This fic draws from both the movies and current canon, as well as some EU stuff like the Jedi Apprentice series.
(I know I should be working on other stuff, but this one just would not die...)
Trials
Obi-Wan's feet stomped out a relentlessly concussive pattern as he marched up the ramp to the small, Nubian vessel that would take himself, his master, the Queen and her entourage back to Naboo. Along with any strays and waifs his master might have picked up along the way. Those strays were what Obi-Wan was most concerned with, one in particular.
But his master had ended that discussion with a stern glare and the words, "That should be enough for you. Now, get on board." And, by the Force, Obi-Wan was going to get on board, as deliberately and as obviously as he could.
If his master noticed, he was too busy talking with Anakin to comment.
Obi-Wan passed a few members of the maintenance crew making last minute preparations for take-off, as he stalked through the small corridors. He pretended to be making notes on supplies or inspecting equipment with a stare of "serious Jedi contemplation". No one bothered him.
In his heart, Obi-Wan knew this stomping and banging around was childish and beneath him. He'd outgrown most of this behavior since before he was old enough to leave the Initiate's wing. But it could never be said that Obi-Wan Kenobi did not have a temper, whatever progress he was making to overcome it, and this was one issue, one affront that he simply could not release into the Force as if he did not care.
Many Jedi would say that he must. Many masters would shake their heads and say that it was a flaw for him to be impacted so much in the first place, let alone refusing to release the negative feelings. But you did not raise me to be a mindless droid, Master, to follow the letter of the Code blindly, with no blood or feeling. You knew full well of my desires and my anger when you took me as a Padawan, refused me several times because of it. How can you expect me to roll over now?
But apparently his master did expect this of him, dismissing Obi-Wan's every word and protest as if he had no cause to be involved. As if his own master hadn't tried to be rid of him in front of the entire Jedi Council. As if he wasn't being recommended for Trials he wasn't prepared to take, with no assurance other than "he's capable." Also, headstrong, reckless, foolish, ignorant of the Living Force and now, insubordinate. Well, if his master no longer wanted him for a Padawan, perhaps Obi-Wan had no more need to behave as a Padawan?
Eventually he sensed the presence of Queen Amidala and her handmaidens entering the ship, along with his Master. Obi-Wan turned on his heel and headed for their small quarters, and had just settled on the floor in a meditation posture when his master and Anakin arrived.
Of course, his soul was far from meditation. All the Padawan succeeded in doing was closing his eyes and fuming, and he was fully aware his master wasn't fooled. Anakin, however, pronounced Obi-Wan as "wizard", and couldn't wait until Qui-Gon taught him "all the cool Jedi things". Obi-Wan just grit his teeth and said nothing.
It would be many hours in space to reach Naboo, and after fifteen minutes of fake meditation, Obi-Wan was ready to burst. But he didn't dare break the illusion, for he was sure that if he spoke to Qui-Gon or even looked at him, an argument would surely follow. As it was, an unseemly outburst was imminent, as his master was currently teaching an eager Anakin to play sabbac in a corner of the small room. And it was small, too small to contain Anakin's enthusiasm, Qui-Gon's serenity and Obi-Wan's rage. He felt every vibration as Anakin fidgeted, and sometimes when Qui-Gon moved, his robe would brush against Obi-Wan's foot. He was sure the pressure would build to the point where it burst a hole in the ship.
But still, he sat defiantly not-meditating. As if to say, "See, Master? See what a dutiful Padawan I am?"
Qui-Gon didn't answer the unspoken words, and seemed almost to mock Obi-Wan by pretending to believe his Padawan's false piety.
Obi-Wan felt his rage grow. It wasn't fair. The angry feelings built, like waves crashing against a dam. Obi-Wan kept them closed in, refusing to release them, afraid of what would happen if he did. But the water was building, growing higher with each crest and pounding against the dam, sloshing over the top as the level rose higher and higher.
He was furious with Qui-Gon, furious at being abandoned, at being ignored, dismissed and mocked, being falsely recommended for something as important as the Jedi Trials...
And then the feelings finally reached the breaking point, and the world tipped over. Meditation, however grudgingly done, revealed the truth. He wasn't truly angry with Qui-Gon.
At least, not as angry as he felt with himself.
That was the truth of his anger, it was always directed inward, born from fear, but expressed outward. He lashed out to hide from the fear within. He hated that he was weak, that he was an inadequate Padawan, failing to engender any love in his master to match the endless devotion that Obi-Wan felt pulsing through every sinew. Always, Obi-Wan was unwanted, cast aside, imperfect and less in every capacity. His whole life, this had been true. His deep anger that had turned many masters away was just fear that this would always be true, that he was destined for nothing but a life of lonely mistakes and failure. Of all the anger he'd exhibited outwardly towards rivals such as Bruck Chun, it paled in comparison to the anger he directed inward.
Qui-Gon had seen that. He'd tried to help Obi-Wan defeat such feelings, turn him into a passable Jedi, even through all the betrayals and mistakes. He'd borne the burden of an unwanted Padawan all these long years, suffered Obi-Wan as long as he could, but even Qui-Gon had his limits. He couldn't succor every pathetic life form in the universe, and some charity cases were beyond hope. If Obi-Wan passed or failed his Trails, Qui-Gon had done all he could, had a more important and rewarding task before him now, so there were no regrets at throwing his Padawan to the wind, to fall or fly as the Force allowed.
