TPM Tatooine Rewrite: Through Glass
By: Syntyche
interlude II
Love.
He remembered, through the haze, that at one time love had existed in his life and he'd welcomed it – hesitantly at first, as he was a cautious soul by nature – but slowly it had gained a foothold in a terrified young man who had lost everything familiar, and the ache started to fade little by little.
Though the Jedi did not openly espouse the concept of love in the Code, he had quickly learned that love existed in the quiet moments: a friendly hand on his shoulder, an amused tug on his braid. Warm praise in those oddly fractured sentences of Master Yoda's. A hug from a rescued child. Knowing that he belonged.
He had thought that that was what love was. He had believed it until now.
Until those words had slipped from the Lady's lips while she cradled his head, his blood soaking into her dress, her body moving over his while she … while she …
I love you, my beautiful one.
It was so quiet here, so blissfully quiet.
I love to hear you say my name. I love when you cry and when you scream.
She had loved his pain, and when she hurt him she told him that she loved him and he wondered if he'd had the wrong idea about love all along, maybe love wasn't in the quiet moments, maybe it was when she touched him and teased him and laughed at him and hurt him …
But there was his own voice in his mind, before it had been worn down to the raspy whisper it had become: I have to follow my path, too. Leave me to do my duty.
And then that voice: My dear Obi-Wan, you've never done anything less. I am so very proud of you, Padawan. So very proud.
He'd wanted to believe that, but the memory was scored over by Delian's voice, worried and regretful: Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. He's not here …
He stifled a sob and retreated back to his quiet place. He could stay here. It was so confusing out there, even though in here was no holiday either, with so many memories crowding his scattered thoughts. Each of them demanded he pay attention to them, that he process his thoughts and what had happened to him, but he refused. He knew what had happened to him.
Just as he knew what had happened to others he'd once cared about.
He knew that Qui-Gon had left him to die and he hated his former Master for that.
He knew that Delian hadn't been able to find him and had probably given up on him. He didn't blame her.
He knew that Anakin had been killed by the Sith and he grieved the loss.
And he knew that at one time he had been destined to be a Jedi, but no longer.
Love had saved him once, but Obi-Wan knew he was too far gone this time. There was no redemption for this lost one.
A twinge of pain crawled up his leg where she had dug the transmitter out of his thigh.
Soon enough Marjhan would be in with the hypo, and he could fade away. He wouldn't have to work to stay in his quiet place; it would find him and swallow him and drown out the aching in his soul.
He just had to wait a little more and she would be here.
It wouldn't be much longer.
Not much longer at all.
OOOOOOOOOO