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“I have a bad feeling about this…”
Obi-Wan frowned, not able to pinpoint exactly where his bad feeling originated from, or what was causing it, but something was definitely not right.
“Of the mission, sir?” the captain asked him calmly while she continued with her pre-flight procedures. She was not easily shaken by anything, let alone the bad feeling of a Jedi knight.
“No… not exactly.” But something... perhaps to do with the ship? Whatever the cause, Obi-Wan knew with utter certainty they couldn’t take off until he figured it out. “I’m going to inspect the ship.”
“I assure you everything is in order,” the captain told him rather tersely. “I take great pride in the maintenance of my ship.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Obi-Wan replied honestly. “However, the will of the Force demands it.”
It may be her ship, but it was Obi-Wan’s mission, and ultimately, the captain couldn’t leave without him. Her displeasure would have been hard to miss even if he wasn’t Force-sensitive, but she didn’t say anything else as Obi-Wan left to inspect the ship. He had no idea exactly what he was looking for, but he opened himself up to the Force, allowing it to guide him where he needed to go.
It wasn’t until he found himself in the ship’s cargo hold that he had a clearer idea of where his bad feeling had come from; the origination presented itself in the form of one very young padawan learner, hiding not particularly well behind a cargo crate.
Obi-Wan didn’t bother to stifle his censure as he sternly reproached, “Anakin Skywalker.”
“Anakin Skywalker.”
Anakin’s stomach dropped with a sickening thud. He had never heard that tone from Obi-Wan before, certainly not directed towards him, and it induced no little anxiety—it sounded like he was in serious trouble. How had Obi-Wan even found him? Anakin shuffled a bit further behind his cover, hoping Obi-Wan would move on, thinking he was just paranoid. Wouldn’t Obi-Wan feel silly to find out he’d been admonishing nothing but air, thinking it was Anakin? After all, who could expect Anakin here at all? Certainly no one—and no one had seen him, Anakin had made sure of it. He had been very strategic in his planning. He waited beneath the ship’s walkway until everyone else had boarded, then climbed up and boarded behind them without anyone managing to see him. Then he'd quickly found himself a hiding place in the ship’s cargo hold where no one would think to look for him, ducking behind a few crates.
“Come out this instant.”
Nooo thank you? Anakin thought, wincing.
All of a sudden, the cargo crate he had ducked behind slid across the floor, revealing a very seriously unimpressed Obi-Wan looming on the other side of it, his hands on his hips. Anakin hadn’t known the recently appointed Jedi knight could glare so well. He was usually in good spirits around Anakin; he tended to tease a lot and make dry quips that usually made Qui-Gon shake his head with a little fond smile. Obi-Wan was nice. He’d never turned so much as a sour look onto Anakin, much less a glare.
Swallowing hard on a throat as dry as his home planet, Anakin straightened up from his crouched position, his mind racing faster than the fastest speeder in all the galaxy as he tried to think of something that would get him out of this trouble he’d stumbled into. He definitely wasn’t a stowaway. And he didn’t know what he was doing here either! There must be some logical explanation! What, exactly? Uh… well, he didn’t exactly know—he’d just woke up here. He must have been kidnapped!
Anakin opened his mouth, prepared to launch into any of the explanations racing around in his thoughts, but he stopped himself as Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed in his direction; there was something in the Jedi knight’s gaze that warned Anakin to not dare say any of it. Anakin shuffled a bit on his feet—he was certain his mind was shielded in the way he’d been taught to do it since he’d begun his training, so then how could Obi-Wan see right through him?
“I—I was just—”
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, and in a heavily sardonic tone, he asked, “You were just what? Inspecting the cargo crates? Performing inventory, perhaps?”
Somehow, Anakin didn’t think it would be a clever idea to say yes. “I…” He trailed off, his usually quick-witted mind struggling to come up with something to say that would help matters any.
“You are in an incredible amount of trouble,” Obi-Wan finished for him when Anakin didn’t continue. “What were you thinking? You’d just hide in here until we landed on Dallenor, and then we’d be too far from Coruscant for me to march you back to Qui-Gon by your ear, and I’d simply say ‘oh no matter, I mean to hell with it really, he’s here so he may as well just come along’?” Obi-Wan scoffed. “If so, then you are sorely mistaken. What an extremely foolhardy thing to attempt, Anakin!”