Those were the fears. But what was the truth? It was easier to be angry than to find out.
It was a shock when the tears came, but somehow fitting. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd cried publicly, or even in private, since leaving the creche. He was Jedi, he should have been stronger than this, but now he was fully broken in front of his Master.
And it did not go unnoticed. "Oh, shoot, Mister Obi-Wan! What's wrong?" Anakin's innocent concern was like salt on an open wound. Obi-Wan grit his teeth and reigned in his control, trying to shove the more turbulent of his emotions back into the Force. While Anakin fussed, Obi-Wan retained his meditation posture, still as a stone.
Qui-Gon rose to his feet, a hand brushing against Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan had a dark wish to cut the offending object off at the wrist.
"Anakin, would you mind going on to evening meal ahead of us? We will be along shortly." Anakin was confused at first, but with some soft insistence, he obeyed and trotted out of the room. That, at least, was a comfort.
Now the Master and Padawan were alone. Qui-Gon seemed to hesitate before speaking, and the thought of that was repugnant beyond words. "Obi-Wan..."
"I am meditating!" Obi-Wan hissed, hating Qui-Gon for not abandoning him to nurse a grudge over being abandoned. Force, he was such a child.
But his Master gave into the request far too easily. "As you wish," Bastard. Qui-Gon sat on the bed and busied himself with a small datapad while Obi-Wan fumed. Had he ever been more than a nuisance and an embarrassment to this great man? Maybe Qui-Gon should have just let Obi-Wan blow his head off on Bandomeer.
He almost fell to tears again when he realized how much he actually believed that thought.
A voice whispered in his mind, If you cannot handle this, how do you expect to face the Trials? It was followed by the eerie echo of Yoda's cryptic words, What know you of ready?
Obi-Wan frowned, and tilted his head towards his Master. Had Qui-Gon placed the thought there? It was a very Masterly sort of reprimand, though it wasn't like Qui-Gon at all to be influencing Obi-Wan's mind, or to disguise his chastisement as something else. On the other hand, his conscience had recently been sounding disturbingly like his Master, so perhaps Qui-Gon was not the culprit directly. Had that been the Force speaking to him?
After a minute of feeling as if his private space had been violated, Obi-Wan gave up trying to discern and accepted it as both the Force's prompting and a chance to show his Master he was worth more than a dishrag to be discarded when it had outlasted it's use. He plunged into meditation in earnest, if not humbly, and challenged the Force head on.
All right, he demanded of the universe. How am I to rise above this? How is peace to be found after this betrayal? He half expected the Force to cave, return back with You're right, Obi-Wan, you were betrayed and you are justified in all you feel. There is no peace here. But of course, this was not the way of the Force he'd studied since he was a young boy, and he felt pushed to release his anger and find his own answers to such questions.
He couldn't, not fully, which was why he was still a Padawan, and not a Knight already. My Master despises me, he thought bitterly. He is embarrassed by me, thinks me a burden he can finally be rid of.
Does he? That voice seemed to ask, mild, dispassionate, almost dismissive, and Obi-Wan felt angered.
Of course he does! Even though he himself was beginning to question it. But still, he clung stubbornly to the pain he'd felt in the Council Chamber. How else could he interpret those words, those actions?
Well, the voice, the Force, his conscience replied back, Does it matter?
And Obi-Wan swallowed. There was the Jedi answer, and then there was his own. It matters to me, he thought, forlorn. But love should be unselfish, not demanding. Qui-Gon had taught him well, and he had not been required to love his Padawan like a son, not even if said Padawan loved him like a father. Obi-Wan's feelings did not entitle him to reciprocation, and as a mature Jedi, he needed to accept that. As a mature man, regardless of his Jedi upbringing, he needed to accept that. Qui-Gon's heart was his own, and to not carry the same feelings as Obi-Wan was no crime. How much pain had he seen sown throughout the galaxy from those who loved, and then grew hateful, jealous or possessive when another's heart pulled in a different direction?
And then, Obi-Wan truly felt the weight of his Trials pressing upon him. Whatever his teacher thought of him, whatever wrongs had been done to him, the responsibility still fell to Obi-Wan to master his feelings. He knew this, it was one of the earliest and oft-repeated lessons of his youth. He could not control his circumstances, only his response to them. And he was not responding well.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath and accepted that he was in the wrong, and that he had a lesson to learn. It was a small concession, it hardly brought him peace, but it was a start.
The Force seemed to flow more pleasantly around him. All anger is born of fear. What is it about this that frightens you? So much. Failure. Disappointment. The sure foundation and pillar of strength that was Qu-Gon's approval suddenly dissolved like sand. He swallowed and tried to discern his honest answer.
I am afraid of failing my Trials, he finally decided. I'm not ready. There was more, his feelings were so hopelessly knotted up, but there was nothing to do but find a thread and start pulling on it. What will happen if I fail?
The question was repeated back to him, Obi-Wan would have to answer himself. Failure would be humiliating, but not the core issue. Obi-Wan frowned. It had still not been agreed that he would even be allowed to take the Trials, though he had no doubt that Qui-Gon was prepared to train Anakin Skywalker regardless. He hoped Qui-Gon would spare a few thoughts to make sure Obi-Wan wasn't simply kicked out, but still. If his current Master was occupied, someone else would have to step up. If he faced the Trials and failed, in the best scenario, it would be determined that he needed more training.
