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Obi-Wan kneeled before the Masters that surrounded him, his head bowed, breathing his excitement out of him with every breath. Anakin had wished him luck today, hugging him tightly before Obi-Wan had left, telling him that he knew that he could do it, and that had been that.
The day before had been spent mostly in meditation, Anakin doing his best to be quiet whenever he entered the room with him and hovering mostly around Qui-Gon. When they had gotten ready for bed, Obi-Wan snapping out of his meditation feeling as centered as he would get, Anakin had told him about his day when he asked. Mostly it had been spent wandering the Temple with Qui-Gon, meeting more Jedi and finally meeting the prisoner once again. He still hadn't talked.
Either way, Obi-Wan was finally here, facing the room of Masters.
And then, Obi-Wan stood, a wordless instruction to begin passing through him, and fell into the Trials.
He was going to become a Knight.
Anakin waited within the Archives, kept company by the librarian Madame Jocasta Nu, but he was almost too excited to pay much attention. Madame Nu had not been upset by this – for which he was grateful – recognizing that Anakin had not yet actually started his training. And that was the first thought that really knocked Anakin for a bit of a loop.
He'd thought of it as 'not yet.'
Anakin had been doing his best to avoid thinking of his future as being exclusively with the Jedi, tried to keep from thinking of it as any sort of permanent thing, tried to avoid really focusing on it at all, and yet… And yet.
Anakin looked around at the archives, taking them in, all of the information that he would never see again, all of the knowledge, the peace, the… Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon. The Council. Madame Nu. All of these people that he had found. All the ones that had proven to be so patient with him. There had been rough patches of course, but once they had explained, once they had talked it out with him, he had understood.
It had been even more illuminating when Qui-Gon had talked to him about Rael Averross, the Knight who Qui-Gon's own Master, a Dooku, had taken as an Apprentice before Jinn himself. Five years old, Averross had never quite conformed to the Jedi ways, known to be "controversial" but at the same time… Widely respected. Qui-Gon had also told him that in a lot of ways, he had thought that Averross had deliberately sought to make himself as controversial as possible, had sought to be different. He had nonetheless had friends, been someone Qui-Gon had looked up to, and saw as a good friend and brother.
Qui-Gon had also told him what had happened with Averross' Apprentice, and it was truly one of the only moments where Qui-Gon had felt very clearly that Averross had done the wrong thing.
Nothing, not even a slicer dart, should have been enough to make Averross kill his own Padawan. There was a part of him that rejoiced in hearing the actual disgust in Qui-Gon's voice at the thought of harming his own Padawan so, and a smaller part of him that feared he would do the same thing as Aveross, due to his own position as too old.
Rael Averross had been five when he had been found. Anakin was four years older than even that.
And then Qui-Gon had looked him in the eye and said quietly, calmly, that Anakin would be trained to the best of all of their abilities, that he did not need to fear following Averross' footsteps. Anakin was not Averross.
Anakin was not destined to hurt the people closest to him.
Anakin brought his knees to his chest, before lowering his chin to them, frowning thoughtfully. Qui-Gon had spoken of all of the traditions that surrounded the Jedi order, and Anakin had indeed spent time with him just watching as the Jedi went about their business inside the atrium. He had been told that there were multiple jobs that a Jedi would do after they had become Knights, and even of the importance of the AgriCorps, and Anakin found himself listening to all of the positions offered and finding his mind sticking particularly to Sentinels.
Qui-Gon had noticed his interest and smiled at him, telling him that while it was certainly possible, it was also one of the hardest to obtain. This of course didn't mean that he couldn't do it, just that he had to understand that even Jedi trained much younger than him also had to work very hard. Quinlan Vos was a Sentinel that Qui-Gon was familiar with, though he was out on a mission, so he could not talk to Anakin about it.
The fact that Qui-Gon had offered to get Anakin in touch with someone to talk specifically about a possible career path had been a balm to his soul. They were working very hard to make sure that Anakin knew what he was getting into.
And Anakin thought, that just maybe… If they freed his mother… Maybe it was something that he would want to get into.
If nothing else, Anakin liked the idea of being Qui-Gon's Apprentice. The day spent with mostly the two of them had been fascinating, Qui-Gon answering every question that Anakin could possibly think to throw at him, and never once getting upset or angry with him for asking them. Instead, Qui-Gon had always been full of warmth and almost excitement for every question.
Anakin had decided that Qui-Gon loved teaching, and that warmed him dearly.
