A/N: If you're a concept artist and you see this message, do not post a fake review of how much you love my story and how you would be willing to do art for a good price yada yada. Money doesn't grow on trees, and if I wanted an artist, I would look for one.

I doubt you lot read the actual story. You most likely just skip to the end.

Do not even think of PMing me, concept artist. Anybody else that is normal can though :)

A cold chill descended upon his world, and fierce shadows swallowed the light whole, chasing it right back into the depths of his smoldering heart. A red blade protruded out of his Master's side, burning through clothing and flesh.

Qui-Gon's scream, or rather, what he thought was his scream until he realized that it was his own, pierced the veil that should never be crossed. Darkness washed over him like a tide, promising the power to defeat the creature.

That was all that mattered. He wanted that malicious monster dead. He reached out to the Force, and it opened up to him, blooming like a flower and allowing him to feel the frigidness in it. This coldness was coming from him, not the monster nor the boy nor the others fighting in the palace. It was all him.

Wild, joyful, bright yellow eyes snapped to him, observing him with cruel curiosity. Disgusting, yellowed teeth bared into a grin as the creature paced back and forth, waiting for the vengeful Jedi Padawan to come to him, completely ignoring the wounded Jedi Master behind him.

Cold claws dug into his essence, sinking its fangs deep within his core. The Force trembled and wavered as sharp eyes snapped to the Sith Lord, watching those smirking, cruel features with rage. The fury built within, spreading throughout his being like wildfire, burning brighter with every second that passed.

His fingers tightened around his lightsaber, and he furiously paced, waiting for the energy field to dissipate. Lips curled into a snarl as the boy watched the creature lazily pace, spinning his double-bladed lightsaber casually, chuckling darkly as he reveled in the rage of the young man.

The energy wall deactivated, and Obi-Wan Kenobi was set free.

The Sith Lord was unprepared for the fury of the dark tides that curled around the Jedi Padawan's heart, wrapping around him and urging him on. His power and speed were increased tenfold than what it was, fueled by one singular thought: Kill him.

His lightsaber was a blur of light that blazed and spun and cut lethal arcs through the air, raining down blow after blow on the long saber of the creature, threatening to overwhelm the man. He could do nothing but defend himself, struggling to protect himself against the Dark Side fueled combatant.

Ducking and whirling under other strikes, he launched new ones at the creature, snarling when his opponent's saber cut too close to his cheek, leaving an angry, stinging scar. Obi-Wan retaliated, cutting a lethal arc through the air, only to be blocked and twisted away by a red light.

The young Jedi barely dodged the next aggressive strike, backflipping and blasting the creature with the Force. He was thrown dangerously close to the edge of the pit, only stopped by digging his lightsaber into the ground, leaving a long, orange scar in the metal.

Obi-Wan charged at the dark figure, angrily yelling as he slammed his lightsaber against the red beam of solid matter. It sparked, and he blocked a few arching and spinning strikes, twisting his own saber up in a vicious slash that nearly struck the Sith Lord's face. It cut through the long handle of his red saber and severed it in two, one end flickering and clattered to the ground, leaving the creature with just one functional blade.

Yellow eyes flared and lips curled into a snarl, howling furiously as his blade arched toward Kenobi's head.

Time seemed to slow. Obi-Wan's vision blurred, and suddenly, the galaxy whispered to him in a deafening roar. The Force screamed warnings, flashes of possible futures blazing through his mind. Each vision was worse than the last. The threads of destiny unraveled before him, a thousand strings snapping one by one.

Then, he could see clearly. His focus cut through the very Living Force that surrounded him, and he could suddenly see the lines. They were isolated moments of time and space that surrounded him, shifting with every second that ticked by.

The lines would connect and interconnect and align, and suddenly he could see into the Sith. He could see how he was built and the very essence that thrashed and roared around him. But, most importantly, he saw what would break him.

The Jedi Padawan made his decision.

He ducked under the arching red light, spinning and cutting upward in a forbidden sai cha strike, aiming for the head. Only, his opponent moved back in the last second, and the saber cleaved through his waist in an accidental, yet another forbidden attack, sai tok.

