The Devil Take


"And what we students of history always learn is that the human being is a very complicated contraption and that they are not good or bad but are good and bad and the good comes out of the bad and the bad out of the good, and the devil take the hindmost." -Robert Penn Warren


Anakin Skywalker didn't remember much about Obi-Wan Kenobi. It was funny that someone you talked to a couple times in your whole life could end up being so important to your future. He wished he had been given the chance to know Obi-Wan better, before….well, everything happened...then maybe he wouldn't feel this hot yuck in his stomach when he found Qui-Gon sitting in the dark room at the quiet end of the Healer's Wing.

He was there a lot.

And that was a problem now, because Master Windu said Anakin couldn't stay with the initiates much longer. He needed to start doing the—what had Master Windu called it?—Jedi stuff. Okay, so he wasn't listening to every single word, but he got the gist. He knew he was sailing through most of the classes he had to take with the younger kids, and it would be wizard to actually start being a real Padawan and go on real missions and have a braid and all that. But he needed a Master to be a Padawan, and the only Master he wanted was Qui-Gon. He couldn't even imagine anyone else.

Qui-Gon spent time with him nearly every day, helping him with Force training and sparring (even though they had to use the silly practice sabers) and showing him the coolest places in the Temple. He told Anakin about the history of the Order. Sometimes Qui-Gon walked Anakin back to the initiate floor while describing the craziest adventures from when he was a young Knight, and some from when he was a Padawan himself. It was weird to think Qui-Gon had ever been a kid, but he used to think the same thing about his mom. He always wanted to see a picture of her when she was a little girl, but slaves didn't exactly have a bunch of keepsakes. He wondered if Jedi were allowed to keep holos and things like that. He would have to ask Qui-Gon.

He rounded the corner to the Healer's Wing and gave a little wave to Docent Perch. Basically everyone knew him around this place. He hadn't been a patient himself since he arrived from Naboo and they had to give him about a million shots so he wouldn't die from all the flus and bugs and pox because Galactic City had life forms from everywhere, and they all had germs. Qui-Gon had explained germs to him a lot. Anakin knew it was really important to wash his hands with soap and hot water and keep scrubbing them until his skin was pink. He wasn't allowed in the Ward until he washed his hands like that. Twice.

It was weird at first, because no one washed their hands like that back home-or, back on Tatooine, he guessed he shouldn't call it home anymore. His mom did but mostly when she was gonna cook something. A funny pain twisted in his chest when he thought about her, but he kept walking, let the sadness sit there inside him. Qui-Gon had assured him it was okay to miss his mother.

"Sometimes an ache can feel overwhelming. You needn't conquer it all at once. Sometimes it cannot be conquered. Sometimes it doesn't need to be."

Usually Anakin was confused by that philosophy type of talk, but when Qui-Gon said it, he understood, because he knew Qui-Gon was sad, too. Maybe even more sad than Anakin.

Mom was far away, but Obi-Wan was further away, even though he was in the Temple.

He stopped at the familiar door and placed his palm on the entry pad.

It was really still inside. Anakin thought the room seemed like it was stuck in a grey twilight, not dark or light, and the steady chirps of monitors replacing the hum of thrithflies.

Qui-Gon turned in his chair. "Hello, Anakin." He greeted softly, with one of his gentle smiles. "I was hoping you would visit today."

Anakin had learned pretty early on that the healers didn't like it when he galloped, or talked too loud, so he folded his hands behind his back and padded over to Qui-Gon. The man smelled like spicy soap, different than the antiseptic bite of the air in the hallway. He stood next to the chair and Qui-Gon pat his back.

"I washed my hands good this time." Anakin promised, looking right into Qui-Gon's clear blue eyes. "And I feel fine. Great, actually, because Master Windu said I don't have to do all those baby classes anymore."

It was really good news, but Qui-Gon's smile fell, which was totally weird and made Anakin's gut do that too-warm gurgling thing again.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "That's wonderful, Anakin. What exactly did Master Windu say?"

Anakin quirked his mouth to the side. He kept looking at Qui-Gon; he didn't like looking over at the bed, and the wires, and the mask—

"That I'm about ready to be promoted, be a Padawan, you know?"

"Ahh," Qui-Gon had a bunch of tiny lines around the corners of his eyes. He had more when he was laughing, or sad. "I'm proud of you, Anakin. You've made remarkable progress. And so quickly."

Was being quick wrong? Anakin shifted his feet. He was starting to sense Qui-Gon's feelings in the Force, just faint impressions, but enough for Anakin to know when he was hiding something, or maybe not telling the entire truth. "You said...before, I mean, you said…"

Qui-Gon smiled again, but the light did not reach his eyes this time. He glanced over at the bed and then back at Anakin. Qui-Gon put his big hands on Anakin's shoulders, guiding him to stand in front of the Master. "I would never go back on my word, young one. I still believe in you as much today as I did when we met."

