#the fearless Padawan's one fear is failing her Master...

[meandmyechoes]

"Always with the criticism, Master. Never really believing in me, trusting me."

The Clone Wars 2.06 Tales of the Jedi 1.05

[padawanlost]

re: Obi-Wan and Anakin's communication issues. I can think of a couple of times in tcw where Obi-Wan does make an effort to reach out to Anakin. during the Clovis arc he tries the whole "this is like me and Satine" and Anakin is not having it for a few reasons, and on Utapau he outright asks if Anakin wants to talk about Ahsoka and when he doesn't, he brings it up again anyway. both times, he does pretty much tell Anakin to "get over it" but it's also Anakin that puts up walls and shuts him out.

As yousaid, Obi-wan’s “reaching out” is about telling Anakin to get “over it”. That’sno a healthy exchanged by any means. Obi-wan does try to reach out to Anakinto understand him and listen without judgment, he does to try to convinceAnakin to do whatever he believes Anakin should be doing. And I wouldn’t count their conversation about Ahsoka’sdeparture as a healthy communication either because Obi-wan waits WEEKS beforehe “reaches out” to Anakin and he only does it after Anakin slips and saysAhsoka’s name.

To beclear, this is not Obi-wan’s fault in the sense he is doing on purpose. Obi-wanis simply unequipped do deal with Anakin (or anyone who is not a Jedi) in ahealthy way. Communication is an exchange, a process. Imagine a world wherethere’s only two languages (A and B). Then, imagine Obi-wan was taught onlylanguage A and that language B is inherently bad. Now, Obi-wan has to train achild who speaks nothing but language B to learn language A AND completelyforget language B. Also, Obi-wan cannot understand language B and is notallowed to learned it. Do you see the problem? It’s not that Obi-wan is tryingto hurt Anakin, but is inability to understand Anakin hindered Anakin’s abilityto understand Obi-wan which created a relationship where neither side iscapable of fully understanding the other because they are not speaking the samelanguage.

As forAnakin putting up walls, the same way it’s unfair to say this a result ofObi-wan’s cruelty, it’s also unfair to put this on Anakin because he was thechild. It was, regardless of why he failed, Obi-wan’s responsibility to raiseAnakin. Anakin shut down Obi-wan’s attempts because after 13 years together Anakinknew better than to expect Obi-wan to understand.

[Obi-wan] heard himself - that tone of voicethat Anakin had always resisted. Obi-Wan waited for Anakin’s sharp response… then realized it wouldnever come. [Jude Watson’s The Last of the Jedi: The Desperate Mission]

Anakin had always hated sand. It was one of the many things about hisPadawan that Obi-Wan understood better now that Anakin was dead. That was thehorror of losing someone: Understandingcame too late. [Jude Watson’s The Last One Standing]

 “I just…” Anakin stopped. He took a ragged breath. “I thought you wouldbe proud of me.” I am proud of you.Obi-Wan wanted to say the words. They were true. He was proud of so much inAnakin. But now was not the time to tell him that. Or was it? [Jude Watson’sJedi Quest: The School of Fear]

‘I thought I’d lend a hand to Doby and Deland. They’re from Tatooine.’Anakin looked uncomfortable. ‘If they win, they free their sister. She’s aslave.’ ‘I see.’ Obi-Wan nodded at the two brothers. 'I wish you good luck.Anakin, may I speak with you a moment?’ He drew Anakin aside. 'You know this iswrong,’ he told his Padawan with a frown. 'I’msure you are helping for the right reasons. But this is not our mission. Wehave more important things to do.’ [Jude Watson’s Jedi Quest: DangerousGames]

‘Why do you like to go fast, Anakin?’ The dreamy, shuttered look cameover Anakin’s face. 'Because I can leave myself behind.’ he said, his eyes onthe ship. Garen glanced at Obi-Wan. He raised one eyebrow. It was not a Jedianswer. Obi-Wan frowned, troubled by it.There were still places in Anakin he could not reach. [Jude Watson’s Jediapprentice - Special Edition: Deceptions]

Such a dichotomy. [Anakin] is the most fearless man I have ever foughtwith … yet a part of him remains that small, frightened boy who left Tatooineeleven years ago. The boy [Obi-wan]knew, to his shame, he’d sometimes failed to reach.[ Karen Miller’s Star Wars:Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

