Thank you tenamanda1988, opals, yodudes5, Phoenix Red Lion and 0-Silver Goddess-0. Love the reviews. I think I've further solidly planned out the plot, now the only challenge is getting time to write.

So, back to post-TPM... There's a bit of a pattern that will happen.


Part One: Complicated Relations


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Chapter Three: Shadows

(After the Battle on Naboo...)

Obi-Wan heard Anakin run across his room, skidding to a stop. He inhaled deeply. One last thing, so the boy was truly an apprentice, and then he could block him from now until forever if need be.

"Master Obi-Wan? Master Obi-Wan, sir, where are you?"

Obi-Wan sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable. He couldn't – did not want to – prolong it. Establish the bond. Block him. Then it's all done.

"Here," Obi-Wan replied, pushing aside the shimmersilk crimson curtain that separated the balcony and the bedroom and walking in. Shimmersilk was a special fabric, and he always felt odd around it. Too delicate and refined, he reflected, fingers trailing upon it as he walked in, stopping three paces before Anakin.

"So, what was that last thing, sir?"

Obi-Wan stared down at Anakin. Yes, the first order of business when they returned to Coruscant and things were settled down, was that this boy would have a bath. Whether Obi-Wan had to hold him under or not. He smiled inwardly at that wicked little thought. Amusing, but it wouldn't happen. But the fact still remained: The child obviously did not understand the meaning of "wash up".

Not rolling his eyes as he wished, Obi-Wan went and sat on the edge of the bed, Anakin running up and hopping onto the bed, sitting on top of the covers with his legs crossed. He bounced slightly as he sat. The boy was immensely too fidgetty for Obi-Wan's like. It unnerved him.

"So?" Anakin persisted.

"A bond. Between every master and padawan, there is a mental link. It's important, so that one can tell when the other is in peril."

"Peril?"

"Danger, Skywalker."

"Okay." Anakin cocked his head to the side, thinking. "So, we know what the other person is feeling, too?"

"Yes. If they so wish it."

"Okay..." Anakin said slowly. He right now could sense just faintly the feelings Obi-Wan had – none of them all that nice, especially towards him, Anakin.

"Close your eyes, Anakin. Clear your mind." Anakin followed Obi-Wan's instructions, the last part a bit hard for him. His mind was racing, what with being so quickly immersed in this new and exciting life. Finally, he managed it. He felt something, like a nudge, but in his mind. He reached out toward it.

A flood of feelings suddenly washed over him, though the flow was quickly dammed. It must have only been just a second in reality, but the strength of them strongly impacted Anakin. There was a tumultuous swirl of anger and resentment and overwhelming sorrow locked up inside Obi-Wan. After the brief exposure, but with the imprint still in his mind, Anakin was amazed when he opened his eyes and looked upon his Master. One would never know that his emotions churned so forcefully inside. He looked nothing but calm, if a little worn and weary.

Can you hear me, Anakin?

"Yes!" Anakin cried, utterly entralled. "Yeah! I can hear you – in my head!"

Just think back, send your thoughts towards me. And I can hear you.

I love you, Master Obi-Wan. This is so wizard!

Be careful of that term love, Padawan. Love is an attachment and attachments are forbidden to a Jedi.

But...

No buts, Skywalker. It simply is.

Anakin was crestfallen, his blue eyes hurt as he stared into Obi-Wan's impassive face and piercing grey-green eyes. They weren't blue right now. Anakin hoped that they might turn that colour again. Obi-Wan seemed more...normal...when his eyes shown more blue.

Master?

Yes, Anakin?

Anakin smiled at Obi-Wan's soft voice in his mind. But a pensive frown quickly shadowed his cherubic face. "I felt something...when we first connected through this bond...thing..." he started, choosing to speak aloud.

Not a 'bond-thing', Skywalker, just a bond.

Anakin's nose twitched at the rebuff, but he continued. "Well...I mean, was that you? 'Cos I know that...I mean – I know that you're sad, and that you don't really like me...but do you really hate me, Master Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan sighed. His apprentice was far too intuitive by half. "I don't hate you, Anakin." It wasn't quite a lie. He knew he shouldn't hate Anakin as he did. After some intense meditating and coming to terms and letting go, perhaps he would achieve a better relationship with the boy, but right now, that was the last thing on his mind. "I'm a bit...overwhelmed."

"I still like you, Obi-Wan. I miss Qui-Gon a lot, too."

You have no right to! Obi-Wan's mind screamed, and he was thankful he had his personal thoughts and emotions shielded from the boy. He inhaled deeply and nodded. "I'm sure."

Anakin, mood everchangeable as always, sprung up and headed to the door. "We've got to go to the banquet Pad – I mean, Queen Amidala is having!"

"Head on, Anakin. I may be down later."

