My Soul is Spent
A Vignette by LuvEwan
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After a difficult day early into his Knighthood, Obi-Wan Kenobi recalls the past, worries about the future…and receives comfort he didn't expect.
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the sole property of George Lucas. I'm just a pitiful Ewan fan who must describe him often enough, so I don't go completely insane… And do I make a profit from these writings? I have to ask my dad for money just to scrape up enough to buy a John Lennon c.d. I think that answers any questions! ;)
..pg..
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The apartment was still, a darkness pouring through the drapes, and bathing him in that strange, bluish cast of midnight, pooling in the creases of his golden-hued face.
Holopads were scattered in the center of the common room, forgotten after hours of focused study.
One small data gatherer was lit, glowing dully, and he reached down to switch it off. Force…How many days was this left on?
If there was an ache, however slight, that blossomed in his back then, he chose to ignore it.
A cloud car zipped past, and he paused, watching fiery ribbons of orange and violet streak through the black sky.
'Beauty can be discovered in the most unlikely incarnation.'
A rueful smile tugged at his lips. It had been someone's favorite saying, once.
And the meaning of that person's life.
So it had eventually become his, engraved in his heart, echoing in his ears with every beat.
Spurring him forward when he would have hesitated.
Assuring him when everything else fell apart…as it always did.
The brisk, neon rhythm of the cityscape nearly entranced him, but he blinked, looking away.
And was helpless as his eyes clenched shut. A sharp, powerful wave of weariness rushed through his body. He breathed in, gripping a chair, letting the onslaught pass.
Then, he shuffled a few more steps and palmed the entrance panel to his quarters.
They were fairly large, more than twice the size of his former room, now occupied by his apprentice.
Obi-Wan didn't bother flicking on the lighting. He unraveled the thick layers of his creamy, slightly worn tunic, folding them carefully and tucking the slim stack in a drawer.
Glancing around the quiet, dark space, he came to a familiar conclusion.
It's too big.
Most, if not all, newly promoted Knights were happy (and secretly ecstatic) to gain a more vast set of chambers.
As a man somewhere between Knight and Master, Obi-Wan had earned the elbowroom, or so a docent informed him, rather detachedly, as she handed him a generic notice.
It hadn't been a major move.
After all, Qui-Gon's quarters were next to his.
The day when a Knight relocated, long, beaded braid shorn from its position behind an ear, was known as a bittersweet event.
The years spent in a teacher's company were behind them, and an uncertain future awaited. Murky with doubt, yet somehow brightened by the prospect of freed individuality.
As he tried to fill a room made cold by his Master's absence, a room that had been brimming with remnants of adventures and friendships bygone, Obi-Wan knew there was nothing sweet about this detail of Knighthood.
The tears that had spiked in his eyes stung with melancholy…If he had felt even a meager scintilla of relief, he was oblivious to it.
Obi-Wan sighed, sinking to the edge of his bed.
The sleepcouch was perfectly fitting for Qui-Gon's massive, rangy form--and woefully oversized for his more compact protégé. He would splay out, legs and arms stretched across the cushion. Obi-Wan would lay in the center…and feel swallowed up.
The Knight reclined, his head falling to a flat pillow. He inhaled the faint, very faint, trace of his Master's rich scent that was ingrained in the threadbare material.
The other bed dressings were plain, deep blue, revealing nothing of character beyond the barest level of preference.
Qui-Gon's sheets and coverlet had been vibrant, almost royal red, soft from years of use. They were packed and sealed, hidden in the depths of Obi-Wan's closet.
It had been tempting, to wrap himself in the memories of simpler times, but just a single touch was overwhelming, carrying the sorrow and regret and buried resentment in every fiber.
But he kept the pillow.
Obi-Wan shifted, bending an arm over his forehead.
As an apprentice, this place had been a mystery, a sanctuary…home more than his own walls were.
He could remember the liquid amber illumination, streaming from antique, mahogany lamps, quivering shadows spilling onto the floor and his upturned face.
Years later, in a desperate haze, Obi-Wan had activated the lamps, the haunting aroma of Naboo still fresh in his clothes, needing something of his Master untainted.
But, though nothing had changed within the spanning room, the light was dimmer.
The next day, another set of Qui-Gon's beloved possessions was placed beside the boxes, surrounded by Obi-Wan's sparse mementos and tunics.
He had loved the warm, inviting atmosphere then.
Now, he couldn't stand to see it, ruined and forever altered.
