Author's Thanks:
Childish Whisper: Thanks. I really enjoyed your piece to. Anakin and Obi-Wan interaction is usually difficult for me, so I'm glad its working.
Padfoot Reincarnated: Thank you. Palpy is hard to write. I am so glad he comes across. The jerk.
Alley Parker: May be its the summary. It isn't that great. He did, so I was trying to work within that framework, while taking new twists. Thank you. I'm glad you like it.
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"And we will," he calmly replied, picking something up off of the floor. "We can trace this, find out where it's from. I will go to the archives tomorrow while you watch the Senator. Right now, I must see the Council, tell them what has occurred. You will go back to the party, reassure everyone that all is well and remind her to leave the cameras on in her room tonight. I do not believe that there will be another attempt but there is no sense in taking chances. We shall have one of the other Jedi watch over her tonight."
Anakin's shoulders slumped, all the fight leaving him. "Yes, Master." The final words of his Master stung him, making him feel as if he had failed in some way. A way he couldn't see and did not know quite how it had happened for the events of the night had gone by so quickly, he couldn't breath.
"Anakin," he stopped him from turning away, squeezing his shoulder. "This isn't a punishment. This is for her comfort, as well as your own. I don't think that you are as focused on this assignment as you should be. You seem distracted and worried. Have your dreams been troubling you?"
"No, Master. I can honestly tell you that it is not my dreams," he said, walking beside him to the still hovering pod.
"Is it your feelings for the Senator? Do you feel that we should turn this over to someone else?" he asked, still unsure of what the trouble was. All Obi-Wan knew was that there was something troubling him and he wanted nothing more than to help him out.
His head shook and he leapt up to the ship, extending a hand to pull Obi-Wan up to him. They climbed into the seats and started to descend before he answered the question, knowing that he should. More to the point, he wanted to. "No, Master. She's merely a friend that I wish to protect. My Lady has helped me out several times in the past, I'm returning the favor."
"We need to get the body before it causes a scene," he murmured. Even though he doubted it was as simple as Anakin was making it out to be, he knew that his Padawan felt that it was. No point really in trying to push him for information, he sighed. It never helps. "Then what is it?"
"It is nothing," he insisted.
"Are you sure?" he took a chance and pressed him.
"I'm fine," he said.
"You're so fine that you missed the warning signals the Force was sending out about the assassin being there? So fine that you can't seem to control your impetuosity for a few moments to hear when I'm speaking to you?"
He flushed, knowing that his Master was referring to the order to stay in the pod and keep her from fleeing. "All right, I let my worry overwhelm me. It won't happen again." This was the truth.
Anakin never made the same mistake twice. His own sense of duty would not let him.
"I certainly hope not," he said. Resting his hand on the tense shoulder, he kept his voice firm as he spoke. Firm but lacking in the biting sharpness he knew was sometimes present in his voice. "I need you to be at your best, Padawan. If you can't give me that, then I need to know it now. I need you to be here with me, not worrying about something elusive. Something you can't describe."
Even if it is about you? He wondered if he dared to utter the words but knew they wouldn't be appreciated. For whatever reason, Obi-Wan did not think he was worth worrying over. He often seemed embarrassed, utterly baffled by the presence of it, when it did happen.
"I will be, Master. I won't let you down again," he said, landing them as close to the unmoving body as he could without obstructing traffic. And I won't, he silently vowed. Of all things that he hated, seeing the displeasure on his Master's face ranked up at the top of the list.
Getting out first, he waved casually at the gathering crowd. "This is official Jedi business, move along." His voice was soft, lacking its usual brashness, but powerful in the Force.
Obi-Wan got out slower and went to the body. Kneeling down beside her, he took care not to disturb anything, hoping that intelligence would be able to find things that they couldn't. Examining it, he noted that the face was that of an unknown. Meaning that this assassin had never troubled them before. Or had never been caught. "Contact Master Windu. Tell him we have a Clawdite female, who may be behind the attacks on the Senator's life."
"You know that this one didn't work alone, Master. The attacks are to spread out for it to have been just one person."
"I will neither agree with those statements, Padawan, nor will I refute them," he sternly said. "Do not push your luck." But his eyes were not as hard as the tone in his voice. In fact, they were full of the fond exasperation they always had when they looked his way.
