thesaurus | ITT: SAD JEDI

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!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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He was losing Ferus, on some small level, he saw. He had to remember that Ferus was not a Jedi any longer--or at least, not a conventional one. They no longer thought the same way. Of course, Obi-Wan's own ideals had been challenged but he would persevere and hold onto the teachings of his Masters.

He softened somewhat further at the mention of Siri. He still felt her loss particularly deeply, deeper than most. But he had taught himself to move on. She would not have wanted him to mourn for long.

"My own Master," for Qui-Gon had died his Master and so would always be, "told me that we must not accept just change, but our regrets and mistakes. And I have made many. I do not forget them or dishonour them," in fact he struggled even to accept them, though there was no need to discourage Ferus by being so frank, "but I do what I can to carry on despite them, to do what needs to be done."

Edited 2015-10-26 15:45 (UTC)

Ferus blinked against a sting. Against the notion that he could accept the regrets and mistakes that had piled up the last few years, and especially the failures of the last months. Everything had changed when Darra died, and it appeared that since then, death would be a constant. So much of it his own fault.

If he'd stayed in the Order, would he have been able to accept it then? He didn't feel certain. But it didn't matter, because even if the Order hadn't been destroyed, he could never be a Jedi again.

But any tears that might have threatened him disappeared in a flash of irritation as Obi-Wan finished what he was saying.

"I will go to Alderaan", he said, with an edge to his voice to show that he didn't appreciate being reprimanded. He realized that he likely wasn't, in actuality. But it felt strangely admonishing - as if Obi-Wan didn't trust him to be able to protect a child while in this state of mind. "I will see the mission through."

Obi-Wan was prepared to give Ferus a moment, should he need one, recognizing the difficulty of this conversation. Of their entire situation. But unfounded irritation was something he had little patience for. Some, though, because he understood at least some of Ferus's pain.

Still, though.

He sighed softly, but kept his voice calm and gentle. He watched Ferus for a moment before he responded, giving his anger perhaps a moment to cool. "I know that you will," Obi-Wan said. "I have entrusted you with this for a reason."

Ferus felt the anger simmer for several moments longer than even he himself felt comfortable with. He thought, you didn't trust me with this before. You only told me when there was nothing left. You didn't tell me anything when I needed to know.

It had happened quickly, the leap from annoyance and frustration to anger, and for a second it clouded his vision. Then he forced it down. He couldn't give in to his temper, a temper he hadn't even realized he'd had until so very recently.

Stalling by finally eating some of the stew, he felt a sudden spike of ... shame, maybe. Or renewed guilt. He'd made a choice - he'd made what he believed to be the right choice. But he was still marked too deeply by the dark side and the Sith.

Obi-Wan had to be able to tell, and the thought was difficult to face.

"I know", he said, voice no longer hard, although again he wasn't looking at Obi-Wan. Even if Obi-Wan trusted him, was he right to? "But I am also the only candidate left."

Obi-Wan allowed Ferus to stall for time, comfortable enough in the silence to let it linger and let Ferus collect himself. He had been in more than his share of difficulty situations, lately. And Obi-Wan knew that Ferus didn't understand or approve of all of Obi-Wan's decisions. It would take time, and that was alright.

They would manage. They had to.

He studied Ferus for a moment, pausing to consider that. It wasn't entirely wrong, but it wasn't right either. "That doesn't make you the wrong person for the job," he said gently. "You need this just as much as the child does."

He nodded. Obi-Wan was right about that, he knew. He'd rather have a purpose again than wither away on Tatooine, or wherever else he'd drift. And if Leia was as important as Obi-Wan said, of course he'd do his part in this. If nothing else maybe it could serve to right some of his wrongs.

"A change of scenery", he said, with a thin smile that quickly disappeared. He struggled for a short moment, then said, in a way that managed to be both agreement and a difficult admittance, "I can't go back to Bellassa."

Bellassa more than any other place, even Coruscant, held too much pain and memories now for him to think he'd be able to handle. Bellassa was home. It was Roan. Except it was no longer any of those things.

Obi-Wan echoed that smile with one of his own, a distant one, and it faded just as quickly. There was little humour to be found these days, that much was certain. He would have liked to banter with the Ferus he had met what seemed like so long ago. Before he had taken a dark path.

