"Rewoven"
Rating: PG
In the aftermath of Naboo, Obi-Wan, Anakin and Bail must struggle to cope with the changes in their lives and forge new bonds.
Bail Organa sat on the riverbank by his family's manor, watching the setting sun bathe the river orange while he waited for his guests to arrive. Now was not exactly a good time for him to be hosting visitors. The Republic suddenly and unexpectedly found itself with a new Supreme Chancellor. Bail was not at all sorry to see Finis Valorum go. The man was competent enough, but he lacked vision and influence. Of late Valorum had been more of a figurehead rather than the true leader that the Republic needed to guide it out of the bureaucratic morass where it seemed to be stuck. Bail heartily wished his senior colleague, Bail Antilles, had won the election, and not just because he was a fellow Alderaani. At least Ainlee Teem had not won. Teem would have provided leadership, all right, but not the kind Bail wanted. Instead the new Chancellor seemed to represent a compromise, but compromise not was not what the Republic needed, and Bail doubted whether former Senator Palpatine would prove to be any more effective than Valorum at gaining control of the Senate. Bail barely knew the man, but he hoped he would be better than Valorum.
In the aftermath of the sudden election and Antilles' defeat, the Alderaan senate office had decided to keep their senior Senator on Coruscant to keep an eye on the change in government, while Organa had been sent home. Technically the Senate was in recess, but Organa was on Alderaan to confer with his own government about future strategies. So it was indeed not a good time for him to host visitors. On the other hand, he could really use the distraction, especially the kind of distraction Obi-Wan Kenobi always provided.
And there was news as well. Obi-Wan had requested to stay up to several months, and he was not coming alone. Since Bail had last seen him, Obi-Wan had been knighted, and he would be arriving on Alderaan with a new padawan of his own. That seemed highly unusual to Bail, and Obi-Wan confirmed that he had quite a story to tell, but he did not want to convey it over the commlink, so Bail had to wait to hear what changes had been wrought in his lover's life. At least, he reflected, someone he knew had cause to celebrate recent events.
The sun had set, and the evening air was growing slightly chill when a river taxi veered out of the central current and headed toward the Organa dock. Bail stood up, watching the taxi as Obi-Wan's beloved features emerged out of the twilight gloom. The Jedi's face was composed and calm as they pulled up to the dock. No doubt he was taking his knighthood with extreme seriousness, Bail reflected. He knew he could coax a smile out of the Jedi, but before he could even make an attempt, a small figure bounded out of the taxi and landed on the dock.
"Thanks, Mazie!" the boy shouted to the taxi pilot. "Maybe next time we can go faster!"
"Whenever you want, kid," she called back as Obi-Wan exited the taxi with a great deal more reserve than his Padawan had demonstrated.
The boy turned on Bail. "That was rugged! Do you have a boat?"
Amused, Bail answered, "Yes."
"Can I learn to pilot it?"
Before Bail could answer, Obi-Wan pointedly cleared his throat, giving the youngster "the look." "Bail, this is Anakin Skywalker, my Padawan learner. Anakin, meet Prince Bail Organa, Senator of Alderaan."
"Nice to meet you," Anakin gushed, starting to hold out his hand for a shake, then he stopped himself, muttering, "Oops!" before bowing at the waist.
Barely containing his smile, Bail returned the bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Anakin."
"You're really a Prince?" Anakin asked, and when Bail nodded, Anakin added, "I already know a Queen."
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan rebuked.
But Bail did not mind. "I'm afraid we have no queens on Alderaan, but I hope you'll enjoy our stay despite that lack." This greeting seemed to puzzle Anakin, who gave the Prince a confused look. Bail continued, "Welcome to my family home. We'll get you in and settled, and by then dinner should be ready. Are you hungry?"
"Are you kidding? I'm starved!"
"Ah yes, those Jedi never let you eat enough."
Another puzzled look. "They let me eat all I want."
Something about the boy's comment struck Bail as strange, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He didn't have much time to ponder it, though, for as they approached the house, Anakin stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropping in amazement. "That's your house?!" he exclaimed.
"My parents' house, actually. I don't usually live there."
"That whole house is just for your parents?"
"They often have a few guests staying with them."
"How many, fifty?"
"Not quite so many," Bail answered with a smile.
"I bet fifty people could live there. Maybe a hundred."
"That's enough, Anakin," Obi-Wan rebuked.
"What?" Anakin protested in irritation. "I never saw such a big house."
"It is not polite to point that out."
"Why not?"
"We'll discuss it later."
"We're always discussing things," the boy muttered.
Bail bit his lip hard to keep from laughing. He enjoyed the boy's refreshing candor, but it was clear Obi-Wan did not. Again something about the situation struck him as strange. Obi-Wan's behavior was unusually sedate for someone just made a knight, and he exhibited a decidedly cool demeanor toward his new Padawan. Were things always so awkward between a newly-bonded master and apprentice? And Anakin's exuberance did seem a little out of place for a Jedi, even a fresh-faced initiate. But Bail was no expert on the subject, so he ought to just stick to playing the host. "I wasn't sure what to do about housing arrangements, so I put you in the guest wing in adjoining rooms sharing a bath."
"That's fine," was Obi-Wan's succinct reply.
Bail led them into the house and to their rooms, Anakin expressing amazement at everything he saw. When he entered his room he immediately climbed up on the enormous bed, testing it with an experimental bounce. "I get this whole bed to myself?"
"You certainly don't have to share it with anyone," Bail quipped.
Anakin grinned, climbing to his feet and jumping on the bed
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan rebuked sharply.
"Oh, leave him be," Bail chided. "I'm a veteran bed-jumper myself. He won't hurt it." Obi-Wan gave him a stern look, and Bail realized that perhaps he should not be giving parenting advice.
Anakin had already scrambled off the bed and run to the window. "I can see the river!" He turned excitedly to Obi-Wan. "Will you teach me to --." Abruptly he stopped, his enthusiasm visibly leaching away, as his gaze dropped to the floor.
"What is it, Anakin?" Obi-Wan prompted.
The boy fidgeted with the long sleeves of his tunic. "I just -- I'd like to learn to swim is all," he said, subdued.
"I can teach you," Obi-Wan offered.
Anakin looked up, cautiously hopeful. "Thank you, sir."
"Didn't you learn to swim at the Temple?" Bail asked.
"I haven't been there long enough."
"What --?" Bail began, but Obi-Wan placed a hand on his wrist, stopping him. Anakin noticed the gesture, and something indefinable hardened in his eyes.
By now Bail was completely confused and brimming with questions, but clearly now was not the time to ask. "Shall we go on down to dinner, then?" he offered.
The two Jedi seemed grateful for the diversion, and they followed Bail out of the room. They walked down the hall in silence, broken only when Bail observed to Obi-Wan, "It's strange seeing you without your braid. I'll miss it."
Eyes staring blankly ahead, Obi-Wan observed, "I'm no longer a Padawan."
The comment stung like a rebuke. Of course Bail knew that, but the braid held a special meaning for him. Obi-Wan was perfectly aware of that, yet he refused to acknowledge it. Was it because his new Padawan was present, or was Bail now being relegated to the past along with the braid? Surely not, and yet -- why had Obi-Wan come here after all? Wistfully, Bail asked, "What did you do with it?"
Obi-Wan hesitated. "I gave it to my master." And he had, after a fashion. He had laid it on Qui-Gon's funeral pyre. He hadn't had time to tell Bail about that yet. Tonight he would, after Anakin went to bed. In the meantime, he had to continue this awkward charade.
"I suppose that's tradition?" Bail asked, and Obi-Wan nodded. It was always tradition, Bail reflected. Very well, he could create traditions of his own.
They entered the dining room, where the two Jedi were enthusiastically greeted by Bail's parents. Anakin almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Radha. She was older and darker than his mother, but with her long hair bound up, and her warm loving eyes, she reminded him enough of Shmi to momentarily disorient him with overwhelming emotion, and he surreptitiously moved closer to Obi-Wan's side, clutching at the long folds of the knight's robe.
"I know nothing about the traditions marking a Padawan's passage to knighthood, but we thought it was something to celebrate," Bail said as he seated himself across the table from Obi-Wan. "I know you don't like a fuss, but you're going to get one anyway. We have all your favorite foods here," he indicated the table laid with the savory dishes, "and...." With a flourish he lifted the cover off a dish to reveal a cake, decorated with the words, "Congratulations Knight Kenobi."
Obi-Wan was overwhelmed. He had not been expecting this at all. Normally the passage to knighthood was marked by great celebration, but that had been skipped in light of Obi-Wan's tragic loss. In fact he had barely had time to think about his new status, so occupied he had been with reports to the Council and getting settled with his new apprentice. He had not wanted a celebration, but this -- this was different. This was comfortable. He hadn't even realized how much he did want it.
Bail studied Obi-Wan carefully, alert to any sign of the Jedi's displeasure, and when Obi-Wan favored him with the tiniest of smiles, Bail beamed before turning his attention to the boy. "Nor have we forgotten you, Anakin. It is an important day for you as well." He handed the boy a tiny wrapped package.
Anakin took it in surprise. Gifts had been extremely rare on Tatooine, and he had already discovered that gift-giving was generally frowned upon among the Jedi. He glanced cautiously at Obi- Wan who only smiled and nodded his head. "Go ahead," he encouraged. Obi-Wan was just as curious as Anakin to see what Bail had given him.
With four pairs of eyes on him, Anakin carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal a little box with a hinged lid. He snapped the lid open, and inside nestled on a scrap of silk lay a blue bead veined with gold. Anakin sensed Obi-Wan's pulse of pleasure at the gift, but he had no idea what it meant or what it was for. "Thank you," he said dutifully.
Obi-Wan smiled. "It's for your braid," he explained. He took the bead and slid it onto Anakin's short padawan tail. "Don't go jumping around, now, or it will fall off," he cautioned. "We'll get a band to fix it in securely tomorrow."
Anakin fingered the cool bead, wanting to run immediately to a mirror and see what it looked like. "Thank you!" he beamed brightly at the Prince.
"You are most welcome, Padawan Skywalker." He gave Anakin a quick wink before lifting his wine glass. "And now a toast: to Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was the finest Jedi Padawan of my acquaintance, and will now be the finest Knight of my acquaintance. You are a credit to your Master and to the entire Order." Obi-Wan's gaze dropped to the table at that, and Bail assumed he was uncharacteristically overcome. Touched, he continued, "And to Anakin Skywalker, who will no doubt be as fine a Padawan as his master was. I wish for you both a relationship as long and prosperous and close as Obi-Wan's bond with Master Jinn. All we lack is his presence to make our celebration complete--" Bail stopped. Something was wrong. Obi-Wan clutched the edge of the table, his head lowered, breath ragged. Anakin stared up at him in concern.
"Ben?" Bail asked in alarm.
With a supreme effort of will, Obi-Wan got himself under control. "I'm sorry," he murmured. He raised his eyes to meet Bail's, and his control threatened to collapse once more. "Excuse me." He rose shakily to his feet and stumbled out of the room.
Anakin turned to watch him go, then looked back at Bail. "Qui-Gon is dead," he said simply.
The words echoed hollowly inside Bail's chest, and his legs gave way beneath him as he fell heavily into his chair. "Dead?" Why hadn't Obi-Wan said anything? Why had he allowed Bail to go on? What had happened? That thought revived his concern for Obi-Wan, and he stood up.
Radha nodded to him. "Go on, Bail. We'll take care of Anakin."
With a faint nod, Bail followed Obi-Wan out the door, leaving his parents and Anakin alone at the table.
They sat in silence for several moments, each surveying the interrupted feast on the table. At last Radha roused herself. "Did you know Qui-Gon?" she asked Anakin.
"Yes," he said, trying hard not to cry. He wasn't supposed to cry. Obi-Wan never did.
"Then it is your loss as well. We're so sorry. Qui-Gon was a good man."
Anakin stared at his empty plate, which blurred before his eyes. His mother gone, Qui-Gon dead, and his new master cold and unfeeling. He knew Obi-Wan would do his duty. But who would care about him?
Radha knelt next to him, her arms held out. "Come here, my boy."
With a sob, Anakin buried himself in her arms.
Bail found Obi-Wan curled up on the sofa in his room, his face buried in the crook of his arm. The irony was not lost on him. He was Obi- Wan's lover, but what was that compared to what Qui-Gon had been to him? Bail had never really been able to compete with Qui-Gon Jinn, and he hardly felt he had any right to offer Obi-Wan comfort now, not when it was Qui-Gon Obi-Wan really wanted. But he could not stand by and do nothing.
He cautiously approached Obi-Wan, settling himself on the couch next to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. For a moment he said nothing, hoping that his mere presence offered comfort. Besides he wasn't sure what to say. "Anakin told us... about Qui-Gon," he began.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Obi-Wan mumbled into his arm. "I was going to, but -- I couldn't tell you over the comm, and when we got here, there wasn't time."
"It's all right. I understand, believe me," Bail assured him. Another long pause, then, "What happened?"
"The Senate sent us to Naboo--"
"You were the Jedi team sent to Naboo?" Bail gasped. The events on Naboo had been very much in the galactic spotlight of late, but Bail had been distracted enough by events in the Senate not to pay as much attention as he might have otherwise.
"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed. And he began to tell the story of their flight from Naboo with the Queen, seeking refuge on Tatooine where they met Anakin, their later return to Naboo, and that fateful duel. But he made no mention of Qui-Gon's desire to train Anakin himself, or the fact that his master had effectively disowned him before the Council. Instead, he focused on the duel. Painful as it was, somehow it hurt less than what had happened in the Council chamber.
