AN: Longer update this time! You have no idea how long i've labored over this bit. Any feedback is helpful - (do you think the philosophical argument is logical? do it make sense in the flow of the story?)
AN2: i've paraphrased a famous psychologist that i can't for the life of me remember, just so's you know it's not mine. and if anyone reads this, can you spot the movie quote?
Big thank you to angel, solo23 and SpencerBrown. I find this version of Obi-Wan fascinating--not to mention the What If's re: Qui-Gon and Anakin and how this Obi influences them. And Anakin will definitely get his chance to play hero...
Enjoy
Fourteen Cont.
The two made good time through the forest, skirting the edge of the Milaera border and crossing into Teann'run Province, composed largely of grain fields interspersed with clusters of trees. Their journey would take them through the whole of Teann'run and into the mountain border of their destination: Nemagi. Obi-Wan suggested they keep away from the villages, and Anakin agreed. He still felt he should contact Master Gallia but couldn't fix the comlink. It stung his pride to admit it, but parts didn't grow on trees and he didn't have the time to see if Quenya technology was adaptable to Republic standard.
In some not so small way, Anakin was relieved that he wouldn't get a chance to explain. He had no idea where to begin with Obi-Wan.
The riders spoke little during the day. Anakin had conveniently forgotten in his excitement how difficult it was to carry on conversation when traveling at a pace that promised an unpleasant soreness tomorrow.
Nevertheless, he found himself doing what his master had tried to pound into his mind. He was enjoying the moment. The feel of the wind blowing through his hair, the powerful animal racing beneath him, the smell of natural un-recycled air, the taste of wood and grass on the tip of his tongue, that ever-elusive feeling of freedom that bubbled inside like laughter, and most of all that bright presence beside him...this moment was almost perfect.
Before he knew it, dusk had settled and they were stopping to set up camp for the night.
The silence certainly couldn't last forever. As comfortable as it was, Anakin was a naturally exuberant person.
So he started talking. And apparently couldn't stop. During the years of his apprenticeship, and after some spectacularly embarrassing moments best left forgotten, he'd painfully worked on censoring his speech. He had the sinking feeling that someone had removed the filter from his brain to his mouth.
Anakin knew he must be sounding horribly egotistical and Obi-Wan was only listening out of either polite interest or sheer boredom, maybe both. But every time he risked checking his companion for signs of annoyance, he was met by those brilliant, enigmatic eyes and was forced to look away, else he be lost completely.
"...never like this. Tatooine is so hot that you barely want to move during mid-day, even the shops close - the ones that can afford it - when the suns are at their peak in the sky. At night, it's the complete opposite, like the planet's trying to make up for the heat of the day. Mom always teased me about needing extra blankets. Back then, I didn't think anything could be colder. Imagine my surprise when I visited Hoth."
A discrete snicker came from Obi-Wan's direction. Anakin continued anyway.
"But after Wattoo let me go for the day, just when the suns are setting over the horizon, after the heat and before the cold, I'd sit on our tiny little balcony, feet dangling over the edge. Mom stood behind me, ready with a blanket. I remember leaning back against her, watching as the stars slowly replaced the fading light of the suns."
He could almost feel the warmth of her now, comforting, safe. The rough fabric and worn hands holding him gently, her voice weaving through his mind carrying fantastic tales with a hint of the elegant accent he'd never been able to place and hadn't dared to ask about.
"She'd tell me stories. The way she told them...I could feel every one like it'd happened to me. Courageous knights, just princes, dashing pilots, fearless rebels...Every star has a story, she said."
"Tell me one?" Friendly and curious, the request made him smile with shy pleasure.
He deflected the question with a self-conscious laugh, "You mean I haven't talked your ear off yet?"
Obi-Wan shook his head, smiled a bit and said, "I like listening. And you mother was right -- each star has a story."
Anakin rolled his eyes. "Mothers are always right."
"She sounds like an amazing woman."
'Yes, she is,' he thought. He hadn't talked about her in years, not really...not since his first year with Master Qui-Gon. An idle comment, a forced confession, an image on a mission, that was all Anakin allowed himself in public. It upset people to hear him talk about her. Even his master, who'd met Shmi, could only try to understand. He never stopped trying and Anakin loved him for it, but even Qui-Gon treated his mother like an illness he could get over if he'd only let himself heal. It was a harsh judgment and probably a bit unfair, but Anakin couldn't deny the truth of his feelings, even if the Jedi could.
Much as he struggled with the concept, at the age of ten he'd been afraid to test his master's patience and tolerance over what should have been such a trivial part of any Jedi's life. His mother was locked behind tight shielding, keeping his memories secret and safe.
Sometimes he had to stop himself from wondering if she was still alive. After all, he'd know if anything happened to her. Wouldn't he?
"You miss her."
"I...yes."
"When was your last visit?"
Startled, Anakin stared at Obi-Wan blankly, unable to reply. He watched Obi-Wan's curiosity change to concern, eyebrows furrowing and his mouth turning down a bit at the edges. While the rest of him tried to formulate any kind of response, some part of him idly thought 'a mouth like that should never frown.'
"I--I haven't...I mean, I can't. It's--it's not allowed. Parents. Seeing. Visiting parents, that is."
Did he imagine that flicker of anger in Obi-Wan's eyes? "I thought you knew. You seemed to know a lot about the Jedi..."
Obi-Wan looked down at the meager fire Anakin didn't remember him building. "I'm sorry. I thought... I do know the Jedi policy, or at least their history regarding family. But you...you know and love your mother, she's not a concept or a biological fact to you. She's influenced your life, shaped who you are. I can't believe--" He cut off abruptly and Anakin was desperately curious to know what he would have said. Instead, he received another apology.
"No, it's alright. I'm just...why would you think that?"
