Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I hereby solemnly and outspokenly disclaim. ;-P

oOo

Naboo's single moon was already high in the sky when Obi-Wan finally finished the last preparations for Qui-Gon's funeral. He had had a hard time finding actual wood for the cremation. He hadn't expected the difficulties, though, since Theed was a green city, and there were plenty of trees. Most of these trees, though, were standing in private gardens or in public parks, and Obi-Wan didn't dare use some of their branches for Qui-Gon's funeral pyre. Not only because most of them were trimmed immaculately, but also because whenever a tree was not well protected behind high walls or spiky fences, there were big yellow signs threatening anyone trying to touch the tree with imminent, excruciating death. It seemed the Naboo government took environmental protection very serious.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan had finally managed to procure at least enough wood to keep up the pretence that Qui-Gon's funeral pyre was of the traditional wooden kind. The wood had come from the unlikeliest place, and by the unlikeliest means. Some time during the late afternoon, Queen Amidala (who was Eritraé at the moment) had suddenly started shrieking and screaming like mad, declaring a national emergency, because her makeup had become a bit flaky during the short battle she had fought. Naturally, the commotion had caused everyone to run to her rescue – until the guards and pilots found out that this was all about imperfect face paint. The Queen's loyal subjects had turned on their heels and hurried back to whatever they had been doing. Only Obi-Wan had stayed, though out of necessity: the juvenile monarch-decoy had tightly gripped his sleeve and couldn't be convinced to let go again until someone rescued her from her messy makeup.

So Obi-Wan, who didn't even have the slightest clue how to handle messed-up makeup, had convinced her to let him take her to the extensive section of the palace entirely dedicated to wellness and beauty. There, the upset girl had finally - though somewhat reluctantly - let go of Obi-Wan. All the way from the Throne Room, she had hidden her "grotesquely disfigured" face, as she had called it, in the folds of Obi-Wan's robe. That way, she imagined being able to keep her dignity – and Obi-Wan got to keep a big white stain on his robe from where the girl's face paint had rubbed off. Obi-Wan thought that her face looked not nearly as disfigured without the makeup as it did with the paint on – but then again, he was apparently a bad judge of such things, since makeup seemed to be so popular with everyone else.

But awkward as the whole episode might have been, it did have one good consequence: Obi-Wan had spotted a small pile of fully leaved branches in a corner. When he asked, he was told that the leaves were appreciated for the fresh scent they gave off, and that the essential oil that could be gained from them was sometimes used in one of the spa's steam rooms. The wood, although it had the same effect to a lesser extent, was not needed, and Obi-Wan was free to take it if he removed the leaves first. It seemed the greenery had been especially imported from a remote planet called Australia, where these eucalyptus trees grew, for the purpose of unclogging her Majesty's nose during the winter months when she invariably got a cold which would utterly spoil her carefully practiced royal droning voice.

And so it happened that the wood on which Qui-Gon was bedded for his funeral was that of a eucalyptus tree. It would certainly make for an unconventional funeral pyre, but then again, Obi-Wan couldn't think of anything about Qui-Gon that had been conventional. In fact, he was quite sure that his late Master would have enjoyed both the eccentricity of the circumstances as well as the sharp tang caused by the essential oil in the green wood. That, at least, would ensure that Qui-Gon would not leave this plane of existence unmourned – lots of involuntary tears would be spilled from eyes irritated by the smoke and the essential oil the wood exuded. As a small recompense for that, the eucalyptus would also cure the beginning colds and congested noses any of the attendants might suffer from.

Despite all the difficulties, Obi-Wan had managed to put together a halfway decent funeral in the circular chapel-like structure the Queen had assigned for that purpose. He had just finished the last preparations when all the dignitaries started to file in. And there were a lot of dignitaries who wanted to attend. The whole Council was there, despite the fact that Qui-Gon had been a regular pain in their haughty backsides. Naturally, Queen Amidala (the real one, for a change) was there, as was to be expected. Qui-Gon had helped free her planet and had protected her with his life, after all.

Boss Nass was there, too, which could possibly be explained by the residual influence of the mind trick Qui-Gon had used on the Gungan Boss to gain his goodwill. Qui-Gon had never been one for subtlety where it came to mind influences. What truly surprised Obi-Wan, though, was the presence of Chancellor Palpatine. As a recently elected Chancellor, Obi-Wan would have expected him to be terribly busy, and hadn't though that Palpatine would stay on Naboo for longer than just half an hour.

The Chancellor's attendance should have been a great honour for Qui-Gon, yet somehow, Obi-Wan resented his presence. The Chancellor seemed to emit an oily, tainting feeling of satisfaction, as if he actually enjoyed the funeral. Obi-Wan's opinion of politicians was already so low that he wouldn't think it below the Chancellor to feel a morbid pleasure in the suffering and death of others. But on top of that, Obi-Wan got the impression that for some unfathomable reason, the Chancellor was gloating at the Jedi in general and Master Yoda in particular, and that made him distinctly uneasy.

Obi-Wan's attention was diverted from the suspicious politician by the arrival of Anakin. The boy arrived clinging to Hanké's sturdy leg, proclaiming his undying love to him.

It was obvious he had mistaken the bodyguard dressed up as a handmaiden with a real handmaiden, probably Padmé whom he couldn't find because she had once again taken on the persona of Queen Amidala.

"Radishes are red; violets are the colour of Master Windu's lightsaber, um… I love you and you love your neighbour… which is me!" he finished triumphantly, proud of his self-made poetry. It was obvious that living on Tatooine, Anakin had never before seen an actual rose, and so it was understandable that the got them mixed up with radishes – plants looked all the same to him, anyway.

