Spoilers: TPM (movie and novelization both), and Jedi
Apprentice
Categories: Um. Angst, I guess.
Summary: Anakin's good at listening when Obi-Wan needs to talk.
Feedback: please?
Disclaimer: Behold, a spirit moved upon Hollywood, and it was
George Lucas. Original trilogy and prequel he created them, and
displayed their magnificence for our adoration. Therefore are
all things Star Wars his alone, except for the story itself,
for lo, is that not the author's?
Notes: Partially my own reaction to some spoilers I've read for
Episode II, and partially because Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were
whispering their siren song in my ear, and then pulled a
disappearing act when I reached for a pen, leaving me and
Anakin to chat. Maybe next time I'll manage that PWP. Thanks to
Jayde Amali for beta: any faults are mine.
He couldn't sleep. Again. Not because he was cold, though.
Naboo wasn't cold, not like Coruscant or the ship. He couldn't
blame the cold, if he were honest with himself. He just
couldn't sleep.
He'd been on top of the world this afternoon, Anakin thought.
He had fired the crucial shot, he had saved the
Gungans and Amidala and everybody! His mother would be -- no.
Anakin shrank back from that thought. But he had saved
them, and he'd come back and the other pilots picked him up and
carried him on their shoulders like at the Boonta Eve race
yesterday.
Then he'd seen Padme -- Queen Amidala -- at the far end of the
hangar. She was smiling, but her eyes were not. Behind her
stood Obi-Wan Kenobi -- alone.
He had struggled down and run to the two of them, asking where
was Master Qui-Gon. Amidala mutely shook her head and with eyes
too old for her young face looked at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan went down
on one knee, and looked into Anakin's eyes. He'd seen the
answer in Obi-Wan's shock-pale face.
So now he couldn't sleep.
Anakin got up from his bed and pulled on tunic and trousers.
Maybe if he looked, he could find the kitchen and ask for warm
milk, like his mother used to give -- again his mind shied
back. Anakin steeled himself, and forced himself to finish the
thought. Warm milk, like his mother used to give him when he
couldn't sleep, back on Tatooine.
He didn't reach the kitchen. He'd gotten only a little bit down
the hallway when he stopped. Something was wrong. Not exactly
fixable-wrong, like a droid felt when it was broken, but
another kind of wrong. He followed the tug of feeling down the
hall, to a door which he pushed open.
"Who's there?" called a rich, light tenor voice from within,
and then, as Anakin stepped in, "Anakin!"
Anakin shut his mouth. He didn't need to ask what was wrong. He
knew now. "I'm cold, sir," he said instead, and Obi-Wan Kenobi
came forward and gestured him toward a soft-looking couch, with
some sort of...shawl?...over the back, which he pulled down
over Anakin.
"Remind me never to take you to Hoth," Obi-Wan said, sounding
amused. "The entire planet is covered with ice."
"Have you been lots of places like that?" Anakin asked,
snuggling up in the shawl. He could still feel the wrongness in
the room, but not yet how to fix it. He had to wait. If he
pushed too hard, tried too much, all he'd do was make it worse.
He got a brief smile in answer to his question. "Some."
Anakin waited. Nothing more. Obi-Wan seemed content to sit
there on the chair opposite the couch, staring down at his
hands folded in front of him. Anakin opened his mouth to say
something, then shut it again. The idea of speaking felt even
more wrong, like attaching a negative power coupling to a
positive axis. You're too impatient, Ani. This time he
controlled the flinch at the thought of his mother's voice. He
tried to count his breaths, and waited.
Anakin jumped at the sudden question. He hesitated -- but he'd
started this, he reminded himself. He wanted to finish it,
fix this, even if he didn't understand the question. So
he pulled the shawl closer and tried to answer.
He described how the tall stranger had been in Watto's shop
with his strange companions, how he'd followed them when Watto
let him leave early, and rescued Jar-Jar from Sebulba. He spoke
of seeing Qui-Gon's lightsaber, and taking them all home. He
explained how they had fallen to talking about podracing, and
Qui-Gon's casual comment about Jedi reflexes that had given
Anakin the courage to ask if Qui-Gon was, indeed, a Jedi
Knight. Finally he mentioned how Qui-Gon and Amidala had
admitted the truth, and how he had suggested the Boonta Eve
race as a way to get the needed money, a race he was sure he
could win.
"Jedi reflexes," Obi-Wan repeated thoughtfully.
"Yeah," said Anakin uncomfortably. He felt cold all over again,
cold and empty. He didn't want to remember what happened after
the race.
"Is that why --" Obi-Wan broke off and struggled for words.
The Chosen One. Anakin ducked his head. "I dunno," he said at
last, when Obi-Wan said nothing more. "He was talking to my
mom, so she might have said something."
Obi-Wan only nodded.
"He was your teacher for a long time, wasn't he?" Anakin
ventured. "Years and years."
"Since I was twelve," Obi-Wan said, still looking at his hands.
"Were you lovers?"
The words said themselves. Anakin clamped his mouth shut,
biting his tongue in the process. He yipped in pain, and looked
up at Obi-Wan, scrambling to find some way to re-wire things.
When Obi-Wan raised his gaze to meet Anakin's, his eyes were
full of unshed tears. "Not yet," he said, and the re-phrasing
and apologies died on Anakin's tongue.
"I don't understand," he said at last, feeling very young.
"You're too young," Obi-Wan said in a carefully controlled
voice, echoing Anakin's thoughts. "We were not yet Bonded, so
-- they'll expect me to forget, to move on, to fall in love
again, or at least pretend so."
"But you won't," Anakin guessed, listening to his instincts.
"I don't know." The wrongness was in Obi-Wan's voice, now; the
self-doubt, the yearning for something that couldn't be. "Jedi
must be mindful of the future. That doesn't mean we know it."
"You won't," Anakin said positively. He closed his eyes, and
saw dreamlike the image of Obi-Wan, smiling at Amidala, a
memory of pain still in his eyes. For a moment he even made
himself wish the vision could be reality, that Obi-Wan could
fall in love with someone like Amidala so he'd forget his pain.
Then the picture and the detachment both vanished, and hot
jealousy poured in. Padme/Amidala said she cared for
him, Anakin. He was going to marry her, he'd told her
so. Obi-Wan had had Qui-Gon. "You won't," he repeated,
opening his eyes, trying to push away the memory of that
vision.
Obi-Wan managed a smile again, and then really looked at
Anakin. "Here," he said, taking another shawl off the back of
his chair and putting it around Anakin. "You should go to bed.
There's much to do tomorrow."
Anakin yawned, and allowed himself to be herded toward the
door. It didn't feel right, but it didn't feel
wrong any more. It worked, and working meant it was
mostly right, didn't it?
"G'night, Master Obi-Wan, sir," he called, and went down the
hall to his own room to sleep.
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