Chapter Text
“You feel exhausted,” said Jagannath, when they were both full of dead rodent. To Obi-Wan’s immense relief, after the first kill, Jagannath had snapped the necks on a brace of rodents and carried them off, only to return a short time later with them skinned and—while greasy—clearly cooked.
“There are steam pipes from below,” Jagannath had said. “Hot enough to cook flesh.”
Eating without use of his eyes was an experience, but Obi-Wan did his best to retain some dignity, even if he did smear fat in his beard. It would probably condition it.
“I am,” Obi-Wan admitted, wiping at his face. “I need to...well I thought I might try a healing trance, to speed things on with my leg and reduce the swelling.”
“That makes sense.”
“Is it safe to sleep in these tunnels?”
“No.”
“Oh. What makes it unsafe?”
“Me.”
“I...I honestly can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Jagannath. “You can rest here, Ben the Failed Jedi Scum. I won’t hurt you.”
“Comforting,” said Obi-Wan. He breathed deep, and did his best to center himself. As tired as he was, it was hard to gather enough focus to slip into a trance, but he did his best to allow himself to relax into the slipstream of the Living Force. Even here, on a planet as desolate and seeped in refuse as this, he could feel the thrum of scattered life.
He must have slept, even without meaning to, for he woke to the confused time sense that came with being cut off from even the semblance of light and circadian rhythms. The ache in his leg had eased, and though it was quite definitely still broken. When he reached down, he could feel where the decrease in swelling had loosened the brace. He cinched the ties on the splint to compensate, and blinked into the darkness.
It was then he realized that it was a sound that had woken him. A quiet, repeated noise, wearing away at Obi-Wan like water on stone.
Jagannath was talking to himself.
It was truly eerie, inaudible mumbles and repeated words on a sing-song loop that sounded now like a grieving child, now like an angry man. A whisperer in darkness, spilling secrets to the black pit.
“Jagannath?” he said softly.
The stream of words cut off abruptly, and Obi-Wan didn’t know if he should feel guilty or relieved.
“Jagannath? Are you alright?”
“I keep forgetting that you’re here,” said Jagannath, as if this explained everything.
“I’m here,” said Obi-Wan. “Do you want to come closer? We can talk some more if you can’t sleep.”
Jagannath didn’t respond immediately, but he did crawl closer, limbs scratching on the packed floor.
“Do you want me to tell you a story?” said Obi-Wan, after groping in vain in his sleepy brain for a topic that wouldn’t agitate.
“What kind of story?”
“The made-up kind. The kind your caretaker would tell you to help you fall asleep.”
“He never did anything like that.”
“Your caretaker?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Alright, alright.” Obi-Wan breathed deep. The immediate tale which came to mind was of a clever woman who’d told a murderous king stories for a thousand nights to keep herself alive, but that perhaps hit a little too close for comfort. “What about the story of two twin brothers, and how they were married?”
“That doesn’t sound very engaging.”
“Oh but you haven’t heard the full story. One of the brothers, you see, was a vexis snake.”
“Only one?”
“Well their mother was childless for many years. So she went to see a prophet, like those who can feel the Force but not act upon it. The prophet told her to search for a desert bush with two flowers on it, red and white. She was to eat the white one, or the red, but not under any circumstances both.”
“How would eating a flower make her have a child?”
“Well, that’s the conceit isn’t it? That’s what makes it made-up.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Maybe. Do you want to know what she did?”
“...yes.”
So Obi-Wan spoke, as he’d promised, told the story of the serpent son who had lived in a cave until he demanded his birthright, who devoured all prospective brides, the clever woman and her layers of clothing which she shed like snakeskin, the happily ever after. And while he talked, he heard Jagannath settle himself on the ground near the makeshift bed, and heard that massive, indiscernible form sag down as if in rest.
“That was a strange story,” said Jagannath, when Obi-Wan finally lapsed into silence.
“Most of them are.”
“I see why he never told me any. He had no use for stories without a point.”
“Your caretaker?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.”
“We don’t have to.”
“He didn’t like imaginary things,” said Jagannath, as if recalling something. “Once, in the new place, I drew an image on the wall of my cell. The view from the old place. He was angry, though he pretended not to be. I was punished that time.”
Obi-Wan didn’t move. “He hurt you?”
“He told me…” Jagannath paused. “He told me that if I missed the view so much, I should go back. And then he knocked me out and I woke up alone.”
“That’s awful!”
“He made his point. The lesson was learned.”
“And what point?” said Obi-Wan. “What lesson?”
“Attachments are forbidden,” said Jagannath simply. “To things. And people. That lesson came later.”
Obi-Wan could hardly breathe. “A caretaker who hurts you is not a good one,” he said inanely. “How old were you?”
“Ten. Maybe.”
The thought was surprisingly painful. He pictured Anakin as he’d been at ten, full of fire and verve and humor. The idea of hurting him, at raising a hand against him outside the controlled arena of a training match, made Obi-Wan physically ill.
“You’re not supposed to hurt those under your care,” he bit out. “You’re supposed to help them when they’re hurt.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had anyone to take care of.”
