The Abandoned
By: LuvEwan
Part 1
Anakin Skywalker was in trouble.
He hadn't done anything, yet. In fact, he was trying to be, what had Instructor Ventu called it, productive. He and his Master were finally at the Temple again after a series of missions, but the man had barely set foot on the landing platform when he was called to the Council. So Anakin returned to their long-dormant quarters alone, happy to reacquaint himself with all the half-finished projects littering his work bench. His teacher didn't share his need to tinker and fix, but apart from the occasional eye roll, never discouraged his hobby.
After a stop at the fresher, Anakin surveyed the little apartment. He didn't get why Jedi kept everything so plain. He remembered his mom looking out the dirty windows of their hovel, telling Anakin about flowers, bright blossoms that grew around the tree trunks on beautiful free worlds like Alderaan, how wonderful it would be to have those flowers on their table to look at.
"We don't have pretty flowers, Ani, but at least we can have a clean place for ourselves."
Anakin could admit he wasn't the tidiest housekeeper, but his Master might even be worse. He let data pads pile up on the tables, forgot his half empty tea cups everywhere, and usually forewent the cleaning droids. Couple the usual clutter with months of dust and even Anakin could see something had to be done.
He was as fond of chores as any other eleven year old. So he moved fast, using the Force only when he really needed to, only when it was productive. It wasn't long before the quarters were clean and orderly again. The floors, Anakin noted with pride, actually shined.
Anakin stood at the closed door to his Master's room. He knew his Master valued his privacy, but Anakin thought it was pretty silly to clean an entire apartment except for one room. The older Jedi was usually a little grumpy after meeting with the Council. Maybe a neat bedroom would be a welcome surprise for him, especially coming from his normally messy Padawan.
Another bright idea that had led him to this problem. He wasn't snooping, but how could he convince his Master of that? He'd noticed the lamp beside the bed seemed too dim, and that was a way easy thing to repair. When he leaned over to inspect it closer, he saw a little black object that must have fallen between the table and wall at some point.
He turned the thing around in his hands. Just a data chip. His Master had a lot of those. But there was never anything cool on them. When he first arrived at the Temple, he was disappointed to discover Jedi didn't watch action vids or look at comics. Even in his free time (there wasn't much) he was supposed to research stuff like Jedi history and galactic geography. The chip was probably full of boring facts about some planet no one had ever been to in the last million years.
Or it could be something important. What if his teacher had been searching for it? Maybe the Council needed it, and that was why they always gave him such a hard time.
Anakin grabbed a data reader and popped in the chip. A password prompt window flew up. He bypassed that quickly, a skill he had not yet told his Master about. It didn't seem like proper Jedi behavior.
"Is it recording, Master Jedi?"
Anakin jumped, his heart falling halfway to his stomach before he realized the words were blaring from the data pad. He lowered the volume.
The holograph projection was hazy and tinged with blue. Whoever was filming didn't know poodoo about how to do it right. A male figure in Jedi tunics appeared, but
"I believe it is."
The image shook wildly for a moment and the Jedi ran forward, still chuckling. It was a soft, happy sound. Anakin didn't recognize the voice and the holo was so shaky he couldn't make out the face either.
"This is wicked! I meet two Jedi and now I'm recording a holograph!"
Another, deeper laugh joined the strange scene. Instantly Anakin knew it was his Master. "Perhaps I could instruct you on how to operate it a little smoother." Qui-Gon suggested.
More bumps in the image, as the recorder shifted into his Master's hands. At once the other Jedi's blurry appearance steadied. Anakin squinted his eyes. He was a young man with a Padawan braid much longer than Anakin's. He was obviously the test subject for the third person's hologram lesson.
"Now that our friend's been given a few pointers, can you find a new focus to immortalize?" The Padawan begged. He sounded annoyed but his eyes twinkled. The picture abruptly zoomed in closer, and then the young man laughed, bringing up a hand as if to ward off the recorder.
"I think you're a fine subject," Qui-Gon said, and the picture swerved again, this time finding a tiny Twi'lek boy gaping up eagerly.
"Can I interview you guys?! Like Gorgo Ruchs? He's my favorite holo reporter!"
The frame switched back to the younger Jedi. It was obvious the little twi'lek was in charge again, though the quick instructions had improved his technique.
"Well?" Qui-Gon prompted, out of view.
"Alright," the other Jedi forfeited.
"Cool!" The boy crowed, and the image bounced, "Can I ask you anything?"
The Padawan smirked. "You may."
"Okay! Um….well, what's your name?"
The frame pulled in tight, so the Padawan's face was large and easy to make out. "Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Anakin was so startled he dropped the data pad. It skittered across the floor and collided with a familiar pair of boots.
"You've been busy," Qui-Gon Jinn observed from the doorway, bending to retrieve the escaped reader. He pulled out the chip. His blue eyes flicked over it a moment, then he tucked it into a fold of his tunic.
Anakin scrambled to his feet. It took him a minute to remember to bow. "I'm sorry, Master. I-"
"The rooms are as spotless as I've ever seen them." A strong hand squeezed his shoulder. "Well done, Padawan."