Obi-Wan seemed lost in thought for a moment and just when Anakin wanted to prod further, he shook his head and gave Anakin a sad little half-smile. "Ken-yi used to say 'Give me a boy until the age of seven, and I will show you the man.'"
The hint of sadness puzzled Anakin, but he was still trying to follow Obi-Wan's reasoning. "Each person becomes who they will be by the age of seven? Or...our personality doesn't really change after that?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "It varies for each species of course, but barring any major traumatic events, our moral values, social responses, most elements of our personality are influenced by the primary caretaker. They are essentially our example of what living is."
Intellectually, Anakin had learned all of this years ago. Though it took some time to phrase it as poetically simple as this Ken-yi had done, he understood the principle. That was why potential Jedi were taken from their parents at such a young age. He had known all this, even recognized the negative impact it had on his own studies-- after all, his lack of a similar foundation was blindingly obvious from the start.
Jedi methods were both overt and subtle in implementation. Couched in logic, it wasn't even debatable. The teaching masters had always carefully emphasized the emotional conflict that might arise during a mission, between one "family" and the other, and how easily the conflict was resolved by forming ties to only one family-- the Jedi.
But never had it seemed quite so...manipulative. Creating the perfect Jedi, carefully shaping a personality loyal to and dependent on the same moral values...the Code. Manipulative. It wasn't a word he was used to associating with people like Tru or Healer Bant or Master Qui-Gon. Disturbing and confusing. He wanted answers, but suspected they wouldn't satisfy him.
"Do you think people become who they were born or... how they were taught?"
Obi-Wan paused a moment, thinking, and Anakin felt a rush of gratitude and relief. Here was someone on the outside, unable to parrot Jedi platitudes, someone Anakin could trust to speak openly and honestly about his questions and would take them seriously. Someone he could hold on to while his certainties crumbled.
"I think that the insistence on trying to separate the two is...inappropriate. Each influences the other in balance. There are things no training can account for. How do you teach compassion? Certainly you can tell someone it is right to help and wrong to hurt. But do they know why? Can you teach them to feel your throat tightening, eyes stinging, chest aching in sympathy? On the other hand, you can train movements, automatic responses, present a model for social behavior, demonstrate and drill right and wrong by reward and punishment."
Obi-Wan sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "In the end though, you can only trust that the child or student has internalized your teaching. Who you are will affect what you learn and how you interpret it. Yet your training will shape the person you become. It's just...unpredictable."
It took quite some time for this to settle in his mind, to find where this piece of the puzzle fit in his life. Obi-Wan let him be, quietly making his way around the fire, until a bowl of soup found its way into his hands. His mind was far away from the smell of spiced murron, but still he lifted the spoon to his mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing absently.
When he'd finished, he set the bowl down and watched as Obi-Wan set about cleaning up. Anakin decided his initial impression was correct--he moved with a natural grace that couldn't be taught, but in efficient controlled actions that came from a lifetime of training.
He asked again, his voice more subdued. "Why did you think the Jedi would let me see my mother?"
Obi-Wan stopped, looked at him and understood. Anakin could tell by the way he hesitated to speak, probably knowing exactly where Anakin's mind was right now. Yet he still gave Anakin what he needed.
"I simply thought they knew you were already your own person. There was nothing to gain in denying you contact with her."
'And everything to lose,' Anakin's mind finished. The Council had forcibly tried to sever his ties to the most important person in his life, whose only wrong had been to raise him as best she could without the guidance of the Jedi. She was a wild card, one they couldn't predict or control.
Other, smaller incidents, too numerous to count, began to play though his mind, painting a very bleak portrait of his second home. Initiates weeded out before apprenticeship based on subtle signs of ideological or emotional impurity, children being let go into the universe with their only dream crushed beyond recognition and forever embittered, resentment of Anakin for having been reluctantly accepted in spite of flaws that sent other, better candidates packing...Anakin's world was spinning with ideas and suspicions and the Force around him swirled violently in time with his emotions.
The constant worry, fear, and longing that didn't need to be...if only and maybe...
It sickened him. But mostly, it hurt.
He knew, but he hadn't known.
It burned through him so painfully he didn't have room for the anger such knowledge should bring, consuming him so completely that he missed Obi-Wan's movement.
Gradually he became aware of arms wrapped around him, soothing him, waves of calm and sympathy washing over him. Anakin came back to himself slowly and finally heard the hushed apology echoing behind him. He covered one of Obi-Wan's hands with his own, gently stilling the flow of words.
His mind was a mess. An angry, frustrated, hurting mess. But he wasn't going to lose it. So his entire perception of the Jedi Order had shifted. So what if he'd just created a hundred more questions and doubts about his supposedly unalterable and prophetic destiny? So what if at the near end of his apprenticeship, he found himself wondering if it was ever really what he wanted?
That was no reason to fall apart.
He focused his breathing, concentrated on letting go of conscious thought, and found himself basking in the bright light behind him.
When he felt in control again, he tried to pull away and slowly Obi-Wan relaxed his arms. Unable to think of anything that would reassure his companion, he settled for "I'm fine."
Choked laughter escaped Obi-Wan, and despite how much of a mess Anakin was, the sound instantly relaxed him.
"I don't think that means what you think it means," he said dryly and Anakin had to fight to contain a laugh of his own. For the hundredth time marveled that Obi-Wan always managed to turn his mood so easily just by being himself.
"Okay, so I'm not fine. I will be though. A minor breakdown won't keep me down for long."
"I'm so sorry, Anakin." And he looked it too, Anakin noted. He could almost feel how much Obi-Wan wanted to take back everything he'd said and protect him from the pain. That look soothed the last of the burning edges still raging inside.
He offered a weak, but genuine smile. "There are some hurts you can't save me from, Obi-Wan."
tbc
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