A/N: I've been rereading this story for the first time since I published it, and have been realizing that while I started out strong enough in the first few chapters, the kind of tone and voice that I really wanted to keep for this story has been slipping away. Please excuse me while I play around with my writing style here and see if I can't bring some polish back into this hot mess.
"Master Dooku, a word?" Vokara clipped the tension with opportune timing. She watched Ben, Anakin, and Dooku in turn, eyes betraying nothing and suspecting everything.
"Yes?" Yan turned toward her with half the smile of before, corners of his mouth and his cape communicating displeasure at the interruption. If the message affected Vokara in the slightest, it was only evident in the coolness of her riposte:
"I have some paperwork for you, if you care to step into my office."
"Ah." Even the most distinguished members of the Order were not immune to the wiles of departmental bureaucracy. "Of course." Dooku's silky brown cloak swished dispassionately as he followed Vokara away from the scene. The bass echoes of his questions rumbled in Ben's chest, but he could not comprehend their meaning.
Filling the lacuna where Dooku had burned through spacetime, Qui-Gon watched Ben like a man watching a bomb.
"Ben?" He asked, experimental and wary.
Digging his way through the smog of recurrent horror, Ben locked eyes with his master. "What is he doing here?" He spat. Qui-Gon's face flinched in disapproval.
"Running an errand, apparently," the master gestured to a space behind Ben's shoulder. "Or didn't you know?"
Ben turned about and was suddenly reminded.
Anakin was hunched over, restless fingers picking at the flimsi sheet covering the examination table. His chubby toddler legs were bare-footed and swinging, heels hitting the topmost drawer with a soft thud, thud, thud.
The same senses that had once taught Anakin to tug on his mother's necklace now told him to look up. He stopped kicking his heels. Two grownups were watching him, one taller and hairier and more imposing than the other – but it was his nondescript companion that pulled at Anakin's attentions.
The boy's grasp of spatial realities was nascent and imperfect, but something in his three-year-old mind understood that this unimpressive grownup was a paradox of the highest order. Anakin cocked his head to the side, instinctively harkening the inborn guide that whispered a mystery in his ear: the smaller man was special. He was just a man on the outside, but inside, he was a galaxy. Anakin squinted hard, thinking he might see constellations.
"Hello there," the galaxy man said. There were crinkles by his eyes that reminded him of his mother.
"'Lo," He said back.
"I doubt you remember me, but you and I met years ago, when you were younger." Anakin thought to himself that he would've tried his best to remember this man, if they had indeed met. But it having been so very long ago, hopefully the man would understand.
"I don't 'member."
The lines around the man's mouth reminded him of his mother, too. "No, I wouldn't think so. I'm Master Ben," He said, and held out his hand in the way that grownups did to each other sometimes. Anakin wasn't sure if he was allowed to reply in kind, so he wrung his hands uncertainly in his lap, shoulders squashing up against his cheeks.
"Mmamakin," he mumbled, senses distracted by the vastness of the hand held out in front of him.
Ben chuckled, and said with very soft voice, "It's good to meet you, Anakin."
Anakin looked up at the man's face again and could no longer see a galaxy; he only saw the lines of his mother's kindness and a beard whose soft edges plucked at undefined thoughts of home. He blinked in rapt consideration.
"Good meet you," he muttered, eyes lost. His attention wandered and he noticed the second adult, the tall and hairy one, watching him too. "Hi," He said, hands still in lap. The tall man's face sported even more kind lines than the galaxy man's did; it put Anakin immediately at ease.
"Hello there, little one," the speaker came over. Anakin thought that this new man could've been a giant, and he almost asked if he was one. "Welcome to the Jedi Order, little brother."
Mention of the Jedi made Anakin's heart ache for his mother, whom he'd cried over for half of his trip here, but the new moniker kept him from dwelling on his grief. He'd never had a brother. He'd asked for one once while he was at market with his mother, but she'd refused to buy him one, for reasons he still didn't understand. The idea of having this man as a brother struck him as humorous, and he giggled.
"You're really big," he said. Both of the grownups smiled.
"I suppose I am, from your point of view," the tall brother said through a chuckle, "My name is Master Qui-Gon,"
"Mm'amakin," he repeated for Master Qui-Gon's sake. Master Qui-Gon bowed.
"It is good to meet you, Anakin."
"You're big too," Anakin said to Master Ben, "Big inside."
Ben chuckled. "How do you mean?"
