"Do you think Taria'll get better soon?"
"You mean Knight Damsin?" Sometimes, Obi-Wan thought his lessons about the proper ways to respect other Jedi Knights and Masters would never stick in Anakin's busy little mind.
"Yeah. You think she'll get better?"
"I don't know for sure, but most likely. Now, you're supposed to be focusing on your technique, don't forget. Not Knight Damsin's health."
Honestly, he didn't see how someone who loves saber training as much as Anakin could get so easily distracted.
It had been nearly a week since their encounter with Taria and Anakin wouldn't stop talking about her.
"Is she gonna get better?"
"Will she be alright?"
"What's making her sick, I wonder? Do you wonder, Master?"
"How long until she gets better?"
And each question found Obi-Wan grossly unqualified to answer.
"How about we continue the rest of this exercise in silence?" Obi-Wan suggested, parrying his student's lunge. "That way we can concentrate better on our movement and technique."
"Can't we work on Form I instead of this?"
Form I, always Form I. Obi-Wan blocked a would-be blow to his shoulder. Of course, the most unpredictable and wild form of combat would be the one he can't keep his thoughts away from.
Ever since another student—Jak, was it?—had told Anakin during class about all the "fun" he'd been having studying Form I with his Master, Anakin had become obsessed with the ancient form.
"Not today, Anakin."
"Why not?" He all but whined the protest. Obi-Wan glanced at the chrono on the wall.
How can it only be ten o'clock?
He could already feel the drag of the day settling down upon him as his young apprentice proceeded to stop his training altogether, his training saber hanging limply in his hand.
"Anakin, what now?" He tried oh so hard to keep the fatigue out of his voice.
"Why can't we study Form I?"
Knowing he wouldn't be satisfied until he received a proper answer, Obi-Wan tried to keep it short and to the point so they could resume their training.
"Because Form I is an ancient technique that is no longer applicable to today's Jedi arts." The boy had the audacity to look confused. "Basically, Form I is a good fallback for when you've exhausted every other workable form. Do you understand?"
"Kinda, but does that mean I'll get to learn it sometime? You said it was a fallback, but how can I fall back into it if I don't even know it?"
Controlling his temper was growing more and more difficult with each passing second, but Anakin didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Obi-Wan's rage.
It was his own fault anyway, he realized. Staying up late to read was not the wisest decision he'd ever made, but it was better than sleeping when his late Master was on his mind.
Taking a moment to pause and clear his thoughts, Obi-Wan nodded.
"At some point, yes, you will learn the basics of Form I, though probably not from me."
"Why not? Can't you do it?"
"Of course, but possessing knowledge or skill is not the same as teaching it to someone else. Far from it, actually."
Teaching is quite a bit more difficult than knowing or doing. And don't I know it!
This news seemed to darken Anakin's mood.
Now, what's wrong?
"Is there something else, Padawan?"
"No, it's just…well, I kinda thought you would teach it to me."
Obi-Wan has to smile, despite himself.
"I can't teach you everything, Anakin. Sometimes, you have to be willing to learn from others."
"What if I don't like what they have to say?"
Oh, please not now. I can't deal with another Anakin crisis right now. Not today.
So, he settled on a piece of general wisdom he'd learned long ago from Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon…
"It doesn't matter whether or not you like what someone has to say. Anyone can easily pick and choose what advice they want to follow, but it takes a strong man to recognize his own areas of weakness in order to take hard instruction, especially if that instruction isn't what you want to hear."
Anakin pondered this for a moment, but he made no reply.
"Now," Obi-Wan began, raising his training saber to move things along once more, "do you think you can defeat me this time?"
A grin spread across the boy's face. "I know I can. But on the slight chance that I'm wrong, I'll try my very best."
Obi-Wan smiled. "And that is all I want from you, my young Padawan."
She was jealous. Just admit it to yourself and be done with it all.
It was a good strategy, one that should have been easy to put into action…
...Except Taria couldn't move past it. The jealousy that had begun festering inside her ever since that seemingly fateful day with Obi-Wan and Anakin.
It probably wasn't even fate, just dumb luck, or something stupid like that. Something life-ruining. She shook her head. Who am I kidding? My life was already ruined to begin with.
As she watched Obi-Wan and his adorable apprentice spar from the shadows of the observation deck, her own lightsaber weighed heavily against her thigh, burning with disuse. Startled, she realized she didn't actually know when she'd last ignited the precious weapon. Watching Obi-Wan move so flawlessly on the training floor with his Padawan made her miss the way she and her own Master used to spar. They way they fought alongside one another made them seem like a single united being.
