Well, then. Here we go. Another one-shot, though more than twice as long as my last one. I apologize about that, but this story simply... went longer and longer all on its own, and I didn't want to split it up into chapters. Doing so didn't feel right.
This is basically purely the fruit of my imagination and my love for the Star Wars universe. Sure, I relied on Wookieepedia, but it can give only so much. Consequently, I hope the details make sense not only in my mind. Of course, if they don't, feel free to point it out :) The same stands for grammar mistakes- I do not use a beta, and so I might have missed something (and then some). Hopefully, I didn't.
Another thing- I have read the Jedi Apprentice series, as well as the Jedi Quest one. However, it was something along the line of a year ago. Therefore, I do not remember all the details, and if anything in particular stands out enough to bother, again, feel free to point it out.
I really, really hope someone enjoys this (:
Disclaimer: None of anything mentioned below is my own. Everything belongs to the brilliant mind of George Lucas. Had it been reversed, I would have done a very poor job. Sad, but true.
Strangely enough, Anakin had found that sneaking out of the Temple wasn't something he could label as fun.
Sure, it was exhilarating- at least on some level. The knowledge that he was about to once again feel pure, unadulterated freedom in a way only podracing could provide always stretched a too-big-even-for-his-liking smirk across his face. It caused a strange mix of excitement and adrenalin to blend along with the blood pumping through his body, until- in the rare cases when Anakin actually allowed himself to forget reality, just for a moment- he felt more as if he was going on a life-and-death mission rather than doing a simple if prohibited deed of going out without permission and after curfew.
The thing was, escaping reality- even for a thirteen-years-old- was easier said than done.
He tried. He really did. And yet, every time he tiptoed across the quarters he shared with his master- just like he was doing now- a small part of him shook a little with a bit of dread. Whenever he thought of it- of the fact that it wasn't as though he was going off to assassinate somebody, but was simply looking for some fun- he wondered, with no small amount of disdain and frustration, what it was that brought that dread on. Really, he might be training to be a Jedi Knight, and he might be intending to become a wizard Jedi Knight, but Jedi were allowed to have fun.
Weren't they?
Picturing the Council having fun didn't exactly fit with what he's seen so far of the stern-looking masters. Somehow, Anakin had a hard time visualizing Master Windu singing, Master Yoda dancing, or Master Mundi drinking and cheering while watching a sports channel on the holonet. Even Master Gallia, who was always respectful- and, if she was suspicious of him like everybody else, at least didn't show it- didn't seem as one who would do anything… well, entertaining by Anakin's standards.
And so he was left with his own master.
Obi-Wan Kenobi- Master Kenobi or simply Master when uttered, because it just felt too… intimate to say Obi-Wan- Anakin could only call flat-out odd.
Granted, that wasn't completely true. Amongst the Jedi, Anakin's Master was perfectly normal. Not only that, but he was pretty much the perfect Jedi, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was the first in centuries upon centuries to kill a Sith- even if, when Anakin succeeded in detaching himself from the fact that said incident had been Qui-Gon's end, it always made him look at Obi-Wan with awe.
Anakin might not know a lot about the Sith, but he'd like to think he knew enough. He was well aware they were dangerous. He knew they were evil. And, most importantly, he knew it was a Sith who'd murdered the first person, beside his mother, to ever truly, unconditionally believe in him. A complete stranger, who'd put his life- and countless of others', he'd been told- on the line because of a simple belief a mere human child- a slave- could do the impossible and not only finish a podrace, but also win it.
Qui-Gon had believed in him.
And the Sith killed him.
Just like that.
Shaking his head to clear the thoughts- Jedi do not harbor anger, he knew, though he still couldn't understand that particular saying, as he simply couldn't comprehend how one could not harbor anger for a being who'd murder someone as good as Qui-Gon- Anakin quietly stepped through one of the hanger's side doors and into Coruscant's fresh air.
Immediately, a tremble passed through his body.
It was cold. It was always cold here. And, apparently, he was the only one who felt it, even after four years.
Somehow, that brought him back to the subject from which his thoughts had wondered off a couple of minutes before- Obi-Wan. Perhaps it was the fact that, though his master never felt cold like Anakin did, he always took the time to get his apprentice an extra blanket- even when Anakin hadn't yet gathered the courage to ask for it himself, back when he was still a complete stranger on a weird planet. Probably, in fact. It had been, after all, the first thing his master had done that showed he truly didn't hate Anakin. That he truly did care. And, maybe, that he would keep on caring. In addition, it was still one of the only rare ways in which he showed that.
Not that Obi-Wan was cruel. Not in the slightest- just the opposite, in fact. Though closed-off and a bit too stoic, he was always kind and thoughtful, and he really did try to listen- but he couldn't understand. He couldn't rightly grasp the concept of living through years of slavery and of missing his mother, because he'd been raised in the Temple and so probably didn't have a memory of his own parents.
Anakin couldn't understand that himself. As much as he missed his mother- as much as it hurt- he wouldn't give away the memories of her. Not for the world. Not having a memory of one's mother- that was just… sad.
