Chapter Text
They stood side by side, brothers looking over an ailing parent. Obi-wan stood with his hands in his sleeves, eyes fixed on his old master’s unresponsive face. His braid trailed over his shoulder. Anakin glanced over, sidelong, and mimicked his posture. Straight back, blank face, hands tucked into opposite sleeves. He gripped his own wrists, nails digging into sun-tough skin.
Qui-gon Jinn was too pale, too limp, too lifeless where he hung in the bacta tank. His hair swirled around his face like a sea creature. The wound in his gut was cleaned and bloodless, but that made it worse. It was like an old wound on a cadaver.
The questions itched on the edge of his tongue. Qui-gon was really hurt. Anakin had seen death too many times to count. He knew what it looked like when blood soaked the sand. He knew what it felt like when someone's life faded from the world. He wondered if Obi-wan could feel that too.
Qui-gon was still there. But he was weak. This sterile, white washed hospital on a wealthy Republic planet was no different from the cramped, herb-spicy home of a healer-witch back on Tatooine. Anakin couldn’t tell if Qui-gon would die, and he couldn’t read the text on the monitor. He doubted that it would give them any answers.
If Qui-gon got better, life seemed straightforward. Anakin would become a Jedi under his tutelage, and then, when he learned all that he could, he would go home and free the slaves in a blaze of glory. Kill the Hutts, destroy the markets, rip the masters limb from bloody goddamn limb.
The smell of sanitizer, sharp and alcoholic, tickled Anakin’s nose. He wanted to sneeze, but he breathed shallowly to keep the sensation down. He knew how to hold back a sneeze. He knew how to be quiet.
But what if Qui-gon wasn’t okay? Anakin knew there was a chance the Jedi would die. Would Anakin still become a Jedi? The Council hated him, but did Obi-wan?
He glanced sidelong at the younger Jedi again. He couldn’t get a read on Obi-wan. Qui-gon had been easy- he exuded power and safety. He was a man who freed the slaves and took care of people. He took care of Padmé, right? He had taken care of her whole planet. Maybe he was a little scary, but he wasn’t scary like the masters on Tatooine.
(Not that Watto was bad. Watto was a good master, mostly. Sometimes he got mad, but only when Anakin broke something or a customer was being an ass. And he gave them food and shelter, which was more than a lot of slaves got. And he’d never touched Anakin’s mother, or Anakin for that matter. Anakin knew they were lucky. He also knew that it could change at any time.)
But Obi-wan didn’t have an aura like Qui-gon. Well, he did, but it was quieter, dwarfed behind his master like a moon next to a sun. And it had gotten even quieter after that fight. There had only been the one moment- a scream that ripped through Anakin's head- and now Obi-wan's pain was silent.
It was disconcerting, to stand next to the Jedi and not be able to feel him. Anakin could feel everyone, but his senses slid off Obi-wan like water over a smooth stone.
Obi-wan shifted for the first time in a few minutes, one eyebrow lifting upwards. “Yes, Anakin?”
Anakin jerked, startled, and looked away. He hadn’t meant to disturb Obi-wan. Most people couldn’t feel him probing them, but Obi-wan responded right away.
“I’m sor-” He started, but Obi-wan raised a hand and Anakin immediately silenced.
“No need to apologize,” he said in that Core-world rich folk accent. “I apologize. Simply standing here and staring will not help him to heal any faster.” He turned away from the bacta tank, his shoulders slumping just the tiniest bit.
Anakin recognized that- he had seen it in slaves too proud to show their weariness. It was the little motions, the shoulders, the lines around the eyes. Obi-wan was exhausted.
But Anakin didn’t know if Obi-wan would appreciate the weakness being pointed out. So he just asked, “What will happen to me?” It sounded whiny even to his ears, but he couldn’t help the fear. Even if Obi-wan’s Jedi Council told him fear was bad. He was scared all the time. It was the way of life. Maybe someday, if he trained hard enough, he wouldn’t be scared anymore.
If Qui-gon ever woke up.
Obi-wan pulled open the door to the bacta tank room and held it so Anakin could step into the med center hall. “You will become a Jedi,” he said, letting the door close softly behind him. Then he knelt down, so he was eye to eye with Anakin. “If Master Qui-gon doesn’t… wake up, then I will teach you.”
Anakin swallowed, studying the blue eyes before him for any signs of a lie. Obi-wan’s eyes were the same color as the oceans the spice pilots talked about on other worlds. Blues and greens and depth beyond fathom. Anakin had always wanted to see one, but the idea of that much water both thrilled and terrified him. He wondered if Obi-wan’s home had an ocean. It had to, for his eyes to be so bright and deep.
