Chapter 15. Spaceships in the Night

In a way, it felt like falling. It was as if you'd plunged to a certain death from the tallest skyscraper, and there was plenty of time for you to close your eyes and wait for it all to be over. And you'd fallen a hundred floors down, but suddenly it was all in your sleep, and your feet stood firmly on the ground, and even though inside you'd already shattered into million pieces, your body was mockingly whole as if nothing had ever happened and you only imagined it.

Obi-Wan leaned against the cold durasteel sink. His eyes were closing of their own accord despite the outrageous quantities of icy water he had splashed on his face moments earlier, and at the same time he was certain he would not get a second of sleep if he tried to get some shut-eye as everyone was insisting. Besides, he didn't really want to go to sleep. It all felt surreal - surreal in a good way but surreal still - and it seemed to him that if he were to fall asleep, it might have all turned out to be a dream. And he dreaded that.

It had been a hectic couple of days since Tur woke up. Well, in all honesty, it was hectic for the healers. The only thing Obi-Wan could do, after he was swept out of the room by a small army of very surprised healers, was haunting the doorstep of the healing ward. He paced in the corridor, counting his footsteps then losing count, trying hard to ignore everyone who tried to speak with him, pacing in different patterns, slower then quicker then slower, then stopping to lean his back on the wall, or, if he was tired, settling on the floor because nobody really expected visitors here, which meant there were no chairs. When at some point during the day (night? morning? He did not really follow.) Obi-Wan was finally forced away to grab a bite and get some sleep, he went on to wander the gardens or the Temple, because he did not really want to be too far away. There his pacing, by now a form of art, continued with renewed vigour, until his legs could no longer carry his weight, and then he would nod off on some bench for a short while, passing out into some transparent semi-awareness between wakefulness and sleep that did not give him strength but was apparently enough to keep him alive. Then, shuddering awake, he would be frozen inside, and trembling, and detached, which meant that unless he wanted to reunite with the Force, he had to grab some snack from the canteen, which he did, though whatever it was, he could swear he was unable to tell the difference. This repeated itself in a vicious circle - pacing, passing out and pacing again, an existence in some kind of limbo.

It should have been enough for him that Tur had finally woken up - but the healers were too sceptical about the entire affair, and Tur's mind, they said, was hanging by a very thin thread. He might never remember anything, they said. Or go back to the unconsciousness of the last months. Or die, if his mind became too much for his already weakened body. Actually die. Again. Alone with his thoughts and the endless possibilities human existence brought, Obi-Wan drifted, away from his friends, away from Tahl, from Qui-Gon, pretty much everyone who tried to comfort him. When he was pacing in the corridor, he would ignore them, and finally, at some point in the day they left him alone, and outside they never managed to find him. Of course, he felt really bad about treating them like that, because they were all genuinely concerned - as well as genuinely clueless about what exactly he was going through, or so Obi-Wan thought, and he was much too tired to learn to think otherwise. It also hurt less that way. Pacing brought a welcome degree of detachment, which any exchange of words instantaneously destroyed. And if he could hurt just a little less, he would take it. He just didn't think he could bear to hurt even more.

Obi-Wan did not know how much time had passed since Tur opened his eyes - he must have finally fallen asleep on his feet, leaning his back on the unyielding corridor wall. Someone was calling him, he started awake, slightly dizzy, his hand searching for the wall for support. A plump little Mon Calamari healer was holding his sleeve and looking at him with a pity that made him want to fall through the floor. They had worked hard, she said. It was touch and go, she said. Obi-Wan was exhausted and hungry, and fought hard against the desire to shake her shoulders and beg her to finally get to the point. Tur was out of danger. Yes, he had been awake for some time today. No, he was asleep now. No, there was no need for a healing trance - his body did not have any resources for that, but the Force would gradually restore his strength now that he was on the mend. No, unfortunately, it was too late for visitors and he was asleep anyway, but Obi-Wan could certainly come tomorrow. Yes, first thing in the morning. Yes, my dear, not to worry - Tur was in very good hands. - Must be the very good hands that had washed themselves clean of Tur months away. Fortunately, he did not say that out loud. He did not really mind or care anymore but he was taught better than that. - Why wouldn't he not go and get some rest now? - The last part was a polite enough invitation to get the Sith out, and he was too tired to argue.

