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?

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Ferus gave a soft "ah" for that particular information, a little amused in response to the teasing that was subdued still but easily picked up on. "Have they? I can't imagine they miss me too much."

Thinking back on his ... outburst, and the way both eopies had appeared somewhat alarmed by him. But there was no self pity in his tone, no underlying question. They were animals. Gentle ones.

Obi-Wan was the one who was family. Who, Ferus knew, was the one who was noticing moreso than the eopies that Ferus was no longer on Tatooine.

"Speaking of the beasts ... the Alderaan Library does have some information on eopie care. Should you still need it."

"Perhaps not, but I think Rooh was starting to become fond of you." Still teasing, of course--and he knew that Ferus would understand the truth behind these jesting comments.

Because yes, Ferus was family.

He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at the hologram of said family. "I fear I might," he conceded. "You've had time to research already?"

He shrugged, faintly. "I'm not good at keeping myself company."

Which was true. He'd have to find that again, he knew, the calm ease of solitude, except even as a Padawan that hadn't been quite the right way to describe it. He did have faith he'd find the routine eventually. But as for right now it was an adjustment period, and he could hardly be faulted for seeking distractions at first.

Not the Jedi way, a small voice in his head reminded him, for the hundredth time. He mentally waved it off.

Because talking was a welcome distraction too right now, from the nothing around him.

"They reach maturity at around six standard years", he said, recalling the information without difficulty. "So you'll have to keep an eye on Tooh for a while. The young are particularly vulnerable to the elements, which is why they eat more. He's probably seeking out moisture moreso than food - their skin doesn't toughen up for a few years, so he's wasting more energy than Rooh, even just standing in the sun. You should let them eat any weeds you find. It'll help."

Obi-Wan nodded his head once, a concession of that fact that he understood Ferus would have difficulty with that now. He had grown into a far more social creature than he had been in his youth. But he had confidence Ferus would find his rhythm and make do.

On the other hand, he was not certain that he would be quite able to make a perfect routine as long as he was both looking after a young eopie and was unable to make regular visits to the Lars homestead, lest he attract attention.

He sighed.

"Well, at least he'll keep me occupied as he grows. Caring for him will be something to do." Not that he felt it was necessary, exactly, but at least he could help one small being in the galaxy, even while he felt generally useless. "I had heard that the local farmers like them for clearing out weeds. More moisture for the vaporators. I suppose it's a mutually beneficial arrangement, especially for the young eopies."

"Exactly. If you're going to farm moisture you might as well do it by the book, right?" There was a quick flash of a smile. "I don't know how long you'd planned on having him for, but it seems like you're companions for life now."

Or at least until something happened, the way things unfortunately seemed to happen to all of them. But that was a bleak mindset and Ferus was trying to move away from it when he could, which was part of his subtly teasing tone.

"Apparently so," Obi-Wan agreed in a much more grim--but teasingly so--tone of voice. But in all honesty, he didn't expect it. He didn't know how long he'd keep the eopies--but for now, again, they were beings to care for. "I suppose if one must live a rural Tatooine life, one might as well embrace it in its entirety."

He shook his head and said, "do you have similar plans for Alderaan?"

"Eopie keeping?" he asked, deliberately misunderstanding, but then shook his head and looked to the side, to the grasses beyond his small house. There were nerfs grazing in the distance. The idea of caring for animals seemed ... strange, almost a little fake, mocking. He'd never been that person before. He could be, he'd be anything he had to be, but did he have to? Want to?

On the other hand, the other end of the spectrum was near-complete isolation but for any contact with Bail Organa, and he didn't think he'd manage that, either.

He sighed.

"I don't think so. But I'll do whatever makes me blend in. There are nerf herders here ..." trailing off, there was a pause, and then Ferus shook his head again, taking a small moment. "Whatever is asked of me", he said finally.

"I didn't necessarily mean with animals," Obi-Wan corrected mildly with a small, somewhat sad smile. It didn't seem very much like the new Ferus he had grown fond of to simply do whatever was asked of him. But that was the state of things now. They were both more resigned. But perhaps in time Ferus would regain some of his spirit.

"What I meant was, what plans do you have for adjusting to life on Alderaan? To blend in or simply to occupy yourself."

He smiled faintly, said, "I just told you."

In his opinion there weren't a lot of things to add. But after a moment he tried anyway, figuring Obi-Wan wouldn't be satisfied without some kind of elaboration or thought.

Or that's what he meant to say, at least, something along what Obi-Wan was asking for; something about how whatever the Organa family needed he'd try to provide, something about how he'd take a page out of Obi-Wan's book and stay far away, about how he honestly wasn't sure how to make the days go by. In the end, however, he found himself rubbing at the bridge of his nose with a small frown as he said, "I haven't picked a new name yet."

