Epilogue. Counting Sunsets
City views from the Jedi Temple were truly a fascinating sight, Obi-Wan thought idly, knowing he was probably late to get where he was supposed to be and at the same time not caring a slightest bit. The swarm of traffic has always fascinated him from the days he wandered the halls as a crècheling. It wrapped around his thoughts as an unending flow of innumerable particles, a constant motion, like the Force. Like the future. Though today that future seemed just a little more settled, he smiled wryly, his hands going to where his new cloak was fastened with a clasp at his neck.
He was a Knight now. After years and years of impatience - not truly worthy of a Jedi, Yoda would have said - the dream of his entire life had finally come true. Strangely, he still had not decided how to feel about it. He remembered the burning desire to be finally chosen as a padawan to train, and the disappointment that came after, the bitter sense of rejection that seeped through anything remotely good in his life. Then, the constant struggle which his days with Rhad brought, the terror, the inescapable helplessness, the ever-growing wish to make his destiny and the impossible choice that came with it. And then, there was Tur. It was positively unjust towards Qui-Gon who trained him, tolerated his adolescent ambitions and actually helped him do something about them, - but - with all due respect, Master, - there were bonds of other kind, brought by accident and necessity, and running deeper than even blood can. Tur was not his Master. And yet in a way he was. Tur was - somewhat of an anchor. A constant. A friend. Someone who would listen to his rambling accounts of missions gone wrong, of lifes he failed to save, and who would somehow make it right. Not literally, of course, but around Qui-Gon, he had to be a padawan, a future Knight. Around Tur, it was more than natural to remain whoever he was, and surprisingly - or not - Tur knew who in fact he was at that given moment. But then, Obi-Wan was sure he knew pretty much everything.
They have all had a busy month, with the usual diplomatic crises, and babysitting royals, and settling all kinds of unrest. He was not the only one who had earned the title, and with pretty much all newly knighted padawans eager to leave on much more serious and important missions - as if the title gave them so much more weight - they all had their ceremonies that morning. Tonight was their brief get-together, a "Jedi pub crawl" as Garen - already a Knight for a couple of years (damn bureaucracy, chuckled Obi-Wan) - called it, though it only involved a single, though cosy, spot ("That means you need to get smashed enough in one bar to be able to crawl out of it. Have to justify the name", - Garen had said authoritatively with such a convincing deadpan that the four of them had howled with laughter right in the middle of the crowded canteen).
Goodness, time really flew by like those hovercrafts disappearing like a thousand lightning bugs in the distance, so busy in their colourful bustle. None of the three would be here tonight. It was not like they had forgotten him - the news of the ceremony came too suddenly, and they were all too far away to make it. Bant was on some fancy assignment, sending him holos in ballgowns and updos according to the positively ridiculous local fashion which she managed to make so much fun of that if any local stuck-up politician had found out, he would have sent the entire Jedi order packing. Reeft had landed a classified job, and whether he couldn't very well tell any of them about the mission itself, he engaged in non-stopping tirades on the one thing that wasn't as classified as the rest - food. The way he talked about it, though still falling short of giving a spark to a revolution, sure inspired a trip to the canteen, if that was at all in the cards. Garen became a character of rumours and whispers - too smart to give the Council an actual concern about Jedi celibacy, he still did not completely waste the time spent in underground bars around females who would knock you dead with a glance before you offer to trade for secrets. He was the one who managed to hang around Coruscant much more often than others but today, Force would have it, he was his elbows deep in some Outer Rim emergency.
Obi-Wan leaned his forehead on the window pane, his gaze growing unfocused with the proximity of the glass. One could stay like this for ages, gaze at the sky, get lost in the perpetual motion that somehow was the ultimate serenity even if nobody had ever known of the Force.
- I must say, that is a very unusual pose for meditation.
The door to the quarter hissed open and closed, and Obi-Wan could almost see the good-natured smirk on the speaker' face.
- I must say, Master, the code to one's quarters should really come with a burning desire to knock first.
- Don't call me that, - Tur crossed the room in a few strides and leaned his forearms on the window. - Makes me feel ordinary.
- Well, you have to accept that you are just an old and completely ordinary hero. It's not as if everyone wants to study from you.
The older man raised his eyes to the ceiling, a mock groan escaping his lips.
- Please don't remind me. Trust me, Saahta is more than enough than a mess hall full of apprentices.
The little fireball of a Togruta was living proof that the smarts very often came with a penchant for causing as much mischief as possible, and Tur, though feigning annoyance with all the grief she was causing him, must have realised deep inside that in her, he had met his match. He was not officially her Master, and she not even formally his apprentice, but Saahta managed to pester Tur with questions every single moment available and hang around his working space in the capacity of a local fixture.
- You're a good teacher.
Tur shook his head and laughed.
- Please spare me, I've told the Council time and again I'm not fit to teach anyone.
- Too bad you didn't make that important disclosure when you were training me on that planet - what was the name, I can't quite recall?
- Sith, kid, - Tur exclaimed exasperatedly, - are you practising your diplomatic speech or are you hiding from a couple of very scary drinks? - Tur's voice dropped to a low dramatic whisper, and after a pause the two exploded with laughter.
Obi-Wan unstuck his forehead from the window - ouch, that stung - and stepped away, leaning his back on the wall.
- I'm beat. I was thinking of just going to bed or something, - suddenly he was bone-tired, a lazy detachment spreading all over him.
- Can't handle a little excitement?
- Stop it, if you go down to the bars, doesn't mean I have to.
