Chapter Text
“Master,” Obi-Wan sobbed as he sat vigil over Qui-Gon’s body. “I’m so sorry, Master.”
“Oh,” said Anakin from beside him. A flower twisted itself between the boy’s fingers. He was always fiddling with his hands. “I thought he was your father.”
It’s the first time Anakin has said anything to him apart from “Yes sir,” and “No, sir.”
“No…no.” said Obi-Wan. “Although I guess he was like one. Jedi don’t really…have blood relationships.”
“He was good to you?”
“Yes,” said Obi-Wan, with tears running down his face. “He was.”
*
“What will happen to us now?” whispered the boy after the funeral. That was how Anakin now spoke to him- in whispers and hand-taps, sliding up to Obi-Wan’s side or ducking under his cloak to say words, very low, very soft. The boy was mostly silent, on cat-feet, communicating in touches and even Force-nudges. He hadn’t spoken, while the council was present. Just stood still and quiet at Obi-Wan’s side.
“I’ll train you,” Obi-Wan assured him. “That’s what Master Qui-Gon was going to do. You’ll be a Jedi, I promise.”
“They let you? How come?”
“Well, I’ll be made a Knight. And as a Knight, I’ll choose to take you as my Padawan.”
“Wow,” said Anakin softly. “That’s amazing. I wish Tatooine had a system like that. Can I be a Knight too, when I’m as old as you?”
“Yes, if you work hard,” said Obi-Wan, feeling a warm smile spread across his face, despite the grief and loss settling in his chest like a lead weight. “Maybe even younger.”
“Wizard.”
*
Anakin bowed low to the Jedi Masters as they departed, a perfect mirror of Obi-Wan. He waited until the ship had risen into the air before slipping close and taking one of Obi-Wan’s hands. Anakin’s fingers moved against his palm.
Gone? The boy signed into his hand. Obi-Wan startled. How did Anakin know-?
The last time he’d used this sign language, he’d been thirteen years old. Even so, it wasn’t something that would ever leave him. He was fluent in this secret language, and always would be, no matter how much time passed.
But how did Anakin know-?
“Yes,” he replied, confused and unconsciously matching Anakin’s usual whisper-volume. “They’re gone. We’ll see them back on Coruscant.”
“Are they good like Master Qui-Gon?”
“Yes. Yes. I know they seemed harsh with you, Anakin, but they aren’t really. They were angry with Master Qui-Gon and it came out on you. They’re good people, I promise.”
“A few angry words doesn’t mean harsh,” said the boy, and Obi-Wan found wisdom there. “Is that all they do when they’re mad? Yell a little?”
“Yes?” The reassurance came out as a question.
Anakin visibly relaxed. “I can do this,” he said, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand and letting go. “Be your…Padawan.” His face screwed up at the unfamiliar word. “And then, when I’m your age or younger, I’ll be a Knight?”
“Yes,” said Obi-Wan. “I can make no promises about your exact age, but you show exceptional promise in the Force already, young one. I will teach you everything I know.”
“That’s a good deal,” said Anakin, stepping away from Obi-Wan and folding his hands behind his back. Obi-Wan’s side felt cold in his absence.
*
When they arrived back on Coruscant, Master Yoda was waiting for them, lightsaber at the ready.
“Now, Master?” asked Obi-Wan, bowing in greeting. Anakin copied him exactly, standing at his side, watching him with a side-eye that suggested he was looking for cues on how to act. It made sense. He’d clearly never been to the Core before, but was handling it remarkably well. Obi-Wan was…proud of him.
Master Yoda nodded, ignoring Anakin for the moment and speaking only to him. “Your knighthood, you have earned. Receive it, you shall.”
“Here?”
“Here, Padawan.” Yoda wore a peaceful expression, tinged with sadness, and Obi-Wan returned it- this was bittersweet. It should never have been Master Yoda knighting him, but- with Qui-Gon dead…
With a sweep of his robes, Obi-Wan went to one knee before him. Anakin startled, uncertain, but a gentle nudge of the Force from Obi-Wan kept him standing.
The blade lowered over one shoulder, and then the other, and just like that, Obi-Wan was a knight. The braid fell at his feet, and he picked it up slowly, feeling it in his hand and rubbing his thumb over the beads.
“This should be with Master,” he muttered, looking at it. A clawed hand, feather-light, came to rest on his shoulder.
“With you, in the Force, he is.” Master Yoda gave him the gentlest of smiles. “Always, hmm?”
