Thirteen: Questions

It's common knowledge, and something that I've become more aware of as the years go by, that the thing which you most want banished from your mind is the one thing which will absolutely refuse to leave it.

For a decade, it was a half-circle, scorched into pale, almost translucent skin.

Then it was a young, eager smile and a brilliant Force presence.

And after that, the permanently sealed eyes that had always been a haven of liquid gold and green, stilled to cool marble in as quick a time as it would've taken them to blink.

Now, it's those words, those thoughtless, scathing words, spoken by someone who had no right to say them.

I'm trying increasingly hard not to dwell on them, but it's difficult to accomplish, with the subject of the words seated a few feet away.

He's fingering the edges of the historical tome I gave him, reading some passage or another, frowning.

I look up from the sandwiches I'm assembling. "Something unsettling, Padawan?"

He shrugs. "Not really--It's just that--" He lifts a page so that I can view the medium length, slender hole in the middle, robbing it of some of its text. "I guess I'll never know what happened at the Confrontation of Delvon II."

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. I set the sandwiches on a plate and carry them into the living area. "Well, I'm afraid I'm to blame for that."

He grabs a sandwich, knowing without doubt that I've included all his favorite ingredients--and left out any traces of onion. "Thanks a lot. Now I'll always feel that my life was incomplete." He teases with a weary, but bright, grin and takes a bite.

I laugh lightly. "You're not missing much, Obi-Wan. Both sides garnered too many wounded and had to call a consensual cease fire."

After telling him, I wonder if I should have. His face sinks, just a bit.

"Oh." He closes the giant book and sets it aside. "That was certainly an anticlimax."

I nod in agreement and take a long drink of iced tea. Maybe--Maybe it would've been better to leave him to his little shred of suspense, instead of banking the flame.

We finish eating in companionable quiet. His shields have been thin and rather opaque since this morning. Muddled from exhaustion, I'm sure.

"You look tired, Padawan. Was class very demanding today?"

"No. There was an involved debate, but I mostly listened."

"Oh." I smile. "Didn't have much of an opinion on the topic?"

He shrugs again and slows a hand through his hair. "I didn't feel like being buried in all the opposition."

I study his face for a moment, slightly shadowed despite the absence of his hood. I begin to see something I don't want to see in the depths of his eyes, surrounded by the black cast of unfulfilling sleep and the somber curve of his lips. I clap his shoulder. "Why don't you get some rest then? Because I for one enjoy a good argument." When it's a comfortable one, anyway. "And you're always the best person to offer the counterpoint."

His smile is subdued, but genuine. He rises from the couch and heads for his room.

I sit where I am, settling into the silence and stillness…

But nothing is still and the air buzzes in my ears.

"It's only what you believe, not what you know."

No.

That's not true.

I glance at the book, remembering the slit in the page.

That can't be true.

And I'm standing up, catapulting to my feet, all but racing down the hall after him.

He's already curled up on his side, an arm over his face, when I walk into his dim bedroom.

I speak, and at first, I can scarcely hear my own voice over my reverberating heartbeats. "Obi-Wan?"

The arm slides off. He must see the urgency in my eyes; he sits up. "Yeah?"

I blink, willing myself to become pacific, to ask the question with more ease than I feel. "Why did you turn down Chancellor Velorum's invitation?"

Two shifts are made in his pallor. The majority of his skin turns sheet-white, while his cheeks grow scarlet. "I…How'd you know about that?"

I'm not angered by the dodge, too intent on reading the honesty printed on his face, and in the Force. "Your Culture Studies instructor told me." A bit childish that I can't even speak her name.

With his right hand he scratches the opposite elbow, more out of nervousness than necessity. "I just wasn't interested." He says quietly, eyes not quite focused on mine. "I'm not much of a public speaker."

My stomach falls. See? He's not much of a public speaker. That's all.

"Why…" He looks down at his hands, then up at me. "Why were you talking with her?"

"She was only making sure you'd made the right decision." Even in the near-dark, I can see the weariness in his face. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"I didn't think it was important. I didn't want to worry you with it."

"Not important? It was a great honor, Obi-Wan. Even if you didn't want to accept it, I would like to be informed of such things." I squeeze his shoulder. "I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks, Master."

If there's more to say, I don't want to say it.

And what would there be to say?

I start toward the door. "Sleep well, Padawan."