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Anakin Skywalker is afraid of a great many things in this galaxy and the next, but he has never and will never be afraid of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

There are a vast range of emotions that burn in his chest - love, fondness, anger, sorrow, frustration, gratitude, sometimes even bitterness and resentment - but not fear. Never fear. Because there’s nothing to Obi-Wan that’s scary or threatening. Perhaps once, when Anakin was a child who had just been pulled from his home and his mother, there had been apprehension. Perhaps, when Anakin hadn’t known what to do with this presence around him and inside him, he had shied away from Obi-Wan and leaned into Qui-Gon Jinn.

So no, Anakin Skywalker is not afraid of Obi-Wan Kenobi. But he’s afraid of being abandoned, of being walked away from, and he’s afraid that Obi-Wan is not the kind of person who will stay.

“Anakin?”

There’s a gentle brush against his forehead, calloused fingers pushing his fringe out of his face as Anakin startles back to himself. He’s panting, he notes absently, and his hands are shaking. His knees hurt. He’s cold. He reached blindly, feeling like that frightened child he’s tried so hard to outgrow.

A warm hand grips onto his own, a low voice soothing him, hushing him. Anakin latches onto the natural rasp to the words, because he knows who was talking to him, and it’s Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan means safety.

“Master,” he gasps, and Obi-Wan responds with a gentle promise that he’s okay, everyone’s okay. Anakin tries to open his eyes.

Obi-Wan is blurry at first, but as Anakin blinks rapidly, he comes into focus rather sharply. His face is calm, but his eyes, always his eyes, are concerned and mildly panicked. Anakin has worried him again. He always hates causing him distress.

Obi-Wan catches him under the chin gently, and Anakin’s racing thoughts screech to a halt at the familiarity of the action. “None of that,” Obi-Wan says firmly but kindly, as though he knows exactly what Anakin is feeling. “You went very deep very quickly. It can be disorienting. It’s not your fault.”

Anakin frowns, even as his breathing evens out and the painful tension to his neck and shoulders eases just slightly. He can feel Obi-Wan through the bond between them, radiating peace and calm and a warm affection that floods Anakin’s entire being. Obi-Wan may not be good with vocalising his love for people, but oh, how Anakin can feel it.

He can feel it too much.

With a start, he scrambles for his shields, hauling them up and cocooning himself behind them. The emotions that Obi-Wan has been broadcasting over the bond stuttered, and for a moment, Anakin thinks that Obi-Wan might draw them back to himself and leave Anakin stranded. His fears are groundless, because after a pause, Obi-Wan lets them flow again. They’re muted. Anakin puts it down to his shielding.

He stares up at his Master, barely catching the flicker of hurt that winds through the swelling worry in Obi-Wan’s expression. When Obi-Wan speaks, his voice is perfectly normal, if not a bit softer than usual. “There’s a reason a Padawan can only attempt this sort of meditation with their Master,” Obi-Wan explains. “The Force is deep and encompassing. It can be overwhelming and confusing. It’s easy to get lost within it’s currents, yes?”

Anakin manages a nod, leaning forward until his forehead is resting on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He knows he shouldn’t, knows that even though he and Obi-Wan have their training bond, that kind of tactile behaviour is frowned upon.

He knows that Obi-Wan has always indulged in spoiling him with affectionate touches and hugs.

Anakin wonders if Obi-Wan had always wished for the same thing from Master Qui-Gon.

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asks in a murmur, letting go of one hand to gently brush his fingers through Anakin’s hair.

Anakin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting the touch soothe away any of his lingering panic. “It was trying to tell me something,” he says finally, and his voice cracks and splinters. He winces. Obi-Wan doesn’t stop his ministrations. “But it was...it was too much, too quick. I couldn’t understand it.”

Obi-Wan gently nudges him back upright, moving his hand from Anakin’s hair to the side of his face. It’s a movement so often used to check for injuries that Anakin allows it without thought. Obi-Wan’s eyes are searching and soft, and there’s a gentle twang to the bond between them as he checks his Padawan over for any sort of hurt or hidden distress.

“You did well for your first try,” he praises lightly, once he’s satisfied that Anakin isn’t wounded or in pain. “Master Qui-Gon will tell you that it took me many tries to connect so effortlessly to the Living Force like that.”

There’s something else to that, something that Anakin can’t puzzle out. It isn’t anger, or bitterness. Obi-Wan doesn’t harbour any malcontent. But there’s something strangely like grief in his eyes. Like loss. Like exhaustion.

Anakin uses his free hand to grip onto Obi-Wan’s wrist. “Thank you for anchoring me,” he says.

Obi-Wan smiles and lets the contact linger for a moment before withdrawing both of his hands and gracefully rising to his feet. He offers Anakin a hand up. “Force-Meditating like that will have surely burned your energy. Hungry?”

“Force, yes.”

Obi-Wan’s laugh is a startled thing, as though the Jedi never actually intended to laugh and had thus surprised himself. It’s one of Anakin’s favourite sounds, that laugh. Everytime he hears it, he endeavours to hear it more.

He accepts the hand up, reaching his arms up over his head as he stretches away the stiffness to his muscles. His lightsaber is a steady, thrumming energy by his side, and he lays one hand on the warm metal as he and Obi-Wan walk side by side through the long, winding corridors of the Jedi Temple.

“Qui-Gon was asking after you this morning,” Obi-Wan says serenely, and Anakin might have believed him to be unbothered if not for the sharp flux of the bond between them. Anakin makes sure to tighten his shields a little more, and he can feel Obi-Wan doing the same. The bond goes quiet and hollow.

“He’s been eager to follow my progress in training,” Anakin agrees, then twitches his lips into a small frown. “Do you think he’s worried I’m not progressing fast enough?”

Obi-Wan gently tugs on Anakin's Padawan braid. “What have I told you about judging yourself so harshly?” He scolds. Something strange steals over his face for a moment, but it’s gone before Anakin can figure out what it means. Obi-Wan says, “You’re doing just fine, Anakin. Already, you’ve done more than I did in my own training for this length of time. I think Qui-Gon is just desperate to make sure that you’re doing alright under my guidance.”

And Anakin hates that it’s true. He and Obi-Wan both understand that Qui-Gon hadn’t given Anakin away easily. It’s not hard to figure out that the older Master’s frequent check-ins are both a friendly social call and a chance to quell his own fears that Obi-Wan’s teachings are less than adequate.

Anakin nudges his Master with a warm smile. “I think you’re doing just fine.” His smile morphs into an impish grin. “Although I have noticed a gray hair or two popping up. Are your stresses getting the better of you, Master?”

Obi-Wan grumbles to himself, but his answering expression is lighter and happier. Anakin does his best to keep his spike of victory to himself. He also wrangles with his own stirrings of discontent with Qui-Gon Jinn, forcing them back down underneath the writhing sea of mass emotion. It won’t do well for someone to find those angry feelings.

Anakin has had enough of being told that his emotions will lead him to the Dark Side. The only thing that will lead him to the Dark Side is the crushing sense of displacement that the Jedi Council continues to force upon him.

He knows that if it weren’t for Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, that darkness might have swallowed him whole far too long ago.

There’s a tentative brush against the bond, and Anakin relaxes his shields enough to let Obi-Wan’s gentle question through. For a moment, he allows himself to hold on to the warm and worried energy before he gently releases it to Force, carving out a small shard of his own sense of disquiet and sending it back.

Obi-Wan makes a small noise of understanding. “Your time meditating with the Living Force has shaken you,” he hums. “Your inner balance has shifted slightly out of place.”

“You are always saying that the Force flows through me like water,” Anakin says quietly. “Well, now that water’s churning and impossible to see through or direct.”

Obi-Wan continues to stroll down the hallways, and his pace doesn’t change, but Anakin can tell that his focus has gone far away for the moment while he considers Anakin’s troubles. His Master has always been so quick to ease Anakin’s strife. So eager to take on those burdens so that Anakin wouldn’t have to shoulder them alone.

“Perhaps after we have some lunch, you’d do me the honour of meditating with me,” Obi-Wan says after a brief period of contemplative silence. “Qui-Gon used to meditate with me when I found myself shaken by something. Perhaps I can help you clear those waters.”

Now see, Anakin’s first instinct is to refuse. He’s never shared in Obi-Wan’s affinity for meditation. Anakin’s mind goes too quickly, and his heart beats too hard, and he becomes aware of his own body far too rapidly. Meditation for him is a time to flounder in mistakes and bad feelings and bitterness at the Council’s mistrust in him.

