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Anakin learns a lot of things very quickly when he begins life as a Jedi. Master does not mean what he thinks it means (thank the Maker), other padawans do not experience the Force as he does (which made for an incredibly awkward first class), and sleeping at the end of the day is indeed a normal thing and not something that all growing Jedi fight to achieve.
On Tatooine, he slept often, because he had to. The work hours were long, food was scarce, and Anakin would slip his mother more of his own share when she wasn’t paying attention. Exhaustion would take him regardless (and Tattoine was quiet in comparison). It only takes one week at the temple for Anakin to adjust to the idea of multiple meals a day and for his body to catch up with it.
The first night he doesn’t sleep, he thinks this is fine and takes a stroll. It’s quiet, only a few other padawans are up and they’re all nocturnal species. The room of a thousand fountains has never been prettier, and Anakin finds the endless noise, the layers of it, drown out the constant barrage in his head (the screams from this city are always worse when it's late).
He doesn’t mean to fall asleep there, but when he opens his eyes again its to Obi-Wan Kenobi frowning so deeply Anakin’s waking thought is kriff I’m in so much trouble, and a slew of nasty words he knows he’s not supposed to say around adults because he’s not supposed to know them at all (so Obi-Wan has told him).
Then he realizes Obi-Wan should be taller and thats because he’s sitting next to him - not standing over him. Anakin still doesn’t know what to say.
“Hello there,” Obi-Wan says, like he does every morning; tone just a little too stiff to be casual, to be kind. But the frown eases a bit. “I was hesitant to wake you - the Masters say you were up most of the night.”
“Was I not…” The door was unlocked, and no one said walking around the temple was forbidden. “Did I do something…” He’s not been awake for a few moments and already it's feeling hard to breathe. He shouldn’t have slept here; he should have stayed in his room. And now they know he was up and he’s already doing poorly at meditating and how many things can Anakin do poorly before they-
“Anakin, Anakin I need you to breathe.” The words still are still clipped, and the frown is still very much there, and how can he breathe when-
“It’s alright. I promise you, it's alright,” his mentor sighs like the most put upon parent and Anakin feels worse still as Obi-Wan can’t seem to find what to say. “You’re safe here. This place is your home, and you are welcome here,” he sounds insistent, like last week when he told Anakin that meditation was key to finding peace. “But I need you to take a breath, Anakin please.”
Anakin can’t speak; his throat hurts too much. He nods, and the breath rattles his chest but it goes in, flows out, comes back in again. He tries thinking of the tides Master Plo told him about when the Jedi found him looking through a book on planets of the galaxy and focuses on that - the tide of his breath.
Until Obi-Wan says, “That's very good,” and he opens his eyes again.
“I’m not in trouble?” he asks, and his voice cracks and Anakin sounds even smaller than he feels. Which is tiny. Miniscule. Dirt under a shoe.
“No, no not at all. I’m not upset,” Obi-Wan sighs, and Anakin thinks he sounds tired. He has no idea what time it is. What time Obi-Wan awoke to find his padawan’s bed empty. “I was just worried.”
Anakin frowns. “You were worried?”
“Of course I was-” Obi-Wan cuts himself off and closes his mouth, shoves a hand through hair too short to do anything to it. When he opens his mouth again, he doesn’t speak; just lets a long sigh, bone weary, rattling him inside out. He’s not even looking at Anakin. Instead, Obi-Wan settles into the grass beside him (grass which is still a novelty to Anakin and thus was deemed a bed) almost as if he’s going to meditate. But he only closes his eyes for a minute or two before the man opens them and says, “You’ve never had anyone worry after you before.”
It should be a question, but Obi-Wan doesn’t ask it, just says it.
Anakin shakes his head. “Only mom. And she’s family, the only family I have.”
Obi-Wan nods. There’s a look on his face that Anakin has never seen before. He doesn’t know what it means, but for the first time since the Council implemented their bond, Anakin feels the faintest emotion from his teacher. And then he understands why Obi-Wan’s eyes look wet. Obi-Wan’s voice is shaky when he says, “We...are going through a great many changes, you and I. You, adjusting to your life here, and me, adjusting to being your... To training you.” Anakin knows what he almost said, and he appreciates the effort.
