Aha, a chapter to get the hate flowing - but don't get too attached to the hate.
Chapter 45. A Darth of "Bad Feelings"
Bad feelings. No one thought it worthy of thought, not even a moment's hesitation, that Obi-Wan had not had one of his bad feelings in some time.
Certainly not the young Jedi in question. Not Mace Windu. Not even Master Yoda.
While oft dismissed by his one-time master as a byproduct of an overactive and anxious imagination, they were unrecognized illusory warnings of the Force. Many Jedi had at least a limited amount of precognition; in Obi-Wan it manifested as vague and formless forewarnings. Properly heeded and nurtured as he matured along with the rest of his Force skills, it would have in time manifested itself as one of this Jedi's particular talents. It was instead stunted and atrophied, a remnant of its potential, too long maligned and misunderstood.
And fed by the Force itself it was now all but absent. In its place there were only troublesome dreams and lingering uncertainties.
So this day, as on those days preceding, no premonitions surfaced and no forewarnings of the day's tumultuous events surfaced.
Crouched low, Obi-Wan adjusted a small initiate's hand position on a padded stick, smiled and tousled the small head. "There you go," he said. He turned to the next initiate and froze.
Oh, this wasn't good…not good at all. His eyes swung to find Master Danner, only to remember she'd comm'd she'd be late this first day back and to start without her.
"From what I hear, you don't need me, anyway." Her voice had been teasing and he had been shyly pleased. Master Windu had only looked up from his datapad and shook his head without comment.
He tried to force a look of inquisitive surprise on his face to counteract the sudden lurch of his stomach.
"Hi, Obi-Wan," Anakin chirped, only a hint of his amusement and disdain coloring his words.
"Does – does your master know you're here?" Obi-Wan fought the urge to back away. This could not – would not – end well. Master Jinn would not take kindly to "Obi-Wan's interference" with his padawan. His former master's ultimatum had not been passed on to him, but it had not needed to be. He remembered the rebukes and reprimands hanging over him like a dark shroud on the second trip to Naboo, when he was still Qui-Gon's padawan. He remembered the harsh words cautioning him to keep his distance from the Chosen One in the Room of a Thousand Fountains as well, when only memories of that relationship remained.
Both before and after he had been severed from his master's life, the warning was clear. Stay away from Anakin Skywalker. Unsaid, but just as clear: stay away from me.
With a shake of his head, Anakin confided, "Master Qui-Gon knows I wanted to change my class schedule, is all. I haven't seen much of you recently, and you're sort of like my padawan brother, aren't you?" He beamed at the older Jedi, before biting his lip and looking at his toes. "Or are you still a padawan – what are you, Obi-Wan?"
He looked up, a shy smile on his face and malice in his eyes.
"I'm – I'm…," Obi-Wan swallowed hard.
Anakin leaned in close and whispered, "A failure? A disgrace to the Jedi?" He stepped back, smiling as the blood drained from Obi-Wan's face. "Oh, dear, Obi-Wan –are you okay? Is it something I said? Perhaps you should sit down."
He took the Jedi's arm and pushed him into a seat. "I'll get you something to drink." Under his breath he added, "I haven't seen you cry lately – maybe you're dehydrated from all those crybaby tears you've been shedding."
"Why?" Obi-Wan stared after the boy as he dashed for the promised liquid, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Qui-Gon's pride and joy, the "Chosen One" by both the Force and his former master – why would such a favored one torment him? Worse, who would believe him should he speak up, tell the boy such was not proper behavior? It would be he who would be reprimanded for not being understanding enough or, perhaps, even be accused of precipitating the behavior by at least one Jedi – the only one who could intervene: the boy's master, Qui-Gon Jinn.
Breathe…they were words, only words.
But they hurt. They brought back unwanted memories, of despair, of betrayal and of hurt. The disbelief in first his heart and then his mind, the physical agony that swamped the joy of finding his true connection to the Force and the disjointed ache of betrayal and anger as his mind was ravaged even while striving to save the man who had so callously rejected him.
