Author's Note:
This fic was inspired by and is intended to replace the beginning of Jedi Quest: The Shadow Trap, by Jude Watson, when Obi-Wan and Anakin aren't really speaking to each other. I thought it would be wonderful opportunity for another Master to step it and bond with Anakin, and I wanted it to be Mace, because he's fantastic and doesn't get enough credit.
Hope you enjoy!
The annual Padawan lightsaber tournament always guaranteed an enormous crowd, and this year was no exception. Spectators packed the Grand Sparring Arena nearly to capacity, and even the many balconies bordering the chamber's soaring walls were now flooded with people. Mace wouldn't have been surprised to learn that some Jedi would only be able to watch the match via the viewscreens currently broadcasting the tournament throughout the Temple. And now that the tournament was in the midst of its final match, he was certain more Jedi than ever would be giving the event their attention.
Currently, he and Obi-Wan were observing the championship match from the High Council's private box. It was empty aside from the two of them; most of the Council preferred the harmony of being among their fellow Jedi for these events and thus were mingling amongst the crowd surrounding the sparring circle. But Mace had been well aware that Obi-Wan's own Padawan had a strong chance of emerging as tournament champion, and he was curious to witness both Anakin's progress and Obi-Wan's personal observations.
The crackle and hiss of lightsabers clashing from the arena below was evident even from their upper vantage point. The two remaining competitors darted toward each other, escalating from simply circling each other to actual strikes, engaging each other with the same ferocity as a life-or-death battle. Green blade met blue in brilliant blaze of color and motion, but then they both reeled back just as quickly when no opening presented itself.
No doubt their strategy was to conserve their energy. The match had stretched on significantly, and its toll on the two final competitors was evident.
Sixteen-year-old Anakin Skywalker was faring well so far, but his hair (far too long, in flagrant defiance of Padawan regulations, Mace observed is dismay) was dotted with sweat, and he'd stripped off his outer tunic and tabards two matches ago. No doubt he was getting tired: he'd won each of his last four matches, and in a stunning twist during the penultimate one, had seamlessly switched from his standard Ataru to achieve victory via Djem So. Though the change in technique had helped him defeat fellow Padawan Tae Diath, Mace was well aware the raw power required of Form V must be draining him.
"Incredible talent," he murmured, half to himself and half to his companion. "No one would ever anticipate that someone his age would possess the necessary control to channel such power. He's a credit to you, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan did not shift his gaze from the dueling figures below.
"Yes," he said shortly, and did not elaborate.
The marked lack of enthusiasm had Mace raising his eyebrows, but he didn't focus on it. Instead, he devoted himself to studying Anakin's final opponent.
Zule Xiss was one of Anakin's classmates, a young and graceful Zeltron. Like all of her race, she was lean and leggy, built with the wiry but evident muscles of an exceptional athlete, and intensely, jaw-droppingly gorgeous. But looks had never impressed Mace, and Zule was no exception.
What did impress him was her tournament record as of now. No one had held any high hopes for her performance, but then she'd astonished them all with her uncommon finesse and unexpected adaptability to her opponents' individual styles. Though she'd been a complete dark horse, she'd determinedly clawed her way to victory, knocking out tournament favorites Darra Thel-Thanis and Ferus Olin through her unique form of Makashi blended with elements of Soresu.
However, Mace was certain he detected threads of Juyo in her astoundingly adept footwork and saber swings. Tapping away at his datapad, he made a note to investigate precisely where she could have gleaned knowledge of that form—it was strictly forbidden to Padawans.
Like Anakin, Zule had stripped off her outer tunic, but then she'd followed up by stripping off her inner one, too. Now she was battling out the final round in nothing more than a sports bra. The glisten of sweat on her arms highlighted the barely discernible ink of her Promises— the faint tattoos tracing from wrist to bicep that Zeltrons could choose when they came of age at sixteen. On her saber arm, Mace could spot the Promise that represented her oath of loyalty to the Jedi Order; he'd attended her coming of age ceremony so she could swear the vow before him. At the sight of it now, renewed gratitude flooded through him for her devotion to the Order.
You are leader to them, Mace reminded himself, a fresh vigor washing over him. You are leader and protector and guide to every Jedi here. They honor you with their dedication and loyalty, and you must honor them.
However, much to Mace's distaste, his heartfelt musings were interrupted by the waves of lust rolling off of Zule's peers. Padawans of all genders and species clustered around the sparring floor, pressing in as close as they could, their eyes all riveted on Zule, on every flex of her muscles and sway of her hips.
Mace eyed them with profound disapproval. If they were so easily distracted by a pretty face, they'd end up stabbed in the gut by the first beautiful bounty hunter or diabolical aristocrat they encountered.
But at least Anakin was concentrating on the match and not Zule's looks, Mace consoled himself. While Mace had grown irritated by the sheer number of times the Chancellor called for Anakin to attend a gala or soirée alongside him, presumably Anakin had learned there that dazzling appearances did little to hide withered hearts.