The infatuated boy continued serenading the wrong hand"maiden". "Anyhoo, when I am all grown up and you've grown more beautiful, for a Senator, I mean, then we'll go and hide away here on Naboo in the Lake Country and then we'll leave for Tatooine and I will have vengeance for my mommy's death and then we'll completely botch a rescue mission and nearly get both ourselves and Obi-Wan killed in the process and then I'll also botch the fight against a Sith Lord and then we'll marry! Won't we? I promise I will be a loving and caring husband until the moment Obi-Wan will turn you against me. Will you marry me, Padmé? You have to marry me. It is our destiny! We can't leave the Galaxy without hope once I turn to the Dark Side. We have to have children, or else I might never return to the Light Side – and Obi-Wan would probably go mad with boredom if he couldn't occupy himself with my son."

Anakin did his best to convince the woman of his desire, and if at all possible to extract a promise of future marriage from her. He was still firmly attached to Hanké's leg. The burly bodyguard approached Obi-Wan, pointed to the child attached to his leg and growled: "This boy has been following me around for the last half hour, proclaiming his undying love to me because he thinks I'm Padmé. Do something about it!"

Obi-Wan shrugged apologetically before he gently but firmly unlatched the protesting boy. He decided that the first thing he would teach his new if still unofficial Padawan was that every single person had an individual presence in the Force, and how to distinguish them. It seemed Anakin was not so perceptive as to be able to tell the difference between someone as dissimilar as Hanké and Padmé. Then again, Obi-Wan's perception of the Force kept confusing the Chancellor with a Sith Lord, so he was not entitled to judge too harshly, he thought.

Despite the many irregularities and the sharp, pungent smell of essential oils that made many an eye water, the funeral was a very solemn and hushed affair. Obi-Wan stared into the flickering flames that consumed Qui-Gon's body, their orange glow the only source of illumination for the round chamber.

Everyone else was also looking on the pyre, so that nobody saw the evil smirk on the Chancellor's face, or the way he greedily steepled his fingers and murmured "Excellent!" when his eyes fell on Anakin.

Anakin, who was standing on a stool so that he could see over the low wall behind Obi-Wan, sniffled. There burned his only hope of ever becoming a Jedi. And if Anakin couldn't have been a Jedi, maybe Qui-Gon would have married his mother. Anakin shot Obi-Wan a sceptical glance. He already knew that Obi-Wan would never act against something the Council decided and take Anakin as a Padawan, Qui-Gon had told him that his apprentice was very much a stickler to the rules.

So Anakin would not become a Jedi. Unfortunately, he was not so sure that Obi-Wan would be an adequate stand-in for Qui-Gon when it came to marrying his mother. Although Anakin was sure that no person in the whole galaxy could not love his gentle, caring mother, he was not so sure whether his mother could deal with the reservedly polite and enigmatic personality of Obi-Wan. When he had asked her once, Shmi had told him that she rather liked the tall, long-haired and eccentric kind of man, and found the shorter, more reserved and silent ones boring.

And while Anakin's plans of becoming a Jedi literally went up in smoke, so did his plans of at least finding a satisfactory husband for his mother.

Anakin sniffled again, louder this time. Loud enough, in fact, to draw the attention of Obi-Wan, who turned around to find out how Anakin was coping.

Anakin took the chance to finally have Obi-Wan's full attention and asked in a whisper that somehow managed to be brazen and subdued and outraged at the same time: "What will happen to me now? You can't simply drag me through half the Known Galaxy and then just drop me like a bantha drops its droppings. Who is my legal guardian, anyway? A child my age is supposed to have one, isn't that so? I'm sure the authorities would not agree with the way you just yanked me away from the only home I've ever known just to leave me hanging somewhere without someone to take care of me. I'm a child, you know? I'm sure that in your precious Republic, it's illegal to leave a child to cope on his own, especially if it's such an adorable and promising child as me." The condemning stare Anakin focused on Obi-Wan had the result Anakin had aimed for – the Jedi visibly cringed at the barrage of accusations.

In all the chaos of the preparations for the funeral, Obi-Wan hadn't gotten the chance to tell Anakin of the Council's permission. It was not surprising that the boy would accuse him of negligence of his duties towards his Padawan, even though Anakin was still ignorant of that status. He hadn't even been a Master for a few hours, and already he was failing in his first and foremost duty towards his young charge. Well, he hadn't even seen the boy for most of the time, and when he had Anakin had been so busy drooling over Padmé as she got her hair done for the funeral that it had seemed wiser to talk about that some other time.

Anakin's glare was still fixed on him, awaiting a satisfactory answer to his questions. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, before solemnly telling Anakin: "The Council have granted me permission to train you. You will be a Jedi, I promise."

Anakin's face did some very curious contortions as he worked out what that meant for him. The Council in its unending wisdom had actually admitted him to the Jedi Order? He could still remember the protests the high-and-mighty Councillors had voiced against him when Qui-Gon had presented him to them. How very generous of them to take in the Chosen One, the mightiest Force user in the last thousand years or more, the one who would bring balance to the Force, the best pilot in the whole Galaxy, the most handsome young man to be found on Tatooine if not in the whole Outer Rim, me, Anakin Skywalker, Anakin thought. To think that they have stooped so low as to grant me a place amongst them!

But what seemed even more surprising to Anakin was that obviously, he had to thank Obi-Wan for his sudden change in fortune. Anakin had looked forward to become a Jedi under Qui-Gon's guidance. There had been an instant liking and understanding between the Jedi Master and the little boy, and Anakin missed Qui-Gon even though he had not known him for more than a few days. He had also gotten along quite well with Obi-Wan, but the young Jedi was mostly an enigma to him.