Obi-Wan tried to master his breathing. “You’re doing so now, aren’t you? You’re helping me when I’m hurt?”
“I…” Jagannath’s voice turned a shade puzzled. “That’s different.”
“I’m not a child, no. But helping those who are hurt is a good thing.”
“I’m not a good person.”
“My—caretaker, he sometimes used to say that there are no good people. Or bad people. Only people, and what they do. It wasn’t a very...popular opinion at the Temple, but I never forgot it.”
“I don’t have an answer for that.”
“It doesn’t need one.” Obi-Wan shifted and immediately regretted it. “You helped me, and I’m grateful for it. And if I can help you, I will.”
“You did,” said Jagannath quietly. “You fed me, even though you were tired and in pain. And I...I liked the story.”
“I’m glad.”
“You’re a strange person, Ben the Failed Jedi.”
“I think we’re both fairly strange.”
“Maybe.” Jagannath shifted closer and Obi-Wan felt the movement of the bedding pile as he prodded it uncertainly. “But I feel less strange around you.”
“Do you want to lie down?”
“There isn’t room.”
Obi-Wan grimaced and levered his arms beneath himself, shifted his hips and dragged his legs. “There.”
“There’s still not enough room,” there was a growing edge to Jagannath’s voice. “I’m not—”
“Then you can put your head down here,” said Obi-Wan, rubbing his hand across the space he’d vacated.
Jagannath didn’t reply. Just when Obi-Wan was certain he’d refuse, he heard a shift of moving metal and a weight pressed into the pile. Cautiously, Obi-Wan stretched out with his senses and found he could more or less discern the distorted shapes of bony shoulders and folded arms, and a head. “Better?” he said.
“Hm.” Jagannath shifted on the bedding and Obi-Wan nearly jumped when something sharp bumped him. “It will do.”
Obi-Wan smiled to himself, leaned back, and for the first time since he’d made planetfall, allowed himself to lapse into true sleep.
“Ben,” said a voice, as if from far away. “Ben wake up, I have food.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open and his fingers clamped down in reflex, sinking into the lump of cooked flesh Jagannath was trying to press into his hands. “Oh, bother, thank you.” He fumbled the carcass, trying to get it oriented while his digestive system decided whether it too was going to wake up. “You went hunting again?”
“I was hungry,” said Jagannath, sounding slightly defensive.
Obi-Wan held up his unoccupied hand in a placating gesture that he wondered if Jagannath could even see. “I’m not judging. I...suspected you haven’t been getting enough to eat down here.”
“The hunger makes you stronger,” said Jagannath, as if by rote. “As does the pain, and the cold.” He fell silent for a moment. “I’m tired, all the time.”
“Starvation will do that,” said Obi-Wan quietly. “Do you want some of mine? I can’t process this much solid protein at once, I’m still full from earlier.”
“...yes.”
“Help me break it.”
They fumbled and Obi-Wan heard bones crack and the always-strange sound of tearing flesh as they twisted apart the rodent. Jagannath hands felt spidery and thin, rough like those of a being who worked with his hands, but his touch was delicate, as if he were accustomed to fine-scale tasks. It disquieted Obi-Wan that he couldn’t identity Jagannath’s species. Parts of him seemed humanoid in form, but others...Obi-Wan could only guess.
Jagannath moved away and Obi-Wan heard him rip into the carcass.
“Tell me,” said Jagannath. “What is happening in the rest of the galaxy?”
Alarm bells clanged in Obi-Wan’s mind, but he’d been expecting this. “I can’t say I know much. I haven’t been on Coruscant for a time. And they don’t consider AgriCorps that important so I’m limited to the HoloNet feeds.”
“I don’t have access to the HoloNet.”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Obi-Wan frowned. “Are you native? How did you end up down here?”
“I thought I asked the question,” said Jagannath shortly.
“Yes, yes of course.” Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed at his beard with greasy fingers and a grimace. “The political situation is...tense, as I follow. Some beings are saying we may be on the brink of war.”
“Ah,” said Jagannath, as if to himself. “So it begins.”
Obi-Wan frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Jagannath wearily. “Nothing does any longer. I’m no longer part of the wider world.”
“But you were?”
“Once. Before I was...before I came here.”
“By...choice?”
“No,” there was an undercurrent of a growl in Jagannath’s voice. “I was...I lost everything. And then I was abandoned here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“How can you feel remorse for something which did not involve you?”
“Because…” Obi-Wan sighed. “Because it’s evident how much pain you’re in. Being in a place like this...hungry and isolated and left behind. It would hurt anyone.”
“It’s so quiet,” said Jagannath. “The noise of the incinerators runs day and night, and the acid rain burns your skin and the fumes sear your lungs, but the silence is deafening.”
“Can you...tell me a little bit about yourself? Who you are? How you came to be here?”
And how you can use the Force.
“I was…” Jagannath fell silent so long Obi-Wan thought he wasn’t going to respond at all. “I was, I served someone important. I was tasked with something crucial but...I failed. Failure is not tolerated.”
“By your caretaker?” said Obi-Wan. “Or...another master?”
