"But over all things brooding slept
The quiet sense of something lost."
- Tennyson
Chapter 6 Coruscant
Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, surveying his recovering Padawan, and basking in the bright glow of his Force-presence. It was the second time Obi-Wan had been awake since his ordeal on Tatooine. After a few hours in the Temple surgery and several more in a bacta tank, he had woken the night before: cogent enough to give a report on the Darksider, but still weak and woozy; stuck on his back but too tired to care.
But a full night's sleep seemed to have done wonders for the young man. This morning, Qui-Gon found him awake enough to read and strong enough to sit upright (though he was propped up on a big pile of pillows). The light had returned to the young man's eyes and his skin was regaining its normal color (fortunately, the bacta had also healed his sunburns). Obi-Wan's Force signature, which Qui-Gon had barely been able to sense in the Nubian's medbay (even through their bond it had been faint and fuzzy), was strong and bright once more.
Qui-Gon thanked the Force that Obi-Wan was at least physically on the mend. Internal bleeding, several fractured bones (and two broken ribs), as well as a multitude of lacerations and bruises were nothing to scoff at on the Outer Rim. They had been parsecs away from a decent med center, even without the assassin on their trail. If it hadn't been for that stasis pod on the Nubian ship, Obi-Wan would be dead right now.
"What did the Council say?" Obi-Wan asked without looking up from his book.
"Who said anything about the Council?" Qui-Gon asked with a slightly raised eyebrow, bringing his attention to the present.
The younger Jedi looked up, quirking his lips with mischief. "You only tense up after a meeting with the full Council. And you are only this tense when you disagree with them on something."
Qui-Gon tilted his head in acknowledgement of his Padawan's logic, before entering the room fully. The automatic door whizzed shut behind him, closing out the sounds of rushing Healers and other patients. He made his way over to the comfortable chair that had been dragged to the side of Obi-Wan's bed the night before and relaxed into it. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, idly wondering why all hospital chairs were so small.
"I told you last night that the Queen had brought her plea to the Senate?"
Obi-Wan thought for a moment, evidently digging through his slightly drug-hazy memories from the previous evening when he had given his report.
"You said that they moved for a vote of no confidence."
Qui-Gon nodded, "Which has lengthened the already considerable delay. Therefore, the Queen has decided that she must return to Naboo herself."
"But that's suicide!" Obi-Wan protested, sitting up fully in his bed. "The Federation will be waiting for her; she will be forced to sign their treaty!"
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at his Padawan's emotional response. He hadn't realized that Obi-Wan had bonded quite so much with the Naboo delegation, though some of the force of the response was probably a result of the painkillers. It took a moment for Obi-Wan to subside back down and settle back into the bed, his temper back under control. The master felt his apprentice release his emotions to the Force. When his apprentice was calmer, the Jedi Master continued.
"Which is why the Council thinks it prudent to send me back with the delegation. Especially in light of the Force sensitive you battled on Tatooine."
"And I will not be accompanying you," Obi-Wan frowned.
Qui-Gon shook his head. "We leave tomorrow morning."
"And I am not allowed out of here until tomorrow afternoon—and I still have two weeks of physical therapy after that."
Qui-Gon was almost as unhappy about that fact as Obi-Wan was. He regretted having to leave his still-injured Padawan, especially while he was still so on edge about his failure to stop the Darksider on Tatooine. The fact that one of his companions had died at the time just added to Obi-Wan's self-imposed burden.
But the very fact that Obi-Wan had lost to the Darksider was a cause for Qui-Gon's concern. Obi-Wan was an advanced swordsman and would be a master of the art in the future. Qui-Gon was not comfortable with the thought of facing this creature on his own.
But it was both the will of the Force and the order of the Council that he return to Naboo. No matter how much he wished to stay, he wouldn't.
The silence stretched out as both men sank into their thoughts. Finally, it was Qui-Gon who broke it.
"There's something else, Padawan."
"There's always something else, Master," Obi-Wan responded drily.
"Yes, well, I believe you will not find this one as unpleasant as most something else's are."
"Promising."
Qui-Gon hid a smirk.
"It's about Anakin."