The tournament continued. Even as the minutes ticked by, despite the external signs of weariness from the Padawans, Mace could see no hint of their duel flagging. Zule merely looked exhilarated, as Zeltrons were wont when in combat, and Anakin was still sharp, his movements deft and strikes swift. There was no sloppiness from either of them, no signs of telegraphing or frustration getting the better of them—but nor were either gaining any ground.
Just as Mace turned to remark on the stalemate to Obi-Wan, there was a collective gasp from all onlookers, and he whipped back around to catch the replay on the viewscreen.
At one-tenth of the actual speed, he saw Zule launch herself forward to Anakin in a sudden show of aggression, furiously raining down blow after blow as he did his damnedest to fend her off, their blades screeching against each other in the unrelenting onslaught.
Immediately, Mace saw her strategy: after lulling Anakin into a false sense of security and convincing him they were both playing it safe, she'd gone on an unrestrained offense, hoping to catch him off-guard.
And it seemed like she was succeeding. After four previous matches, Anakin was struggling to keep up with Zule's frenzied assault, and now that her constant barrage had begun, she didn't seem willing to bring it to an end without ending the match along with it.
Then, in his exhaustion, Anakin made the crucial error: as he shifted to dodge her attack, he stumbled, almost losing his balance, desperately staggering to remain upright. While he managed not to fall, the awkward angle of his landing must have twisted his ankle, because once he caught himself and straightened, a distinct limp in his right leg hampered his movements.
It was all the opening Zule needed. Now at normal speed again, the viewscreen caught her single quick, direct jab at Anakin, landing as a surprisingly light touch on his shoulder, barely singeing his tunic.
But it was enough. The gong rang out, spilling across the sea of spectators to declare her victory. The match was over: Zule Xiss was the tournament champion of this year.
The viewscreen zoomed in on Zule's face as she deactivated her lightsaber, disbelief etched onto her features, as if even she hadn't expected to win the tournament she'd competed in. And her expression of astonishment only grew when Anakin strode forward, grinning widely and dropping onto one knee before her, bowing his head.
Few of his fellow Jedi would recognize the gesture, but Mace did. It was the Blessing of Mercy; an admission of defeat during combat from one Zeltron to another, an acknowledgement that the opponent could have killed them during the fight but chose not to. Now, the defeated Zeltron owed a debt to the victor, to be named at the victor's discretion.
The ritual was sacred in Zeltron culture, but not well known to outsiders, and Mace pondered where Anakin could have picked it up from. But ultimately, the "how" was of little consequence, and the action itself spoke much louder. Not only had Anakin gracefully accepted defeat, he'd specifically done so in a manner to honor his opponent's birth culture—suggesting he'd been prepared all along for the possibility that he would lose to her. The sportsmanship was extremely commendable, and though he was not Anakin's Master, a glow of pride suffused through Mace's heart as he gazed at him.
But he couldn't help but notice, as Zule touched his shoulder and Anakin rose from his kneeling position to stand again, his limp suddenly didn't seem to be an issue any longer. In fact, he didn't appear to have any problem putting weight on either leg now that the match had finished.
A suspicion formed in Mace's mind, and again he turned to Obi-Wan to check if he'd reached the same conclusion.
But before he could speak, Obi-Wan shook his head wearily, running an exasperated hand through his beard. "I dread to see Anakin's reaction to these events. He can be temperamental at the best of times, but now his ego has been dealt a heavy blow. And in public, to boot."
Mace eyed him momentarily, and then shifted his gaze to the viewscreen once more. As he watched, the moderator of the tournament, Master Xan, presented Anakin with the champion's bead, gleaming proudly on a shimmersilk cushion. And, as tradition dictated of the runner-up, Anakin set to unwinding Zule's Padawan braid, and then began rebraiding it, this time weaving the bead into her wine-purple hair.
And when he was finished, he added his own iconoclastic spin on the ceremony by seizing Zule in a rib-crushing hug, grinning all the while. Zule returned the embrace wholeheartedly, her own smile enough to melt the glaciers of Hoth, and her grip looking tight enough to strangle a wampa. Had he thought Anakin was truly injured, Mace might've intervened.
"I think he seems to be coping fairly well," Mace replied, glancing at Obi-Wan in askance.
But Obi-Wan just sighed. "I'm afraid you don't know Anakin as I do. He doesn't do well in situations where he's in competition with his fellow Padawans, especially not when he's lost."
Down on the dojo floor, Zule leapt into the waiting arms of Glaive, her Master. Meanwhile, Anakin turned to shake hands with Master Xan, looking very surprised as she instead swept him into a hug of her own.
"I suppose I'll be off, then," Obi-Wan said melancholically, turning toward the exit. "I've accepted a solo mission as bodyguard to Senator Organa, and I must meet him."
Shock jolted through Mace, and he whipped around to stare at his fellow Jedi. "You're not even going to congratulate Anakin before your departure?"
Obi-Wan shook his head in a slow, depleted way, as if he had the weight of the planet resting on his shoulders. "I dare not. I fear that if I did, I'd merely impede Anakin's growth. Suffering through this loss on his own will be good for him. It will teach him that his pain is not paramount and that he's not entitled to comfort simply because of an embarrassment at the hands of another."