Obi-Wan smiled as well, filled with warmth and light. “Yes, he is.” He hoped his Master was watching over them. “And as a Jedi Knight, I formally take Anakin Skywalker as my Padawan learner.”
Master Yoda turned to the boy. “Accept Obi-Wan Kenobi as your Master, do you?”
Anakin nodded, eyes wide and round.
*
When they walked off the landing pad, Anakin slipped into Obi-Wan’s shadow, walking at his heels. Even when Master Yoda had gone, the boy stayed quiet, head down. Even his Force-presence was…smaller, somehow. Off. But- it had been a trying day, a long day, and Anakin had left his life behind, everyone he’d ever known. He was entitled to his shyness.
Obi-Wan didn’t know how Qui-Gon had met him, or what the circumstances had been that caused Anakin’s family to send him to the Jedi for training at such an old age. Typically, the Jedi only accepted small children and infants. Older Force-sensitives were sometimes contacted- given specialized training to control their outbursts and their power- but they weren’t usually accepted into the Temple. Still. He’d taken one look at Anakin’s M-count and it had all made sense. A count of twenty thousand at age nine? The boy did need Jedi training, or he’d hit puberty and cause a natural disaster when angry simply because no one had shown him how to control his power.
He is the chosen one, Qui-Gon had said. Obi-Wan did not believe in prophecies, and certainly not in placing expectations of greatness on the shoulders of a small child. All talk of that around Anakin was going to cease at once if he had anything to say about it.
He walked them in the direction of his and Qui-Gon’s old apartment- after all, he still lived there. He inhaled, exhaled, and drove the sadness deep inside himself. There would be time to mourn later, time to cry and meditate and make his peace with it. But he’d made a promise to his Master in those final moments- he’d promised to train Anakin. He’d promised a dying man to look out for this boy, and so he was going to do everything in his power to make sure Anakin had a smooth transition into the Jedi. So- he couldn’t mourn, not yet. He couldn’t allow himself to break apart when he had to be strong for someone else.
*
“This is…home,” said Obi-Wan, fishing the keys out of his pocket and opening the door to their apartment. Just weeks ago, he and Qui-Gon had been living here, had left with the expectation that they’d be returning soon, and now here he was, returning without his Master and with a boy from the outer rim, a virtual stranger he was now going to raise.
Anakin padded inside after him, walking in his wake. The boy’s head turned every which way, looking at the plants, the colorful rugs, the strange art Qui-Gon was partial to. He’d taken everything in stride, so far- the insanity that was Coruscant, that massive city, and the Jedi Temple which was, most likely, the largest building the boy had ever seen. Anakin had taken it all in, handling these new things with an aplomb that impressed Obi-Wan. But here- finally, he could sense tension in the boy. Something about these apartments was anxiety-inducing. Why now?
Oh well- Obi-Wan was plenty tense himself. The memory of Qui-Gon was all over these rooms.
“You can have my room, for now,” said Obi-Wan. “There’s a lot we need to do in the morning- we can clean the rooms out and move everything then.”
“Yes, master,” said Anakin, in a normal voice, which was loud by comparison to his usual whispers. Obi-Wan frowned, unsettled, but unable to figure out why.
“It will be a busy day, so get some sleep now. Here is the fresher-” he opened the door in question, showing Anakin the inside. “I’ll get you a spare toothbrush.”
He showed Anakin around the facilities, noticing the way the boy marveled at the appliances, and especially the water. Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin wanted to ask about them, about how they worked, but something seemed to hold him back. It was that same shyness from before….it felt…out of place in a boy Obi-Wan knew to be boisterous and adventurous.
“Well- goodnight,” he said, after he’d made sure Anakin was ready for sleep and tucked under the sheets of his bed, wondering if there was anything he missed. “Let me know if you need anything.”
A timid nod, and nothing else. Obi-Wan shut the door.
*
In the morning, the boy clearly hadn’t slept a wink. Neither had Obi-Wan, unable to bring himself to lie in Qui-Gon’s bed. He’d tried the couch, but had tossed and turned all night. He’d wadded up his pillow and had wrapped the blankets around himself and sobbed, silent, into the couch cushions.
They met in the kitchen, identical bags under their eyes. Obi-Wan just blinked a few times. A morning person, he was not.
Anakin shifted from foot to foot. They both spoke at the same time, starting for the stove.
“I can-”
“Here, I’ll-”
Identical pauses. Anakin spoke into the silence.
