Chapter Text
Once, when Obi-Wan had been about nineteen, he and Qui-Gon had been sent on a mission to Utapau. The terrain had been so rough between their landing site and the mission site, it could only be traveled by varactyl. Unfortunately, Qui-Gon had bought two young, unbroken hatchlings, and they had spent a day trying to calm the creatures long enough to just get a saddle on them. The skittish things had watched them with wild, distrusting eyes the entire journey, even with he and Qui-Gon pouring calming Force energy into their minds.
Glancing over at his new nine-year-old apprentice, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel like Qui-Gon had left another skittish, wild creature in his care to be tamed and trained, and he had no idea where to begin.
It had been easy to judge the boy when he wasn’t his responsibility. Always looking to the future, Obi-Wan could only see the difficulties the boy would have integrating into the Jedi culture, the troublesome attachments and emotions, the years of catch-up work he’d have to do, and the dangerous amount of Force concentrated into an Initiate who very likely would drop out with incomplete training, a ripe target for the Dark Side.
But now the boy was his responsibility. His apprentice. His Padawan.
And didn’t the Force just have a sense of humor.
Now all the worries he had in the past about the boy’s future were the problems he had to work through or prevent in the present. He admitted to himself that part of the reason he had been so against the boy, in the beginning, was Qui-Gon’s obvious...affection for him, not to mention the backlash Qui-Gon (and therefore he) would face for dropping this problem and immense workload on the Jedi order.
But he had ridden that half-crazed varactyl because Qui-Gon asked him to with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye, confident that his apprentice would rise to the challenge. And it might not have been fun, but Obi-Wan could grudgingly admit it had been worth it. As had many other seemingly asinine challenges Qui-Gon had thrown his way.
And Force damn it if he wasn’t going to rise to the challenge again. Because Qui-Gon asked him to.
Doubly so because it was the last request Qui-Gon had ever made of him.
The tea kettle whistled, startling Obi-Wan out of his reverie, and he turned off the burner on the small stove before pouring the hot water into the teapot. He could have just steeped his own cup of tea, but having a tea service on the table was one of Qui-Gon’s old traditions and a strange mixture of habit and nostalgia pushed Obi-Wan through the familiar motions. He had just arranged the tea tray and was preparing to take it over to the table when a soft voice chirped behind him,
“I’ll get it, Master.”
Obi-Wan whirled, not having heard or even sensed his apprentice behind him. The boy already had his hands outstretched, placing them on the sides of the tray.
“I’ve got it, Anakin, it’s rather heavy,” Obi-Wan cautioned.
“I can do it, Master, please.” Anakin lifted the tray. Obi-Wan kept his hands on the handles till he was sure his Padawan had it and then backed away.
“Very well. Thank you, Padawan.” Anakin had his back to him, but Obi-Wan smiled down at him anyway, clapping his little apprentice firmly on the shoulder.
Anakin flinched away from him, jerking his shoulders so harshly he lost his grip on the tray. Obi-Wan seemed to watch in slow motion as the tray hit the floor with a mighty crash of shattering pottery and spilled teaspoons, the teapot flying up and splashing just-boiled water over the kitchen.
Obi-Wan cried out as the water splashed over his hand, quickly turning on the faucet to run cold water over the burn and hissing at the contact.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I…” Anakin was frantic, picking up pieces of broken glass with his bare hands, heedless of the hot water soaking his tunic.
“No, Anakin, wait!” Obi-Wan reached out to pull him back from the mess, to cool the burns and get him away from the broken glass. He grabbed his shoulder to pull him back again, and Anakin cringed away from him, one arm coming up to shield his head as he huddled in a ball by the kitchen cabinets.
Obi-Wan froze. Anakin was breathing hard, shoulders shaking. Oh Force…
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” Anakin babbled. Obi-Wan shook himself. He had known Anakin was a slave, had known there would be trauma, had known the boy had a tragic and different upbringing, and he would deal with it and explain and soothe and reassure, but not right now when he was sure the boy had burns on his hands and front and stars above, there was blood dribbling down his arms and hands from the glass…
“Anakin, get up. Take your tunic off.” Obi-Wan didn’t wait to see if he was obeyed, turning and jerking open a cabinet to pull out a medical kit and then an ice pack from the freezer. But when he turned, his little apprentice was standing, back pressed against the counters, twisting his tunic in his hands in front of his bare chest that was scalded red by the hot water, head bent low.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Master, please...I’ll be better, I’ll be good. I’ll work to pay it back, please…” He choked back a sob, not daring to look Obi-Wan in the eye.
And Obi-Wan almost sobbed too as he caught a glimpse of the thin white scars crisscrossing Anakin’s shoulders and upper arms. Force, the boy had dropped a tray, had broken something, and then Obi-Wan had begun shouting at him to take off his tunic.
