So their lives fell into a routine. Obi-Wan and Anakin spent their days in physical training, meditation, and Force skills. The evenings were traded around among the Organas for academic studies. Bail had been right: Anakin flourished with a non-Jedi approach to the subject matter, listening with rapt attention as Radha, Vilnis, and Bail opened his mind and piqued his natural curiosity with stories, subjects, and points of view he had never heard of before. They even arranged field trips. Bail took him to the government offices and the capitol of Alderaan, introducing him to the planet's most prominent political leaders. Vilnis showed him around the universities and museums, presenting him with the wealth of learning that was now open to him. Radha found a court case for him to follow, taking him through the judicial process and teaching him the basics of law.
Despite the busy schedule, they still had time for fun. Bail and Obi-Wan cautiously worked out a place for the Prince in the Master-Padawan relationship, and the three of them found time in each day just to relax and enjoy each other's company. Anakin got his swimming lessons, which he took to with surprising alacrity considering he had lived his entire life on a desert planet. Bail proved to be a qualified tutor in more than just history and astropolitics. He was able to introduce Anakin to galactic culture, both high and low, in a way that Obi-Wan with his austere Jedi sensibilities could not. Anakin drank it all in eagerly, whether it was modern art, classical music, galactic cuisine, or the latest series of blockbuster Rogue Jedi holovids. Bail was thrilled to have an impressionable young mind to mold, and he and Anakin indeed became brothers in spirit.
As for Obi-Wan and Anakin – after that first night, Anakin continued to sleep with the young knight. The boy turned more and more to Obi-Wan for a sense of security and stability. He loved meditating, kneeling between Obi-Wan's knees, Obi-Wan's arms wrapped securely around him. He was enamored of Obi-Wan's skills and power, reveling in every opportunity to watch Obi-Wan perform katas or other routines. The companionship that grew between them was different than that between Bail and Anakin. It was calmer, formal but comforting. The bond between them grew slowly but steadily. Obi-Wan didn't laugh as often as Anakin would have liked, but he would watch Bail and Anakin's hijinks with a quiet pleasure, and Anakin grew to love him, because that is what a child will do in the face of kindness.
But he still wondered whether Obi-Wan loved him back.
After all, Obi-Wan never spoke of Qui-Gon. In all his lectures on respect, obedience, honor, and duty, he never mentioned love. He never asked Anakin about his mother. Anakin had even picked up on the Prince's hurt at Obi-Wan's lukewarm friendship. Something seemed to be missing between the two older men, a level of affection that Obi-Wan clearly did not demonstrate. Obi-Wan never laughed. He never cried. He never got angry. He never gave himself over to joy. He was always calm, his voice steady, his manner dignified. Anakin knew that he was sad, but the knight refused to acknowledge it, and Anakin found that he could not quite trust someone who never felt any emotion.
Yet this, apparently, was what it meant to be a Jedi. He remembered standing alone in the Council chamber, when Qui-Gon was still alive, the Council members demanding to know his feelings, only to chide him for having them. The only sense he could make of it was that he wasn't supposed to have feelings at all. Certainly all the Jedi he had met so far seemed to exhibit Obi-Wan's emotional reserve.
All except Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon had gotten angry – at the Council members of all people! – when they said Anakin could not be trained. Qui-Gon had felt fear, when the Sith attacked him on Tatooine. He had exhibited impatience with Jar Jar, and a combination of annoyance and admiration with the Queen. He had smiled and laughed. Anakin's heart ached to remember how those little lines would twinkle and dance around Qui-Gon's eyes when he smiled, and the deep rumble of his laugh. And he had loved. Anakin had felt the Master's affection for his mother, and he knew Qui-Gon had loved him as well – wanted to train him not only because of his potential but because he cared about him. And Qui-Gon had definitely loved Obi-Wan. Anakin had seen it in the trust the Master had in his apprentice, had felt it in Qui-Gon's anguish over their arguments. Anakin did not at all understand the dynamics between the two men. Too much had been going on in his own life at the time for him to even begin to try to figure out the nuances between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. But as empathic as he was, he had picked up on their emotions, especially Qui-Gon's. And he knew that he had been a major focus of the conflict between the two Jedi. Obi-Wan had not trusted him from the beginning. Obi-Wan had defied Qui-Gon's decisions regarding Anakin. Obi-Wan had been hurt when Qui-Gon vowed to train Anakin, hurt by Qui-Gon and angry at Anakin. In fact Anakin was almost tempted to call it hate. After that horrific moment in the Council chamber Obi-Wan had avoided Anakin as much as possible, never meeting the boy's eyes, only addressing him when necessary. Only once after that had Obi-Wan even looked at him, and that had been when he and Qui-Gon had left Anakin behind in the hangar in Theed, as Qui-Gon had ordered Anakin to stay behind. Obi-Wan had glanced at him then, and Anakin had felt the pulse of smug self-satisfaction, that it was Obi-Wan who belonged at Qui-Gon's side, not Anakin. That was the only time. And Anakin had never seen Qui-Gon again.