Obi-Wan always seemed so serious and grave and so terribly formal and polite all the time, and Anakin never knew what to make of him. In his quiet and reserved way, Obi-Wan seemed infinitely more intimidating that Qui-Gon ever had, despite the Master's fierce determination and strange manner and imposing physique. Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan ever laughed at all. Sometimes, he had caught remarks from Obi-Wan that might have hinted at a sense of humour, but Anakin couldn't be quite sure since he had never gotten the joke, if there had been one.

Still, Obi-Wan offered Anakin a chance to be a Jedi when he had already given up hope to ever become one. So Obi-Wan as a Master couldn't be worse than no Master at all. He was a Jedi, after all, and Jedi were not allowed to be mean, were they? Anakin was almost positive that being mean towards your own apprentice was "not the Jedi way", as Yoda was apparently fond of saying. What Anakin hadn't quite figured out, though, was how Obi-Wan could be his Master if he was still a Padawan himself. He could clearly see the long, thin braid behind Obi-Wan's right ear, despite the hood Obi-Wan had drawn over his head.

Also, Anakin had to wonder at the almost unnatural lack of emotion Obi-Wan displayed at his own Master's funeral. He had always gotten the impression that Obi-Wan had liked his Master and vice versa, but while Anakin sniffled, his chin wobbled and his eyes burned as much from crying as they did from the acrid smoke, Obi-Wan looked cheerless but not as miserable as Anakin would have thought. Maybe there were such things as mean Jedi, after all?

But Anakin could not imagine Qui-Gon as anything but kind and gentle. He didn't seem like the kind of man to refuse to take on a Padawan, or to abandon his Padawan on a planet in the middle of a war, or to leave his Padawan without saying goodbye. And although Anakin didn't have the deep, intuitive connection to Obi-Wan that he had had to Qui-Gon, he doubted that Obi-Wan was mean, especially if being mean was forbidden by the Council. So maybe this lack of emotion had something to do with the Jedi way, then? Perhaps the Jedi didn't believe in funerals…

Anakin hoped that maybe someday he could even unravel a bit of the mystery his new Master posed to him.

Having figured out that the idea of Obi-Wan becoming his new Master was tolerable, Anakin returned to wallowing in the sadness and grief of Qui-Gon's death. That's what funerals were there for, after all, whether the Jedi believed in it or not!

oOo

Obi-Wan carefully studied Anakin's face for the boy's feelings at the news. Another tiny stab of pain was added to the million pains already piercing his heart when Anakin's face fell. Quickly, he turned away to look back into the flames, and thus missed the multitude of other emotions that played across it in quick succession as Anakin considered his future.

He was not the only one who had lost a Master. Anakin had surely hoped to become Qui-Gon's apprentice, and Obi-Wan could fully understand that the boy must be disappointed with the poor substitute he had gotten instead. Still, he had hoped for a bit more enthusiasm. He had gotten along quite well with Anakin thus far, after all, and although he still had to force down the unease he felt at the thought of Anakin as his Padawan, he genuinely liked Anakin as a person. Somehow, many of the boy's characteristics reminded him of Qui-Gon, and Anakin was a friendly and nice child – at least as long as everything turned out the way he wanted, but Obi-Wan didn't know about that yet.

oOo

In a corner away from most of the other attendants, the Masters Yoda and Windu discussed the latest events. Only the newly elected Chancellor Palpatine was within earshot of their whispered words, but they didn't consider him a threat. What they were talking about was Jedi stuff, and being the politician of a rather backwater planet and relatively newly appointed at that, surely the Chancellor wouldn't understand a word they said, anyway.

"Do you really think it was a wise decision to let Obi-Wan train the Skywalker boy?" Mace voiced his doubts. "He turned out well enough despite Qui-Gon's training, but don't you think we should give him a break? I mean, we made him take care of what I like to call the Jinn problem for many years longer than was justified. We never told him that he'd been knighted years ago just so that the Council wouldn't have to deal with Qui-Gon's quirks. And now, you push him to take care of the next problem Jedi right after the first one is gone?"

"The only choice, it is," Yoda protested, his croaky voice barely audible to Palpatine, who was listening intently to the Jedi's conversation. This seemed to be very interesting! Very interesting indeed.

Yoda continued convincing the soft heart of Master Windu. "Ask, he did, to train Anakin. The only one, Obi-Wan is, who has had many years of experience with the most difficult Master in the Temple. The only one experienced enough in handling 'problem Jedi', as you called them, he is." Yoda heaved a deep sigh.

When Mace was about to open his mouth and protest, Yoda silenced him with a gesture and stared at him from huge, half-lidded eyes. "Train the boy, who else would? Difficult he is, wilful, not as docile and well-trained as the younglings from the crèche, he is. Not listen to authority, he will, but be disrespectful and use you as bait and make you sick with his reckless driving, he will. Very demanding, he is, and very defiant. Train him, would you?"

Mace quickly shook his head; Yoda had made his point. As much as Mace wanted for Obi-Wan to be free of either his Master- or his Padawan-sitting duties, he didn't wish to take them upon himself. He was quite sure that he would not perform these duties nearly as well as Obi-Wan did. He lacked both the patience and the determination to raise someone as… unique as Anakin.

Mace let the issue drop. There was no use beating a dead bantha, he thought, except maybe if you enjoyed doing that sort of thing, but that was beside the point.

