bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

You wake up, and you're living a different life. Whatever you had before, whatever you'd accomplished before, is gone. In their place is something familiar, but not the same. Maybe your friends are your enemies, your enemies your friends. Maybe it's the whole world, maybe it's just your household. The only thing you know for sure is that something's changed, and you're the only one who's noticed. But who changed? Them... or you?

1. Domestic bliss. You may not be used to being married to this person or anyone, but now you are. Who are they? Someone you know? Someone you don't know at all? Whatever it is, you seem to have made a life together here.

2. Black is white, white is black. Whatever side you used to work for, you don't anymore. Your friends may have just become your enemies (or maybe they're there with you, working for a cause that you remember as wrong wrong wrong). You might want to step lightly here, though. No one likes an apparent defector.

3. Career changes. Well, your resume's really fucked now. The job you've been doing for the last x years? Never happened. Your awesome space marines team now work at a Wendy's. Or a bookstore. Or maybe you and your retail buddies are now saving the galaxy. Who knows? Whatever, hope you pick up new skills quick!

4. Pet platoon. Oh christ, now you're not even the same species. Your life has been reinterpreted into animal-life. Whatever, human life sucks anyway. Go chase a squirrel!

5. Back in time. Most of the details are same, it's just the setting that's changed. Did you live in 2000? Hope you like the 1800s! Good luck with that whole 'no indoor plumbing thing'.

6. The time of my life. You've seen this movie. One minute you're living pretty as a twelve-year-old, next minute it's eighteen years later and you have to hold down a job. Or maybe you've just been slingshoted to when you were younger. At least you'll totally breeze through algebra this time, right?

7. Wildcard. Make up your own, suggest your own. Do whatever you want. The universe is yours! (Sorta.)

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Anakin’s brow furrowed, because he didn’t feel that answered his question.

“That means the Jedi think every world or system leader with a family is a bad leader? How are they different? They’re serving a greater good but almost no one thinks poorly of them if they have attachments. No one thinks they’ll become evil because their married or have children or stay in contact with their parents or siblings. They usually both serve their people and have families at the same time.”

"Jedi do not lead, Anakin. We do not serve a people, we serve all people. In your scenario the wife, child or family are also members of the group -planet, species, government, nation- that they are leading and whose best interest they are charge with protecting. The only way your analogy would work was for the wife and husband to be for each to be leaders of separate people, wherein the best interest of one was in direct conflict with the needs of the other."

He paused, because this was still not any easier to explain but. "That doesn't make them bad leaders. It makes them very good leaders. Jedi aren't leaders. We do not lead at all. That isn't our role, or our purpose. We're meant to be unbiased and impartial." Which was damned hard to achieve with a family and personal attachments.

“But that’s not how you help people. We are biased, we have to be. Ensuring peace and justice means we’re opposed to people who don’t want peace and justice. Or- doing the Will of the Force means we are biased against those who oppose the Will of the Force.”

Unbiased, Anakin wanted to scoff at that. Sure, unbiased like the Council, whom Obi-Wan just said refused to admit Anakin to the Order at first because of their personal fear of failure. How was that impartial?

Anakin set his jaw but didn’t belittle the Council directly to Obi-Wan. But, fine, a good a time as any to share what he knew. He had a choice to make anyways, and it was looking like he was one foot out the door already, what harm could it cause?

“How does having a family interfere with the Will of the Force if that’s what the Force is telling you to do?”

Obi-Wan wasn't talking about the Council. Obi-Wan was talking about the Jedi. There was a vast, very difference between the two. One was a governing entity, the other was a way of life, a belief and a matter of faith.

He also wanted to grab Anakin and shake him until his teeth rattled, which was not a feeling that was unfamiliar, or particularly welcomed. So he was a good Jedi and very quickly schooled it back to calm. Otherwise known as shoving it into a box, slamming the lid shut and locking it before it had even had a chance to properly take hold.