Anakin straightened as some of the sick roiling eased inside him. When Qui-Gon told him things like that, he felt like he could fly, or do anything. "Thanks, Master Qui-Gon. I didn't want to bother you when you're...here."

Qui-Gon touched Anakin's chin. "You don't bother me. You are a very perceptive boy, Anakin, but not everything you perceive is simple."

"I know it's complicated." He hunkered down next to Qui-Gon's chair, crossing his legs and pulling at a loose thread on his trousers. "I still have dreams about the thing that did it."

He felt Qui-Gon studying him, and the man's subtle interest through the Force. "You do?"

"Yeah. I only saw him those two times but he was like a monster or a devil or something." Anakin knew what the thing was really called, but when he said the word, Sith, his whole body shuddered, as if all the ugliness in the Universe was poking through his skin. "I dream that he doesn't just come for Obi-Wan, but he comes for you, too. Once he came for me, and it was the worst."

Qui-Gon smoothed his hair and it felt nice, like when Mom combed his hair through her fingers in the morning. "He won't come for you, Anakin. Perhaps we could meditate together tomorrow."

Anakin really didn't like meditating. His mind didn't work that way, but Qui-Gon was super good at it and it wasn't so boring when they meditated under the huge trees in the Gardens.

"Can you meditate with Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked, glancing up. "Maybe he could talk to you that way."

Qui-Gon's gaze dropped to his hands, laced in his lap. "That is a wonderful suggestion, Anakin. I would be very happy if he responded. So far, he has not."

"Oh." Anakin's eyes crept to the bed, to the pale face halfway hidden behind the medical mask. In his head he knew Obi-Wan wasn't scary and definitely couldn't-and wouldn't-hurt him, but the mask and the sharp whine of artificial breathing was still...creepy. And he felt like a jerk for thinking it. Obi-Wan had almost died to kill the horned thing, to protect Qui-Gon and Queen Amidala and everyone else. He felt like even more of a jerk for thinking it would be better if…

Except he couldn't finish a thought so mean. What would Mom think?

He knew what Qui-Gon would think. He would be really mad. Qui-Gon was always mad when a healer or someone from the Council suggested taking the machines and mask away.

"I've been thinking...Qui-Gon, you can't be my Master if you're still Obi-Wan's Master."

Qui-Gon heaved a sigh. "That is the rule, yes."

"So if you train me, you won't be his Master anymore, and then the Council would decide what happens to him?"

Qui-Gon clasped his shoulder. "As I said, Anakin, you are very perceptive."

Anakin couldn't tell if that was a good thing from the way he said it. He leaned against Qui-Gon's leg and closed his eyes, not because he was actually tired, just so he could pretend they were somewhere else.


Qui-Gon led the boy along the pathway through the Gardens, pointing out unusual fauna. "That particular bloom contains teeth, to catch flying insects."

Anakin did a double take. "For real? Whoa." He grinned. "I didn't know flowers could have teeth. That's wicked."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "They are rather wicked. The insects are not always killed for food."

"Then why kill them?"

"Amusement." Qui-Gon said. "The whim of a bored and violent creature can be a very dangerous thing."

"Yeah," Anakin agreed earnestly, glancing back at the deceptively pretty patch of flowers. "It's good they're all stuck in the ground, huh?"

"If only all such mischief makers could be planted in the soil. Then we'd have much more free time." Qui-Gon observed. It was the sort of dark humor Obi-Wan would appreciate. He could feel the weight of his Padawan's absence here, where they had spent many afternoons, in meditation or companionable silence. He still expected to hear that set of footsteps just behind him, catch the swing of a long braid out of the corner of his eye.

"I wish we could plant the Council like that." Anakin hopped on one leg, avoiding the cracks in the duracrete like every youngling before him. "Then maybe they would just leave us alone for awhile. I'd even water them...sometimes."

Qui-Gon was surprised by his own bark of laughter. How did he always attract such cheeky apprentices? Of course, he reminded himself, Anakin was not his apprentice. He could not be, unless… "I think we'll stop here, if that's alright."

The rhiini tree was a favorite of Qui-Gon's, with its cascading veil of lavender leaves. He and Anakin settled beneath it, folding into meditation pose.

"Now," Qui-Gon began quietly, "What must we do first?"

Anakin huffed. "Quiet my mind." His fingers idly tapped against his knees. "But...like...how does that even work? I'm always thinking about something. Aren't you?"

An image of Obi-Wan rose, unbidden, as he had been the morning of their last day: his eyes bright, his youth and goodness an almost painful flash in the Force. Obi-Wan, who had already forgiven Qui-Gon for his betrayal in the Council meeting. Always. "Yes, and that is why we must strive to release ourselves from distraction, and focus inward. When we do that, it is easier to hear what the Force tells us. Now, close your eyes."