He walked the corridors like a sleepwalker, which in a way he technically was. It was dark outside, and the sky was boasting the constellations like a jeweller's window. Obi-Wan reached for his comm, stared dumbly at it for a good few moments, then pocketed it again, tracing its edges with his fingers in his pocket. He really must do something to stop his hands from shaking when he returns tomorrow - Tur won't like that, and the last thing Obi-Wan needed was for Tur to worry about him. The healers would let the others know. That would be better. He doubted he would be capable of a coherent sentence at this point anyway.

Obi-Wan did not really remember how he made his way to his quarters. He had forgotten that room existed, one could really feel nobody had lived in it for a few days. He drank greedily from the tap, then stuck his face under it in an attempt to feel closer to awake and human again.

Yes, he really dreaded going to sleep.

Settling for a compromise with himself, he dragged his feet to the bed and leaned his back against it, opening his holopad and bringing up some random book.

It was bare minutes until the first light was breaking outside the window - he had forgotten to pull down the blinds last night - and the insistent beeping of the alarm clock woke him up. Thank the Force, it was all somehow still real, - Obi-Wan thought, making his way to see Tur.

It was strange how quickly morning erased night, as if it had never been there. It was bordering on supernatural, and the change in his life was so sudden that Obi-Wan still found it hard to bring himself to fully believe it. With Tur awake but still the prisoner of the healers, they all fell into a happy routine. Obi-Wan would spend the entire day in the ward, reading, talking, and finding brand new ways to annoy Tur who chafed against being treated as if he would break. Everyone else visited when they could. By an unspoken agreement they all tried to look for shorter missions that would not take them too far away, and arrange it so that at least someone would be around. Not that Obi-Wan really needed anyone else's company, but he was suddenly self-conscious and wondered if Tur would grow tired of his talking.

Things were going well, so well that Obi-Wan wanted to pinch himself. Tur was almost back to his normal self, and his jokes were equally dark and funny as usual. But something had changed in him. There was the indecisiveness, a slight hitch of breath, a hesitation of coming back to your body after a long absence. But Tur was alive and going to stay that way, and regardless of how he himself felt about it, Obi-Wan was sure going to make him realise how exciting life was.

The day of Tur's release they decided to take a turn around the gardens. The air was warm and gentle, and when you took just one breath of it, you couldn't get enough.

- Are you happy to be free?

- I should be asking you that question, - Tur's lips curled in a semblance of a smile. - You were the one actually spending time there. I was mostly just lying around boring people to tears.

- If you want to suggest that's even remotely funny…

- Alright, alright! I'll stop teasing you. But I really hope I looked better than you when I saw you then.

- That's the thanks I get…

- Well, it was you who wanted to play hero and starve yourself to death, leave me out of it.

- You started it!

- Sith, I must be out of shape. One minute, and I run out of jokes. If this goes on for another day, please just kill me, I can't suffer like that.

- You're never out of shape, - snorted Obi-Wan. - I bet you could start training me right now. But I know you need to get better first, and of course it'll be some time till they allow you…

- That was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.

- What? - Obi-Wan felt his senses bristle in alarm.

- The Council decided it would be best that we do not continue our training.

An icy dread crept over Obi-Wan, the ground giving way under his feet.

- What do you mean?

Tur shrugged his shoulders uneasily.

- I'm not really fit for teaching. I'm no longer a Knight myself to begin with. I left the Jedi Order a long time ago and I doubt very much they are eager to welcome me back with open arms straight away.

- You are ten times the Knight than any of them! - Obi-Wan clenched his fists in his pockets, nails digging painfully into his palms. - And I didn't know of any Council meeting - who even decided that?

- Do you really think they let you know about everything that goes on in the Temple? - Tur raised his eyebrow. - I went there this morning.

- What did you say to them?

- Nobody asked for my opinion. I was informed of the Council's decision. I don't exactly have an unconditional right to be here, you know. But - don't get me wrong, I would have wanted to train you very much - I have to agree with them it will be best.

- You don't have to agree with anything! We can ask Master Mace, or -

- No, Obi-Wan. That was the Council's final verdict. I should just be happy to exist. And, - Tur raised his finger in the air in a half-mocking exclamation, - they let me work at the Temple, didn't they?

- But I already am your Padawan! - Obi-Wan breathed out exasperatedly. - They all know that. Master Windu, Master Yoda...

- Are not even remotely the entire Council.

