WHO Siri and Dan
WHERE The Grind
WHEN After this WARNINGS Brief talk of violence/deaths.
It’s going to be okay.
Coffee. It was life force, really - one of Dan’s favorite vices ever since he gave up drinking, ever since he gave up the nose candy and finding a bar to do a bump or two (the smart bar workers were the ones who coated bathroom surfaces with Pam cooking spray; coke just stuck to the surface then). He wasn’t even that picky, he’d go for dollar bodega swill if he needed to - but luckily in Vallo there were more than a few options. Beyond Starbucks especially.
The Grind reminded him of your typical big city, New York City feel kind of coffee shop - exposed brick interior, lots of reclaimed wood, a sort of gruff intimacy about the place along with organic beans and some really good coffee when it was all said and done. So when Siri suggested this as a meeting spot, he wasn’t about to complain.
He even showed up a little earlier than the designated meeting time, wanting to grab a table since sometimes the place got crowded. Dan preferred his coffee iced, despite how bean snobs tended to look down on that - but whatever. When he got to The Grind he ordered the largest size iced coffee, with room for cream, and also a croissant - because why not include something buttery and flaky with your order?
Then he found a table, one a couple was just vacating. He’d just wait here, scrolling on his phone in the meantime - the thoughts of others in the coffee shop were more white noise than anything else, and the Shining extended like a pier from the edge of a sun-kissed beach, reaching out over the water, just so he could keep tabs on the door and remain alert for when Siri arrived.
Heading towards the cafe, Siri ironically wasn’t thinking on the quality of The Grind’s offerings. She had second-guessed herself a bit, chiding the curiosity that had prompted the invite to coffee. Similarly to Dan’s actions, she had expanded her senses in the Force, letting her attention skip over the people that she passed as she walked. Georgie had been a big help with choosing clothes, and so Siri wore something the denizens called ‘jeans’ and a comfortable cotton shirt, light blue. Her favorite color. She had no idea if there were dress conventions surrounding a meeting over coffee, but it appeared a common outfit from what she had seen.
Stepping inside, she caught….something, a similar feeling to when she neared another Jedi, or at least those strong with the Force. An expenditure of power, perhaps, albeit apparently benign. She felt it brush past her, over her, and she hesitated in the doorway, but nothing told her to beware, not as yet. She let it settle, and turned to find the source, her eyes going unerringly to where he sat.
She had doubted herself on the communication device, but now, faced with the reality, she was stunned. He looked exactly like Obi-Wan, from the color of his hair, to the breadth of his shoulders, the fingers around the cup, save only the lack of facial hair. She wasn’t quite close enough, but she suspected his eyes were the same color. Carefully, Siri released the alarm and confusion into the Force, centered herself, and turned to the counter. Methodically, she ordered a cup of simple tea, took the small insulated cup, and would through the other tables, headed towards him.
“Good afternoon, Dan.” She smiled, the expression mild, but her eyes were intent as she sat in the seat opposite him. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
He felt a ripple of something when Siri entered the coffee shop, even more so as she made her way over to him - it was kind of like a jolt, an electrical buzz, though nothing really bad. Just different, different than the Shining - he’d sort of experienced a lot of that in Vallo, however, since a lot of folks had their own kinds of abilities forged in their respective worlds. Maybe some were cut from the same cloth as his but not entirely identical. Dan had also felt it, when he tried communicating with the sentient magic in the air, the kind that had molded and shaped the island itself, in the area around the waypoints - it was heavy and pressed in on him like a coat worn during a hot summer, but also not bad.
Just different. That seemed to be the theme.
“Sure thing,” he smiled at her as she sat, the expression crinkling bluebird eyes at the corners. “Did you want to talk about the support groups? Or anything in particular?”
Maybe she just wanted to expand her friend circle, which he thought was fair too. It was difficult being on your own, on an entirely new planet.