Obi-Wan froze. "What about him?" Qui-Gon watched him closely, noting the deep frown that creased the usually calm face and how he shifted deeper into his pillows. Hiding.
"You recall last night, when I told you that the Queen offered to take Anakin as a Ward of Naboo?"
Obi-Wan nodded, sensing there was something else involved.
"The Queen believes, and I agree, that the boy cannot go to Naboo yet. That kind of fighting so close to the death of his mother on top of the actual, physical danger…."
Qui-Gon watched the realization dawn on his Padawan's face before it shuddered closed. "You want him to stay here with me. You want me to keep an eye on him."
The graying head tipped in acquiescence. "Only until the Queen stabilizes the planet. Then, he will be escorted to Naboo."
"That seems…sensible. But," Obi-Wan's face settled into its diplomat facade. "Anakin's mother was just murdered. I am not sure I'm the most qualified person to keep an eye on a grieving, hyper-active, hyper-intelligent child. Especially not now," he added, gesturing to his still recovering body.
Qui-Gon knew that those objections weren't the root of Obi-Wan's concern, but they were the easiest parts to address. The real problem, Obi-Wan's overwhelming sense of failure and guilt, would be best addressed by Anakin himself.
The plan to have Anakin stay with Obi-Wan wasn't just for Anakin's sake.
"Padawan," Qui-Gon said sternly. "If I had any doubts about your ability to take care of this pathetic life form, I would not suggest leaving him under your care."
Obi-Wan pursed his lips but stayed silent, his eyes averted.
The Jedi Master continued, shifting into his lecture mode, "You tutor a number of Initiates and Junior Padawans in various subjects, and they all greatly respect you. Most importantly, you are the only person, other than Padme, that Anakin trusts. Of those two, you are the only one available."
Obi-Wan stared at the blanket that covered his legs, clearly resisting the urge to pick at the pills that dotted it.
"What does Anakin say about it?"
"He has not been told the specifics yet. But considering how often the Queen says he has been begging to come visit you, I doubt he would have a problem." In reality, the Naboo had told him that Anakin had hardly spoken since his arrival on Coruscant, but Obi-Wan didn't need to know that.
"And the Council doesn't object?"
"What the Council doesn't know won't hurt them," he said offhandedly.
"Master!"
The Force danced with Qui-Gon's amusement over his Padawan's rule abiding habits. "I'm kidding, Obi-Wan. I spoke with both Mace and Master Yoda. We have off-the-record permission for you to keep an eye on him until Naboo is reclaimed."
"It sounds like you plan to leave him here no matter what I say," Obi-Wan replied, mock despair coating his words.
"I knew you'd agree, Padawan!" Qui-Gon said, leaning forward slightly and patting Obi-Wan's forearm.
Only years of Jedi training kept Obi-Wan from giving in to the juvenile impulse to stick his tongue out at his master.
The dreams were always the same: he was tumbling and falling, watching the sky flip down under the rising sand. Feeling his mom's weight on his back, feeling her ragged exhale—and never feeling her inhale. He relived that moment every night on the trip to Coruscant.
Sometimes he dreamed about the Blackness that rolled off the man in the desert or the terrified look on his mother's dead face. Sometimes, he dreamed when he was awake, sitting on the floor of the med-bay or standing next to the pilot's chair in the cockpit. He would feel himself faze out. Sometimes he'd come back holding back a shout. Other times he would have tears on his face and his eyes would burn like there was sand in them.
It was happening right now. He knew he was on his way to the Jedi Temple, but he could taste the sand, feel his mother's last breath, smell the fear.
He didn't snap out of it until the air-taxi jolted to a stop beneath him.
"Anakin? Come on, kid, we're here."
He let the air out of his lungs with a puff—he hadn't realized that he'd been holding his breath. He bottled up the rage-sorrow in his throat, letting it settle back in his stomach.
Anakin turned to face handmaiden and nodded at her. Her name was Ninte, and she was nice, even if she was bossy. The two climbed out of the air-taxi. While Ninte talked to the driver and asked him to wait, Anakin opened the trunk and began to wrestle his new suitcase out. He didn't make much headway by himself 'cause it was really heavy (Padme's friends liked clothes a lot), but Ninte appeared over his shoulder. Between the two of them, they managed to lever it out. Anakin took one end, Ninte held the other. The slight exertion pulled him entirely out of his dream.
