Archive: M_A please, Wolfie's Den, Early Years, and Padawan
Journals if wanted.
Feedback: Craved as much as chocolate. <g> Good or bad,
sock it to me please!!
Warnings: Follows TPM canon. Somewhat depressing. Here be
Anakin--ye have been warned!
Spoilers: For TPM, but we've all seen it by now...right?
Disclaimers: All hail the mighty Lucas!
Acknowledgements: Special thanks to Pumpkin for her wonderful
beta skills and encouragement! You're the best, Pumpkin! Hugs
also to Diane Coffin for her support and enthusiasm in all my
writing endeavors.
Author's Comments: This fic can probably stand on its own,
however it might be more meaningful if you've read Postcard 4.
For anyone who may have actually read and remembered Postcard
4,(does anyone like that actually exist? <g>)... remember
when I said it felt like it was missing something? Well, this
is what was missing.
As if witnessing the ceremony wasn't bad enough, the reception
was also turning out to be a tedious affair. Obi-Wan Kenobi was
finding it difficult to maintain his patience and composure. He
was tired and distracted.
It was too soon, Obi-Wan thought dully. Far too soon. He had
not been ready. He'd asked the Council to send someone else.
Anyone else. But they'd felt it was an easy mission, something
perfect to help begin his path toward healing. Obi-Wan had
complied, even though he'd felt as though his very soul had
been torn from him. He was heartsore and so very, very tired.
The only thing that had been required of him was his presence.
A Jedi representative was necessary during the final stages of
any planet's admission into the Republic. It was traditional,
and Obi-Wan was only there as an ambassador. He had no real
influence or duties, and for that he was grateful. He was
certainly in no state of mind to be responsible for much.
The boy.
He was responsible for the boy, he reminded himself. He watched
with dull eyes as people milled around the reception hall, and
he wondered vaguely where the boy was before he finally
remembered. He'd told Anakin that he could move freely about
the reception, get himself something to eat, or join the
celebrations outside if he wished. Anything to get the boy away
from him for a while. The child's presence by his side was
difficult. A never-ending reminder of what Obi-Wan had lost.
Train the boy.
A simple request, on the surface. But underneath...
The heartache that would be involved had been hidden at first.
Being responsible for the boy had helped a little, in the
beginning. Obi-Wan had not been able to dwell in his own grief
for long, since he'd needed to put the boy's well being above
his own. In time, however, this had gone from being beneficial
to becoming a festering wound. In tending to Anakin, Obi-Wan
had ignored his own needs and his own healing. The Council had
recognized this eventually, but its intervention had been too
little, too late. Master Yoda had been most concerned, and had
spoken to Obi-Wan on numerous occasions. Collectively, the
Council had decided that the new knight needed a renewed sense
of purpose. They then decided to send him, along with his
bequeathed padawan, on simple missions.
It was too soon.
Drawing himself out of his tortured thoughts, Obi-Wan realized
belatedly that one of the planet's newly elected senators was
speaking to him. He managed to nod in the right places, he
supposed, for the man appeared pleased and then continued on
his round of greetings. Sighing mentally, Obi-Wan finally
decided the crowd was becoming too oppressive. He made his way
toward the exit, squinting a bit at the bright sunlight that
bathed him upon stepping outside.
Out here, the celebrations continued. The people of this planet
were pleased with their admission into the Republic, and it
showed. Obi-Wan made his way through the streets, observing but
not participating. It occurred to him vaguely that a good
master would be concerned regarding his padawan's whereabouts.
He wandered the streets, lost in thought and allowing himself
to remain mired in his semi-depression. Perhaps it was the
Force that finally compelled Obi-Wan to enter the small
building where he finally located Anakin Skywalker. Or perhaps
it was simply coincidence. Nevertheless, he found his padawan
somewhere he would not have expected him to be.
Anakin was a mechanically-minded young man, that much was
certain. He loved machines, especially fast ones, and could
always be counted upon to be the first to notice such vehicles
or devices. He rarely noticed the types of things that Qui-Gon
would have. Qui-Gon's strength had been in the Living Force.
The Jedi Master would have noticed and reveled in the tapestry
of the people's lives here. He would have enjoyed watching
their celebrations, the expressions of their heritage, and the
interactions that wove the Living Force around them. He
probably would have enjoyed this particular building, for the
art that was on display here spoke of all those things and
more.
That was why Obi-Wan was shocked to see his padawan coming
toward him with a huge smile on his face.
"Obi-Wan!" Anakin exclaimed. "Isn't this wizard? You *have* to
look around here."
Obi-Wan tried not to visibly pull away as Anakin grasped his
hand and led him toward the displays. The boy was so familiar
with him, nothing at all like the way Obi-Wan had been toward
his own master. He supposed it came from Anakin's background.
Without years of Temple training to teach him Jedi stoicism, he
was outgoing and enthusiastic, which led to his informal way of
dealing with other Jedi. So far, Obi-Wan had simply tolerated
it without comment. It neither pleased nor annoyed him, so
Obi-Wan had decided to let it be. He almost expected it now,
and might have thought something was wrong with the boy if he'd
acted in any other way.
Obi-Wan allowed himself to be led along, only half-listening to
Anakin's commentary on some of the displays. The boy appeared
to have already met several of the artisans, for they nodded
and smiled at him almost fondly as he passed. But still,
Obi-Wan was only half-paying attention.
Until he saw it.
Memory assailed him as his gaze fell upon the stained glass
artwork that was appropriately displayed in a prominent, sunny
window. It portrayed a Jedi master and a padawan, their
lightsabers ignited and engaged. The blades were comprised of
focusing crystals that resonated a compelling, familiar Force
signature.
He could remember seeing this same piece of artwork in a market
on a far away world, could remember wishing he could purchase
it for his master's naming day. When he was only just a padawan
himself.
He stood staring at the glass for several long moments, lost in
the assault of memory and emotion as it swirled around him in
almost tangible form. Joy and sorrow warred within him for
control. Like a tidal wave against the shore, grief washed over
him, drowning the other emotions and leaving only heartache in
its wake.
"Obi-Wan," Anakin was saying, tugging at his sleeve to get his
attention. "Can you feel it? I could feel it from outside the
building. It's so strong. Do you think it was made by a Jedi
here? I asked about it, but no one seems to know where it came
from. Obi-Wan?"
"I..." Obi-Wan faltered, unable to continue. He had no idea how
the glass had come to be here. He'd last seen it many years ago
and half a galaxy away. He could afford to purchase the artwork
now, he knew. He had credits saved from years of a utilitarian
lifestyle, and he could offer the owner more than it was
probably worth. But seeing it again he knew he could never
share it with Qui-Gon. The fact hit him like a physical blow.
He had to stifle a sob that threatened to emerge, roughly
disguising it as a cough instead and he pulled his hand out of
his padawan's grip, ignoring the concerned look on the boy's
face.
"If you'll excuse me," he managed shakily. "Meet me back at the
transport when you are finished."
"But, Obi-Wan," Anakin started. Obi-Wan could feel him staring
as he walked away and knew the boy was confused. But he never
once looked back. He could only imagine that Anakin's gaze
eventually returned to the glass. The boy might have
contemplated it for long moments, as if it would finally speak
to him, to reveal how something so beautiful could inspire such
pain.
Obi-Wan could only hope that was one lesson his padawan would
never have to learn.
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