A/N: I am so sorry for this month long delay! My only excuse is a combination of the winter bug that's going around and a strange case of writer's block. Thank you for your lovely reviews, especially those of you I couldn't PM.

Happy First Sunday of Advent!


Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune-without the words,
And never stops at all

Emily Dickinson


Chapter 14 Backsliding

Yesterday, as part of their tour, Sabe had shown them the Security Office. It was small, befitting a previously unmolested planet like Naboo, half-hidden between the much larger Palace IT Department and the Royal Communications Office. Without the tour, it would have taken him ages to find the place.

The door was half-open, so he knocked politely on the door jamb and waited for the Security Chief to notice his presence. He needed to do this quickly before Anakin finished his lessons.

Panaka looked up from his computer, a question on his face, and waved the Jedi into the room. "Jedi Kenobi. What brings you to my office?"

"Captain," Obi-Wan replied evenly. He waited until the door was closed and he had settled into the proffered seat before answering Panaka's question. "I wanted to inquire about your investigations into the death of Master Qui-Gon Jinn." Obi-Wan kept his tones formal and diplomatic, his face impassive, though with a hint of earnestness. He had to project Jedi not lost child.

Panaka leaned back with a shrug, sympathy written in the Force around him. "The Jedi teams who arrived right after the Liberation did most of the early investigative work; they took copies of everything back to Coruscant with them. As they found no evidence that the being was still on planet—between reconstruction, the Queen's upcoming trip to the Southern Hemisphere, and the missing guards…" he shook his head apologetically. "We've had more immediate priorities."

The temper Obi-Wan had battled with since childhood flared up for a second before he released it with a breath. He hadn't been able to root out the need for justice (not revenge, justice) that had burrowed its way into him after the first shock of his master's death. To discover that the Naboo were not actively pursuing the case, that they weren't even trying to apprehend the killer…his fingers twitched inside his sleeves. Obi-Wan took another calming breath, reminding himself that though it wasn't the answer he wanted it was one he could work with.

"Perhaps I could be of assistance? I have some investigative experience and my knowledge of—those involved might be useful."

He was putting the Security Chief in a difficult situation; investigations were classified and there was no legal reason to make that information available. Normally, Obi-Wan would try to avoid putting a man like Panaka in this kind of position, but an offhand comment from the Chancellor last week had reignited his need to see his master's last moments.

The man studied him and Obi-Wan held the gaze steadily, but without challenge. Finally, Panaka nodded slightly, coming to a decision.

"If you give me your word that you won't pursue any leads by yourself, I can give you copies of the security vids."

An easy promise. "You have my word."

Panaka quickly dug through the archives to the day in question, pulling records and downloading them into a small external drive. He handed it to Obi-Wan. It was heavy.

"It will only play on a palace computer," Panaka warned, "and it's set to open to your palace HoloNet code. These contain only what we could splice together from the hangar and the corridors. The reactor does strange things to holo-cameras—we couldn't get any footage from there."

Obi-Wan didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded and stood.

"Please let me know if you notice anything?" Panaka asked, standing as well.

The Jedi cleared his throat. "Of course."

The two shook hands.

A moment later, Obi-Wan left the room as quickly as he dared, shoving the drive deep into his pocket.


Senses outstretched, the Jedi waited until Anakin's bold presence faded into sleep. It was a bit earlier than Anakin's usual bedtime, but with a judicious application of the Force that hadn't been a problem.

The disk burned in his pocket as he crossed the room to the holoprojector.

He'd planned to watch the contents of the drive earlier, but Anakin had gotten out of his lessons earlier than Obi-Wan had anticipated. Instead of empty, quiet rooms, he'd returned to find Anakin camped out on the sofa, zoning out in front of the HoloNet.

Obi-Wan fished the small drive out of his pocket, and played with it absently before snapping out of his unwelcome reverie. Dimming the lights with the Force, he shoved it into the player.

Moments later the hangar appeared, a floating blue image of the real thing. Obi-Wan backed away from the device until his knees pressed against the couch; he sank back, fingers seeking purchase in the cuffs of his sleeves. A sense of…something dark settled over his shoulders before he shook it off as nerves and focused on the recording.

Holographic figures moved, some he recognized, some he didn't. His towering master was easy to spot, guarding the rear of the assault team. There was tension and fear, but everyone kept in formation, clearly confident in whatever plan they were following.

Until the man-in-black appeared.