“I can do that, master.” That same voice. Level and normal-volume. It was…flat. Wrong, somehow.
“No,” said Obi-Wan, wrong-footed. “No, you’re a little boy, Anakin. Of course I’ll make you breakfast. What do you want? We don’t have eggs…” he opened the fridge. “…no bacon, either, damn. We had to clear out the fridge since we didn’t know how long the mission would take. But there’s still some syrup and I know we have pancake mix.”
“I’m not little. I can cook and bake: I make ahrisa for Watto all the time.”
Obi-Wan had no idea who Watto was. One of Anakin’s friends?
“I’m not saying you can’t,” he replied as he pulled down a bowl to begin mixing the batter. Hopefully Anakin wasn’t a picky eater. He’d have to get some groceries along with the thousand other things- he really needed to make a list, or something. “I’m just saying you don’t have to.”
“I’m good at wires too. I can make machines and droids. I know how they go together.”
“That’s…nice,” said Obi-Wan. Was this what children were like? Bouncing from one topic to the other? “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me about it?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to-”
“No, Anakin.”
“…Yes, master,” said the child, and slid into the chair, and Obi-Wan’s feeling of wrongness grew.
*
“Now,” said Obi-Wan after they’d finished their pancakes. “We have a lot to do today.” He’d fended off another of Anakin’s attempts to help with the dishes, nevermind that the boy barely came up to the sink. With each refusal, the child’s distress seemed to grow, and now he stood awkwardly behind Obi-Wan as he washed the plates, fiddling with his fingers. His gaze was focused on the stream of water, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes- Obi-Wan supposed that made sense, being from a desert planet. But Anakin said nothing about it.
Anakin’s whispers were gone, as were his touches. The boy hadn’t attempted to touch him once since they’d gotten home.
“First, we need some groceries. I’d like to spend the majority of the day cleaning out these rooms- we’ll go to the quartermaster and see if they have any new furniture you might want. But, before that, we need to go to the creche and get your Initiate forms all filled out…” he pondered. “And, Anakin, I’d like you have a medical examination. Can you tell me if you’re up to date on your-”
Obi-Wan stopped speaking mid-sentence as a spike of fear, of terror, pulsed through the Force. But even as he watched, Anakin visibly wrestled it down, inhaling and nodding a few times, seemingly unable to speak.
“Or not…we can put it off a few days, I suppose…” Anakin did need a checkup. But he’d not force a fearful child into something he wasn’t prepared for.
“Anakin,” he said, soft, and waited until the boy met his eyes. “Have you ever been to the doctor before…?”
A swallow. A nod. Hmm.
“I need one too,” said Obi-Wan, unsure if this was the right approach. But…if Anakin had had a bad experience… “Do you want to come and watch me get one, today, and then we’ll see about yours later?”
“But yours’ll be- different,” Anakin choked out. “You don’t have a master anymore.”
“I assure you, it won’t be. How about this. Everything they do to you, I’ll ask them to do to me, as well.”
“Everything…?”
“Yes. Although, the vaccinations I may need may be slightly different from the ones you need. I’m quite a bit older than you, after all.”
“Okay,” said Anakin, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”
But his fingers were clenched into the sides of his tunics, and the tension didn’t leave him.
*
The visit, at first, seemed to go well. They went there after they’d acquired some groceries and had cleaned out the rooms a little. Obi-Wan showed up for his check-up, to Master Che’s surprise- he was known for avoiding the halls of healing as long as possible. But, if it would help Anakin feel more comfortable, he was willing to put up with anything.
“This way, Obi-Wan,” said Master Che after introducing herself to Anakin. “We can do you next, Anakin.”
“Ah, actually. He’ll just be watching, today.”
“…I see,” she said, nonplussed, while Obi-Wan tried to communicate with his eyes that Anakin might need some time before he was ready for a check-up. Luckily, she seemed to get the message and just steered the both of them into a room. “You can sit in that chair, if you want, Anakin. Obi-Wan, you know how this goes. Tunics off, if you please.”
Obi-Wan nodded and undid his belt and sash before stripping off his outer tunics and removing his silk undershirt. He was unharmed, aside from some lightsaber burns on his fingers from his, so recent, fight with the Sith.
Still. As the air hit his bared back, he felt himself cringe a bit. He was always a bit self-conscious of his body, because, well. His apprenticeship had been more eventful than most, and he bore the evidence of it carved into his skin. The scars were ugly, but they were part of him, or so he tried to tell himself. And, anyway. This was for Anakin. If he was going to ask a child to show Master Che, a stranger, his body, Obi-Wan better be willing to do it, too.
