Close up and Personal
By Jemmiah
"How long until we get home, master?" Anakin asked, doubling over as a paroxysm of giggles shook his body.
Obi-Wan sighed, glancing at his chrono. It was late evening - rapidly approaching early morning in truth - and he was beginning to tire. Carrying Anakin's drunken carcass through the street had seemed like a good idea at the time: Obi-Wan had hoped that it would help to sober the miscreant apprentice a little before they reached the temple precinct. Now, when the young man was gradually growing heavier and heavier by the minute Obi-Wan was half tempted just to let go of his death grip around Anakin's back and just drop him on the permacrete below…
He could have hailed an aircab, but knowing Anakin he'd probably be sick in it.
"Long enough." Obi-Wan replied, affecting his sternest and most masterly voice. "Just keep walking, please."
Anakin gave a dramatic sigh and lurched a few steps forward, like a newborn nerf trying out its wobbly legs for the first time.
"That's an interesting dance you are doing, padawan," Obi-Wan frowned, "but it's not really getting us anywhere, is it?" He was answered by a vague groan.
Obi-Wan was not totally unsympathetic to Anakin's plight. He'd been drunk before and knew what it felt like. Time and experience had shown Obi-Wan the wisdom of moderation but this radical concept was clearly something Anakin had yet to grasp. There were millions of drinking establishments all over Coruscant that never closed. Judging by the strong smell of liquor on the young man's clothing it seemed as if he had been in just about all of them…
"Perhaps if you tried walking in a straight line rather than a circle." Obi-Wan suggested helpfully.
Anakin closed his eyes, clearly beginning to feel more than a little sorry for himself.
"Oh, my head…" He whimpered. "Force…what did I have to drink?"
"Too much, that's what." Came back the inevitable retort. "And pleasant though this trek through virtually every cantina this side of Coruscant had been whilst searching for your unworthy personage, I think I'd like it even more if we continued to head in the general direction of the temple instead of stopping every five seconds to admire the guttering."
Confused, Anakin propped himself up against the side of a rather familiar looking building with flashing, pink neon letters which declared that 'Madame Ying's' establishment was open for business, catering for all kinds of humanoid lifeforms. The apprentice blinked a couple of times at the sign and then, intrigued, wandered towards the entrance.
"No you don't!" Obi-Wan grabbed him under the arm and dragged him away. "You are not going in there! You're far too young for that kind of thing. I know exactly what that place is like."
Befuddled as he was, Anakin was still able to make the obvious leap of logic. He thumbed his nose knowingly at his master and treated Obi-Wan to an un-subtle wink.
"Naughty, naughty old master!" He hiccuped. "Going into an eshhtablishment with a reputation like - hic! - that."
"It was years ago!" Obi-Wan protested. "And I didn't know what was involved…"
"Just went in for a Sand Dune pizza, huh?" Anakin's grin was positively crooked now.
"Yes! As it happens…" Kenobi felt the heat rising in his cheeks. He didn't know which was worse; the fact that he had unwittingly visited a brothel or that he had been too drunk and stupid to realise that it wasn't a restaurant as he had originally been led to believe. "I had two broken wrists all tied up in slings. It was only when the, er…lady…asked me to slip out of my bandages into something more comfortable that I realised where I was!"
"And did you?" Anakin tried his hardest not to belch.
"Did I what?"
"Slip out of your bandages…"
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan yelled in his ear. "Get walking this instant or I will not be held responsible for my actions when Master Windu asks me about the accident."
"W-w-what accident?" Anakin looked groggily around him.
"The one involving you, three jars of dillarberry jam and a nest of killer ants!" The master replied gruffly, giving his errant padawan a thump on his back to keep him going in the correct direction. "How many times do I have to tell you, Anakin? Do not go drinking with Toms Yarrel!"
"Why?" Pouted Anakin. "Toms is my best friend."
"Because he's Corellian." Answered Obi-Wan with typical curtness. "They have a natural inbuilt tolerance to alcohol. You can't out-drink a Corellian so don't even try! Your liver will thank you in the long run, believe me."
Anakin did believe it. He was at that stage where he was fairly molassed but conscious enough to feel the effects of the alcohol he'd imbibed. His throat hurt from the smoky atmosphere of the cantina and his eyes felt dry and red. Tomorrow - if there were a tomorrow - would only serve to bring him further pain. Obi-Wan was certainly right about Toms: Anakin had seen him drunk on many occasions but always the next day he seemed as bright as a supernova and infernally chirpy with it. He, on the other hand, always felt irritable and unwell, with blocked sinuses and a head thicker than a Hutt sandwich…
"I want to go home." Sighed Anakin.
"Good! Excellent! Fantastic!" Obi-Wan indicated the way with a sweep of his hand. "I'm afraid however if you want to get there you're going to have to do some walking. That means using your feet. Remember those things, Anakin? You'll find them on the end of your legs, and then you put one in front of the other…"
The apprentice looked up at the giant buildings that towered for miles above him. Amazing how such a simple thing could make him so utterly nauseous! His head was in the clouds, his feet were rooted to the pavement and his stomach - at least the contents of it - would soon be found in the gutter. And as for his dangerously stretched bladder…
"I need to go." He decided.
