AN: Thanks for reading! This is my first one-shot, so your (constructive) reviews would be extraordinarily helpful.
The General's Remorse
"I am… not looking forward to this," Obi-Wan understated.
Anakin didn't reply. He hadn't had much to say to his old master since they were assigned to this mission together. He knew it was the Council's hope that he and Kenobi would reconcile, but at the moment he held little hope for it. Their one confrontation over Obi-Wan's deception had not truly resolved matters between them.
"I have always known," Anakin said after very carefully harnessing his anger so as not to lash out at the other Jedi, "That you would obey the will of the Council no matter what. We don't always agree about the Council's…wisdom. Sometimes I think they're wrong, and you defend them, and either we wind up doing things your way or we end up doing things my way. Either way, the mission was always accomplished. But how can you not see the unbelievable cruelty -" he stopped himself from yelling, but continued with a tight, low voice saturated with emotion that to Obi-Wan was not necessarily preferable to the alternative. "It was cruel, Obi-Wan, not to tell me."
"Anakin…" A rebuttal.
Anakin spoke over his old Master. "I know, my 'reaction had to be genuine,' I know. I don't know when the Council had the opportunity to evaluate my acting skills, since I haven't been assigned any undercover work, but I do know how to keep a secret, Obi-Wan. This is a skill I was not given the opportunity to demonstrate before you all apparently decided I didn't have it. Not the first time the Council has underestimated me. It might be the first time you have, I don't know." It was a paradox - he couldn't prove that he was an excellent secret-keeper without betraying any one of the number of secrets he guarded closely. His marriage. The Tuskens. The true extent of his attachments to Ahsoka and, yes, to Obi-Wan himself, who were his family. So he moved on from that point.
"And you allowed the Council to use my emotions as - as a prop in their operation!"
"The Chancellor's life was in danger! Surely you understand that drastic measures had to be taken - he's your friend, wouldn't you want the Council to go to any length necessary to ensure his safety?"
Anakin snarled. "Don't pretend like you care how I feel about the Chancellor, Obi-Wan, I know you've never approved of our friendship. But the fact is, you're right - I would have fully supported the Council in taking whatever measures were necessary. I probably would as usual have wound up having to go farther than they were willing to go to accomplish their own objective! But the fact is, nobody asked me! So I didn't really have the chance to weigh in on whether or not I thought the Chancellor's life was worth you breaking my heart!" Shavit, he thought. He hadn't meant to let that last part out.
Obi-Wan was stunned. He knew, of course, that Anakin would grieve, and that that grief would outstrip what any more…conventional former Padawan might show toward a fallen Master. That, indeed, was the selling point to ensure that the conspirators truly believed that Rako Hardeen had slain Obi-Wan Kenobi. Had he known, though, that this grief would be so pronounced…
Obi-Wan Kenobi had been the Padawan of a maverick Jedi Master. As a young man, he had been constantly torn between his open admiration for a man he perceived to be among the wisest, most intelligent, most accomplished and most powerful Masters in the Order, and his constant frustration that Qui-Gon Jinn did not receive such adulation from the majority of the Jedi because he was so constantly at odds with the Jedi Council. He should have been on the Council, but he could not stop himself from going his own way at every turn. "I follow the Living Force, Obi-Wan," he would say, entirely without apology. So the future General Kenobi promised himself that, should he ever be granted the opportunity to be a Jedi Master, he would emulate Qui-Gon in every way - except this one. With regard to his relationship to the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan Kenobi sought to do the precise opposite of what Qui-Gon Jinn would have done. And Qui-Gon, he knew, would never have agreed to this plot.
"Anakin…" An apology.
"No. Just - don't say anything for a minute." Anakin requested, and turned his back to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan felt Anakin collect himself in the Force, quiet the tempest of emotions raging through him until it muted from a constant crackling and shattering of the very air to a low, rumbling thunder. He felt, even in this fraught moment, no small measure of pride in his apprentice. Anakin had always had more challenges than most, and he was not without his flaws, but he knew what was expected of a Jedi Knight. Though he would - very much like Qui-Gon Jinn - always put his own interpretive spin on those expectations, he never failed to do his best to meet them.
