Saga Rebellion [Obi-Wan, Beru, Bail; complete]

Constructive criticism is accepted, and much appreciated.

I posted this little story here to celebrate the end of my final exams for the year. The subject matter is perhaps overdone, at best, and is old ground that has been trod by many writers far worthier than I, but I hope my essay into this area will be found acceptable.

Rebellion takes place about eleven months after the events of RotS.



Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are property of Lucasfilm. I make no monetary profit from this, nor do I intend to.







Part I: The Burial Of Caravans

The bitter suns, crouched low and jealous in the cauterised white sky, cast a hard-edged gaze upon the endless swathes of desert sand. Burned by the young morning suns, sand and sky merged at some distant point into a prostrate white blankness. Throughout the simmering air of the desert, still and gasping for breath, in all its wide sparse stretches of light tan sand and planes of seared rock, there was not so much an outpouring of blazing heat from the baleful suns as there was a marked absence of any relief from Tatooine's pitiless nature. Yet though no wind blowing across the wasteland softened the slap of the suns' stinging heat, and no drop of cool rain fell from any grey wisp of passing cloud, it had sheltered for three years now a lonely man outlawed from the Empire.

The outlaw limped now over the dunes, his faded brown hood offering a paltry shield from the suns for his lined weary face. He ran a swollen tongue over his dry lips, wondering, not for the first time, nor for the last, why he had not thought to bring any water. In a strange and delicate way that was quite removed from the limitations and needs of his body, he enjoyed these long, entirely voluntary walks he often undertook. Here, beneath the shade of a rock, in the lee of a dune, through a burrow in the sand, life held on under the desert's lack of mercy, fingers scrabbling for a handhold in the sheer walls of the pit, legs swinging as it clung to light above the yawning chasm. Whenever he was given a chance, he did his utmost to give it a hand up.

He walked, thought, lived, this outlaw?breathed in, out, the dry burning air of the desert, watched the sluggish sand lizards at the fringes of his vision, heard the roar of the krayt dragons in the throes of their passion far off, gave no resistance to the fierceness of the animal hope of life. Defiantly, he raised his greying head to the proud, youthful suns looming just above the horizon,

And saw, with an exponentialling horror, an orange cloud rearing its huge domed head above the horizon as billowing folds of xanthin sand slipped away and fell roaring toward him, a smothering blanket that thundered past the suns and tore up sand and sky so that they seemed no longer old and thin and burned but vigourously alive and armed with claws of flaming sand that ripped the weary air. He stood paralysed, heard three heartbeats pounding so loud in his ears, and ran like an animal.

He could not outrun the winds that sped unchecked over the desert flats, he knew, without the Son of Suns at his side. And still Obi-Wan ran, and looked back. Trembled, feared, sweated. He would not make it to the west side of the Jundland Wastes before this southeasterly storm did. Why, for love of the Force, had he come so far from safety, alone? Had he hoped for a glimpse of Luke Skywalker? Fool he, seeking hope. Hopeless.

'Aaah?'

Focus your concentration here and now, where it belongs.

'?unh.' Sprawled on the ground, he choked sand down his parched throat. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled a few more steps before turning to face the oncoming storm. It was a full-blown sandstorm?khar-effendi, the Jawas named it: that which flays the beasts, or namir-faladh: the burial of caravans. And he stood, here, defenceless, a dozen klicks from the only shelter he knew. Already, his right foot and left lower calf were trapped in settling sand. He yanked them free, and scann

 

This was amazing, I loved the way you described things, I could just picture and feel everything, and made Obi-Wan more?human, that he isn?t the perfect guy the movies sometimes make him look like. Great job Cael.

 

Star_Angel Thank you so much. I'm glad you enjoyed it.



Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are property of Lucasfilm. I make no monetary profit from this, nor do I intend to.







Part II: Dust On The Wind

He found himself in a strange place, in an in-between place. As though wedged between a dilapidated slum and a senator's mansion, Obi-Wan blinked away the muddied passage of unconsciousness. The sandstorm raged, yet to exhaust itself, but he discovered that he didn't care. A translucent film of eternity had been placed over everything, and he tried in vain to resist the idea that he saw things clearer through it.

Love is not the illusion, life is.

For a moment, it seemed as though someone had taken a fistful of colourless dust and used it to form a picture of Qui-Gon Jinn on the jaundiced canvas of the fevered storm. Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, and slowly breathed out emotion. Even if his eyes had seen any such thing, he knew it would be entirely due to his own perception of the Force. It simply wasn't his Master's way to rise from coagulating sand in the middle of a Tatooine sandstorm like some apparition of the Whills.

Besides, reflected Obi-Wan ruefully, Qui-Gon had never quite learned to like his broken nose.

Objective reality, factual physicality, eluded him. There was only the Force. Talk to me, Master, not at me!

