Disclaimer: Characters portrayed within belong to George Lucas
and LucasFilm. And he didn't treat them any better than I am.
Categories: Angst
WARNING: Character death! (Yes, *that* one)
Rating: PG-13 for slashiness, no smut
Summary: Obi-Wan reflects on his Master's eyes.
Feedback: to rangerk8@home.com
Acknowledgment - All hail to the Goddess Kirby, who in her most
poetic and magnanimous fashion ("Yeah, sure Laz - coolness."),
gave me permission to use the Title of this story, borrowed
from her magnificent "The Bitter Glass". The story is in no way
a sequel to, or part of, her mythos - I just liked the title
<g>.
Acknowledgment #2 - Many thanks and chocolate Qui-Gons to
Lilith, my first beta reader and ObiTorture expert, and to
Black Rose for second beta, help in cutting the fat, and
keeping me up all night in #jedivamp.
Acknowledgment #3 -The "wise Jedi Master" quoted below is
actually Richard Bach, in his book "Illusions". I heartily
recommend it for all students of Jedi philosophy, as I have no
doubt that Richard was a wise Master somewhere, a long time
ago, in a galaxy far, far away.
There are two of them, actually.
Two centers to my universe.
Dark, deep, soul-searing blue.
They contain all the secrets of my universe - they see all the
secrets of my heart. I am powerless to resist their slightest
whim, their lightest fancy. When they are turned on me, I am
immobile, pinned like a collected insect for some biologist's
assemblage. Nor do I wish to be free.
I have been free - I rejected it. Freedom to me was a bitter
herb, and it would have poisoned me as surely as anything an
assassin ever used on his victim. It tasted like ashes in my
mouth, killing my wish to survive, much less succeed. As I look
back at myself then, I see a young boy whose dearest dream was
dying by inches, murdered by his own lack of confidence in
himself and an unwillingness to accept fate. That boy had no
dreams left, and wanted to die, as if his death could bring his
dreams back to life.
But deep beneath the surface of the world I had decided would
be my tomb, two blazing eyes came out of the darkness, and
their owner called me "Padawan." They told me to follow them,
out of the Darkness and into the Light. Like a sunseeker flower
at dawn, I had no choice but to pursue the light - drawn by a
strange new instinctive knowledge that this man would be
everything to me.
A wise Jedi Master whose name has been lost to time once said,
"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but
of respect and joy in each others life. Rarely do members of
one family grow up under the same roof." These eyes told me
that he was my family, the only family I would ever want or
need. He would be my teacher, my guide, my mentor - my Master.
As I grew older, those eyes followed me - lightsaber practice,
classroom lessons, athletic competitions, daily mediation,
philosophic and political discussions, studying in the Great
Library, laughing in the dinner hall with friends. They studied
my every move, judging and weighing both my accomplishments and
my failures. They missed nothing, and could reward or punish me
with a simple look. I quickly learned the difference between
the shine of approval, the twinkle of amusement, and the shadow
of disappointment. I worked hard for the first two, and feared
the last more than any physical punishment that could have been
inflicted on me.
When was 19 word came that a yearmate of his had been killed on
a mission. Those eyes closed pain and he retreated to the stone
garden, motioning me to follow him. Master Lierthea's death
saddened me also, for she had been my first instructor in
political science. She was a large, blunt woman with masses of
wild red hair and a wide face that smiled all of the time, even
while she was pointing out that you had just flunked the
simulation by confusing Malastaire with Rodia and creating an
interplanetary incident.
We sat and contemplated the rock arrangements until sunset,
when he told me that my teacher had been his lover for a time
just before they had both taken their trials. I thought about
the code, and almost reflexively started to quote the last line
to him. Then I felt something inside me stir, and instead moved
to kneel behind my Master. As I touched him gently on the
shoulder, I felt his shields go down, then reform around the
two of us. Slowly, gently, I offered my happy memories of her,
while inviting him to share his with me - and to share his pain
as well. Somewhere in that process, I opened my arms and drew
him in unprotesting, offering what solace I could. And for the
only time in my memory, I saw my Master's eyes fill with tears.
After that, they never left me. Oh, physically they did - even
he had to sleep sometime. But always they watched me through
our nexus - letting me know that I was special to him, that he
was depending on me to exercise my skills to the utmost and
become the best I knew how to be. Only then would I see the
gleam of satisfaction in my mind, like an image of twin
starstones.
And then one day, I saw something in them I had not expected -
desire.
I knew that he loved me - of that there had never been any
doubt - with the love of a father, a teacher, and a friend all
at once. I also knew I loved him in return in the same fashion.
He had become my family in truth, and I could not have been any
closer to him if I had been the son of his body. My own family
were strangers to me, visited only when a well-meaning
counselor at the temple reminded me that I should see them now
and again.
But the look I surprised that day was new from him - warm,
anxious, inviting, hopeful. While he was not the first to look
at me in that manner, once I had seen it in those eyes I was
blind to all others. I looked back at him with silent
acceptance and wonder in my own, and laid my heart in his
hands, receiving his in exchange.
Those beautiful dark blue eyes, the color of the focus jewels
in my lightsaber, now revealed so many things to me - almost
black with want and need, clear and calm in acceptance, shining
with our love. They frequented my dreams, sometimes guarding me
from nightmares, sometimes enticing me to love play so intense
I would cry out my ecstasy in sleep as loudly as I ever did in
his arms.
In our travels as Master and Padawan, I learned many things
from those eyes. Thoughtfulness and concentration in
negotiations, patience in overcoming obstacles to his goals.
Sometimes a slyness would creep in when he knew he had the
upper hand in his games of diplomacy. And when diplomacy broke
down, I learned another set of lessons from them - courage,
audacity, and determination to win the battle set before us;
serenity and graciousness in victory; calm acceptance in rare
defeat.
The one thing I never saw in my Master's eyes was fear. Not
even on this day, when all of my fears came crashing in on me
at once. When the Sith's lightsaber went through his body,
those eyes taught me yet another lesson - in surprise, even
shock - but not fear.
Now, as I crouch over him, his head in my lap, they grow dimmer
each moment. There is sorrow there, for he does not wish to
leave me any more than I wish him to. But there is also a
strange look in them I do not recognize, as if he was looking
somewhere behind his own eyes - and I realize that he is
looking not into himself, but into the wider realm of the
Force, where he is about to go.
Suddenly those eyes focus on me one last time, burning onto my
heart all he has not the time to say. With words, he asks me to
train the boy. But the important things between us are said
with our eyes. And then the light in them is gone, as I feel
his soul merge with the energy he has spent his life serving.
And for the first time in my life, I am no longer able to look
in my Masters eyes.
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