Star Wars - Kenobi

stopped it.”
    She shook her head. “You’re just one man.”
    “I should have stopped it!” The railing shook. “I failed! It was on me to stop it, and I didn’t. And I will have that on my conscience forever.”
    Annileen’s eyes looked left and right. The fence quaked so hard under his hands that she thought the very posts might fly out of the ground. “Ben, you can’t blame—”
    “You can’t know.” He turned and clutched at her shoulders, surprising her. “I failed everyone. Do you have any idea how many people have paid for that? Do you know how many people are paying, right now?”
    “I only know one,” she said.
    Ben let go of the fence. His arms wilted.
    She had never seen such anguish in anyone’s eyes before. What had he been through? What had he done? What did he think he had done? So many theories about his past had coalesced and dispersed since she’d known him. Annileen struggled to run through them now. Had there been a domestic tragedy? Had he been a soldier, whose actions cost his platoon? An executive, whose negligence had wiped out his corporation?
    Her thoughts ranged from the small to the improbably large, before determining that it didn’t matter. Hurt was hurt. And whether Ben had harmed someone before, she judged him to be no danger now. Except, perhaps to his own happiness.
    Every human instinct told her to embrace him. But something else, somewhere, told her to step back.
    Which she did.
    “Ben, I think I understand. You’re out here, I guess, to atone. Maybe more than that—I don’t know. But that’s part of it. If talking about things would help—”
    Ben shook his head. “It won’t.” He glanced at the setting suns, then took a deep breath. His body straightened. “I’m sorry. I do thank you for the day out, but you should get home while there’s still light.”
    Annileen watched as he turned back to his house. The familiar reserve had returned. She had gotten in for a moment; she could tell that for sure. But she saw she would get no farther. Not today.
    Hands hanging at her sides, Annileen walked back to her landspeeder, which gleamed crimson in the sunset. At its side, she turned back and looked at Ben. “All right,” she said. “I’m not going to hide outside your door, waiting for you to tell me. You can do it in your own time.”
    He stopped in his path and looked away to the east, melancholy. “Time, I have.”
    “Well, I have it, too,” Annileen said, slipping behind the controls of the vehicle. “I’m not going anywhere.” She started the engine. “Did you hear that, Ben? I am not going anywhere. So when you’re ready … you know what the sign says.”
    She drove away into the dusk, leaving behind a contemplative Ben. Who, she suspected, remembered very well what she meant.
    FIND WHAT YOU NEED AT DANNAR ’ S CLAIM .
    Meditation
    Annileen.
    This is becoming a problem. For her—and that makes it a problem for me.
    No, I know what you’re thinking. I’ve been tested on this score before—and I’ve seen what it means to get too close to someone. Years ago, with Siri Tachi—you were there for part of that.
    And then there was Satine … I’ve vowed never to put anyone else in similar jeopardy.
    And that’s just it: I’m not some moon-eyed Padawan. Not anymore. I know personal ties can work against us. We endanger them, sometimes, because of the nature of our duties. And worse, they become possessions, to be protected and obsessed over.
    I admit, I do wonder sometimes if that sells Jedi short. Not everyone is Anakin. And if the simple act of caring deeply for a person—especially someone as good as Padmé—is destructive in principle, then the Force has a peculiar view of what constitutes good and evil. You told me yourself that the Jedi weren’t always against relationships. And consider: families are strong in the Force. Does the Force really understand what it wants?
    No matter—I understand myself. I can give up love. I have given up love. But I wasn’t prepared to give up the thing that I had instead.
    Community.
    I’ve lived my life in the structure of the Jedi Order. Yes, it was an organization with a goal—but it was also a family. I said it myself: Anakin was my brother. I had many brothers and sisters. And fathers and mothers. And even a strange little green uncle.
    I don’t have that home now. I don’t have that family.
    Almost every friend I’ve ever had is dead.
    I … I’ve never thought about it in