It took him a second to realize that it wasn’t Obi-wan’s eyes that felt like an ocean, though the color was right. It was Obi-wan himself. Whatever he’d been doing to hide himself was gone, and Anakin could sense his mind. Endless, deep, and blue-green. He could drown in it if he let himself. The water would close over his head and muffle the endless noise of the galaxy and there would be peace.
But he had never connected with another person like this before, and he panicked. It was his mind- his mind was the only thing he owned, and Obi-wan could get into his mind -
He lashed out, jerking back to his own head, and his sense of Obi-wan vanished as quick as it appeared. Obi-wan’s face remained blank but for the slightest wince. And then, a moment later, a drip of blood from his nose.
Anakin had hurt him.
He flinched back, waiting for Obi-wan to leap to his feet and lash out- a back hand across the face, probably, but Anakin could take it. Running would make it worse- he stood in that empty hospital hallway and waited. The smell of disinfectant still tickled his nose.
But Obi-wan remained on one knee. He raised one hand, slowly, to wipe away the drip of blood with his sleeve.
Mom would have yelled at him for using his clothes as a tissue.
“I apologize, Anakin,” Obi-wan said softly, inclining his head. “I pushed too far- you’re incredibly bright in the Force.”
Anakin blinked, dumbfounded. Never, never , had an adult apologized to him. He didn’t know what to say. So he just stared.
Obi-wan sniffed, then stood up with a small smile. “Come, Anakin. It’s nearly dinner time. Shall we see if we can make the cafeteria before the line becomes too long?”
Anakin gave the slightest nod of agreement. It felt like a trap- he hurt Obi-wan. Obi-wan was going to hurt him back- that was simply the way of it. Waiting for a punishment was torture. It would be better if Obi-wan just hit him now.
Obi-wan took a few steps, cloak swirling around his ankles, then paused and glanced back. “Are you alright?”
Anakin bit his lip, clasping his hands together in his borrowed cloak like Obi-wan stood. “I… are you…?”
“Am I what?” Obi-wan stepped towards Anakin, then flinched when Anakin backed up a step. He dropped to one knee again, and moved his hands out in a gesture of peace.
Anakin dug his nails into his arms and swallowed hard. “I hurt you,” he whispered.
Obi-wan blinked, then cracked a grin- this one was genuine. He lit up too, whatever shield around his mind dropping so Anakin could sense his amusement. Worry, too, and fear, but the amusement was brightest. “Oh, Anakin, I’m alright. I grew up in the Temple- I remember once when I was a child, my friend Quinlan threw a tantrum that made me pass out.” He hesitated. “I’m not mad. I promise.”
Then the amusement dropped, leaving the hallway darker than before. “I don’t know what it was like… where you came from,” Obi-wan admitted. His eyes slid away, towards the floor, then back to Anakin’s face. “But I won’t… even if I was mad, I wouldn’t look for revenge. I wouldn’t do anything.” He rubbed his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry- Qui-gon should be having this conversation with you, not-”
But it was enough for Anakin, and he jumped forward and threw his arms around Obi-wan’s neck, burying his face in the Jedi’s cloak. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry Qui-gon got hurt, and I’m sorry that you have to babysit me, and-”
“It’s alright.” The amusement was back, brightening the hospital hall, but it tasted bittersweet. Obi-wan returned the hug- it was stiff and awkward like he wasn’t used to hugging, but his arms were strong. After a moment, he gently pushed Anakin away. “Now, come. Qui-gon would never forgive me if I forgot to feed you.”
Bold with Obi-wan’s validation, Anakin shook his head. “No- he wouldn’t forgive me if I forgot to feed you .”
…
Obi-wan’s head ached. There was too much turmoil in the Force here on Naboo. The invasion was defeated; the crisis was over. But many had died, and more were injured. The Force hummed with discordant grief. And Qui-gon was still labeled as an intensive care patient- he could not be moved to Coruscant until he was stable.
If he became stable.
Obi-wan felt like a fraud, sitting in the hospital’s visitor lounge while a Naboo woman wept nearby. He was a Jedi and he was meant to be helping people. Instead he curled sideways in the chair, one hand pressed to his temple, the other curled loosely around his comlink. The woman’s grief was a barrage in the Force, but he knew there was nothing anybody could do about that.
But blast it , his head hurt. Qui-gon would tell him he needed to get some sleep. He knew he needed to sleep, but there hadn’t been time. And his bond with Qui-gon still felt so fragile, like it could snap at any moment. If Qui-gon slipped away while Obi-wan was sleeping -
No. Best to focus on the here and now and release his anxieties.
But it was easier to release his anxieties when there was nothing to be anxious about.
He sensed Master Yoda a moment before the being appeared in the doorway to the lounge. It was enough of a warning for Obi-wan to stand up, straightening his robes and making sure his shields were tight around his mind.