That was behind them, though. And certainly things were grim.

"I understand," he said. And he did--to an extent. But he suspected that Bellassa was more of a home to Ferus than even Coruscant was to Obi-Wan. The Temple had been home, yes, but it wasn't as if he spent a great deal of time there. He regretted that, now, though of course he wouldn't have changed it.

He thought, for a moment, of Annileen. How she had been so disappointed when he said he would not accompany her to Bestine and beyond. She had wanted him to leave Tatooine behind with her. Of course he couldn't, no matter how much he missed roaming the galaxy.

He shook his head slightly. "I somehow doubt I will be leaving here for a long time. We will have to make new homes for ourselves."

But he doubted that it would ever really become his.

"I did that once. I don't think I can do it again."

He wasn't looking for pity in saying that, and he put it forth as a simple statement, even as he kept his eyes low as he ate. But he had to say it maybe out of respect for what he'd come to think of as his homeworld. Maybe also to make it known that while he'd accept Alderaan he would never love it or the reason he was there.

It wasn't spiteful. All the same, it was true.

He'd been lost and adrift after he'd resigned from the Order and he'd found a home that had managed to become something even more meaningful than what he'd left behind. Nothing could take its place.

He'd live, and he'd work, and he'd watch his charge, but he'd never be able to make a mission in solitude his home.

At least in that, they were in perfect agreement.

Obi-Wan sighed again. But he understood perfectly. There would be little to make Alderaan a home for Ferus. He understood it wasn't self-pity or anything of the sort--Ferus simply already had a home and nothing would come to resemble it so easily.

"No, I suppose not."

He fell silent a moment, looking out, toward the east, thinking again of Luke. Obi-Wan would accept his mission here, would stay until he was no longer needed and protect the boy through it all...

But no. It wasn't much of a home.

He suddenly felt immensely tired, drained from all he had lost. He felt old, far older than his years, and exhausted. It would be hard, this mission, for all its simplicity. Because it would be hard to live with everything that had happened. And certainly hard to live with all of his mistakes.

He tried not to let it show, the sudden weight in his shoulders, the pain that welled up. But he would be honest enough, at least about what they were talking about.

"I'm not entirely certain that I can either."

Ferus looked up, studied Obi-Wan for a few seconds, letting the pause stretch as it needed. He'd grown impatient since leaving the Temple, he knew. He'd become spontaneous and impulsive and with that came an impatience for life that he'd embraced completely, had cast aside the constant reflections of his Padawan life.

Now that came back to him. Patience. Or at least the diluted, sad shape of it that found itself in him easily with the weight of his recent past. Still, he thought it was maybe a good thing. He'd admired Obi-Wan much when he'd been an apprentice and although he could see the pain and sadness in him now, perhaps mostly because it was so closely mirrored in himself, he could also see the quiet strength and resolution.

He sighed, too, and leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table.

"Have you been to the Temple?"

He knew that Obi-Wan had returned there immediately after Order 66 was issued, but he realized he didn't know if he'd been there since, to see its ruins.

And there was a question that Obi-Wan hadn't entirely expected, although it was only natural. After all the Temple had been his home. It was the only home he'd ever really known, and his life had centred around it in a very real way. So it was only natural to ask. Especially as Ferus had likely seen the results himself. What had happened to all they had once held dear.

That didn't make it any easier to bear. He didn't exactly want to think about it, the pain surfacing again, but it was a simple question. He would accept the pain and face it if he had to.

"No," he said simply, voice crisp but not masking the sadness that was inherent in the answer. "Not since--" Not since what? The betrayal? Perhaps Ferus would understand regardless. "There was no time."

And even if there had been time, it would have been too dangerous. Obi-Wan couldn't have risked being recognized. He had to hold onto life--for Luke, if nothing else.

"Maybe that's a good thing", Ferus said, looking past Obi-Wan now at the wall behind him. He was thinking about it now, the broken walls, the remnants littering the floor. The stormtroopers. And the droids. "There's nothing left."

