Summary: Obi-Wan's thoughts at a pivotal moment in his life.
Category: angst
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Lucas owns 'em. I use 'em. Lots.
Feedback: Yes please, to destinaf@hotmail.com
When it came, it was like the strange drift of twilight sleep.
I had the sensation of floating above my body, but when I tried
to move, I was locked inside, trapped. The blow was swift and
sharp, cutting through muscle and sinew, tissue and bone,
melting me into a helpless caricature of myself.
I heard you calling my name, and the sound of your desperation
made me anxious. I was lifted, folded against your chest. I
strained to form words of reassurance, but it was as if a hand
inside my throat choked off my power of speech, and I could not
break through. My eyes were open, and I drank in the sight of
your face, measuring the extent of my injuries against the look
in your eyes.
I knew then that I was dying, and you could not save me.
Soft scratching against my forehead as my eyes closed... your
beard grazed me as you cradled my head. Your voice broke when
you said it again, and again - "Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan..." So much
emotion. I hadn't realized, had never known, how much I meant
to you. Your fear and anguish took on unique colors, like
shifts in the indigo spectrum of a stormy sky, crystal specters
behind closed eyelids. Gentle rain soothed my face, wetting my
lips, and I tasted the salt of your tears.
They say time is constant, that it cannot be altered or turned
back. Suspended in the gray netherworld between the Force and
my life, I counted the days we'd wasted, knowing they numbered
in the thousands. What courage I possessed fled in the panic to
recall every moment I'd spent in your presence, every gesture
and nuance of your strength. I could not struggle, for my body
would not obey. It was time to surrender to the inevitable.
My head fell back against your chest. Cool air struck my bare
skin as you ripped aside the fabric of my tunic, but there was
no pain, and there should have been pain...but instead, only
the thrill of your hands moving over my body, soothing,
begging, healing. I savored your touch, for it gave me memory.
The feel of your fingers renewed a fantasy long hidden, that
one day you would touch me as a lover should. Too late, I
thought...too late.
Every individual nerve was sparking with energy; it shocked me,
to feel the hold you still had on me. You held me tethered to
you, whispering to me, speaking of love, weeping in anger. My
heart beat, once, twice, trying to find a rhythm, seeking the
pattern of life. I felt you channel the Force, felt it leashed
at your command, marveled at the power you possessed. I knew in
that moment all the secrets of your heart; it communicated with
my soul, demanding that I listen.
Your voice seemed a distant echo of what once was, a silver
thread that shimmered in the light and faded as I turned. I
felt bright, full, completed...but there was still an aching
hole within me, and I hesitated.
Torn between knowing the truth of the universe, and knowing the
depth of your love, I was caught on the brink. Your lips
brushed against my ear, and you pleaded with me to choose to
live, to turn back. You raged at me for dying, for leaving you
alone. Your mouth covered mine, and you rocked me in your arms,
still crying my name.
I heard you calling, standing between my death and the darkness
beyond, and I chose to be yours. You rewarded me with a love
beyond imagining, acceptance that transcended every barrier.
The flames lick close, casting searing shadows against my face,
as I remember. I call to you in grief as you once called to me.
The fire leaps in response, devouring the silence that follows.
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