- What of it, they said they had made too many mistakes - looks like a good chance to correct them, if anything.

- Well, - Obi-Wan saw Tur smirk, the tiny wrinkles around his eyes tightening in mischievous amusement, - they must have thought you have already suffered enough to get hooked up with me again.

- That's not funny! - exclaimed Obi-Wan, his frustration literally tangible in the Force. - How can you be so calm? Here they take away my only chance to become a Jedi Knight, and you -

- Trust me, you will find Qui-Gon more than an adequate teacher.

- How can I find - what?

Tur chuckled at the incredulous expression on Obi-Wan's face.

- Now that I've managed to get your attention... Hey, calm down, - he brought up his hands placatingly as Obi-Wan fixed him with a glare. - I'm not joking. Did you really think that the Council would just leave you behind?

A brief pause fell, heavy in the darkening evening air.

- Alright, it wouldn't be entirely unexpected to think so, but not this time, - Tur gently laid his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders, facing the youth.

- Not this time, - the man repeated softly. - Qui was serious about offering you apprenticeship the first time round, you know. When I was… away. He really wants to do this.

Obi-Wan looked up hesitantly, squeezing out a small smile.

- I told him I'd never do this, so… - he shrugged. - Sorry... I know I should be happy that they allow me to continue training, but... you were my Master. You still are. The Force -

Tur shook his head and sighed.

- My Force signature has changed. The healers who released me suggested that was the effect of going beyond that edge and being brought back by the will of the Force. It is different now. See for yourself. Come on, try it.

Obi-Wan tentatively reached out with his mind but instead of the spider-web thin but tangible thread felt some kind of space, as if expanding from inside of him, but definitely leading nowhere. The feeling, however, was overwhelming in its serenity, encompassing, dissolving into the resonating calm of the light-filled sunrises and sunsets in the gardens surrounding them.

- What is... this?

- The part that reunited with the Force. Not quite reunited, as you see. The healers will never know what I did and what happened to you, but somehow this part pushed out the remains of the bond with Rhad. Which is surprising. I thought it would take the whole.

If there was anything special about the shadiest Coruscanti bars perched precariously on the lower levels, it was the way they froze the most fleeting substance - time. They did so with a natural, almost mocking ease, making one even more painfully aware of just how many memories were hanging heavily on their shoulders. Because here, you would not even notice how the walls grew just a little shabbier or the floor got covered with just one more layer of grime, - everything would look exactly the same as it did twenty years ago. Or you would want to think so.

Technically, Tur had a clean bill of health. Obi-Wan, Force bless the poor kid, had been relentless in making him go through all the torture the healers sought to inflict upon him even after his release. That meant he was bound to the Temple like a ghost to a haunted house. Nobody recommended his being outside just yet, and he complied for the kid's sake. Confinement was getting on his nerves, though. There, Tur couldn't really think or talk even when forced to. The healers had gone through his mind with a fine comb, making sure he wasn't a danger to anyone or himself. Strange, that, how being back from the dead seemed to scare everyone around him out of their wits. And that was the main reason he couldn't very well burden them with any nonsense he'd carried with him from the other side.

It was strange, this being alive business. Tur would have said he had fallen out of this habit for the last five months, but in fact - he snorted grimly - it was more like a matter of years. His body obeyed him, he could see, feel, taste. He was on Coruscant. He was not alone - and somehow he was. It was all just a bit too much to wrap his head around.

Having finally managed to assure the kid he was not going to drop dead anytime soon and shipped him off to the canteen with his friends (who, luckily, were all around at the time), Tur had set off to roam the city, something he hadn't done for what seemed like forever. It was supposed to be relaxing and pleasant, but the aimlessness of it was driving him up the walls. Endless streets, endless traffic, endless crowds. Noises and colours assaulted his senses like a swarm of annoying insects he couldn't shake off. He needed to be somewhere. He needed purpose.

To be fair, he had existed without any purpose whatsoever for years. But that was a deserted planet where he could shut out everything around him, and - completely counterintuitively - it was easier. It was pure distilled existence, floating with no destination like a piece of worthless debris dumped in the open space. And it was also a habit developed over years. He had gotten used to it so much he never even noticed it - until Obi-Wan had, quite literally, crashed into his life. Obi-Wan was still there, of course, but he was now free of the dark imprint and all set to train with Qui-Gon to finally become a Jedi Knight like he deserved. And however wrong that was, Tur could not help but wonder if it had been better for everyone concerned if he had just stayed with the Force when he had a chance.

