Chapter 24. What is Past Cannot Be Redone

Obi-Wan was not so wrapped in melancholy that he failed to notice the banked fire in Mace's eyes when he returned from what seemed to be a fractious Council session. He quietly got up and made a pot of tea, staying out of the way so that Mace could let go of his quiet irritation; then just as quietly set a steaming cup before the Jedi.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan." Mace's words caught him before he could return to his calm contemplation. He smiled and resumed his own seat, cradling his own cup.

After a sip and a few moments of companionable silence, Mace spoke almost idly, yet Obi-Wan knew Mace spoke nothing idly.

"Did you know that I thought about taking you as my padawan once – you must have been, oh, eleven or so, but I hesitated to take on the responsibility of a padawan – any padawan - when the Council commanded so much of my focus? It wouldn't be fair, I told myself. I can't help but think we'd both be better off had I pursued that thought, but at the time it seemed the Force had a different destiny in mind for us both. I should have listened to my instincts, not my mind. I'm sorry I did not."

Startled by this hitherto unknown admission and assessment of past possibilities, Obi-Wan raised his eyes and shook his head after a moment of reflection.

"After a bit of a bumpy start and many missteps on my part - there were good years. I wouldn't trade those away and I don't wish to forget them, no matter – no matter how it ended. I just wish – those were the only memories I had…." His voice caught in his throat and he wiped away a tear with a shaking hand.

He was so tired of crying – weeping at little provocation, weeping at memories both good and bad, weeping but never to fruition.

No matter what Yoda had said there on Naboo, Jedi didn't cry. He did – but then again, he wasn't much of a Jedi anymore.

Wasn't that why the Force was no longer with him?

He had abused it and profaned it; he had forced it to his own desires until it had wrenched free of his grasp. Just as his master had, it had rejected him.

No one had told him this, but the occasional overheard word, the not-meant-to-be-heard comments all but confirmed this theory. There was no other explanation – none that he could think of and none other that were offered to him.

He swallowed and focused on his tea.

Warm, liquid, honey colored – inanimate and incapable of feeling pain – he had been drinking a lot of tea, or caf, or even water lately, finding the liquid soothing just so long as he was careful not to finish off an entire cup. He had, once, not long after being brought to Mace's quarters.

He'd been alone and oh, so chilled, wrapped in a blanket and staring out the window, trying not to think, trying not to remember. He'd thought to try to warm himself with warm coca, not too sweet and redolent of warm comfort for as long as he could remember.

"Feeling better, Padawan?" Strong yet gentle fingers had stroked fever-dampened hair from his brow as he drank.

"Feeling warm yet, Padawan?" Warm fingers pressed to his temples as he shivered.

Just as then, he'd drunk greedily, seeking warmth, eyes closed. What peace he had found fled the second he lowered the cup and happened to look within: drained, smudged with left over dregs - the cup was just as empty inside as he was.

He'd been shocked to stillness; fingers itching to shatter the cup and fling it aside…but something stilled his hands. A forlorn hope…or fear of the consequences – he could not even now say.

"It's empty, Master Windu," he whispered, when he heard the Jedi enter the room. He looked up, eyes desolate. "It's empty."

"We'll just have to refill it, then." Mace fetched a refill and a blanket, and tucked one in Obi-Wan's hand and the other around his shoulders. "The emptier the vessel, the easier it is to refill."

But he was still waiting – and the vessel was still empty, for what was poured into him – care, comfort, and concern – came from without and did not linger. He, or the Force, was the only thing that could fill him, not others.

"…you opened that stubborn goat's heart and he should be on his knees thanking the Force for gifting him with such a devoted padawan. Any master would have been proud to call you padawan, early missteps or not."

With a shrug that didn't quite hide his sadness, Obi-Wan stared at the cup in his hands, absently watching the swirling liquid. "Our pairing came from the Force and in time he accepted it as such and stopped questioning my presence in his life. We grew close and I thought we would remain close even after my knighting." He ran splayed fingers over his face, a bit surprised that his eyes remained dry this time.

"Now the Force has spoken to him, only this time he has learned to listen. It wants to pair him with Anakin. Who can fault Master Jinn for being such a good servant of the Force?"

"I can fault him for his methods," Mace said a bit tartly. "A Jedi should never be cruel."

"He did not intend to be." His words held quiet conviction, for Obi-Wan could never be persuaded otherwise. He took a deep breath. "Master Windu, don't let – this, me - come between you. I'm not worth it. He probably needs your friendship now more than ever, not to mention the Council's support should Anakin truly be the 'Chosen One' of prophecy."

And if Anakin was the Chosen One – Obi-Wan had to honor the Force's gift to the galaxy, despite the personal cost. Practicality not sentimentality governed the Jedi and Obi-Wan was a Jedi to the core – even now, when he had never felt less like a Jedi.