But then he considers his Force-Meditation. He’d been truly relaxed for a time, and the Force had been trying to tell him something. Perhaps, with Obi-Wan as an anchor and a friend, Anakin can find that sense of peace again, enough for the message to come through clearly.

“Alright,” he agrees, and if Obi-Wan feels his reluctance at all, he’s kind enough not to mention it. Anakin tries to send an echo of thanks through the bond, because sometimes he’s hit with the sense that Obi-Wan does too much and gets too little gratitude, but his Master’s side of the bond is still tightly closed off.

Before he can mention it out loud, they’ve reached the food hall, and Obi-Wan is opening the door to let him through. It’s past midday meal time, so there aren’t many in the hall, but there are still enough to make Anakin’s skin feel slightly too tight. Despite having spent years in the Temple with Obi-Wan, feeling comfortable among other Jedi Masters and Knights is an impossible feat he has yet to accomplish.

Obi-Wan gently grabs Anakin’s elbow, leading him through the tables and past the other Jedi with a graceful and practiced smile. Anakin tries to follow his lead and project calm, but his bones are too angry and his heart is too rapid and Obi-Wan wordlessly opens the bond up wide and smothers him with his own peace of mind.

‘It’s okay,’ he murmurs through the bond, and Anakin takes a deep, deep breath as he tries to reign in his rampant emotions. ‘We won’t stop here. Deep breaths until we’re past it.’

“Anakin. Obi-Wan.”

Anakin feels Obi-Wan’s grip on his elbow tighten reflexively at Qui-Gon’s voice before falling away completely. Anakin feels unfairly unbalanced without his Master’s steadying touch. But Obi-Wan is straightening up, fixing his posture, his entire presence, until he deems it suitable and proper in the presence of another Jedi Master.

Qui-Gon looks peaceful, but there’s something frantic to him as he assesses Anakin from head to toe. There’s a silent prod through the Force, and Anakin rises to meet it with an agitated push. Evidently, his emotions are still not settled.

“Master Jinn,” Obi-Wan greets with a painfully proper nod. “As always, it is a pleasure to talk with you, but this is not the best of times-”

“Always so proper these days,” Qui-Gon says with an amused smile, shaking his head. “You’ve truly moved past your Padawan days, haven’t you, Obi-Wan?”

Anakin thinks that it’s obvious that Obi-Wan’s smile is completely faked, but Qui-Gon doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss. “My Knighting ceremony wasn’t for nothing,” Obi-Wan jokes weakly.

“Indeed,” Qui-Gon agrees, before turning to Anakin once more, his expression open and warm. “Anakin, my boy, how are you? How goes your training?”

Despite it all, Anakin is a boy who longs for companionship and approval, so despite the knowledge that Obi-Wan is hurt by Qui-Gon’s mere presence, Anakin pushes away his maelstrom of feeling and says, “I’ve just done my first session of Force-Meditation.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes twinkle and his lips curl into a proud grin, even as something dangerously close to disappointment shadows the expression. “Were you successful, Padawan? It is not easy to sink into the Living Force upon first mediation. Obi-Wan could not achieve a deep connection for a long while after his first attempt.”

“Anakin sank deeper than I have seen any Padawan go, Master,” Obi-Wan interjects, voice suspiciously flat. Anakin doesn’t dare look at him, doesn’t dare reach out along that open bond between them while Qui-Gon is there. There’s no using choosing between two Masters. “He has one of the strongest connections to the Force I know of.”

“I would expect nothing less from someone of Anakin’s talents.” Qui-Gon places a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, beaming. “I am proud of you, Ani.”

Something in Anakin’s core stabilises at the praise, the tightness in his chest easing a little more as Qui-Gon’s hand squeezes slightly. So caught up in the moment is he, that he fails to recognise the agony that flares and rages beyond Obi-Wan’s shields. The bond between them trembles with the echo of an older hurt.

“Anakin, why don’t you do your meditation with Qui-Gon instead of me?” Obi-Wan suggests calmly, clasping his hands behind his back and bowing slightly. “I’m sure he will be able to help you more than I, as my previous failures have limited my knowledge of how to help you. We can meet again tomorrow for some more lightsaber training.”

Anakin doesn’t say anything right away, distracted as he is by Qui-Gon’s emotional reaction to Obi-Wan’s suggestion. Glee and satisfaction ripple around the older Jedi, and the Force recoils from him, binding itself around Anakin and Obi-Wan so tightly that Anakin fears that if he takes too deep a breath, he’ll snap them both apart.

But Qui-Gon is already moving forward and sweeping Anakin away with a sweep of his arm. “That sounds marvellous. Clever as always, Obi-Wan. But don’t forget the Council has issued you a summons for tomorrow. Perhaps I could give Anakin a lesson in ‘saber training?”

A plaintive chord strikes right through Anakin’s chest as the bond between him and Obi-Wan strains. He sucks in a sharp breath, already looking to his Master, but Obi-Wan’s face is expressionless, and in between one blink and the next, his shields have snapped back up, any sense of his presence and comfort gone from Anakin’s mind. Anakin can feel his skin get too tight again, but Qui-Gon is holding him too close and Obi-Wan feels so far away.

Obi-Wan nods, waving a hand dismissively. “You are right, as always, Master Jinn,” he says mildly. “Train my Padawan as you see fit, and I will find him when I can. I bid you both a good day.”

Anakin has never known his Master to run away, but Obi-Wan is gone too quickly for it to be casual.

Qui-Gon watches Obi-Wan’s retreat, a frown pulling at his mouth. Anakin stands by him, tugging uselessly at the training bond between him and his Master. His Padawan braid tickles his ear, but it feels heavy, weighing him down with everything he seems to miss in Obi-Wan’s words. There are things that the Jedi Master says without saying, and Anakin is deaf to them.

The Force ripples around him, Anakin sensitive to the minute changes after his meditation. Something had gone wrong just then, and it’s caused disruptions to the Force’s natural flow. Obi-Wan’s absence leaves a gaping spot where the Force refuses to move, and Qui-Gon radiates too much energy and power for the Force to balance itself out. Anakin feels the turbulence mimicked within his abdomen, like a thread pulling and pushing.

‘Obi-Wan!’ He flings the name at the harsh shields his Master has up. ‘Something is wrong with the Force, and I cannot ease it. Master, help me.’

The shields don’t lift, but they thin enough for Obi-Wan to accept the words. Anakin closes his eyes as a burst of warmth and affection return to him, tinged with Obi-Wan’s own Force signature. His breathing eases, the tightness to his chest and limbs dissolving into content, provided by his Master.

‘Do your meditations with Qui-Gon,’ Obi-Wan sends back quietly. ‘Let him assist with detangling your own spirit from the Force. It is not your place to try and soothe what cannot be soothed. Go in peace, Anakin.’

And then the shields are back in full force and Obi-Wan’s presence fades entirely. Still, the calm doesn’t leave Anakin’s body and his energy hums pleasantly after Obi-Wan’s boost. The Force twists around him and trills. Anakin shudders. Perhaps his Master is right and he’s too attached to the Force.

“I fear that I have driven my former apprentice too far away,” Qui-Gon sighs, still staring after Obi-Wan. “He’s always been so...sensitive to other people. The smallest slight against him can cause the greatest wound.”

Anakin smooths an invisible finger down the training bond, brushing up against Obi-Wan’s shields just once before he draws himself back and centers himself in the present. “He likes to take on other people’s burdens,” he says to Qui-Gon. “I think it’s just the way Obi-Wan is.”

“No,” Qui-Gon says sadly, and all at once, he looks too old. “No, I fear that is the way that I have made him.”

“Master?”

Qui-Gon manages a small, tired small, reaching to ruffle Anakin’s hair. “It’s nothing, Ani. Just an old man and his regrets.” He motions for Anakin to follow him as he leaves the food hall and takes the corridor to the left, the direct opposite to Obi-Wan.

Is Obi-Wan one of those regrets? Anakin wonders. He follows the elder Jedi, of course he does, but he still glances over his shoulder as though he might find his Master waiting for him just beyond the doorway. It hurts that Obi-Wan can walk away so quickly, but Anakin supposes that it makes sense to give way to Qui-Gon’s superior knowledge and understanding. Obi-Wan is a young Master, and had admitted himself that his connection to the Living Force wasn’t the strongest.