His master didn't fully understand, and yet he always allowed Anakin to crawl into his bed and curl up against him whenever he had a nightmare. Always. And he always held Anakin until he felt asleep, always made him feel safe when he thought he might never again feel that, even though it was against the stupid code and even though he obviously wasn't a tactile person. Showing affection- it wasn't something that came easily for Anakin's master.
It was just that sometimes, Anakin forgot that. And on those occasions, it was quite hard to believe his master actually cared.
But mostly, Anakin was grown-up enough to remember- and try to understand. He always needed more, but he definitely wasn't going to ask, and his master did care. He knew that. At least, he was almost positive. And so, from time to time, he wondered at that- at the fact that his master was always there when he truly needed him, even though it was hard for him.
Sure, Anakin missed his mother's free-given love. He missed it a lot. However, if that wasn't kindness, Anakin didn't know what was.
Ninety-five percent of Obi-Wan might still a complete mystery, but Anakin nonetheless found that he didn't want another master.
Why?
Because.
It was that simple.
All of this thinking didn't help, though- it only gave Anakin a headache, which he really didn't need when about to podrace. As he turned around the familiar corner and stepped over the unofficial eastern border of Coruscant's underlevels, he still had absolutely no idea why he never liked sneaking out of the Jedi Temple.
As he was once again shaking his head in frustration, this time also wishing his master was the sort of person who wouldn't notice if his thirteen-years-old padawan suddenly 'woke up' with a large bruise on his forehead, Anakin finally came in sight of his destination.
It was by no means an impressive building, like so many of those who stood high amongst the cloud in the Senate district, as well as the rest of Coruscant's respected high-levels. Standing- or, more correctly, buried- in the heart of the Entertainment District, the podracing ground was for all intents and purposes a tunnel. Twisting and curling with its only entrance, ironically, almost directly beneath the Galaxies Opera House, the tunnel was thin enough to allow only two pods to fly side by side. That, of course, was in the better parts of the course. Mostly, one needed to be extremely careful if one didn't want to end up in incinerating little pieces.
Anakin wasn't afraid. He knew he could do it. In fact, he'd already done it in this very track, and was still, clearly, in one piece. He'd even managed to return to his room without being caught.
The 'guard' was not the same one whom Anakin had slipped by the last time. This one was a purple Twi'lek- and half of his left prehensile tentacle was missing. Misplaced. Brutally cut. You pick. All the same, Anakin couldn't help but stare. One of his fellow padawans was a Twi'lek, and then there was the Jedi Knight Aayla Secura. They were both nice, considerate beings, and not prone to violence, even amongst the Jedi and their padawans, which was saying quite a lot. Anakin could also clearly recall one of his classes, in which the master teaching explained the Twi'lek's origins and cultures; and even though he probably didn't listen to every word- he wasn't particularly fond of that kind of classes, though he'd been told repeatedly by his master that they were important- he was pretty sure he remembered something about the twi'lek people being non-violent, peaceful people, save a few exceptions. This was just… ehm, weird. And cruel. What had happened to this particular Twi'lek to make him look more like a rogue pirate than a… well, peaceful humanoid?
The Twi'lek didn't take long in focusing on Anakin, who had stopped barely a few feet in front of him and was looking up with slightly wide eyes. Eyes narrowing, he swept his gaze over him- taking in the very clear Jedi 'outfit', Anakin guessed- and rolled his eyes. "This is no place for a kid," he barked in a very un-Twi'lek-like and highly unfriendly tone before returning to sweeping the crowded street.
A bit offended, Anakin huffed and crossed his hands over his chest. "You have to let me in," he muttered, going for the same unfriendly tone and coming up with one way too small for his liking.
The Twi'lek's eyes once again fixed on Anakin, who swore they were a bit surprised this time. Oddly, though, the purple mouth lifted nearly imperceptibly, and Anakin again felt a surge of anger go through him as he realized the almost-smile was mocking. "You'd think you're all-scary, wouldn't you, kid? Blowing up your chest like that." He snorted insultingly. "Well, you're not. Bug off."
Anakin bit on a Huttese curse, instead opting for a, "I'm a Jedi, you know."
His master would be proud. Or… not.
"Jedi or no Jedi, you're not going in."
Now very annoyed, Anakin bit, "You ever heard of the Force? I can make you let me in." Actually, he was fairly sure he couldn't, but this koochoo of a Twi'lek didn't need to know that.
The Twi'lek lifted a brow at him. "Oh, really? Come on, kid. Try."
Nope. No, he wouldn't. He would not give him the satisfaction. That, however, left him with one option he could see. Sighing internally- his master would kill him if he knew Anakin did this- he unclipped his lightsaber from his utility belt and dangled the hilt in front of the koochoo's eyes.
The Twi'lek's eyes widened.
"How about now?" Anakin asked, enjoying the edge of smugness in his voice. He was no mere kid.
Face darkening, the purple being simply stepped back.
Rolling his eyes and resisting the temptation to stick a tongue out at him, Anakin walked by without saying a word, then turned right and bounced down the relatively long and very empty flight of stairs.
The empty part didn't last. Even as he neared the end of the shabby, not-precisely-clean staircase, muffled though increasing in volume voices reached his ears. Not even bothering to try and distinguish them- many, he guessed, were spoken in a language he didn't know- Anakin hopped off the last stairs and halted.