“It’s going to take time, and we’re going to have to be patient. I am...I’m as new to this as all of this is to you, Anakin. We’re both going to make mistakes, but we’re not going anywhere. I will always be right here, just as you will always have a home here,” his voice hardens in a way it never has, an edge Anakin has never heard him use. It’s not cold like it usually is, not stiff like his new clothes. He puts a hand on Anakin’s and says, “I swear it.”
Obi-Wan pulls away when he realizes what he’s done, but Anakin is quicker, squeezing Obi-Wan back before the man can withdraw in on himself again.
“Did I...make a mistake?” Anakin asks, hesitant and slow.
“No!” Obi-Wan reassures him, wiping his face with his sleeve. “No, nothing of the sort. But you must be starving. Come along,” he says, pushing himself to his feet and offering Anakin a hand.
He doesn’t need it, but he lets Obi-Wan pull him to standing anyway. “I’ll make us some breakfast, and you can tell me what's keeping you up at night.”
The following day, after numerous reassurances that Anakin was not having a nightmare and yes his room is perfectly adequate, Obi-Wan gets him a white noise machine. Anakin plays it so loud that Obi-Wan can hear it in his own room on the other side of the apartment.
It works for a few years, until Anakin hits his first growth spurt. He’s cantankerous and in agony for a month, and then he’s sleepless all over again. Hearing living nightmares he still won’t tell Obi-Wan about.
Obi-Wan’s takes him to Healer Che, who prescribes a pill to help him sleep. Anakin tries it for a week of groggy days that honestly feel worse than not sleeping at all, and when Obi-Wan catches him sleep walking - disassembling a lamp and calling it a protocol droid at 4am - the meds are discarded.
The talk they have after both helps and aches. Anakin will never forget Obi-Wan’s look of defeat as Anakin nurses his third cup of caf after another night tossing and turning. They've grown closer over the years, as Obi-Wan realized he didn’t need to be a parent to be a mentor, and Anakin realized that Obi-Wan did indeed care which meant Anakin could start to trust him.
Healer Che has no idea what to try next. Obi-Wan buries himself in the Archives looking for answers, while Anakin grows steadily worse. With every passing day, exhaustion mounts and his shields start to weaken. The barrage gets louder, and sleep only becomes harder to find. He’s snapping at the smallest of annoyances and getting through classes without an outburst leaves him shaking.
Anakin’s solution is to work himself until he passes out. He's just rounding the fourth hour of training at almost 2am, when a man Anakin has only seen a few times in his childhood greets him with a smile far more pleasant than he's ever gotten from another Jedi.
His name is Quinlan Vos.
Anakin has heard of him only in passing. He's a loner, he's a legend, he's an asshole. The Council tried to banish him (Obi-Wan swore this was a lie) and to this day the Masters and Knight Vos don't see eye to eye. Anakin thinks he's going to be kicked out.
Instead, Quinlan says, "You too, hmm? Want company?"
And that's how Anakin ends up sparring his Master’s closest friend until 4am.
Anakin, too used to being alone, Force pulls a towel to wipe his face off. He freezes when he notices he's being watched, tensing for the lecture about inappropriate use (which Anakin has never understood).
But Quinlan just smiles in that sad way that Obi-Wan gets when he's talking about Qui-Gon, and says, "You feel it too, don't you?"
Anakin, too tired to censor himself, blurts out, "All the time! At night it's...bad. Too quiet. It's...harder to ignore their screams."
Quinlan just nods and for the first time, Anakin feels seen. Understood. "I hear them too. It's worse here; the crowded capital. Once you start to travel, you'll notice it."
Anakin nods and the question is out before he can stop it, "Are you like me?"
Quinlan chuckles, "A prophesied chosen one with a record breaking midochlorian count? No. But I have a rare gift - psychometry. It keeps me close to the Force, whether I like it or not."