“Padawan Kenobi,” Yoda greeted, stepping into the room.
Obi-wan bowed deeply. Respect for his elder was carved on his very being. But that made the coming conversation all the more difficult. He felt like running away and throwing up and curling into a ball until Qui-gon awoke. But of course, he didn’t.
“Master,” he said, none of his nerves leaking into his voice.
Yoda’s eyes flicked towards the other woman in the lounge. Her crying had quieted, and now she stared at the wall, red-eyed. Her grief raged like a storm in the Force, but her face was blank as a statue’s. It seemed wrong to have this conversation in her company, but the hospital was packed with the wounded and dying, and the lounge was the emptiest place there was at the moment.
“Spoken to the boy, we have,” Yoda started, bowing his head. “Unfit, he is, for the Jedi. Too much fear in him, there is.”
Obi-wan swallowed hard. “Was I any different when you taught me?”
Yoda grunted a noise of dissent. “Different were your upbringings. Too old-”
“I will train the boy.” Obi-wan wanted to shrink at directly defying the Council, defying Yoda himself, but in this case it had to be done. Anakin shone in the Force like a small sun. He needed to be trained, and Obi-wan knew if Qui-gon were awake, then he would take the boy as his padawan. “With respect, Master, it is Qui-gon’s wish-”
“Weak, Qui-gon is,” Yoda said, holding up a hand for Obi-wan’s silence. “If wake he does, then long will his recovery be. The same, I fear he will never be.”
“Then I will train him, if Qui-gon cannot.” He hated defying Master Yoda like this, but Obi-wan knew what needed to be done.
Yoda studied him for a long moment. “And if forbid you, the Council does? If turn Anakin from the order, they do?”
Would it come to that? Obi-wan felt his stomach drop, but still, he knew the answer. Sometimes, the right thing came above the Order. Melida-Daan, Mandalore…Obi-wan had come close to permanently leaving the Jedi before. Would he do it for Anakin, a boy he had only just met?
A boy Qui-gon had replaced him with?
“I would go with him, Master,” Obi-wan said, lowering his head in a deferent, apologetic bow. “Anakin needs a teacher.”
Yoda was silent for a long several minutes. Obi-wan remained where he stood, head bowed. His boots were horribly scuffed- they had seen him through a short mission overseeing a few political weddings that turned into a firefight, his glorious and terrible year on Mandalore, and now Naboo. He needed a new pair, but he always put it off because he hated breaking them in.
He wondered how Satine was, and then guilt overtook his anxiety. He had no right to think about Satine, not when Qui-gon’s life hung in a bacta tank and a slave boy was relying on him and Yoda was standing right there .
Mind your attachments , he hissed at himself in his own head. Here and now. Focus.
“No decisions will be made while unconscious Qui-gon is,” Yoda finally said. “His responsibility, this boy is.”
Obi-wan could have wept, but he kept his face as neutral as possible. “Thank you, Master,” he said. “We will show you that Anakin will be a great Jedi-”
Yoda held up a hand sharply. “And his responsibility you are. A knight you are not, and a student you may not take. And a student Master Qui-gon already has.”
Obi-wan’s mask of deference slipped. “With respect, Master,” he said. “I defeated a Sith Lord . I believe that qualifies me-”
“But a knight you are not,” Yoda repeated, more firmly. “Until awakens or passes Qui-gon does, a padawan you remain.”
“And until then I will help Anakin!” Obi-wan drew himself up, not realizing how he mimicked Qui-gon’s posture. “We took him from his home- he needs citizenship and he knows nobody and there’s a bomb embedded in him- Force knows why they use an explosive chip now. The collar was bad enough-”
A sharp rap against his shins cut his ranting off and Obi-wan took a deep breath, the emotions still rolling through his chest. He had to keep a clear head, or he himself would be deemed unfit.
“My apologies, Master,” he said, bowing his head. “But the boy is alone in the Republic right now. Even if he is not to become a Jedi, I will help him get settled.”
Yoda grunted again. “Prone to attachment, you are, young Obi-wan. Mind your feelings. Mislead you, they will.”
“Yes, master.” He pushed his hands into his opposite sleeves, clasping his wrists lightly.
“Take care of the boy, if you must,” Yoda said. “More thoroughly evaluate him back at the Jedi Temple, we will.”
Obi-wan nodded. “Thank you, Master.”
Yoda grunted, giving him a dark look. The old grandmaster certainly wasn’t happy about the situation, but Obi-wan didn’t care. He waited for Yoda to leave, then hastened back to Qui-gon’s bacta room. He had to dodge a few harried nurses and an angry doctor, but nobody questioned a Jedi’s presence.