Suddenly aware of his surroundings, Anakin paused to see where he was. Not that it was hard to figure out—the ginormous Temple was impossible to miss. Bigger than the entire settlement back home, grander than the embassy where Padme was staying, the Temple soared up and up. Anakin's feet wouldn't move as his eyes traced the structure, glinting in the late morning sun.
"Anakin!" Ninte chided, breaking him from his thoughts. She had a smile on her face though. "Come on! I know it's huge, but you'll have plenty of time to explore with Padawan Kenobi while you're here. We need to keep going."
Anakin nodded, snapping his mouth closed. He followed his escort across the Temple Plaza, dodging gawking tourists. Instead of heading towards the enormous main gate, Ninte tugged Anakin off to the side, towards a much smaller door that was discretely situated behind a column.
"Master Jinn told us to use this door," she explained. She set down her end of the suitcase and activated the intercom. It buzzed. "I come on behalf of the Naboo embassy. I am here to leave Anakin Skywalker in the care of Padawan Kenobi."
There was a long pause. Anakin worried that they had come to the wrong place until a pleasant voice answered, "Of course! We've been expecting you, indeed! One moment…" The door unlocked. Ninte took up her end of the case and nudged the door open. Anakin warily followed her inside.
It was dim inside and it took a moment for Anakin's eyes to adjust from glitter of the street. Slowly, a wide humanoid came into view, dressed in the same kind of weird clothes that Obi-Wan wore.
"I am Ninte Acapia. This is Anakin Skywalker."
"A pleasure to meet both of you, indeed, it is. I am known as Master Aln," the stranger introduced himself.
Anakin took an instinctive step back at the title, though neither of his companions seemed to notice.
Master Aln continued, "Will you be accompanying your charge, Miss Acapia, to his destination? Padawan Kenobi is still in in the Halls of Healing."
Ninte frowned, setting down her end of the suitcase. "Thank you, Master Aln, but I'm afraid I can't stay." She turned to Anakin, resting an apologetic hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Anakin, but I'm running late already. The Queen is waiting for me. Will you be alright by yourself?"
Anakin didn't understand why people asked for his opinion when they had already decided what they were going to do.
"I'll be alright." His voice felt scratchy, but it was enough to draw a wan smile from the handmaiden.
Hugging him, she replied, "Be safe, Anakin. And I will see you when Naboo is safe!" She ruffled his hair, nodded politely at the Jedi, and disappeared into the glittery sunlight before Anakin could even begin to say goodbye.
He stared after her, fear burbling quietly in his stomach. I wish I could stay with Padme and her friends. They were nice and they took care of me after—After. And now they're going away and leaving me, leaving me all alone, leaving me behind just like Mo—
"Well, youngling…" Aln abruptly interrupted Anakin's thoughts. "Let's leave your bag here, shall we? One of the Padawans will make sure that it gets up to young Kenobi's apartment. Follow me, right this way, and I'll take you to the Halls of Healing."
Anakin hesitated. He was uncomfortable leaving his stuff with strangers, but the suitcase was too heavy to carry by himself. Reluctantly, he opened the case (making sure to hide the contents from Master Aln) and removed the small bag he'd packed way back Tatooine. It contained all his real important things. Swinging it over his shoulder, he left the larger suitcase where the Jedi indicated.
Master Aln gestured again. Reluctantly, Anakin followed him deeper into the unknown.
The Temple was just as big inside as it was outside, bright with lots of windows and a mess of confusing doors and corridors. They passed a number of Jedi. None of them said more than a polite greeting to Anakin and his guide, though a few of the younger ones paused to bow. Anakin was torn between discomfort and jealousy-he wanted people to think he was powerful, he wanted people bowing to him—
Maybe if I get strong like that, I can make sure Padme and Obi-Wan and people don't die like...like Mom again. Maybe I can stop the man-in-black from hurting people again, make him hurt like he hurt me...
The thought carried him to the Halls of Healing. Anakin observed his new surroundings skeptically. It was just a large white space, shot through with sterile walls and anchored by cluttered desk set in the middle of the branched network of corridors. Aln made a bee-line for the desk. Anakin hung back. The whole area felt clean in a way he had never felt before, clean and orderly. It was kind of uncomfortable.
