They who go feel not the pain of parting;
It is they who stay behind that suffer.
--Henry W. Longfellow
Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker.
He should have been prepared for it.
Obi-Wan Kenobi. Anakin Skywalker.
He blinked, but the little nameplate had not changed. They have discarded him already, a blank thought beat in his mind, a beat that grew into a silent scream, contained within his skull. Did he even – ever – exist?
Oblivious to his master's hidden distress, a young padawan spoke up with the thrill of anticipation. His name was on the door plate. It was really truly real.
"Is this our home, Master?" The excited voice apparently was not heard, for there was no response, nor did the speaker see the adult's fingers helplessly fly to cover an unspoken exclamation, as if the gesture would still the tumult within a still raw heart. It bled grief. It bled silently. It bled behind barriers, buried behind shields that protected a Jedi's heart from the emotion he was not meant to display and felt all too acutely, even if only as an ache within his soul and a void within his mind. A bond wrenched out of existence; shadows of what had once been haunting the crevices of his mind.
Several days and a lifetime ago, and the world had reshaped itself into something unfamiliar. The young Jedi blinked, unaware of the hitch in his breath, the beat of his heart, or the cry of his soul as he merely stared – and became suddenly aware of the tug on his hand.
Obi-Wan Kenobi looked around and up, but there was no pair of sapphire eyes gleaming with amusement at a momentarily confused padawan. Another tug and his eyes traveled down, to the small hand of a nine year old boy; up to his eyes.
The world spun in dizzying array. Padawan…no, never more…padawan…that is Anakin now. Sapphire eyes, below the level of his own. Stars, this is going to be difficult. His eyes focused upwards, always, into sapphire eyes.
But never more.
He would have to learn to look down.
"Yes, Anakin. My," he pressed his lips together. Focus. "Our quarters." He palmed the door open as his young charge nodded in excitement, barreled forward, and stopped abruptly.
"What is it, Anakin?"
A blond head swiveled and surprised eyes meet the young man's gaze. "It's – just a room."
If there was one thing Obi-Wan Kenobi had not expected, this was it. His brow furrowed as he repeated, "Just a room?"
"Everything else is so grand," Anakin explained, not sure why Obi-Wan was staring at him astonished. "This is – a room."
A room? True, it was a room in quiet, neutral colors, holding two chairs and a couch, a table, with an adjoining small kitchen area. It was a room, but it was also memories, not just a place, where a large Jedi with silvering hair chuckled at his padawan's jokes, tweaked a braid in passing, fell asleep in the well worn chair worn by long use to the shape of his body. A room once filled with laughter, study, and meditation.
Home. Once.
Now empty and barren, its source of life forever extinguished, returned to the Force. Qui-Gon Jinn was gone, leaving behind his padawan – abandoning his apprentice in death as he had abandoned him in life.
This hadn't been home, that last night there. The emotions then had been dizzying and cold. Perhaps - perhaps that was the source of the chill he felt even now, down to his bones. His heart remembered what his mind shut out. Waves of disappointment and frustration from the master who had been denied the Chosen One. Waves of hurt and anger, humiliation, from the padawan who had been cast out, disavowed, replaced – no!
No! Eyelids squeezed shut, a physical rein to threatening emotions. No. It was gone now, that time past, as he was gone. It didn't matter anymore.
The room still breathed Qui-Gon's essence, pulsed with his joys, satisfactions and disappointments. Live in the here and now. It was how Qui-Gon Jinn lived his life, how he tried to make his apprentice stop focusing on the future and pay attention to the moment. And for now, his former apprentice would also take it to mean to let go of the past.
Just let it all…go…and Obi-Wan sunk into a corner of the couch and leaned his head back against the textured fabric as Anakin roamed around exploring. He was so tired. He had been tired for days now. Perhaps that was why the room was spinning…
He jerked upright with a gasp and found Anakin standing over him with a worried look, one hand gingerly clasping one of his where it lay on his knee.
"M…mom says the best thing to banish a nightmare is a kiss or hug." The uncertain face peered at Obi-Wan. Anakin had decided he liked the young man who would be his master, but he still didn't really know him. Obi-Wan had smiled and shook his hand when they had first been introduced, but his expression had been carved in stone since then. Perhaps he was a droid, devoid of feelings. Anakin hesitated; then saw a glint of moisture on a lash. A silver teardrop stuck as if an ornament, on a red-gold lash. It only sparkled there and did not escape its prison.
"Oh," he whispered – and wrapped his arms around the startled Jedi. "Do you feel better now, Master Obi-Wan?" Anakin was rewarded with the slow, hesitant creep of his master's arms around his back, and a husky intake of breath.
"Better."
It was a promise for the future. It was a beginning.