Maybe he should have been slower in going down the steps. There were a lot more beings here than had been the last time he was here, and he was still annoyingly short. He couldn't see anything.
Sighing out loud- it wasn't as though someone would hear him in this clutter of noise- Anakin turned on his heels and skipped up a few steps, then once again turned around. Squinting, his eyes swept over that of the tunnel which he could see, peering over various species' heads and the track's point of launch in search of a certain sign which should be there.
After a minute or so, he found it. Grinning, Anakin absently flung his padawan braid over his shoulder and all but threw himself forward, pushing through the chattering crowd and past the gambling center which was a long table, glowing red in an appropriate near-perfect imitation of the Entertainment District.
Obi-Wan had been dreaming.
More importantly, he'd been having a pleasant dream. Nobody liked being awakened from a much-needed, relaxed sleep filled with enjoyable dreams. Nobody, regardless of whether or not they remembered said pleasant, enjoyable dreams, was fond of finding himself suddenly plucked of those dreams, left with the unquestionable knowledge that he was very much not-asleep and had no chance at all of sleeping again during that night.
To add to that, as Obi-Wan allowed his lids to flutter open and waited until his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized he had no idea whatsoever why it was he was awake in the middle of the night- a Jedi's internal clock did not lie- when he was pretty sure he'd only gone to sleep a few hours before, and had no recall of something important he should be doing at this time.
Why was he awake?
Obi-Wan was not prone to sleeping in, granted, but the fact remained that it was not because he liked waking up early. Actually, he had some very fond memories of rare occasions in which he had allowed himself to sleep late- not that he'd let Anakin know that, of course; the boy was far too talented with taking in every detail which he could exploit later and use it for that precise purpose. However, there was always… something to do. Life as a Jedi was neither easy nor idle, and Obi-Wan's conscience, he'd admit, was too evolved for his own good. He simply couldn't give himself the luxury of sleeping late when there was a breakfast to make for an ever-hungry, hyperactive boy; a padawan to train; errands to run around the Temple; homework to make sure were made, and so on. Then there were the missions, which had been increasing in quantity and frequency in the past few months- ever since Anakin had constructed his own lightsaber and had been declared adequately prepared to go on missions with Obi-Wan. Adequately, of course, referred to the fact that a lot of a padawan's training occurred on the field rather than in the Temple. Experience wasn't to be underestimated.
Not that Obi-Wan complained. He was a Jedi, and he would not exchange this life for anything. Not now.
Anyway, this had never happened to him before. He didn't just wake for no reason. He didn't do much of anything for no reason- or so he preferred to believe.
The answer came fast enough. Still, Obi-Wan would have possibly sighed had he not been immediately plunged by other, more pressing thoughts.
The Force. Of course. It was swirling around him, dancing and twisting- but not in a peaceful way. Nor in a good one, for that matter- at least, from a certain point of view.
If not for the Force, after all, how would he have known Anakin was not in his room?
Barely a minute after he'd woken up, Obi-Wan was standing in the doorstep of his padawan's room- standing stoically straight, still fighting off the last strands of sleep, and staring perplexingly at the very much empty room.
His padawan's room. Empty. In the middle of the night. He didn't even bother considering it- if Anakin wasn't in the room at such a time, he wasn't at the Temple, either. And if Anakin wasn't at the temple at such a time, there were only two things which he could be doing: searching for parts for some Force-forsaken droid, or podracing. He'd never stopped speaking of it- had even mentioned once, long before, that there was a podracing ground here on Coruscant.
He exceedingly wanted to believe it was the former in this case. He really did. That option, unfortunately, was dismissed before Obi-Wan could bring himself to truly believe it, because the Force wouldn't be sparking with danger like it currently was if that was the case. The disturbance wouldn't be this grand. To make things worse, Obi-Wan had a nagging suspicion this was not the first time his padawan had gone off to Force-knows-where to podrace- or watch podracing, as unlikely as that oddly encouraging thought should have been- and so, if he was awake right now, this was more than the risk of podracing alone.
Obi-Wan allowed himself a short moment of closing his eyes, and sighed. Oh, Anakin. What have you done this time? And how am I to find you? In doing so, he took a split second to release the anxiety that was beginning to form into the Force. It wouldn't help him find Anakin; if anything, it would only render him unlikely to do so.
Sure enough, as soon as he had control over his feelings again, an idea jumped to mind.
Then he was turning around, striding for his room. Putting his boots and the outer layers of his Jedi tunic on, then fastening his utility belt around his midsection and clipping his lightsaber to it, Obi-Wan all but bolted from the quarters he shared with his incredibly young and apparently foolish padawan.
Only by sheer force of will did he not allow the door to slam behind him in his haste.
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Dexter's Diner was not open at these hours, Obi-Wan was fairly certain. Still, conveniently enough, Dex himself lived directly above his diner- and it wasn't food Obi-Wan needed at the moment.
He needed Anakin.
But, as he was also fairly certain Dex couldn't snap his fingers and have Anakin appear in front of him, he'd settle for information, which was his friend's specialty- more so than cooking, even. And that said quite a lot.