He debated what to say, weighing his own desire to speak of what he'd seen there and what had happened against an urge to not pain Obi-Wan any further. He was angry, he realized, at what had happened to the place where he'd spent so many years of his life. At having had that very place used as a trap. Because of course he'd fallen for that, too.

And he'd been captured. But he didn't regret his choices when it came to this.

"Malorum meant to blow it up", he said slowly. "Solace-" he caught on the name, but went on, "Solace and I defused the bomb. It was drawing power from the Temple core. It's nothing like what it was, but I couldn't let them do that. Destroy it."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, ignoring his dinner for long enough to listen to what Ferus had to say and let it wash over him. He could feel it. The destruction of what they held dear. The desecration of a symbol. He hadn't seen what it had become, no, but he could visualize it anyway.

And it did pain him, truly.

But Ferus spoke not solely of destruction, but also of a noble deed. That deserved recognition, though he knew that was hardly why Ferus was opening up about it.

"Good," he said gently, opening his eyes again and searching out Ferus's. "You did well to stop it."

He doubted that would be the end of it, that it wouldn't be at risk later, but at least Ferus forestalled it. Bought more time for the thing they had loved.

They seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Buying time.

Edited 2015-10-26 22:51 (UTC)

"I did what had to be done", he said, deliberately calling on Obi-Wan's own words in what might have been something teasing if he had changed the tone of his voice in any way.

So when Obi-Wan looked at him, Ferus met Obi-Wan's eyes steadily and seriously, but then he looked away, troubled by the next thoughts that surfaced and feeling certain that he would do better not to voice them. This was delicate, he knew. And even more painful for them both.

Because the reason Malorum had meant for the Jedi Temple to be destroyed was to disgrace Darth Vader. Darth Vader, who was Anakin Skywalker. Obi-Wan's apprentice. Not to mention the person who had a part in Ferus' decision to leave the Temple.

Thinking of Anakin brought a wild mix of fury and despair, and Ferus could feel it like a darkness inside him. It was something Anakin had put there. Anakin had taken so much from him, and he knew he was aware of precisely how much.

He blinked again and tried to let go of those thoughts. They wouldn't help him. Not anymore. Still, they pressed close to him, almost intimate.

"Of course," he replied, voice gentle and with a hint of a smile that disappeared soon after. He recognized the potential in those words, but they were of course merely a shadow of what they could have been.

Obi-Wan met Ferus's gaze for that moment where Ferus was willing to hold it, but let his eyes drift when Ferus looked away.

He didn't know what he was thinking about, but Obi-Wan could guess. And even were he wrong--well, there was so much hanging over their heads that it made little difference.

He knew his own thoughts often drifted to Anakin in these moments. Who he had been. The mistakes they had both made.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a second before quietly returning to his supper. He would give Ferus the space he needed to think and choose.

It was a little frustrating that it worked. Ferus was aware that at least part of the reason Obi-Wan stayed quiet was to make (or well, allow) him to talk, but he still felt like he should say nothing about this, even as the words rushed through his head and tempted his mouth just because the silence persisted.

There was so much there. So much to say, and probably all of it able to threaten their friendship. Ferus didn't quite trust himself, remembering his urge to throw and kick things when he'd realized that Obi-Wan had known the identity of Darth Vader all along. That he'd known, despite Ferus agonizing over how to tell him, how to even process that information himself.

He told himself he understood, because grief made you silent; he hadn't spoken Roan's name out loud since he arrived on Tatooine himself. But he also told himself how different it was with Vader, who had continued to threaten his life.

Anakin had tried to kill him several times. And nearly succeeded.

He could still feel the spots of injury from their last fight because they hadn't yet healed.

"When did it happen?" he said, voice rough, scratchy. "Anakin."

And there it was. Confirmation, for one thing, that Ferus had also let his mind drift to Anakin--or at least what was left of him. And, more importantly, the question that Obi-Wan had both been anticipating and dreading.

He didn't want to answer it. Yet he must.

There was an easy answer and a hard, honest one. As much as he might have liked to take the easy route, he knew he shouldn't. There was no true benefit to avoiding the truth this time, or giving Ferus an easy version of it. He needed to encourage Ferus being open with him. And his years of training had taught him nothing if he could not face the hard truths when he needed to. It was why he had looked at the security footage of the temple, even knowing that it would crush him.