Obi-Wan gave Ferus his best unimpressed look, the nuances of which he hoped were not lost over the comlink. But he didn't say anything or push, content that Ferus would think about it beyond the immediate requests of those he was following.

But he didn't quite expect what it was that Ferus said, though it too made sense. While Ferus would have no difficulty coming up with an identity, he was choosing something he was likely going to have to live with for a great many years.

Obi-Wan nodded, lifting one hand to stroke his beard thoughtfully before confiding, "Ben was something an old friend used to call me from time to time."

It was more than that. It felt like more than that. More than just making a decision that'd be irreversible for some time - the fact that he still hadn't made it felt like a small kind of failure, because if he'd been on top of his game, he'd already have his backstory ready. Were it anyone else, he'd be set.

The fact that it was his life did change things, he supposed. But that was no excuse for indecision, not when things were this crucial.

Ferus Olin was dead and he'd have to stay that way.

"Really?" he asked mildly, surprised at Obi-Wan sharing, and appreciative of the reason he did; it seemed like a way of trying to help. Distantly there was a small sense of approval as well. A good alias was rooted in something you wouldn't forget, so long as it wasn't widely known. But mostly his thoughts returned to the boy he'd seen off for the last time a few days prior.

"Trever took to calling me Feri-Wan", he said quietly, smile turning even more distant. "But that wouldn't make for a good alias."

Dropping his hand back down to his side, Obi-Wan merely inclined his head in confirmation to Ferus's question, not feeling particularly partial to sharing any more details than that. It was not as if Ferus knew Satine, after all, and so sharing anything of her memory wouldn't be likely to do much good. Though Perhaps Ferus might have heard of her, given her position, any other details would not have the proper context.

Still, he had shared just that small piece. Obi-Wan would hold onto her memory through the use of her name for him.

What surprised him, however, was what Ferus shared in return. He paused for a moment, somewhat taken aback, before he smiled softly. "No, I'm afraid that would make a terrible alias. Still, I suppose I should be flattered."

With that response, something in Ferus came back more to the present, and he shot Obi-Wan a look that might no be as clear through a hologram but that was still unmistakably teasing.

"Are you sure? Because it was usually reserved for when I was being bossy." Which was true, and it hadn't particularly often been used to Ferus' face, either, but he'd overheard it more than a few times. But it had made him smile, too. It was a fond gesture and he recognised it as such, and it was flattering on some level, how closely Trever had associated him with Obi-Wan.

But he had to remind himself not to linger on these things.

Trever did not remember any of them.

"You must have made quite an impression."

"Not necessarily a bad thing," Obi-Wan retorted, his own voice teasing in return. He smiled still, but it faded somewhat as they continued on. He knew what had happened, after all, and no matter the impression he had made on Trever... well. "And he was very fond of you."

'Was', unfortunately, being the key word.

And how did one comfort for such a thing? At least Trever was still alive, but Ferus had lost him all the same. Obi-Wan felt that pain, albeit in a very different way, with Anakin. He was alive, but gone. But at least it was for the greater good with Trever.

"You did the right thing, Ferus."

Not that that necessarily made the pain any less. But perhaps it would make it easier to live with.

"I ..."

He caught himself, bit back something, and looked away, pressing a hand to his mouth as if to further force down whatever he'd meant to say. There was a sudden vulnerability that ... well, honestly, perhaps it had been there all along, but it was made more pronounced when Ferus tiredly, and with some frustration behind the gesture, roughly scrubbed his hand over his face and through his hair.

Drew in a breath.

Obi-Wan was right. It wasn't any less upsetting to have done what was needed to ensure the boy's safety. In time, the pain would dull, but right now it was fresh, the newest of his many losses, and it hurt to have acknowledged in that gentle tone.

"I know that", he said after a moment, steeling himself, but still looking away from the hologram of Obi-Wan. "I'm trying not to regret it. Why it had to be done."

Obi-Wan was quiet and still, patient with Ferus while he processed all of it again. It was such a fresh wound, yes, and he understood how much it would hurt in the immediate aftermath. He knew that Ferus would learn to handle the pain and it would lessen, but for now it was a very real grief. He had to give Ferus space to manage it in his own way, though he would make sure that he was not consumed by it.

Ferus had so much to grieve for. They both did.

"It is regrettable, but it was unavoidable. It was the best course of action and no fault of your own."