“Truthfully, something more direct prompted me to extend the invite,” Siri answered, letting some of her curiosity bleed through her tone, with her half-smile. “I want to know more about the support groups, but….you look exactly like a friend of mine. It’s uncanny. Had I seen you on the street, I would have mistaken you for him in a heartbeat.” She shook her head a little, mystified. “There’s enough in your mannerisms and your voice that are different, but that’s all. Isn’t that strange?”
Now that she was closer to him, her hunch proved correct; his eyes were the same blue, the same smiling lines at the corners. Siri felt strange, looking at his face and seeing someone else behind the gaze. “And you are….sensitive to the energies here, I can feel that. We would call it the Force where I come from, but that may be different for you.”
“Oh, right,” Dan nodded, clearing his throat, voice gravelly, like he'd already had breakfast and it consisted of rocks. Or like he hadn't slept much the night before - he tended to get a little growl to him, in that case, though his voice was naturally raspy anyway. “I’ve heard that can happen here sometimes.”
He found it kind of strange, but admittedly less strange than apparently being fictional - which didn’t sit too well with him, so he mostly ignored that aspect. Everything he’d gone through, all the pain and the loss and the way it culminated in a literal fiery inferno - it wasn’t supposed to be entertainment fodder. But that was a whole other bag of worms.
He supposed he didn’t really mind sharing a face with someone - maybe they were distantly related, who the fuck knew. “Sensitive to the energies - yeah, we call it the Shining,” he continued, breaking off a piece of croissant to pop into his mouth. “It’s - psychic powers, mainly. I was born with it. I can read minds, among other things. Sense and talk to spirits. Is that what it’s like for you?” he asked, lifting his coffee cup for a sip.
Siri raised her eyebrows slightly at that happens here. It was utterly odd, that essentially there could be two of the same person, but with different lived experiences, from different worlds. And his voice; it was the one markedly different sign. Enough to be startling. “The Shining? Interesting. It’s definitely similar for us, but each of the Jedi--those of us who can sense and use the Force--have strengths and weaknesses in it. For me, I can sense incoming danger before it occurs, or where the potential for something injurious to happen. I cannot read minds, but I can read emotions, intents, that sort of thing. It makes me a very good pilot, for example, and a fighter. Some of us can see into the future, albeit vaguely, and it’s not as trustworthy as we want to believe, at that.” She smiled, a little wry, taking a sip of her own tea.
“Is it common for others to have as well, this Shining? Are there many of you?” She felt both comfortable talking with him, as if she were just speaking with Obi-Wan, and yet she felt unsettled, too. As if a trick were being played on her and she didn’t know to laugh or to fight it.
Vaguely seeing into the future was something that resonated with Dan as well - he smiled too, in understanding. “The future can’t be held, so it’s kind of difficult,” he agreed. “My psychic visions were a lot stronger when I was a kid.” When he had an ‘imaginary friend’ named Tony, who was actually him from the future, Daniel Anthony Torrance - and that was damn bizarre to explain to someone he just met, so he wouldn’t open that particular box at the moment.
“It’s not that all that common, no,” he went on, fingers curled around the coffee cup. The shop was cozy, everything fading to a dull roar - but the Shining was like that, when he wasn’t paying attention it was mostly just surface thoughts or impressions; he just knew things. The deeper stuff was what everyone worried he poked into, when he told people he was psychic - but that didn’t usually just bonk him upside the head. He had to actively go looking. “At least not to the degree I’ve been blessed with,” and the term blessed was said with a little sarcastic grin, “...my friend, my mentor, once told me that some folks don’t even know they have it, or don’t believe it. It does tend to run in families though. My niece has the Shining too.”
He’d heard of the Force, of course - he’d even seen those movies when he was younger, but he never really thought to compare it with the Shining before. Interesting. There really were some similarities, it seemed. “Is that what you did back home, you were a pilot?” he asked and, wow, if only Abra were still here. She’d have really liked meeting Siri, no doubt.