Not ten minutes after he'd woken, and vaguely appreciative of his efficiency and speed, Obi-Wan was standing in front of Dexter's Diner's entrance. For a few precious seconds, he reflected on which way would be best to approach this situation with. Just banging on the door wouldn't do- frankly, not only was he not sure whether it would actually wake Dex, but it would definitely disturb other neighbors, and he couldn't afford to lose time- and neither would simply yelling Dexter, wake up!
So, as far as Obi-Wan could see, he was left with only one option. And, as his padawan's life might be hanging on the balance here, one couldn't call this an unnecessary use of the Force. Right?
Oh, who cares. He'd probably admonish himself for that thought later. At the moment, though, he really didn't care.
Closing his eyes, he tapped into the Force. As it flowed around him, through him as well as everything else in the near vicinity, he felt for the door's lock. He sensed it very shape, every hinge, every tiny, seemingly unimportant detail- and, with a tiny push aided by the Force at exactly the right place, the lock clicked open.
Relieved, Obi-Wan lightly shoved it open, and then carefully closed it behind him. He proceeded to the staircase behind the counter and took it two steps at a time until he was standing directly in front of the less-decorated-than-the-diner's-entrance door to Dex's apartment.
He knocked. Hard. And stopped only when he felt a consciousness stirring and becoming more prominent in the Force.
A few moments afterwards, the door slid open.
And there stood the Besalisk, blinking at him. Though his upper body was awkwardly uncovered, Obi-Wan didn't miss the fact that one of his four massive hands was behind his back.
"Obi-Wan?"
Dex sounded honestly astounded, and the hand straightened from its previous position. Unsurprisingly, it was holding a blaster.
Obi-Wan eyed it disdainfully for a heartbeat, and then looked up at his friend. "I need help," he said simply.
Still gaping, Dex nodded. "Of course, of course, old buddy. Come in, come in."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't have time," he said quietly and urgently. "I need information- about podracing, here on Coruscant."
One of Dex's eyes widened- the Besalisk equivalent of a raised eyebrow. "Podracing," he repeated, his voice raspy and still a bit sleepy, but now bordering on suspicious as well.
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, catching his friend's eyes. "I need to know where Coruscant's podracing ground is."
"And why would you-" Dex started to say before abruptly stopping as realization dawned on his face. His face softened imperceptibly. "It's that learner of yours, isn't it?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan said again, trying to be patient- and failing. It wasn't clouding his thinking nor his concentration, but the worrying wasn't doing his serenity any good. Please, my friend, tell me it's not far. Please. "I'm trying to find him, but I am not precisely an expert in this… field-"
"And I am," Dex continued for him.
Shrugging, Obi-Wan nodded, a not-quite-happy smile tickling the edge of his lips.
"I wouldn't argue that point," Dex remarked, his smile a bit smug. To his credit, he sobered quickly. "The pod circuit is below the city- quite literally. It ain't your usual one- or, at least, not one of the more familiar. As opposed to those, the races here don't have rounds- the track is basically an old smuggler's tunnel; it's long, complex and thorny, and it's considered one of the more dangerous circuits. It also starts and ends in the same place, with the podrace tunnel itself twirling around about a quarter of the planet's surface, if I remember correctly."
"I seriously doubt you do not," Obi-Wan said quietly, smiling despite himself.
"True," Dex agreed. "The only entrance you will find, Master Jedi, is almost directly below the Galaxies Opera House."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow drily. "Really?"
"Yep. Look for a non-suspicious looking store, and follow the crowds. Most people there aren't gonna watch an opera today, if there's a podrace goin'. I'll bet my diner on it." Then, looking slightly appalled, he quickly added, "No, I won't, but-"
Still fighting the urge to smile- Dex simply had that energy about him, an energy which, frankly, reminded Obi-Wan a bit of Anakin; and though the Besalisk was capable of much more, Dex nevertheless made everything sound cheerful- he raised an opened palm to halt the stream of words he suspected was coming. "I wouldn't dream of you doing it, Dex, don't worry." Reaching out a hand, he clasped the Besalisk's huge one for a quick shake. "Thank you, my friend." Then he quickly turned around and started going down the way he came.
"Hey, Kenobi!" Dex called from behind him. "How did you get in?"
"Guess."
As he hopped down the last step- just before he exited the diner, again careful not to shut the door too forcefully behind him- he was pretty certain he heard Dex mutter, "Jedi."
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Look for a non-suspicious looking store, and follow the crowd.
Yes, thank you very much, Dex. Very helpful, had the streets not been as packed as if the entire outer-rim territories' population had suddenly decided to go on vacation to Coruscant, and had all decided to hang around the Uscru Entertainment district during this specific night and around this particular point of interest.
Fortunately enough, Obi-Wan could see no Hutts in the near vicinity. Yes, quite a shock.
A lack of Hutts notwithstanding, it appeared that every species Obi-Wan was familiar with- and then a lot more he'd never encountered before in either person or archives- was there. Everywhere he looked, a mess of beings was going in every direction possible, and air-vehicles were being piloted directly above them. None where on the ground, but then again, Obi-wan couldn't see how that would have been possible, considering the fact that there was no place to move.
Sighing, Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair a bit rougher than necessary. Reaching to some point beneath his ears, as he liked to keep it longer in the years since he'd been knighted, it was now a bit messy, as he'd had better things to do than make sure he was appropriately presentable. It didn't matter, anyway- no one was looking at him, and even if someone was, he couldn't care less. One who hung around these areas for fun- more correctly, atrocities such as Death Sticks- wasn't someone whose opinions he would care about.
