More Straightforward Tactics
"I prefer more straightforward tactics."
"Master of understatement."
―Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi, Labyrinth of Evil
It certainly wasn't the first time Anakin had disobeyed his orders, on the battlefield or elsewhere. You'd think, Obi-Wan reflected with a kind of weary sarcasm, he'd be quite used to it by now. But, of course, Anakin did follow his directions roughly three quarters of the time, so he supposed he simply lived in hope.
He knew as soon as he'd given this particular order that Anakin would disobey it, especially considering the civilian risk, knew it with a sort of resignation that settled deep and heavy in his stomach and prickled the back of his neck as he watched his Padawan run out among the battle droids, heading for the control ships, and knew there was no way he'd be able to stop him, that even a Force jump wouldn't carry him that far and even if it could he couldn't leave his own post in the midst of battle. He would have to rely on Anakin to see it through . . . and to remain alive through the worst of the crossfire despite his foolish recklessness. Nausea shifted uneasily in Obi-Wan's gut and he forced it grimly back.
He could feel Anakin's presence through the Force, suddenly strong, close, almost see his apologetic grin. I'll be all right, Master.
You'd better be, Obi-Wan responded. I expect to have a chance to fully lecture you on the importance of listening to your Master when this is over, my very young Padawan.
Yes, yes, of course, Master, came Anakin's response, then a flare of alarm through the force. Oh, kark—
Obi-Wan's hands tightened on the console in front of him so forcefully he could feel the edges cutting into his palms. What is it?
sorry, Master, little busy—
It was all he got from Anakin before his sense in the Force spun out distractedly again, though he could still feel him there, a vibrant beacon in his mind despite the chaos of battle. Obi-Wan knew he was there. It would have to be enough. He had his own duties to focus on.
He counseled himself to release the concern for the danger Anakin had put himself in, the frustration he felt with Anakin's disobedience, to the Force. He could not act until he was calm, at peace within it. He blew out his breath and returned his attention to the clones around him. They could not allow the battle to endanger the civilians in the towns and villages below, which would be much better accomplished by the use of strategy than reckless heroics.
He hadn't been as calm as he should have been, Obi-Wan knew that, had known it. His focus was split, his command of the Force not as effortless as it might have been. As a master's would have been, he reprimanded himself bitterly. How was he to be a fitting master to Anakin if he could not master himself even now?
But that was nothing compared to his distraction when he felt Anakin falter, the suddenly vivid, intensely present knowledge of it in his mind. Pain, the sudden burn of it slamming into him with all the force of his Padawan's presence in the Force, before it was wrenched away, tamped down with the determination of Anakin's will. Echuta! Anakin's mental presence was suddenly loud, demanding, wrenching Obi-Wan's attention irresistibly toward it.
Padawan? Anakin! He took a deep breath, tried to stay calm. Language—
Sorry, Master— Anakin's sense felt distracted. Trying to reach out to his presence gave Obi-Wan a swirling sense of vertigo. Anakin's thoughts were half in Basic, half Huttese, jumbled and urgent, far away. Azalus, he thought. It was Huttese, but Obi-Wan couldn't think what it meant.
Be careful, Anakin, he urged.
Yes, Master, Anakin responded, the sort of acquiescence that didn't mean anything at all from him. There was still pain bleeding through his sense in the Force. Obi-Wan told himself that it was nothing serious. Told himself he had to focus.
There was a series of massive explosions from the far side of the battlefield. And shortly after that, the battle was over, the Separatists defeated—in this one battlefield, on this one planet, at least. They'd won, for the time being, and with few to none civilian casualty. Luck, some might have said. Obi-Wan called it the will of the Force—not to mention a great deal of hard work that came at a high cost to the Republic.
Obi-Wan found it difficult to concentrate on the victory with his thoughts on his stubbornly disobedient Padawan and what might have happened to him as a result of that disobedience. He had no doubt that the explosions that had nearly destroyed the Separatist forces had something to do with Anakin, but his sense in the Force was distorted, dulled, confused. Obi-Wan made his excuses to the team of clones he'd been working with to coordinate the battle and started off toward the other side of the battlefield, after Anakin.