When they’d met,Anakin had been a warm-hearted nine-year-old boy with an open nature. He wastwelve and a half now, and the years had changed him. He had grown to be aboy who hid his heart. [Jude Watson’s Jedi apprentice - Special Edition: Deceptions]

 “Get away from me,” Anakin said, as the edges of his vision rippledscarlet and black … and the rage that dwelled inside him drew itsbreath to scream. “I don’t want you here. She’d be alive if you’d believedin my dreams. She’d be alive if I had freed her. Get away from me, Obi-Wan.Leave me alone!” But Obi-Wan wouldn’t. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, Anakin. Youdidn’t dream she was in danger. You didn’t dream she’d die. If you had��if you’dtold me—” Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder and shrugged,trying to dislodge it. “Don’t touch me. Are you deaf? I said leave me alone.” StillObi-Wan ignored him. Of course. Because that’s what he did. He gave orders, henever listened. “Anakin, you have to know it wasn’t deliberate.” All he hadto know was that this man had failed him. Sickened, trembling on the brink oflosing self-control completely, he reached out to pluck himself free ofObi-Wan’s grasping fingers …[Karen Miller’s Star Wars: The Clone Wars:Wild Space]

Obi-wan and Anakin’s relationship between TPM and AOTC was not the cozy,loving, friendly thing the fandom likes to pretend it was. It’s not hard tounderstand why Anakin would shut down all Obi-wan’s attempts after the tumultuous10 years they had spent together. Anakin’sreaction is pretty normal for someone who grew up like he did, when everytime you express your feelings you get told you are wrong to feel them you stopexpressing yourself. Again, it’s not that Obi-wan was intentionally trying tohurt Anakin, he simply didn’t know what else to do.

After 13 years of feeling misunderstood, is it really that surprisingthat Anakin doesn’t trust Obi-wan with his deepest feelings? I mean, that’s whyhe doesn’t tell Obi-wan about Padme, their marriage or his dreams. It’s notthat he thinks Obi-wan will hurt it, it’s because he doesn’t believe Obi-wan iscapable of understanding what Anakin is going through.

 [Anakin] turned away. “I’m notsure [Obi-wan]’s on my side.” “Your side? Anakin, what are you saying?”“He’s on the Jedi Council, Padmé. I know my name has come up for Mastery—I’mmore powerful than any Jedi Master alive. But someone is blocking me. Obi-Wancould tell me who, and why … but he doesn’t. I’m not sure he even stands up for me with them.” “I can’t believethat.” “It has nothing to do withbelieving,” he murmured, softly bitter. “It’s the truth.” “There must besome reason, then. Anakin, he’s your best friend. He loves you.” “Maybe he does. But I don’t think he trustsme.” [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith]

And onObi-wan’s side:

“You think Skywalker won’t be able to handle this?” Mace Windu said. “Ithought you had more confidence in his abilities.” “I trust him with my life,” Obi-Wan said simply. [Matthew Stover’s Revengeof the Sith]

Both Obi-wan and Anakin feel the same about so many things but they don’tspeak the same language so they don’t communicate effectively. So much of itgets “lost in translation” and it puts them in a situation where they both knowthey care for each other but they don’t really *know* each other. And, as Ialways say, that’s the tragedy of their relationship. Everything they neededwas right there all along, they just couldn’t see it.

[overcaffeinated-creative]

Which Way Am I Running?

Summary: Being assigned an undercover mission in Sundari triggers flashback nightmares for Solus. Trapped between a past in the Great Clan Wars and an uncertain future leaves her doubt filled and shaken before she ships out.

Characters: Solus Vetra, Ursa Wren in flashback

Rating: T

Warnings: Clear signs of an ongoing panic attack, clear presentation of mental trauma sustained from surviving a paramilitary raid, descriptions of said raid and general angst.

Notes: This is part of my worldbuilding attempts for the political climate of Mandalore, both past and present. Solus has a low opinion of Satine Kryze that shows in spades. 

“Run!” Ursa hissed through the speaker of her helmet. Armored hands pushed her deeper into the current base. “Run!”

Death white hands clung to the refresher sink with the strength of durasteel. Her entire body trembled in aftershocks of the nightmare. Head hanging low, Solus focused on the tears splattering on the porcelain. Harsh, panting breaths echoed around the small space. Part of her wanted to reach up to dry her eyes. That part lost. One simple move would send her tumbling to the floor on collapsing legs. To stay standing meant everything had to stay locked in place.