“Tell me, Anakin,” Qui-Gon begins as they walk, “Obi-Wan is a good teacher for you, yes?”

Ah, so Qui-Gon is checking up on Obi-Wan’s teaching skills. Anakin’s temper flares just slightly at the doubt in his Master. It feels horribly similar to the doubt the Council has in him. “Master Kenobi is a brilliant mentor,” he says sharply. “I don’t appreciate what you’re implying about him with your lack of faith.”

Qui-Gon, instead of being offended, simply laughs. “Oh Anakin,” he breathes, “so fierce. I’m sorry if you took offence to my questioning, but the fact is, Obi-Wan is young for his role. You’ll forgive me for worrying over his first Padawan. Mistakes are bound to be made. You cannot deny that there are things you wish he had done differently?”

And yes, alright. Qui-Gon has a point. Many times throughout the early stages of his training, Anakin had wanted, so desperately, to call Obi-Wan out on his methods, to make him listen, to make him understand that Anakin can’t become the perfect Jedi instantly. He can’t just not miss his mother, or his home. It had taken a worryingly long time for their training bond to strengthen enough to be substantial.

But Anakin also knows that Obi-Wan has been struggling against Qui-Gon’s input, and the weight of the Council’s vast expectations. It’s not as though he’s actively working against Anakin in their partnership.

Qui-Gon makes a soft noise. “Your silence tells me more than you might think, Ani.”

Frustration bubbles in Anakin’s stomach. “If you had been my Master,” he says slightly too loudly, “things wouldn’t be perfect either. Obi-Wan did his best, still does his best, and I am grateful for it. I am grateful for him.”

This time, it’s Qui-Gon who walks in silence, a pensive frown marring his usually pacified and peaceful face. Anakin doubts his words have gotten through though. Qui-Gon might like his old Padawan, but it’s obvious that he likes Anakin more. If he’s completely honest, it makes Anakin a little bit uncomfortable. He doesn’t like that he has to choose over people. He doesn’t like that other people have to choose over him.

Obi-Wan never makes it feel like a competition, being around other Masters.

Qui-Gon does.

Finally, they reach Qui-Gon’s rooms, and Anakin follows the Jedi Master in without saying anything. The walls are a calm beige colour, lightened by the natural highlight of the sun through the large window. A small kitchenette and table reside to the left of them, and a shadowed hallway to their right clearly leads the way to the bedrooms. The furniture is a pleasant black leather.

It’s a pretty abode. Anakin misses the muted brown tones of his and Obi-Wan’s rooms.

Obi-Wan’s peace has faded enough that being in Qui-Gon’s rooms, especially when they’re supposed to meditate, makes goosebumps rise on Anakin’s skin. Meditating makes him vulnerable; Obi-Wan always makes sure they meditate together in case Anakin goes too deep or gets trapped in his own thoughts. Obi-Wan’s always there to pull him out gently and hold him until the shaking has eased. Anakin isn’t sure he can put that much faith in Qui-Gon.

Unbidden, his shields give way, stress and uncertainty spilling out across the shuddering training bond. Obi-Wan rises to meet it, accepting Anakin’s fears and sending back only love and warmth. He never lowers his own shields, but he thins them again so that Anakin can clutch onto the promise of Obi-Wan’s presence.

Force, he hates being so weak. He should be past having to depend so much on his Master. To his knowledge, only the youngest of Padawans lean so heavily on their Masters and the training bond. Only the youngest of Padawans require such constant soothing and reassurance. Anakin isn’t a young Padawan, but he seems to need Obi-Wan just as much.

‘Peace,’ Obi-Wan murmurs down the bond. ‘There is no shame in needing another, Anakin. You are still learning. If you need me, I will be there.’

Qui-Gon clears his throat. “Anakin?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Anakin rushes, centering himself back in reality. “I’m here.”

Qui-Gon eyes him keenly, motioning for him to sit down in front of the couch. Anakin follows obediently, too shaken to really argue the use of the couch. Besides, he can already hear Obi-Wan scolding him for choosing comfort over practicality. By choosing the sofa, Anakin’s choosing to put his own physical state above all else. He’s more at risk of sleeping than meditating.

See? Anakin pays attention during Obi-Wan’s lectures.

“It warms my heart to see that your emotions have matured with your age,” Qui-Gon says pleasantly, lowering himself down beside him. “You are growing into a fine young man. I am almost sad to see it happen.”

“Don’t worry,” Anakin says cheekily, grinning. “I still give Obi-Wan plenty of grief. The latest incident included charred training robes and a lightsaber in the kitchen.”

“Anakin.”

Anakin shrugs one shoulder. “I wanted to see if I could make toast without the toaster.”

“Anakin.” Qui-Gon sounds scandalised. If Anakin isn’t mistaken, there’s also a hint of pride buried somewhere there. There’s a moment of Qui-Gon holding his breath before, “Did it work?”

“I never burned a single piece.”

“That’s my boy.”

Anakin preens under Qui-Gon's delight, shoulders straightening and tension easing. Obi-Wan’s presence along the bond seems to dim in response to his eagerness, his Master clearly sensing that Anakin has relaxed enough to support himself in meditation. Anakin can still feel him hovering though, the bond taunt with expectation as Anakin pushes himself onto his knees and loosens his muscles.

Qui-Gon mimics his movements almost subconsciously, and the pair of them close their eyes in a synchronized movement. With his eyes and senses closed to the physical world, Anakin can feel the bond between him and Obi-Wan more keenly. It’s bright and warm, thriving with the care and attention both he and Obi-Wan constantly exchange.

It’s troubling that their bond is so strong. It’s true that it had taken a long time for it to fully form, but to have it be so vibrant, so alive, is almost in violation of the Jedi Code. If one of the Council members was to find out, they run the risk of having it severed.

‘Your worry is loud, Anakin.’ Obi-Wan sounds amused, if a little tired. ‘Truly, is it so hard for you to meditate without thinking?’

Anakin tugs on the bond in response, and Obi-Wan’s shields thin further, allowing more and more of his gentle contentment to burst free. ‘Only when I'm thinking of you, Master.’

Obi-Wan sends a hot flicker of playful scolding towards Anakin’s half-lowered shields. ‘You’re going to be the death of me one day, Palawan.'

‘Don't be so dramatic. You can't escape me by dying. You're stuck with me for a good long while. It's not that terrible, really. I mean, you get to hang out with someone as handsome and charming as me.’

Another flicker of amused affection. Anakin can feel a phantom hand tug on his Padawan braid. ‘Brat.’

Anakin allows the buoyancy of the bond to draw him in, the energies of Obi-Wan’s presence easing him into the next stage of meditation. He’s never explicitly told his Master that he uses the bond as an anchor, but it’s impossible to think that Obi-Wan hasn’t noticed it. Anakin takes his lack of mentioning it as permission to continue that strategy. They both know it’s the only way for Anakin to meditate properly, with a quiet mind and a quiet soul.

Unlike with his Force-Meditation, Anakin doesn’t sink to the third stage. Instead, he lingers in the small pocket of silence between conscious awareness and complete absence of mind. He can still feel the bond humming away happily, but it’s a little more muffled and far away. Instead, the Force wreathes around his consciousness, cushioning him with soft power as it whistles and sings.

In between the space of never and before time even begins, Qui-Gon eases his own sense of self into Anakin’s small space, his presence all at once too big and loud. The Force startles at the sudden intrusion, but Anakin simply moves around Qui-Gon’s energy until they’ve found a balance between them.

Shared meditations aren’t common amongst Jedi Knights, but Masters and Padawans often engage in the practice to either strengthen their training bond or to settle any sort of emotional turbulence. Anakin and Obi-Wan have had their fair share of joint meditations, but this is only the second time that Anakin has shared this space with Qui-Gon.

‘I can sense that your inner balance has been shifted by your Force-Meditation,’ Qui-Gon rumbles quietly. ‘Allow me to help you, so that you may see if you can discover the message that has been left for you.’

Anakin takes a deep breath and opens himself up to the Living Force.

Once, before the training bond between them had been fully formed, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had been separated on a mission.

Obi-Wan, young and untested and angry and scared, had been taken by the very same pirates they had been trying to find, and had been bound with a strange sort of molten wire that burned itself into the skin of his wrists. He hadn’t gone down without a fight, and he’d escaped before anything horrible had happened, but the shame had followed him right into his dreams.

