Summary: Destiny is changed because of what cannot be said.
Feedback: All comments are welcomed. destinaf@hotmail.com
Notes: I wrote this last year, but it's only now being posted,
for various reasons. This one is dark and sad, and angsty...all
my favorite things. And it does follow canon...in a way.
I.
When the darkness burst open inside me, I embraced it with the
abandon of a neglected lover. I fused with it, melted into it,
became a core of fear and rage which burned more brightly than
ordinary evil could withstand. I struck apart my enemy without
a second thought, stood and watched him fall, loathing him and
his kind, celebrating his death with satisfaction and bitter
joy.
Killing him once was not enough to erase my hatred.
Slowly, my senses returned to the world beyond my private
battle, and I heard the labored, shallow breathing of a man
sinking towards death. I ran to kneel beside my teacher, crying
out for him, refusing to acknowledge the specter of loss
hovering over my heart. I collected Qui-Gon into my arms, a
great warrior suddenly shattered into fragments, and laid my
open hand against his face. He felt the fierce longing for
revenge pouring out of me, saw it clearly like vivid whorls of
scarlet and black painted across the surface of my grief,
overlaid with blood. I made no effort to hide my emotions from
my Master.
A soft touch to my face, and his dying consciousness exploded
into my mind, a furious mix of condemnation and love. He saw
the edge I walked without regret, the shadows that whispered of
my outrage, and withdrew immediately, having seen enough. All
that which had been was obliterated. The shape of what was to
come was changed in that moment.
He knew how I had failed, and he gave me only a moment's
comfort, a fleeting impression of love too faint to ease the
bruises on my heart. No consolation, no words of affirmation to
mark the passion he had freely shared with me. Only an entreaty
to train the damned boy, the child whose path was mine to shape
as I chose. Perhaps he hoped reason would reassert itself in
duty. My heart grew cold with my promise. The touch of his long
fingers where his hand rested over mine provided the only
warmth I could sense, and too soon, they began to cool.
All light was extinguished within me as he exhaled his last
breath.
Horror choked me, prevented the screams from tearing their way
out, even as they clawed at the back of my throat, washed down
with sobs. I was immobile, kneeling over the only person who'd
ever valued me, bitterly calling his name without words,
reaching out for the spirit which had fled his body. I shook
his corpse in desperate fury when I heard no reply.
When they found us there by the melting pit, I was frozen into
a crouched state of bewilderment. Vague voices grazed my ears,
but the words did not penetrate to a place of understanding.
Only the firm grip of Captain Panaka's hand on my shoulder
broke through, and still I would not be moved. They separated
us by force, finally, and once begun, I allowed it; I had no
will of my own. I saw the Queen's eyes on me, full of the
sadness of a thousand deaths, and I looked away, preferring not
to know her pain.
I was taken to a secluded place, a room in the depths of the
massive palace, where I could mourn my Master away from the
curious eyes of the populace. I lay trembling on the bed I'd
shared with my love, filled with venom that had no release. I
poisoned my own soul that night, reveling in my hate, relishing
the caustic taste of havoc. I incessantly relived the moment I
struck the Sith Lord down, wishing the moment back so I might
kill him more slowly, inflict grievous wounds which would never
heal - not unlike my own. The night passed, one second at a
time, each moment eternal and unceasing. Near dawn, cocooned in
an anguished haze, I succumbed to the exhaustion that follows
wrath.
The first of the dreams wrapped itself around me in those early
morning hours, insidious and soft, stealing underneath my
defenses with unfamiliar trickery. I did not know I was
dreaming, for my mind had not crossed the barrier of
acceptance. I was part of an untainted world manufactured out
of my fondest memories, where I walked beside my Master in
contented peace. I marked the shadings of significance that
hung between the words, suspended in the ethereal place between
madness and forgiveness...
