After a night of restful sleep, Obi-wan waited in the dojo for his students to trickle in before the first class began. The schedule he had been given was slammed with back to back classes all day, and arguably not enough time to even properly eat breakfast or dinner before he was supposed to go to bed and start the cycle again.

And Anakin, just like his Master, had a heaping pile of work as well between classes and activities. The two of them had nearly missed each other that first morning before they went their separate ways. In passing Obi-wan had suggested they go down to the dining hall together for some breakfast, but Anakin was intent on avoiding any extra social interactions with the temple natives. He insisted he needed to take a walk to clear his mind instead.

"Honestly Master, I'm not hungry. Really." Anakin said avoidantly, unwilling to sustain eye contact for more than a few sheepishly fleeting glimpses. Obi-wan was certain that was the first time he had ever heard Anakin use those words in that particular order. It was obvious there was something bothering him about the incident from the night prior that crying into his shoulder hadn't been able to fix.

It hurt Obi-wan to see him suffer, but Anakin needed to learn how to handle his own personal affairs. Getting over involved wouldn't do him any favors. He tried to ignore the memory of holding Anakin in his arms, of the tender kiss he planted on his tear stained cheek. He wanted so badly to give into those desires again, to erase all the pain and heartache that resonated inside Anakin. But he couldn't.

Obi-wan knew those wants were borne from his own heart, and that it wasn't what would be truly best for Anakin. Besides, his were cravings that would never be relinquished by giving in, that much was clear. Just because his own emotions were crossed didn't mean it was right to push that onto Anakin. He loved him, so he felt determined to mind the line between his desires, and what was best for his Padawan. He couldn't allow himself to get carried away.

"If you ever want to talk about anything, I want you to know I'm always ready to listen." Obi-wan said, reiterating a well trodden statement he had given time and time again. Often times it had been met with aggravation and sometimes even outright anger. Now Obi-wan felt traces of suppressed anguish leach across their bond. It made his heart ache, but there was nothing more he could do or offer to him. And that fact, only made him feel even worse.

With his gaze cast low and his face twisted down into a frown, Anakin quickly hustled from the apartment and out into the halls where he would avoid any sentient contact for as long as possible. Obi-wan could only hope Anakin would attend his classes and activities as he was supposed to.

In spite of his duties Obi-wan continued to ruminate, worrying about Anakin right up to the start of class. The students were all on time, not even one straggler among them. At least one thing was going well enough. Obi-wan chose to put hope in Anakin's perseverance. He had gotten this far, hadn't he?

I'm just overly concerned, Obi-wan told himself. It was a symptom of the state of his feelings for him. He had to keep it in check, to clear his mind and focus on the moment. And that was in the dojo, surrounded by younglings who patiently awaited his instruction with wide and eager eyes.

He had to tend to the task at hand. Everything else could come after. "Good morning," Obi-wan addressed the group of young learners that sat in concentric half-circles from where he stood. "Each of you find a remote, blind and saber, and we'll begin today's lesson."

….

Anakin rushed through the halls towards the temple exit. He had thought to sneak out of the temple during breakfast, and had nearly gotten away with it. To his dismay, Jerot had found him only a few meters away from making a successful escape.

"Anakin!" Jerot shouted from down the hall, his voice echoing off the stone walls and granite floor. Anakin's shoulders cringed as he turned gingerly to face him. "Where are you going?" Jerot said as he sprinted over to meet him.

Anakin chose to ignore the question. "What do you want?" He said sullenly.

"I wanted to apologize for last night," Jerot started, his face conveying genuine regret.

"Why should you be sorry?" Anakin asked with a sour edge to his voice. Beneath his wrinkled brow his eyes were still puffy from the night before, when his Master's arms seemed to be the only cure to his heartache, even if it had been a mere fleeting moment of relief from his stormy emotions. Somehow the embrace, the tender unadulterated kisses Obi-wan had given him, seemed to make the tempest of longing and confusion so much worse in their wake, making everything else feel impossibly heavy.

"Clarissa was totally insensitive and out of line. Jedi are meant to be better and more conscious-"

"Just forget about it." Anakin blurted, cutting him off. He didn't want to hear the rest of those words that would inevitably make him feel even more terrible than he already did. "It doesn't matter."

"But it does matter. She hurt your feelings, and it was uncalled for." Jerot insisted. "I want to make it up to you."

"Please, don't bother." Anakin ground out.

"You should give her another chance. You'll see that she's not so terrible. Slick makes everyone a little rough around the edges." Jerot implored.