Anakin nods. "Everyone always talks about wanting to be one with the Force. How we need to listen and attune with it. But it's like...walking into a sandstorm. I don't understand how they do it. How they're all so good at it."
Quinlan smirks. "I'm going to let you in on a secret, but you can't tell anyone I told you."
"I won't, I swear!" Anakin eagerly promises from his seat on the floor.
The man takes a drink of Anakin's water and says, "They're not very good at it at all."
Anakin feels like his eyes will tumble out of his head with how wide they've gotten. His mouth falls open. "You're joking!"
"I'm not. They're far more distanced from it than you or I. Think of it like hearing a song played from many rooms away, while you and I are in the room with the orchestra. They're searching for a note, struggling to grasp the melody, while you and I are trying to put order to the chaos."
He walks Anakin back to his chambers, and at last, Anakin sleeps a full eight hours.
When he wakes, his mind feels clearer than it has in days. It's still loud (it's always loud), but it's easier to sort through. To pick out the third Force signature in his shared apartment. Groggy and stiff-limbed from last night's workout, he throws a robe over his sleep pants and drags his feet to his closed door.
His hand stops before he can press the pad to open it; there's voices on the other side.
And one of them just said his name.
"He's doing well, all things considered," says a voice that isn't Obi-Wan. It's muffled through the durasteel plating.
"Yes, he's had a late start but he's flourishing."
There's a chuckle too deep to be his Master, and a quiet, "No. I meant that he's doing well, in spite of being kept here. "
There's a sputter and Anakin can perfectly picture the look of appall that follows - Obi-Wan does the same thing when Anakin speaks of his past sometimes. "The Temple is the safest place for him, Quinlan. After what happened on Naboo, we must be cautious-"
Quinlan scoffs, "Do you forget where you are, Obi?" Anakin has never heard anyone call him that. "Coruscant has a population in the billions. There are three trauma centers less than a mile from here."
There's a pause before Obi-Wan says, "Yes, I always thought it convenient-"
"Your padawan can hear their cries."
There's a sputter before Obi-Wan states, "You can't even hear the traffic outside, let alone-"
Quinlan doesn't speak, but he must indicate something, because there's a drawn out silence and Obi-Wan is snarling something in a language Anakin doesn't know. But he knows swearing when he hears it.
"I don't claim to know him better than you-"
"Don't you?" Obi-Wan snaps, and Anakin presses himself closer to the door. He's never heard Obi-Wan like this; didn't know it was a side of himself his mentor even had.
"I'm not his Master, Obi, and I'm not trying to be. But he's impossible to ignore. I find him everywhere I go here. Pieces of his memories in the training grounds, the gardens...a concerning amount in the docking bay, tinkering with anything he can get his hands on. To maintain his sanity against the barrage."
"He'll hate it Quin. Surely you can tell that much."
"I could take him with me, if you'd prefer-"
"Absolutely not!"
Anakin swears he can hear Quinlan grinning. "You don't even know where I'm going."
"Nowhere good."
"That's true," he confirms. "Then its settled."
"It's no place for a padawan, especially Anakin. This requires delicacy - a matter you would know nothing about."
"I know enough," Quinlan says, and there's a shift in his tone that says he's talking about something entirely different.
Obi-Wan doesn't say anything, but in their training bond there's an echo of something that might be embarrassment.
"If you don't do something," Quinlan continues, his voice gone so quiet Anakin has to strain to make him out, "you're going to lose him. This place may be a sanctuary to you and every other Jedi in these hallowed halls, but Anakin isn't like any other Jedi. And it's time for you to stop treating him like one."
"You are out of line! I won't push him just because of some prophecy we don't even know will come to be. He is one of us, and I will train him as such, no more no less. He's overburdened as is I won't ask even more of him-"
"I'm not asking you to. He can do all you or I can. But the path for him will be far different. Same expectations, different methods."
