A/N: I was hoping to get this up during the weekend, but "real life" is so frustrating (that 100 pages of my psychology textbook is a splendid example). I'm glad people are still sticking with this—not much actually seems to "happen" in my stories, people just think a lot. But, hey, on the bright side, I think there might be some actual action in the next chapter, which should be a change from my typical introspections (good or bad thing—I'm not sure). ANYWAY, thanks for responding—it really keeps me going. I know I'm in trouble when during every class I attend, I'm thinking of ways to relate it to Star Wars (like, are Jedi purely altruistic or just partially? How quickly do Jedi learn languages? What would Jedi philosophize about—the existence of God, the Force, knowledge formed from sense experience? And would these philosophies be accepted and understood by the rest of the world? Would there even be non-Jedi philosophers? What would they say about the Force? Would a Jedi see value in analyzing literature?). Okay, maybe that's all just me, living in my warped little world, but that has nothing to do with anything, especially my story…I'm going to be quiet now :) Oh, in the later part of this chapter, I do some semi-flashbacks to a scene in TPM. I used some of the dialogue but was too lazy to actually go back and make sure it was accurate so it's kind of fudged, but the general idea is (hopefully) the same. Thanks!
Chapter Seven
Sinking deep into an overstuffed chair, Obi-Wan did not try and suppress a sigh. He did not bother to examine the room arching elegantly around him—he was far too tired for that. In fact, all he simply wanted to close his eyes and sleep again. But his body could wait to fulfill such desires. Leaning heavily on the aid of the Force for strength, he prepared himself to do his duty. And their duty now, since the battle was over and the Sith was defeated, was to return to Coruscant. Trivialities waited in abundance there—everything from ceaseless Senate inquisitions into the matter to numerous documented reports to be written. The Council undoubtedly anticipated a report of the mysterious Dark foe. And there was still the issue of Anakin's future to figure out. These were things that had been put on hiatus long enough.
It did not particularly matter that only three days had passed since their return to Naboo and the now infamous battle. It also did not matter that he had only been conscious for one day and had yet to regain his strength completely. The healers had opposed his departure, claiming that he should give his body more time to recuperate. But, seeing as Qui-Gon had already discharged himself and he had suffered the more severe wound, Obi-Wan merely thanked them politely and was on his way. Duty before pleasure, duty before need. Duty above all else. His body was able—he proved that much by walking out—but he chided himself in thinking it would be so easy. Even with the Force on his side, it seemed as though a giant invisible weight hung all about him. Sitting down was a much needed relief, for he supposed if he stood too long he would be more than likely to fall over eventually.
Qui-Gon had settled in the chair next to his, and Anakin wandered about the room, perusing its decoration with mild fascination. The boy had a ceaseless energy. In fact, while Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon recovered in the confines of the medical wing, Anakin had buzzed about them anxiously, jabbering and questioning, walking and exploring. It had made it very hard to concentrate on healing with him around, but for some reason, Qui-Gon hadn't minded the boy's presence.
The chair felt infinitely more comfortable than any other Obi-Wan could remember sitting in. The Temple was peaceful and secure, but it was hardly luxurious. And even though on his many missions he had been to a fair number of extravagant palaces and haciendas filled with expensive and lavish furniture designed for the utmost comfort, nothing had ever been as satisfying as that chair. He could not keep the relieved smile from spreading across his face. Jedi did not indulge themselves, but they certainly were allowed to enjoy a luxury when it is presented to them so practically.
However, his moment of reprieve was short lived. Within seconds of sitting on the chair, the massive carved doors swung open. Politeness and respect required him to stand. Despite every atom in his body protesting vehemently, Obi-Wan hoisted himself smoothly out of the chair, standing with a Force-drawn confidence. Qui-Gon also stood, looking equally calm and collected, and Anakin scrambled over to their sides expectantly.
The Queen, in her royal apparel, glided elegantly to them. "I am told that you plan to leave us today," she announced, her voice set in formal speech, unlike the girlish timber it had adapted when she had been Padmé.