Yellow eyes were blown wide, shocked as his dying enemy realized what had just happened. A strange, pained noise escaped the man's lips, and he tumbled back into the abyss, body bisecting as it fell down, disappearing just seconds later.

Reality warped. There was a… shift. The Force darkened around him; voices screaming, crying, and pleading before dissolving into incoherent whispers. It bent and twisted around him. Obi-Wan tried to focus, to push through the noise, but it was as though the Force itself was shattering and reforming in ways he could not comprehend.

A vision exploded before his eyes.

Piles of bodies, blood everywhere. On top of the heap lay a woman, body broken and bruised, pale eyes barely open. Her skin was glowing, almost ethereal, mist swirling behind the paper-thin skin. Lips trembled and glassy eyes bore into his soul.

It's a lie.

The void around him fell away.

It was daytime, but the sky was filled with thousands of glittering stars. They hung in the air, suspended in time, until they began to fall, turning the horizon into a burning inferno. People screamed and ran for their homes, anything that could shelter them, clinging to their beliefs, but it always ended in silence.

Armored hands gripped blasters, promising lies, aiming just above the eyes. Only faceless, black visors stared back as red consumed his vision.

And then—

Flames of a darkened inferno consumed an ashen planet. Buildings burned, people screamed, running away from the great shadow falling across the land. A red lightsaber cut through darkness, followed by a horrible laugh.

Golden eyes met his. Smoldering with hatred, filled with nothing but a desire to destroy. The sword cut through friend and foe alike, killing all those who had a hand in her death.

Luminis…

Then silence.

Complete and utter silence. It was awful. A terrible void yawned open, hungrily feeding off of his negative emotions. The frigid grip refused to release him, wrapping around him tighter yet comfortingly. He was too confused to try to push it away, stumbling over toward his Master, who had gone deathly still.

No no nononono. Please be alive, please, he begged the Force, collapsing to his knees next to the man who had raised and trained him. All energy was sapped from him and with a trembling hand, he gently brushed the hair that had fallen over Qui-Gon's face.

Glassy eyes blinked open and looked up at him and a warm hand found his own, trembling. Obi-Wan reached out to the Force, sensing that the man was in great agony and severely wounded, but alive. His Master smiled weakly through the pain, and the Padawan returned it.

"Qui-Gon…"

"I-I'm sorry," the man's lips quivered, and he shuddered, hissing in pain. "I-I s-should've—"

"Hush…" he admonished, scooting closer to the Jedi Master. Laying a hand on Qui-Gon's wound, he channeled the Force into it, feeling it flow through him and into the injured Jedi. "It's over, Master. We're alright. You're going to be okay."

"Anakin…" the man groaned, eyes fluttering.

An unfamiliar emotion twisted in his chest, but he shoved it aside. Not the time, he reminded himself. His strength drained away, and he found that he couldn't move anymore, or even muster the will to keep his heavy eyelids open.

The Force whispered to him, gently caressing the distressed man, even when his Master went still.

Obi-Wan didn't know he sat there, fingers ghosting over Qui-Gon's hair, parting the long, silky strands. Red shields continually engaged and disengaged behind him, in an almost hypnotic pattern. His scar throbbed worse than before.

Shouts came from down the hallway, and he turned his head to see royal guards coming down, waiting impatiently for the shields to flicker on and off to allow them to come through. He stared blankly, never leaving his Master's side.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Taking deep breaths, he patiently waited for them to come to him. The first man in front managed to get free, rushing toward his side. He abruptly halted at the sight of the still man on Kenobi's lap.

"Master Jedi, I—"

"He's not dead," Obi-Wan nearly snapped, turning back to his mentor. "He needs medical attention. Quickly!" He paused, blinking. To everyone outside the Jedi Order, all of the peacekeepers were Masters. They weren't, in reality. "And I'm a Padawan, not a Master."

It took everything in the young man not to lash out at the other royal guards that surrounded him, carefully picking up his Master's limp form and taking up away to receive medical attention. Be careful, he wanted to say, but no words came from his mouth.