Besides, it felt as if his nerves were inflamed. The Force hummed clearer and clearer with every passing second, all but physically hurrying him up, and he could feel the danger- and not for himself. Truthfully, he wished it were for himself. He could handle that- had been handling it since he could remember himself. But an unknown danger to his padawan- a thirteen-years-old boy he couldn't find- wasn't something he could solve with a few well-chosen words or a thrust of his lightsaber.
The Force, though- the Force was a friend. An ever-present ally, and one he couldn't lose. He was born with it, and he couldn't imagine a life without it.
Sometimes, he wondered what it was like- life for non-Force-sensitive beings.
You had better be fine, Anakin. If only so I can think of a proper punishment.
Right now, he couldn't. The fear- and the feeling that it shouldn't be there, therefore making him try to push it out of his mind, which was only making concentrating harder- was too prominent for him to consider anything beyond having Anakin stand directly before him. Once he did- once he made sure Anakin was well, and going to stay that way- then he'd work on a suitable method to teach his apprentice why this had been wrong. And meditate on why this blasted fear was so difficult to ignore.
Nonetheless, fear or not, Obi-Wan had always had a keen ability to think- and function- under pressure.
Pressing himself further back against the wall as to not be swept with the crowd, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reached deeper into the Force. Then he looked- searched through the feelings bombarding all around him, until he found them.
Excitement. Anticipation.
It didn't take him long to pinpoint the emotions' origin. Lids shooting up, he glanced a bit to the right and above the heads swimming through the crowd, and his eyes fell on his destination.
Lips pulling up in a humorless smile, Obi-Wan pushed himself from the wall and started making his way through the muddle of bodies. His hand did not stray toward his lightsaber- he did not intend to be chopping off anybody's hand- but he remained ever-alert of it clipped to his belt, ready to go for it in faster than lightspeed if the need arose.
Somehow, he had a feeling it wouldn't. Even as he slipped by the Twi'lek guard with a gentle Force-manipulation to shift attention from himself- he did not have time for negotiations- a twisting in his gut told him this was not something he could solve or fix. That it was not up to him.
Still, he would try.
He'd never been one to sit idly by if there was the chance that he could.
Anakin was having the time of his life.
Though he could never forget how podracing felt, he could never perfectly recall every sensation and thought, either. Actually, he'd never been able to remember anything but the very general feeling. That, he'd always suspected, was probably due to the fact that he was flying too fast to catch his thoughts, let alone his sensations. Podracing- when he was in the cockpit, shooting past other racers who were nothing more than a blur through his protective glasses- was more like a dream. And out-of-body experience. When every wrong move, no matter how slight, could end his life so swiftly he'd never see it coming, he was more one with the Force than any other time; so deep within it that nothing truly felt real, and still everything felt real. Absurd, yes, but that was simply how it was for him.
Back on Tatooine- back when he hadn't been aware that he was, in reality, really more than a slave boy- he hadn't known it was the Force. He'd always felt there was something else out there for him, be it from his dreams or simply as a result of a pure stubbornness to show he was no slave, and that he would save his mother, and, if at all possible, free all slaves. And yet, he didn't know. He'd only ever heard of the Force and the Jedi, but had never seen a Jedi, and certainly hadn't even considered that it was the Force which had kept him alive in the cockpit, which had helped him save Watto's pod in a way no other human would have been able to accomplish, and which made him feel as if he was never truly alone. Podracing was simply and plainly a way to acutely sense the freedom he'd never quite been sure he'd have, for him and his mother both.
And still, his mother was on Tatooine. And still, she was a slave.
Perhaps that was another reason why he enjoyed podracing so. Perhaps it was another spark of hope.
He didn't know, nor did he have the time to ponder upon it. Right now, he was yanking the pod's yokes backwards, slowing the repulsorlift vehicle by an imperceptible amount as he turned around a curved corner of the tunnel's.
He wasn't used to this podracer. It was a different model from the few he'd piloted before- a FG 8T8-Twin Block2 Special, if he wasn't mistaken. He'd never been much of an expert on the models' names, though he knew every tiny detail regarding how they worked, what they were built of and how they were built. The odd thing about this podracer was that, in contrast to every other pod, its cockpit was joined to the engines forward of their intakes via fixed, faired brackets, instead of a separate gondola which trailed the pod's engines and was fastened to them with flexible cords, thereby transmitting commands input by the vehicle's pilot to the engines, which were in turn bound by energy binders.
Thus, piloting it was quite different.
It had taken him about two seconds to get the hang of it. Really, it wasn't all that complicated.
The yell of glee as he slipped past another podracer- a newer model than the one he was piloting, ironically- and turned around another rather sharp corner at the same time was torn out of him all by its own. According to the datapad installed in the podracer itself, he was now the third- and he had about five minutes to finish.
He could do it. There was no doubt in Anakin's mind.
Suddenly, he was once again a nine-years-old human boy, stranded on a Force-forsaken planet in the Outer Rim, who'd never even finished a podrace.
You've never won a race?
Well, not exactly.
Not even finished?
