Post Hoc

3.

From his hidden vantage point in the observation balcony, Anakin watched in amazement as his master sparred with the enigmatic and fearsome Yoda. He really had not thought that the short, dumpy green troll could truly wield a blade, not like a real Jedi. Now he saw that his perception had been erroneous. Compared to Yoda – it turned out – none of the other Jedi Anakin had watched practice with their sabers could even begin to be called warriors. Except maybe Master Obi Wan. And even he was outmatched. Master Yoda didn't even seem to touch the ground: he flew, spun, somersaulted, leapt – and all the while his little blade flashed and buzzed through the air, executing an impossibly fast and precise dance of light.

Anakin stared, wide-eyed, and watched Obi Wan defend himself from the onslaught with incredible skill, matching the feverish pace and moving in a fluid sphere to avoid blows that seemed to rain down on him from everywhere and nowhere. But it was not enough. Within minutes, Yoda had scored six separate, blazing hits: to his opponent's arm, shoulder, back, leg, left hand, and finally one that glanced along the other's cheek. The training sabers were set on low power, but Anakin already knew that their touch burned and left a vibrant, throbbing sting in its wake.

"Ow," he whispered, careful not to be seen over the tall railing. He was supposed to be on his way back to his quarters, after all.

The two duelists stepped apart and bowed.

"Surrender, do you?" the ancient Jedi asked.

Obi Wan shook his head, jaw set in lines of determination.

"Good," Yoda murmured. "Begin learning, you can. Attachment leads to suffering. Like many blows, many cuts, grief attacks. Stop the pain, can you? Strong enough to defeat it, are you? To escape further blows?"

"Master, I …" But there was no time for a thoughtful response. Yoda had already lunged forward into the next assault, and was more relentless than ever, seeking to drive under his adversary's guard, to strike many times, swiftly, like a gadfly, never ceasing and never stopping his motion. The battle became desperate. Anakin marveled at the way the room seemed to fill with power and intensity until the air crackled and shimmered with it. Both Jedi were calling on the Force, letting it fill them and guide their actions. But still Obi Wan fought a steadily losing battle, taking hit after hit from the merciless ancient master. Eventually he stumbled, and Yoda dove in for a sweeping strike, a cut that would easily have severed an opponent in two had the blades been at full power. Obi Wan flipped away barely in time, landing heavily and slightly off-balance. He held out a hand to Force-push the other Jedi away – and was immediately slammed down to the ground. Anakin could hear his grunt of pain as the breath left his lungs, and his saber clattered away over the floor.

Yoda had barely moved his hand, barely lifted one of his three thick, clawed fingers.

Anakin craned his neck to gain a better view. His master was rising, warily, wiping sweat form his face with a sleeve, watching the ancient Jedi standing serenely a few long paces away. He drew in a deep breath and then summoned his weapon back into his hand.

"I cannot stop you, master."

"No. The pain that misplaced attachment brings, this you cannot stop either, Obi Wan. Too late is it now."

"Then what am I to do, master?"

Anakin was intrigued to hear the note of helpless frustration which echoed in his own teacher's voice. He had already felt that same emotion himself, at several points during the last week. It was somehow reassuring to hear it in a much older, more experienced Jedi.

"Told you I did, already," Yoda huffed impatiently. "Hit master Yoda!"

"But I can barely defend myself. How can I make a counterattack when I am on the defensive - and losing, at that?"

"Not listening are you," the Grand Master snapped. "Your lesson this is – find the answer you must. No more talk." He soared through the air again, launching another blistering offensive.

Anakin watched in growing trepidation and confusion as the ferocious little warrior proceeded to give one of his favorite students a very sound thrashing.

Obi Wan held on, stayed in the Force, letting it fill him and flow through him. He met the flashing blade that sought to burn him again and again, that did burn him again and again, putting every ounce of skill he possessed into this contest, just as he had poured his whole resolve into battling grief. He was reminded, vividly – terribly – of the battle in Theed, of the same desperate struggle, the same clash of infinities; only this time it wasn't the Dark he sought to vanquish. He felt as though he were fighting against the Force itself.