The day had cumulated with them going to sit before the Slave, Qui-Gon discussing the Force with Anakin before him quietly. Anakin had realized that it was something of a bait, to see if they could get the Slave to respond. Once Obi-Wan had explained what the Sith was outside of just curses spoken by Traders and old Space Pilots, Anakin had understood why this might be the perfect bait. They had very different teachings, after all, there was a distinct possibility that the Slave would say something to contradict, or otherwise express his disdain towards their teachings.
Like Anakin had thought, he had noticed when those burning eyes had fixed on them, something dark within them as he stared. The Slave had then wrinkled his nose and gone back to what Qui-Gon had called a kata, trying to ignore them. Anakin had soon found himself watching the Slave with wide eyes, having never seen another being fight quite like that.
He'd seen martial arts, of course, seen different styles and different moves, but there was something about this one. Anakin had looked to Qui-Gon and nodded towards him, "What is that? What's the kata from?"
"That's Teräs Käsi," Qui-Gon explained. "It's a martial art created by the Followers of Palawa, who are themselves refugees from Palawa. It is designed to kill Jedi." Qui-Gon turned his attention to the Slave, his gaze thoughtful, "I would say that he is very good at it."
Anakin had felt a brief jolt in his chest, turning his attention to the Slave as he fell into another stance. For just a moment, Anakin had thought that he could see a feral grin twisting those lips up, those eyes flashing to his, and then he looked away.
Qui-Gon had returned quietly to speaking about the Force and what it was and how they were all connected, and the Slave had performed a particularly devastating looking move that had gained all of Anakin's attention temporarily, wondering how he moved his body like that. It took him a second to realize that it seemed to be in retaliation to whatever Qui-Gon was telling him. Anakin idly wondered what he'd been taught about the Force that would cause such a reaction, but there was no way that Anakin could ask.
Could he?
Anakin had looked to Qui-Gon, and turned his gaze to the Slave, and Qui-Gon had sat there with his head tilted slightly, before understanding had spread across his features. Qui-Gon had moved back, and nodded to him, Anakin moving to kneel before the ray shield. The Slave froze in the middle of a high-kick, higher than his own head, and looked to him. The realization that he had been listening to what they were talking about was very obvious then, and he seemed to realize that, his nose wrinkling before he dropped into a low sweep.
"Sir," Anakin said politely, trying to gain back that forcefully ripped away attention. "Sir, what do you know about the Force? Do…do you think it's a living thing that connects us?"
The Slave's lips had curled in a slight twist, but he hadn't said anything, falling into an open-palmed opening stance with his thumbs tucked towards his palms, his legs apart, ready to snap into motion at any time.
Anakin had frowned slightly, thoughtfully. "Probably not then. What do you think it is?"
The Slave looked to him then fully straightening to his full height, his eyes narrowed, and then tugged at the collar around his neck, a sneer on his lips.
Anakin's frown had deepened, looking at the collar that he knew blocked the others' connection to the Force. "If it's a living thing that supposedly connects all of us, that wells up inside of us, how can it be blocked? How can we be kept from reaching out to it?"
"A good question," Qui-Gon smiled. Anakin watched as the Slave's eyes widened slightly, before his expression once again flattened. "I don't know." Qui-Gon smiled, and Anakin felt momentarily startled. An adult, a Master, that admitted that they did not know everything? Anakin had never thought he would see the day. "While we know that the midi-chlorians within our cells are both sentient and connect to everything, how they work is often a mystery. We do not know why every living being has midi-chlorians, yet there are some that cannot use the Force, for instance. Even if the count is small, surely, they should be able to cause some change? And yet…to the best of our knowledge and our testing, they cannot. Whatever the reason, we have found a way to block it artificially. Ray shields are also resistant to the Force and we do not know the specific reason to that. Some things just are."
Anakin listened to this for a moment and while he thought it was an explanation that he could swallow, if only due to the fact that it was admitted that Qui-Gon didn't know specifically. While he could accept this…the Slave seemed disgusted.
Qui-Gon hummed at his expression, the wrinkled nose so exaggerated by those tattoos. "I don't think you liked that answer. Very well, I shall hazard a guess, but I would like to emphasize that this is a guess." Qui-Gon folded his hands within his sleeves, something very formal about the gesture. "Midi-chlorians are living things and like all living things there are things that block and repel them. The Force itself is bigger than all of us, but midi-chlorians are living things that live inside of us, that are trapped within our flesh and our blood. Flesh and blood is finite, we are finite. And there are ways to block our flesh from getting in places. Doors, barriers… The collar acts as a door. The ray shields are doors. The Force is infinite – we are not. Our midi-chlorians, therefore, are also not. Is that acceptable?"
The Slave had blinked at realizing that the question was directed to him specifically, and Anakin turned to look at him, too, something delighted in him when the Slave opened his mouth. For a moment Anakin had felt his heart leap into his throat, waiting to hear a reply…
That never came.
