Voices, the click of shoes on marble floors, faint music from an office down the hall; a cacophony of normalcy and sleepy calm. From my chair I look up and watch the people passing by. Some Jedi, but mostly government staff, in their ornate robes and sparkling head-pieces, or simple black suits. They smile and laugh and talk and carry folders and some look stressed and hurried. They're all planning their next meetings or wondering how many hours before they can go home, or find the nearest club in the city's exciting underbelly. As I watch them, the sounds all start blend together in a loud hum and the people become blurry.

The world moves on without him. It hasn't stopped, hasn't even slowed. And this is the way it's always going to be…

"...oh wow, twenty-three."

A woman's voice snaps me back from my dazed reverie, back into the world. "What?"

"Twenty-three was the youngest master. Looks like there was also a twenty-four, twenty-eight, thirty-two…" she keeps scrolling through her screen. "You're not the youngest, but pretty darn close. And the youngest I've seen in as long as I've been working here. That's really something."

She smiles politely up at me and I force one back. A hand touches my shoulder and the Republic secretary rises with a wide grin. "Master Windu, welcome. Everything is ready for you both." I jump to my feet, but before I can offer my bow, he grips each of my shoulders and stares thoughtfully at me. "You're early. Did you get any sleep last night?"

"A little," I lie. I panic as he seems to scan my face for signs of fatigue so I blurt out, "are you ready, Master?"

He lets go and silently nods, heading toward the door with me in trail. We sit down, and the secretary remains standing on the other side of the desk, stacking papers and pamphlets in little piles for each of us.

"Both your copies are identical, and I've flagged where each of you need to sign and initial. Most of what I gave you is just informational, but the packet on top is the actual contract. Please do read it through, but it's quite simple." She suddenly looks toward me and I flinch. "Mr. Kenobi, this is just to acknowledge the cessation of your apprenticeship and the subsequent acceptance of your new position as 'Master' for Mr. Skywalker."

I sneak a glance over at Master Windu, and he gives me a tired smirk and a half eye roll. He grabs his pen and starts reading, so I open my packet. "Apprenticeship terminated on 12 April due to reasons of incapacitation of former master…" my face gets hot. I let my eyes lose focus, staring ahead into empty space as I pretend to flip through the pages, focusing on breathing in and out as slowly as I can. I scratch my initials and signature at each little red tab and finish the packet far too quickly. I just stare at the last page until I can catch Mace closing his packet from the corner of my eye and do the same. I take a slow breath to steady my heart rate. The secretary takes our folders and there's a shuffle of papers, signatures, and nods and words between her and Master Windu that sound like they're coming from far away or under water. When Mace smiles and rises, shaking the secretary's hand, I get up and offer mine as well.

She suddenly grips my hand tightly with both of hers before I have a chance to pull away. Her eyes are intense. "Congratulations," she spells out each syllable purposefully. "I truly wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you," my voice cracks.

I race to catch up to the flutter of Mace's dark wool cloak. In the hall, he turns to me again and smiles. He has a new smile for me now. There's a twinge of pity that he seems very self-conscious about. And I've suddenly regressed into that awkward little kid that first met him 15 years ago. Nothing can destroy a professional relationship quite like one finding the other sitting on the floor, legs sprawled with another man cradled in his lap, sobbing, refusing to move like a petulant child no matter how hard the other pulls and cajoles. And now I'm supposedly a Knight, closer to him in rank than I've ever been.

"Hey I'd like for you to not fight me on what I'm about to ask." He finally says.

I grow hot with nervousness, and try to force a laugh. "Give me the benefit of the doubt. What is it?"

"I'd like you to come to the medical ward. I know you did a brief triage when we first arrived last night, but apparently you ran out of there before they could really do a good evaluation on you. And they mentioned your bandaging was only meant to be temporary. Can you please do me this favor and let me take you?"

"Um, sure. No problem, Master." He gives that awkward smile again and squeezes my shoulder as we walk.

I concentrate on slowing my breaths again as we arrive at the medical ward, Mace holding the large glass door open for me with a polite wave of his hand. It seems we were expected. Mace smiles and greets several nurses who step out from behind the front counter, clipboards in hand and already suited up with gloves and masks. I grip my hands in front of me tightly, digging my finger nails into the skin. I debate how angry or disappointed he'd be if I lied about having an appointment and ran out. "Come on down with us," a nurse calls to me and gestures down the hallway. Too late.