I simply cannot do it – I cannot stop his attack. He couldn't stop Yoda, he couldn't stop his grief, he couldn't stop the Force, not when it was the light that wove the cells of his body together, the luminous thread on which his every thought and feeling hung suspended like glittering dewdrops.

Besides, at this point in the contest, everything hurt. He was so bruised and burned from Yoda's tormenting and pitiless strikes that he was dreading the moment when the battle ended, when the intensity of the Force lessened and his adrenaline subsided – when he would truly feel the damage the ruthless old master had inflicted.

I cannot win a battle against the Force; I cannot change the nature of the universe; I cannot undo the consequences of attachment; but there is an answer. He said so himself.

"Still not trying, are you," Yoda snorted, driving in under his last exhausted parry and slashing another long burning line across his ribs.

Panting, he strove to reply, and then gave it up.

But there is no try…what in the blazes does he want me to do?

"Hit master Yoda!" the old troll taunted.

Something snapped inside him. And he abruptly changed tactics, abandoning all pretense at self defense. Let Yoda beat him to a pulp if need be, but he would not fail in that one goal, He was going to hit the old master, fair and square, hard and true. Drawing on the dregs of his strength, determined to expend it all in one last action, focusing all his skill and resolve onto the single objective as though it were the consummation of his every duty and promise, he forgot every defensive movement and drove foreard, saber blazing and cutting, seeking only to land that single hit.

Yoda swatted him away like a flea and redoubled his punishing offensive. ObI Wan stepped into it, no longer rising the cresting wave, no longer outrunning defeat but facing it head on. The black wave rose over his head, consumed him, pounded him into nothingness. He ignored the flurry of stabs and burns and stings, and sought his opening, his one flicker of hope. He blocked out the screaming physical instinct to flee and centered, with a reckless calm, on his one purpose.

"Good! Good!" Yoda cackled, and aimed a blow straight at the side of his head.

The choice hung suspended, timeless, between them. He could parry that blow – or he could use the split second to come under Yoda's blade and score a glancing hit.

He swept forward and struck the ancient master squarely on the left shoulder. And then he saw stars as the master's blade slammed mercilessly into his skull, behind the left ear. Fire exploded in his head, and he dropped down gasping, waiting for his vision to clear.

Yoda quietly deactivated his weapon and placed it on his belt. "Won, you have," he declared.

Obi Wan blinked away stinging moisture - sweat, tears- from his eyes. "What?"

"Not many are there who can hit master Yoda," the wizened old Jedi rasped. "Found your answer, have you, Obi Wan?"

Wincing, waiting for his ragged breath to find a steadier pattern, and trying to remain totally immobile, he thought it out.

"Yes, master, I have." He could not defeat pain and grief, not outrun them. But he could do his duty. He could allow the suffering to be, and do what he must. And even the most harrowing pain in the universe would never stop him from doing that. He knew this, now. He understood it. It filled him, and though it did not lessen the ache of loss even one iota, it freed him from its shackles. He suffered, and he was free. He could live forward.

"In time, lessen the pain will."

He smiled wryly. Ouch. "Yes, master."

"Your duty you will do, Obi Wan. And succeed. Fear not."

"Thank you, master. I won't forget."

"No choice about that, do you have," the ancient Jedi snuffled. A very corporal reminder had been issued. He hobbled over to the place where his cane and his cloak had been discarded, and grunted as he leaned down to retrieve them. "Rest now, you should," he added imperiously. "And send your Padawan to bed."

He looked up to the balcony, long green ears twitching, to where Anakin Skywalker stared down at the proceedings with jaw agape.

Anakin walked slowly beside his master as they made their way back up to the student dormitories, shortening his paces to match Obi Wan's careful, measured stride. He held his tongue as he was personally escorted back to his quarters, relieved that his misdemeanor had earned not so much as a single word of reprimand, much less a stern lecture.