Then Obi-Wan could practically taste the panic through the tinted hologram. His master took control and ordered the others out of the room. Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon approach the Darksider, intercepting him before he could reach the Queen. Simultaneously both Force-users dropped their bulky outer cloaks and unclipped their lightsabres in a single motion. The Zabrak launched himself over Qui-Gon, double bladed sword swinging. The Jedi had to whirl around to meet him, barely catching the red blade as it swung first towards his head and then towards his feet. There was no sound, but Obi-Wan's mind filled in the hiss of the blades and the squeak of their shoes on the polished floors. It was agony to watch as his master was herded backwards into another room, a labyrinth of catwalks. The hologram cut for an instant snapping to a new vantage point a level below the feet of the combatants.

The first time Obi-Wan watched it, all he could think was these are my master's final moments.

The second time, all he could see was the rhythm of the fight, the way the Darksider seemed to be in control, pushing Qui-Gon deeper and deeper into the Reactor System.

But how? The Darksider was good, but Obi-Wan had fought by his master's side long enough to know Qui-Gon Jinn skills.

So Obi-Wan watched it a third time. And that's when he realized the Darksider's advantage: Qui-Gon was used to fighting with a partner.

With a lesser opponent, with one who wasn't strong enough to wait out an Ataru fighter, it wouldn't have made a difference; the effects of Obi-Wan's absence were barely noticeable, even to Obi-Wan.

Barely noticeable, but undeniably present.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes against the weight of the realization. For once, it wasn't arrogance or guilt or anything but cold hard fact—Obi-Wan's presence would have changed the outcome of the fight.

That realization burned cold.

And on his fourth viewing, he searched for every one of those barely noticeable indications to test his theory. A pause there were Obi-Wan would have normally followed up with a swing, a hesitation there where Obi-Wan's blade would have stepped in to block the blow.

Obi-Wan's fingers played over the pommel of his 'sabre, itching to fix something he couldn't change.

Again and again, Qui-Gon was maneuvered through the doorway; there was no recording beyond that, still no way to know what happened next. The image hovered blankly on the vacant corridor, the empty frame pulsing and wavering.

If I had been there. If I could've held on longer, been better on Tatooine, been smarter, faster, stronger. If I hadn't gotten his arm injured at the start of the fight, hadn't been such an fool

The hologram went black again and the only sound in the room was Obi-Wan's ragged breathing. It masked the empty silence, until, with shaking fingers, he manipulated the Force, pressing repeat.

Blue light filled the room again.


The first thing Anakin's noticed was the light's wrong. It wasn't golden and bright like it was supposed to be. It was heavy and grey, a dull blue color seeping in under his curtains. He tried shutting it out, rolling over and burrowing into his pillows, but even the air felt dull and sad, like something awful had happened.

Something awful like Mom's dea—he shoved the thought away as fast as he could, and rolled over, hoping to escape the feeling and go back to sleep, but it followed him, no matter how deep he burrowed down.

He glared at the clock. It blinked back. Too early for breakfast. He twisted around again and scowled at the ceiling, focusing on something new, calling on his anger.

Stupid Obi-Wan made me go to bed early. He wouldn't be awake before breakfast if he'd been allowed to go to bed when he normally did.

But the sharp, angry feeling faded back into the sad feeling from before. Except, now, it felt stronger, more like loneliness than just plain sadness.

Abruptly, the weight of his comforter became smothering. Feeling trapped and tangled, Anakin clambered out of bed and fled to the common room.

The air felt even stranger in there, thicker. And it was dark, except for the thin light coming in through the window and the light from the holoprojector—

But before Anakin could get a good look, the blue-toned projection disappeared; he opened his mouth instinctively to object, only to stop, startled, when the lights flicked on.

"Anakin? What are you doing up?"

Anakin jumped at the sharp voice; squinting in the sudden brightness, it took him a moment to spot Obi-Wan standing between the couch and the door.

When he didn't answer, Obi-Wan spoke again, "Are you alright? Why are you up so early?"

Anakin shrugged, on edge and unable to explain that something just felt wrong—and not wanting to explain so long as Obi-Wan's face had that funny look on it. So, he turned the question back, just like Obi-Wan always did to him.

"Why are you up?"

"I was going out," Obi-Wan said, in a way meant to make Anakin stop asking questions.

But Anakin didn't respond well to being told what to do; he pressed back, "Then how come you were watching something?"

Obi-Wan turned to collect something on the coffee table behind him without answering the question.