"But Master Obi-Wan, sir. You're one of the guests of honour."

"I am aware of that fact, Padawan. But don't question me, just do as I say."

Anakin frown, face a mix between put-out and genuinely sad. "Yes, sir."

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Obi-Wan lay back in his bed in the suite the queen had appointed for him in her palace. He stared at the vaulted, engraved ceiling, which he would have noted was actually quite lovely had he actually been looking. His face felt hot, no doubt from the mix of anger and sorrow he was bottling up inside.

"I can't do it, Master. I can't," he whispered brokenly to the night. "I don't know what to do. I don't trust this boy. Not like you. And I can't –" His words were only making him more lost amid the wasteland of jagged pieces of his shattered heart and the fog of his confusion and uncertainty.

He didn't know what to do. For so long, he had hoped to become a Knight. But not like this. Not like this. This. This pain – it was unbearable. And the extra burden he'd been saddled with? He didn't know how or what he was to do. Suddenly he felt very much younger, and painfully, acutely alone.

Obi-Wan curled up into himself, hugging a soft pillow to him. All this plush and richness. It was a nice luxury, but he felt out of place when he was not numb enough to the world that he actually took in his surroundings. Not that he didn't appreciate it. It just wasn't something a Jedi needed.

Maybe he should have been a farmer. The thought struck him off-guard. But if he had stayed a farmer, he wouldn't have had to deal with this. The loss of Qui-Gon, the daunting responsibility of the training of Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One. But then, he wouldn't have been him. Ever since he was a small child, Obi-Wan had known he was destined to be a Jedi. And Xanatos' meddling would have thrown him and Qui-Gon back together, as it had. Because, like being a Jedi, Obi-Wan knew he had been meant to be Qui-Gon Jinn's apprentice, despite their clashes.

Obi-Wan held tight to the pillow. Tomorrow, after the celebration, he and Skywalker would be heading back to Coruscant. Home. Back to the Jedi Temple.

Back to his apartments, where he would now be the Master instead of the apprentice. How quickly his life had been changed with one jab of a lightsabre. With one fatal stroke. How he wished he had been the one that had been on the end.

With that painful thought –with the knowledge that he was not the one run through, and would have to prevail, without knowing what in Sith hell he was going to do, but knowing all too well that he must just do – Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut tight, and saw all too clearly that fateful battle replay in his mind.

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Anakin Skywalker looked once again over at the empty seat beside him. Obi-Wan wasn't coming. Anakin had known that when the Jedi had sent him along on his own way. Obi-Wan Kenobi wanted to be as far away from his new apprentice as possible. Anakin's eyes narrowed. He'd lied. Obi-Wan had lied when he said he didn't hate him. But Anakin hadn't when he had said that he loved him. He loved Obi-Wan for still allowing his dream of becoming a Jedi to come true. But right now – right now, Anakin didn't want to acknowledge that feeling anymore than Obi-Wan wanted to acknowledge him.

He stabbed at a piece of shaak steak upon his plate. This was more food than he had seen in his entire life and he picked at it, unsure whether he should shovel it all down or eat modestly or what. Why was Obi-Wan so mad at him? He could be mad at Obi-Wan, too, he reckoned, face flaming. After all, if Obi-Wan had done his job right, wouldn't Qui-Gon be alive right now? It would be better if Qui-Gon were alive still. Master Qui-Gon had liked him. Maybe Obi-Wan should've died. Maybe it would have been better that way.

Padmé's gentle hand on his arm brought him back from his dark thoughts. He'd be leaving her tomorrow. Off to stay with Obi-Wan the Grump. She smiled, trying to make him feel better. He'd remember her smile. He doubted he'd see many afterward.

He smiled back and returned to his food and contemplation.

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Nubians threw great grand celebrations, Anakin concluded. He stood on the steps of the Theed Palace, with Obi-Wan, and Padmé – no, Queen Amidala, and her council, as well as the Jedi Council. And of course, R2-D2. The Gungans were coming up the steps, the imposing Boss Nass coming straight up to Amidala.

Amidala handed Boss Nass a large sphere, pinkish with what looked like lightining caught inside it. Amidala had told him what the proper name of it was, but Anakin couldn't remember. He honestly didn't really care, because his eyes were stuck on Padmé, the young Queen Amidala, radiant in her feathery, light ceremonial dress. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.

Boss Nass' booming, "Peace!" reverberated throughout the city it seemed. Anakin looked to Padmé, who flashed him a radiant smile that lit up his heart. He hoped they would meet again soon. He glanced surreptitiously at Obi-Wan. He looked tired and worn.

But his eyes were glazed with blue. Sad eyes, tired eyes. But blue. Maybe there was hope yet.


(The lyrics in the page break are from "Animal I Have Become" by Three Days Grace.)