Qui-Gon stood before the transparisteel doors of the balcony, staring out at early afternoon Coruscant. Air speeder traffic grew thicker as people headed out for the midday meal and he sighed a little. Normally he and Obi-Wan would make their way down to the dining hall and join most of the other Jedi for this particular meal, but he was beginning to wonder if that was going to be impossible.
Obi-Wan still hadn't returned from the Healers.
Obi-Wan's behavior ever since he'd felt Anakin's pain had been extremely out of character, and as much as Qui-Gon hated to admit that Master Yoda was right about something, Obi-Wan had been acting like him. The way his apprentice addressed the Council had been nothing short of incredible, and though part of him was ridiculously pleased to see Obi-Wan standing up against something he felt was wrong, Qui-Gon was decidedly alarmed by it as well.
Because the young man who stood up to the Council was nothing like the Obi-Wan Qui-Gon had come to know over the years.
Qui-Gon knew something had changed his apprentice drastically, whether it was those visions or something else, and Obi-Wan was still changing; Qui-Gon could feel it. He sensed Obi-Wan come to some kind of conclusion as he'd stepped off the lift, heading towards the Healers, but before Qui-Gon could ask him about it, he was off, marching down the hall.
Obi-Wan certainly hadn't noticed that he wasn't following Qui-Gon as he normally would've, one respectful step behind, but was storming forward with a stony expression on his face that sent any Jedi before him scrambling out of the way. Qui-Gon had been left to follow in his wake, enduring many befuddled glances from his fellow Masters, with everyone wondering what in the world had happened to quiet, respectful Padawan Kenobi.
Qui-Gon had been forced to assuage the mashed toes or the hurt feelings his apprentice caused, as Obi-Wan couldn't be bothered to stop, and each occurrence only succeeded in irking him further. One poor Initiate had been in such a hurry to get out of Obi-Wan's way that she ran into a pillar, smashing her forehead against the stone, and in the few minutes Qui-Gon had taken to get her to stop crying and check for injuries, he'd lost his padawan.
It should've been impossible; no one knew that better than he did. But there he was, standing in the middle of a hallway in the Temple, unable to locate Obi-Wan through the bond, as the Jedi had thrown up a set of shields that utterly hid his mind.
Qui-Gon hadn't been too alarmed as he stood in the corridor, as he knew Obi-Wan's destination, and he could just follow the path of stunned Jedi as they hovered by the sides of the walls, some completely unsure of what had just happened.
He'd continued onwards, heading for the Healers, but the moment he'd walked into the main area, he'd hit a snag in his plan.
It was all because of the damn droid that refused to tell him if Obi-Wan had even come through the Healers, let alone which Mind Healer he was seeing. Qui-Gon had asked the droid to simply comm the healer, as his apprentice was bound to be there, to confirm he was who he said he was, but the droid had refused, saying that if he really were Obi-Wan's Master, he should be able to call out to him through their bond.
Which would've worked, of course, except that Obi-Wan doesn't seem to hear me anymore, he thought with a touch of bitterness and then sighed, blowing that emotion away.
He'd resolved to wait then, only to have the droid call Temple security, saying that there was a suspicious character trying to hunt down a padawan. Qui-Gon had huffed in impatience before deciding that it might be better if he waited for Obi-Wan back at their apartment.
So there he'd returned, fixing himself a cup of tea, and had proceeded to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
He'd been reading some kind of cookbook to pass the time, one he'd seen Obi-Wan and Anakin pouring over together yesterday as they looked for something to make for evening meal, but had set it aside when he realized what time it was. He had moved to the windows, staring out at the city as he began to wonder what could've happened, until he remembered how long mind healing could take.
The door hissed open and Qui-Gon spun, moving quickly towards the entry when he saw that it was Obi-Wan, a sleeping Anakin cradled against him. Qui-Gon said nothing as he motioned to the couch, where Obi-Wan's pillow and blanket still rested neatly, and after Obi-Wan had kicked off his boots, a small tendril of the Force making them stand beside Qui-Gon's, he moved to set the boy down, struggling to undo the death grip Anakin had on his tunic.
Qui-Gon hadn't been too alarmed as he stood in the corridor, as he knew Obi-Wan's destination, and he could just follow the path of stunned Jedi as they hovered by the sides of the walls, some completely unsure of what had just happened.