They should have been together. That was the plan. That was always the plan. They were—supposed to be—a team. He'd thought Anakin had learned better, especially after Dooku. But he would get these notions in his head, and then there was nothing to dissuade him, especially in the chaos of war, when Anakin knew he could help, could save someone, could save many people, could do it now. Willful, Obi-Wan thought. Impatient. Stubborn. Arrogant. He sighed. But then, that was Anakin. What was he to do with him?
Assuming Anakin didn't do anything dire to himself. The memory of the loss of his arm against Count Dooku was still far too near. Obi-Wan quickened his steps, focusing his mind on his sense of Anakin through the Force, trying not to allow his concern to wriggle out from under his control and bleed into the space between them. Anakin's presence was still too disjointed, numbed and incoherent. He was unconscious, Obi-Wan thought. Padawan, he sent urgently out into the Force. Padawan! Anakin! There was no response. Obi-Wan broke into a run.
He found Anakin unconscious, as he had begun to expect, crumpled against a low embankment near the Separatist line, one arm flung upward over his head as if to shield himself at the last moment. But then, there was very little shrapnel around him, so perhaps he'd used the Force to protect himself as well. Obi-Wan knelt beside him, surveying Anakin and the area together. Anakin was limp, insensible, but his chest was rising and falling evenly. His lightsaber was lying about a meter away. Obi-Wan bent down and picked it up, clipping it to his belt beside his own lightsaber. There were deep grooves cut into the ground, and the exploded ruin of one of the Separatist's super tanks off to Anakin's side, pieces of it all around him. It seemed as if Anakin had destroyed the control ships, or had been in the middle of doing so, when he'd run into the tank—the control ships certainly had been destroyed, either way. Obi-Wan felt a moment of pride that he couldn't manage to dissipate. His Padawan—of any Padawan in the order, only Anakin could have managed such a feat, he was sure, reckless, foolish as it had been.
Obi-Wan turned to Anakin, reaching up to feel his shoulder for injuries around to his back before shifting his arm downward from where it had been flung over his head. Anakin's face was pale, slack, covered in dirt and blood, and when Obi-Wan put one hand on his cheek and reached out to him with the Force, he was unresponsive. "Come on now, Padawan," he said, reinforcing the words with the Force, reaching out to him. "You can't get out of a scolding from me that easily." He could hear the emotion in his tone. Unbefitting a Master, he thought. It was difficult to truly care. Knowing Anakin, perhaps that very emotionality would reach him when other appeals failed.
But there was still no response from his unconscious Padawan. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and blew it out, trying to stay calm even as he quickly ran a hand over Anakin, searching for injuries. He was bleeding from a gash along his hairline, and his head was badly bruised, but the gash didn't seem deep, though it had left his Padawan braid gummed and sticky with blood. Obi-Wan straightened it automatically, pulling it gently away from his face. More serious than the head injury appeared to be were a series of blaster burns along Anakin's side and back that had left his tunics in scorched, tattered rags, and several deep wounds from shrapnel he apparently hadn't been able to deflect. It seemed his mechanical arm had taken the worst of it—it was a sparking, twisted wreck—but that at least was better than the same damage elsewhere. His ribs shifted under Obi-Wan's careful hand, and there seemed to be a break in his lower leg as well. There didn't appear to be any internal bleeding, but it was impossible to be certain. Anakin's breathing was even, but raspy. At least there was no spinal injury Obi-Wan could detect. It should be safe enough to move him. He didn't want to wait to call for a medic.
"Oh, Anakin," he sighed, "what did I tell you?" He took a deep breath and tried to calm his raging emotions as his concern twisted, roiling within him. Anakin would be all right. He had to be. And even if he weren't, Obi-Wan would have to . . . to release his feelings on the matter to the Force. To let go. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. No—no, it wouldn't. Of course it wouldn't. Anakin would be all right, and he would certainly get quite the lecture from Obi-Wan later on over this. Obi-Wan pulled his Padawan upward, into his arms, reaching out to the Force to help him steady Anakin's long, lanky form in his grip and balance himself as he got to his feet. He needed to get him back to the Republic line and medical treatment. "Really, Anakin," he said as he started back. "What did you expect? There's a reason I give you these orders, you know. I don't do it for my health."