So he came back to the Temple, and there, rummaging through his things (however in the galaxy he managed to have kept any was beyond him), he found a holo pad. And, miraculously, on it was the only contact he might actually be able to talk to. A couple of hours later, he was sitting in a nondescript bar, alien and silent, as he couldn't even bring himself to order a drink.

- I got your comm, - a slender body snaked through the crowd surrounding the counter and perched on the chair next to him, waving to the bartender, a pale Twi'lek in colourful robes, then turning to Tur.

- How dare you disappear like that? - Lu rounded on him, her delicate features twisted in agitation, so that she was almost breathing fire. - Five blood months! I was worried out of my - Sith! - As Lu caught a glimpse of his face, her expression passed from fuming to concerned so quickly it was nearly comical. - What in the galaxy happened to you?

Now that she was asking, Tur started doubting if all of this was a good idea, after all. He was not fit for human contact yet. He had to get out or -

- Alright, no offence, but you don't look nearly as dead as I've seen you before, and trust me, I must have seen you in every possible state. If you were going for a pity-worthy look, you really need to step up your game.

- …what? - Tur looked up in disbelief, his eyes meeting the Mirialan's. Her face grew carefully blank and serious, as if she understood much more than she let on, her mood shifting so quickly and smoothly that he couldn't help his amazement.

- Just stay, - she smiled gently. - Don't ask, don't tell, remember?

Force bless her. It was an unwritten code of the underground, where everyone knew all too well just how much living could hurt. Sometimes trouble was better left unspoken.

- Sorry. It's a long story, you know.

- My braid, I bet it is, - Lu snorted right into the straw buried deep in some weird cocktail which looked equally strawberry and disgusting. - I could kill a population of a small planet in that time, Le'em, and that's without trying much.

That was the best thing about bars - there weren't any uneasy silences. Noise filled the air, snatches of conversations, gossip, plotting, threats. He leaned his chin on his knuckles, aimlessly counting the bottles lining the wall in front of him.

But suddenly he couldn't bear it anymore.

- I was dead, Lu, - he blurted.

If she was surprised, she sure hid it well. But the look in her eyes told him that somehow she knew everything about him, even things he didn't know himself. Her coal-black eyes froze for a second and the skin flickered to a lighter olive for a split second, but it was barely a couple of moments before she spoke.

- Ah, I see, that explains the look, - she threw casually. - But you know, if I was so bent on recreating it, I would have just stayed that way, if I were you.

That was good. If people were classified depending on the space they gave you, Lu was nothing short of a whole criffing galaxy, and by Force, he was grateful for it. A second breath came much easier, almost enough for a complete and controlled sentence.

- Wouldn't you miss me?

- I have. But as you can imagine, after five months that gets pretty boring. Better just bury and be done with it.

Tur wanted to laugh at the way she was most certainly bluffing. Just like him. They were both sitting at the bar as if it was a table for some crazy game they played three tables down, with high stakes and lies so blatant they tasted exactly like truth. They both had seen unspeakable things, and staying silent was sometimes the only way to survive. Then Lu spoke again, her tone growing serious.

- I can't do the talking for you, you know. I'm not some mind healer or whatever they call them, - she sighed. - But then, you must be rusty, having been dead and all. Unless there was anyone on the other side you could speak to.

He hadn't noticed she was now halfway through her new drink. Purple. Not nasty enough, he thought, amused.

- If you expect me to buy you a drink to celebrate you being alive, you have another thing coming. - Her long fingers were drumming some popular rhythm on the gritty table.

- I wanted to call you right away, you know.

- You mean, after becoming un-dead?

- You know what I mean.

- Ah, relax. Being dead is the best excuse I've ever heard from a guy, so I guess this time I wouldn't mind it that much.

She rolled her shoulders, catlike, comfortable like a tiger in its natural habitat. The voices rolled around them in waves.

- I just didn't really know what now. Things were… strange. I'm… out of place, I guess.

- Here?

- Everywhere. Coruscant. The Temple. You name it.

- Just because other people haven't been dead doesn't mean they can't understand you.

- I don't need them to understand me. I need to… do something. Find something useful left in my life.

- Don't you have your friends? Or did you disappear on them too?