Anakin ducked his head, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, embarrassed to find tears stinging at his eyes. He’d never known Obi-Wan could scold so effectively, either; he’d never said a stern word to Anakin before. It was Qui-Gon who corrected him, and Qui-Gon was partial more to chiding than scolding.
Obi-Wan was a completely different being.
It wasn’t like Anakin had meant any harm. He’d just… well…
His Jedi training had so far been nothing like he’d imagined it would be. It was less lightsaber fighting and stunts than meditation and ‘learning the ways of the Force’. Which usually meant having to sit still on a cushion and attempt to balance bunches of pebbles in specific formations using only the will of the Force. It was extremely boring at times, to say the least. All of the Jedi Masters, including his own, kept reminding him that though it might not be the most exciting of lessons, it was nonetheless important, and Anakin had tried to listen to them—he really had—but… well…
When he’d heard of Obi-Wan’s solo assignment to Dallenor to retrieve a Jedi holocron excavated by archeologists, potentially involving space pirates…
It had sounded like the most exciting thing Anakin had ever heard of. And that was the life of a Jedi he’d always dreamed of having. And he was more than ready for missions! He was good with a ‘saber, which he did get to practice sometimes, if not nearly as much as he’d like. He was talented for his age and lack of prior training; most of the masters were impressed with his skills although they didn’t say so outright, fearing they’d plant seeds of arrogance in Anakin, but Anakin knew he was good. And that meant he was ready for missions! Not solo ones, not yet, that much he could admit, but other Padawans got to accompany their masters on missions. Obi-Wan wasn’t Anakin’s master, but he was Anakin’s master’s former Padawan so it was kind of almost the same thing, really, when one thought about it logically. And that meant it was perfectly fine to accompany Obi-Wan on missions… probably.
Anakin glanced up, braving a peek at Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan was still glaring at him. Hard.
Okay, perhaps this might not have been his brightest of ideas, looking back on it now.
What was Qui-Gon going to say?
If Anakin thought Obi-Wan was displeased, Qui-Gon would be a whole different story. Anakin somehow didn’t believe that Qui-Gon would accept his logic that because it was Obi-Wan, it was perfectly fine.
Qui-Gon was not going to be pleased.
Anakin sniffed, swiping his sleeve against his nose. “I… I didn’t mean to…”
“You didn’t mean to sneak onto the ship?”
Anakin didn’t answer. That was a terrible question, and one he definitely couldn’t answer truthfully. Of course he had meant to sneak onto the ship.
“Or you didn’t mean to get caught?” Obi-Wan asked knowingly.
Anakin grimaced; that was even worse. Unfortunately Obi-Wan was very right. Of course he hadn’t meant to get caught—or, at least, not so soon. He would have had to reveal himself at some point if he’d wanted to actually join the mission, but he hadn’t exactly thought far enough ahead to decide how he was going to do that without Obi-Wan looking at him exactly like he was right now. Anakin had kind of just assumed that Obi-Wan wouldn’t be as mad when he had a mission at hand to worry about.
“I just wanted… other Padawans go on missions! You did at my age, probably!”
“Not at your age, no,” Obi-Wan denied swiftly, and Anakin gazed at him in shock. He hadn’t? “And that’s besides the point. It doesn’t matter if I did or didn’t, or if other Padawans do or don’t; what matters is that you do not have mission clearance yet. If you had managed to stay hidden until we arrived on Dallenor, you’d have been putting yourself as well as the entire rest of the crew in incredible danger. Missions are not games; oftentimes they can be dangerous, and our need to babysit you could have put lives in jeopardy. Not to mention, your master has no idea where you are or what you’re doing. What were you thinking?”
No answer to that question would get him out of trouble; that was about the one thing Anakin was certain of. Anakin kept silent and dropped his gaze again, inspecting the floor of the ship. Dark, pretty scratched and scuffed up, but not exactly dirty.
“No, you don’t. Answer me,” Obi-Wan ordered.
“I don’t want to,” Anakin mumbled to his feet.
“And I don’t really care right now. Answer me, Anakin.”