- You know I only go there to meet my friends.
- … who happen to be happily married women.
- Woman, - corrected Tur with a mock seriousness which made Obi-Wan snicker.
A comfortable silence settled in the room, and neither of them spoke for a while. Finally, Tur cut to the chase.
- Alright, mind telling me why you don't want to enjoy yourself for an evening?
- You know there's nothing for me there. Besides, I'm too old.
- Now that, - Tur raised his finger in the air, - is an insult. Are you implying I'm ancient in that case? Let's take out our lightsabers and find out.
- You don't have a lightsaber, - grinned Obi-Wan.
- And you don't have to try to distract me from the topic. As you've so kindly reminded me, I'm far too old for that.
Obi-Wan sighed, carding his hand through his hair.
- I don't know. My friends are off-world. I don't really mix well.
- I see, - Tur drawled sagely. - You've been a Knight for a matter of hours and already you despise your fellow creatures. They bore you to death. No shame in admitting that.
- I don't drink.
- Neither do I.
- Really? Then how do all those shots disappear from your glass?
- You know the Force works in mysterious ways, - Tur rubbed his hands briskly and shook out his robes. - Anyway, come on, let's go for a walk. I can't in good conscience let you sulk out here.
- I wasn't sulking.
- Fine, contemplating the utter futility of existence, the ultimate loneliness of the annoying little thing called life, and the hard lot Force has piled on your sorry hide. Come.
The hallways were empty as they walked, steps echoing, sounds bouncing back against the walls. A pleasant wave of fresh evening air blew in their faces as they stepped out of the Temple. It felt good outside. There was something about getting out of your room, after all, some kind of a completely illogical impression of everything being more alright than it could ever be.
Tur led the way, and Obi-Wan just followed, not paying much attention to the surroundings. An almost imperceptible feeling, fleeting but still tangible, hovered at his temple, and he suppressed a shudder at the insistent recollection forced upon him by some twisted trick of his mind that would never let him completely forget. He was cured. The healers said so. Tur said so. But there were traces, lingering, impossible to root out like vines that ran so deep inside old walls they became part of them. No, bad analogy. He couldn't ever accept that anything that had to do with Rhad could ever be a part of him. "Nothing binds better…- "
- If all I did was drag you out of your room to sulk elsewhere, I must be doing a very poor job. Hey. Hey, can you hear me?
With a start, Obi-Wan realised they had stopped, felt the warm weight of Tur's large hands on his shoulders, which he shrugged off, walking ahead, anything so as not to meet the man's concerned gaze.
- I'm fine. Come on. Aren't were supposed to be going somewhere?
Tur caught up with him in a couple of long strides.
- Both you and I know you are not exactly fine. Don't think I don't notice how you're spacing out. That's why I'm here.
- What, you'd abandon me if I didn't need your help? - Obi-Wan quipped.
- You know, you must be spending too much time around me. I didn't remember teaching you to deflect like that.
- It works, isn't it?
- Not really. It's perfectly fine to remember everything, you know. But that's over. That's the past. And even though it can very well hurt you, it's a ghost. It can't reach you here anymore.
- I know. But. Well… You know how it is.
- I do. That's why I brought you here.
Obi-Wan looked ahead, finally becoming fully conscious of where they were. They were standing in the middle of a hilltop garden, and in front of them the ground was falling away steeply, opening up a glorious landscape soaked in the peach-orange glow of the gently sinking sun. The lightest wind filled in what would otherwise have been white noise, and this noise somehow was orange, warm and gentle and comforting.
- I know you'd like this place. Mayte was the same. She'll drag me here as if I couldn't kiss her as well anywhere else.
Obi-Wan didn't find any answer to that. His thoughts floated in the pools of light filling the air. Shadows grew longer, moving, changing, light playing with the dark which, after all, was but its own reflection. Leave it to Tur to speak of the most mundane things, as if it was completely normal. As if Tur himself did not wake up in the middle of the night, roused from an uneasy sleep by some past terror, or did not spend occasional evenings locked up in his quarters, alone with an old holo, tampering with his security access so that even Obi-Wan, after having summoned the support of some Temple whiz-kid who he'd bullied into assisting him, could not get through ("I shouldn't really let Lu teach Tur that", - Obi-Wan thought suddenly, - "she should know better"). As if the name was simply a whisper of wind in the treetops, weightless, distilled by years of any emotion. What Obi-Wan did not know was that Tur did not wish to explain to him yet how it was the only way for him to survive. Sometimes the most mundane things were the only ones to hold on to.
- It's nice, huh? - for some reason Tur sounded obviously happy, in his own childishly delirious way completely incompatible with his age, a slow smile loud and clear in his voice filled with some quiet satisfied wonder.
- I can't believe you haven't shown this to me before.
Hovercrafts passed high in the sky above their heads. The golden glory of the evening ruled in its supreme gorgeousness over the sweeping land ahead, and the sky was larger than life, so huge you could drown in it like in a bunch of oversized robes.
- I needed a unique gift for your knighthood, - Tur shrugged. - How do those robes fit?
The question felt somehow so ridiculously out of place here that Obi-Wan started laughing despite himself. Maybe it was his body that was laughing independently of his mind, drawing in huge gulps of air and forcing them out till tears sprang to his eyes, something breaking loose inside him and leaving him so free he was light-headed at the realisation, like he'd be carried away by the wind if the gravity was not strong enough. And then he could finally speak.
- Pretty good, - Obi-Wan grinned, touching the hem of his new cloak, the wind playing with the cloth. - Pretty good.