Title: Falling Off the World
Archive: Yes, just ask.
Rating: G
Summary: Obi-Wan is alone on Tatooine. Until a certain night.
A/N: This is a sequel of sorts to two stories: Forbidden and He Kissed My Ankle. However, like the others, it does stand alone.
**
Falling Off the WorldDesert.
The word brings to my mind an image of an endless waste, barren and harsh. A complete and utter absence of life, of anything that speaks of it.
But that's really not true. Life is so determined, and it will scrabble for a hold anywhere. Tatooine is one such place. Rocky cliffs mixed with endless plains of sand. That's my great view for my retirement. Sand.
It's really was not so bad, though. As I said, life scrabbles for a hold. I would find lichen beneath rocks and little scavenger animals feasting off of insects I didn't know existed. At night, the desert comes alive. I would go out beyond my little garden, protected from the suns by a clear dome, and kneel in the coarse sand, listening.
I would hear the gentle chirp of tiny mammals and insects, hunting or scavenging. I would stretch my senses out, beyond my little domed home, and feel.
It gives me hope, that feeling. Life is persistent. Life goes on. Before Anakin's secret marriage, before his turn, before the Jedi Order fell – I would have thought that a depressing thing to say. Get over it. But that's not what it is, not what it means. It means there is always hope, because life goes on.
It was such a night when I felt the Force stir, like still air shifted by a breeze. I opened my eyes. My cliff dwelling was behind me, blending into the rocks. Reasonable, since that's what it was made of – rocks, and shaped with my lightsaber. An elegant weapon turned into a simple carving tool. There was no danger in my going out, since I knew that the Tusken Raiders had long since left for new scavenging territory. It was that and the fact that I had frightened them, using my Force abilities to make them think I was some powerful entity not to be fooled with.
The night sky was bright with stars. There isn't much light on Tatooine when the suns aren't up, which makes it easy to see the stars. And there are many, many stars – I could even see a heavy sprinkling of them, far enough away that it looked like a swathe of bright dust. The rest of the galaxy, beautiful and untouchable.
I was wearing my Jedi robes. It's no longer necessary, of course. I need not be recognized as what I am, and it could even be dangerous. Though I don't really think that most of the denizens of Tatooine would care, beyond what amount the bounty on my head is.
I rose to my feet, slowly and achingly. My knees had begun to ache, sometimes, in the cold of the night. Whether it was age or my endless meditations on guilt and despair, I don't know. It doesn't really matter. It was usually gone by morning, soothed away by the heat.
I looked to the distance, trying to figure out what that slight stirring was caused by. It was not an animal – their presence is not so focused, so serene and calm as that. It could be a very calm Tusken Raider, I supposed, but that was unlikely in the extreme. Ridiculous. Tuskens are brutal creatures. As Anakin found out – and the rest of the galaxy, in his subsequent rage.
Deciding not to let the strange individual come to me and find my home, I wiped the sand off my pants and began walking, my worn and comfortable boots making no noise in the nearly silent night. I wrapped my dark brown robe around me, to disguise my presence further. It was a tad ragged, but one couldn't tell that in the dark.
One of the few things I treasure about Tatooine is the space. It has truly endless amounts of it, going farther than the eye can see. Sometimes I would go out in the night, and lay on my back, staring up at the endless sea of stars. My surroundings were so empty, it seemed at times like I was falling off the world.
That night was such a night. My breathing felt loud and harsh to my ears, though I knew it was not. I felt the slightest breeze touch me gently, coming from nowhere. Only the ground kept me in the harsh contact with reality. I could have floated off and not realized it.
When I finally saw the individual with my own eyes – and not the through the current of the Force – I stopped walking. The individual was walking slowly towards me, and I could tell that he or she was wearing a robe, as I was. I folded my arms within my robe, and waited.
I watched the person approach, and quickly realized I was dealing with a female. The sway of her walk, the way she moved across the sand, it all told me that. Her hood was down, covering her face. I shifted my weight subtly, checking the comforting weight of my lightsaber. The woman made virtually no ripple in the Force, which could only mean she was Force-trained. It could certainly be a Jedi, even with as few of us as there are in the past few years, but why a Jedi would come here I did not know. And how the Jedi would know of me being here was also a puzzle.
