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Published:
2017-06-14
Updated:
2018-01-13
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3/?
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Suffer Little Children

Summary:

Obi-Wan and Anakin, Master and Padawan, travel to a backwater world to pick up a force-sensitive infant. An old pain emerges from bellow the years of conditioning. Obi-Wan is a mess and Anakin finds himself in the role of the protector.

And in between the bouts of rain, two brothers find each other.

Chapter 1: Welcome to Sadu

Chapter Text

Anakin let out a loud, delighted cry when the ship entered Sadu’s troposphere, and flew into a bank of storm clouds, pregnant with water and lightning. The boy pressed his face to the transparisteel, fascinated with the violent view. Three years away from Tatooine did not erase his almost religious adoration of rain.

(Obi-Wan was still unconvinced that Anakin did not venerate rain as an actual deity. Whenever he asked him about it, Anakin evaded the direct answer with glee. Soon, a discussion about theoretical religions became a habit of theirs, an inside joke between two bored friends with too much imagination. Master Windu thought they were both insane when Anakin placed an altar for Azathoth, The Vengeful Tooka god of Wrath, in the Room of Thousand Fountains and convinced a few initiates to bring mashed fruit as an offering. The following morning the fruit was gone. Obi-Wan suspected it had fallen victim to Master Yoda’s sweet tooth.)

A sudden flash of blinding light filled their cabin, and the roaring thunder shook the ship as if it were a mere child toy. Anakin laughed. And even though Obi-Wan knew they were in no real danger, he watched his padawan with unease.

“Can you, please, at least step back from the window?”

“Did you see that?! Did you?”

“Anakin, right now I can’t see anything else but the lightning, and I hope you realize that glaring into a fifty thousand kelvins hot stream of plasma is not good for your eyesight.”

“Nah, don’t worry. The viewports are shaded.”

“Not enough. Come here.”

“But-“

“Now, padawan.”

“You’re no fun.”

It took him three long strides to get to Obi-Wan’s cot. The bed creaked as he sat down, sighing.

“The storm’s the only fun thing about this mission, you know.”

“Maybe, but the lack of adrenaline does not diminish its importance.”

“But why do we have to bring a baby?”

It was not like Obi-Wan himself did not question the Council’s decision. It had been only three years since his padawan left his mother for the Temple. And although Anakin put up a brave front, and pretended he did not miss her – every other night Obi-Wan listened to his muffled sobs, powerless to soothe the boy – playing the same scene and forcing him to take the role of the one taking the child seemed needlessly cruel. And yet, Anakin did not look bothered at all, only bored to tears.

“Every knight has to partake in the building of the next generation, Ani. That’s how the Order maintains its existence.”

“But – a baby?” He waved his hand in the direction of the bags full of necessities for infant care.

Obi-Wan was not sure whether Anakin sounded annoyed or distressed.

“It is the best age to enter the Order,” he offered. Weakly, he had to admit. “The transition is… considered to be the least… harmful for both sides.”

Anakin made a discontented huff, but chose not to retort. He laid down, nested his head on Obi-Wan’s knees, curled into himself. Obi-Wan gently brushed the boy’s gold hair with his fingers.

“If you wish so, you may stay in the hotel while I take care of… the mission.”

“What happened to the ‘Padawan is to remain at Master’s side’, heh?”

“That rule stands when there is a parade nearby, and the padawan in question makes his master go grey early with worry that he’ll bolt out and disappear in the crowd.”

“I totally found my way back.” Anakin’s tone was light and joking, but his arms wrapped around Obi-Wan’s thighs spoke differently. Oh, dear one, what a pet you are, the master thought.

“After three hours. With the comm turned off. I thought someone kidnapped you.” The fear he had felt that day would have earned him another lection by Master Yoda on attachment. “Nevertheless, the offer stands. You can stay in the hotel room. Stuff your face with anything you want. Watch non-educational holovids to your heart’s desire. Jump on my bed-“

“You’d be wizard as a salesman, Master.”

