In Memoriam

By Jemmiah

It hadn't been difficult to find her.

Even if he hadn't been able to retrace the indelible, heavy footsteps along the streets of Coruscant, following her unhappiness as if it were an invisible thread spanning one district to the next, Obi-Wan had a fairly shrewd idea where Jemmiah was headed. In the months that he had come to know her the padawan discovered he possessed the ability to second guess his Corellian friend on virtually every occasion. Jemmiah's predictability stemmed more from her connection to the past, and it was this more than any force-related talents that led Obi-Wan to the large, marble steps and imposing columns of the Corellian memorial to the dead, one of Coruscant's acclaimed architectural masterpieces. However, Obi-Wan did not imagine that it was the brickwork that had brought Jemmy to revisit the ancient building on several successive days.

He couldn't say that he cared for the edifice: grand and opulent as it undoubtedly was. Carved in typical over-the-top Corellian style from the most expensive stones imaginable, with the gleaming floors polished until they shone like a star amongst the heavens, the padawan focused not so much on the outward appearance but on the lingering traces of distress locked within the very stones that formed the walls. Perhaps there were few but a Jedi who would even be sensitive to such feelings, but to Obi-Wan the emotion lingered in the atmosphere like a dark, omnipresent cloud…

He'd traced the most recent - and to him the most relevant - trail of misery over the large, spectacular slab-like steps, continuing under the cavernous series of archways reminiscent of the Jedi temple, supported by sturdy rounded pillars. It was only on looking upwards into the vaulted ceilings that Obi-Wan gained a true sense of scale. Hundreds of thousands of glistening, sparkling jewels lay imbedded in the roof, shining like cats' eyes in the night, as hard and as brilliant as Corusca's and as multi-facetted as a diamond. Precious they certainly were, but not in the conventional sense, for these gems were the impacted remains of the deceased, cremated and reduced to tiny fragments: the Corellians who had never made it back home.

It was an impressive sight. Even a travel-hardened youngster like Obi-Wan had to admit it.

Along the marble walkways, lit atmospherically and reverently with wall torches, Obi-Wan could make out an almost continual squiggle of gold, like molten waves which morphed almost magically into aurabesh lettering the closer he got to them. Names, dates, places; poignant epitaphs created by those who were left behind to mourn…

He'd been here before, not over two weeks ago. It hadn't been a large ceremony because Jemmy hadn't wanted any fuss, but at the time she had seemed glad of his master's quiet, unassuming presence along with his own. Ever since that day, however, the light had seemed to disappear from her smile. Perhaps seeing the names of her family, written amongst the thousands of other Corellian individuals listed on the memorial, had finally served to bring home the fact that her old life was gone, and with it the friends she had loved and the family she barely had time to know.

Obi-Wan knew precisely where she would be. The mausoleum was vast but it didn't take the padawan long to remember where in the building Jemmiah's parents and brother were listed. He walked past countless inscriptions as he made his way towards the spot: counting off in his head the number of Bel-Anshis and Korreths, Fressis and Bel-Iblis' that lined the walls. Children, as young as two who were, so it was claimed: 'gone but living still in the hearts of others'. Adults who had lived long past the usual allotted time span, remembered and reverenced by admiring relations. Those who had been unlucky and taken from their loved ones before their time. Soldiers killed in the line of duty. Civilians who had led a reasonably secure and unremarkable life: their names running alongside so-called celebrities, politicians, royalty and those whose names were known to him although Obi-Wan could not quite be sure why…

On turning into the dark atrium Obi-Wan had spotted his quarry almost immediately; slumped dejectedly against one of many stone monoliths erected within the chamber. Her cheek lay against the smooth, burnished-brown surface of the stone as if it were a pillow. Obi-Wan noticed the way Jemmy's dejected expression lay focussed on the three gold-lettered names nearest to her head and felt his heart immediately sink. He'd not really come prepared to deal with Jemmiah's continuing silent grief, in truth he'd only intended to follow at a respectful distance and make sure that she returned safely to the temple. And yet the honest core in Obi-Wan's body forced him to step reluctantly out of the shadows and reveal his presence.

It would be fair to say, judging by her shocked expression, that Jemmiah had not expected to see him there. She automatically slid a few paces to her right, as if shielding the names of her family might somehow confuse him as to her purpose. The futility of such a gesture given the fact she was in the middle of a mausoleum whose whole design was to record the names of the dead was seemingly lost on Jemmy for that instant, along with the fact that Obi-Wan had been at the ceremony which had seen her family's names added to the large, smooth stone.

He contented himself with halting a few feet away from her, not wishing to encroach any further on her privacy than he already had.

"What are you doing here?" He asked her softly, already knowing the truth. "What purpose does this serve? You've been creeping in here every day for the last few weeks, haven't you? Although in what vain hope of comfort I really couldn't begin to guess at."