Anakin nodded, reading what he wasn't saying. He was getting rather good at learning the hidden language that Obi-Wan spoke to him at times. Not for the first time did he wish that he would just give him a straight answer. But he knew that wasn't Obi-Wan's way. "Yes, Master."
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It was quiet as Anakin sat up, waiting in the warm living room. His Master was still at the meeting with the Council discussing the assassin. Though he knew he should be in bed, Anakin found that he just couldn't settle down.
A feeling of unease filled the pit of his stomach and he couldn't rest.
He'd tried meditating, but without knowing where the unease was coming from, it felt soft and unfocused. Undisciplined. Useless. And he'd always had a hard time with sitting down to meditate anyway.
For him, he found that he was more able to meditate in the midst of action. There was something about the challenge of finding a focus in the midst of chaos that he found exhilarating. There was a peace he found when pursuing that goal in those times of crisis that he could not find anywhere else, though he had tried.
It was only with his Master's help that he could find it while relaxing. But there was no help for it, meditation was not what he needed right now. Not to mention that he doubted his Master would be pleased if he came in to find him practicing with his saber, though he would say nothing understanding his need for it.
So trying to meditate was out. He sat restively, making a mental list of the things he was sure his feelings had nothing to do with. It wasn't his Master. And he knew for sure was that it had nothing to do with Amidala. Though others were watching her, he was keeping track of her for his own peace of mind.
Those two things were a small comfort to him.
Holding onto the thought that it was merely a matter of time before Obi-Wan came home, he resisted sleep's pull, knowing he'd rest better if he could just talk to him. See if he could shed some light on the subject.
It had worked so often in the past, that he did not think it possible that there could be any other outcome now. Obi-Wan would know what to do. He almost always did. And even if he didn't, Anakin would feel better having talked to him about it.
Nevertheless, as the hours crawled slowly by, he felt his lids begin to droop. Sleep claimed him, despite the fact that he tried to fight it off.
It was hot. The air was sticky with the smell of sweat and animals. Looking around, he couldn't see why he was there, among this crowd of raiders. He recognized them for who they were, Tuskin raiders from Tatooine.
Watching helplessly, he noted the careful way they moved towards the moisture farm. It was a farm like any other, though he'd never been to one before. It seemed to be a nice, safe place, if a little to staid for his taste.
There was a sense of peace and timelessness about it that touched his heart, opening it up to the people who lived there. While nice for the people he saw laughing and joking about a small table, he would take his home with Obi-Wan over it any day.
He gasped as one face turned to the window, a slight frown on her brow. Shadowed eyes searched the horizon, seeking something in the distance for all that there was puzzlement on her strangely hopeful looking face.
Even though she had gray in her hair and more lines on her face, he recognized her for his heart felt the same call she apparently felt for all her confusion.
The claim of familiarity.
Mom, he mouthed, drinking in the beauty that was uniquely his mother's.
Oh, how he had missed her for all his continuous dreaming of her. Dreams did not do her justice for they lacked her life. Dreams could not capture her warmth. He had forgotten the curve of her smile, the way her eyes seemed to smile even when she was disciplining him.
Seeing her brought it all back to him and he wondered how he could have possibly forgotten it all.
Their time apart had been as kind to her as it had been to him. She radiated a love that he could feel even here. Its loving arms reached deep out into space, seeking a home. His soul reached willingly out for it, feeling it seep into his hungered heart achingly.
Suddenly, the scene exploded in pain and blood. The house seemed to disappear within the blink of an eye. Anakin winced back, shattering inside with the pain he felt coming from them. From him. Though he had been dimly aware that it was coming, it still stabbed him, brought him to his knees.
He watched helplessly as the peace all came apart.
Hopelessly, he witnessed the sheer brutality as the raiders attacked. Death, a savage song they sang expertly until there was no one left alive, save the women. Turning towards them, their eyes seemed to leer hungrily, lustily at them. On their banthas, they dragged them off into the hot desert.
"Anakin!" his mother screamed. "Please, help us."
"Mom!" he sat up, panting. His body heaved, heavy and weighted down with unbearable guilt. The muscles in his stomach clenched, seeking a relief that he denied, burying his face in his hands. A new, yet old, sick feeling crept over him and he couldn't stem the tide of despair that hit him in endless swells. "Oh, mom."
"Anakin?"
"Master?" he asked, looking up at him dumbly. Rising in relief, he took a tentative step forward, then stopped, unsure of his next action. He was older now, much to old to be running to his Master for a comforting hug, though he desperately needed it.
