Notes: Siriwan is my favorite ship in Star Wars (I love them so much!), even though it's a painful one, but we don't really get to see things from Siri's perspective. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! They both need hugs so bad.
The promise was protection. Protection for the heart she knew he had to break.
It was the right decision, she knew: they were Jedi, they had dedicated their lives to the Order, and particularly considering her treatment of him after he'd returned from Melida/Daan, she couldn't ask him to break that commitment.
The part of her that was an ordinary human girl wanted to stay in his arms. The part of her that was a Jedi knew she couldn't. And so when he'd pronounced his decision—at her insistence he take the responsibility—she'd made him promise. Never to speak of this again. Never to remind her by a word, never by a special look. And as much as she'd wanted him to hold her one last time, perhaps even to kiss her—and she knew he wanted it too—it had to start then. If she gave in to one more moment of weakness, if he gave in to one more moment of weakness, they might change their minds.
They were Jedi. They had made that commitment. And she was just as determined at sixteen as she had been at eleven to stand by that commitment. Just as he was just as determined at eighteen as he had been at thirteen to prove that his commitment was not a whim he'd throw away when the next situation came to pull on his emotions and tug on his heart.
But she couldn't stand the Room of a Thousand Fountains for years afterward.
-oo-
She didn't want to have dinner with him and Bant when he returned from protecting Satine Kryze, but it was too difficult to say no to Bant.
Garen and Reeft were off planet on missions . . . she wished they were there so that she would have more of a distraction from him.
They reminisced on their past, their times together at the Temple, the planets they'd seen, the adventures they'd had. He seemed to get particular amusement from remembering their time on Kegan. She'd been such a foolish, headstrong little girl then.
It was all tinged with sadness. They'd seen much in their few years, and it had not been long enough since Tahl, since the mission with Taly.
He told anecdotes about his mission, like when he had been carrying Satine to safety from a swarm of venom-mites and dropped her.
He would never have had to carry her. She was well capable of taking care of herself.
For a fraction of a second, their eyes met. For a fraction of a second, his shields let her in.
It was accidental, she was sure of that. But that fraction of a second was all she needed.
To feel his pain. His loss. His despair. It centered around Satine, and it was not dissimilar to what she'd felt from him that fateful day in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.
For a moment, pain pierced her heart. But then she felt, underneath the surface, that this new pain was just a result of the day that still haunted her. That underneath Satine was her. Would always be her. Satine was a bandage on a still-raw wound, and a bandage that had been torn away to leave even more hurt.
He hadn't broken his promise. Even now he was animatedly telling Bant of some tangle he had had with bounty hunters tasked with assassinating Satine, some injury he had incurred, and what a struggle it had been for Qui-Gon to keep him in the med ward until the bacta had had time to take some effect.
She had to smile at that. He had never been very good at giving himself time to heal. He was always on the move.
It had been momentary weakness. He didn't even realize she'd noticed. And she wouldn't tell him.
She thought she'd done an adequate job of forgetting what had come between them, of releasing her feelings into the Force. Of burying it all in the past. Perhaps she hadn't. But she would. And she would never let him know how much of a struggle it was. She would be strong.
-oo-
She wanted to be with him after Qui-Gon died. He needed a friend who understood him. As close as he was to Bant and Garen, she still believed she knew him better than anyone else, even though they had hardly seen each other these last few years.
She wanted to keep his head in its place about being the "Sith Killer." She wanted to give him the boost of confidence she knew he needed about training the supposed "Chosen One" when he'd only just been knighted himself. She wanted to comfort him in his loss. She didn't think even Bant would fully understand what it was doing to him to lose his Master. Bant and Tahl had been together only three years before Tahl's death, and Tahl had not involved her padawan in many missions. Qui-Gon had trained him for twelve, and she had seen how close they had become, in spite of their rocky start.
She couldn't be that friend she'd once been. Her Jedi duty required space between them.
Besides, she and Adi were preparing to send her on an undercover mission to infiltrate Krayn's slave operation. He would be hurt by her seeming abandonment of the Order, especially in the wake of the Invasion of Naboo, and being unable to tell him the truth . . .
No, it was better if she simply avoided him altogether. Bant would be there. Garen was scheduled to return to Coruscant soon, if his mission went well.
He would have the friends he needed.
And that did not include her.
-oo-
He was angry with her when they'd come face to face on Krayn's ship. He felt betrayed by her actions, betrayed by her words against the Jedi Order, betrayed by her kidnapping of his padawan. But she had to be Zora. Both her life and her mission depended on it. Anakin's life depended on it.
He would understand eventually. She only hoped it would be sooner rather than later.
When Anakin blew her cover and they were imprisoned together, she found that she liked the boy for his own sake, not just his master's. He was a bright boy with a big heart. She could share with him his master's wisdom, and not just because he was so by the book, but because she knew him. And yet it didn't hurt. Not this time.
When he came to rescue them—in his disguise he was convinced was quite good, but would never fool her—she found they could work together once more. They still made a good team. And if their banter wasn't quite as innocuous as it once had been, no one would ever know.
It had been eleven years. That time was past. He had not reminded her and she would not remind him.