He'd continued onwards, heading for the Healers, but the moment he'd walked into the main area, he'd hit a snag in his plan.
It was all because of the damn droid that refused to tell him if Obi-Wan had even come through the Healers, let alone which Mind Healer he was seeing. Qui-Gon had asked the droid to simply comm the healer, as his apprentice was bound to be there, to confirm he was who he said he was, but the droid had refused, saying that if he really were Obi-Wan's Master, he should be able to call out to him through their bond.
Which would've worked, of course, except that Obi-Wan doesn't seem to hear me anymore, he thought with a touch of bitterness and then sighed, blowing that emotion away.
He'd resolved to wait then, only to have the droid call Temple security, saying that there was a suspicious character trying to hunt down a padawan. Qui-Gon had huffed in impatience before deciding that it might be better if he waited for Obi-Wan back at their apartment.
So there he'd returned, fixing himself a cup of tea, and had proceeded to wait.
And wait.
And wait.
He'd been reading some kind of cookbook to pass the time, one he'd seen Obi-Wan and Anakin pouring over together yesterday as they looked for something to make for evening meal, but had set it aside when he realized what time it was. He had moved to the windows, staring out at the city as he began to wonder what could've happened, until he remembered how long mind healing could take.
The door hissed open and Qui-Gon spun, moving quickly towards the entry when he saw that it was Obi-Wan, a sleeping Anakin cradled against him. Qui-Gon said nothing as he motioned to the couch, where Obi-Wan's pillow and blanket still rested neatly, and after Obi-Wan had kicked off his boots, a small tendril of the Force making them stand beside Qui-Gon's, he moved to set the boy down, struggling to undo the death grip Anakin had on his tunic.
"What did the Healer say?" Qui-Gon asked quietly, unfolding the blanket as Obi-Wan successfully extracted himself and began to remove Anakin's small boots. "Any lasting damage?"
"None"Obi-wan repelled with a sigh,sitting back on his heels and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. "But i received a rather shard lecture from the healer for not bringing him straight away and thinking about trying to help Anakin on my own.I didn't tell her that the thought never crossed my mind because i certainly wasn't stupid,as I doubted it would've helped the situation."
"Yes padawan?"
"Where were you,Master?I thought were ahead of me,so when I got to the Healers and had to talk to them myself,I was a little surprised," he said and Qui-Gon moved to sit in the closest armchair.
"No padawan,I was behind you running dangerous control," he said and watched Obi-Wan rise both his eyebrows. "You might not have noticed, but you nearly ran over about fifteen different groups of Initiates, some of whom were under six years old, and you bumped into a Master I really wish you hadn't, because I had to spend at least twenty minutes apologizing for your behavior."
"I didn't realize," Obi-Wan said softly.
"I noticed," Qui-Gon replied, reaching out to tug on Obi-Wan's braid and watched him wince. "Where has your mind been, padawan? You certainly haven't been aware of your surroundings as you're supposed to be."
"I was thinking, Master," Obi-Wan said, sighing again and leaning so his back was pressed against the couch.
"It wouldn't happen to be on the question you completely ignored, would it?" Qui-Gon asked, watching his apprentice wince again. "You have a lot to explain, Obi-Wan, and sometimes I wonder how you're going to do it, because the list just keeps getting longer and longer."
He watched Obi-Wan shut his eyes. "I know, Master, believe me I do," he said, rubbing his eyes again. "But I can't tell anyone anything until after I know what the Council is going to do with me about today, and what they've got planned for Anakin."
"You keep saying that, padawan," Qui-Gon said, sitting back in the armchair. "And I for one hope this secret of yours lives up to all this build-up you've created around it, because otherwise I'm going to be sorely disappointed."
A small snort of laughter shook Obi-Wan's lean frame, and he let his hands slide down his face until they fell into his lap with a faint plop.
"Do you mind if I meditate before we discuss my behavior today?" he asked, and Qui-Gon felt both his eyebrows rise in surprise.
"I really ought to be thanking these visions, padawan," Qui-Gon said as Obi-Wan smiled a little. "Not only have you started cleaning your room and have somehow gained insane courage, as shown through your scathing reproval of the Council today, but you meditate more than I do. I'm almost afraid to see what they've done with your lightsaber skills, as altered as your Force-presence is."