Mace could only stand there, stunned by the Master's condemnation of his own Padawan, as Obi-Wan left the balcony without a second glance down at Anakin.
Well-aware that Anakin would have no Master to congratulate him for his astonishing performance, and aware that Anakin would no doubt soon realize it as well, Mace did his best to discreetly search for him during the post-tournament celebration. But there had been many competitors, and Mace wanted to give each of them praise and attention for their efforts.
One of the courtyards nearby the Grand Arena had been transformed into a reception area for after the tournament, decorated with enthusiasm by Padawans who hadn't opted to compete in the but still wanted to celebrate their classmates' efforts. Trees had been strung with streamers and banners, while tables draped with vibrant woven cloths groaned beneath a generous spread of refreshments for participants and spectators alike. Mace needed to bite back an amused snort when he spotted Zule surrounded by a throng of admirers, all of them attempting to ply her with food or drink, either because they wanted the prestige of befriending the latest tournament champion, or because they simply wanted to be the good graces of a beautiful Zeltron.
But as he made his rounds congratulating all participants, Mace could spy neither hide nor hair of Anakin, and no else seemed to have seen him, either. Finally, Nejaa Halcyon was able to point Mace to a nearby block of classrooms, and sure enough, once he neared the astronavigation room, he could detect Anakin's Force presence. Typically a veritable bonfire-like beacon that was almost obnoxious in its intensity, it had now dimmed to a lonely echo of its usual strength.
Uncharacteristic hesitation seized Mace, and he paused with his hand on the entry latch. Perhaps Anakin desired privacy more than anything else at the moment.
But no. If Anakin wished it, Mace would leave, but more than anything else, a Padawan without a Master present should know he still had the rest of the Order to rely on. And Mace was Master of the Order.
Still, Mace took the extra moment to request entry rather than simply stride in uninvited, and entry was granted almost immediately.
The astronavigation classroom was wide and white, with desks clustered in the center of the room but cushy meditation mats lining the left, right, and rear walls. At the moment, the domed ceiling's holoprojector had been switched on, and a slowly rotating view of the bright stars of the Alderaan system floated along the otherwise austere walls, bathing the room in a soft violet and indigo glow.
Anakin himself was slumped down on a meditation mat along the far wall. He barely managed an exhausted nod at Mace before his eyes slipped back to stare fixedly at the miniature Alderaan that hung in the open air.
As Mace approached, now that he could study Anakin up close, he noticed the boy did not look well. Dark circles blue as bruises ringed his eyes, and the tinted light emphasized the wan pallor of his face. His features seemed drawn, as if he'd recently been under severe strain or hadn't been eating well. And there was an overall helplessness about his demeanor that might have been expected, but was unsettling due to the sheer acceptance of it.
Mace quietly moved to sit beside him, slipping into his standard meditation pose as he did. Recognizing the direction of Anakin's gaze, he suppressed a sigh; there could be no doubt now that Anakin was aware of his Master's departure.
Taking it upon himself to break the silence, Mace nodded at Anakin's leg. "You should see a healer about that," he said gently. "I can take you there now, if you like."
But Anakin shook his head, not looking at Mace. "It's not that bad."
Mace opted to test his theory. "Bad enough to cost you victory," he pointed out. "Or at least, that's what you wanted us to believe."
Anakin looked at him sharply for a split second, but then looked away.
"You threw the match." Mace didn't bother with a pretense.
Though Anakin said nothing, the lack of a true answer was enough to confirm his suspicions.
"Why?" Mace questioned, earnestly baffled.
Padawans waited all year for the annual tournament, eager to showcase skills and demonstrate their improvements and growth as Jedi. Many enjoyed the chance to test their mettle in front of a crowd, and others entered simply to gain as many critiques to their dueling style as possible in order to continue to hone their respective form.
For a Padawan to willingly sacrifice their chance of winning the championship match was utterly unheard of. Mace couldn't ignore the twisting in his heart and dread coiling in his stomach that something was very amiss with Anakin Skywalker.
Anakin just stared down at his hands. "I thought I would be able to prove myself to everyone," he said quietly. "Everyone's always saying that I'm arrogant, that I have an ego problem, that I'm too proud. So I thought if I lost the championship match publicly, in front of everyone, and was humble about it, that I could prove that I'm not that much of a problem. And I thought that . . ." he swallowed, the muscles in his jaw working frantically. "I thought Obi-Wan might start talking to me again," he added, his voice splintering toward the end.
Internally, the admission had Mace reeling in surprise, but outwardly, he fought to maintain his poise. "Are you and Obi-Wan not speaking at present?"
Anakin still didn't lift his gaze, but he folded his arms in front of his chest, as though to shield himself from another onslaught.
"He's barely spoken to me since Andara," he admitted.
The confession left Mace at a loss for words.
Nearly two months ago, well before the tournament, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and another Master-Padawan team, Siri Tachi and Ferus Olin, had embarked on a mission to the planet of Andara. Anakin and Ferus had been sent undercover as students at an elite academy where a prominent senator's son had disappeared. In the end, it had been revealed that the disappearance of the senator's son had been a ploy, and that he and a squad of talented students had been conducting guerilla strikes against the planet of Ieria in an attempt to initiate a war with Andara. Thankfully, Anakin had managed to prevent that outcome, intervening in the nick of time and disabling the laser cannons on their starfighters to prevent them from being able to fire on any of the planetary fleets.