Another lightning. Another thunder.

“But no, I’ll go with you.”

Tagawa Kona, the largest spaceport the planet Sadu boasted of, was battered by cold rain when their ship finally landed. The thousands of heavy drops drummed on the tin roof of the entrance hall. The check-in was uneventful; the officer looked as bored as Anakin when he had to write down his philosophy paper.

Obi-Wan realized he was an idiot only when they got out. A simple old banner in front of the gate. Older than the vote that took place in the senate a few years ago. The vote on forsaking the planet’s colonial name and reclaiming the one in the native tongue as the official one. He was sure he had read about the vote. And forgot about it immediately.

Welcome to Stewjon!

Sadu ta bike-taya!

 

Chapter 2: Kenobilogy 101

Summary:

Anakin and Obi-Wan get to the inner city and find a fine lodging. All in all, it should be a nice and cosy vacation.
It isn't.

Chapter Text

The ride to the downtown of Tagawa was filled to the brim with uncomfortable silence. The magtrain drove into a tunnel, painting their compartment with pitch black.  Anakin kept twitching in his seat, bored to tears. Obi-Wan had never been a chatterbox to the boy’s chagrin, but this was downright ridiculous. Master had not spoken a word since they had left the spaceport.

“Master?”

“Yes, Anakin?”

His voice was soft and distant.

“Are we there yet?”

Anakin knew he whined. It was completely intentional.

“As you see, we are still inside the train. Which is still moving. So, what is the conclusion, padawan?”

“That we’re not there yet.”

“I have always suspected you to be a bright boy.”

“If I weren’t so respectful and bright, I’d call you a sarcastic wiseass, Master.”

“Well, I suppose I should thank the Force that you are so respectful, because otherwise I would have to punish you for your impudence.”

“Lucky respectful me.”

The magtrain emerged back to the dull autumn sunlight. Anakin stole a glance at Obi-Wan’s face. The blankness was gone, thanks the stars. Anakin never knew for sure what to do when Obi-Wan got weird like that. Reading him through their bond was a difficult task; Obi-Wan seldom dropped his shields, and to make his padawan’s attempts at Kenobilogy even harder he refused to answer a damn question straight. Anakin had hoped they were past that – he would never forget the stone carved statue that had been his master for the first year of his apprenticeship – but apparently, Obi-Wan took a twisted pleasure in being an inscrutable ass.

The only cure for Obi-Wan’s moods, as far as Anakin knew, was to annoy him back to his general state of amused exasperation.

Sadu was no Tatooine. Longing for warmth, Anakin snuggled to his master’s side. For all his insisting on a proper Jedi etiquette, Obi-Wan usually let Anakin use his body as a personal heater. The fact Anakin abused on a regular basis. It was not his fault that he was born on a planet where one could fry an egg with nothing but a flat stone and his inner thermostat refused to adapt.

Anakin listened to the whispers of the raindrops, to the ramble of passing trains, to Obi-Wan’s heartbeat. Lids heavy, he closed his eyes. He wondered, in a fleeting moment, if Obi-Wan found in the meditation the very piece he felt now. Was the Force this snug and soft? Did it smell of soap and lemongrass? Did it sing to Obi-Wan with the steady rhythm of his own heart?

Another heartbeat, another body, another scent. Mom’s fingers playing with his hair. A dress made from far itchier cloth. Lips brushing his brow. He felt far too alone, far too small, young and old at the same time. Anakin burrowed closer to his master, nose buried in his ribs.

“No drowsing, young one. We are going to be there soon.

It was still raining when the train stopped.

By the time they got to the inn from the station, they were soaked to the bone. Obi-Wan glared at the broken umbrella in his hand as if it had offended him gravely. The poor object had been rendered useless in the raging weather. What was meant to be a pleasant short walk quickly turned into a half-running, half-swimming race. Obi-Wan’s face of utter betrayal mixed with the look of a baby Ewok freshly pulled out of a washing machine was just a cherry on top.