The Slave seemed to realize what he was about to do and closed his mouth, turning on his heel and walking away to the bed and promptly flopped onto it.
Conversation over.
Qui-Gon had nodded thoughtfully, clearly thinking, before uttering a single word: "Juvenile."
Anakin had ducked reflexively as something careened towards his head, only to catch on the ray shield and immediately burst into flames in a sudden flash of heat at the contact. Barely a second later the anti-fire systems had come to life, pouring water into the cell. Where the Slave had been, he was now gone, and Anakin had stood up, for a moment feeling pure panic, when he realized that he'd hidden under the bed. Avoiding the water, perhaps, or maybe just avoiding detection.
The Temple Guards ran forward then, and Qui-Gon stood up to meet them.
"It's fine," he had said, holding his hands up. "I merely…well, I had forgotten that he is a Sith Juvenile. I am afraid I baited him. It was a pillow, that's all."
The Slave had moved out from under the bed and was standing in the middle of the room, Anakin noticed, and he looked a bit as though he was bracing himself. Anakin had recognized that pose, that defiance and yet utter submission. It had hurt him to see it, and he had quickly tugged at Qui-Gon's tunic, looking up at him with wide eyes. "He won't be punished, right?"
"No, Anakin," Qui-Gon had returned. "That was…a series of unfortunate events that does not warrant further punishment. He will be fine."
"Okay," Anakin had said, sighing.
Anakin remembered looking to the Slave, wanting to smile, wanting to reassure him that it was okay, and had found himself staring at a face that did not understand. At utter incomprehension.
It had turned his stomach in a way he didn't want to contemplate.
Even now, waiting for Obi-Wan to be done, waiting for him to come out and be Knighted, to be a Jedi, to be an Equal…
Anakin could not think of that expression. Could not think of the fact that he had been so prepared to be punished he was unable to understand when he was not. Anakin had been under very impatient Masters, yet even then there were times when he had been afforded a bit of grace. He had come to expect that if he could prove that he would be better off uninjured they were ultimately less likely to punish him. If the Slave hadn't expected that, either he had simply never learned how to bargain for himself, or his Master was something else.
What that something else was, Anakin still did not want to think about.
He had seen those scars. He knew the look in those eyes.
He didn't even want to admit to himself that the worst thing about those eyes hadn't been the fact that he was expecting punishment…
It was the defeat.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had succeeded.
He stood there before the hooded figures of the Council, surrounded on all sides by their blue, green and singular purple lightsabers splitting the darkness, feeling the proud warmth of his Master reaching out to him…of his Brother.
Yoda stood before him on his chair, and there was the slightest of smiles on his wrinkled face, even as he beckoned him forward with a "Padawan, step forward…"
Obi-Wan did, falling into a kneeling position, his head lowering, warmth buzzing up within him, so warm, so warm.
Yoda's blade rose above his head, the others lowering, respect and pride and peace swelling around all of them, bathing him.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi," Yoda intoned, "By the right of the Council," he brought his blade hovering over his right shoulder, "by the will of the Force," and his blade moved to hover over his left, "Dub thee, I do, Jedi."
The deliberate flick of Yoda's lightsaber sent the Padawan braid that he had beaded and kept for so many years flying to the floor.
"Knight of the Republic," Yoda finished.
Obi-Wan stood, the smell of singed hair in his nose had never been more welcome, and the Masters around him disengaged their lightsabers, and fell into a bow. Obi-Wan bowed back.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was a Jedi Knight.
He had done it.
They made a path for him to exit and Obi-Wan turned, leaving the Council, feeling lighter than air. He walked out of the darkness of the Council room into the warmth and rest of the Temple and found himself smiling. A hand on his shoulder turned his attention to find Qui-Gon standing there, beaming down at him, that warmth and pride so much more pronounced.
"Well done," he said softly. The embrace he was pulled into was one he buried himself in in a way he had not since he was very small.
"Thank you," Obi-Wan whispered.
"Thank you," Qui-Gon returned softly. "I could not have asked for a better student."
"You're going to get a new one soon, I think," Obi-Wan smiled.
"Perhaps," Qui-Gon nodded, smiling back as he took a step away, the two of them walking a little farther down the hall. "Though…" he took a breath. "Obi-Wan, I had been meaning to ask you."
"Yes?"
"Would you be interested in helping me train Anakin, should he decide he wishes to pursue being a Knight?"
Obi-Wan blinked.
"This, of course, would be something you would do when you were free. Being a Knight is quite different, as you are aware, but…you have a connection," Qui-Gon said. "I believe that he would benefit greatly from the both of us."