"The government wants to keep it quiet," he said, "but the creature we fought on Naboo was a Sith."
Bail absorbed this in shocked silence. "I thought there were no more Sith."
"So did everyone, but we were wrong."
"It would have to be, though. Only a Sith could kill Qui-Gon...." Bail's voice trailed off as the implications of his words hit him. Qui-Gon was dead, but Obi-Wan lived. Obi-Wan survived the duel. Obi-Wan killed the Sith. The realization chilled Bail. He always thought Obi-Wan was a great Jedi, but in truth his assessment had more to do with loyalty rather than much of an awareness of Obi-Wan's true skill. It was almost frightening to realize Obi-Wan was capable of killing a Sith, a Sith who had defeated his own master. "Good heavens, Ben, that's a hell of a way to become a knight."
Obi-Wan's eyes brimmed with tears. "I know," he whispered. "I'd almost rather..."
"...it never happened," Bail finished for him. As Obi-Wan's composure finally dissolved, Bail held him tightly. It was the only thing he could offer.
Anakin's crying fit ended as quickly as it had begun. He was long accustomed to suppressing his emotions around anyone but his mother, and since it appeared the Jedi disapproved of emotion as much as slave masters did, Anakin gained control of himself as rapidly as he could. He sat up in Radha's lap, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
Radha stroked his hair, disturbed by how quickly Anakin had stopped his tears. "It's all right, child," she said.
But it was not all right. Nothing was all right. Anakin couldn't understand it. How could he have achieved all his dreams, to be free, to train as a Jedi, and yet be so completely miserable? All he wanted to do was go home. He wished Qui-Gon had never come to Watto's shop.
Life, however, had never given Anakin any choices. He accepted his fate with the same helpless resignation he always had. He wanted to stay curled up in Radha's comforting arms, but he had to get used to the fact that no one here was going to love him. He resolutely pushed at her, and she let him go.
"Well, we have at least one of our guests of honor here," Vilnis said, smiling warmly at Anakin. "I suggest we not let this feast go to waste."
Yes. Food was something Anakin would never refuse. He slid out of Radha's lap and returned to his seat, as the Prince's parents piled his plate high with servings from half a dozen dishes on the table. "These are Obi-Wan's favorites?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in skepticism.
"Yes," Vilnis assured him. "Or so Bail tells us."
In the little time he'd spent with Obi-Wan, Anakin was surprised to hear the Jedi would express any preferences at all. Certainly Obi-Wan had hardly eaten anything so far as Anakin had ever seen. Still, the food looked and smelled delicious. Maybe Obi-Wan wasn't quite as severe as Anakin thought.
He dove into the meal with relish, barely pausing to swallow before cramming his mouth full again. The food was good: flavorful, fresh, and wonderful. Anakin did his best to eat everything on the table, and as his belly filled, his good humor returned. He was dying to ask why they lived in such a big house, but he had not forgotten Obi- Wan's rebuke. Instead, he said, "The Prince said you have a boat." "Indeed," Vilnis answered, his face lit in a smile. "Would you like to go sailing?"
"Yes, please!" Anakin's eyes shone in delight before he could control himself. "If my Master says it's okay." His master. Just like Watto. Would Obi-Wan be any kinder?
"I'm sure he will," Vilnis assured him. "Obi-Wan loves to sail."
"He does?" Anakin wondered what else Obi-Wan might like to do.
"He and Bail often go sailing when he visits Alderaan."
Anakin silently processed this information. "How often does he come here?"
"Oh, I'd say a couple of times a year. He's been a regular visitor for quite some time now. I expect you will be, now, as well."
Vacations? Maybe things wouldn't be so bad with Obi-Wan after all.
Radha continued, "Obi-Wan is like a son to us. We're very happy to welcome you into our family as well, Anakin. Please consider Alderaan your home."
They thought of Obi-Wan as their son? So far as Anakin could tell, none of the other Jedi had parents. That had been one of the hardest things for him to deal with at the Temple, the fact that everyone seemed to view his having a mother as an oddity. He couldn't talk about her to anyone because no one understood. If anything, the subject made them feel strangely uncomfortable. Radha's words of welcome threatened to melt his composure, and he stared at his plate for a moment, blinking rapidly as he struggled to recover.
Noting the boy's trouble, Vilnis offered, "Why don't we dip into that cake? I hope you still have room, Anakin."
Anakin smiled brightly, "Oh, yes, please, sir!"
Vilnis picked up a knife. "How big a piece do you want?" He held the knife over the cake, marking out a bigger and bigger piece, watching Anakin's smile grow proportionately wider.
"Really, Vil, that's quite enough," Radha cautioned.
"Nonsense. A young boy should eat himself sick with cake as often as possible." He winked at Anakin, then sank the knife into the cake, cutting a large piece. "We'll start with this, and if you want more you may have it, although if you are at all like Bail when he was your age, you'll want to save some for breakfast tomorrow."
Cake for breakfast? In his wildest dreams he'd never imagined such a thing.
By the time Anakin had managed to stuff the last of the cake into his mouth, he thought his tummy would split open. Never in his life had he been so full. His satisfaction at having eaten so much was marred by the fact that Obi-Wan and the Prince had yet to reappear. Bail's parents didn't seem worried, however, so Anakin was determined to hide his concern. He wasn't a baby who needed coddling, after all.
The three of them cleared off the table, then Bail's parents led Anakin into another room, unlike any he had ever seen before. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves full of books.
"Wow!" Anakin exhaled, his eyes round with wonder. "I bet you have every single book that was ever written!"
"Not quite," Vilnis laughed. "Do like to read, Anakin?"
Still drinking in the sight of so many books, Anakin shrugged, "I -- I guess so." He had never had much opportunity to read for pleasure, though he had certainly seen paper books before. They tended to hold up better in Tatooine's dry weather, whereas datapads eventually fell victim to the ever-present sand.
"Feel free to browse through these books anytime," Vilnis offered.
"Thank you, sir!"
Vilnis chuckled. "So formal! Quite the proper young Jedi already. But you and I are friends. Please call me Papa Vil."
"And call me Mimi," Bail's mother added.
Anakin beamed, "And you can call me --." He stopped abruptly. No, not Ani. His mother called him that. He had left that life behind. No one would ever call him by that name again. "You can call me Anakin," he finished.
"We would be honored to, Anakin," Papa Vil graciously replied. "Now, perhaps you would like to have me read you a story?" he suggested, moving toward one of the bookcases.
"I know how to read," Anakin protested.
"Of course you do. But my children enjoyed having me read to them, and I thought you might like it as well."
"Perhaps Anakin would like to read to us, instead?" Mimi offered.
No, that would definitely not do. He had already learned that he was way behind everyone else his age in schooling. He had no desire to make a fool of himself in front of these people. They had been so nice to him. "I would like it if you read to me, Papa Vil."
"All right, then," Papa Vil replied, pulling a slim volume off one of the shelves. He settled down into a large, stuffed chair and gestured for Anakin to join him. "Come here, Anakin. You're not too big yet that you can't sit on my lap."
Anakin hesitated. As a Padawan, he was supposed to be quite grown-up now, but Obi-Wan wasn't here to reproach him for it. Obi-Wan had vanished. No one would tell him no if he wanted to be a kid for just a little while longer. Gratefully, he climbed up into Papa Vil's lap, settling against his broad, warm chest as Papa Vil opened the book and began to read.
It was a story about a girl and a boy who discover a magical planet that only appears once every hundred years. Anakin liked the story, but what he liked most of all was the feeling of being held and cared for, the vibrations of Papa Vil's voice rumbling through him as he lay against his chest. Perhaps this was why Obi-Wan had brought him here, to be cared for by these people. Anakin wouldn't mind that at all.
What with the excitement of the trip, a full stomach, and the comfort of Papa Vil's arms around him, Anakin was soon nodding off to sleep. He was barely aware of it when Papa Vil stopped reading, gathering Anakin in his arms and carrying him up to bed. He woke up enough to get dressed, and then Papa Vil and Mimi tucked him in. Still, Anakin couldn't release his anxiety. "Where is Obi-Wan?"
"I'll let him know you're here," Vilnis assured him, smoothing back the boy's spiky hair. "Sleep well, young one."
"G'night," Anakin mumbled, nestling deep into the giant bed.
Radha and Vilnis left the room, shutting the door quietly behind them. Vilnis shook his head pensively. "A strange one, that boy."
Surprised, Radha asked, "How so?"
"He seems awfully sad for a Jedi child. Uncertain, needy. Jedi children are always so well protected."
Radha glanced back at the door to Anakin's room. "There is a story here we don't know."
"Undoubtedly," Vilnis agreed. "Now, where do you suppose Obi-Wan and Bail have gotten to?"
"Obi-Wan," Radha mused. "Now there's another story we know nothing about."
"And probably never will," Vilnis sighed, draping his arm around Radha's shoulders. "We're just the parents. They never tell us anything."
"Obi-Wan is not actually our son," Radha pointed out. "He owes us no explanation."
"Of course not, but he's the closest thing to an in-law we'll ever get from Bail, which means I care about him."
"Do you really think we should go looking for them right now? They might be... occupied."
"I did promise the boy, Radha. Besides, I can be discreet." He winked at her as they approached the room that had been assigned to Obi-Wan. Vilnis knocked on the door, quietly enough that if the two men were indeed "occupied" within, they could pretend not to hear it.
But after a minute the door was opened by a pale, drawn Obi-Wan. He was not crying, but his eyes were red and swollen. He bowed slightly and apologized, "I'm sorry about dinner."
"Nonsense, son," Vilnis dismissed. Glancing into the room, he spied Bail seated on the couch. "The leftovers are in the kitchen if either of you are hungry, though there's not much left. Your young man managed to put quite a bit of it away."
"Where is he?"
"That's what we came to tell you. We just put him to bed. He was wondering where you were."
Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, a flush of shame coloring his pale cheeks, and Vilnis realized the young knight had taken his comment as a rebuke. He reached his hand out and placed it on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "We're deeply sorry for your loss, Obi-Wan. I wish there was something I could say or do to heal your grief."
Covering Vilnis' hand with his own, Obi-Wan looked up at him. "Thank you, your Highness."
Despite his gravity, Vilnis smiled. He had never been able to get Obi-Wan to address him less formally.
Obi-Wan turned to Bail. "I suppose I ought to look in on him." He hesitated awkwardly, and Vilnis wondered whether he and Radha should leave, but before they could excuse themselves, Obi-Wan continued to Bail, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Bail nodded and stood, crossing the room without saying a word. As he approached the door, Obi-Wan reached out to him, drawing him into a tight embrace. "Thank you," he whispered. Bail remained silent, clinging tightly to him before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, then releasing him and leaving the room.
The door closed behind him, and Bail stood for a moment, looking terribly young and vulnerable. Radha slid her arm around his waist. "How is he taking it?" she inquired softly.
"Not well," Bail admitted. When he said nothing more, Radha glanced at Vilnis. He had been right. Parents were never told anything. No matter. They loved their children anyway.
"Come, dear," she said, giving him a kiss. "Let's get you some dinner."
Obi-Wan paused before passing through the 'fresher to enter Anakin's room. His time with Bail had hardly healed him, but it had given him time to compose himself once more. He would not resent this new responsibility that had been shoved on him. He would not resent the fact that he had no time to grieve, no time to adjust to his new status, no time to enjoy life as a solo knight. He would not resent the fact that this usurper was now his Padawan. He was a Jedi Knight. He would do his duty, come what may. Besides, none of this was the boy's fault. Anakin was just as much a victim of fate as Obi- Wan.
Squaring his shoulders and straightening his resolve, Obi-Wan entered Anakin's room. Somewhat to his disappointment, Anakin sat up immediately. Obi-Wan was hoping he might be asleep.
"Obi-Wan?" The boy's voice was pitched high with anxiety.
"Yes, Anakin, I was right here in the next room."
Anakin watched as Obi-Wan's ghostly form, tunic pale in the dark night, approached him. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Obi-Wan assured him, berating himself for the fact that he had behaved in such a way as to worry his Padawan. "I'm sorry I ran out on you at dinner."
Anakin was stunned. He'd never heard a grown-up apologize to him before. "That's all right," he mumbled. Obi-Wan stood silently by his bed, and Anakin feared he might leave. As uncomfortable as he was around Obi-Wan, the Jedi was now the center of Anakin's world, and right now he needed that reassurance. "Were those really your favorite foods?"
Obi-Wan hesitated, trying to recall what had been on the table. It might be more accurate to say it had been Bail's conception of what Obi-Wan's favorite foods were, but he didn't need to go into details. "I suppose they were."
Anakin leaned back on his hands, staring up at Obi-Wan. "I liked them," he offered.
Obi-Wan chuckled softly. The boy definitely had charm! "I'm glad you did," he returned, seating himself on the edge of the bed so Anakin wouldn't have to strain to look up at him. They had not had many opportunities to talk yet.
"Papa Vil said you like to sail."
"I do."
"Will you take me?" Anakin asked eagerly.
Again Obi-Wan smiled. "Perhaps we should teach you how to swim first."
"Tomorrow?"
"If we have time. We're going to be very busy tomorrow."
"What are we going to do?"
"We will begin your training."
Anakin's shoulder slumped, and Obi-Wan sensed mixed emotions from him. "I thought I already had."
"When you met with the Masters at the Temple, Anakin, they were testing you, not training you. They were trying to discern the scope of your natural talents, to learn what you could and could not do."
"I couldn't do much, could I?" Anakin grumbled.
"Actually, you could do quite a bit." That was an understatement. The Masters had been amazed by Anakin's abilities. "But you're not trained. That's why I brought you here."
