Old Habits Die Hard

Author's note: After what feels like half an eternity, I finally managed to write this tiny piece of rather plotless nonsense. By the time it was finished, I absolutely hated it, and I had to shove quite a bit of embarrassment and mortification aside so that I could bring myself to post it at all. Still, I don't think it will get any better if I wait longer in posting it, I might instead end up deleting it. It's probably not so bad, after all, I just don't want to see it any more)

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me; I make no profit from this, the usual stuff.

oOo

For the sixth time this morning, Anakin's hand crept from beneath a rather thick pile of covers to hit the SNOOZE button on his alarm chrono , once again stopping its nerve-grating beeps. It was still way too early to get up for Anakin's taste, so he decided to go back to bed for the seventh time. Before he could bury his head under the covers once more, though, the tantalizing smell of breakfast managed to achieve what the irritating noise of his chrono could not Anakin decided to actually get up.

He pushed the warm, cosy pile of covers away, and the slightly less than hot air that met him was nearly enough to send him back into bed. Wrapping one of the blankets he had slept in tightly around himself, Anakin just sat on the edge of his sleep couch for a few minutes and tried to figure out why he was still so tired. Anakin's eyes refused to stay open, and he felt completely exhausted. Two small hands rose to rub two eyes which didn't take in their surroundings but just stared off into the distance, not really seeing his surroundings but still lingering on the beautiful, angelic face of a young woman he had seen in his dreams. But as tired as Anakin still was, he was also hungry and his mother prepared the best breakfast in the whole galaxy.

oOo

Obi-Wan's hand shot out from the tangle of blanket, pillow and sleeping Jedi and silenced the alarm chrono after the first beep. After years as Qui-Gon's apprentice, Obi-Wan was used to getting up at un-Force-ly hours, but that didn't mean he liked doing it. Still, his duty as Qui-Gon's Padawan and his sense of self-preservation both required that he prepared the breakfast. Apparently, Jedi Masters who were culinary challenged were banned from subjecting their apprentices to meals they had prepared themselves by court order after one Padawan had gone to the Dark Side because of his Master's lack of cooking skills.

Despite the leaden weights that seemed to be attached to his limbs and his eyelids, Obi-Wan extracted himself from the warm embrace of his bed and sat down on the edge of his sleep couch. He felt like a whole mob of Master Yodas had whacked him with their walking sticks. His limbs felt heavy and his eyes refused to stay open.

The young Jedi vaguely remembered that the day before had been gruelling and he felt like he had stumbled to bed mere minutes before his alarm had woken him again. Why his Master insisted on getting up so early even after exhausting missions would probably forever remain a mystery to Obi-Wan. His still more than half asleep mind also was unable to recall why he felt so exhausted. Whatever had happened yesterday had been less then pleasant, if Obi-Wan believed in what his aching ribs told him. So for now, he let the dark and probably horrific memories of the previous days stay right there at the edge of his mind where they hovered like a black cloud, threatening rain but not letting it fall quite yet.

Obi-Wan longed for the comfort of his sleep couch, but duty called, and he would do what he must. Besides, no one would willingly even consider eating anything Qui-Gon had prepared. With the Jedi Master's focus constantly on the here and now, he regularly added too much salt because he refused to think of the past and thus forgot that he had already salted the food. Or he was so focused on watching the rich brown colour spread through his freshly brewed tea that he completely forgot about the pancake he left on the stove until Obi-Wan came running from the fresher, still dripping wet and covered in soap and a towel, to turn it off to save the Temple from an immature incineration. Unfortunately, he had been too late to save their breakfast, and their kitchen had smelt like the charred remains of someone who had suffered from too close proximity to an open stream of lava for days afterwards. That was the day Obi-Wan took over kitchen duty permanently after just his first week as a Padawan.

oOo

Anakin's eyelids continued dropping, so he just left them closed. He didn't really need them to find his clothes, anyway, because there was barely a spot on the floor of his small room that was not covered in clothes. So Anakin just grabbed whatever he could reach from within his bundle of blankets. He managed to find two different shirts (one of which felt softer than the other one, so he chose to wear that one), two pairs of pants (of which he also chose to wear the softer pair), no underpants but five different socks, none of which matched the sock Anakin had found stuffed in one of his trouser legs.