Now that he thought about it, Anakin realized that the only time he had ever felt emotion in Obi-Wan had been when Qui-Gon was still alive – and those emotions, overwhelmingly negative, had been directed at him. The Obi-Wan he knew now was a different person entirely, and Anakin could not account for the change, nor could he trust what he could not understand. He needed Obi-Wan because the Jedi was all he had, needed to love him because he had no one else to love. But Obi-Wan did not need him, saw him as a duty, a burden, a responsibility he would attend to, but not a child he would love. And why should he? Anakin had been his replacement.
So this strange relationship grew up between them. Flashes of friendship, as when they joined the Prince swimming in the river. Moments of tenderness, as at night when Anakin lay curled in Obi-Wan's arms. And always the strong serenity of the Master-Padawan relationship. Yet something remained wanting, a connection not made, a bond fierce in its need but fragile in its stability. Anakin concealed his doubts and fears as best he could, but they festered inside him and grew.
One afternoon, Anakin asked
if he could fine tune the engine on the Prince's boat. Bail had suggested they take the boat out on
the coming weekend, but as it had not been used in some time, it needed some
routine maintenance, which Anakin happily offered to see to. So he and Obi-Wan holed up in the boathouse
to work. Anakin was pleased to learn
that Obi-Wan enjoyed tinkering, though not as much as he did, of course. As they dove into the engine, Anakin
wondered aloud, "How fast can the boat go?"
Obi-Wan shot him a warning look. "Don't even think of trying to find out."
Bristling a little, Anakin
protested, "I'm a good pilot. I won't
wreck it."
"I know that, but the river is not a pod courseway. There is a lot of traffic, and while you may be an excellent
pilot, others might not be. If you
careen around on the river, someone else might panic and cause an
accident. You must obey the traffic
laws, including the speed limit."
Anakin chuffed. There were no traffic laws on Tatooine. "I bet Bail likes to race."
"Even so, he obeys the speed limit on the river." Sometimes. He'd have to talk to the Prince about that.
"Well, he sure doesn't take good care of his boat," Anakin said, absently wiping his greasy hands on his shirt, to Obi-Wan's dismay. "The engine's filthy."
"So are you," Obi-Wan observed.
Anakin looked down at his shirt, then smiled up at Obi-Wan. "Oops. Mom is always getting after me about that." Then he realized what he had said, and he froze, choking.
Obi-Wan's own smile faded slightly when he sensed Anakin's distress. The boy had to learn to deal with his loss, just as Obi-Wan had. Obi-Wan allowed compassion to seep into his features, as he said quietly, "I imagine she did."
The warmth in the knight's
voice eased Anakin's paralysis, and he felt his breath returning. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little shaky
but strong. "I ruined a lot of tunics."
"I'll have to ask the Council to double your clothing allowance, then," Obi-Wan
quipped, and the last of Anakin's tension evaporated as he grinned
broadly. "In the meantime, I would
greatly appreciate it if you wiped your hands on a rag instead of your shirt."
"Sure thing!' Anakin agreed. As he immersed
himself once more in the engine, he asked, "So is there any place on the river
where they don't have a speed limit?"
"Not as far as you're concerned."
Anakin swallowed his complaint. After all, the boat wasn't Obi-Wan's anyway. It belonged to the Prince, who would hopefully share Anakin's philosophy on the matter. No point in pursuing it further right now. "I bet I can up the engine's efficiency, " he offered. Not to mention the power. "Is there a set of hydrospanners somewhere?"
His hands buried elbow deep in the boat's innards, Obi-Wan nodded his head toward a cabinet on the far wall. "Over there."
Ha! Once the Prince learned what Anakin did to
the engine, he would surely want to test it himself. Anakin scampered along the deck to the cabinet.
"Don't run, Anakin. The deckboards are
wet."
Ignoring him, Anakin climbed up onto the workbench and took down the box of hydrospanners. He opened the box and gave an appreciative whistle. "Sennika brand! These are the best!" Far better than the poorly made tools he'd had access to at Watto's.
"And very expensive," came Obi-Wan's warning, practical as always. "Be careful with them."
Anakin reverently picked up one of the spanners, inspecting the handiwork. He never dreamed he would ever be able to work with Sennika tools. Why, one of these hydrospanners alone could cost upward of 300 credits, and Bail had an entire set of them. Anakin smiled, covetously wishing he could be rich enough to afford tools like these.