Head cocked to one side, Anakin stared up at Obi-Wan. "Why didn't we stay at the Temple?" The child's eyes, black in the dim light, challenged him.
Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. If Anakin had been tested, Obi-Wan would be as well. He had to take a completely unorthodox child and mold him into the Jedi way. Obi-Wan hated the unorthodox. He'd gone through his rebellious period early on in his training at Melida/Daan and been thoroughly burned by it. Over the years he had come to trust more and more in tradition, ritual, the Code. Not for the first time did he wonder why the task had been given to him to train the greatest misfit in the entire history of the Order.
But he could not say that to Anakin, and therein lay his test: to make this misfit feel a natural part of the Jedi. Cautiously, he ventured, "We have both been through a lot lately. I don't know about you, but I found it rather stressful at the Temple. Too many other things going on, too many curious on-lookers. I thought it would be better for both of us if we spent this period of adjustment somewhere else, on neutral territory."
Obi-Wan stopped, waiting to hear how Anakin would react. The boy looked up at him, silent for several long moments. Then he lay back down on the bed, snuggling against his pillow and, to Obi-Wan's surprise, yawned. "I'm glad we came," Anakin confessed sleepily. "I like it here."
"Good," Obi-Wan replied, inordinately relieved. He pulled the covers up around Anakin's shoulders, tucking them under his chin. "Now get some sleep. I'll be working you hard tomorrow."
Anakin nodded drowsily. "Good night, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan hesitated, then reached out and placed his hand on the crown of Anakin's head, the spiky hair tickling his palm. It was Qui-Gon's gesture. Innumerable times over the years Obi-Wan's master had rested his hand on Obi-Wan's head, a gesture he'd come to associate with comfort, assurance, contentment and love. To make this gesture now to Anakin filled him with unexpected emotion: joy at the privilege of making it to his own Padawan, and ineffable grief that he would never again receive it himself. Instantly he locked his shields up, so as to keep this torrent of emotion from Anakin. He didn't want to scare the boy.
Anakin only looked up at him, eyes half-lidded in sleep, and he smiled.
"Good night, Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered. He did not call him Padawan, nor had Anakin called him Master. They weren't ready yet, but they would be, soon.
Obi-Wan stood and turned to go. Anakin was asleep before the door closed behind him.
When Anakin woke the next morning, the sky was just beginning to lighten. He lay under the covers for a few moments, stretching out his arms and legs as far as they would go. Nope. He couldn't touch opposite sides of the bed at the same time, no matter how far he stretched or at what angle he lay. He had thought his bed at the Jedi Temple was luxury, but this - this was like floating on a cloud. The sheets were smooth and cool, the duvet oh, so fluffy, and he had no fewer than four pillows, all to himself! Ah, how sweet it would be to be a prince of Alderaan! But then, he was a prince of Alderaan, wasn't he? Hadn't Papa Vil and Mimi told him that Obi-Wan was like a son to them? Hadn't they said Anakin should think of their home as his? Prince Anakin of Alderaan. Yup. That sounded pretty good. Or better yet: Jedi Prince Anakin of Alderaan. Now there was a name.
Yesterday he became a prince, and today he would become a Jedi. His skin tingling with excitement, he leaped out of bed and sought out his clothes. To his chagrin, he still hadn't quite figured out the complicated layers of tunic. He could get the undershirt and overshirt just fine, but the stola and sash continued to defy his attempts to master them. No matter how many times he did it, the lot ended up hopelessly askew. He gritted his teeth in frustration. He was far too old to need help getting dressed. What kind of a pathetic Jedi was he if he couldn't even manage the clothes?
At last conceding defeat, he gathered up the offending clothes, not forgetting the bead which he had carefully replaced in its little box the night before, and passed through the 'fresher into Obi-Wan's room.
Obi-Wan was still asleep, and Anakin belatedly realized he probably shouldn't just barge into his Master's room without asking. He had never entered Obi-Wan's room on Coruscant. Then again, they had a common room on Coruscant where Anakin could hang out, waiting for Obi- Wan to appear in the morning. Heaving a resigned sigh, Anakin laid his things out on the couch, then pulled a chair up to the window so he could look at the river.
There had been lots of traffic on the river when they had arrived yesterday. The concept that people could use water like a road had amazed Anakin, and he loved watching all the different boats traveling back and forth along the river. The morning was still too young, however, for many people to be out and about yet. He only counted four boats as he watched the sky lighten rapidly with the approaching first sunrise. Correction: only sunrise. Just one sun here. So many changes for him to get used to. Who could have guessed that each planet would be so different? Four down, and about a million to go. Anakin wasn't worried. He'd get to them all eventually.
What he did not have patience for, however, was waiting for Obi-Wan to wake up. The highest rooftops of the city by now had caught fire with the rising sun. At this rate, Anakin groused, the day would be half over before Obi-Wan finally got up. This was supposed to be the first day of Anakin's training, and he was eager to start. He slid off the chair and approached Obi-Wan's bed. The Jedi lay on his stomach, his face turned toward the wall, one arm curled loosely around his pillow. Anakin watched his slow, even breathing, debating whether or not he ought to wake him. Maybe if he just kind of...poked him a little bit. He reached out a cautious hand.
Suddenly Obi-Wan lurched upright, smoothly twisting around to face Anakin, who squeaked and jumped back in alarm. "Anakin!" Obi-Wan demanded. "What's wrong?"
The boy swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his ears. "I-I-I..."
Obi-Wan relaxed, sensing no danger, and he realized what had happened. "It's all right, Anakin," he said in soothing tones. "A Jedi sleeps very lightly, ready to wake in an instant. I sensed you concentrating on me."
"I-I'm sorry," Anakin stammered.
"It's all right," Obi-Wan repeated, climbing out of bed and stretching. It was a good thing he hadn't asked Bail to stay last night. He hoped Anakin wasn't planning on sneaking into his room every morning.
As Obi-Wan began his morning routine, Anakin persistently followed him, and Obi-Wan had to suppress an urge to growl at him. The boy was so clingy.
"What are we going to do today?" Anakin asked.
"We will begin your training."
"Yeah, but what are we going to do?"
"You'll find out when the time comes. For now you must learn patience." The words echoed in his head in Qui-Gon's accent. How many times had his master said the same thing to him, when he was scarcely older than Anakin?
"But even if you tell me what we're going to do, I'll still have to be patient until we do it," Anakin pointed out. "So why don't you just tell me now?"
Obi-Wan was perturbed, but he refused to let it show. Why not, indeed? Probably because he wasn't certain himself what they were going to do. He was sort of hoping the Force would show him, but he wasn't about to tell Anakin that. It was the Master's prerogative to be obtuse. Changing the subject, he said, "I see you're still having trouble with your tunic."
Anakin scowled, an expression that looked entirely too cute on his young face. "Why do we have to wear such complicated clothes, anyway?" "It's one of the mysteries of being a Jedi," Obi-Wan answered enigmatically.
Anakin scowled again, not certain whether Obi-Wan was making fun or him or not.
Obi-Wan stifled a smile, then ordered, "Pay close attention," while he dressed himself. Anakin watched closely, trying to mirror Obi-Wan with his own tunic, but it still came out sloppy and uneven.
"See?" he whined petulantly.
Obi-Wan knelt in front of Anakin, undoing the boy's work and straightening out the stola. "I know it's hard. I had to learn, too, you know."
"You make it look so easy," Anakin grumbled.
"That's because I've been doing it since I was five. You will learn it in time." He finished wrapping the sash around the boy's tiny waist. Giving a final tug on the stola, he pronounced, "There."
Anakin surveyed the results, biting back his impatience at Obi-Wan's mastery of the layers. "I guess this is another one of those lessons in patience?"
Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled, and he favored Anakin with a hint of a smile. "Now you've solved the mystery," he quipped.
Anakin froze, staring at Obi-Wan in surprise. Was that humor in his young master's usually staid countenance? It looked like it, but he wasn't quite sure he trusted his own perception.
Before Anakin could figure him out, Obi-Wan stood. "Let's go down to breakfast, then, shall we?"
"What about my bead?" Anakin asked.
"Oh, yes." Kneeling once more, Obi-Wan unfastened the boy's braid, combing through the lock of hair with his fingers, then rebraided it, secured the bead, and tied it off. "Now you look like a proper Padawan."
As Obi-Wan stood, Anakin reached up and lightly fingered the bead, his face glowing in quiet contentment. The sight filled Obi-Wan's poor, tired heart with a similar joy, an emotion both pure and painful in its intensity, and Obi-Wan had to fight back sudden tears. Maybe... I could get used to this, he thought.
They headed downstairs to join the Organas for breakfast. Anakin didn't want to mention the promised cake, but it turned out he didn't have to: Papa Vil had a large piece waiting for him. Anakin thought he caught a glimpse of disapproval on Obi-Wan's features, but it was gone so fast Anakin couldn't be sure. Bail, on the other hand, found the notion of cake for breakfast so appealing he decided to join Anakin in a piece, but Obi-Wan stuck to grains and milk.
"And muja juice," Bail announced, pouring out a glass for Anakin and one for Obi-Wan. "You'd better get used to it fast, ti-bai, because it's all he ever drinks."
Anakin took a sip of the blue juice, finding it tart and delicious. "It's good," he said.
"So what are the two of you going to do today?" Bail asked.
Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan with an impertinent smirk, which Obi-Wan studiously ignored. "We will begin Anakin's training."
"Starting with what?"
Anakin hid his laugh by stuffing his mouth full of cake.
"Basic exercises," was Obi-Wan's succinct reply.
"Whenever that means," Bail said, echoing Anakin's thoughts. He was starting to really like the Prince. "Feel free to use the ballroom as a training salle," Bail offered. "Its plenty big enough."
Vilnis made a sudden choking sound, and Radha turned to him in amusement. "Why not? We haven't had a ball in ages. It might as well be put to good use."
When Vilnis failed to look convinced, Bail offered, "Look at it this way, Papa, if they get saber scorch marks on the floor, it will just give you an excuse to re-finish it."
Anakin's head whipped around to face Obi-Wan, his eyes lit in excitement, but Obi-Wan shook his head. "We're not ready for lightsabers yet," he said. "Not by a long shot. Don't worry, your Highness, we won't damage your floor."
Vilnis nodded, struggling to regain his sense of hospitality. "Really, Obi-Wan, go ahead and use the ballroom or any other room in the house. You know that you are welcome to it."
"Thank you, your Highness, but I believe we will start outside."
Vilnis tried very hard not to look relieved.
Breakfast was soon over, and the Organas headed toward their respective workplaces. Obi-Wan led Anakin outside into the gardens. The day began boringly enough exactly as Obi-Wan said it would, with basic exercises intended to shape Anakin up into peak physical condition.
When they had worked out an hour or so, they took a short break, after which they began work on slightly more interesting exercises of balance and coordination. Obi-Wan had Anakin run back and forth along the top of a low stone wall that surrounded the garden, following up with some basic gymnastics and tumbling on the lawn. Anakin particularly liked the handstands, even though he kept falling over.
By lunchtime Anakin's tunic was drenched with sweat. Alderaan was not very hot, but it was far more humid than what he accustomed to on Tatooine. He begged Obi-Wan to teach him to swim, but Obi-Wan insisted they rest first. They went inside for lunch, after which they browsed through the library, Obi-Wan pulling out a mountain of books on history, science, social studies, ethics, and half a dozen other subjects. Fortunately he didn't make Anakin read any of them right then. Anakin leafed through a coupled of them as Obi-Wan perused the shelves. He could barely understand anything on the pages, which were filled with the longest words Anakin had ever seen. He did his best to hide his dismay. Maybe some miracle would come along and rescue him from this particular aspect of Jedi training.
After the break, it was back outside for even more interesting exercises, including one where Obi-Wan tied a blindfold over Anakin's eyes and proceeded to throw a series of small, soft balls at him, which Anakin was supposed to catch. He started out pretty well, but as more and more balls got through, he became frustrated. The balls didn't really hurt, but Anakin knew he was failing, and he didn't like that.
When one ball hit him ignominiously on the forehead, he ripped the blindfold off in frustration. "This is stupid!" he railed. "What does any of this have to do with being a Jedi?"
Obi-Wan met his frustration with a placid expression that only irritated Anakin further. "It's how you learn," he explained, "so that one day you'll be able to do this with a lightsaber and blaster bolts." The mention of a saber gave Anakin pause, though he was not entirely appeased. "When do I get to use a lightsaber?"
"Not for a while yet."
"I bet you were using one when you were my age," Anakin grumbled.
Obi-Wan hesitated, then confessed, "Yes, but only a training one."
Refusing to be mollified, Anakin said, "Bet you were doing it since you were five."
"Eight, actually."
"So that means I'll get to use a saber when I'm, what, fifteen?"
Obi-Wan sighed, "Ani-"
"Don't call me that!" the boy thundered, clenching his fists at his sides.
Startled, Obi-Wan stared wide-eyed at his Padawan. Such a display of temper was never tolerated at the Temple, but he sensed that to correct Anakin would only anger him further. It didn't seem right to allow Anakin's behavior to go uncorrected, but he had to make allowances for the fact that the boy had not been raised according to Jedi philosophy. Perhaps now was a good time to start. "Anger is not necessary, Anakin. You have only to ask." Ashamed of himself, but still angry, Anakin folded his arms across his chest and looked down at the toes of his boots. "Please don't call me that," he mumbled.
"Very well, I will not," Obi-Wan answered gently. "You must learn to control your temper, Anakin. Outbursts like that only cloud your judgment and anger the people around you."
