A Room at the Arms Hotel, Saturday Morning

It had not been a restful night. Sleep had been hard to come by, despite the distractions Obi-Wan had attempted to mire himself in. Meditation had hardly been easier. Restless thoughts kept drifting out and into his mind; he had attempted to cast them out into the Force, and yet they persisted.

It frustrated him. He had thought he had released this part of himself, had at last been able to do what he had struggled to for years. Another lie I told myself. How many have I collected over the years?

Perhaps Qui-Gon had guided him here to expel his attachment to the Anakin that had been for good. To help him take that final step that would allow him to settle into his exile on Tatooine. But if that was the case, it was not working very well.

He had eventually given up on both sleep and meditation and settle in front of the window instead. That had helped some; he could look out over the plane of water before him and think about other matters. Such as Annileen, and her journeys. Had she seen her first ocean already? Had she marveled?

Slowly, his thoughts turned back to Tatooine, to the people he had met, and the people he was meant to guard. That, at least, settled him for a time, well past sunup and into the morning.

[[ for anakin. ]]