"There's no doubt the mysterious warrior was a Sith," Mace asserted darkly. The Sith were his one secret fear, he dreaded them with all his heart. He couldn't shake the feeling that Anakin would someday be his downfall, but he had dismissed this premonition since he had always known that this prerogative already belonged to the Sith. Whenever he thought of them, he got the feeling that someone was pushing him out a window.

That was also how he had gotten his surname: he hadn't had one when he had been given to the Jedi as a tiny infant, and the Jedi had named him after his first word, which had been "Windu", thinking that that was his family name. In fact, it soon turned out that little Mace as equally fascinated and horrified by windows, and as a child he had to battle a severe phobia of every glass-filled hole in the wall. As he had matured, he had learned to overcome these fears, but a distinct uneasiness remained whenever Mace stood near a window.

"Always two, there are," Yoda stated, "no more, no less. A Master, and an apprentice. Count to three, they probably cannot. Know that three are more than two, they probably also do not. Ignorant, they are, that the Jedi are more than just two. No chance, they have against us."

Mace was not so sure of that. "What if the Sith somehow got Chancellor of the Republic and instigated a galaxy-wide war where he secretly controlled both parties and used this war to both diminish the Jedi Order and to bring the Jedi in a situation where they could be easily overwhelmed by their own troops, thus destroying the whole Order and the Republic right along? What if he used clones as soldiers that would follow his every order without question? What if he turned the Chosen One to the Dark Side by some tale about immortality and saving people from death? What if he threw me out a window?"

Yoda thought about this for a moment. "Yes," he finally admitted, "the only way, that would be, for the Sith to beat the Jedi. And only if the Sith would get the help of powerful and charismatic leaders like Master Dooku, possible it would be. But highly unlikely, it is, that a Sith Master would do exactly that."

"So which was destroyed?" Mace wondered. "The Master, or the apprentice? And how can there be always two when one of them is dead now? That must mean that there is only one right now. Is that even allowed?"

The answer that question elicited from Yoda was both long and excessively boring, not to mention completely backwards.

oOo

Palpatine listened intently to everything the two Jedi Masters said. It was true that there always had to be two Sith, no more, but also no less. Right now, to his knowledge, there was only one Sith – himself. He had to change that, and quickly.

His eyes wandered around the room, looking for a suitable new apprentice. The obvious choice would be the young Jedi who had killed his former apprentice, thus already passing the first necessity to become a Sith apprentice. He was also already well trained and strong in the Force. Palpatine decided to try his luck with this one, but he didn't expect success. The young man was clinging to the Light Side just as persistently as the Light Side clung to him – not an easy target, that one. It would need much effort to turn him to the Dark Side, and right now Sidious didn't have the time for elaborate ploys. He needed a new apprentice right now.

His eyes settled on the boy next to Kenobi. Aaah, yes, Anakin Skywalker. He was such a deliciously volatile mixture of emotion and passion and ignorance (though more well-meaning people might have called that innocence) and chaos and compassion and love and power and jealousy and fury and anger and Light and Darkness that Sidious almost shuddered with pleasure at the idea of turning him to the Dark Side. He would definitely keep an eye on this one, but at the moment the boy was still too young and untrained to be of any use. Sidious decided to let the Jedi do all the work of instilling discipline and respect into him and of teaching him the necessary skills with the Force and a lightsaber. Then, when his Jedi training was complete, then would Sidious make his move – and make Anakin Skywalker his.

The rest of the Force sensitives present were not to his taste. Either they were too old (like Master Yoda) or too green (also like Master Yoda) or too small (again, the perfect example would be Master Yoda) or too backwards (you may make an educated guess whom Palpatine was thinking about at that point). Ah well, he would just have to go for Master Dooku, whom Yoda had just so kindly pointed out to him, and Sidious could use a powerful and charismatic leader if he wanted to succeed.

Sidious cackled quietly but evilly. He would pay his tribute to irony, which had killed his apprentice after all, by toppling the Jedi and the Republic in exactly the way Mace and Yoda had just discussed. With irony on his side, nothing could go wrong, and irony was a powerful ally.

He laughed a bit about the stupidity of the Jedi. Here he was, brazenly shoving his Darkness and evil right up their lofty noses, and they didn't even notice him. He had all the tools he needed to eradicate that anachronistic Order of fools: he was Chancellor, he was still good-looking, and thanks to some careful embezzlement of administrative funds and the kind gifts of people who wanted his favour, he also had a lot of money. The only thing he didn't have was an apprentice.

On a whim, Sidious decided to talk to young Kenobi, anyway. Even if that didn't get immediate results, maybe he could at least leave a brochure about the advantages of the Dark Side, and who knew how things would turn out in the end.

oOo

About half an hour later, people started to leave. Burning a human body takes a lot of time, and by then it was quite late and people became bored of staring into the flames and acting sad. Anakin had started fidgeting almost twenty minutes ago, and was practically bouncing off the walls by the time he was finally allowed to leave. Obi-Wan was just asking Padmé to take care of him again, when suddenly the Si– erm, the Chancellor appeared out of nowhere and offered to take care of the boy.

"He fought so bravely today for the freedom of my home planet. This little boy is a hero! The least I can do is spend some time with him," Palpatine declared grandly.

Padmé was all for it, since she said she had to check her clothes store and see how many damage the Neimoidians had caused there.

Obi-Wan felt really bad for leaving his duty of getting his Padawan to bed to someone else, but Yoda had informed him that he had to spend the night meditating in preparation for his knighting, as was a long-standing tradition. And although Obi-Wan didn't trust the almost grandfatherly pride with which the Chancellor grasped Anakin's shoulder and he thought he also detected a hint of possessiveness and malice in the politician's magnanimous smile, he could hardly reject the offer of the High Chancellor of the Republic, now could he?