Now she stood alone in the darkness, pining after a life that wasn't her own because her own had failed her so miserably.
How I wish I could be Obi-Wan.
The thought was absurd, she knew, but the brain hardly ever stops to consider the absurdity of a thought before thinking it.
Then I would have my own Padawan.
Her cheeks felt wet, but the realization that she was crying eluded her, so focused was she on the Jedi team sparring below. Besides a few hitched here and there with Anakin forgetting a particular technique, they fought nearly as one.
They're going to make an exceptional pair one day. I can just feel it.
Wiping the sleeve of her cloak across her eyes, as she had finally noticed her tears, Taria ran a hand over the shiny hilt of her saber. Obi-Wan and Anakin had finished their training and were headed off to the showers.
And she was once again alone. Alone with her intrusive thoughts, her retired lightsaber, and her fatal disease.
"There is a certain measure of solitude that is healthy," a gentle, accented voice said from behind. "But one must be mindful of time spent alone, for too much solitude can become dangerous."
"Master Ti!" Taria whirled around to face the Jedi Master. Standing in the shadow of Shaak Ti, Taria noted that it was during these moments she wished she was taller.
And elegant. Master Ti carried a certain, easy air of refined elegance with her at all times, and often, Taria wondered whether or not these traits were staples of the Togrutan genetics.
"I didn't sense you come up," Taria continued.
Master Ti smiled. "I didn't want you to. Sometimes, help is better given after careful observation."
"I'm in no need of help at the moment, Master Ti, but thank you all the same."
Shaak Ti glided lightly up beside her. "We all need help, young one."
Maybe. But no one can help me.
As if reading her thoughts, Shaak Ti rested her gaze on the training floor below. "Perhaps a short term fix is in order where a long term solution has yet to present itself."
Taria followed the Master's eyes. "Are you suggesting…?"
"A spar?" Shaak Ti's smile widened. "Between an old Jedi Master and a young Jedi Knight."
She couldn't repress a shocked snort. "Master Ti, you are not old."
"But I'm no longer considered young, am I? Now, do you prefer to use the stairs or the railing to reach the ground?"
What? Taria had no time to protest her own inclusion in a sparring match, her brain was too busy trying to decipher the meaning of the Jedi's words.
"I—The railing, Master Ti? What—?"
"The railing is my favorite, as well." With a wink, Shaak Ti gathered through Force around her and leaped off the balcony.
"Master!" Taria rushed to the railing and glanced over just in time to watch Shaak Ti stick a beautiful, graceful landing.
Was that a frivolous use of the Force?
No, she decided. A Jedi Master had done it, and it did seem to be the quickest way down to the training floor.
Gathering her own savored energy, Taria followed Master Ti's lead and flung herself off the observation deck.
"Now, shall we begin?" Shaak Ti said as Taria landed, stumbling a bit at the impact.
"Master Ti, I really shouldn't be—"
"Exercising?" Shaak Ti laughed. "It's important to stay in shape. Besides," she winked, "I won't go too hard on you."
"Oh," Taria grinned, "I wasn't worried about that."
A thrill tickled Taria's spine as she unclipped her lightsaber from her belt and ignited the lime green blade.
I almost forgot how beautiful it is.
Shaak Ti's own blue blade illuminated her red and white face, on which a competitive smirk rested. "Ready?"
Taria moved into a Form III ready stance. "Your move, Master Ti."
And so it began. In a short span of fifteen minutes, Taria felt more alive than she ever had in the past four months. But like every good thing she had encountered as of late, it was never meant to last.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
Inhale, exhale.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
Inhale, exhale.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
Inhale, exhale.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
Inhale, exhale.
There is no death—
Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat.
There is no death...There is no death, there is-
He couldn't say it, not even in his mind, not even in deep meditation.
There. Is. No. Death. There is…
Qui-Gon…
Pulling himself out of his meditation, Obi-Wan centered all his focus on breathing. Once he had gained control once again, he focused on settling his raging emotions. This task proved to be more difficult, but he managed it—barely.
Normally, meditating in the Room of a Thousand Fountains was how he sought peace, but in the days following the attack on Naboo, Obi-Wan found that peace had begun to travel further and further out of his reach. Even the gentle, familiar flow of the fountain water failed to calm him.
Who even came up with the words to that blasted Code anyway? Whoever it was obviously never felt someone die in their arms.
That was it. Whoever had written the words to the Jedi Code couldn't have been speaking from experience, or else they wouldn't have made it so kriffing difficult to follow.