Anakin’s breath hitched. He didn’t even know why—he’d been spoken sharply to for really most of his life; not many people in Tatooine were given to kindness. Some had, like his mom and Jira, but those people were few and far in-between, scarcely found on Tatooine. Anakin had quickly learned to let most of those words roll right off his back as just noise, but strangely… Obi-Wan speaking sharply to him now mattered a whole great deal to him. Not even ‘cause Obi-Wan was a Jedi knight which was everything Anakin dreamed of being—and a great one at that, Obi-Wan had defeated a Sith lord after all!—but mostly just ‘cause he was Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan who was nice and who cared a whole lot about Qui-Gon and who made pretty decent bantha-butter pancakes when Anakin asked him to—not as good as Anakin’s mom’s but still pretty decent. Obi-Wan had made those a lot for Anakin while Qui-Gon was healing and neither of them had felt much like venturing to the refectory for a meal.
Obi-Wan’s boots suddenly blocked Anakin’s view of the floor—Anakin hadn’t even heard him close the distance between them—and a moment later, Obi-Wan hooked his hands beneath Anakin’s underarms and lifted him up to plonk him down atop a cargo crate.
“Do you really think,” Obi-Wan began, and although the disapproval was still clear in his voice, his tone was a lot milder, “defiance is the best course of action for you here?”
“I dunno,” Anakin mumbled to his lap.
With a sigh, Obi-Wan reached out and lightly tugged on Anakin’s Padawan braid. Not enough to hurt, but enough that Anakin got the hint and reluctantly lifted his gaze to meet Obi-Wan’s. The Jedi knight still looked reproving, but there was a softness to his features that hadn’t been there before.
“It’s rarely easy to face the consequences of our actions, Anakin, but we must nonetheless. I’m not happy with you. I think you know as well as I do that Qui-Gon’s not going to be either. This was incredibly foolish and dangerous, and I believe you knew that before you ever stepped foot on this ship, but you did it anyway.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “If I didn’t already know that Qui-Gon’s going to, I’d put you over my knee myself. And you can be certain, if you ever do something like this again, I will, whether or not Master Qui-Gon does as well.”
What?
Anakin stared at him open-mouthed, and found to his horror, there was no trace of humor in Obi-Wan’s expression or his voice—he was entirely serious. “You… you can’t,” he protested despite himself. First Obi-Wan was scolding him and now he was promising to punish him?
What had happened?!
“I can, and I will if you make it necessary.”
“But you’re Obi-Wan!” Anakin blurted.
“Yes.” Obi-Wan nodded. “And Obi-Wan keeps his word. You’d do well to remember that, young one.”
“But…” Anakin trailed off as Obi-Wan leveled a very stern look his way. Anakin’s shoulders slumped forward in defeat. There was no arguing it. Qui-Gon wouldn’t think twice about it, either, Anakin knew—Qui-Gon was firm about respecting Obi-Wan as Anakin should any Jedi, insisting Anakin refer to him as ‘Master Obi-Wan’ in deference to his knight status although Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi Master himself, and Qui-Gon made it plain that Anakin was expected to obey Obi-Wan if he gave him instructions—but what Anakin hadn’t expected was for Obi-Wan to decide to take such a hands-on approach.
Reflecting on it now, maybe he should have realized, but… he was Obi-Wan!
Sure, any other Jedi in the temple—Knight or Master—would turn Anakin over to Master Qui-Gon, whose responsibility was his padawan’s training, guidance, and discipline. But Obi-Wan wasn’t just any Jedi; he was Obi-Wan. He was the closest thing Anakin had to an older brother, in the same way Qui-Gon was the closest thing Anakin had to a father.
Anakin had just never expected his older brother to take such a fatherly approach, even with Obi-Wan’s obvious dedication to following rules properly. Qui-Gon more had expectations than rules, and during his time so far as Qui-Gon’s apprentice, Anakin knew where his lines were. But this dynamic with Obi-Wan was new and different and Anakin hadn’t expected to ever see it.
Now he had two Jedi to answer to?
“Do we understand each other, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked firmly.
Anakin’s lower lip jutted out. He knew the answer Obi-Wan expected, but he didn’t bother to hide the sullenness in his voice as he gave it: “Yes, Obi-Wan.”
“Good.” Obi-Wan pinned Anakin with a level look. “This does not happen again. Ever.”
“Yes, Obi-Wan,” he whispered.
