Chapter Three
He drowns in his dreams
An exquisite extreme, I know
He's as damned as he seems
And more Heaven than a heart can hold
And if I try to save him
My whole world could cave in
It just ain't right
Oh, but it just ain't right…
Beautiful Disaster (Kelly Clarkson, Breakaway)
Obi-Wan returned to their quarter's hours later, once his classes ended. He set his books on the kitchen table. Where was his Master? He could feel him, but not see him.
"Master?" He called.
Reluctant, oh so very reluctant, to pull himself out of his mind and to his feet, Anakin made himself move toward his bedroom doorway, to see what his apprentice wanted. The wonderful feeling of Qui-Gon touching him again left him instantly, with his concentration's fleeting. Obi-Wan smiled at him.
"There you are, Master, I was wondering if I was imagining things."
The blonde almost choked when Obi-Wan said that. Why would he say that?
"Imagining what, Padawan?"
"That you were actually here," Obi-Wan answered. "I could barely feel you, were you meditating? If so, I'm sorry I disturbed you."
"Meditating…" Anakin echoed, grimacing a little. He wasn't very good at mediating…it had driven Qui-Gon crazy for years. "Sort of…not exactly."
Obi-Wan nodded, it was not any of his business what Anakin did when he was alone. He turned away, and went to the table to start his homework. Letting out a shaky breath of relief, Anakin retreated back into his room again. This time he went straight for the bed. It would be more comfortable to force hallucinations on himself there, than on the floor, he decided with a self loathing sigh. Qui-Gon would smack him, if he ever saw him like this…Dwelling wasn't very befitting of a Jedi at all.
Obi-Wan didn't stop his work until his stomach grumbled in complaint. He looked at the time and then around the apartment. No Anakin, he sighed. The mess hall was closed by now, and Anakin wasn't that great of a cook. Maybe he could try it on his own…he had never cooked before, but maybe he could fix something decent. He briefly wondered if Anakin was hungry as well, but then dismissed it. If his Master was hungry, then would come out of his room, right?
At that moment, food was the last thing from Anakin Skywalker's mind. Right now all he wanted to do was let that spine tingling sensation of being so close to reunited with his precious Master flood over him; consume him completely. The rest didn't matter, at that moment. All that mattered was how much he loved the man that he could almost see through the Force, and how happy he was to have this chance to have him back, even temporarily.
"Anakin," Qui-Gon spoke softly.
"Master…" Anakin sat bolt upright, a smile tugging at his lips. Blue eyes flashed with true emotion for the first time in a week and their owner lunged forward to hug the man who was not there. Naturally, he passed through, and dismay set in once more. Still, it was better to have a Qui-Gon he could not touch than to have no Qui-Gon at all, right? Qui-Gon smiled at him, but there was concern in his eyes.
"You cannot do this to yourself, my Ani."
"Why not?" The question – the need to know – burned hotly in Anakin's eyes, as he sat back up to stare at his dead lover. "I…I miss you so…Why not, Master?"
"I miss you as well, my Ani. I would do anything to be able to hold you in my arms again, but it cannot be, yet. The Force has more for you and you must embrace it. Live for the moment, not in the past or the future."
Honest tears in his eyes, Anakin reached a shaking hand up, so nearly touching the bearded cheek that only he could see. He could remember how it felt to touch that beard…he'd loved to touch those bearded cheeks…
"The moment has nothing for me, my Master," he breathed, bright eyes focusing on Qui-Gon's. "It is the past – your past – that has made me happy…"
Qui-Gon smiled again. "But, now you must move onto your own future. You have a Padawan now, and you need to eat. You need to take care of yourself," Qui-Gon told him, chiding gently.
"Padawan…" Anakin echoed, snorting humorlessly. "He deserves…more than me. Better than me. I can't teach him, like you would have been able to…"
"You will do fine, Anakin. You just must have the same faith in yourself that I have in you."