Jemmy's natural sense of Corellian indignation automatically kicked in, her accent become more pronounced as it always did when she was feeling riled or downright belligerent. Sticking her chin out defiantly Jemmiah squared her shoulders in preparation for an argument that seemed strangely inappropriate given the sombre surroundings.

"So you're spying on me now?" Jemmy growled malevolently at him, eyes flashing dangerously amidst the darkness. "You and Master J decided I couldn't be trusted and so you followed me here to tell me off, is that it?"

"Not really." Obi-Wan answered somewhat cagily, knowing precisely how great a store Jemmy set on her personal privacy, and of her anxiety being the only non-force user to live permanently at the temple. "I confess that we were…shall we say, concerned? Qui-Gon knew that you kept slipping away by yourself and that each time you returned with a face as long as wet day on Dagobah. So it was tactfully suggested," the padawan chose his words with admirable care, "that I might endeavour to find out where you were going." His mirthful eyes twinkled for a moment before adding, "If you're going to lie you might as well come up with a better destination than the temple library. I know that Jocasta Nu can reduce a person to tears on occasions but I doubt even she could have caused the level of misery we've seen in you over the last couple of weeks."

Jemmiah's expression soured instantly. She should have known that her excuses wouldn't have held up to closer scrutiny but even she hadn't expected Obi-Wan to follow her all the way to the Corellian memorial building! It was spying no matter how delicately he chose to explain it.

"So much for freedom…so much for trust!" Jemmy pouted, folding her arms, placing her back firmly against the obelisk.

Obi-Wan sensed the direction in which her thoughts tended even if he couldn't hear the precise words, and found himself shaking his head. Maybe it had been an invasion of privacy but it had been done with the best of intentions.

"So much for concern…and love." He pointed out, one eyebrow raised meaningfully. "And it was both of those things that drew me here today. It's those exact things that cause Qui-Gon to be overprotective. Perhaps we are both truly at fault," he gave a brief toss of his head, evidently not convinced, "but you have to understand that it is our overriding duty that compels us to make these errors in judgement."

"Duty?" Jemmy queried sceptically, squinting up at him through a half-closed eye.

"Our duty to make sure you smile." Explained the apprentice smoothly. "And it's something we've evidently failed at if recent days are to anything to judge by."

He looked just beyond her shoulder at the obelisk, noting the familiar names of Joel and Thena Gleshan, and that of their elder child. The feelings that Jemmiah had for her lost family were understandable, but ultimately destabilising. He'd seen master and padawan bonds that had been broken through death or, like that of Qui-Gon and Xanatos, by betrayal. The repercussions of Xanatos' actions all those years ago were still being felt now, for all that Qui-Gon was dedicated and focussed in the ways of the force. He more than most might be able to understand Jemmiah's inability to let go of the past. But ultimately when a thing had to be done, no matter how difficult or unbearable it seemed at the time, it simply had to be done.

How was he to make Jemmiah understand that?

"It's time to put this behind you and devote yourself to thoughts of the future." He offered sagely, wondering if Qui-Gon might not disapprove of his disregard for the 'here-and-now' as he liked to call it. "Maybe it sounds easy coming from the lips of a Jedi, and I don't want to make light of your unhappiness: that is the last thing I would want, believe me. But coming here all the time achieves little that is positive, in fact much the opposite could be said. This borders on abject morbidity."

"I just thought that if I could be with…" Jemmy began, looking over her shoulder at the names carved into the surface of the memorial stone. " I wanted time to be…I want to feel closer…"

"To your family?" Obi-Wan asked gently, perceiving the smallest of nods by way of reply. "But surely in sitting here by yourself in isolation all you have managed to do is make yourself even more aware of that separation? This isn't a cure, Jemmy. It's like sticking a credit-sized bacta strip on a gaping open wound. Not only does it not aid recovery but it merely gets in the way."

"That's not true." Jemmy hugged her thin little legs up against her chest.

"Does it make you feel better?"

"I don't know…"

"And aren't you brooding on the past as you sit here?" He asked quietly. "Doesn't your mind turn constantly over what you have lost?"

This time the silence was telling.

Obi-Wan lowered himself down until he sat on his haunches; the long, brown Jedi cloak falling to the ground so that it leant him an almost comical, Jawa-esque stature. He wasn't entirely certain that Jemmiah particularly wanted to hear what he had to say but instinct told him it would be better accepted if he were at least able to look her in the eye, rather than towering over as if passing judgement upon her. For a moment he found himself wishing that it were Qui-Gon instead of himself sitting beside Jemmy, as he always seemed to have an instinctive knack of what to say. Obi-Wan always worried that his own natural 'intensity', as his master had once put it, did not lend itself to appearing sympathetic - even if that was how he truly felt.