Once Anakin had regained the small amount of composure he felt capable of in the moment, he turned back to Obi-Wan. "In your inability or unwillingness to recognize just how painful this has been for me - and not just for me, for Ahsoka as well - you have failed us, Master. I am used to the Jedi Council disappointing me with their decisions - in fact, you would probably be disappointed in me for how little I ever expect of them. But this…betrayal…I never expected from you, Obi-Wan. Like I said, I have always known that you would obey the will of the Council no matter what, but I had always assumed that if they truly lost their way and were about to cause suffering, you would not follow them blindly."
And maybe, he thought, part of me did always hope you'd choose me over them, even if I didn't really think you would.
He didn't say it, but Obi-Wan felt the sentiment clearly through their bond. He experienced it as a wordless sense of bereft self-disappointment - he understood that Anakin was upset with himself for needing something from Obi-Wan that Obi-Wan simply could not provide. Now there was a void in Anakin Skywalker, as visible in the master-apprentice bond as if it were a missing limb. And Obi-Wan Kenobi was responsible for it.
As these understandings ricocheted between the two men with the swiftness of lightning, the countenances of both Jedi grew grim indeed.
"I was wrong," Anakin finished. The simplicity of the statement belied the intensity of emotion underneath it.
"Anakin…" A plea.
"Just one more thing. Then I guess it's your turn. And you can tell the Council I said this." Righteous fury flashed across his brow before it was again wrestled back into stern disapproval. "To weaponize the relationship between a Master and former Apprentice in this manner - without consulting half of that pair - is a gross violation of the one bond allowed to a Jedi. And if I had known I could be used in this manner, I would have stayed on Tatooine twelve years ago. I didn't need to travel halfway across the galaxy to be enslaved to a less considerate Master than the one I had when I was nine." By the end of this speech, Anakin's rage and pain had dulled. Not because he was in any way healing; on the contrary, his pain had reached such an apex that it exceeded his capacity to experience its magnitude. His overtaxed emotions were shutting down as a result.
"I'm ready to hear what you have to say to me."
At the moment, Obi-Wan Kenobi only had one word left in his vocabulary.
"Anakin…" a cry.
The Master followed the example of his apprentice, collecting himself in the Force, and began again.
"Anakin - " a defense.
Then, in the split second before The Negotiator regained the rest of his vocabulary, he finally understood. He closed his mouth.
He had been about to defend the indefensible.
Changing tacks, he said, "I have failed you. I have failed you. I have no excuses, my old Padawan. I am sorry. If I had known - " he stretched out a hand to touch Anakin's arm. The Jedi Knight withdrew as if from a stinging insect. "- had I known how devastating this would be for you, I would never have agreed to it." The gravity of his shame pulled his gaze away from Anakin to inspect the stonework on the floor of the Temple balcony they stood upon.
"I…won't try to defend the Council's decision, or my own. I will make amends to you somehow, Anakin, I promise." I love you. This thought, this forbidden sentiment, the model Council member kept heavily shielded. It was his secret. The entire Council knew Anakin Skywalker had an inappropriate attachment to the Senator from Naboo - it was his failure to mask his emotions for her sufficiently that, in part, had led to the decision not to include him in their…scheming. But nobody knew about Obi-Wan's attachment.
Least of all, Anakin Skywalker.
"I look forward to when you figure out how to do that, Obi-Wan. Right now, I think I need to be alone."
It was one of the very, very rare times Anakin voluntarily sought solitude in order to meditate.
Unfortunately, the Council, perceiving the schism between their two most effective Generals and unwilling to allow it to affect the war effort - and, perhaps, in a tacit admission of their own role in facilitating the break - sought to make peace by sending the pair on a low-stress diplomatic mission.
To Mandalore.
It was not, Obi-Wan Kenobi thought, his week.
His expression was blank, to any who did not know him, but in the Force, Anakin Skywalker was the picture of guilt. He knew he should not be experiencing glee. He felt so…venal. Obi-Wan had apologized and promised to make amends. Anakin had meditated until he was passably capable of releasing his grief and rage into the Force whenever they arose (and they did, frequently). He really should be a proper Jedi and allow his former Master the opportunity to make those amends and, in the meantime, get on with his portion of the business of being a wartime team of Jedi leaders.