"Yes, I know. This way!" Urged Obi-Wan. "Please? I'd like to get there before my beard turns grey."
"No…I mean go. As in 'to the fresher' room." Anakin began to head back towards the invitingly open doorway of Madam Ying's place but this time Obi-Wan tackled him round the knees and all but pulled him to the ground. "Master, I need to go!" The padawan insisted. "This Madam Ying is bound to have a fresher room I can use…"
"She'll have lots of things you can use." Agreed Obi-Wan with his usual parental concern. "And not all of them the kind of thing a young man should use, either! You'll just have to control yourself until we get to the temple."
"I can't." Anakin set his face stubbornly. "Look, I appreciate that you're my master and that you have the right to tell me what I can and can't do, but my bladder is telling me that if I don't go in the next minute it will most likely explode! One of the two of you is going to be disappointed, and I'm afraid that it's you." He straightened himself up as best he could. "I'm seventeen, master! I don't need someone to tell me when I can visit the little boys room!"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "Fine! Do as you will. Just don't expect me to carry your ungrateful hide all over town…" He watched as Anakin staggered away from Madame Ying's place and down the nearest, darkest alley. "What are you doing now?"
"You wanted me to stay away from that place." Anakin replied in a feeble voice that suggested he didn't really care. "So I'm going to pick a nice, private spot in the dark where nobody can see me…"
"Anakin." Obi-Wan shook his head. "Don't do that. It's not dignified."
"Master, dignity can go to blazes. Right now all I'm interested in is relieving myself, and as this is rather urgent I'm sure you won't mind if I give it my full attention…ah-ha! This garbage skip should do nicely…"
"Not a skip." Kenobi pulled a face that suggested his revulsion for the idea. "Please?"
"Why not a skip?" Anakin replied with his back towards Obi-Wan. "Is it better I use one of the trees in the square? I'm sorry, I'm just not like you master. I can't hold it all in indefinitely. I'm drunk, I feel lousy - and yes, I know it's all my fault - but I can't keep a stiff upper lip at the moment. I've had so much to drink I'm lucky if I can keep a stiff upper anything…"
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He wanted to be back home, in his nice, simple but comfortable bed. He wanted to nestle down in his crisp white sheets. He didn't want to be stuck on the streets with a man who could barely see to urinate ahead of him. Nor did he particularly approve of what Anakin was doing. The crèche masters had drummed it into the initiates from an early age that there was a time and a place for everything, and that 'going' in a public street was not one of them! Besides which Qui-Gon's lengthy meditation sessions had definitely prepared his bladder for any eventuality. Feeling slightly awkward, Obi-Wan tried to make some conversation.
"Cold weather for the time of year." He placed his hands in the small of his back, gazing in the opposite direction to Anakin.
"Master, I really don't feel well enough to discuss the weather." Anakin muttered from amidst the gloom. "There's some things a man has to do in private and this is one of them. So please, go and be embarrassed somewhere else. And the answer to your next question is yes: I do realise you are going to kill me tomorrow but right now I don't care."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and began to move away from the mouth of the alley. If anything went amiss it was all Anakin's fault, he decided. A man who was old enough to go to the fresher by himself was one who had to take the consequences of his actions.
"Do you have the feeling we're being watched?" Obi-Wan frowned, calling over his shoulder.
"Now you're being paranoid, master." Anakin answered wearily as he adjusted his clothing.
"Maybe. But I have a bad feeling about…"
"Will you please stop saying that?" Anakin begged as he stepped out of the shadows once more. "You're a jinx! I don't know why you're so uptight about it! All I did was take a leak against a garbage skip. Big deal!" He flapped his arms about irritably. "There's no law against it! Besides, who is going to complain? It's not like there's anyone here except for us. The whole of Coruscant isn't watching or holding up cards for technical merit and artistry, so why don't we just go home," Anakin gritted his teeth against the strength of his headache, "and forget about it?"
The apprentice gathered his strength and began to march as best he could away from Obi-Wan, until a polite cough from behind him got his attention.
"Er…Anakin." Obi-Wan waited until the padawan had walked several paces away. "The temple is the other direction."
"Forget the temple." Anakin staggered back towards his master with less gusto than before. "I'm going to sleep on that bench in the square. Goodnight, master…"
Obi-Wan didn't know when Anakin finally crawled in from the streets but one thing was certain, he looked incredibly rough. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his hair appeared extraordinarily flat inspite of the padawan razor cut. His skin was pale and his hands distinctly unsteady, yet Anakin still managed to maintain a small degree of wounded dignity as he lowered himself into a leather covered seat in Obi-Wan's living quarters.
"Stim tea?" Obi-Wan asked with a surprising amount of good humour to his voice.