She stopped a mere ten meters from me, and threw back her hood. I think I stumbled back, gasped a bit in surprise. My legs felt unsteady, and I was no longer ready for anything, be it attack or not.
It was Siri. My friend – and sometimes rival – when we were mere Padawans, and an even closer friend in Knighthood and through the raising of our Padawans. We grew to know each other well, in the manner that one does in harsh times, and even though we rarely saw each other over the years – as our Padawans grew and the galaxy grew more factious – we remained good and steady friends. And more than that, even.
I loved her. To this day I'm not sure when it began, but begin it did, and slowly but surely it crept its way into my heart and soul, keeping residency. I didn't mind, not by the time I became aware of it. Love is too precious for that. I cherished its presence, and what it gave me. But I kept it hidden, safe within my heart. Simply to have that feeling was enough. Not once did I regret being a Jedi, and forbidden to acknowledge such things, not even then.
Sometimes I wondered if Anakin had regretted it.
For the first time in five years, I looked at Siri Tachi. Her face was pale and ghostly in the starlight, her cheekbones more pronounced. Her hair was a little longer than I remembered, no longer in the short, rebellious cut. It curled around her ears, falling into her eyes. Her blue eyes were the same. They shone with the peace and acceptance of a Jedi – of a Jedi who has seen horrible things. Her lips – I couldn't tell their color, not then – uplifted into a small smile and she sighed softly.
Her hands fell loose from her robes, and she walked forward, keeping eye contact with me. I could only look into her eyes. A Jedi's eyes. I didn't know what she was thinking. Her eyes shone with a mysterious light, and I couldn't tell if that slight smile was ironic or not.
I finally spoke, stuttering slightly as words struggled past my frozen lips. "You're alive and . . . here." That she was alive was precious news to me. I had not known since I came here three years ago, with young Luke, if she yet lived. I would ponder on it often, usually along with my meditations on guilt.
"An accident, really," she whispered, her voice not sad but somewhat bemused. "I came here for repairs to my ship, of all things." Her voice decreed its irony, and I silently agreed. It was on such a mission for repairs that Anakin had been found. And that turned out disastrously, to say the least.
"You felt my presence?" I asked quietly. I felt strangely awkward, as if she and I were strangers, come in into the desert in the middle of the night to speak on some forbidden matter.
She nodded slightly, her eyes flickering away.
"How?" I asked. I had to know, for Luke's sake. What if Vader happened by someday and felt me? Or even worse, a young Luke Skywalker. I had to think of Luke first. Luke. Not Siri's beautiful eyes, or how I loved her sense of humor.
She looked up for a moment, searching my eyes. "I simply did," she said softly. Then she raised her chin, and spoke with more force. "It's not something Vader will ever feel," she said, her tone practical.
"I see," I said, feeling somehow off-kilter. Like the conversation had taken a strange edge that I was simply not grasping.
"It's strange."
"What is?" I asked, politely.
She gestured in a vague manner, indicating our general surroundings. "All of this. This . . . wasn't how I pictured us meeting again."
"Well, I must confess I didn't really think we would ever meet again," I replied pragmatically.
"Ah," she said simply, looking lost for a moment. I felt horribly uncomfortable. Then she looked up at me and took brisk steps forward to meet me. She grabbed my shoulders and I tensed. I could never be sure what Siri would do or how she would react. She had been very rule-bound when younger, but after she was Knighted she grew a rebellious streak, often disregarding Jedi tradition. She became unpredictable, and that was only one of the things I loved about her. Even if it was slightly unnerving at times.
"Obi-Wan," she said fiercely, "I love you. I have since you jokingly kissed my ankle when I sprained it on that mission with our young Padawans, all those years ago."
She searched my eyes. I was not capable of speech, but she must have found something there because she went on.
"I'm not sure why it was that moment, Obi-Wan. I wasn't even sure why I loved you – it surely couldn't be your irritating adherence to tradition." She halted momentarily, and gave him a teasing half-smile. "Maybe it was . . . those other things. Your quiet strength, or that sarcastic sense of humor honed by years of having opportunity to use it." She paused thoughtfully, her eyes becoming more serious. "Perhaps it was simply meant to be. Whatever it was," she added with almost amused look in her eyes, "I know that it seemed to make everything right, everything in its place. Rather unnerving, actually – the feeling was the strong and that sure." She smiled.