Palpatine's smile widened at the polite bow Kenobi offered, and led Anakin away, one hand on the boy's shoulder, talking as they walked away.

"Now, Anakin, we will find you something to eat and a comfortable bed and a place at my side as my future apprentice. And if you're a good boy, maybe I will tell you a bedtime story about a Sith Lord who could keep people he loved from dying before you go to sleep…"

Obi-Wan's head snapped back around to watch Anakin leave with the politician. He was not quite sure of it, but he thought he had just heard the Chancellor talk about Sith Lords. By then, though, the two receding figures, one small and with shoulders slumped in exhaustion, one towering over the other and almost pushing the smaller one along, were out of earshot.

It was almost midnight by the time the last people were leaving. Obi-Wan stayed behind to hold his vigil in the chapel, it was as good a place as any and a lot quieter than most. Located at the edge of one of the huge gardens of Theed Palace, the almost-Knight was sure nobody would disturb him there.

It didn't take long for him to find out just how wrong he was.

oOo

This time, Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the ground - his legs were still a bit stiff from kneeling on the floor for so long not once but twice in one day. As soon as he had sat down, though, he immediately scrambled back up again, because Master Yoda had turned around to talk to him some more, as it seemed. After bowing low to the venerable, ancient Master, he kneeled down again, barely suppression a grown and hoping that Yoda wouldn't take too long. This day was literally bringing him to his knees.

For a short time, only the quiet clicking of Yoda's clawed feet and the hushed tapping of his walking stick on the stone floor could be heard.

"Hmmmmm," Yoda said after quietly contemplating the kneeling Jedi in front of him. "A very important night, this is. A Knight, you will become, when the sun rises. Know what is expected of you, you do?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan obediently answered. The last night of Padawanship was to be spent contemplating the Force in deep meditation.

"Good, good," Yoda rasped. "Already halfway over, this night is. Find your focus, you must, and deal with your Master's death. A difficult night, it will be, but the Force will be with you. Listen to what it has to say, you must, and counsel you, it will. To bed, I will go now. Tomorrow, after woken up, I have, return here, I will, for your knighting ceremony."

He turned around and walked away, but after a few paces he turned around again and added, with an almost impish smile on his face: "Old, I am. Need much sleep, old people do not. Rise with the sun, I do. A short night this will be."

They both expressed the wish that the Force be with each other, and then Yoda finally hobbled off to find his bed.

Obi-Wan plopped down on the ground rather ungracefully once Yoda was gone. He shook his legs to get some feeling back into them. Then he settled down, legs crossed, back straight, eyes closed, to clear his thoughts and find the calmness and serenity the Force offered. It would truly be a long and hard battle and he had a lot to think about before he could let it all go, but he still had at least half a night to spend adjusting to the new and confusing situation he suddenly found himself in.

After Qui-Gon's death, he had metaphorically gagged and bound his emotions and locked them away in a dark prison deep down inside his mind. There, they had been rattling on the bars of their cage the whole day, but they hadn't managed to escape the tight bonds of control Obi-Wan had placed on them. He got no further than cautiously approaching the prison where his incarcerated emotions raged before his meditation was disturbed again.

As he opened his eyes, he saw Padmé standing before him, her hand stretched out as if to shake him awake. Once again, he stood up and gave her a proper bow. Padmé's hand immediately retracted.

"What brings you here, Mylady?" he asked softly. Padmé looked distressed, her eyes mirroring loss and grief - much like his own probably did, Obi-Wan guessed.

Padmé searched his face for something, and the look of disappointment that spread over her face told Obi-Wan that whatever it had been, she hadn't found it.

"Your Majesty?" he quietly inquired.

"This is not what I expected," Padmé admitted. "Not what I expected at all."

"What did you expect?" Obi-Wan asked, puzzled.

"I thought that I would find a weeping Padawan grieving the death of his Master in the gardens, badly in need of comfort. I believed I could maybe comfort you and be the friend you needed – and maybe become something more, in time. Or right away. I wouldn't have minded right away. And now you are here, not at all the vulnerable and sad bundle of emotions I expected, and I don't have the courage to hug you if you are not sobbing and crying." Padmé's chin was wobbling precariously, and she suddenly became all dewy-eyed.

For a moment, Obi-Wan was at a loss for words. He just stared at the young girl who stood before him, looking up at him expectantly.

"What… wherever did you get that idea?" he finally managed to ask. The lack of his usual courtesy spoke volumes about how taken aback he was. "I'm actually supposed to be meditating in preparation for my knighting."

"Well, you know… I thought if I came down here, wearing only my dressing gown over my nightgown and the silk slippers, and finding you by chance… I don't know… I guess I got carried away a bit by my imagination. I really have no idea why I thought you might…"

Padmé's voice trailed off and she shuddered, from the cold of night as much as from embarrassment and upset.

Obi-Wan shrugged out of his robe and silently offered it to Padmé. The night air was cooler than she had anticipated. Both her nightdress and her dressing gown were far too thin to hide the fact that she was cold, but Obi-Wan's eyes had never left her face. So how did he know? Not really caring to find out the reason, Padmé gratefully took the voluminous Jedi robe and wrapped herself into the warm folds. Although the clothes she had chosen carefully in order to impress Obi-Wan were now hidden beneath the heavy fabric, she would much rather be warm than pretty, especially since all of her other plans had also failed so thoroughly.