Anakin was relieved to find only gentle amusement on Qui-Gon's face. He didn't want to ruin it, but he also didn't want to get in actual trouble for hiding what he'd seen on the holo. "I was just trying to fix your lamp and accidentally found the chip…"
"And?" Qui-Gon was looking at him, but in the distracted way of someone who wasn't really seeing. Like he was too busy thinking. Thinking of Anakin's punishment? This wasn't going to be good.
Anakin swallowed. "It's him," he suddenly wished he was anywhere else, even a seven hour astrophysics lecture, "I mean, Obi-Wan's on it." The syllables felt strange in his mouth.. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard anyone say that name, least of all Qui-Gon.
His Master's features were perfectly still. Anakin needed to learn how to do that. "I see."
"I didn't know..I wouldn't have looked—"
Qui-Gon released a heavy breath. "It is wrong to rifle through possessions that don't belong to you." He tugged Anakin's short braid. "But you did it while trying to help. I appreciate your initiative, Padawan."
Anakin smiled. "Thanks, Master." A hopeful pause, "So you're not mad at me?"
"Mad? No." Qui-Gon chuckled."It's already been forgotten." The tall Jedi cleared his throat, guiding Anakin into the main living area. "Now, I can't recall when I've seen the quarters this clean. I'd say you've earned a meal at Dex's."
Anakin perked up, the awkwardness of the conversation already dissipating. Eating at Dex's always meant dessert. He ran into his room to grab his boots and robe.
He didn't know why he'd been so nervous about the data pad. Qui-Gon didn't care about it at all.
It was late before they returned from the diner. As usual, the gruff and garrulous Besalisk was eager to share local off-the-record rumors. Anakin, who still occasionally wrestled with the Temple's level of decorum, was spellbound by Dex. Qui-Gon knew from his decades as a Master that sometimes young Padawans needed to be reminded that a rough, colorful universe existed beyond the orderly cityscape of Coruscant. Anakin Skywalker, of course, was not like other apprentices, and if anything the sleazier districts just reminded him of his first home. The boy seemed more at ease there. And, despite the opinions of certain members of the Jedi Council, Qui-Gon didn't think Anakin needed to shed his previous life entirely.
He could say from experience that such a feat was impossible.
No.
He would not drill the boy from Tatooine out of Anakin. A perfect Padawan did not always become a perfect Jedi.
Qui-Gon walked by Anakin's room. He sensed the boy winding down-or, at least, trying to-after the eventful day. Anakin was two years younger than most initiates when they began their apprenticeships. He possessed a restless spirit and had much to learn, but Qui-Gon's confidence in him had never wavered.
Much to learn.
His fingers absently slipped into his tunic, ghosting over the data chip. He knew it would be pointless to watch it. Whatever was on the holo couldn't offer any answers. Just another memory, pieces of a buried past he held no interest in examining.
Once, in a private conversation, Mace Windu had called Qui-Gon bitter.
Maybe that was true, for a time. Before Anakin lit up this new path, casting out the shadows, giving each day a purpose and joy.
Tonight, there was no place for bitterness. His Padawan, he observed with pride, was quite adept at sweeping out unwanted dust.
Anakin had always dreamed of escaping Tatooine. He would explore every corner of the Universe, because he could, and maybe he'd even be a famous pod racer. And a Jedi. It would be completely different than his life as a slave.
He had just met the Jedi a few days before, and suddenly he wasn't a slave anymore. Anakin had watched the little dustball planet shrink into nothingness aboard the Queen's starship. Before he knew it his cramped slave's quarters had been replaced with a whole Temple full of Jedi and big statues and fountains and way more stuff than he'd ever imagined.
But he was already noticing that some parts of Jedi life weren't so far away from Mos Eisley.
Like the yelling.
Well, it wasn't really yelling. He was pretty sure this was the Jedi version of it. And it seemed much worse, like how when Mom was super mad she would actually talk slower and quieter.
If his Mom were here, she would tell him it was wrong to listen in on private conversations. Only she wasn't here, and her absence was a cold lump that kept getting colder and heavier in his stomach. He knew Master Qui-Gon was trying to be nice by letting him stay in his room. Anakin had never slept in such a big bed, and it was wizard getting to look out the window and seeing the rainbow lights of the city.
But he wasn't used to being this alone. Even when he was at his bench working on Threepio, he could always hear Mom washing the dishes, or his friends laughing outside.
So, even though a Jedi was supposed to be strong, and he was way too old anyway, he wanted to hear Master Qui-Gon. Even if it was just the clatter of his plate in the sink.
Do Jedi do dishes?
Anakin hoped not. He hated doing dishes. He tried to imagine the little green Jedi Councilor guy scrubbing tea cups and giggled to himself. But he stopped when he heard Master Qui-Gon talking to someone.
He tip toed through the dark room to the door and stayed still. That's when he knew Qui-Gon was yelling.
"…don't want to talk about it, Mace."
Mace Windu. Anakin remembered being quizzed by him in the serious Council meeting, right before everything got so crazy. "The Council needs you to talk about it, Qui-Gon. It's not every day a senior Padawan simply—"
"The only Padawan I'm interested in discussing is Anakin," Qui-Gon interrupted, "I want to know when I can officially begin his training. We've been in limbo here and there's no reason for it."