A hand descended on his shoulder, making Anakin jump out of his skin and as far away from the surprise contact as possible. He didn't like being touched by strangers. With almost comical slowness, Master Aln's serene face melted into a frown at the reaction.
"I am sorry, young Anakin. Indeed, I did not intend to frighten you so."
Anakin gave a tight nod. Unease granted him boldness. "Do ya know where Obi-Wan is then?" he demanded.
"Padawan Kenobi?" the emphasis on the title was not subtle. "Indeed. He is just down this hallway, second door on the left—"
The child didn't wait to hear any more—better to ask forgiveness than permission—he darted off to the destination by himself, hoping Aln wouldn't follow.
With only a rough education, Anakin could just sound out the Basic alphabet enough to verify that the second door on the left was indeed Obi-Wan Kenobi's. But then, his boldness deserted him.
What if Obi-Wan isn't getting better like he's supposed to? What if he is angry at me for not being strong enough during the fight? Worse, what if he is disappointed or—
He had said goodbye to his master earlier that morning, before Qui-Gon had left for the Naboo embassy. The man had stopped by Obi-Wan's infirmary room, mug of morning tea still in hand, for their usual brusque goodbye routine.
Both men were fairly reserved by nature, so though sincere in their sentiments, their goodbyes not sentimental. Besides, they had undergone numerous of leave takings over the last ten years. When Obi-Wan had been younger, his master had left alone to take care of some of the more particular missions, and, more recently, it had been Obi-Wan who had been going off, heading out on solo missions to prepare for his upcoming Trials.
And as a Human male in his twenties, Obi-Wan looked forward to being without his Master's constant presence. It was unbelievably nice to have an opportunity, however brief, to exercise his own judgment.
Which was why, instead of working on his assigned reading, he was currently reading a novel for fun. In fact, he was just getting to the part where the adventurer got shipwrecked on a deserted planet when he felt a tug from the Force; there was a small yet potent disruption outside of his door.
Obi-Wan frowned. The Force-signature was a water-blurred image of the bold signature he'd seen on Tatooine, but it was recognizable.
Anakin.
I'm not prepared for this! I don't know how to care for someone like Anakin—this is going to end badly. Why is he so hesitant to come in? Does he blame me for getting is mother killed? How long has been standing there? What's wrong? Just open the door and find out. Open the door!
With a deep breath and a flick of the Force, the door swooshed open, revealing a pale and weary version of the Anakin Skywalker Obi-Wan had seen (from his point of view) only two days ago.
From Anakin's point of view, it had been over week.
From the bags under the child's eyes and the pale cast under his tan, it looked like it had been longer. Much longer.
There was a long pause. The door closed by itself.
"You don't look too good," was the first thing out of Anakin's mouth.
"Hello to you too, Anakin." Jedi's voice was dry, but his heart was lightened at the fact that even a grieving Anakin was still Anakin.
Anakin who had again missed the sarcasm."I thought they were supposed to be making you better here? 'cause you really don't look good."
"They're healers. They make you feel worse."
Anakin raised a skeptical eyebrow. "The one who came and saw me yesterday was nice. She gave me candy."
Silence threatened to settle. Unlike the ones that kept them company on Tatooine, this one was awkward, laced with all of the things they wanted to avoid. To keep the silence at bay, Obi-Wan launched into a conversation about nothing, working to draw Anakin out of his shell. It was difficult though. Anakin was darker and more reluctant to talk than he'd been in the junk shop, and there were important topics to avoid, like Ms. Skywalker and Naboo.
Still, Obi-Wan's years as a diplomat were not wasted and he skillfully kept the silence at bay all morning. Healers bustled in and out of the room, conducting last minute tests. One of the younger healers brought them lunch. There were a few more last minute checks after lunch followed by a long lecture on taking care of the wounds and following the healers instructions. But that was it. Armed with his new physical therapy schedule, Obi-Wan was set free.
He was looking forward to a quiet walk to his apartment followed by a nice shower.