He had only to step into Qui-gon’s room to feel Anakin’s fear. It was a physical thing, making Obi-wan’s head pound all the harder. After Yoda had left, the boy had curled up in the visitor’s chair, staring at Qui-gon. The soft light from the bacta tank played across his face, making him look too young to be in a sick man’s room.
He turned as soon as Obi-wan stepped in. “They don’t want to teach me,” he said. His eyes gleamed, but there were no tears. He stared at Obi-wan, the unspoken question hanging on the air between them. Will you abandon me?
Obi-wan’s head hurt all the more. What had Yoda said to the boy? Probably a lecture on fear and anger. Those were both lectures that Obi-wan had heard countless times. But right now, Obi-wan expected that a little fear was natural. Anakin was in an entirely new place, his future up in the air. Obi-wan had certainly felt fear over less.
He pulled the other chair a little closer and sat down. “Master Yoda gave me permission to help you,” he said slowly.
“But not to teach me,” Anakin surmised. He wrapped his arms around his legs and dropped his chin to his knees. “I don’t want to be a problem.”
“But I will teach you, Anakin,” Obi-wan promised. He glanced up at Qui-gon’s floating form, hating himself for the terror that boiled inside him. What if his master didn’t wake up? “I promise.”
What if Qui-gon did wake up, and he officially denounced Obi-wan in favor of Anakin?
Of course, Obi-wan thought mildly, he would choose Anakin over himself as well. Obi-wan was an average Jedi at his best moments, and critically subpar in others. If Obi-wan were a master, and it was a choice between himself and Anakin…
He pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to relieve some of the pressure behind his skull. The Force was too loud, Naboo was too loud, and his own thoughts were too loud.
Anakin’s eyes, bright in the dim light of the room, were fixed on him. “I got you water,” he said quietly, picking up a bottle from under his chair. “I know you probably can’t sleep since your master’s hurt, and you’re probably thinking about a billion other things, but…” he held out the bottle cautiously. “It’s a big thing at home,” he added. “If someone’s hurt, and they can’t go collect their water for the day. You bring it to them. And since I got you in trouble with your Council…”
Obi-wan stared at the bottle in the boy’s hand. There wasn’t a shortage here, but the gesture was touching. And he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually drunk something. This morning with breakfast, perhaps? A breakfast that he wouldn’t have eaten if he didn’t have to feed Anakin.
“Thank you,” he said, hoping Anakin caught the emotion behind the words. He twisted off the top, held the bottle up in a toast to Anakin, and took a sip. It was only at the first slightly stale vending machine taste that he realized how thirsty he actually was. He finished off the bottle then tossed it across the room towards the trash.
It bounced off the wall and to the ground.
Anakin moved to go pick it up, but Obi-wan waved a hand. Frivolous or not, the bottle levitated from the ground to the trash.
“Wizard,” Anakin breathed, then turned. “Will you teach me to do that?”
Obi-wan smiled. “Soon enough,” he said.
Anakin grinned, happy with that idea, then glanced up at Qui-gon again. “If you want to sleep first, you can,” he said. “I promise I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”
Obi-wan raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I need sleep?” he asked, though he knew it was probably written all over him.
Anakin raised an eyebrow back. “Your headache is starting to give me a headache,” he admitted.
“Oh. I apologize.” Obi-wan tightened his shields around his mind, blocking Anakin from his pain. He hadn’t even realized that the boy could sense him so clearly. It made sense though- Chosen one or not, he was powerful.
Anakin shook his head quickly. “You don’t have to apologize or do- whatever you just did. I’m sorry- Mom just always makes me go to sleep when it gets so much that my head hurts, and it helps. Mostly. But you can do whatever you want.” He curled tighter in the chair, eyes fixed on the bacta tank.
Obi-wan studied him for another moment. He truly was a sun, blazing over the desert. But he was quiet now. The sun was warm, and though the Force was disturbed, Anakin’s blinding presence was enough to block out much of the hospital’s chaos.
“An hour,” Obi-wan finally decided, curling in the chair so he could rest his head on his arm. He would nap for Anakin’s sake.
“An hour,” Anakin agreed, nodding fervently. Then he grinned brightly. “I’ll wake you up. Then you can watch while I take a nap too.”
Obi-wan didn’t have the energy to explain that they were safe enough that they didn’t need to take watch for each other. He had burned up his reserves talking to Master Yoda. And his nerves were raw enough that, outside the Jedi Temple, he liked the idea of someone watching, even if it was just a boy.
A boy with a Force presence that warmed him and soothed away his anxiety, leaving him drifting. He was asleep in a moment.
…
“I don’t like it,” Mace Windu said, glancing through the window into Qui-gon’s room. The lights were low and the privacy curtain was up, but it was slightly too small and there was a large gap that let him see into the room. Kenobi was curled in a chair, dead to the world, while Skywalker sat at attention, looking between Qui-gon’s monitor (which was also shown at the nurse’s station down the hall) and the padawan who’d vowed to babysit him.