"Are you alright, Mast—erm," the man paused awkwardly, unsure of what to say. He just left the sentence hanging.

"I'm fine," he said flatly, feeling the Force coil deep inside him. Icy claws never relinquished their hold, even long after the fight that nearly claimed his Master's life. Breath in and out. In and out. Inhale and exhale.

Calm your mind.

"You're not wou—"

"No." Obi-Wan slowly stood to his feet. He cringed at the expression of the man. "Sorry, I'm just… tired and…" he trailed off, glancing at Qui-Gon's form that disappeared around the corner. "…in shock, I suppose. I nearly lost my Master. If it weren't—" He choked on the words, knowing the dark truth.

If the creature's blade had been just a few inches closer, Qui-Gon would be dead. It made his insides churn.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

The man nodded. "Queen Amidala contacted the Jedi Council and informed them of what happened. A medical shuttle has arrived to attend to you both."

"The boy." Obi-Wan turned to him abruptly, vaguely registering the former words. He didn't want the Jedi Master to find his latest project, one that was stealing his Master from him, to worry him to death. "Where is he? Is he safe?"

"Um… y-yes, I-he's definitely fine." The man scratched his head, eyes darting from one length to the other. Obi-Wan raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He'd rather deal with that irritable, idiotic Gungan than this.

"You lost him?" He snapped irritably, feeling that ice rise again. "A nine-year-old boy? How hard is it to keep track of one boy?"

Unconsciously taking another step back, the royal guard pressed a finger to the device on his wrist. "Erm, where is the boy…" He trailed off, looking to him for the name.

"Anakin Skywalker."

"Anakin Skywalker," he repeated squeakily into the comm.

|"He's here, by the medical shuttle, with Queen Amidala,"| a familiar voice crackled through. Captain Panaka, Obi-Wan realized vaguely. |"Is there a reason why you're asking?"|

"Just wanted to make sure he was okay," the royal guard said, glancing at the Jedi Padawan, who was halfway across the reactor room, stooping over and picking up the half of the lightsaber that remained from the fight.

It was charred and wires protruded out of the severed end. Obi-Wan had cut into one of the power cells, which is why it stopped working. He could feel the kyber crystal inside, twisted with pain and agony from being bled by the creature. Darkness permeated every part of the weapon. The Force chortled.

The young man clipped it to his belt and without so much as a glance in the royal guard's direction, he headed to the sliding shields. It was easy enough to navigate—he had watched the patterns for a while now, holding Qui-Gon close.

One.

Two.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Three.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Four.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

Five.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

Six.

There is no death, there is the Force.

Seven.

Eight.

A day later, they arrived at Coruscant.

The battle of Naboo had been won, and the young Queen of Naboo made haste to ensure that her companions were safe. It was the reason that Qui-Gone Jinn was laid out on a medical bed, recovering from the exhausting battle with the Sith Lord. This was the third day of his recovery.

Anakin Skywalker had spent most of his time on the medical ship fussing over his Master and studying the three lightsabers that were collected from the fight. Now, he was hovering over the unconscious Qui-Gon, devouring a ration bar like it was the best thing he ever had.

Maybe it was, he thought bitterly. The boy was a slave for years, and a ration bar is probably heaven to him.

The sandy-haired boy saw the Jedi Padawan sit up on the medical bed and trotted over to his place on the seat, stuffing the wrapping of the ration into a dusty pocket of his old robes from Tatooine. Obi-Wan didn't spare a glance at him, feeling bitterness boiling up as he remembered the previous conversation.

"Very well. I will train him then. I take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan learner."

Oh how those words stung. Qui-Gon just tossed him to the side for a stronger, more powerful apprentice. Anakin Skywalker was his better in every way, from a pilot to a mechanic to the Force, and the Jedi Master made that abundantly clear without directly saying it. So much so that he defied the Council to train him.

"Obi-Wan is ready."

No, he wasn't. Despite being twenty-five, long due for his Knighting and desiring it, he knew he had much to learn from his Master. He was headstrong and difficult to manage, even more so to teach. Over time, he had mellowed out some, adhering to the Code and its rules, but still, much of him was rebellious.

