Obi-Wan rose at dawn, his body stiff from sleeping on the floor. He groaned as he stood up, his joints letting out cracks in protest. Lorna was already awake and preparing their morning meal at the kitchenette.
"Oh… sorry if I woke you," she murmured, setting two plates on the table. "I thought I'd take breakfast duty today. Bread and jerky. Again." Her hands fidgeted at her sides self-consciously and she shrugged. "There isn't much else," she added with a nervous laugh.
He couldn't help but smile in appreciation of her thoughtfulness.
"It's quite alright, this is my usual wake-up time. Very kind of you to prepare our meal." He sat at the table with her and then, his eyes crinkling with amusement, he added, "The next crop of pallies and tatoes will be ready soon, and then we'll have a proper feast."
He watched in bemused silence as she made quick work of her meal, cleaning up her dishes before he had even finished. "In a hurry to get somewhere?"
"I'm eager to begin my training," she said.
It was hard not to find her sincere enthusiasm endearing, but the reminder of what he'd agreed to made his smile falter.
"Ah, yes. Well, first, we have chores to do," he explained.
"Shouldn't we spend time in meditation first, to center ourselves for the day?" she asked.
Her mention of morning meditation was unsurprising; it had been standard practice in the Order to start each day with quiet connection to the Force. He had maintained this habit since arriving on Tatooine, finding it essential for managing the complex emotions left in the wake of Anakin's betrayal. The prospect of sharing this vulnerable state with Lorna gave him pause, but he relented.
"Of course," he said, gesturing to the door.
The first of the suns had barely crested the horizon when Obi-Wan led Lorna out of his hut. He led her to a wide, flat slab of sandstone at the top of the ridge on which his home was situated. He sat cross-legged on the stone facing the rocky valley below, and she followed, lowering herself next to him. The crisp chill of early morning air filled his lungs as he inhaled deeply, catching the mineralized scent of sand.
He closed his eyes and opened his mind to the Force, expanding his awareness to the world around him. As the day's first rays of sunlight warmed his face, he could pinpoint every grain of sand beneath him. He noted the eopie's contented presence as it chewed its feed. The Force showed him his garden, plants soaking in sunlight and drawing nutrients from the water washing over their roots. A few remained unsatisfied, reaching hungrily for sustenance—a reminder to add more nutrient powder to the system later.
He shifted his focus to Lorna, familiarizing himself with her Force signature, noting the gentle pulse of her spirit. He tested her mental barriers. They were surprisingly solid. She returned the gesture, meeting his own mental wall. An unspoken understanding flowed between them—neither were letting the other in, for the moment.
Though faint from this distance, he could sense the boy he had been tasked with protecting. Luke's presence in the Force was a beacon of hope, untainted by the darkness that had consumed his father.
Obi-Wan's stomach twisted as he thought of the boy's parents. There is no death, there is the Force, he reminded himself. Padmé and Anakin were part of the Force now. Their suffering ended. He acknowledged the pain that clung to him, then let the Force sweep it away like detritus in a flood.
A shuffling movement pulled him back to the present. He opened his eyes to see Lorna rolling her head in a wide circle, as if stretching her neck. Her shield prevented him from sensing anything, but she must not have been meditating deeply if she was fidgeting so much.
"Are you ready to begin today's work, Lorna?"
"Yes, Obi—Ben."
He walked Lorna through his daily routine, beginning with the hydroponic garden. He gestured to the intricate system of pipes and reservoirs as he retrieved a packet of powder from a storage container nearby.
"The plants grow in a nutrient-rich water solution instead of soil," Obi-Wan explained, opening the lid of a reservoir and pouring the nutrient powder in. "It's more efficient and uses less water than traditional farming."
She pointed to a row of vines bearing a green fruit that twirled up a makeshift trellis he had constructed. "What are these?"
"Pallies," he replied. "They're native to Tatooine. Quite nutritious, actually."
A crease appeared between her eyebrows as she digested this. "But if they're native, why grow them hydroponically? Couldn't they survive in the desert?"
He nodded. "They could, but they'd require more water and yield less fruit. This way, we maximize our resources. Plus, pallies only grow naturally during Tatooine's cooler season when there is slightly more moisture. If it weren't for this setup, I would have to wait several more weeks to grow them."
"I see," she said, her eyes brightening with understanding.
Her attention didn't waver once as he demonstrated each homestead duty, from checking the vaporator's storage cistern to changing the eopie's bedding. She was an astute learner, asking prescient questions and quickly proving an ability to perform the tasks. If she took to training with the Force as easily as she took to chores, his task would be simple.
The truth was that the chores were an excuse to postpone the training. He'd agreed to it out of compassion, understanding the girl's difficult situation and earnest desire to continue her path as a Jedi. Yet doubt gnawed at him.
He didn't think he would ever dislodge the guilt that had burrowed within him over Anakin's fate. A simmering anger burned alongside the guilt. When he needed help, his former Padawan had turned to a politician—who turned out to be a Sith Lord—rather than his own Master. What business did he have taking on another pupil when he had failed so spectacularly with Anakin?