Did that mean Obi-Wan was angry? It didn't sound like it, but then Jedi had an infuriating way of never showing their emotions. So he would just have to learn how to be a stone, how to swallow everything and bury it deep down inside himself, never letting anyone know how he really felt. Suddenly Anakin felt very tired. His first day of training, and already he was failing at everything. He wondered what his mother was doing right now. She was so far away, and he didn't even know what time it was on Tatooine. Maybe she was asleep, dreaming of him.
Anakin's nose began to itch, and his vision blurred. Angry with himself, he clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached. He was not going to cry.
A warm hand rested on his shoulder, and Obi-Wan knelt before him, though Anakin refused to look up. "Enough physical training for one day," Obi-Wan said. "I'm going to teach you how to meditate. It will help you deal with your feelings."
Well, that sounded helpful at least. With a sniff, Anakin looked up. Obi-Wan regarded him quite kindly, and Anakin was - almost- reminded of Qui-Gon. If only Obi-Wan would smile, then he would look very much like Qui-Gon indeed.
Obi-Wan settled into a kneeling position in the grass, and Anakin did the same, facing him. "Meditation is very much at the heart of what it means to be a Jedi," Obi-Wan explained, "more than using a lightsaber or manipulating things with the Force. Meditation is what grounds us and connects us to the Force, and through it, everything in the universe." With gentle hands, Obi-Wan corrected Anakin's posture while explaining to him how to breathe and still his thoughts. It seemed strange to Anakin to have to learn to breathe again, but for once he was willing to listen, if only because Obi-Wan was being almost nice to him.
They practiced breathing for a few minutes, then Obi-Wan gestured for Anakin to sit between his knees. As he wrapped his arms around Anakin, Obi-Wan said, "This is how I was taught to meditate, when I was quite a bit younger than five. I had trouble sitting still and focusing, so the meditation master would hold me and guide me through the exercise."
Anakin had a hard time believing Obi-Wan had ever once been fidgety. Maybe he was only saying it to make Anakin feel better. Still, it was a nice gesture, and Anakin relaxed into Obi-Wan's arms, feeling safe, surrounded, secure. It felt almost like when his mother held him, and for once the thought of her did not cause his heart to seize up.
"Now, calm your thoughts, and open yourself to the Force," Obi-Wan instructed.
Anakin obeyed, but first he whispered a mental plea - to the Force, or whatever out there might listen to him. /Please, please let him like me./ Then he let that thought go, along with all other thoughts, and waited, listening for a reply.
The silence and stillness took on a texture, velvety soft, but strong. Peace, and a sense of well-being so strong Anakin had never felt anything like it before in his life. Contentment. Maybe not exactly happiness, but a feeling that everything would be all right. Maybe not quite love, but a sense that he would be cared for. Maybe not his heart's desire, but more than most people ever had in their entire lifetime.
Around the margins of his mind, Anakin could sense dark things - his anger and fear, and visions that he did not want to see, hidden nightmares too foul even for his dreams. But those dark things could not penetrate the shroud of peace in which the Force had enveloped him. In here he was safe, and no harm would come to him.
For an eternity of bliss, Anakin floated in that sense of calm. Then a voice called to him. Not his mother, not Qui-Gon, but Obi-Wan, calling out to him in the peaceful night. Anakin turned and willingly flew toward that voice, finally opening his eyes.
"You did very well," Obi-Wan was telling him. "I'm impressed."
Anakin smiled. "I liked it."
"Good, because from now on it will be part of our daily routine. In the meantime, I think it's time for another break. Why don't you go explore the house? I'm sure you will find plenty of things to amuse you."
Anakin hesitated, wishing that Obi-Wan would offer to go with him. "What will you do?" he asked.
"I need to work on a course of study for you."
Anakin made a face. That didn't sound too good.
Stifling his amusement at Anakin's displeasure, Obi-Wan said, "Go on, now. You can tell me what you've found at dinner."
This statement intrigued Anakin, suggesting that there might be something worth finding: rooms full of treasure, perhaps, or secret passageways. With the prospect of discovery lighting his eyes, Anakin bounded to his feet and raced toward the house, shouting back over his shoulder, "See you later, Obi-Wan!"
Obi-Wan sat on the grass, staring after Anakin long after the boy had disappeared into the house. All in all he felt their first day of training had gone well. Anakin had tremendous talent. That much had been clear from the beginning. And he was eager to learn, even if he sometimes grew impatient with the form his lessons took. Remembering the boy's dismay in the library, Obi-Wan sighed, shaking his head. Not only did Anakin have to start at square one with Jedi training, he would also have to do so with academic training. Obi-Wan wearily rubbed at his eyes. They had such a long way to go.
Yet he had enjoyed himself today. Maybe it was good for them to start with such basic lessons, since Obi-Wan was still a novice knight himself. He had always enjoyed teaching. While he could be incredibly impatient with himself, he had infinite patience when it came to younger students. And the task of training Anakin had kept him occupied, distracting him from the soul-crushing grief that was constantly threatening to overcome him. If he hadn't had Anakin to focus his attention, he might indeed have been overcome, so perhaps it was a good thing that he had a padawan thrust upon him right now.
And there was something else. When he had guided Anakin in the meditation, holding the boy's tiny body, he had felt a bond for the first time. It was not a new bond. When Qui-Gon had died, the bond he shared with his Master for half his lifetime had been abruptly severed. It still existed in his mind, but one end flapped loosely, like an unsecured rope in a strong wind. It whipped and stung Obi- Wan's mind, and he did not know how to secure it, but in their meditation, the loose end of the bond finally found a place to attach itself. Qui-Gon was dead, but Obi-Wan could feed his old, bleeding bond to Anakin, pouring into the boy all the love and respect and friendship he had felt for his Master. Well, maybe not all. He still resented Anakin for the interest Qui-Gon had taken in him. Their bond was by no means strong yet, but to Obi-Wan's relief it did exist. He had been worried about how he could form a bond with Anakin at all, still harboring his resentment against the boy as he did. Obi-Wan had never heard of a bond forming this way, an old, severed bond finding purchase with someone new, but perhaps it was another of Qui-Gon's legacies to him. To them both.
With a small sigh, Obi-Wan stood, brushing loose bits of grass from his knees. He looked up into the brilliant blue sky, as vibrant as his master's eyes. Qui-Gon was part of the Force now, but Obi-Wan could still feel him, as close as the Force itself. Not in a tangible way, not in a personal way, but he swore he could feel his master's warmth and strength as surely as he could feel the sun on his skin. /I will not fail you,/ he whispered silently to the Qui- Gon-blue sky. He would honor his master's dying request. No matter how much it cost him.
By the time the Organas began arriving home from work, Obi-Wan had sketched a rough outline for Anakin, including the first week's worth of lessons. He was quite pleased with himself, satisfied that they had made a good start.
Anakin sensed the family's arrival and reappeared almost immediately, bubbling over with tales of what he had discovered in the enormous manor house. The Organas listened attentively as Anakin told them all about their own possessions, old furniture, broken toys, the detritus of previous generations tucked away into long forgotten corners. Suddenly Anakin wheeled on Obi-Wan. "And I found your picture, too!"
Surprised, Obi-Wan frowned. "Were you poking around in the Prince's room?"
"No. It was in a hallway full of 2D pictures. I saw Bail, and Mimi and Papa Vil, and about a million other people." He whirled around to face Bail's parents again. "Are they all your family?"
"Many of them are," Papa Vil explained, "and others are friends."
Turning back to Obi-Wan, Anakin continued, "I saw several of you and Bail, but I didn't see any of Qui-Gon."
Obi-Wan paused. "He didn't usually come to Alderaan."
"Why not?"
Obi-Wan had no desire to go into a full explanation, so he settled for, "Bail was my friend, not his."
Anakin considered for a moment, and Obi-Wan feared he would probe further, but instead he asked, "So I won't be coming with you, either?"
Obi-Wan hadn't really thought about it before. "You may if you wish to. Qui-Gon didn't come because he had his own interests, not because he wasn't welcome." In truth, Alderaan had been Obi-Wan's retreat, a place for him to get away from Jedi responsibility and spend time with Bail. It had not occurred to him that now, with a young Padawan in tow, he might no longer escape his duties on Alderaan. Qui-Gon had not really been a part of his relationship with Bail. What role did he want Anakin to play now? He was not at all certain.
The Organas, however, didn't seem to share Obi-Wan's concern. They delighted in Anakin's presence and were happy to let him ramble on about whatever entered his mind. Obi-Wan was accustomed to thinking of Bail as talkative, but the Prince could barely keep up with Anakin. The boy's pace never slowed, even at dinner, and Obi-Wan thought it must be some kind of miracle how Anakin could have food going in and words coming out at the same time. He told the Organas all about his day, asking questions and making comments all along the way, even talking about his life on Tatooine, and after a while Obi- Wan began to feel a twinge of jealousy. In his short acquaintance with Anakin, the boy had never opened up to him the way he had with the Organas. Then again he had not exactly been encouraging. The Jedi highly valued silence, and Anakin's present garrulousness would have been viewed as undisciplined at the Temple - another reason why Obi-Wan was glad they had left.
After dinner, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Bail retired to the Prince's personal study, where Obi-Wan handed Anakin a datapad of the lesson plan he had worked on that afternoon. As Obi-Wan reviewed the outline, Anakin grew more and more agitated - as did the Prince. At last Bail exclaimed, "Good heavens, Ben, what can you have been thinking?" Taken aback, Obi-Wan shot him a warning look which Bail ignored. "Not everyone in the galaxy educates their youngsters as thoroughly as the Jedi. By the time you were fourteen, you had the equivalent of what most of us would call a university education."
"Anakin has a lot of catching up to do -"
"He didn't grow up at the Temple, Obi-Wan," Bail flared. He grabbed the datapad, scrolling down the screen. "Look at this: you have him studying algebra. I didn't begin that until I was twelve. And for history you've assigned him Stubart's 'The Rise of the Republic.'"
"I read it when I was his age," Obi-Wan protested, struggling to control a sudden outburst of temper.
"I read it when I was a junior in secondary school, and it bored me to tears then. If you give him this, he'll be dead by the second chapter!"
Up until now Anakin had not been sure whether to be insulted or relieved by Bail's tirade, but for some reason this statement struck him as funny, and he snickered. Both men looked at him, Obi-Wan with disapproval, Bail with sympathy.
"Anakin, do you like music?" Bail asked, apropos of nothing.
"Uh - yeah."
"Why don't you go to that cabinet over there and look through my music collection? I'm sure you'll find something you like. Personally I could never study without music playing."
Anakin glanced an inquiry at Obi-Wan, who reluctantly nodded. Eagerly he scrambled out of his chair and went to the cabinet, trying not to look too relieved at having escaped Obi-Wan's lesson plans.
With the boy distracted, Bail turned on Obi-Wan in a low but furious whisper, "Are you completely out of touch with reality?" Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer, but Bail cut him off. "He was a slave, Ben. He's never had a day of formal schooling in his life. Anakin is a bright, clever boy, but if you assign him this course of study, you'll make him feel like an idiot."
"He has to learn!"
"Of course he does, but there are ways of teaching him other than force-feeding him textbooks."
Obi-Wan bristled, but he couldn't exactly argue. Bail was right. The Jedi were taught study skills at a very early age. Anakin needed to be taught a different way, but Obi-Wan didn't know how else to teach.
Calming down, Bail offered, "We'll all help you. I can teach him history and astropolitics. Papa can teach him literature and composition. Mother - well, I doubt he would have much interest in intergalactic trade law, but I'm sure she can think of something useful. We'll get him started on the basics, but you have to go slow with him."
Obi-Wan's eyes flashed. "May I remind you that I am his master, not you?"
"Yes, and a month ago you were a Padawan," Bail shot back. As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he had said the wrong thing. Obi- Wan managed to look wounded, offended, and furious all at the same time.
"I'm sorry," Bail said. "I didn't mean it like that."
"You have a point," Obi-Wan reluctantly admitted, but he scarcely seemed appeased, and for several long moments he stared in silence at his datapad. "There's just so much to teach him, and I don't --." He frowned, biting his lip.
"You'll do fine, Ben," Bail encouraged softly. He raised his hand toward Obi-Wan's head, then stopped himself, realizing there was no braid for him to tug. To cover his sudden pang of regret, he leaned back and called to Anakin, "Find anything you like, ti-bai?"
Anakin looked up, mildly peeved. "Why do you keep calling me that?"
"It means 'little brother,' and that's what you are."
The boy relaxed at that. "So what is 'big brother'?"
Bail smiled. "I thought I'd never hear anyone call me that. I've been a ti-bai all my life. It's 'manu-bai.'" He nodded at the pile of discs Anakin had collected on the floor. "So what did you find?"
Grinning, Anakin gathered up his collection and dashed back to the table. "You've got lots of great stuff!"
Bail fished through Anakin's selections, picking up one. "You like Karvan?"
"He's wizard!" Anakin gushed.
"Is that so? Obi-Wan loves him, too."
Obi-Wan shot Bail a horrified glance as Anakin said, "Really?"
Awkwardly, Obi-Wan muttered, "He's...an acquired taste."
Innocently, Bail offered, "You can have that recording. I have others."
"Thanks!" Anakin enthused, before remembering to check with Obi-Wan. His master wore a neutral expression, but underneath the table he kicked Bail sharply in the ankle. In truth he loathed Karvan, and not entirely for his musical style.
Ignoring him, Bail continued, "I met him when he came on tour to Coruscant. He and I became friends." They had almost become more than that, in a well-publicized flirtation. While Obi-Wan had always borne Bail's numerous affairs with some degree of equanimity, the fling with Karvan had been one of the few times Obi-Wan had almost lost control of his jealousy. Bail had dropped the budding affair, but it did not please Obi-Wan now to have the Prince tease him about it through his Padawan. Willfully oblivious to Obi-Wan's displeasure, Bail offered to Anakin, "Next time he goes on tour, I'll introduce you to him if you like."