And then the fear settled in. Who would train me?
A cold sweat broke out, finally acknowledging this aspect of his concern. Perhaps he would be cast out of the Temple if he failed, but if not, when no Master stepped forward to give him guidance, he surely would be sent to the Service Corps. If even that. It would be Bandomeer all over again. No one wanted me for a Padawan. And surely no one is eager to take me now. He still had flaws. He'd left the Jedi Order, and some still believed he ought not to have returned. Now, he'd been repudiated by the only Master to ever believe he was worth something, in favor of a boy no one in their right mind would train.
If Obi-Wan did not pass his Trials, or was not permitted to take them, he was sure his life as a Jedi was over.
And didn't Qui-Gon care?
So? came the rebuttal, and Obi-Wan was furious at the calm. Is being a Jedi so important? Is the Temple so important?
Yes! Obi-Wan shrieked back. All his life, it was what he wanted, all he worked for. The Temple was the only home he'd ever known, and he stood poised to lose everything, all for some boy with a clouded future. He's not the Chosen One! Obi-Wan raged. Danger surrounds him, for all his skill, and he's too old!
Ah, so you deserved a chance despite being nearly too old yourself, steeped in anger and already appointed to the Service Corps, but other's are lost causes?
Obi-Wan was immediately humbled.
But still... He's been freed. Surely there is a home that can be found for him, a place for him to live happily that does not involve displacing me and risking the safety of the galaxy.
It is not the safety of the galaxy that concerns you.
Obi-Wan could not deny the truth. It's not. But Qui-Gon is wrong. And I will suffer for it. All the consequences will be mine to face.
Will they?
It was an arrogant thought, but something in the Force told Obi-Wan he wasn't wrong. But that was far in the future, something elusive and dark that both was and was not connected to Anakin. He shook his head and focused on the more immediate concern. I may be turned out of the Temple.
And you think your Master is unaware of this, or has no inclination to help you? There are many bends in the road before that possibility becomes an issue.
But Obi-Wan could not shake the fear. I can't lose everything I hold dear. I will die if I am turned out of the Jedi Order.
There was a quiet in his mind, and then a whisper.
It's only a building.
And Obi-Wan's eyes flew open, sitting ramrod straight. His breathing came in short gasps, one thought pounding in his heart: Heresy.
Surely the Force would not lead him to this? Had he not followed the Jedi Code with all the diligence he could? Then why would this thought spring to mind, that the Temple, the Jedi Order he'd served with all his heart, was a mere building?
Yes. A building. Brick, wood, metal and stone. Flawed, mortal. And destined to fall.
Obi-Wan leaped to his feet and all but ran out of the room. Fear followed him, wrapped around him like a quilt on a too-hot day, and he could not shake it. Oh, Force, am I turning?
Qui-Gon suddenly appeared at the other end of the corridor, a similar sense of urgency on his face. "Obi-Wan, what has happened? Are you ill?" But though his heart wept to see a thaw in the frosty ice between them, Obi-Wan could not face this man now. He darted into a nearby refresher unit and wrenched the door shut with the Force, panting heavily as he sunk to his knees.
Outside, Qui-Gon waited. He asked again, if all was well. Obi-Wan could not speak. He felt his Master reaching out with the Force, sensing around for a disturbance, and then, softly withdraw.
He knocked on the door, but when Obi-Wan didn't let him in, the man departed. Obi-Wan couldn't decide if he felt relieved or betrayed, bit he didn't want Qui-Gon there, and it added further proof that this was his own issue to reconcile.
And reconcile he would. There was no other choice. He grit his teeth and knelt on the floor of the refresher unit.
All right, Force, he thought with the attitude of one about to wrestle a rancor. Explain to me why the Temple is only a building. Because in his deepest heart, despite the fear, Obi-Wan didn't truly believe this thought had come from the dark. And if it had, well, he'd been trained by just the man to face it head on. The Jedi Order is a way of life.
Yes. Created by mortal beings and therefore, imperfect.
The Force was being very blunt with him today. But just as Obi-Wan thought that, the voice regressed back to its inquisitive pattern, forcing Obi-Wan to answer all his own questions. Well, fine. He'd known the Order was founded on ideals, not reality. They were all seekers, not saints. And yet, this bothered him, and the Force resounded with the piercing question, Why?
This is all I've ever known, was his simply reply. My whole life has been in service to the Jedi. The situation with Melida/Daan notwithstanding. If my whole life has been false in some way... But even as he thought it, he knew that was not the case. The Jedi Order leads us to truth, to the Force. It teaches us how to feel the Force, and how to serve it.
And the Force replied with a happy, Yes! then asked, is the Force only felt in the Jedi Temples? Only served there? Does it cease to exist when those boundaries are left?
No, the Force was in all living things. It bound the galaxy together. But that meant the next question was... Do I need the Jedi Order, then? If the Temple is a mere building, and the Force flows on whether Jedi exist or not, are we irrelevant?
Heresy, his mind said. But a little voice in his heart whispered, here I shall find truth.