"It's been ten days. And you KNOW there is a reason."
"No good reason, then."
Master Windu sighed. "You know the Council has yet to make a decision regarding the boy."
Anakin's face burned against the steel door. No one on the Jedi Council liked him. And it seemed as if they didn't like Master Qui-Gon very much either. He didn't get it. Qui-Gon was the nicest man Anakin had ever met. One day he would probably help Anakin free his Mom. Protective anger flared inside him. He wanted to burst out of the bedroom and confront Mace Windu.
"What will you do with him? Ship him back to Tatooine? Squander his potential in order to prove a point to me?"
Anakin felt like he'd been socked in the stomach. He couldn't go back. How could he go back there, now that he knew what it was like to be free? Tears ran out of his eyes. He scrubbed them away.
"I think you overestimate your impact on the Council. Anyway, Skywalker is not what, or who, I came here to discuss." A short pause. "Do you have any idea where Obi-Wan might be?"
Anakin didn't understand much about the Force yet, but he could feel Qui-Gon's ire explode within it, sending sparks through Anakin's veins.
"Do I have any idea?" Qui-Gon rasped. "If I thought I could find him, do you think I'd be standing here, Mace?"
Anakin sensed Mace Windu in the Force, too. His presence was calmer, expertly controlled. "With all due respect, Master Jinn, we're not the ones who have stopped looking for him."
A silence that lasted so long Anakin thought maybe the argument was finally over.
Then Qui-Gon spoke in a very soft, almost inaudible tone. "You saw the security footage. He made a choice." He swallowed with a click, "And I choose to move on. I choose Anakin."
Relief rushed over the boy. Qui-Gon had picked him again, just like he picked him on Tatooine, and in the huge Council room, even though it seemed to make everyone mad. He thought Anakin was special. Worth fighting for.
He'd almost forgotten the men were still outside the door when Master Windu said "Have you considered that might be the root of this entire…mess?"
"I have considered much the last few days. I feel as if I've gone over every moment of my twelve years with Obi-Wan, analyzing his words, his actions, as well as my own, trying to understand WHY. When I close my eyes, I see his face, and wonder..." A slight waver, "..if he is alive. But he has betrayed me and my teachings, and revealed a callousness I never thought possible. So I must let go, in order to focus on the future."
"Skywalker?"
"Yes." Qui-Gon confirmed, without hesitation.
Anakin smiled in the dark room, leaning his head against the door.
More talking, but it moved further away, and then he heard a door whoosh open and shut. Master Windu was gone.
Anakin listened a little longer, just to be sure. When he was satisfied by the quiet, he crept back into the big sleep couch, his limbs heavy and mind pleasantly fuzzy.
He glanced out Qui-Gon's window. The world outside was still awake, and full of life, and easily carried the almost-Padawan into a deep slumber.
Qui-Gon Jinn could not sleep. He laid in the dark, willing his mind to quiet itself, waiting for the restlessness to uncoil from his limbs.
He had not suffered from insomnia since a few months into Anakin's apprenticeship. There simply wasn't time for it.
Tonight he was more exhausted than usual, even. Coming into his quarters to find Anakin watching that hologram, hearing that voice…
There is no Emotion. There is Peace.
He repeated the well-worn mantra, seeking comfort in the familiarity, waiting for the words to lull him into temporary oblivion.
That's all he needed. Just a brief respite, just to reset his mind.
"It's him." Anakin had said.
Him.
Qui-Gon rose swiftly from the bed and went to the window. The electric showcase of Coruscant was constant. The skyline even at midnight teemed with speeders, lights, energy. It seemed enormous to him, from the small, quiet confines of his bedroom. He remembered standing at the same window and feeling overwhelming despair at the prospect of finding one man in the smothering megalopolis.
Of course, Obi-Wan had not been found. One night, while gazing out that same window, Qui-Gon felt himself release his secret, foolish hopes, and in their absence, the anger at last flooded inside him.
How could he do this? He had asked himself over and over, letting it overtake his thoughts. How could he throw away everything I taught him?
Anakin was all that kept him from drowning in it. Qui-Gon knew he was the right Master, the only Master, for Anakin. So, like the grief and optimism that came before, he relinquished the rage.
There is no Anger.
He left the burdens of what-if behind. He stopped pacing the floors while the rest of the Temple slept, wondering if it was his fault.
And finally, he closed off the part of himself that still listened for familiar footsteps in the hallway. He would catch himself before calling Anakin by the wrong name. He no longer expected to hear that distinct, light laughter when he told a joke.
It seemed cruel to hear that laughter today, rising up from bygone years, untainted and untouchable.
Qui-Gon looked at the data chip on his nightstand. Such a minuscule vessel, considering what it contained. He had thought every physical trace of that period of his life was gone.
He held the delicate chip between his fingers.
Anger leads to Hate.
A quick snap. He dropped the broken pieces of the chip in the garbage receptacle.
Then he pulled down the window shade and in the now-complete darkness, found rest.