Anakin scoffed. "You don't get it. Anyone who uses drugs knowing their production depends on slave labor is terrible, sober or not." He shot back vehemently.

"But It's not like that-"

"But it is. It's simple. People are born into slavery. They live and die, never knowing any freedom. It's evil. But it's alright as long as you and your friends can get high. Then it doesn't matter." Anakin continued, gaining momentum.

"That's not what I mean-"

"Isn't it? You don't care. One moment you're saying a Jedi should be more sensitive to things like slavery. In the very next breath you're trying to make excuses for your friends." Anakin declared, not noticing the escalating volume of his voice.

"I- I'm sorry. You're right." Jerot rescinded.

But he would never understand, not like Anakin did. And they never would. "None of you will ever know what it's like to be someone's property." Anakin said low, nearly under his breath.

Jerot studied him, a light of understanding in his eyes. "But you do know."

"You don't know a thing about me." Anakin spat back defensively. He didn't want pity. It was the last thing he ever wanted.

"I don't. And I'm starting to get the feeling you don't ever let anyone get to know you." Jerot added in a kind voice. Despite the gentleness to his words, they stung all the same.

"What's it to you?" Anakin asked, not wanting an answer.

"I guess I just hoped we could be friends." Jerot replied with sad eyes.

Anakin's face twisted with confusion. Before he could even think of something to say, Jerot spoke again. "You know, not everyone is as terrible as you make them out to be. If you open yourself up long enough, you might find that out yourself one day."

Anakin's throat swelled with too much that his heart wanted to say, even more that he would never allow himself to speak. He cursed himself for letting things get to him so easily, but somehow he couldn't help it. He was weak, and even more so in the absence of his Master's touch. It stirred a heavy confusion and heartache that made anything else impossible to handle.

In the absence of any retort, he felt thankful for the interruption as an elder Nautolan Jedi Master came stalking towards the two of them purposefully with a scowl that pressed wrinkles into her jade green skin.

"Padawan Tokani," she called out, "and Skywalker?" Both Anakin and Jerot turned to meet the elder Jedi that strode towards them. "What are you doing out in the halls so close to the start of class?" She asked accusingly.

"I was just showing Anakin around a bit. It seems we lost track of time." Jerot answered back unflinchingly. Anakin plastered a fake smile on his face as the Nautolan Master eyed them suspiciously.

"Hmmm." She said, pausing pensively. "Well off then, the two of you!" She barked. "I don't want to hear about you being absent from your morning lessons." The Nautolan Master commanded strictly.

"Yes Master," Anakin and Jerot murmured in unison as they made their way back towards the main hall where the classrooms were. Anakin grumbled.

If it wasn't for Jerot he would have been able to get away and clear his mind. Instead he would be forced to sit and endure temple classes surrounded by a bunch of Padawans who were a joke to the title. Anakin couldn't wrap his head around the loose culture among the learners in the temple.

While Anakin somewhat envied their seclusion and ignorance, he equally resented it. He tried to imagine what his life might have been like if he too, had the luxury of being so willfully nescient of the galaxys darker aspects like slavery. He couldn't truly imagine it at all. Even if he could have, he wasn't sure he would have wanted it. Not even if the consequences of being so violently aware of such things left scars on his psyche that he knew would never fade.

Anakin pondered over it while he and Jerot ventured into class only a few moments late. Their tardiness earned them a stern glance from the lead Master, instead of the small lecture they might have received had they been a moment later. Anakin grimaced as he settled into the only remaining empty table at the front of the class. A deep frown formed on his lips as Jerot was forced to settle down beside him.

They quickly fell in place as the lecture began. It was long and boring, stoking Anakin's dull anger to the point of annoyance. It didn't help that his mind kept on brushing the edges of the memory of the gentle kisses Obi-wan had given him, that starkly contrasted the way his Master had wrestled him to the ground of his quarters. And all of it was a mere shadow to how he had been taken on Kraysiss Two, so much so that the event almost seemed unreal.

But he knew it wasn't just a Sith inspired phantom of his imagination. It existed in his torn emotions, his aching heart. In his fearful lust for violence and thirst for answers to the questions that scraped painfully against the inside of his skull. The embrace, the gentleness his Master had shown him seemed to be a temporary fix that made him feel so much worse in their absence. It was nearly cruel.

Anakin thought things would get better once they arrived on Devaron. He felt the light of the place loudly, and it did soften the edges of his trauma, but only to a point. It seemed to inevitably make him more raw and vulnerable to his darkest truths. The light might shine on the roots of his pain, but it was still up to him to decipher what that was. And the light wasn't going to patiently wait for him to figure it out.