Obi-Wan waited for an answer. None came. A handmaiden knocked impatiently on the door of the refresher. There were others, she would have to seek them out. Obi-Wan didn't want to leave yet.
He mulled the issue over in his mind. There are many who call themselves Jedi outside the orthodox Jedi Order, he thought. Incorrectly so; Jedi were a religion presided over by a council, and if one failed to meet the criteria of that council, you were no longer a Jedi. If Obi-Wan had not been allowed back into the Order, he would have followed the Jedi Code, been Jedi in his heart, but the title was not his to decide. Also, there were more liberal groups, who did not agree with all the practices set down by the Jedi Council. And spiritual groups from before the formation of the Jedi, force sensitive and not, all claiming to serve the Force. Some of those groups had been in existence for hundreds of years, and had not, on a group level at least, turned to the Dark.
But Obi-Wan frowned to himself. His Master did not approve of them, evidenced mainly by the fact that he'd not walked out on the Council to join such a group. All the same, he hadn't heard his Master mention them disparagingly, either, to say that their way was not pure light and therefore must be dark.
Obi-Wan was old enough to know that there was gray in the universe, and certainly to understand that the Order was not the only source of goodness in the galaxy. But when thinking over these less orthodox "Jedi", who permitted romantic attachments or the taking of multiple Padawans, Obi-Wan had long ago concluded that this was not the path he wanted to follow. For many reasons, some he could not put into words, he knew that it was not the correct decision for him, nor one that he, in good conscience, could recommend to anyone else. In truth, he'd always thought those groups had found the Jedi Code too strict, and so had changed the rules to something easier, rather than try to improve themselves or seek the actual will of the Force. Qui-Gon might disagree, but again, Qui-Gon remained a Jedi.
And suddenly, Obi-Wan was filled with such a rush of certainty that he almost lost his breath for a moment. Not because he was right to criticize those not of the Jedi Order, Obi-wan got the impression that was irrelevant, but because he had somehow stumbled onto the correct path.
The words of Qui-Gon rang in his mind, a speech when he had been younger and so newly and desperately in love with Padawan Siri Tachi. "The Jedi Council will not change the rules. They will not change the precepts. Not unless the whole galaxy changes, the whole Order changes, not unless an upheaval happens that changes everything. Then, perhaps, the rules will change. But with this Jedi Council? No.
Make your choice. But do it with your eyes open."
Obi-Wan was struck back then, and still struck now, that his Master had never actually said that romantic love was wrong. He did not cite the Jedi Code as truth to guide Obi-Wan's choice. In fact... "This is based not so much on the rule of the Jedi, but from what I know of you." Qui-Gon only explained that there were temptations, risks and at the present time, a rule that would not be bent.
A rule put down by mortal beings, as imperfect as the building around them. Would there come a time when that rule also cracked and crumbled and faded to dust, as did all mortal things?
Obi-Wan had always respected the rules of the Jedi Council, but there were many times he questioned them as well. His choice to give up Siri had been one such time, and he certainly questioned the practice of sending Initiates to the Service Corps as he came closer and closer to his thirteenth birthday. It had not dealt fairly with him, and having lived on both sides, he was rather uncomfortable with the notion that those not chosen as Padawans had failed, or were somehow less. Other Padawans, Knights and even Masters had questions and criticisms of many rules and aspects of the Jedi Code. His own Master was notorious for defying the Jedi Council.
But Qui-Gon didn't leave in favor of a less strict and orthodox Order, he remained and sought truth within the Temple walls. He tried with all his mind to understand and execute the will of the Force. When prompted, he crusaded for change from within. Always following the Force, he would "do what he must." His allegiance was not the the Council, but to the Force itself.
As Obi-Wan's should be. If I was kicked out of the Temple, he thought hesitantly, That does not, by itself, mean I have ceased to be a servant of the Force.
The Force did not deny this.
Of course, being kicked out implied that Obi-Wan had failed his Trials, which still left the issue of who would teach and guide him. But he did feel mildly less anxious about the whole thing.
So he returned to his line of thinking. We serve the Force above everything. The Jedi Council is not indisputably correct about all things. Armed with these two truths, Obi-Wan forged on. My Master believes that the Force led him to the Chosen One, and that he saw a Sith on Tatooine. The Council does not believe him.
The Force, or Obi-Wan's inner voice, asked him what he believed.
I don't know how the Sith could have returned, but I felt the dark. I don't believe Anakin is the Chosen One, but... I do believe in my Master, and his connection to the Force. I trust his judgement over my own. He knew his next step, but could not bring himself to jump into the abyss.
He felt Qu-Gon's presence return to the other side of the refresher door. Again, Obi-Wan was grateful for the concern but resentful at the same time. He sprang to his feet and wrenched the door open, then pushed past his master with no communication beyond a dark glare. If Qui-Gon found this behavior rude or inappropriate, he made no comment, but Obi-Wan felt his master's eyes on him all the way back to quarters.
Anakin was there. He chirped out a cheerful 'Hi!' that set Obi-Wan's teeth on edge. He'd liked the boy well enough when the first met. But now he couldn't stand the sight of him, all because Qui-Gon seemed to like him better? The boy hadn't changed, suddenly doing something to deserve hatred. And Qui-Gon hadn't changed. It was Obi-Wan who had changed, Obi-Wan who couldn't handle that he suddenly wasn't the center of his Master's universe, because he needed so desperately to be loved.
