The Jedi Temple on Z'enbarr is as beautiful as always,
isolated in the nearly untouched jungles of this lush world. I
question, though, if I have made the right decision coming
here. I thought the tranquility and solitude might help bring
me peace. Instead, this place seems haunted by your ghost,
haunted by the memories of the times we spent here together in
the past.
Now...it is all in the past.
I tried to honor you, show them you had trained me well. I put
on my best face to meet them all, the other Jedi, as they
offered their condolences. I nodded and acknowledged them, over
and over, though every meeting and ceremony that has passed
since... since then. I heard their words reminding me that
there is no reason to grieve, because you have merely rejoined
the Force, as we all will someday. I try to find comfort in
such thoughts, but it is hard...so very hard, Qui-Gon.
How can I find comfort in this emptiness I feel, without you?
In the cold nights alone, when you die again every night in my
dreams--my nightmares--and I am helpless to do anything but
watch, replay every moment. Every mistake. If I had not fallen,
if we had not been separated...
I let you down, when you needed me at your side, acting as
one. I don't think I can ever forgive myself, even knowing you
would not want me to carry this guilt.
So many regrets...so much yet to say, to do. I have passed the
trials, but without you there to see me when I became a full
Knight, it was a hollow moment at best. Not the victory I
always dreamed of, where at last I could look to you and feel
as if I were truly on my way to being your equal. We would
celebrate and share our joy, looking toward the future...one
that is no longer possible. I can't see any future, any reason
for one, not without you.
The stars outside my window are blurred by the tears which
will not stop falling. Not in the night, not when this
emptiness is all I can feel, and I know I would sacrifice
anything for the chance to have you near me just once more.
I am a danger to myself, now. And to the boy even more so, I
fear. Anakin deserves a better master than I can be for him. I
take him on as my padawan, as I gave you my word I would...yet
how can I teach him when I am so broken inside? How can I bond
with him as is required, when I can barely channel the Force
within myself, to heal my own wounds?
I sense a presence nearby--for the briefest moment, hope fills
me that it could somehow be you. But I turn from the window and
see only the boy, standing in the doorway to the chamber,
looking at me with concern.
"I'm sorry, master," he apologizes quickly, seeing he has
surprised me.
'Master.' So odd to hear someone call me that. It makes me
feel even more lost.
"No, I'm sorry, Anakin," I answer, once I gain control of my
voice, slow my ragged breaths. I thought putting him in a
separate room to sleep would keep him from feeling my anguish.
Mere stone walls, apparently, are insufficient to shield him
from my pain, given his powers.
"You miss him. Qui-Gon."
Why do I feel a surge of anger just hearing him speak your
name? Foolish, childish. I try to let go of the anger before it
can build, and answer him only with a simple, "Yes."
He walks toward me, sits on the edge of the bed. "I miss my
mother. Especially at night. I know it's not the same..."
No, it isn't. I have lost half my soul, and all of my heart.
"I didn't think anything could kill a Jedi. What happens to a
Jedi when he dies?"
"He rejoins the Force, no longer simply a conduit for its
interaction with our world," I answer by rote. "His strength
becomes the strength of the Jedi as a whole."
Anakin considers this, but says nothing. The weight of my
responsibilities rests so heavy on me when I look at him. It
would be difficult enough, taking on any padawan who has not
had the benefit of schooling in the Temple. I must teach him
everything myself, now, and with only the reluctant support of
the Council. And he is not just any padawan. I still question
your belief he is the Chosen One, but I cannot deny the power
of the Force within him. I cannot let it frighten me...yet it
is a struggle.
"We have both been through a great deal, in a very short
period of time, Anakin. It will take time to adjust. Forgive
your master if I need to heal my own wounds, before I can fully
give myself to you as I need to. And I will..."
...Whatever is left of me to give.
"...I promise you that, as I promised Qui-Gon."
He looks at me, then wraps his arms about my neck, hugging me
tightly for a moment. You were right--he gives without thought,
trying to offer me support when I am the one who is supposed to
be strong. I am thankful when he pulls away before my emotional
control breaks once more.
"Good night, Obi-Wan. Master," he corrects himself quickly as
he slips off the bed.
"Good night, Anakin." I watch him pad softly out of the
chamber, then turn my eyes back to the window, to the stars
flickering in the midnight sky.
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