After the majority of his Master's décor was sealed away, Obi-Wan had stood in the room, and it appeared…hollow. Much like the gnawing emptiness of his heart, as he gazed upon the bland, white excess, the huge desk vacated unwillingly, the documents that had been stuffed in every shelf now filed or stowed beneath the bed.
It looked as though it had never been the wonderful haven that a young Padawan and weathered mentor cherished.
Until one peered closer, and found the telltale gash in the left side of the desk's aged wood, or the tuft of rug stained by stray droplets of emerald-colored juice.
Obi-Wan studied the dark, timber swirls of the mammoth desk , recalling the soft sound of Anakin Skywalker's footsteps that day. He had glanced over his shoulder, shields instantly raising over his lamenting, frightened thoughts, a weak smile as best as he could manage.
The boy didn't need the encouragement his young guardian couldn't offer. He grinned and barreled into the room, jumping onto the bed, jabbering on about a floating trick Master Almor displayed that afternoon.
With each sharp creak of the mattress as Anakin leapt, Obi-Wan drew farther into himself, trying to forget the responsibilities thrust upon him, concentrating on the spotted patch of carpet…
It had worked for a short while.
Then, gradually, personal effects were placed on barren shelves, the sandy-headed Padawan's pieces of scribbling artwork tacked to the walls.
It remained Qui-Gon Jinn's home.
But it was where Obi-Wan stayed, for the sake of his sole, slain family, and the innocent child entrusted to him.
And if the words spoken here seemed to echo, reverberating in the recesses, taunting him…
He could turn onto his stomach, and press Qui-Gon's pillow over his ears.
Truthfully, as he could admit to himself, he was too tired to do so this night.
The hours had been spent in rigorous physical training, the third-year apprentice challenging and provoking Obi-Wan when sweat ran in blistering rivulets down the Knight's honeyed skin.
'C'mon, Master. Don't you have anything better in ya?'
It was classic Anakin: a mixture of egoism, confidence and humor. Obi-Wan had flashed a lopsided smirk, charging forward, azure blade a blur.
The spar lasted far longer than either opponent expected. The boy, dripping with perspiration and weaving on his feet, trudged directly to his bed.
Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to follow suit, but there were errands to run, and enough daylight to finish them.
He allowed a quick cleanse, then headed to the enormous, gleaming Temple library, the droid repair wing, and a stop at Bant's, to return a dusty tome he borrowed.
As a senior Padawan, Obi-Wan had always imagined such tasks, striding down the crisp halls--visiting his one-time Master casually, exchanging stories of recent missions and laughter.
'An admirable man, a successful Jedi, cares not for wallowing in self-pity, when there is always work to be accomplished, and kind deeds to be done.'
Another sterling bit of wisdom, and it was not with a smile that he reacted, wiping copious tears from his lashes.
If it was his intention to become the ringing voice in my head…
A breeze rustled the curtains. Obi-Wan shivered, feeling blindly for the folded quilt at the foot of the bed, when a timid knock came to the door.
He sat up, his heart instantly clenching in anxiety. "Ani?" If there was one thing his brash, energetic Padawan didn't do, it was approach his Master calmly. Or anything, for that matter.
"Master? Can I come in?"
Obi-Wan breathed out, detecting no peril or illness in the adolescent's voice. "Of course, Ani."
The steel slid open, revealing a slender, lanky form engulfed in the dark doorframe, the signature Padawan spikes creating a well-known silhouette.
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed. "Are you alright?"
Anakin padded toward him. "Uh huh." He answered quietly.
Obi-Wan sank against the pillows, the last of his worry draining from him . "Why didn't you turn on a light?"
The apprentice's smaller face, lit by the glow of a saffron moon, was touched with mild amusement. "I'm not afraid of the dark anymore."
Obi-Wan smiled. "I know you're not. But I didn't think anyone outgrew the fear of tripping over boots left on the floor." He countered dryly.
Anakin giggled. "Who said they were mine?"
"Well, considering mine are marginally larger and a whole lot cleaner…"
"Okay, okay." The boy sobered, studying his Master's visage, made tender in the late night radiance. "Why aren't you asleep?"
Obi-Wan's eyes were gray as a storming sea. "I could ask you the same."
Anakin shrugged, teetering his weight from one leg to the other idly. "Sometimes I'm just not ready. I think I could go through the Stage 5 kata again, right now." He boasted.
Obi-Wan covered his yawn with a hand. "Ah, but without someone to monitor you, you'd be going to bed without your head."