By the time the lecture had ended and they started down the hall for combat training, Anakin was grateful. At least there would be some physical release to all the pent up things stewing inside of him.

He was also glad that Jerot no longer tried to talk to him, but was vaguely annoyed by his presence at his side as they ventured into the dojo. As the group of Padawans began to take positions on the floor mats while they awaited instruction, Jerot sat beside Anakin in spite of his irritability. If anything, his mood seemed to only make him hover more closely, like a spectator awaiting imminent disaster.

And disaster didn't seem to be far off. Anakin could sense it when the lead Master directed him to demonstrate a sparring technique to the class. The chosen opponent was Clarrisa- the ill mannered Padawan he had met yesterday who had laughed indignantly at him for mentioning the drug trade's reliance on slavery. The dismissive reaction had shocked him deeply, shaking his old wounds to sting anew.

In his red haze, Anakin couldn't hear the string of introductory words as Clarissa took stance opposite him, nor did he care to try and listen. He looked across at her, reaching for his saber as she reached for hers. In the moment they stood alone, a world apart from everyone else. And that world darkened as Anakin studied her expression which was ever placid. Perhaps she was too hung over from whatever substance she had taken the night before. Regardless, her monotone expression ignited the anger in Anakin's chest to burn brighter than before.

She was the reminder that he didn't belong. He never had, and he didn't now. Master Windu had never passed an opportunity to make him feel like an outcast, or remind him how he had never agreed with his training to start. Anakin belonged under the harsh suns of Tatooine, toiling away to spend his evenings with his mother. His mother who he would die to protect. Never would he let anyone hurt her ever again.

And it would be better that way. Because there, no one would question his right to exist. At the very least he would serve an uncontested purpose. He would have never met Obi-wan. He would never have been so desperately torn about his own feelings. Nothing on Tatooine had ever been so complicated. Not like it was now.

Now, Anakin found his life as an unending labyrinth of cause and effect, taking him deeper and deeper to its heart which would be his uncertain fate. All he knew how to do was talk the path, taking it around the bend, pausing at a split in the road, debating on which direction he might go. But it seemed in all the most critical moments, there were no choices to be made. No decision to go right, or left. The only choice was to keep going, keep walking the path.

Just like he had when his Mother had been attacked, and the same for when his Master had taken him. What alternative had there been? When Master Jinn came for him and told him he would become a Jedi, he had been helpless to his fate all the same. It seemed all of the best and worst things were a matter of destiny, not choice.

But here now, as he looked Clarissa in her dead, dull eyes, his chest was full of more things than he could ever attribute to her alone. She was nothing but a passive bystander, a trigger to the tempest of conflict and self loathing that was the essence of his core. It was the product of the conflicting dualities that swirled inside him that he couldn't seem to make sense of. All of it was too heavy, more than he knew how to contain within himself. And worst of all, he had no one he could justly blame.

Clarissa ignited her saber, a jewel green blade jutting out from the gold and wooden hilt. Anakin keyed his on in kind, taking his usual stance, waiting for her to make the first move.

No, he had no one he could blame, but Clarissa was here. She was ignorant and weak, everything a Jedi shouldn't be. He could blame her for those things. The anger that roared behind his ribs wanted to lash out at her. He wanted to have a reason to feel all of the pain. She could be the reason. In the moment, she was. And with it, serenity descended on him.

It wasn't that his emotions were gone, they were still very much a part of him. But he was at peace in the moment, anticipating the swing of her blade.

When she swung at him his body moved to dodge with ease as he met her blade with his own. The humming blade in his hand trembled violently as it struck, but he held it as an effortless extension of his own flesh. One swift parry led into the next, all accompanied by footwork that gracefully took form without a single thought.

With each strike and clash of their sabers the pace of their duel intensified. As their combat heightened, Anakin found his anger manifesting more and more. Not in blatant rage, but in severe, deadly focus. It drove him and calmed him. The deeper he found himself within it, the more helpless he found himself to its whims.

It took him to a place where he could no longer think critically about the things he was feeling. There were no more thoughts filling his mind. Not about what Clarissa had said to him the night before, not the scars of his childhood, not Obi-wan. None of it took space in his mind as he worked against his opponent, but he could feel the weight of it inside of him.

He felt the heartache from all the ways he had been wronged, hurt, used. All of the confusion and longing. The reality that nothing would ever change, that none of it could be taken back. It all transformed into the seething anger that honed his focus, that became violence as he pressed himself harder against Clarissa, causing a small sheen of sweat to breakout on her forehead.

