Always on the Move…
By Jemmiah
297…298…299…
Anakin's feet felt leaden and weary; his lactic filled muscles aching and burning with every step he took. Always he launched himself headlong into a challenge and always - as predicted by his master - he soon came to regret it. But there was one thing that Obi-Wan had clearly forgotten:
He always won.
If his wisdom or patience was in question there was no similar charge to be made regarding his determination. Every so often it was nice to remind Obi-Wan of that fact. His master was fifteen years older than he was and, as a result, fifteen years slower. Whenever he mentioned this his mentor took the barb with his customary good humour before pointing out that Master Yoda was over eight hundred years slower - but it didn't stop him from being lethal with his stick…
305…306…307…
Anakin was about done counting stairs. He'd thought at first it would help to focus and concentrate his mind as he tore upward through the building, his boots pounding the stone slabs in a blur of dark leather. The sweat was beginning to bead upon his forehead, the heat building in his cheeks. After the first minute of sustained speed-running, or climbing to be more accurate, Anakin wondered if his tongue wasn't at the point of lolling out the side of his mouth in that undignified cannoid-like way. No matter what his pain and suffering might be, Anakin reminded himself sternly, he had to fix his mind resolutely on the task. After all, if he was suffering then poor Obi-Wan must surely be at the point of heart failure...
Obi-Wan was pretty fit, but did not relish exercise the way that Anakin did. His strength came from sabre sparring sessions or mock tournaments. He was light and lean, and quick on his feet. Anakin towered over him both in height and physical strength. It was not something he felt the need to point out to Obi-Wan as it was pretty much obvious to even the most unobservant of persons. Now, when it most mattered, Anakin needed to harness that physical prowess and dominance over his master and prove to him that there were times where brawn was needed just as much as the ability to think on one's feet.
No doubt Obi-Wan was regretting his part in it all, and paying for it in sweat and tears. Anakin could almost hear the silent curses ringing in his master's mind as they chased off in pursuit of their goal.
315…316…317…
Anakin felt as if his heart and lungs were on the point of bursting. There were 400 stairs in all to the top of the building from their starting point and now, having made it past the three-quarter stage he found himself flagging. Poor Obi-Wan was probably several landing's below: he hadn't even taken off his robe before they had started to run, each taking a separate stairwell one on either side of the building. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, Anakin thought grimly, like so many other of his dares. Why did Obi-Wan always manage to bring out both the best and the worst in him? There was something in his friend's eternal optimism that made Anakin want to shake that quiet confidence in any way he could. Now on reflection, challenging him to see who could reach the top fastest had lost quite a bit of its appeal.
339…340…341…
Had he miscounted? It was no longer possible to say how many stairs he had ascended. The final push was beginning to tell. Would Obi-Wan likewise punish himself to prove a point, or would he allow Anakin this one, small triumph?
"First to the top wins." Anakin had grinned at Obi-Wan with a confidence born of one who knew he had superior strength. "Last one up pays for dinner at La Snootier…"
Obi-Wan's expression had hardly altered, save for a mildly questioning upward eyebrow twitch. And the warning twinkle in his sea-change eyes, both hard as flint and soft as silk. His smooth, unruffled gaze had signified acceptance - and a caution to Anakin that he might not have things entirely his way.
"It's been a long while since I was at La Snootier." Obi-Wan had nodded after a moment's consideration. "And even longer since you paid for dinner. But are you really sure you want to do this, Anakin? Because I think I should warn you that I…"
"That you're fitter than you look for your extreme age." Anakin bantered, his grin widening. "I could give you a head start if that makes you feel any happier about it."
Obi-Wan had sighed, shaken his head, and then clapped his padawan on the back.
"You have much to learn, Anakin." He smiled mirthfully. "I suppose now is as good a time as any to do so!"
"Very well." Anakin had removed his cloak in a manly flurry of swirling fabric. "But I hope you've got your pocket book on you because I intend ordering every last item on the menu!"
And with that he had dashed towards the right hand stairwell leaving Obi-Wan in his wake.
Think of something…anything, he urged himself as he made a last, final effort to reach the top. Something to make you forget the pain in your legs…how about Padme? No…too distracting! He was more likely to slip and stumble through lack of concentration, as he invariably did whenever his mind turned to his memories of the once Queen of Naboo, now senator, recently voted one of the most beautiful beings in the galaxy. Anakin had thought that a travesty, thoroughly believing she had deserved the top spot and nothing less. Of course, there had been that pretty female Obi-Wan had met at Lady Eeo-Shaa's party who for some unknown reason had seemed rather taken with his master.
No. Too distracting as well, and for all the wrong reasons.
At last Anakin could see the daylight at the end of the proverbial tunnel…the last few flights of stairs before he claimed a well-deserved victory. The thought buoyed his spirits, galvanising his legs for one final effort. Gone was the lactic acid; the tight chest and oxygen starved lungs. Tonight he would be eating a beautifully prepared - and extortionately priced - meal at one of Coruscant's finest eating establishments, all courtesy of his master's generosity (not to mentioned stupidity). Thoughts of Padme and pretty Corellian women were cast temporarily to one side as his feet somehow managed to dredge up one final burst of speed.