“Yes, primarily. I loved it.” Siri’s expression softened a little, both with the thoughts of flying, but also about her next words. “The last few years, we have been at war, and it seems like all I have been doing is flying from one battle to the next. It takes some of the enjoyment out of it, as I am sure you can imagine. Especially since my friends and fellow Jedi were down planetside fighting and I dislike not being there with them.” She turned the tea cup between her palms, idly. She’d thought that being here, the war might feel distant, but she’d been in it too long. She still strained for the sound of Separatist ships, for the hum of lightsabers, for incoming alarms. She woke up at night feeling the need to be somewhere else. When that would fade, if it ever did, she wasn’t sure.
“The Force runs in some families, but it’s largely unpredictable. And it’s been very important that we don’t have families elevated for having many Jedi among them,” she offered. “It would undermine what we are, as servants to the peace. We aren’t meant to be more than helpers, defenders. But there’s a downside,” she added, thinking of what Georgie said. “We do not have our own families.” It didn’t bother her, overall, just the impact it had on her relationship with Obi-Wan. “What do you do, with the Shining, with those skills? Not just here, but back in your home?”
Hearing Siri talk about piloting during a neverending war provided an interesting perspective. There was little to miss about war, but the flying itself - he could see how she still felt a calling toward that and after being immersed in it for so long, being suddenly shuffled to a place where it really wasn’t possible must be disconcerting. They were all just trying to make their own way here in Vallo, build a new life in some cases - but no one ever said it was easy.
“That does seem like a downside,” Dan noted. “It’s - a lot of arbitrary definitions and old laws that refuse to bend or account for changing times? That type of thing, when you have no room for exceptions - it can probably lead to problems, I’m guessing.”
Ice sloshed in the cup, and he poked his straw here and there to mix everything a little, considering the question presented to him. “At first I didn’t do a whole hell of a lot,” he huffed a laugh. “I tried to drown it. But that didn’t work. So for the past eight years or so I’ve been using it in my hospice work. I - help people who are dying. Soothe them and calm them, as they’re on their way out.” Doctor Sleep - at first he found the nickname uncomfortable, but then he grew into it. This was who he was - and at least he was using the Shining for good.
“I do the same thing now, but I also use it to help people catch a few winks - lots of folks have problems sleeping around here.” You know. Because of all the collective trauma.
Siri nodded. “I have been having trouble myself, but I believe it’s an anticipation of an attack that never comes. It’s only been a week or so since I left the war. Not long enough to settle.” Still unusual, although she did not say that. Her training had always focused on being in the here and now, not looking too far ahead. When had the war started to change that?
“It’s…” She paused, looking down at her tea momentarily. Since arriving, she’d been talking about the Code quite a bit. In the years prior, it had simply been an accepted fact at the back of her mind. Now, she examined it from all angles, to try and explain to someone with no context. “Whenever you have beings who are powerful….who can not only perform physically much more than the rest of their species but can also sense thoughts and deception, can hide their own deceptions, and can convince others to do and say as they want them to-” she hesitated, that one power one she didn’t like to advertise here, “-then rules will spring up around them. Mostly, rules from within. An honorable code is hopefully the most just, because it is about using those powers for peace and the safety of others. Some rules come from outside, from the people who feel ruled or underclassed. We respect that. The rules about family….that’s trickier. Having a family, having children, that turns your attention and your efforts inward and away from others. And sometimes, you can become overprotective, jealous of what the Jedi ask of you, or swayed by that family. We have stories of Jedi who have fallen to the Dark side and taken those spouses or children with them.” She held out her palms, in a slightly helpless gesture. “Is it the right reaction, to forbid it at all? Wise minds have said so.” She didn’t offer any commentary on if they were correct.
It helped to dwell on what he’d told her, instead. “That’s why you run the AA and the NA meetings. Because you are recovering yourself?”
When a lot of things in your life - especially the choice to share it with someone else - fell under the umbrella of this is forbidden, that was often the best way to ensure shit started rolling downhill, especially if there was no give or take. It also seemed wrong, in a sense. To expect people to squelch perfectly natural desires, such as passion or intimacy or the desire to have a family. Being bound by laws was restricting, to say the least - then there was the whole idea of good vs evil, light and dark, and how there was always both in everything. No one could fully stamp out their darker sides either - the best you could do was make peace with them.
