Disclaimer: If you think that I own Star Wars, you have a lot more problems than I do.
Reviews: Reviewers will receive candy in honor of Halloween.
Author's Note: This is my Halloween special that exists mainly because my Muses are merciless and make me write things like this. It is very short and even I don't really love it, but hopefully you guys will enjoy it.
Spirits
By Galactic Standard Time, it was midnight on this section of Drogo, and Obi-Wan knew he should be asleep, so he could be well-rested in the morning when he would have to help his Master resolve a conflict between the royal family and the common people of the planet, who were demanding more representation in their government. It was a volatile situation, and it could easily slide into a bloody civil war if it wasn't negotiated carefully. As a general rule, sleepy individuals were irritable and absentminded ones, and, therefore, were not regarded as the best diplomats. Obi-Wan knew all this, but at the moment, that knowledge was having little impact on his behavior, because, as he was being reminded at the present, there was a gigantic gap between knowing and doing. Sadly, that gap was one sentients were prone to toppling head over heels into quite frequently.
He certainly was. That's how he had ended up in the largest cemetery in Drogo's capital city of Dusan. Normally, he wouldn't dream of being in a cemetery at midnight, especially on a night when local legends maintained that the dead often chose to arise from their graves. Sure, he wouldn't classify himself as particularly superstitious despite the fact that he believed in an energy field that bound the universe together which few could sense, but he didn't regard it as wise to push his luck either. In his view, it was never a good idea to court catastrophe if you could avoid it, and, generally speaking, you could avoid entering cemeteries at midnight.
Of course, apart from all the superstitions that surrounded cemeteries on Drogo, Obi-Wan had to admit that cemeteries in general disconcerted him. The Jedi and many cultures throughout the galaxy cremated their dead, so the concept of a corpse rotting in the dirt below him was disturbing enough. Worse still, was the fact that every tombstone seemed to be pointing an admonishing finger at him, sternly warning him to remember that he, too, would perish. Naturally, there wasn't anything particularly new about the idea that he would die. After all, Obi-Wan knew that he, like everyone else in the galaxy, would die eventually, but he didn't like being reminded of it.
Tonight, though, Obi-Wan wasn't scared to be in a cemetery. The wind whispering through the leaves on the trees that would have looked muja, crimson, or yellow if the sun had been shining should have been eerie, but it wasn't. The decaying leaves rustling on the ground should have unsettled him, yet they did no such thing. Right now, the night sounds around him seemed tranquil.
Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was part of a crowd of Drogoans who had assembled in the graveyard to read their poetry by the faint light of flickering glowsticks. Although Obi-Wan didn't speak Drogoan, he knew from the lyrical quality of the words themselves that they were supposed to be poetry, just as he judged from the screams of the audience that the poems were terrifying ones, probably about spirits of the dead who refused to rest in peace roaming the planet and tormenting the living.
He supposed such tales should have alarmed him, but they didn't mainly because he didn't believe in ghosts. Besides, it was hard to be scared when you were sipping hot juma cider and munching on a muja fruit dipped in sweet sauce, and when the chilly autumn air itself seemed to force rationality upon you.
"You aren't scared," a quiet voice by his shoulder observed, and Obi-Wan started, spilling hot liquid out of the mug, over his fingers, and onto the ground. It was astonishing enough to have someone address him in Basic right now when everybody around him was conversing in Drogoan, but it was even more shocking to hear Qui-Gon speak when Obi-Wan hadn't even known he was here. He had thought that Qui-Gon was still asleep in their quarters.
"No, Master," Obi-Wan answered once he had recovered from his surprise. "I don't believe in ghosts."
"Yet, you believe that everyone has a spirit," observed Qui-Gon.
"Of course, Master," Obi-Wan replied. "That's what makes everybody unique, and when it departs, the body can remain, but the life is gone. When the spirit leaves, the sentient dies."
"And when the spirit departs the body, you think it merges with the Force," Qui-Gon went on.
"That's what all my philosophy teachers at the Temple said." Obi-Wan faltered for the first time.
"That's what they say, but is that what you personally believe, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked.
"I don't know," Obi-Wan confessed. "I want to believe it, because that would mean that death isn't the end of everything, and who wouldn't want to think that? Then again, wanting to believe something isn't the same thing as believing it. I'm not very skilled at accepting things on faith without proof, Master. I fear that if I believe that you merge with the Force merely because it would be a comfort to me rather than because logic tells me to, I'll have made the same mistake that these people—" He gestured around at the Drogoans thronging the graveyard—"have. They only believe in ghosts since it assures them that life continues in some capacity after death. They pretend that ghosts are a terror to them, even though ghosts really are a solace to them."
