A/N: This is the first SW fic I completed a few years ago, shortly before ROTS was released, though I actually started brainstorming for it shortly after TPM ignited my SW fandom fires – took me long enough, yes, I quite agree. :) Full kudos must of course go to my fabulouso beta Tiffany, Ani-maniac, who has always been so lovely, supportive and encouraging, and it's an honour to count her as my fic beta. Thanks and appreciation also to DarthMom, Star-Drifter, who also helped make this possible! Now, I do have this as a very slight AU fic, but the AU elements are tiny – just because I had my first ideas for the fic so long ago, of course – and it still plays just fine, by my reckoning. Enjoy, and feedback is always welcomed and appreciated!
Summary: In his solitude on Tatooine, perhaps just a few short years after events on Mustafar, Obi-Wan Kenobi reflects upon the tragic past.
Disclaimer: It's all the property of George Lucas, all the way...the Saga's Master and Creator...and I humbly bow to his genius and amazing creativity. I'm just honoured to play in the SW sandbox!
Absolution
Standing alone on the desert mesa just beyond the doorway of his hovel, Obi-Wan Kenobi hunkered down into his old robes to ward off the night air's bite. Lean, strong fingers calloused from years of battle pushed back his greying hair. In his bones, his spirit, he felt so old - aged well before his time by the horrors that he had seen. The more sane and civilized age that he remembered seemed unreal now, like it had never even existed.
A deep and weary sigh escaped his lips as he forlornly gazed out over the vast and endless dunes, beyond the great and terrible Wastes, into the night.
Behind him, far in the distance, lay Mos Eisley - a dull, pale shimmer in the dark, its light and warmth very far removed. Before him stretched the deadly, unforgiving, empty desert - endless dunes blending into jagged outcroppings and twisted spires of rock, fading to grey and black as night descended. In the distance, banthas were stamping their feet and softly lowing; the Sand People must be roaming again, making forays closer to the settlements...but he knew they would not venture here. No one did anymore. They'd not trouble him - but that didn't make him feel safe. For all he knew, he never would be safe again. Nowhere in the galaxy was safe for him. No solace, no peace. Those times were long gone now...long gone. Twilight had fallen upon his life, and he was left alone, desolate, a hermit in the Dune Sea - suffering in silence.
Sorrow pierced his heart and he turned his gaze to the cold stars above, searching for the ones he knew, the systems he'd seen - and would probably never see again. Somewhere in that vast velvet blackness, set with billions of diamond points of light, was the dark army that even now stalked the Jedi, destroying all in their path. Stalked him.
Staring into the pitiless sky, he knew that somewhere out there lurked his former Padawan...his brother, his friend...
No.
No longer his onetime Padawan and friend, the boy he'd loved and taught and sought to guide down the right path. He forced himself to believe that. Anakin was dead now, consumed by fire; the lava had birthed something much, much worse. Obi-Wan was haunted, stricken as he remembered the last he'd seen of Anakin - screaming, raging, suffering and broken, fallen to darkness. It was a nightmare vision that would haunt the Jedi master all the rest of his days, and it never stopped hurting. Anakin's eyes...his voice...his fury, and his pain...
Desperately, Obi-Wan dropped his head into his hands, grimacing as he dug his fingers into his temples. Too vividly he remembered everything. He was doomed, damned, to keep reliving it; Anakin's awful shrieks as the lava and fire devoured him...the smell of charred flesh and bone...the betrayal and hatred, the torment in his frenzied eyes... Oh gods...
Unexpected tears stung his eyes and dropped down into his scraggly beard, and Obi-Wan sucked in an anguished breath. He winced as the pain in his soul only grew worse. It was as though his heart was torn bleeding, still-beating from his chest, when the Anakin he knew and loved like a son and brother was gone. With every breath, in every moment, he keenly felt the loss of their bond.
The boy with his sharp wit, bright eyes and passionate heart - the brave, fierce, loyal Jedi knight, the Hero With No Fear - was now forever entombed by black armour and machinery. He was worse than dead...and was hunting down and slaughtering the Jedi one by one. All his comrades and friends, now dead at Vader's hands...and still the Dark Lord kept coming.
