Thanks to ewan's girl, Athena Leigh and immortal grace for your lovely reviews.

Twenty Nine: As It Should Be

I knew it was inevitable. When you declare your intention to change, to do what it takes to begin that aforementioned journey, eventually you will have to live up to your words. Carry out your promises.

Hm. I suppose that leads to the infamous 'easier said than done' maxim.

Discarded dinner containers sit on the table beside drained mugs of tea. The credits of a largely neglected film scroll down the holoscreen. The room has settled into a scene of faded evening, as tired minds follow suit and fall slowly away from the moon's glow, toward morning.

There will be the long stretch of night between. Each minute masquerading as an hour, and every hour slouching, making itself at home and slipping off its dark shoes for a visit.

As much as I'm sure it enjoys company, Obi-Wan is already asleep, sprawled out on the armchair with his legs dangling over the side.

I move sluggishly from the couch and switch off the projector. A restless sort of silence takes up occupation. The noise of my steps, my breath, are exaggerated without their normal competition of chatter or doors closing.

I glance around the room, at its less-than-stellar appearance--and plop back down on the sofa. A voice inside me, that oddly resembles the soft lilting tone of Meelon, urges me to do what is natural: surrender to sleep, set my weapon, my unadulterated consciousness, aside. It is what will seal this dark chasm in our lives, and allow us to walk away, toward a brighter horizon.

But hers is not the only opinion I hear. The part of me that remembers a state of cold mechanical existence and overloaded plugs and rigid schedule is screaming now, screaming with razored desperation. It pleads for open eyes and numerous inspections of the window locks. It tingles with an anxiousness that has remained sharp in memory.

I press a hand to my forehead. I told him it would be different. I CANNOT lie to him. He would be awake now, monitoring me as closely as I have monitored him, but I assured him my exhaustion would bring me plenty of sleep tonight. That Ejhlon's phantoms would not control me any longer.

Walking over to the chair, I take in the sight of my apprentice, finally reunited with his own version of peace.

I sit on the side of the couch and reach out to run my fingers through the short tail at the back of his head. He'll be gone. To knighthood. To a Padawan of his own, one day.

"As it should be." I barely say aloud.

The machine-marked voice tells me I'm a betrayer. It takes in the precious gift that's been returned to me, and doesn't want to entertain the notion of letting go. It doesn't care about Obi-Wan's future in the Order, or the fulfillment of the incredible potential his parents sacrificed their role in his life to ensure.

All it sees, in its jaded and selfish periphery, is the person who provided meaning where there was an aching, pitted void, harmony where there was only dismal echo.

A light that pushed its way, gently and without motive, through the darkness.

I hate that voice…Because it speaks for my heart, when I must act with my head. It threatens to reveal that perhaps I haven't learned the volumes I claim I have--and I am the same foolish old man who stood in Obi-Wan's doorframe his first night home.

I drape a quilt over him, and am galvanized that my hands do not shake. I study his relaxed features and I… I realize who I would be betraying by foregoing sleep tonight.

With a heavy breath, "Good night, Obi-Wan."

I recline on the sofa. My back isn't used to the comfort and neither is my mind. Immediately the worries pounce at me.

What am I doing? For gods' sake, don't I remember what happened last time? My body very nearly squirms on the soft cushions.

But my eyes, with supreme difficulty, stay closed. And a new gallery of recollected images are opened to my thoughts. Obi-Wan's face as he collapsed. The disillusioned cast of his eyes when I refused a simple walk through flower beds.

And what about the crush of his spirit---when he is reassigned a Master?

I release the tension of my limbs and lay down again.

It isn't long before the extreme abuse begins to wear away at my awareness. I drift from a clear level toward muddier waters. Strange half-thoughts and persistent concern, until I come to a place of soothing deepness and a lulling weight, without feeling, pulling and pulling, until….