There's the distinct sound of a chair being pushed back over the wood floor, and thats when Anakin opens the door. "Hey," he yawns, one hand over his mouth. He runs it over his head, trying to fix hair too short to get out of place. "What's going on?"
"Good morning, Anakin," Quinlan smiles. He's standing by their small dining table, cleaner than when Anakin saw him last. His hair is still in the locks, and he doesn't bother tying them back, as is custom. His arms are bare save for forearm wraps. His sleeveless tunic stops above the knee, and its paired with clean loose fitting pants tucked into worn brown boots with pouches at the ankles. None of it is Temple standard. He'd be barred from a class looking like that.
Anakin has never admired him more.
"Afternoon, actually," Obi-Wan corrects, expression cold and distant. The way he gets when they're around the Council - but Quinlan isn't one of them. So why?
"Would you take a walk with me?" Quinlan asks him. "We have much to discuss, but I am unfortunately pressed for time-"
"He means he's running late,” Obi-Wan corrects, turning away from them to put the kettle on. He's upset - he only makes tea at this hour when somethings wrong. There's already an empty pot on the table.
"Yeah," Anakin says, then corrects himself with a stammer. "I mean, yes. I'd be happy to." He heads for his boots by the door.
Obi-Wan calls for him without turning around. "Clothes, Anakin. Don't think I don't know you have on pajamas under that robe."
Anakin rolls his eyes and grumbles, "Yes, sir," dragging his feet back to his room. He'll never understand why the Jedi have to wear so many layers.
He doesn't realize his mistake until he gets back out barely a minute later and their talk abruptly stops. Anakin just raises his eyebrows at the pair of them, looking from Quinlan to Obi-Wan.
It's his mentor who says, "You'd better get moving. Anakin, when you're through, we'll run through some katas and work on your form six."
"Yes, Master," he manages to say with a straight face. The skin crawling sensation only lasts a second; he shakes it off with a shudder.
Quinlan gives him a look Anakin can't decipher, but ushers him out without a word. He doesn’t say anything until they're five minutes in. Then he breaks the tense silence with a question no one has ever asked, "Do you like him? Obi-Wan?"
Anakin sputters; words gone up in smoke. "He's a...a good teacher. And he's kind." He thinks of how bad it was at the beginning and where they are now and adds, "We've come a long way. Why do you ask? I thought… You're friends, aren't you?"
Quinlan smirks as they take a turn, "We were very close once. I still consider him my best friend. But people change in a blink, and I haven't seen him in years." He turns again, and unlocks a door, ushering Anakin inside.
It’s an apartment - his judging by the state of it. There’s plants Anakin has never seen before, odd minerals and knick knacks. Much of it is covered in a layer of dust. “I thought you were running late,” Anakin asks, nervous in a way he hasn’t been all morning.
“I am,” Quinlan smiles, “but I wanted a word in private, and here we won’t be disturbed.” His comm rings, and he ignores it without looking. “Much. You called Obi-Wan ‘sir’ - why? Does he ask this of you?”
“No! No, I… You’re not going to get him in trouble, are you?”
Quinlan laughs, his timbre deep, as if Anakin has just said the funniest joke he’s heard in years. “No! Maker, no. But I’ve never heard anyone addressed as such within these walls, and your bond is...frayed,” he says, like he’s trying to be careful with his words and it's clearly a skill he’s never used. “The two of you need to repair it if you’re to get your abilities under control. Lets start with the ‘sir’.”
Anakin bites his lip so hard he worries it might bleed, lets go only to ball his hands up into fists in his robes, held behind his back. “That’s...that’s me, not him. I was a slave when Qui-Gon found me,” he says, as he’s said numerous times over. “Obi-Wan and I agreed that I didn’t have to say... that , unless it was absolutely necessary. Like Council meetings.”
Quinlan barks out something in another language Anakin doesn’t know, but it's definitely a swear and probably a real foul one. “That’s both better and worse. Who else knows about this?”
Anakin shrugs. “Dunno. It’s gotta be common knowledge by now. But for sure, the Council. Senator Amidala, the Chancelor.”