As far as Anakin was concerned, Sadu welcomed them the best way possible.

The inn was cosy, with a tavern on the ground floor and lodgings up the stairs. The few people who strayed here from the flood raging outside drunk their beer quietly at the low tables. Decorative wooden veneer covered the walls. Anakin inhaled the smell of cooked meat, mushrooms and herbs. With mouth salivating and eyes full of hunger and hope he glanced at his master who was fighting with their luggage. Their mad dash through the tiled streets took a toll on its wheels.

“This is the reason Jedi travel light,” Obi-Wan growled. “Wretched thing. Yes, Anakin, I smell the food too, and yes, we will have a lunch before the mission. Now, wait.”

Anakin rewarded him with the brightest smile he could manage. At last, Master got the hang on this child rearing business. The infamous murderer of all plant in the vicinity finally realized that living beings needed nutrients for survival! Would miracles never cease?

(A few years ago, when Master was still new and weird and raw and grieving, Anakin had to remind him again and again that neither of them could survive on mere sunlight and air.)

With a victorious Ah-ha! Obi-Wan bullied the suitcase into submission. Anakin hurried after him as he strode straight to the innkeeper, the luggage bumping behind.

The innkeeper was a forty-year-old woman with dark blonde hair and wide-set cheeks. Obi-Wan’s type, Anakin thought giddily. And judging by the quirky smile she gave him, Obi-Wan was her type, but Obi-Wan was nearly everyone’s type, so Anakin could not fault her. She had a good taste in men, though.

The innkeeper glanced at their suitcase, then turned back to Obi-Wan. “Greetings, sirs. Do you have reservations?” She spoke with a rather strong accent, like someone who learnt Basic at school only to have something to add to their CV.

Anakin watched Obi-Wan dictate the number of their reservation.

“Jedi, hm?” The woman typed down a few lines to her datapad. “I’ll need to see your IDs.”

“Here it is.” Obi-Wan handed her their data chips. A minute passed – the terminal did not quite work – until the information finally loaded. She grinned when she read their names.

“Wati gino’ada nasayo, mun-Kenobi?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, you don’t speak…? I thought…”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Obi-Wan said with a sheepish smile. “May I have the keys?” he added quickly.

“Of course,” she pressed the keys and the chips into his palm. “The second floor, the room number eight.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Let’s go, padawan.”

. . .

Their room was a plain one. White walls and parquetted floors. Two beds on the opposite sides. One large window framing the grey skies. It was a rather dim room. Obi-Wan switched the lights on.

“What was that?” Anakin asked when the door closed behind them.

“Nothing important,” Obi-Wan shrugged. Never the one to waste time, he started unpacking the luggage. “Just people putting greater importance to one’s place of birth than they should.”

Anakin sat down on the smaller of the two beds.

“Whoa – you’re from here? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I knew the planet under its colonial name. It escaped me that they had renamed it back… Though I admit that Stewjon sounds ridiculous… You need to dry up, padawan. You are dripping all over the place.”

“Yeah, yeah. Wow. I thought you’re from, like, Coruscant.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“Dunno. Guess that you’re so… Well, comfortable there?”

“Am I?” Obi-Wan scratched his jaw. Anakin noticed the light red fuzz that covered his face now. He tried to imagine his master with a beard. He would look like a stunted Wookie. “I would not consider myself even a Coruscanti. Let alone Sadu. I am just a Jedi, through and through.”

Anakin frowned.

“You were born here.”

“And I have lived my life everywhere else. The only planet I have spent less time than this one was Tatooine. Trust me, Anakin, I have a better clasp on being Mandalorian than being Sadu. I am a stranger here in all the ways that matter.”

“Haven’t you been a bit curious?”