The trouble came when he turned to sit down on the table, unintentionally showing Anakin his back.
The boy looked at it- Obi-Wan’s back, the exposed skin there, the scars, and shuddered, reeling backwards before bolting out of the chair and out of the room. Footsteps rang in a run down the hall.
“Wait, Anakin- shit,” said Obi-Wan, and began to frantically pull his tunics back on.
“He seems…skittish,” said Master Che. “Did you warn him about what he would see?”
“No, I forgot, I didn’t think…”
She sighed and pressed a hand to her forehead. “I’m very proud of you, Obi-Wan, that you’ve been able to move past what has happened to you, to the point of forgetting about it. But you need to go and tell him, or he will draw his own conclusions, as he undoubtedly has already done.”
“Yes,” said Obi-Wan, tying his belt as fast as he could. “I can see that. I’ll talk to him. I’m sorry, Master Che, we’ll have to come back another time.” With a hasty bow, he made a swift exit, run-walking down the halls in search of his new, young, and terrified Padawan.
*
Anakin was hiding in the room of a thousand fountains. He’d probably run there, unconsciously drawn to the well of Living Force that existed there, the harmonious life pulsing through the gardens and fountains. He was hiding in the cradle of a giant tree, high up in the branches, and Obi-Wan climbed up to sit nearby- not close enough to invade the boy’s space, but close enough where they could have a conversation and not be overheard. What he was about to tell the boy had no business fueling the Temple gossip mill.
“Anakin?”
A muffled, pushed-down, dry sob. A heaving chest. Worst of all, a pervasive fear, bleeding like a wound into the Force.
“Sorry,” said Anakin, arms tight around his own knees. “Sorry, master.”
“It’s alright,” said Obi-Wan, keeping his voice as soft and gentle as possible. “I should have warned you. I forgot. I’m sorry.”
In reply, all he got was another sniffle.
Obi-Wan shifted in place, feeling his cheeks heat. He should have warned Anakin. His scars were…frightening, and ugly, and- people did scream, sometimes… Qui-Gon used to tell him…not to care what other people thought, and that his body was just like everyone else’s, and not to be ashamed. Perhaps he’d taken it too much to heart. He certainly shouldn’t have blindsided the boy like that. “Will you let me…explain? I know something like that can be…shocking to see…”
“I’m sorry,” said Anakin, looking like he was crying- but shedding no tears. “I know it’s- I know lots of people have them. My mom and- neighbors and- I didn’t mean to- I just thought- I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” said Obi-Wan. Neighbors? His mom? “Scars are…quite normal for Jedi, and at a certain point we try to…forget. But I should never have let you see that without warning.”
If anything, the terror in the Force only grew.
“Normal? Even- for us it was never normal-”
“Ah- I just meant…” Obi-Wan trailed off. Jedi did lead dangerous lives, but he certainly wouldn’t be putting Anakin in any kind of danger unless it was years down the line and he thought the boy was ready.
“You said-” Anakin gasped, rocking back and forth. “You said- he was- good to you.”
And suddenly, the pieces of a puzzle which had been forming around Obi-Wan, almost without his notice, clicked into place with a horrible, awful clarity.
“No. No, Anakin. Master Qui-Gon did not-”
Master. Oh, oh, he’d been a fool.
“The Jedi did not do this to me,” said Obi-Wan fiercely. “And they won’t ever do it to you, Padawan-”
The boy sobbed again, dry-eyed and drowning, and Obi-Wan hated himself.
Jedi stayed in the Republic, usually. They saw all manner of hardship and suffering, for even so it was a wide and varied place. But- there was one thing all the planets in the Republic had in common. One thing that was outlawed, far and wide, something only seen on the outer rim, these days. One thing that Obi-Wan- after so many years, after the mind-healers and the nightmares and the time he’d spent in recovery- had finally stopped thinking about.
Slavery.
It was making sense, all of a sudden- this boy was from Tatooine. and he’d ignored that simple fact- had forgotten what being from the outer rim meant. A theory formed in his mind, making a terrible kind of sense- offhand comments Qui-Gon had made- the strange way Anakin behaved- and now this.
“Anakin,” he said, and paused, feeling as if a vice was tightening around his throat. “How did you meet M- how did you meet Qui-Gon?”
