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Ben's post-annie musings
Jun. 7th, 2013 02:27 pmHow many days had it been?
The blue skies had turned dark, the clouds had opened and there had been non-stop rain in the normally blissful Summer season.
It was like even the planet knew, and was weeping with the rest of them.
Glancing from the window, Ben turned his attention to the calendar on the wall, noting that while it had felt like at least a week had passed him by, it had been only two days. It was still so fresh, yet he couldn’t quite connect his feelings. His heart had been as grey as the weather, not yet dark but not at all light. Clouded and unfeeling.
There was a numbness inside of him that encapsulated his senses, preventing him from reaching out. It caused a disconnect between himself and the Force, making him a shell of what he was. Ben didn’t mind, though. If he couldn’t feel Annie, then he didn’t want to feel anything at all.
Even lying in their old shared room, on Annie’s bed, there was nothing. His sensitivity locked away, he was left with the senses of a normal person. He could feel the slightly rough sheets that Annie didn’t particularly like but didn’t want to complain about, there was a stray hair here or there, and his scent still lingered. Normally, he probably would have considered such a thing to be comforting, but now he thought that maybe it was time to clear it all away.
Were they to try, however, he knew he’d stop them.
Aunt Leia couldn’t bring herself to go into their room yet, and his parents had insisted on getting him a different room, but he had declined. He would stay here, and request that no one replace Annie as his roommate. He doubted his grandfather would object.
It was only within the last few hours he’d been able to get some time to himself. His parents had been so worried about him, refusing to leave him. Especially his mother. It was suffocating. He never used to mind it before -- he’d liked it even -- but now he wanted anything but that sort of closeness. Annie had been the only person he’d been close to, on a more personal level, and now that he was gone he didn’t want to share that bond with anyone else. He wanted to preserve his memories of their times together and those feelings he’d had. The happiness.
It all seemed so distant.
He hadn’t attended any classes, opting to keep to himself. They had tried to keep a sense of normalcy going, having lessons resume as scheduled after a day of mourning. He hadn’t told anyone yet that he wasn’t able to do any of it anymore. Use the Force. They would make a big deal of it, he knew, but he didn’t really care. It just wasn’t a confrontation that he had any interest in having. Everyone would treat him like he was a broken toy. Cracked, fragile, losing its value.
Especially his father. Thinking back to their private lessons, to how he taught him to accept the negativity that came his way, no matter what it was, and work through it. Not to block it out. For some reason, they had specifically touched on that, and he knew how disappointed his father would be upon realizing that he hadn’t been able to do so. It was a reaction that came almost instantly upon Annie fading in his arms. Along with him left his connection to the Force.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized how useless this made him.
So many of his classes were Force-related, learning different techniques. Why bother with them if he couldn’t do any of it? But then if he dropped those classes and continued with academics and lightsaber tactics, everyone would know about his lack of ability. They would look on him with pity, or perhaps even mocking. There would be no hiding his weakness.
What could he do, then? What was he, without that aspect of himself?
Maybe Jacen was right. Maybe he was just a dumb crybaby that couldn’t do anything for himself.
Weak.
… that was something he could change.
While he was disconnected from the Force, that didn’t mean he couldn’t train his body. Even normal people could be strong. Uncle Han was normal and he seemed to get by just fine, without any sort of help. He’d proven himself capable of taking care of himself and others many times. If his uncle could do it, why couldn’t he?
Strength training instead of Force training... it would be difficult to adjust, but he was confident he could do it. He was resolved to make something of himself, something that may not be as great as he could have been, but a great person nonetheless. A warrior. He would view this as only a minor setback and come out of it a new person.
… but the memory of Annie would always weigh on him.
He wished that he could move on and be happy. He knew that’s what Annie would want for him, but he didn’t have that kind of strength in him. What had happened was his fault. The rest of his life, he would look back on and think of all the ways he could have saved him. All the things he could have done in that moment. All the ways he should have died in his place.
There was a way, he realized, that he could look back on what happened and do just that. When his father had him learn that chilling technique, he hadn’t liked it at all. Somehow, despite his disconnect, he knew that he would be able to use that power to once again live that tragic moment.
Life would be cold. It would be lonely. But for Annie, he would live it. Somehow, he would find the strength within him to carry on alone, keeping his memory closed up in his heart. He wouldn’t rely on others; he wouldn’t be weak again, letting that carefree attitude that he once had blind him to the bleakness of his existence.
He decided.
The moment he felt it was right, that he couldn’t learn any more, he would leave the praxeum, and not a moment later. He didn’t belong anymore, unwilling to form relationships or bond with others, even his classmates. Even those he had considered his friends. There would be no more friendship, no more laughter. Those were things he had shared with Annie, and he would put them to rest as well.
Slowly, Ben pushed himself up in bed and he slid off of it, getting to his feet. It was time to stop moping. He had work to do. It was time to get to training. The sooner he began, the sooner he would be able to leave this place and his past behind. There was no value to this life anymore. He didn’t belong. No one could help him now, though he knew they would try and try. He wouldn’t live out his life being coddled and cared for.