“Why should I? Why are we even talking about this nonsense? Change your clothes, Anakin. We can’t go to the tavern like this. And please, no more talks about this.”

Pouting, Anakin proceeded to the bathroom with a bundle of dry robes and a towel pressed to his chest. Figures, that Obi-Wan would be tight lipped about anything concerning himself as a person.

Just a Jedi, through and through.

Chapter 3: Blue

Summary:

First day in town. Some things work out perfectly.
Other do not.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan could not help himself but snicker as he watched Anakin stuff his face with the sautéed mushrooms. Everything the boy did was done with the utmost verve. Be it a simple task of cleaning a droid or decimating a whole plate of exotic food. Anakin was your boy. Even if it was not his favourite dish – slowly grilled bantha leg marinated in alderaanian honey and isaviri nuts – Anakin devoured everything remotely digestible.

(Sometimes it ached to see him eat every single bit of food offered to him, as if he expected it to be taken from him anytime. Obi-Wan did not want to know how often it happened to his charge. How often he had to go to his bed with an empty stomach, with no surety that tomorrow his owner would feed him.)

“Viff if fo foof!”

“Anakin, please, cease talking with your mouth full, hm? It is very unsightly.”

To confirm his reputation as the biggest brat in the entire galaxy, Anakin chose to roll his eyes dramatically before he swallowed.

“Oh, jolly, master mine, this meal truly satisfies one’s highest cravings!” Of course, the pathetic life form had to mimic Obi-Wan’s diction with the long-perfected accuracy. “What a wonderful dinner, I say! I demand you to relay my goodwill to the chef of the evening!”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I appreciate the effort to annoy me, miniscule one, but I find your attempts at sounding sophisticated rather charming. Or dare I say – cute?”

“I’m not cute!” Oh, the predictable weakness of teenage boys. Obi-Wan had to laugh at the tiny face showing royal levels of injured dignity. Anakin wanted to pretend outrage for a little more, but the luring smell of his meal distracted him again.

“You’re making a big mistake, Obi-Wan.”

“I just don’t like mushrooms.”

“More for me then.” The boy helped himself to a generous share of Obi-Wan’s portion.

Not for the first time Obi-Wan thought that the gesture – taking food from his master’s plate – meant a world to this child. It hid in the deliberate way he reached for the food. Or the stealthy looks he kept giving him as he quickly shovelled a bite after a bite into his never-sated mouth.

He wondered if it was truly against the conduct of the Order. To hold the runt tight to his chest and promise him the blue out of the sky. That there will be no hunger anymore. No pain. No word spoken in malice. But he did not want to lie.

He was a Jedi.

He was a Master.

Nothing less and nothing more.

After the dinner Anakin dragged him out for a walk. It was early in the evening. The air carried the light scent of petrichor. Blue tint on the walls. On grass. On the pavement covered in pools. Birds – flashes of vivid red and violet – and leaf-lizards chased each other in the entwined branches of trees lining the roads. No one in sight. Empty streets coiled around the river bank, up to the hill looming above the city. Somewhere in the distance a landing ship sounded in echo.

Anakin jumped a puddle. Obi-Wan was ashamed to admit that despite the two decades of honing his skills in the prediction of the near future, he did not take his Padawan’s fascination with water into an account when it came to keeping the pristine state of his robes.

“Anakin!”

“Obi-Wan!” The brat giggled. “Catch me if you can!”

Naturally, he did not wait for Obi-Wan to hold him from darting out.

“Always on the move,” the Master grumbled, hurrying after the boy. It was idiotic, truly. Anyone who saw them from their windows must have thought the Jedi had gone mad. But it felt nice. The bouncing of his feet against the cold, wet pavement. The soft impact on his joints. The stretching of his muscles. No care in the world. Only Anakin.

The boy’s piercing laughter was drowned in the sound of the approaching landspeeder.

“ANAKIN!”

. . .