Padmé suddenly turned away from the Jedi and stifled a sob, a tear trailing down her face. She had been to assess the damage the Neimoidians had done to her entire wardrobe – and it had been catastrophic. Many of her favourite dresses were utterly destroyed, soiled or torn, and these slimy Trade Federation guys had even defiled her favourite 15 denier stockings. As she discovered the extent of the damage the Neimoidians had done to her favourite clothes, she had first thrown a royal tantrum, and then she had, for one moment, considered whether becoming catatonic would be an adequate reaction, before she remembered the scene described in so many of the Obidala stories she had perused during the last few days. So she had donned the best nightdress and dressing gown that was still intact and had set out to conquer the heart of a grieving Jedi – only to suddenly find said Jedi comfortingly if terribly awkwardly patting her shoulder because she had descended into a crying fit.

"There, there," Obi-Wan said in as comforting and soothing a tone as he could manage, and because he couldn't think of anything else to say and decided that adding Padmé's royal title would probably sound stupid, he once again repeated: "There, there."

He really was completely out of his depth here, and he seriously doubted that this night could possibly become any more awkward.

The poor attempts at comforting her encouraged Padmé to turn around, tightly hug Obi-Wan, and cry into his chest. Although the Jedi tensed and obviously felt highly uncomfortable in her tight embrace, she didn't let go. If she was to be denied being able to comfort him, Obi-Wan at least had to comfort her.

Padmé told Obi-Wan in great detail about the atrocities the Neimoidians had committed to her clothes, her narrative interspersed with sobs and sniffles. Slowly, with some inexperienced and tentative help from Obi-Wan, she got her raging feelings back under control. As she looked at her chrono, she started.

"Why, it's so late already? I should be in bed! I need my beauty slumber!" As quickly and as unexpectedly as she had grabbed him before, she now let go of the confused Jedi, flung his robe back at him and ran off, shouting a "Good night, and thanks!" in his general direction.

Obi-Wan just stared after her, a bit dumbfounded, until the whirlwind that had just moments ago been a shaking, weeping girl firmly holding on to him was gone. He still wasn't quite sure what had happened right there. Well, that was just another thing to be meditated about. He put his robe back on, and once again sat down to do just that.

He managed to take three deep breaths before he suddenly found himself in the highly unexpected and not exactly welcome company of Chancellor Palpatine. Obi-Wan barely suppressed a sigh of annoyance and only just managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Just how many unanticipated visitors could possibly come by in one single night?

Obi-Wan respectfully bowed to the Chancellor, who had hidden both his elaborate robe and his face in a wide black robe and hood.

"Good evening, young Knight," Palpatine greeted. Obi-Wan didn't correct him.

"What brings you here at such a late hour, your Excellency?" Obi-Wan inquired, more patiently than exasperatedly, he hoped.

"I wanted a word with the hero who saved my home planet and slew my former apprentice – erm, the terrible Sith, I mean. You have truly earned this promotion to the rank of Master."

"Oh, I'm not to become a Master for a long time, your Excellency. I am to be knighted tomorrow, not made a Master." This visit had so far done nothing to lessen Obi-Wan's confusion.

"This is outrageous! It's unfair!" Palpatine exclaimed. "How can you be on the Council and not be a Master? It's never been done in the history of the Jedi! It's insulting!"

Obi-Wan's eyebrown shot up in astonishment, and his eyes widened almost comically. "But, Chancellor, I was not appointed to the Council, either. In fact, what is unheard off is that someone as young and as inexperienced as me should be given a seat on the Council. Besides, none of the seats are vacant."

Palpatine was… displeased, to say the least. This proved to be much harder than he had expected. It seemed that despite the last day, which should leave Kenobi in turmoil and vulnerable to the lures of the Dark Side, the young Jedi had managed to keep a cool head. That was very disadvantageous for Sidious' plans. Very disappointing. But the Sith Master had one last ace up his sleeve.

In a low whisper, he set out his most powerful bait. "I want to tell you the story of a wise Force user who could use midichlorians to create life and who cold thus keep the people he loved from dying."

"I fear that is too late already," Obi-Wan answered coldly, though not without a sad glance at the embers of the funeral pyre. He had no idea what the Chancellor was getting at, but he didn't like this at all. If it weren't so weird, he would say that Palpatine was trying to make him join the Dark Side.

"Oh well, my boy," Papatine said condescendingly. "I see you cannot be helped. If you change your mind, just let me know," he said, handing Obi-Wan two leaflets and walking away, leaving in his wake a baffled Jedi who nevertheless bowed politely to his retreating back.

Obi-Wan looked down on the leaflets the Chancellor had given him. The first one read "Vote for Palpatine!" Obi-Wan set it on fire with the heat of the remaining embers without a second thought.

The other one was completely black with bright red letters printed boldly across its front.

In the background was the robed and hooded silhouette of a Sith Lord who was pointing his finger out of the two-dimensional confines of the flyer.

The text read: "I want YOU to Join the Dark Side!"

Obi-Wan stared at disbelievingly at the letters for a whole three minutes. He blinked a few times, but still the words stayed the same. He still held a leaflet advertising the Dark Side in his hands.

On the inside, Obi-Wan found information about the advantages the Dark Side had to offer, among them 'unlimited power' and 'the best health insurance in this galaxy – covering everything from loss of hair to loss of limbs'. It also offered extensive further vocational training for Force users and Ex-Jedi in the fields of 'Usage of the Dark Side – Emphasis on Force Lightning' or 'Following Darth Bane's Footsteps – The Essential Traits and Skills Necessary to Become a Great Sith Lord' or even 'A Sith's Greatest Nemesis: Jedi and How to Best Dispose of Them' and 'The Way to Political Influence as Practised by Lord Sidious'.

