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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"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."

While Ferus didn't laugh, there was a soft, amused sound that escaped him, having been caught by surprise at Obi-Wan's dry attempt at humour. Something about that helped and likely did so pretty obviously. It helped pull him a little more away from the dark place he was in so often.

"I'm sure there will be, if you don't finish it", he said in response, glancing at Obi-Wan and finishing his own serving by picking up the bowl and drinking the last of the stew straight from it.

Not particularly fancy, but neither was the establishment.

And there it was--a small success at least. He hardly wanted to make light of things, there was so much darkness, but a little bit of humour could go a long way. It was also a lot harder to find in these days, there being so little to smile about.

It was going to be a number of long, lonely years in this desert.

"A matter of time then," he replied with a sigh. He didn't follow Ferus's lead though, being more polite about finishing his stew, taking the last few spoonfuls.

He went to collect Ferus's dishes so that he might clean up. Ferus was more than welcome to help, or to pursue further conversation, but Obi-Wan would hardly ask.

"Everything happens in time, Obi-Wan."

Smile gone but voice soft with another wave of remembrance - although this one, evidently, not as painful - Ferus stood as well. There was a moment of uncertainty as to what he was meant to do, but he simply remained where he was in the end, leaning one arm against the wall as he watched Obi-Wan, and then out the window.

The chill was bound to set in any minute, he thought.

He liked cities a lot more than these isolated places he seemed to find himself in lately, but still, he knew, that there was something about this that he would miss.

"Of course," Obi-Wan agreed almost wistfully. It was something he had heard before as well. It was hopeful, in some small way. But it pained him that he could not put a face to the words. He wished for nothing more than to see his teachers and friends again.

He sighed and set to work cleaning the dishes; a very particular task, he found, when water was the most valuable and sparse resource on the planet.

Suddenly it broke back an old memory. An old friend, stuck doing the dishes with him. Spilling water that no one would have missed anywhere else in the galaxy. But here...

"Siri would have hated this," he said softly. He wasn't entirely sure where he was going with that, but it seemed only right to share her memory when it came to mind with Ferus, to whom she had also been important.

Ferus smiled slightly, still looking out into the darkness for a moment before he glanced back at Obi-Wan, and he nodded his agreement.

"She would", he said, mirroring Obi-Wan's tone. Despite having no idea why she was on Obi-Wan's mind, Ferus appreciated him sharing that he was thinking of her. Siri had been the closest thing he'd had to his own family for a very long time and leaving her had been one of the most difficult things about leaving the Temple. In large part because a part of him insisted that he'd let her down by doing so. That maybe he'd given up on something.

Of course it had little to do with her and everything to do with the death of a fellow Padawan that he'd been unable to shake the guilt from.

It had been a rash decision, in many ways. It had hurt him deeply to make the call he had. In the end he was still happy he'd left, but accepting that he was on his own, without Siri's reassuring presence next to him, had been one of the most difficult adjustments to make.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, tipping it into the stone while he let his thoughts drift, watching Obi-Wan all the while.

"She told me you knew each other when you were Padawans."

Obi-Wan smiled just slightly to himself-- first at Ferus's agreement, and then at his gentle but obvious prompting. She was on his mind often enough, it was true, and he appreciated Ferus being there at a moment where she was--he had been important to her just as she was important to him. Few others had a strong bond with her.

Part of the reason he had meant to contact Ferus after the Wars was to inform him of Siri's passing. For him to not know--

At least he learned from another source.

But he didn't mind the probing question. As much as the thought of Siri would likely always bring him some grief, he had already been learning to move on from her death when the Purge had happened. The wound her passing left was not as open and raw, though it had been deep.

And their years as Padawans together, long in the past now, was hardly painful. It brought back fond enough memories.

"We did," he confirmed, not turning back to look at Ferus, but feeling calm enough with this memory. "She had been a youngling still when we first came to know each other, but her first mission off-planet as a Padawan was to accompany Qui-Gon and I. She did not," he mused, thinking back on her disdain, "like me very much at the time."

"Did it have anything to do with your overbearing caution and inability to relax?"

It was kind of funny, honestly, how he was really describing himself as well by the friendly jab. He'd been vastly different as a Padawan, concerned with rules and respectful to a fault, where now he'd cross lines when he felt it was needed and had grown spontaneous and loose.

Or well. At least until the dark side bore down on him, but he was trying not to think about that.

What he was thinking about was the fact that Siri despite these qualities in him had always been a patient Master. Perhaps part of the reason he'd been able to accept his emerging new personality as completely as he had was because of her sometimes not-too-subtle ways of telling him to value exactly those qualities, yet did this without being judgmental of who he was.