They could work together as colleagues, as comrades, as Jedi, and that was as it should be.
Once posing as a married couple would have been difficult for her. Now she handled it as a Jedi.
It was just another disguise. A different role than Zora, but simply a role, just the same.
-oo-
She didn't hold Ferus's disappearance against him, even though he'd technically been responsible for both boys. She made sure to tease him so he would know. But he truly was terrible at disguises. It was a wonder they'd gained access to the school at all after his "royal regal sons" comment. As if he needed any special help in sounding pompous.
They were both too concerned about their padawans to dwell on any possible implications of their current situation, anyway. Ferus had gone missing and Anakin had concealed the incident from his master, choosing instead to follow his own whims, his own version of their mission. They didn't have time or energy to waste on anything other than cleaning up their padawans' mess.
She wished Anakin and Ferus would get along. They had much they could learn from one another. Ferus was a good padawan and a dedicated Jedi, just like someone else she knew. But she wished he would loosen up and relax more, focus more on the beings around him than on precisely exemplifying the Code. Anakin could teach him that, just as Ferus could help Anakin to be less headstrong and more willing to work as a team. He could help him learn to control his temper and regulate his impulsivity, just as someone else had once done for her.
She felt for him deeply, when it was all over. She knew he was angry with Anakin for his reckless, thoughtless actions, and she knew from experience it took a lot to make him truly angry. Ferus was safe, and Anakin's behavior was not her responsibility, but she still hated to see her friend feel that his trust in his padawan had been betrayed. All things considered, Ferus was a much better padawan than Anakin, even if he was too serious most of the time.
He would come to her if he needed her support. But she knew he wouldn't. Their promise had made their friendship distant, but that was the way it had to be.
-oo-
Korriban shook them all to the core. None of them were as deeply hurt and broken as Soara, but none of them would ever truly recover from Darra's death, either.
Ferus considered himself to be responsible. In a way, he was, he and Tru, for concealing Tru's defective lightsaber from their masters. Tru had been under censure, Ferus in seclusion. But then Ferus told her that he had decided to leave the Order.
Ferus had told Anakin and Tru before speaking to her. She didn't know what had passed between them, but knowing the boys as she did, she suspected it had not been a congenial conversation.
She didn't want him to comfort her in the loss of her padawan. It was Soara who needed the comfort, not her. Ferus was still alive, but not a Jedi. If they ever needed his help, he said, he would be there, but it was not the same. It was like Melida/Daan all over again.
Ferus had to choose his own path, he told her. It was a mature and thoughtful decision, not at all like his decision to stay on Melida/Daan. Melida/Daan had been a childish and rash decision of his—and the man had scarcely made a rash decision since. But even though she knew he was right, it felt the same to her.
She didn't hate Ferus for it, but she hurt. And just like that other old hurt, she had to bury it, to let it go.
But she had failed as a master and she would not take a padawan again.
-oo-
The darkness they'd felt creeping over the galaxy, that had so overwhelmed them on Korriban, had culminated in the Clone Wars.
She had battled over Geonosis while he was on the surface, escaping the arena with Anakin and Senator Amidala, facing Count Dooku, and failing to capture him. Yoda had also failed to capture his former apprentice, but he had been forced to choose between defeating Dooku and saving his battered Jedi.
If she had been there with him instead of Anakin, it would not have gotten to that point. Whatever emotional distance they maintained between them, they still made a very good team. They could still anticipate each other's moves in battle, could still strategize on the spot, working perfectly in tandem towards a common goal.
Because their work as Jedi, as professionals, was the only way they were allowed to work together. It was the way it needed to be.
-oo-
It took seeing Taly again, in the midst of the war, to prompt them to speak of what had happened between them once more. She had been angry and frustrated at first—she did not need to remember it just now—but it was good to speak of it again. To be open with each other about how things had been between them these last twenty years.
He still thought she was beautiful, and smart, and strong. She still thought she knew him better than anyone else. She told him she didn't regret their decision. He didn't regret it either. They were both meant to be Jedi, they were both meant to live the lives they had lived.
She couldn't deny that she had regrets, though, and neither could he, though they were regrets they could live with. He only wished that they could have remained best friends, instead of being simply comrades all these years. And she agreed. She missed the openness they'd had with each other long ago. The way they were free to confide in each other. She wanted that again. In the midst of the war, with Ferus gone and Adi busier than normal as the whole Council was, she needed that best friend and confidant again.
It's not too late, she told him. They could be best friends now. Now that they could speak of the past openly with each other, without so much pain, they could be best friends again. She would always love him, she thought that he too would always love her, but she could live with being best friends and not lovers. They still had to do their duty—he was so much better at it than she was, especially now—but that didn't mean they couldn't be close. They'd need it, to make it through this war.
But it was too late, after all. Without the barriers between them, they'd worked as an even stronger team than ever before. They had a connection that was even stronger, even more than the Force. That was what she regretted not having all these years, just as she knew he also regretted it.
Especially once she knew that it was not going to last.