"Oh, you'll get your chance, I'm sure, if we still plan to spar today," Obi-Wan replied, standing gracefully and freezing when a small hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve. Qui-Gon smiled at the sight as Obi-Wan knelt back down, his non-trapped hand coming up to clasp Anakin's in an attempt to pry him loose.
"Having trouble, padawan?" Qui-Gon asked as he stood, collecting his tea mug from where it sat on the table, and he moved towards the kitchen.
"It's nothing, really," Obi-Wan said. "I should've known it was too good to be true; he wouldn't let go of me when we were at the Healers."
Qui-Gon glanced over his shoulder long enough to see Obi-Wan smooth back Anakin's hair, who blinked sleepily up at the padawan.
"Good afternoon, Ani," Obi-Wan said with a lopsided grin, and the boy returned it faintly. "How're you feeling? Better?"
"Lots better," Anakin murmured, and Qui-Gon set down the mug so he could return to the sitting area. "What happened to me? I feel like I crashed my 'racer again."
"You mean you don't remember?" Obi-Wan asked, glancing up at Qui-Gon, who frowned slightly. "You don't remember going to meet the Council at all, or any of the tests they did?"
Anakin blinked a few times, his eyes barely open, and he shook his head. "The last thing I remember… we got off a lift and met up with Qui-Gon." His face scrunched a little. "I didn't like the lift. It made me sick to my stomach."
"But nothing after that? You don't remember anything else?"
Anakin shook his head. "Nothin'. Did somethin' bad happen?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan said with a sigh, his free hand continuing to smooth back Anakin's hair. "The Council tried to do some kind of scan so that they could look through your memories. The only problem was you've never experienced anything like that before, so it didn't go over well. You couldn't figure out how to control your initial reactions properly, so it grew painful. When you couldn't hold it off any longer, the situation sort of exploded."
"Wow," Anakin whispered, blinking slowly. "But I'm gonna be okay, though, right?"
"You'll be going to a Mind Healer for a little while, but she thinks you'll make a full recovery," Obi-Wan said. "She prescribed lots of rest and as much sleep as you can handle for the rest of the day, and then tomorrow we'll go back to see her so she can make sure you're healing appropriately."
-Master, would you do me a favor and patch through a message to Master Healer Shre'diy? She's the one who saw Anakin, and I want to know if this sort of short-term amnesia is normal,- Obi-Wan sent and Qui-Gon sent back an affirmative.
-Is there anything else you'd like me to ask?- he asked, heading for the inter-Temple comm unit he had in his room.
-Not at the moment. Thank you, Master, - Obi-Wan replied, sending the mental equivalent of a warm smile.
One relatively short comm call later, Qui-Gon returned to the common area, armed with the information that such short-term memory loss was normal in cases like Anakin's, especially if it made them forget the incident that had hurt them. They could try to recover the memory, but it was most likely wiped from his mind, and the Master Healer he'd spoken to had told him she would check Anakin over tomorrow to see if that was the case. Repressed memories could be dangerous, hampering the person subconsciously for years until dealt with, and Qui-Gon certainly didn't want Anakin to start having flashbacks of the Council's scan ten years from now, when some seemingly innocuous event triggered them.
-What did the Healer say?- Obi-Wan asked as Qui-Gon stepped from the hallway, and he could see that Anakin had let go of the padawan and fallen back to sleep, still clutching Obi-Wan's robe, which the Jedi had removed and tucked around the boy. Obi-Wan, in the meantime, had moved to kneel by the balcony in the standard meditative position, with his back to the windows.
-She said he could've erased the memory from his mind or simply forgotten about it, but she won't know for sure until she sees him tomorrow,- Qui-Gon related, heading towards the kitchen. –Let me wash out that mug and then I'll join you in meditation. Perhaps it'll give me some ideas for punishment.-
-Then I'll ask the Force to remain silent,- came Obi-Wan's sally, and Qui-Gon replied with a gentle mental swat.
