A/N:

TW: Angry Obi approaching, and also trigger warning for mention of anti-indigenous sentiments related to a mission

Also, side note: I'm making the Ansion mission a little more than six months before the Battle of Geonosis for the plot's sake.

OOO

Chapter 4

(Voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi)

Qui-Gon's suite is much as I remember it: tidy—though not unencumbered by stuff and things—and full of memories and mementoes of the past and the echoes of peace and tranquility. But there is a big difference from what I remember—two big differences, actually. For one, though the space is clean enough, a number of various projects lie scattered about, from the tech board of a computer to what seems to be a mechno hand. And of course, two: Anakin's presence echoes everywhere. We sit down in the living room, myself at the end of it, by the fish tank with its bright colorful fish swimming hither and thither in the cerulean water. The sight brings back a flood of memories, from the first time my youngling-self saw them when moving into these rooms to the final time I came into this apartment after Qui-Gon had died, and I took up the tank of marine life to give to Luminara, since I couldn't bear to take care of the fish myself any longer due to the reminder. Though the seat also has another advantage besides memories: it puts me with some distance across from my former Master.

After serving us both with some blue milk—the man never did go for tea—he sits down. "Well, what can I do for you, Obi-Wan?"

I wish I could tell him the whole truth—pour it all out—but instead I opt with, "I came to speak to you about Anakin."

"Indeed? I thought you might have."

"…you did?"

"Of course. After all, you came at a time when you guessed he wouldn't be here, and there was the… occurrence, the other day." A faintly probing note rests in his voice, which I elect to ignore.

"Yes," I say, and deign to look down. "I am sorry about that. I don't know quite what got into me. Nerves, I suppose. Anakin's reputation has spread far and wide already."

"Was that why, my former Padawan?" is the light, too-knowing response.

Okay. I guess I ought to have realized that might not work. I meet his gaze equably. "That, and I do not choose to respond to being goaded into a fight." And that is the truth.

To this, he nods. "No. You appear to have evolved from that," he remarks, smiling conspiratorially.

I think of the way we first met: Him, rejecting teaching me because I'd goaded Xan into a duel (to impress Qui-Gon with my skills). It backfired big time, because though I did win the duel, Qui-Gon worried about the aggressiveness I had displayed. Said he couldn't train me. It was only later, after my stint in the AgriCorps, that we became a Master-Padawan pair. That boy, though… the boy who wanted fights, sought them ought even, feels so far away, so long ago, as to be in another galaxy entirely. Honestly, I can't even believe I was ever him. Was ever that.

"I try," I reply wryly. "But it is… more than that. It seems… well…" I've spent days thinking through how to put this delicately, but still struggle. "—Anakin did not take my refusal well. Since, he has been… seeking me out… attempting to… engage me." There, I think. That was restrained. And frankly, I think, pretty generous given the boy's behavior as of late.

Qui-Gon's brows have risen. "Has he? Well, that does explain all of his absences recently… and his silences. I attempted to speak with him, but he said that he was fine. I suppose I should have known better." He grimaces faintly.

My first unkind thought is, Yes, you should have. Don't you know that Anakin's silences are never "fine"? Don't you know that if—when—he shuts you down, you need to keep gently probing until you get to the heart of the issue? But my arrogance is smothered by the memory of the fact that I really only realized these things after the fact in my relationship with him. How could I hold anyone to the standard of hindsight I myself fell far short of? "He has been rather persistent," I say measuredly.

"And you want me to call off the attack dog," Qui-Gon interposes, almost amusedly.

I offer a droll smile. "I would appreciate it. I wouldn't have come to you but for the fact that I have… repeatedly attempted… to refuse, but he remains… persistent."

"That would be Anakin."

The ironic chuckle leaves me before I can stop it. "Indeed so."

This earns me a cock of the older man's head. "You seem as familiar with it as I am," he remarks, and there it is again: the probing.

"Not at all, naturally," I return smoothly. "It is just easy to observe."

"But of course I'm sure you remember, also. I for one recall the way he wouldn't leave your side on Naboo, always asking more questions about the various forms of lightsaber combat and fluffing your pillows in the Recovery Wing."

The ache I have been attempting to ignore opens up in my chest, too much of a chasm to be incorporeal any longer. "Yes," I return, and hear how remote my tone has become. Almost chastising. "He was persistent then, too." Translation: But we aren't here to relive old memories.