"You're kidding!"
"You and I and Obi-Wan can all go and enjoy him," was Bail's impish reply.
Obi-Wan barely suppressed a grimace, and this time Anakin noticed. His smile faded, and he said, "You don't really like him, do you?"
With a serenity he did not feel, Obi-Wan answered, "He's not my first choice, but he is good to dance to." He was lying, completely lying, but Bail had put him on the spot, leading Anakin on, and he did not want to disappoint the boy, who was so obviously trying to find ways to connect to him. Instantly, though, Obi-Wan regretted the deception. What kind of a Master was he, lying to his Padawan about even such a trivial matter?
Anakin was sensitive enough to recognize Obi-Wan's prevarication. "I shouldn't keep the recording," he murmured.
"Of course you may," Obi-Wan assured him. "In fact, why don't you play it right now?"
"Or better yet, why don't I show you some of the other music Obi-Wan likes?" Bail suggested in an effort to cover his own faux pas. "No studying tonight, eh? Just music to celebrate your first day of training."
Reluctantly, Anakin let the Prince lead him back to the music cabinet, glancing back over his shoulder at Obi-Wan. The Jedi stifled a sigh of irritation at having his planned evening so effectively hijacked by Bail, and resigning himself to the loss, got up and joined them in going through the recordings.
Not surprisingly, Anakin was unfamiliar with most of the music. His tastes clearly ran to the kind of conventional pop that Obi-Wan despised so much, but he listened attentively to Bail's lesson in music appreciation, and he made a point of raving about anything Obi- Wan was hinted to like.
Eventually they shifted from the music lesson to dancing. Bail seized Anakin's hands and taught him all the steps he knew, which the boy picked up quickly. For the most part, Obi-Wan contented himself with watching, rarely joining in. It didn't seem quite proper for him to dance with his padawan. It was too...informal. But he did not mind Anakin dancing with the Prince, and dancing was a perfectly acceptable form of recreation, teaching coordination, balance, and grace.
The Prince, however, was not content to let him sit and watch. He extended a hand to Obi-Wan, a mischievous leer on his face. "Don't just sit around, Bendu. Get up and show the boy what his Master is made of."
"No, thank you," Obi-Wan demurred. "I'll leave the dancing lessons to you."
A flicker of confusion disrupted Bail's features, then he smiled and turned back to Anakin. "It seems knighthood has made Obi-Wan into a stuffy old man," he confided. "But I happen to know that he can be a lot of fun. I think you and I should work together to make sure he remembers that he's younger than me. What do you say, ti-bai?"
Anakin beamed up at the Prince, blossoming with Bail's confidence in him. "Sounds good to me, manu-bai!"
Bail laughed in delight, kneeling to Anakin's level and ruffling the boy's hair before turning a saucy look on Obi-Wan. "I like being a big brother!" Anakin leaned against the Prince, comfortable and happy, and something about the sight disturbed Obi-Wan. He did not begrudge Anakin's happiness, but it felt like Bail was appropriating the boy's affections. Bail would be the friend and confidant, and Obi-Wan would be the sullen, stodgy old master, the authority figure. He had already learned that Anakin did not particularly respect authority. The last thing his apprentice needed was to be influenced by an overindulged Prince accustomed to getting his way.
Abruptly Obi-Wan stood and said, "It's time for bed, Anakin."
Anakin hesitated, glancing up at Bail who put on an exaggerated expression of indifference, then looked back at Obi-Wan. "But I'm not tired."
"Yes, you are, and you will be tomorrow unless you develop proper sleeping habits."
"You have to teach me how to sleep, too?" Anakin protested, scowling.
"Apparently I do." Obi-Wan could feel his patience wearing thin. For a moment he thought Bail was going to protest, but mercifully he remained silent. "Go on to bed."
Anakin silently fumed, visibly struggling with the order while Obi- Wan waited. But then the Prince spoke up. "Go on, ti-bai. We still have to go over your lesson plans."
The tension in Anakin's frame abruptly eased, and he made a face up at Bail. "Good night, manu-bai!"
"Good night," Bail called as Anakin skipped from the room.
As soon as the door shut, Obi-Wan wheeled on Bail. "Never do that again!"
Startled, Bail took a step back. "What?"
"I am his Master. He must learn to respect my authority, not yours."
"I was only trying to help-"
"Your kind of help will do more harm than good. If you have suggestions or advice, bring them up to me privately, but never contradict me in front of my padawan."
"I backed you up," Bail protested. "I told him to go to bed."
"That is for me to decide, not you. And you contradicted me earlier." Obi-Wan was angry but calm, his words spoken quietly but with force. "Never dress me down in front of my padawan. Never mock me or tease me. He must learn to respect and obey me, and he will never do that if you are undermining my authority."
And with that, something closed between them, a door shut, and Bail realized things had been forever changed. He had already begun to suspect it, but he had hoped he was wrong.
He had not often seen Obi-Wan angry, but always before that anger had been personal, the result of one of their rare spats, the anger of a passionate young man, of an ardent lover - as in the incident of Bail's near-affair with the pop singer. But this was the righteous ire of a Jedi Knight concerned with propriety, completely impersonal and passionless. Bail Organa was just a disruptive influence to be curbed and contained.
But once before he had been chosen for his influence. Another Jedi Master had selected him to be the friend and companion of his serious padawan, and Obi-Wan, dutiful as always, had entered into a relationship with Bail because his master had implicitly ordered it. That master was dead now, and Obi-Wan was no longer obligated to honor his request. Bail was quite simply no longer needed, cut off like a padawan braid that once meant something but now was just a symbol of the past, a stage that had been completed, outgrown. Obi- Wan might keep him as a friend for old times' sake, but that was all. He no longer had a role to play in Obi-Wan's life. He was excess baggage.
Mustering up his professional diplomatic voice, he said, "I understand. I apologize. I meant no disrespect."
Obi-Wan relented just a bit. "I know. Just remember: he may not have grown up at the Temple, but he needs to learn to behave as if he did."
"Yes." Bail suppressed a shiver of dread. Would this lively, open- hearted boy be straight-jacketed into a cool, impersonal...Obi-Wan?
"Let's review the lesson plans tomorrow," Obi-Wan suggested. "I'm going to turn in as well. Good night."
He was out the door and gone before Bail could answer. No kiss. Bail realized Obi-Wan had not kissed him since arriving on Alderaan. There would be no more kisses for him. He had always known this day would come. No point crying over it. Bail didn't believe in love anyway.
No, he wasn't crying. The stinging in his eyes just meant he was tired. Time for him to go to bed as well.
Dark hands reached out for him. Shadows followed wherever he went, even though there were no suns to cast them. He existed in a fog of utter darkness. A dry laugh echoed in his ears, like the sound of paper tearing, the sound of a heart breaking. A broken heart. His mother all alone, her heart bleeding steadily onto the tent floor, drop by drop, the thick red liquid pooling on the sand, spreading out in rivulets, smoke rising as the blood bubbled and boiled, devouring everything in its path, scarring the land. And always that voice cackling, like the links of a chain rattling together, "I shall be watching you with great interest."
"...I shall be watching you...."
"...watching you...."
Anakin's eyes flew open, but the darkness surrounded him. He was choking, suffocating. He felt a scream building up within his chest, but he could not summon the breath to release it. Mom! he cried desperately in the tomb of his mind.
A door opened somewhere, silent footsteps crossing the room. He couldn't hear them, but he could feel them. It was coming for him. Whatever it was, it was coming, reaching out with its claw-like hands, and he could not move to avoid its grasp.
...I'm watching you....
The hands grabbed him, and he choked out, "No!" But no claws ripped his flesh. The touch did not burn.
"Anakin."
A soft voice, gentle hands, pulling away the blankets that had tangled around his body. "Mom?" he called, whimpering.
A pulse of sadness in the shadows, sympathy, kindness. Not his mother. Someone who was sorry not to be his mother. The hands eased him up, broad palms cupping his thin shoulders. "You were dreaming, Anakin." Not the cruel voice. Quiet, elegant, sad.
...I promise...I promise I will train you...you will be a Jedi, I promise....
"Obi-Wan?" Anakin looked up at the pale face above him. Not the face he wanted to see, but then he wasn't the face Obi-Wan wanted to see, either, was he? They were both alone. Alone together.
"You're all right, Anakin. You were dreaming." A strong arm against his back, one hand stroking his hair, heavy, firm, comforting. All his uncertainty about Obi-Wan evaporated in the aftermath of the terrible dream, and he reached out to Obi-Wan with the desperation of a child in need of reassurance. He burrowed his face into Obi-Wan's warm chest, felt the Jedi's arms wrap around him, holding him the way he had in the meditation yesterday. Some of that peace returned to him now, soothing his fears, calming him.
A long silence. The darkness was not so frightening now. It hid the things he did not want to see.
"Do you remember what you dreamed?" Obi-Wan's voice was low, and Anakin felt rather than heard the words, echoing in his skull through Obi-Wan's chest. He shook his head, rubbing his face against Obi-Wan's nightshirt, smelling the musky scent of sleep on his clothes. The images of the dream faded away as quickly as they had arisen, replaced by the sensations of Obi-Wan, a soft voice, strong hands, a warm scent.
The plea from yesterday's meditation came back to him. Please let him like me. Had he said it aloud? Or had Obi-Wan? But the silence continued, Obi-Wan rubbing soothing circles on his back, rocking him slightly. No one had said anything. But maybe this was the answer to that prayer, for him or for Obi-Wan he did not know. It didn't really matter.
...I promise...I will come back for you...I promise....
Sleep crept over Anakin once more as he floated in Obi-Wan's arms, but then the cocoon split around him. He felt Obi-Wan pulling away, the cold seeping in once more. "No," he whimpered, opening his eyes. "Don't leave. Stay with me."
Another silence, hesitant, uncertain.
...oh, please, let him like me...
Then the mattress dipped next to him beneath Obi-Wan's weight. The covers slid free, settling over them both, and Anakin was gathered once more into Obi-Wan's arms. He snuggled against the large, comforting body, his fingers curling into the neckline of Obi-Wan's nightshirt, so that even as he drifted in sleep he would be moored.
"Good night."
Had he said it? Or had Obi-Wan? It didn't matter. The dreams would not come again.
That is what mattered.
They woke the next morning at precisely the same instant, blue eyes opening to see blue eyes staring back, heads on the same pillow, nose tip to nose tip. Both a little embarrassed, both a little comforted not to wake up alone. Neither of them said a word.
Anakin followed Obi-Wan silently, like a little pup, mirroring Obi- Wan's actions as he washed and dressed. He even climbed onto the sink counter to watch, chin in hand, as Obi-Wan shaved. He did better with his tunic this morning, and Obi-Wan did not have to take it all apart again. Obi-Wan wove the bead into Anakin's braid, and when they were ready, they headed down to breakfast, Anakin hovering close to Obi-Wan's side. The persistent shadow annoyed Obi-Wan until he remembered that he had behaved the same way with Qui-Gon. It was the physical manifestation of the Master-Padawan team. He would never be without this shadow for the next fifteen or so years. The thought pleased him, and he favored Anakin with a little smile, answered by the boy's own shy grin.
Bail was not at the breakfast table. Radha explained that he had already left for the Senate office. Obi-Wan felt a twinge of guilt at that, but for the time being there was nothing he could do, so he set that worry aside.
Their day passed about the same as the previous one, only with fewer complaints from the padawan. Anakin's newfound reticence, however, did not last long, and by mid-morning he was back to his typical barrage of questions. The difference was that today they weren't quite so testy. In truth he enjoyed the physical exercises, and Obi- Wan began to teach him the basic forms of the first kata.
It was such a beautiful day that they elected to eat their lunch outside, sitting companionably on the grass beneath a tree, close enough to the river that they could hear the water lapping at the dock. Anakin was quiet as he munched on a piece of fruit, staring at the river, a frown creasing his brow. Abruptly he said, "I don't have anything to give to Bail."
Obi-Wan blinked in confusion, not certain where this had come from. He swallowed the bite of melon he was eating. "I beg your pardon?"
"He gave me two presents, but I don't have anything to give him back."
"Oh, that's quite all right," Obi-Wan replied. "He just likes to give things to people. He doesn't expect anything in return."
Well, Anakin might not have much experience with gift-giving, but he knew enough that it ought to be reciprocated. He picked the pit out of his fruit and stared thoughtfully at it. Maybe he could make a pendant, as he had for Padme. He liked carving things, and even though he hadn't known she was a Queen at the time, she had still appreciated it. Maybe a Prince would, too. "I like Bail," he announced. "He reminds me of my friend, Kitster. He kinda looks like him, too." He wrinkled his nose in thought. "Maybe they're related."
"Who knows?" Obi-Wan offered, generously willing to let Anakin keep his odd perception of the size of the galaxy.
"I like having a big brother," Anakin continued. And he had two new parents. Even a new master. He suppressed a grimace, though he knew it wasn't the same thing, and in fact it was not too bad so far. He wondered if Jedi Masters tended to hit as much as slave masters did. Perhaps not. They certainly didn't yell as often. In fact, Obi-Wan was quite nice to him, all things considered. As masters went, Obi- Wan was a real prize. Still, it wasn't the same as if it had been Qui-Gon. The grief that Anakin had almost succeeded in burying surged forth anew, and he stared out at the river. It should have been Qui-Gon showing him these new things, teaching him, taking care of him. Qui-Gon would have been the perfect master, Anakin just knew it. Before he realized what he was saying, he began, "I miss -." He caught himself just in time, praying desperately that Obi-Wan could not read his hidden thoughts.