Obi-Wan smiled, "I'd be honored. When are you planning on going to Naboo?"
Qui-Gon blinked, "Obi-Wan, this was not meant to…"
"I know it was not, Ma-… Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan finished, with a feeling of bright joy at seeing Qui-Gon's gently reproachful look, the tiniest of smiles on his face, "I merely thought that it would be good to keep track of, so I could make sure I was at the Temple, should Anakin decide…"
Qui-Gon's smile grew wider. "Thank you, Obi-Wan," he said very firmly. "The Order has gained so much from your Knighthood."
Obi-Wan beamed.
"I will be leaving tomorrow. It was one of the only times the Queen had for me, and she was very insistent that we free her quickly." Qui-Gon smiled. "As I thought, she also felt the need to set her free. I will be calling the Temple, keep a holoprojector handy."
"I will, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan promised, repeating the name just because he could.
A hand brushed his shoulder as they lapsed into silence and continued further in the hall just as Obi-Wan felt the warm presence of Plo Koon, and he turned to beam at the Kel Dor.
"Congratulations, Knight Kenobi," Plo Koon said softly, and the words were enough to bring a smile back to Obi-Wan's face.
"Thank you," Obi-Wan returned. "It…thank you."
The congratulations from the others came in then, having understood that his conversation with Qui-Gon was done, all of them warm and fond, and Obi-Wan basked in them for as long as he could, before he breathed them out.
Finally, the two of them went to the Archives, hearing a gasp they turned to see Anakin standing next to Madame Jocasta Nu, who looked up to the both of them with a smile. Anakin immediately ran towards Obi-Wan, beaming wide, only to freeze when he realized the braid was gone. For a moment he looked confused, wondering, and then full realization struck, and Anakin's smile turned so wide.
"You did it!" he nearly yelled, only stomping it down at the feeling of warning from Madame Jocasta, but it did not stop him from throwing himself at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan caught him, surprise filling him, but it did not stop him from pulling Anakin further up into his hold, feeling Anakin burying his little face into his shoulder and squeezing even tighter. "I knew you could do it," he whispered, and Obi-Wan found himself beaming wider than he ever had.
"Thank you," Obi-wan said, and put Anakin down, before looking to Qui-Gon.
"We will celebrate tonight," Qui-Gon said with a smile, "I will be leaving for Naboo tomorrow."
Anakin's eyes widened. "Already?" he gasped, staring between them. "Are you…really?"
"Yes," Qui-Gon smiled. "I was able to contact the Queen, and she was rather insistent that we do it as soon as possible. She had been thinking about the fate of your mother as well."
"Even with all of Naboo?" Anakin whispered.
"You are part of the reason Naboo is free, Anakin," Qui-Gon said softly. "Your hospitality, your mother's willingness to let you go…they are not to be overlooked, not even for a Queen, or a people that are grieving. You brought them freedom, Anakin, and that is not something they are likely to forget."
Obi-Wan watched as Anakin took this in for a while, his head bowed. "And I get to bring freedom to my mom…"
"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed gently. "And eventually to the rest of your people."
Anakin nodded slowly. "Qui-Gon," he asked softly, why haven't the Jedi brought freedom to my people before? – hovered near his lips, but in the end he couldn't ask it. Not yet. But that left something else to ask, something that he had realized with a hot rush of dismay as Madame Nu put a flimsi before him, as she told him that this contained the knowledge of the Sith that was appropriate for Younglings.
"Yes, Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked gently as the silence stretched on, prompting.
"I can't read that," Anakin whispered. "I…I can read," he said defensively when he caught the Jedi's twin expressions, "but…not that."
"You would have learned Huttese, then," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully, frowning, and Anakin nodded.
"It's popular with all the traders," Anakin explained. "Watto made sure that I could read it in order to mind the shop for him. But…we didn't get enough people dealing in…whatever that writing is for him to teach me."
"That writing is called Aurebesh," Qui-Gon explained. "It is popular among the Inner Rim in particular, and it is a 34-letter writing system, very different from the 26-letter Huttese."
"Can you read Huttese?"
"I can," Qui-Gon nodded, "as can Obi-Wan. I believe that, if you would like…"
"I would be happy to teach you," Obi-Wan said with a smile.
Anakin breathed a tiny, "Wizard," and smiled at them both.
"But later," Qui-Gon said, clapping his hands together. "For tonight, I believe we shall celebrate. Do you have a request, Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan looked thoughtful for a moment, before grinning, "Dex?"
Qui-Gon beamed at him, "Dex it is," he agreed with a nod.