- Not exactly. I was at the Temple this whole time. Disappearing would have been rude.

- Oh yes, of course. Need to be diplomatic. Didn't they offer you to stay?

- I don't need a place to stay. I need a place.

- Oh, I see, - Lu's voice was almost dripping sarcasm. - Because that makes total sense.

That was Lu to you. She would always make you want to smash things. In a friendly way, of course. But that was really just like driving the poison to the surface of a wound.

- I'm wrong here. Everywhere. I've been away for so long, I can't even imagine myself back in this place again. I'm too old to start anything new. I'm no longer a Jedi. I'm not a real healer. I'm… just a body that wished to stay here despite my best efforts. You're right, - he breathed out. - I should have stayed that way.

- Alright, you're going to finish this and then I'm going to tell you what I think, - her warm little hand wrapped his fingers around a glass. - Go on.

He brought the rim of the glass to his lips and swallowed, then sputtered in surprise.

- What the Sith did you give me - wait, is this water?

- Well, I couldn't be sure you won't go back to being dead if I shared one of my cocktails with you, and I needed something to shut up your mouth, - Lu raised her eyebrow cheekily. - Now, if you don't mind, to Sith with all that. What kind of kriffing place do you need? Look around you! They don't even know what they'll be doing in an hour. They might leave this bar or they might get shot here. Or on a job. Or if they aren't, they might just starve. Or their contact will sell them out. But you know what? It's not at all different for anyone else. You just think you find a place, but really, you're hanging by a thread just like every single one of them. And if you ask me, that's what living is about. Moments. I'm going to finish this drink, and then another, and I would have caught up with one of my greatest friends - oh don't get cocky! - and if they shoot me as I walk out of this door, well, so be it. Might as well have shot me anywhere else. And that, my friend, is your place right there. It's in your own criffing head.

He didn't know why it all seemed so strangely clear. It was all wrong. Absolutely wrong. There was nothing right with life in general. And it was nobody's fault, it was the Force and what not, and it was all completely and utterly meaningless. But it was fine that way. At least here, in this dirty little bar, it was. And if it wasn't, nobody seemed to care. None of them needed a place. They needed a spot to sleep, and wits to outshoot or to outcheat at dejarik, just to get a bunch of credits for a cheap cocktail and something to keep them on their feet. And even that was optional. Living was pretty much enough. They were drifters, and for a moment Tur felt a strange affinity with them, thinking about how in a way they might be closer to the Force than the Jedi, not bound to anything but life itself.

- I didn't know you were so wise, - Tur whistled, blowing a breath through his lips.

- Don't mention it, - Lu grinned, and it was like they were sitting here years ago, exchanging mission stories. - You know, if you come back from the dead, you must at least have the decency to be alive.

Touché.

- And here I was starting to let my guard down.

- Never said you should do that, I'm way too dangerous.

- You're right, you know. Then, when we… when I… When it was over. When Mayte… I guess I was just as dead then. I guess I couldn't move on.

- But you have. Even I have, - Lu moved her heavy braid to fall down her back, and Tur saw a perfectly round crystal pinned right above her heart as if a drop of ruby wine had fallen on her breast. - And before you ask - I think I do love him.

Tur felt her slightly curious glance, knew that he probably looked dumbstruck, staring distractedly at the shining red mineral. For some reason, he did not seem to find any words to fill in this oppressive silence.

- You think?

- Alright, I never think, - she laughed, and it was strange, so alien and at the same time still so strangely her, as if Tur was seeing her for the first time. - But I might feel -

- I'm... glad you -

- Hey! I thought we were close enough to do without this nonsense. I may not be a Jedi... - she drew her braid back to cover the ruby, a token of marriage in her culture, - but I don't need to be one to know what you feel. You'll never realise why you felt like this. Why you weren't relieved. You'll never know that, Blue Sword.

Chatter and clattering of glasses filled the air, and in a strange way it was like waking up, like coming back home - only it was no longer home, because home was everywhere, and…

- Thank you, - Lu's voice cut through his wandering thoughts.

- Whatever for?

Lu just smiled cryptically, watching her - he lost count, really, so whatever - drink sizzle in its glass.

- For telling me.

- Telling you? Telling you what?

- Well, not so literally. You never were good with words. But as I said, Blue Sword, - she looked up from her glass and smiled, looking more carefree than Tur had ever seen her in years, - you'll never know.