DISCLAIMER: LucasFilms owns all. I'm just borrowing.
SUMMARY: The more things change, blah blah biddy blah. For
Julia [julndan@stormnet.com], who asked about an Obi-Wan /
Anakin story. Unfortunately, I can't seem to write that.
Still, we do what we can.
The Jedi stood in the doorway, arms folded into his sleeves.
The many windows lining the corridor showed the Coruscant
skyline, slowly darkening, providing the starry heavens as a
backdrop. His expressive blue eyes surveyed the room, seeking
his master. And, finding him, Obi-Wan Kenobi said, in his
quiet, cultured voice, "I may burst into tears."
Qui-Gon Jinn looked up. "Well, don't do it in the hall. Come
in, Obi-Wan."
His former apprentice did so, pulling his cloak off and tossing
it on the back of the sofa before collapsing. "I can't believe
I'm this tired. He's just a little boy."
"Mmmm." Qui-Gon went back to his reading pad. "Worn out, are
you?"
"Exhausted." He glanced over at his master, who was apparently
fascinated with a report. "The situation on Delagdry?"
"Yes. There's tea, if you like."
"I like." But he made no more to get it.
A very bad day, then, Qui-Gon diagnosed. Not entirely
unwilling, he set aside his work, and moved to the sideboard to
pour Obi-Wan a cup of hot tea, then refilled his own cup. He
took a seat beside Obi-Wan on the sofa. "Here you are."
"Thank you, Master."
"What happened?"
"Nothing, really. That's what's so awful. It was a perfectly
normal day. One in a string of them, I suppose."
"Mmmm."
"He asks the most impossible questions. He never sits still. He
always wants to know something, or to do something, or to say
something. We'll be going on our first assignment in two days,
Master, and I can't imagine what I'm going to do. The trip
itself will be nearly eighteen hours. Eighteen hours, with a
hyperactive child." Obi-Wan shuddered.
"Mmmm."
"I know what you're thinking?"
"Oh?"
"You're thinking of every time I ever asked one question too
many after a long day. You're thinking of every time I did
something entirely inappropriate or strikingly
self-destructive. You're thinking of the time with the Andorian
ambassador's son. And you're thinking, Serve him right."
"You're a wise man."
Obi-Wan sat straight up, then, eyes slightly wild. Qui-Gon
regarded him with a slightly quizzical expression, serene and
untroubled. The younger man smiled, ruefully. "I don't feel as
if I were. That's the worst, you know: I feel as if I'm
completely and utterly not up to the work. Isn't there some
training for this, Master? Some class to take, in Jedi
Masterhood, perhaps? Some meditation that will provide me with
wisdom and knowledge?"
"No, Obi-Wan."
"Didn't think so." Obi-Wan sank back again. "Master?"
"Yes?"
"Did you ever feel like that? As if you were entirely
unqualified for your work?"
"Did I? Let's see... no, not often."
Obi-Wan sighed.
Qui-Gon considered. "Only once or twice a day during the entire
time you were my apprentice, I suppose."
Without sitting up again, Obi-Wan turned his head to look at
the Master in shock. "Every day?"
"Mm-hmm."
"The entire time?"
"When the Sith... impaled me," Qui-Gon said, thoughtfully, "I
remember very clearly my thought on the subject."
"I can't wait to hear this."
"As I faced my death, I thought to myself, 'Oooops. Didn't see
that coming.' "
Obi-Wan blinked. Qui-Gon's face was bland.
The younger man snickered, then sobered, horrified. "I'm sorry,
Master. It isn't funny--"
"Well, it wasn't at the time," Qui-Gon agreed. "But there's a
certain amount of humour in it now." He glanced at Obi-Wan. "I
can see you're not convinced. It's been-- what? nearly six
months, now?-- I've had plenty of time to see my mistakes. My
over-confidence almost cost me my life; your competence saved
it." The words 'thank you' remained unspoken; but were
expressed, nonetheless.
Obi-Wan took a sip of his tea.
"My point is, we are mortal, and fallible, my friend. You have
many new and exciting mistakes ahead of you. Get used to it."
"Master?"
"Yes?"
"Please stop reassuring me."
Qui-Gon chuckled.
The next instant, the door slid open again, and a rather damp
Anakin Skywalker, fresh from an evening children's swim time,
rushed in. Obi-Wan twitched slightly.
"Hi, Master Qui-Gon! Master Obi-Wan, I had a wizard
time! Master Tsanah let me go on the diving board, and, boy,
did I make a splash. I kinda belly-flopped, though. Still, I
made a big splash. A really big splash."
"I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself so much," Qui-Gon
said, as soon as the child paused. "It's nearly your bedtime,
though. Go and wash, and then a snack, and then bed." For
all of us, he sent to Obi-Wan.
Anakin was outraged. "Wash up? But I've been in the pool
for ages!"
"Now, Ani," Obi-Wan said, firmly.
