The Jedi And The Warrior

The Jedi

His body was burning.

They held Qui-Gon's funeral on Naboo at nightfall, bathed in the lilac twilight of Padmê's planet. In a small stone dome some miles from the city, they gathered to wish him farewell, the silvery whisper of a waterfall tumbling over the rocks drowned by the crackle of flames. The red light from the pyre was the only light save that of the moon.

Flyra stood at the very back of the dome, beside Master Yoda on his little platform, watching his body burn. The scarlet flame-light danced over Obi-Wan's face. She did not think he had seen her, but she turned away from the barely-disguised pain on his hooded features. The firelight and the shadows patterned his face with grief. Beside him, Anakin stared stoically onward. She wondered if the boy even understood what death was, and that Qui-Gon Jinn was gone forever.

Obi-Wan just watched his master burn, and he did not take his eyes from that pyre, a last respect and thank-you to the man who had been more than a father to him. Flyra thought the flames, licking up towards the roof of the dome, looked almost like antlers.

Afterwards, the Jedi's body was no more than ashes, dancing slowly down to settle upon the stone pyre, the firelight gone from the dome, replaced with the torches that the gathered company lit around the edges. Slowly, quietly, they filtered out of the room, paying their last respects to the man who had given his life for them; a touch upon the pyre, a finger dipped in his thick ashes, a bow of the head. But Obi-Wan did not move from his place, his head remaining bowed, his face in shadow.

The other gathered Jedi took Anakin by the shoulders and guided him away, but no one spoke to Obi-Wan, or dared ask him to leave. The bond between master and Padawan was notoriously strong.

No one spoke to Flyra, either, or dared ask her to leave.

When everyone was gone, she stepped quietly down from her place by the wall, padding across the ancient stone. Obi-Wan did not look up, but she took up a place beside him, her shoulder brushing his. The place was so heavy with his pain, a pain he could not release in the wail she knew longed to break from him. Flyra's hand brushed his sleeve, finding the warmth of his hand tangled within it. She laced her fingers with his, and found that it was shaking.

How long they stood there, she did not know, but the moon had long risen and the ashes had cooled when at last he broke their silence.

"Thank you," he rasped, his voice hoarse. "For being here."

She swallowed hard, twisting her head so that she could see him. He was still facing the pyre, his hood still cast over his face. His blue eyes gleamed in the torchlight. "I couldn't leave without saying goodbye," she answered. "He was a good man."

Only she could have caught the almost imperceptible tightening of Obi-Wan's mouth. "He was," he whispered. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but could not get the words out. Instead he said, "I have to train the boy. Anakin. It was what he wanted. His last request."

Flyra's chest tightened. "You are barely a Jedi yourself."

"I promised," Obi-Wan answered. "I won't fail him again."

"You have never failed him."

At last, Obi-Wan turned towards her. His face was raw, wrecked, with a grief only she could see. "I couldn't save him," he choked out, and he sounded so young and wretched, like a lost boy abandoned by his parents.

"Obi," she breathed. There was nothing she could say to assuage his agony, his loss, so she rested her head against his shoulder. He leaned into her. "I have to leave," she said quietly.

He was silent for a moment, though she could feel the tightening of his hand around hers. "Where will you go?" was all he said.

She shook her head. "I do not know," she murmured. "Somewhere cold, perhaps. Like home."

He laughed, but it was entwined with so much sadness and memory that she wished she could hold him closer. For long, long moments they stood together in silence, each clinging to the other's company, memorising it. Each grasping at these last few moments.

"Perhaps Anakin is another chance for you," Flyra said quietly. "After Ben. Perhaps Anakin can be the brother you save."

Obi-Wan shifted, but only to rest his cheek against her hair. "Perhaps," he murmured back, his silky voice so soft and sad she thought she might be able to get lost in it.

Flyra closed her eyes, leaning into him. She breathed in his scent, his warmth, his presence, the thing she had longed for. And as she let out her breath, as she opened her eyes, as she moved away at last...

She let him go.