He’d separated the cuffs from each other with his own lightsaber, and had refused to let his Master look at the melted mess around his wrists until Qui-Gon had let down his shields and pushed his desperation along their fledgling bond. That open bond had allowed Obi-Wan’s nightmares to flourish in both his and Qui-Gon’s minds at night, and it had taken some very careful touches and soothing words from Qui-Gon, plus a trip to the Mind Healers, before the incident had lost it’s jagged edge.

That open training bond had become closed to Obi-Wan the second Qui-Gon had found Anakin on Tatooine.

Not that Obi-Wan is bitter. Or angry. He isn’t even upset. As a senior Padawan, he’d come not to rely on such a link, especially when his and Qui-Gon’s partnership had started to become so unsteady with Obi-Wan’s lack of progress. The Council hadn’t even had to step in to monitor their bond when Obi-Wan was Knighted, weakened as it was by Qui-Gon’s injuries and their tattered partnership. It had simply dissolved once Obi-Wan had stopped holding on.

While the lack of an open bond hasn’t bothered him for a time now, Obi-Wan finds himself regretful that he hasn’t had more opportunities to familiarise himself with what it’s like to have an open connection. So ready he’d been to take advantage of what Qui-Gon had given, he hadn’t taken a moment to meditate upon what he’d been working with.

The regret haunts his steps now, as the bond he shares with Anakin pulses and dips and sways, alive with the emotions he and Anakin keep feeding it. Obi-Wan has no idea how to nurture that connection, how to keep it healthy and happy so as not to drive Anakin away. The way Qui-Gon had taught him won’t work with Anakin’s temperaments or morals, and so Obi-Wan finds himself at a loss.

Well, if he thinks about it, perhaps it’s not that Qui-Gon’s method of teaching won’t suit Anakin, but rather the way that Obi-Wan has grown with those instructions won’t work with Anakin’s unusually strong energies. Obi-Wan has emerged from his apprenticeship slightly subdued, with all the anger of his younger years evaporated into the Force.

Perhaps Anakin would benefit from being Qui-Gon’s Padawan.

“Down a desolate path your thoughts may lead you, if you do not mind them.”

Obi-Wan manages a pleasant smile as Yoda all but appears beside him in the garden, inclining his head in greeting. “Master Yoda.”

Yoda hums thoughtfully, moving ahead of Obi-Wan to the cushioned seats by the water fountain. Obi-Wan follows without a word, waiting for whatever it is the old Master wishes to say. Yoda takes some time to get comfortable, laying his gimer stick across his lap. “Without your Padawan and with a troubled mind, I find you, young Master.”

“Anakin is meditating with Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan answers. “He underwent his first Force-Meditation today and it unsettled him. He told me that the Force was trying to tell him something, but because of his inexperience, he couldn’t understand it. Master Jinn is helping him learn.”

Yoda frowns, tapping a finger on his gimer stick as he considers Obi-Wan’s words. It’s known that the Council does not approve of Qui-Gon’s constant presence and interference in both Anakin’s life and his partnership with Obi-Wan, but it’s rare that anybody speaks up against it.

Obi-Wan has a strong feeling that that’s about to change.

“Strong with the Force, young Skywalker is, that is not of doubt. But troubled and shadowed has his future been foretold, and I fear that this connection, astray, will lead him.”

“Master Jinn will help him through it,” Obi-Wan says again, like a broken record. Like a promise.

Yoda’s eyes twinkle with understanding. “But Skywalker’s Master, Qui-Gon is not. Your Master, he is not.”

“Master Jinn will always be my Master. So is the way of the Jedi.”

“Mm, wrong about many things, I believe the Jedi are.” Yoda shakes his head, looking out over the still and peaceful garden. Obi-Wan does the same thing, his gaze wandering to a small patch of colourful wild flowers that have only just begun to bloom. “Wrong, the Council was to push for you and Qui-Gon to partner. Many regrets that decision has caused.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes do not stray from the wildflowers. He does not dare look at the old Jedi Master, for fear that Yoda might see something in his face that Obi-Wan isn’t ready for him to see. “The years I had with Qui-Gon Jinn were good,” he says quietly. “Do not believe that I was unhappy in that partnership. I fear that, if anyone was unhappy with our bond, it was Qui-Gon himself. He wasn’t ready for another Padawan.”

“Without you, he would be not-ready still,” Yoda rebukes. “The power that healed his many wounds, your partnership became, once the training bond strengthened. No, regrets are many for you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Healed, Qui-Gon now is. Torn, his actions have made you.”

“Torn?”

Sadness cocoons Yoda’s next words. “Giving away Padawan Skywalker, you are considering, to Master Jinn.”

Well, when he says it like that-

Obi-Wan refuses to look away from the flowers, eyes roving over the catered pinks and blues of the scattered mosaic imagery. He hadn’t expected his internal debate to cause such visible distress to a member of the Council. Is Qui-Gon really that bad of a mentor? No, Obi-Wan isn’t sure that was it. Because Qui-Gon had been everything he’d needed when he’d been a Padawan, and Yoda is right in saying that their partnership had healed the old wounds Qui-Gon had suffered after…

Well. After.

So what is it that makes Yoda so sad about Obi-Wan thinking about giving Anakin away? It isn’t like Obi-Wan wants to do it. He loves Anakin fiercely, loves him almost to the point of breaking the Jedi Code. Anakin is his Padawan and his apprentice and their bond is flourishing. But there’s a feeling there, somewhere, that forces Obi-Wan to reassess if he really is the best fit for the Chosen One.

When Anakin had been a child, fresh from Tatooine and missing his mother, he had clung to Qui-Gon Jinn. He’d watched Obi-Wan with mistrust in his eyes, and Obi-Wan had stared back at him with raw pain and unease. When Qui-Gon had been forced to give Anakin up to Obi-Wan, nobody had been very happy.

It had been a tough year, that first year.

So even though the two of them got on okay now, Obi-Wan still can’t move past the fact that he isn’t Anakin’s first choice. He’d never been Anakin’s first choice. He wants Anakin to be happy, he wants it more than anything. So maybe that means surrendering his right to be the boy’s mentor.

“To nurture and care for the Skywalker boy, the Council allowed Qui-Gon Jinn,” Yoda says firmly. “To teach him, we did not. A burden for you, Obi-Wan, we made it, hoping that it would mend what we allowed to break. Clearly, it worked not.”

“Qui-Gon is a good Master,” Obi-Wan argues, finally looking away from the smattering of flowers. He finds he still can’t meet Yoda’s eyes. “He can teach Anakin things that I can’t, things that I failed to understand as a Padawan.”

“You failed to understand nothing. Struggled, you did, like every Padawan has struggled. More patience should Qui-Gon have had, and more assistance should he have provided.”

Obi-Wan hates this, hates that Yoda is so insistent of finding flaws in Qui-Gon’s teachings. It isn’t that he doesn’t appreciate what the old Master is trying to do, but he knows, in his heart, that the only shortcoming in Qui-Gon’s teachings was that Obi-Wan had been the pupil. There’d been a reason Qui-Gon hadn’t recommended him for the Trials, despite his unusually many years as a Padawan, and it hadn’t been because Qui-Gon couldn’t be a good Master.

Obi-Wan had faced his shortcomings far too long ago. He’d assumed that everyone else had done the same.

Clearly, he’d been wrong.

“I just want Anakin to-”

Terror.

Raw terror grips at his chest as the bond between him and his Padawan suddenly seizes, Anakin thrashing and clawing at it as though it’s a lifeline in a stormy sea. Obi-Wan desperately reaches out, thinning his shields enough to send through his desperate assurances without swamping Anakin with his own panic and fear.

The clash between their two energies is breath-taking, and Obi-Wan shudders as he tries to soothe Anakin’s frenzied state. His Padawan is almost inconsolable, shields non-existent in the onslaught of fear and betrayal and anger.

Obi-Wan feels himself stutter to a halt in his reach for his apprentice.

Those are Dark Side emotions-

Anakin’s shields snap up within a breath, and the terror dissipates, leaving the bond shaking and trembling with the remnants of such an aggravated assault of emotions. Obi-Wan grabs at his chest, even as he chases Anakin through the bond, only to slam into the walls Anakin has put up. The sudden silence is deafening.

“A problem with your Padawan are you experiencing, Obi-Wan?” Yoda muses from behind him, steady as always. “Go to him, you should, and ensure balance between you.”