-It's going have to be creative punishment that is certain,-Qui-Gon mused,running some hot water and adding a dub of dish detergent into the mug.-I can't assign you extra mediation,as we've discussed that has discussed how that has somehow ceased to be a chore. Perhaps I'll see if the janitorial department needs any assistants for a month?-
-That hardly counts as a punishment, Master,- Obi-Wan replied. –We've been to planets that smell worse than a dirty 'fresher, even with the havoc Initiates wreak on them, and I doubt you want a padawan who stinks of-
"All right, all right," he muttered, wrinkling his nose around the thought Obi-Wan had put in his mind. "No I do not want to have a padawan who smells worse than the swamps of Dagobah, even after a shower. I'll think of something else."
He could sense Obi-Wan's smile as he scrubbed out the mug and set it to dry on the dish rack, and he heaved a dramatic sigh. –What am I going to do with you, padawan? You were impudent before, but this is bordering on disrespectful insolence. What kind of apprentice argues with his Master about punishments?-
-The kind who know that nothing their Master can dish out will be worse that something they've already experienced,- Obi-Wan replied, and though his mental tone had a teasing lilt to it, Qui-Gon felt a small shiver of utter truth to his words.
-Unfortunate,- Qui-Gon thought, more to himself than to Obi-Wan, and moved to kneel before his apprentice, their knees gently touching. As he watched, he felt Obi-Wan lower himself into a surprisingly intense meditation, considering that his padawan normally had trouble achieving some of the normal states. The speed in which he'd done it was impressive as well, and as Qui-Gon felt the Force pulsing around him, he was once again amazed by how deep Obi-Wan's Force-presence had become.
And hopefully I'll find out why soon, he thought, reaching out along their bond and sending an affectionate pulse before shutting his eyes and lowering himself into a rather light meditative state.
Qui-Gon wasn't sure how long he'd been meditating when he felt a faint disturbance ripple around him, upsetting the serenity he'd been basking in. He stretched out with his feelings, tracing the ripple back to the epicenter, and nearly recoiled in horror. Behind tightly bound shields, the Force roiled and screamed, black as pitch, and it threw itself against its confines as it grew, the shields sending out tiny waves as they shuddered but held under the strain.
What is going on here? he wondered, stretching out to touch the shields lightly, intending to help reinforce them. What in the world is causing such distress?
As he worked to wrap his own shields around the area, the raging Force storm seemed to calm and part. It swirled around a central point, and was then sucked inwards rapidly towards a seated figure. Qui-Gon froze when he recognized the person, unintentionally taking a step forward as all shields dropped, and he opened his mind, intending to reach out.
The person who sat in the dead center of the once-thrashing area drew a deep breath, his blue-green eyes opening slightly, and before Qui-Gon could react, the shields snapped up again, trapping him. He bumped into them as he tried to back away, the storm returning and raging towards him with such ferocity that he felt a distinct blast of panic before he could clamp it down and brace himself.
-Obi-Wan!- he called, in an attempt to prevent the approaching onslaught. –Obi-Wan, stop!-
It did no good. Darkness smashed into him, nearly knocking him senseless, and he clung to himself, letting the storm pass through his mind but refusing to let it consume him. It swirled around him, drawing him into the suffering it held, and as he watched, the world around him shifted. He sensed something rise from the black that surrounded him, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself at the edges of a small gathering, the flames of a giant bonfire rising to the night sky.
"What will happen to me now?" a timid voice asked as he drew near the hooded figures who ringed the fire, their heads bowed in respect.
Jedi, he realized with a start, recognizing Yoda and Mace as they stood off to one side, discussing something in grave, whispered tones. Mace's face was hardened and Yoda's posture seemed much more hunched, their eyes shining in the firelight, reflecting the grief in their souls.
"But which one was destroyed?" he heard Mace ask quietly. "The master, or the apprentice?"
"Answer that, I cannot," Yoda replied, and their gazes turned to two other figures who stood apart from the crowd, and Qui-Gon turned as well, starting a little.
Obi-Wan, he realized, drawing near enough to see his apprentice's face locked onto the fire, and he could feel the sickening pit that had opened up inside the padawan. What is going on here?
"You will become a Jedi, Anakin," he heard Obi-Wan say, turning to the smaller figure at his side, who Qui-Gon now recognized. The boy's face was stained with tears, his tiny form shaking with suppressed sobs, but Obi-Wan remained unmoved. He didn't extend a hand to Anakin or draw him in for a hug as he had done lately. He remained still as stone, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe, and his face half shadowed in the dark.