"Here," Anakin reached out as far as he could to poke Ben's chest. "'ou're bigger than look,"
Anakin did not register the astonished silence that passed between Ben and Qui-Gon, nor did he understand the questioning look that the taller man sent to his shorter companion. Ben's smile made Anakin think that maybe, the man knew that he was bigger on the inside.
He would've smiled in glee to have correctly guessed the secret, but his mood evaporated when Master Dooku stepped back into the room. Anakin began frowning without realizing it, watching the man venture back toward the newly introduced group with the twi'lek doctor.
"Are you quite sure?" The old man was saying, "When I ran the test earlier, it was… well, it was unprecedented. Unlike anything I've ever seen."
"And for good reason, Master; it was a glitch. Those pocket medkits are notoriously unreliable in this respect. It was faulty equipment, or a poor sample. Whatever the case, I've run the tests twice today and I assure, you," Vokara came to stand by them and Anakin wondered why she eyed Master Ben in such a mean way, "young Skywalker's midichlorians are quite within reason."
"Yes," Yan said, nodding and watching Anakin with a piercing gaze, "yes, of course."
Something in that gaze felt sharper than empty space, and Anakin subconsciously began to lean away from the silver-haired Jedi.
A reassuring hand appeared on Anakin's shoulder, and he was surprised and relieved in equal measure to see that it belonged to Master Ben. He followed the hand up to look at Ben's face, hoping to see the lines of home again, but Ben was busy glaring at Master Dooku. Master Qui-Gon was looking back and forth between them. Anakin never had understood the unpredictable attentions of adults, so he decided the safest course of action was to pick at the fabric in his new tunic and ignore them.
"I suppose you will be leaving again, Master," Qui-Gon said, choosing to redirect the tension where it could not be diffused.
Dooku raised an inquisitor's brow at his former apprentice. The muscles in Qui-Gon's jaw jumped, tendons in his neck tensing this way and that like tethers shaking in a storm. A silent battle of wills was declared, waged, and ended in a draw within a matter of seconds. Reduced to the role of bystander, Ben realized that he'd never actually seen his master interact with his grandmaster. It was somehow even more uncomfortable that he'd imagined.
"You always were quick to be rid of me, Qui-Gon," Dooku accused in an aristocratic air. "I thought I might stay awhile. I've been away from the temple too long. I'd like to see Master Yoda again – and investigate the legitimacy of his claim that I have a new grandpadawan, and have for what is not an inconsiderable number of years." He folded his arms serenely into opposite sleeves - a politic expression of displeasure. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Qui-Gon crossed his arms bluntly, an ordinary expression of displeasure. "I did not think you would care to know."
"You did not think," Dooku truncated. Makashi was a form of conservation and a vicious offense. "Years pass and nothing chances." Ben was not so shocked by the barb, but he felt physically struck when Qui-Gon said nothing to deflect it. "Of course I would like to know. I'd like to meet him. You'll have imparted the worst already, it is my duty to assess the damage."
Qui-Gon's arms tightened against each other, hand closest to his saber twitching on impulse.
"My nephew's talents are developing quite admirably, Master Dooku," Ben broke into the family reunion as tactfully as he could. "You will find that Qui-Gon's teaching has been quite salutary."
Qui-Gon's shoulders eased somewhat and silent gratitude floated over the seldom-used bond between he and his old apprentice.
"Nephew?" said Dooku in surprise. "Families with such gifted progeny are blessed indeed – now I must meet him." He appraised Ben with a new light in his eye. "Does your family have a history in this Order, Master Kenobi?"
"Not to my knowledge," Ben replied. "A coincidence."
"Hmm. More's the pity."
Behind them, Anakin yawned hugely and tugged on Ben's tunic.
"Yes, little one?"
The boy rubbed his eyes. "Wan' my mom," he muttered. Ben shared a saddened look with Vokara, who'd been finishing up Anakin's paperwork on her datapad. Her fingers rushed through the final touches.
"I think it is time to introduce young Skywlaker to his crèche master," She decided out loud. "Naptime is upon us. I apologize, masters, I must ask you to take your conversation elsewhere." The healer moved to take Anakin from the tall table, but the boy's hand was still on Ben's tunic. Ben turned without hesitation and gathered the boy in his arms. "I'll walk there with you," he told Vokara. Unable to protest, she shrugged and collected her things.
"A good day to you, Master Kenobi, young Skywalker," Dooku glanced over them both, but his eyes lingered on Anakin with special interest. "I look forward to meeting you again."