~~~~I walked through the Temple Gardens with my new Master,
still basking in the wonder of having been chosen as his
Padawan. Qui-Gon turned his head and looked at me with eyes the
color of indigo tears. "Why so quiet, Obi-Wan?"
"I was reflecting on one of my lessons, Master. Fear leads to
anger, anger leads to hate, hate is the path to the Dark Side."
I spoke the words with the rote simplicity of faith.
Qui-Gon stretched out a hand and stopped my forward motion, and
I knew at once he was disappointed. As I had so often in those
early days together, and in all the days which followed, I
touched his mind with mine and understood his question. "And
are you never afraid, Padawan?"
"Sometimes, Master," I admitted, unwilling to hide the truth
from him. He knew me so well, it seemed, and would know
instantly if I deceived him.
"And are you never angry?"
"A Jedi must master his anger, never allow it to dominate his
decisions. Or a part of the Dark Side will he be."
My Master did not smile at my impression of Master Yoda. A
cold, creeping sense of wrongness trickled down my spine, and
the swirling blue in my Master's eyes became the darkness which
had claimed me.
"And tell me, Padawan, will you now heed the teachings I gave
my life to illustrate?" Still staring at my Master's face,
hungry for a glimpse of him, I was sucked backwards out of that
place of small comfort. I moved unsteadily through the colored
corridors of unbearable need; I resisted returning to the
waking world, preferring a dead Master to none at all.~~~~
I woke, screaming.
Even then, I had only the vaguest notion of the price I was to
pay for my foray into darkness.
II.
Days merged into nights, and back again, meaningless and alike,
distinguished only by the singular events which defined them. A
day to take the Trials, to find them simple compared to the
duel being waged among my emotions; to have the rank of Knight
conferred upon me, and receive my thousandth lecture from
Master Yoda. A day to stand beside my Master's funeral pyre and
see him consigned to the inferno, while I made an implied
promise to the boy, and felt the words falling flat within
sorrow. Yet another day to dress Anakin as my Padawan, to cut
his hair and impatiently weave together a braid at the side of
his head, to hear his incessant chatter until I thought I would
strangle him.
And still one more day, a day to stand before Master Windu as
he asked me thoughtful, musing questions, driving toward a
point which apparently was not for me to comprehend.
"Are you rested, Obi-Wan?" He used my name familiarly; he had
known me since the day I entered the Academy, and could take
such liberties with formality.
"I am well enough, Master Windu." To my own ears, my voice
sounded overly strong, biting. I chafed under the necessity of
this interview, wondering why I'd been summoned.
Windu looked at me curiously, catching wisps of my impatience.
He allowed a silence to fall between us, watching as my
agitation grew in the absence of conversation, and let the
emotion fester. Like a skilled surgeon, he cut straight to the
heart of the issue. "Qui-Gon's death is a tragedy for all of
us, but you loved him most of all." A pause, then gently:
"Didn't you, Obi-Wan?"
Defiantly, I raised my head. "It is so, Master Windu. We were
lovers. I'll not apologize for it now."
"Did I ask for apologies?" His voice was suddenly sharp.
"No, but-"
"That will do, young Jedi." He continued to scrutinize me with
an expression I found difficult to interpret.
I suppose I should have understood the implied rebuke for what
it was; not an accusation of wrongdoing, but gentle chiding for
allowing my love to overrun my mastery of my emotions. I
refused to make sense of it. I clenched my jaws together and
waited.
"Have you seen your Master since his death, Obi-Wan?" The
question was asked casually, as though we were discussing the
price of vegetables in the market.
"Have I-" I began incredulously, then broke off. I took a deep
breath and reached deep within myself for calm. "My Master is
dead."
"*Have you seen him?*" Windu's smooth voice was insistent. "Or
heard him speaking to you?"
My stomach dropped as the world slid sideways underneath me,
taking away the foundations of truth. All the legends of Jedi
Masters becoming one with the Force, returning to guide the
living, all the old stories couldn't possibly be true...it
couldn't be...