"Yes, Master," was the meek reply. He bowed, then and hurried
off. He was back in a few minutes, face pink from scrubbing.
Obi-Wan had set a plate of biscuits and a glass of milk on the
low table before the sofa; Ani helped himself, then climbed up
next to his Master, suppressing a yawn.
"Looks as if everyone's had a long day," Qui-Gon said.
"Y'hv no idea," Ani managed, around a mouthful.
"Manners," Obi-Wan murmured.
Ani swallowed, then took a drink of milk. "It's been
busy, sir."
"That's the life of a Jedi," Qui-Gon said. "Sometimes, the
busiest days happen right here at the Temple," he added,
meditatively.
"Oh?" Ani asked. He leaned forward a little, recognising the
note in the older Jedi's voice. Obi-Wan slumped; he knew what
was coming, too.
"Absolutely. In fact, one of my busier days came about
thanks to your master."
Ani grinned widely. The hour or so before bedtime, when he sat
with both the Jedi, being talked to as if he were a grown-up,
was probably his favourite time of day. And best of all were
the times when Qui-Gon told stories about when Master Obi-Wan
was a padawan. Hearing those stories made him respect and
admire his Master even more, in fact; if Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of
the Temple's finest Jedi, could make such mistakes and
still be so wonderful, surely Ani himself could turn out
well.
"How old were you, Obi-Wan? Nine or so, I suppose-- you'd been
my student for less than a year, I remember that clearly; it
was the most hectic year of my life."
"But this past year, sir, you almost--" Anakin cut himself off.
"Almost died, yes." Qui-Gon finished his sentence gently, but
firmly, not wanting the boy to brood. "But trust me, Ani-- a
near-death experience is easy to bear, compared to bringing up
your Master...."
"We have a briefing after the lunch hour," Mace Windu said. "I
know you won't be going with us to Hoth, but I thought you'd be
interested."
"Oh, I am," Qui-Gon assured his friend.
"When will you be taking your padawan on your first mission?"
"Soon, I think. I'd like to see how he handles field work."
"Field work." Mace rolled his eyes. "Qui-Gon, he's a child. Try
and remember that, hmm?"
"I know how old he is," Qui-Gon began.
"I know you know how old he is. But I don't think you know what
that means."
"He's a very intelligent, responsible boy," Qui-Gon said
firmly. "He's very mature for his age."
"Uh-huh."
"He is," Qui-Gon insisted.
"I'm sure he is. He's a great kid. But he is a kid. I
don't think you have any idea what that means."
Resigned, Qui-Gon stopped walking, and leaned back against the
wall of the corridor, out of the way of the other Jedi passing
by. "But you're going to tell me, aren't you?"
"You've always been too serious. You know what they used to
call you when we were kids?"
"Too Serious Jinn?"
"Ha, ha. No. They used to call you The Post. Because you'd just
stand there, dead silent, like some big-- well, like some big
post."
Qui-Gon stared at him, indignant. "They did not."
"Yes, they did."
"No, they didn't."
"Yes, they-- oh, for Force's sake." Mace surveyed the Jedi
passing. He spotted a familiar face, and grabbed at the owner's
arm. "Adric--"
"Whatever it is, no," snapped their former classmate, shrugging
out of Mace's hold.
"I haven't even--"
"I don't care," Adric said, pushing a strand of golden hair out
of his enormous grey eyes. "You two are trouble."
"Listen-- just tell us-- what did everyone call Jinn, when we
were kids?"
Adric regarded Mace with the caution generally reserved for
those suspected of psychological derangement. "Qui-Gon."
"Aha!" Qui-Gon said.
Adric turned a similar look on him, then shook his head,
settled his wings, and stalked off.
"You need mental help," Qui-Gon growled, and continued on his
way.
"And you need kid help. I'm telling you, Qui-Gon, you can't
think of him as being a really short adult."
"Obi-Wan is an extraordinarily competent young boy," Qui-Gon
said, as they neared his quarters.
"I'm sure he is," Mace said, soothingly. "But he's a
boy. That means he's going to get into trouble, sooner
or later--"
"Mace...." Qui-Gon opened the door to his quarters. Ah--
here he is, in fact. And busy on a project? See-- told you
so!
"Hello, Master Mace. Hello, Master Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan stood up
very quickly from his place at the worktable. He positioned
himself in front of it, and bowed.
"Hello, Obi-Wan. I'm glad to see you're keeping yourself
occupied. Very adult of you," Qui-Gon said, approvingly, with a
meaningful look at Mace.
"Well...."
"What are you working on?" Mace asked, noting the boy's
sudden reticence.
"Well...."
All of Mace's internal alarms went off. He took a few steps
forward, and looked at the array of parts scattered on the
table top. Some kind of casing ... several crystals... ring
assembly...
Qui-Gon joined him. "Hmmm."
"Uh, Qui-Gon? Where's your lightsaber?"