The Force had turbulently responded to the hurt of being tossed aside. Blood rushed to ears, drowning out the next words of his Master. He had barely pulled up his mental shields to hide his distressed emotions, feeling strange emotions rolling around in him.

"—an, sir?" A soft, warm hand was on his thigh. Taking deep breaths to calm himself down, he recited the Code quietly. "There is no emotion, there is peace…"

"Obi-Wan, sir." The youthful voice was more insistent now. "Are you okay?"

Cracking open his eyes, he saw the concerned face of the young boy staring up at him. Bright, blue eyes were searching his own, trying to find the source of his distress.

"Yeah, I'm fine…" he mumbled, staring down at the floor, ashamed of his thoughts. This was not the Jedi way, but he couldn't help it. He twirled his braid absentmindedly.

The child pointed to the thin, intricately woven braid hanging over his right shoulder, tied together with lightly colored bands. For years, every morning he'd painstakingly braid those same strands of hair, until they were absolute perfection. "What's that?"

A spike of irritation lanced through him, and he quickly repressed it, taking a breath. It's only natural that the boy is curious, he said to himself. After all, he isn't one of us. Yet, at least.

"It's my learner's braid," he informed the boy, pulling his hand away from the braid. "Every apprentice has one, when they are chosen to become a Padawan. Those who don't have hair, or can't grow any, have an alternative, silka beads."

Anakin nodded, reaching out to the hair and playing around with it. It took everything in him not to bat away the boy's hand for touching such a sacred piece of him.

There is no emotion, there is peace, he thought, repeating the comforting mantra over and over again in his mind.

"What happens if you don't get chosen?"

Obi-Wan stiffened. He himself had nearly failed his training, if it weren't for Master Qui-Gon taking him on before he could be shipped to the Jedi Service Corps to work on a farm. A farm. The idea was unappealing, and unfortunately, depending on the way one looked at it, he didn't know his parents, so that was the only place he could've gone.

"If you fail your training, you get two options," the Jedi Padawan said slowly, staring into those large, innocent blue eyes. "You can either return to your family, or you can work in the Jedi Service Corps. There, you can use your skills to help others. There are many different branches, and the Council of Reassignment chooses where your skills are best suited." He couldn't keep the bitter tone out of his voice.

The child noticed the emotional edge and went silent, sensing this was an uncomfortable topic.

"You call them Masters," the boy said after a bit, retracting his hand away from Obi-Wan. "You obey them and do whatever they say. Are you slave?"

Obi-Wan snorted softly. "Hardly. I am free, just as you are. Master is an honorific we use. It's… different than what you are used to, I'm sure. There are many cultural differences between the Jedi and the slavers on that accursed planet, Tatooine."

"Yeah…" the boy mumbled, looking at his feet. Obi-Wan winced, realizing that he may have said something wrong. Blue eyes suddenly snapped back to his. "What happens if the Jedi Council says no."

"Hmm?"

"What if the Jedi say I can't be trained?" the boy asked, almost desperately. His eyes were frantic and there was fear in them. "Will you send me back? Or… or sell me? Or handed over to the corpse Jedi thing?"

The Jedi Padawan was taken aback. "Certainly not, Anakin. You are free now, thanks to my Master. I doubt Qui-Gon would allow you to go anywhere, even if the Council said no."

It brought another pang of emotions just saying those words. The cold started to creep in his mind again, swelling but this time, he banished the emotions behind an impenetrable wall, sealing the connection to the dark he had formed during the fight.

They couldn't find out that they used the Dark Side during the fight with the creature. He could be banished from the Order, a disgrace, from his motives of ending the fight. He was worried that the footage of his fight would give away that he used the Dark Side.

Yet, multiple Jedi Masters had visited and not one of them had commented on the fight. Either they were ominously saving it for the Council Chamber, or they simply could not sense that he had given into the darkness.

Was it possible to sense the Dark Side from a holorecord?

There is no passion, there is serenity.