I found myself guided to a chair by Master Windu, who seemed
mildly alarmed by the cold sweat on my body. "I take it you've
grasped the reason for my questions," he said quietly.
I nodded. Finding my voice proved difficult. Finding the words,
more difficult still. "In a dream," I managed, hearing my voice
crack. "Only once."
"It may not have been your Master truly speaking," Windu said,
cautioning me. "The mind sometimes protects itself from grief
by creating mirages. What did this dream entail?"
"I was...we were in the gardens at the Temple, just after I
turned thirteen...and..." I felt as though a hand had closed
around my throat, preventing me from breathing. "Qui-Gon asked
if I had ever been afraid, ever been angry...and he asked when
I would learn the lessons he died...for..." My voice trailed
off into nothingness, squeezed out by the lack of air in my
lungs, and I put my hand up to wipe my face.
I felt Master Windu reaching out with the living Force, trying
to uncover the meaning of the words my Master had spoken,
looking for something to indicate that Qui-Gon had walked
inside my mind. It felt strange to have a Jedi Master
performing the same manipulations within me that I'd tried a
hundred times or more with strangers. At last, he fixed me with
that same probing gaze, and said, "I do not know if it was your
Master, Obi-Wan. I do, however, believe that he will try to
guide you, in some fashion." His expression softened. "As my
Master returned to guide me."
"So it's true," I said faintly, not daring to allow my heart to
take the leap of belief until I was sure. "The legends are
true."
"Yes, to an extent. You've no doubt heard it whispered in the
Temple all your life. Some Jedi Masters become one with the
Force, and they are able to appear...in some form...to those
closest to them. Qui-Gon was certainly powerful enough to have
made this transition. The Council expected something a bit more
concrete as proof, however."
I opened my mouth to ask a thousand questions, but was struck
dumb with the next thought that passed through my mind. *I
failed him, and he will not appear.*
"You fear his anger." As if he'd plucked the thought out of
thin air, Master Windu confronted me.
"No, I..." I struggled to sort out the impressions cascading
through me, confusion overriding everything. "Not his anger. I
was less than he expected." My words were halting, every
shameful syllable seemingly ripped from me. "I gave in to my
hate." Master Windu said nothing, and I realized he was waiting
for me to finish. The facts were open sores on my integrity,
but I probed them, bringing forth the pain and doubt anew. "I
hate, Master." Only a whisper, then, for the emotion was
magnified by the sound of the words. "*I hate.*"
Quietly, Master Windu centered me. "It is not your hate which
concerns me, Obi-Wan. It is your reluctance to release it. You
cling to it like a shield, one you think will protect you
against your Master's disappointment, against the loss you
feel. It will not."
"I know, Master." Barely audible, I acknowledged the wisdom he
shared with me. "I also know Qui-Gon. I feel an emptiness...he
is not with me." As I said the words, the certainty clicked
into place.
*I failed him, and he will not appear.*
"Perhaps you are wrong," Master Windu suggested. "Open your
heart to him, to the possibility that he is with you, Obi-Wan,
and surrender your hate."
I raised my face to his then, aware of what was burning in my
eyes, not caring. "Hate is all I have left," I said, watching
the effects of my honesty as Windu retreated a step, folding
his arms into his cloak.
"That is unfortunate," he said. "And it will have
repercussions, for you and for your Padawan. You cannot be
allowed to train the boy until you have mastered the darkness
within you."
Ah, yes -- the boy. Anakin held no special place in my heart. I
had promised to train him. Not to love him, not to open my
heart, not to give anything of myself.
At that moment, I entered into a covenant with my own demons.
If Qui-Gon would not return to show his love for me, I would
give only what was required to the boy. Nothing more. I would
never be the one to deprive the boy of something he'd grown
accustomed to, snatching away sunlight and leaving him in
shadow. My anger at my Master for deserting me would be
assuaged by my refusal to give of myself to the boy he'd chosen
over me. Not revenge...reprisal.