“Like it, none of us do,” Yoda admitted. He sat in the chair across the hall, for once looking as ancient as his age. “Too young, Kenobi is, for a padawan. Knighted he will be, when awakens, Qui-gon does. But train the boy, he cannot.”
“They’re already attached,” Mace pointed out. Damn Qui-gon, for getting them into this mess. Damn Qui-gon, for leaving yet another pathetic lifeform to Kenobi. “He still struggles with attachment. He didn’t exactly shine on Mandalore.”
And the only reason Kenobi hadn’t been formally reprimanded for that fiasco was that Qui-gon had all but encouraged it. Mace suspected the older Jedi had been living vicariously through his padawan’s affair. None of the council knew how deep it had gone, but they could all tell how shaken Kenobi was at the end of the mission.
The issue was that the shakiness was purely personal. On the surface, Kenobi was a competent padawan on the path to being a competent knight. His decisions were sound, and he excelled at diplomacy and negotiation, blowing some masters out of the water with his rhetoric when the situation called. His saber skills were solid (more than solid, truly- he had defeated a Sith lord with his master near death) and his classroom grades, while not stellar, were very much passable. It helped that people just liked Kenobi. He was kind and respectful towards everyone, listened to what people had to say, and saw the good in people who didn’t see the good in themselves. His genuine friendliness bordered on flirtiness at times, and the old female masters doted on the boy.
And yet he became attached too easily, and that was a liability. He was still attached to the Duchess of Mandalore- all it took was mentioning her name for him to break eye contact. He was attached to Qui-gon- even if his worry was tightly shielded, it was clearly there. And now he was attached to this boy, to the point where he threatened leaving the Order for him.
And that was what worried Mace. A boy prone to emotional attachment training a boy with unimaginable power outside of the safety of the Order?
“At least, know where they would go, we do,” Yoda commented, like he could hear Mace’s thoughts. “To Mandalore, he would take the boy.”
“Because what we need is the strongest force sensitive in thousands of years living on the most warlike planet in the galaxy,” Mace grumbled. “I don’t like it, but they have to stay.”
“Agree, I do,” Yoda admitted, ears drooping. “But clouded, the future is.”
Mace rubbed his hand down his face, trying not to see all the ways this could go horribly wrong. “Damn it, Qui-gon,” he muttered out loud, then shot a glare at Yoda. “You shouldn’t have paired them together. It ruined Kenobi.”
“Good for Qui-gon, Obi-wan is,” Yoda replied. “And a strong Jedi, Obi-wan is. Attachments, perhaps, but rooted strongly in the Light, he is.”
Mace couldn’t help but agree with that. Obi-wan had faced down a Sith Lord, but there was none of the staining on his Force presence that suggested he’d touched the Dark Side to do it. That was enough, on its own, to qualify him for knighthood. Were Qui-gon not still clinging to life, they would have already knighted him. But tradition remained, and they would wait and see what happened to Qui-gon before going forward with the ceremony.
For now, Kenobi remained a padawan.
The click of heels down the hall alerted them to a new presence. The doctor taking care of Qui-gon was an older woman, stern in countenance, white coat spotless. Despite the insanity in the hospital, not a single hair was out of place from her steel gray bun. It was only when she got closer could they see the tiredness in her negligible force signature, could smell the caf that she drank by the pot.
“Masters Jedi,” she said in greeting, but there was no bow. Here, she was the master and they the guests. “I’m glad I found you here.”
“Doctor Verana.” Mace inclined his head. “Do you have a status update on Master Jinn?”
She nodded, tapping her manicured nails against the file in her hands. “He requires extensive surgery, which I already mentioned to his son- student, excuse me. The bacta has stabilized him for now, but with the internal damage I will not leave him submerged for more than thirty-six hours. Healing wrong, at this point, would be fatal and far more painful.”
Mace nodded- he understood. Bacta was a miracle chemical, true, but it was only a tool in a medic’s arsenal. It was not magic.
“One of you must make the decision to either operate on him here, or return him to Coruscant,” she said, meeting both Mace and Yoda’s eyes. “I apologize- I’m not sure if it’s your decision, or his student’s. But the young man is asleep, and…” Her face softened, some of the stern lines vanishing.
Of course, Kenobi had managed to melt the doctor’s heart too. It was only great personal control and years of meditation that kept Mace from rolling his eyes.
“Return to Coruscant, we will,” Yoda said. “To our own healers, we will take Master Jinn.”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll send somebody with the discharge paperwork and a copy of his charts for your healers. Do you have any questions?”