Obi-Wan held that look for a few moments, letting the weight of his words really sink in to the point Anakin was squirming atop his crate, embarrassed to find tears stinging at his eyes again. Then, with his eyes still pinned on Anakin, Obi-Wan raised his wrist and tapped at his communicator. “Master, do you copy?”
Anakin sucked in a sharp breath and held it, hoping beyond hope Qui-Gon wouldn’t answer. Maybe just this once he’d forgotten his commlink at home. But within a few moments the commlink spat static, Anakin’s throat tightened, and then Qui-Gon’s voice said, “Obi-Wan?” Anakin could envision the frown on Qui-Gon’s face. “Shouldn’t your ship have taken off by now? Is something amiss?”
“Well, something is,” Obi-Wan said dryly, eyeing Anakin, “or rather someone. Aren’t you missing somebody, Master?”
There was an extremely heavy pause in which the silence weighed heavily on Anakin’s chest, constricting his breath, then Qui-Gon said rather rigidly, “Where are you now?”
“The ship’s cargo hold. We’re still docked in the hangar. Shall I bring him to you?”
“No. I could use the walk.”
That sounded very ominous.
“Anakin, can you hear me?”
Um, no?
Eyes widened, Anakin shook his head wildly at Obi-Wan, begging the Jedi knight wordlessly not to give him away. He didn’t think he could handle talking to Qui-Gon just now. Already he was close to crying, but it was the last thing Anakin wanted; he refused to look like a baby in front of Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan wet his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing against his throat as he swallowed. He took a long moment to answer—one of the longest moments of Anakin’s life. “No, sorry, Master, he’s too far away. I’ve sat him on a cargo crate while I stepped away to call you.”
The breath he’d been holding whooshed out of Anakin’s lungs with heavy relief. Force, but Obi-Wan was so incredibly wizard sometimes.
“Very well. I’ll be there in only a few moments.”
“Yes, Master.” The call ended, and Obi-Wan held out his hand to Anakin, palm upwards. “Come on then.”
Anakin fidgeted a bit where he sat on the crate, quite aware he was stalling, but he was not particularly eager to get anywhere near to facing his master. Obi-Wan simply waited, his hand still held outwards for Anakin to take. Anakin knew he’d keep waiting for as long as it took—Obi-Wan was not short on patience or stubborn will. Eventually, with a heavy sigh, Anakin forced himself to take Obi-Wan’s offered hand and jump off the cargo crate.
Obi-Wan placed his hand on Anakin’s shoulder and gently guided him out of the cargo hold through the ship. They passed one of the crewmates along the way where Obi-Wan paused to speak to him. “Please express my apologies to the captain for the delay; I’ll be along shortly, and we can be on our way.”
The crewmate looked between Obi-Wan and Anakin questioningly, but didn’t say anything other than a simple, “Yes, sir.”
Obi-Wan had the ship’s walkway lowered, and he escorted Anakin down it to the hangar floor. There they stood, with nothing else they could do but wait for Qui-Gon to arrive.
Anakin’s stomach churned so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if his insides all turned to butter.
He wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from Qui-Gon when he arrived. Perhaps nothing at all—Qui-Gon wasn’t given to making a scene, and it wasn’t like Anakin expected to be hauled over his master’s knee right here in the hangar (he’d absolutely die if that ever happened), but he was still having trouble imagining exactly what Qui-Gon would say and do once he arrived.
Anakin had never done anything this bad before. At least not since becoming Qui-Gon’s apprentice.
The wait simultaneously was the longest and shortest time Anakin had ever waited. Long because the anxiety of facing Qui-Gon grew with each passing second, and short because before he knew it, they spotted Qui-Gon striding through the hangar. Qui-Gon looked calm as ever as he approached, his expression and body language neutral. Anakin couldn’t look at him for long; he ducked his head quickly to the hangar floor. It was a lot more scuffed than the ship’s cargo hold.
“Hello, Master,” Obi-Wan greeted.
“Obi-Wan.”
Qui-Gon’s voice was calm, too. Measured. He didn’t sound angry, but Obi-Wan had been right—Anakin absolutely did not expect Qui-Gon to be happy with him.
Qui-Gon lowered himself in front of Anakin, making it impossible to keep avoiding looking at him with their heads at the same height. Qui-Gon was a big man. Tall, with hands bigger than Anakin’s face. Anakin fidgeted where he stood, shuffling his feet and picking anxiously at his fingernails. “Um, hi, Master.”