Obi-Wan took in Anakin's very interested expression, beaming secretly, and the two Jedi walked out of the archives, Anakin following along in their wake, asking questions that they were pleased to answer – though they never once answered the question of who precisely Dex was, or where they were going.
Obi-Wan took a certain amount of amused delight in this, and idly wondered if that was why Qui-Gon had always been so obtuse. The difference, he supposed, was this surprise would be a good one, or at least, one that likely had a very entertaining reaction.
Either way, Obi-Wan was very much looking forward to it.
Anakin followed Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon out of the Temple, unable to stop himself from staring around at their surroundings. Anakin was still awed every single time he looked around at the interior, and he knew that there was so much more yet to discover. It made him excited to think about these unknown things that hid within the temple, waiting to be discovered.
As exciting as the Temple was, he couldn't help the awe that filled him upon exiting, taking in the massive city. He'd seen it before, of course, but there was something about it that he thought he would never get used to, not least because of the sheer number of lives that pressed against him. Anakin moved a bit closer to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, seeking some of their natural shielding as the Temple's own shielding. So many lives, so many signatures shining all around him.
Obi-Wan had explained that the Temple had a natural shielding in place in order to help protect the Younglings who could not shield as well on their own. It also helped make it harder for anyone who might attempt to attack them. Should they be Force Sensitive, they wouldn't know how many were within until they were within the natural shields, and at that point the Jedi would be able to sense them.
As it was, Anakin found himself more and more grateful for those shields, because the longer they were out of the Temple the more uncomfortable Anakin was getting.
The constant presences weren't painful, precisely, just…distracting, omnipresent, a great crush of people that surrounded him on every side. Anakin was used to crowds, to a certain extent, but they were nothing compared to the people that seemed to swell up around them. They gave passing nods and glances to the Jedi and Anakin, showing a modicum amount of respect, which was returned. He had to figure that being a Jedi would be immediately recognized among these people when their main Temple was amongst them.
Anakin spent the entire time to their destination split between fighting off a building headache and wondering where they were going. And then they branched off. Anakin followed the Jedi as they walked to what Anakin stared at for a while, wondering what he was seeing, and then.
"A diner?" Anakin asked, hearing the rise in pitch of his own voice, unable to fight the surprise that filled him.
"Dex's Diner," Obi-Wan grinned, and with that unhelpful answer, opened the door for Anakin and Qui-Gon, who stepped in together, Obi-Wan following.
It was near closing time, Anakin realized, seeing the sign on the door, as well as sending a quick glance to the chrono on the wall, but as the chime on the door rang and the WA-7 looked up from wiping down one of the tables, calling out, "Dex, some Jedi are here!" Anakin looked over to see a large alien leaning out of the window that separated the kitchen from the rest of the diner, and his brown eyes gleamed with a smile.
"Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon!" he called out, his wattle swelling with his grin, and he walked out from around the counter. The alien, which Anakin recognized as a Besalisk, came forward towards them, beaming, four arms spreading wide. He engulfed both of them in two separate hugs, laughing as they hugged him back.
"It's good to see you, Dex," Qui-Gon smiled.
"Always a pleasure," Dex returned, still beaming, and then he turned his focus to Anakin "And who's this?" he asked, that grin still there, and Anakin couldn't help but smile back.
"Anakin Skywalker, sir," Anakin said, not sure how to properly greet him, even with all of the warmth that he exuded. He was still really big…
"It's wonderful to meet you," Dex said, "My name's Dexter Jettster, but you can call me Dex, everyone else does."
"Thank you, sir," Anakin returned with a smile.
"What brings you three here, then," Dex said, frowning thoughtfully, his attention sliding between them, and then he focused on Obi-Wan, his gaze sharpening, and once again that smile spread wide. "Well! What do you know…" He grinned, "Am I actually standing in the presence of two Jedi Knights?"
"You are indeed," Qui-Gon smiled, putting a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Obi-Wan passed his trials tonight."
Dex laughed aloud, going for another hug that lifted Obi-Wan off of his feet. "Wonderful, good for you, Obi-Wan, that's fantastic! Best news I've had all week! And you come here to celebrate?"
"Of course, Dex," Obi-Wan managed after brushing himself off, laughing, "I wanted to say thank you."
"Ah, no problem," he said, waving off. "It's nice to be able to provide for studying Padawans." He grinned and shooed them into a booth. "Tell you what, I'll treat you. How does that sound?"