But in the process, he'd ignored the sudden disappearance of his fellow Padawan, Ferus, and went ahead with the mission without alerting either of the Masters.
According to Anakin, there hadn't been time to look for Ferus once he realized he'd disappeared.
"At first I thought he was just avoiding me. But then as soon as it occurred to me he was actually gone, Marit, one of the squad members, approached me and told me the timing of their plan had been moved forward. I knew that if I reached out to Obi-Wan and Siri and alerted them, the entire mission could be in danger, and the squad would still be at large. I honestly thought that going with Marit and discovering the squad's plans would be the best way to find Ferus and keep everyone safe."
And he had been right about the former, at least. By intervening when he did, Anakin had been able to forestall a needless war. But he had placed himself and his fellow Padawan in danger when he did, and Obi-Wan had brought the issue to the Council for their judgment.
The Council had been split on the issue.
"I don't even understand why it's a question," Ki-Adi had said with an edge of impatience. "Anakin's actions potentially saved thousands, if not millions, of lives that could have been lost in a senseless conflict. Some expedience was required on his part, certainly, but neither he nor Padawan Olin were even injured. Truly, what is the issue here?"
Shaak had agreed. "Sometimes difficult decisions are required of us as Jedi, and the sooner our Padawans learn that, the better decisions they'll make. Anakin did the best with what he could at the time. And I seem to remember, Grandmaster," she added with a meaningful look at Yoda, "that when Anakin was thirteen and re-enslaved after he was lost on a mission, you expected him to remain where he was and wait for rescue. And he was in much greater danger and harsher conditions than Ferus was during his captivity. If you expected Anakin to toil in slavery without initiating any rescue efforts, why would you expect Anakin to initiate rescue efforts for another Padawan? After all, you've shown him via example that it's not a priority for you."
But Oppo had objected. "We need to emphasize trust and cohesiveness within our Order. Obedience is imperative, and Skywalker was not obedient. A Padawan who cannot obey orders is a danger to his fellow Jedi, no matter how many others he saved in the process. Insubordination is not noble or courageous, and we cannot encourage this manner of recklessness from either Skywalker or any other Padawan. Skywalker is a prodigy, and that's all the more reason he should be held to a higher standard and be able to teach his peers via example."
Plo held a different perspective. "Obedience isn't my main concern. Anakin's well-being is. What if the situation had escalated beyond his abilities? Then both he and Ferus would be in danger with no hope of rescue. I believe he needs to recognize his own limits. He is but one Padawan. He must understand that he should rely on the rest of his team while on a mission."
When Plo had outlined his reasoning, Mace couldn't help but agree with him, and the vote results had been six to five against Anakin, with Yoda abstaining. Therefore, a formal reprimand had been issued to Anakin as an enduring seal of the Council's disapproval for his conduct, as well as a stern warning to reflect on his actions.
(Well. Stern from Mace, Yoda, and Oppo. Ki-Adi and Shaak had remained mutinous throughout.)
Obi-Wan had been presented with the option of disputing the reprimand, but he'd refused, waving the choice away with one hand as he buried his face in the other. But Mace had assumed that once he overcame his initial disappointment in his Padawan, he could recognize the larger motive behind his Padawan's behavior while still reminding him of the importance of teamwork and cooperation with his fellow Jedi.
Evidently, Mace's faith in Obi-Wan had been misplaced.
"Is it . . . only Andara?" Mace asked, wanting to be certain he had a full grasp of the situation.
A laugh escaped Anakin that might as well have been a sob. " 'Only'? No. It's everything. Nothing I do is enough for him. Nothing can change the fact that he didn't ever want me as a Padawan. In a way, I had to throw the championship. Because if I won and then that still wasn't enough for him . . . where does that leave me?" A muscle in his throat worked convulsively. "But now I've lost, and that still didn't convince him to want me. It didn't prove to him that I'm good enough. He just considers me an embarrassment."
"I'm sure that's not true," Mace tried to reassure him, but again, Anakin barely acknowledged him.
Anakin just shook his head. "Did you know I learned to read in Basic because of him?" he asked abruptly. "I couldn't read Basic when I first got to the Temple, only Huttese and Bocce. Obi-Wan was so upset about it—he thought it made me uncivilized and uneducated. Some savage slave barely worth the trouble of having around."
"Don't speak of yourself that way," Mace said sharply, his response too swift to give him time to soften his tone.
Anakin went on as if he hadn't heard him. "So I spent hours in the Archives, listening to audio files and sounding out words and matching them to pictures, completing whatever lessons Obi-Wan instructed me to. I was young and naïve enough to think that I could make him like me if I just did as he said—after all that's how it worked with Watto. But once I finally was able to read, he just switched priorities, and now my emotional control—'or lack thereof', as he put it—became his main priority. And that's the way it's also been. I fix one problem with myself, and then he finds something else wrong with me." Anakin choked on a sob, and, though he blinked frantically, he wasn't able to stem the flow of tears from his eyes. "I've always worked hard, I've always done my best, and it's never enough."
