Imperfect

Ships in the Night

Stiff from so much time aboard ship, he made his way down the ramp stretching as he walked. His hair, which had long grown out of the padawan cut, caught on the wind and lifted about his neck. He moved the unruly locks out of his immediate vision, tucking the longer strands behind his ears. He then pulled his cloak closer as he secured his ship and made his way out of the spaceport and into the city proper. He had been here twice before, neither time for very long, but he knew where he was headed and how to get there. A public airbus would traverse most of the distance and from where he would debark he could walk the remaining few blocks.

He had done his research and he knew at this hour the person he was looking for would be in the large park near the city's municipal offices in the downtown district taking his midday meal. As he approached the city center the crowds on the walkways steadily grew thicker, but he continued forward with a well-honed grace and economy of movement. The throng of beings began to thin again as he made his way into the park, its lush greenery and blush of vibrant colors washed over him as he was embraced by the arms of the Living Force. It was not often he had found such abundant areas of life within the various megalopolises he had visited alone, during the past year, so he took an extra moment to relish the simple touch the Force offered him before he resumed his trek and headed deeper into the park.

His quarry sat just ahead alone on a bench. His target appeared to be staring off into space with little care or attention given to his surroundings. Still, he chose to approach quietly, coming up behind the man as silent as a shadow.

"Hello, Garen."

"Hello, Obi-Wan."

At that the young man on the bench looked at his visitor. Garen looked much as he remembered; tall, well-muscled, but not bulky, dark brown hair and eyes though his hair was much longer and there was something missing.

"Congratulations, Knight Muln," he offered with a polite dip of his head and a gesture to the empty space on his bench. Absently, Garen raised his hand, fingering the empty space where his padawan braid used to be.

"Yeah, I'm still not quite used to being called that," the knight replied as he took the offered seat.

"You earned it. I'm proud of you, Garen."

"Are you?" Garen asked seriously. A flash of hurt crossed Obi-Wan's features before he turned his face away and stared into the distance.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just thought...you know, with you leaving..."

"I didn't leave because I hated you or the Jedi."

"Then why did you leave?" Garen pressed, but still Obi-Wan would not look at him. The answer was a long time coming and when it finally came it was spoken in soft tones.

"It's personal."

"Obi,"

"Leave off, Garen," Obi-Wan bit off harshly as he turned to glare at his friend through a curtain of copper colored bangs. Garen raised his hands in surrender.

"Fine, whatever you say, Obi," he answered. Both young men fell into silence then, each choosing to focus on the serene, scenic view before them rather than on the thick tension suddenly between them. Garen glanced at the man beside him. Obi-Wan seemed both the same and entirely different to his eyes. His physical appearance hadn't changed in the year since he left; save he had grown his hair out of the ridiculous padawan's cut. He looked as fit as ever from what Garen could determine through the rough, but thin fabric of Obi-Wan's tunic and trousers. What had changed in his friend wasn't easily seen, but the shift was present nonetheless. There was something very different in the way he sat, the way he held his head, the look in his eye. As much as Garen wished he were imagining it, the change was undeniable. This wasn't the same Obi-Wan he knew. This man was closed off to everything around him, a part of the world, but apart from it.