Wow, I don't even really believe I'm here.

Is there still anyone out there?

Are people even still interested in Star Wars, and in dreamers like me thinking up backstories? I signed up to fanfiction ludicrous ten years ago, when I was fifteen. Now, I'm twenty-five, and literally everything has changed. I had my heart broken, did my A levels, moved away, started my studies, left my long-term boyfriend, met a new guy, graduated, moved again, started my PhD, got my first scientific works published, and will get married soon. And all the while, all those years, fanfiction, this fandom, and "Everybody's broken" were waiting in the background. I think this is the really beautiful thing about universes like Star Wars – that they are always there when you need to come back.

I am massively confused by this, actually. It sort of jumped on me while I was busy doing other things, and grew steadily when I started to write it down. To make matters worse, the majority of this chapter is just in someone's head (apart from mine)…or is it?

So, without further ado, a new one-shotty chapter of "Everybody's broken" – and if you all grew up more than me in the last years, and are no longer interested, please just keep on doing what you are doing, and don't let yourself be bothered.

Warm regards from Germany,

Leolina


The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening – Robert Frost

Anakin taught Obi-Wan to choose.

Obi-Wan stood on the balcony on his and Qui-Gon's…no, his and Anakin's apartment, and watched the nighttime traffic glide past, deep in thought. He had never learned what happened when a master-padawan-bond was shattered by force. But then again, how would they teach you about such a situation? It was true that Jedi were always urged to prepare for death, their own as well as the one of those close to them, and that they were actively coached towards acceptance even before it was really needed. But words could only reach so far, imagination could only take you somewhere.

The truth was, it had been nothing like he had expected. There had been a sharp jolt of nothingness as Qui-Gon had died, a strong, last upheaval of the Force between them, but after that, the bond had not immediately felt severed. Obi-Wan had not dared to probe it in the days following the events of Naboo, for he could barely keep himself standing as it was, without any more merciless reminders that for him, the world had changed forever.

But the bond would not let him be, it required attention for its last moments. It felt like a part of Obi-Wan was slowly, painfully wilting, as the save haven it had been anchored to remained mercilessly unresponsive. Faint glimmer of echoes and sensations were dancing around the part of his brain where Qui-Gon had been for almost as long as he remembered. Phantom pains, feeling like flashbacks and forebodings at the same time, jerked him awake at night and kept him dazed at day. Sometimes, he felt like something brushed against his subconsciousness, as if someone blew an utmost shallow breath on the synapses where the bond had been, as if some light was flickering just at the edge of his perception. But every time he tried to grasp this sensation, it was over as soon as it had come, and remained so elusive that he wondered whether he had gone mad.

He had tried to discuss this with Bant, who had lost her first Master Tahl early into her apprenticeship, but Bant could not remember any such feelings. For her, it had been a quick, sharp slap, just as being hit by a bucket of cold water, and gasping for air for weeks after that. Obi-Wan had quickly changed the topic, as he did not want to upset his oldest friend by implying that her bond to Tahl had not been as profound as his and Qui-Gon's had been.

Normally, he would have gone to Master Yoda for advice. A small snort emerged from his lips. After all the clashes he had had with the council in the last months, about Anakin, Anakin's training and the plethora of missions that had led to him having to leave his Padawan alone, he did not particularly feel like consulting Yoda right now – in particular not with some issue that, in the view of the council, made him even less fit for training the boy.

He had to keep it together! For Anakin's sake. The boy was such an inspiring little fellow, clever and inquisitive, with a heart far too pure for his upbringing. And he was the Chosen One. He needed Obi-Wan's full attention, without any ghosts from the past slithering in and out of Obi-Wan's consciousness. Obi-Wan more and more felt that the remnants of the bond he had shared with Qui-Gon kept the bond between himself and Anakin from burgeoning. It worked out sufficiently well when they were concentrating, sitting cross-legged facing each other, and focusing intensely on the thoughts they wanted to share. Sometimes, he also felt strong emotions from Anakin when they were apart, but it still felt like accidental successes each time, like a badly tuned radio station which now and again received a signal.

He had not been able to let go of those last Qui-Gon parts of his being yet. The sudden, subconscious twinkles of his master along the bond always left him breathless, frantically searching in his brain for more. It was a comfort, just as it was painful. He had also tried to search the Jedi archives for similar experiences, but came at a void. All the old narrations of shattered master-padawan bonds only described a sudden, and everlasting tear, which could be traumatic, but never enduring. He did not understand why it was so different for him, in particular as the Living Force never had been his strong suite. He almost smiled at the thought of Qui-Gon defying death just by clinging to the Living Force with sheer willpower. But that was absurd. It was impossible. Qui-Gon was death, his ashes laid buried on Naboo, and whether it pleased Obi-Wan or not, he needed to face this reality.

Obi-Wan braced himself. He needed to end this, and now. He needed to focus on the now, not on the past. Living Force, it whispered through the bond, and Obi-Wan startled viciously, almost feeling as if Qui-Gon stood next to him in the shadows of the night. He swallowed heavily, and focused on the bond. Leave, he urged. I need all my power, all my will, for this wonderful kid you entrusted me with. I cannot fight the demons from my past, I cannot follow your training, your philosophy, when I am always waiting on a sign from someone long lost. I need to move on. I will keep mourning you, and I will apply what you have taught me, every hour of every day of every month of every year I am a Jedi, but I need to focus on the past. Qui-Gon, please help me one last time in forming a new bond, not clasping onto the old. Qui-Gon…Master. Please.

A soft wind picked up around Obi-Wan, and in the faint roaring of the traffic, he imagined to hear the rustle of a Jedi robe, the swishing of a long plait of hair, the humming of a lightsaber, the low baritone of a well-known voice, and for one moment, he felt as if a big, calloused hand touched his cheek. And then he exhaled, and in the same moment, a surprised gasp resounded in his mind, and a second later from the padawan bedroom next to the balcony.

Master Obi-Wan?

A silent tear trickled down Obi-Wan's cheek as he gently replied through the bond.

Sleep on, Anakin…it's alright.