Anakin waved the offer away. "No thanks, master. I'm not really in the mood for anything else to drink at the moment."
"You should." Obi-Wan answered lightly as he sipped from his own cup, seating himself before the holo terminal in the living quarters. "Alcohol excess tends to lead to dehydration. It will do your hangover good."
"What hangover?" Anakin blearily rubbed at his eyes.
"The one," Obi-Wan smiled as he quoted Jemmy, "that you are pretending you don't have. Then again, perhaps you will need something stronger soon enough. Can I get you something to eat, padawan? How about a nice, greasy Corellian-style fry-up, hmm?"
"So this is your revenge." Anakin covered his mouth at the very notion of food. "You're going to make-me spill the contents of my guts."
"On my clean floor? I think not." Obi-Wan smiled as he nodded towards the holoterminal. "I shall have something far more horrific in mind, but only when you are sober enough to appreciate it."
Anakin half-smiled/winced. That at least sounded like the Obi-Wan he knew.
"How do you feel?" Obi-Wan asked.
His question was answered with a mutinous glare.
"What do you think?" Anakin grumbled. "And more to the point…what do you mean that 'I'll be needing something stronger? Master?"
Obi-Wan said nothing, merely pointing at the holoterminal.
"Master?" Anakin repeated uncertainly.
Obi-Wan allowed a small but telling silence to elapse before divulging the nature of the nasty surprise.
"Last night." He answered at length. "When you were staggering around in a drunken stupor…"
"Yes?"
"And decided that you just couldn't wait to use the fresher." Continued Obi-Wan with relentless dedication.
"Yes?" Hissed Anakin.
"And picked the nice yellow garbage skip at the end of the alley." The master smirked as Anakin began to squirm in his chair.
"Okay, okay! I remember!" Anakin grumbled. "There's no need to go on about it! What about it?"
Obi-Wan drummed his fingers against the side of his cup of stim tea. "You were seen."
At this Anakin frowned. Although his first reaction had been 'so what' - after all, everyone had to go to the fresher - a small, concerned part of him wondered how this was possible. There had been nobody around other than himself and Obi-Wan. Who could possibly have seen him? And what difference could it make?
"So?" He rubbed at his neck for a while, considering. "What does it matter?"
"By over half the planet, so I am told." Obi-Wan nodded at the terminal once again. "You made headline news, padawan!"
Anakin's jaw nearly dislocated at the hinge. This was surely some cruel joke! Some kind of wind-up by his master in revenge for his antics the evening before! Yet something in Obi-Wan's expression warned him that he was not joking, and that he would most likely end up wishing that it had been some warped prank by the time he knew the details.
"That holo show that is shown live around Coruscant in the small hours of the morning on some force-forsaken channel that nobody watches. The one that focuses on security and undercover police work…neighbourhood watch schemes, that kind of thing?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "They had a security cam placed in the skip where you decided to..."
"Thank you, yes." Groaned the padawan. "I get the picture."
"So did five percent of the viewing audience who got a live show. They were actually broadcasting from that very cam when you wandered into view. The producers got more than they bargained for." He scratched idly behind his left ear. "Fortunately, not many people watch that show. It's deemed to be big viewing amongst the security conscious in the area, not much else."
Anakin breathed a huge sigh of relief.
"Unfortunately, the show decided to boost their own ratings by selling the story to the holonet grids, who are now running a picture on their front pages with a caption that reads along the lines of 'have you seen this man?' Now everyone on Coruscant is looking for some mystery flasher exposing himself in public." Kenobi's eyes twinkled gleefully. "How does it feel to be a wanted person?"
Anakin's heart very nearly stopped beating. This was dreadful! What would happen if he were identified? What would Master Yoda say? What would someone like Padme say were she ever to find out? One day the force would surely deign they would meet again…and how could he do that if she thought he was some kind of serial pervert?
"I told you I had a bad feeling about it." Obi-Wan folded his arms triumphantly.
The padawan swallowed. What was he to do now? Were they on to him?
"Did…" He gulped softly. "…Did they mention that they were looking for anyone in particular? Have they any idea who it was that…you know. Did they get a clear shot?"
"Of what?" This time both of Obi-Wan's brows raised higher than a drawbridge.
"You know damn-well, master. Pardon my language." Anakin's face blushed redder than a vervoid howlers' bottom. "Has anyone managed to identify me as the person?"
Obi-Wan grinned, his eyes scanning the holonet for any further details.
"It says here," the master smirked, "that the individual in question is described as having no distinguishing marks but being of small stature…" At this Anakin made a choking, hissing noise at the back of his throat. "Additionally local security are questioning several females who claim they might know the identity of the phantom exposer."
The padawan slumped forward in his chair, burying his head in his hands.
"They say that there is definitely something familiar about him. It's just that they can't quite put their finger on it."
Anakin's eyes snapped wide open at the now uncontrollably laughing Obi-Wan, who didn't so much as attempt to disguise his mirth.
"Joke." He grinned.