Anakin obeyed, and they sat for several minutes, waiting for him to stop fidgeting.

Qui-Gon felt when Anakin finally slipped into a shallow trance. He lowered his shields enough to lend placidity to the restless spirit.

Breathe.

Seek who you are.

The Force.

The boy's presence was as strong as any Jedi Qui-Gon had ever encountered. Stronger. It was a gift, but a gift fraught with danger.

This is why he needs you. This is why you must-

Qui-Gon's eyes flew open. Mace Windu was standing just outside the waterfall of leaves. He dipped his head in mute greeting.

Anakin sat back in the grass with obvious relief. "Is mediation over?"

"Meditation," Qui-Gon corrected, "And it is over, for now. I need to speak with Master Windu. I'm sure you have some homework that needs attention?"

"Yeah, I guess," Anakin popped to his feet and wiped his hands on the front of his leggings. Then he seemed to realize his mistake and sketched a hasty bow in Mace's direction. "Nice, to um, see you," the boy said, before scurrying back down the path.

The Korun Master snorted. "I have to admit, the boy is entertaining. Most of his instructors get a kick out of him."

"Most?" Qui-Gon raised a brow.

"Master Nu." Mace could not quite suppress his grin. He looked younger, less like the stern Council member and more like the spontaneous kid Qui-Gon had grown up with. "She wants him banned from the Archives."

Qui-Gon stood up, inhaling the faint scent of the rhiini blossoms. "Master Nu wants everyone banned from the Archives."

"In that, we are in perfect agreement, my friend." Mace motioned to the winding path beyond them. "Walk with me?"

Qui-Gon felt a cold rush up his spine. He did not move. "If this is about Obi-Wan, I have nothing to say. My decision is unchanged."

Mace crossed his arms. A few leaves from the tree drifted between the two men. "Anakin has excelled at an impressive rate. He needs one-on-one, intensive instruction. He needs a Master."

Qui-Gon lowered his head. "It is not I who decides the rules. I am perfectly capable of training Anakin without being made to relinquish my duties to Obi-Wan."

Mace stepped through the curtain. His dark eyes were solemn, devoid of their usual aloof disapproval. "No one could accuse you of relinquishing those duties, Qui-Gon. Your dedication to your Padawan is commendable."

"That is kind, Mace. And now you'll tell me the right thing to do is let him go."

"This is not easy on any of us. Obi-Wan was one of the most promising students —"

"Is. He is promising." Qui-Gon dropped his hands to his hips. "You speak as if he is already gone. I cannot give up on him so easily. He sacrificed himself to kill the Sith. Should we honor that sacrifice by letting him die?" He heard his voice crack on that last, damnable word.

Mace took a slow breath. "Is his current existence honorable, Qui-Gon? Would he want to live the rest of his life in a bed, hooked to a respirator, unconscious? Would you want that?"

"You didn't see him that day. He was full of life. He wanted to live." Even after the blade cut through his body, Obi-Wan struggled to hold onto the fraying threads of his existence, looked up at his Master with such sweetness, and Qui-Gon had never felt the true depth of Obi-Wan's love for him until the young man was writhing in his arms, with a gaping hole in his chest. The love surpassed agony, evil, jealousy. It was the essence of Obi-Wan, the Light, and Qui-Gon could not….could not turn away from it.

"You're right. I wasn't there. I've only seen the aftermath of Naboo. I've only heard what the healers have reported to the Council. Your hope is understandable, but at war with reality." Mace squeezed his shoulder. "You wanted to train Anakin. This is your last chance to do so. Anakin has a chance, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan does not."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "How can the Council ask this? Anakin will know his training comes at the expense of another's life."

"It will be up to you to guide him, so he understands and appreciates what Obi-Wan did for him, for us all."

Qui-Gon swallowed a sour thickness in his throat. "How could I choose, Mace?" He whispered. "How…"

Mace just looked at him, compassion and pity resonant within the Force. He was too tactful to say what he must be thinking, what Qui-Gon himself could not stop thinking-Qui-Gon had already chosen Anakin over Obi-Wan once, when Obi-Wan was fully aware of what was happening. He remembered announcing his intention to train Anakin, the way Obi-Wan's head snapped in his direction, the silent, accusing burn of those grey eyes.

"You are not choosing anything, Qui-Gon. It is merely the acceptance of fact. If you care at all about Obi-Wan or Anakin, you will allow Obi-Wan the rest he deserves."

Qui-Gon gathered calm from the trees, from the plants, from memory. "He deserves time. As long as I am his Master, he will be given that time."

Mace's jaw tensed slightly. "The Council, as you know, is not powerless in this situation. We have been lenient thus far, but if we need to intervene-"

"If you intervene, I have no place in this Order." Qui-Gon said, and swept past the other Master.