Master Windu was speaking, and I was far away, locked away
behind a wall of devious intent. I snapped back when I heard
him calling my name. "Obi-Wan!"
"My apologies, Master." The change in my tone caused an
expression of mild surprise to flicker across his features.
"As I was saying, Obi-Wan, meditate on these things until you
have resolved the conflict for yourself. Return to Coruscant
when you are ready to face the Council and take Anakin as your
Padawan Learner. Perhaps you will have something further to
share with the Council at that time." I knew he hoped I would
be able to tell them I had seen my Master, shared with and
learned from him.
"Thank you, Master," I said, bowing gracefully. I had been
given a momentary reprieve from all things worldly. I would not
fill that space with meditation. Too much room for errant grief
to slip inside, smothering me. Anger and betrayal were cleaner,
more easily relegated to the corners of awareness, not so
difficult to comprehend. I would not grieve. Not yet.
I saw Anakin off on the transport with Windu, as duty demanded,
and returned to my quarters to sleep. Some tiny part of me was
nagging, urging me to hurry, to begin a nocturnal search for my
Master. I felt it tickling me, wondered if it was the Force
urging me to action. As I threw off my clothing and climbed
onto the top sheet, I knew this night would be like thousands
to come - unending, and resonating with an aching, unfulfilled
need which radiated from my heart to my loins. Unshed tears
stung behind my closed eyes.
The second of the dreams unfolded gently inside me on that
night, and I welcomed it with eager awareness, wishing for a
resolution that would not materialize...
~~~~Like crystals blossoming in a sterile field, my longing
made staccato patter against tranquil imagining, and I found
myself enfolded in my Master's arms, wrapped securely in a
mantle of possession.
"Master?" I labored to escape the embrace, but made no
progress. Delicious sensations interrupted my analytical
patterns, soothing me, taking away my fear.
"Did you so easily doubt me, my padawan?" The voice was
familiar, bone to my flesh, the steel which should have been
the support underneath the framework of the man I had become.
"Never, Master." The response was immediate, fervent, lonely. I
felt his lips on my neck, moving slowly, tracing patterns there
with excruciating tenderness. My heart cracked in two at the
first touch of skin to skin, and I strained to see his face,
but he held me in place.
"Obi-Wan, you have started down a dangerous path. There will be
nothing but regret for you if you continue." I was startled to
have my Master address the agenda I kept hidden, the decision
I'd reached after so little deliberation.
"He will be the end of the Jedi, Master." The words flowed from
a place of absolute reality, Force-driven, stated without
emotion.
"Perhaps. Even more reason why you should devote yourself to
his training. He must become a Jedi, Padawan. And you must help
him."
"I will do my duty," I said defensively.
Spectral arms tightened around me. "Obi-Wan." There was
incisive sadness in the deep tones of the rich voice I knew so
well. He was disappointed in me, and rightly so. I felt his
body shift against mine, as though he were restless. How can a
ghost be restless? "There will be a turning point. If you fail
to make the correct choice, I cannot be beside you." For the
briefest span of time imaginable, I understood the hell he
would endure if he could not be with me, a mirror of my own
hopelessness. "All that will be left is the faint indulgence of
dreams, Obi-Wan, and that is nothing at all compared to what we
might experience together."
"Master..." I felt him slipping away, the hard muscled body no
longer pressed against me, drifting backward...
"Peace over anger...honor over hate...strength over fear..."
Qui-Gon reinforced the teachings, but I felt the convulsive
clutch of recklessness surging through me...
"Master!"~~~~
I woke, breathless, tears coursing down my face, and flung
myself over onto the pillow, my entire body heaving with the
force of the suffering inside my soul.
III.
At times, when the wind scours the walls of my home, it is like
a living creature, screaming its frustration. I sit in the dark
and listen to its frenzied protests, preferring to be alone
with my thoughts. Light only amplifies his absence,
illuminating the places where he should be. Tonight, there is
only hot, still air, and the quiet of vast emptiness,
stretching out for many miles in every direction away from this
place I chose to hide myself.