As he had a thousand times before, Obi-Wan silently asked the limitless cosmos the most hurtful of questions. His lips barely shaped them as his heart twisted in recrimination and loss. Why? Anakin, why? Why did this have to happen? How could you do this? Why couldn't I save you?
For still, he grieved. He dared not voice it too loudly for fear that somehow An - Vader might sense it and come for him. He'd all but gutted the Temple, decimated the Order from children in the crèche to the oldest masters - he was relentless as he stalked the galaxy. Obi-Wan knew he was being hunted as well, and didn't dare let down his guard until Vader could not trouble him. But that would never happen.
There were no other Jedi on Tatooine, and Obi-Wan knew that if anyone was really trying to find him, he would stick out plainly here. So he did his best to hide himself through the Force...and he hoped.
A chill desert wind swept around him and he shivered, drawing the frayed, woolen robe tight around his shoulders. Utterly inconsolable, he stared into the empty night. Deep within it he saw only the endless array of mistakes made; as the galaxy plunged further and further into the abyss, he couldn't help but feel that every one of them was his fault. True or not, reasonable or not, that was how he remembered it. He could count a million points along the way where one choice made or not, something done or not done - even a single word uttered - might have changed the galaxy's fate. One tiny, fleeting moment could have saved them all. Had only Fate's wheel spun a little differently, then perhaps...just perhaps...
But he knew the truth after all - the real, damning truth. He wished he could believe it was not his fault that Anakin had succumbed to darkness. For years he told himself that it was his former apprentice who'd failed, not the master.
Lies, all lies.
He knew better now.
Worse still... Had only Qui-Gon lived - if he had been the one to train Anakin - perhaps he could have succeeded where Obi-Wan had so dismally failed...failed Anakin worst of all. He felt as though he'd betrayed his promise, and his master's faith - and that completely broke his spirit, and brought him down low. He couldn't help but wonder "what if"... Qui-Gon could have given Anakin such open compassion and patience - been able to better guide him. And then, perhaps, Anakin could have been such a great and powerful Jedi, the true Chosen One. Instead, he had been manipulated, seduced - all his potential and power twisted into destruction and evil. All his light, corrupted into darkness. If only Anakin had had Qui-Gon's guidance...he might not have turned, and they all might have been spared. Oh, if only...
Master, Obi-Wan voiced the mournful plea into the empty universe as his lips soundlessly quivered, How could you leave me? I wasn't good enough...not strong enough. I couldn't do this. I wasn't ready! It was all he could do to not scream into the heavens, howling his frustrations, anger and bitter disappointment into the galaxy that didn't give a damn. Though it availed him nothing, he voicelessly cried his pain and despair into that empty place in the Force where Qui-Gon Jinn had once existed - but only cold, awful, final silence answered him. It damned him completely.
Obi-Wan clenched his teeth to keep at bay the burgeoning sob in his throat. Drawing up the sleeve of his robe, he swiped at his stinging eyes and stifled a soft, wrenchingly agonized sound in the palm of his hand - a tiny moan that would have broken anyone's heart. But no one was around to hear it or to comfort him.
The magnitude of loss weighed heavily on him, stooping his shoulders and bowing his head. His soul ached with all the emotion a Jedi wasn't supposed to feel...anger, frustration, self-loathing, and anguish too great to be borne. And he could find no peace or tranquility in the Force. He had given up everything to it, trusted its will...and look where that had gotten him. Was it the will of the Force that the Jedi be destroyed, and countless billions of lives lost? Was it the will of the Force that its Chosen One was forever lost to darkness? All this suffering, chaos, terror and misery - was this what the Force meant for them?
It was enough to make him lose all faith.
So much lost...so many dead.
Friends, colleagues, the bravest of Jedi...his only family...masters, knights and younglings, all dead, their bodies left to rot in the hallowed halls of the Temple. So many innocents tortured by the Emperor, slaughtered by faceless stormtroopers in an unending pogrom. Everyone he'd tried so hard to save, gone...