But try as he might, he could not stifle his exuberantly giddy anticipation for the coming confrontation.
If Obi-Wan Kenobi was ever to have an attachment that was not to his son, it would be to Duchess Satine Kryze. She represented the one crisis of faith of the several he had surmounted in his quest for Mastery that still, in odd moments, irritated the back of his mind with what if…
She was a study in contradictions. A pacifist Mandalorian, fiercely passionate about nonviolence. Her warrior's spirit thrived on the task of shaping Mandalore's face and role in the galactic community into one of rationality, quiet strength, trustworthiness, and resolute neutrality in this time of civil war.
The Jedi Order, able in an increasingly rare instance to fulfill its intended role of peacekeeper rather than warbringer, was to assist Mandalore in relief efforts to unaligned worlds that had nevertheless been harmed by the war. It was The Negotiator's task to vouchsafe the Order's commitment and to determine exactly what shape it would take; The Hero Without Fear was on hand, for once, as a masterful logician, his tactical brilliance being put to the tasks of organization rather than battle. The Republic's resources were strapped; Obi-Wan knew how to wrangle as much as possible out of the hands that held the purse-strings, and Anakin knew how to get a lot done with a little.
It offered both Jedi a glimpse of what their partnership might have looked like had the Clone Wars not erupted, literally in their faces, on Geonosis two years prior.
It was just truly unfortunate for this hopeful mission that Satine Kryze was not best pleased with Obi-Wan Kenobi at the moment.
As Padawan, Knight and Master entered the throne room of Sundari Palace, Obi-Wan repeated, "Really, not looking forward to this. I have a very, very bad feeling about this." His expression betrayed none of the anxiety reflected in his muttering.
Anakin's expression was blank, to any who did not know him. His Padawan knew him very well, and thought that the crinkling at the corner of his eyes that was the only external hint of a buried smile was well deserved. "Be mindful of the Living Force, Master," he playfully chided.
Obi-Wan's expression brightened like a nine year-old let off of punishment. Playful chiding had been entirely absent, their usual banter missing, these last few days. He played his role. "Thank you for the admonition, Master, I certainly shall try to follow your teachings. I endeavor to be a model from which my own future Padawan might learn." Ahsoka snorted. Anakin's eyes tracked left, narrowed. "Did you have something to contribute, my Padawan?"
"Oh no, Master, I was just meditating on a great disturbance in the Force."
"A great disturbance?" Anakin's eyebrows lifted.
"Why yes, Master, it appears that you telling Obi-Wan to be mindful of his emotions has had catastrophic consequences! I can feel it now - the Light Side is Dark, the Dark is Light, Dooku is Chancellor, Grievous Grandmaster of the order, Ventress is our best friend - "
"Point taken, Ahsoka, thank you," Anakin growled through gritted teeth. Obi-Wan's presence in the Force grew luminous, and the bond between him and Anakin healed just a bit more, hurt each partner just a bit less.
The Mandalorian Royal Guard escorting the trio to the Duchess heard the entire exchange, of course, and were quietly impressed with the Jetii ability to joke around with one another while their faces showed absolutely no humor. They must make a killing at sabacc, one thought, then considered the Jetii's mystical powers and concluded that even the most pristine sabacc face was an unneeded advantage when one could read minds.
"My Lady, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano. Jedi guests, Lady Satine Kryze, Duchess of Mandalore." The Sundari Palace majordomo announced the guests. Satine prepared her own sabacc face, keenly aware that this first exchange could not be between old friends; it was between factions. And not just any two factions. The history of the relationship between Mandalore and the Jedi was…rife. Alliances, enmity, exterminations, and at least one sacking of a major Jedi Temple - the millennia were strewn with lore and a mutual deep institutional mistrust was the modern-day product.
So the fact that she wanted to murder Obi-Wan Kenobi could have no visible impact on this meeting of powers.