Blaster fire echoed behind as Ursa shoved her into the most solid inner suite. After the door slammed shut the older warrior destroyed the control panel. Even masked and back turned to her, Solus knew something was wrong. The funny feeling her ba’buir called the Force screamed. Lights, ones she knew the names of, kept blinking out of existence. It even told her that Ursa was scared too. But, it had to be wrong. Ursa Wren was fearless.

Part of Solus thought she had escaped the nightmares this time around. It had been months since she had returned from Mandalore. Her mind had accepted the state of her home sector without question. Just as it took the confirmation of Death Watch and their false Manda’lor in stride. Even the good-as-confirmed deaths of her ba’buire stirred no strong emotion. It was something she had accepted years ago. All of the True Mandalorians died but Jango Fett during the Great Clan Wars Now, a single mission assignment turned it all of that progress upside down.

“What’s wrong?” she had asked with tears filling her eyes. The once distant high-pitched whine of the invaders’ rifles moved closer. “Ursa, what’s wrong?”

More tears fell as she fought to breath. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream for the second time in another drawn out fight-or-flight response. Every sensation in her body was thrown into relief. The way her heart tried to pound free of her ribs. Her lungs stung with each attempt to properly inhale. Against nature she had even begun to sweat. Little icy beads that raced from her hairline, down her sensitive neck, before being adsorbed by tunic or hair. Her knees ached at being locked up while her muscles groaned from staying pulled taunt. And the Force...the Force tried to drown it all out as she was acutely aware of everyone and no one. Just a steadfast bad feeling about the future.

“Kryze sent assassins.” Ursa’s gauntlets shook while she lined the door with explosives. “They’ve jammed our comms and brought disruptor rifles.” Swallowing thickly she almost whispered, “I can’t stop them by myself. This is really it.”

Master Kit was half way across the Galaxy on a campaign. Otherwise, he would be standing beside her in the moment. His tall, warm presence would fill the space to help her find control. He was a good Master, better than she deserved, who always came when she needed him. However, those were what-ifs and past actions. In the current moment she was entirely alone her traitorous body. Everything tried to shake apart with no way to call for comfort she needed.

“I can help?” Solus wanted to believe that she could. Ba’buir said she truly gifted with the Force. The kind of gifted even Jetii would would call impressive. But, no one had taught her how to fight or even use it at all. Everything came to her mind without her really trying. Maybe she could try again for something to stop this. “I can help.”

Using the pain as a focal point the young woman fought to control herself. Her lungs ached from hyper-oxygenation or was it oxygen deprivation? Regardless it needed fixed. Breathing in through her nose for ten seconds, hold for three, exhale through pursed lips for five, and count. Then it would be repeated until she was calm, or something that could pass for calm. It was a trick Jazari had taught her. Everything was a fraction easier to do knowing it was how Jazari would handle it.

“No!” Ursa ordered while scooping her up into her arms. They went deeper into the rooms to hide. Solus was forced into a corner with Ursa kneeling before her. With her beskar’gam and drawn knife she made a better shield. Solus was a warrior too but her clothes only had beskar plated inserts. Ba’buir said full armor would come later. They would forge it together.

Solus wished Pre Vizsla had been the nightmare trigger. By all rights, he should have been. Vizsla was bigger and stronger than her with far more experience. He was the Manda’lor of Death Watch, the people who slaughtered Jaster Mereel and the True Mandalorians with pride. Yet, in the end she was faster and far more cunning with an unshakable will. He became nothing but another facet of an ongoing war. Vizsla was almost someone she could beat if given the time and mind set. The real problem was no so simple.

When the door war breached things became fuzzy in her mind. People screamed from Ursa’s blast before more rushed in to clear the rooms. Quickly they were located with those rifles shoved into their faces. Solus knew she had started crying again. The invaders called them failures and cowards. Taunted them for hiding. One made a move to kill them before the leader said no. Duke Kryze wanted their deaths to happen a certain way and certainly not disintegrated. Slugthrowers were to be used for them. The execution of Krownest legacies would be a statement. Unlike the mighty Kryze, they were going to die outside, on their knees, and treasonous blood running into their precious snow. They were forced to their feet, weapons take, and then marched toward their deaths.