Something shimmers just beyond the scope of perception; a
subtle shift has taken place in the Force, a shift I've awaited
many years. I once feared it would come too late. Now I believe
the grown son of boy I wronged may help me set things back as
they should be.
Hindsight lends a perfect clarity to situations that seemed
muddled and murky when I stood in the midst of them. The
brashness of youth gives way to wisdom, but not before lessons
are learned with a great deal of regret. One cannot tell the
younger self he is a fool when time stands inconveniently
between the two ends of a life.
I meditated every day after the second dream, seeking
solutions, but there were no further dreams to guide me. I
often knelt for hours in front of the gigantic windows in
Amidala's palace, listening to the cascading of the waterfalls
below, my mind blank instead of focused. In those moments, I
learned how to conceal, to shift, to reflect instead of absorb.
I poured all the skill Qui-Gon had taught me toward the wrong
goal, further corroding my principles. On the eleventh day, I
rose from my knees and walked directly onto the path which
would lead to the annihilation of the Jedi.
To say the Council was skeptical would be to vastly
underestimate their caution. Master Yoda's eyes bored into me,
but I was unfazed. I waited to hear their questions, felt the
combined power of their abilities beating at my mind like the
wings of a trapped bird.
"Resolved your hate, have you?" Yoda queried.
"Yes, Master Yoda." That much was true, at least. I no longer
felt the violent urge to destroy which had dogged me. He
nodded, satisfied.
"And your Padawan. Train him, you shall, but not while anger
rules you."
"I will not give into my anger, Master. I am in control of my
emotions." That, also, was true.
Silence, as the Council members exchanged looks, and perhaps
thoughts as well. It was suspected that they communicated
frequently without words, but no one outside that circle was
privy to such information. They sensed something, but could not
place it. There was no deception in me, nothing for them to
measure my honesty against.
"Bring in the boy," Master Windu said at last. I felt a surge
of expectation within me, crushed it down, and stood
motionless. An echo seemed to float nebulously around
me...there will be a turning point...and I squashed it
ruthlessly.
I was aware of him before he entered the Council chamber. I'd
said it, and meant it: he was dangerous, and I would not waver
from that opinion. I would not contribute to the possibilities
by placing myself in a position to be too important to him. He
walked in, glancing hopefully up at me, looking entirely
serious and small, and took his place by my side. I reached out
and guided him into position in front of me, resting a hand on
his shoulder.
"I take Anakin to be my Padawan Learner," I said in a voice
which rang from one end of that place to the other, strong and
alive, as my Master's had been when he said the same words, for
vastly different reasons. Interesting how faith and belief can
so quickly become cold indifference. My hand immediately
dropped away. I sensed his curiosity, and his excitement.
"Very well, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Find new quarters for yourself and
your Padawan. We will have an assignment for you, once you have
had a few days to adjust to this new relationship." I bowed to
Master Windu, noticing Anakin as he did the same, and walked
from the chamber, not caring if my Padawan kept pace with me.
"Master?" Hearing him call me that title brought me up short.
Master. I turned and looked at him. "Thank you, sir. I wasn't
sure you meant it when you said I'd be a Jedi."
I searched my own heart, and was satisfied. Nothing existed
there. Only a faint chill, an icy remnant of the love I held
for my Master, which would never fade. It would be that way
always when I looked at Anakin - a nothingness of the soul, a
vacancy where caring should have been, a hole which would never
be filled.
Would that I had been wise enough to realize this was the very
thing which would help to turn the boy to the Dark Side. There
was no anchor for him, no tethers to bind him, no love, no
emotion.
I looked at the boy, and the words fell smoothly. "Of course
you will be a Jedi, Padawan." But do not come too close to me,
for I will not accept you in my heart. "Come. We will need to
find new rooms for the two of us to occupy." So saying, I set
off with him at my side, where he would remain until the
fateful moment he became a student of the Sith.