Anakin couldn't hear the class murmur in the background. He only heard his own drumming heartbeat amidst the sizzle and crashing of dueling sabers. As his anger grew black, his attack turned ferocious. Clarissa didn't have the skill to keep up with him. Anakin's prowess over her sent a rush of excitement pulsing through his veins.

A sweep of his leg sent Clarissa tumbling backwards as her lightsaber crashed to the floor. Anakin brought his bright humming blade against her neck, just close enough for the heat of his saber to sear the flesh under her chin.

Then with a loud shout from the lead Master, Anakin was pulled from his world, back into the dojo.

"Enough!" The Master cried out, forcibly disengaging Anakin's saber and pulling it into his hand.

The rage that had consumed him coiled back, leaving Anakin alone with his horrid shame towards his actions. All had been on display for his peers to see, and he had no excuse. For a moment, he wasn't even sure what had just happened.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I got carried away," Anakin said, uncomfortably aware of the too many sets of eyes burning into his skin as his face turned bright red. He offered a hand to Clarissa to help her up, but she refused.

"Like hell you didn't!" Clarissa cried out as she climbed back up to her feet, a hand cupped over the saber burn on her neck. "Just get away from me!"

"I'm sorry," Anakin repeated, shaking his head as he cursed himself for his lack of restraint. What would Obi-wan say when he found out? His stomach tied in knots as he thought about it.

"Skywalker, report to Master Qualturus's office at once!" The lead master barked out. Anakin didn't look up to meet his eyes. He didn't need to, he could hear the condemnation and disappointment in his voice.

Anakin obediently and silently turned towards the exit, only catching Jarot's face for a moment before he left the dojo. He felt slightly confused for seeing a look of intrigue rather than disgust or anger. Though he had little time to give it much thought before he found himself at Zaann's office.

Giving a simple knock, Anakin waited for permission to enter. He could hear Qualturus on his comlink speaking with the teacher who was giving a brief and thorough report of Anakin's actions. Zaann's responses were quiet, conscious of an audience.

After a moment of silence, Qualturus called out. "Come in," he said, his voice ever jolly and equally grating. Anakin gritted his teeth as he walked through the door, only sitting once he was granted permission.

"Well well. Your first day in class, and already you're causing quite a racket." Zaann noted with an interested glint to his violet eyes. Anakin chose to remain silent, deciding it was the best course of action unless directly ordered otherwise.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Qualturus probed in a curious tone, one that overshadowed any anger or disappointment if there was any at all.

"I got carried away. It was wrong, and I'm sorry." Anakin responded curtly, his hands gripping the arms of the chair irritably.

"You might have received special treatment in Coruscant, after all, the order has been making nothing but exceptions for you since day one. But here, you're just another Padawan like everyone else. You're not special, Anakin." Zaann said in soft measured words that were aimed to sting.

"I never said I was." Anakin shot back, glaring at Qualturus with disdain. "And I've never been treated special. If anything, it's been the opposite."

"No? Not special?" Qualturus asked with barely veiled disgust.

"No." Anakin insisted, holding himself back from shouting. This must have been a test, he reasoned. Zaann must have been trying to push his buttons, to find his breaking point. Anakin didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Zaann smiled darkly. "What was it that Master Jinn said about you? Some nonsense about the prophecy of the chosen one. He claimed you were it. It was the only reason you were taken in by the order. And you don't think you've received special treatment?" Zaann asked again, cocking his head to the side.

Anakin clenched his jaw, remaining silent as his rage began to grow again. He took a few deep breaths like Obi-wan had taught him to do, to regain control over himself. It was hard to know whether or not it was working, since Zann just kept on.

"Most Masters choose their Padawan themselves. But because of who you are, your Master was forced to take you on. You were guaranteed a spot in the order, where everyone else has to earn it by merit. But no, you're not special." Qualturus spoke softly as his words grew harsher.

And they were effective. Anakin felt the words strike at an old wound, tering it open fresh. With every ounce of strength he focused hard to suppress tears from welling in his eyes. It was nearly impossible not to hear his own self damning thoughts echoing inside himself, reminding him that Obi-wan never wanted him at all, never chose him. Qui-gon had cursed him with his training. Obi-wan, ever loyal, would never go against his Master's dying wishes.

"Oh, have I struck a nerve?" Zann asked with an air of amusement.

