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Obi-Wan Kenobi had not slept that night. Or… perhaps he did. He certainly didn’t sleep well, if at all.
At some point during the night (morning?), he’d given up entirely and sat cross-legged in bed, attempting to meditate. When restfulness continued to elude him, and he could not sink into a state of calm, he’d opted to get up and start his day.
Now, a few hours later, it was about time for Anakin to be getting up as well. Obi-Wan hoped his Padawan had managed to sleep better than him. The boy was prone to nightmares.
He rapped lightly on Anakin’s door with his knuckles, out of courtesy. When there was no sound from within, he let himself in.
And… Anakin was on the floor. In the same clothes he’d been wearing last night.
“Oh, ever-loving Force…” Obi-Wan sighed. “The dramatics.”
Obi-Wan knelt down and shook a still-damp shoulder. “Anakin. It’s time to get up.”
A groan.
“Come now, it’s time to train.” Obi-Wan shook the shoulder with a bit more force.
There was another groan and a sloppy swat.
Anakin used to be an early riser, as a child. He’d spring up like a daisy every morning, eager to start the day. Sometimes, he was up before even Obi-Wan. However, some time in his teens, Anakin had become what one would consider a “night owl.” He’d taken to sneaking out of the temple in the dead of night, and that certainly contributed, but hormones could well play just as fundamental a role.
“Anakin, I won’t ask you again,” Obi-Wan snipped, feeling rather irritable from lack of sleep and no meditation to compensate.
“I’m up,” the boy mumbled, barely discernible and certainly not coherent.
“You’re not. You’re laying on the floor,” Obi-Wan retorted. He shook his apprentice again. “Up, up. And change out of those wet clothes, Anakin, gracious.”
“Nagging,” came the barely audible reply.
Obi-Wan rose to his feet, his knees creaked. Force, he was too young for his knees to creak. “I wouldn’t have to if you’d listen the first time.” He lightly nudged Anakin with a boot. “Open your eyes, Padawan.”
With a great deal of grumbling and mumbling, Anakin forced his eyes open only to glare at him.
“Good. Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen. Do not close your eyes again.” Obi-Wan left Anakin to his devices and made for the kitchen. He could already feel a headache forming behind his stinging eyes.
Something crunched underfoot as Obi-Wan went to grab a teacup. He looked down and lifted his foot.
Right. The teacup he’d dropped and vowed to clean up later. He supposed now was later.
He stooped down and picked up the shards much more carefully, his bandaged hand serving as a stinging reminder.
Obi-Wan disposed of the shards and began preparations for tea. It was brewed and in his cup by the time Anakin finally emerged. Obi-Wan had begun to suspect that the boy may have fallen asleep again, and he’d been just about ready to march back into his room.
“Good morning, Padawan. Would you like some tea?”
His Padawan made a face and shook his head. He’d never been as fond of tea as his Master, but he’d rarely ever turned it down. Obi-Wan suspected it may have to do him still being upset about last night, but he hadn’t a clue how to broach the subject.
“You should have something to eat before we train,” Obi-Wan suggested mildly, looking at Anakin over the brim of his cup.
“Not hungry,” the boy grumbled, pulling up a stool and smooshing his cheek into a fisted hand.
Obi-Wan stifled a sigh. He’d been trying to instill in his apprentice the inclination to “choose his battles.” Lately, Anakin seemed to choose all of them. Still, he let it slide. It wasn’t like he’d eaten, either.
“Right, then. Shall we get started?”
Anakin glared at him, but with the smooshed face, it was a little hard to take him seriously.
“You used to be so excited to begin training,” Obi-Wan mused, finishing off the last of his tea and setting the cup in the sink to be washed later.
A flash of indecipherable emotions flickered across Anakin’s face at once, and the Force provided no additional insight. His presence was a jumble, and then it was guarded off as he flung his shields up.
“What happened to your hand?” Anakin was attempting to change the subject, and Obi-Wan would allow him this.
“You may ask the sad remains of porcelain in the garbage bin.” Obi-Wan pulled his robe on and guided Anakin from the stool. Anakin shrugged him off and slipped his own darker robe on.
—————————————————————
“Stand up straight, Anakin.”
“I am!”
“You’re not. You’re slouching.”
Anakin shot a glower in his Master’s direction, but nonetheless, stood up straighter.
“And pull your left foot in closer.”
His foot dragged noisily along the mat.
“That’s a little too close, move it back a bit.”
Anakin growled deep in his throat but did as he was told. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out across his forehead, even though Obi-Wan only had him practicing his stances so far.
“Now hold your lightsaber up a bit higher.”
Anakin’s jaw worked as he complied.
“Good. Memorize how this feels. This is the most strong and sturdy of all the stances, and it would serve you well to have it be second nature. In a time of crisis, it could be the key to saving your life.”
Obi-Wan rubbed hard at the bridge of his nose. His earlier prediction had proved to be true, blast it. He certainly had a headache now.
He took a moment, giving Anakin some time to memorize the stance and himself some time to stave away the exhaustion.
After what he deemed a sufficient amount of time, he spoke up again. “Now move through the steps. Begin.”
