Obi-Wan wondered how many times he'd visited the Halls of Healing.
It was hard to recount all of it, but what he did recall was more than enough to make his heart skip slightly whenever he walked into that particular wing of the Jedi Temple. He'd worried his master on numerous occasions, he was told. Just as his master would him. They'd both had their shares of being either a patient or bedside company. But even then, long after Qui-Gon's death, the cycle continued. Only now it was with Anakin. And Obi-Wan was the master.
Which was a little hard to believe, if he was honest.
Obi-Wan hardly considered himself worthy of the title. Oftentimes he didn't know what to do with the boy, his Padawan. Anakin was…different, much different than conventional Padawans. So much more advanced, adept with the Force. Sometimes it was aweing, other times it was exasperating. The boy advanced so quickly, had such a complicated web of emotions and traumas stored up, that Obi-Wan often felt utterly inadequate. And his repeated failures with Anakin proved it. Either he was too harsh, or not harsh enough with the boy. He couldn't seem to find the balance or say the right words no matter how many years he'd honed in on his eloquence.
Qui-Gon would've been a much better master, Obi-Wan thought. But he found it was best not to dwell on the past. What was done, was done. He'd only tortured himself with the 'what if's.' It would be pointless. Qui-Gon was gone.
Qui-Gon is gone.
Obi-Wan sighed and rubbed his beard. He still struggled with the loss, though he'd never admit it, of course. And he'd almost failed his master a second time. His Padawan, which he'd sworn he'd teach to be a great Jedi Knight, almost perished.
He watched as Anakin's chest rose and fell in steady breaths. The boy's face, which had been wrenched in agony back on the gunship, was now relaxed and peaceful. Caught in the soothing throes of a healing trance, Anakin slept deeply, his mouth slightly ajar. Tears stained his cheeks and his stub of an arm was wrapped in layers of thick bandages.
Obi-Wan's own injuries from that near-fatal encounter with Count Dooku were now faint memories. For which Obi-Wan was grateful. But he felt a twinge of guilt. However, the faintest hint of panic stifled the guilt as he thought back to that fateful encounter.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Anakin was in love with Senator Amidala. That much was clear. He'd known this for a while now, but he hadn't realized how it was reciprocated by the honorable young senator. And what was worse, Master Yoda had witnessed it too.
The lectures he'd received in his life was nothing compared to that chastising, warning look Yoda had thrown at him as Senator Amidala comforted his agonized Padawan. But Obi-Wan had been too exhausted to correct them. And besides, the senator had done a much better job at easing Anakin's pain than Obi-Wan could ever do.
Obi-Wan shook his head at himself. Was he getting soft? He certainly couldn't let this slide. It would harm Anakin in the long run. But he was strangely undecided on how to handle the situation.
He observed Anakin thoughtfully. Whenever he was in doubt, he'd think back to Qui-Gon's teachings and how he'd handled him during his youthful years. After all, it was all he had. It had been his manual to raise the boy into what he was now. And he'd turned into quite the man. Brave…courageous…a bit reckless, but fast on his feet…loyal…convicted…and a dear friend.
Anakin groaned as he stirred. Obi-Wan straightened in his chair, taking a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever was to come. But Anakin, weak as he was, couldn't resist the pull of the healing trance. His head rolled restlessly against the pillow for a few moments before he went still. Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. As he slumped slightly, his head leaned back against the pale, beige wall, a memory came back to him. And he knew what to do.
He would let Anakin come to him. Just as his master had done. He would wait and be patient. The day would come and Obi-Wan would tell him of Satine, of Tahl…when he would tell Anakin that he wasn't the only Jedi who struggled with this, that he understood.
But Anakin wasn't like Obi-Wan. And that day never came.
Instead, the famous, brotherly duo would soon find themselves amidst spewing lava and flames.
Sorrow and mourning wound together in an insurmountable mountain of chaos.
Regrets for what they said and didn't say.
"I HATE YOU!" he'd scream.
Holding back tears, he'd look down on his fellow Jedi, his former Padawan, his friend, his…
"You were my brother, Anakin!"
Obi-Wan would shout back. He'd step backwards, a lump choking his words.
"I loved you."
And then he'd leave, eyes screwed shut, Anakin's agonized wails and groans shredding his heart to bits.
I loved you, Anakin.
The admission would feel like a million stabs to the heart. Obi-Wan Kenobi was a Jedi faithful to the Code until the end, clutching onto it like it was his lifeline.
But just like always, he would be a step too late.