They lead me to a room and gesture again for me to jump up onto the table. The paper crinkles absurdly loud as I struggle up like a child in a large chair. For whatever reason, Mace takes a seat on a chair right beside me and I try not to look at him.

One nurse looks down at my chart as he speaks. "So, it looks like you were admitted last night after the conflict on Naboo. You received dressing for your saber wound and were evaluated for a concussion. Did you lose consciousness at all yesterday?"

I pause for a moment and scan my memory. I see flashes of red, and green, and blue. Black clothing flapping around a form flipping through the air. Falling. Did I lose consciousness? No, I got up, and I ran. Too slowly. My face grows hot and I feel the sting of tears. "I, um…" I stutter. I truly don't remember how I got here. I remember being here last night briefly. Being overwhelmed by tiny flashlights shined into my eyes and incessant movement and the groans and screams of hundreds of Naboo fighters and I ran.

How did I get here? I remember holding him, stroking his hair. I remember Mace finally prying my arms off of him, paramedics closing in on his body like predators on a fresh kill. Mace holding my arm to steady me down the hall as I wept. I remember being light headed, the floor suddenly flying up at me. I gasp. "Yes, I did."

"But I caught him. He didn't hit his head." Mace adds.

"Well, that's good," the nurse says. "We did observe dilatated pupils and slow reaction times, so my guess was you were mildly concussed. All we ask is you take it easy for a few days. No training and only very light exercise. You're very susceptible to worsening it for a while. Could you please lay back?"

I wince in surprise. He places his clipboard on the table and the other nurses close in. One looks all too eager and says, "I can't believe you're our first patient with a wound from a Sith blade. No one has walked into this ward with such an injury in a millennium!"

When I don't move, Mace rises and places his hand on my shoulder, pressing down gently. "It's okay," he says.

I swallow a deep breath and lay back, clutching my hands awkwardly on my chest as the last pairs of hands are snapped into latex gloves and my shirt is lifted down to the bandaging. "Now as I get down to the bottom layer, this will hurt," the main nurse warns. "Your wound was weeping pretty badly last night and may have fused to the gauze."

I force a smile at her. "Alright. No problem."

The gentle unfurling of cotton turns to searing pain as I feel skin being ripped. I gasp and unclutch my hands, but before I try to push them away, Mace takes my hand and squeezes it tight. "Take a deep breath. Relax. Let them do their job." He speaks softly, wordlessly through the force.

I catch a glimpse of red and black soaked bandaging being tossed into a nearby trash can. "Now I need to clean and debride this wound, follow it up with ointments, then rebandage. Unfortunately, this procedure will need to be repeated over the course of the next few weeks. Just hang in there with me and this will get easier and easier every time, alright?"

I can see her eyes smiling above her mask so I force one back, along with a weak "okay."

All this for the smallest graze. I remember him swiping the blade. I also remember springing back, and just a light sting, the smell of singed cloth. That's it. I feel hot ointment spreading over, and it's surprisingly soothing. They press a large piece of thick gauze over my stomach and it absorbs the goopy, hot liquid instantly. One nurse sweeps it several times over with an air dryer, and it feels uncomfortably dry and abrasive. "Ready?" one nurse suddenly asks. Before I answer, Mace presses his hand down on my shoulder as if rehearsed, and several nurses grip one end of the gauze and tear it off in one quick rip. I can't help but gasp before my other hand flings up to cover my mouth.

"Hey, well done!" one nurse praises, as though I'm a youngling. I can only smile back politely as I fight to regain composure. "Now we'll try this a few more times. Until it looks like most of the dead skin is removed for today, so just hang in there with us, and we'll be done before you know it!"