He'd appreciated that. But he could see how she likely hadn't been mature enough to feel that way when she'd been a youngling. And of course he'd seen her amusement in never letting up on Obi-Wan either, something he still assumed she'd done in a particular way of showing friendship towards him.

Obi-Wan actually smiled at that, if still faintly enough, that teasing comment. Because it was good to hear Ferus being more relaxed, willing to mouth off in a friendlier way. The kind of way Obi-Wan could appreciate, anyway. And besides--it wasn't wrong, exactly, about either of them. But still, it wasn't what he was thinking about either.

"You'd be surprised," he said mildly, finishing with the dishes and putting them away. He glanced back at Ferus for a moment as he did so, eyebrows raised. "She actually despised a particular decision I had made, one she saw as unthinking, perhaps."

And because he knew Ferus would ask, and because it didn't matter anymore if someone knew, he explained, "I left the Order, for a time, as a boy."

Perhaps Ferus would appreciate the great ironies in that.

Obi-Wan was right - he'd been about to ask, even if only with an inclination of his head. Instead his eyes widened slightly at the admission, because this wasn't anything he had been aware of. And it certainly spoke to him, as he'd left the Order himself, which was no doubt why Obi-Wan saw it fitting to share.

He appreciated the gesture. And he stood thoughtful for a short moment, trying to make this information fit with the Obi-Wan he knew. He found that it didn't really, although it was still mildly comforting to know.

Ferus had no regrets about leaving the Order now, but he'd certainly had doubts at the time, had been racked by uncertainty even as he'd made his decision. He'd known of course about others that had left, or else he'd not have considered it an option. But he had known none personally. Or at least he hadn't thought so.

"Siri mentioned ..." he started, then trailed off as he tried to remember what it was she'd said. "She said others who had left had come back, that she'd known it to happen. I wouldn't have thought she meant you."

Edited 2015-10-27 19:19 (UTC)

Obi-Wan nodded slightly, inclining his head in an acknowledgement of the remark. It was very fair. Looking back on it, it seemed a rash decision. Right in the moment, perhaps, but certainly not in the long-term. Not for him.

That was, perhaps, why he had not told Ferus before. He hadn't wanted the boy to think that he was making the wrong decision by leaving. Clearly he had made the right one. It spoke quite a lot to their differences now, as grown men.

"No, I don't expect you would have," he agreed with a faint smile, turning back to face him now that everything was cleaned up. "But I have changed much since I was a Padawan. As have you," he added with a respectful gesture to him.

Of course, the last few months had changed Ferus even further. In the interest of not letting that heavy knowledge overtake them if it did not have to, he continued on.

"Siri had thought, at the time, that it made us all look bad. But she came to understand my decision, and to learn it had nothing to do with my commitment to the Order."

Taking all this in, Ferus paid attention as he listened. Obi-Wan telling him these things gave him cause to reflect some on his own past. Not that it was needed much, anymore - he'd done his share of reflection for a very long time until he was fully at ease with the choice he'd made. But he found that he was going over some of the thoughts he'd used to have again in light of what Obi-Wan was sharing.

It sounded like something he could imagine a young Siri to say, too. Something judgmental simply because she didn't have the facts. The Siri he'd known as his Master had conquered that trait, but the impatience in finding facts sometimes still showed through.

"Why did you return?" he asked after a short moment, finding that that's what he was the most interested in knowing.

That was a more complicated question, but Obi-Wan had put 25 years between the present and what had transpired on Melida/Daan. It didn't plague him the way it had for some time after the fact, when he'd still effectively been a boy, not even a young man.

But of course, much of the context surrounding his return was unnecessarily complicated, and he didn't have cause to share most of it with Ferus. Little of it made any difference any more, as much as it would always be a part of him.

Nield turning on him. Cerasi's death. Their hard-won but fragile peace nearly shattering.

"Suffice it to say," Obi-Wan summarized, "that I did not fit in very well outside of the Order. I later called my Master back to help settle a dispute and found myself deeply missing working with him."

Ferus nodded, not pushing for more. Obi-Wan was a private person, he knew. And when it came to secrets that didn't affect his life, Ferus saw no reason not to let Obi-Wan have them. He was curious, but the answer was satisfying enough, and he had no difficulty letting that go.

He noted Obi-Wan's wording with slight amusement, though.

"I never fit in very well inside the Order", he said, thinking back. Which was true, despite how adept he knew he had been. He had been lonely. He'd felt pressure he couldn't let go of. "I could do nearly everything they asked of me. I was strong. I knew I had promise. But I was never happy."

Pausing for a moment as he thought again of Roan's eyes, crinkling with laughter the very first time he'd seen them, his voice took on a softer, sadder quality again.

"I didn't realize that until ..." a vague gesture with his head, as if indicating something beyond the stars outside, "Bellassa."

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