He thought for a moment of his battle with Anakin on Mustafar, where he had left him to die. Obi-Wan should have made sure he was dead, as much as the thought of killing his former apprentice sickened him. It would have been a mercy on a great many souls, if only he had done the hard thing then.

He closed his eyes for the moment, aware that he was keeping Ferus waiting. But the turmoil of thoughts and emotions was strong, and it was a struggle to accept them and regain his calm, let alone find the words to answer him.

'When' was a difficult question. In some ways harder than the 'why.'

Because Obi-Wan had failed to see what was happening until it was too late.

He had failed in a great many ways.

He had failed Anakin. And now Ferus.

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said finally, voice low and thick with emotion. He did not open his eyes for another second but then blinked them open, surprised to find that they stung. "The Emperor must have worked on him for years. Anakin had always been his favourite." Something that had always bothered Obi-Wan, even from the early years. How had he failed to see what it would do? Why had he failed to stop it?

"He had turned before the order against the Jedi was given." That much he could say with certainty. Because Anakin had helped with the purge. In one of the most heinous acts imaginable. And telling Ferus that part of the timeline, that Anakin had turned even before Order 66, perhaps that would make him understand just how great the betrayal had been even then.

As if Ferus needed any reminders of just how much pain had been caused.

Ferus could feel himself tense for the time Obi-Wan kept silent, with each second expecting less of an answer. He wouldn't forgive Obi-Wan for avoiding this, should he choose to. Even less, should he try to defend Anakin ... which was nothing Ferus actually expected him to do, yet at the same time, the thought crossed his mind.

That he might.

He remembered his own words to Anakin from so many years before, from an arrogant boy to another: Obi-Wan is blinded by affection. He supposed he had been right, although that was not a satisfying notion. Flaws were something he understood better now, after spending such a long time away from the Temple and the Jedi, and he couldn't fault Obi-Wan for being human.

Yet at the same time there was a knowledge there that grated. That Ferus had been right about Anakin all along, and while he'd voiced his concerns to Obi-Wan several years ago, he'd done nothing else. At the time, he'd said he'd been scared for Anakin, but as the years passed he realized that he'd been frightened by him.

That hadn't gone away. He should have figured it out sooner. He should have pushed harder for what he'd felt was wrong, that sense of foreboding he'd always had about his fellow Padawan. But he'd kept himself in line. It hadn't been his place. He'd been the perfect apprentice who nonetheless left the order, and Anakin had gone on to become the Dark Lord.

Ferus was still struggling to make sense of all these things. That's why he'd asked the question, because he needed some kind of answer, some kind of reference for when this could have happened, why Obi-Wan hadn't-

but he couldn't blame him, he reminded himself.

He could be angry that he'd never told him anything, but he couldn't blame him for Anakin's choices. He had to remember that.

It was easier to remember when the pain was so clear in Obi-Wan's eyes when he finally responded, and Ferus felt himself relax a fraction as he gave a slow nod.

That was an answer. It was information. It was something he needed.

"Was that when you found out?"

That, at least, was an easier question. He saw that telling Ferus what he knew was the right decision, for Ferus needed this as well. He needed the frame of reference of the purposes of his own grief. Obi-Wan had kept much from him when he had felt that it was better, or at least not worse, for Ferus not to know. But here Obi-Wan could not be selfish in withholding the information. Ferus already knew the worst of it, that Anakin had turned and betrayed them, and now the information could be used to help him sort through everything. To find some kind of answer in the midst of all the madness.

He was not sure that he could ever find an answer, but perhaps the former Padawan could. Perhaps he had something to learn still.

He brought a hand to his mouth, touching his beard as if in thought, though in truth he didn't really needed to think about it, but slowly Obi-Wan nodded.

"When I returned to the temple I looked to the security holos. He had been there." Perhaps he had even been the one who put up the signal to call the Jedi back into a trap. Regardless, he had been the perpetrator of great injustice. Obi-Wan had seen it for himself.

Been there before or after the mask? Ferus wondered, though it was a passing thought. He'd found out that something must have happened, something bad enough for Vader to essentially be remade at the EmPal SuRecon Center, and he found that he cared little for the details. Whatever had happened to Anakin must have been something he deserved.

