Chapter 6
Routines

Vader scrubbed the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes as he staggered out of the shower. After toweling dry, he shaved, since Padawans weren't allowed to be lazy like Knights or Masters could and leave some stubble on their faces every now and then. Then he set about re-tying his annoying, girly Padawan braid, careful to put the few colored strings back on the right places, before he pulled back the rest of his longish hair in the dorky, pointless ponytail.

His hair properly done up for the day, it was time for the clothes. After the necessary undergarments came the pants and the first layer of tunic. Then a second shirt followed by the black leather, the wide fabric belt, and then the narrow leather belt that held all the little utility pouches and lightsaber clip. Last, after checking all the pockets on his belt, he hooked his pretty silver Jedi lightsaber on and pulled on his boots. Dark brown-almost-black cloak in hand, he left the refresher to begin yet another day of playing Jedi.

"Good morning," Obi-Wan greeted with an absent nod as he sipped at his cup of tea.

"Morning," Vader muttered back, tossing his cloak onto the couch before sitting down opposite his Master.

"Did you sleep well?" Obi-Wan asked, as was part of their little morning routine.

"Well enough," Vader grumbled the usual answer, mechanically taking his own tea. He always answered that way, even if it wasn't exactly true. The vagueness of the answer generally protected him from being caught in a lie, since 'well enough' could mean anything. It could even mean he'd suffered some evil nightmare…again.

Obi-Wan nodded silently and kept on sipping at his drink. Vader mutely drank his own cup as he waited for the fog that still lingered in his own head to burn away. It was like this every day, every morning.

First he'd get up and shower while Obi-Wan, who was, of course, already awake, brewed the morning tea. After tea came morning meditation, an exercise in tortuous boredom. And then, only then, did they head for the mess hall for breakfast because, as he'd found out, the Master he'd chosen couldn't cook anything to save his life. And then after that the day would truly begin. It was always the same.

For four years now he had followed this routine. Thinking back on things, he probably should've left the Temple behind long ago. After those first few trial months, he should've packed up and left. But, like the idiot that he was, he stayed, thinking: just a few more months, just a few more. And so those four years had melted away before he'd truly realized it.

Mechanically, he set aside his empty tea mug and headed for the thick patch of carpet by the window. There, he kneeled beside his Master and went through the motions of meditation. His breathing slowed into a deep regular pattern, his eyes closed, his mind emptied, and he opened himself to the Light.

Once, when he'd first started the Jedi version of meditation, the Light had burned him. He was so used to the Darkness that his Force-senses hadn't been able to tolerate the power of the other side of the Force. It was like living in the darkest cave for years and then suddenly being thrown out into the brightest, harshest sunlight at high noon. It hurt, and only his determination not to fail had kept him at it until he became accustomed to the Jedi's power.

And then, after getting the hang of basic meditation, it was off to relearn everything he'd learned before. Levitation, mind control, far-seeing, sensing, saber fighting, all of it he had to learn anew. While there was the slight advantage that he knew how it was supposed to work already, the bad habit of the Dark Side made remembering to use the Light a more difficult prospect. But, being the stubborn bastard that he was, he'd somehow done it, and now only his Master and the Council knew and truly believed that he had first been of the Darkness, that he wasn't, and would never be, a true Jedi.

After a good hour or so had passed, Vader drew himself out of meditation. He slowly stood and stretched to get the kinks out of his muscles and joints. Once he felt and heard the appropriate cracks and pops, he scooped up his cloak, shrugged it on, and waited by the door for his Master to get up and do the same. It always took Obi-Wan longer to get going in the morning, despite the fact that he was the first one up.

Finally, Obi-Wan stirred from the thick soft carpet. The older man got up and pulled on his own much lighter cloak. He took his sweet time walking over to, and then through, the door. Out in the hall, Vader fell in step one stride behind and to the right of his Master, like a good Padawan. It was annoying, and stupid, and aggravating, but he did it, because all Padawans did it, and if he didn't do it, he'd stand out like a Wookiee in a crowd of Jawas.

Breakfast was simple. Today it was thick oatmeal with some scraps of fruit mixed in. While the cafeteria itself was a noisy place, with Initiates, Padawans, Knights, and Masters all conversing with each other, Vader and his Master ate in silence. Unless his Master had something important to tell him, or teach him, there never was any talk. Neither of them saw the point of useless chatter.

Morning meal eaten and over, they disposed of their used dishes and went on with their day. And that meant, unless otherwise stated, saber practice. Endless, numbing katas intermixed with short sparring matches. Sometimes he'd be pitted against other Padawans, maybe even Knights, though it was mostly against his Master. And this would go on until lunchtime.

Vader sighed wearily as they headed for the training rooms. And so begins yet another wasted day…

Obi-Wan rubbed a tired hand over his face as evening fell over Coruscant. Dinner had been, as usual, very nice. Nothing fancy, but it was tasty, nutritious, and filling. And then, after evening meditation, he'd sent Vader off to bed.

Glancing towards the boy's door he sighed. It was strange. In the beginning, it was simple to remember that Vader was of the Dark Side, someone to be hidden and protected, though not to be truly trusted. But, as the weeks had run into months and grown into years, it grew harder to keep distant from him, to not think of him as a true Jedi Padawan.

Vader was becoming too adept at mimicry. He knew just how to follow along in his shadow, knew just how to bow and address others. His slips in the use of Dark energy were so rare now that only when they happened did Obi-Wan recall that that was the side of the Force he had touched on first. Obi-Wan never thought that one of Darkness could turn away from it into the Light as this boy had. He once thought that, at the very least, the lack of a training bond with the boy would remind him of his true nature. But now he wasn't so sure.

All Masters had a link, a bond of mind, spirit, and Force, with their Padawans. Through it, thoughts and emotions could be shared with minimal effort and concentration. This was, not only an incredible tool for teaching, but a great tool for defense. Those who were bonded could always find one another, sense when the other was in danger, in pain. Only death or Knighthood could sever it.

Vader was terrified by any mental intrusion. If the Council had demanded that he bond with his 'Master', then Obi-Wan was sure that Vader would've refused their sanctuary. A bond went much deeper than a simple touching of minds, and while it could be blocked for a while, it could never be fully turned off. Vader would never have been able to stand such a thing. Whoever had first taught him the ways of the Force had forever ruined him in that respect, the boy could never trust or tolerate anyone else in his head, not even for a second.

Obi-Wan sighed as he fought off the now-familiar distant ache of anger at whoever had first trained the teenager. Vader was really such a bright boy, a marvelous student. The Knight found himself wishing that Vader really was a Jedi, and his Padawan. The boy was everything he could've wanted in a student. Strong, skilled, gifted, sharp (well, most of the time), cunning, and, at times, surprisingly brave.

True, he wasn't perfect, no one was. He had his flaws like all mortal creatures. He could be rude, crude, and downright cruel at times. Usually this came out in private, or on missions, times when he could get away with it without sending up warning flags among the other Jedi. And then there was the taint of the Dark side in him, a thing that, according to the ancient knowledge, would never truly leave him.

But, aside from that, Vader was the Padawan that Obi-Wan had always hoped to find. Though, this situation was not without a great amount of irony. He almost laughed as he considered it on the way to his sleep couch in his own private quarters.

I find the perfect Padawan in one of the Dark Side. I teach him the ways and techniques of the Jedi and he most likely will use them against me one day. He is barely a step away from being the same as the Zabrak that I killed, the one who brought Master Qui-Gon his doom.

Oh Master, what ever would you think of this if you were still here? Would you be disappointed? Or would you just laugh at me?