"I don't know what else I can do," he said, his voice a ragged whisper. "These past six weeks, I've trained and trained for the tournament, and helped out my classmates whenever anyone's asked to work with me. When I'm not doing that, I'm meditating—silent meditation, even though it doesn't help me. But it's not enough." Panic crept into Anakin's voice, and there was something else, something more potent—honest pain. Obi-Wan's neglect of Anakin had brought him genuine suffering.
"I just give and give and give , until there's nothing of me left," Anakin went on, his voice tight and tremulous. "But it's not enough. I'm not good enough for Obi-Wan. A-a-and—and—" his voice cracked. "I-I don't think I ever will be."
And with that, he dissolved into sobs, his entire frame wracking with their sheer magnitude.
With more instinct than conscious thought, Mace slid an arm around Anakin's shoulders and drew him closer, letting Anakin lean against his shoulder as he cried. The contact sparked something desperate in Anakin; he crowded in close, burying his face into Mace's chest, more vulnerable than he'd ever allowed Mace to see him before. His shoulders heaved convulsively with his hoarse, frantic sobs, and his tears quickly soaked through the front of Mace's robes.
But Mace couldn't bring himself to mind. Instead, he only tightened his grip on Anakin, holding him as he cried, sending whispers of comfort and ribbons of solace to him through the Force.
A memory floated into the forefront of his thoughts, from decades ago, back when he was Anakin's age. There had been a mission to Naboo during its rainy season, and Mace, fed up after losing a debate with some irritating aristocrat, had stormed outside into the downpour. He'd stood in the immense garden, the torrents of rain doing nothing to soothe his simmering anger.
Then, barely audible over the sounds of the storm, a series of shrill, piercing cries rung through the air, one after another. Saber in hand, Mace had raced through the rain, ready to leap into action and help whoever needed it.
The source of the cries hadn't been a person, but a mother jax cat, stuck in the mud as she desperately tried to reach her flooding den. Mace hadn't hesitated, plunging into the den, scooping out the four kits within, and depositing them safely in a garden gazebo. Then he'd gone back for the mother, reuniting her with her young.
But he hadn't been able to leave them just then, and he'd remained for a while longer, using the Force to restore their strength, his anger forgotten as the kits huddled close to him, desperately seeking his warmth and protection.
Now, Anakin curled in close to him, just like a jax kit he'd saved from drowning, just as desperate and pleading for him to show him kindness and shelter.
And he would.
As he sat with Anakin wrapped in his embrace, Mace vowed to resolve whatever the issue was plaguing Obi-Wan in regards to Anakin. In the aftermath of a mission gone wrong, it was the Master's duty to help their Padawan recognize and correct their errors, but also encourage them to continue in their best efforts for themselves and others. Compassion was an essential element to the learning process; little could be gained without it. A Master reacting to their Padawan's mistakes by ignoring their student and leading them to believe they were unwanted was a sure signal that intervention was crucial for both of them, and that their bond should be reevaluated. Sometimes, for the well-being of both of them, someone outside needed to step in.
"Wh-wh-what am I going to do?" Anakin gasped out when he could finally manage to speak again. "I can't keep going on like I've been, doing everything I can to get his approval and having him still ignore me. I don't know what more I can do. I'm so tired, and I'm tired of hoping, but I don't want to lose him, but I think I already have and I—"
The jagged shards of his pain and despair echoing through the Force were nearly unbearable in their intensity, but Mace did his best to aid him.
"Find my presence, Anakin," he ordered, but he was careful to still keep his voice soft. "Focus on finding calm. I know you're upset, but it's important to allow yourself to feel better. Concentrate on me, and do your best to let your negativity fade until you can move past it."
Wiping at his eyes, Anakin inhaled deeply and instantly set to following Mace's instructions, his trembling subsiding slightly as his breathing steadied. Being given with direction seemed to be almost a soothing balm to him, and Mace's stomach churned uncomfortably with the fresh realization of the agony Anakin must have endured at being left entirely on his own. He was so eager to please and so willing to work with direction the moment he thought his instructor valued him. The distance Obi-Wan had cultivated between the two of them must have been a deep wound to Anakin.
Only when Anakin tentatively brushed his Force presence against Mace's own, his pain not gone but substantially diminished, did Mace try to broach the topic again.
"Let me ask you this. Have you and Obi-Wan ever discussed the events during your mission to Andara?"
Anakin shook his head helplessly, and despite his veneer of serenity, another tear trickled down his cheek. "Just as soon as you and the Council issued the reprimand, he told me to reflect on my actions and find a way to correct them." Then Anakin hesitated, swallowing thickly, before forging on. He spoke in a tentative, cautious way, like he was trying to negotiate with someone holding a knife to his throat. "But I have reflected on my actions, and all I can think is that if I stopped to look for Ferus, then a war might have started between Ieria and Andara that I could have prevented. And maybe I'm being arrogant, I don't know—but I'd rather stop a war before it starts than follow procedure and maybe set off a string of countless deaths, all because I hesitated to go forward with the mission."