"I promise," he whispered, turning away, and his gaze turned to the fire, which Qui-Gon realized wasn't the bonfire he'd originally assumed it was.
It was a funeral pyre… for him.
What is this? he wondered, horrified as he stared at the body in the flames. Is this a continuation of the vision Obi-Wan showed me yesterday? Is this what he saw the day he collapsed?
Qui-Gon turned just as Obi-Wan tilted his head to the sky, his eyes closing to shut out the tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks. He drew a deep breath, his shoulders shaking slightly, but he stilled as the Force swirled around him, taking his sorrow.
Why wasn't I faster? came the thought, and Qui-Gon recognized Obi-Wan's mental voice. I could've helped. It's my fault Qui-Gon is dead; I should've gotten to him in time. Instead I left him alone to be stabbed by that Sith.
Qui-Gon shut his eyes for a moment, wanting desperately to reach out to Obi-Wan, to reassure him that it wasn't his fault, no matter what he thought. Qui-Gon had seen that vision; he knew Obi-Wan had done his best, given the situation.
So it is a continuation, he thought as the darkness shifted, swallowing the scene, and images whirled around him violently. He heard the thud of a box being tossed to the ground, and when he turned, he found himself in his apartment, watching Obi-Wan pull pictures off the walls, his face molded into a tight mask of control.
"Um, Obi-Wan, uh, I mean, Master?"
"Yes, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice stiff as he turned to the boy, who stood in the doorframe of the hallway. "Are you hungry? There should be some food in the refrigeration unit if you are."
"Actually, I was hopin' to go to the dinin' hall," the boy said coolly, his gaze flicking around the apartment, and Qui-Gon shivered at the frost in the air. "Do you… do you want anythin'?"
"No," Obi-Wan said, turning away. "I'll just make something once I'm done."
"Okay," Anakin said, sounding slightly relieved, as though he were forcing himself to be polite to Obi-Wan, who wasn't doing a very good job of reciprocating. "I'll see you later."
The boy fled, leaving Obi-Wan to pluck down several more paintings, and as Qui-Gon watched, he slowly removed everything that had made the apartment a home. The cooking knives were thrown into a box, along with the spice rack, Qui-Gon's best mugs, and every single one of the teas that had been collected over the years. Then Obi-Wan rummaged through the cabinets and the refrigeration unit, grabbing every single piece of food that Qui-Gon had ever enjoyed, and tossed them down the garbage chute.
Padawan, why are you doing this? he thought, his heart aching at the blank expression on Obi-Wan's face as he tugged the boxes into the sitting area, where they joined the stacks already there. He then returned to the kitchen, restoring some semblance of order, but afterwards, he grabbed several of the dishtowels, the ones Qui-Gon remembered had been presents from Obi-Wan, and shoved them roughly into a box.
Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan stood before the stacks, a strange expression stealing over his face, his hand coming up to touch the braid that still dangled by his right ear. For a second, horror filled Qui-Gon, as he thought Obi-Wan was going to rip it off, but then the young man simply began unbraiding it.
Obi-Wan slid the beads off the separated strands of hair and into his waiting palm, where they winked brightly in the artificial lights. Qui-Gon watched, his gaze blurring slightly as Obi-Wan touched each bead gently. He then let them fall, one by one, into the closest box, where they were instantly lost among all the larger objects.
Obi-Wan then swiftly redid the braid, fingers nimble with years of experience, and rummaged around until he found one of the cooking knives. Qui-Gon froze at the sight of the paring knife, which Obi-Wan considered silently, his eyes darkening for a moment. But then he shut them and drew a shuddering breath before turning back towards the kitchen.
Another flash of horror jolted through Qui-Gon, as he was unsure of what Obi-Wan was planning. His mouth fell open slightly when he saw his apprentice grasp the padawan braid, his knuckles whitening and the knife trembling as he brought it up to the lock of hair.
This should not be happening, Qui-Gon thought, trying to move forward to grasp Obi-Wan's wrist and stop him. Even if I somehow wound up dead, they would still perform a ceremony. The braid would be cut off properly by a Master-
"Obi-Wan, stop!" he shouted as his apprentice squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.