Force, how did sons with real fathers manage these feelings? How did the universe not tear itself to pieces with betrayal and rage?
A voice, THE voice, prodded the back of Obi-Wan's mind, telling him if he would just ponder this further he might learn a great lesson, might understand the spirit of the Jedi Code and not just the letter, might discover how to bring some balm to his tumultuous and injured heart, but Obi-Wan ignored it. Anger was easier, and pain was an addictive rush.
He whirled around to face Qui-Gon and let angry words tumble out of his mouth. "Is it wise to bring a child with us?"
Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow. "The Queen is a child."
Fair point.
"Anakin is under my guardianship by Republic law. My ward, if you will." Except Jedi weren't supposed to have families, unless very special circumstances were involved and since when did those extend to the resident maverick? "The Council recognizes this. They don't dispute it." And Obi-Wan bristled, remembering the earlier words. "The Council will decide his fate. That should be enough for you." In his mind it felt like so much more than a reprimand for arguing with his master, for overstepping bounds as a Padawan. It felt like a personal slight, as if all the emphasis were on the word 'you', as if Qui-Gon had called him a mindless drone who accepted the will of the Council without thought or reason. A stumbling block to his independently minded Master.
Well, today Obi-Wan was confronting heresy. His precious council did not rule his heart. Obi-Wan defied them as a fourteen year-old child, the same age as the Queen fighting to reclaim her planet, and fight he would. "What fools they were to not dispute that!" he spat, and had the singular delight of seeing naked shock on the face of Qui-Gon Jinn. "Taking a small child into a war zone is hardly good parenting! Just how many Padawans do you intend to break in one lifetime?"
And oh, that was unkind. He had certainly put a large crack in his master's mask of serenity. And though Obi-Wan very much regretted his words, he could not find the strength to take them back.
Just as Qui-Gon, long ago, could not take back his own words and actions. They were not so different, after all.
Obi-Wan stood, letting Anakin drift away from the loud voices, letting Qui-Gon stare him down. Qui-Gon, who thought he'd been forgiven, because Obi-Wan said he had, and now discovered that forgiveness to be a lie. Qui-Gon, who watched Xanatos face temptation and turn dark on Telos, and now had to watch his next apprentice falling right in front of him.
Force help me, Obi-Wan all but cried, Catch me, please!
In a hoarse voice, Obi-Wan choked out, "Master-"
But Qui-Gon interrupted him. "Anakin will be safe so long as he listens to instructions." The boy gave an emphatic nod. Apparently they'd had this discussion before. "I will not let any harm come to him." He gestured for Anakin to come to him, and the two left the room, with Obi-Wan standing alone.
And then Obi-Wan knew, without a doubt, that this was his Trial. For even if the Universe could devise something worse, Obi-Wan knew he would not survive if he could not conquer this here and now.
All right. He fell back to his knees, back into the Force. I accept that Anakn is the Chosen One. I accept that my Master prioritizes his teaching over mine. I accept that he may even care more for Anakin than myself, that I may fail or be cast out of the Order and it will have little bearing on the galaxy at large and that I must live with that insignificance. I accept it, so Force, take away this pain! This feeling!
But the Force did not. And Obi-Wan wept.
In time, he felt sufficiently contrite and humble enough to start examining his feelings again. If Anakin is the Chosen One, he will then bring balance to the Force, he thought. What does that mean? Is the Force out of balance? Or it will become so?
He received no clarity, but felt encouraged to let his thoughts go deeper. He recalled his pondering on orthodoxy, and the temple being 'just a building'. He remembered the example set by his Master, forever a servant of the Living Force, and a new possibility presented itself.
The Force isn't out of balance. The Jedi are out of balance with the Force.
And the Force vibrated with sad confirmation.
Obi-Wan felt sick. All the talk of the future being clouded, of impending darkness, it was not an external threat, perhaps? And yet, he could not see the way in which they were out of balance, or that he was even being punished for it. But he felt the truth in these thoughts, that the Force's most devoted servants of light were compromised, and the world was a little more dark for it. Because so many had doubts? Because they lived in a world with more evils to mediate than Jedi, a world that seemed to respect the Jedi less and less?
Obi-Wan could not find the answer. He also felt that this was not the time for him to be asking those questions. A thought pierced him, that he would have many opportunities to think upon this in the future, when he was in a position to do something about it.
So Obi-Wan gradually released his hold on those anxieties. But the Chosen One, Anakin, will restore the balance? How?
The Force provided no clear answer.
Balance the Force, or balance the Jedi within the Force? Balance the galaxy? I don't understand, Obi-Wan tried again. What is he meant to do? What if he never learns what being the Chosen One means? What- and Obi-Wan could admit it was some of his bias against Anakin talking- What if he can't master his anger and doesn't balance anything? What if he doesn't even want to be the Chosen One?
And then, Obi-Wan knew in his heart with all assurance that this was not for him to know, but that the Force would be balanced. One way or another. That Anakin had a role and if he turned his back on it, another path would present itself. That the process of balance could be one of joy to the faithfully obedient or a horrific walk through the cores of multiple suns, and it was up to the Force's servants to decide which path to take. But without doubt, the Force would not stand to be out of balance, to be perverted, not when it was bigger than the Jedi or Sith and the universe itself.