Had Anakin been back on Tatooine, Obi-Wan could only imagine how many more scars Anakin would have walked away from an encounter like this with.
He wanted to throw up. The boy - his Padawan - was scared out of his mind, terrified of him, ignoring his own injuries, convinced he was going to receive more. He had watched this boy face war and battle droids and the entire Jedi High Council with a bold laugh and a brash confidence, but here he was cringing away from Obi-Wan’s anger.
I haven’t earned his trust at all. Not like Qui-Gon did. Anakin trusted him immediately. But now that I’m in charge of him...
Obi-Wan knelt slowly. He would only make the situation worse by hurrying. Force, he already had. Better to go slow, even if he ached to tend to his Padawan’s injuries as soon as possible. He held out one hand in a soothing motion, the other pressed flat against the floor. He was careful to stay out of arm’s reach so as not to scare the boy anymore than he already was.
“Anakin. It’s alright. I’m not...you’re not in trouble, little one. It’s ok. I just want to treat the burn on your chest, ok? I’m...I’m not going to hurt you, Padawan. I’m just trying to help. I promise, Anakin. Can you look at me?” Obi-Wan spoke slow and soft, filling the Force with calm and soothing energy.
Anakin was still trembling, breath coming in harsh gasps.
“It’s alright, Anakin. I just need you to look at me. Can you do that for me, little one?”
Slowly, bright blue eyes came up to meet his. Anakin’s teeth were gritted in fear, but he met Obi-Wan’s gaze resolutely.
“That’s it. Thank you, Padawan.” Obi-Wan forced himself to smile at the frightened little boy. “It’s ok. It was an accident. You’re not in trouble. I promise. I’m not going to hurt you, but I am worried about that burn. Would you come here so I can treat it?”
Anakin’s eyes widened, and he shrank further against the cabinets.
“It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you, little one. I just want to make sure you’re ok. I promise. I’m a Jedi, remember? I keep my promises.” Obi-Wan didn’t stop smiling, voice low as he held out his hand. Anakin bit his lip.
“I’m sorry I dropped it,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to help you.”
“I know, Padawan. You don’t have to apologize. It was an accident. I’m sorry for startling you like that. It was very kind of you to want to help. It’s my fault the tray fell.”
Anakin’s eyes widened. “No, no, Master, I should have been…”
“Shh. It’s ok.” Obi-Wan held up a hand to stop him. “It doesn’t matter right now. What matters is you’re injured, and I would like to help. That burn looks like it must hurt very much.”
Anakin bit his lip again and shuffled over to him, eyes never leaving Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan smiled encouragingly, ignoring how his heart was squeezing painfully behind his sternum. Slowly, telegraphing his movements, he opened the medkit on the floor next to him. Anakin came to a stop just in reach of him, and Obi-Wan smiled up at him. He stayed on his knees, even bent down a little bit more, keeping a humble and vulnerable position with Anakin in power, on his feet and ready to run if he wanted to.
He pulled a tube of bacta gel and a few plasters from the medkit.
Anakin looked horrified. “No, no, Master, you don’t have to waste that on me, I’m fine! Please save it for something important, I promise you I’m ok, I can still train…”
“Padawan.” Anakin fell silent. “On Coruscant, bacta is readily available for anyone who needs it. The Temple has more than enough to treat even a paper cut. It’s like water, remember? There’s plenty here. You don’t have to feel guilty for using it. You’re injured and this will help take away the pain. Even if it was something small, you should use it. It doesn’t have anything to do with you being able to train. It’s about making sure you’re not in pain.”
“But I…,”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan spoke a little more firmly and the boy flinched, biting his lip. “It’s alright. Let me help, ok?”
Anakin nodded slowly.
Obi-Wan smiled up at him. “Good boy. Can I see your hands?”
Anakin gingerly held out his hands to Obi-Wan and the Knight carefully cleaned the cuts and burns before putting plasters over them. The burn on Anakin’s chest was more severe, and Obi-Wan slathered on the gel gently.
“Thank you, Master,” Anakin whispered.
“Of course, Padawan mine. Any time.” Obi-Wan cleared his throat before handing Anakin the ice pack. “Place that where it hurts the most, ok? Then I want you to come stand behind me while I clean up the glass.” Obi-Wan closed the medkit as he spoke.
“I can do it, Master, I…”
“I know you can, but since it’s my fault it dropped, I’ll clean it up. Besides, I don’t want you to cut yourself again. But you can put the medkit away in that cabinet by the cooling unit if you’d like.” The cabinet was behind Obi-Wan’s shoulder and out of his line of sight: another spot of safety for Anakin, even if it meant Obi-Wan would be between him and the door. Anakin nodded quickly, moving to pick up the kit. When he had moved around Obi-Wan, the Knight stood and fetched a broom from the small closet across from him, biting back a pained sigh. Later, he would deal with his emotions regarding this whole ordeal later, well after Anakin was at ease and felt safe again.