“Master-” Obi-Wan cuts himself off with a sigh, straightening his shoulders and turning back to face Yoda. “Please. Consider your opinions on Qui-Gon. I’m sure if you meditate on them, you’ll find that the trouble you’ve alluded to isn’t there. I ask that we meet again to discuss the situation with Anakin.”

Yoda’s lips twist with displeasure. “Agree with you, I do not, but meet again with you, I will. Go now - young Skywalker needs you.”

Obi-Wan inclines his head, regret lingering in that dark place in his chest for a moment, before the bond he shares with Anakin twitches again. Anakin’s swell of emotions has stained the connection, even as his shields remain firm and his presence remains distant. Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong during the meditation, Obi-Wan can sense the resonance in the Force.

He moves swiftly, but tries to keep his pace inconspicuous. It won’t do well to be questioned about his hurry. Not that he’ll be stopped from going to Anakin, but it may raise some concerns about how strong the bond between Padawan and Master is. Yoda turns a blind eye to it, because he understands some of Anakin’s feelings on the matter, but the rest of the Council may not be so forgiving.

Obi-Wan had lost much during his time with Qui-Gon. He will not force Anakin through the same heartache.

Qui-Gon’s rooms are not far from Obi-Wan’s own, a remnant effect of their had-been partnership. Anakin had also been a factor of such a decision; his strong connection with both Jedi ensures that all three of them remain close together. Obi-Wan hadn’t dared protest, but his unhappiness with such a decision had prompted Master Windu to draw him aside for a private conversation, where he’d been assured that the Council was trying to encourage both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon to move past old hurts.

Obi-Wan hadn’t known how to tell the Jedi Master that having Anakin centered between them will ensure that there’ll always be distance between himself and his old Master. There’s too much left unsaid between them, too much about Anakin and choices and abandonment twice over.

But Obi-Wan can’t dwell on that now. He’ll be the bigger person, set aside his own personal, selfish feelings, and focus on his hurting Padawan. An upset Anakin can spell disaster for several small household objects if there’s a lightsaber around.

“Obi-Wan, my old Padawan. I’m glad to see you.”

Qui-Gon’s voice is muted and miserable, a sharp thread of worry winding through the warm tones. He holds out a hand, to usher Obi-Wan in or to gesture, Obi-Wan isn’t sure. He shies away from it anyway, clearing his throat and tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe like Qui-Gon had done so many times before, and glides past his old Master into the familiar rooms.

The two of them had shared quarters like these one, at the beginning of their partnership. It’s common for a Jedi Master and their Padawan to room together, and neither Obi-Wan nor Qui-Gon had been exceptions, despite young Obi-Wan’s desperation to be strong and independent.

“I felt a great disturbance from Anakin through our training bond,” Obi-Wan explains evenly, trying not to shudder as Qui-Gon follows him into the room. There’s nothing wrong between them, and Obi-Wan harbours no ill feelings towards his old Master, but it’s unsettling to be there with him without the barrier of Anakin. “Is he alright?”

“I feel like you should answer your own question, Master Kenobi. You know, considering you seem to know everything else about me these days. I hear you even know what I want and need. Is that right?”

Obi-Wan has heard his Padawan sound hostile before. He’s heard Anakin sound upset, and heard him cry and shout and scream himself hoarse. Force knows he and Anakin have argued, and Force knows he’s heard Anakin spit nothing but aggressive barbs for a solid week until the strain had grown too much and he’d broken down.

This is somehow worse than all of those times put together.

Anakin’s voice is ice cold but flat, untouched by the modulating depth of any sort of emotion. He doesn’t sound angry, or even upset. There isn’t a trace of disappointment or tiredness or fear. His voice is just… dead.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan manages, shuffling until he can see his Padawan. “What happened? I thought you were meditating.”

Anakin snorts, stepping closer. “You thought? You wouldn’t know. You left me, remember? Bowed out of talking to your old Master and left me with him instead. Or was it because you’re trying to get us to bond? You know, since you’re trying to convince the Council to allow Qui-Gon to be my Master instead of you.”

Ah. So that’s what the Force had been trying to tell him. Not for the first time, Obi-Wan curses the fact that Anakin seems so connected to the Living Force and not the Unifying Force, like Obi-Wan. The Living Force is too concerned with emotions and hurt, the here and now rather than the road ahead. If Anakin had been strong with the Unifying Force, maybe he might have been able to see that the outcome for him, with Qui-Gon as his Master, would have been better than his current path.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says calmly. “Do you care to explain this to me?”

“Don’t,” Anakin seethes, rounding on him. “Don’t you dare try and talk this through, as though you wouldn’t be thrilled to be my Master rather than Obi-Wan. It’s what you’ve wanted since the beginning. If I didn’t know Obi-Wan better, I would have thought you two were in on this together.”

Obi-Wan winces, trying to subtly move away from both his old Master and his Padawan. Anakin isn’t shouting yet, but somehow that makes his anger all the more terrifying, and Obi-Wan doesn’t know how to balance himself if he strays too close. Besides, it’s not like he can reach for the training bond; Anakin’s shields have pulled it taut, and whatever resounding echo that had been left over from before is being smothered under the sheer energy of Anakin’s Force signature. Obi-Wan will get nothing from the bond while Anakin is in the room.

With each second passing, Anakin gets more wound up, his anger and emotions climbing higher and higher until his Force signature is nothing less than a hurricane around him. Qui-Gon takes a micro-step backwards.

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan tries, raising his hands in surrender.

Anakin cuts him off, voice breaking. “You’re trying to give me away.”

And oh, Anakin.

Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and moves forward, reaching for Anakin with open arms. His Padawan stiffens, but allows the movement. Obi-Wan draws him close. “I thought it was what you wanted.” He stops. Frowns. Corrects himself. “I thought it was what you needed. I’m not a good Master for you. I don’t know enough, and I was Knighted too young and-”

Anakin shakes his head, and pulls out of the hug. Obi-Wan lets him go easily, but Anakin doesn’t go far. “You didn’t let me choose,” the Skywalker boy says miserably. “You didn’t talk to me about any of this. You just pushed me at Qui-Gon and walked away. I thought you didn’t want me anymore. I mean, your shields are always up and-”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, gently. “I will never not want you. My shields are always up because I’m afraid. I don’t know what I’m doing as a Master, and I didn’t want that uncertainty to drift across our bond and hurt you.”

Qui-Gon shifts behind them, almost uncomfortably, and both Anakin and Obi-Wan snap to attention. Obi-Was is not the first one to pull away completely, and it’s with reluctance that he lets Anakin shuffle backwards, out of reach. His Padawan’s upset has not eased entirely, and his emotions still roil behind his shields. But clearly, he’s trying to reign them in, like a mature Jedi would.

Obi-Wan is proud.

Qui-Gon appears to be focused on a different aspect of the situation. “You’re trying to give Anakin over to me?” He asks, face puzzled, if not a little relieved. “Obi-Wan, why? Anakin has already grown so much under your guidance, why change this partnership now?”

There’s an immediate answer clambering it’s way up Obi-Wan’s throat, but he swallows it back again before it can leap off his tongue. He harbours no blame toward Qui-Gon Jinn for the state of their own partnership so long ago, but some of the hurt lingers, no matter how many times he tries to release it to the Force. It makes him selfish, yes, and less of a Jedi, but he can’t quite let it all go.

So Obi-Wan takes a moment to center himself and clear his mind enough to summon his diplomatic skills. He isn’t called the Negotiator for nothing. “Anakin is reaching a stage in his training that I failed to reach in my own training,” he says, and Qui-Gon’s eyes widen slightly. Obi-Wan continues. “His powers are strong, and his connection to the Living Force is stronger. I can’t keep up with him forever. I don’t have the skills. You, Master Jinn, are powerful with the Living Force, and your bond with him is already great. I thought it would benefit both of you.”

“I don’t deny that I would be pleased to share in Anakin’s training, but I can’t imagine what shortcomings you speak of, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan can’t quite help the fact that he shrinks away. “You’re a fine Jedi, and I have faith that your teachings are more than enough for your Padawan.”

Obi-Wan wants to wrench himself away from Qui-Gon’s heavy hand and scream at both of them. They aren’t listening to him. He’s doing this for Anakin, not because he’s fostering some kind of self-worth crisis. He isn’t trying to tear himself down, he just knows his limits.

He also can’t understand why Qui-Gon’s fighting him on this. If anyone would know about Obi-Wan’s weaker areas of knowledge, it’s his old Master. For Force sake, Qui-Gon had kept him from the Trials because his connection to the Living Force is too weak!