Something was really wrong—Obi-Wan always answered Anakin's questions. Always. Anakin didn't always like them: sometimes the answers were too much of an answer and sometimes they were barely an answer at all—but Obi-Wan always said something.

The awful loneliness came creeping up again, pooling in Anakin's stomach.

"Can I come with you?" he asked, calling Obi-Wan's attention back to him.

The Jedi answered without turning around. "I'm going to meditate."

Anakin scowled. Stop lying. "Then how come you just picked up your 'sabre and your holo-cube—cron—thing?"

"Holocron," Obi-Wan corrected, turning around with both items in his hands. "Because I am going to practice."

"But—"

"Meditation and 'sabre practice are not mutually exclusive."

"Can I come watch?" Anakin burst out again. "Please! I'll stay out of your way just like I'm supposed to and I won't even get in the way! I promise!"

Obi-Wan ran a knuckle over his lightsabre's hilt and glanced towards the holoprojector, thinking. Anakin bounced a bit, trying to catch Obi-Wan's eye. Hope rose in his chest, blotting out some of the sickly feeling in the air.

Something in Obi-Wan deflated and Anakin knew he'd won even before Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say, "Alright. Go put on a pair of shoes."

Anakin didn't wait for Obi-Wan to change his mind, disappearing and reappearing as fast as he could, wearing a clean shirt and shoes with dangling laces.

Obi-Wan looked him over and shook his head wearily, but he still gestured for Anakin to follow him out of the room and into the corridor.

Lightsabre practice! That was even better than just hanging out! Watching Obi-Wan's 'sabre practice his favorite thing ever (well, third favorite thing ever, following podracing and mechanics, of course). Especially since he'd been pretty sure he'd never get to see Obi-Wan practice after they left the Temple.

His excitement pushed shoved the sadness back until it was just hovering along the edges of the corridor.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see." Obi-Wan held out the holocron, dropping the cube into Anakin's outstretched palm. Anakin ran his finger along the edge of the device before turning his gaze back to his companion.

"So, what kind are you gonna practice? The flippy one? Or Soar-es-soo?" he gestured with the holocron, knowing that Obi-Wan had been learning his new fighting style from it.

"Ataru," Obi-Wan paused before clarifying, "The flippy one. I need to move this morning," he added to himself.

And suddenly, the sad feeling came swooping back until it was almost as thick as it had been he'd first woken up.

He looked up at Obi-Wan, noting the way his fingers were clenching and his mouth seemed to frown without actually frowning. Realization struck: It's coming from him. The bad feeling. What's wrong? Did I do something? He said I could come along, but does he really want me to go away?

But it was one answer Anakin didn't want to know. Anakin hated not talking to Obi-Wan—he knew how awful it felt and Obi-Wan was going away soon enough. The Naboo were nice (way nicer than the weird Jedi at the Temple) but this was Obi-Wan. He was strange and he liked to lecture, and he tried to make Anakin eat his vegetables and go to bed at a bedtime, but he also chased away nightmares better than even Mom ever had. If Anakin had a chance to hang out with Obi-Wan, he was gonna take it. He'd even talked his new tutors into letting him finish his lessons early so he could hang out with Obi-Wan yesterday afternoon!

"Here we are," he said, ushering Anakin into the room. The bad feeling followed them inside and filled up every corner of the giant, empty room. Anakin shivered, trying to focus on the feel of his toes in his shoes rather than the choking feeling crawling up his throat. He tried to shove it away and squish it back down along with everything else he didn't want to think about.

Anakin headed towards a spot by the window, planning to curl up on the floor to watch while Obi-Wan took up his stance in the middle of the room.

The air felt heavy, like it was after he took a super hot shower. Anakin squirmed against it and closed his eyes, trying to shut it out, trying to breathe through it.

There was a soft sound, a foot on carpet, and then a woosh. The hot feeling stayed, but the pressure relaxed.

He took a breath.

He opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan had burst into motion and it was like someone had taken off a safety valve and the pressure could finally escape—muddy swirling air slowly gave way to joyful eddies, and the choking feeling he felt when he missed his mom eventually bled into the happy feeling he felt whenever he saw Padme. Anakin relaxed back to watch Obi-Wan flip and twirl, swinging his blue blade in endless loops around his body.

By the time the sun was up completely, Anakin felt like he could smile again.

Anakin hadn't meant to stay too long—just until breakfast started—but the sun was high in the sky before he remembered to be hungry. Even then, he stayed a little longer, watching the sadness drain out of Obi-Wan and feeling the last of it ooze out of the air until it felt clean again.


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