Title: The Silent Senator
Author: The Musical Jedi
Timeframe: Some time between AOTC and ROTS, before Anakin is knighted
Characters: Obi-Wan, Anakin
Genre: Humor
Summary: R&R for Anakin and Obi-Wan doesn't go quite as planned...
Notes: Written in response to Ewok-Kenobi's Star Wars Era/Character/Situation roulette over at TF.N. Mine was this: Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin, before Anakin was made a Jedi Knight, go on a break to a planet of your choice, but it turns out more hostile than originally planned. As Peter Llewelyn Davies said in Finding Neverland, this is just a bit of silliness, really. Comments/constructive criticism always appreciated. Many thanks to Leona and the other mods for looking over this for me to make sure the boys weren't having too much fun (as TF.N has different requirements in the non-glorification of things like alcohol and drugs :)).
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The rain streamed continuously from the sky as Anakin looked out from the transparisteel dome of his fighter. It streaked the surface, making it hard to see much beyond the steely grey sky above and the dingy-looking town that lay beyond the landing pad. To the left of him, Obi-Wan's fighter was settling into position, and the Padawan shook his head even as his Master brought the ship to a careful, slow landing. "Why are we here again?" he asked into the comm, glancing over at the other ship.
"The Council thought we could use some R and R, Anakin," came Obi-Wan's voice in his earpiece. "Though I'm not sure if this is quite what they had in mind."
Anakin sighed; they could have been sent to Coruscant. At least then he would have been able to visit Padmé. But no, in the Council's infinite wisdom, we can't be spared from the Outer Rim sieges to travel any farther Rim-ward than Tralus, he mused to himself. We can't even go to Corellia itself. I'm starting to wonder if I didn't have more freedom as a slave. "Are you sure they said Tralus, Master?"
Obi-Wan's mild irritation was evident even through the comm. He could picture his Master's face: the forehead slightly wrinkled and his eyes flashing just enough to let Anakin know he was toeing a line. "Of course I'm sure." Anakin glanced out to regard the depressing landscape before him. "Though this almost makes me miss Kamino," the Jedi added as an afterthought.
Anakin just shook his head again. He watched as Obi-Wan popped the dome to his own fighter, jump out as quickly as possible, then trigger the close to avoid getting rain in. With the cowl of his robe up, the Padawan reflected that his Master looked like some kind of crazy migrant, with his beard untrimmed and his hair not combed to its usual perfection. Though he had to concede that with the sieges taking place, neither had bathed in a number of days and he was probably in no better shape himself.
Obi-Wan was standing next to his starfighter, his hands tucked in the sleeves of his robe with a look that clearly said Well, are you coming already? He popped his own fighter dome and repeated his Master's exit, only with a flip to exit the cockpit.
His Master glanced from Anakin speeder to the muddy street leading into the small town they had selected to visit. Of course, they were only small towns to chose from, but this one in particular was smaller than most. The Padawan pulled up the cowl to his own robe, discovering in annoyance that it was already damp.
"Some vacation," he muttered.
"We could be on Tatooine." Obi-Wan began picking his way carefully towards the street, and Anakin was left with no other option but to hurry and follow.
"At least Tatooine is dry."
His Master looked back, his eyebrows high on his head. "I thought you swore never to go back."
Anakin snorted. "I didn't realize that my R and R was going to consist of this," he shot back with an all-encompassing gesture taking in the town, the rain, and, most of all, the mud. "And Tatooine has pod racing."
The Jedi Master came to a stop in front of one of the first buildings they passed. The sign, only part of which was lit, read The Silent Senator. Beside it was a picture of a well-dressed human -- lacking a head. "This place is beginning to grow on me," Obi-Wan stated, a mild smile spreading across his features. "And at least we know they'll have the finest Corellian whiskey."
His Master disappeared inside before Anakin could formulate a response. He compressed his lips and, not missing the irony of having a very Obi-Wan-esque moment, thought to himself, Oh, not good.
By the time Anakin was inside, Obi-Wan had already found himself a place at the bar and was trying to attract the bartender's attention. He strolled up next to the older man and leaned against the bar. "Is this a requirement whenever you enter this kind of establishment? Even when we were pursuing that shape-shifter, you were doing ordering drinks."