"Bias, by its very definition, is unjust and unfair and you know that perfectly well. How many conflicts can you think of where neither side had any particularly vested interest? Not having that interest is what makes the Jedi valuable, and I think you know that as well." If he didn't, there was no reason Obi-Wan could see for Anakin to even be asking the other questions. "And I don't recall telling you that you shouldn't have a family. In fact I told you the opposite, repeatedly."

He was starting to get the feeling what was going to happen was going to happen and well, if that was the case he wasn't playing out his part in it again. Except he knew even as he said it that he would because he was who he was.

"You aren't going to be able to have both, Anakin, and I'm afraid that if you can't move one direction or the other, without regret or resentment, you aren't going to have either."

Anakin stopped and stared at Obi-Wan. He mentally stepped back from the openness he’d just tried. If his Master didn’t want to listen to what the Force was telling him, he’d keep it to himself. The Force could work out its contradictions on its own.

“No,” he shook his head and crossed his arms. He was drawing lines in the sand between them. “I don’t think that. I think the slaves on Orvax Four or Tatooine are what’s unjust and unfair. And every other countless acts of oppression out there. And I think hiding behind impartiality makes this galaxy worse than it should be. I don’t think that’s right.”

It dawned on Anakin there was a fundamental flaw in his understanding of the Order. He’d been sold on the idea that Jedi protected and helped people, that those who needed help would receive it from them unconditionally. That’s what he was aiming for. But his intentions were wrong, according to the principles of the Order to which he belonged. His mother’s suffering was only ever his to care about.

“What good is it to the galaxy if the Jedi choose impartiality over doing what’s right? I don’t want to be a part of that.”

"Anakin, there is a difference between opposing something because it is unjust and wrong and opposing it because it personally affects you or someone you care about. Wrong is wrong, whether you know the people who are affected or not, or are one of them. That involvement is what clouds the issue, and it certainly doesn't make finding the correct course of action any easier. I'm sorry that it isn't something I can help you see, or understand."

More sorry than Anakin could know, he was worry. He was failing at this again, but there seemed to be nothing he could say that would not lead to Anakin circling back to the same rationalizations, justifications, and certainty that he was right and knew better than the Jedi. To look for loopholes and weaknesses.

The realization that he couldn't change that and wasn't going to be able to was all but devastating, but he didn't just suspect anymore. He knew. There was not a bloody thing he could do here. Anakin was already deeply sunk in seeing ... whatever it was he saw. Prolonging the conversation was pointless.

He pushed himself slowly (and painfully) to stand. "I am proud of you, and I am sorry. You should rest. It will help you heal."

“You’re not proud of me.” Anakin stood up. He felt and sounded desperate. Moments before he’d defiantly dared the Force to work everything out by itself. Well, now he felt as if the Force was pushing right back. He’d lost his mother just days before, this felt like losing his father. “You’re disappointed. You feel disappointed. Because you can’t make me think the way you do.

“Maybe I’m not supposed to think like you. Maybe I’m supposed to see things differently. I’m the Chosen One, right?” When he said that, it didn’t come from a place of pride. He hated that stupid prophecy. It made no sense to him, it filled him with dread half the time and loneliness the other. It set him apart from all his other age-mates growing up, on a pedestal, on a stage. And everyone watched as he failed to live up to their expectations. Too loud, too eager, too active, too reckless, too distracted. Not enough reverence, not enough respect, not enough control. He’d been running to catch up with everyone but when he reached their banners it wasn’t enough.

“What balance am I supposed to bring that you and the rest of everyone in the Order can’t? If I thought like everyone else, why would it be me, why not one of the dozens of younglings who are found every year at the right age, and are brought here at the right time, and are trained the way you think is right from the beginning?”

Because he was all wrong for the Jedi’s much awaited for savior. Found too old; found by the Order’s Maverick who’d been deviating off Mission guidelines, so found the wrong way; he’d already learned to form attachments; he couldn’t sit still, peaceful meditation came to him only when he moved or used his hands to fix something, if he tried it the other way the Force felt cold and empty. He challenged too many rules by simply existing. Why him?

