Viewpoint (Obi and Ani Gen Fic, 1,236 Words) Fandom: Star Wars Title: Viewpoint (1,236 Words) Author:jarkai on IJ/jarkai_fic on LJ Theme(s): (For 30_somethings on Insanejournal, Nights: #7 Fountain) Pairing/Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker Rating: Mature, for images of war. Disclaimer/claimer: Characters owned by George Lucas. Critiques: Yes. Summary: He brought me to water, but I could not drink. Anakin Skywalker, looking back, 22 BBY:
When I was first brought to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, I was overwhelmed. The vast halls, the grand stairways... it was nothing like the stories I'd heard. The Temple spoke of wealth I'd never seen before, surpassing that of the Hutts.
On our first day as Master and Padawan, Obi-Wan took me silently from chamber to chamber, each one more marvelous than the last. Finally we came upon the Room Of A Thousand Fountains. Such a place would have seemed like a fairytale on Tatooine. All about me, clear water flowed freely, jetting from one man-made pond to the next. Waterfalls gushed, some five and six stories high. Moisture dripped from the walls, nourishing the lush plants that clung to them, and small birds and animals stirred among the leaves. Speechless, I let Obi-Wan lead me out of the room and back to our suite.
My first real night in the Temple was supposed to include a bath.
Sighing, Obi-Wan pushed back the sleeves of his tunic and gestured to the doorway that led to the tub. Having already experienced one of his scrubbings on Naboo, I backed away. I wanted to keep some of my skin.
Something in my face must have shown he wasn't going to win the fight. He closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand. The place where his braid had been shorn stood up like the ruff of an angry cat. "Fine. Do as you like, then."
Without another word, he snatched up his datapad and stalked off to concentrate on very important work. Mostly it seemed like he stared into space a lot and tried not to mutter.
As soon as he wasn't watching, I gathered what I needed and crept out of our apartment. I wasn't quite sure where those lovely pools of water were, but I was determined going to find them. I just hoped that I could get a private spot. I didn't want anyone to see me. I was small for my age, and far too thin. At least that was what the Jedi healers had told my Master, right in front of me.
I picked a fountain just off the path, away from large groups of people, then stripped quickly and jumped over the ledge. Pain shot up to my arm-pits. This water was deeper and colder than any bath I'd ever known. I grabbed the side of the fountain, trying to drag myself out, but it was too slippery. Fear spiked through me, and I went down like a stone. I came up gasping for air.
It was at about this time that a Master with his small group of younglings discovered me. The children were half my age, and many giggled at seeing me in the fountain. The towel, the brush, the soap--all of the things sitting on the ledge made my plans perfectly clear. The Master was just about to lend me a hand when Obi-Wan rounded the corner, his hair in a strawberry corkscrew, his cheeks just as red.
"I sensed--what have you--" He broke off, breathless. The pattern of the sofa in our suite was imprinted on his face. "What have you done?"
I turned away in embarrassment, and he thought I was being disrespectful.
His eyes found the soap and widened. "Anakin! These fountains are not for bathing!"
By this time, the Master that had tried to help me had moved his own group away, but others were appearing to watch at the show. I was freezing, but my ears burnt.
"Then what are they for?" I stood, no longer caring who saw. I'd heard a lot more than the fact I was runty. I'd heard that maybe Obi-Wan was a bit runty, too, not nearly ready to be a Master. Murmurs rose and fell all around us.
"These fountains are works of art," he whispered harshly, the words clearly meant for me alone. "People are meant to find enjoyment by looking at them."
"That's all? That's wasteful!" My scream echoed, suddenly the only sound. It was as if even the waterfall behind me had quieted.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly, and I knew that he was trying to 'let it all go' again, just as he had earlier. After a moment, he offered a hand to help me out, his tone resigned. "I suppose it's a matter of perspective."
I suppose it was. It still is, really. Years later, when all the lessons I have learned here will briefly make sense, I can sit at the foot of these fountains and meditate like any other Jedi. In those moments, I find the mist that dapples my face soothing, almost numbing, and everything else disappears. But at night, when Obi-Wan is asleep on the sofa again, and I don't want to wake him up to talk about my bad dreams one more time, I can't stand the thought of these waterfalls. All they bring to mind is my mother, and how she had an easier time getting blood out of stones than she did water out of the sands of Tatooine.
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Obi-Wan Kenobi, 19 BBY:
Yoda preceded me through what was left of the Temple, stepping carefully over the scorched rubble. Grey smoke hung about us like a bad premonition, but I could not imagine what future event could be worse than this. Then, remembering what Yoda had told me I must do, I was perfectly able to imagine it: his saber and mine, coming together time and again until one of us fell. And surely one of us would.
Force, please, let it be me, I cannot do this--
I stopped, glancing down. I had accidentally trod on a Padawan's outstretched hand. He lay on his back, eyes clouded, gazing upward at nothing. Blood spattered his pale face, his uniform that would never know the tabards of knighthood. Somehow it had not pooled beneath him. He lay in a puddle instead, its ripples slowly spreading across the floor. His comrades were much the same, some laying facedown in pools so deep that I might have thought they had drowned if not for the pink tinge of the water.
I staggered, a hand pressed to my mouth, and fell against the closest bit of stability: the smashed ledge of a fountain. What strength, what hatred, it must have taken to have shattered that stone. The last of it crumbled beneath my hands, and I landed in the water itself. Cyn Drallig's body floated by, headless.
Yoda came to my side, helping me to my knees. "See now, do you?"
How could I not? The thousand fountains flowed on, but they would never be beautiful to me again, not even if the hall that housed them was restored to its former glory. For years, I had seen this place as my refuge from the world. To me, its beauty had never been an extravagance. In my mind, it had always been a necessity, proof that harmony existed here if nowhere else, and that the Jedi could bring that harmony to the world. But to Anakin...
I rose, steeling myself for what was to come. Perhaps it was as my Master had so frequently said: your focus determines your reality.
Now, looking at everything Anakin had done, I wished I was blind.