Mace shook his head. “Thank you for your time,” he added, bowing. “May the Force be with you.”
This time, she mimicked the bow, albeit awkwardly. “And with you,” she said, and then vanished down the hall, heels clicking her staccato exit.
…
The Queen herself came to see the Jedi off planet. It seemed the least she could do, for nearly losing one of their own in protecting Naboo. Obi-wan greeted them at the base of the ship’s ramp, Anakin at his side. He bowed, then straightened with an easy smile. He was happy to be of service, he worked for the Republic, he was glad to see her planet free.
His eyes flicked only once to Padmé, but it was enough that she knew that he knew who he was actually talking to. Even now, it was dangerous for the people to know which woman was Queen and which was handmaiden. And his face, when he realized, didn’t change.
It was amazing, Padmé thought. Of course, she had formal training on schooling her expression from the time she was very young and first dipping her toes into the political scene. It was one of the many things she was taught as a young girl. It seemed the Jedi were the same way. She would have thought Obi-wan unaffected by his master’s being near death.
Except she knew he wasn’t.
She had gone to visit the Jedi when Qui-gon was first brought into the hospital. She had been in disguise as a normal civilian, so nobody had stopped her, and it was easy enough to use her codes to log into a computer and find where they were. When she’d arrived at the room, Obi-wan was not there. Rather, he’d been standing at the end of the hall, leaning his forehead against the glass window looking out over the damaged city of Theed.
She had started to walk to him when he moved his hands to his face and she realized he was crying. Quietly, in control, but overwhelmed and scared and actually his age. Sometimes it was hard to remember that the handsome young Jedi wasn’t much older than she.
Padmé didn’t know what to do- comfort him, or let him gather himself? She decided on the latter, not wanting to embarrass him, and left for a half hour. When she returned, he was back to normal, only the slightest redness around his eyes and nose suggesting that he’d broken down.
Now, she wondered at his blank face, and if maybe she shouldn’t have offered a hug. But Obi-wan wasn’t warm like Qui-gon was. She didn’t know if he would appreciate it.
But she knew Anakin would. The boy was staring intently at her, not paying attention to Sabé and Obi-wan’s formal conversation. She smiled and stepped away, offering Anakin a little wave. Anakin glanced up at Obi-wan.
The Jedi glanced at Padmé, then offered Anakin a small nod. Anakin practically bounded away, and Padmé couldn’t help but giggle at his excitement.
“Goodbye, Anakin,” she said. “I know you’ll be a great Jedi. I hope Qui-gon gets better soon so he can teach you.”
“I’ll miss you.” Anakin leapt forward and threw his arms around her. She stumbled back a step at the exuberant hug, but wrapped her arms around him.
“I think Obi-wan’s going to teach me,” he admitted quietly into her shoulder. “Qui-gon’s hurt really bad.”
Padmé swallowed, patting his back. She had to admit, she didn’t know if that was better or worse. Qui-gon seemed better equipped to train a slave boy to be a Jedi. Obi-wan just always seemed… aloof. Professional. She knew there had been a rumor about him and the Mandalorian duchess, but she didn’t believe it. Not after actually meeting him. Anakin needed someone who understood what it meant to feel something.
But she didn’t voice her opinions. “Well, I’m sure Obi-wan will be an excellent teacher,” she admitted. “He was very brave.”
“He is brave,” Anakin insisted. “And you are too. I’m glad your people are all okay now.”
“I am too,” she said, her fondness coloring her voice. Then she pushed him away, breaking their hug. “And both you and Obi-wan are always welcome on Naboo,” she added. “We owe you a great debt. I hope the Jedi will allow you to return for the celebrations.” She laughed. “We’re already planning a festival. It’s dreadfully boring signing papers on which streamers to use.”
Anakin’s eyes lit up at the word festival, and Padmé suddenly wondered if that was a mistake to tell him. Hopefully the Jedi would let him come. He was one of their heroes as much as Obi-wan and Qui-gon were.
“Padmé,” Sabé called. “If you are finished saying goodbye, we have another financial meeting to attend.”
“Of course,” Padmé called.
Anakin pulled a face and leaned in close so nobody would hear. “If she knows that you’re the queen, why does she order you around?”
Padmé laughed and patted his shoulder. “She likes to pretend she’s actually the queen,” she whispered back. “But she’s like my sister. I don’t mind. Take care of yourself, Ani.”
They walked back over together. Padmé took her place beside Sabé and Anakin took his place beside Obi-wan. With one last formal bow, they departed. Anakin glanced over his shoulder for one last look at Padmé, but she didn’t look back at him.
The ramp closed behind them, and the ship took off for Coruscant.