And Padmé.
It was too awful to think on that now; he suffered such heartache to remember her fate. The worst tragedy in an endless litany of tragedies...
He remembered her strength and unwavering courage...how she had loved Anakin as no one else ever could, had such faith in him...still loved him, to the very end. Obi-Wan had not known before that she was the only thing saving Anakin from the dark.
But then he vividly remembered the utter despair in her eyes, her anguish over losing Anakin. He remembered...having to tell her...and the look in her eyes would haunt him to his dying day. He could not bring back to her the husband she loved; he had tried, but it just wasn't enough...he wasn't good enough. That failure cut him deeply, and he'd never forgive himself.
He remembered watching her slip away; in an instant she was gone, and with her, all hope and light in the galaxy faded - possibly forever. He remembered the diagnosis...what they claimed had killed her. But he always knew: she'd really died of a broken heart.
She'd said that she did not blame him for what happened. She was the only one who didn't.
In the chill, pitiless black of night, Obi-Wan shuddered and huddled into his robes, both arms wrapped around himself. All that haunted him seemed much more awful now - everything was, in the dark. As it pressed in upon him, his burdens were heavier still - his doubts and fears magnified a thousand fold, and his sorrows, unbearable. His crushing guilt, the dreadful realization of his many failures...a renewed torture that he must suffer in silence and solitude.
Heaving a soft, pained, forlorn sigh, he heavily fell to his knees - a hunched, dispirited, lost figure silhouetted by the wan light of Tatooine's tripled moons. Sand trailed through his outstretched fingers, and with it all hope for the galaxy's future seemed to fade away. The promise of a better tomorrow was all but gone, impossible.
He closed his eyes, bowed his head, and simply felt the ache of his wounded heart and soul. He inhaled the darkness, exhaled his nightmares and grief. For but a bare moment of weakness as he reeled, he wished he could just rest; futilely he wished for the kind of peace he might never know again. But wishing could not make anything better.
Too well he knew that now as he gazed into the restless night; haunted greying eyes were lifted, and he only saw the darkness that had befallen the entire galaxy...the suffocating shroud of the Dark Side, bringing death, bringing death, destruction and unimaginable suffering. Too clearly now, he saw the Dark Side for what it really was - after it had stolen everything from him.
As he had a thousand times before, he raised his head - stared long, mournful into the endless cruel night - and he begged for forgiveness...though there was none to be had.
"I'm so sorry," Obi-Wan hoarsely whispered to the memory of the beloved former Padawan, knight and friend he'd failed and lost...to the memory of Qui-Gon Jinn, the master betrayed, the promises not kept...to the countless others he hadn't been able to save. "I'm sorry," he murmured into the dark galaxy, as though seeking some kind of forgiveness or peace from the Force - but always, finding none.
"I'm sorry," over and over again, shaped by pale, trembling lips until the words had lost all meaning. They were hopeless, useless, and they could not save him. There could be no absolution for him, no forgiveness...not with the galaxy lying in ruins, Anakin forever lost, and so much evil, death and unending horror...
At last, Obi-Wan broke down and wept, burying his face in his hands as his shoulders shook and he hunched over. Desolate and distraught, he grieved anew, and his heart split open along its oldest and most painful, raw wound. He knew no surcease from it; there was no one left to hear or care. No one else left at all...
For all that had been lost, he mourned. For all those he couldn't save, he mourned. His heart bled from it, his soul shed endless tears... For all that had gone so horribly wrong, his most tragic mistakes...he could only grieve, lost and comfortless, bowed of head and trembling where he knelt in the sand.
He mourned into the yawning black emptiness - a desolate and lonely figure, stark and trembling. He was, as ever, alone. Alone with the ghosts of his past, his mocking memories...haunted by past mistakes, tormented by griefs and endless sorrows, regrets and misunderstandings. Always, ultimately, alone.
He would find no peace this night, nor any other. Maybe he did not deserve it.