The Force spoke in the voice of Qui-Gon Jinn. Have you given up hope, Obi-Wan? Despair is of darkness.

'Darkness?' He was vaguely wondered if he was still capable of stringing a coherent sentence together. 'Has perfect union with the Force bestowed on you transcendence above the pain of ten thousand worlds, Qui-Gon?'

He is dead, thought Obi-Wan furiously, he is beyond pain. I can no more hurt him than I can hurt the Force, and I should be thankful for that. The Force swirled and rippled, muddied with darkness. But in this moment, in this moment, the Force was Qui-Gon Jinn, and Qui-Gon Jinn was the Force, and Obi-Wan thought, Let not this last sanctuary be sullied. Let it not be spoiled. Please. And it was all right, light, only he could not see it.

When that which is invulnerable chooses to be with the vulnerable, we call it love. Obi-Wan.

He set his shoulders rigid, trying to keep them from shaking. A crushing realisation had struck him as Qui-Gon spoke?that neither love nor hope nor even duty bound him here, in a dusty hut on this sweltering armpit of a planet, in this foul universe. It was despair, debilitating inertia.

Let it go, Padawan. Let it go. Despair is of darkness?so is anger. So is fear. So is hate. Despair is sin is lack of trust, of love.

He lifted his nose bare inches from the sand. 'Can't there be love without trust?'

Can there? And in that moment, he didn't know if the Force spoke, or if it was his own parched voice he had heard. Trust is luxury, hard won, easily lost.

Obi-Wan, love those you love as they deserve to be loved. That is immortality?selfless love. And faith. Faith in the Force, in Its Chosen One.

'Faith. In An-Anakin.' The name stumbled from between his lips like dirty joke.

Pure faith. The Force spoke, but it did not command. Invulnerable, it became vulnerable, waiting. Waiting for him.

Obi-Wan was gasping for air. 'I?can't. I know, I can?know it, but Master, I can't understand it.'

It will be enough. Only know it, know it. The One will bring balance. Then will you trust me, Obi-Wan?

'Master, I know it!' The four words were shouted, desperately, the next four were whispered, 'I cannot be more.'

The storm was calming now, the wind dropping to a gentler gale force intensity. The air around him, stirring the sand between his legs, gusting his tunic, scouring his lungs and nasal passages, coursing in his blood, was roiling with primal violence. And in this moment, there was the Force, there was Qui-Gon Jinn, the man, immortal who had been mortal, One with the transcendent embr

 

Oh, another fantastic update .

I?m glad that Obi-Wan found and helped Beru and Luke.

'I have to think about it,' she answered, her voice rising a little, 'because this is how my Luke is going to be living, if he's to be a Jedi like his father was.' She paused. Dimly, Obi-Wan's mind registered her casual possessiveness toward Luke, and then she was continuing, 'Owen doesn't talk of such things, but I reckon you're set on training my boy.'

'Beru,' he said clearly. 'Luke is not your son. He is Anakin Skywalker's son. And everything a Jedi possesses, including his family, can be called upon at any time to be sacrificed for the greater good. Luke's life, as was Anakin's, should be avowed to the service of preserving?or creating?peace and justice in the galaxy.' As soon words left his lips, he knew they had been cruel, hypocritical, and, to a large extent, not even true. But he had not been feeling kind or true. He had been feeling empty, a shell of Obi-Wan Kenobi, sitting next to Beru Lars.

Chilling and haunting but true.

 

Star_Angel Thank you. A little note, though: the only reason I am updating this so frequently is because I've already written and re-written it about six or seven times. I can get quite neurotic about sentence structure and tend to angst over the tiniest details, and so am consequentially a very slow writer.



This is the final part of the story.



Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are property of Lucasfilm. I make no monetary profit from this, nor do I intend to.







Part III: Wash Away The Ashes

By the time the speeder was fit for the return journey, it was nearly noon. Obi-Wan more than once caught himself wishing Anakin was available to help fix its sandblasted engines.

'Are you sure you won't want to be staying the night?' he asked as he helped her into the front seat. 'It will be dark by the time you get home.'

'Thank you, but it's best I be getting home, Ben,' she answered. 'Owen will be back before noon tomorrow.'

'If you're sure?' He paused. 'Wait here a moment.' He walked briskly inside, returning carrying a large bottle of water, which he hefted into the seat beside her. 'You really shouldn't be travelling in this heat, no matter how much more accustomed to it you are than I,' he observed with a small smile. 'Comm me when you get home.'

'Thank you, Ben, but I'm not a child,' she said, shifting Luke in her arms so she could start the engines.

He rested his forearm on the speeder's hull, feeling it vibrate beneath him, eager to be away across the desert sands. 'But I feel responsible for your safety.'