Qui-Gon sits up a bit straighter in his chair, his tone turning rather brisker also. "Irregardless, I understand why you came to me. Anakin's behavior has been inappropriate, and I apologize on his behalf, surprised as I am by it. I will be certain to speak with him."

"Thank you, Master Jinn."

"Of course."

I stand, giving him a bow. It looks as if he is prepared to say something else when the door opens with a loud bang! and tromping steps sound in the hall. I feel him before I see him.

"Knight Kenobi." There is an eerie, febrile light in Anakin's eyes as he takes me in, setting down datacard and lightsaber alike. Well, perhaps he doesn't wish to duel me after all any longer. Or maybe just not tonight. "Good evening."

"Good evening, Padawan Skywalker," I reply, matching his tone and posture. It's a technique I learned long ago: mirror someone and they tend to calm down. It is one of my secrets to successful negotiations. I'd say "good to see you," but sometimes no point of view can create a certain truth.

He smiles back in a boyish, thoroughly grating fashion, which I'm sure he intends. After all, I've seen it before in other situations where he was upset at me. I've also seen the way he flicks his padawan braid out of his eyes and tosses his golden head, though strangely enough it was with Padmé, never me.

It is now that Qui-Gon appears to remember he is the Master in the room. "Anakin," he remarks fondly, "good to see you back. Obi-Wan was just coming by to recount some old memories."

I must admit I'm impressed by his not-lie. Maybe I picked up the certain point of view perspective from my old master after all. "Indeed," I intone.

"Really?" Anakin rejoins, as if intrigued. "That's interesting. What takes a whole decade to reminisce about?"

Ouch. So, that hurts, and I'm pretty sure I don't mask it quite in time, because I see Qui-Gon's eyes narrow slightly on his student. Before this can progress, I return lightly, "Oh, this and that. Sith killing and all."

Thankfully Qui-Gon runs with my attempt at diffusion. "It does take a while to want to talk about it," he agrees. "Though frankly I think the narrative has been severely misrepresented, unfortunately. After all, Obi-Wan, it was you who did most of the work. If not for your moment of distraction, it would have been you who became the so-called the 'Sith killer'."

"Believe me," I return drily, "I'm glad it worked out the way it did."

"You were glad to be stabbed?" Anakin throws in, eyes narrowed.

"Rather not that bit, no."

"Well, anyways," Qui-Gon plows on. "How was your meeting with the Chancellor, Anakin?" He says something else after that—as does Anakin—but I don't hear. Can't hear. Can't think. Can't breathe, for all of me is consumed by one thought, one question, one disbelieving realization—

"The Chancellor?" I ask, and note that my voice has lowered an octave.

Both turn to look at me, an odd look passing over my former master's face. Anakin doesn't seem to notice. "Yeah," he says, boastful and chest puffed out with pride, "he likes to meet with me occasionally. Kind of a mentor to me—"

"Anakin," chides Master Jinn, half fond and half somber, "boasting is not the Jedi way." The boy pout-frowns, but doesn't go on.

I've been quiet for too long; I haven't replied at all. Qui-Gon asks, "Obi-Wan?" and even Anakin is staring at me in a puzzled way, most of the arrogance wiped from his countenance.

"Late," I say, pulling myself back by sheer force of will. "It is… getting late. I didn't realize the time. I apologize for taking up so much of your evening, Master Jinn. Padawan Skywalker."

I give a cursory bow, and am out before they probably even know what just happened. I have been rude, and I know it, detest it, but cannot help it either. I needed to get away before I began screaming at Qui-Gon, perhaps the both of them, screaming myself hoarse.

The truth is… I am in shock. I cannot put my finger on the whole reason, except to say that I presumed Qui-Gon, in his better sense, would not allow the Chancellor (an old man) unfettered access to Anakin (a young boy). I had been a fool not to think much of the request, and all the galaxy paid the price for that. But Qui-Gon… surely… surely, I had thought, he would know better… even if not the Sith part, just the general dodginess of the whole situation—

Only—not, it would seem.

Anakin. Meeting with the Chancellor. All of my other thoughts smoke out, centering in on the one great offender. My own voice, inside my head, has a hot black fire that smokes from the depths of my flaming insides. You let him meet with Palpatine, Qui-Gon. For how long? Has he been seeing him since he was a young, impressionable boy, just like last time—? Do you know… do you know what you've done—what you've let start—?