Anakin moved through the steps to Form I, but he was lacking his usual vigor and determination. He was bordering on sloppy. Though, it was a credit to Anakin’s skill that anything less than extraordinary was out of character for him.
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to spout some criticism when suddenly it all made sense. It had been raining last night. Anakin had been soaked and he hadn’t changed his clothes before bed. He wasn’t hungry, he hadn’t even wanted tea. The sweaty forehead, flushed cheeks, sloppy moves… How had he not seen it earlier? He felt like such a terrible Master for not noticing.
Some voice in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like Qui-Gon shut down any further self-deprecating thoughts and told him to focus on the moment.
“Anakin, would you pause for a moment?”
His Padawan stopped mid-swing and looked at him with an adorably furrowed brow.
“Why don’t we take a break?” Obi-Wan smiled tightly, gesturing towards the corner of the room, where they stored their belongings. “Have some water.”
“I’ll do better. Please don’t make me stop. I can do better.” Anakin’s soulful eyes bored into him, pleading.
Obi-Wan’s heart clenched. “It’s alright, Anakin, you’re doing very well.”
The praise made the boy straighten, his expressive face betraying his cautious optimism.
Did Obi-Wan really praise the boy so little? He looked like a wilted flower that had been perked up by the sunlight. A wilted flower…
Obi-Wan gently led Anakin along with a hand on the back of his shoulder. He sat down in their corner and invited Anakin to do the same. With some reluctance, his Padawan joined him on the floor.
They sat in silence for a moment, Anakin hesitantly taking a few sips of water and Obi-Wan contemplatively staring at the far wall, lost in memories.
“You know…” Obi-Wan started before he could consciously decide to speak. “Qui-Gon loved plants.”
Anakin gave him a sidelong look, but his brows were drawn together and his expression was more open than he’d seen it in a while now.
“He did?” he asked softly, voice slightly hoarse.
Obi-Wan’s lips pressed together in a thin smile, and his eyes were far off. “Very much. He had a plethora of plants that he kept in our quarters. Along with all of his various mementos, of course.”
Anakin shuffling slightly closer as he listened did not go unnoticed.
“He had a very special connection with plants. Like you with your machines and your flying.”
“And you with your animals,” Anakin offered.
Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. “Yes, I suppose so.”
Comfortable silence reigned for a moment while Obi-Wan contemplated his next words.
“He had some rather unconventional methods. It used to drive me mad, but… I find that I’m just starting to understand the true meaning behind some of his teachings,” he continued. He could feel Anakin’s plaintive gaze.
“As he watered the plants, changed their soil, and plucked their dead fronds, he’d tell me that each plant had different needs. What would be ideal for one could kill another.” Obi-Wan swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. It was several more moments before he was ready to speak again.
“I don’t hate you, dear one,” he uttered, just barely above a whisper.
“I know,” Anakin croaked. He was practically pressed against his side now, and he could feel the heat radiating off of him in waves.
“I’m sorry I make you feel that way. I’m still learning, as you are. I don’t always get it right. Maybe I don’t ever get it right—“
Anakin’s arms were around his torso in an instant, and his forehead was pressed against Obi-Wan’s cheek. Blast, he was much too warm.
Obi-Wan wrapped his bundle of Anakin up in his arms. He was still small enough to be enveloped, but chances were that could change any day.
“I’m sorry, too,” Anakin practically wept. “I… I get so angry, and I say such horrible things—I don’t mean it.”
“I know,” Obi-Wan murmured into Anakin’s hair. “Are you feeling alright, dear one?”
“Yeah.” Anakin’s voice had turned defensive, but being huddled up to Obi-Wan like a frightened youngling certainly hindered the intended effect.
Obi-Wan hummed. “I think not. Come, let’s get you sorted. No more training for today.”
“But Master—“
“Shush, my very young Padawan, or I’ll carry you back to our quarters myself,” Obi-Wan teased, his tone light.
Anakin simply murmured empty defiances into Obi-Wan’s shoulder, properly quelled.
Obi-Wan helped Anakin to his feet, and held him by the shoulders when he swayed. He led him through the halls of the Temple, and the minimal protests to Obi-Wan’s steadying hand on his shoulder was a testament to how poorly Anakin must have felt.
“You know, Padawan,” Obi-Wan started once they had entered their quarters. “You can always tell me when you’re feeling unwell.”
Anakin mumbled under his breath, heading straight for the couch and collapsing onto it.
A fond smile tugged at Obi-Wan’s lips as he followed after his young apprentice.
“Move over,” Obi-Wan all but demanded, laughter in his voice.
“Get your own couch,” Anakin mumbled, not even opening his eyes.
Obi-Wan lifted the boy’s upper half and plopped himself down on the cushions, then let Anakin’s head down on his lap.
Anakin hummed, all protest evaporating.
Obi-Wan gave Anakin’s Padawan braid a gentle tug. “You’ll need to eat something later. Sleep now, Anakin.”
Anakin grumbled something about a sleep suggestion, and Obi-Wan’s lips turned up in equal parts fondness and mischief.
They settled in, Anakin falling asleep in minutes. Obi-Wan let his gaze wander over to the far window, with succulents on the windowsill and a funnel flower on the floor. He hummed softly and closed his eyes. He could finally rest.