“Anakin.”
Anakin swallowed—Qui-Gon only ever used his full name when he wanted Anakin’s immediate attention, or if he was in trouble.
He was certainly in trouble now.
Qui-Gon reached out and took Anakin’s hands in his, preventing him from picking at himself. “Would you care to explain to me exactly what is going on here?”
“Not really, Master,” Anakin mumbled honestly.
“Hm. Why is that?”
“Master?”
“Why don’t you want to say?”
Mostly because there was nothing to say that would make it any better. Anakin might have tried it before, but his earlier conversation with Obi-Wan had proven it’d be futile to try to make excuses. Anakin could only offer a shrug for an answer.
“I could ask Master Obi-Wan, but I’d rather hear it from you,” Qui-Gon said.
In light of having to face Qui-Gon personally and tell him exactly what he had schemed and set out to do, Anakin didn’t think he could do it.
“Anakin?”
“Obi-Wan can tell you.”
“I’d like you to,” Qui-Gon said gently but it was insistent. “You can take your time. Would you feel more comfortable if we continued this conversation in our quarters?”
Anakin swallowed and nodded.
“All right.” Qui-Gon stood to his full height, his large hand resting on Anakin’s shoulder as he looked over at Obi-Wan. “I apologize for the disruption of your mission, my former padawan.”
“Don’t worry about it, Master.”
“May the Force be with you.”
“And you, Master,” Obi-Wan said a bit dryly.
Qui-Gon gently squeezed Anakin’s shoulder. “Have you something to say to Master Obi-Wan, my young padawan?”
Anakin took a deep breath and raised his chin to look Obi-Wan head on. “I’m really, really sorry for messing with your mission, Obi—um, I mean, Master Obi-Wan,” he corrected quickly when Qui-Gon mildly cleared his throat. “It was wrong and dangerous, and… wrong.” He braved a peek up at his master, wondering what he was making of Anakin’s apology, but Qui-Gon’s expression remained neutral and unchanged.
“I accept your apology, Anakin. I know you didn’t mean any harm, and I trust nothing like this will happen again.”
“It won’t.” He dared another look at his master, including him in the earnest promise. “Really.”
“You remember what I told you if it does.”
Anakin’s face heated. How could he forget? “Yes, Master Obi-Wan. Um, may the Force be with you. On your mission.”
“Thank you.” Obi-Wan gave him a small smile, reaching out to muss Anakin’s hair. Anakin wrinkled his nose and tried to duck away but was unsuccessful. “You behave for Master, young brat. I’ll see you when I come back from my assignment.”
Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “Come along, Anakin.”
Anakin tried very hard not to drag his feet the entire walk back to their quarters, but it was difficult not to. If Qui-Gon noticed, he didn’t comment on it; he was quiet the entire walk, and Anakin didn’t dare say anything either. There really wasn’t much he could say.
It wasn’t long before they reached their door. Qui-Gon keyed them in, gesturing Anakin in ahead of him, and Anakin stepped inside, unsure exactly what to do or where to go.
Qui-Gon stepped in after him and he walked over to the sitting room, taking a seat on the sofa. He gestured Anakin over with a crook of his finger. Anakin shuffled his feet but didn’t dare to disobey him, well aware he was in enough trouble already. Anakin was plenty of things, but he wasn’t stupid. Even if Obi-Wan hadn’t said it outright, Anakin knew he was definitely in for a spanking. What he didn’t know was if Qui-Gon really planned to talk first, or if they were about to jump right into it.
But Anakin trusted his master, and he didn’t fear him. Fear his disappointment and losing his good favor, yes, certainly, but Anakin didn’t fear Qui-Gon himself.
When Anakin shuffled close enough to be in reach, Qui-Gon picked him up and set him down to sit on his lap. Anakin didn’t hesitate to cuddle up to him, taking the offered comfort for what it was. Qui-Gon gave the best hugs, and even though Anakin knew he was in a lot of trouble, he wasn’t about to turn it down.
“All right, little one. I want you to tell me now just what transpired today.”
“I… um… well…” Anakin hedged, and he sighed heavily when Qui-Gon simply waited for him to continue. Much like Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon had an abundance of patience; he’d wait forever if necessary. “I kind of maybe… snuckontoObi-Wan’sship.”
“Come again?”