"Yes," Qui-Gon affirmed. "We have been delayed more than long enough as it is. We leave Naboo in your capable hands."
"The healers have told me they do not agree with your decision to leave," Amidala said. "You are more than welcome to stay here until you and Obi-Wan have fully recovered."
"Your hospitality is appreciated," Qui-Gon told her grandly. "However, Obi-Wan and I are both well enough to return to Coruscant. As Jedi, we can concentrate the healing process, reducing the time needed for recovery greatly."
"Are all Jedi as stubborn as you and Obi-Wan?" she asked with restrained humor.
"Are all queens as stubborn as you are, Your Highness?" Qui-Gon replied in an equal tone.
Amidala's eyes twinkled, and she allowed a slight smile to cross her painted lips. "Very well then," she said. "What can we do to assist you?"
"Well, we will need to borrow a ship," Qui-Gon told her. "We returned on yours and have no other means of getting back to Coruscant."
"Yes, of course," the Queen said. "I'll have the pilots arrange an appropriate ship for you to take. Do you require a pilot?"
Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan and Anakin. Between the three of them, there would be more than enough able pilots. "I do not think that will be necessary."
"Good. I've given most of the pilots time off in order to recuperate from the battle. Life will resume its normal flow soon enough, for awhile I think the people are entitled a rest."
"We'll leave the ship in the hands of the Naboo's embassy on Coruscant," Qui-Gon said.
"That will be most acceptable."
"Thank, Your Highness," Qui-Gon said, bowing slightly.
Amidala returned the gesture. "Are you sure you won't reconsider staying for a bit longer?"
"No, I'm afraid not," Qui-Gon replied. "We'd like to leave as soon as possible."
"Of course," Amidala said. She turned to one of her guards. "Take them to the hangar and arrange for them to take a ship."
The guard nodded. "Yes, Milady."
Turning back to her three guests, she composed herself regally. "I again thank you for all you have done for my planet. Your assistance was undoubtedly pivotal to our victory. While I have enjoyed your presence, please do not be offended if I say I do not hope to see you officially any time soon."
"Of course," Qui-Gon said with a slight smile.
"However," she added, glancing knowingly at Anakin, "if you ever need a place to relax or take a break from you duties, you will always be welcome on Naboo."
"It has been an honor," Qui-Gon concluded, bowing again. The Queen nodded in reply before turning and gliding out of the room, her frilled and heavy dress masking her steps.
The guard now looked at them. "Should we be on our way?" he asked formally.
"Yes, I think we're ready to leave," Qui-Gon said, glancing at Obi-Wan and Anakin. Obi-Wan stood, still somewhat pale, without much expression. He was tired and more than ready to be in the familiar surroundings of the Temple. Anakin's expression was harder to place. Obviously, movement and action enlivened his disposition. He never ceased to be eager for something new to do or someplace different to go. Although he had already been to Coruscant and the Temple, this visit would be much more substantial. Qui-Gon could see undying hope in the boy, tethered to the assurance of the Jedi Order. He had no concept of the depth of Qui-Gon's endorsement or the apprehensions of the Council. All he knew was that he wanted to be a Jedi and, by Qui-Gon's word, he would be.
But beyond that, a twinge of bittersweet sadness clouded the boy's emotions. He had noticed Anakin's silent interaction with the Queen—undoubtedly there was a bond there. The two youngsters had clicked on some emotional level—deeper than Qui-Gon had originally thought. Because for all his exhilaration of the Jedi Order, there was still a part of him—perhaps a significant part of him—who wanted to stay with the Queen on Naboo. The boy formed relations so easily—his contact with the Living Force exceeded all his other abilities it seemed. In Anakin's training, Qui-Gon would have to help the boy find a balance between detachment and concern to avoid emotional attachments.