Kitster's right. I will this time.
And then, two strong and yet gentle hands gripped his shoulders.
Of course you will.
Unsurprisingly, in all the chaos and the thrill of the ride, he didn't notice the Xexto he'd just flown past- one very similar to Gasgano, one of the contesters against whom he'd raced in the Boonta Eve race- reaching out with one of his four hands for something in the bottom of his cockpit.
For a moment, Obi-Wan could have sworn he was having a nightmare.
The minute he'd reached the end of the staircase, his eyes had travelled over the dozens upon dozens of beings either pressed against the fence separating them with what he guessed was the podracing circuit or sitting on gradually heightened rows of chairs as high as the tunnel would allow across from the side he was on. From them, his gaze had swiftly strayed up to the magnificent screens in front of him- there were some on the other side, he guessed, as some of those on the rows of chairs were looking up, transfixed, with the rest staring down at what Obi-Wan presumed were datapads-
-and had stopped dead.
His entire body frozen, Obi-Wan gaped at one of the screens. There, Anakin was sitting- no, flying at utterly insane speed- in the oddest-looking podracer he'd ever seen. Not that he was any expert- but wasn't the cockpit supposed to be behind the engines and attached to them via cables?
It wasn't not that he was really surprised to find Anakin in a podracer. Frankly, he hadn't been expecting anything different- only hoping. But what he was seeing unfold before his eyes- that was his thirteen-years-old padawan- the boy who had so much more to do in life- about to go straight to his death.
And he was sure Anakin was. The Force all but uttered it with actual words. His body all but screamed it.
Almost frantically- and he would not lose his composure; not now, when Anakin needed him- his eyes quickly swept across what he could see of the tunnel and its temporary inhabitants.
And froze all over as his eyes jerked back to a place they'd rested on a split of a second before.
No. It can't be.
All reason indicated it couldn't- and yet, there he was. Standing in front of the fence, thankfully on Obi-Wan's side of the tunnel.
Then- just like that- everything clicked into place.
Obi-Wan felt as if he'd been punched in the gut.
Shaking himself out of it, he flew down the rest steps and pushed through the thick layer of people separating him from that one particular human. A few angry exclamations reached his ears as he shoved against a few undistinguishable individuals a bit rougher than was necessary, but since he hadn't done it on purpose and had worse concerns on his mind than him being impolite, he ignored them- and grasped the human's shoulder.
"Didi?"
The human jerked up and around, eyes going wide- and then widening some more as they fell on him.
"Obi-Wan?"
For a few moments, they stared at each other.
And then a wide grin spread across Didi's face.
"Obi-Wan! It's so good to see you, my friend!"
Obi-Wan stopped Didi from embracing him with a raised hand. His face, he imagined, was closed off enough to be frightening as he said, still too calmly, "Didi, tell me this isn't what I think it is."
"What are you talking about?" Didi tried to sound innocent, but Obi-Wan noticed the flair of guilt passing through his expression, as well the way the fingers of his right hand twitching.
He'd known the pre-owner of Dex's Diner since he was no more than a kid- a padawan, training to be a Jedi under Qui-Gon Jinn. When he'd first met the human cook- who, in contrast to Dex, didn't actually know how to cook; his daughter, Astri, had done all the culinary work, as well as the actual running of the diner- a deadly bounty hunter was hunting for him. Since then, he'd met with Didi a few other times, and had actually come to like the man. Then there was the time when Qui-Gon had been kidnapped by the mad 'scientist', Jenna Zan Arbor, and Astri had shaved her hair- all but turning herself into an actual bounty hunter to help Obi-Wan rescue his master and find a cure for her adoptive father.
A few years before, Didi had sold his diner to Dex and moved from Coruscant with his daughter.
This was not how Obi-Wan expected to see him again.
The important detail, though, was that Didi had a certain… addiction. To gambling.
"Tell me this is not what I think it is," Obi-Wan repeated, his voice going colder with every word.
To his credit, Didi didn't look away. His eyes stayed on Obi-Wan's, but his face gradually lost all their color. Meanwhile, the crowd cheered, and Obi-Wan's gaze snapped up to the screen- just in time for his heart to nearly stop as a podracer failed to turn quickly enough, crashed, and went up in flames.
He nearly closed his eyes as relief shook its way through his body when he noted that it hadn't been Anakin, and that his padawan was still very much all right. As all right as one could be while racing in a podracer who looked as though its pilot would crash head-on in the very near future. And, apparently, now almost directly behind the contester who was in the first place.
His eyes once again focused on Didi just as the white-faced man opened his mouth. "You have to understand, Obi-Wan- he volunteered. I just provided the podracer-"
"You just provided the podracer?" Obi-Wan repeated through clenched teeth, fighting to release his anger into the Force, and failing miserably.
If it was possible, Didi's face went whiter. "Y-Yes?" he choked.
This time, Obi-Wan did close his eyes. When the other man's face wasn't in his sight, he could focus- and release his emotions. They would not help.
Opening his eyes- how many times had he done that during this night alone?- he bore into Didi's eyes. "Why did he volunteer?" His tone, he hoped, managed to convey the fact that he would not stand more games.
"Eh- You see, Obi-Wan-"
"Didi."