Though there was no chrono in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, Obi-Wan surmised he still had enough time to attempt another meditation before the time came to pick Anakin up from his last class of the day.
Inhale, exhale.
There is no emotion, there is—
"I'm sorry, but how long have you been here?"
Startled out of his vain search for peace, Obi-Wan turned.
"Oh, it's you," Taria said.
"I'm sorry, can I help you?" Obi-Wan asked, confused as to why this woman was hovering above him. They hadn't spoken since their…collision…and Obi-Wan figured it would stay that way.
"Oh, no, nothing. It's just… Sorry, but, well—it's just I usually meditate here."
That was a new one. He wasn't aware there were designated patches of grass for the meditation of one person, but not the other.
"I'm sorry?"
"Well,"—she began to twiddle her fingers together—"I was only thinking that if you'd already been using this spot for a while, you might, uh, let me use it for a turn?"
Obi-Wan blinked. He was comfortable here, it had been a long day, and he didn't see how one spot was better than another. The terrain of the garden room was generally the same throughout, couldn't she simply find another place for today?
He cleared his throat. "I'm not quite finished yet, but if this spot means so much to you, can we share it?"
He didn't intend for it to come out as a question, but he had already begun to feel bad for denying her favorite meditation place.
For a moment, she stared down at him, confusion clouding her face. She also appeared slightly startled and…happy? Was that a hint of a smile?
"I wouldn't want to impose…"
Now he smiled. It's a little late for that now, don't you think?
"No trouble. Besides, I could use the company."
"I didn't know meditation was a team sport," she quipped as she knelt down on the soft grass patch.
Obi-Wan chuckled despite himself. "I suppose it can be if one tries hard enough."
"Seriously, though, I promise not to bother you. Just do whatever you were doing before I came and I'll do my own thing."
"Noted, thank you."
With a nod, she closed her eyes and sat back, drifting off into a deep meditation.
And suddenly, Obi-Wan found himself incapable of delving into his own meditation. After watching her settle in peacefully, he couldn't look away.
She doesn't look very ill to me, he thought as he studied her soft skin. She looks fine, better than fine, actually. She looks…stunning.
And it was true. While in deep meditation, Taria seemed to glow bright like a star, yet she was also subdued. A perfect balance of both, and it was this complexity that sparked Obi-Wan's curiosity.
As he studied her, he kept coming back to the same conclusion: She just doesn't look like someone who's ill.
"Is this how you normally meditate, Knight Kenobi? By staring at others around you?"
Her words startled him far more than the fact that her eyes remained closed throughout her accusation.
Feeling a deep flush settle over his face, Obi-Wan grasped for a reply.
"Yes—I mean, no—I—"
Shut up! Just shut—
She opened her eyes and flashed a wry smile.
"I thought I was the only one."
His mouth clamped shut.
What?
"My Master taught me once that it's through others that we learn life's most important lessons. What better way to study meditation than to observe others?"
Still embarrassed at being caught staring, Obi-Wan replied, "Well, yes, I suppose so."
To his surprise, she rolled her eyes. "But you've never done it, have you?"
He couldn't lie to her, even if it meant admitting to staring at her so intensely. "Sorry, no."
"Well, you could have at least played like you did. I was trying to save your dignity."
So she'd known all along, then?
Why didn't she just say so? Or better yet, not said anything at all?
"And yes, I truly am sick, despite what I look like on the outside."
"Wait, how did you…"
"I've seen that look before." Here, she forced a tight smile. "So no, I can't read your mind, even in meditation. But I can read your emotions. They were raging like a theta storm when I came over here. Are you okay?"
When would her questions stop startling him? He'd never come across a Jedi as blunt as her, except maybe Anakin, but Obi-Wan was convinced the boy had come out of the womb speaking his mind to anyone who would listen.
"Perhaps it would just be better if we both get back to our meditations," he said finally.
"You're avoiding my question."
"And you're interrupting my mantra," he shot back, feeling all those stormy emotions she'd just mentioned swirling around him once again.
Taken slightly aback, she frowned at him. "Well, sorry for ruining your meditation, but you're the one who invited me to sit, not the other way around."
Heaving a sigh, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, vainly trying to center himself. When he opened them again, she was still frowning at him.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude and snap at you. Please, can we just get back to meditating? I don't have much time left here."
"Who does?"
Her final mumbled reply was perhaps the most unexpected of them all, and it struck Obi-Wan to the core.
When he blinked, she was gone.
When will I ever stop messing things up? He moaned, burying his head in his hands. At least this day is almost over.
Then I'll just have to do it all again tomorrow.