"Thank you, but we really shouldn't…"
"Ah," Dex winked, "But not couldn't." He called to a human waitress and talked them through some options, Anakin wound up just saying whatever was best. Dex eyed him for a moment, thoughtful, and then gave a satisfied nod. He left them at their table, the last few people trickling out as the door was shut and the human waitress, who introduced herself as Hermione, closed and locked the door, drawing the blinds. Dex came back a bit later with Hermione carrying a tray with him, which he placed before them, and Hermione set something down in front of Anakin that about made him start drooling.
Covered in white fluffy cream, and crowned by a few red fruits of some sort, it was beautiful. Dex handed him a spoon, even as he placed two tall glasses in front of himself and Qui-Gon, while Obi-Wan got another glass that seemed to be full of something closer to what he had.
"What is it, sir?" Anakin asked.
"Dex, please," Dex corrected gently, "and it's a Neuvian Sundae. I think you'll like it a lot. Just be sure to eat it slow, it's cold." Anakin took a bite and nearly melted into the seat. Dex just beamed at him.
Like Dex had said it wasn't just cold, it was frozen, and Anakin had never tasted anything better, the cream was delicious, and the tart of the fruit mixed well with the gentle flavor of the frozen treat. "This is great," he managed, "Thank you!"
"Not at all," Dex winked. "So, who are you that you're wandering around with a couple of old Jedi like them. You a Padawan?" Dex leaned back slightly, looking to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan with a teasing glint in his eye. "Couldn't wait to start teaching again?"
"Anakin is considering being my Padawan, yes," Qui-Gon agreed with a nod, and Anakin was momentarily happy that he had spoken for him. That phrase 'not yet,' had popped into his head again, and he was glad that he hadn't gotten an opportunity to say it. "Teaching again did sound appealing," Qui-Gon agreed. "Teaching is a privilege that I am lucky to be able to undertake."
Dex nodded solemnly, "I hear you; I hear you. Well, possible-Padawan, you couldn't have picked a better group to get into." Dex winked. "You won't get a better education from any of the others."
"I don't know if that's true," Qui-Gon said, straightening. "The Jedi is full of wonderful teachers."
"Ah, I'm sure," Dex waved off, "but none of them are in my diner." Dex leaned forward, grinning, and there was a burst of laughter. "They don't know where the good stuff is," he winked at Anakin, who laughed himself.
"How'd you get to meet Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon?"
"Oh," Dex leaned back, his eyes rolling back slightly as he thought, "That was a while ago."
"Oh, please, Dex, you'll make me sound old," Obi-Wan teased.
Dex laughed. "I think what I'm trying to emphasize is that you were young," he grinned. "We met back in my old spacer days," he said humming, "back when I was running a bar in Ord Sigatt." He grinned in a way that spoke of running a lot more than just a bar, and Anakin leaned forward, taking another bite of his sundae, interest running through him. "They helped me, I helped them," he trailed off with a slight shrug. "Either way we've been helping each other ever since, and I long lost track of who owes who. At this point it's best to just call it a friendship."
"And a long and beneficial one to both of us," Qui-Gon agreed with a smile.
"You were a smuggler?" Anakin hissed out, and Dex laughed aloud, grinning.
"Well…I don't know if I'd say that," he said his grin widening as he leaned closer, baring more of his sharp teeth, but it didn't feel like a threat, almost like a punctuation to a joke he wasn't quite aware of. "I'm a humble Diner owner," he said, "Best one in CoCo Town."
Anakin took another scoop of his sundae and nodded. Obviously, they couldn't be completely level with what it was that Dex had been doing, and he supposed he understood. Anakin wasn't a Jedi yet, and it was likely that they had reasons behind whatever had happened.
Either way, Anakin was content to eat his ice cream, listening to the chatter and the congratulations that washed over him, using it to drown out that crowded feeling in his soul. By the time they were done, Anakin's dessert had mixed with the overpowering presence into a sort of sluggish mess in his chest and head. The Jedi caught it, looking at him, and Dex made a few apologies about what he called a sugar-crash.
The only thing Anakin was really conscious of outside of Qui-Gon picking him up and apologizing to Dex while Obi-Wan sneakily put some money on the table behind him, was mumbling that Dex didn't do anything wrong, he'd really liked the sundae.
And then he fell asleep.
When Anakin woke up, he was back in the room with Obi-Wan, who had removed his shoes and tucked him in the bedroll. The immediate lack of pressure was such a relief that Anakin wound up falling back into slumber.
Tomorrow, Qui-Gon would be on his way to set his mom free. He just hoped he would get to say goodbye before he left…
Maul was used to having limited stimulation.
His childhood on Mustafar had been spent mostly in isolation – outside of a single Droid whose job it was to train him.
And his Master.
There was always his Master, though in his early days he had not spent much time with him. It was only when Maul had first exhibited his ability to use the Force that his Master had taken an interest. Until then, Maul had not even known his name.