"Welcome, guests. Mandalore is honored to receive you. We anticipate being able to provide succor to many who suffer as the result of our proceedings today." Her mouth spoke these words. In her eyes, Obi-Wan Kenobi read, you and I have a major problem and we are going to discuss it at length until I am satisfied that you understand my ire and are appropriately conciliatory.
It bred a particularly painful nostalgia for those madcap weeks in hiding from assassins, the Padawan trying very hard to be very serious in the provision of security to a planetary leader and the young Duchess trying very hard to be a very serious planetary leader who ceded no decision-making power to any other authority. Where and what to eat had been a battleground at least once.
As always in diplomatic settings, Obi-Wan took the lead. "Duchess Satine, thank you for your welcome. The Jedi Order stands ready to serve; we are eager to begin." On the tail end of his brief delivery, he attempted a wounded-housepet expression, drawing his eyebrows together and allowing his limpid eyes to reveal his regret. Her eyes narrowed to very dangerous slits. We can make it vibroblades at dawn, they said. Obi-Wan decided his plea for sympathy had backfired.
If you were to read the transcript of the talks that followed, you would assume that relations between Mandalore and the Jedi were as peaceful and healthy as they had ever been; that, indeed, perhaps a stride forward toward true mutual respect and acceptance had been achieved.
If you posited this perspective to Ahsoka Tano, she would laugh quite heartily and tell you what it was like to be in the room. She would tell you that there was not a moment in the four-hour meeting during which it would have been sudden or unexpected for the Duchess to command her guard to open fire. She would tell you that, despite her own anger and sorrow at the deceptions of Kenobi and the Council and the very real physical harm they had nearly caused, she truly felt sorry for her Master's Master - at least, for the duration of that meeting. The eyes of the Duchess held those of the Council member hostage nearly every slow-passing minute of those hours.
If you posited this perspective to Anakin Skywalker, he would simply tell you that he had his hand on his lightsaber hilt the entire time. (He may have been infuriated with his father, but he didn't want him dead.)
"Well, I hope you enjoyed our evening meal, friends," the Duchess concluded. "I believe business is done for the day; will you be remaining here at Sundari, returning to your ship, or must you return to Coruscant already?"
"We will be coordinating with the Temple from our ship, Milady," Obi-Wan replied, "but I'm sure we'd enjoy the opportunity to spend a night planetside, in a bed that is not a bunk, without the thrumming of Venator engines for a lullaby." Anakin and Ahsoka nodded their vigorous approval.
"Very well! I'm happy to be able to provide you whatever comfort you'll accept for the evening." The thinness of her smile made quite clear that her happiness had limits. Narrow ones.
"General Kenobi, if I might have a word before I have you shown to your rooms for the night?"
Everyone knew this private encounter had been coming.
Nobody knew the full history between Obi-Wan and the Duchess; nobody knew that she was in love with him, nor that if he were to release the emotional dam he'd built after that crisis of faith, he would love her as well. It was enough for Anakin and Ahsoka to know that Satine Kryze cared for Obi-Wan Kenobi and that, at his funeral, she had lost more composure than anyone had seen a Mandalorian lose in non-Mandalorian company in a thousand years or more. Her sobs were audible, and only the comforting arm of Padmé Amidala kept her upright throughout the observance.
Anakin and Ahsoka looked at each other. "Of course," Anakin said. "Come, Ahsoka, we can get a bit of a head start on our requisitions."
When the Knight and his Apprentice had departed, Obi-Wan turned to face Satine with the air of a prisoner facing execution who had accepted his guilt and made his peace. Satine stood rigid, visibly vibrating with emotions, but with a beskar-cast countenance that refused to identify or communicate a single one of them.
For a full minute, neither moved nor spoke.
Then she reached out to him.
Or, that's what she had intended to do.
For a moment, Obi-Wan was not entirely certain what she had done instead. There was no warning in the Force, no telegraphing in her bearing: one moment they stood two feet apart, each unwilling to be the first to break the silence, the next moment they stood two feet apart, Obi-Wan's cheek was stinging and his ears ringing from the blow that had broken the silence in lieu of any word.