"Have you explained to Obi-Wan about your reasoning?" Mace probed cautiously, wondering if there was still more to the conflict between Master and Padawan than it appeared.
"I haven't," Anakin admitted, biting his lip. "I don't think he'd be impressed, just disappointed. And I'm worried that—" he cut himself off before he could finish the sentence.
The abrupt halt to his words rang out in the otherwise silent classroom more loudly than a spoken sentence ever could, but Mace would not be swayed. Progress was finally underway; this issue now held his full attention, and it would do so until entirely resolved.
Reaching out through the Force, he gathered all the positive emotions he could collect for the moment and pushed them to Anakin, until the Padawan was surrounded in a cloud of warmth and affection and encouragement.
"I didn't seek you out because I wanted something other than honesty from you, Anakin," Mace said gently. "You can speak without concern."
Anakin drew in a shaky breath, but then he continued. "I'm worried that it might be the final problem that convinces him to step away from my training." The words scraped out of Anakin's throat like it was a battle just to voice them. "That he'll be so ashamed of my arrogance that he won't want me anymore. And if he does that—if that's what he decides—then who would train me instead?" Despair flooded through Anakin, dimming the Force around him. "He's only training me because of a promise he made to Qui-Gon, and no one else made a promise like that. If Obi-Wan doesn't want me as an apprentice anymore, what's going to happen to me? No one else is going to want me. And then—then I'll be even more alone than I am now." His voice cracked toward the end, and he covered his face with shaking hands.
Speechless with shock, Mace could only sit there, frozen. Did Anakin truly believe Obi-Wan was only training him out of obligation to Qui-Gon? Was Obi-Wan only training Anakin out of obligation?
Prior to tonight, Mace would have readily dismissed the thought, but Obi-Wan's attitude toward Anakin after his match, combined with Anakin's absolute conviction that Obi-Wan was ashamed of him spurred numerous doubts to coalesce in Mace's mind.
As Mace struggled to absorb the true extent of the rift between the two of them, Anakin misread his silence, assuming the worst of him.
"I'm sorry," Anakin said lowly, shifting away from Mace and putting space between them again. "I know you don't really approve of me, and that you probably have better things to do than listen to me whining about this." He did his best to give Mace a watery smile, but he was trembling too violently to maintain it for longer than a second or two. "I've troubled you enough with my litany of complaints. I'll leave you in peace now."
Though he moved to stand, Mace grasped his shoulder to stop him.
"You're not troubling me," he told Anakin, gentle but firm. "Speaking of your concerns to other Jedi—whether they 'approve' of you or not—is to be encouraged. I'm glad you confided in me."
An unreadable emotion flickered across Anakin's face, followed by something else, something much more open and wounded and gut-wrenching.
"Do you think you could fix me?" he asked, an anguished hope in his voice. "Change me from what I am now into—into someone better? Just—just so I don't have to be the person I am anymore?"
The sheer desperation in his voice and the absurdity of the question floored Mace. Did Anakin believe he had no value as the person he was? The boy who'd tossed aside a championship to prove his devotion to his Master, who'd studied his opponent's individual culture so he could honor her when he lost to her? You're some broken droid, he wanted to tell Anakin. You're a person, fully worthwhile as you are. You don't require "fixing".
Then again, while Oppo had spoken of Anakin needing to teach from example, Shaak had referenced Anakin learning through example.
Maybe they as Jedi had taught Anakin that he was broken in some way, unintentionally as it maybe have been. And maybe Anakin had started to believe it.
Had there been anyone to communicate to Anakin that he was simply valuable for who he was? Mace's heart sank at the question. Usually it would have been the Master's duty to teach their Padawan of their worth as an individual, but it did not appear Obi-Wan had ever relayed that lesson to Anakin.
"What would you have me fix?" Mace asked Anakin eventually, keeping his voice carefully level and holding his gaze.
The question brought Anakin to pause, his brow furrowing, and then he shrugged. "I don't know," he said helplessly. "My arrogance, I guess? People keep saying it's a problem of mine, so it must be. But I don't mean to be arrogant—it just sort of creeps up on me. I just want to help people, or do well, or make Obi-Wan proud, but no matter what I choose, it's always the wrong decision."
"Have you and Obi-Wan worked on this matter together?" Mace asked, trying to assess the scope of the situation and detect the amount the buried hurt and frustration Anakin held here as well.
"He asks me to work on it, but I don't think I do a very good job," Anakin said morosely. "And I trained with Soara Antana last year for a little while, but she ended our training because of it. She told me I was too angry and that I had too much of an ego. But—she wouldn't tell me what she wanted me to do, or correct me when I did it the wrong way, so I never knew if I was making progress or not. Even when I tried to be nice—there was this one sparring session between me and Tru Veld where he gave me an easy opening but I didn't take it, because I felt like it would have been too easy—she'd just tell me that I had too much of an ego. But she never instructed me on how not to have one."