Gulping, Anakin admitted more clearly, albeit reluctantly, “I snuck onto Obi-Wan’s ship.”
“Why?”
Anakin shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno...”
“Don’t you?” Qui-Gon countered mildly. “You can tell me, Anakin. You are in trouble, I have no doubt that you’re well aware of that, but nothing you say or do will make me think any less of you. I’d just like to understand why you made these choices today.”
Anakin pressed his cheek against Qui-Gon’s solid chest, fidgeting with the edge of his master’s outer robe. “What if you don’t like my answer?”
“What if I don’t? Do you fear I will be angry with you? Shout at you?”
Anakin immediately shook his head. Qui-Gon only shouted if he needed to be heard across a great distance, such as when they’d been running to Queen Amidala’s starship on the outskirts of Tatooine and Qui-Gon had ordered him to drop, having turned around to see the Sith lord approaching quickly from behind them. Qui-Gon would never reprimand him by shouting at him, and Anakin wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Qui-Gon angry. He wasn’t sure Qui-Gon even got angry. Displeased, disappointed, yes, but not angry.
“Then please tell me.”
“I’m… bored,” Anakin admitted with no little shame. “With my training. Everyone says it’s important, and I know I’m supposed to believe it, but… how important can it be to balance a stack of pebbles?” He pulled a face. “It doesn’t feel important, it feels like a waste. And then I heard about Obi-Wan’s mission and it sounded exciting, and… I just wanted to be a part of that.”
Qui-Gon nodded his understanding. “I see. Anakin, do you recall when I told you that the path to become a Jedi is not an easy challenge? I know that some parts of your training have come easily to you, as natural as the living Force itself, but not every part of training you encounter will be that simple. You will face challenges, and those challenges are most important to our growth as Jedi. We must be mindful of these challenges and embrace them. Without them, and without working to overcome them, we can never reach our true potential. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, Master.” It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d heard that particular lecture—he’d heard before how important it was to both be aware of one’s own shortcomings and to work to overcome them—but he hadn’t really considered that when he’d decided he’d rather stow away on Obi-Wan’s ship than face another day of balancing pebbles. All he’d really been thinking about was how fun it sounded to do something exciting for once.
But Qui-Gon was right. What kind of Jedi could he become if he never challenged himself to be better?
“I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin offered quietly, “I didn’t think about all that. I just wanted to do something that made me feel like a real Jedi for once.”
“Ah, but my young willful padawan, you are not yet a Jedi. That can be a hard fact to accept, I understand, but fact it remains. You are training, and your training is important, especially when it doesn’t seem like it. That kind of training is our most important teacher. I am disappointed that you chose to flaunt your training and tried to stow away on Obi-Wan’s assignment simply for some fun and excitement—that was dangerous, insubordinate, and incredibly naughty. I am not pleased to hear of this behavior, Anakin.”
“I know…” Heart wrenching, Anakin hung his head with chagrin. “I’m really sorry.” He peeked upwards, daring to meet Qui-Gon’s steady gaze. “I won’t do it again.”
“I should think not,” Qui-Gon said with a quirk of one eyebrow. “Not least because I am about to give you a very good reason not to.”
There was only one meaning to that particular sentence. Anakin had known it was coming, but that didn’t mean he was ready for it to happen. “Master, please, I’ve learned my lesson,” Anakin whined.
“I intend to make certain of it.”
“I’m certain,” he insisted, even as Qui-Gon picked him up off his knee to turn him over it. Apparently the time for talking was over. “Masterrr…”
It didn’t stop him in the slightest. The second Anakin was turned over Qui-Gon’s knee, those wretched tears that had been beleaguering him all day stung again at Anakin’s eyes, and this time, they spilled over, trailing down his cheeks. He sniffed hard in an attempt to keep them at bay, but it was a lost cause—there was no stopping them. As Qui-Gon bared his bottom, Anakin stretched his arms in front of him for one of the sofa pillows, and let out a whine as he realized it was too far out of reach. Qui-Gon must have noticed—his master leaned over enough to pick it up and hand it to him, and Anakin gratefully buried his face against the soft cushion, cursing his wretched emotions and his stupid plans and this awful day.