Anakin heard the speeder coming. He felt it even before. He knew he had to jump out of its way. He did not survive the numerous pod races relying only on his sheer luck.

But Obi-Wan’s shout triggered something primal in him. Like a small animal he froze on his spot.

The puddle seeped into his boots.

He stood right in the middle of the street.

Obi-Wan was near, but he was not quick enough to outpace a kriffing speeder. Anakin knew he had to move.

“ANAKIN!”

Too late.

It never looked as fast when he sat in one.

From this perspective, it was terrifying.

He heard a curse – the man behind the steering managed to avoid him by a breath. Engines screeched as he forced them to stop. He was driving so fast that the vehicle flew thirty meters further with just momentum.

In a blink of an eye, Obi-Wan was right there, pulling him aside.

“Anakin. You – you idiot. I will kill you. Are you whole? You little twit. Why have you not moved?”

Anakin opened his mouth to tell him he was okay, but only a whimper came out. He frowned, feeling the tears welling in his eyes. His feet were wet and he hated it. And the echo of the braking engines still rung in his ears.

I’m in a shock, he realized with disbelief. And Obi-Wan needed only one look to realize it too.

“Oh. Anakin.”

His Master hugged him. It almost hurt, how tight he squeezed his rigid body. His robes engulfed them both like heavy blankets. The Force as well. Like a warm cocoon. Everything smelled like soap and lemongrass, and Anakin could breathe at last.

 “Can you talk now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good.” He grasped him by his shoulders. “I swear, Anakin, I thought for a second- “

“You f-frightened me!” Anakin rasped. “I knew the speeder was going to be there and you yelled and I panicked and… And…”

“I – Padawan, I am so sorry.”

He did not let him go.

He did not let him go even after the driver approached them; an angry storm cloud of pissed off. He yelled something in that strange language at Obi-Wan, who conveniently let the fact that he was supposed to be Anakin’s role-model, when it came to the anger management, escape his memory.

“I am afraid I do not understand a word you are saying,” Obi-Wan said slowly, teeth showing. “But I am very, very sure you were driving well past the speed limit.”

“Look, you kriffin’ corrie, not my fault that you can’t keep your brat on a leash. I coulda’ been smashed on that wall over there!”

“Had you kept your speed under the limit, nothing. Would. Have. Happened.”

“You kidding me, right? Who the kriff lets a kid muckin’ around in the middle of a road?!  Nothing would have happened, my ass.”

“And what kind of an idiot mistakes a public roadway for a racing circuit?! What if you did not manage to steer the speeder to the side? Have you got any idea how fucking fast you were driving?”

“Shove it! Watch the brat the next time before he paints red all over here. Not my fault you can’t bother yourself, cretin. Ika!” The man spat. “The parents these days!”

“Excuse me?”

With the final stream of colourful insults that neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan could translate, he dragged himself back to his speeder and disappeared.

“Well, that was kriffin’ weird.”

“Language, Anakin.”

Anakin held a few uncomplimentary thoughts about certain ginger hypocrites in the privacy of his mind before he spoke again.

“But congratulations, Master. It was the first time ever someone thought you’re older than thirteen! The stubble works!”

“One day I am going to ease this plane of existence of your insolent presence.”

“You wouldn’t. You’d miss me.”

Only now Obi-Wan became aware he was cradling Anakin like a baby. (Not that he minded.) Awkwardly he stepped back, straightening his robes. Anakin mimicked him. His hands were still shaking, but it was much better than the first moment.

“We should get back to the inn.”

“But I wanted to see the rest of the town!”

“Tomorrow is a day too,” Obi-Wan said. “Besides, I have a call to make.”

“Right.” Anakin made a face.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, to Anakin’s great disappointment. Obi-Wan made him to work on his essays, which was probably the worst punishment for the boy as far as he could imagine.

It was not until well past their bedtime, long after Anakin snuggled under the sheets, when he realized that Obi-Wan had not touched the comm at all.