There was no response. Obi-Wan sighed. What had he expected, after all?
Anakin woke up to a pounding headache and the sound of someone arguing with someone else, but one of the voices was in the quiet, controlled tones he associated with his master, which was confusing. But interesting. At least, it would have been if his head had hurt less. The throbbing pain made it difficult to focus on anything else.
Anakin forced his eyes open anyway. Obviously, if Obi-Wan was arguing with someone, it was past time for him to be awake. He wasn't sure if that conclusion made sense, really, just that he knew it in his very being. He tried to push himself up on one elbow and immediately regretted it—he ended up flat on his back with the world spinning around him, staring up at the ceiling as it spun and danced before his eyes, his breath heaving in his throat.
"Okay," he muttered. "Ow." Maybe that hadn't been such a great idea.
He was still curious about what Obi-Wan was arguing about, though. Being more careful this time, he tilted his head to the side. Nothing met his eyes but the sterile, prefabricated surroundings of a frontline medical station. Anakin frowned—which made his head twinge, what the kriff had happened to him?—and closed his eyes to reach out to Obi-Wan in the Force.
He found him almost immediately, standing outside the shelter with one of the clones and Master Fisto, even though concentrating on the Force made Anakin's head ache and his stomach twist with uneasy nausea despite its constant presence around him, in the back of his mind. Ugh. He'd hit his head pretty hard, he guessed. Concentrating on anything too hard was making him dizzy. Master? he sent.
There was a moment of startled recognition from Obi-Wan. Anakin!
He came into the room with a hiss of the door a moment later. "Are you feeling all right, Anakin?" he asked.
"Um, yeah," Anakin said. "Fine, great. Wizard."
Obi-Wan just looked at him, as he pulled a medical crate to the side of the form-cot Anakin belatedly realized he was resting on and took a seat on it. "A Jedi tells the truth, my young Padawan," he said.
"I'm only following the example of my master," Anakin replied in his most innocent tone.
Obi-Wan frowned at him. "Amusing, Anakin," he said, in a tone that implied the exact opposite. "Extremely amusing." He laid one hand on Anakin's forehead. It was cool, worn and familiar. "Well," he said briskly, "your temperature is down, that's something. You were running a high fever earlier."
"Sounds like I missed all the fun," Anakin said with a sigh as he tried to lever himself upward again and failed rather miserably. Kark it. This was pathetic.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Obi-Wan said in a mild tone. "Not only did you singlehandedly destroy most of the Separatist troops, you did it against my express order. I have a few words for you on that subject, in fact."
"Yes, Master," Anakin said. He knew what was coming, all right. His memories of what had happened were coming back. He remembered the threat to the village, his frantic knowledge that he could do it, he could save them, if he just did it, if he just went now—but he'd been supposed to stay back, and he knew it. He'd known what their strategy was supposed to be. But it would have taken a long time—too long. People would have died.
It was just like Obi-Wan to be annoyed with him over it.
"Is everyone all right?" he asked. "In the town?"
Obi-Wan frowned at him. "Nearly everyone, yes," he said. "There were only a few serious injuries and, it appears, no deaths."
Anakin could feel the muscles relax in the back of his neck, relief spread through him. "Good," he mumbled. "I'm glad."
"You were, in fact, one of our more serious casualties," Obi-Wan said.
Anakin shrugged and immediately regretted it. "That's how it's supposed to be, isn't it?" he asked.
Obi-Wan sighed. "Anakin," he said. "I recognize—and share—your motivations, but as your master I expect my directions to be respected and followed."
"I do respect you," Anakin said in a low voice. He looked away. He knew how unconvincing that had sounded. But he meant it, really, he did. He respected Obi-Wan more than any other master in the order. Almost more than anyone he'd ever met. But sometimes . . . well, sometimes . . . . Anakin sighed.