Obi-Wan turned to face his apprentice, his cerulean eyes focusing on Anakin's. "Care to chose a different diversion?"
Anakin's face clouded over, thinking of what he would rather be doing if he were on Coruscant. He settled onto the stool next to his friend and scowled for a moment into the grainy surface of the bar. "I feel as though, by being sent here, a thousand voices have cried out within the Force then were suddenly silenced."
Obi-Wan tipped his head to the side. "Are these the people that we're currently not rescuing? Or the Separatists taking advantage of our absence?"
Giving his Master a quizzical look in return, Anakin shrugged finally and replied, "Both, I guess." He looked away to scan the other occupants of the bar. There were a number of humans, most dressed in rough clothing that was muddy or somewhat dirty or, mostly, both. There were also some Selonians and even a few Draw, as well as a smattering of other space-faring species. Most were sitting at tables or the bar, contributing to the din that permeated the entire establishment. The noise was not enough to cover the pervasive patter of rain on the roof of the bar; Anakin darkly suspected that it would take a Bith band to drown that out. No pun intended, he mentally added.
When he turned back to Obi-Wan, the Jedi Master was in the process of drinking the small glass with which he'd been presented. The strong, heady scent of the whiskey drifted towards him, leaving him with no uncertainties that his Master was consuming the whiskey neat. "You should have some, Anakin," the older man pointed out as he placed his glass on the counter. Then, he turned to the bartender and signaled to him. "Mix up my young friend here a Nubian Handmaiden." He was grinning when he turned back to his apprentice.
Anakin just rolled his eyes; it was clearly going to be a long night.
Two Handmaidens later for Anakin and enough whiskey that Obi-Wan had clearly forgotten how much, the venerable Jedi Master, member of the Council at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, known throughout the galaxy as the Negotiator who had saved countless planets from Separatist occupation (many without ever activating his lightsaber, although, oddly, never the presence of his equally famous Padawan, the Hero With No Fear), was waxing eloquent about nothing in particular. More likely, whatever pops into his addled brain, Anakin amended, feeling vaguely concerned for his friend's change in demeanor.
Notwithstanding the fact that his brogue had gotten so thick his damn Master was nearly unintelligible.
"It's verra curious, this whole Clone War," Obi-Wan was saying. Anakin had missed the first half of this conversation, which he estimated to have lasted at least ten minutes. Instead, he'd been wondering what he'd done to deserve this. He had already conceded that at least he was out of the rain, but at this point he'd rather be on Dagobah, the only planet he had heard of with less technology than Tatooine.
At least there he stood a very good chance of being alone.
"Ye ken, we're fighting shadows. Ye canna say it's ignorance on the part of the Council. Aye, but it's almost like as we're supposed to not be looking at sommat." Obi-Wan paused, blinking slowly, before glancing around at the other patrons with exaggerated care. Then, he leaned into close to Anakin, giving him a second whiff of the still neat whiskey. "It's the Dark Side," he whispered all too loudly for his close proximity. "It's clouding everything."
"Oh, for love of the Force...!" Anakin banged a hand on the counter with a frustrated noise. "You always say this when you've had too much to drink. It's the Dark Side this and the Dark Side that. If that's true, why aren't we looking for the Sith in league with the Zabrak that killed Qui-Gon? Why instead are we fighting the Separatists?"
Obi-Wan jumped at the loud noise Anakin had made, looking around for the source and spilling the drink of a Selonian sitting on the other side of him. He gazed back towards Anakin, as though looking for some kind of explanation.
"It's because the Dark Side, if it's as big as a threat as the Council says, is currently only threatening the Jedi. Sentients are far more concerned with the damage the Separatists are wrecking on their planets than the mysterious Dark force that the Jedi have dedicated their lives to pushing back."
"Perhaps ye're wrong. Per-perhaps everything ye assume, ye ken is wrong. We're fighting a war based on assumptions, and maybe they're all wrong." Obi-Wan's eyes were wide, the blue irises shining in the dim light of the bar as they focused first on one side of Anakin's head and then the other.