Maul's early days there had been spent learning – not just how to fight but running numerous simulations that taught him about the wider galaxy and his place in it. But that had been limited, and when that was done, he would be returned to his room.
There had been two rooms, the first with a window that allowed him to see out into the lava flows of Mustafar, that let him sometimes see the miners that walked its surface, and had been his primary salvation when it came to staving off the boredom. With that window he had been at least able to see something outside of the four metal walls, his sleeping mat, and the faucet that was activated by a palm sensor placed by a drainage hole. There had been nothing else within that room, but so long as he could see out, he could imagine being upon its surface, regardless of what the Droid Deenine said about how he wouldn't be able to live upon it.
The sight of his reflection in the polarized window had also given him the idea of another boy that he could talk to, could be with…because initially he had thought it had been another boy. The realization that it had been him had come shortly after, as well as a deep fascination for his own reflection as it had been the first time he had seen himself…
And then he was moved to another room, a bigger one, and while there was a part of him that had adored it, because it was a symbol that he was getting better, that he was succeeding and his Master was proud of him…
There had been no window.
That lack had brought him to the biggest mistake of his young life, but also the one that had caused the world to open up before him. Maul had gotten onto the surface of Mustafar, Maul had found freedom.
It had just taken painting the remembered lava flows of Mustafar upon the wall in his own blood for his Master to make the decision that obviously, since Maul missed the view so much, he should be allowed to go onto it. And then he had been thrown into the middle of the wilderness and left to find his way back.
Maul had survived being upon its surface, had managed to kill the Miners that had threatened him and make his way back after seventeen standard days.
Maul looked at the 'prison' that surrounded him once again, something habitual that he had taken to out of a stunned disbelief that the Jedi could be this soft. There was even a separate area for the refresher. And a plant. There was just one thing he lacked, and it was a window, but he could not be overly surprised.
The only thing that mattered was that they could see in, could see what he was doing, not that Maul could see out. It wasn't even because he wished to imagine himself outside of his cell, Maul had long been broken of such trivialities, but at least it would give him a better idea of what was going on outside of these walls, outside of the changing of the Guard, and the odd meal times that Maul could not properly time.
As though summoned, Maul heard the clicking of a cane, as well as a soft humming. Maul paused in his pushup – turning it into a plank - and turning slightly to look at the ray shielded door as someone approached. Maul watched as the elderly green troll that he recognized from what had been meant to be his execution came into view, still quietly humming.
"Ah," the small troll said with a smile, "awake, you are. Pleased, I am."
Maul stared at him for a moment, idly aware of a bead of sweat plopping from his forehead onto the ground below.
What?
"Brought food, I did," he hummed, and showed him the tray that had been levitating near his head, kept up with the Force while the small being leaned on his cane. He looked the tray over, selecting two pieces and biting into them with surprisingly sharp teeth, nodding approvingly over the taste, before letting the tray levitate onto the small platform and it was once again pushed in. Maul finally allowed himself to break from his plank, walking over and taking the tray, still keeping an eye on the figure.
"Yoda, my name is," he said finally after Maul had taken a bite of one of the spiced meats, nearly causing him to choke.
Maul knew that name.
Yoda was the head of the Jedi Order. He had heard his Master talking about him, but he had never seen him, and he would have never expected…
"Heard of me, you have," Yoda smiled at him, a look that seemed more pleased than it should be. "Heard of you…I have not, though expected, you likely find this to be. Your name, young Sith, I would have."
Maul said nothing.
Yoda hummed quietly, sitting cross-legged before him on the floor. "Questions, I was told you have," he said with a smile, finally, after the silence had grown long. "Open to answering any, I am."
Maul said nothing.
Yoda took this in for a moment, before nodding, closing his eyes and bowing his head. The realization that the other was meditating for a moment felt like a special brand of insult, not the least because Maul could currently not do it himself, and then Maul decided that two could play at that game and once again began eating.
When he was finished, he placed the tray on the ledge, pushing it close to the opening, and once again moved to the middle of the room, thinking over the forms that he could fall into.
"Well trained, you are," Yoda said then, and Maul froze, turning to look at him. He hadn't been expecting for the Master to speak. "Polite, I thought it was, to wait until you had finished."
Maul blinked.
Yoda still had that pleasant smile on his face, and Maul was somewhere between angry and simply baffled. His Master had mentioned that Yoda was the most irritating of all of them, and had often quietly gone off on rants, but now that he was before him, he could not understand why his Master had not simply killed him. Not for the first time he wished for the collar to be off, to be able to sense the world as he was meant to.