“I just want Anakin to be content,” Obi-Wan says tiredly. “I want him to have a good Master, who can help him become the best Jedi he can. A Master who knows how to help him nurture his connection to the Force, who can help him find the line between following his heart and outright betraying the Council.”

“Master-”

“I can’t do that for you, Anakin,” he pleads. “The only reason I was Knighted was because I killed a Sith apprentice. That doesn’t mean I would have passed the Trials. How can you put your faith in me, knowing that I’ve got so many failures in my history?”

Silence.

Qui-Gon’s hand on his shoulder feels like a shackle, tying him to the spot, but Obi-Wan can’t find it in him to fight. He had known this wouldn’t be easy for his Padawan to accept, but he had expected Qui-Gon to step forward and support his reasoning. Obi-Wan has faced many challenges as a Padwan. He has not been victorious in all of them.

Besides, Anakin and Qui-Gon are supposed to be close. They’re a power duo, moving in constant orbit of each other. Obi-Wan just wants Anakin to be happy. If Qui-Gon makes him happy, then Obi-Wan will use all of his power and influence to make that happen.

“Oh dear one,” Qui-Gon says very, very softly, moving his hand from Obi-Wan’s shoulder to cup the side of his face. “What have I done to you?”

They haven’t shared this sort of affection for a long time. Obi-Wan forgot how easily it settles him, how much calmer everything feels when his Master is there to steady him. Qui-Gon has not touched him like this since Obi-Wan had gotten drunk one night, out with a friend, and came back babbling about never being a Jedi Knight because he was too selfish and weak.

Obi-Wan had never realised it, but he’d taken Qui-Gon’s sudden distance from him as agreement with his own drunken self-assessment.

“You’ve made me into a good Jedi,” he answers Qui-Gon, trying not to notice the pain in his old Master’s eyes. “But this isn’t about me.” He motions faintly at Anakin, whose anger is starting to build again. “I’m proud of who Anakin is, and I’m proud of everything that he’s accomplished, but I know when to step down. He’ll do well under your guidance, I know it.”

“And I don’t get a say in this?” Anakin asks tightly, hand twitching toward his lightsaber. Obi-Wan’s shoulders tense. Qui-Gon drops his hand. “I don’t get to choose who I want as my Master? You say you want what’s best for me, Obi-Wan, but then you try and walk away! How is my Master abandoning me what’s best for me?!”

“I’m not abandoning you, Anakin-”

“Yes you are!”

The light above them sparks. Both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon go very still. This is the temper that makes Anakin so dangerous. “Dear boy,” Qui-Gon said, sharing a look with Obi-Wan. “Anakin, listen. Obi-Wan-”

Anakin snarls at him. “Obi-Wan can speak for himself, Master Jinn.”

Obi-Wan very much does not want to speak for himself, but he has the strong feeling he isn’t going to get a choice.

This is his Padawan - his Padawan who is in pain - and there’s nothing he won’t do to soothe the hurt he has caused his apprentice.

“Anakin,” he tries, carefully, tentatively, reaching out across their bond. It’s muted and hard to feel, but Obi-Wan clamps down on his own heavy emotions and tries anyway. “My Padawan, listen to me closely. I would never, never, abandon you. I’m sorry if that’s how this appears-”

“How it appears?” Anakin repeats viciously. Something behind them rattles. The windows just past Anakin seem to groan. “How could it be anything different?! You’re walking away from me, like I mean nothing.”

“I’m not-”

“You’ve never wanted me. You never wanted any of this, admit it!”

“Stop-”

“You took me because Qui-Gon couldn’t, because you can’t seem to move past that need to always do what your Master tells you. Good little Obi-Wan, always doing the dirty work that nobody else wants to do.”

“That’s enough-”

“Always aiming to please. Always afraid of never being good enough, of being turned away-”

“Anakin, enough!”

Both of them reel back, Anakin heaving shaky breaths. Tears brim in his eyes, betraying his anger and exposing his true misery. Obi-Wan should reach out to him, gather him close, but the things Anakin had hurled at him, the words he’d had to hear… There’s nothing he can do in that moment but stand there and gape at his apprentice.

He’s never known Anakin to be so cruel. Because that’s what that had been. Cruel. And Obi-Wan knows why, but that doesn’t take away the sting of it. Especially with Qui-Gon standing off quietly to the side, learning the things Obi-Wan had kept from him throughout their years together.

Anakin spins on his heels, fleeing the room and leaving former Master and Padawan stranded in the unleashed hurricane of emotions and secrets. Qui-Gon inhales steadily. Obi-Wan closes his eyes and waits.

“You want to give Anakin to me,” Qui-Gon says, again, as though he still can’t believe it. As though he’s forgotten that Obi-Wan throws everything he has into protecting his loved ones, but he’s never been able to fight against his old Master. “Obi-Wan, why? Are you unhappy with him as your Padawan?”

Obi-Wan turns his face away, keeping his eyes closed. “No. No, I couldn’t be prouder of him. He’s a light in the Force, no matter what the Council says. I love training him.”

“Then why try and push him away?” Qui-Gon’s presence in the Force is so familiar that it burns and Obi-Wan bats it away as it prods at him. “He adores you.”

But he doesn’t, that’s the problem.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes and tries desperately to speak past the sudden lump in his throat. “He should’ve been your Padawan from the beginning,” he croaks. “It was what the Force wanted. It was what you wanted. You didn’t want me, and that was okay, but then we went to Naboo and-” He chokes on his own words, tucking his chin down to touch his chin. He can feel Qui-Gon’s vibrant energy wilt and dull. “I failed you,” he finishes hoarsely. “I failed you in the worst way, and I got Knighted for it, and then the Council gave me Anakin, and it wasn’t fair.”

“You think you took him from me.”

“I killed a Sith Lord before I completed my Trials. That doesn’t make me a Jedi. And then to be rewarded with the apprentice you fought for… It wasn’t fair, Master, and I’m sorry.”

Qui-Gon lets out a very long breath, and Obi-Wan tenses as he hears the robes rustle behind him, singling movement. He waits for a rough grip, a scolding perhaps. One of Qui-Gon’s lectures about ‘what-ifs' and ‘might-have-beens’. Instead, he finds himself pulled around and drawn into a tight, warm hug.

“My dear apprentice,” Qui-Gon sighs, one hand moving to hold the back of Obi-Wan’s head. Obi-Wan isn’t entirely successful in swallowing back his small, stuttering, sad noise at the contact he’s been craving from his first day as Qui-Gon’s Padawan. “You did not fail me. You have never failed me. Instead, I have failed you, and that is unacceptable.”

Obi-Wan wriggles slightly in the hug, but Qui-Gon simply does not let him go. “If I’d been faster that day, if I’d gotten to Maul before he got to you, you would’ve been with Anakin, and it would’ve been okay.”

“Obi-Wan, you killed a Sith. That is not something to be taken lightly. You more than earned your Knighthood.”

“But I should have earned it sooner! I should have been ready for the Trials earlier, and then you wouldn’t have been stuck with me for so long, and you wouldn’t have had to fight for Anakin-”

“You think I didn’t want you?” Qui-Gon’s hold tightens, and Obi-Wan lets the tension drain from his body. He’s longed for his Master to support him like this for so long. So many unbearably lonely years had come and gone before he’d forced himself to realise that he may never get that from Qui-Gon. Not until he finally does something right.

He’s giving up Anakin Skywalker, and Qui-Gon is hugging him.

His decision has been made for him.

“I’ve already got another meeting with Yoda,” he says into Qui-Gon’s robes, trying to keep his voice steady like this decision isn’t tearing him apart inside. “He’ll allow the change of Masters. It’ll be okay.”

“Obi-Wan, no.”

He tenses again at the desperation to his old Master’s voice. What is he doing wrong? He’s trying to make everything right again, trying to make the right decision and bring balance back to their lives. He had thought Qui-Gon would be happy about that.

“I-”

Qui-Gon draws back from the hug, but uses both of his hands to tenderly cup Obi-Wan’s face. His palms are warm but his eyes are despairing as he forces Obi-Wan to look at him. “My dear,” he breathes, “I have done you a great disservice if this is what you believed our partnership to be.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Obi-Wan argues weakly, trying desperately to hold back his tears. He’s already lost enough of his dignity with his rampant emotions. He would like to hold on to whatever he has left. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to get enough right that you were free again-”

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says, firmer this time. “The damage I have done is evident to me now, when it is too late for me to fix, and I am sorry. But I need you to understand that there wasn’t ever a time when I wasn’t proud of you. My reaction to Anakin was poor, and you suffered because of it. I am sorry, my old Padawan, and I beg of you not to make the same mistake that I did. Do not let your Padawan go.”

