seemed like so much less.

... of course, he wasn't supposed to think like that. It wasn't his place to judge.

"From what I understand", he said, measuring his voice, "he sounded like a bad man. But she- Veeka ..."

Trailing off, he shook his head, suddenly not knowing what to say. He didn't want to add more guilt to what Obi-Wan already had. Should he explain at all? Did it matter?

"I talked to her", he finished eventually, uncertainly. "I hope I ... made a difference in her anger."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, stepping away from his steed and a bit closer to Ferus. He studied the young man quietly, feeling his uncertainty--along with so much more, many tumultuous feelings--through the Force. He did not intend to pry, exactly, but it was undeniably there.

Just as Obi-Wan's own torrent of emotion was, just below the surface of a carefully manicured calm.

"I'm sure that you did," he assured him, and he sensed on some level that it was true. For all that she played a role in things going south, he was sure that her grief was intense and her anger palpable. Perhaps there had been an added bonus to sending Ferus to the Claim after all. "Compassion goes a long way, after all."

Carefully manicured calms had never been a strong suit of Ferus', and he averted his own eyes this time as he again debated what to say, realizing how openly Obi-Wan could probably read him. He wasn't calm, and hadn't been for months, and was no longer very good at faking such a thing.

"Well", he said quietly, voice wavering, and he really didn't want to give into that waver or that vulnerability or even acknowledge it, it made the slight joke so much thinner and betrayed something of what was beneath: "what makes you so sure it was compassion?"

It was true, that he thought that he could understand Ferus well. He might not know all of the details, or all of the nuances, but he could see the pain to a large degree, and they shared it. It was not a perfect understanding, by any means, but it was something that connected them beyond the Force.

Still, Obi-Wan simply gave Ferus a look that was first sceptical, then pointed. "Because compassion," he reminded Ferus, voice firm, "is the only true weapon that we have against anger."

Ferus acknowledged this with a quick, tense nod, and closed his eyes; brought one hand up to press his fingers against his eyelids as he tried to center himself, or at least find some semblance of steadiness.

The truth, he supposed, had a way of hurting. Not that it brought pain exactly, what Obi-Wan said, but a surge of feeling that in Ferus' attempts to hold it off might as well have been painful.

Compassion. He'd lost it altogether towards the end. His thinking had changed, his idea of what was worthwhile in people, what was worthwhile in himself, and he'd had no room in his mind for things like compassion and sympathy, and the love he'd held onto had twisted.

Yes, he'd had the Holocron working on him. Throwing it away had physically hurt and he had the scar to prove it. But what did it say about him now that he still felt it necessary to hold onto that anger?

Why couldn't he let it go?

What had he lost?

He'd indirectly called himself a lost soul before, but maybe that's all that was left of him. He knew that he'd come dangerously close to losing himself altogether but even if he hadn't he still felt certain that parts of him were gone forever.

After a long moment, he blinked his eyes open, touching his mouth instead as his gaze dropped to the sand.

"I know", he said finally, because he remembered this too, reached out to the memory and in doing so, also reached out to the Force around him. This. He could find something in this. "Ry-Gaul brought me back, part of the way. Him and Solace."

He was saying this out loud and acknowledging the help of his fallen friends more for his own benefit than Obi-Wan's, but it didn't matter.

Edited 2015-11-17 19:38 (UTC)

Obi-Wan was quiet, was patient, as he let Ferus process and absorb his words however necessary. The younger man had so much on his shoulders, and so much to deal with. And he knew that the meaning behind the words was difficult. Obi-Wan himself was having trouble with them, if in a different way from Ferus.

He took a breath, nodding slightly. Ry-Gaul and Fy-Tor-Ana. The former he knew better than the latter, and neither as well as Garen Muln--of whom Ferus now carried a constant reminder. It was painful to think of the dead, but that was all the more reason to speak of them. They would not be lost, that way. The survivors would carry them forward.

"All the more reason to turn compassion inwards," he said, making his previous meaning more explicit. "For them as well as for yourself."

ITT: SAD JEDI

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)