"Just making sure," the boy muttered, glancing back at Qui-Gon. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Qui-Gon is strong. He survived the trip, didn't he?" The Jedi Padawan rubbed his face and stood, stretching his stiff limbs. He hadn't rested or eaten since he got here, too concerned about Qui-Gon to care for himself. Hell, he hadn't moved anywhere without the Jedi Master. "He'll probably be up and around within the week."

Anakin nodded, sparing another concerned glance at the unconscious man sprawled on the bed, bandages around his abdomen and IVs supplying fluids into his body. His breathing was deep and steady, chest rising and falling with each intake. That was good, breathing was always good.

It was then that Master Plo Koon walked into the room. The child ducked away from the Jedi Master, returning back to Qui-Gon's side, sitting on a stool that had been placed there for him.

"Master Koon," Obi-Wan greeted with a respectful bow.

"Padawan Kenobi." The Kel Dor nodded. "I see you're doing well."

"As well as one can possibly be after killing a Sith Lord," the Padawan said dryly, twirling his braid.

He chuckled softly. "You're quite popular amongst the Jedi Order members right now. Despite our best efforts, copies of your fight with the Sith Lord have been downloaded on every datapad in the Temple."

The young man cringed, his cheeks burning, and the blush was probably showing on his face. On the first day when rumors were circulating around him, he became an instant celebrity, and everyone was staring at him. Then, somehow, someone managed to get a hold of the security footage of his fight with creature and whispers of the legendary Obi-Wan Kenobi spread like wildfire.

Sithkiller, they called him.

The first day, younglings came in, trying to get his autographs. It got so bad that the medical bay was barred from anybody that wasn't a Jedi Master. Word sure traveled fast…

"Can you blame them?"

"Perhaps." The Kel Dor was probably smiling beneath that blasted mask. "The Council wishes to see you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan shook his head, growing serious. "I don't want to see them. Not yet. I can't leave Qui-Gon."

"It isn't a request," Plo Koon informed him firmly. "It's been three days, Obi-Wan. You've done nothing but stay here with your Master. I'm sure he'll be fine without you."

Those words threatened to spark the fire in him. Fine without me…

Taking a breath, he gave a curt nod. "Very well."

The Jedi Padawan followed Master Koon out of the medbay and into the halls of the Jedi Temple, where he was greeted with the sight of the other peacekeepers whispering and glancing at him. Some even pointed at him. Younglings were staring at him, wide-eyed and in awe. Obi-Wan was sure he was beet red at this point from all the attention.

He was relieved when they stepped into the elevator, the metal doors cutting all those staring eyes out of view. The Jedi Padawan toyed with his braid, rocking back and forth on his heels. He cringed at a sudden realization, hoping that he didn't stink too badly. Sweat from the fight and the disgusting humidity of Naboo culminated into one glorious odor probably said otherwise.

Kenobi desperately needed a bath.

The Jedi Padawan was thankful that nobody had made a comment on it.

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, allowing them to step out of the metal coffin. They maintained a brisk stride and found themselves as the heavy doors of the Council room. Eleven pairs of eyes turned to them when the doors slowly opened, revealing the Council chamber.

Obi-Wan made his way to the center of the room while the Kel Dor Master made his way to the curved seat made especially for him. He bowed respectfully in the center of the ring of chairs that circled the fern-patterned floor.

Warm light streamed in from the large windows that overlooked Coruscant, bathing the room in a golden glow. The Padawan could see the evening Coruscanti traffic, flying in crisscross patterns across the colorful sky.

"It seems the wayward Padawan has finally decided to grace us with his presence," Mace Windu drawled, steepling his fingers and leaning back in his chair.

His ears burned and he ducked his head, hoping that his mental defenses were holding strong. "I apologize, but Master Qui-Gon—"

Master Yoda raised a three-fingered hand. "Much to discuss, we have."

Kenobi bowed his head, staring at the mosaic of the floor. "Yes, I imagine we do."

"Firstly, we are pleased to hear that your Master is making a swift recovery," Plo Koon said softly. "It is a great relief that he survived his injuries on Naboo. From what we've heard, he'll be back to full health soon."