The walk was not quiet. Anakin, in his typical unpredictable way, suddenly found his voice. Now that he had a guide he was comfortable with, he began to poke into corners, open doors, and ask questions that he only half wanted answers to. Anakin's curiosity was insatiable. With his sore leg and injured ribs, it was almost impossible to herd the child along.
Finally, they reached the corridor where the Jinn/Kenobi residence was situated. Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. Anakin took off running down the hallway, searching for the right apartment. His small pack thunked against his back.
Obi-Wan was too tired to chide Anakin for running indoors. He also didn't think it would work even if he tried.
"Wizard! I found it!" Anakin shouted. Then he paused. "It's right here, isn't it?" he called down the hallway.
Obi-Wan waited until he was slightly closer to his friend. "It was never lost. And no shouting! Master Kwon next door is nocturnal…which means he's trying to sleep right now," he added, seeing Anakin's confused face. "You'll wake him up if you're too loud. And, you can go in you know."
"It's not locked?"
Obi-Wan frowned. "Not many apartments are locked in the Temple." He waved his hand at the door mechanism. "Go ahead, open it up," he added as he caught up to his spry companion.
Eager, Anakin swiped the sensor and darted through the door before it had opened properly.
"This is so wizard!"
Obi-Wan peeked through the open doorway in time to see Anakin disappear into the kitchen for a moment and then pop back out.
"You actually live here?" he paused just long enough to ask before returning to his exploration. Obi-Wan followed him into the apartment.
"Yes. Me and my master. It's pretty small, just the kitchen, the living room, bedrooms down the hallway…" Obi-Wan gestured towards each room in turn, "the bathroom and the balcony. 's not much." But its home.
"Does your shower use water? Padme's used water. I'd never seen a shower like that before…."
Carefully, the Jedi eased himself onto his favorite corner on the couch, mindful of his injuries. Breath hissed out as his stressed muscles relaxed. Out of the way, he let Anakin explore the small space. He settled in to think, letting the child's rambling commentary wash over him.
"This place is so wizard! I mean, Padme's apartment was way fancier and stuff, but I think I like this one better…"
What are we going to eat for dinner tonight? I don't feel like going to the cafeteria tonight and having to explain Anakin. I hope there's food in the cupboards…is Anakin allergic to anything? What if I feed him something he's allergic to?
"…is this a cleaning droid? Oooo! What if we…"
And what if Anakin gets sick?
"...do you think we can…."
He doesn't look very healthy. Is he already sick? What do I do if he's sick? Just call a Healer? He did say that he saw a doctor yesterday. Did the Naboo notice something? Or was it just a check-up?
"…why do you have so many books?"
And what are we supposed to do all day? He's not exactly Force-sensitive, he can't meditate, no matter how badly he needs to. He can't read either, and he's too active to sit around and watch holo-vids. And I'm too injured to run around with him.
"…they actually brought up my suitcase, and no one took anything from it! I kind of wish someone had taken this shirt, though. It's really ugly..."
How long is he going to be here? And what if they can't stabilize Naboo? What happens to Anakin then?
"...Your kitchen is so big!…"
Does he blame me for his mom's death? I mean, is it going to be a problem? He seems ok now, but when this excitement wears off, he's going to crash hard.
"…I've seen something like this before! Do you mind if I take it apart?"
The threat of destruction was enough to jolt Obi-Wan back to the present. His eyes widened as they followed Anakin's outstretched finger to the HoloNet receiver. He frowned.
"No! You are not taking that apart."
Anakin huffed at him, offended. "I can put it back together. I did build a hyperspace generator, ya know."
"Yes, I know you built a generator. I was there. And yes, I know you can put it back together. But what I don't know is how long that'll take you. And I don't know about you, but I was planning on watching a holo-vid in the near future," Obi-Wan paused, out of breath as he climbed out of the comfortable spot on his couch. "I'm going to shower before my arm seizes completely. Feel free to poke around or grab something to eat from the kitchen—just don't pull apart the HoloNet box."
Anakin scowled, but didn't respond, already distracted by something else. Obi-Wan shook his head and made his retreat. After days in stasis, bacta, and surgery the young man was more than ready rinse off the sterile smell of medicine.
AN: And now that both boys are awake and in the same place, next week/next update will be our dear boys bonding a bit before everything goes to hell again. :D
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