When her breathing was firmly under control again allowing her to move toward the next task: freeing the sink. Each joint in her fingers throbbed from tension. It took individual orders to will the appendage to rise up. Absentmindedly, Solus wondered if this was the time she finally left indentations. Shamefully, she thought having to hold herself upright was becoming common place. Not including her notoriously strong grip. Several times Mav had joked, Force User or not, she had the strength to hold back Death itself. Back then Solus had laughed at the thought. Now, she could only pray to be so strong.

On the way out Solus held Ursa’s hand. All around them lay partial bodies and dust that used to be bodies. Almost everyone is dead; Vetra, Wren, or ally. It stabbed at her heart. The Force let her feel Ursa’s ache and the invaders confused feelings at their jobs. But, Ursa’s heartache was caused by more than their peoples deaths. There is failure and sadness mixed up in it. She promised to hold down the base and failed miserably. Her buir trusted her. There was even some acceptance of her incoming death. They will die as examples to their people. It makes her squeeze Ursa’s hand tighter and silently promise to help them.

These particular nightmares had started two days ago with vengeance. Senator Amidala returned from Sundari with grave news prompting the Republic to act. Herself, and fellow Padawan Ahsoka Tano, were being sent undercover within the city to locate the problem. Bitterly, she wondered how they could call anything they did there undercover work. Everyone in, what the Duchess called Mandalore, looked exactly the same now; fair, human, and blonde. A Togruta and a half-Sephi would stand out on first or second glance. It was disgusting. Before they had only looked sort of the same in beskar’gam.

With each step forward, Solus focused harder on the feeling to protect Ursa. When she used the Force before it was because she wanted it to happen. Everything in that moment had pointed toward “Do”. Now, she wanted those men with their blasters to leave them alone. Sinking into the feeling she tried to shove everything outward as hard as she could. Her vision went dark at the edges, white noise roared in her ears, and everything exploded.

Solus pulled her sweat damp tunic off then paused hand halfway to the faucet. In the very moment, she struggled to recognize herself. Dark circles beneath bloodshot eyes were common. Everyone sported the same eyes since the start of the Clone Wars. But, her eyes looked off. Something not entirely fear or unease dimmed them. Any business with Kryze felt off in a frustratingly unreadable way. Maybe it was frustration? She knew she lacked the passion for it to be true hate. There was was anger but Solus knew her own anger. It ran cold and gleamed.  

Blinking herself awake much later she lazily looked at their surrounds before settling down. It was what served as the medbay on one of their smaller transport ship. They were even seated on the gurney..at least, Ursa was seated with her back to the wall. Solus was curled up mostly in her lap and being held in a death grip to her armored chest with both arms. To the right, she could make out Ursa’s familiar black and gold helmet rest next to her. Upward was a different story. Tears were dried on the Wren’s cheeks while her eyes still were red and raw. Wiggling around she felt the blaster laying to their left.

A realization slammed into Solus with such intensity she gasp. “Kryze is her father,” she murmured while staring into her mirror double’s wide, trouble eyes. “She’s just as short-sighted and extremist in her executions of goals. Hell, there were probably actual executions on her rise to power. No wonder she unnerves me.” Laughter bubbled up from her chest edged with a fevered mania. “And here I am heading in to solve her problems as an agent of the Jedi Order because she’s faltering to the Republic’s offers.”

“You okay, Ursa?”

For several minutes Solus stood quiet. Her chest hurt. “Maybe I should just join Death Watch.” She saw Wren colors and sigils among the warriors on Concordia. Ursa bowed to Vizsla and she never made any decision lightly. If she gave there was a reason. “Stars know, I’m already too lost for Manda to find.”

“Just thinking about our future, ad’ika. Times are changing.”

“But, I can’t. I called myself the Chieftain of Clan Vetra. I can’t risk any honor I have left.”

[nny11writes]

Fictober 30- Peace

Fall not to emotion, but to peace. Spread not ignorance, but knowledge. Find passion within your serenity. Create not chaos, create harmony. Fear not death, there is the force.

That was the path of a Jedi.

Of course when Ahsoka thought of it, her mind always whispered to her, “Path of a Jedi, this is.”

That voice, warm and heavy and full of wisdom shattered her attempts peace each time. A feedback loop of the worst kind. I am emotional, I must find peace, path of a Jedi this is, I am emotional, I must fall into peace, path of a Jedi this is-on and on. It hurt.