He was curious about what Siri personally thought about the right to having a family, however that was defined, but would shelve the question for now - ask in a little while. “Well, if you need some help getting rest as you settle in,” he offered. “I’m available. But yeah, I - “ Fingers almost slipped into his jeans pocket, as if the AA chip would be there.
Dan knew it wasn’t - he hadn’t arrived with it on him, and it hadn’t showed up either. It was really damn small but he still felt like a part of him was missing. He remembered how it had been, when he’d hit rock bottom - sleeping under bridges and coke-fueled bar fights, crunches of bone, fists flying, being so fucking drunk he smelled the fumes wafting from his own pores. AA had helped him tuck the ghosts of his father in a box far, far in the dregs of his mind.
“I’ve been sober about eight years. It’s an ongoing thing though. I’ll never fully be recovered. It’s just something I have to live with.”
Siri’s gaze didn’t miss the small movement towards his pocket, and her instincts told her he habitually sought some memento, but she didn’t know much else. His face, the changeable expression, told her much more. Was it because she was so used to reading Obi-Wan’s face? “You have a lot of ghosts,” she said, quietly, thinking also of her talk with Georgie. “But you are still giving of yourself, to others struggling, because you know what it feels like. That takes a depth of character.” Her words were low, but they didn’t lack sincerity. “There are many, that I’ve known, who instead hold that pain close and use it differently.” She nodded, almost to herself. “I’m glad,” she added, quiet but with a small smile, “that you have the same face as my dear friend, and your heart is similar, too.”
Well, that was sweet. Dan’s fingers scratched through the cactus bristle that crawled along his jaw - he didn’t quite have the full beard thing going on, not anymore, not since he’d been homeless (and it was scraggly too - not his best look), but he still had a bit of a prickle to his face.
“I’ve always had ghosts,” he said, with a cynical sort of smile. “It’s the family curse.” Cursed with angry ghosts who followed, cursed with the Shining, cursed with alcoholism - the Torrance family never had it easy, and he felt terrible that trouble had found Abra too.
He finished the rest of the croissant, taking another sip of iced coffee to wash it down with. “But here, it’s - well, I’m not dead for one thing. So it’s better. I’ve built a family of sorts. Anyone can - even you, if that’s something you decide you want,” he added, glancing at Siri, gaze electric blue and curious.
“It’s something I’ve only thought of recently.” Siri dropped her own gaze, still feeling strange discussing this particular subject with someone who looked so close to Obi-Wan. After all, there would be an implicit understanding, or at least history, were she speaking with the latter of the two. She also wondered if she should share with Dan about the subject. Still, as she had told Georgie, it was good to open up to others when one needed to talk. At least he had experience in counseling. “About twenty years ago, when Obi-Wan and I were young, in our teens, we struggled with our affection for one another. Ultimately, we talked to our masters, our teachers, who counseled us to set that aside, for the sake of our futures in the Order. And before you pity me,” she added, with a small smile, “it was the right thing to do, at the time. Both of us wanted a future in the Order; it was our goal, our dream. And we both eventually became Masters, took on our own padawans, accomplished much as Jedi.”
She took a contemplative sip of her tea. “And yet, I do have some regrets,” she continued. “It was...difficult to work together and yet keep those feelings separate, so we stopped working together closely. We only spoke through communications, never took the same missions, not until we were finally forced to, only a short while ago. And we remembered how good it was to work side by side again.” Her tone had become wistful. “Twenty years later, and nothing had changed. Not my feelings, at least….I do not know fully if his have evolved. But after so long, I still love him.” She shrugged, a small movement. “And there I am now. Here, I mean, as is he. We will be together often, by virtue of being the only two Jedi, if nothing else. And we are also still friends, naturally. So would it be easier to use the crutch of the Order no longer existing here?” She exhaled, hands idle once more. “I don’t know. All I do know is that such rules don’t truly give us a chance to test ourselves. To show that we can have those we love and yet also remain true to our ideals.”