"That's going to bruise," he lamented. No open-handed slap from Duchess Satine Kryze. No, pacifist she may be, but every cell in her hot-blooded body was still Mandalorian, and she'd been taught to throw a right cross before she'd learned how to speak in complete sentences. He was likely the first Jedi in half a century to take such a punch from a Mando, and the first in millennia to take one from even a would-be Mand'alor.
"Then you'll carry a reminder of what I am about to spell out for you, General Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi," Satine growled. "That was evil. What you did was evil and terrifying and heartbreaking and wrong. When I thought you were gone, I - " She reminded herself that he was no longer entitled to her vulnerability. "That is not important. What is important, Jetii, is that you learn a very important lesson about friendship. Because we have been friends, have we not?" Her eyebrows lifted with the question.
"Yes, of course," he replied, finding the present perfect tense a hopeful sign.
"I'm very glad to know that that is a mutual perception." Oddly, she did not sound very glad. Or even slightly glad. "I know that friendships are not as common among Jedi as they are among normal people, so - "
"Normal people?!" He couldn't help exploding. Her eyes returned to their slitted vibroblades-at-dawn promise and he spoke no further.
"- So I am going to lay this out for you very carefully. When you are in a friendship, your care for that person means that their death would aggrieve you. The greater the caring, the greater the grief." Her pedantic, didactic tone was weaponized by the percussive bite in every word and the slow delivery of the recitation.
"I care for you a very great deal, Obi-Wan Kenobi. This is not something over which I have control, or I assure you most heartily that at this juncture I would care no longer!" The tone cracked open on the last two words, revealing some of the pain underneath. "So, if you are following the premise I'm explaining, my grief was quite large as well. I thought my friend was no longer among the living, no longer the bright light in the galaxy he has been for me since my youth. And -" and it broke me, she thought, but did not say. "- And it was a deeply unpleasant experience.
"Now I'm going to explain this part mathematically. Are you still following, Obi-Wan?" He nodded, certain that anything he might say at this point would be received poorly and that nothing he could say would cause her to deviate from her planned lecture.
"Consider my caring and grief to be in a directly proportional relationship. When I discovered that your death was a ruse, a Jetii plot for some reason or other I have zero interest in learning, my…reaction…was exponentially greater. Do you understand?" Another nod. "Good. That reaction was rage, Obi-Wan. Oh, there was shock, there was relief, so much relief, but they were buried quite quickly beneath the avalanche of pure, white-hot, unfathomable rage I had for you and your precious Jetii at that moment. And, I don't know whether or not you are clear on this so I will make it explicit as well, I continue to experience a large amount of rage, Obi-Wan. I am enraged, right this very moment. Do you understand?"
"I'm getting a little tired of being spoken to like - " and he knew that his knee-jerk reaction to the falsely patient, condescending check-ins for understanding was an extreme folly but the Force did not afford even its most powerful adepts the power to literally retract foolish spontaneous utterances.
"You will tolerate being spoken to however I choose to speak to you or you will find that the end of this conversation is also the end of our friendship and that that end will be much sooner than otherwise planned, Jetii." Her tendency to spit the Mando'a word for Jedi as a curse when she was particularly displeased with the Order or with him was one thing. To have it hurled at him, specifically, as an epithet, he discovered, was another matter entirely. It did not feel pleasant.
"Yes, Milady." He demurred without a trace of irony. Her friendship, though they spoke seldom and saw each other more rarely still, was one of the pillars atop which rested his ability to exist in the galaxy as Obi-Wan Kenobi. Its loss would be immeasurably harmful to that ability.
"Good. Now, my rage will pass, in time. I strongly suggest that you allow me that time by initiating no personal contact at all. You may respond should I contact you, and you may initiate diplomatic contact at need of course, but you will be best served by giving me the space so that my grief and my exponentially greater rage can subside. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Milady."
"Ah! You can be taught. As I recall, your Master was uncertain as to whether that was always the case, in some regards. He seemed to find you intractable at times. I certainly don't know why he would use that word." He was about to thank her when she added, "Ronto-headed would be a better descriptor, I think. When you decide something is the right way to go, you are not intractable, you are ronto-headed, and I have never seen anyone able to redirect you without the level of effort I have just now employed."