"Fine, fine!" he ran a hand through his brown, thin hair as he exhaled harshly. "I ran into him in the previous podrace, a few months before. Apparently, he recognized me- from some photo, he said- and we chatted for a while. Mostly about you, in fact. I then mentioned that I… eh-"
"Let me guess," Obi-Wan cut in drily. "You owe money to a few unsavory individuals."
Didi shifted uncomfortably, bumping into someone of a species Obi-Wan did not recognize in the process. After a hasty, muttered apology to the irritated spectator, he turned back to the Jedi. "Something like that," he mumbled. "I also mentioned that I have a podracer, and am looking for someone to race it for me- for a price, of course. The boy- he's quite a good-hearted child, you know- volunteered, and refused to accept money. So we set up to meet before the next race; I'd bring the podracer, and he would bring… well, himself."
Obi-Wan stared at him. His right hand clenched and unclenched. Only by sheer force of will he managed to remain serene. "You lured him into a trap."
"A trap?" Didi seemed appalled. "I've heard about his win on the Boonta Eve race, Obi-Wan! The boy is a natural! I merely answered his question about what I'm doing on Coruscant and how's life, and he volunteered-"
"Of course he volunteered!" By some miracle of the Force, Obi-Wan managed to keep his voice low. "He doesn't know greed, Didi! He is a good-hearted boy-" And exasperating, and not at all easy, but the fact remained- "and he's kind and caring- and, Force only knows why, he enjoys podracing!" And, no, he hadn't missed the fact that this wasn't the first time Anakin had been here- and Obi-Wan hadn't known. "Of course he would want to help! The question remains, why would you let him? He's thirteen-years-old, Didi-"
"He won when he was nine, Obi-Wan-"
"I'm aware-" Abruptly, Obi-Wan stopped. He took a deep breath, then let it go as he unclenched the hand he hadn't been aware he'd clenched. "Listen to me," he said urgently, catching Didi's eyes. "This-"
The Force flared with danger, causing Obi-Wan to choke on his own words. Hurriedly looking up again just as the crowd sucked in a breath as if synchronized, he focused on the screen on which he could discern Anakin's figure-
And felt his blood freezing again as something hit the relatively short bracket that connected the podracer's left engine to the cockpit.
He could only watch helplessly, numbly, whilst a small explosion blazed- and the left engine simply disconnected from the cockpit.
On the screen, he could see Anakin pull the podracer's yokes, speeding the podracer forward while, somehow, managing to pull the vehicle's nose upwards. In front of Anakin another tunnel came, and the screen all but whitened as the detached engine hit the tunnel's curved stone-wall with a massive explosion, catching the podracer who was in the first place-
-and, in the next second, Anakin's podracer came around the tunnel's corner on the screen. Whole.
He's relying purely on the Force, Obi-Wan recognized with stunned, terrifying appreciation. The Force could only give so much, especially to a thirteen-years-old padawan- Chosen One or not- and Anakin was struggling to slow what was left of the podracer.
Oddly, Obi-Wan was not hit with the illusion that time slowed. If anything, it felt as if it quickened, providing his padawan with even less time to slow down.
Then, directly in front of him- not on the screen any more- the all-but-demolished podracer came into view from the left.
For a second, a flare of hope that Anakin would manage, that the vehicle was slow enough, lit up in Obi-Wan.
Just as the podracer crashed head-first into the curved wall, somewhere off to Obi-Wan's right.
He stared. All he could do was gawk, his entire body utterly numb, at the ruined vehicle. It had crashed against the wall, true, but it had not gone up in flame. Instead, half the cockpit seemed to had bent into itself, but the part of it in which the pilot was intended to sit- it remained whole.
Or perhaps it was all just another illusion.
Whether it was or not, the Jedi Knight snapped into action. Entirely ignoring Didi's horror-struck face, he shot forward, pushing through the still aghast 'audience' until he reached the fence.
Let him be whole. Please. Let this not end this way. It couldn't. It simply couldn't end this way.
Obi-Wan's only comfort, whilst he jumped above the fence with a light Force-fueled momentum, was that, if the prophecy was correct, this really could not be his padawan's end.
By the time he reached the wrecked podracer, the crowd had broken out of their stunned bubble. All around him, alarmed yells and excited voices rang, but he ignored them, quieted his mind until all he could hear was his own breaths.
Falling on his knees beside the cockpit, Obi-Wan reached out a surprisingly stable hand for the boy's neck, seeking out a pulse. His eyes didn't follow his hands; they, in turn, swept over every part of Anakin he could see. Just as he flinched, noting the boy's helmet was, somehow, no longer on his head, and that a trickle of blood was making its way down his left temple, his fingers found what they'd been so urgently looking for.
Thank the Force. Closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds, he prodded with the Force, checking for injuries which would make it impossible for him to move Anakin without a trained healer's help. The relief when he found none beyond a few bumps and bruises in addition to the wound on the boy's head- which was worrisome enough- was, he imagined, not something he'd forget anytime soon.
Anakin, when you're awake, I will kill you.
Gently, he seized Anakin beneath the boy's upper arms and pulled as carefully as he could. As soon as the still too small body was cleared, he pushed backwards and allowed himself to fall rather ungracefully on his butt, and cautiously placed the boy on his lap, then delicately shifted him so that he lay as if in an odd sort of a cradle against Obi-Wan's chest and right hand.