Dressed more or less neatly in an assortment of clothes off the floor of his room, Anakin stumbled from his room towards the kitchen. He nearly ran into a wall simply because he somehow couldn't manage to blink the sleep from his eyes and his surroundings were thus blurry and unclear. The sand-coloured walls of the small apartment he lived in with his mother looked a bit lighter than usual, and Anakin got the feeling that the door had shifted half a meter to the left.

Anakin shrugged and shook his head to dispel the tiredness and fuzziness with minimum effect. It only made the door shift another half meter, and Anakin imagined seeing a potted plant on his way to the kitchen when he was pretty sure that there was not a single potted plant to be found anywhere on Tatooine. Strangely enough, the offending greenery seemed to disappear when Anakin rubbed his eyes once again.

As he entered the kitchen, Anakin's bleary eyes immediately found the plates, bowls and cups filled with food, wonderful, glorious food. His focus solely on the delicious bowl of breakfast cereals, Anakin quickly approached the inviting table where his mother already sat. She was patiently awaiting her son to join her for breakfast. Instead of her gentle voice wishing him a "Good morning, Ani", his mother sounded more like a speaking eopie. What she said could have been "Good morning, Anakin" as well as "There's always a bigger fish", he had no way of telling. Maybe she felt as tired as her son? Or maybe Anakin's ears were as unwilling to wake up as his eyes were?

"Good morning, mum!" Anakin tried to answer, although he had to admit that he sounded little better. His voice was still hoarse from sleep, and to his vague displeasure, he mumbled rather than spoke properly.

Anakin was not quite sure what had transpired during the last few days, but he was pretty sure it had been momentous. If only his brain weren't so fuzzy, he was sure he could remember what it was that had been so important and that kept nagging at his consciousness. Whatever it was, it would have to wait until after he ate all the delicious things piled there on the table. The first bowl of breakfast cereals was empty before Anakin even properly noticed how it tasted. That was when he spotted the second bowl and decided that as a growing boy, he was entitled to all the breakfast cereals he could lay his hands on. So he snatched the other bowl and started shovelling its contents into his mouth, too.

oOo

Even though Obi-Wan's body had to get up, he decided that his mind could stay asleep. Obi-Wan needed neither his eyes, which he kept closed, nor the Force to find his clothes. No matter how tired he was when he went to bed, the various layers of his Jedi attire were stacked neatly folded on the chair next to his desk. So Obi-Wan's mind drifted back to the comforting nothingness of sleep while his body got dressed, navigated the kitchen and prepared breakfast entirely on autopilot.

As the enticing smells of freshly brewed tea and toasted bread spread through the small apartment, Qui-Gon's alarm chrono beeped for the sixth time. That alone was sufficient proof that their last mission whatever than had been must have been arduous indeed. Usually, Qui-Gon was disgustingly cheerful no matter the earliness of the hour, and he hardly ever used the snooze button. His Master had to be even more exhausted than Obi-Wan for such ample use of the otherwise scorned button. The annoying noise was stopped by a rather unrestrained whack of the alarm chrono, which was followed by the unmistakable sounds of someone getting up and dressing.

By the time his Master emerged from his room, Obi-Wan sat at the table which was set with an inviting and nutritious breakfast, his head leaning on one arm, his eyes closed again as he drifted between fully asleep and only half asleep.

Qui-Gon was greeted by Obi-Wan's customary "Good morning, Master", which sounded more like something halfway between a yawn and a grunt than actual words. As suave a negotiator he was turning out to be, the young Jedi was not exactly his usual smooth-tongued self before he hadn't had at least his first cup of tea.