The requirements for being accepted as a Sith trainee were listed as removal of the Sith Master's preceding apprentice, at least rudimentary training in the use of the Force – even if the previous education had only included the dogmatic, narrow view of the Jedi – and a keen interest in the gaining, keeping and increasing of one's power.

After Obi-Wan had stared at the offending piece of paper for almost five minutes, it finally joined the ashes of the "Vote for Palpatine"–flyer in turning into a lot of smoke and a small pile of charred paper that was soon carried off by the wind.

Nobody would have believed it, anyway.

As Obi-Wan watched the last pages of the leaflet blacken and shrivel up in the flames, he could already hear the approach of his next visitor. He could hear the padding of small, bare feet and the now familiar sniffles of Anakin. After what had just happened, Obi-Wan somehow doubted that the Chancellor had been the right one to trust with his new and impressionable Padawan.

Sure enough, as soon as Anakin saw Obi-Wan, he ran over and buried his face in the Jedi's robe, adding to the tears that had already soaked it that day. Between the sobs and the hiccoughs, Obi-Wan managed to understand that apparently, Chancellor Palpatine had told young Anakin a story about a very powerful being who could use the Force to keep people from dying, and now Anakin was had had a nightmare about a Sith Lord creating an army of zombies. Obviously, the events of the day had been too much for the young mind to handle, and Anakin had twisted the reality of Qui-Gon's death at the hands of a Sith into a formidable if completely unrealistic nightmare. Whatever the Chancellor had told the boy was certainly not innocent of adding to Anakin's fears.

The fact that Anakin trusted Obi-Wan enough to take care of an entire legion of zombies gave him some hope that the relationship between Master and Padawan might just work out after all. Obi-Wan scooped up the terrified boy and soothed him as best he could while carrying him back to his room. When he had finally convinced Anakin that there were neither zombies at loose in the palace nor did they hide under his bed, the boy calmed down enough so that they could enter the dark room without Anakin descending into hysterics. By the time Obi-Wan put him in his bed and spread the blanket over his new Padawan, the boy was already fast asleep.

For a short moment, Obi-Wan just watched Anakin sleep, and the frown that seemed to have become a permanent fixture that night left his face for a moment. He marvelled at the idea that this was his Padawan, and for a short instant felt both the joy, the worries and the responsibility that being a Master brought. Then he remembered his task of meditating, which he had not even started yet, although it was well past four in the morning. He silently walked back to the round chapel in the gardens so as not to wake anyone who would, with his luck, start crying on his shoulder, too. He really didn't need any more of that. It was enough for any night, and definitely too much for the end of a day as draining and demanding as that day had been.

oOo

He didn't find the chapel as empty as he had left it, though. In a dark recess sat a slumped form wrapped in robes similar to Obi-Wan's own. Even over the lingering smell of the pyre, the sharp and sour smell of alcohol was obvious. The moon gleamed off the shiny roundness of Master Windu's bald head as the noticeably inebriated Master staggered to his feet and lurched towards Obi-Wan. He raised a bottle in a toast, took a generous swig, and clasped the younger Jedi's shoulder – mostly for support, though.

"Y'know, Obi-Waaaaah," he slurred, "thisis the sec- the second time we're celelele… celele… celibating your knighting. And it's also the second time you're not there. How come you never… never… what was I about to say?" The Master's garbled speech stopped for a moment, and a look of strained deliberation entered Mace's face. "Ah, right! How come you never attend your own parties?" he finally managed to ask his question, which was accompanied by a breath that smelled like a whole cabinet of antiseptics. Whatever the Council was celebrating – and Obi-Wan had reasonable doubts that it was his knighting, much less his second knighting, as Mace had said – it was clear as liquor that Mace had overindulged in drinks containing no small amount of ethanol.

Obi-Wan retreated a bit from Mace's flushed face, which had come uncomfortably close, before he answered.

"I'm sorry, Master Windu, I don't know what you mean," Obi-Wan all but snapped. This stream of unwelcome visitors was becoming extremely frustrating, especially since Obi-Wan usually ended up comforting them when he hadn't even dealt with the hurt of his Master's death still buried deep inside his own heart. He only wanted to be left alone, and absolutely did not feel like dealing with intoxicated Councillors that were babbling about knighting parties, and not even making all that much sense when doing so.

Mace didn't notice the discourtesy in Obi-Wan's voice, though, nor the annoyed glance that clearly asked him to leave – a fact for which Obi-Wan would be eternally grateful once the night was over. Right now, though, he would have liked to kick a certain bald-headed Council member for not leaving him alone.

"Aaah, ne'er mind, then," Mace grinned good-naturedly. "The party wouldn't have been as funny with you there to make sure everyone behaved according to the Code, anyway," he added in a mumble.

Then, suddenly, the bright and rather dumb grin Mace had been wearing all the time crumbled, tears entered his eyes and his lower lip started to tremble.

"Qui-Gon was such a nice man," he suddenly said very solemnly, although the effect was slightly spoiled by his unsteady gaze and the way his head was swaying back and forth, much like the head of Master Poof on its incredibly long neck. He held on to Obi-Wan's shoulder for balance. "Such a nice man, with such a nice name. Qui-Gon Jinn. Here. Let's drink some gin to Master Jinn," he declared grandly, emptying the bottle in one long pull.

The next moment, he lurched forward and caught Obi-Wan in a bear hug that crushed the air out of him.

"He was such a good friend. I liked him. I'm s-so s-sorry for your loss," he slurred, while adding to the collection of tears that already stained Obi-Wan's robe. "I know we had our differences, but he was a good- a really good friend. Always bringing along pathetic life forms. Did he still have his long-term project, by the way? Some pathetic little Padawan called Uuuubi… Obi… something. What a sad-looking child he was, always trailing behind Qui-Gon. I suppose he died a long time ago."