The guard proceeded out the doorway and the three visitors followed, Obi-Wan leading, Anakin padding along just behind him, and Qui-Gon taking up the rear. Studying their respective strides, Qui-Gon noted that Obi-Wan was not as recovered as he had let the healers believed. The younger man truly needed another day's rest. But, as he examined Anakin, he knew that they had waited long enough. Anakin's potential was reaching a boiling point. If they didn't act soon, it would boil over uncontrollably and be lost forever. Qui-Gon could not let that happen. Obi-Wan understood that.
When the guard showed them their ship, Anakin buzzed around it imploringly. While the guard gave Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan their final instructions, Anakin inspected every inch of the hull, running his hand along the shiny metal. It was the same class of Nubian they had taken before, but Anakin, in the rush of things, hadn't had the opportunity to examine the handiwork of the vessel.
However, as intent as Anakin had been with the outside of the ship, when he and the two Jedi finally boarded, Anakin was immediately enthralled by the inside. Last time he had been on the ship, he had been so cold and so scared. It had been surreal—leaving Tatooine, his mother. The alluring qualities of freedom and the painful loss of his home had combined to simply make him tired. He had spent most of the time curling up in a frigid ball, trying to adjust to the cooler temperatures aboard ship.
This time, however, Anakin was thoroughly rested and primed for exploration. True to his nature, he flitted about the ship with exhilaration, poking his head into all the cracks and crevices, examining every panel with detail, and looking hungrily at the controls. After settling in his quarters, Obi-Wan made his way to the cockpit, where he found Anakin already seated, studying the controls longingly.
"I'll bet she's gives a smooth ride," Anakin jabbered mindlessly. "I'd love to take her for a spin around the galaxy."
Obi-Wan sat down in the seat next to Anakin. "I hope another trip to Coruscant won't be too dull for you," he remarked dryly.
Anakin was oblivious to the undertone Obi-Wan's voice. "I mean, how can you look out and see so many stars and not want to travel to them?" Anakin continued.
"That would be impossible," Obi-Wan said. "No one has even been able to chart all the stars."
"You're forgetting the value of awe," Qui-Gon cut in, leaning over them. He placed a large hand on Anakin's shoulder. "As Jedi, we will see many wonderful things. Never lose your sense of wonderment—it'll serve you well and help you respect and value everything in the universe."
Studying his master carefully, Obi-Wan felt as though he was nearly intruding on the conversation. There was something utterly private in the way he spoke to the boy. Anakin, eyes glowing, looked at Qui-Gon. "Is it possible to not be amazed?" Anakin wondered innocently.
"It is a reality we all struggle with," Qui-Gon told him. "But you have rekindled my sense of awe."
The intensity of the gaze between Qui-Gon and Anakin suddenly made Obi-Wan feel extraordinarily out of place. He shifted uncomfortably, poking at the controls self-consciously. Clearing his throat, he announced, "I've laid in a course to Coruscant. It's on autopilot."
"Very good," Qui-Gon approved.
"So now what do we do?" Anakin asked, perched on the edge of his seat as if waiting for something to happen. "I mean, we have to do something, don't we?"
"There will be more than enough for us to do in when we get back to Coruscant. We can trust the navi-computer to handle the flight." With a bemused expression on his face, Qui-Gon continued, "It's time for us to just sit back and enjoy the ride."
Standing to leave, for some reason, Obi-Wan doubted this ride would be very enjoyable at all.
***
Every muscle ached longingly, begging him for the reprieve he had denied them all day long. Wearily, Obi-Wan plopped ungracefully on the bed. Space travel tended to have a monotonous flow to it, the constant stream of stars outside the windows hypnotic in a certain regard. Qui-Gon had tried to correspond with the Temple, and, with Obi-Wan assistance, they had gotten a message through mid-afternoon. Although now it was only early evening, he was so tired. Trying to collect his thoughts, he closed his eyes. Ever since he was a young child, he had been taught to meditate. In his early years, it had proven a difficult task for him. After all, better, more exciting things always waited for him beyond his closed eyes. Yet, the Masters had been insistent—Qui-Gon perhaps the most adamantly so—that he meditate daily, if not more. Meditation cleared the mind, it brought things into focus. It allowed the mind to shut out the world and the physical body and concentrate within and the connection to the Force. He used to accidentally fall asleep when he meditated, waking guiltily the next morning hoping that Qui-Gon hadn't noticed. If the master did, he rarely said anything about it, which perhaps made Obi-Wan feel even worse. But as he grew older and closer to Knighthood, he came to truly understand and appreciate meditation. It replenished him and gave him insights he might not have otherwise gained. Nonetheless, there were still times—not too long ago, he recalled with a sheepish twinge—when he had found himself slumped over on top of his covers from an unsuccessful meditation.