It was time to be his own person. It was time to grow up.
The blue skies had turned dark, the clouds had opened and there had been non-stop rain in the normally blissful Summer season.
It was like even the planet knew, and was weeping with the rest of them.
Glancing from the window, Ben turned his attention to the calendar on the wall, noting that while it had felt like at least a week had passed him by, it had been only two days. It was still so fresh, yet he couldn’t quite connect his feelings. His heart had been as grey as the weather, not yet dark but not at all light. Clouded and unfeeling.
There was a numbness inside of him that encapsulated his senses, preventing him from reaching out. It caused a disconnect between himself and the Force, making him a shell of what he was. Ben didn’t mind, though. If he couldn’t feel Annie, then he didn’t want to feel anything at all.
Even lying in their old shared room, on Annie’s bed, there was nothing. His sensitivity locked away, he was left with the senses of a normal person. He could feel the slightly rough sheets that Annie didn’t particularly like but didn’t want to complain about, there was a stray hair here or there, and his scent still lingered. Normally, he probably would have considered such a thing to be comforting, but now he thought that maybe it was time to clear it all away.
Were they to try, however, he knew he’d stop them.
Aunt Leia couldn’t bring herself to go into their room yet, and his parents had insisted on getting him a different room, but he had declined. He would stay here, and request that no one replace Annie as his roommate. He doubted his grandfather would object.
It was only within the last few hours he’d been able to get some time to himself. His parents had been so worried about him, refusing to leave him. Especially his mother. It was suffocating. He never used to mind it before -- he’d liked it even -- but now he wanted anything but that sort of closeness. Annie had been the only person he’d been close to, on a more personal level, and now that he was gone he didn’t want to share that bond with anyone else. He wanted to preserve his memories of their times together and those feelings he’d had. The happiness.
It all seemed so distant.
He hadn’t attended any classes, opting to keep to himself. They had tried to keep a sense of normalcy going, having lessons resume as scheduled after a day of mourning. He hadn’t told anyone yet that he wasn’t able to do any of it anymore. Use the Force. They would make a big deal of it, he knew, but he didn’t really care. It just wasn’t a confrontation that he had any interest in having. Everyone would treat him like he was a broken toy. Cracked, fragile, losing its value.
Especially his father. Thinking back to their private lessons, to how he taught him to accept the negativity that came his way, no matter what it was, and work through it. Not to block it out. For some reason, they had specifically touched on that, and he knew how disappointed his father would be upon realizing that he hadn’t been able to do so. It was a reaction that came almost instantly upon Annie fading in his arms. Along with him left his connection to the Force.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized how useless this made him.
So many of his classes were Force-related, learning different techniques. Why bother with them if he couldn’t do any of it? But then if he dropped those classes and continued with academics and lightsaber tactics, everyone would know about his lack of ability. They would look on him with pity, or perhaps even mocking. There would be no hiding his weakness.
What could he do, then? What was he, without that aspect of himself?
Maybe Jacen was right. Maybe he was just a dumb crybaby that couldn’t do anything for himself.
Weak.
… that was something he could change.
While he was disconnected from the Force, that didn’t mean he couldn’t train his body. Even normal people could be strong. Uncle Han was normal and he seemed to get by just fine, without any sort of help. He’d proven himself capable of taking care of himself and others many times. If his uncle could do it, why couldn’t he?
Strength training instead of Force training... it would be difficult to adjust, but he was confident he could do it. He was resolved to make something of himself, something that may not be as great as he could have been, but a great person nonetheless. A warrior. He would view this as only a minor setback and come out of it a new person.
… but the memory of Annie would always weigh on him.
He wished that he could move on and be happy. He knew that’s what Annie would want for him, but he didn’t have that kind of strength in him. What had happened was his fault. The rest of his life, he would look back on and think of all the ways he could have saved him. All the things he could have done in that moment. All the ways he should have died in his place.
There was a way, he realized, that he could look back on what happened and do just that. When his father had him learn that chilling technique, he hadn’t liked it at all. Somehow, despite his disconnect, he knew that he would be able to use that power to once again live that tragic moment.
Life would be cold. It would be lonely. But for Annie, he would live it. Somehow, he would find the strength within him to carry on alone, keeping his memory closed up in his heart. He wouldn’t rely on others; he wouldn’t be weak again, letting that carefree attitude that he once had blind him to the bleakness of his existence.
He decided.
The moment he felt it was right, that he couldn’t learn any more, he would leave the praxeum, and not a moment later. He didn’t belong anymore, unwilling to form relationships or bond with others, even his classmates. Even those he had considered his friends. There would be no more friendship, no more laughter. Those were things he had shared with Annie, and he would put them to rest as well.
Slowly, Ben pushed himself up in bed and he slid off of it, getting to his feet. It was time to stop moping. He had work to do. It was time to get to training. The sooner he began, the sooner he would be able to leave this place and his past behind. There was no value to this life anymore. He didn’t belong. No one could help him now, though he knew they would try and try. He wouldn’t live out his life being coddled and cared for.
It was time to be his own person. It was time to grow up.