But... That's not my concern now, is it?
No.
Obi-Wan's problems had nothing to do with the galaxy's turmoil. It was beyond Anakin, beyond the mission, and yet, closer than both.
He sighed. If Anakin is the Chosen One, and something within the Force needs to be balanced, then his training is more important than mine. If I should fail, be cast out or even die, it is of no importance, whereas what happens to him could mean everything to the galaxy. My Master sees this, and has put his own feelings aside. Whatever those feelings were.
Obi-Wan felt tears drop onto his hands. He ignored them. Am I such an unworthy servant, that it doesn't matter if my training is completed? The Force resounded with a kind negative. But it is more important that Anakin be trained than I? No matter what the cost?
Interesting. Time to find out why, and if the past hour or so of meditation was anything to go by, Obi-Wan knew most of the answer was already within himself.
So there was a foundation to establish. Either Qui-Gon did believe him capable of facing the Trials, and this was all unfortunate timing, or he did not, but giving Obi-Wan a chance to prove himself and rise to the occasion was a way to salvage an unfair but necessary situation. Circumstances forced his hand, either way, there was nothing more to do. The Living Force guided his Master to a being who might save them all, the same Force that guided step by step without seeing the path ahead. Were they to hold selfishly to sentiment, and thus cause suffering to the galaxy? The Force seemed to imply that the process of restoring balance would be rather apocalyptic if it's servants rejected their roles in the process.
No, Qui-Gon would not choose selfishness over the need of others. He'd learned how love and attachment could become paths to the dark if one did not martial their heart. Qui-Gon learned these lessons the hard way, through Xanatos, through Tahl, and now...
...Oh.
The Force whispered a sweet song in Obi-Wan's ears, and though his heart was fit to burst, he finally felt a measure of peace.
Qui-Gon could not let Xanatos go. His grief drove him for years, and destroyed not only himself but many people around him, including Obi-Wan. His works as a Jedi during that time were many, but how much more good could he have done were he able to look outward instead of inward? If his heart was not so full of bitterness? It had taken years to let those feelings go to the Force.
And Qui-Gon could not let Tahl go. Not at first, and again, his grief affected more than just himself. In his moments of anger, to his months and months of despair, Obi-Wan had been by his side, Obi-Wan learned the lessons alongside his Master. They were hard, and Obi-Wan could not say he'd truly surpassed the dark side of attachment, where it differed from love and stopped being selfless, but he had felt the pain attachment caused, because he'd watched his Master learn by failure. And they'd both been healed with a return to the path.
Qui-Gon couldn't let go of his attachment to Xanatos, or to Tahl, not until many years had passed, bridges burned and hearts broken.
But he could let go of his attachment to Obi-Wan now. For Obi-Wan, he'd changed.
So. There they were.
It still hurt. Qui-Gon had told him outright, one of Obi-Wan's greatest flaws was that he desired to please his Master far too much. He wanted his Master's approval, his kindness, his companionship. But a Jedi couldn't be so attached to these things, couldn't abandon serenity if they were not given. Qui-Gon's Padawan was far too old to be falling to pieces because he wasn't coddled and praised through this transition. Perhaps that was exactly why his Master had said so little about the subject, about his motivations. If Obi-Wan, at this point in his training, could not come to peace on his own, all the kind words of his Master would mean nothing.
He would not have been ready to be a Jedi Knight.
Obi-Wan breathed in, then out. He lost himself in the feel of their ship hurtling through hyperspace for a few moments, then returned to the present. To his tumultuous feelings. There was no passion, there was peace. Serenity. No strife, but only the Force.
And there, he hit on a thought. I have been reciting these edicts since I was young. Anakin has not.
He pondered that for a minute. If I should be cast out, and live my life as a non-Jedi... the force seemed dissonant on that subject, so Obi-Wan amended the thought. If I am cast out, whatever new life I find myself in, the Force will still be with me. Yes, the Force was in accordance with this. When I die, I will join with the Force, as will my Master, and all the Jedi. And the promise of so much more.
He was on the right track. But Anakin has no such training, no such knowledge. If he should leave the Temple and find a life elsewhere, what will become of him? If he died, what would become of him? Yes, the temple was just a building, the Force seemed to say, and Obi-Wan suddenly felt he was back on Tatooine, staring out a small window at an endless expanse of sand. It felt familiar and foreign, comforting and incredibly lonely all at once. If the Force was not in his heart, he was nowhere. If the Temple should vanish, Obi-Wan was still everywhere in the Force.
Because he'd learned. Anakin had not. If the Force needed Anakin trained at the expense of Obi-Wan... well, was he really so worse off? What had Qui-Gon to fear, if he'd truly trained his apprentice well? Obi-Wan would be able to fulfil his destiny and join the Force, whatever the circumstances.
And if Obi-Wan was correct in all this thinking, then his Master not only trusted him, but most likely knew and loved his Padawan more than words could say.
Shame filled him then, to be swept away by the Force and replaced with knowledge. He had learned, he had grown, he had time to apologize. Even though Obi-Wan felt his meditation exercise was not truly over, he still rose from the floor and left the quarters, seeking out his Master. He felt that expressing his new attitude was important, that his Master know his Padawan was returning to the light after his brief tantrum.