Apparently he couldn't. "Miss what?" he asked idly, spitting seeds onto the grass.
Anakin watched him in fascination. Sleeves rolled up, juice from the slice of melon he was eating dripping down his forearms, long legs stretched out on the grass, casually spitting seeds. He might not be the perfect master, but he was pretty cool.
"Will you teach me how to swim today?" Anakin asked, hoping Obi-Wan wouldn't notice he had changed the subject.
He did notice, but he did not feel like forcing Anakin's confidence. Their relationship was still too new and fragile. Let the boy keep some thoughts to himself. Besides, there was much he wasn't ready to share, either. "We'll see," he answered evasively. "Maybe when the Prince gets back. He'll want to help teach you." He took another bite of melon and spat the seed. It went at least two meters.
"Rugged," Anakin murmured, rapt.
Bail did not return in time for dinner. His parents did not appear concerned, and Anakin barely noticed, assuming Bail was just doing typical grown-up things, but his absence began to prey on Obi-Wan, who knew perfectly well why the Prince was making himself scarce. He had been brutally harsh to Bail, but he would make it up to him. Eventually Bail would come home, and when he did, Obi-Wan would be waiting for him.
Waiting, in fact, on the steps on the street side of the house, where he would be sure to meet Bail as soon as he returned. Anakin insisted on waiting with him, though he didn't know about the argument. They sat together on the steps, sometimes in silence, but usually with Anakin commenting on whatever random thought popped into his head. Twilight fell, and flying in on the edge of night came the fire beetles, flashing their love calls in the dark. Anakin had not seen them before, and he scampered nimbly across the lawn, catching the beetles and bringing them back to Obi-Wan, cupped carefully in his palms.
Eventually Bail's speeder pulled up the driveway and into the garage. He came around the front of the house, approaching them slowly across the grass.
"Look at these things!" Anakin enthused, holding out his hand to show the Prince his catch.
"You like them, do you?" Bail asked as he settled down on the step next to Obi-Wan.
Gently nudging at one of the beetles with his fingertip, Anakin said, "It's like they have a little star in their butts."
Bail ducked his head, chortling, while Obi-Wan struggled not to laugh. "Actually, that's a pretty accurate analogy," Obi-Wan offered. "Their abdomens are filled with gas."
"You mean, they've got gas?" Anakin repeated, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "So when they light up, that means they're farting?"
"All right, that's enough," Obi-Wan cautioned, though he couldn't contain an annoyed smile, and Bail burst out laughing.
Grinning, Anakin continued, "I wish I could fart fire!"
"I said that's enough," Obi-Wan warned through his snickering.
"If you ever ate Togorian chili, you would fart fire," Bail offered. He and Anakin both dissolved into giggles, and Obi-Wan, surrounded, finally gave in. Anakin's fit of laughter startled the beetles, who flew off into the night, winking as they left.
The somber part of Obi-Wan reflected that body functions were not really an appropriate source of humor, but the honest part of him had to concede that he had found those precise topics hilarious when he had been Anakin's age. Young padawans in particular, with more worldly experience than the initiates, had a notorious reputation for finding humor in all sorts of inappropriate places. The difference between him and Anakin was that he had never joked about those things with his master. In fact he had been with Qui-Gon for over a year before he ever dared to joke with him. It wasn't that he and Qui-Gon did not have a sense of humor, far from it. But the initial year in a Master-Apprentice bond tended to focus on setting rules and guidelines, laying the foundations of the teaching relationship, not developing friendship and casual interaction. Obi-Wan needed to establish himself as the authority in Anakin's life, all the more so because Anakin was not accustomed to deferring to his elders. Obi- Wan knew all this, and yet he had to admit it felt good to sit here on the steps with Bail and Anakin, laughing about fart jokes. Right now Anakin needed a friend as much as he needed a master, and Obi-Wan was himself still too emotionally vulnerable to want to enforce a proper distance from his apprentice. The situation was not appropriate at all, and yet he couldn't help himself. He could only trust in the Force and follow his own instincts.
When they had settled down, Obi-Wan said to Bail, "Anakin is very eager for his swimming lessons, and I'm sure you want to help teach him. When do you think you might have some free time?" Anakin leaned forward on Obi-Wan's knee, trying not to show his impatience.
Bail looked back and forth between the two of them for a moment, before replying, "I probably can arrange an afternoon off, that is, if you can't wait for the weekend. Let me check my schedule."
Anakin grinned, as Obi-Wan dryly remarked, "I'm sure Anakin will be ready whenever you are. Now, Anakin," he nudged his padawan, "why don't you go in and see about warming up some dinner for the Prince? We'll be along shortly."
Jumping to his feet, Anakin said, "Okay. No Togorian chili, though, right?"
"Right," Bail answered. Anakin flashed him another grin and ran into the house.
For some time, Bail and Obi-Wan sat in companionable if awkward silence, watching the fire beetles over the lawn. Then Obi-Wan said, "I'm sorry about last night. I was far too harsh, and it was quite unwarranted."
"No, you were right," Bail contradicted. "I'm no Jedi, and I don't know the first thing about teaching a padawan, let alone raising a child."
"You know far more than you think you do," Obi-Wan assured him. "And I really do benefit from your advice and suggestions. I just need to be careful around Anakin."
"I understand." Bail risked leaning against Obi-Wan, shoulder to shoulder, and was pleased when the Jedi did not shake him off. He did not press for more, just reveled in their touch as he gazed out into the night.
Obi-Wan worried at his lower lip. "It's hard for me with Anakin." The Prince had no idea how hard, but Obi-Wan wasn't ready to go into that yet. "You were right. I was only a padawan myself, not even a month ago. It's such a big responsibility to take on, even in the best of circumstances."
"And these are not the best of circumstances," Bail quietly observed.
The grief threatened to break through Obi-Wan's shields, but he forced it back down. He wasn't ready for that, either, not by a long shot. "I don't really know what I'm doing."
Bail wanted to reassure him, to tell him that he would be a great master, but he was wary now of making any statement about the Jedi to Obi-Wan. After all, what did he really know about the Master-Padawan bond? Other than the tradition of padawans falling in love with their masters, that is. Idly he wondered if Anakin would one day fall in love with Obi-Wan. Would he never be free of rivals for Obi- Wan's heart? But then, things were over between them, now, and anyway Obi-Wan was never really his to begin with.
Nevertheless, he would support Obi-Wan in any way he could. He thought through several things to say, before venturing, "I may not know much about the Jedi, but certainly Qui-Gon did. He would not have entrusted you with this responsibility if he had not believed you were capable of carrying it out."
Obi-Wan knew what Bail was trying to do, but the problem was he wasn't sure if it was true. Had Qui-Gon truly believed Obi-Wan was the best teacher for Anakin, or had he merely prevailed upon his padawan because he knew Obi-Wan was the only person loyal enough to him to make such a rash promise? Doubts assailed him no matter where he turned, and Qui-Gon was no longer here to advise him. Furthermore, the entire Temple, while tacitly sanctioning the relationship, were suspicious of Anakin and skeptical of Obi-Wan's readiness, Sith killer or no. There was no one to support him or give him advice. No one except Bail, who was not a Jedi, but who had always been there for Obi-Wan, who unlike the rest of the Jedi had welcomed Anakin with open arms and an open heart. That thought worried Obi-Wan as much as it reassured him, but right now it was all he had to go on.
He bent his head, resting it on Bail's shoulder. After a moment, Bail rested his cheek on Obi-Wan's head. Obi-Wan sighed, releasing his anxieties into the Force. If this was all he had to go on, it would have to be enough.
So their lives fell into a routine. Obi-Wan and Anakin spent their days in physical training, meditation, and Force skills. The evenings were traded around among the Organas for academic studies. Bail had been right: Anakin flourished with a non-Jedi approach to the subject matter, listening with rapt attention as Radha, Vilnis, and Bail opened his mind and piqued his natural curiosity with stories, subjects, and points of view he had never heard of before. They even arranged field trips. Bail took him to the government offices and the capitol of Alderaan, introducing him to the planet's most prominent political leaders. Vilnis showed him around the universities and museums, presenting him with the wealth of learning that was now open to him. Radha found a court case for him to follow, taking him through the judicial process and teaching him the basics of law.
Despite the busy schedule, they still had time for fun. Bail and Obi- Wan cautiously worked out a place for the Prince in the Master- Padawan relationship, and the three of them found time in each day just to relax and enjoy each other's company. Anakin got his swimming lessons, which he took to with surprising alacrity considering he had lived his entire life on a desert planet. Bail proved to be a qualified tutor in more than just history and astropolitics. He was able to introduce Anakin to galactic culture, both high and low, in a way that Obi-Wan with his austere Jedi sensibilities could not. Anakin drank it all in eagerly, whether it was modern art, classical music, galactic cuisine, or the latest series of blockbuster Rogue Jedi holovids. Bail was thrilled to have an impressionable young mind to mold, and he and Anakin indeed became brothers in spirit.
As for Obi-Wan and Anakin - after that first night, Anakin continued to sleep with the young knight. The boy turned more and more to Obi- Wan for a sense of security and stability. He loved meditating, kneeling between Obi-Wan's knees, Obi-Wan's arms wrapped securely around him. He was enamored of Obi-Wan's skills and power, reveling in every opportunity to watch Obi-Wan perform katas or other routines. The companionship that grew between them was different than that between Bail and Anakin. It was calmer, formal but comforting. The bond between them grew slowly but steadily. Obi-Wan didn't laugh as often as Anakin would have liked, but he would watch Bail and Anakin's hijinks with a quiet pleasure, and Anakin grew to love him, because that is what a child will do in the face of kindness.
But he still wondered whether Obi-Wan loved him back.
After all, Obi-Wan never spoke of Qui-Gon. In all his lectures on respect, obedience, honor, and duty, he never mentioned love. He never asked Anakin about his mother. Anakin had even picked up on the Prince's hurt at Obi-Wan's lukewarm friendship. Something seemed to be missing between the two older men, a level of affection that Obi-Wan clearly did not demonstrate. Obi-Wan never laughed. He never cried. He never got angry. He never gave himself over to joy. He was always calm, his voice steady, his manner dignified. Anakin knew that he was sad, but the knight refused to acknowledge it, and Anakin found that he could not quite trust someone who never felt any emotion.
Yet this, apparently, was what it meant to be a Jedi. He remembered standing alone in the Council chamber, when Qui-Gon was still alive, the Council members demanding to know his feelings, only to chide him for having them. The only sense he could make of it was that he wasn't supposed to have feelings at all. Certainly all the Jedi he had met so far seemed to exhibit Obi-Wan's emotional reserve.
All except Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon had gotten angry - at the Council members of all people! - when they said Anakin could not be trained. Qui-Gon had felt fear, when the Sith attacked him on Tatooine. He had exhibited impatience with Jar Jar, and a combination of annoyance and admiration with the Queen. He had smiled and laughed. Anakin's heart ached to remember how those little lines would twinkle and dance around Qui-Gon's eyes when he smiled, and the deep rumble of his laugh. And he had loved. Anakin had felt the Master's affection for his mother, and he knew Qui-Gon had loved him as well - wanted to train him not only because of his potential but because he cared about him. And Qui-Gon had definitely loved Obi-Wan. Anakin had seen it in the trust the Master had in his apprentice, had felt it in Qui-Gon's anguish over their arguments. Anakin did not at all understand the dynamics between the two men. Too much had been going on in his own life at the time for him to even begin to try to figure out the nuances between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. But as empathic as he was, he had picked up on their emotions, especially Qui-Gon's. And he knew that he had been a major focus of the conflict between the two Jedi. Obi-Wan had not trusted him from the beginning. Obi-Wan had defied Qui-Gon's decisions regarding Anakin. Obi-Wan had been hurt when Qui-Gon vowed to train Anakin, hurt by Qui-Gon and angry at Anakin. In fact Anakin was almost tempted to call it hate. After that horrific moment in the Council chamber Obi-Wan had avoided Anakin as much as possible, never meeting the boy's eyes, only addressing him when necessary. Only once after that had Obi-Wan even looked at him, and that had been when he and Qui-Gon had left Anakin behind in the hangar in Theed, as Qui-Gon had ordered Anakin to stay behind. Obi-Wan had glanced at him then, and Anakin had felt the pulse of smug self-satisfaction, that it was Obi-Wan who belonged at Qui-Gon's side, not Anakin. That was the only time. And Anakin had never seen Qui-Gon again.
Now that he thought about it, Anakin realized that the only time he had ever felt emotion in Obi-Wan had been when Qui-Gon was still alive - and those emotions, overwhelmingly negative, had been directed at him. The Obi-Wan he knew now was a different person entirely, and Anakin could not account for the change, nor could he trust what he could not understand. He needed Obi-Wan because the Jedi was all he had, needed to love him because he had no one else to love. But Obi-Wan did not need him, saw him as a duty, a burden, a responsibility he would attend to, but not a child he would love. And why should he? Anakin had been his replacement.
So this strange relationship grew up between them. Flashes of friendship, as when they joined the Prince swimming in the river. Moments of tenderness, as at night when Anakin lay curled in Obi- Wan's arms. And always the strong serenity of the Master-Padawan relationship. Yet something remained wanting, a connection not made, a bond fierce in its need but fragile in its stability. Anakin concealed his doubts and fears as best he could, but they festered inside him and grew.