"Indeed." Obi-Wan's gut twisted at the implication. Anakin would be receiving training, and he would be tossed to the side like a discarded toy. Or become the third wheel. His Master couldn't possibly have two apprentices. He banished the selfish thoughts. "It is wonderful news. I am eager to return to my training."

The Jedi Masters looked at one another, whispering quietly, too softly for Obi-Wan to hear. He could only watch them as his stomach churned uncomfortably, fidgeting with his braid. "We were going to talk to you about that," Mace started, leaning forward. "We have reviewed the security footage many times. And," the man growled, sounding irritated. "someone managed to get a hand on the holorecording, as I'm sure you've noticed."

Obi-Wan flushed, and he looked down again. Reaching out through the Force, he sensed that they were pleased and impressed and proud. It made his heart flutter, and he suddenly felt a little better. He then realized that they didn't sense it. The darkness. They didn't know. It was like a burden was lifted over his shoulders.

"You, young one, are already a legend in the Jedi Order," Plo Koon remarked, sounding amused. "The first Jedi to kill a Sith in over a thousand years. Younglings are lining up to become your Padawan."

Kenobi blinked, unsure if he heard correctly. Padawan? Wait, that meant that he had to be a Knight…

"Decided, the Council has, to bestow upon you the rank of Jedi Knight," the Grandmaster revealed.

"Pardon me?" Obi-Wan Kenobi was sure this was dream. "W-what about the Trials?!"

"Kenobi, you killed a Sith Lord." Mace Windu forced out. "Nothing in the Trials can compare to even that level. To do what you have accomplished requires a true Jedi Knight, something that you've achieved."

Being a Knight was what he dreamed of for years, but this was not how he imagined it happening. He was ready yet, he'd be alone with Qui-Gon and… and…

Then, he remembered that Qui-Gon's latest cause was going to be trained by him. Whether the Council agreed or not, he would get his way.

Obi-Wan sank to one knee, taking a shaky breath, head bowed. "It is an honor, Masters. Thank you."

The Jedi Padawan didn't look up when he heard Master Yoda's gimmer stick tapping against the floor, nor when a warm, three-fingered hand rested itself on his shoulder. "Take your vows, young one."

Obi-Wan exhaled and inhaled. There is no emotion, there is peace. He had these vows memorized ever since he began training under Qui-Gon.

"I vow to live by the Jedi Code, to be a beacon of peace, justice and compassion in a galaxy in need. I pledge my life to the will of the Force, trusting in its guidance through every trial and triumph. I will uphold the ideals of the Republic and protect the freedoms upon which it stands."

Kenobi pretended that Qui-Gon was standing there, watching on with pride as his student attained the rank of Knight. The Force swirled around at the solemnity of the vow he was reciting. These oaths were to not be taken lightly, and betraying them…

He didn't want to think about that, instead, imagining the faces of his friends who had been longed Knighted before him. Year after year passed, and those Padawans became Knights, taking on students of their own, while Obi-Wan was still in the learners role.

"I vow to protect the helpless, to defend those who cannot protect themselves, and to act as a guardian of Light. I renounce all forms of attachment, be they emotion or material, for I know they cloud the path of wisdom. My life is dedicated to the Jedi Order, to its teachings, and to the pursuit of balance in the Force."

Obi-Wan looked up into wise, honey eyes, smiling down at him. They were warm and full of compassion, with a hint of pride twisting the elder's features. The Grandmaster unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, igniting the vibrant blade. "By the will of the Force." He brought the humming saber above his head and moved it from shoulder to shoulder. "Declare you, I do, Jedi, Knight of the Republic."

Master Yoda cut his braid, and it fell to the floor. A second later, it was hovering in the air and Yoda placed it in his palm, closing his hand over the sacred object with a smile. Kenobi returned it, feeling a sense of pride rising to the surface.

This is what he wanted for all his life, and now, he finally had it.

As the newly christened Jedi Knight rose to his feet, Mace Windu approached him with a stack of papers. Some had sloppy handwriting, and many of them had colorful handwriting peeking out from under the stack. What in the Force…?

"These are you all the Initiates that have written to you, begging to be taken as your Padawan." The dark skinned man smirked at his expression, which must've have been amusing enough to elicit that reaction from the Jedi Master.