“Serving the Force is about trusting your feelings, having first-hand feelings with unfairness and injustice doesn’t make someone wrong or blind? If I wasn’t meant to have that perspective, if the Force’s will is what determines everything, why do I have it? You just see it the same way everyone else does, that it makes me defective.”

He shook his head.

“That’s not being proud. That’s just a Master disappointed in his Padawan.”

"What you are hearing isn't what I am telling you. You're... inserting meanings between the lines, judgements and condemnation where there isn't any." And there wasn't any as far as Anakin being wrong or bad, but being stuck watching this train-wreck play out again, feeling it, not being able to stop it... Yes, yes he was disappointed.

"I'm not disappointed in you, and I am not telling you that your way of thinking is wrong. I am trying to help you understand my way of thinking, and, yes, the reasoning behind the way things with the Jedi are as they are. I've no idea what that Prophesy means," Oh yes, he did, and he didn't like it one bit. "I don't care what the Prophesy means. I care that you're... in pain."

Anakin started preparing lists and examples and counter-arguments in his head as Obi-Wan spoke. There was going to be a kriffing chart with graphs and percentages itemizing each feeling Anakin believed had been wronged, along with the why and how. And yes, there would be yelling. Because he was good at yelling, and he was going to do at least one thing he was good at this night, dammit.

He scoffed and grimaced and took a deep breath…

And then Obi-Wan finished and Anakin was utterly defeated by that one simple sentence.

He was left standing there trying to work words around his emotions, but they choked everything from him; they lodged those words in his throat so he could almost not breathe or swallow for the amount of space they took up. And, stars alive, they stung his eyes until he couldn’t see and tears spilled down his face.

There wasn’t just one reason for his reaction.

He’d never been in a battle like Geonosis before; the loss of life had been staggering. Over one hundred Jedi alone had died, not to mention the Clones and the Geonosians; and though he hadn’t acknowledged it at the time, like a taunt spring snapping back, he was suddenly very aware of that sacrifice of life burning in the Force, exposing wounds in his memory.

As often as he he’d practice sparring with Obi-Wan, an actually duel was something different altogether, especially when there were real, deep injuries at the end of it.

His mother’s death slammed him hard again, along with his mistake with the Raiders. That guilt, for both failing his mother and failing his commitment to the Order, made clear, in no uncertain terms, it would never go away.

And on top of all that he was trying to have a serious discussion about deciding between two futures that each would leave him aching for the other. Because one future was Padmé and the other was Obi-Wan, and he couldn't shake the feeling he needed both of them in his life.

As if he was in any condition to make a choice like that right now.

This all caught up with him the moment Obi-Wan said he cared, because oh, how often had he wanted to hear that from his Master; and Anakin just simply fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed to say. And he didn’t know what else he could say. “I’m sorry.”

He had been far more prepared for the lists, charts, and yelling than the reaction that he got. Even after all this time, and all the hindsight that came with it, he didn't expect tears.

It only took him a moment to realize that he should have. Of course he should have, because Anakin was Anakin and for all of those reasons that he was crying in the first place. He wasn't Anakin, of course, but he could relate well enough to the feelings themselves. He'd felt inadequate, like a failure, conflicted about his future. He'd certainly felt grief.

For the first time, he didn't ask himself what Qui-Gon would have done. He asked himself what he would have wanted Qui-Gon to do. It might not be the right thing, but it certainly wasn't anymore wrong than what he'd already done. If nothing else it might sooth the ache in his chest, for the realization of how young and lost Anakin was.

"It's all right," he said, and stepped (limped) back to wrap his arms around Anakin in something that was nothing more, or less, profound than a hug. A warm, solid, awkward because Jedi did not touch each other, fraternal, tight hug. "You don't need to apologize to me."

Anakin was startled by the gesture – it was so unlike his Master. He couldn’t actually remember a time where Obi-wan had been the one initiating the hug, rather than Anakin. Jedi weren’t proponents of physical contact more than was necessary, and hugs ranked low on that list.

But he accepted it, and not because he simply lacked the ability to fight it, though that was the case. This was support he understood from his first understanding of compassion, the methods his mother had taught him.