"The galaxy doesn't stop. Time is never still: it moves eternally." Obi-Wan wondered if he was sounding like a stock phrase borrowed from one of Master Harrakkti's rather boring lectures. "Or to put it another way: life goes on whether we want it to or not. We cannot stop it. Mourning will not bring back the ones we love, and whilst it's proper to grieve it's not right to spend all your time dwelling upon their loss. Nor is it particularly healthy." He added, his voice taking on an almost stern quality. Brotherly, he hoped, without sounding like an outright rebuke.

Jemmy couldn't bring herself to look at him. She knew that those cool blue eyes could see through her. What made her think that she could hide the truth from him? He wouldn't pry with the force, she knew that. It was simply that Obi-Wan had an uncanny knack at reading the truth within her, and as yet Jemmy couldn't make up her mind if she should be delighted that someone could understand her so well or whether she should just smack him in the mouth for being so darned irritating…

"You're afraid to let go." He added gently. "Why is that?"

Because they were my family! What do you expect me to do? Sweep them under the carpet like they never existed? Do you think for a moment that because the Jedi have outlawed the idea of family and can let go of the past at the snap of a finger that I find it easy to do the same? I'mnot a Jedi! I don't have your strength! I'm just a stupid girl who can't let go of the past. Don't even ask me to do it, because I can't! I just…can't!

"I don't know." Jemmy shrugged despondently. "All I know is that the thought of having this memorial put up to them on Coruscant is what kept me going whilst I was on Nargotria. I swore that if I had the chance to do it then I would."

"And you did." Obi-Wan nodded approvingly. "Something to be proud of, surely, rather than feel downhearted?"

He wasn't making this easy for her, but then how could he? He had a Jedi's point of view. He might sympathise and understand, but he was unable to empathise. He'd never been through what she had…never experienced such heartache. Who had he ever lost? Who had he ever agonised over, night after night, day after day?

"I do feel proud. But it was the only thing I could do for them. Now I've done it…and I realise there's nothing else left for me. It's my last tie with my family. My only connection is this monument with their names upon it. So many things I know I should remember when I see their names, but it's all beginning to fade! I feel like I'm being pressurised to forget everything before I'm ready to move on. I just don't know how to! What do I do?" She finally turned to look at him, her words sounding strained, almost desperate. "Can't you help me?"

"Time is a great healer. You will slowly begin to forget the pain…" He began, only to find himself instantly cut-off.

"I don't want to forget them, Ben!" Jemmiah regarded him with imploring eyes. "I believe…well, it'll sound silly to a non-Corellian, I know. But I was brought up to believe that a person who'd gone before…who'd died…lived inside you, you know?" She placed a hand over her heart, a gesture that Obi-Wan might ordinarily have considered melodramatic and theatrical in the extreme but found strangely touching instead. "If you remember them then they're never dead. Not truly…"

He nodded, his expression one of understanding. "I've heard a little as regards Corellian beliefs, although I don't claim to be an expert. That one," he said gently, "always struck me as being particularly laudable."

Jemmy sighed, allowing herself to slide closer to the floor.

"This memorial is my last link with them. It's all I have left."

"And you think that by punishing yourself each and every day that the pain will somehow make them feel more real…more alive?" Obi-Wan asked perceptively. "Because by coming here all the time that's exactly what you are doing. Do you really think that unhappy memories are better than good ones? Do not allow this to fester, Jemmy, this wretchedness inside you. Hurting yourself in this way by reliving what cannot be altered is a road that leads to even greater suffering."

"I want to move on." She said in a quiet voice that was almost lost in the echoing vastness of the chamber. "But I don't dare because I'm scared I'll forgot them completely. All the memories I have of them are disappearing! I don't even remember what colour eyes my brother had. And if I forget then who else will there be to remember them? It'll be like they'll never have existed! Being forgotten is one of the worst crimes imaginable, Ben. It's stupid, I know, but at least if I can remember them there's a point to their being alive…"

"Thereis a point." Obi-Wan patted her on the shoulder. "It's called 'you'. And the best way of providing your family with a lasting memorial is to live your life to the full, and stop feeling so utterly afraid of what lies ahead. The past can be a wonderful thing to revisit; Jemmy, but you shouldn't live in it all the time. You have a life to lead too, don't you?"

"S'pose." Jemmiah didn't look too enthusiastic.

"And as for forgetting them, I think that's an unlikely scenario. Their names are engraved here for eternity. We're not just talking about words or even names. This place is alive with memories housed within these thick walls. Generations of families have come as pilgrims to this place and shared their thoughts and shed their tears…but they've left their sorrow firmly embedded within these walls. This is supposed to bring closure." Obi-Wan's blue eyes gazed unblinking, down towards her. "But you've managed to turn it into a form of self-torture. Let go of your pain, Jemmy. It will do no good to carry it with you through life."