Instead of the horribly cheerful "Good morning, Padawan" that greeted him in return, his Master answered with a similarly inarticulate mixture between grunt and yawn. Obi-Wan noted that his Master's voice was not its usual baritone rumbling, either. Maybe Qui-Gon was coming down with a cold and had a scratchy throat. That might also explain his lack of morning cheer. Blinking his eyes open at least a tiny slit, Obi-Wan started eating his breakfast. For someone who probably had a cold, Qui-Gon sure did eat a lot. After practically licking his own bowl of breakfast cereal clean, he nearly inhaled the contents of Obi-Wan's bowl, too.

oOo

After Anakin had finished the second bowl, he was about to ask his mother for a third helping. Anakin blinked a few times to determine if his mother had really grown so much during just one night. And her hair was somehow much shorter than it used to be. And although she looked still dishevelled and not quite awake herself, she also looked nothing like Shmi. In fact, she didn't even look like a woman.

Across from Anakin sat a young man with short, reddish hair that stuck out in just about every possible and also a few impossible directions, a face that looked pale and drawn but otherwise rather pleasant, and blue-grey eyes that were both blinking with fatigue and wide with surprise. His gaze shifted between Anakin and the second, nearly empty bowl of breakfast cereal for a few seconds, seemingly uncomprehending, before they finally decided to settle on Anakin's face, and the comprehension that had been lacking seconds ago suddenly seemed to return to them with a vengeance.

oOo

Obi-Wan noticed that his Master was eating rather more noisily than was usual, too. As Obi-Wan drank the last drops of his tea, his eyes finally decided that it was time for them to get up, too, and he got a first look at his Master or who he had presumed to be his Master. For a few seconds, Obi-Wan stared alternately at his bowl of breakfast cereals which had been efficiently emptied by someone else but him, and the small sandy-haired boy who sat in his Master's favourite chair. The child looked just as tired and just as thunderstruck as Obi-Wan felt. He was yawning widely, a spoon with the last bit of milk and a few crumbs frozen halfway to his mouth, and his wide blue eyes stared at Obi-Wan in shocked astonishment.

Suddenly, all the exhaustion and tiredness dissolved. Obi-Wan's mind and Force connection snapped awake, and the memory of what had happened during the last few days came rushing back.

oOo

For a few seconds, the tableau of a Jedi and his recently acquired apprentice staring at each other with wide eyes remained frozen by the coldness of shocked remembrance and recognition, but soon the spreading heat of embarrassment tinged their formerly pale faces a rosy red. Eyes were lowered, gazes were as unwilling to meet as friends who suddenly found themselves on different sides of the Force, blood rose to paint pallid cheeks an unbidden crimson. Suddenly, the atmosphere at the breakfast table had gone from comfortable familiarity to a state beyond awkwardness.

For almost two minutes, the only sounds that could be heard were the clatter of cups being picked up just to be put down again someplace else, the aimless stirring of a spoon inside a mostly empty bowl of cereals and the thundering noise the silence seemed to create in the ears of the two now wide-awake inhabitants of the apartment.

Just at the moment when Anakin thought he would sprain a muscle if the tension increased any more, Obi-Wan seemed to find the courage to speak, though his voice was still a bit lost because he had to clear his throat a few times before anything resembling coherent words could be convinced to come forth.

"Erm… so, uhm, Anakin, how, ahm, how was your, er, your first night at the Temple?"

Although Obi-Wan was sure that this particular sentence of his would never be used as a textbook example for eloquence, he was disproportionally relieved to having managed even this much. Frankly, he was completely unprepared to face even the abstract concept of having his own Padawan, so the very concrete idea of early morning conversation with his very real Padawan when he had expected to still be the apprentice himself was asking too much of his overwhelmed brain.

"It was… all right, I guess," Anakin offered somewhat weakly in response.

He was faring little better than Obi-Wan. He found himself in the care of a young man he barely knew when he had expected to wake up to the loving and familiar presence of his mother, and not even the fabulous breakfast and the second helping of cereals could make up for her absence.

"Oh, erm, that's… good," was Obi-Wan's rather unimaginative answer.