"Well, I'll be…." For a moment it seemed Master Windu was unable to find the words to chide a failed apprentice who had the temerity to lecture a Council member on proper behavior. Obi-Wan's face paled, but before he could even begin to choke out an apology, Mace shook his head, effectively silencing him. Finally, as if less displeased than he should by rights be, Mace offered a simple, "You continually amaze me, Obi-Wan."

Startled not to be reprimanded, he murmured softly, "I should not have spoken so –"

Mace raised a peremptory hand, cutting Obi-Wan off in mid-sentence.

"I am not displeased with you, quite the opposite. You have set aside your feelings to think beyond yourself – and incidentally reminded me that I must do so as well. While I believe Qui-Gon's behavior is inexcusable, you're right: one must remember that it is the deed not the person that must be condemned."

"Would any Jedi say otherwise?" Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably; the speaker of truth should not be praised for speaking it. Condemn the deed, not the doer: that was ingrained in him as part of his very upbringing in the Order; he couldn't imagine mouthing words he did not mean.

"Some might," Mace admitted candidly. "It's not always as easy as we make it sound to forgive others for what they say or do – such often takes time and meditation, even for an old Jedi like myself who should know better." He steepled his fingers as if reflecting upon his words, but did not elaborate.

"Or recognition that one might also do or have already done similar ill deeds." A flicker of regret crossed Obi-Wan's face and he leaned his head on one hand, eyes lost in the past. Far too many times he had hurt Qui-Gon or others and been forgiven. He could do no less in turn.

"Ill-considered or impetuous deeds, perhaps, yet never so ill a deed." Shrewd eyes appraised the young man before softening fractionally. "My possibly fractured friendship with Qui-Gon is of lesser concern than you. That is not open to discussion or debate so you might as well close your mouth and refrain from whatever you were about to say."

"You would have been a good master," Obi-Wan finally said, a faint flush adding a hint of life to pale skin.

"With a padawan such as you, such would not have been a difficult achievement for any Jedi, I suspect. Force knows I'm not much for handing out effusive praise –I'm known for my reprimands more than praises - but I thought I needed to speak the truth and you needed to hear it – just keep it between ourselves, if you will. Be that as it may, the past is behind us. What I can be and am, however, is your friend." Mace almost smiled, before getting up to refill both their mugs, dropping a friendly hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder as he stood.

Incredibly touched and grateful, Obi-Wan brushed away a hint of moisture dampening his lashes. He didn't deserve such kindness, but deserved or not, the continual kindness of so many was a miracle that Obi-Wan cherished with each gesture, each word, and each touch.

Such was not unexpected, from Bant or the healers, but that Mace Windu would take him into his personal care and call him "friend" was almost more than he comprehend.

As a witness to at least the latter part of the decades-long friendship between Qui-Gon and Mace, Obi-Wan was no stranger to the less formal side of the Jedi master, but he had never been fully at ease in his presence. No padawan wished to be the recipient of his fierce frown or earn the lash of his tongue. Fear of the consequences, as administered by Council Member Mace Windu, kept many a miscreant padawan from straying too far beyond innocent pranks – if they dared even that much.

It had always amazed Obi-Wan, especially as a junior padawan, how Qui-Gon and Mace could argue for hours, even occasionally bellowing at each other only to end up hoisting a drink together in perfect harmony.

As he had matured and proven himself capable of discretion, Mach had increasingly shed his Jedi master persona and revealed the man he was – flaws, sarcastic humor, and graciousness –without self-censoring his words or behavior in front of him, something that Obi-Wan had thought in private was just because his presence had come to be overlooked – because he was Qui-Gon's padawan.

Even after the breach in that friendship – even after Qui-Gon's repudiation of Obi-Wan as unworthy of the name "Jedi" - that same consideration was still being extended to him, but in ways that suggested it was more than just that of an older Jedi to an ailing younger one. This consideration was personal, not just a byproduct of another relationship of long duration.

There were many things Obi-Wan was no longer sure of – images, memories, hopes, nightmares all tangled so that which was the reality and that which was the illusion of his life was no longer clear, but he was sure of one thing – Mace Windu, and to a lesser extent, Yoda, Bant and the other healers didn't seem to care if he was or was not the same Obi-Wan they had known.

For all he knew, he was as much a stranger to them as to himself, but it didn't matter. Not one iota. They merely cared for him, whoever he was, might have been, and might someday become, and it was the one thing that kept depression from overwhelming him.

He held fast to that one inescapable truth: Mace was there for him; in the healers and since bringing him here to his own quarters. Wrapped in endless silence or huddled in a blanket, he was never allowed to feel as if he were alone.

These were the images and feelings he could trust, only these.

At times his mind would conjure up images of Qui-Gon – strong hands gripping his shoulder in concern, a mock-disgusted tug on his nerf-tail or a warm smile of approval – only to replace those images with new ones: the harsh disgust on his face, the scowl of disapproval, the slap across a cheek as the worst pain he could imagine ripped through his mind.

He tried to tell himself all those images were real, but he couldn't hold onto those earlier ones, the ones of companionship and friendship.

