Chapter 16

"Skywalker, would you hurry up. We're going to be late."

Crion had never been late to class, at least not unless there was a very good reason like a mission briefing or his master needing his assistance. He wasn't about to start now just because the "Chosen Brat" was dragging his feet.

"I can't find my lightsaber," came a muffled voice from the other room.

"Perfect." Crion muttered as he stomped back to Anakin's room. A couple of choice curses slipped from his lips when he stepped onto something and slipped, only Jedi reflexes preventing him from likely breaking his neck. "It's no wonder you can't find anything in this nerf pen you call a room."

Three days … and his patience was wearing thin … very thin. He had woke up this particular morning to find that in the middle of the night he had rolled into something that Anakin insisted was some kind of grease he used in his projects. Not even wanting to consider what else might be lurking in the corners and under spare parts, Crion had quickly locked himself in the refresher to scrub the foul substance off of him.

"Yeah, well Keyan says that your room is practically sterile," Anakin called out from where he had his head buried beneath his sleepcouch.

"Nothing wrong with that," Crion shot back. "At least I can find my lightsaber when I need it."

"Ah, here it is." Anakin slipped back out from under his sleepcouch, pulling something that was stuck on his robe off and casting it back to the floor.

Crion shuddered. "Come on," he said. "We can still make it on time."

They hurried out the door and through the Temple corridors, Crion hastily trying to bow to masters as they passed by. "When we get back today, we are cleaning your room from top to bottom. It's appalling."

"Yeah, and what if I have plans?" Anakin asked with a smug smile. "You're the one stuck in quarters, not me."

"Yes, I am the one stuck there. And since I will be staying for a while and sleeping on your floor, I don't want to roll into any more surprises in the middle of the night. If you don't show up, I'll just have to clean it myself and throw our anything that looks like garbage," Crion said, returning the smug grin.

Anakin came to a screeching halt. "You wouldn't."

"Good luck finding anything when I'm done with it," Crion said, continuing on.

"Fine, we'll clean this afternoon," Anakin whimpered in defeat.

"I am glad you see it my way." Crion offered Anakin a pat on the shoulder. "And then, when we are done, we will make dinner for your master."

"What?"

"Seriously, he pampers you too much," Crion said, ignoring the Chosen One's outrage. "It would be nice to do something for him."

"I am beginning to wonder just who's being disciplined here," Anakin muttered as they separated and went to their classrooms.

Crion slipped through the door and quickly searched for Sienn. Keyan had already left on yet another mission with his master, something Crion tried not to think about as it reminded him that his own master was out in the galaxy, alone. He slipped into the seat next to the pink-skinned Twi'lek, putting on his best pitiful, sympathy-drawing face when she asked, "How are you holding up?"

"I am going to lose my mind," he whimpered as she began to rub soft circles on his back. She abruptly stopped as Master Nahayti stepped into the room. At least he had a few seconds of sanity talking to her, Crion thought as he turned his attention to class.

"Do you have a minute, Sir?"

Xanatos held up his hand, indicating that he needed just a few moments more of silence. He had just finished a conference call and wanted to get his thoughts in order and recorded before he moved on to a new task. Soren sat down in a nearby chair to wait as his employer finished entering some notes into a datapad.

"What do you have for me?" Xanatos finally asked.

"I did some research on the name you gave me."

Xanatos had chosen to start with children in the Jedi Temple database who were actually named "Crion." Somehow, he felt that Mia would have insisted their son keep his given name, foolishly thinking a false surname would be enough to hide his identity. There had been just a handful, only one that was close enough to his son's age to investigate. He had charged Soren with finding out as much as possible about the boy named Crion Ryal, without drawing suspicion. It had been a difficult task. Security over Jedi records had improved drastically since Xanatos had been at the Temple.

This might be of interest to you." Soren handed over a datapad. "I managed to get this image from a transport station on Talus IV. He looks just like you, Sir."

Xanatos looked the image over closely, trembling fingers brushing over the datapad's screen. The boy was definitely a padawan, evidenced by the long ebony braid that trailed from behind his ear and the fact that he walked behind and just to the left of another cloaked figure. He was the age and size Crion would be, and there was no mistaking the boy's appearance.