"Just because ghosts are a comfort to them, does that mean that they have to be unreal?" pressed Qui-Gon.
"The Drogoans' own religious beliefs undermine the existence of ghosts. After all, the Drogoans claim that when a person dies, their spirit goes onto eternal bliss or eternal misery. Nothing is said about returning to their homeplanet to torment the gullible or the skeptical, Master," Obi-Wan responded. "In terms of Jedi philosophy, you couldn't become a ghost, because you aren't supposed to maintain control of your spirit. You are supposed to be absorbed into the Force, instead."
"You just pointed out that nobody can know for certain what comes after death, so orthodox beliefs aren't necessarily correct," Qui-Gon reminded him.
"True. We don't even know if there really is any afterlife at all, but if there was, I fail to see why anyone would want to return to this plane of existence, Master," Obi-Wan insisted. "If I had a chance at eternal wisdom and peace, I wouldn't waste my time haunting graveyards and abandoned houses like the Drogoans believe some beings do, and if you ask me life is stressful enough that the thought of going back to it when I should finally be resting forever is enough to exhaust me."
"What if you still thought you were alive, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked. "Some people believe that some ghosts are just unable to accept that they have perished, and, thus, their spirits are trapped on their worlds."
"With all due respect, Master, I think I'd find out pretty quickly that I was dead when people shrieked at the mere sight of me. My denial would end very soon, and then I would become like the rest of the dead," Obi-Wan remarked dryly. "Besides, I'm not entirely sure that it matters whether or not you have accepted the fact that you are dead. Death might just dominate you regardless of how you feel about it."
"Assuming you have control of your spirit after death, if you were unjustly treated in life, were greatly wronged, or were violently murdered, wouldn't there be a temptation for some sentients to attempt to avenge themselves on those who committed crimes against them?" Qui-Gon argued.
"Not if death brings wisdom like every religion claims." Obi-Wan shook his head after a moment's pause. "If death brings enlightenment, people would see that everyone dies eventually, and so there is no need to exact revenge. Similarly, if death really brings peace, then why would you want to leave that tranquility just to bother someone else? Wouldn't you be grateful that you were now at peace, and so it wouldn't matter terribly how you got to that state? If you weren't at peace, but in the hells described on so many worlds, then I can't imagine that you would be able to escape to ruin the existences of the living. No, I think when you die, you either stay dead or move onto some afterlife, but I don't believe that you can interact with the living again, and I really don't see why you would want to."
"What if you care about someone and want to pass on knowledge to him or her?" In the scant illumination provided by the flickering glowsticks, Obi-Wan could see Qui-Gon's eyebrow arch inquiringly.
"Then I guess I understand why you would have a reason to return from the dead, Master," Obi-Wan conceded softly. "Still, I think the dead remain unreachable to the living and vice versa. I think those living in grief might have illusions of hearing a deceased loved one advising them, but that's all they would have—illusions and words made up in their head."
"I see."
Something in Qui-Gon's tone made Obi-Wan frown. "What do you think, Master?"
"Like you, Padawan, I don't have all the answers when it comes to the afterlife," Qui-Gon informed him softly. "However, I try to keep an open mind about these things. When it comes down to what I hope, I wish that there is an afterlife in which I can retain my self-awareness, for I should like to realize it when I attain the wisdom and the serenity that death alone is supposed to bring, and I should like to be able to watch over you when I die."
"You're not going to die for a very long time, Master," Obi-Wan protested instantly, because he couldn't stand the idea of Qui-Gon dying any time soon. The very notion of the man perishing left him bereft, and he would rather that he die than Qui-Gon. It would be easier to die than to go on living without his Master. Of course, he knew that it was an aberration for a Padawan to die before a Master, and the Master would be highly distraught for months or years after such an occurrence, but that didn't change his feelings. His feelings, much to his chagrin, were not subject to the authority of his brain. If they were, he wouldn't be in such inner turmoil all the time, after all.
"I'm not getting any younger, Padawan," Qui-Gon commented.
"Nobody is, Master," pointed out Obi-Wan. "Let's not talk about death."
"Not talking about it isn't going to make death vanish," Qui-Gon stated quietly.
"Talking about it hasn't made us understand it better, and it's just made us more confused, though," persisted Obi-Wan. Shaking his head, he added, "Master, I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist, and here you are wanting to talk about death in the middle of a graveyard at midnight."
"Well, it is the perfect décor in which to have such a conversation," noted Qui-Gon, his lips twisting wryly. "Besides, role reversal is very healthy in Master-Padawan relationships, since it teaches us empathy."
"Then we must not be very good at role reversal, Master, because if we were, I would have made that comment about empathy," Obi-Wan concluded, deadpan.