He couldn't help a dark thought: that he hoped Anakin had been in pain. That he hoped he still was, that he probably had to be, with that mask apparently breathing for him.

And yet he was strong. Yet, he'd thrown Ferus around like a felinx would a rodus before a meal. Whatever had happened couldn't have cost him enough. But this was something Ferus had to let go of. He'd made his choice - rescue over revenge.

That was something else he had to keep telling himself.

"I met him there. The Temple didn't seem to matter to him." There was a twitch of a humourless smile, and Ferus leaned his head into a hand. "He could have killed me. But turns out letting me go made Malorum look even worse."

"No, I suppose it wouldn't any longer." The Temple had been Anakin's home for many years, but he had forsaken it. He had killed the innocent and defenseless inside its hallowed walls. He had given up everything that had made him a Jedi and made the Temple a welcome place for him. He had defiled the place through his unforgivable actions.

Still, it pained him to think of Anakin at all, to think of the brother he had lost, all of the suffering.

Especially because what Ferus described sounded so like it was set in the old Anakin, the one he'd cared for. A disturbing remnant of the goodhearted boy who had been destroyed by the Sith. Twisted into something cruel and unusual, an action chosen out of spite.

He wasn't sure what to say for a moment, but finally his answer was two-fold: "I am glad that you are here now, Ferus."

Softening further, Ferus nodded but bowed his head slightly in a moment of silent struggle. He thought again of Roan's death, could still replay it far too clearly in his mind. But while the strike through Roan's heart and his eyes losing their warmth as he slipped away from him was as painful as ever and made Ferus' own eyes sting, for once, that wasn't the focus of the memory.

Instead, he thought of after. Of Vader- Anakin- holding him in the air and throwing him harshly aside. Of the certainty that he would be executed. Most importantly, on realizing that he didn't care.

Roan was a body, and so Ferus' own life hadn't mattered.

It had taken him a few days to get out of that haze, he'd thought, but it was more clear now than ever that he was still deep inside it.

He felt tears form, and he leaned further into his hand, nodding again.

"Me, too", he said quietly. He didn't care to try to sound convincing. It was true. He was glad to have found purpose again despite everything, and he was glad to reconnect with Obi-Wan, that Obi-Wan let him stay - and he was happy to be here, where he could at least approximate peace and calm.

But he wasn't all that sure that he was glad to be alive. He accepted his life, and he would make the best he could of it. But it was empty, and would be emptier still, after he left this little hovel in a vast desert in a place he'd never thought he'd find himself.

Obi-Wan was glad to hear it, and he did believe him. Even if he knew that it wasn't so simple. His words had held two meanings, but did Ferus's? That was less clear--and Obi-Wan could hardly blame him if not.

It was not every day that Obi-Wan was glad to be here, either.

He frowned slightly, in thought, watching Ferus for a moment. Concerned Ferus might cry but perfectly prepared to let him do so as much as he needed. And he probably did need it.

So he fell silent instead, letting Ferus have his mental space if he desired. He would wait him out and let him come to him if there was more for him to say.

Edited 2015-10-27 16:47 (UTC)

Truthfully, Ferus wasn't sure what he desired. The silence pricked him again as it stretched and he closed his eyes against it and the tears both, willing them away. He hadn't cried yet. He knew he would eventually but he didn't want to give in like this, with Obi-Wan watching him so carefully.

He took a breath. Another. And then he blinked his eyes open and pushed his hands through his hair before taking the spoon again to the cooling stew and let a minute pass as he ate.

"This reminds me of my first exile", he said eventually in a distant way, again giving in to Obi-Wan's silence. "Just change the sand for snow."

Obi-Wan was fine with taking a moment to eat his mostly neglected supper, letting the silence settle over them. It was more comfortable this time, he thought, not that he had been bothered the last time, but it was less about pressuring Ferus to speak now and more about letting the heavy moment pass.

He glanced up again when Ferus offered that comment about his exile--and comparing the sand to the snow.

"Well," Obi-Wan said with a strained smile. "I apologize that the sand is in nearly everything. I commend you for there being none in our dinner."

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