“Fetch a towel from that closet, would you, Padawan? Middle shelf.” He began rapidly sweeping up the broken glass. He knew if he didn’t get the glass up before Anakin was done, the boy would only try to help again. When Anakin held out the towel to him, Obi-Wan had the spilled tea and broken glass in the trash and was crouching to pick up the spoons and tray.
“Ah, thank you, little one.” Obi-Wan laid the broom down on the side opposite him from Anakin. “Could you put that broom back up in the closet, too?”
Anakin didn’t speak, but moved quickly to do as Obi-Wan had asked while he mopped up the water. Obi-Wan put the towel on the counter and stood slowly, walking around the breakfast bar and into the dining room so Anakin had a clear path into the common room.
“There. Everything’s alright. Thank you for your help, young one.”
“I can make you more tea,” Anakin offered, fidgeting.
Obi-Wan thought his cheeks would strain if he kept on forcing these encouraging smiles. “That’s quite alright, Anakin. Why don’t you get a new tunic?”
“Yes, master.” Anakin scooped up the wet towel on his way out, dropping it and his tunic in the hamper. He didn’t scurry, but Obi-Wan saw the stiffness in his shoulders when he had to turn his back on his master.
Obi-Wan exhaled loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. How am I supposed to do this? A few days in, and I’ve already screwed up. I’m not qualified to teach any padawan, let alone the Chosen One and one with so much trauma to heal from! He needs someone experienced in working with children, not a new reject Knight who barely scraped through his training! Force, he didn’t think he deserved bacta for a near second-degree burn…
Obi-Wan sighed again, moving to the common room and flopping on the couch. Anakin came in a moment later and Obi-Wan straightened.
“Can you come here for a moment, Padawan?”
Anakin looked up, wary fear crossing his face, but he came much more readily than before, coming to stand in front of the couch just out of reach of Obi-Wan.
“I’m really sorry, Master…” he began.
“Oh, little one. I know you’re sorry about the tray, and if it will set your mind at ease, you’re completely forgiven. It was just a cheap everyday tea service. I’ll replace it tomorrow. I know it was an accident, and you are not responsible. I know I startled you when I touched your shoulder.” Obi-Wan tried to make sure his expression was serious, but not stern or pitying. “If you would like, I will do my best to refrain from touching you. Qui-Gon used to put his hand on my shoulder quite frequently, so it felt natural to do it with you. But if you would like…”
“No, it’s ok. You just startled me, s’all.” Anakin shuffled his feet.
Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment. “Anakin, what would your mother have done had you broken something in your house?”
Anakin gulped. “She...she might have told me to be more careful and made me clean it up. But she wouldn’t have hit me, like Watto would have.”
Obi-Wan nodded. “And neither will I hit you. No matter what you do, I will never hit you because you made a mistake or did something wrong. I know you may not believe that now, but I will spend the rest of your apprenticeship proving that to you, alright?”
“Ok, Master. I knew you wouldn’t hit me like Watto. You’re a Jedi and you’re a good person. But I thought since I messed up…”
“No matter how badly you ‘mess up’ I'm not going to hit you. I may impose consequences for your actions, but it will never be physical punishment. And you will never be punished for an honest mistake or accident like dropping a tea tray. Ok?”
“Ok, Master.” Anakin smiled up at him, cautiously.
Obi-Wan breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Ok. I’m glad we got that settled.” He stopped for a moment. “And Anakin? You know what Watto did to you was wrong, right?”
Anakin nodded. “Yeah, I know. But there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”
“I know,” Obi-Wan said sadly, “and you are very brave to have withstood that. And I’m proud that you let me treat your injuries even though you were frightened. But you never have to be frightened of me, alright? Just like you never had to be frightened of your mom, yes?”
“I’m not frightened of you, Master,” Anakin said quietly.
“Well, I’m very glad to hear that.” Obi-Wan sighed again before eyeing his apprentice appraisingly. “Can I give you a hug, Anakin?”
Anakin looked at him in surprise, but nodded, coming closer and gingerly returning Obi-Wan’s gentle embrace. When Anakin didn’t pull away, Obi-Wan held him closer, and Anakin dropped his forehead against his shoulder with a shuddering little sigh.
Obi-Wan remembered at the very end of he and Qui-Gon’s stressful journey on varactyl back that his varactyl hatchling had eaten mealworms out of his hand, nudging him for more and letting him scratch under its feathers. And as he held his little apprentice who had so many reasons to be scared, but still worked hard and tried to face everything with that energetic boldness, he decided that befriending a skittish creature was actually one of the most rewarding things in life.
No matter the scrapes and burns along the way.