“I’m trying- I keep trying to do the right thing, but I can’t seem to get it right.” He couldn’t articulate the emotions he was having about the battle and the duel they’d just lived through. And he wouldn’t tell Obi-Wan about the Tuskens. But he did understand what he felt about his mother’s death, so that’s what he focused on. “I tried to save her but I couldn’t. And now I miss her so much, and I know I’m supposed to control these emotions but I just can’t seem to do it.”

Obi-Wan was far, far more inclined toward hugging and touching than many of the others. Physical support and affection weren't alien to him; he certainly hugged and touched his friends, including Padme. It wasn't something he did with other Jedi, though, and he didn't think he'd hugged anyone at all since....

Well, since.

He couldn't truly grasp the depth and meaning of a relationship between a Mother and Child, because he didn't remember having that relationship himself. He certainly had no problem with understanding grief and feeling you've failed someone you love. The knowledge that you have failed to save someone you loved.

If only that provided him with an answer, or something useful to tell Anakin now. "Then perhaps it's time to try a different tactic. I've never had much success at wrestling my emotions to the ground." There was a hint of a smile in his voice, somewhere, but barely more than that and it was quickly gone. "Try accepting them." Bottling things up had clearly not worked well for Anakin over the long term.

Anakin could only blink at this complete about-face from his Master. Jedi didn’t accept their emotions, they controlled them by pushing them away.

Though, Force knew he’d been blessed with an overabundance of emotions, the moment he got rid of one, there was just another waiting in the queue. An unending supply.

“What?" It wasn't his Master's sincerity he was questioning, Obi-Wan certainly felt honest and genuine when Anakin tested the Force. But this was a bit of a change from his perpetually orthodox position. "That’s not what we’re taught to do.”

"You've just said that you weren't having success applying what we're taught to do," Obi-Wan pointed out, sounding gently exasperated. "If the conventional tactic isn't working, then it's time to try something new."

And he really, really didn't think it was, strictly speaking, wrong. He was conventional, he was dedicated, he was loyal and determined but not to the exclusion of falling in love, or having feelings and admitting to them.

“But… that’s heretical.” He scrubbed at his cheeks and sat back down on the bed.

Anakin didn’t have anything against change, per se. Force knew he wasn’t particularly quiet about his ideas for change in the Order. But if he was suddenly obedient to a fault, never questioning anything Obi-Wan said, this would be concerning behavior to everyone around him. That’s about on par to what Anakin was feeling now with Obi-Wan’s new instructions.

Of course, Obi-Wan was making logical sense, the teachings of the Order regarding emotions simply did not work for Anakin. But Anakin had to question, because this change made him worry for Obi-Wan, and because it was in Anakin’s nature to question everything presented to him. Always.

“I can’t be a Jedi and do what you’re saying.” Yes, the cessation of his continuation in the Order had been suggested earlier, but Anakin wasn’t ready to give up on becoming a Jedi yet.

Was it? Obi-Wan wondered. Would he have considered it heretical forty years ago? He wasn't so sure.

He stayed quiet for a moment, turning the thoughts over in his head. There was no irritation at the question or even what could easily have been interpreted as an accusation. He shook his head, very slightly.

"Tell me what you believe emotional control to be." He had to start with this somewhere, and it was complicated enough that he was going to have to untangle some of his, pun not intended, feelings about it.

“Do you,” he started, but was clearly unsure with his question. “Do you mean my understanding of the Order’s position about emotional control, or what I think it should be?” His inquiry was genuine, because those were two different things.

If Anakin was going to make it easier for Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan was certainly not going to object.

And this was making it easier, in a round about way.

"Both, actually, but start with your understanding of the Order's position."

Anakin was just as willing to accept this calm exchange of words, too. He didn’t always have to yell.

“The Order’s position is that all emotions are an expression of attachment of some kind and they lead to the Dark Side. So we have to control our emotions,” he answered after some thought. He was trying his best to keep this rare détente going.