"Of course, Master Dooku. It was good to meet you." Ben disposed of the pleasantries as politely as he could. He held Anakin on the hip furthest away from Dooku. "Master Jinn," He nodded as they passed.
Qui-Gon rarely communicated with Ben via their old bond. However, as Ben scurried past Dooku with Anakin Skywalker on his hip, Qui-Gon made a concession. Eyes boring into the back of Ben's head, he summoned every iota of frustration that he felt and packed it into a mental command:
"We will have words."
Ben cast a look over his shoulder and Qui-Gon was gratified to see a considerable amount of contrition there. Behind him, Dooku loomed.
"Walk with me, Qui-Gon," the master began strolling down the hall, not waiting for an answer.
Qui-Gon's silent resistance was strong but futile. "Of course, master," He grit his teeth and fell into step.
Vokara snuck looks at Anakin as they walked, and couldn't help but smile. He'd begun their journey with his head swiveling around to take in the sights of the temple, but now it rested at the root of Ben's neck, hand fisted in the fabric at his collarbone.
"Don't fall asleep yet, Anakin," Ben told him. "Don't you want to meet your crèche master?"
"I wan my mom," He whined sleepily. Ben refused to coddle the boy, but put a hand on his back and exuded a suggestion of peace.
"Just this way," Vokara pointed. When they arrived in the crèche, Anakin perked up again, senses piqued at the bustling concentration of his agemates. He peeked over Ben's shoulder as a mirialan girl was walking across the hallway behind them. She waved at him. He tentatively waved back.
"Here we are," Vokara announced. She knocked on the doorframe softly.
"Master Zyrha?"
"Just a moment," called a deep alto voice. A moment later, a tall selonian female ducked under the doorway. "Ah, you've brought young Skywalker. Hello there, Anakin," she grinned, rows of sharp teeth showing below the arcs of her whiskers.
Anakin was awestruck. He'd never seen anyone quite like Master Zyrha; which is to say he'd seen anyone covered in fur with a whiskered snout who stood a full seven feet tall. He shrunk against Ben's chest, eyes wide and watching the newcomer with fascinated alarm.
Zyrha chuckled. "You've never seen a selonian Jedi before, now have you?"
"I believe he's never seen a selonian at all, Master," Vokara smiled. "He grew up on Alderaan."
Zyrha chuckled. "Ah, a beautiful world, with beautiful talent. Don't be frightened, child, feel, use your senses." She reached out a forearm and let Anakin feel the soft, slick fur there. He smiled at the sensation. "There now, that's not so bad, is it?"
"You're soft," Anakin decided. "And really tall."
Zyrha nodded sagely, smile hidden by whiskers. "A keen observer. Come. The Wolf clan is anxious to meet their new brother."
"Never had a broder," Anakin said as they followed Zyrha inside the room. The giant Jedi clapped her paws together. It made little sound, but a silent signal shot out through the Force. Twelve heads of various species turned on their respective anatomies to look at the crèche master.
"Younglings," Zyrha announced to her brood, "we are welcoming a member today." Ben lowered Anakin to the ground and nudged him forward. He was too busy taking in the sight of everyone to protest. "This is Anakin Skywalker. Anakin, welcome to the Wolf Clan, your new Jedi family."
The younglings bowed to their new member, the elder more expertly than their younger counterparts. A chorus of polite greetings ran about the room, and Ben couldn't keep from smiling. He wondered how many times Zyrha had made the littlest ones practice.
Anakin tugged on Ben's trouser leg, and the master bent over to harken to him. "Why are they bowing?" the boy whispered.
"It is how we greet each other," Ben whispered back. "It's a way of saying hello."
"Oh," Anakin said. He thought for a moment, and then clumsily bowed back. "Hi," he said to the group. Then, as only children can, the Wolf clan grouped about their new member to ask questions, make introductions, and comment on the innocent differences of species. Before long, Anakin was smiling.
Vokara was imparting Anakin's records to Zyrha. "He's still very young. Only just shy of four standard. We thought it might be more expedient to move him straight into the initiate dorms."
"Yes, of course," Zyrha took the datapad from Vokara with interest. "I sense he will do well here. My oath," the selonian exclaimed, pointing a claw at a line of paperwork. "Truly?"
"Yes, he's quite gifted," Vokara said, eyeing the fake midichlorian count and then Ben Kenobi, who was watching Anakin and lost in memory. "I'm sure he will do quite well here."