It was a risky move to jump atop Magus's starfighter and cut her way in to him. But he had to be taken down. Despite the horror she felt through the bond they now shared, she had to do it. She just hadn't been expecting to be hit by fatal blasterfire.
He was with her in her last moments. He wanted to get the med kit, he was desperate to save her, but she knew she was dying. And she just wanted him to be there with her. To feel his touch. To bask in their new connection instead of focusing on the pain. To give him her warming crystal to remember her by. She wanted for his blue-gray eyes staring so earnestly into hers to be the last thing she saw.
Maybe they hadn't been able to be together. Maybe they hadn't had the time to rebuild their friendship and become close as they once had been. But they had loved each other, and that was enough.
-oo-
He walked the halls of the Temple at night in the days that followed. She wished she could truly speak with him, but she barely had enough consciousness in the Force to feel his pain. To know how much he missed her. She sent him comfort and knowledge of her presence as best she could.
-oo-
It took years of training under Qui-Gon before she could do it. But he had been patient and determined, knowing how much it would mean to the one he loved as a son.
He was a hermit now, on desolate Tatooine, watching over Anakin's son even as Ferus watched over Anakin's daughter. The Republic had fallen, the Empire had risen. She had watched him in his deepest pain as the brother he loved so dearly turned against him, falling to the dark side, destroying his own dear love, Senator Amidala.
She hadn't been able to reach out to him then, to comfort him in his pain and loss and depression, but she could now.
"Obi-Wan."
He looked up to see her shimmery bluish figure. His face had become lined and his hair speckled with gray, though she personally considered him to be still relatively young. It was a testament to all he had been through.
"Siri?"
"Who else would it be? You got some other blonde Force ghost friend I don't know about?"
A small smile, tinged with sadness, broke over his face. "I've missed you so much."
She softened at that. "I've missed you too. I wish I could have been there with you." Then she grinned, her most teasing smile so he'd know she wasn't serious. "Especially when you saw Satine again."
His eyes grew wide. "Three marks for speaking out of turn, O-Siri. I've got a pile of dishes you can do for that."
She wished she had a corporeal form so she could smack him. "Do your own dishes, V-Obi. I'm not here to clean up your messes for you." It probably wasn't the best thing for her to say, though, because now the sadness was back. And now she wished for her corporeal form so she could hug him. Force knew he needed it. "I'm so sorry about Anakin."
"I should have seen the warning signs. They were there. Ferus saw them and he tried to warn me. But I didn't want to see it. I was blinded by my love for him. I failed him. And now the galaxy is suffering for my failure."
She "sat" beside him. Perhaps she couldn't touch him, but she could still be near. "Anakin made his own choice. It is no more your fault than Ferus's choices were mine."
"It's not the same. Ferus left, but he's still done noble work. He's still a Jedi in the way that truly matters. Anakin . . . I saw him slaughter younglings, choke Padmé. He's a Sith, Siri, and I didn't do anything about it."
"What was the last thing I told you before I died?"
He met her eyes, and the pain in his, the pain he no longer shielded from her, was overwhelming. Best friends. That's what he needed. Maybe it wasn't too late after all.
"You told me not to worry so much."
"And I'm going to add to that now. Don't blame yourself so much."
"But I'm the one who trained him. If I'd done a better job, if I'd been more like Qui-Gon—"
"For star's sake, Obi-Wan, weren't you the one who told me there was no use in questioning decisions you made twenty years ago? That Jedi do not deal in ifs? Whatever happened to 'the galaxy will be made safe with deeds, not regrets'? Besides, Anakin didn't need Qui-Gon. He needed you. And if he ignored your teachings to the point of turning to the dark side, that's on him, not on you. You can't be responsible for everything."
His shoulders sagged. "I lost him, Siri. Sometime during the war, or maybe even before that, I lost him. And all the Jedi . . . Bant, Garen, Reeft, you. Everything. How can I go on?" He hesitated, as if he didn't want to burden her with his words.
She waited.
"When I lost you, I wondered what living was for, if I had to bear this pain. With Anakin, in a way it was worse, because of his betrayal. How can I . . ." He trailed off.
She wanted so badly to squeeze his hand, but she could only send him her comfort through the Force. "You can go on for Luke. He needs you, and he's going to continue to need you." She smirked at him. "And I'm not going anywhere. Now that I'm here, I intend to make good on that promise to be best friends. I'll always be with you. Even when you get sick of me haunting this dusty hovel you call a home."
The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "I'll never get sick of you, Siri. I never stopped loving you."
Her smile was full blown now. "I know. And I never stopped loving you. But you will get sick of me eventually, I'll make sure of that. After all, you do irritate me like no one else. Though I may have to pop in on Ferus to give him a scare every once in a while."
"He'll enjoy that."
"I bet he will. But you'll be first for me, like I always wished you could be. And someday, when it's time, you'll actually join me."
A little of the sadness drained from him, a little of the pain left his heart. And she was glad that she was able to do that for him. "I'll look forward to that."
-oo-
It wasn't easy, being there without truly being able to be there with him. But she cherished the close friendship they developed, the friendship they should have had all along.
And when he allowed Anakin to strike him down on the Death Star and he became one with the Force, they were truly together.
Forever.