Wryly, Obi-Wan replied, "Well, there've been developments in that area - we did not see each other during the period for which Anakin was my Padawan. It was…a very instructive time for me as well. In regards to the value of being …fallible."
Now, the Duchess Satine Kryze chortled. "Ah, then I wish I had been present to see the mirror held up to you, Obi. You need it every so often, I think." She seemed to have calmed. He thought it might be the right time - that she might now be receptive to his apology.
"You are quite right, Satine. About everything. I - am sorry." He shook his head, gave a sardonic smile. "I may very well have been as ignorant in the ways of friendship as you suggest. I don't expect anyone who isn't a Jedi to have Jedi emotional responses to things, so I knew there would be great upset at the news of my demise among my small group of non-Jedi friends. But, as it turned out, I grossly underestimated both how harmful that grief would be and what the revelation that I was alive would do to the people who care most for me, Jedi or not."
"Were your Padawan and his Padawan quite upset as well, then? Even though they are Jedi?"
He winced; full awareness of how thoroughly he had failed them, betrayed them, was still a fresh wound for Obi-Wan. "Anakin and Ahsoka are not conventional Jedi. They have always exhibited a stronger propensity than most of us for bonds of affection and respect." And that was as close as he would ever come to admitting, even to himself, that the Knight and his Padawan had all but certainly broken the Jedi Code with the strength of their attachments, to one another and to others. "So, yes, their responses were…unexpectedly severe. I have vowed to make amends, and I know it will take time. Perhaps quite a long time.
"And Satine, I make the same promise to you. Your friendship is vital to me, I do not wish to end it, certainly not in conflict like this. I owe you a great amends as well, and - I don't entirely know how to go about making it, but a clear first step is to allow you the time and space you have requested. Please know that I will never visit any kind of further deception upon you; should you receive ill news of me, I don't want you left in doubt about its veracity. If I am required to go undercover in any way that will leave the galaxy believing me dead or otherwise incapacitated, I will ensure word gets to you that it is an operation."
"Those are good first steps, Obi-Wan. I look forward, I really do, to not feeling this - this burning need to cause you physical pain in recompense for the emotional blows you have dealt me."
He poked lightly at his cheek and hissed, instantly regretting it. "It does not surprise me that that need has not abated now that you have in fact caused me some physical pain. I hope that further amends can be made without the violence."
"Yes, well. I'm not proud of myself, Obi, but I'm not going to apologize to you either." Her sorrowful expression grew defiant briefly. "You had it coming and more."
He lowered his gaze. "So I did, Milady." Still no irony in his respect.
"Now, leave me, Jetii. I believe that further discussion of this matter would belabor the point and exacerbate rather than heal the wounds we were just discussing." With this, she turned her back on him, leaving no other parting word or gesture.
Obi-Wan didn't think further discussion could actually make his bruise worse, but what did he know? It was a week of lessons and revelations for him. He left quietly.
Upon his return to Coruscant, Obi-Wan's usual routine was to report to the Council Chambers, then make his way to his quarters to unpack and refresh, before immersing himself in some aspect or other of the Temple life he so often missed when he was away for any stretch of time. Upon landing in the Temple hangar this time, Obi-Wan bid a rushed farewell to Anakin and Ahsoka, then made his way swiftly to his quarters. He craved isolation. He was just impossibly full, at the moment, of - thoughts, and feelings, and other people's thoughts and feelings, and their needs, and his recently assumed debts of behavior to those he cherished most…
It was all too much. If he did not meditate, the anxiety threatened to overwhelm his usually unassailable centeredness in the Force.
Reaching his quarters, he dropped the scant belongings he ever brought off of the Negotiator these days, strode to the spot in his receiving area he'd chosen for meditations, and dropped almost bonelessly into the cross-legged position he had learned as a Youngling. It took several minutes for him to achieve the quiet oneness with the Force he needed.
