Disclaimer: I do not, and could not ever, own Star Wars or anything related to it. I make no money from this, or any one of, my fanfiction stories.
A/N: Originally completed around August 2008, this story was my first foray into the wondrous world of Star Wars fanfiction. How'd I do?
Reviews, constructive criticism, and general appraisal are h-u-g-e-l-y appreciated!
A New Path
Leaping higher and ever higher, the flames of the funeral pyre burned brightly in the darkness. It seemed to Obi-Wan as if his emotions were as fragmented as the burning ash rising on the hot updraft, or as agitated as the gray smoke bubbling into the sky. Long had he yearned to be a full-fledged Jedi Knight, yet now that the honor had finally been conferred on him by the Council, he found that the pleasure he'd expected to experience was conspicuously missing. For how could he feel any delight when his Master was not there to share in it? How could he be filled with triumph when he was consumed with his longing to feel Qui-Gon's hand on his shoulder, and his voice softly murmuring, "Well done, my Padawan"?
Not one iota of emotion showed on his face. He supposed he looked a little pale, and rather haggard, after the ordeal of the death—and now, funeral—of his respected, beloved teacher. But he was a Jedi Knight now, and, as was expected of him, he kept his sorrow carefully in check. Although he felt the grief of others swirl around him, and heard their sobs of lament for the man who had been loved by many, he didn't allow himself to take part in it. At least outwardly.
The sound of crying near him drew his gaze to his right. He wasn't surprised to see that it was the Chosen One who was weeping. His first instinct was to comfort him, yet he held back.
During the last few days, Obi-Wan had often been glad that the boy could not yet read emotion through the Force. If he had possessed the ability, then he would have seen Obi-Wan's feelings of clinging resentment, coupled with an odd desire to maintain his distance from the boy who had such power that Obi-Wan was unnerved by it . . .the boy who had been privileged to spend even more time than Obi-Wan himself had with Master Qui-Gon Jinn before his untimely death . . .the boy who had been Master and Padawan's last topic of conversation when there were so many more important things to say.
Obi-Wan had been freed of any rancor he felt for Anakin, for the negative feelings seemed unimportant and foolish in the wake of his Master's death. He no longer felt much of anything toward the boy. His relationship to Anakin stopped dead at the word "acquaintance." There was as yet no affection between them.
Obi-Wan was daunted by the task that stood before him. According to his promise to his Master, he now had to forge a relationship with a boy whom he'd just met and, until recently, had felt nothing but bitterness toward. Anakin deserved a better Master than the one he was getting, Obi-Wan knew. Qui-Gon Jinn would have trained the boy with more experience, more patience, more love than Obi-Wan felt he ever could. How could he, who yesterday had been only an apprentice himself, do justice to the rigors of training he now was obliged to put his new apprentice through? How could Obi-Wan Kenobi measure up, even in his wildest dreams, to Master Qui-Gon Jinn, so full of benevolence and quiet strength?
Obi-Wan sighed deeply and lifted his gaze from the flames to the stars. He opened his consciousness to the Living Force. Its immensity, its beauty, filled him. He listened to the whispers that told him of lives lived, and lives living, and lives yet to live. The song of the Living Force was all around him, inside him—and he caught his breath when he sensed his Master's presence. He drank in the emotions that passed between them. His own cloud of sorrow stretched away toward Qui-Gon. Like a ray of bright sunlight, he sensed his Master's love of him, pride for him, confidence in him. There were no words—or what could pass for words in direct communication through the Force. Words were irrelevant. Obi-Wan basked in the glow of Master Qui-Gon Jinn's gentle affection. Although the ache of his sorrow was still within him, the cutting sting of loss was washed away from Obi-Wan's heart as he remained linked to his Master's consciousness for a moment outside of time.
"Master Obi-Wan?"
As the voice broke into his reverie, Obi-Wan blinked and withdrew himself to the funeral once more. There was nothing left of the fire but embers and ash. He and Anakin were alone in the near-darkness.
"Everyone else left," Anakin continued, staring up at him as though wondering what they should do next. "We're the only ones here." The boy's face was wan, and there were tear tracks on his cheeks. Obi-Wan pursed his lips as a twinge of guilt prickled through him. A Padawan weeping while his Master ignored him—this was no way to start out his Knighthood. He cast one last, longing glance at the ashes of his Master . . .the ashes of his past. He had a new path to traverse now. And it was his alone—not to walk as he believed Qui-Gon would, but to follow his own course. Setting his jaw with determination, he vowed to make his Master proud.
He reached out to grasp Anakin's shoulder for a moment, his touch firm and strong.
"Come, Padawan," he said calmly. There was an authority in his voice that neither he nor the boy had ever heard before. "We have much to do tomorrow." He walked from the place of sadness in a swishing of robes, leading his apprentice away. And, faint as a whisper of wind, came a message that only Master Obi-Wan Kenobi could hear.
Well done, my Padawan.
***The End***
A/N: I wrote this before I watched AoTC and RoTS. So I didn't know that Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to communicate with Qui-Gon until much later, when Yoda taught him how. Still, I like how this story ended up.