After the Storm
I: Obi-Wan
~o~
The door was stuck again; Obi-Wan pushed it hard with his left shoulder, aching tendons and muscles protesting. In his right hand, the bucket swayed alarmingly, sloshing some of the waste to the floor. Finally, the swollen wood gave way and the door banged open with a loud thud that reverberated through the small cottage. Obi-Wan stood still, listening. He heaved a sigh of relief, when the house stayed blessedly silent, and carefully pressed the door close behind him as he stepped into the yard.
The persistent rain had beaten down all the plants in the tiny garden, had turned the narrow path to a mudbath. Obi-Wan trudged to the back of the property, sludge squelching under his worn boots. The wind was still howling as it raced across the open hillside, tearing at the few lonely trees. It pushed and prodded, made him stumble as he peered up at the cottage roof, the early morning shrouding everything in hazy dimness. It looked like the structure had held.
The latrine was a different matter; only ramshackle walls remained. The simple plank wood roof and door had been ripped off, and were probably miles away already. The heavy iron spade was still on its customary spot, leaning against the latrine wall, blade a few inches in the ground. Obi-Wan picked up the tool and started to dig, cold already settling under his skin. Beneath the layer of mud, the earth was hard and rocky, resisting every shove deeper. He contented with a shallow hole, pouring the bucket of waste into it. Before shovelling soil over it, he unfastened his trousers with numb fingers, quickly emptying his bladder.
Task finished, he stood there for a moment, looking at the dark grey sky. Hiding the stars, it spread out over the wide land, over the pitiful garden, over the little house, blanketing them all with a rolling sea of rain-heavy clouds. Everything looked small and apart.
Empty bucket in hand, Obi-Wan returned to the cottage, skin tingling from the cold. He wrestled the door open, gladly getting out from the clutches of the beating wind. On the table, the lone candle was still burning inside the lantern, flickering light casting long shadows upon the room. He peeled off his boots, leaving them beside the door to be cleaned later. Even with the woollen socks, the floor felt cool. The fireplace remained unlit; a small pile of firewood, ever dwindling, was stacked against the wall. They would have to find more soon, when the weather finally cleared.
As silently as he could, Obi-Wan felt his way around the contents of a disorderly cupboard, finally finding an old rag. Knees creaking, he knelt down to wipe the spilled waste and muddy footprints from the floor. Then he rinsed the rag and the bucket in the battered sink, using the rainwater stored in a big barrel. It too would need to be filled soon.
The hinges of the door to the back room squeaked, inevitably announcing his arrival. Obi-Wan paused at the doorway, looking into the unlit space. Eyes quickly growing accustomed to darkness, he easily made out the silhouette of the boarded-up window, the rickety chest of drawers, and the bed that took most of the room. A mound of blankets filled the narrow double bed, Obi-Wan's robe topmost in the pile. Tufts of hair and a sliver of forehead were only just visible, peeking from the nest. Tiptoeing to the side closest to the draughty window, Obi-Wan carefully lifted the coverings and slid into the bed fully clothed.
The sudden warmth made him shiver violently, accentuated every weary muscle and aching bone. He drew one of the blankets partly over his head, breathing in the stale heated air of the cocoon. A small body shifted and huddled up closer to him, a snuffling nose pressing into the crook of his neck. With care, Obi-Wan wrapped his arm around Leia, mindful of his still cold hands.
It's too early, whispered Anakin in Obi-Wan's mind. You didn't have to do it at this hour. His presence, bleary from interrupted rest, brushed against Obi-Wan, coiling around him like warm fingers twining around a wrist.
I had to go in any case. That was certainly true, but the stronger motivation had been the thought of the twins squirming with the need to use the filled-to-the-brim bucket, and the following mad dash to empty it or find something else suitable.
It's going to rain again soon. Outside, the inky clouds gathered above the house, hanging heavy and low. Perhaps thunder would join in, crashing against the hillside with such fury it would scare the children awake. The wind was almost as bad; as it clawed at the walls of the cottage with a high, thready sound, it made Luke whimper, but luckily the boy settled quickly when drawn closer to his father's chest.
Anakin's foot came to rest right next his own; Obi-Wan could feel the warmth of his skin through their threadbare socks. A hint of alarm crept into Anakin's drowsy mood. How bad is the damage?
Nothing we cannot fix. Obi-Wan nudged him towards sleep, discreetly urging Anakin to join the twins in their peaceful dreams. The last of the cold had finally receded from his worn bones, and the creeping exhaustion slowly dragged him towards rest.