"Really," Obi-Wan said. "Do you, Anakin? Because I must admit that your behavior leads me to doubt it."
Anakin shifted uncomfortably. His head hurt. A lot of him hurt, really. He ached all over. "Of course I respect you, Master," he said. Why did Obi-Wan have to make him say it again? Hadn't he believed him the first time?
"One would think that if you did, you would trust my judgment," Obi-Wan said. His voice was still mild. Deceptively mild, Anakin thought. But then, that was Obi-Wan's specialty, wasn't it?
"I do, Master," Anakin said. He knew he sounded defensive. "I just . . ."
"Yes?" Obi-Wan said. He didn't even raise his eyebrows, just looked at him. And waited.
Anakin bit the inside of his lip. "People were in danger," he said. He sounded more sullen than he'd meant to.
"I was aware of that, Padawan," Obi-Wan said. His voice was still as even as ever, but his presence in the Force suddenly felt almost ominous.
"I know, Master," Anakin said. He felt inarticulate, frustrated. He'd done the right thing. He knew he had. But he couldn't seem to find the words to explain it, to explain himself, to make Obi-Wan understand why he'd done it, when he knew, he'd known he'd had to do it. But Obi-Wan looked at him like that, expectant, disapproving, and all he could come up with was sullen excuses, evasions like he'd have given Watto when he'd intended to keep right on doing whatever he wanted to. He sighed, angry with himself, impatient, and closed his eyes for a moment, tipping his head back against the flat form-pillow. "I just . . . knew I could do it, that's all."
"I see," Obi-Wan said.
Anakin's head throbbed. "See what?" he asked.
"That you assumed you knew better than I did," Obi-Wan said. "I am your master, Anakin. Does that mean nothing to you?"
"Of course it means something—"
"It should mean everything," Obi-Wan snapped. "A Jedi acts when he is calm, at peace with the Force, Anakin. Were you at all calm? Or were you acting on your emotions alone?"
"I knew I could handle it!" Anakin burst out. He tried to push himself up again and again fell back, lightheaded and gasping, nausea swirling before his eyes.
"You were in serious condition, Anakin," Obi-Wan said tightly, intensely. "You still are. What you did was reckless. You could easily have been killed."
"And I'd do it again to save those people!" Anakin spat. He felt hot, angry. His head throbbed, spun dizzily.
There was a moment of silence. Anakin used it to catch his breath, to try and steady himself. After a moment, he looked over at Obi-Wan. He was looking down at his hands, clasped in front of his knees. After a moment, he looked over at Anakin, and his eyes caught his gaze, the look in them holding Anakin still. "We're supposed to be a team, Anakin," Obi-Wan said in a low voice. "I need to be able to trust you. And I need to—know that you trust me."
Anakin could feel his eyes slide away again. "Of course I trust you, Master," he whispered. "I trust you more than anyone else I know." He thought of Padmé, of Palpatine. Had he just told Obi-Wan the truth? He swallowed. What kind of Jedi apprentice was he, not to trust his own Master more than anyone?
There was a moment of silence, and then Obi-Wan sighed. "Then show some trust in my decisions next time," he said. "All right, Padawan?"
"Yes, Master," Anakin whispered. "But—"
"But?" Obi-Wan said.
Anakin took a deep breath, but he couldn't think of what to say, couldn't seem to think how to express everything he wanted to tell Obi-Wan. Saying but I still think I did the right thing would only get him another lecture. Telling Obi-Wan that he was never sure whom he should listen to and when would worry him, make him think Anakin didn't trust him, and that wasn't true. He did trust Obi-Wan. He did. He just . . . . "Nah," he said. "Never mind. I think I'm just tired."
"I'm not surprised," Obi-Wan said drily. "Next time, I suggest moving out of the way of the blaster shots, if at all possible."
Anakin managed a weak smile. "I tried, Master," he said. "They were faster than I was."
"I expect you not to be there next time, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "There is no try."
"Yes, Master," Anakin said, with a slight smile.