Obi-Wan feels as though he’s falling.

There are things that he has been feeling for years now, emotions that have become as certain to him as the Force. Emotions that have become knowledge that have become promises, and Obi-Wan has held them close throughout most of his life. He knows that he is not half the Jedi he should be. He knows that he has failed before, that his greatest achievement had been nothing more than a fluke fuelled by grief and anger and desperation.

He has grown up with a pit inside him, a pit that won’t fill or go away, no matter what kind of things he flings down there. Qui-Gon had fixed him, for a while. But now Obi-Wan is teetering on that edge again, because he just wants to make the people he loves happy, but they won’t let him.

Obi-Wan has spent his life trying to do the right thing. Trying to be someone that Qui-Gon and the Council can be proud of. Trying to follow the Jedi Code.

He’s spent his life trying, okay?

“So you don’t want Anakin?” He hates that he sounds so small, even to his own ears, but nothing is going the way he’d expected and he doesn’t know what to do.

The tattered remains of the training bond he’d shared with Qui-Gon twitches as the old Jedi Master seeks it out. “Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says, carefully, as though he thinks Obi-Wan will shatter any moment. Obi-Wan slams his shields up as tightly as he can. Qui-Gon’s lips thin. “Obi-Wan,” he says again. “Once, there would have been nothing I wanted more than to have Anakin as my next Padawan-”

“So take him! I’m trying-”

“But,” Qui-Gon stresses, cutting him off. Obi-Wan wilts. Qui-Gon softens his tone. “But I have seen you two together. My time as Anakin’s mentor ended shortly after we brought him back here. You are his Master, and he is your Padawan. Such is the will of the Force.”

But that doesn’t make sense!

Obi-Wan wants nothing more than to keep Anakin as his own - he’s selfish like that - but he’d been pushed aside for Anakin, and now Qui-Gon is saying that’s changed. Obi-Wan doesn’t understand.

“Is it me?” He asks, because that’s the only thing left to think. “Is this a punishment for me?”

Qui-Gon frowns, leaning forward just slightly. “Why would it be a punishment for you, dear one?”

Obi-Wan looks away again, because he’s not a good Jedi and he can’t control these emotions that are welling up inside him. He makes sure to strengthen his shields again, just in case. His lip twitches. He sighs.

“There’s something inside me,” he confesses, and this is it. This is what he’s been holding onto since the dawn of his time. “And it’s bad, or broken, and it’s why nobody wanted me as a Padawan. It’s why you said no before you said yes to training me. And I thought it had gone away, but then you chose Anakin, and I’m not angry, but that something is still there and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Qui-Gon sags, falling into Obi-Wan with a crushing and sudden weight that the younger Jedi struggles to hold. Qui-Gon’s arms come around him again, but this hug is different, this hug is desperate, like Qui-Gon is holding on with everything he has because he thinks Obi-Wan will go away somewhere else.

Qui-Gon’s breathing shudders and his voice shakes when he says, “Oh Obi-Wan, I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Obi-Wan says again; it’s frustrating that nobody seems to understand that Qui-Gon did nothing wrong. Obi-Wan is the one who failed.

Qui-Gon is trembling, he realises. That giant frame is wracked by tiny shivers and tremors. “You are not broken,” Qui-Gon promises brokenly. “There was never anything wrong with you. I swear by the Force. There is nothing inside you that makes you bad, or less, and I’m sorry that I never helped you realise this before.”

Obi-Wan cannot comprehend what’s happening.

His whole life has been built on the fundamental truth that something went wrong with him. His temper had always ran too hot, his shields had always been too weak. His whole mindset has been constructed to deal with and bury this knowledge, and he’s worked for years to make it better, make it right.

He’s waited for years for his Master to tell him that there’s nothing wrong with him, that Obi-Wan is just fine the way he is.

He doesn’t know what to do with that now.

Qui-Gon draws back, clearly sensing that Obi-Wan is floundering. “There is nothing you have to do or change to make me value you,” he says lightly, eyes crinkling at the corners. His smile is gentle and warm and familiar.

I almost didn’t have this, Obi-Wan realises with a jolt.

But he still has one last protest. “You wanted Anakin,” he insists stubbornly.

Qui-Gon’s smile turns fond, if not a little exasperated. “Wanting Anakin does not mean that I do not want you, my old Padawan. It was never going to be a trade.”

“Oh.”

Qui-Gon is still unhappy, Obi-Wan can tell, but something has been eased. The Force is settling, the dissected training bond between them whining as it tries to reconnect. They had always been meant for each other, bound to each other as friends, as Master and Padawan, as Obi-Wan and Anakin were bound. There was never supposed to be a rift.

Qui-Gon reaches out and affectionately brushes his knuckles over Obi-Wan’s cheek. “Go and find your Padawan,” he says softly. “Come and find me when you’re ready. I think there’s a few things we need to discuss.”

Obi-Wan can only bow, his throat closing up and forbidding him from speaking. His inner balance is completely gone, blown away by the sheer shock of what he’s heard. Anakin’s resounding hurt clashes with his own ancient ache, and it all swirls inside him until his body is a symphony of feelings, old and new, his and not.

He leaves his old Master and goes to find his Padawan.

Anakin doesn’t know where he’s going, only that he’s angry and hurt, and thinking about Obi-Wan makes furious tears bubble up in his eyes like he’s some useless ten-year-old again. He swipes furiously at his eyes and keeps marching down hallways, barely aware enough of his surroundings to take note of the wide-eyed Jedi moving swiftly out of his way.

He can’t believe that Obi-Wan wants to give him away.

He grits his teeth and walks faster, fighting the urge to wrap around his lightsaber and turn it on and start swinging. He doesn’t want to destroy things in his grief, but the urge is there. He ignores it. He tries to ignore it.

Obi-Wan wants to give him away.

Has Anakin done something wrong? How had he missed such a vital piece of wrongdoing, missed such a prominent action that could have made his Master turn against him? He knows that he’s difficult, that he doesn’t like to listen, and he doesn’t like to learn, and he knows that Obi-Wan deserves more respect, but Anakin isn’t perfect. He isn’t ever going to be perfect.

If it’s Obi-Wan’s choice to leave him because of that, then Anakin will take his lightsaber and he will walk away. Because that’s not on him, that’s on Obi-Wan.

His Master wants to give him away.

“Mindful of your feelings, you must be, Padawan Skywalker, lest down a dark path you go.”

“I am being mindful,” he spits, disrespectful in his anguish. Yoda doesn’t take offense, merely nods and hums and somehow manages to keep up with Anakin’s emotional pace. “You know about Obi-Wan’s plan, don’t you?”

Yoda hums again, his gimer stick tapping against the ground rapidly. “At war, Master Kenobi finds himself, and struggling. His plan, foolish it is, but born out of concern for you and Master Jinn. Happy, he wants to make you both, at great cost to himself.”

Anakin shakes his head and scoffs, and keeps walking. Yoda makes no complaint about the increase in speed. Anakin truly isn’t sure how the old Jedi Master is keeping up. He doesn’t ask. He simply walks and thinks and tries not to cry.

“He wants to give me away.”

“Your happiness, his only want is. A selfish yet honourable desire it is for one’s Padawan.”

“But why does he think giving me away to Qui-Gon will make me happy?” Anakin stops walking abruptly, turning to Yoda helplessly. “Why can’t he understand that I’m happy where I am, with him as my Master?”

Yoda peers up at him, sighing heavily. His shoulders stoop slightly. “Many regrets about Obi-Wan, the Council has. Many trials he has been through, and damaged his spirit has become because of them. To find balance for another is difficult indeed, and fear I do that the Council has failed your young Master terribly.”

“So the Council made him this way?”

“Emotions, we are strong in not. Afraid we have become, of feeling and humanity. Young Master Kenobi’s mindset, a victim of this fear, is.” Yoda looks down and away, and to his credit, looks genuinely ashamed.