Obi-Wan fell asleep listening to the wind, thinking about the stars.
~o~
By the next afternoon, the weather had calmed. The sky was light blue and cloudless, and every colour looked faded under the pale sunlight. The wind had a bite to it still, but its wails had turned into faint whispers. Obi-Wan stood in the yard, ostensibly taking stock of the garden, but in reality, he was watching the twins, the sun no match for their bright wide grins. Cooped up indoors for too long, Luke and Leia had refused to stay inside, and now they shrieked and hollered as they chased each other around the property. Obi-Wan had judged that having to wash both muddy clothes and muddy children was a small price to pay to avoid any further tantrums.
Most of what had been planted in the garden had been torn up, and it was quick work to collect the uprooted plants. He took the half-full basket of herbs and vegetables into the house, setting it on the scuffed table. Shutters open, light seeped through the dirty windowpane, revealing the layers of dust on the sparsely furnished main room. Obi-Wan resolved to clean it soon; perhaps on his next trip to the village, he could get some better furnishings, something that would make the cottage look and feel more of a home.
When he returned outside, the twins were no longer running around. Instead, they were peering inside the partially broken latrine with morbid curiosity. Obi-Wan joined them, surveying the extent of the damage. In the daylight, the simple structure seemed easy enough to fix, but would certainly require materials they didn't currently have. He would have to make the long trek to the village sooner than planned.
"There's nowhere to pee now," Leia announced gleefully. She hated using the latrine after dark, although, when weather permitted it, either Obi-Wan or Anakin always took the twins there, holding on to their small hands as they stumbled across the yard.
"There's the bucket," Obi-Wan reminded her evenly.
"Ugh." Luke wrinkled up his nose, perfectly capturing all of their feelings on the matter. Luke glanced up at him, and Obi-Wan could tell that the boy wanted to say something else. On the surface of Luke's mind was a clear image of a gleaming white refresher, efficient and clean. Obi-Wan was selfishly glad, when Luke stayed silent. Leia, probably sensing her brother's homesickness, pressed Luke for another game; soon the twins were again romping around, the latrine or the lack of it forgotten.
Obi-Wan told them to remain in the yard, and after getting solemn promises from both, went inside. Even without a direct line of sight, it was easy to keep track of the twins, as they shined so brightly in the Force – and their loud voices told him exactly where they were and what they were doing. He listened to the game of tag as he peeled vegetables and prepared the meat, the heavy aroma of cooking food rousing his hunger.
When the pot was simmering on the old burner, Obi-Wan stepped outside to call the children in. The sun was low on the horizon, the sky a motley mix of purple and wine-red. The steep hillside cast its long shadow over the surrounding land like an inky blanket, trying to hide the twins from his searching gaze. Their small forms were just visible on the edge of the property, crouched low on the ground. There was no one else around for miles; the three of them were quite alone.
Luke and Leia dashed inside in a tangle of limbs, too tired from their roughhousing to behave themselves. Leia flung her boots and jacket pell-mell on the floor and refused to pick them up; Luke tried to rush straight to the table, demanding food. Both of them burst into tears of exhausted frustration, when Obi-Wan reprimanded them and ordered them to stand in the corner beside the water barrel. With twin expressions of sullen dismay, they endured silently Obi-Wan's efforts to get them clean enough for supper.
Next hurdle was the absence of Anakin; excited by the freedom of the outdoors, the twins hadn't thought to miss him. But as Obi-Wan closed the shutters against the approaching dark, Luke stared at the empty seat at the table, small face drawn into anxious lines.
"Where's daddy?"
"He is gathering firewood," Obi-Wan reminded them, wincing when Leia banged her spoon loudly against the table top.
"It's dark!"
"He'll be here soon," Obi-Wan promised, hoping that would turn out to be true. Anakin's presence was a steady beat at the back of his mind, but the feel of him was distant and fragmented. He was certainly nowhere near.
Luckily the twins were too hungry to refuse food. When they had wolfed down their supper, it was clear it was time for bed. Their eyes were slipping shut, and Luke was already half-dozing, in danger of face planting straight into his empty soup bowl. Nonetheless, they predictably kicked up a fuss, claiming they weren't tired at all and they wanted to stay up to wait for Anakin.
After a great battle of wills, Obi-Wan managed to cajole them into brushing their teeth at the sink. That victory was short lived however, and more protests followed as Obi-Wan steered them firmly to the back room, where he oversaw them changing into their pyjamas. While he looked for warmer socks for Luke, Leia slipped out of the room, her small feet thudding across the floor. Obi-Wan finished tucking Luke to bed, socks and all, and then went to get the errant twin. Leia was shedding angry tears, her small hands yanking at the doorhandle to no avail as she tried to open the barred front door.