The knight’s comm rings again; Quinlan glares at, proceeding to roll his eyes when someone deigns to leave a voicemail, which he quickly silences. He looks to Anakin again with an expression that is not soft, not gentle, but assured. Open. He hides nothing, and its at such odds with anything Anakin has ever known from the Jedi that he feels as if his whole world has spun on its axis, gravity off-kilter like he’s on a distant moon.
What Quinlan finally says is, “If I tell you something about Obi-Wan, would you tell me about your short time with Qui-Gon?”
Anakin hesitates, hands fidgeting in his robes. Is that his story to tell?
Quinlan looks about his room as if he’s searching for something, only to dismiss the idea with a grumble. Again, its that open honesty that makes Anakin dizzy when he says, “You are allowed to say no - Obi-Wan has told you this, yes? Anakin, you are not under any obligation to agree to anyone’s every whim. Not mine, or his.”
Obi-Wan hadn’t, actually. Just that he would be safe, and Obi-Wan would always protect him. But there were still rules and Anakin needed to mind them. One of those was following orders, even the ones he didn’t like. And Anakin didn’t like most of them.
Anakin just shrugs. “He’s never asked me to do something I despised,” he says, because at least that much is true.
Quinlan swears and runs a hand through his dreads. “Alright, come along, and tell me about Qui-Gon. If you’re comfortable.”
No one has ever asked Anakin if he was comfortable with anything, ever in his life. He opens the door for Quinlan, who grabs the handle after him to lock up with a shudder. But he doesn’t say anything, just continues on down another hallway, waiting patiently for Anakin to open up.
And he does. He keeps it brief, as if somehow that will be better. It doesn't make it hurt any less, but it doesn't hurt for as long. As soon as he's done he falls silent, shoring up his shields as if he could burrow into the Force and make a home there, safe and out of reach.
He doesn't even realize they're walking onto a ship until he hears metal under his feet. He's somehow gone up a loading ramp and into a cockpit. Quinlan is inputting coordinates into the navigation system - which Anakin can already spot a few ways to improve on - before he turns in the pilot’s seat to face him. “Thank you, Anakin, for trusting me with that. I can’t imagine how difficult that was to share, but it’s important.”
Anakin can’t think of what to say, so he just nods.
Quinlan gestures for Anakin to take a seat. “Please, make yourself comfortable. What I am going to tell you about my dear friend cannot leave this ship.”
“Is it dangerous?” Anakin asks as he sinks into the rickety chair, the ship older than anything he’s seen among the Temple fleet.
“No,” Quinlan reassures him, “no it is not. But it will help you understand him better, which is a vital component your bond seems to lack. Obi-Wan and I met as younglings - he too was looked down upon for getting a late start - three years as opposed to your nine. When he was old enough, he sought to prove himself, desperate to seek the approval of a Jedi Master. But his methods were rash, and so he was sent to the agricorps. The Council deemed their reasoning justified; I’ve always thought the opposite.
“It was only due to happy accident that Qui-Gon took him on at last. He saved Obi-Wan I think, but it left him with a great well of self-doubt that he’s never managed to shake. When he returned home a padawan, he was a different man. Quiet, reserved, distant. The Jedi ideal. It took him years to lighten up; Qui-Gon did his utmost, but even then it was only in the company of his few friends that Obi has ever smiled, ever let his guard down enough to be happy.”
“Why is that?” Anakin asks, as Quinlan Vos absently reaches up into a small pocket of space above the pilot’s chair meant for an additional computer system this ship doesn’t have. Quinlan throws something at him; Anakin catches it without thought.
Quinlan smiles at him, “Nice reflexes,” before continuing on, “It is much easier to act when you don’t need to think about it, isn’t it? Obi was the same in his youth, but ever since the agricorps he lost his bravado and traded it for fear. He’s a good man, and a great Jedi, but Obi-Wan Kenobi lives with that fear still, each and every day. He tosses it out in the Force constantly, so much so that its second nature, an action he doesn’t think about doing. Just as you don’t think about the object in your hand, even now when its new to you. He does all he can to be the Jedi everyone wants him to be, because he is terrified every day of his life that one misstep is all it will take to be robbed of his post, of you, of those he considers family.”