Focused so tightly, he didn't register the arrival of Master Danner nor her hurried footsteps until a warm palm was placed against his forehead.
"Obi-Wan, are you okay?"
Letting out a silent sigh, Obi-Wan dredged up a faint smile and rubbed a temple. Just let me gather myself; I'll be fine. It was just the shock – I shouldn't have reacted at all, let alone have been knocked off my mental balance.
"Yes, thank you." His voice was weaker than he would have liked, but at least the words came out without an embarrassing wobble. It wasn't quite the truth, not at the moment, but it would be, once he breathed in, then out, another few times. He knew how to find his center even if he hadn't quite found it yet. He would, though, any second now.
Master Danner carefully scrutinized him and then nodded, as if not quite convinced but willing to accept his word.
"Here's some water," Anakin said pleasantly as he reappeared, offering a glass and a glance of feigned concern.
"Thank you, that was very kind of you, Anakin." Master Danner threw a puzzled look at the padawan, clearly wondering at his presence in this class, but choosing not to address it at the moment. When Obi-Wan didn't reach for the water, she put the glass into the young man's hand and curled his fingers around it. Her worried frown returned. "Should I call someone?"
"No, no, I'm – I'm fine. Really." Obi-Wan raised the glass and drank, his hands slightly shaking, much to his dismay. Some of the water spilled down his chin. The pain of those words would sink in later, he suspected, but for now his mind was still reeling from the shock of the words.
He wiped an unsteady hand over his face and slowly stood.
The gesture spoke as clearly as words would have. He wanted to divert attention from himself and back to the class. With a wordless nod, the instructor stood and patted his arm as he managed a smile and a steady step back to the largely unaware group of initiates. Feeling Master Danner's concerned eyes on him, he straightened his shoulders and let the enthusiasm of the younglings tug the corners of his lips upwards into a smile.
A façade of normalcy masked his internal loss of equilibrium as he strove to make the outer reality his internal as well.
Live in the moment, Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon's words echoed through his mind. He'd be hearing that phrase for the rest of his life; he'd heard it nearly daily until – until the day he was no longer Qui-Gon's padawan. Once, he had thought he'd be laughing over that and other "masterly phrases" over a cup of tea with his master: two veterans of raising padawans, sharing chuckles and stories.
That future was gone now.
Let it go, Obi-Wan; that moment has already passed. You're stronger than this…focus on the attentive learners, these younglings who are so eager to learn, who look beyond what he was to who he was.
They deserved his best. They deserved his fullest attention. They led him to this moment, where only they counted and where, submerged into teaching and guiding, he found satisfaction and happiness.
As the class continued, he felt the knot within him loosen.
He moved amongst the younglings, offering tips, sometimes taking a soft stick and demonstrating some move or other, falling into the rhythms and paces of the usual and commonplace.
He had only forgotten one thing, while living in the moment: each moment flowed into the next bringing something new, perhaps unexpected. Without an eye to the future, something could be overlooked or forgotten; something that should have been anticipated could become instead a nasty shock.
Such was the pitfall of living solely in the moment.
Time came to a stop as he came face to face with the next one in the rotation. He had introduced this himself. First drills, then paired initiate drills, then joining the rotation to provide some one-on-one instructor time for each student.
And Anakin now faced him; a strange light in his eyes.
No – no, I can't do this – I can't. Obi-Wan stepped back and dropped his eyes, only to crash onto the floor as a stick slammed into his side. He found himself blinking at the ceiling.
"Wow!" Anakin exclaimed in surprise. "You sure went down hard for such a soft swing." He giggled.
Obi-Wan pressed a hand to his side. Soft?
"Sometimes it doesn't take much – if the blow is placed precisely," he answered, climbing slowly to his feet.
He bowed and turned to move away. He would not engage the boy. He wanted to distance himself from him. A confrontation would do far more harm than good.
"Like this?"
He turned and barely blocked the blow aimed at his knee.
"I will not engage you, Anakin. Your master would not want that."