"As the Force wills, I daresay. Thank you, Master Che." She turned back to the room. Younglings," She signaled her charges again, and they attended amid excited distraction. "Let us make a circle and introduce Anakin to our clan properly."
"We will leave you to it," Vokara smiled. As the younglings rearranged themselves into their learning circle, an older initiate came over to help Anakin find a spot on the cushioned floor. However, the newest member suddenly noticed that Ben was leaving.
"Madster," the boy tore his hand from that of his new clanmate, untrained anxiety radiating across the Force and earning him a series of compassionate looks. He rushed to the door.
Ben turned and crouched in a waterfall of brown so he could meet Anakin eye to eye. "Where are you going?" Anakin grabbed insecurely at Ben's cloak.
"Not far. I have work to do, just as all Jedi do."
"Oh," said Anakin. He glanced back at Master Zyrha, who was speaking softly to her crèche while they waited for Anakin to rejoin them. "Will you come back?" He begged.
Ben could make no promises, but he had to be honest – with Anakin and with himself. "Of course. But you ought to have a chance to get to know your new home for yourself. Go on. Best not keep your crèche master waiting."
Anakin was unsure of how he felt about master Zyrha being his master, but… he glanced at her, still in awe of her height and her fur and her wickedly sharp teeth. She smiled kindly at him, soft ears folded against her head. "Go on," Ben prodded again.
Anakin shuffled away uncertainly and Ben finished extricating his cloak from the boy's grip. "May the Force be with you, Anakin," Ben said.
"May va Force…" Anakin struggled to pronounce the phrase, which Master Dooku had tried to teach him on their journey. He forgot the words anyway. "Bye," He amended. Ben chuckled.
As Vokara and Ben strolled out of the crèche, they could hear master Zyrha speaking in soft tones about change, the value of community, how the Force binds Jedi together across the galaxy. Ben tried to let himself be soothed by the sound.
Hands folded into opposite sleeves, Vokara sidled up to Ben with a stern expression. "Master Dooku reported his midichlorians were over twenty thousand," she hissed under her breath.
"Faulty equipment, I thought." Ben feigned indifference, focusing on the burbling sound of fountains and children laughing.
"Damnit, Ben," Vokara swerved away from a passing master and waited until they were out of earshot to say, "if those readings are true, he won't be able to hide it for long. He'll be too powerful to help it."
"Yes, he will be." A statement, not speculation. Vokara glared at him long enough to for her brow to wilt from anger into worry.
"When he does, Dooku will take notice. Of that, I promise you."
Ben clenched his jaw, and made himself focus on the fountains and children.
Later that evening, Qui-Gon let himself in to Ben's apartments, a cloud of ill mood and temper rolling in his wake. Ben looked up from where he'd been cleaning dishes.
"Evening," He greeted, ambiguous tone fading into dread as the steely brow and tense shoulders came into focus.
"Sit down," Qui-Gon ordered, taking the half-dried dishes from Ben's hands. Nonplussed, Ben stepped out of the kitchen to watch his former master flick away the flatware with entirely inappropriate, flippant uses of the Force. He did not sit down, and crossed his arms instead.
"Something on your mind, Qui-Gon?" He asked.
Qui-Gon shut the cabinet door and let his hand stay there, taking three deep breaths and staring at the wall. Ben bit his lip; he'd overdone it.
"Yan Dooku will not interfere with Obi-Wan's training. I won't let him."
Ben raised his brows. "I see."
"You knew he was coming here?"
"I knew someone was picking up Anakin to bring him to the temple, I had no idea who. Master Yoda did."
"Of course he did." Qui-Gon had managed to calm down enough to toss a handful of tea leaves into their pot. "That troll never tells me anything."
"Nor I."
"Nor you him, I imagine," Qui-Gon spat, and instantly wished he could take it back. Ben said nothing of the insult and nothing when his master gave a quiet, "I'm sorry." Qui-Gon stopped to breath deeply again. "You know Master Dooku?"
There was no safe way to answer that. Ben opened his mouth, a partial truth composing itself on the tip of his tongue. Qui-Gon saw it before it arrived. He sighed. "I take that as a yes."
Ben let the breath out. "From a certain point of view." He helped Qui-Gon fetch tea bowls and accessories and bring them to the sitting room. "I never actually met him while I was your apprentice."
"Really?" Despite his anger, Qui-Gon seemed genuinely struck. "That surprises me."
