A/N: upon reading ardavenport's Xanatos: Detached, and realising there's more to Obi-Wan that we would like to read and no one seems to be willing to write, I & Sis decided to strike back post our opinions on Anakin's raising... so basically, it's an answer to the abovementioned fic.

This is an AU story where Qui-Gon never took Obi-Wan as his apprentice and was killed by Darth Maul, leaving behind him a nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker. It begins shortly after TPM.

He stared at a withered leaf.

Its crinkly roughness testified to days of neglect. He probably passed it twice a day on his way along the Muja Row, and never noticed. The others would probably say nothing about it, but he knew a Force-sensitive should have heard this cry for help and rescue the budding beauty.

He sighed, for there was nothing he could do but follow the protocol. Pinch it away at the base, add the F (NR) Solution as prescribed, check for parasites, remove to Quarantine if necessary. No. It was a simple case of drying, not infestation. He was free to go, but he placed two fingers on the peculiar pattern where the unfortunate thing had been attached.

The scar would heal in a matter of hours. Muja is a hardy fruit.

'Grow well, young one,' he whispered, hand falling back into his coat's pocket.

He quickly strolled towards the exit. Another youngling unfit for Padawanship was expected that day, and he had agreed to pick the boy up at the Station. Besides, if anyone saw him consoling a vegetable, they would tease him for having a favourite, and he didn't, really, he liked all "potsies" and what if he usually paused near some shelves for a minute or two? His old legs needed rest.

Nodding to himself for thinking up such a valid reason, twenty-five-year-old Senior Planter Kenobi rushed out of the humid hothouse.

He missed the collective rustle of disappointment, the turning of stems towards sprinklers, and the greening of the swelling node where a new leaf will soon unfold.

There was only one teenager waiting on the platform, and yet for a moment Obi-Wan looked around to see this Skywalker boy he was supposed to be meeting. The little mite was simply too little to be thirteen, and Obi-Wan was fairly sure that was the minimal age to be sent to AgriCorps. However, the child could belong to some humanoid race he hadn't yet encountered, so he stepped forward.

'Anakin Skywalker?'

'Yes...'

Obi-Wan's smile grew more sincere as he recognised the sulking tone. It was the surest sign of a newly discarded Initiate, though usually the answer was more elaborate. Perhaps he didn't know how to address an adult non-Jedi who had been raised in the Temple.

'You don't need to call me Master, Anakin, "Planter Kenobi" would suffice.'

Skywalker nodded dejectedly, looking at his brand-new boots.

'Come, our speeder is that way.'

That got a reaction.

'Speeder?'

Obi-Wan shrugged evenly. Having been warned about younglings jumping inside and driving off, he chose an ancient car specifically programmed to return to the Storehouse, though he would prefer a quiet ride to being stuck until another transport was sent.

'Cool!'

And Skywalker tore away.

Shaking his head, Senior Planter Kenobi picked up the child's satchel. He could have sworn, if only Jedi swore, that he'd heard someone saying, "I have a bad feeling about it."

He himself used the expression in his younger years, but in AgriCorps old habits died quick and painful deaths. All recently rejected Initiates were appointed tasks "just light enough to not break our backs", as his workmate Drasa Chen-Ko, a striking Corellian girl, pointed out every time they were visited by the Head Manager.

Speaking of the Manager, Chen-Ko would serve him his own ears if he were late for the inspection. She was striking in more than one way.

Obi-Wan shook himself from daydreaming. He hadn't been trained to be a Knight, but in his heart of hearts he knew he was as true a Jedi as they came. And Jedi pay attention to their surroundings. He fancied being thirteen again and having Master Jinn take him as a Padawan, tutoring him in all those enigmatic teachings of the Force. Right now, Master Jinn would probably frown and instruct him to "Padawan, it is bad manners to keep people waiting."

'What?'

He realised he again succumbed to unbecoming woolgathering, and coughed to cover his embarrassment.

Skywalker was sitting in the driver's seat with practised nonchalance, squinting at him warily. The nerve!

'Uh, it's on autopilot.'

'No it's not.'

The boy had the most irritating way of answering what one didn't really say. Obi-Wan only hoped he wasn't designated to show him around; he liked children - those who lived at the Farm, - but he also liked to be properly treated. There was nothing bad in wishing to be respected for working as hard as he did.

At that moment, though, he could only stare helplessly at the daredevil smirk on the young freckled face.

'Well it was.'

Skywalker shrugged.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment. He would give the boy one single moment of unsupervised plotting, to start the engine and shoot away, so that he would be caught by officials and get out of Obi-Wan's unused-to-pulling hair -

'Do you know how to get back?'

His eyes snapped open on their own accord.

'Of course I do!'

Skywalker bit his lower lip - a strange mannerism for an Inintiate - and hesitantly moved to the passenger's seat.

Obi-Wan settled in, activated the system, and ordered in a clipped voice:

'Home.'

With a shudder, the old piece of junk lurched ahead, and Senior Planter Kenobi cast one triumphant glance at his charge before the speeder stopped dead. Skywalker giggled.

'I said HOME!'

Again, the car started. Again, it stopped several paces away.

'I don't understand,' Obi-Wan mumbled.

'You've got to say it every ten seconds. The reiteration block is older than Master Yoda's home planet.'

'Oh.'

Come to think of it, he didn't know the manufacturer.

'I can set it right.'

They argued. It was undignified, and probably unwise, but the boy was headstrong and refused to listen to reason. In the end, Kenobi had no doubts about the reason of his failure to be chosen as a learner.

However, when they arrived to the Storehouse, both hoarse from chanting the blasted word the whole time, it appeared to him that he might have just done a fool of himself.

It was not something he would lose his sleep for; after all, he was trained to release his emotions into the Force, and being a fool in front of his juniors was a valuable experience. Obi-Wan remembered his own pouting and grumbling and decided to overlook his companion's moodiness.

Also, he would not ruin his lecture by croaking.

'We're here.'

He introduced in one sweep of his hand the Farm and the whole staff standing at the gates clapping.

Skywalker banged his head against the panel.

'Why didn't Qui-Gon allow me take my pod-racer?..'