Epilogue

The Jedi aren't much for speaking at funerals. Grief, as with all emotions, is a private conversation between oneself and the Force. It makes Anakin uncomfortable, as if everything that Obi-Wan was is left unacknowledged.

The other attendees expressed reserved condolences to Anakin as they filed out. Anakin remembered Obi-Wan receiving the same after Qui-Gon's funeral. Obi-Wan had not cried as he accepted their shallow sympathies. Anakin did not allow himself to cry.

He didn't cry when he returned to Bant's quarters either. He sat down on the bed which still didn't feel like his own, staring blankly.

Bant broke the silence at last. "Anakin?"

"They don't understand. None of them do," he said, his tone devoid of all emotion.

Bant paused thoughtfully. "I think…just because they do not mourn publicly doesn't mean they do not mourn at all, Anakin. It's a cultural—"

"No, I mean they don't understand what it was like to see him. At the end, when he was hurting so much. Sometimes it seemed like it wasn't even him. And they don't understand what it means now that he's gone."

"I know what you're saying," said Bant, sitting down beside him.

"Master Tahl trained you, Obi-Wan said," stated Anakin.

"Yes. I wasn't much older than you when she passed away. Master Fisto helped me through it. Obi-Wan did too. He was a good friend."

"And a good master. I want people to remember that about him. I don't want him to just be…be…gone into the Force like he wasn't even here," said Anakin.

"He isn't gone," Bant assured him. "You're right, the others won't understand how important that is unless they've lived it themselves. But you do."

"Yeah," Anakin shrugged, lips twisting into a sob. He had been brave all morning, and he was running out of stamina.

To Bant's surprise, Anakin threw his arms around her neck and clung to her—for a Jedi, he certainly was a very tactile person. There was still much about him that Bant had yet to learn. She returned the embrace while Anakin cried, feeling her own heart ache with the loss of her lifelong friend.

It was three days before Bant broached the subject of moving Anakin into her quarters. He'd been living there for a month, but there were still a few lesson books and half-dissected remote droids that symbolically marked his residence in the apartment that he once shared with Obi-Wan.

It went smoothly until Bant tried to enter Obi-Wan's room, and Anakin balked. No one had been inside since Obi-Wan had vacated the room, and his belongings were still arranged the way he had left them.

"Anakin," said Bant patiently. "They are just things. It's unbecoming of a Jedi to place significance on material—oh, Anakin."

Hot tears were spilling down Anakin's cheeks again.

"Why don't we go inside together? We won't touch or move anything until you're ready."

Lofty windows invited rays of sun into the simple, tidy room. Like most Jedi, Obi-Wan had very few personal effects. Except for some sketchbooks and a couple of indoor plants that once belonged to Qui-Gon Jinn, there was little that could be considered extraneous or sentimental. His clothes were folded neatly and all the pads and papers on his writing desk were painstakingly filed – save one. In the center of the desk sat a single square of paper topped by a smooth black stone. Light from the window illuminated swirls of red on its ebony surface.

Anakin felt a pang of regret as he took the river stone in his hand, watching the light dance off its shiny surface. He stuffed it into his pocket along with the note before Bant could see.

Anakin Skywalker sits forward again and his braid bounces against his shoulder as all four chair legs hit the floor. Knighthood seems a much weightier responsibility than he once thought – ever since Master Windu's return with unsettling news from Kamino, it seems increasingly clear that there will soon be war.

Bant has already come in to say goodnight and wish him well – ritual dictates that he rise early and meditate alone before the trials, so the next time he sees her, it will be in front of the Council. As he faces whatever challenges await, it will comfort him to know that the knight he's come to love like an older sister is watching, believing in him. Yet it still feels bitterly unfair. Neither can forget that he should be sharing this accomplishment with someone else. (I let him go, I couldn't save him – in any life and every universe this powerlessness against death taunts Anakin. It provokes something bestial in him that he does not yet understand; he cannot lose anyone else the way he lost Obi-Wan, the way he lost Shmi).

Anakin reaches into the top drawer of his desk. He pulls out a square of paper, unfolds its well-worn creases, and reads,

My dear Anakin,

Like you, I did not understand the value of this stone at first glance, but my master encouraged me to take a second look. It is a conductor of the Force, and it once helped me defeat a device that would have wiped my memory. Keep your memories close, dear Padawan, but do not make the mistake of living in them. You must continue to learn and grow and accomplish the great things I know you are capable of. Remember that the Force is always with you, and as I become a part of the Force I will also always be with you.

–Obi-Wan

Thank you once again to everyone who has read or will read/review.

I'm on Tumblr and A03 as happygiraffe if you're looking for more fanworks or to make suggestions for future stories!