“He won me,” said Anakin to his hands, and Obi-Wan gasped- a jolt of pure betrayal shot through him, betrayal and rage and the urge to scream, loudly, at a dead man. He’d suspected, but to hear the confirmation...
Quite suddenly, Obi-Wan began to cry.
“He won me in a bet,” Anakin continued. “Watto likes to gamble, so he bet me on the pod race and Master Qui-Gon won, so he took me. I wanted to go. Mom…wanted me to go. She thought- you’d be- good to me.”
A slave. Qui-Gon had won a slave on Tatooine and had neglected to tell anybody. For a moment, all Obi-Wan could see was red, all he could think of was his own fear, during that time- it filled his nose and clogged his ears and had him free-falling into his own memory.
You belong to me, said Xanatos to a thirteen-year-old as a collar was fastened around his neck. Legally. They won’t come for you. Qui-Gon will not come for property- he’d be stealing. Lovely, how the outer rim works, isn’t it?
A tear dripped down his face and off his chin.
Defiance, said Xanatos, and Obi-Wan’s back was ripped apart-
He inhaled, exhaled, and cursed Qui-Gon for his negligence.
I’m meeting with someone this evening. You’ll serve our table. And he’d done so, with trembling hands and downcast eyes, bleeding through his hasty bandages, broken, cowed-
Obi-Wan took his time replying, finding the words, making sure they weren’t words born from rage, from fear, or from grief.
“Anakin,” he said, and wiped his eyes, shoving everything down. “You are free.”
Those emotions weren't useful here. What was done was done.
The child only curled tighter around himself. That was okay. Obi-Wan made himself comfortable against the tree, and then he talked. He wasn’t sure where to begin…there was so much to say. So many assumptions he’d made that now needed to be backtracked. So, he just…talked, and hoped Anakin would uncurl enough to ask questions.
“Even if Qui-Gon won you, the moment you crossed into Republic space, you were free. Legally, he had no claim on you the second we returned from the outer rim. No one does. Not Watto, not Qui-Gon…and certainly not me.”
Another hitching, dry sob.
“The word Master means something else, to the Jedi. It means ‘one who has mastered themself.’ It is a term of respect in our culture. A title one earns through their own merits. I am your teacher, I am your guardian, Anakin, but I am not, nor will I ever be, your owner.”
“-but-” said the boy, glassy-eyed and swaying. One hand came up to gesture weakly in Obi-Wan’s general direction before it dropped back down. “But- you have- you were-”
“Yes,” he met Anakin’s eyes. “But not by Qui-Gon. Not by any Jedi.”
“Master-”
“No. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan.”
Force. Obi-Wan was not qualified to handle this. There were- things, to be done now, lots of things. The consequences of this- had Qui-Gon given Anakin a choice to leave? He’d mentioned a mother- was she still enslaved? What had happened?
“Obi-Wan, sir,” whispered the child, breaking their eye contact.
Silence fell once again. Obi-Wan let it pass, allowing himself to spiral into panic and then release it into the Force. They had- time. Not a lot of time, but time. There were things he must do immediately, and things that could be done at a later date. Most important was Anakin himself, and undoing the damage Obi-Wan had unintentionally caused when he’d let the boy refer to him as master. Undoing the damage Qui-Gon had caused.
In his heart, he let his new Padawan go, for all that he’d had him for less than a day. Oh, Obi-Wan would guard and teach Anakin as long as it was his place to do so, and the boy did need Jedi instruction, but- no. Anakin had agreed under false pretenses.
“Do you know what an apprentice is?” he asked without judgement. Anakin nodded. “Do you know how an apprentice is different from a slave?” Another nod, less sure.
“The difference is that the apprentice may leave, if they so choose. The Jedi each must first complete an apprenticeship, usually lasting around ten years. Our word for it is Padawan, which means student in our language.” It was an oversimplification, but he felt it was important to point out the main, and most important, difference.
“I thought it…was like an indenture,” said Anakin, back in his whisper-tones, voice colored with emotion, but not flat like it had been before, and it caused Obi-Wan to hope. “It makes sense- you work for it, and then, they make you a Knight and you’re free. It makes sense. It’s fair.”
“Slavery is never fair,” said Obi-Wan, matching volume. “And you are no longer a slave. I understand if you cannot believe me, but all I ask is that you let me prove it to you.”
Anakin looked back and away, trembling, his hands clenching and unclenching. No, the boy did not believe. But that was okay. Obi-Wan would do everything in his power to convince him.