With the extreme fatigue of his body, sleep beckoned him even more so than usual. But his mind was in worse shape than his body, and it craved the solace of meditation more than the body yearned for sleep. Clearing his mind, he found his center, and tried to allow the Force to direct his thoughts. Immediately, the events of the past week fell upon him in their entirety, showing him how everything fit together, in a bigger picture than he had been privy to before.
When the Council had given them assignment of trying to negotiate with the Trade Federation, the mission hadn't seemed particularly complicated. Under Qui-Gon's supervision, Obi-Wan had handled far more dangerous and difficult tasks in the past, and, in truth, Obi-Wan had been fairly disappointed to the benign quality of this latest mission. But, as a dutiful Padawan, he approached the mission prepared and anxious to glean whatever lessons he could. Qui-Gon had seemed confident that it would be a quick mission. It hadn't taken them long to realize that the situation was not nearly as benign as they had been led to believe. There was something deeper, perhaps more sinister, to the Trade's Federation's actions—something which Obi-Wan could still not quite understand. The Trade Federation's decisions lacked an obvious motivation, and the logic seemed skewed by some unknown variable—the Sith, he supposed, but still could not fathom how they became involved in the first place.
Even as they stumbled across the invasion plot, the mission hadn't been all that far out of the ordinary. And even finding themselves on Tatooine with the Queen hadn't been particularly disconcerting. Obi-Wan knew that for a Jedi, there was really nothing that could be called a normal mission—after all, he had spent 13 years of being assigned "normal" missions, but had yet to finish one that he could call "normal." The galaxy was an intricate mess of politics and bureaucracy, and it was the job of the Jedi to sort the mess out. Each mission presented its own risks and its own surprises. Their stay on Tatooine had been just that.
But it wasn't just that, Obi-Wan thought suddenly. While he had been monitoring the ship, supervising the Naboo to keep them rash, albeit well-intentioned, decisions, Qui-Gon had met Anakin. It was the will of the Force, Obi-Wan quoted Qui-Gon's words to himself, trying to believe them. There was something about the boy; Obi-Wan could not deny that. He had a significant and strange affect on his willful master. Because then, suddenly, everything that had once been solid in his life changed.
In the rapid succession of events, Obi-Wan had barely had time to acknowledge the changes. After all, there were other things that demanded his attention. Standing before the Council with his master, he hadn't even been remotely prepared for Qui-Gon's petition of the Council concerning Anakin. He hadn't seen it coming. Qui-Gon was his master, they shared a deep bond, yet when it came to Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan was completely left out of Qui-Gon's plans.
The boy was dangerous, Obi-Wan thought, even now. Even after his part in the victory on Naboo. There was something infinitely unknown in his youth and potential. The Council perceived it, even Qui-Gon acknowledged the uncertainty of the boy's path. But he did not see it as the risk. In all of Anakin's innocence lay his passionate nature. Whatever Anakin did, he did absolutely. Whatever he fought for, he fought for wholeheartedly. Extreme passion sways both ways if not balanced by reason. Anakin Skywalker's humble life made him genuine, but fearful. Fear, as Yoda always crooned, was the path to the Dark side. Obi-Wan understood this now with a bitter clarity. His dual with the Sith, spurred on by fear and hatred, had nearly claimed him. And enabling such a talented, passionate child who was prone to his emotions would have two outcomes—pure Light or pure Dark. The two suddenly existed together in a warped melody, intertwining and flirting with one another, but never quite touching. It took so little to jump from one to the other.