Anakin clenched his fists and swallowed hard, feeling his heart pound in his chest. "If you think you're so tough, prove it." Zaann said, rising up out of his chair and walking around, blocking the exit as he took his saber in hand.

"Get up." Qualturus ordered. Reluctantly, Anakin obeyed. His hands were damp with sweat, his body trembled with adrenaline. He didn't understand what was happening. Never had any Jedi Master spoken to him this way, or any other Padawan. Sure, not all Jedi had perfect tempers, but Anakin was positive there had to be some other reason to the man's verbal assault, other than for the sake of being hurtful.

Anakin turned to face Zann who stood at the ready. Anakin flinched as the Jedi Master keyed on his sapphire blade and coiled into an offensive stance. Quickly he slashed out at Anakin, forcing him to dodge lest his arm be sheared off at his shoulder. A flash of panic jolted through him as Zaann laughed.

"Where is your lightsaber? Defend yourself!" Zann cried out as he swung again, causing Anakin to dash backwards defensively. He didn't have his lightsaber, the lead Master of the dojo had taken it.

"You're crazy!" Anakin shouted through taut vocal chords. In response Zaann sent a sweeping slash at his neck that grazed his skin. The tip of his blade landed less than an inch away from his artery. Less than an inch away from death.

"You don't have your lightsaber because you are unworthy of being a Jedi!" Zann declared as Anakin retreated further.

Qualturus moved to close in on him, but was stopped as Anakin pulled a chair and hurled it across the room. It only took a moment for the Jedi master to deflect it back at him powerfully enough that Anakin couldn't avoid its path. The bulky wooden chair crashed into him, throwing him to the ground. With the wind knocked out of him, Anakin struggled to pull himself up. Before he could, Master Qualturus grabbed a fist of his shirt and slammed him against the wall, a sadistic sneer spread across his lips.

"What a pitiful failure. For all the work Kenobi has put into you, it's all been such a waste." Zann said in a growl, pressing the unlit end of his saber hard against the flesh of Anakin's neck.

Anakin stared into the man's eyes, feeling a bolt of terror jolt through him as he saw something wild and feral there, not unlike the Sith back on Kraysiss Two. "Please, don't," Anakin begged breathlessly with wide terrified eyes, no longer able to keep the tears at bay that streamed down his face.

With a look of broken concentration, Zaann's eyes flitted towards the door of his office, then back at Anakin before he broke out into roaring laughter. Qualturus's breath was hot and damp on Anakin's face as he pulled in shaky shallow breaths. FInally, Qualturus released him from his grip. Anakin thought he might have fallen to the floor, but thankfully his legs decided to keep him upright.

"Get out of my office. You're suspended for the rest of the day. And if I ever hear of you acting out against one of your peers, or any other Jedi for that matter, you'll wish you were dead." Zann said in his hallmark tone. Anakin shuddered, not bothering to fix his tunic before he ran out of Qualturus's office.

Anakin was so shaken and distracted, he nearly plowed over Jerot in his panicked haste.

"Anakin," Jerot said, catching him by the arm as Anakin spun past.

Anakin hastily wiped the rogue tears from his face as he jostled out of Jerot's grip. "What do you want?" Anakin said shakily, still catching his breath.

"What happened? Are you alright?" Jerot asked. Without a word to answer with, Anakin turned and started towards the apartment wing. He was still shaken and was in no mood for conversation.

"Okay, okay don't tell me. Wait up, I have something else I wanted to ask you." Jerot called after him.

Anakin turned back to face him angrily. "What is it?"

Jerot's face lit up with a smile. "I have something I want to show you tonight." A glint of excitement in his eyes stole Anakin's curiosity, but he was still in no mood to talk.

"What?" Anakin asked in a lighter yet still irritable tone.

Jerot looked around then came in closer, lowering his voice. "Meet me outside the temple doors after dark and i'll show you." Jerot answered, his grin widening.

"I'm pretty sure once my Master finds out what I did, I'll be grounded for the rest of the week, if not longer." Anakin answered cautiously, unsure if it was wise to take Jerot up on his offer.

Jerot laughed before he spoke low again, mindful of listening ears. "And what does that have to do with it? Meet me outside the temple doors after dark. I'll be waiting."

"Why should I?"

"Because you'll be sorry if you don't. Make sure to wear civilian clothes. We don't want to get noticed as Jedi." Jerot answered, turning back down the hall towards the classrooms.

"I'll see you then?" Jerot asked with a wide smile on his face.

"See you then," Anakin answered back hesitantly, turning towards the apartment wing. "I guess."