"I want daddy!" She sobbed as Obi-Wan lifted her up. "I want mommy."
"I know," he said, her surging grief tugging at his heart. He rocked her a little, wrapping calm and peace and safety around her.
"I hate you!" Leia shrieked and then fell abruptly silent, hiccupping.
Obi-Wan carried her to bed and stroked her downy head until she was fast asleep.
~o~
The sun was long gone, when Anakin finally returned to the cottage.
Obi-Wan had spent the evening busying himself with different tasks. He had done the dishes and cleaned up the small kitchen nook, had wiped the dust from the rest of the room. Keeping a small fire burning in the fireplace, he sat at the table, carefully dismantling his lightsaber. He took his time cleaning and assembling the weapon, its design and structure – the grooves, the heft, the gently vibrating kyber crystal – still an integral part of him.
Anakin came inside as silently as he could, clearly not wanting to wake the twins. In the firelight his eyes looked dark and wild, as he glanced at Obi-Wan from behind a tangle of windswept hair. He put down the large load of firewood strapped to his back; the long roam across the hillside hadn't been completely without a practical purpose then.
"There's some supper left," Obi-Wan said, keeping his voice low.
Anakin yanked off his dirty boots and stripped off his outer garments, until he was clad only in socks, trousers and a dark undertunic. The clothes were left in a heap by the door as Anakin headed straight for the food. He smelled strongly of outdoors, of the fresh earth and sharp air.
While Anakin heated the left-over supper, Obi-Wan fetched a needle and some thread from the cupboard. Earlier, he had gathered up the clothes that needed mending, most of them Luke's and Leia's. As he darned a sock, Anakin joined him at the table, taking his customary seat opposite Obi-Wan. He started eating the soup straight from the pot.
"I found the latrine door." Anakin's voice was scratchy; Obi-Wan hoped he hadn't managed to catch a cold. If he had, they would all suffer from it soon. "I think I can get it fixed and put into place tomorrow."
"We still need a roof," Obi-Wan remarked. He squinted at the small thread, managing to prick his finger with the needle.
"Do we?" A slow grin took over Anakin's face, made him suddenly look boyish again. "It could be nice to look at the stars, when taking a dump."
"And if it's raining?"
Anakin shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "We'll use the bucket."
"If you empty it," Obi-Wan said wryly, the absurdity of the conversation not escaping his notice. If asked a year ago where he would be in the future, he would never have imagined himself in the middle of nowhere, mending socks and discussing latrine maintenance.
"Okay, I'll get you a new roof," Anakin agreed readily, lapping up the rest of his soup in companiable silence. Obi-Wan started on another sock.
When he had finished eating, Anakin took a few sticks from the woodpile and stoked the fire. The flames rose higher, bathing the room in a warm glow. At Obi-Wan's pointed look, Anakin rinsed the pot and put it back to its customary place. He returned to the table with an almost empty bottle of spotchka.
"How was it today, with the twins? Did they give you a hard time?" Anakin's broad shoulder brushed against his as he took a seat next to Obi-Wan. He sounded apologetic.
"It was fine," Obi-Wan assured him, putting his mending efforts aside. "I thought we were saving that."
The dregs of the blue liquid sloshed inside the bottle as Anakin set it on the table, right next to Obi-Wan's lightsaber. "We've got this far – I think it merits some recognition." His shadowy gaze was fixed on the saber instead of the bottle. The air was heavy with all the things they hadn't said.
"Fair enough." Obi-Wan took the spotchka, tipping it towards Anakin. "To getting this far…to perseverance." Enjoying an idle moment at last, he held back from fetching the cups Anakin had no doubt purposefully forgotten, and drank straight from the bottle. The sip of liquor burned his throat in the best possible way, hot and bitter.
"Do you regret it?" Anakin did not have to elaborate what it meant.
Obi-Wan thought about the expanse of land around them, wide and remote and hard. The storms that flung roofs and tore trees and banged against the walls. The cold that crept in. The rain and the toil and the stars that were further away every day.
He thought about muddy clothes and tantrums and sullen silence. Grief that some days sucked all the air from around him. He thought about the small bodies burrowing into him, peaceful in their sleep. The warmth of an arm around his shoulder. Kisses against his cheek. The way clear bright voices said daddy.
"I don't regret a thing", he said. It was the truth.