…
Anakin had been given a whole bunk to himself, and he didn’t know what to do with it. It was cold in space, and the cloak they’d given him wasn’t nearly enough, and now he missed Mom and Padmé and Qui-gon. But he was alone in the dimly lit room and he didn’t want to go exploring when Masters Windu and Yoda were on the ship. He was scared of running into one of them.
But he wasn’t alone long. He sensed Obi-wan in the hall and darted up to open the door for him. Obi-wan stood awkwardly, fist raised to knock, and then he dropped his hand. “Anakin, do you have time to talk?”
That was a stupid question- right now, in the limbo of hyperspace, Anakin had nothing but time. He nodded and moved aside so Obi-wan could come in.
“You’re nervous,” he said awkwardly, hoping Obi-wan wouldn’t be mad at him for pointing it out. But he knew it was true- even though Obi-wan’s face was blank, Anakin could feel the Jedi’s nerves making his own heart beat faster.
Obi-wan raised an eyebrow in surprise, then nodded. “I suppose I can’t hide from you,” he admitted, sitting in the empty bunk across from Anakin. Anakin took the cue and sat as well, crossing his legs. “I am nervous,” Obi-wan continued. “Many things will change when we reach Coruscant. I have a list…” He reached into his robes and produced a datapad, handing it across to Anakin. “I’m sure I’ll find many more tasks, but that’s what I can think of for a start. I wanted to make sure you were prepared.”
Anakin stared down at the glowing screen. He saw the letters. He knew they were letters. And he could read some Huttese, of course- some kinder people taught him a little when Watto lent him out on repair jobs, and he taught his mother in turn.
But these were Basic letters, and Anakin didn’t know where to start with that. “I… can’t read,” he admitted, then cringed away from Obi-wan’s response.
“You can’t…oh.” Obi-wan leaned back in the bunk, obviously startled. “Yes, that… makes sense.” Then he smiled. “I suppose that’s another thing to add to the list then.” He reached a hand out for the datapad. Anakin returned it.
“You aren’t mad?” He asked quietly.
“Why would I be mad?” Obi-wan typed another line onto his list, then set the ‘pad aside and smiled at Anakin. “You can’t help your background. Although, you might have to be patient with me. I’ve never taught anybody to read before. Hopefully I won’t kriff it up.” He let out a breath, gaze dropping to the floor.
“You couldn’t kriff up anything,” Anakin assured him, then darted across the bunk to sit next to him. “You’re a Jedi.”
“A padawan,” Obi-wan corrected. Then he blinked. “And maybe don’t say that word in front of any masters.” Then he shook himself. “Well, if you can’t read it, I’ll just tell you. The first thing we have to do is get you all caught up at the healer’s. I don’t know what vaccines you’ve had, and we have to get that chip out of you. You’ll hate that part. I mean, I know I hate the healers.” He smiled wryly.
“If you’re there, it won’t be that bad,” Anakin said. He meant it. He loved Qui-gon- the man was big and tall and powerful and saved him from slavery. But Obi-wan was calming and steadfast and brave and had killed the monster and didn't try to hit him when Anakin messed up.
Obi-wan snorted, but let it go. “Once I get the paperwork from the healers, I can register you as a citizen of the Republic. That shouldn’t be too difficult, but it will be a lot of sitting in offices and signing papers. It can take a long time, sometimes, but I hope the Council might help me streamline it.”
“But you don’t know if they will,” Anakin finished, hearing the question in Obi-wan’s voice.
He shook his head. “To be honest with you, no. I don’t. But I stand by what I said. Whether they agree or not, I will teach you.”
Anakin swallowed and nodded, then leaned against Obi-wan’s side. “Sorry I’m making such a problem for you.”
Obi-wan stiffened, and for a second Anakin thought he would pull away. But instead he just shifted so he could pull his arm free and rest it around Anakin’s shoulders. Obi-wan was warm against the chill of space, especially when Anakin wriggled a little so he was half inside the Jedi’s cloak. He didn’t care that Obi-wan had a long to-do list. As long as they were together, it would be okay. And then Qui-gon would be okay too, and Anakin would become a Jedi and free the slaves. Maybe Obi-wan and Qui-gon would even help.
“You aren’t a problem, Anakin,” Obi-wan said. “It’s the entire galaxy that’s a problem.” He turned, resting his chin on Anakin’s head.
“I hope Qui-gon gets better,” Anakin whispered into Obi-wan’s chest.
Obi-wan stiffened again. Then, in words that seemed too small for a brave, nearly fully-trained Jedi, he whispered, “Me too.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, both cocooned together in Obi-wan’s cloak.