Anakin swallows hard. It explains so much and he almost wants to snap. Why didn’t Obi-Wan ever tell him? But then, how could he? There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity.
“Qui-Gon was not a perfect man, but he was a good one,” Quinlan says, and Anakin isn’t sure if this is more secrets, or Quinlan just trying to fill the silence. “You would have liked him. He followed the Force over function, and disagreed with the Council often. Obi-Wan has those teachings within him, but he isn’t brave enough to follow them,” Quinlan looks at him as if he’s asking, something but Anakin doesn’t know what until he says, “Yet.”
Anakin bites his lip and his hand stops moving. The object he’s been given looks like something scrappers give their kids - a few metal o-rings bound together by leather and a bit of lining gasket. It enables the rings to be flipped one over the other without end, and without making a sound. There’s a sort of brightness to it, and somehow he knows that Quinlan has had this for a very long time.
“What am I supposed to do?” Anakin asks.
“Talk to him. Repair that bond. It is meant to bring you together, not shielded into a cold silence. Let him help, show him how - that will help him more than you know.”
Anakin hesitates - does he want Obi-Wan to see his thoughts? For anyone to? He can barely stand them half the time, how could he subject-
“Or?” Quinlan offers, waiting for Anakin to look up before he continues, “You could close the bay doors behind you and come with me.”
Anakin just blinks, like he’s been hit with Yoda’s giger stick between the eyes. “Come with you? But, Obi-Wan-”
“Yes, he would be very upset and quite heartbroken. He would despise me for a very long time, though he would never admit it, Jedi Master that he is now. But I could teach you, if you would rather. It’s your choice, Anakin. Everything in front of you is your choice.”
He turns the little rings in his right hand over and over and over and then says “No,” almost before he comes to the conclusion himself. But the word is out and the Force is already moving him toward the answer. “No, I’ll stay. I… I want to stay,” Anakin says and almost doesn’t believe it. Does he? Does he want to continue to be subjected to ridicule that he’s too much, critique that he’s not good enough? To being outcast from his peers?
But the Force says don’t go, and Anakin listens. It’s the first time he’s heard it this clearly since Qui-Gon was in danger and everything told him to take the damn ship .
Quinlan smiles. Anakin raises his hand to toss the object back to him as Quinlan begins the ignition sequence. “Keep it,” but he holds out a hand for something else. “Your comm?”
Anakin takes it off his wrist and hands it over without question. Quinlan plugs it into the ship’s communications in a way he didn’t even know could be done before handing it back. “There, you have my private channel now. That is a secret only three people know - you, Obi-Wan, and my Jedi Master. If you’re ever caught, this will need to be destroyed,” he explains, holding it up before handing it back. “Understood?”
Anakin grins like he’s been given something precious, like his first kyber crystal all over again. “Then I won’t get caught.”
Quinlan smirks, “Good answer,” before turning back to the ship's controls. “You can contact me anytime - the Council keeps me busy so it might take me some time to respond, but I will always answer.”
Anakin nods so fast his neck aches. “Of course, I understand.”
“Good, then you’d best be off before Obi suspects me of kidnapping,” he says with a chuckle.
“Of course. Thank you, may the Force be with you, Knight Vos.”
Quinlan looks over his shoulder as Anakin pushes himself to his feet, his nose scrunched up in distaste. “It’s Quinlan, Anakin. Just Quinlan. And may the Force be with you, you and Obi-Wan.”
Anakin waves after him even after his old ship breaches atmosphere to whatever dangers lie ahead of him.
When he gets back to his shared apartment, Obi-Wan isn’t dressed for training. There’s a spare bag on the kitchen table and a hastily packed lunch, and he has a nervous smile.
“Anakin, how would you like to go on a short trip?”