The sting of betrayal had scarred him to mistrust of those happier memories – but who had truly been the betrayer and who the betrayed?

Qui-Gon Jinn had betrayed his trust, but Qui-Gon Jinn would never do so unless betrayed himself.

So betrayed he must have been, by his padawan. By Obi-Wan Kenobi, as he had been by his former apprentice. As he would not be, by his new apprentice.

Qui-Gon Jinn had told him so himself, and Qui-Gon Jinn didn't lie. No matter what Mace Windu said, no one knew Obi-Wan as well as his former master did. And he had not full access to his memories, only his emotions: emotions, that as a Jedi, he should not indulge in. Emotions that he weathered as best he could, emotions that Mace did not hold against him, but comforted him through.

He was grateful beyond measure, embarrassed beyond tears, and calmed to an uneasy acceptance that he was damaged in ways both large and small – and Mace Windu would help him through it. He did not have to weather this alone.

When he looked up in thanks for the refilled cup placed in his hand, he was entirely unaware that all that was in his heart was also visible in the depths of his eyes, easily read by the older Jedi.

Mace said gently, "You are still Jedi, still Obi-Wan, tears and laughter and everything. You are, and you have to realize this, deep inside. One day you will be able to access the Force as you once did, but even if you don't, you will always belong to the Jedi and the Force."

The words should have comforted him. But they did not.

There was a soft shimmer in Obi-Wan's eyes that made Mace frown, the glance upwards through eyes shaded by lashes. Was the boy so secure in his knowledge that Qui-Gon's damning words on Naboo were accurate?

After a moment's reflection, he admitted the boy's loyalty would overrule his reason – how could it not, when his very mind was bruised and shaken?

His heart, shattered or not, never flinched or turned away from another, just cause or not.

"It's not your Force abilities that make you special; it's you. The person Obi-Wan Kenobi is. You have formidable talents with or without the Force backing you up. The Order will always need you – your skill at negotiating, your wry humor - all these impressive skills can't be allowed to go to waste. You can still serve the Force in ways yet to be discovered."

"But not as a Jedi." The murmur was all but inaudible, a soft tremble of a voice many found pleasing to the ear.

"Believe, Obi-Wan. You will find your strength as you heal; you will become more than this quiet, sad-eyed man who right now doesn't see where he fits into the life he foresaw for himself."

"Because I do not fit in – not any longer."

And this was a simple statement of fact, underlain with despair, an emotion Obi-Wan no longer allowed himself to indulge in. Like anger, it was an emotion he had long ago subdued, yet Mace knew all too well that emotions were never discarded; only controlled. When the part of the mind that held reign over one's emotions was damaged, even Jedi mental disciplines were insufficient to keep them at bay.

Mace could not encourage the expression of such emotions but he could not try to suppress them either. Only a healed mind was a disciplined mind.

Torn between acknowledging or ignoring the words, torn between offering understanding or offering a good dose of logic, Mace studied the young Jedi and wished that Yoda would show up. The old Jedi always knew the right words to say, be they kind or not, for sometimes kindness went awry when harsher words were what was needed. But the Force did not magically propel Yoda to his doorstop. The Force did not tell him what to say, either, only nudged him to say something for anything was better than silence, anything told Obi-Wan he was not on his own.

Would a cold, hard statement of fact reach this troubled young man, a reminder that one's focus did truly determine one's reality as Yoda so often preached? Sometimes kindness was best provided by its lack.

He let a little softness fade from his voice. "This is not like you, Obi-Wan, to focus on what cannot be done rather than what can; you know you are more than this."

Obi-Wan shook his head in denial, the hurt plain in his face. He wasn't ready to believe, not yet. That was yet to come.

If Mace could have taken back the words, he would. Silently he cursed himself and the absent Yoda as Obi-Wan stared at his intertwined fingers and whispered, "Once perhaps. Perhaps, again. But now…no. That man is gone; a part of him died on Naboo. The best part, leaving what you see behind."

He resolutely straightened in his seat.

This is who I am. Accept me as I am. Mace didn't bother to disabuse the young man of his near challenge. His posture may have blazed defiance, but Obi-Wan's eyes betrayed the vulnerability he tried to hide. Hide weakness beneath strength; strength you shall find. He was taking that Jedi maxim a little too much to heart.

The senior Jedi understood this was not the time to push, so he merely looked at him and held his tongue, for right now there was nothing he could say.

He could not reach Obi-Wan, not yet.

Let Obi-Wan think as he did. Mace knew better. The Obi-Wan he knew was somewhere inside, trapped by the wound he had taken on Naboo, struggling to find a way out. That Obi-Wan rarely cried, and never for himself. That Obi-Wan made wisecracks. That Obi-Wan had laughing eyes.

This Obi-Wan didn't live each day, he endured it. Without protest, without flinching, and without joy. It broke Mace's heart to see the young man suffer from something that was never his fault but for which he would always accept blame.

Obi-Wan would have to find his own way to his own truth – but not alone. Mace would be at his side as long as he was needed.

Force willing.