“He was… very badly hurt,” Obi-wan finally said. Anakin felt him tense up, like the words were difficult to say. “A lightsaber wound… people think it isn’t as bad because it can cauterize itself, but it burns too. And arteries still bleed if it isn’t perfectly cauterized, or the blood can get cut off from where it needs to go…” He fell quiet. “They don’t know if Qui-gon will get better. I don’t want to scare you. I just think you should know the… truth…”
He whispered the last word, and when Anakin looked up he was startled at the tears in Obi-wan’s eyes. Obi-wan stared very hard at the empty bunk across from them. His whole body was tense.
Anakin burrowed closer, wrapping his arms tighter around the Jedi. “You shouldn’t cry,” he said quietly. “It wastes water. Mom says you should scream instead, at night when nobody will know it’s you.”
The tension broke with a full body sob. “We don’t…” Obi-wan started, then broke again, covering his face with a hand. “We don’t have a water shortage,” he whispered.
Anakin hugged him tighter. He wanted to cry too, but he didn’t. It was like their master before Watto, when sometimes it got so much for Mom that she would just break down. Never crying- that was the first rule in the desert. Don't waste water. But she could go as far as the chip would let her and scream her defiance and when she came home, Anakin would hold her tight until she fell asleep.
Anakin knew when he had to be strong for someone else. Obi-wan was strong and brave and kind but right now he needed to cry, and Anakin didn’t mind. He understood.
“I don’t have a dad,” Anakin said. “But if I could pick one, I would pick Master Qui-gon.”
That made Obi-wan sob harder. Anakin wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing so he just rested his head on Obi-wan’s chest and tried to think calm thoughts. That always helped Mom- he would think of the stars over the desert, infinite and eternal. And her heartbeat would slow and her breathing would even out and eventually the sun would rise and they would continue with their lives.
It worked for Obi-wan too. His breathing hitched once more, and then he dropped his chin back to Anakin’s head. He felt like exhaustion. “Sorry,” he murmured.
“Stay here,” Anakin ordered, ignoring the, frankly, stupid apology. He got up before Obi-wan could reply and darted through the halls of the ship, to the small kitchenette. Maybe Obi-wan was taking care of him, but he could take care of Obi-wan too. That was how it worked, in the desert.
The Councilors were in the kitchenette. Mace Windu and Yoda. Anakin froze just outside, but they already knew he was there.
“Hide in the hall, do you?” Yoda called, and Anakin knew he didn’t have another choice.
He walked in, taking a deep breath. The two old Jedi were sitting at the table, both drinking tea. “I was just getting water,” Anakin said, swallowing. “For Obi-wan,” he added.
The two glanced at each other. Anakin got the sense that they were communicating, though he had no idea what about. “He was just talking to me about Coruscant,” Anakin added. “About paperwork and vaccines and Qui-… yeah. So I was just…” He gestured towards the ship’s sink. He consciously didn’t mention that Obi-wan cried. Anakin wouldn’t betray him like that.
Yoda made a small gesture towards the sink. “Tea, with milk, young Obi-wan prefers,” he said.
Anakin blinked, surprised at the small admission. It seemed so human, after all that they had lectured him on fear and anger and attachment like old, detached gods. “Thanks,” he said, then darted over to add water to the kettle and take one of the tea bags from the box on the counter.
Mace Windu was quiet. Anakin could sense his disapproval, and he tried to ignore it. But Yoda seemed less angry, like once he’d initially lectured Anakin he had said his piece. “Care about him, you do?”
“Yeah,” Anakin said, fidgeting while he waited for the water to heat in the kettle. “He’s a good person. I can always tell.”
“No doubt you can,” Master Windu muttered.
Anakin pretended he didn’t hear that and bounced on his heels, waiting for the water to boil. He didn’t know what to say to the old Jedi. He could feel their power in the room though. He could feel their eyes on his back, burning through him like twin suns.
He bit his lip, ignoring it. They could burn him all they liked, but they could never be as hot as the noon sands.
The kettle clicked off. Steam curled up as Anakin poured it into the cup, then darted to the little fridge for the milk. It was white instead of blue, and it swirled into the dark tea.
He hesitated for a second when he’d finished, glancing back at the Council members. Was he supposed to speak to them? He didn’t know the etiquette. But he settled on bowing, careful not to spill a drop of the tea, then darted away.
He let out a long breath, trying to squash his nerves so Obi-wan wouldn’t feel them, and returned to his bunk.
Obi-wan was still there. His eyes were red, but he no longer looked so wound up that he might shatter. Now he looked bemused, and that bemusement dripped into the Force when he saw the cup of tea in Anakin’s hands.
“You didn’t have to,” he said, accepting it. But he took a long sip anyways.
Anakin grinned, pleased that his offering had been accepted, then hopped up on the bunk again. It took only a moment to burrow back into Obi-wan’s cloak, pulling the extra fabric around his own shoulders. The steam from the tea wafted around them, filling the air with warmth.