Anakin, reluctantly, reaches for the quivering bond between him and Obi-Wan, startled to find it resonating with Obi-Wan’s own desperate pleas for Anakin to listen to him, to let Obi-Wan find his apprentice so they can talk it through. There’s something else, too, that Anakin can sense, like Obi-Wan’s elevated emotions had leaked through his usually perfect shields and saturated the bond.

Their heightened feelings feed off each other, Anakin can feel them festering in the Force.

He has to put a stop to it.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he says to Yoda politely. “I have to go find my Master. There is a discussion we must have.”

Yoda bows his head, his consent clear even without verbalisation, and Anakin strides away, running a feather-light finger down the bond to try and help pinpoint his Master’s location. His whisper of contact releases the smell of wildflowers and the gentle gurgle of a fountain. Obi-Wan has returned to the garden.

A small throb of acknowledgement sets Anakin into proper motion, and soon he’s running. He doesn’t know why, because this is one time he’s sure that Obi-Wan won’t walk away, but his heart is beating too fast and fear rises in a gentle wave along the bond.

For once, Obi-Wan is not there to meet it.

It’s not far from where he is to the gardens, and Anakin reaches them in record time, reaching for his Master even as he walks the well-worn paths. Obi-Wan accepts the questioning touch, guiding Anakin through the maze of walkways until he comes upon a small patch of wildflowers, freshly bloomed and spattered with many different colours. Obi-Wan is sitting by them on a clear patch of green grass, legs crossed and stormy blue eyes trained on the small pool of petals under the flowers.

Anakin sits beside him without a word, watching the wildflowers but failing to see what it is that has captured his Master’s attention.

So he breaks the tentative silence. “Was it something I did?” He asks quietly, and he feels Obi-Wan stiffen. “Because I can’t think of anything, but I know that sometimes I do things without thinking, and then I never realise how other people got hurt.”

“No, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s perfect posture slackens just slightly. “No, you did nothing wrong.”

It’s an answer, and it soothes one of the small raging fires in Anakin’s chest, but it’s also not what Anakin’s looking for. There has to be more than Obi-Wan isn’t telling him. There has to be something else. It’s not an action done lightly, giving away one’s Padawan to another Master. For Obi-Wan to attempt it now… Anakin doesn’t know what to think.

For another moment, they both just sit. The wildflowers in front of them sway gently in a barely-there breeze, the petals on the ground gently stirring as Anakin reaches out with the Force. Normally, Obi-Wan would scold him for such reckless use of such power, but now his Master stays silent and watches with something akin to remorse.

Anakin lets the petals drop. “Talk to me, Master. I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Instead of answering verbally, Obi-Wan sends another gentle truth dancing along the bond. Anakin opens his shields to let it in, and then keeps them open. There’s no use in locking away his own feelings. He doesn’t like to be called a hypocrite.

Obi-Wan’s answer meshes with Anakin’s own perceptions. Not Anakin’s fault, not Qui-Gon’s fault. Really, it’s not even Obi-Wan’s fault. This struggle is caused by years of miscommunication and missed opportunities; doubt has been bred by insecurities, and those insecurities have been nurtured by fear.

Fear of not being good enough.

Fear of being abandoned.

Fear that Anakin is so inherently familiar with that it’s almost startling to know that this is Obi-Wan’s fear, and not his own. These are emotions that Anakin has always been told to release, to let go. He’s always been told to heed his fears, his feelings, and all the while, Obi-Wan has secretly been nurturing them.

It’s selfish, but Anakin is secretly relieved that his Master isn’t entirely the perfect Jedi everyone believes him to be. Anakin is not so alone in this partnership.

“I was afraid of a great many things when I was Qui-Gon’s Padawan,” Obi-Wan says, voice soft but not weak. “I was ashamed of how strongly I felt things, how much I needed Qui-Gon’s constant support and attention. Believe it or not, I was far too much like you as a youngling, Anakin. I got angry very easily. I got jealous. I got into so many fights that everyone in the Medic Center knows me by name and face.”

Anakin scoffs. “I would call you a liar, but somehow, I believe you.” We wouldn’t work as well as we do if you didn’t understand who I am and what I’ve done.

Obi-Wan rewards him with a small smile, hesitant and unsure, but warm and familiar. Anakin subconsciously leans towards his Master. “It also took time for Qui-Gon and I to establish our bond properly. His apprentice before me was...well. You’ll have to ask Qui-Gon about him. But he was afraid of having another Padawan. He struggled, I struggled.”

“Xanatos.” The name tastes funny on Anakin’s tongue, and Obi-Wan jolts. “I know about him. He went to the Dark Side, didn’t he? Because of Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan sighs and twirls a finger. The wildflowers rustle a little bit too hard. Petals flutter to the ground, the soft soil cushioning the smears of colours. Anakin scrunches his nose up at the unusual aggression. “That’s a dangerous name to know,” Obi-Wan says, “much less speak. Be mindful of who’s around when you say it.”

The young, scared boy that lives somewhere inside Anakin’s soul thrashes at the warning, because that scared, young boy always swore that Anakin would never have to listen to another person have authority over him. And that’s what Obi-Wan has. Authority. That’s what Qui-Gon lacks.

That’s what makes it impossible for Qui-Gon to be his Master.

Qui-Gon has familiarity. Obi-Wan has authority. Both of them have Anakin’s love.

Only one of them can be his Master.

“What went wrong between you and Qui-Gon?” He asks Obi-Wan, almost desperately. “You were close at one point, you had to be! But now you can’t stand to be around him. Is that because of me? Because he wanted me as his Padawan, but he already had you?”

Obi-Wan shifts closer, reaches for Anakin’s shoulder. “Never say that,” he says urgently, shaking Anakin a little bit too harshly. “Nothing that happened between me and Qui-Gon is your fault. We had our own problems.”

Anakin nods and leans back a bit, troubled by Obi-Wan’s unusually sharp motions. It’s not like his Master to be so unsettled. His Force usage is erratic, his once gentle touches a little too firm. He’s upset, and Anakin knows it, but neither of them know what to do.

Obi-Wan exhales slowly, and the petals stir on the ground. They lift into the air, gentler this time, moving in lazy circles as Obi-Wan tries to settle himself and his emotions. Anakin sends out his own sliver of the Force to meet Obi-Wan’s, and the petals spin faster, dancing higher in the air.

“There was a time when I left the Order,” Obi-Wan says out of the blue, and Anakin accidentally twangs the bond with his shock. The flower petals falter. The wildflowers twist too harshly in the ground. Obi-Wan steadies it all with a single wave of his hand. “Well, the Order left me. Qui-Gon left me. It was a complicated situation.”

Anakin withdraws his part of the Force, leaving Obi-Wan to gently lower the petals back down. “Will you tell me about it?”

So Obi-Wan does.

Yoda and Mace Windu sit on one of the benches in the garden, watching over a young Jedi Master and his Padawan. Wildflowers move with the breeze, and petals soar gracefully through the air.

Yoda hums pleasantly. “Struggle they will, to let go of each other when the time comes,” he says.

Mace tilts his head to the side, studying the young apprentice carefully. “I think Obi-Wan will do well, but Skywalker’s penchant for attachments will get him into trouble, yes.” Privately, he thinks that young Anakin Skywalker has already turned out better than any of them had hoped. “If he’d had Qui-Gon as a Master, I fear things would have gone much differently.”

Yoda’s ears twitch with discomfort as Obi-Wan says something particularly passionate, and the gentle petals lurch. Anakin murmurs something, and the heightened emotions settle. “Failed Obi-Wan, we did. Yet strong Jedi he has become, despite his mistakes.”

Yes. Mistakes.

Mace knows about those mistakes. The entire Jedi order knows about the many problems Padawan Obi-Wan caused, how different Qui-Gon’s teaching had made him. The rebellious child who had rebelled against his own maverick teacher and thus become one of the best examples of a Jedi, past mistakes aside.

Anakin moves in front of them, shifting closer to his Master as Obi-Wan starts to flounder in his storytelling. Mace frowns. “I don’t think we’re clear of whatever darkness is haunting Skywalker, though. Making Obi-Wan his Master has set us on a certain path, but the shatterpoints around him… I don’t think there’s anywhere we can run that would be far enough away from Anakin when he erupts.”

“End of our era, he will bring,” Yoda agrees solemnly. “A boy he is for now. His Master, we shall leave him with, and remain content, we will allow them. More trouble coming, I sense.”

Mace bows his head in acceptance, and the two of them rise as one, moving swiftly and quietly out of the garden, leaving the two young Jedi behind.

And so the end begins.