Even when she could have claimed the title of Jedi, back when she’d deserved it, wanted it, Ahsoka had always struggled to not love. Or at least not love in the way Jedi weren’t supposed to love. Love without dependance, love without jealousy, love without fear. She’d probably had so much love stuffed into her body that the force itself had been at odds of what to do. Ahsoka loved every single person she thought of as a friend or as family. Secretly harbouring them, knowing that by having them be her friends and her family that she was failing. Fear blossoming from each bout of awareness. Afraid that she wanted to possess them, afraid because she was afraid. Most Padawans would have simply turned to their Masters and asked for help.

That was a lot harder to do when your Master was Master Yoda.

By the time Ahsoka had been concerned that she’d discovered a bad habit, the war had been in full swing. She’d been so happy to see him that she’d stuffed it down, down, down. Was it more important that she release her emotions or more important that she learn what her Master deemed important for her survival in this conflict? It was a weak argument. She sat and listened at his feet, letting the tone of his voice sooth her. Letting the authority of his position calm her. Loving him because he was her Master, he was Master Yoda.

For years after leaving the Order and leaving his side, Ahsoka had tried to avoid her Jediness. She buried the proverbs, the songs, the codes that had centered her for so long. She’d refused to observe holidays and memorials. She shunned anything that even looked like it should be used by a Jedi. Ahsoka felt desperate to be free of it. So she hacked at every grounding tether until she was left with nothing left to stand on. It had been terrifying to feel so unbalanced but she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t be like them. Ahsoka didn’t hate, no, she didn’t hate, but she was angry. She was hurt. She was scared. She felt stupid and small and foolish. She was confused.

She could solve much of that last one with a single comm call. The handwritten request to talk from her (former) Master was still tucked away in her bedside drawer. Something she’d pull out at night when the weight of it all threatened to drown her, something she’d stare at convincing herself that she shouldn’t call. That if she did she was forgiving him. If she did she was condoning the Jedi’s actions. That she’d be perpetuating a cycle. That if she did she was weak.

For years she tucked it away.

Slowly Ahsoka had allowed parts to come back to her. The stories that she’d always loved, the songs that had filled her heart, and a code that could help ground her. It was still terrifying some days-most days. She wasn’t alone but Anakin had never felt the way she did. When Ahsoka spent her name day meditating and fasting, reflecting on where she had come from and where she was going, Anakin spent his celebrating twice as hard to make up for hers. In so many ways he was fearless now, truly fearless now. Even with the little shards she’d pieced together, Ahsoka was still afraid.

It had been a bad month. Everything seemed to go wrong. Half the days she lived in dread and the other half she lived in a haze. Ahsoka found herself sitting more and more with that scrap of flimsi, looking at all the little swirls in his writing. A promise to speak, but only if she wanted to. Did she want to?

Her stomach was lodged somewhere in her throat as she bounced her legs up and down. Waiting for the call to connect. Fall into peace, path of a Jedi this is. Ahsoka swallowed thickly. Was she a Jedi? She didn’t know, she worried that maybe she’d never know again. This was one last tether to cut away. One last connection to the Order she could scrub clean. Peace through closure. Or it was something she could chose to nurture again, on her own terms. To find answers and prove to herself that she was growing again. Peace through knowledge and action. If she didn’t get an answer, and some peace real soon, Ahsoka thought she might end up calming her stomach by throwing up. Her mind was another issue that she honestly couldn’t handle thinking on.

There was a click, a flashing light warning her that the call had connected and her cheap holographic unit was doing it’s utmost to synchronize with Yoda’s unit in the Temple.

She could still hang up. She could end the call before it started, right now.

Ahsoka took a slow breath in, held it for a moment, and released it. Letting her fear float on her breath like individual strands of spider silk. The light stopped blinking and the small holographic image of her Master was there.

Master Yoda looked...he looked so old and frail. He had always been ancient, already closing in on 900 years old when she’d become his Padawan. Maybe time away allowed her to see it for the first time. Ahsoka clutched at her knees even as she stared. To be fair, Master Yoda only stared back as well, his ears pulled high and tight in surprise and his eyes wide. She was terrified of him. She was terrified he’d end the call. She loved him. Ahsoka latched onto that with all her might. For all she was angry with him, she’d missed him. She’d missed him.

“Hello Ahsoka,” Master Yoda finally broke the silence, his voice was rough and soft.