Qui-Gon believed that Anakin was the Chosen One. For the prophecy, Qui-Gon was willing to throw everything else in his life away—the respect of the Council, obedience, even Obi-Wan.
I take Anakin as my Padawan Learner. Those words echoed in Obi-Wan's tired mind. Just like that, Qui-Gon was ready to commit to a boy he didn't know. The Force had gone to far more extremes to make Qui-Gon finally commit to Obi-Wan, and even then it had been with hesitation and doubt along the way. But just like that, without the Council's support, I take Anakin as my Padawan Learner.
The years of training and lessons seemed suddenly hollow in that instant. He loved Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon was like his father. Yet Obi-Wan, the obedient, dutiful son was being overlooked for the more exciting, more ambitious one. But this moment of juvenile jealous had passed as the conversation continued.
An apprentice, you have, Qui-Gon, Yoda said. Impossible, it is, to have two.
Obi-Wan is ready, Qui-Gon said, glancing briefly at the young man.
Suddenly, his pride had flared, conjuring up his lifelong dream of being a Knight as well. I am ready to face the trials, he interjected, stepping forward, speaking from his dreams and longings, not his true self-evaluation.
The Council admonished his rash statement. Qui-Gon continued, He is young and has much to learn of the Living Force. But he is capable. There is little left he can learn from me.
There was something in his words, something in his tone of voice that cut at Obi-Wan's heart. Capable.
Capable seemed now like weak praise from his Master. It seemed like a cop out. Little left to learn from Qui-Gon, or little left that Qui-Gon wanted to teach him now that the Chosen One was there? He hadn't felt it then, but the emotions of the moment had swept him away. It had all been happening too fast for him to really think about what was being said. He had wanted to feel proud that his master believed him to be ready of the Trials—it was the approval he had waited 13 years to hear. But there was such bleakness in the confidence, little depth to the praise. Qui-Gon's attention was elsewhere. It was on Anakin.
Obi-Wan had resolved to be respectful on the mission, just as the Council and Qui-Gon would want him. The future was not to take place in the present, and at present there was still a major conflict on Naboo to settle. And so they went. They helped fight the war. Their mission was two-fold, however. Protect the Queen, which meant saving Naboo, but also to "unravel the mystery of the Sith."
The Sith—how Obi-Wan wished he had never heard that word. The Sith had been the creatures of mythology for Obi-Wan. They were feared, but only as one would fear an urban legend. They hadn't existed for millennia. Although the teachers would still speak of the great battles with these Dark Lords, they had been far less real than political fanatics and galactic radicals. Those were tangible threats. The Sith was the great unknown threat. And then, in a very surreal moment, Obi-Wan stood face to face with one.
Be mindful of the Living Force. The Living Force was something Qui-Gon had constantly lectured him about. Dangling in the pit, the Sith hovering over him, he had finally begun to understand it. It was what saved him. But saved him from what? That was something the Living Force couldn't answer.
You must train the boy. What might have been his master's last words—his fleeting thoughts. No hint of goodbye, no trace of sorrow for what he would be leaving behind, just words for the future.
He has much to learn of the Living Force. Yet it had been he who had found it in those precarious moments, and Qui-Gon who had forsaken it. For all the fear and sorrow and shame living and breathing so close to him, all Qui-Gon could think of was a distant boy in a distant future.
Promise me. It was a promise Obi-Wan had not given him. Instead, clinging to the Living Force, he had given him life. Somehow pouring out his life Force into Qui-Gon helped numb the pain. Pain coursed through him, not just from the physical exhaustion of the fight or his brush with Darkness, but pain from realizing what it meant to be second in the eyes of the only one who mattered.
He abruptly opened his eyes. Despite how much he needed it, meditation was not working for him tonight. Instead, he sighed, pulling the sheets down from the bed. Sleep seemed to be the better option. It was easier than sorting through the mess of thoughts in his head. Curling beneath the covers, he didn't resist sleep's provocative pull and permitted himself to be swept deftly within its ranks.