Anakin jerked at the first hard swat to his poor defenseless bottom, and despite all hope Anakin held in his heart, Qui-Gon didn’t decide the lesson was learned and stopped there; no, Qui-Gon’s firm hand fell repeatedly in a rhythm. He had such big hands that it wasn’t long before Anakin’s bottom was burning and he was certain he was never going to sit ever, ever again.
Qui-Gon didn’t lecture, allowing his hand do most of the talking for him, and as far as Anakin was concerned, it was plenty talkative. He’d be lucky if Qui-Gon’s hand never talked to him ever again—actually, he planned on it. He was never going to be naughty again, and he was never, ever going to earn another spanking. His bottom just wouldn’t survive it.
Anakin cried the whole time as his bottom was lit on fire behind him, and before long, he couldn’t stop himself from squirming and kicking his legs to try to escape the next hard spanks.
Qui-Gon slowed his pace and murmured, “Settle down, little one.”
“Hurts,” Anakin whimpered, his voice muffled against the pillow pressed against his face.
“We’re almost finished,” Qui-Gon promised. “Ten more. Take a deep breath now, and calm yourself.”
Anakin inhaled shakily, trying his best to do what his master asked of him in earnest, but it wasn’t easy. He supposed this was another one of those challenges his master had been speaking of, and Qui-Gon had been right; it was Anakin’s responsibility to work hard at overcoming them. Anakin inhaled a second time, this breath reaching further down into his lungs, and he managed to mostly still his wild flailing about to manageable levels.
Qui-Gon had promised ten more swats and, being Qui-Gon, he kept his word, delivering the final ten spanks to the lowest parts of Anakin’s bottom where he’d most certainly feel the pain of this particular lesson the next time he sat down. And then, it was finally over. Anakin’s bottom stung mightily and he sobbed his woes against the pillow as his master gently reordered his clothes, until Qui-Gon picked him up and settled him once again in his lap. Anakin flung the pillow across the sitting room floor in favor of burying his face against Qui-Gon’s broad chest. Qui-Gon hugged him tightly and rubbed his shuddering back, murmuring soft words that Anakin barely heard as he cried.
Qui-Gon didn’t rush him to calm, allowing Anakin the space and time to find his own inner peace, much like he did when they meditated together. It took a while but eventually Anakin’s cries tapered off to sniffles, and his tears dried. His eyes felt about as raw and sore as his bottom, though, and he couldn’t help wincing as he tried to rub at the soreness. Qui-Gon gently pulled his hands away from his face.
“You’ll only irritate them more. I’ll fetch you a wet cloth to press against them—it’ll help. Lay down on the sofa.”
Anakin obeyed, crawling off his master’s lap to lay down on his stomach. Qui-Gon was gone only for a few moments, coming back with both the wet cloth and the discarded sofa pillow in hand. He crouched by the sofa’s edge and Anakin turned on his side, taking the pillow in both arms to squeeze to his front.
“Close your eyes.”
Anakin did, and Qui-Gon placed the wet cloth over both of his eyes. The cold of it was very welcoming. Anakin wanted to ask if his master had any kind of clever solution for his burning bottom too, but quickly thought better of it. Qui-Gon had a sense of humor, but he probably would find that question a bit too impertinent, given the circumstances.
“Thanks, Master,” he whispered a bit shyly.
“You’re welcome, Ani.” Qui-Gon’s big hand smoothed down his hair, and his lips pressed a paternal kiss against Anakin’s head. “I’d like you to lay down for a little while now, let that cold compress work on your eyes, while I fix you something to eat. It’s nearing lunchtime.”
“Bantha-butter pancakes?”
He could hear Qui-Gon’s smile in his voice although he couldn’t see it. “I can try, but they may not be as delicious as Obi-Wan’s. You’ll have to ask him to make you some when he returns from his assignment.”
“D’you think he will?”
“He might. You’ll have to ask him.”
“I will,” Anakin promised. The second Obi-Wan got back from his mission, even if that was weeks from now. Obi-Wan’s bantha-butter pancakes weren’t the best in the galaxy, but they were certainly the best in Coruscant, and they were worth the wait. Besides, it was only fair that Obi-Wan make them, after he’d practically fed Anakin into the Sarlacc Pit with their master.
Okay, so Obi-Wan had done the responsible thing, and Anakin had definitely earned the trouble he’d been in, but…
Still.
That was all irrelevant.
Qui-Gon chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.”