One afternoon, Anakin asked if he could fine tune the engine on the Prince's boat. Bail had suggested they take the boat out on the coming weekend, but as it had not been used in some time, it needed some routine maintenance, which Anakin happily offered to see to. So he and Obi-Wan holed up in the boathouse to work. Anakin was pleased to learn that Obi-Wan enjoyed tinkering, though not as much as he did, of course. As they dove into the engine, Anakin wondered aloud, "How fast can the boat go?"
Obi-Wan shot him a warning look. "Don't even think of trying to find out."
Bristling a little, Anakin protested, "I'm a good pilot. I won't wreck it."
"I know that, but the river is not a pod courseway. There is a lot of traffic, and while you may be an excellent pilot, others might not be. If you careen around on the river, someone else might panic and cause an accident. You must obey the traffic laws, including the speed limit."
Anakin chuffed. There were no traffic laws on Tatooine. "I bet Bail likes to race."
"Even so, he obeys the speed limit on the river." Sometimes. He'd have to talk to the Prince about that.
"Well, he sure doesn't take good care of his boat," Anakin said, absently wiping his greasy hands on his shirt, to Obi-Wan's dismay. "The engine's filthy."
"So are you," Obi-Wan observed.
Anakin looked down at his shirt, then smiled up at Obi-Wan. "Oops. Mom is always getting after me about that." Then he realized what he had said, and he froze, choking.
Obi-Wan's own smile faded slightly when he sensed Anakin's distress. The boy had to learn to deal with his loss, just as Obi-Wan had. Obi- Wan allowed compassion to seep into his features, as he said quietly, "I imagine she did."
The warmth in the knight's voice eased Anakin's paralysis, and he felt his breath returning. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little shaky but strong. "I ruined a lot of tunics."
"I'll have to ask the Council to double your clothing allowance, then," Obi-Wan quipped, and the last of Anakin's tension evaporated as he grinned broadly. "In the meantime, I would greatly appreciate it if you wiped your hands on a rag instead of your shirt."
"Sure thing!' Anakin agreed. As he immersed himself once more in the engine, he asked, "So is there any place on the river where they don't have a speed limit?"
"Not as far as you're concerned."
Anakin swallowed his complaint. After all, the boat wasn't Obi-Wan's anyway. It belonged to the Prince, who would hopefully share Anakin's philosophy on the matter. No point in pursuing it further right now. "I bet I can up the engine's efficiency, " he offered. Not to mention the power. "Is there a set of hydrospanners somewhere?"
His hands buried elbow deep in the boat's innards, Obi-Wan nodded his head toward a cabinet on the far wall. "Over there."
Ha! Once the Prince learned what Anakin did to the engine, he would surely want to test it himself. Anakin scampered along the deck to the cabinet.
"Don't run, Anakin. The deckboards are wet."
Ignoring him, Anakin climbed up onto the workbench and took down the box of hydrospanners. He opened the box and gave an appreciative whistle. "Sennika brand! These are the best!" Far better than the poorly made tools he'd had access to at Watto's.
"And very expensive," came Obi-Wan's warning, practical as always. "Be careful with them."
Anakin reverently picked up one of the spanners, inspecting the handiwork. He never dreamed he would ever be able to work with Sennika tools. Why, one of these hydrospanners alone could cost upward of 300 credits, and Bail had an entire set of them. Anakin smiled, covetously wishing he could be rich enough to afford tools like these.
He replaced the spanner in the box but left the lid open so he could look at the tools as he dashed back to the boat, eager to use them.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan warned, "I told you not to run."
"I won't drop them!" Anakin protested, but even as the words left his mouth, his foot slipped on the wet deck and he fell sprawling full length, his chin banging sharply on the boards as the tool box flew out of his grasp, skittering across the deck and tumbling over the edge, the hydrospanners flashing as they fell into the river.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan shouted, and the boy flinched, horrified at what he had done.
Obi-Wan was running toward him, and Anakin knelt up, desperately trying to shield himself from the blow he knew was coming. "Don't, please!" he begged as Obi-Wan reached for him. "I'm sorry! Please don't hit me!" He cowered, throwing his arms up to protect his head. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Obi-Wan knelt in front of the boy, his stomach churning at Anakin's fear. The boy expected to be beaten. The thought sickened Obi-Wan as he realized Anakin must be used to it. Of course he was, he had been a slave. Obi-Wan knew that, and yet he had never seen the boy in that light before. Hot, blinding rage surged through him. How dare anyone beat this child! What kind of a galaxy was it where any child could know such fear? And who were the Jedi to preach against fear in such a galaxy?
Obi-Wan reached out toward Anakin, but the boy only shrank back from him, arms raised to ward him off, and Obi-Wan realized Anakin could feel his anger, thought it was directed at him. Abruptly the anger left him, to be replaced with a cold nausea. Anakin feared him, thought that Obi-Wan was capable of hitting him. Obi-Wan struggled not to vomit, struggled not to cry as Anakin wept and cowered before him. Helplessly he raised his hands, slowly reaching for the boy but not touching him. "Anakin," he called, his voice soft and gentle, soothing. "Anakin, it's all right. Listen to me." He projected calm through the Force, speaking to Anakin as if trying to soothe a wild animal, and slowly the boy's sobbing subsided, his arms lowering, though he was still wary.
"Anakin, listen to me," Obi-Wan intoned. When he knew the boy would not flinch, he carefully placed his hands on either side of Anakin's head, holding him in a gentle grasp. "I will never strike you in anger, Anakin. I will never beat you. Never." Anakin's tear-filled eyes gazed up at him, still not entirely trusting. "I will never beat you," Obi-Wan repeated. "You are my padawan."
"But the tools...."
"They are just things, Anakin. They can be replaced. You are worth far more than they."
Wrong choice of words. Anakin pulled away from him again, knowing exactly how much he was worth: the price of one podracer. Obi-Wan could almost hear the thought in his head, and he said, "No, Padawan. You are worth my life."
Hopelessly, helplessly, Anakin looked up at him again, and Obi-Wan's heart broke to see such pain and desperation in those sky-blue eyes. How could he ever heal the wounds in this boy's soul? How could such a scarred child ever become a Jedi? He had no idea, but right now he didn't care. Right now all he wanted to do was make sure he never saw such an expression in Anakin's eyes again. He opened his arms to the boy. "Padawan," he called, and Anakin leaped into his embrace, his small arms squeezing tightly around Obi-Wan's neck, as if clinging to life itself, his thin body trembling. Obi-Wan rocked and soothed him, rubbing his back and whispering reassurances to him.
Gradually the tension in Anakin's body eased, and he mumbled into Obi- Wan's shoulder, "But the tools."
"They haven't gone anywhere," Obi-Wan pointed out. "They're at the bottom of the river. Look at it this way: you get to practice your diving. Now," he gently pulled himself free of the boy's embrace, "let me look at you. You're injured."
Stunned to know that Obi-Wan cared more about his welfare than the fate of the expensive tools, Anakin submitted to Obi-Wan's inspection. His elbows and knees were scraped, and a gash has split open his chin. He was bleeding, but he hadn't known it, hadn't even felt his injuries.
"Let's get you into the house and patch you up," Obi-Wan advised.
"But the tools-"
"We'll get them later. You first, Padawan."
Padawan. Obi-Wan had never called him that before, and now despite what he had done, Obi-Wan called him Padawan not once but three times. A tiny, tentative smile made its way onto the boy's lips. Obi-Wan saw it and knew what it meant, knew what he had called Anakin, too -- called him without thinking, as if it were natural, and in response he did something completely unexpected that surprised him as much as it surprised Anakin. He leaned over and kissed the boy's forehead.
As he sat back on his heels, somewhat embarrassed by his display of affection, an enormous smile broke forth on Anakin's face, peaceful, happy. To cover for them both, Obi-Wan said, "I hope next time when I tell you not to run, you'll heed me." He stood up, offering his padawan his hand.
Anakin placed his small hand in Obi-Wan's large one, letting the Jedi pull him to his feet. Still smiling, he replied without thinking, as if it were natural, "Yes, Master."
Anakin was able to retrieve all but one of the hydrospanners. Obi- Wan had been right: Anakin actually enjoyed the diving exercise, and he was so happy about Obi-Wan's affirmation of him that he scarcely worried about how the Prince would react when he found out what had happened to his tools.
When Bail returned home that evening, Anakin dutifully apologized to him in proper Jedi fashion, having been drilled by Obi-Wan in how to do it. Normally Anakin would have found the ritual silly, but after all, the tools were very, very important and deserved such solemn treatment. Bail had some experience with ritual Jedi apologies, so he knew exactly what to do. He even had the perfect punishment in mind.
"Since I'll have to replace that hydrospanner, perhaps you can pay for it in kind. I think you should give my speeder a tune-up."
Anakin's face lit up. "Yes, sir!"
"Only your speeder?" Obi-Wan asked, looked at Bail over Anakin's head. "It was a very expensive tool."
"You're right." Bail put on a show of calculating the worth of the hydrospanner in labor hours. "Perhaps you should tend to my skyhopper and my swoop bikes as well."
"Sure thing, manu-bai. When I'm done with them, they'll be better than new!" Anakin gushed. He threw his arms around Bail's waist in a quick hug, then ran off to get to work. May all his punishments be this fun!
"I hope he destroys more of my tools," Bail quipped. "I'll never have to hire another mechanic for the rest of my life."
"Don't encourage him," Obi-Wan cautioned.
Anakin did enjoy the work, but the incident got him thinking. The Prince sure had an awful lot of vehicles. He lived in an enormous house and owned some very expensive tools. Anakin began to add it all up, and the total came to a very big price tag. That could only mean one thing: the Prince was rich. Richer than Watto. Probably as rich as the Hutts. Maybe even richer. Anyone who owned that many vehicles could probably afford a podracer.
Or something that cost the equivalent of a podracer.
And the Prince was likely to be sympathetic to his cause. While the Jedi were well off by Anakin's standards, he knew they weren't rich enough to buy slaves, and they certainly weren't sympathetic to the whole notion of family. But Bail had parents. He would understand. Maybe....
Anakin kept alert for a time when he could catch the Prince alone. The opportunity presented itself one evening when Obi-Wan was making one of his weekly calls to the Temple on Coruscant to report on their progress, and Anakin wasted no time. Tugging on Bail's pants leg, he asked, "Can I talk to you, manu-bai?"
"Certainly," Bail replied. He knelt down to face the boy, noting his serious expression, and sobered. "This looks important."
"It is."
"Something Obi-Wan shouldn't know about."
Anakin froze. That didn't sound good at all. He would prefer to leave Obi-Wan out of it entirely, but he didn't want Bail to think he was trying to go behind his master's back. "It isn't anything bad."
"Just the kind of thing you can't talk to a Jedi about." Anakin nodded gratefully, and Bail smiled in sympathy. "I know exactly what you mean." He stood up. "Let's go to my room. We can talk privately."
When they were safely alone, Anakin blurted out, "Are you rich?" He knew Obi-Wan would say it wasn't polite, but he had to know, and he didn't know how else to ask.
Bail blinked in surprise, taken aback. "Well... yes, I suppose I am."
"I was wondering if you could lend me some money."
Oh, dear. What was the boy up to? "How much?"
Anakin hesitated. They used different money here, and he had no idea how much it would cost. "A lot," he confessed. "I don't know for sure. Like maybe...300,000 wupiui."
Bail had never heard of that currency before. For all he knew, it was the equivalent of fifty dataries. Somehow, however, he doubted it. "That sounds like a lot of money."
"I would pay you back," Anakin offered eagerly. "I can work it off. I'm really good at fixing things, and I can work really hard. Watto always said I was worth a slave twice my age!"
"Whoa, whoa," Bail hastily stopped him. This talk of slavery worried him. "What do you need the money for?" he asked, although he was beginning to have an idea.
Anakin looked up with an expression on his face far too resolved for someone so young. "I need to buy my mom."
"Oh, Anakin," Bail sighed, kneeling to the boy's eye level. "This won't be easy to understand. Slavery is illegal in the Republic."
"I know. I want to buy her so I can free her."
"But it isn't that simple. In order to have good relations with worlds that exist outside the Republic, we have to follow their laws. That means representatives of the Republic cannot legally interfere with...." He paused. Force, this was hard. "With the...legal trade of slavery on non-Republic worlds, even for the purposes of freeing people. If Republic representatives bought slaves on non-Republic worlds and then freed them, those worlds would not want to have anything to do with the Republic." Or so the logic went. "That means that as a senator, it is illegal for me to do anything to help free slaves. It is illegal for Obi-Wan as a Jedi. And since you're a Jedi now, I'm afraid it is illegal for you as well. If you tried to free her, you would go to prison for a very long time."
Anakin took a moment to process this, his mind working furiously. "But Qui-Gon freed me. Why can't I free my mom?"
Bail shook his head. "I'm not quite sure how he managed to get away with it. And he might not have gotten away with it if he had lived." Bail could scarcely believe the story Obi-Wan had told him about how Qui-Gon had won Anakin's freedom. He suspected the Jedi Master had pulled it off because gambling was involved. For once he had to agree with Obi-Wan. It was the stupidest thing he had ever heard of anyone doing.
Anakin continued to ponder his options, weighing different possibilities. "I don't mind going to prison if it means my mom is free."
"They wouldn't let her stay free. They would send her back. I'm so sorry, Anakin."
The boy's eyes filled with tears, and he scowled to keep from crying. "That just doesn't seem right."
"It isn't."
"You're a senator. Can't you change the laws?"
"It isn't that easy. There are very powerful forces who want to keep things the way they are." He sighed in frustration. "It's all about economics. Even our anti-slavery laws are more about protecting labor rights than they are about protecting people."
"But it's wrong!"
"I know."
Anakin's eyes hardened. "Then why don't you do something about it?"