He found Anakin first, who was wary until Obi-Wan crouched down on one knee. "I apologize for my words earlier, and for shouting in front of you."
"It's fine," Anakin mumbled, still unsure of how to behave around Obi-Wan. It was a punishment in it's own way. Obi-Wan knew he could be impatient with others, often downright rude to those most in need of his help. Sometimes this was not a flaw, but something that drove him to be better, do more, bring more peace and joy through his actions.
But as in all things, it had to be controlled and balanced. "There are many things on this mission that have filled me with doubt. And now we are heading into another dangerous situation. But my attitude has nothing to do with you, and should have been controlled. I am sorry for hurting you."
"That's okay," Anakin said again, and this time seemed to mean it, though still more sober than he'd been. "I think everyone's a little weird right now. Even the Queen, and I didn't think she got upset about anything!"
Obi-Wan laughed a little then. "Queens are people too, Anakin. Just like you and I. May the Force help us set this all right soon."
Anakin nodded, and gave a tiny, childish smile. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Mister Obi-Wan." He then looked up over Obi-Wan's shoulder and grinned. "Hi, Mister Qui-gon!"
"Hello, Ani. I hope you're keeping out of trouble?" By Anakin's face, the truth seemed dubious. Obi-Wan stood and faced his Master, apology on the tip of his tongue.
But it was not to be. "We've been requested for a meeting with the Queen. Follow me."
Time was not their luxury. "Yes, Master." He went with Qui-Gon and stood mostly silent through the meeting with Queen Amidala, only offering up a comment on occasion. She had a bold plan for retaking her planet, given that the Jedi were only there to protect her, a fact that Qui-Gon reiterated several times. So, it seemed they would be protecting her right through a war zone. For his part, Obi-Wan wasn't sure why his Master was being such a stickler about this, given that this was the same man who often incited coups when they were sent to mediate a treaty. As the Trade Federation had clearly overstepped their bounds and occupied the planet, it seemed like the sort of situation that even the austere Jedi Council would have trouble condemning Qui-Gon for assisting beyond mere protection. Certainly, he doubted Chancellor Valorum would have a problem with it.
Ah, but the Queen had called for a vote of no confidence, and the Senate had followed her. They wold soon have a new Chancellor. And as they had all suspected earlier, the Trade Federation had suddenly become more aggressive than normal, as if others were involved in their actions. Things were changing rapidly in their world, and then there was the Sith... With the Force whispering to Obi-Wan that he be wary, filling him with numerous 'bad feelings', he shouldn't be surprised if his Master was getting the impression that, in this moment at least, he should follow the rules and not run wild. For now.
Either way, the atmosphere was tense, and did not dissipate when the meeting concluded. The decision to try to appeal to the Gungans had both impressed his Master and concerned him. Obi-Wan felt it the only logical possibility if they were to attempt anything on Naboo and not be slaughtered. Even the resistance groups that had formed might not necessarily be able to travel to the capital city safely to offer their assistance. But saying so to Qui-Gon, after all the words he'd already spoken, would likely feel less like reassurance and more like repeated arrogance. He kept silent, and the two Jedi walked down the corridor in silence.
When they reached their quarters, Qui-Gon looked as if about to say something to Obi-Wan, but then thought better of it. He turned his head away and palmed open the door, and would have stepped through and shut the door in Obi-Wan's face had the Padawan not moved quickly to step inside.
To say Obi-Wan was disappointing was an understatement. And he wasn't entirely sure if this was justified punishment for his reprehensible behavior, or if Qui-Gon was just being a stubborn gundark.
And then the Force slammed into his head with all the weight of a brick. Sometimes Qui-Gon was a stubborn gundark, and Obi-Wan needed to meditate on this right now. So he settled down on the floor again, without words, while Qui-Gon rolled over on the small bunk and went to sleep. Not peaceful, but quiet, and Obi-Wan sank into the Force.
His master was stubborn. Flawed. Idiotic, even. All things Obi-Wan knew to be true. He'd suffered through his Master's depression after losing Tahl, the grief piled right on top of his own. He'd lived through the effects of Xanatos. His Master was never perfect, never claimed he was, and only a foolish, hero-worshiping Padawan would ever think that to be true.
And yet, Obi-Wan was trusting that all Qui-Gon's actions were born of the Force, that Anakin truly was the Chosen One, and it took precedence over Obi-Wan's own training, which was nearly complete anyway. If Qui-Gon was imperfect, however... then he could be wrong about any of those things. He could be unconsciously, or even deliberately hurtful.
Oh, Force! Obi-Wan breathed, hating this new turn. Why would you give me this doubt, just as I've managed to make peace with some of my feelings?
Why, indeed. There was nothing to do, but keep pondering. It would not be the first time Obi-Wan was faced with such contradictions. He'd felt the same on Melida/Daan, and...
...Oh. He'd felt the same on Melida/Daan. When he'd insisted his duty lay apart from his Master's commands, and was willing to give up the Jedi Order itself for it. And his Master had felt disappointed, hurt and most of all, betrayed.
