Work Text:
Obi-Wan sat at the table, frowning as he reviewed his padawan's most recent assignment. A delicious smell wafted from the kitchen where said padawan was finishing up dinner. His stomach growled, and he smiled a little. He hadn't asked the small boy to start cooking; Anakin had simply taken over the chore, cooking every meal since he'd arrived at the Temple. Thankfully, he'd proven to be quite the cook, which Obi-Wan was glad of, mainly due to his own subpar efforts in the kitchen. He'd certainly have tried to feed the child sustainable meals if he'd had no other option, but since Anakin hadn't seemed to mind cooking at all, the new knight had gladly let him take over the kitchen.
Speaking of which . . . he looked up and smiled as his padawan came triumphantly from the kitchen with a large platter in his hands. "I call it bounty-hunter's casserole!" he announced eagerly. A little too eagerly. Obi-Wan jumped up, startled, as the boy tripped and came crashing down with the whole platter. The dish shattered into a thousand fragments on the floor and the steaming hot food went flying everywhere.
"Anakin-"
"I'm sorry!" The boy scrambled to his knees, shaking. "I'm sorry, master! I'm really sorry. I'll clean it all up, honest!" Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he fruitlessly scraped the mess together with his hands.
"Anakin, stop," Obi-Wan urged, concerned over his padawan's outburst. He seemed terrified. He reached out to pull the boy's shoulders back, but Anakin flinched violently.
"Please! Don't - don't hurt me," he whimpered. "I'm s-s-sorry . . . I'll clean it! See? I-I'm cleaning it."
Obi-Wan stopped. "Hurt you?" he asked carefully. "Anakin." The boy continued to frantically attempt to scoop the mess up into one pile, shaking, his terror emanating blindingly through the force. "Anakin, stop." He knelt down in front of the child and grasped the little hands in his own. "You're getting glass in your hands, little one."
Anakin, shaking, stared at him uncomprehendingly. "I - I'm cleaning -"
"Shhhh," Obi-Wan soothed. "It's okay, youngling. I'm more worried about you."
"I- you - why?" Anakin whimpered. "It's not serious."
Something in Obi-Wan's heart shattered. This child was so used to abuse that he didn't even mind the cuts all along his hands and knees from the glass shards or the evident red patches on his skin where the food had burned him. He pulled the small boy into an embrace. "Because I care about you, Anakin," he offered.
The boy looked at him tearfully. "M-master?"
"Yes, young one?"
Anakin sniffed. "I - aren't you about to punish me?"
"Oh, Anakin," the young knight sighed. "No. I'm not going to hurt you."
"You're not gonna whip me?"
Force, was the kid trying to break his heart? "No, Anakin. Never. I'm never going to whip you." Anakin said nothing; he just sat there trembling in his master's arms.
"The masters on Tatooine always whipped me when I messed up," Anakin confided. "One time, when I was really small, I couldn't find a part Watto told me to, so he tied my hands to the post outside and whipped me until I passed out. There was a lot of blood," he continued, quietly.
Obi-Wan's heart clenched in rage and sadness. "Anakin - I . . . how old were you when he did that, young one?"
"Probably around five or six," the boy answered.
Obi-Wan couldn't imagine what kind of person did that to a child. What monster could torture a child . . . his child . . . over something so small? "Let me help you," Obi-Wan said after a long silence.
"Help me?" Anakin asked in a small voice. "W - with what, master?"
"Your hands, little one," Obi-Wan reminded him gently. "And your knees. You appear to have cut yourself on the glass."
"I - oh," Anakin looked at his hands absently. "That's no big deal, master. I - I can clean the mess up now," he offered.
"Not until I take care of you, first," the knight insisted. "Anytime you are hurt, it's a big deal to me, young one."
"Oh." Anakin didn't protest as his master sat him on the bathroom counter and slowly picked the glass out of his hands and knees and wrapped them in bacta patches. He didn't say a word, watching silently as his master worked. Finally, Obi-Wan looked up.
"How's that, little one?"
Anakin tentatively wiggled his fingers. "I - a lot better, master," he admitted. "Thank you." He stared at the floor in silence.
Obi-Wan sighed. "I know what it's like, Anakin," he said quietly.
Anakin looked confused. "What what's like?"
"I - not to the extent you know it, of course, but," Obi-Wan struggled to get the words out. He hadn't thought about it in years, but for some reason, it felt important that he told Anakin. "I know what it's like to be alone," he whispered. "To feel completely alone in the world and unsure of whether or not you'll make it as a Jedi."
Anakin's eyes widened in shock. "Really? But - how? Did - didn't Master Qui-Gon help you?"
Obi-Wan smiled wistfully. "No . . . on the contrary, he was a big part of why I almost left the Order," he admitted.
"What?!?" Anakin spluttered. "But - but why???"
Obi-Wan pulled Anakin into his lap. "I was young, Anakin. I was upset with Master Qui-Gon. He didn't seem to understand me, and he always seemed focused on something other than me. One day, we were supposed to go on a mission to a planet, but he didn't show up. I'd had enough, so I went by myself. I - I almost didn't come back."
Anakin stared at him for a moment before wrapping him in a tight hug. "I'm glad you did come back," he whispered.
Obi-Wan smiled. "Me, too, young one."
"And you don't gotta be alone no more," the boy offered earnestly. "I'm here now. I'm never gonna leave you."
"Any more," Obi-Wan corrected. "And - thank you, young one. I'm - that means a lot." He smiled. "Now, what do you say we go to Dex's for dinner?"
Anakin's face lit up. "Really?!? Can I get a milkshake?"
Obi-Wan chuckled. "Of course, young one. Let's go."