"That does sound frustrating," Mace agreed. He could remember when he was a younger man, eternally ensnared in the struggle to let go of his anger, and fighting envy for others' seeming ease in letting go of their own. "And it's perfectly understandable that such frustration would spark anger. Then it's all the worse, because we know our anger isn't helpful, and then we begin to feel as though we can't even help ourselves achieve our goals."
"Yeah," Anakin said slowly, looking up at Mace, a speculative look spreading across his features. "Yeah, it's . . . it's just like that, actually. How do you . . . ?"
Mace smiled slightly. "Even members of the High Council can have a wild past, Anakin."
Anakin laughed softly, a smile tugging at his lips for the first time since Mace had found him. But before he could reply, the classroom door swung open, and in sauntered the new lightsaber champion herself, Zule Xiss. A tunic too large to be her own was draped over her shoulders, and if Mace recognized the woven pattern correctly, it belonged to A'Sharad Hett.
"Oh, good, I've been looking for you," Zule said conversationally, her dazzlingly green gaze immediately focusing on Anakin. "Listen, a bunch of us are going out to celebrate. We're hitting a Corellian tavern in the Entertainment district. You should come along—you were fantastic throughout all your matches, and I'm sure you've acquired your share of admirers," she added with a mischievous smile. "Come with us and bask in the love. Or at least, help us stop Ferus from stripping off his tunic when he gets tipsy— no one wants to see that."
"I assume a Knight will be accompanying you on your night out?" Mace questioned dryly.
"Oh, of course," Zule replied, waving a hand. "My Master is going—he's the one who suggested it. Says I should be toasted for my victory—but it was such a close match, Anakin, that I think we should be toasting to you, too."
A note in her phrasing brought Mace pause, and he wondered if Zule, too, had deduced that Anakin's loss was deliberate. But before he could ponder further, he was interrupted by Anakin's reply.
"That sounds fun," he agreed, offering Zule a weary smile. "I'll catch up with you in the speeder bay, all right? Just let me finish speaking with Master Windu."
"Oh, it's no trouble," Zule assured him. "I'm going to go see if Tae and Elora want to join us. Come by my quarters before we leave—I'm going find a fresh outfit, and I can see if I have something for you to wear, too."
With that, she bowed to Mace and then spun back toward the exit, her long wine-colored hair fanning out behind her in a sleek curtain as she sashayed off, shutting the door behind her.
The invitation from Zule heartened Anakin, the Force around him glowing with a fresh spark of happiness as he smiled down at the floor.
"Well," he said, aiming for a jovial tone, "at least someone wants me around."
While it was obvious that he was trying to lighten the mood, the threads of painful insecurity in his voice were obvious as well.
Enough of this. The conversation with Anakin provided Mace with many revelations for reflection, but had also led him to a fresh resolution.
"You are wanted," he told Anakin fiercely, reaching out to rest a battle-scarred palm on his shoulder and giving him an encouraging squeeze. "No matter what your conduct on Andara or your Master's feelings on the subject, you are a valued and worthwhile member of this Order. When Obi-Wan returns from Alderaan, we will discuss the situation. And should your Master decide to step away from your training, I'll take you on as my Padawan."
Profound shock flared from Anakin through the Force as he gaped at Mace. "You?" he breathed. "You'd want me as a Padawan?"
Mace smiled at him. "You are kind and considerate, and you have a rare generosity that stretches far beyond your years. You may have moments of arrogance, but as evident with Tru and Obi-Wan, you're not afraid to sacrifice your pride when you feel the situation demands it. Your determination to prove your loyalty to Obi-Wan does you credit, even if it has been frustrating for you." He paused and then added, "And, of course, there is that matter of that war you prevented on Andara. I've reached the conclusion that your actions were justified. Therefore I'm going to put in word with the Council that I've changed my vote to be in your favor. And with the majority vote supporting you, the reprimand will be stricken from your record."
Utter amazement rolled off Anakin in waves as he gazed at Mace in stunned silence. But there was a wariness to his demeanor, as if he expected the good news to be the prelude to a cruel joke or a snide remark.
With a stab of unease, a question suddenly struck Mace: had Obi-Wan ever praised Anakin's efforts in preventing the war? Or had he merely remained silent on all of Anakin's accomplishments and focused exclusively on his errors? Had any of the Jedi complimented Anakin on his successes during the mission?
Well, if they hadn't, the time to correct that oversight was now.
He gave Anakin's shoulder one final squeeze before dropping his hand and folding his arms in his robes.
"With Obi-Wan gone, I want you to report to me for lightsaber instruction tomorrow. Your talent as a duelist is unmistakable, and I'm curious as to what a spar would look like if you were giving a full effort."
While still clearly astounded, Anakin offered him a shy grin, brushing a stray curl out of his eye. "I—I'd like that."
"Splendid. Then the day after that, I'm scheduled for a series of Senate meetings, but I think Master Billaba would be free to assist you. Not only is she a brilliant duelist, but she's also extraordinarily gifted with mental exercises." Mace paused, choosing his next words cautiously, unwilling to come across as critical when Anakin was clearly still so vulnerable. "Perhaps you could devote some of the day focusing on meditation and the release of negative emotions," he suggested mildly.