A few more times. Shit. "Sounds good," I gasp, gripping the side of the table hard in one hand, the other still being firmly squeezed by Master Windu. My mind floods with racing thoughts. Not one second since returning to the Temple have I had a moment to process, to just be alone. And why did he insist on me doing this now? Why is he here? Is he trying to put me back in my place, make sure I don't get too much pride after what happened? The way he always used to do with Qui-Gon, and I was caught in the cross-fire. I remember his face, eyes wide in shock, mouth open in a silent scream. His strike impaled him, bored right through. All this fuss for a light graze. If I think this is bad, what about what he felt? God, what would that have felt like? How much did it hurt him? Was he scared?

I bite my lip hard and study the ceiling tiles. Finally, I feel the cool ointment, followed by the soft bandaging. When they finish, Mace helps me to sit up and I stifle my gasp into a long, casual exhale of breath. The nurses finish up wrapping my exposed abdomen, and then each add their gloves and masks to the pile of skin-covered gauze in the bloody trash can. Gratefully, I let my shirt fall.

As the nurses leave, one remains, calling for another doctor on the PA. She walks in shortly after, not clad in the same scrubs as the others, but long, gray satin robes. A Mind Healer. Oh, come on…

"Thank you so much, why don't you take a break?" she says to the nurse, who smiles, nods, and quickly exits, closing the door behind him.

"I'm so glad you could come back to the clinic today. You had us a little worried last night." The Mind Healer takes a seat on a rolling stool and pulls out a small folder. "My name is Jaseem. I know how exhausted you must be. Can I just ask you a few quick questions for my initial assessment and I'll let you get on with your day?"

Her smile is so sweet I can't help but agree. "I understand the basics of the situation, so you don't have to go through all that again if you don't want to. But if you do want to, please by all means feel free to talk about it, that's a big part of why I'm here. I'm here for you in whatever capacity you require."

I try so hard not to roll my eyes.

"I understand you were able to sleep last night, how was it?"

My little white lies spread fast. "Well not really, but I slept a little bit."

"Would you say it's due to any distressing dreams?"

"Maybe, I don't really think I remember. The whole night was a bit of a blur."

"That's alright. If that changes, please let me know. Especially if they start to interfere with your ability to sleep." She looks back down at her opened folder. "Are you experiencing any intrusive memories?"

"Of what?" I can feel the immediate sting of a harsh look from Master Windu. But I can't seem to stop, an automatic urge to be difficult, defiant. A favorite bad habit I picked up from him.

"Well," she looks surprised. As if she's about to ask if I remember what happened. Suddenly she leans in closer and her voice gets softer, "I read through your after-action report. I understand your Master was slain right in front of you and you were unable to intervene. Master Windu also stated that he was found dead in your arms. Did he pass in front of you?"

"Okay, what is this!?" The words fly out of my mouth, and I watch myself jump down from the table from outside my body. I'm so sorry, Jaseem.

"Whoa, hold on. Let's be courteous. Give her a chance, Obi-Wan." Mace has stood now as well.

My face flushes hot, "I'm…I'm so sorry. I just don't want to get into this, I didn't mean to be rude."

"Oh, trust me, I don't take it personally," she smiles. "And I think that was my fault, I was merely trying to be direct. I find with my other clients, they seem to prefer it, but that's not always the case for everyone." Jaseem bows her head slightly and presses her hand to her chest. "But really, for now, all I need to know is if this is coming up for you in the form of unwanted flashbacks. Do you find that you are avoiding the memories?"

I almost see Mace smirk and nod out of the corner of my eye. "Well, yes, but it's like you said I'm just not ready to talk about it or go there just yet. I'm still…processing."

She looks like she's about to ask more so I interrupt her. "Besides, I really just want to know how my Padawan is getting on. I understand he was seen at this clinic last night, too, and I really meant to spend this morning meeting with him." The word 'Padawan' barely makes it past my lips, it tastes so foreign and wrong. I half expect the other two to burst into laughter.

"He was seen for minor bumps and bruising, but he's doing well." Mace answers. "He was escorted to the Padawan ward last night and roomed with a few boys, whom apparently he's making fast friends with." Mace looks at his watch, "they should be just having breakfast now. We have time."

I start to feel panicked. "Well maybe then I should take advantage of the opportunity to rest a little bit more. Since I couldn't really last night." I turn to Jaseem, who's smiling in a defeated sort of way. "I think I'm just too tired to go through this now, is that alright?"