"I left it here; no need for it in the Temple," Qui-Gon
replied. And then, the penny dropped.
"You took his lightsaber apart??" Ani gasped, overjoyed.
"Whoa."
"It seemed like a good idea at the time..." Obi-Wan replied,
voice muffled. During the course of the story, he had slid from
the couch to the floor and buried his head in his arms. The
back of his neck was bright red.
"I was greatly... impressed with his abilities," Qui-Gon said.
"Yes, those were the words you used, all right," Obi-Wan
agreed, still not looking up.
"Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Have you lost your mind?" The question was posed mildly, but
the boy winced. His Master was managing-- barely-- to keep his
patience.
To Obi-Wan's relief, Mace Windu intervened. "Come, now,
Qui-Gon. There's no right answer to a question like that."
"He just--"
"--took apart your lightsaber. I know. I can see that." Did
you promise to help him build one?
Qui-Gon paused. Well, yes.
And have you?
Well, no. It's too soon for that.
Did you tell him that?
Um....
He's a very bright boy, my friend. But he -is- a boy. And
that means--
"Trouble, yes, I know," Qui-Gon sighed. He looked down at his
padawan. Obi-Wan's eyes were focussed on the floor. "Thank you,
Master Mace. I don't think I'll be at that briefing, after
all."
"I'll send you the reports, shall I?"
"Yes, thanks."
The door slid closed behind the Jedi, leaving master and
apprentice alone.
"Sit down, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, nodding towards the chair
the boy had been occupying. Obedient to the bitter end, he did.
Qui-Gon pulled a chair of his own up beside him. "Now, you're
going about this wrong, do you see? You disassembled it nicely,
but it doesn't reassemble quite so easily; as I'm sure you've
noticed."
Obi-Wan nodded, totally confused.
"You seem to grasp the mechanical theory, but more goes into
constructing a lightsaber than that. Each Jedi must create his
weapon personally, by hand."
"Because of the crystals?"
"Because of the crystals."
"So I can't fix this?" Obi-Wan asked.
"No, you can't. You ought not to have taken it apart. However,
I ought to have remembered my promise. You're not to
blame for your curiosity."
"I'll ask, first, next time," Obi-Wan promised.
"Very good."
"It came apart way easy, though," he added,
thoughtfully. "Did you ever take apart Master Yoda's
lightsaber?"
"Force, no!" His tone of voice made Obi-Wan laugh. "I did,
however, manage to disable a transport."
"No way."
"Oh, yes. I was convinced it would be easy, you see."
Obi-Wan nodded. "I know the feeling."
"That's another story, though." Qui-Gon smiled, then very
carefully set the focus crystals in the hilt of his lightsaber.
He let his gaze turn inwards, seeking the calm centre of his
soul; and, with the Force, aligned them perfectly. "There."
"No way I could have done that," Obi-Wan commented, clearly
impressed.
"No way," Qui-Gon agreed. "At least, not yet. But later."
"How much later?"
"Later, later. When you've gone forward in your training."
"Everything is always later," Obi-Wan said, sounding disgusted.
The Master suppressed a laugh, not wanting to hurt his
feelings. "Some things are. Right now, however, I think it
might not hurt to do a meditation exercise."
"Yes, sir. What should I meditate on?" Obi-Wan asked, slipping
from his stool to the floor, and sinking into his mediation
posture.
"We will meditate on patience, my padawan. I suspect we're
going to need it," Qui-Gon said, a little rueful, settling down
next to Obi-Wan.
"Both of us?"
"Both of us."
Cool, Obi-Wan thought.
Qui-Gon smiled to himself.
"Have you learned anything tonight, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked,
finally having lifted his head.
"Yes, master."
Obi-Wan used his best Wise Master voice. "And what have you
learned?"
"That if I make a mistake, tell Master Qui-Gon, 'cos all he'll
make me do, is meditate?"
"I need another cup of tea," Qui-Gon announced, and fled like a
coward into the kitchen.
Ani turned to watch him go, then looked back at Obi-Wan... and
grinned. "Just kidding, Master." Then he turned serious. "I
guess I'm supposed to learn that-- that everyone does stuff
wrong, sometimes, and that you have to just... try hard not
to?"
"That's a good lesson, padawan," Obi-Wan said, slowly. He stood
and offered his hand to Anakin, leading him to the kitchen.
They looked in, and saw Qui-Gon, sitting on the floor, laughing
hysterically and totally silently.
"I think Master Qui-Gon needs to go to bed early," Anakin said.
"I think we all do," Obi-Wan said. "Good night, Master."
Qui-Gon waved a hand at him, helplessly.
"Come on, Ani. I'll put you to bed." As he turned, his Master's
voice sounded in his head, very clearly.
The next ten years should be interesting, my Obi-Wan.
Yes, well, you're right here with me, master. So don't get
complacent. And the sound of silent laughter followed him
to bed.
Archive 