Anakin hesitated. "I'm not . . . skilled at silent meditation. I've developed my own style—I call it 'moving meditation'—where I repair devices or create new ones, but . . . some Jedi don't really approve of it."
Mace would have put twenty to one odds that "some Jedi" actually referred to "Obi-Wan Kenobi", but he saw no point in belaying the matter.
"You'll find that Master Billaba is an intellectually curious woman who's always interested in expanding both her own learning as well as Jedi traditions," Mace replied, hoping to soothe Anakin's anxiety. "You have nothing to fear from her."
"Thank you, Master Windu," Anakin said, gratitude shining softly in his blue eyes, and a cautious hope radiating through the Force around him.
Warmth suffused through Mace at the shift in his demeanor, and he allowed himself just a moment to bask in the satisfaction of assisting one of their young learners. "You should run along to get ready now," he advised Anakin. "After all, I'm sure Zule will be assisting her other friends with their fashion selections as well, and you don't want to be stuck with the last choice."
Anakin offered him one last smile, and then, with cautious earnestness, brushed his Force presence to Mace's in a quiet but unmistakable show of affection. Without thinking, Mace returned the gesture, adding a boost of encouragement and fondness that he thought were sorely needed.
The sharp intake of breath from Anakin and awestruck expression told him he was correct, and then he departed—without a limp, but with an air of new confidence and fresh optimism.
Once alone in the classroom, Mace withdrew his official Council datapad, three messages already formulating in his mind, with potentially more on the way.
First, he'd contact Obi-Wan and establish a meeting with him immediately upon his return from Alderaan. They needed to establish his complete thoughts on the Andaran incident and his conduct afterward, and, of course, if he would be stepping away from Anakin's training. More critically, Anakin needed to know and have a set conclusion instead of being constantly left to wonder and try his best to no avail.
Second, Depa. Mace wanted to work out a schedule with her to ensure Anakin had a Master to guide and encourage him throughout the rest of the week, something he appeared to have been lacking for some time. And if there was ever a point that neither he nor Depa was available, then he'd ask Ki-Adi or Shaak to help out. After all, they had been unyielding advocates for Anakin throughout the mission aftermath—surely they'd be willing to help him now.
And finally, he would reach out to Yoda and look into the process of having Anakin's formal reprimand reversed. After listening to Anakin's own reflections on his behavior, Mace had been swayed back to his former conclusion, and now he was certain: Anakin had made the right call. He'd averted a war by avoiding calling attention to Ferus's disappearance, and given the amount of casualties that realistically would have resulted if he hadn't, it truly was the only choice. And with Mace's vote shifting from being against Anakin to being for him, the reprimand would be lifted from his record.
Besides, even if Anakin had been in the wrong, Obi-Wan's treatment of him over these past several weeks had been more than punishment enough.
Tapping away at the datapad, Mace eyed Alderaan from where it slowly spun near the upper left corner of the room.
Even if Obi-Wan did opt to continue with Anakin's training, Mace saw no reason why he himself couldn't steal Anakin away for a day or two a week for some lessons of his own. Self-compassion and self-confidence were certainly a good place to start. It was a dangerous formula, Anakin's desperation for approval and inability to find value in himself. If someone outside of the Jedi were able to uncover it, someone who wanted to do Anakin harm, they would be able to manipulate him without many obstacles. Hell, in the past six weeks, Anakin would have been easy prey to anyone who had learned of his loneliness and wanted to use it for their own means.
The thought was a harrowing one, and Mace suppressed a shudder, but he released his dread, drew in a calming breath, and continued composing his messages, adding Ki-Adi and Shaak to his list.
The Jedi were Anakin's family, and it was their job to ensure that no harm of that kind befell him. Their job to stand by him, even through his errors, and let him know he wasn't alone.
Perhaps all of them had been negligent in that regard so far. But Mace was adamant: today was the day they would start.
Author's Note:
It's not pictured, but I see Obi-Wan as being oblivious to how much his silence is hurting Anakin until Mace clues him in about it. He's then reinvigorated to consider how to best teach Anakin and to pay closer attention to how Anakin is interpreting his emotions, and if there's ever anything they need to talk out. But I also adore the idea of Mace and Depa and other Council members continuing to train Anakin as well.
I borrowed from various bit of Star Wars Legends-verse for this fic, which are:
- Jedi Quest: Path to Truth: which details Anakin's re-enslavement that Shaak Ti mentions when she's standing up for Anakin during the Council meeting.
- Jedi Quest: School of Fear: which details the events surrounding the potential war with Andara and the undercover mission gone wrong that were mentioned.
- Jedi Quest: Master of Disguise: which details the lessons with Soara Antana that Anakin mentions went poorly for him took place in the book I've always thought that her teaching style as depicted was almost designed to fail Anakin, and I love the idea of Vaapad users Mace and Depa being able to relate to his anger and teach him how to use it constructively.
- Star Wars: Republic (comics): this is where Zule Xiss, a member of a group of Master-less Padawans that Anakin temporarily led known as the Padawan Pack. I love Zule, I love the idea of Anakin getting a friend, and I like the idea of her and Anakin being friends, so here she is.
Thank you so much for reading, and please let me know if you have any thoughts.