With a deep breath, he released the anger that had been growing. He reminded himself that Lorna's presence here was only temporary. He would teach her what he could until she repaired her ship. Perhaps she would accomplish what she hoped with her training, perhaps not, but he wouldn't be responsible for what came after.
When the midday heat bore uncomfortably down upon them, he suggested a break from their work. Sweat had soaked through his tunic and a slick layer of sweat ran down his forehead. She had not once complained, but a quick glance at Lorna revealed she was in a similar state. They returned to the cool shade of his home.
It had been too long since he had last visited his cave near the Lars homestead and he hoped to make another trip. The boy's aunt and uncle had made it clear that they weren't comfortable with a former Jedi living nearby. They were meant to protect Luke, they argued, and that would be difficult with a wanted fugitive so close to their doorstep. But unbeknownst to Owen and Beru, he had staked out a cave from which he could clandestinely check up on things. Its secluded and covered nature also made it his favored spot for deep connection to the Force.
He wondered how to broach the subject with Lorna. He had no intention of divulging anything about Luke's identity or location, so taking her with him to the cave was out of the question.
"If it's alright with you, I'd like to use your fresher," she said as he was mulling over potential excuses. "It's been some time since I bathed and…" she trailed off awkwardly, eyes downcast.
"Oh. Yes, of course," Obi-Wan replied, suddenly aware of the opportunity her request presented. "Please, take your time. There should be enough water supply for a proper wash."
Obi-Wan's shoulders relaxed only to tense again a moment later as Lorna disappeared into the fresher. The sound of running water and the soft rustle of fabric from behind the closed door seemed to fill the small hut.
When he'd offered his hospitality to her, he hadn't considered the delicate nature of sharing such close quarters with a young, attractive woman. A slight flush darkened his cheeks as he heard her step into the shower through the hut's thin walls.
Stars, he wasn't some adolescent boy with little control over his baser instincts. He cleared his throat, gathering his composure as he found himself unnecessarily straightening items on the table.
He approached the fresher door. "Lorna," he called out, his voice carefully casual. "I just remembered I have an appointment to meet a local moisture farmer to trade some things this evening. Nothing too exciting, just some routine business."
"Oh, alright," came her muffled reply.
"I'll be back before nightfall," he added. "This way you can take care of your... ah, hygiene needs without worrying about privacy. Please, make yourself at home while I'm gone."
"Thank you," Lorna responded.
Obi-Wan quickly gathered his cloak and a few supplies. With one last glance at the fresher door, he left his once-solitary home, the heat in his cheeks having little to do with the suns bearing down on him.
By the time the entrance to his cave came into view, the suns were casting longer shadows across the sand. The cave entrance was situated at the base of a cliff that less than two klicks from the Lars homestead. With a pair of binoculars, he had a decent view of the moisture farm's above-ground structures, where he could sometimes catch glimpses of Beru carrying the infant Luke.
He was growing so fast. The last time he'd been here a few weeks ago, he had been privileged to witness from afar the boy taking his first teetering steps, stumbling out of Owen's arms and into Beru's. It had been a precious and rare moment of joy.
Taking the binoculars out of his pack, he focused the viewing lens on the farm. Owen was outside performing a repair on one of the homestead's vaporators, but he did not see Luke or Beru. He watched for another moment more, then headed into the cave. Inside, there was a stone bench carved by some long-gone previous inhabitant.
It was here that he had begun his attempts to contact his former Master's spirit in the Force.
"In your solitude on Tatooine, training I have for you," Master Yoda had told him. "How to commune with him, I will teach you."
Obi-Wan settled himself on the stone bench, his legs folding naturally into a familiar meditative posture. As his eyes drifted closed, his breathing slowed to a deep, steady rhythm. The cave's cool stillness enveloped him. Master Yoda's teaching echoed in his mind: this task would demand a level of meditation far beyond any he had previously achieved.
Thus far, his attempts had been unsuccessful.
As he sank deeper into meditation, the specters of his pain and guilt emerged to haunt him. One by one, memories of past wounds rose to the surface of his consciousness. Satine's lifeless body hung limp in his arms, her warmth fading. Anakin's eyes glowing yellow and twisted with rage. Qui-Gon's stoic face distorted with shock as Darth Maul's blade pierced his abdomen.
With each painful memory, he let the accompanying emotions break against him, then recede into the Force. The tide of memories seemed endless.
He summoned his will and discipline to wrench his focus to the present and slowly the storm of his grief began to diminish. Like sunbeams piercing through storm clouds, thoughts of Luke and the hope he represented for the future broke through his dark mood. Unbidden, he found his mind also drifting to Lorna. Though he still had reservations about taking her as a pupil, her unexpected tenacity and commitment to the Jedi stirred a faint warmth within him.
At last, he achieved a sense of stillness.
Qui-Gon , he called out through the Force. Guide me .
He was met only with silence.
When he opened his eyes, the cave had dimmed as the suns descended towards the horizon. He mounted the eopie with a tightness in his chest that remained with him all the way back to his home.