"Aw, it's only play and no one can get hurt. I will fight you, Obi-Wan. It's your choice if you fight back."
The disarming charm was palpable, the grin bright and engaging, but there was open challenge in the eyes aimed directly at him, hidden from the others.
He would rue this later, he thought, but the boy was so certain he had the edge on Obi-Wan. Anakin didn't have the training to best a senior padawan or a knight, and while he didn't want to hurt the boy, Obi-Wan had few options. One was to turn his back, walk away – and without the Force to warn him of an attack from behind, he would be on the mat once more.
In pain. Once more, in pain.
"So it is," he said pleasantly, raising his stick into a defensive position and waiting. The light in Anakin's eyes intensified.
Anakin jabbed with the stick. Obi-Wan slipped sideways, letting the blow pass through the space where he had been. He ducked under the next swing and pivoted.
"Afraid to fight back, coward?" The taunt was low, too low for the rest of the class to hear.
His answer was loud enough for the class to hear. "This is a demonstration of how a Jedi chooses to fight, padawan. You have chosen to go on the offensive, thinking such will be more than sufficient. However, one can end a bout with a good defense."
He stepped into the next swing, at the last second again pivoting and tapping Anakin on the shoulder.
Anakin exploded into movement, infuriated. Untrained, his blows were wild yet powerful. They didn't look that way, Obi-Wan knew, as he easily evaded them, but they held real strength behind them. If they connected, they would create a massive bruise; might easily break a bone even.
"Enough, Anakin." He whirled and dropped the boy with a well-placed blow and stood over him.
Cheers and whistles began to erupt from the class. Obi-Wan raised his hand; the silent prompt brought nearly instantaneous quiet. Vocal displays of this manner were discouraged but this age group still needed reminders from time to time.
Carefully neutral in an attempt to not further antagonize the boy, Obi-Wan reached a hand down to help Anakin up. "You have great strength and determination, padawan. With time and training you will learn not to leave yourself open as you do now. One can take advantage of that," he said simply, holding the boy's eyes. He offered to help the boy up, but Anakin refused his hand and pushed himself upright; his eyes flashing fire.
Once on his feet he bowed jerkily, a gesture that didn't fool Obi-Wan.
He shivered suddenly. Anakin's eyes held a threat, a real threat. The sense of danger, of wrongness, he had felt upon the first meeting flashed back. But who would believe him given a choice between the damaged padawan – or the exceptional one?
Somehow the rest of the class passed without incident. Master Danner pursed her lips and murmured something about bad scheduling and she'd check into it as they tidied up afterward, then left Obi-Wan with a pat on the shoulder.
He nodded then sank into a seat, suddenly weary. He continued to sit, head in his hands, long after the class ended, feeling totally unsettled.
He hadn't been exactly welcoming to Anakin at first, he had to admit, but his animosity had never been directed at the boy, only at the situation into which they had both been placed. He had earned the boy's coolness, even if he had tried to make amends, but what exactly had he done to earn his enmity?
Anakin had gained everything and he had lost everything.
Even now he was still struggling to make sense of his past and his future, to find his sense of self. His thoughts were still disjointed, his emotions in disarray. Chaos ruled him, only held within bounds by intense effort.
Those boundaries had been breached, by words that were only now beginning to sink in.
"Or are you still a padawan – what are you, Obi-Wan?"
-A Jedi who wasn't whole, who couldn't access the Force.
"A failure? A disgrace to the Jedi?"
-Was that how they saw him, not just his former master?
"Afraid to fight back, coward?"
-He had stood up for himself, but he hadn't fought back. Hadn't he?
Oh, Force, he just wished he knew his place in the Order, if he even had one still. He took so much and gave so little. Mace – he had taken him in, wiped his tears - .
A sudden noise caught his attention; a voice snarled, "I warned you to keep away from him but you just had to humiliate him in front of his peers. You're a bully and a coward. A disgrace to us all."
He looked up just in time to see a fist exploding towards his face.