Anakin looked away, feeling the attention of other beings starting to focus on them. "Perhaps we should discuss something else, Master," he suggested.
"It'd be better if we had more help," Obi-Wan began, cutting off his apprentice's comment. "I mean, we canna keep fighting this war ourselves. Force knows that the bloody politicians aren't any help."
On the other side of Obi-Wan, the Selonian whose drink had so recently been causality to the Jedi leaned around him to regard Anakin. Its whiskers flicked for a moment behind Obi-Wan's head before it bared its teeth in what Anakin presumed was a rather unfriendly gesture. "Perhaps you two ought to find yourselves other accommodations." Its beady eyes focused on Obi-Wan, who was struggling to gracefully turn around on his barstool. "I think you'll find few here who are sympathetic to your war."
Obi-Wan began to open his mouth, though the Selonian cut him off before he could formulate a response. "I do mean your war. Not ours."
The last words hung in the grimy air, and Anakin became painfully aware that all other side conversation had stopped.
Not good at all, he thought, nodding slightly to the other sentient. "C'mon, Obi-Wan, let's settled our bill and find ourselves somewhere to stay for the night."
He helped his Master to his feet, where Obi-Wan swayed for a moment before finding the ground solid enough to support him. "Must we?" was his only response.
"Yes, Master, I think we've overstayed our welcome," he replied a little sarcastically. He looked over the bill that had magically appeared during his exchange with the Selonian and handed it and a credit chip back to the bartender with a flip of his wrist that clearly said to keep whatever was left over. At least it's on the Republic's tab.
"What a wretched hive of scum and villainy."
"What?" Anakin looked at his Master, startled by the emotion behind the comment.
The other Jedi was surveying the crowd with displeasure clearly on his face. "We're supposed to be having a verra nice vacation, yet we canna even drink in peace. It's so... uncivilized."
Anakin snorted before grabbing his Master's arm to lead him outside. "I really think we're the ones disturbing the peace."
Obi-Wan pulled his arm out of Anakin's grasp. The movement was too much for his delicate equilibrium; the Jedi Master staggered for a few steps before coming to a very abrupt halt -- on top of a table. He managed to knock both drinks off, as well as scatter the sabacc cards that covered it. His inertia carried him over the surface of the table, tipping the whole thing where it dumped him, the cards, and the drinks unceremoniously on the floor. Fortunately, the two sentients had managed to stay mostly clear, although both humans looked neither happy nor forgiving. One had his hand on his blaster holster, with the other was in the process of rolling up the sleeve to his tunic.
Shaking his head to clear it then thinking better of the movement, Obi-Wan sat on the floor for a moment, glancing in confusion from one human to the other. "E'en, gents," he said finally, blinking owlishly. "Enjoying a touch of the drink?"
"Oh, I'm going to enjoy something," said the one with the rolled up sleeves. Anakin managed to grab his elbow before he got a full swing off, though the man still clipped the edge of Obi-Wan's shoulder as the latter tried to shift to his feet. The Jedi was knocked into the one with the blaster. Apparently he had also been enjoying the whiskey, because the impact of the Jedi was enough to sprawl them both to the floor.
"Well, star's end," Obi-Wan swore as he tried to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs he found himself in. "This isna verra good."
Roughly, Anakin hauled his Master to his feet, apologizing to the two men. He pulled the other Jedi out the door and into the damp night.
"When did it start raining?" Obi-Wan asked, glancing up as the rain streaked his red hair into matted dull copper.
Anakin groaned quietly, looking at his Master in the dim light of the Silent Senator's sign. Suddenly the older man's brow furrowed, and he turned to his Padawan, almost losing his balance again except for Anakin's strong grip on his arm, with a concerned look on his face. "Are we on Kamino? Is the next batch of clones ready?"
With a shake of his head, Anakin began leading Obi-Wan down the muddy street, looking for a nice inn for them to find lodging for the night.
"Anakin?"
"Yes, Master?"
He glanced around furtively before leaning close to Anakin. "Please don't tell Master Yoda about this." As an afterthought, he added, "Or Qui-Gon."
Anakin sighed. "Yes, Master."