“And control is removing all of your emotions. That’s what the Code means by there is no emotion or passion. There are no emotions because we’re not supposed let ourselves harbor our feelings, we’re not supposed to let ourselves feel them.”

There was nothing Obi-Wan wanted less than to fight with Anakin. If they could continue to work together with this, keep the exchange calm even in disagreement, then he would consider it a success. If he could remember not to lock metaphorical horns with Anakin, they may be all right.

The answer itself wasn't a surprise. That meant he could avoid doing more than giving a soft sigh. "Anakin.... Do you realize that what you've just said is effectively that you don't believe I have emotions?" Possibly he'd been a bit too good at emotional control. "I'm not certain that it's possible for any organic being with sentience and a functioning nervous system to remove emotion from themselves. Not harboring your emotions means, at least, that you've had them in the first place."

No wonder Anakin was conflicted.

“Well, I-” That did throw Anakin off a bit. “Yes… I think you… don’t…”

But as he said this, he realized it was a bit ridiculous. Maybe.

“But you are so…” he reached for the right way to explain this, “Emotionless. Aside from showing frustrated, you don’t show any other emotion. And the same for any of the other Jedi.” The fact he could only recall other Jedi showing ire or frustration should be concerning.

“If having emotions are okay, then it wouldn’t have mattered to the Council that I worried about my mother when I was nine."

"There is a great deal of difference, Anakin, between showing emotion or allowing it to influence your actions and having emotion."

The remark about frustration almost made him smile. "And I believe if you'll look a bit more deeply you'll find that a good deal of the frustration is simply cover for something else." Depending on how frustration was being expressed at a given time, and by whom. "Did you not just say you believed the Council was afraid of you and your training?"

That was the easy bit, the bit about Anakin's mother was still far too raw, and something else that circled back to an earlier point. The faint humor in his voice faded and he went serious again, trying to find more delicate phrasing. "Your mother... It was very normal for you to be worried about her, Anakin, and if you had not been I believe they would have been more concerned. But we do bring children to the Temple when they are very young for a reason. That reason is the attachment to the outside world."

They'd been over that. Repeating was not a hardship. He had to admit some... hope that they would either progress further or take a different path from here, but Anakin being Anakin.... He wasn't counting on it.

Anakin was not buying the explanation about the Council and their reaction to his feelings about his mother.

“They wouldn’t have rejected me if I had no concern or attachment to my mother and you know it. I was there, I remember what I felt from them. It was enough to keep me out of the Order, because Jedi aren’t supposed to feel anything when the person they care most about has been left in a terrible situation. And that rule is so inflexible, even prospective Force-sensitive children must abide by it without knowing it exists or any training to help them follow it before they’re even considered for acceptance into the Order. Or maybe that was just me they expected to be perfect at nine.”

A sardonic smile spread on his face. “Okay, you’re right. Jedi have emotions. They rejected me out of fear. But at nine, I was the one just showing emotions and they were the ones letting their emotions influence their actions.”

Edited 2014-05-23 14:58 (UTC)

"For someone who is so offended at not having your perspective as an individual understood, you're doing an awfully good job of not understanding anyone else's. The Council is made up of people. People who have lived their lives by a set of very rigid rules -that they did break for you, in the end. Most of those individuals had never been exposed to a normal child in their lives, much less a normal child with the sort of power you had, and have. No one, including them, ever claimed to be perfect."

It was bland, understated, and quiet, but there was a very direct stare to go with it.

Because it was going to be that fight that he absolutely was not going to have with Anakin if things carried on.

Anakin was, so far as Obi-Wan could tell, working hard to get absolutely nothing out of this conversation but further justification for his mistrust and fear of the Council. In some regards he wasn't wrong. In others, he was being an absolute hypocrite and it just was not something Obi-Wan was going to engage in, even now. It wasn't useful, and it wouldn't change anything.

He sighed. "And I never claimed to be perfect, either."

Edited 2014-05-23 15:09 (UTC)

And like that, the tentative truce was broken for Anakin.

He set his jaw, crossed his arms and looked away.

“Right. Got it. Their perspective is the one that matters, not mine.”