“It’s such a different world, I can’t even see how there’d be an instance where you’d need to test yourselves anyway,” Dan said, and really, he wasn’t overly familiar with the Jedi Order - but from what he’d seen on screen and in books, it seemed a little - too strict. Cruel, almost. Those who followed the Order weren’t perfect and maybe not even entirely good - no one was.
But he supposed the two of them, Siri and her would-be lover, would have to find their own way. Figure things out, take the time to do that. “I’ve told a lot of people this, and I’ve applied it to my own self too - Vallo is...I think a lot of it is about accepting this situation, this world, for what it is and needing to have what you can actually have, while you can have it,” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Because while you’re worrying about whether what you feel or want to do is right or wrong, time still marches forward.”
And nothing was certain. Abra just up and disappearing showed him that, even if he’d seen it so many times before with others. This one hit close to home.
“We don’t know yet what Vallo will expect or need from us,” Siri offered, pragmatically, but she still nodded. “You are right all the same….we can’t spend the rest of our lives in philosophical debate. We also have to live.” She had often railed in the past against those who seemingly spent all their time in contemplation rather than acting; another reason she was a poor fit for the Council although a solid Master. “I had a padawan once, Ferus….he was exemplary as a student, as a Jedi. Calm, focused, patient...I wanted to see him become a great Knight. Instead, he left the Order, because he felt as if he had failed when a fellow Padawan died. It was not his fault, but that isn’t the point; he held himself to such a high standard that it was difficult for him to accept loss. Sometimes I think we may all do so, to an extent. And that perhaps is where it comes from.”
She had seen a shadow cross Dan’s face as he spoke, mixed with perhaps regret, if she read it right. “Do you have family here, from your world?” she asked, curious. “You sound as if you speak from experience there, as well.”
“That’s a shame, about your padawan,” Dan hummed. “When we’re too caught up in things, we can’t see the forest for the trees. I’m pulling for you though, you and your Obi-Wan,” he smiled crookedly, a twinkle in his eye.
Obi-Wan who apparently shared his face. Well, Dan supposed there were worse people to share a face with. Obi-Wan had a lightsaber and was really fucking cool, Dan was the loser twin who took a death-sense cat to work with him.
The question about family had him growing a bit more somber, however, as he studied the contents of his coffee cup, melting ice and taupe-colored water toward the bottom since he’d drank almost all of it. “My niece was here, but she’s not anymore,” he replied. “She wasn’t here that long though, only a month or two. It was good to see her while I could - she told me that her mom really is my sister, which I hadn’t known.”
Ol’ Jack couldn’t keep his dick in his pants - big surprise. “I miss her but she needs to be at home since her dad recently died - she needs to be with her mom. I’m dead at home anyway, though part of the Shining is being able to speak with spirits so she can talk to me if she wants to,” he continued. “Here, I’ve sort of built a family too. Adopted a couple teenagers, that sort of thing.”
They were maddening sometimes. But he loved them like they were his own, and honestly, everytime Stan called him dad it made his insides feel like microwaved marshmallow.
Siri had chuckled when he said he was hoping for her and Obi-Wan; the longer they talked, the more the two men differed in her eyes but it was still funny to hear from him. “We shall see,” she demurred, “but thanks for the vote. We’re here, together, and that’s not too bad.”
Her smile grew to a concerned expression as he looked down into his cup, the clinking of ice filling the brief silence. “I’m sorry your niece isn’t here. But as you said….it’s also a good thing. Still, to have family….” She left that off, instead adding, “You’ve made your own. Maybe I will be half as lucky.” Her smile blossomed into a grin. “Although I’m told I am a terrible taskmaster.”
They roundaboutly came to the discussion she had started it all with; their death. “Can I ask,” she started as she scooted forward in her chair a little, “...do you remember your death? Do you remember what it felt like?” She offered a lopsided quirk of her lips. “Or is this something we should bring to the meeting?”