"Even in the Republic there are many things that are wrong, and not even the Jedi can fix them."
Anakin looked away, fists clenching at his sides. He refused to believe it. The Prince might be too afraid to do anything about it, but Anakin was not. Someday he would change things. He would free his mom. He didn't care what it cost him.
Bail watched the boy carefully. There was no way he could explain such a travesty of justice to a nine-year-old boy, especially when he didn't believe it himself. His heart ached with his own powerlessness. Sometimes he hated being a senator in such a corrupt government. "I'll ask my mother if she knows of any legal precedents that can help you," he offered, though he doubted she would find any. The law was all too clear on this point.
Anakin practiced releasing his anger, the way Obi-Wan had been teaching him. But he didn't release it into the Force. He stored it up in a safe place in his heart. He had a feeling that someday he would have need of it. Until then he would just have to be patient. "Thanks," he mumbled.
Bail sat back on his heels, immanently dissatisfied that he couldn't offer the boy more. But there was one thing he could offer, something Obi-Wan, who never had a mother, would never think of. "Why don't you tell me about her?" he said.
Anakin looked up gratefully. No one at the Temple wanted to hear about her. "Is it all right?"
"Of course it's all right," Bail said, folding his legs under him and indicating for Anakin to sit in his lap. "So tell me everything. I bet she's wonderful."
Anakin smiled, climbing into his big brother's lap. "She is," he affirmed. "She's the best mom in the whole galaxy...."
They talked for a good, long time, swapping mom stories and sharing their experiences as only sons. Bail discovered that Anakin had never had a father, and Anakin learned that Mimi was Bail's step. Oddly enough, considering what little connection Obi-Wan had to his own family, it had always bothered him that Radha was not Bail's birth mother, but Anakin accepted it without question. Among slaves, family was constantly shifting. What mattered most was loyalty and love.
"Did Obi-Wan ever meet your mother?" Bail asked.
"No, he stayed on the ship the whole time. Qui-Gon met her. He liked her, and my mom wouldn't have let me go with him if she didn't trust him." Anakin paused. They had come round to another topic he wasn't comfortable discussing with Obi-Wan. But Bail had proved very sympathetic. "I miss him," he confessed.
"Did you know him so well?"
"Yeah. He was great. I think he was the best Jedi that ever lived. He was my master first, you know. Before Obi-Wan was."
Bail's brow furrowed. This was news to him, and it didn't fit with what he knew of Jedi tradition. "Your master?" he asked in confusion.
"Yeah." Anakin hesitated, then said, "Obi-Wan didn't like me at first because of that. He didn't want Qui-Gon to be my master."
Carefully, Bail observed, "Usually a master has only one apprentice at a time."
"I know. I think that's why they were all so mad at him when he said he was gonna be my master."
"They?"
"The Council. And Obi-Wan was really mad, but I guess he got over it. But sometimes I wonder...."
"Wonder what?"
Anakin shifted uncomfortably. "If he still hates me."
Bail was at a complete loss. None of this story made any sense. The boy must be confused. However, Bail could reassure him, "I know he doesn't hate you."
"I hope not," Anakin said, though he didn't look convinced. "But he did at first."
"Well...sometimes we have to get to know a person first. For that matter, he wasn't too crazy about me at first, either, but now we're the best of friends."
"Why didn't he like you?" Anakin wanted to know.
No need to go into that! "It's a long story. Anyway, he likes me well enough now, and I know he likes you, as do I."
"I like you, too," Anakin smiled.
"Good. Then it's all settled."
But Bail did not forget their conversation, or the many questions it raised.
That night after Anakin had gone to bed, Obi-Wan joined Bail in the Prince's room. It had become their new ritual to spend the last hours of the evening together, reviewing Anakin's progress, discussing the current state of the Republic, while sitting by the fireplace, sipping on steaming mugs of choli, a spicy Alderaani drink. No sex, but Bail didn't expect it any more. He found it ironic that he had been replaced in Obi-Wan's bed by a nine-year- old. Ironic, but also kind of cute. He had made his peace with the change in their relationship, and he was just grateful they could still be friends.
Bail elected not to tell Obi-Wan about Anakin's request to borrow money to free his mother. The boy had come to him in confidence, and he saw no reason to violate that trust. But he was still curious about what Anakin had said about Qui-Gon. "You might want to review basic Jedi practices with Anakin," he suggested. "He seems to be confused about the whole Master-Apprentice thing."
Obi-Wan looked at him in concern. "What do you mean?"
"He thinks Qui-Gon was his master. I suppose it doesn't really matter, except that he has the idea that you were angry at him at one point because of it."
Obi-Wan froze, and he felt the same stab of shock and despair he'd felt in the Council chamber when Qui-Gon had made that awful announcement, the same sick feeling of betrayal.
When Obi-Wan's silence continued, Bail frowned in confusion. "I thought you were knighted after the duel? How could Qui-Gon have taken Anakin as his padawan before that?"
How? How indeed? "By renouncing his current one." The words caught in his chest, tearing at his throat. "He renounced me." His hands shook so hard he almost dropped his mug. He carefully set it down on a table, the drink spilling, but Bail seemed not to have noticed the mess. He was staring at Obi-Wan, aghast at what he had said.
Obi-Wan struggled to gather up his shattered thoughts. What had Qui-Gon said? No, that hadn't been right. "He didn't renounce me," he amended, his voice shaking with the strain of remaining under control. "He said I was ready for the trials."
Vaguely Obi-Wan was aware that Bail was shaking his head. "I don't understand," the Prince said, his voice sounding very far away. "Was this before or after that duel?"
"Be-fore," Obi-Wan said. He had to enunciate very carefully. His mouth didn't seem to be working properly. What was wrong with him? Why were his hands shaking? "It was the boy," he said, his words slow and deliberate, requiring concentration. "He wanted Anakin to be trained. But the Council refused, and Qui-Gon said he would train him. They...they had to remind him. About me. He had forgotten. About me. He said I was ready for the trials." But Qui-Gon hadn't really meant it, had he? It was just a convenient excuse, a way to cover for the fact that he had forgotten he already had a padawan.
He had forgotten about Obi-Wan.
"I can't believe it," Bail was saying.
"Believe it?" Obi-Wan echoed. "All he cared about was Anakin. The highest midichlorian count ever, the Chosen One," he spat, his anger propelling him to his feet. He paced back and forth before the fireplace, prowling, wanting to seize something and smash it, tear it apart. "He died! He died in my arms, and all he talked about was the boy! 'Train him,' he said. 'Train him; he's the chosen one.' But what about me? He never chose me! He never wanted me!"
"Obi-Wan," Bail started to contradict, but Obi-Wan turned haunted, burning eyes on him, and the words of comfort died in his throat.
"He rejected me," Obi-Wan said. "From the beginning. Said there was too much anger in me." And he had been right, hadn't he? A lifetime of anger erupted in Obi-Wan with the fury of a volcano. "He was my last chance. I was sent to the Agricorps. I had to threaten to blow myself up before he would take me as his padawan." Bail had never heard this story. Obi-Wan had never told him. "Over and over I had to prove myself to him. I was never good enough. He just took pity on me, waiting until a more promising student came along, and then he forgot about me. I was standing right next to him, and he didn't even know I was there!"
Hot, seething rage, with an intensity Obi-Wan had never known, boiled inside him, fighting for release. "I hate him!" he ground out. "I hate him! I'm glad he's dead!"
No! No, he hadn't just said that! He wanted desperately to call the words back, to deny them, but they had escaped to hang in the air like a curse. Oh, Force, what had he done? Had he caused his master's death? He clutched at his hair in agony, tears burning down his cheeks.
"I know you don't mean that," came Bail's voice again. It was so very far away.
Oh, but he did mean it, foul, vile creature that he was. "Why couldn't I be his chosen one?" he wept. "I loved him. I'd have given my life for him. I saw that Sith cut him down, and I wished it were me instead." If he had died, Qui-Gon could have trained his chosen one, and Obi-Wan could have escaped this awful shame, this soul-crushing betrayal.
"No, no," a gentle voice soothed, fingers covering his, coaxing loose his grip. "Qui-Gon would not have wanted that."
"It would have been better!"
"No," Bail said again, cradling Obi-Wan in his arms, aching to comfort him, to erase all this doubt and fear. How could Qui-Gon have done this to his apprentice? Bail knew probably better than anyone how much Obi-Wan had loved his master, how devoted he was. Bail wanted desperately to hate Qui-Gon, to defend Obi-Wan against this vicious man who had savaged his soul, but he knew he could not. Obi-Wan would be destroyed. Obi-Wan loved Qui-Gon too much. His faith in Qui-Gon needed to be restored, and with it, his faith in himself.
"Maybe you're looking at it the wrong way," Bail suggested.
Obi-Wan snarled, "What wrong way?"
"Qui-Gon could never have forgotten you. You were so much a part of him that...that he didn't even think of you as a separate person. You were more than his apprentice. You were his partner."
Obi-Wan pulled away, his expression disbelieving, but Bail could see a glimmer of desperate hope in his eyes. "How would you know?" Obi- Wan asked. "You barely knew him."
"I lived with you at the Temple for a month," Bail reminded him. "I knew him then. I saw how much you meant to him, how proud of you he was."
"No," Obi-Wan said, but his protest was feeble.
Bail led Obi-Wan back to the couch, sitting them both down while his mind worked furiously, thinking through a way to redeem Qui-Gon's memory. "Didn't his previous apprentice turn?" he asked.
"Xanatos."
"He was wounded from that," Bail suggested. Yes, this would work. Thinking aloud, he said, "He didn't want another padawan. But then you came along. He was afraid he would be hurt again, so he held back, but everything he saw in you gave him hope. You gave him the courage to overcome his previous experience."
Obi-Wan frowned, but he was listening.
"Maybe...maybe that's why it was so easy for him to take on Anakin," Bail speculated, "another boy for whom Qui-Gon was the last hope. He looked at Anakin and he saw you again, the boy he had rejected once. You had healed him, and because of that he was able to reach out to Anakin." He paused, gauging Obi-Wan's reaction. The knight remained silent, so Bail continued, "Don't you see? His rejection before had nothing to do with you; it was about Xanatos. But his ready acceptance of Anakin had everything to do with you. You had healed him, and he loved you, and that gave him the strength to reach out to a lonely, friendless child. And when he died, Anakin was his gift to you, to love as he had loved you."
A detached part of Bail's mind reflected that in all his years of political spin-doctoring he had probably never given such a convincing speech on a topic he knew nothing about. Was there any truth at all in what he said? There had to be, if not in Qui-Gon's reality, then in Bail's. From that perspective it was gospel truth.
Obi-Wan said nothing, his breathing ragged but even, his face buried in Bail's lap as the Prince gently stroked his hair. Obi-Wan had calmed down, but he was still tense, waiting - waiting for the words he would never hear, from a voice that had been forever silenced.
But Bail could give this to him. He closed his eyes, resting his cheek on the top of Obi-Wan's head. "He loved you so much," he said. I love you so much. He could put these words into Qui-Gon's mouth. His own feelings could be Qui-Gon's final blessing. "I didn't know him well, but I knew that much," he continued. "I know exactly what he would say if he were here. 'I am so proud of you, Padawan. I am always a part of you. I never meant to hurt you.'"
"Oh, Master," Obi-Wan moaned.
"Tell him what you want him to know," Bail urged. "He's part of the Force now, and the Force is all around us, isn't it? That means he's here right now, right in this room. He'll hear."
Obi-Wan clutched at Bail's robe, his knuckles white with the strain. "I - I...."
"He's here now, listening," Bail pressed. "Tell him."
"Master--," Obi-Wan choked, his fists twisting in Bail's robe. "Master...."
"He's listening."
"I'm sorry!" Obi-Wan blurted out. "I'm so sorry. I failed you."
Bail screwed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to tense up. Damn Qui-Gon Jinn! Bail hoped that wherever the Jedi Master was, he was roasting in torment, the miserable, selfish bastard. How dare he do this to Obi-Wan? How dare he make his padawan suffer so? "You never failed him." Speak for him. Put the right words in Qui-Gon's mouth. "'You never failed me, Padawan. You are the pride of my life. I never had to choose you, Obi-Wan. You were chosen for me, and I am so grateful.'"
Obi-Wan's arms tightened around Bail's waist, clinging, reaching through him to the man on the other side. "Master," he sighed.
"'I'm here. I'm always with you.'"
A very long silence, pregnant with hope, with longing. At last Obi- Wan spoke, a whisper so quiet Bail almost didn't hear it. "I love you, Qui-Gon."
Oh, it hurt. It hurt so much. How much of this pain was Bail's and how much Obi-Wan's? And how much of it might be Qui-Gon's? But this had always been Bail's destiny: to stand in for the love Qui-Gon should have felt for Obi-Wan. So he spoke one final time for Qui- Gon, one final time for himself. "'I love you too, Obi-Wan.'"
Obi-Wan shuddered, releasing a long, shaking breath, then he grew still, his grip on Bail relaxing. He had heard what he needed so desperately to hear.
Was it the truth or was it a lie? Did it really matter, so long as it eased Obi-Wan's anguish? Well, Bail was not a Jedi, he was a politician. He knew that words shape reality, that what we believe is the most important truth of all. He prayed that Obi-Wan would believe this was what Qui-Gon would have said. As for himself, he had to believe it, too.
Even though it broke his heart.
Obi-Wan slept well that night. His dreams were not troubled with nightmares. His sense of calm was so great even Anakin slept well, and both of them woke the next morning with a contentment they had begun to think they would never feel again. As had become their custom, they dressed in silence, went through the morning kata, or as much of it as Anakin had learned, then settled down for a half-hour meditat