But it wasn't a betrayal. It wasn't personal at all. Obi-Wan was doing what he felt was right, what he thought the Force wanted, and to this day, he couldn't fully say he'd been wrong. Even after years of meditation, he knew he'd made a mistake on Melida/Daan, but hadn't fully fleshed out just what it was. Qui-Gon had been rather frustrated with him through it all, but finally fixed Obi-Wan with a resigned look and said, "If you truly believe that, and the Force was involved in your actions, then perhaps this is something neither of us need to understand."
And now the positions were reversed. Obi-Wan felt betrayed, Qui-Gon felt the cause of righteousness moving him to action. And it was as if they were standing at that crossroads again, an ultimatum between them. 'Either obey me, or be cut off from the Jedi. Either recant your claims, or suffer my wrath and pain.' For they were both suffering, and both stubborn. And if one of them, either of them, could back down a bit and trust the other, be willing to accept that their actions were born of good reasons, that there was still caring and love between them, that they were both grounded in light and the Force... perhaps they could have stood on their opposite sides and not felt such sorrow. Perhaps it did not need to have been a trial.
And while all this was true, Qui-Gon was still the Master, and Obi-Wan was the Padawan. Either he trusted his Master was acting with the Force as his ally, or he didn't. And if he didn't, there were proper ways to make his concerns known to to Council or others involved without throwing childish tantrums, and none of that had any real bearing on the mission that was happening in the present moment. The simplest, most repeated lesson of his Master's: "Don't center on your anxieties, keep your focus in the moment. Be mindful of the Living Force."
This was never about Anakin. It wasn't about Qui-Gon's regard for him. It was about Obi-Wan's faith in the Force, and as an extension, his faith in his Master.
The ship exited hyperspace during this revelation, and Qui-Gon soon left the room. His hand brushed against Obi-Wan's hair as he passed by, and Obi-Wan nearly cried. He wasn't sure if he was falling, or finally rising up from the bottom of some forsaken ocean, but he plunged himself into the Force now. Help me find peace, he begged. I think I understand now, but I can't help my feelings. I can't help this fear. It had always been so, since he was very young. Intellectually, he felt he'd gained new perspective on the situation, and the lessons he'd been taught now rang with clarity.
But a part of his mind, the chemicals and neurons that behaved traitorously against the whole, that part could not be quelled by reason. It was not just the Force that was out of balance.
Inadequate. Unloved. Unwanted. Nuisance. Oafish. The words marched on and on, the fear that they would never be conquered, the fear others would notice, the fear that these failings would cost the lives and happiness of others... And he knew, in his heart, that despite his new understanding and willingness to accept these events, every future moment of weakness would send him right back into that Council chamber, to relive the doubt and anger and self-recrimination all over again. To color every mistake and doubt he encountered along the road. Just as Bandomeer did, and Bruck's death, Tahl, Melida/Daan and Cerasi... He knew this about himself, had even spoken with the Healer Vokara Che about it, but still could not stop.
But he had always been charged to keep his focus in the moment, and in the moment, he could find serenity. There is no passion, there is peace... There was the Force.
Surely Qui-Gon had known Obi-Wan would react this way, on some level. He knew the weaknesses of his apprentice more intimately than any other. He had to have suspected that Obi-Wan might not take it well, the declaration that Anakin Skywalker would be his new Padawan, whether or not Obi-Wan was ready for the Trials and come what may.
That it happened at all was proof that Qui-Gon had followed the Force in the moment, not knowing beforehand what he would be required to do.
That he hadn't said anything reassuring afterwards was proof that this was Obi-Wan's trial.
He didn't resist the tears, this time. Oh, Force, give me strength! If he was experiencing such a trial now, he didn't dare imagine what the official Trails might devise to test him.
But they were not saints, but seekers. And Obi-Wan had a few moments left for seeking...
When he left the ship, he was once again the composed Jedi Padawan, ready to focus on the mission. There was still a sort of stale air between himself and his Master, but not the frost. Qui-Gon had noticed the change in Obi-Wan, and was pleased.
But more needed to be said. During a quiet moment, waiting for Jar-Jar to surface from the lake, Obi-Wan finally offered his apology.
It was rather simple. "It's not my place to disagree with you about the boy." It truly wasn't, he could see that now. And any legitimate complaints he had should have been expressed in a calm, mature manner, allowing his Master to guide them both to mutual understanding. "And I am grateful you think I am ready to face the Trials."
He relished in the warmth that now radiated from his Master. He was a little unprepared for the surprise, and the bottomless relief, however. Had Qui-Gon been afraid that Obi-Wan would not come through this trial, as Xanatos had not? Did he think Obi-Wan's feelings had been too wounded to find his clarity and serenity, and offer a genuine, sincere apology? He thought he detected a little shame from his master, that he had not been the one to extend the olive branch first. So, in the end, maybe all possibilities were truth. Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan capable, was guided to his actions by the Force, but was still a stubborn gundark.
It was all part of the man Obi-Wan loved, and strived to be. Qui-Gon took his shoulder, and once again, the world was righted, balanced. "You've been a good apprentice, Obi-Wan. And you're a much wiser man than I am." There were little words after that, before the moment was once again one of the mission. But Obi-Wan still breathed clear air, prepared for the current moment and the one after. He knew there were dark moments coming, his perpetual bad feelings had not ceased, but he was once again balanced in the Force.
He followed his Master, as always, and his feet were light and soundless upon the grass.