The knife sliced through the hair with ridiculous ease and then slipped from Obi-Wan's fingers, clattering against the tiled floor loudly. Qui-Gon found he was shaking his head in disbelief, his mouth opening and closing as he tried desperately to voice the sudden whirl of emotions that filled him. Shock overrode any of the others easily as he watched his apprentice stare down at the braid in his hand.
Padawan, why did you deny yourself the honor of a proper ceremony? Qui-Gon thought, shutting his eyes as Obi-Wan's fingers curled around the severed plait.
The smell of something burning made him open his eyes, and he would've fallen to his knees, had he been able. Somehow, perhaps through a particularly intense burst of Force-heat, Obi-Wan had lit the end of the braid, flames rapidly consuming the hair and the ashes drifting down into the sink. He let it burn right up to his fingertips and he let it go, the hair twisting and curling as it fell, glowing blood red from the fire.
There was the sound of a choked sigh and Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan slumped before the sink, his hands gripping the edge of the counter and his head bowed. His shoulders hunched for a moment, his body shivering slightly, but when he straightened and turned, his eyes were as blank as ever, his face schooled into an apathetic mask. His gaze drifted to the dining area, and after a second Qui-Gon realized what he was staring at.
From what Qui-Gon could see, there was only one thing that hadn't been removed yet, and that was the centerpiece of river rocks.
"Obi-Wan, don't," he whispered, though his voice remained unheard, and something hardened in his apprentice. "Please don't do this. You know you'll regret it later."
As though responding to Qui-Gon's words, Obi-Wan began to walk over to the table, staring down at the clay bowl with that blank expression. After a moment he reached forward, his fingers trembling as he plucked the bowl from its long-standing place of honor. He brought it to his chest, his head bowing over it and the rocks scraping as they slid.
Qui-Gon felt his heart twist painfully as he watched Obi-Wan squeeze his eyes shut, his carefully contrived mask shattering as his face crumpled and tears began trickling down his cheeks. His lips pulled back in a faint grimace and he gasped in a faint sob, his shoulders shaking slightly. Qui-Gon tried to move closer, so he could somehow comfort his apprentice, but he was frozen, able only to observe.
Qui-Gon jumped when Obi-Wan let out a startling yell and threw the centerpiece to the ground with an uncharacteristic display of violence. The bowl shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, the polished rocks flying in every direction. He then collapsed to his knees, crying as he pounded a fist against the back of the closest armchair, and wound his arms around himself, huddling before the broken dish.
"Why, Master?" Qui-Gon heard him whisper over and over as he rocked back and forth, hugging himself. "Why did you have to leave? Why did you have to die?"
The darkness surged forth, swallowing the crying figure before him as a heavy wave of empathy swelled through him, and suddenly he was surrounded by thousands of shifting images, voices echoing from the darkness.
"Anakin, stop running in the Temple!" an older Obi-Wan raged after the sprinting boy, who now wore the dress and hairstyle of a padawan learner, a short braid dangling by his right ear.
Qui-Gon blinked; the image was gone.
"Anakin, you're not focusing!"
"Master, yes I am! I've been sitting here for three kriffin'hours, and I'm never going to move that damn cup!"
"Language!"
The voices swirled away, taking with them the image of Obi-Wan, the first signs of a growing beard appearing on his face and his hair shaggy as it fell into his eyes, and of Anakin, who scowled darkly, his braid longer and decorated by a few beads.
Countless arguments rose before him, with Anakin ranting and raving, accusing Obi-Wan of hating him, of hating the fact that Qui-Gon had died and left him to train the boy, while Obi-Wan remained weary and stoic, his eyes raised to the heavens. He always let the tantrum burn itself out before lecturing in a voice Qui-Gon recognized from the Council chambers, and assigning several severe punishments for Anakin's lack of control.
He watched the hundreds of times Anakin tentatively apologized to Obi-Wan for his behavior, who would always sigh and fix the growing boy with a look of exhausted disappointment, but he would always forgive the discretion. Even when Anakin was caught racing and gambling and Qui-Gon didn't know what else, Obi-Wan would tiredly accept the standard apology.
"I swear, Master, I'll never do it again!"
"That's what you said last time, Anakin," came the weary reply, along with a temple massage, fingers trying to stave off a headache. "What was it for this time? Starving children in the lower levels? An animal shelter desperately in need of funds? For all your heroic statements, I have yet to actually hear of some charity organization thanking you for your noble efforts."