From my impression of Anakin, he doesn't seem much more balanced or steady than he had been under my tutelage at this time. And if he is mostly the same, with the same poisonous influence of Palpatine… What if I have made a terrible, terrible mistake after all? What if I ought to have stayed around Anakin more, tried to be a stabilizing influence in his life—though that is laughable, so maybe it would have been better to have never even brought him here to Coruscant—yes, that may have been right—

…~oOo~…

I do not want to be here. Not really in general, and especially not today. But here I am anyways, because really, it doesn't matter what I want. (I suppose I am feeling unusually resentful today.)

I stand before the Jedi High Council, my eyes unconsciously tracking over to where my old seat rests, now occupied by a Master whose name I am ashamed to say I cannot remember, but only know that she died a year or so after the war begin. I stand before them, and wonder why on earths I am here… with them. My back itches with the sensation of eyes on me, his eyes, which haven't left me since I came into the room, already clued into their presences by aid of the Force, but none the wiser as to the reason behind this little gathering. Surely, I think, surely it isn't about the other day's incident. Please, not that…

"Master Kenobi," Yoda greets, his lambent eyes serene and a little crinkled at the edges in a friendly fashion. That's good, I suppose.

I bow. "Masters."

"Summoned you we have because a mission we have for you, along with Master Jinn and his Padawan."

I know my face shows nothing. I'm too experienced for that. Though it admittedly takes much to shove the words out of my buttoned-up-tight mouth: "Of course, Master."

"The border dispute on Ansion, tricky situation it is. How it is resolved, their loyalty may sway. Important this world is to the Republic at a time like this. Need your steady, experienced diplomacy on this mission, Master Jinn and Padawan Skywalker do." Translation: Jinn is a wild-card and his Padawan is a loose reek, please reign them in by playing Negotiator for a few days so they don't blow this. Dooku has enough allies already. We can't afford to let him take another resource-rich world. It's enough to add yet more fuel to the fire of the deep-seeded cynicism writhing around inside of me, the knowledge of this mission that I have. I remember Ansion well. Too well. Really, the Council couldn't care less that Ansion's human government wants to deprive the planet's indigenous Ansional of thirty klicks worth of their treaty-accorded territory in order to gain access to the rich natural resources on the section; the Council just doesn't want the power balance shifting to the pro-Separaist Sionin government.

I would so much rather go alone, but I know how well that ship would fly. There is nothing I can do, par yelling, I don't want to share! and storming out of the room. Since I am not an immature youngling, however, I simply give another bow and repeat, "Of course, Masters" while cursing this whole damned war in my head, and the fact that I have a reputation for successful diplomacy. If I didn't, they wouldn't be calling on me for this, with them.

But maybe this will be a good thing, I tell myself forcefully, trying to convince, attempting in vain to calm myself (as I have been all night and morning). To be around Anakin for a few days, a week even… I'll be able to assess his similarities and differences to the one I knew, assure myself that the course he is on is the right one (par the Chancellor piece, which I must find a way to address), and then head back into obscurity. Yes. That could work, could be good… I just need to cool my temper a bit through more cleansing meditation until then, so that I am able to calmly be on the same ship as… Qui-Gon… for the sustained two-day trip.

But it doesn't seem the matter is quite settled, for Anakin steps forward and begins, "Masters, I—"

"Excellent," Mace cuts over whatever the Padawan is about to say, which makes the young boy seal his lips together and visibly fume. "It's settled, then. You'll leave tomorrow morning at dawn."

OOO

A/N: I'm going to reiterate that Obi-Wan's POV is a limited POV, so he doesn't have all the information or a wholistic perspective. That's what happens with a limited POV . So, Anakin may not actually be the disaster he is beginning to believe.

BUT, that said, I have never been wholly convinced of the theory that Qui-Gon was this perfect Jedi Master who would have amazingly trained and completely changed and transformed Annie into the Chosen One Extrordinare. My view is that Anakin (as you'll come to see soon) is more balanced and somewhat changed, but the core of who he is hasn't changed, because he already experienced so many of those core traumas at a young age. Qui-Gon is human, and he makes mistakes, just different ones than Obi did.

Ironically, Obi probably could've helped Qui in that regard, but... oh well. He "knew it was best" to leave them entirely alone, so...