If only I hadn't thought that this night couldn't get any more embarrassing and awkward, Obi-Wan thought. This was definitely worse than anything so far. At least, the crying Queen and the sniffling boy had been sober, unlike the Councillor tightly holding on to him and sobbing inconsolably on his shoulder. It seemed that Mace, too, had been deeply touched by Qui-Gon's passing. For once, the soft core beneath the Master's stern exterior showed. Maybe the alcohol had also been of assistance with that.

And Mace had clearly had way too much of his chosen intoxicant. Obi-Wan thought for a moment whether it was permissible to Force a member of the Council to sleep, and then decided that Mace wouldn't be able to remember any of this tomorrow, anyway. Which was all the better, because otherwise the next encounter with him would be worse than awkward.

Obi-Wan carefully placed a sleep suggestion in the rambling Master's fuzzy mind – but that seemed to have no effect at all. It only served to cause yet another mood swing, and moments later Mace was once again jovially slapping Obi-Wan's shoulder – and missing by about half a meter – and congratulating him on his excellent performance during the trials.

Master Windu stayed until almost six in the morning. He sat down on the ground opposite Obi-Wan, and carried the conversation on for both of them. He talked about the deceased Master in a sad voice choked with emotion, then his mood would suddenly and violently swing from grief and sadness about his friend's death to delight and something that could almost be termed pride when he talked about Obi-Wan's trials and what a fine Knight he had been these past years (completely puzzling said Knight with his acclamation), which would turn into fiery anger as he raged against the Sith a second later.

All the while, Mace completely ignored any requests, suggestions, orders and even threats with which Obi-Wan tried to get him to just go and sleep it off, or at least bother someone else with all this. Only when a bright line on the horizon announced the coming of the next morning did the by then hung-over and grumpy Master finally leave. The bald Master woke the next morning with a bad, sour taste in his mouth, a whole heard of trampling banthas in his head and no recollection of how he acquired them, and the bad feeling that he would have to participate in more partying soon.

Obi-Wan watched Mace stagger away, both glad that the inebriated Master had finally left and worried for the safety of said Master, since Mace seemed to have even forgotten just how to put one foot in front of the other. When Master Windu made it to the palace entrance without falling over, though, Obi-Wan decided that as a Jedi Master, Mace was probably able to look after himself.

He looked around to check if anybody else was on his way to bother him and cry on his shoulder before he sat down again when he couldn't see anyone. It was nearly morning, and the last twenty-four hours had left Obi-Wan drained and numb. He thought that if he closed his eyes now, he would probably fall asleep right there on the floor. And although he had most definitely not had the chance to examine his emotions about Qui-Gon's death and his new Padawan and the Chancellor's weirdness and Padmé's strange fit and Master Windu's seemingly nonsensical ramblings, exhaustion had put a more effective lock on them than he ever could.

Just as his eyelids started to droop despite his best efforts to stay awake, the familiar tapping of a certain infamous walking stick accompanied by the click of blunt claws on the marble-tiled floor could be heard. Obi-Wan was jerked out of his almost-sleep before the diminutive Master arrived, for which the young Jedi was grateful because otherwise Yoda would almost certainly add to the collection of bruises he already carried on his shins from their earlier discussion.

"Good morning, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan greeted the ancient Master.

"Good morning, young Obi-Wan. A nice morning, it is. Wake with the sun, I did. Tell you that old people rise early, I did, didn't I? Your night of meditation, what did it tell you?"

Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment. "It was most… puzzling," he weighed the word and found that it adequately described all that had happened without telling Yoda anything at all, really.

And it was not such a rare occurrence that the Force would bestow confusing and incomprehensible visions, after all. It all came down to the point of view: the night definitely had been puzzling, and if Yoda thought this was due to whatever Obi-Wan had seen during his meditation, well, it was not really his fault. Yoda was the one always preaching that one must not assume too much.

Yoda seemed satisfied with the answer. "Yes, hmmm. Always in motion, the future is. Never easy to understand, it is, what the Force tells us. Aware of the future, one must be, yet at the same time, live in the here and now, you must."

Obi-Wan just nodded, his brain too tired to wrap around the enigmatic contradictions Yoda regularly spouted. He just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible, and then find a nice bed or even a dark corner where he could sleep for a while.

"Invited us to join a parade to celebrate Naboo's liberation, the Queen has. Very generous, this is. Attend, we will," Yoda informed Obi-Wan. "Bring along your new Padawan, too. Perform all the necessary steps to make young Skywalker your Padawan, you must, so that stand by your side, he can at the parade."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan answered automatically.

In Obi-Wan's sleep-deprived and rather exhausted mind, the following moments blurred to become one event that seemed both to be over incredibly fast and yet at the same time to take forever. Yoda recited all the correct words, except that he spoke them backwards, then he hacked off Obi-Wan's braid, spoke a few words of benediction and encouragement, pressed the severed braid in his hand and hobbled off.

Obi-Wan stared at the three strands of auburn hair adorned with many beads. Some of them were still shiny and colourful, others had faded and dulled with age but were none the less cherished for that. He still remembered where he got every single one of them, and he remembered who had first woven them into his Padawan braid. Tightly clutching this last remainder of his apprenticeship, Obi-Wan sat there in the morning sun for a long time, finally releasing the tears he hadn't been able to spill earlier, remembering his Master and grieving for Qui-Gon's death.

oOo

Edited on 13th March, 2011