Beru looked at him, her eyes gentle. 'If you'll excuse me for being so bold,' she said quietly, 'you always feel far too much responsibility for far too many things, Ben.' With her free hand, she lightly pushed his arm off the speeder, and released the acceleration lever. Staring after her as the speeder dwindled into a dark fleck against the unsettled dunes, he realised that she had not even asked for his comlink number. And he wasn't sure himself if the blasted gadget still worked.

Sighing, he trudged back into the house to prepare his midday meal. He was just reaching for a jar of blue milk?he noted with some annoyance that it was almost empty, and he hadn't noticed until now?when he heard a faint tinkle cleave the fierce desert noon. For a moment, he was motionless, hands clenched on air in front of him. It had been, he thought, a year. Not so long, really; Force, it was such a short time. The simmering air still tasted bitter in his mouth. That sound did not belong here?it belonged in civilisation?

The holo-transponder Prince Organa had given him chimed again, its call insistent in its delicacy. He spent a long moment groping, gathering, weaving the lost, scattered threads of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and then strode to an alcove in the wall where the holo-transponder nestled, its distinctly Alderaanian design almost outrageously incongruous within its surroundings. Bail Organa appeared dressed in a pale tunic clasped with silver; small and blue and flickering in front of him, the transparent insubstantiality of his holographic image somehow at odds with Obi-Wan's memory of the tall, solidly imposing Senator.

'Captain Antilles.' Obi-Wan spoke without preamble, dispensing with formality for the coded names and signals they had agreed upon eleven months ago.

The Prince nodded in acknowledgement. 'Ben,' he returned. 'It gladdens me to see you in good health.' He paused, seeming to steel himself, and a flicker of surprise frissoned through Obi-Wan?he couldn't recall having seen Bail Organa ever nervous. But when he spoke, his voice was steady as though he addressed the Senate floor. 'Would you like to see her?'

Bail straightened his tunic, while Obi-Wan simply stood and stared. A slim handmaiden brought in the white bundle that was Leia Skywalker. From his spot upon the dusty floor, Obi-Wan could almost smell her baby frangrance. Padmé's daughter. Anakin's daughter. Luke, all over again: they were so different and yet always the same.

 

Wow! I just found this story and I'm so glad I did. You did a spectacular job with this, Cael-Fenton.

I particularly loved how real Obi-Wan was, how broken he was by Anakin's betrayal. His conversations with Qui-Gon, Beru and himself were all very insightful and thought provoking. You brought a tear to my eye on more than one occasion. Your descriptions were very well done and the style drew me in. I felt very much in the moment and inside Obi-Wan's head, and Obi-Wan is my favorite character so that's a place I like to be.

Some of my favorite parts:

Obi-Wan gazed at the wide blue eyes, the soft cap of blonde hair, the vivid intelligence and curiosity and the staggering potential of sheer power within those eyes?Anakin's eyes?that had aged by almost a year since he had first held this child on Polis Massa. 'I don't think he needs me to show him what lies beyond life on a moisture farm, Beru,' he said quietly. 'He is too much like his father.'

and...

He thought of Qui-Gon, of Xanatos and of Anakin, of pools of acid and pools of flame, of the all-consuming conflagration of darkness that always left such acrid ashes in its wake. Could he ever truly leave Mustafar? Walk on without looking back? Could he wash away the ashes, in this waterless place?

I loved the very end too when Obi-Wan's heart finally starts down the path toward healing. It was very moving.

Wonderful short story! I really enjoyed it!

 

Wow. That is a killer opening. I don't know whether to be in awe of the imagery or cry at that last line.

Do you love the boy?

Ohhh... Valid question! I think it gets right to the heart of Obi-Wan's anguish, especially his response of "Which one?"

The whole conversation with Qui-Gon in the second post just blew me away. I love your take on Obi-Wan's despair, and especially the violent determination that Qui-Gon projects through the Force.

when he heard a faint tinkle cleave the fierce desert noon

Fantastic line.

And wow again to that ending. Amazing work, Cael!

 

Nienna_Narmolanya

You did a spectacular job with this
Thank you.

His conversations with Qui-Gon, Beru and himself were all very insightful and thought provoking
I'm glad you liked those. Originally, there was very much less of that, but writing Obi-Wan talking to himself so much was quite beyond me, so I gave him a couple of cute little playmates. Disembodied!Qui-Gon is perhaps less ethereally enigmatic and mysterious and airy-fairy here than he should have been, but I think he would have tried to heal Obi-Wan as best he could manage. He wouldn't have been an aloof shadow flitting unpredictably in and out of the material plane, not when his former Padawan needed him so much.