"See, you can say that", he said quietly, leaning his cheek on his knuckles; elbow on his knee, eyes downcast. "But I shouldn't have told him as much as I did. I shouldn't have brought him into this mess to begin with, actually. He did so much, but now ..."

Shrugging faintly, a helpless gesture, he found that he didn't really know what to say. Obi-Wan had known Trever for such a short time. It was strange to think that even that was more than Trever now knew of himself.

The boy had found so much courage in himself, and that was gone. That was the second hardest thing to see. The most difficult thing had been the indifference in his eyes when he last saw him.

"I know I can't dwell on this. But I feel responsible."

"Had you not brought him along," Obi-Wan reminded him, "he would not have had these memories or grown in the way that he did." The words were gentle but firm, imploring Ferus to listen in his own reserved way. It was true that he had not known Trever, not really, but he knew Ferus and he knew the boy meant a lot to him.

He understood why Ferus felt responsible, but it would do him no good to put that blame on his own shoulders.

"In the end, you have not hurt him but only yourself. You need not magnify your pain by asking yourself what-ifs."

Drawing in a sharp breath, Ferus tensed and stilled, as if coiled. There was something in that statement that he didn't like at all - this ... this implication that pain was selfish, maybe, but more than that the simple fact that it wasn't true, because so many more than Ferus had been hurt and many were now dead.

But he couldn't lash out. He wouldn't. So he exhaled slowly and closed his eyes and willed the tension away. Willed the pain away.

Willed the anger away, too.

"He'll have a family now", he said after a moment, voice tight but the sentiment sincere. "It's for the better. I know."

Obi-Wan sighed softly, recognizing that his words were likely taken the wrong way. Once again, he and Ferus were not seeing eye-to-eye. But he was not going to press the matter or correct him, not if Ferus wasn't going to pursue it further either.

He nodded instead, accepting that. "I know," he agreed. And then, more gently, "we are doing what we can, Ferus. We can't ask more of ourselves than that."

"But we still do."

He said it because he knew it was true for both of them, and he looked up at the flickering shape of his friend again with a faint wry smile. Because while he was sure of what they were both thinking, he was just as certain that it wouldn't ever really go away, either.

They both had too much in tow, now.

Obi-Wan's smile in response to that was small and sad. He bowed his head in quiet concession to Ferus's point. They both were too prone to taking on too much of the galaxy. It would only continue to cause them pain, those burdens. But such was who they were and such was their fate.

"We do," he agreed. "Even though we shouldn't. It helps nothing, and yet here we are."

"Here we are", Ferus echoed quietly and dragged his fingers beneath his eyes. Then he sighed, straightened up. "It's difficult to help ourselves. That's something about attachment I don't think the Jedi ever saw."

Pausing, frowning, he found himself pulling slightly at his sleeves, a gesture that was unusual for him. Something like nerves, which made little sense, because he'd always been so assured.

He shook his head, went on, uncertain of why, but speaking freely simply because he felt the need. He thought of Trever, still. He was trying very hard not to think about Roan. "But I see why we were warned of it. It hurts worse than anything else to lose."

Obi-Wan nodded, agreeing with the sentiment for the most part. Both that it was difficult to prevent--and that it was the greatest kind of pain. If only they had all seen that, had learned to manage it better.

He thought as far back as Qui-Gon's death, of the pain of the loss that made him lose himself for a time. And now as recent as Anakin's betrayal, the loss of a brother in a worse way than death. To say nothing of Ferus's pain.

"Attachment is dangerous, even now without the Jedi to warn of it." He sighed, went on: "and yet I can't argue. No matter how much I've told myself through life to banish attachment, the pain of each loss has been left its mark. It was a path I should have corrected."

And that he was struggling with even now. He hadn't wanted to love Luke, but he was afraid that he did already. He was afraid of what would happen if he did.

Struggling for a moment, Ferus considered that answer. It felt ... wrong, and only a few months back, he would have argued it fiercely. Would have said that there was no such thing as correcting attachment and belonging and love, because each deserved its place in your heart.

Now, though the words grated painfully at him, he felt that he had to concede them. What if he'd made a mistake? He'd taken so many wrong steps after ... after Roan, and he'd lost so much he hadn't seen the point of going on, and was exactly what he'd been warned against when he'd been so young: that you can't make someone else a reason for living.

And now, though that was still the case with the Princess, he found himself reluctant to get more than superficially familiar with her.

Attachment once again felt like a risk. Like a mistake.

And it hurt him badly to feel that way, because he also remembered being happy. Truly happy. He wouldn't experience that again.

Swallowing, he said, "I'm not certain that you should have. But I don't feel certain of anything anymore."

ITT: SAD JEDI

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