"Did you find a name for the Jedi master?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sir."

Xanatos' eyes slid shut. His whole body shook as he struggled to control the flood of emotion that suddenly coursed through his veins – anger, grief, old feelings of betrayal he thought he had laid to rest - his former master's apprentice raising his son.

"I need some time alone," he forced out through clenched teeth. "Leave! Now!"

Soren hurried to comply, a nearby vase shattering as he exited. Xanatos stood and headed for the door. He needed to get out of his office before he destroyed something else with the strong emotion demanding to be released. Clasping his saber firmly in hand, he headed for his training room, hoping he had enough remotes to keep him occupied for a while. Once he had calmed down and was thinking coherently again, he would form a plan to get his son back.

"No! Don't throw that out!" Anakin objected, snatching the small item out of Crion's hand and clutching it protectively to his chest.

"It looks like junk to me," Crion scoffed.

"Yeah, but it's valuable junk," Anakin protested before tossing the object onto the sleepcouch behind him.

"Okay." Crion sighed deeply. "The point of cleaning is to organize and actually put things somewhere, not just toss them around again."

"Can't I just shove it all in the closet like I usually do?"

Crion palmed open the closet, which was about as cluttered as the rest of the room. "No, I told you we were cleaning. Everything is coming out of the closet as well. I'll clear it all out; you decide where it goes."

Crion began to rummage through the closet, tossing things to Anakin. He managed to stick his hand into something he didn't even want to think about, and also, had his finger pinched by some little droid Anakin insisted was broken and needed to be fixed, but finally the main area of the closet was cleaned out. Grabbing a chair for extra height, Crion began to work on the top shelves of the closet. There was probably enough dust to fill one of the sandboxes in the crèche, which led Crion to believe that Obi-Wan was likely the last person to have really cleaned this room. When he began to wipe down the empty shelves with a rag, he saw that a panel in the ceiling was loose. Pushing up on the panel to settle it back into place, he noticed what looked like a box.

"Did you run out of places to store crap and decide to open the ceiling?"

"No," Anakin defended. "What is it?"

"Just a box." Crion sat down on the chair and cautiously took the lid off the box. It smelled old, like the section of the Archives were actual flimsi documents were kept. Inside were a small collection of trinkets, an assortment of saber tournament awards, and a holopic.

"Turn it on," Anakin said eagerly.

"It's not ours," Crion pointed out.

"It's in my room – that makes it mine," Anakin said as he snatched the device away and activated it. The two boys studied what they saw for a moment. It was the image of a much younger, apparently very happy Qui-Gon Jinn standing next to a teenager with a long padawan braid, who was proudly holding up one of the awards. Anakin looked at the image, then to Crion, then back to the image again. "It's you and my master. When was this taken?"

"That's not me. Your master is a lot younger there, and that padawan is probably a couple of years older than I am." Crion paused, worrying his bottom lip as he looked at the image. "It must be his first apprentice.."

"Xanatos." Anakin glanced between the image and Crion once again. "Well, you sure look like him."

Crion snatched the holopic out of Anakin's hand. Butterflies filled his stomach as took an even closer look at the strange teenager's face. It was practically the same face he saw in the mirror every day.

"Wait until we show my master what we found," Anakin blurted out exuberantly.

"Are you stupid, Skywalker?" The room suddenly was very warm, and Crion felt incredibly dizzy. Closing his eyes, he drew on the Force to calm himself. It was nothing more than an eerie coincidence that he looked like Qui-Gon's first apprentice. Although, it did explain the Jedi master's earlier reactions to him. "We shouldn't tell your master about this. Xanatos caused him a lot of pain. Do you want to hurt your master by showing him some old holopic?"

"No."

"Now, promise me, that this will stay between us. Promise, Anakin," Crion pleaded emphatically, hoping that calling the boy by his first name would should how serious he was.

"I promise," Anakin assured him.

"Good. Now, let's finish cleaning this mess up."