"What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you be with the Senator?" he asked, not understanding the look of desolation in the young old eyes. It reminded him of something he had seen all to often in their early days. Days in which a simple hug, a simple touch, could chase it away. Sometimes he longed for those days when things were much simpler, much easier between them.
"I've got to go," he started for the door, determination coming back to him. He had a mission, a purpose. He knew what to do. It was all so clear, he did not know how he could have hesitated for even a moment. Even as he thought it, he knew the truth.
He knew why he hesitated to take the required steps forward.
The reason stood behind him, concern for his welfare resonating around the room. Though he did not know the source, Obi-Wan was willing to offer what little comfort he had to him. Offer it and not say a word. His own soul replied in kind but could not turn away from the horror he had witnessed.
He had to follow through the course his heart was urging him to take. A course that was not the Jedi way. But was as compassionate, as necessary as anything they did for the Senate. May be even more so for it was not manipulated by some kind of motive, it was done out of love.
Out of the compassion the Jedi were known for.
And this action would frustrate the man who had become his dearest friend. The man who had slowly but surely begun to remove the bands from around his heart and let him in. Had started to accept the love that Anakin freely offered him, for all his silence on his own feelings.
Anakin knew how he felt anyway.
He knew it every time he heard the words 'my Padawan'. At first, he hadn't liked the term, equating it with being a slave under a Master. He had thought there was something degrading about it, for all that Qui-Gon had used the term. But as he came to understand the layers and meanings behind it, the very nuances the word contained, he craved to hear it.
It meant that he meant something to Obi-Wan.
He meant more than a promise to a dying man. He meant more to Obi-Wan than just a vague title that others had given him. To be Obi-Wan's Padawan was a gift, one that he used to take for granted for he had not understood that.
Now, he did.
And he would be wounding him terribly when he left. Leaving him to deal with the fallout of Anakin's choice. The censure of the Jedi Council and those who had thought that he should not have been trained. He would be leaving him to face it alone, without love to support him through the coming days.
Yet, he could not do anything else.
"Not like that," Obi-Wan objected, looking at him, appalled. "It wouldn't do to see the Senator in your night clothes. Why were you on the couch?"
"Not to Padme," he corrected his Master, taking a deep breath before taking the plunge. He was grateful as he did it that he was facing away from him. If there was anything he couldn't take, it would be to see those eyes go cold with disappointment. "To my mom."
"Anakin," he started, his head shaking wearily. He had thought that Anakin had understood that he could not go back. That it would be detrimental to his training, to his future as a Jedi. What had changed? What had happened that would cause him to throw away his dream like this?
"Don't!" he yelled, stopping him. Whirling on him then, blue eyes flashing angrily, he just let go. "Just don't! I know what the Council says about this. I know what you have to say. Don't you think I haven't heard you? Every time I bring it up, you tell me the reasons why I can't go to her. But I have to go this time, Master. I have to. She's my mother."
It was the whisper of despair that stopped anything Obi-Wan would have said. "Is there nothing I can do to stop you?" he finally asked softly, sadly. Resigned to this choice. Obi-Wan knew that this could go no other way. He could see it in his Padawan's expression.
There was a new kind of strength in Anakin's eyes that had been lacking lately. A strength of purpose and a knowledge born of knowing what was right. What he must do.
"If it had been Qui-Gon, would you remain behind? If you dreamed of him going into terrible danger, facing unending pain, would you stay in safety? Could you possibly turn away from him?" he challenged him to deny his words.
To deny the truth they both knew.
Silence was his answer. His head nodded knowingly as his Master dropped his eyes for a moment, seemingly ashamed of his own inability to answer.
Seemingly ashamed that he would abandon the Order for such a reason as emotion.
"No, my Master," he firmly stated then, there was understanding gentleness in his voice. "There is nothing to be said."
Ignoring the cracking sound in his voice, he stood firm. Everything with in him told him this was the right thing to do. He knew it as surely as he knew the voice of the Force. This was something he had to do if for no other reason than that it was for the forgotten of the world.
Yet he feared that if Obi-Wan he asked him to stay, he would not be able to resist his Master. Did not know if he could hold firm to this path that he was desirous of taking. Even though he felt it was the right course of action for him to take, he was not sure he would have the strength to go away.
If Obi-Wan asked…
End, this part.
Hmmm...so which way will Obi-Wan go?