"There is only do, or do not," Obi-Wan said.
"Yes, Master," Anakin replied.
"Why do I get the feeling you're not listening to me?" Obi-Wan asked, but his eyes were glinting with laughter, and his presence in the Force was amused.
"Probably because I've heard this lesson before, Master?" Anakin said, smiling back at him.
"A Jedi must have patience, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "No matter how many times he has heard something, he gives it his utmost attention."
"I hear and obey, Master," Anakin said, biting back a yawn, or a groan, he wasn't sure which, as he shifted.
"I'm sure you do," Obi-Wan said wryly.
"I am listening," Anakin said.
"I'm certain of it," Obi-Wan replied.
Anakin made a face at him, then took a deep breath. "So the Separatists have retreated?" he asked.
"What was left of them," Obi-Wan said. "And for now."
"We should follow them," Anakin said. "Push them back. We've almost pushed them out of this sector, and if we keep up the pressure—"
"The orders of the Jedi Council are to hold our position," Obi-Wan said calmly.
"What?" Anakin demanded, pushing himself up one elbow again and this time ignoring the pain it shot through him. "But that's crazy. We can't let them get away—they'll regroup and—it'll only prolong the war!" He looked at Obi-Wan. "Master," he said, "you know it will—we have to keep after them; we can't give them a chance to build up their forces again."
"It is an order from the Jedi Council, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "As such, we will follow it."
"But, Master—" Anakin protested. "You have to agree with me—you know I'm right."
"I will follow the directions of those who are wiser than I am," Obi-Wan said. "As should you. My very young apprentice."
Anakin fell back in the pillows, muttering something extremely rude in Huttese under his breath.
"Language, Anakin," Obi-Wan said in a stern tone.
"How did you know what I said?" Anakin demanded. His head was spinning again. Obi-Wan's Huttese was terrible.
"I inferred it from your tone of voice," Obi-Wan said, in a tone that said, I am not an idiot, Padawan.
Anakin muttered something else, which Obi-Wan largely ignored aside from raising his eyebrows at him.
"You should get some rest, Anakin," he said. "You were badly hurt."
"Yeah, kark that," Anakin said.
"Language, Anakin," Obi-Wan repeated.
"Yeah, yeah, fine," Anakin said and sighed as he tipped his head back against the pillow. The ceiling was as blank and gray as it had been before.
"Get some rest," Obi-Wan said again.
"Yes, Master," Anakin muttered.
"I'll return later," Obi-Wan said.
"Wait," Anakin said, and turned his head again to look for Obi-Wan, who had stood up. "Where are you going?"
"There are things I need to discuss with Master Fisto," Obi-Wan said, and Anakin belatedly recalled that they had sounded like they were arguing earlier.
"What were you arguing about?" he asked before he could reconsider.
Obi-Wan looked away. "We were not arguing, Anakin," he said. "We were simply having a . . . discussion."
He'd looked away. That was answer enough. "You were arguing about me," Anakin said. He bit his lip and looked away. "So," he said, trying to sound unconcerned. "How much trouble am I in, anyway?"
"You're not in trouble with anyone except for me," Obi-Wan said. "I am your Master, Anakin."
"I thought Jedi didn't lie," Anakin said softly. He looked down at the thermal blanket covering him and not over at Obi-Wan.
"I am not lying," Obi-Wan said. His voice sounded heavy.
"Oh, yeah?" Anakin demanded. He looked over at the far wall.
There was a moment of silence.
"I'm sorry," Anakin said after a moment. He wasn't even totally sure what he was apologizing for. For being himself, the kind of Jedi Padawan who got himself in trouble every other second and never did what Obi-Wan told him to do. For not being the Chosen One they all expected him to be. For being a slave from Tatooine. For being Anakin Skywalker at all.
"Don't be," Obi-Wan said. His voice was quiet, weary. "Don't be, Anakin." He started for the door. Anakin could hear the hiss as it closed behind him.
He closed his eyes, blew his breath out.
His head hurt.
He turned gingerly onto his side and tried to sleep.
End.