I made to speak – but she silenced me with a movement of her hand.
"I never told you because love is forbidden for us. For the Jedi, and that is what we were. But that didn't matter – I knew I loved you, and to have that feeling is the most precious I have ever felt. And I don't really know why I am telling you now, except the Force wishes it so –"
"Siri," I interrupted, and she fell silent. Then I stopped. The words had seemed to come so easily to her, but for me it was different. How could I express my love for her? That I simply held my love for her as a gift, and had not acted. That having that love within me was enough. That I was at peace, in that sense. I didn't know what to say. I reached out with a shaking hand and touched her cheek, a simple caress from a broken, wordless man.
"My Padawan is dead," she said simply, staring into my eyes. Her grip on my shoulders loosened, but she didn't let me go.
I felt like a knife had been slipped into my ribs. "Vader?" I gasped out.
"Bounty hunters," she replied simply, shaking her head, her eyes still meeting mine.
"I'm sorry," I breathed. I remembered her Padawan. He had been a few years older than Anakin, a bright and talented young man with dark hair and serious eyes. He and Anakin had often been rivals, but I could see then that he would be a great Knight, like Anakin. I suppose neither reached their goal.
She blinked, her eyes bright. "Yes," she said simply, agreeing. She looked down, then again met my eyes, her grip on my shoulders loosening. "My duty to him is gone."
And that look in her eyes – that mysterious look – returned. But I saw what it was now. I understood what that look meant. It meant attachment. Love, given and returned. She had seen, somehow, my feelings for her. I took one of her hands and enfolded it with my own. "I love you," I said simply. There was no need to say more.
The Force entwined us, granting a sharing of souls that otherwise could never be attained. Its stillness in the desert had not changed, but it had become deeper, stronger in the intensity of our feelings.
"I saw the boy," she added softly. I knew she was speaking of Luke, and I knew that she knew who he was – had probably known instinctively. And having sensed my presence, she knew why I in turn was there. I could hear her thoughts like a gentle caress across mine; I could sense the fierceness and beauty of her spirit. "Let your duty be mine, as well," she said, her words faint. Her hand came to my face, and touched my brow, sliding down the side of my face.
I could have said it was forbidden. I could have said it was wrong of us. I could have said that two Jedi would attract more attention than one. I did none of those things.
Guilt has its own kind of darkness. It touches ones' heart with self-recrimination, then evolves into self-disgust and hate. Even as the dark side does, it consumes a person's soul until there is nothing else but that misery and the emptiness that is darkness.
I knew of all of this, and yet it didn't stop me from going over it. I could not conquer the feeling within. Over years of meditations, lasting hours upon hours, I had discovered that I just didn't have the strength. I was tired. So very tired.
It's hard to explain love, or its effect. It's a beautiful, precious feeling. It gives me confidence. It makes me feel as if my world is tilted just right, as if everything is settled within its proper place. It was a confidence in thing that went beyond what could be comprehended. It made me feel weak and dizzy from the intensity, but it made me strong with its never ending beat.
We reached out to the Force in that moment of decision. We felt the tiny lives of insects and scavengers on Tatooine, and we felt the harsh and brutal existence of Mos Espa and Mos Eiesly. And we felt the majestic sweep of the two suns, circling each other endlessly in a beautiful dance of inevitability.
We felt the future like a dozen streams reaching ahead. Some were dark as the deepest night, and some twinkled with light of hope. They rushed ahead in the speed of time, and in those streams, we saw ourselves.
We saw many paths. Too many to comprehend, not all at once. It was inspiring and terrifying vision of the future, and we tasted among those streams to find the right path. For us, once Jedi and now more, it was a simple matter to ask the Force. And to do as it willed.
With the night silent and the Force swirling to the pounding of our hearts, we kissed.
It was the gentlest of things, so soft as to be the gentle touch of a breeze. Her lips were dry and warm against mine. I pulled her tighter to me, and my lips grazed her soft cheek. Her arms came up around me, and I felt their solid heat against my bent back. One of my hands touched her hair and another her waist.
"And there is our answer." And as her words rang softly in her ear, I realized that sometimes happy endings, or rather happy beginnings, really do come to be.
The End.