"It surprises me that the same will not be true for Obi-Wan."
"Hmm," Qui-Gon stared at the tea, as if he could make it steep faster through sheer force of will. "I do not intend to let them know each other well."
Without a cup to gaze pensively down into, Ben sufficed with clasped hands and a trained expression. "You and Master Dooku do not get along well."
"You should know that already."
"Anecdotally, yes. I'd never seen you two interact before." Qui-Gon stammered through the tea ritual, bereft of characteristic grace. Ben watched him. He wanted to ask the obvious questions, the ones he'd never had opportunity to raise in his youth; what had happened between Dooku and Qui-Gon? What had driven Dooku from the Order? Where had the path of the Count begun all those years ago?
Qui-Gon's hands fumbled against hot porcelain and he cursed under his breath. Ben decided to hold his tongue. There would be a better time.
"Who is Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked, changing the subject. Now it was Ben put on the spot. He looked up from the tea tray to find Qui-Gon staring him down with a sharp eye. "You obviously know him."
Ben hesitated. There were so many facets of destiny encapsulated in that question, and even more within any possible answer. Who was Anakin? He was the Chosen One. He was Ben's apprentice - former apprentice. He was the boy whom Qui-Gon had championed over him. He was the boy who'd shared their old apartment when Qui-Gon's ashes were still crumbling. He was his brother and his friend. He was the instigator of the fallen universe that had chewed him up and spit him back out. He was the one who had, in one fell swoop, sent him here.
A hurricane of memory flew past Ben's eyes and left him staring at his tea.
"He was many things, before," Ben smoothed over the unwoven threads of time and tried to imagine how they would be rebraided. "He might not be any of them, now. But…" Which could be good and bad. Cords of forbidden attachment tugged at his heart. "I would like to see it through regardless."
"I see," Qui-Gon said, which both of them knew was a lie. Their gazes met and they stared back at each other for several long beats. Eventually, the furrows in Ben's brow softened and he looked down.
"He was my apprentice."
It was not what Qui-Gon had expected to hear. He poured their tea to fill the silence. Eventually, he said "But… he's so young."
Ben couldn't help the paternal spark in his smile. He gave a small smile. "Yes. I never knew him this young." He took his cup of tea and watch the steam curl.
"I meant Obi-Wan." Ben looked up. Qui-Gon's expression was a confluence of surprise and sudden anxiety. "How old were you?"
"Twenty-four."
"How old were you when you were knighted?"
Ben bit his lip. "Twenty-four."
Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows and sat back, turning this new information over in his mind, pinning them against memories of older discussions, discussions of death and trials and knighthood. The timeline was clipped at an alarming pace.
Cocooned in the darkness of the evening and safe familiarity of his master's presence, Ben felt compelled to explain further. "You were the one who'd found him last time. You wanted to train him yourself. But when you…" he hesitated, fumbling on the word he still couldn't muster between them. "I made you a promise."
Qui-Gon frowned at the unspoken. "He was the boy. The one I abandoned you for." The latent sadness bred by adversity surfaced, new light evolving it into something deeper. "You took him on for me?"
Ben's face precluded the need for a verbal reply. He set down his tea bowl and said softly, "Things do not happen the same way twice, Qui-Gon. Not anymore."
"No," replied the master, feeling very old.
Silence was not unwelcome. They poured second cups of tea in melancholy companionship, their disparate histories pulling at the corners of their awareness like lines on a wrinkled sheet. Ben shook it out with thoughts of change.
"Dooku is interested in him too, now."
"He is." Qui-Gon drank deeply. "He asked not a few questions about him. I suppose I should be grateful for my ignorance, I wasn't able to indulge him." He caught Ben's eye with a cautionary look. "I would advise against letting Dooku getting too close. He is… not an entirely wholesome individual."
"Oh, believe me, I know." Ben's voice was low and drawn from the well of bitter experience. But how could that experience come to bear on the here and now? How could the vagaries of the now and never-were coexist, even around a figure like Dooku? Moreover, how could he possibly prepare?
"But things never happen the same way twice," He repeated. Qui-Gon was watching him, and Ben looked up again to meet his gaze. They looked at each other, each man equally as lost as the other, one in the past and one in the impossible future.
"Well," Qui-Gon said, setting down the last of his temper and drained tea leaves at once. "However things happen this time around, I should like to help you see it through, Force willing."
Ben's smile dispelled thoughts of Dooku for a brief respite. "I would be honored, master."
