The night air was crisp, and cleaner than Siri ever remembered Coruscant’s air. Not for the first time, she found herself grateful that the Temple was here, rather than the sprawling enclave that the Jedi occupied on the core planet. Surprising, since she’d so often preferred being involved in missions, being busy.
Less time to think.
The Temple’s gardens thrived on Vallo, that was certain. She and Obi-Wan walked among the grasses there, some of the flowers closed up for the night, but others opened under the moonset. They hadn’t spoken much of import yet, just enjoyed having some time alone now that so many came to the Temple. The stars grew more visible as the night wore on, and Siri caught herself looking up at them, again searching fruitlessly for a familiar cluster. She had changed earlier into light robes, to relax, and for now she pulled the soft material a little tighter against the coolness.
“I still can’t look up,” she murmured, to him, “without thinking I will see something that isn’t there.” Her gaze returned to him, wistful. “A connection to the others.”
Obi-Wan had chosen local attire that day, jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. His lightsaber, as always, hung from his hip - not that it was needed here.
He was glad that this Temple had been the one to appear on Vallo rather than the one from Coruscant. It would have been too large, too imposing for this world, and, more importantly for him, held too many memories. Too many ghosts. Like his arrival on Vallo itself, the Tython Temple represented a chance to start fresh, rethink what it meant to be a Jedi and what being a servant of the Force truly meant.
He pulled her gently to him and wrapped his arms around her. “We’re on our own here, like it or not.” He agreed. It was a terrible thing, knowing what was coming to their Galaxy after their time. That the Jedi would be wiped out and Anakin of all people turned to the ways of the Sith.
If he were lying to himself he would say it was impossible to wrap his mind around that last bit, but being honest the signs were there. Signs he’d missed when it mattered.
Siri relaxed in his embrace, her arms sliding around him but loosely, her gaze still on his face. Through the Force as it flowed through them both, she felt his turmoil surface again. Since Ahsoka had brought her terrible news, the revelations about Anakin, neither she nor Obi-Wan had been able to think about much else. In some ways, it only cemented their connection; this was a feeling they could only share with one another right now. At the same time, she could sense how it bore down on them, day after day. Tonight was their first night alone in some time. No one knew how to throw themselves into work like a Jedi could.
"When we lost someone before, accepting was easier," she admitted, feeling her way through the raw pain she could sense. Different for him, and so much worse, because of how he'd loved Anakin. "I knew they had joined the Force, that they were never truly gone. But this…" She brought her fingers to his jawline, brushing along the edge of his beard, gently. Even now, speaking about the worst fears come true, she could still be grateful to have him, to touch him. "I feel your struggle, too. The question. I can see it in your eyes every time I look at you."
“He was the best of us in so many ways, but he never quite learned how to let go.” Obi-Wan sighed, taking the hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. They were free to indulge here, but at the same time Anakin’s fall was a reminder that they could never let their guard down against the Dark Side’s temptations entirely.. “It’s hard to believe, but I sense the truth of it.”
Anakin had turned, the Jedi were no more and the Sith had conquered the galaxy. Never in his deepest nightmares could he have imagined that combination.
Siri felt his hesitation, even as he took her hand. They were both worried; if they had not recognized the path Anakin chose, would they recognize it in themselves? Yet Siri felt she already knew that answer.
“You had faith that he would still learn how to let go,” Siri replied. “You can, and you have. You let me go, once, and you didn’t fall. You lost Qui-Gon, and Satine. You grieved but you still knew yourself. I can’t fault you for thinking you set enough of an example for him.”
She threaded her fingers in his, a familiar gesture, and stepped back so they could continue walking. Sometimes, the path forward to peace had to be felt carefully, and she couldn’t hurry him, no more than she could herself. He was cut to the quick at the fall of his brother, but she couldn’t shake the terrible loneliness that kept creeping up at the realization the others were gone, entirely.
He nodded his head and they continued their stroll, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the garden, and how it felt in the Force. Surrounded by nature, even in the controlled form of a garden, could be soothing and it definitely had the effect on him even now, but that and Siri’s presence couldn’t eliminate the heartache entirely. It was something it would take time and a great deal of meditation to come to terms with it all.
“Did I, though?” He asked, bending down to look at a particular flower that only bloomed in the evening. “Anakin wasn’t raised in the creche like you and I were, he came to us at nine years old already and had probably seen the worst the galaxy had to offer as a slave. I thought he’d made the transition remarkably well, but I knew we both struggled in the early years.” Qui-Gon would have done a better job, he was certain of it. If only from having raised three different apprentices over the course of his life even if nothing else was considered.
As if she sensed the unspoken addition to his words, Siri said, quietly, “Remember Xanatos, the fallen apprentice? Qui-Gon trained him, before he took you as a padawan. Was it a fault in Qui-Gon’s teachings? Did he set a poor example?” She let go of his hand so she could sit on a long-worn stone bench beside the flowers. “You and I both dealt with so many of Xanatos’ efforts to end the Jedi, right in the Temple on Coruscant. He even killed our crechemate, Bruck, and then framed you for it.” She always remembered Bruck, because back then, they’d been so competitive with the other apprentice. She regretted every missed opportunity to have been kinder, knowing his fate. “Bruck was no more than twelve. And Xanatos murdered him. A child, no matter how well trained or steeped in Jedi skills. Still a child. Like we were. Xanatos chose to do that, after he embraced the Dark Side. Because embrace it he did. And not because of his teacher’s failings, but his own.”
She let her eyes drop to the flower he admired, her gaze unfocused with the memories. “Did Qui-Gon see it coming? I don’t know. He must have doubted himself as well, questioned if he was a good teacher, a good mentor. In the end, he knew he could only keep trying, in the future, to be better. Because you needed him to be your teacher.” Her eyes flicked up to his face again, at that last, although other memories welled up. Her own apprentice, Ferus, leaving the Order, never to return. She’d not been able to choose another, even though the Council urged her to. Her own doubts there, leaving a bit of hollowness to her words.
“I don’t know that I’ll ever understand.” Obi-Wan brought his gaze to her. “Perhaps I never had a chance, not with Palpatine influencing him almost from the very start. But I know I did the best I knew how to do, just as you did with Ferus.” Had he managed to survive the purge? Or would Siri’s old apprentice have been targeted as well? Obi-Wan hoped the lad was able to escape and live a peaceful life.
“But there’s nothing we can do about the past, we must look toward the future.”
Siri nodded, remaining quiet for a moment at that. He’d sensed the turn of her thoughts, just as she had with him, knowing how her memories lingered on her former apprentice. She knew nothing of his fate.
“It’s not a future I expected,” she finally said, a bit ruefully. “Although I am more grateful than I thought I might be, to have one. Perhaps I would be less inclined if you weren’t here.” A brief smile accompanied her words. Still, she took a deep breath and released it, thinking. “Do you think this will change who we are?” came the question she had been pondering. “Being here….we don’t bear the weight of a galaxy at war for now. Or the expectations of the Order.”