Jemmiah's fingers traced the arch of the 'e' in her mother's first name without even realising she was doing so. Common sense was one thing that Obi-Wan was always good at spouting, especially in moments of distress, but no matter how practical his words she didn't think she had the strength to even attempt to let go. At the back of her mind there remained the nagging worry that somehow she would wake up one morning to find she couldn't remember her mother's birthday, and that the only memories she would have left would be those she'd rather not recollect.

"I can't do it." She shook her head mournfully.

"You can." Obi-Wan answered instantly. "It's just that you are scared. Like a person who finds themselves on a crumbling ledge who knows the only way to go is forward, but they're too afraid to grasp the outstretched hands waiting to help them over the precipice. And you know what happens when you sit on a ledge for too long…"

"You get covered in bird mess?" Jemmy guessed.

"I was going to say that you start growing moss, but I suppose your analogy works equally well." Obi-Wan's smile slowly began to spread. "There's nothing to say you can't come back here again, or that you have to forget your family in order to move on. But I would suggest that maybe - if you wanted to make the act have more meaning - that you choose a special day relevant to your mother or brother and visit the memorial then. Don't spend every waking moment here because you feel you have to out of Corellian duty. Your family doesn't need you here all day for them to know how much you loved them. It's like being able to use the force. A Jedi can feel the force around him wherever he or she may go. It's not just confined to the temple precinct! And you can remember your loved ones just as well in the gardens, or in the library. Even on the fresher!" The smile suddenly lit up into a rare and diamond-bright grin, which Jemmiah found to be extraordinarily infectious.

"On the fresher." Jemmiah tutted, shaking her head in bemusement. "That's not very respectful! What kind of memorial is that?"

"Alright, perhaps not." Obi-Wan conceded with a sly wink. "But all I am saying is that you don't have to lie here day after day like a devoted cannoid, counting the days until you join those you've lost. That's not a life, Jemmy…it doesn't even begin to come close. You are one of the most intelligent people it has ever been my privilege to know, and it hurts to see you sighing for what you cannot have. If I could bring back the people you have lost then you know that I would. Anything to see you happy again!" He squeezed her shoulder. "But it is beyond my power. Your mother and brother…they are both free from the pain and the torment that you seem to be suffering. They are beyond the anguish that is weighing you down like a rock. They don't feel the fear that you experience. Don't feel sad for them, Jemmy. By all means be sorry that they are no longer physically with you, here and now. But don't cry for them. They are at peace." He slowly clambered back up to his feet, stretching out his arm towards her. "Now, how about you try to find some peace of your own at last."

When it was put like that Jemmy found it extremely difficult not to see the padawan's point of view. To be able to find peace, to experience contentment, seemed (according to Obi-Wan) almost within reach. Perhaps what Obi-Wan had said was the truth, after all. There was nothing more that the likes of Rufus Merdan could do to her family now. Knowing that would maybe give her the confidence she needed to be able to move on at last.

"Nor should you feel guilty that you didn't perish along with your family." Obi-Wan smoothed the wrinkles in his clothing with one hand whilst leaving the other out-stretched. "But feel happiness that the force decided you should survive. Everything happens for a reason. You obviously have a purpose, even if you cannot yet see it."

Without thinking Jemmy grasped Obi-Wan's hand and pulled herself to her feet.

"I won't forget them, will I?" she asked, taking a final long look at the fine gold lettering of the inscription.

"Not if you don't want to." Replied the padawan, slowly guiding her towards the nearest exit, watching as the flickering torches cast eerie shadows on the floor. Everything, Obi-Wan realised, was shadow…everything inside the giant sepulchre which was designed to imprison the emotions that Jemmiah insisted on carrying with her. The entire building was a gigantic monument to the fallen. The walls were built from large, solid blocks of torment and the mortar that held the bricks together fashioned from tears. Misery permeated the pores of the polished stone surface. What delights the place held for Jemmiah the apprentice couldn't begin to understand, except that he felt she would benefit from being as far away from the place as he could possibly get her.

Back to the temple, where there was no pain, suffering or fear: only the force.

"Credit for your thoughts?" Obi-Wan couldn't help but ask as they stepped into the turbo lift.

Jemmiah treated him to a melancholy smile. "I was just wondering who will be around to remember us?"

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer…and then realised for the first time that afternoon that he had no satisfactory reply to give. Master Yoda had always said the future was in motion and yet the familiar burning dryness returned to Obi-Wan's throat, along with the inexplicable roar within his mind like sand driven by the wind, as it always did when he thought too hard on his eventual fate.

"Who indeed?" He answered grimly; feeling a shudder pass through is body. "I suppose only time will tell."