The third dream came that night, and was the last one to stand
apart from all those which would follow it in the downward
spiral. They began to blend into a melancholy sameness after
that night, but the images of the third dream would burn in my
blood every waking moment thereafter...
~~~~"Obi-Wan." The sound of my name, spoken by my beloved,
should have made me turn eagerly. Instead, I stood quietly,
looking out on the exaggerated colors of a sunset over
Coruscant, dully aware for the first time that this was all a
dream, would always be a dream, could never be real. The voice
deepened, rough with emotion. "Obi-Wan." Hands closed on my
shoulders, and he turned me to face him. For the first time, he
looked as I remembered him, streaks of gray silvering his fine
brown hair, blue eyes which looked upon me with such infinite
compassion, strong arms, strong body - whole, untouched, mine.
"This is the price to be paid, is it not?" I asked, strangely
calm, caught in the surreal quality of serenity which seemed to
flow over me. "I cannot make myself love him, Master. I will
not. I cannot be to him what you are to me..."
"Hush," my Master said, his tone that of a man who expects no
argument, will accept none. "If this is all there is to be,
then there will be no looking back, Obi-Wan. What you have
done, is done. Move forward with me."
"I am dead inside, Master." My voice was hoarse, as I raised my
eyes to his, drowning in the chasm of darkness I opened with my
own hands. "There is nothing else for me in this life."
"You are wrong, Obi-Wan." His hands were moving already,
sweeping away my clothing with little effort, shedding his own
as well. His mouth covered mine, ending the dangerous
deprivation I'd felt every moment since he died. I drew in a
shuddering breath as ecstasy closed its hold on me, while his
lips parted mine sensually, seeking my surrender. I felt his
hands on my throat, thumbs stroking; his palms rested against
the curve of my neck, pulling me deeper, joining me to him. My
head fell back as his lips wandered away from mine, traveling
to my ear. He whispered there, words that ricocheted through my
soul. "There will be yet another chance to set things right, to
bring balance. You must be strong until that day comes, my
love."
I touched him then, expecting him to fade beneath my fingers,
but he was as real as imagining could make him, and I was
utterly lost in my joy. I faltered for a moment, confronted
with this unexpected gift, but was swept away again by his
hands worshipping me, lifting me, lowering me. My eyes became
mirrors of his, drawn by the spectrum of blue reflected there
as he watched my face, each color change denoting a deepening
emotion. Foremost among them was desire, which shone from him
like the light of the sun as it sinks into the sea.
Everything dark was stripped away under the pressure of his
body against mine. I was blinded by the wonder of it, stunned
into immobility as he closed his mouth around my shaft, the
feeling of it more powerful than any dream should be. I was
totally enclosed in rapturous bliss, as he moved on me, tongue
seducing me easily with tiny strokes, gentling me before he
descended again and smashed apart my unfulfilled longing. I was
his. As I came apart, undone and tangled in the heat of my own
desire, he was inside me, around me, filling me, the missing
piece of me, and he belonged to me... ~~~~
Time erodes behind me, like the soft sand beneath my feet,
shifting unsteadily, burning a bright path through memory.
There can be no relief for the ache pressing at my heart, even
after so many years without him. I grow weary of this arid
world, of a universe which has no need of my kind any longer,
and I retreat to the controlled, dark refuge of sleep. Pain
ceases to resonate so sharply there. In the quiet of dreams, I
feel his presence with me, hear the voice which speaks only to
me. He whispers my name, and a flood of joyful desire stains a
soul bleached by loneliness. I am never free of it.
The life of a Dark Lord, taken by my hand, and another to take
his place because of my arrogance. Penance.
Yet another boy, eyes bright with hope, a mirror of my own
youth before my heart was stripped away. Redemption.
And once I am redeemed, my Master will haunt my dreams no
longer.
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