He scrunched up his nose. "Eww…That's twisted. Besides, I've practically mastered it haven't I?" Half prideful, half unsure.
"Believe me, young one. Just when you think you've learned every aspect of a kata, it surprises you."
Anakin nodded, suddenly subdued. It always sounded strange to him, to hear Obi-Wan refer to him as 'young'. From his perspective, there wasn't such a great gap. The endearment lent him an older quality that was already present in the silvered hairs Anakin sometimes glimpsed, the husky tone of his voice after a workout.
Obi-Wan's mouth widened in another yawn.
Anakin frowned. "See? You're tired."
The Knight patted his hand. "Is that so rare, my Padawan?"
"No." A flush lined his cheeks. "But you never show it like this."
Obi-Wan felt heat build in his face. Am I so transparent…to a child? "Even Masters can become restless."
"And sad?" Anakin ventured softly.
The bearded Jedi swallowed, shade sketching his profile. He stared into the void of the distance. "Not sad, Ani. Don't worry yourself about such things."
Anakin perched on the side of the sleepcouch, looking at his Master compassionately. "I'm sad sometimes."
Obi-Wan squeezed his shoulder. "We cannot prevent emotions, little one."
YOU try to. "I think of my mom." The Padawan admitted, his fingers tapping on the rim of the ceramic mug cradled in his hands. "And I miss her."
Obi-Wan yearned to share his pain, to take it from the troubled mind of his young charge and meld it with what throbbed in his own heart. But he couldn't, just as he couldn't tell Anakin of his forlorn muses. "It's natural to miss her. Never think that's wrong. When you become accustomed to a person, and accept them into your soul, its difficult to move on when they can no longer be with you. "
Anakin nibbled on his bottom lip. "Do you miss Master Qui-Gon?"
A cold stone dropped in Obi-Wan's stomach. He closed his eyes briefly. "Yes."
Anakin nodded, the steam from the tea wafting up around his chin. "I made you this." He changed the subject, sensing grief too akin to his own. He handed Obi-Wan the mug.
Obi-Wan accepted it with a grateful, awed "Thank you". Such gestures were not customary for the boy. The cloying herbal scent warmed his nose.
"It was the only kind of tea I could find. I know you like tea, and I knew you weren't asleep.."
Obi-Wan took a steady sip. "It's very good, Ani." He complimented.
Anakin beamed. "I knew it would be."
They sat and talked companionably for a dozen minutes, Obi-Wan swallowing the last dregs of the beverage with his eyes drooping.
Anakin took the emptied mug wordlessly. His Master had grown silent, resting on the pillows, watching the shadows lengthen, hands folded on his bare stomach.
The air of exhaustion hovering around Obi-Wan was disconcertingly easy to sense. Anakin saw the dark, smudged crescents beneath his eyes.
Why does he look like that? We did the same exercises…
A nearly imperceptible shudder went through his Master, and the Padawan grabbed the hand sewn, heavy quilt from the bottom of the bed, lifting it to Obi-Wan's waist.
The Knight's protest died on his lips, as Anakin nestled beside him, resting his head in the curve between his arm and chest.
Obi-Wan felt himself slipping into a deep, hazy oblivion, his bones leaden. With the last of his conscious strength, he covered the boy with the quilt, and secured his arm around him.
Anakin smiled sleepily, cheek smushed against his mentor's flank, the pulse of Obi-Wan's heart thudding in his ears.
"I miss him too." He whispered.
Obi-Wan looked down at him, an interested, but peaceful, expression intensifying his features.
Anakin held the glinting eyes. "I think he was a good teacher."
The man smiled, tears welling in his chest. "Yes, he was."
"Because he taught you, and you're a great one."
Obi-Wan went motionless. The simple words, spoken in what he hoped to be genuine, young honesty, caressed his battered spirit, as no other balm could. As the moisture trickled down his cheeks, he didn't attempt to dry it. "Thank you, Ani. That means…" He paused to swallow the lump in his throat, "More than you know."
Anakin dropped his head, arm going around the narrow midsection, his bright aura settling to slumber
Obi-Wan stroked the strands of hair, pale as corn silk, while the magnitude of the comment seeped into his soul.
The empty room, so lifeless and damning with memory, didn't seem quite as empty. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, at last, a warmth rivaling the aching lethargy in his body.
And he believed, for the first moment since his Master's rooms became his own, that he could maybe, one, day, fill the space.
He would just need to be patient.
*Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading. --LuvEwan