He watched Anakin grow from a child to an unruly teen, barely obeying an Obi-Wan who steadily became bitingly sarcastic. Qui-Gon marveled as his apprentice's temperament grew more and more prickly, and he would get rather grumpy, as Anakin put it, at the drop of a hat. Obi-Wan had never had the greatest skills in patience, and though having Anakin as an apprentice certainly gave him the patience of a god, it still frayed to the point of exasperation whenever the boy did something foolish.
Qui-Gon watched them bond over model building and lightsaber practice, and Anakin actually helped Obi-Wan greatly improve his flying skills to the point where while he wasn't a match for Anakin's knack for improvising, he could certainly fly better than a good deal of fighter pilots.
An image rose before Qui-Gon then, one of a shell-shocked Anakin and Obi-Wan as they stared at the kitchen, smoke billowing out of the trembling oven.
"What the blazes are you making?" Obi-Wan demanded, turning his wide-eyed gaze to his padawan, who now stood only a little shorter than him. Anakin had hit a definite growth spurt somewhere along the way, and from what Qui-Gon could tell, the boy was nowhere near finished.
"You know, Master," Anakin said, wincing with chagrin, his voice deeper than Qui-Gon had expected. "It's your birthday and all, so I figured I'd try to make dinner, so we wouldn't have to go to the dining hall…"
The oven gave a particularly loud shudder and Obi-Wan stared. "Aren't you going to at least try to stop the food from burning? Or are you waiting for the Temple fire brigade to come and rescue you?"
"Ha, ha, Master," Anakin replied. "Once again your wit astounds me."
"I do try, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, and both of them jumped as the oven gave a nasty bang and proceeded to billow even blacker smoke. Anakin groaned and started to walk forward, fanning at the smoke as he went.
"I knew I should've listened to that bad feeling I had earlier," he muttered and Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan stiffen before he leapt forward.
"Get down!" he yelled, tackling Anakin to the ground, who uttered a surprised yelp. It wasn't a moment too soon, as the oven completely exploded.
Debris bounced off the Force-shield Obi-Wan had pulled up over them, flames erupting from the kitchen and smoke covering everything. Alarms blared and the automated sprinklers came on with a faint hiss, dousing the apartment and its occupants in a heavy downpour of ice-cold water.
Obi-Wan let the shield drop and shut the sprinklers off once he was sure any fires were out, and then glanced down at Anakin, who peered up at him sheepishly. When Obi-Wan caught the look, he snorted with laughter, and when Anakin looked affronted by it, he rolled onto his back and laughed until there were tears streaming down his cheeks.
Anakin, however, was not so amused, and sat up, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. "Whenever you're finished, Master…"
"And here I thought you'd learned your lesson about cooking un-chaperoned years ago," Obi-Wan replied, gasping for breath as he quit laughing and rolled onto his side, wiping tears from his eyes. "I appreciate the effort, Anakin, really I do. But next time, I'll help, if you don't mind."
"There'll be a next time?" Anakin asked, incredulous and stunned.
"Well of course," Obi-Wan replied, picking himself up, and extending a hand. "Why wouldn't there be?"
"Well, I kind of did blow up the oven…"
Obi-Wan waved a hand, rolling his eyes. "And I broke two of Qui-Gon's couches when I was your age, all within a month, but he never made me quit sitting on them. In fact, he started giving me lessons in how to properly do some of the gymnastics moves I was trying, so I think some cooking lessons are in order. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Sometimes I swear I've got the strangest Master in the Order," Anakin replied, accepting Obi-Wan's extended hand and pulling himself to his feet.
"I wouldn't have it any other way. Now, padawan," Obi-Wan said, "what would you say to some food from Dex's? He's always happy to see us, and I since it's my birthday, he'll give us a free meal."
Qui-Gon stepped back as the image dissolved into darkness, only to be replaced by visions of Obi-Wan as he soothed away nightmares, bandaged up the minor cuts and scrapes Anakin always seemed to acquire, yelled at the boy when he failed to pick up his room and Obi-Wan stepped on a random bit of machinery as a consequence. He watched as the two went on mission after mission, sometimes laughing but mostly arguing, their faces expressing the exasperation they felt with the other…
The storm grew darker.