Raising said hand until Anakin's head rolled slightly to the side, Obi-Wan examined the wound. In all likelihood, it was a result of the boy hitting his head against- something- as the podracer smacked into the wall.
The fact that Anakin survived, let alone managed to keep himself from receiving way more serious injuries, was miraculous.
Banishing the thought, Obi-Wan carefully touched the area around the wound, more to assure himself that his padawan was here- whole- than anything else. Then, finally truly allowing himself to breathe, he brushed the back of his fingers once across the boy's cheek. It was no longer filled with baby-fat, but something lingered.
Anakin would be fine.
Had Obi-Wan mentioned that he would kill his apprentice?
When consciousness crept back, Anakin's first thought was that he'd once again attempted a somersault and had ended up hitting the floor all but head-on.
Then he recalled that the last time- and only time- he'd done this was when he was ten, and that he'd long since managed this particular move and quite a few others. Therefore, the odds that he'd once again made this embarrassing mistake were pretty low. Hopefully, nonexistent.
The memories rushed back all at once- along with a particularly nasty throb somewhere on the left side of his head.
He groaned, fighting to open his eyes as he tried to push himself up.
A pair of hands caught his shoulders, and a familiar voice said softly, "Don't, Anakin. You need to remain lying down."
He complied almost automatically. And then, finally, his lids fluttered open. Even before his blurry vision cleared, Anakin recognized the shape of the figure leaning over him. "Master?" he mumbled, lifting his left hand.
It was seized just as softly before he could manage to touch whatever it was that had deemed it necessary to make him feel as if a bunch of Gundarks were ferociously fighting over a particularly spicy piece of meat inside his skull. "Don't," Obi-Wan repeated, his tone now bordering on exasperated. "You hit your head quite hard. You have a concussion, but it will heal. Just… avoid touching the bandage at all, if you would."
Yep, he had a bit of experience with head wounds all on his own. Though, he couldn't remember it ever having hurt as much as it was now. "What happened? I only remember-"
He realized what he was saying and stilled, feeling whatever had been left of the color in his face draining. Swallowing, he looked up at his master, expecting to be confronted with anger. After all, his master was no fool, and he must have found out. Probably from Didi or something.
Anakin wondered whether he'd even won. He couldn't remember. One moment, something had hit 'his' podracer; the next, he was on a rougher-than-necessary bed in the Temple's healing wing.
Instead of anger, though, he was confronted with a hand gently tugging at his padawan braid. When he caught Obi-Wan's eyes, they weren't filled with anger. In fact, he was even smiling slightly. "I see you expected me to never find out about your… little detours around rather unsavory parts of Coruscant."
Swallowing again, though a lot less nervously, Anakin shook his head. Immediately, he regretted it.
Poodoo. His head hurt.
"'ot really," Anakin replied nearly inaudibly. "I just…" His voice trailed off.
Obi-Wan grasped his hand, squeezed, and let it go, leaneing back into the chair he'd clearly been sitting on prior to Anakin's return to the 'world of the living.' "I know," his master said simply. "And we will have a long, long conversation about this at a later date-"
Anakin nodded obediently, not wanting to disappoint his master further.
"-but, for now, rest. Heal. It can wait."
Anakin turned his head marginally to the right- conveniently, Obi-Wan had decided to sit on that side of his bed, so that Anakin didn't need to rest the wounded side of his head of the pillow- and just… looked at his master. He seemed… relieved, but tired and weary, and he appeared somewhat less than his usually meticulously-appropriate self.
"Master?"
Obi-Wan's eyes caught his again. "Yes, Padawan?" The grayish blue in them was normal- not clouded, not bright. Still, Anakin had to ask.
"Are you all right?"
His master's lips quirked up in a rare, genuine smile. "Relatively to you, yes, I am."
Anakin pouted. "That's no answer, Master."
Obi-Wan's smile widened a tad. "No, it's not. But you will be satisfied with it, won't you, my very young padawan?"
Anakin was seriously tempted to bit back with a, No, I won't. However, once again it came back to the fact that he didn't want to disappoint his master any more than he'd already had.
"Yep," he sighed. "I will."
And, then- just like that- his master's face sobered. "Anakin?"
"Yes, Master?"
Obi-Wan leaned forward, resting his elbows against his knees and crossing his fingers between them, and appeared to be considering him.
The feeling was a touch disconcerting.
"Promise me you will never do this again."
Something in his master's tone- hard but gentle all at once, so like Obi-Wan- stirred something inside of Anakin.
And then- then he realized. Finally, he knew why it was that he could never actually like sneaking out of the Temple. Why it was that, until he was at the actual podrace, he didn't feel like he was having fun.
He hated disappointing his master.
He hated it when the man who, after barely four years, had already become the closest thing he had to a father, looked at him like this- relieved, but nonetheless with disappointment in his eyes.
And, apparently, his conscience could never shake the knowledge that Obi-Wan would be disappointed, had he known his padawan was sneaking out of the Temple.
Not looking away, Anakin nodded. "I promise, Master."
He would try.
Whether he'd succeed... that was a different question altogether. But he would give it his best.
Why?
Because.