"I can't," the Knight repeated, shaking his head a little. "I can never give him all that he deserves…because my heart will always belong to you." Qui-Gon wouldn't be there, if it weren't true.
Qui-Gon's head turned to the door.
"You might want to go check on him," he stated.
Again reluctantly, Anakin nodded slowly and pulled back to himself to crawl out of bed, intending obedience. When the Knight exited the bedroom, smoke greeted him from Obi-Wan's attempt at cooking.
"Force," the Master coughed, going to join him in the kitchen. "What in all the hells are you doing?"
"Trying to cook. It didn't turn out well," Obi-Wan answered, putting out the fire.
"Apparently." Anakin eyed him dryly, before digging around in the fridge for a moment, and dragging out some fruit, tossing it to the boy. He missed Qui-Gon more than ever, gazing upon the chaos that had been supposed to be food.
"Thank you," he murmured and set the fruit down to clean up the mess he had made.
"I think…perhaps its best that neither of us touch that stove…" The Knight decided, eyeing the affronting object thoughtfully. "It's probably safer."
Obi-Wan chuckled and nodded.
"It doesn't seem to like us much, Master."
"The feeling is entirely mutual," Anakin promised him, tossing a glare at the stove before turning to Obi-Wan. Making eye contact with his apprentice made him feel horribly uncomfortable, though. He shifted awkwardly, wishing he were tucked away in his room again.
"I'm sorry you had to come out here, Master. It seems that I can do nothing but disturb you, so far," Obi-Wan told him.
"I needed to stop anyway." Anakin brushed him apology off, as though just realizing it for himself. "Falling too deep within yourself isn't healthy."
"How come?" Obi-Wan asked, hoping for an actual conversation.
Anakin hesitated again. Admissions could be dangerous things. He tried to think of a nice, safe way of answering.
"Because it might get to the point that you no longer wish to come back out."
Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side.
"Do you feel like that now, Master?"
Hesitating yet more, Anakin sighed and sat down at the little table, resting his face in his hands. The Master shouldn't trouble the Padawan with such trivialities. Qui-Gon would never have done so.
"Maybe a little," he admitted, despite himself. "But, do not concern yourself, Padawan," he added quickly to make up for it.
"I try not to, Master…but if there is anything I can do, you'll let me know, right?"
"If I think of something, you'll be the first to know."
"Okay," Obi-Wan agreed, already getting the sense that he probably wouldn't. "I finished my homework…do you want to check it or something?"
Thinking hard, Anakin tried to recall what Qui-Gon had done for him. He couldn't remember, so he tried to guess.
"I suppose so."
Obi-Wan started up the data-pad and put in his password, then turned it to him so he could look over the work. Anakin read through it carefully, before nodding and handing the data-pad back.
"You're better at theory than I was," he complimented with a dry snort. Obi-Wan smiled.
"Thank you, Master, I try."
"I'm sure you do." Anakin eyed him mutely for a moment, before handing the data-pad back and rising to his feet. He wasn't sure what to do next, but standing seemed like a good starting point.
"It's getting late, Master…will we have practice in the morning, or will I just go straight to classes?" Obi-Wan questioned.
Anakin frowned, thinking about that. He really would be failing, as a Master, if he neglected to actually teach his Padawan…
"Be up early," he instructed finally. "I want to get some good time in, before anyone else starts practice."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan gathered his books and headed for his room. "Goodnight, Master."
"Goodnight, Padawan." Anakin waved him off to bed, before disappearing back into his own room, to his own form of entertainment. His own warning echoed through his head, but he paid it no mind.
His Qui-Gon didn't answer him this time, as if telling him to go to sleep. Feeling dread welling in his head, squeezing it with icy tendrils, Anakin reached out to the Force, desperately but to no avail. Shivering unhappily, he slipped under the covers and inched one hand under his pillow. A light saber hilt waited there for him. Giving the weapon a gentle stroke with one finger, he somehow managed to drift off to sleep…somehow…