"What?"

"You heard me." The man looked amused, stuffing the papers into his arms. "Every datapad has a video of you, and every youngling desires to be apprenticed to the Sithkiller."

Obi-Wan gave him a flat look. "I was just Knighted. I'm not suited to teach."

"None of us are, yet we do." Yoda remarked, whacking him with his stick. Obi-Wan grimaced and shook his leg. "Learn from experience, we do."

Mace crossed his arms. "You are a Knight now, and it is your responsibility to teach."

"B-but—!" Obi-Wan sputtered, reaching for his braid, only to remember that it was in his hand. Kriff, he was going to develop another nervous habit, and hopefully, it wouldn't be chewing his nails. "I have much to learn still an-and, I think, in my humble opinion, that it is unwise for me to rush into such a big decision. Patience is necessary."

Master Yoda tapped his stick. "Agree with Obi-Wan, I do. More slowly, you must proceed, than Qui-Gon. Much pain you will be spared, if you do not run so fast."

"What will you do then?" Plo Koon questioned, tilting his head slightly.

"I would like to be given a mission," the Jedi Knight said slowly, watching the reactions of the Jedi Council. "The man I killed was a Sith, but there are always two, no? A Master and an Apprentice. There's no way that creature was the Master, or else, I most likely would have not survived. That means there other Sith, which means we need to start searching for them before they spread throughout the galaxy."

"You just got back from the mission on Naboo," Mace said, not quite approving yet not disapproving either.

"I need another." He fidgeted with the braid in his hand. "Please, let me find the Sith. If I won't have a Padawan, staying here is a waste of time and talent when I could be out there finding the other Sith Lords."

The Masters turned to each other, murmuring amongst each other. Chasing the Sith would be a way to get away from Qui-Gon and Anakin, both of which had betrayed him in some way. Qui-Gon tossed him aside, Anakin stole his Master from him. Now, the boy would take his place, and he couldn't bear to see that…

"Agree with you, the Council does," Yoda said finally, and Obi-Wan allowed a smile to cross his face.

"Thank you, Masters!" He exclaimed gleefully, clasping his hands together.

"What we have compiled is in the library," Plo Koon informed him, rising from his seat. "I'll take you there and inform Jocasta Nu that you're to have access to all of it."

Obi-Wan nodded and turned to leave when Master Yoda spoke.

"Decided about the boy, the Council has."

The Jedi Knight froze. "He is to be trained?"

Wise, honey eyes bore into him and a sad small crossed his features. "So impatient, you are. So sure of what has been decided?"

Obi-Wan bit his tongue and kept his silence, waiting for the Grandmaster to speak once again. "Decided, the Council has," he repeated. "Trained, the boy shall be."

Kenobi hoped that his features didn't betray his inner turmoil, praying to the Force his shields were holding. "I… see. I suppose that's good news for Qui-Gon. Though I think it's a mistake."

"Oh?" Mace raised an eyebrow.

"The boy is too old, and he is too angry." The Jedi Knight crossed his arms. "He harbors great fear and has deep attachments. That goes against the Jedi ways. He's rebellious, demonstrated on Naboo when he—"

"Sounds like you, he does." Yoda said, amused, eyes twinkling with a knowing glint. "Much alike, you are."

"Surely, you disagree with Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan pressed, trying to pretend he wasn't compared to the so-called 'Chosen One.' "He's dangerous."

"Made a decision, the Council has," Yoda admonished, shaking his head. "Agree, all of us do not. But trust in the Force, we do."

Kenobi opened his mouth to respond when Plo Koon placed a hand on his forearm, cooling his sudden spike of anger. The young man exhaled, repeating the Jedi Code. He wouldn't allow his former Master or the boy to ruin his first day as a Jedi Knight.

Smiling pleasantly, he bowed to the Jedi Council. "Thank you for your time Masters, I will not fail you."

"May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Since my last Sith!Obi fic got deleted and I lost all of my documents for it (no thanks to a certain brat), I ran the prequel novelization while I was depressedly moping over the loss of my stories. Inspiration hit, and boom, this happened.