I loved the very end too when Obi-Wan's heart finally starts down the path toward healing
It's odd, actually, that you should mention that. Rebellion started out a much darker and angstier story. I reasoned that Obi-Wan would have spent his first few months on Tatooine settling in, almost desperately keeping himself as busy as possible, and when the long, lonely reality of his exile set in, he didn't have any missions or relationships to keep his mind off the pain, and that's when his tremendous grief at Anakin's betrayal really hit him. But I toned down the hardcore Obi-psychotorture in later rewrites because it occurred to me that he isn't really the type to wallow and indulge in oceans and oceans of self-pity. For better or for worse, his Jedi training is too deeply ingrained in his character for that kind of thing.



JadeSkellington

That is a killer opening...And wow again to that ending
Thank you muchly. I was going for a bit of contrast there: at the beginning of the story, Obi-Wan's perspective was a little skewed toward viewing the desert as a wasteland, and a hostile one at that; a powerful, merciless manifestation of the Force that had to be respected and dealt with warily. By the end of the story, he sees it as not a wasteland, but a blank canvas; neither an enemy that has to be appeased nor a teacher to learn from, but a sort of great big sandy Therapy Room. In short, he adopts a more 'feminine', anima/yin-oriented worldview, which I thought he needed after the very animus/yang-oriented war.

The desert plays a significant if often overlooked role, both physically and spiritually, in the Judeo-Christian tradition, and I think Obi-Wan begins to see here that despite its emptiness, it harbours a real possibility for giving and recieving love, which, as Qui-Gon tells him, is not something he should deny himself.

My line of thinking is that Obi-Wan was fairly well-adjusted, all things considered, by the time of ANH, and certainly a greater Jedi Master than he was in RotS, which would not have happened if he had spent nineteen years moping.



To finish off the rambling, my sincere thanks to everyone who read this.

 

Healer Leona Sorry about taking so long to reply.

Those last line of Obi-Wan were touching and profound. A lesson well learn.
I am glad you liked that.

Thank you for sharing this.
You're more than welcome. Your comments really made my day.

 

Author's Note ? this story edited 1/1 Monday. I seem to have become one of those fanficcers who just can't help reworking their stories to death. Thanks to everyone who helped me out in that respect, and to all my readers.

As I type this, the sun has just risen on the first day of 2007 in my hometown. Happy New Year!

?and school + the 'O' level madness resumes on Wednesday?

I DON'T WANNA GO BACK!

 

I found this story by looking it up in your bio.

Great story. I loved the way it morphed from a scene of utter destruction to one with hope for the future. The discussion with Beru was wonderfully done and I liked the codewords that Bail and Obi-Wan had worked out. The pacing was terrific as well but it was the language and the way you used words to paint the pictures of this story were absolutely first rate.

I loved this.

He thought of Qui-Gon, of Xanatos and of Anakin, of pools of acid and pools of flame, of the all-consuming conflagration of darkness that always left such acrid ashes in its wake. Could he ever truly leave Mustafar? Walk on without looking back? Could he wash away the ashes, in this waterless place?

Obi-Wan put down the knife he had been using to slice the tubers. Love. Pure love. Love without attachment. Faith without dependency. Purity. Let me love all, and claim no one. Let me be nothing to myself, that I may be the purest vessel of Your will. Let me give without taking. Let me love without possessing. He touched the Force.

And a tree would blossom here, yes, here, in this desert, yes, it would. Force let it be. Love. That would be his own, personal, private Rebellion.

Rebellion indeed.

Brilliant job. Loved it.

 

Diane Thank you for your lovely comments.

I found this story by looking it up in your bio
That's good to know. Wouldn't want to think of my fics as zombie threads, occasionally and mysteriously surfacing, self-propelled, from the murky depths of the Saga boards.

I loved the way it morphed from a scene of utter destruction to one with hope for the future.
It's pretty unoriginal subject matter, though, you'll have to admit.

The discussion with Beru was wonderfully done
Thank you. I was afraid she would across flat and unformed, character-wise, so I am glad to hear that you approve.

I liked the codewords that Bail and Obi-Wan had worked out
But they're so lame! Writing that bit, I went over it so many times thinking No way anybody's going to buy that. Additionally, I love writing those two interacting. They are sweet together.



Edited foor bd speeling.

 

I just found this gem! I will leave a more detailed review later, but I just wanted to say Incredible!

I look forward to reading the rest. I have no doubt it will more than meet my very high expectations!

 

VaderLVR64 I'm sorry I did not respond earlier?I just saw your comments. Thank you for dropping by.

 

perfect. i loved it.

 

Awesome. This was cool.

 

Tatooine_Ghost Thank you so much for reading.

Laine_Snowtrekker I am really flattered. Glad you thought so!

 

Author's note Content edited for conciseness, clarity and general improvement on Monday 11 June 2007. Thanks to my readers for all your kind comments, and everyone who helped me out with the latest edit.

 

Late to the party...but wonderful imagery...ending with hope. Beautiful job.