A peculiar, metallic rattle rose from the darkness. The strangeness set Obi-Wan’s teeth on edge. Jagannath drew a shuddering breath, gulping in air in a way that reminded Obi-Wan jarringly of the way Anakin did when he was trying not to cry.
“Loyalty is the first lesson,” Jagannath said, his voice strained. “Submission to the more powerful.”
Obi-Wan swallowed and felt his hair stand on end. “Jagannath?”
“ Quiet ,” hissed Jagannath. “Be silent, fool, or the wolf-worm will come for us.”
“The what?”
“Sometimes I wonder if this is all another test,” said Jagannath. “That there must be a way out of here, a path I haven’t yet tried. And if I can just conquer my chains, he will take me back.”
“But why not…?” Obi-Wan felt strangely stupid for asking this. “Why would he not come and help you?”
“That’s not how it works. We’re not weak .”
“I don’t think you are,” said Obi-Wan, shifting with discomfort. Jagannath was practically leaking negative emotions, a radioactive sensation he could detect in the Force even from what had to be feet away. “Someone weak wouldn’t have survived here. How long…?”
“Years,” said Jagannath. “Years and years and years. The time slides into itself and collapses and the mind collapses with it.”
Something dark and ugly bubbled in the Force, setting Obi-Wan’s teeth on edge. Gritting his teeth, he rolled, driven by the gutting sensation of spilled misery as strong as the scent of battlefield blood, and reached out in the direction the Force told him.
Jagannath recoiled when Obi-Wan’s hand closed around his bony shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Just…” Obi-Wan tried to think of how to explain. “I can feel you, your pain right now. It’s leaking everywhere. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I was...trying to offer comfort.”
“By...touching?”
“Yes?”
“No one touches me,” said Jagannath. “Except...no, she did. To deactivate the charges. She touched my chest.” His voice turned puzzled. “It was strange, but it didn’t hurt.”
“Who?”
“She was so strange,” said Jagannath. “So much pride and grief and rage all rolled into one. She asked me to go with her. I couldn’t, how could I? But I thought…I kept thinking about it.”
“My...in the AgriCorps,” said Obi-Wan. “We touch each other sometimes. Hug each other even.”
“Hug?”
“Wrap your arms around someone and squeeze.”
“Like crushing the breath from them?”
“No, gently. To let them know you’re there. It’s...warm. You can hear them breathe, feel their heart beating.”
“I’ve never done that.”
“It feels good.”
“Good like a successful kill?”
“No. Good like...lying down in a safe place, where no one can hurt you. Like being warm and protected.”
Jagannath didn’t say anything.
Obi-Wan finished the remnants of his food and tossed the bones in what he hoped was an acceptable direction. He was feeling around in the darkness for the water jug when he felt a hand alight on his shoulder. It took all his self-control not to jump.
“Can we…?” said Jagannath, then stopped, as if he’d run beyond the limits of a concept he could articulate.
Obi-Wan swallowed, heart pounding. “Yes, if you want.”
“How do I…?”
“Come closer. Put your arms around my chest. Like when you carried me here.”
Jagannath scooted into him and awkwardly encircled Obi-Wan’s shoulders with his arms, just barely touching. Obi-Wan slowly leaned into him, only to bump into something hard at forehead level.
“Careful.”
Frowning, Obi-Wan reached up and Jagannath flinched as he touched his head. “Do you have...are those horns?”
“Yes.”
Long ones, from the feel of them, and many of them, sprouting upwards like a thorny crown. Obi-Wan touched them gently, tracing the skin at the bases and trying to get a sense of the overall size of the rack. Jagannath gave a violent shudder and he withdrew, contrite. “My apologies.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Obi-Wan leaned his head in a direction that he hoped might keep him from losing an eye, and loosely reached to put his arms around Jagannath.
He hadn’t been wrong; Jagannath was monstrously thin, ribs and spine outlined like metal spikes and bands under Obi-Wan’s hands. Jagannath kept his lower body held stiffly away, leaning forward so that their shoulders awkwardly abutted, and the lack of balance left him gripping hard at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan rubbed at his back in gentle circles, the way he’d sometimes do if Anakin woke with a nightmare.
Slowly, Jagannath eased into him, resting his weight on Obi-Wan’s chest, and Obi-Wan made a sound of encouragement. Their chests pressed together and in the silence, Obi-Wan realized he could feel the beat of Jagannath’s heart. The rhythm felt peculiar, with too many parts, and as he counted, he realized.
He has two hearts .
“Like lying down in a safe place…” said Jagannath, as if to himself. “Where no one can hurt you.”
“Does it feel good?”
“You smell like the cooked meat that you helped me hunt,” said Jagannath, instead of answering. “Your body is warm like the steam pipes when you’re just close enough to them. You feel solid, like a shelter that keeps out the rain.”
A strange, tender pain caught in Obi-Wan’s throat, catching him off guard. “That’s good.” He hugged a little more firmly and felt Jagannath relax into him. “You feel like hope. Like not being alone in a strange place.”
Jagannath touched his head, running spidery fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair, and for the first time since his arrival, the darkness felt protective rather than unnerving.