“I don’t mind talking about it now,” Dan assured. The meeting was for everyone else to talk, if they wanted to - he had an agenda anyway, just some bullet points to get the ball rolling, icebreakers if you will. Otherwise they’d all sit there in silence and that probably wasn’t going to do much good.
Well, there were pastries to eat too but anyway. “I remember it clearly,” he started, tone a cloak of black velvet, the empty cup turned ‘round and ‘round in his hands. “There was this - monster, I guess you could call her. Rose. She and her family fed off the psychic essences of children - they called it steam. They wanted Abra, to use her as a food source. We lured Rose to a place where I knew the ghosts would harm her, like they once harmed me when I was a kid - I made sure Abra got away, but Rose...she killed me. Though it’s probably fair to say we killed each other. She wounded me pretty bad with an ax but I’d rigged the boiler in the hotel to explode so it’d destroy the building. I couldn’t take down the hotel without going down with it, so I did. But when everything was burning and there was all this smoke and flame and just so many colors, I saw my mother who had died years before - it was peaceful. Then there wasn’t any more pain.”
He thought a lot about death, about the way society viewed it and how people were afraid of the unknown. How when someone was grieving, no one really knew what to say - so they just said the same things and sent the same old casseroles and pies, their duty done. It was so much more complex than that.
“I can’t say I wanted to die, or was ready to - but I accepted it,” he shrugged. “I was trying to protect the only family I had left. People are so afraid of it, I see it a lot in my work - they know they’re on their way out and they don’t know what to expect. But then there’s just clarity and no more hurting and...knowing that we don’t end, we go on. That it’s going to be okay.”
She listened raptly, as was her nature; when she bent her attention to something or someone, it was total. She found, perhaps ironically, that she very much disliked hearing how he suffered and died, because it was that face, her mind’s eye seeing someone she loved suffering. “You sacrificed yourself, for family,” she said quietly. Brutal, but she understood. How many times had she or the others skirted death to save the innocent? And among those times, many fell. He had died to take down a monster. Siri didn’t understand how the ghosts could have harmed anyone, but she didn’t need to understand to see where his story led.
“I….felt no pain, at the very end,” she answered, after a moment. “I had been shot; I knew, I could feel myself fading. But I remember most of all, I didn’t want Obi-Wan to be upset.” Her brow knitted together, choosing her words before she said them. “It was unexpected, and abrupt...I didn’t expect to be shot, but when he was there, talking to me, all I could think of was, don’t worry, don’t worry…..everything will be okay.” She looked down at the table, and her eyes stayed there. Belatedly, she realized it was the first time she had discussed that since arriving.
The fact that Siri had died with Obi-Wan there, that she’d died without them ever trying to work things out in terms of feelings and all those frustrating things that made a person human - well, it was sad. It just made Dan hope that they could work things out here, now that she was alive and well.
“It’s strange how a calm kind of settles over you, isn’t it?” he mused, the question rhetorical. “I didn’t want Abra to be upset either. I told her to run.” And she’d stood there, outside the Overlook, watching helplessly while it burned. With her uncle inside.
A lot of people could say what they would do during those final moments, but no one knew for sure until it was actually happening. It had happened to far too many Outlanders who now called Vallo home.
“Now you’re here and - well, I’m sure Obi-Wan is glad to see you. I’m glad we met too,” he added, meaning that sincerely.
Unsurprisingly, it had helped ease that bit of tightness in her chest, talking to someone else. “Thank you, Dan. I am very glad, as well.” Her smile returned, warm. “Since your drink is finished--and who drinks cold caf, by the way?” she interjected, with an amused shake of her head, “I’ll walk you to your meeting.” She stood, beckoning him. “I’m not going to get in trouble for making the host late.”
“No, we couldn’t have that. And iced coffee is ambrosia. Try it next time,” Dan encouraged, standing as well. He tossed the empty cup into the trash, chuckling a little. “You never know, you might like it. ”
Or maybe he’d just introduce Siri to whipped air, also known as the frappe. If she didn’t pucker from all the sugar, maybe she’d even be into that delightful concoction too.