Maul was beginning to think that there was so much more to this old creature than it appeared and being unable to fully sense him was maddening. It made him uneasy and Maul was doubly upset because it wasn't even something he could use.
Fear was his ally.
But collared as he was, Maul could not reach out to it, and Maul did not have any illusions about his own ability to produce fear in the Jedi, not as he was. Not without holding the secrets of his Master, and himself, deep in his chest. The Sith's greatest ally had been their anonymity, the way that they had buried themselves in history and had been so ignored.
Maul would not be the thing that broke that. Maul would not be the thing that gave.
His mouth curled into a sneer and he turned away.
There was a pause then, before a soft hum sounded once again, and quietly, "Commended, you should be, for your loyalty to your Master, to your Order."
Maul said nothing, though that uneasy feeling of being seen through rose in the back of his mind.
"Surprised, I am not," Yoda said then, which caused Maul to hesitate. "Surprised I am, that the catwalks to the Generator Room, that the room itself…you did not trap."
For a moment Maul did not follow, and then he bristled, turning around to face him once again, baring his teeth.
"Hmm," Yoda tilted his head back slightly, watching him. "Like that, you did not. Why?" Yoda took him in quietly his expression thoughtful. "A code, do you have, hmm? Honor, do you try and possess?"
Maul's hands balled into fists, before he finally turned his nose up slightly and looked away.
"Poor phrasing, that was," Yoda said quietly, thoughtfully. "Easier this would be, if spoke you did as well. A challenge this was not meant to be. Little doubt, I have, that you can possess honor. Strange it is, to find a Sith in possession of it." Yoda tilted his head slightly, staring at him with his large eyes. "Strange, perhaps, it was."
Maul said nothing, though words burned in his throat. Challenges, about Jedi that forced other Force users into their Order through pain and death. The brainwashing so they fell to their Order, the way they stole children… All things that he could hiss about Jedi and their honor.
Maul bit it down and said nothing.
He would not fall for their false flattery. They knew nothing of honor anyway.
"Hmm…" Yoda tilted his head as he stared up at him. "The will of the Force it is, that you are here, young Sith," he said, changing his tack in a way that surprised Maul. "Perhaps, something to be gained there is, for you."
And finally, Maul could not help it, he opened his mouth, and in a voice made thick from lack of use, asked: "If the Force has a will, do we not enslave it?"
Yoda's expression brightened, giving a bright hum at the question. "Speak, you can, delighted I am. And a good question, this is!" Yoda smiled at him, further emphasizing his wrinkles as he gave another quiet hum, this one thoughtful. "To be Jedi is to seek the will of the Force in everything we do."
"And carrying trays is the Force's will?" Maul couldn't help but ask, looking to the tray.
Yoda laughed, something that made a brief lurch of…Maul did not know rise up in his chest, "Ah, then a question of should we use the Force at all, is what you are challenging. A puzzle this is!" Yoda smiled. "How feel you?"
Maul said nothing.
"Lacking, are you?"
Maul said nothing.
"Seeks for us to use it, the Force does, why else would we feel loss at its lack?" Yoda stared at him thoughtfully. "A good challenge, this still is. Break it, enslave it, do you?"
Maul hesitated, and then said nothing.
"Given we have been, a gift, powerful, powerful," Yoda shook his head thoughtfully, his expression quietly sorrowful. "Terrible and great…use it properly, we must."
"And you have deemed that I use it poorly," Maul frowned, his hands balling into fists. "What right do you have to judge that?"
Yoda nodded slowly. "If your freedom I would give, do with it, what would you?"
Maul bared his teeth.
The deep sigh that left Yoda, the soft shake of his head at that non-response, as though Maul had spat out what was in his heart, of the entire Order cut to shreds at his hand, of the terrible, awful vengeance he would wreak in revenge of the devastation of his own Order so many, many years ago had suffered… Maul hissed through his teeth and looked away.
"Believe, we do, that meant to be here you are," Yoda said finally, after the silence had grown long. "Perhaps, things to be learned, we both have." Maul frowned, looking back to him. "Your name, young Sith?" he asked once again, and Maul stared at him, for a moment thinking once again of saying nothing.
And then he thought of that slave boy, the one who claimed kinship with him, the one that refused to call him by anything but what he was not. He thought of the possible nicknames and jests they could create, the disrespect they could give him while he was still bound in collar and behind wall, and softly, grudgingly, "Maul. Darth Maul."
Yoda beamed at him, standing, his expression full of brightness and warmth, even as he collected the tray with a wave of his hand. "Well met it is, Darth Maul. Well met, indeed."
Maul watched as the wizened old figure left the room, and felt idly, that he had been baited.