394…395…396…
Anakin kept his head down and charged like a Reek, as if seeking an invisible finishing line.
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"What kept you so long?" A voice hailed him coolly from the top of the landing.
At first Anakin's mind didn't quite register either the words or the person who had spoken them, so determined was he to complete what he had set out to do. It was only when his foot had finally touched step 400 that he realised he had been addressed by the unflappably calm and chilled voice of his master, who stood some ten paces away, leaning casually against the wall, his arms folded. Anakin felt his knees buckle slightly after his exertions had ceased and he leaned forward, grabbing his legs with both hands, desperately trying to draw breath.
"How…" He gasped, his face almost purple. "How…did you get…here before…me?"
Obi-Wan gave an insouciant shrug of his shoulders.
"I took the elevator." He replied drolly, smoothing his hair backward with a single sweep of his right hand.
"W-w-what?" Anakin's voice sounded strangulated.
"It seemed like the sensible thing to do. After all, you said that the first to the top had to buy dinner. You never specified how we were to get there, now did you? I did try to dissuade you from running but you're always on the move…"
"Not very…hard." Protested Anakin with a squawk. "You…cheated!"
"Oh, dear." Obi-Wan sighed with a world-weariness that suggested he was well used to Anakin's capricious nature. "From your point of view it may seem that way, but from my point of view I was using my ingenuity to find the single flaw in your - frankly - lax terminology. Nevermind," he flashed a brief but genuine grin at his friend, walking towards Anakin and delivering a large pat of condolence to the younger man's back, "I'm sure you'll get over it. Oh, by the way: I am really looking forward to that meal this evening!" Kenobi scratched thoughtfully at his beard. "It makes such a difference not to have to cook for both of us."
"There are some small mercies, then." Anakin muttered sourly, finally beginning to get his breath back. To this latest insult Obi-Wan merely offered an affection smile.
He shouldn't be annoyed with his master. He'd been out-thought, fair and square. Obi-Wan had said he had a lot to learn and learn this particular lesson he had: the hard way. A devious smile played at Anakin's lips, knowing how he could turn this whole situation to his advantage. Obi-Wan might not always play fair if he was proving a point, but he was honourable at heart. What was Obi-Wan's weak point? His pride and love for his padawan! Having been - in a way - responsible for Anakin's current state of fatigue there was no way that Obi-Wan would dare to put him through the same thing again!
"I'll make a deal." Anakin rubbed at the sore muscles in his side. "Double or quits…"
"Anakin…" Warned Obi-Wan, this time the smile absent from his features.
"The last one of us back down will pay for a trip to the theatre after dinner." The padawan somehow managed to laugh through the pain, knowing he had Obi-Wan at a disadvantage. There would be no skulduggery this time, not unless his master wanted to be seen as someone who went for an easy target.
"Padawan, you are in no fit state…" Began Obi-Wan, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"Do you accept?" Anakin demanded.
"I thought you might have learned from this lesson?" Obi-Wan grimaced, clearly unimpressed.
"Oh, I have, believe me." Anakin's eyes met those of his master. "And I fully intend to win."
For a moment Anakin thought Obi-Wan was on the verge of refusing his challenge. Then something in his master's expression softened and, relenting, the master nodded his consent.
"As you wish." Obi-Wan replied loftily. "But I still think that you would do well to listen to…"
"No more listening, master." Anakin's smile was almost predatorial. "The time for talking is done. Now it's time to run!"
And with that signal Obi-Wan and Anakin bolted in opposite directions. Obi-Wan, much to Anakin's delight, had dived towards the nearest stairwell. He on the other hand, headed straight for the elevator that Obi-Wan had so cunningly used on the way up.
"Well," he managed a pain-filled chuckle, satisfied with his day's work, "I said I'd learned my lesson! Did he really imagine I would take the stairs again?"
This time Anakin was using his brain. This time, brain would triumph.
By the time the elevator had stopped Anakin's face had just about returned to a normal, healthy colour, although his legs still felt as heavy as a Bantha. He'd stepped out through the open doors and walked across the floor, stooping to pick up his discarded robe. Fortunately nobody had seen fit to take it for themselves: the number of robes he had discarded on various planets over the years could no longer be counted. Good luck if Obi-Wan wanted to try running down 400 steps wearing his long cloak: Anakin fully expected to find him lying in a broken heap at the bottom having tangled his boots up in its long hem.
"You got here at last then." Obi-Wan glanced down at his chrono, almost causing Anakin to jump out of his skin. "Better late than never, I suppose!"
Anakin found himself gaping at his master, wondering if he was some kind of guilt-induced mirage.
"But that's…not possible. You're here?" He ran a hand over his short padawan hair cut, perplexed and bewildered beyond all reason. "How did you get down here so quickly?"
Obi-Wan smiled knowingly to himself.
"I was the 'under ten' initiate banister sliding champion."