"Of course," she nods with eyes closed. "But I'd like another chance to speak with you."

"Oh definitely," I say as I make my move for the door.

"Obi-Wan," Mace's stern tone stops me. "I'll be following up to make sure you keep your promise. By tomorrow, understand?"

"Yes, Master," I say with a meek bow, and glide out the door and down the hall. I feel as though I'm floating, feet not touching the floor. The world flies past me in a jumbled haze and I hold in my breath until I'm safely through the threshold of the med ward doors. Thank God it's early. It's easy not to catch any attention from the few people out and about as I hurry to my quarters with eyes downcast.

.
.

I lean up against my closed door and let the silence cover me like a heavy cloak. I let out a sigh and realize my heart was racing. The room is gloriously silent. Just the steady hum of traffic through the thick glass of the windows. My sheets are still half draped on the floor. I look at the clock; I still time before Anakin is done with breakfast, at least an hour. He might even want to linger to talk to his new friends. Would he take my room? And I move to Qui-Gon's? Or I stay put and he takes his? That would be easier, it would make sense. But I can't stand the idea of anyone else in his bed. The thought of that boy especially.

"I'll train the boy…" He didn't even look at me.

I still have my folder. I know full well what I'll find, but I am curious. I take it to the bed. Full color glossy pamphlets and packets courtesy of the bureaucrat's wet dream that was the Republic's generous takeover of our administrative functions. Funny how their help has somehow created a monster. "Welcome to Knighthood." God, what a joke. I flip through and see the packet of forms Mace and I were signing. I never actually read it. With trembling hands, I pull it out. "The undersigned assumes the duties of 'Master' to Anakin Skywalker. This agreement automatically terminates mentorship status under the Master Qui-Gon Jinn due to reasons of (select): deceased."

I gasp, snap the packet closed, and stare slack-jawed at the window. A gentle beam of light through the half-lowered shades floats into the dark room. No sound but the drone of traffic, my quiet panting, the ringing in my ears.

One hour. In one hour, the merciless innocence of my old life will be shattered when I step into that dining hall in the Padawan ward and exchange the first bow with him. Can I just sit here forever? If I refuse to come out, refuse to meet him, then did it really happen?

For God's sake, I'm 25 years old. Why hasn't anyone said anything? Why has no one stepped in and stopped this? Why are we going on the words of a dying man, when the brain is shutting down and the neurons were probably flooded with the last-ditch flash of activity and misfiring in God knows what way?

His last words weren't even about me. No "I love you." No "goodbye." From the second that boy stepped into our lives I didn't even get a passing glance. His last words were about him.

I rear up and hurl the folder at my dresser. It explodes on impact, papers flying out everywhere. "Fuck you!" I scream.

I sink to my hands and knees, lightheaded. My chest starts to convulse in silent sobs and I lower my face to the floor until I'm so starved for air I gasp for breath and a whimpering cry finally gets out.

"I can't do this," I sob. I look up to the ceiling, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Tears streak down my cheeks and I shake my head, "I can't do this." I keep expecting to see him floating up there somehow. An apparition, blue eyes sad, long brown hair dangling down.

"How can this be your plan for me? What the hell were you thinking?!"

I wait. Silence. The distant hum. Of traffic. Happy, oblivious people out there. My scanner beeps and I scramble to my feet. I steady my breathing and wipe snot onto my sleeve, "Kenobi."

"Hey Obi-Wan, it's me again," it's Master Windu.

"Oh, hello Master."

"Thought you might want to know that young Skywalker got pulled into assessments with the council. Should take a few hours. Target of opportunity I suppose. I'm sorry to keep delaying your meeting, I know he's expressed how eager he is to get settled in with you."

I pause for way too long. "Kenobi, you there?" the comm device crackles.

"Yes! Sorry, Master, I was just…taking it in. Sounds good. I'll take him back to our quarters after he's done. He'll probably want to rest."

"No training right out the gate, you are a merciful teacher!" Mace laughs. Oh fuck, I'm being too passive. My first decision as a master and I already screwed it up.

"Yeah, well…" I try to laugh, too.

"Hey I better get in there and join the council. Don't stay in that room too long today. I think it could…get to you."

"Not a problem, I'm actually just leaving now."