There, in the Force, she felt the smallest tap. Not a demand, not a request. A greeting.

“ ‘lo Master.” Ahsoka cringed. Former Master. Not her Master. What was she even supposed to call him now? Everyone called him Master Yoda.

His smile was warm and infinitely kind. It helped to banish some of her fear, and doing the rash thing, Ahsoka reached for him in the Force. Though she hadn’t travelled that path in nearly a decade, Ahsoka moved with confidence. It wove one way and another, branched and overgrown as it ended at the stone door to his mind. Open. It was open. He didn’t have it closed. He would let her in if she wanted to enter. It was open. Ahsoka padded softly to it, peeking through into the wild jungles and finding a path cleared just for her. Slowly, slowly she put her hand on the door frame.

Waves rippled from where she touched, low pitched echoes racing into him, bouncing back to her. Disappearing into the vastness of the Force. It returned gently, in a puff of humid air. Ahsoka’s nose twitched as she took another deep breath. Fire blooms, moon lilies, and soil. Safety. Her greeting returned with a welcome. Ahsoka grinned, a literally warm welcome that was also literally on the nose.

He didn’t hate her. She hadn’t been sure until this moment that he didn’t hate her. She could feel it there, deep somewhere inside of him. Regret and sadness, currently shadowed in his joy and his love. Something wiggled loose in the Force between them. The bands around her chest loosened.

In a way she hated that it meant so much to her. A bitter part of her still hissing from his betrayal was smothered under her relief.

Ahsoka couldn’t bring herself to enter, not now, not yet-maybe never. Just knowing that the option was there though, just knowing that he had meant it when he’d written her that note. He cared, at least somewhat.

“An apology I owe you. Unfairly I treated you. Acted in fear I did. I...if there is anything I can do?” Yoda’s face scrunched as he awkwardly ended his sentence. It wasn’t nearly enough. It wasn’t nearly enough but it was also more than she’d ever thought she would get.

“I was...I was just, uhm.” Ahsoka cringed slightly. What had she really wanted out of this beyond what she’d received? Even if she didn’t forgive him yet, he had apologized and admitted he’d been wrong. He was offering to do anything she’d like to help her. He’d left the door open, unsure how to prove his sincerity but earnestly wanting to. What did she want from him? An explanation, not right now when Ahsoka felt like she was already about to shake apart at the seams. What then? What then?

“Troubled are you?”

Ahsoka ducked her head, heart kicking oddly against her ribs. Of course he’d notice. Despite what people always thought, her Master had always looked for ways to help her. He’d always been kind until the day he hadn’t. Her breathing hitched as she whispered, “It’s been a rough week.”

He frowned, one hand rubbing at his head. “Mmm. Perhaps, hrm, breath with me would you?”

It wasn’t what she wanted but perhaps, in this moment, it’s what she needed. Her mind supplied memories from when she was eight and struggling to keep her emotions in check under the weight of her changing responsibilities. Half a day spent working on her ability to balance with Master Yoda poking at her with the force. Balance you must find, peace can you find if unbalanced you are? Difficult this would be. Balance starts, as all things, in the breath.

She nodded and breathed. The first breath burning cold against the back of her throat. The second breath shuddering slightly on the exhale. The third, the fourth, the fifth, all slowly prying the bands around her chest apart. She lost count, breathing in and out, watching Yoda who had closed his eyes as he guided them. Suddenly, it was like she could breath for the first time in years. She thought on the phrase she’d relied on for so long. Fall not into emotion, but into peace. Perhaps she just needed to adjust it. Ahsoka had always found her peace and her balance like this, not alone and aloof. With people she cared about, that she cared what they thought of her, that she loved. Perhaps she could find peace through emotion. It would take a lot of work and practice, but the idea was appealing to her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at the man who had become so much to her. A mentor, a teacher, a confidant, a friend, a father.

What did she want from this?

She wanted to forgive him. She just needed to give it time. Slowly, she could come to terms with this. This one thing that had haunted her. Then she could move on to the next big thing. The next and the next, there would always be a next. She could start here. With this one call. She could work from here.

The clarity was a like a cool glass of water when you didn’t realize you were thirsty.

She took another deep breath, one last look at Yoda’s face as he counted down to the exhale. She closed her eyes on one, exhaled, and found a small pool of peace to float in.