He replaced the spanner in the box but left the lid open so he could look at the tools as he dashed back to the boat, eager to use them.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan warned, "I told you not to run."
"I won't drop them!" Anakin protested, but even as the words left his mouth, his foot slipped on the wet deck and he fell sprawling full length, his chin banging sharply on the boards as the tool box flew out of his grasp, skittering across the deck and tumbling over the edge, the hydrospanners flashing as they fell into the river.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan shouted, and the boy flinched, horrified at what he had done.
Obi-Wan was running toward him, and Anakin knelt up, desperately trying to shield himself from the blow he knew was coming. "Don't, please!" he begged as Obi-Wan reached for him. "I'm sorry! Please don't hit me!" He cowered, throwing his arms up to protect his head. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Obi-Wan knelt in front of the boy, his stomach churning at Anakin's fear. The boy expected to be beaten. The thought sickened Obi-Wan as he realized Anakin must be used to it. Of course he was, he had been a slave. Obi-Wan knew that, and yet he had never seen the boy in that light before. Hot, blinding rage surged through him. How dare anyone beat this child! What kind of a galaxy was it where any child could know such fear? And who were the Jedi to preach against fear in such a galaxy?
Obi-Wan reached out toward Anakin, but the boy only shrank back from him, arms raised to ward him off, and Obi-Wan realized Anakin could feel his anger, thought it was directed at him. Abruptly the anger left him, to be replaced with a cold nausea. Anakin feared him, thought that Obi-Wan was capable of hitting him. Obi-Wan struggled not to vomit, struggled not to cry as Anakin wept and cowered before him. Helplessly he raised his hands, slowly reaching for the boy but not touching him. "Anakin," he called, his voice soft and gentle, soothing. "Anakin, it's all right. Listen to me." He projected calm through the Force, speaking to Anakin as if trying to soothe a wild animal, and slowly the boy's sobbing subsided, his arms lowering, though he was still wary.
"Anakin, listen to me," Obi-Wan intoned. When he knew the boy would not flinch, he carefully placed his hands on either side of Anakin's head, holding him in a gentle grasp. "I will never strike you in anger, Anakin. I will never beat you. Never." Anakin's tear-filled eyes gazed up at him, still not entirely trusting. "I will never beat you," Obi-Wan repeated. "You are my padawan."
"But the tools…."
"They are just things, Anakin. They can be replaced. You are worth far more than they."
Wrong choice of words. Anakin pulled away from him again, knowing exactly how much he was worth: the price of one podracer. Obi-Wan could almost hear the thought in his head, and he said, "No, Padawan. You are worth my life."
Hopelessly, helplessly, Anakin looked up at him again, and Obi-Wan's heart broke to see such pain and desperation in those sky-blue eyes. How could he ever heal the wounds in this boy's soul? How could such a scarred child ever become a Jedi? He had no idea, but right now he didn't care. Right now all he wanted to do was make sure he never saw such an expression in Anakin's eyes again. He opened his arms to the boy. "Padawan," he called, and Anakin leaped into his embrace, his small arms squeezing tightly around Obi-Wan's neck, as if clinging to life itself, his thin body trembling. Obi-Wan rocked and soothed him, rubbing his back and whispering reassurances to him.
Gradually the tension in Anakin's body eased, and he mumbled into Obi-Wan's shoulder, "But the tools."
"They haven't gone anywhere," Obi-Wan pointed out. "They're at the bottom of the river. Look at it this way: you get to practice your diving. Now," he gently pulled himself free of the boy's embrace, "let me look at you. You're injured."
Stunned to know that Obi-Wan cared more about his welfare than the fate of the expensive tools, Anakin submitted to Obi-Wan's inspection. His elbows and knees were scraped, and a gash had split open his chin. He was bleeding, but he hadn't known it, hadn't even felt his injuries.
"Let's get you into the house and patch you up," Obi-Wan advised.
"But the tools—"
"We'll get them later. You first, Padawan."
Padawan. Obi-Wan had never called him that before, and now despite what he had done, Obi-Wan called him Padawan not once but three times. A tiny, tentative smile made its way onto the boy's lips. Obi-Wan saw it and knew what it meant, knew what he had called Anakin, too -- called him without thinking, as if it were natural, and in response he did something completely unexpected that surprised him as much as it surprised Anakin. He leaned over and kissed the boy's forehead.
As he sat back on his heels, somewhat embarrassed by his display of affection, an enormous smile broke forth on Anakin's face, peaceful, happy. To cover for them both, Obi-Wan said, "I hope next time when I tell you not to run, you'll heed me." He stood up, offering his padawan his hand.
Anakin placed his small hand in Obi-Wan's large one, letting the Jedi pull him to his feet. Still smiling, he replied without thinking, as if it were natural, "Yes, Master."