Chapter Text
Obi-Wan sat alone in his hut, his back to the closed door. He didn’t want light or company. He just wanted to lay down his burdens and disappear. Alcohol was a tempting proposition, but given the mood he was in, it was probably unwise. His mood was also the reason he’d put his lightsaber with Anakin’s in a trunk, his robe folded neatly on top of them with the lid closed. This was a day to remember his failures, his losses, his regrets. In his hand, he held a holograph of himself and his Master, in happier days when the future looked bright and he was sure of his purpose. He couldn’t quite bring himself to destroy it, despite feeling like the holo was mocking him. He settled for throwing it across the room.
"Obi-Wan, is that any way to treat us?" Qui-Gon chided gently, appearing across from him on the floor.
"You did it first, when you chose Anakin," Obi-Wan retorted sullenly. "If you want to scold someone, scold him."
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "You know you were ready for the Trials. And no one else was willing to train him."
"And rightly so. It’s not like it did any good. Over a decade of my life in his service and yours, and what do I have to show for it? I’ve lost everything I could possibly lose." He began counting on his fingers. "My home. My friends. My career. My rank. My reputation." And in a whisper, "Myself."
"No, Padawan. Your identity is the one thing you haven’t lost. Believe it or not, you are more than just a Jedi."
"No. I’m not a Jedi. I don’t want the responsibility. The galaxy will just have to learn to take care of itself. It was the will of the Force for us to be destroyed, apparently. So be it." Obi-Wan was bitter and defiant.
Qui-Gon shook his head. "Padawan, what’s gotten into you?"
"No. Don’t call me that. I’m Ben Kenobi now, remember?" His tone was sharp, mocking.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said firmly, "it was the will of the Force to save you. No matter what you say, you cannot undo your training or your knowledge of the Force and lightsaber combat. You are needed still. The combined Light of our strongest and wisest exists to counter the Sith Darkness."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "I’m tired of looking out for a galaxy that doesn’t appreciate it. You’re forgetting that most people hate us and think we’re the reason the Sith have taken over. Our name is scorned and cursed. If we’re lucky, we’re pitied. It isn’t worth caring for people who don’t care in return."
Qui-Gon frowned thoughtfully. "All right. Fair enough," he conceded. "But what about those who do care for you? I cannot believe they don’t matter to you."
"There aren’t many, and the ones I can think of are resilient and shrewd. They do not need me to protect or take care of them."
"You’re so certain?" Qui-Gon’s tone was reminiscent of Yoda’s at his most condescending. "And I take it you don’t need them?"
Obi-Wan stared hard at Qui-Gon. "If they’re going to take that tone, then no. Master or not, I don’t have to stay here and take that. If you hadn’t been so reckless with Maul, maybe you’d have lived to train Anakin and the Sith would be destroyed now." Obi-Wan stood up and headed for his door.
Obi-Wan didn’t see Qui-Gon’s hurt expression, or the way Qui-Gon’s eyes darted to the cloak on the sleep couch, or even the way he stared worriedly after Obi-Wan’s retreating form as it stalked outside. But over their bond, which Obi-Wan hadn’t closed, Qui-Gon murmured kind and sad, /I’m sorry I loved you more than myself./ Qui-Gon felt the bond close then, so abruptly it made him start, and he saw Obi-Wan drop to the sand and take a deep, shaky breath. Knowing where his boy was headed, Qui-Gon scouted ahead and saw that his way was clear. No danger would befall him aside from the chill of the desert night. Qui-Gon maneuvered Obi-Wan’s cloak to drape gently across his shoulders before withdrawing silently. He saw Obi-Wan tug the cloak closer around him, but he didn’t wear it properly. He merely resumed his journey, shoulders hunched and expression lost.