As they approached the door to his tiny room, and it slid open at a wave of the Jedi knight's hand, Anakin cast about for a way to break the silence, to part on a note of mutual understanding.

"Master? Are you all right?"

The oddest smile flickered across Obi Wan's face. A bruise was beginning to darken across his cheekbone, where Yoda had dealt a glancing blow.

"Uh,…come in for a minute," Anakin offered, all gracious hospitality. He was completely out of his depth when it came to his teacher's sense of humor. He suspected it would take years to get the hang of it.

"I would think you would be eager to escape," Obi Wan said, yielding to the boy's pleading expression and sitting very gingerly on the edge of the hard sleep-mattress. "But I can provide the well-deserved lecture if that's what you want."

"No!" Anakin hastily assured him. "I just wanted to say that when I was watching you and Yoda … when I saw how serious…. That I understand what you said earlier. About trust. And I want to thank you for taking me. Because even if the Council did want me, I don't think I could train like the others. I don't think I would want Master Yoda for a teacher."

Again that subtle twist of a smile, just breaking the surface of reserve and then vanishing again, leaving only a little splash of humor in the eyes.

"You don't appreciate Master Yoda's teaching style? Or what you've seen of it?" Obi Wan guessed.

Anakin shook his head vigorously, blue eyes round and serious.

"Then you had better be on your best behavior," his mentor threatened. "No more sneaking and spying, and no more defying my direct order."

"I won't! I promise! And… can I help you somehow? 'Cause you look a little sore."

Obi Wan blinked and then grimaced. He made a small sound that might have been a bitter laugh. "You can help by listening to me. I can't learn from you unless you also try to learn from me."

The boy considered this quietly for a moment.

"Can I show you something I made? You said that it would be all right to play – just a little bit. Because it helps me learn. I can listen better if the ideas for machines and droids have a chance to work themselves out of my head first."

Obi Wan nodded, as though he maybe understood or at least wanted to. "Very well. Let us see this new invention."

Delighted, Anakin turned off the glow lamp and activated a small semispherical chunk of metal and circuitry on his desk, which already resembled a workbench more than a scholar's space. A moving projection of a star map sprang to life on the ceiling above, circling in mesmerizing pattern.

"Like a shipboard nav-database," he explained proudly. "Of course, it's not 3D yet. I haven't figured out how to correlate the inputs for a holoprojection. But it's good to look at. Lie down and you can see it better."

"Qui Gon used to love the map room here in the Temple, " Obi Wan said, surprising Anakin by obeying the injunction to lie down in order to gain a better view of the gently processing stars cast in green light overhead.

Anakin plopped onto the floor beside the sleep mat. "I told him I'm gonna be the first one to see all the star systems. Every single one. Qui Gon said that would be a feat indeed. Do you think that's crazy? Do you think it could happen?"

Obi Wan's voice was soft, almost nothing but a warm sigh. "Perhaps. I don't know."

"Me neither. But the galaxy is so beautiful, I'll never get enough looking at it."

They looked for a long time, watching the dance of stars, the harmony of parts moved by and through the Force, and enjoying it. It was something sweet to be savored in the moment. A brief indulgence in play. Sorrow and longing and the burden of the future seemed to retreat a short distance, to allow a respite and a space for renewal.

Anakin smiled and sat up to look at Obi Wan. His master was sound asleep, exhausted by long nights of grieving and the grueling encounter with Yoda. The Padawan spread a blanket over him and stretched back out nearby on the floor. He continued to gaze contentedly at the star map he had made, and to allow hope and trust to fill some of the gaps left in his heart by loss and violent change of fortune. He had a new life, a new teacher, and a new friend. It would not be easy, but he knew that he could go forward. Not only go forward, but go far.

And with that thought, he too fell into peaceful sleep.

FINIS