Qui-Gon Jinn observed his old Padawan as Obi-Wan's presence in the Cosmic Force righted itself. It had been a trying week for him, the departed Master knew, and he wished that he was able to reveal himself, to project himself into Obi-Wan's view or at least his Force-sense. Unfortunately, Qui-Gon was not yet sufficiently practiced at the skill of manifesting a form and a voice from his natural state of formless identity - and Obi-Wan was not sufficiently receptive to the notion that a Force adept could retain their identity after joining the Force. It was counter to everything the Jedi taught about death.
He shook his head, both at the erroneous teaching and at the stubborn quality of his old Padawan that did not always rear its head, but whose strength was awesome indeed when it did. Ronto-headed indeed, he thought, having followed Obi-Wan closely through this time of trial.
And trial it was, of threefold nature. It was a trial for Obi-Wan, of course, a hard leap ahead to have to make in one go on his journey toward a less dogmatic understanding of the value of loving bonds between sentient lifeforms, be they Force adepts or not. A trial for Anakin, as he was confronted with Obi-Wan's graceless fall from the pedestal atop which the formerly fatherless slave had gently placed him. And a trial for the bond between the two, which would either weaken or strengthen when the individual trials had reached their end state.
From his vantage point, Qui-Gon knew that the strength of that bond was one of the tipping points atop which the fate of the galaxy rested, all too precariously. The future was not knowable with certainty, even from the netherworld of the Force, but just at this juncture, holding his identity close to the world of the living so as to observe his Padawans, Qui-Gon Jinn was not very hopeful about how these trials would resolve.
These men were stalwart Jedi, peerless warriors, and - usually - the kind of friends one would willingly surrender a limb to have. The kind who shared wisdom freely, compassion regularly, and who were always on hand at need. The problem was that for all that they loved one another, they did not understand one another, and never had.
Rako Hardeen and the 'murder' of Obi-Wan Kenobi had, in Qui-Gon's opinion, likely removed any possibility for that necessary understanding to develop. An unshakable bond, shaken - and it was only possible because the ones doing the shaking were those who should have been trusted to treat the bond with utmost care.
Damn the Council, he thought, not for the first time since his death twelve years earlier. He knew their mistakes were not made with malice and that their mistreatment of Anakin was conducted in near-total ignorance. (He feared that Windu, drifting as he always did too close to the Dark Side, was perfectly aware of the consequences of his harsh words and visible mistrust and disdain, and not only didn't care to change, but perceived it to be Anakin's job to earn better treatment.) His knowledge of the benevolence of their folly was not comforting, nor did it mitigate his disappointment in their failure of wisdom. Yoda could right the ship, of course, but it was not his way. The older he'd gotten, the more care he'd taken to not impose his will upon the Council or the Order - as though he feared his influence had grown too outsized and needed to be drawn off. Unfortunately, it was Yoda's often nontraditional wisdom that was most needed on the Council. Plo was also a source of non-linear thinking, but was prone to express divergent opinion only when he felt strongly motivated to, appearing to value consensus highly. And so their mishandling of Anakin marches on, blithely dancing toward the downfall of the Order and, likely, the Republic itself.
It was hard, sometimes, to convince himself that the Order, if not the Republic, deserved saving.
Although the fate of the Chosen One ruled the fate of the galaxy, and so Anakin's wellbeing following this upheaval was of paramount importance, of no less importance to Qui-Gon Jinn was the welfare of Obi-Wan Kenobi. In this matter, he did have some hope. Some of Obi-Wan's core understandings had been rattled, and that was to the good. Hidebound thinking was not going to aid this Jedi Master in the challenges Qui-Gon knew he would face in the future. When this pain subsided, and when Obi-Wan had shown his friends that his remorse was genuine and profound, the Jedi Master that emerged from the trials would possess the kind of wisdom that few Jedi attained, simply because they denied themselves the experiences that would teach such lessons most effectively. He would be a better friend, a better commander, a wiser Council member, and eventually - and soon - among the best servants the Order had to offer the galaxy.
Hard-won growth, he thought.
Especially considering that right cross.
He imagined himself rubbing his cheek in sympathetic communion. But, of course, he was formless, so he couldn't totally relate.