Although both Obi-Wan and Anakin were determined to create an atmosphere that they could at least pretend was even in the slightest bit comfortable, the long silences which dominated their conversation seemed to steadily gain in both length and awkwardness. By the time both had finished their breakfast, the only reason the conversation had not completely died yet was because Obi-Wan had performed cardiopulmonary resuscitation on it and Anakin had fixed it up with a heart-lung-machine; but despite their best efforts, it was more dead than alive when Anakin finished the third bowl of breakfast cereals he had managed to acquire.

Obi-Wan stared into his empty tea cup, trying to think of all the things he needed to do. He would have to enrol Anakin in all kinds of classes, but first Anakin's knowledge of various subjects needed to be evaluated in order to determine from which classes he would profit most. As far as Obi-Wan could tell, his new charge would probably be bored to tears by a beginner's class in mechanics while he would probably not understand a single word in anything other than the beginner's class in diplomacy or politics. Anakin needed a few sets of proper Jedi tunics, a pair of boots, a cloak, a training saber and admission to the archives and the cafeteria. Obi-Wan wondered if there was a map of the Jedi Temple he could give Anakin, so that the boy wouldn't get lost in the huge structure, and definitely a comm link, in case he got lost regardless, so that Obi-Wan could come and pick him up. Anakin needed to be shown around the Temple, anyway, so that he could find at least the most basic things like his classrooms, the cafeteria and the way back to their quarters.

Obi-Wan would have to do all the paperwork to confirm Anakin's status as a Jedi Padawan in general and his Padawan in particular. The healers probably wanted to see the boy to check if everything was alright and to give him the mandatory inoculations. Anakin's room needed to be set up. And then there were all the external things he would have to take care of: get Anakin a passport, apply for legal guardianship of the boy, get all the necessary documents like certificate of birth, his mother's consent of what would probably essentially be an adoption, register Anakin as both a citizen of the Republic and an inhabitant of Coruscant and probably a thousand other things he was forgetting that would include heaps upon heaps of paperwork. Never mind all the organisational stuff he would have to do for his own transition from Padawanship to Knighthood.

While Obi-Wan pondered the enormity of the bureaucratic tasks before him, Anakin stared at his new Master and waited for something awesome to happen. A Jedi's task was to rescue people and fix things, after all. Anakin was sure that Obi-Wan would spring into action any minute now to do some amazing and heroic deed. As nothing continued to happen and the young Knight just sat there, staring into his empty cup, which seemed to be very fascinating, judged by the time that scrutiny was taking, Anakin quickly grew bored, so he decided to do his first good deed as a Jedi and wash the dishes.

He carefully balanced the little tower he had built out of his plate, bowl and cup over to the sink. Then he went back to the table to get the rest.

"Could you please pass me your cup?" he asked Obi-Wan, who still seemed lost in thought.

"Yes, Mast- erm, Anakin." Obi-Wan had to bite off his automatic answer as his mind returned to Qui-Gon's favourite place and time: the here and now. He hoped that Anakin had not noticed the slip-up. With a renewed blush heating his face, Obi-Wan took over the dish-washing duty, because Anakin was still too short to be able to reach into the sink properly.

"How about you go and wash yourself while I take care of these dishes," Obi-Wan suggested. "And don't forget to brush your teeth!" He shouted after Anakin, who was quickly disappearing inside the fresher.

"Yes, mom… ster!" Anakin quickly amended his own exasperated reflexive answer as he shut the door to the fresher behind him.

In the kitchen, Obi-Wan was not quite sure if Anakin had just called him "mom", or if the boy's rather broad Outer Rim accent was to blame.

During their first days at the Temple, both Obi-Wan and Anakin had to learn that old habits can be deeply ingrained, and they do die hard. Unfortunately, they are much more difficult to kill than certain Jedi Masters, except, of course, if the Jedi Master in question is tiny, green and wrinkly.

oOo

Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this little piece of useless lack-of-sleep-induced confusion, and the many changes in the point of view did not confuse you too much. I wanted to write this in order to show how similar and yet fundamentally different some characters can be, and of course to make that bad joke right there at the end about habits dying harder than Jedi Masters :P

I am grateful for all the feedback I can get)