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A million choices, though little on their own
Became the heirloom of the heaviness we've known
You are so much more than your father's son
(Sleeping at Last, Heirloom)
31 BBY - Coruscant, Jedi Temple
Obi-Wan readjusted his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber, and waited.
There was no sound but the pounding of his heart in his ears, amped up a hundred times in the pitch darkness of the blindfold.
Only the feather-light brush of bare feet on tiles told him when the attack came – and where it came from.
He pivoted on his heels, bringing up his lightsaber in a diagonal parry, then dodged. He had no idea what he’d dodged – a kick, probably – but he wouldn’t leave unanswered a prompt from the Force.
“Yesss!” came Anakin’s voice from the stands. “Show him, Master!”
Obi-Wan barely had the time to smile before he had to bring his blade down to intercept another blow, disengaging with an Ataru backflip that brought him away from his opponent.
“Already running, Kenobi?” Quinlan taunted, charging at him across the dojo floor. “You’ve clearly lost your spine.”
Obi-Wan parried with studied sloppiness the first two blows, and when Quinlan overcommitted with a downward strike, he caught his opening, sweeping him off his feet with a mean Force push.
“And you seem to have lost your ‘saber,” Obi-Wan said, stretching out his free hand to catch Quinlan’s weapon, his voice barely audible over Anakin’s cheering. “And the match.”
“Kriff you, Kenobi,” Quinlan groaned.
“Language,” Obi-Wan chided automatically, hanging his powered-down lightsaber at his belt so that he could take off the blindfold.
When he did, he did a double take.
“That was impressive, Knight Kenobi,” said Master Windu, flashing him a terrifying smile.
Obi-Wan bowed immediately, hoping he’d fastened his obi over his tunics tight enough to hide the flush in his neck.
“Thank you, Master Windu.”
He straightened his back and glanced up at Anakin, who had stopped cheering and was eyeing the Master of the Order with his usual mixture of fear, expectation, and mild distrust, but Mace Windu was already ignoring both of them. He closed the dojo door behind him with a flick of his wrist and addressed Quinlan.
“Knight Vos, Tholme has made contact.”
Quinlan took a step back. “Already? We weren’t expecting him for two more weeks at the very least.”
“I know,” Master Windu said with a grimace. “That’s why I came here instead of summoning you to the Council Chamber. You’ll need a partner for this mission, Vos.”
“Obi-Wan,” Quinlan said without hesitation. “He’s good at undercover missions, he’s a great shot, and a better liar.”
Obi-Wan wasn’t really sure that the latter was a compliment on his character, but he wasn’t going to say as much in front of Master Windu. He simply shook his head instead.
“I can’t, Quin. Master. Anakin had a breakthrough in his understanding of meditation last week, and we need to press on the advantage. I don’t want to set him back again by leaving.”
He had spoken in a mild tone, but he had the sneaky suspicion he hadn’t been able to fully hide the longing in his voice.
In the year since he’d become a Knight, if one didn’t count the disaster on To-San two months into Anakin’s apprentice and a half-entertaining mission to Malastare – which, while boring in itself, had at least involved a speeder chase across the planet’s desert – he’d been either bogged down at the Temple with Anakin’s coursework or sent to the most uninspiring missions recorded in the annals of the Jedi Order.
It was the inevitable downside of having a ten-year-old as a Padawan.
Quinlan was about to retort, but stopped himself after glancing at the stands.
“Fine,” he said dryly. “I’ll ask Tachi if she’s amenable.”
“Siri’s never amenable,” Obi-Wan said reflexively, before remembering that Master Windu was still there.
“To adventure? You can bet she is.”
Which was likely true. It still didn’t help with Obi-Wan’s envy.
“We’ll see about that,” Master Windu said evasively. “Knight Kenobi, can I have a word? In private,” he added, shooting a look at Anakin.
“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, his mind scrambling to understand what he could possibly have done wrong. “Anakin, go to the padawan dojo and train with the remote I showed you earlier.”
Anakin, who hated being excluded from conversations but loved saberwork with a passion even Obi-Wan found bordering on alarming, was torn for a moment before his face split into a grin. “The one with the rotary blaster?”
“The one with the rotary blaster,” Obi-Wan confirmed, but Anakin was already halfway out the door.
“Eager,” Master Windu commented.
“Yes,” Obi-Wan said cautiously. “And promising.”
“So I was told.”
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure whether he wanted to – or ought to – further pursue that line of conversation, but apparently Master Windu wanted to talk about something else.
“I don’t like seeing your talents squandered,” he said. “You didn’t have time to grow into your own before Skywalker was thrust into your care.”
“I agree,” Quinlan said. “I can’t believe you’ve spent an entire year either teaching basic shii-cho or escorting priests to watch the full moon.”
“Well, that was certainly beautiful to see,” Obi-Wan said mildly.
“And a total waste of your abilities,” Master Windu said. “It’s the kind of mission we usually reserve for elderly Masters with very young Padawans. For your first apprentice, we would have advised you to take on someone older, twelve or thirteen.”
Obi-Wan felt a rivulet of sweat run down between his shoulder blades.
“I don't understand. Anakin is thriving – I mean, I'm not a Master, but he's exceeding every–”
“I'm not talking about Skywalker,” Master Windu said gently. “I'm talking about you, Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan wanted to repeat that he didn’t understand, but he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of the Master of the Order, so he just stared.
Which probably made him look like a fool all the same.
“I’ll leave you to it, Master Windu,” Quinlan said with a laugh. “Obi-Wan.”
When the door slid shut behind him, Master Windu frowned at him. “The Jedi Order takes care of all its own, Obi-Wan. Not just the children.”
“I know, Master,” Obi-Wan said quietly; he was beginning to believe he knew where this was going. “I don’t need to be taken care of. I mean, I’m already being cared for.”
“Are you, Obi-Wan? By whom?”
For a startled moment, Obi-Wan remembered just how close his own Master had been with Mace Windu. It wasn’t surprising in the least. Apparently, they’d been cut from the same cloth – or was it just that all Jedi eventually became like that?
A vision of himself talking to Anakin like this in a few years flashed in his mind, and he had to stifle a laugh at the image of the face Anakin would inevitably make.
“Obi-Wan?”
“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said quickly. “I was just surprised. The whole Order is taking care of me, I suppose.”
“A very Jedi answer,” Master Windu said with the approximation of a smile. “But I’m not asking the Knight. I’m asking the man.”
Obi-Wan frowned. What was this, a test? “The man and the Knight are one and the same,” he said slowly.
Master Windu waved one hand dismissively. “Only most of the time, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan was fairly certain he’d lost track of this conversation before it even began; while he didn’t particularly enjoy being blunt to his superiors, he enjoyed even less feeling wrong-footed in conversation.
“Master Windu, forgive me for my presumption. What are you trying to ask me?”
This time, the Master’s smile was genuine.
“I don’t think I need to remind you of how exceptional the circumstances surrounding your Knighting and Skywalker’s apprenticeship were.”
“No,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “I am fully aware, Master.”
“I thought so. You have adjusted remarkably well, Kenobi, but you have skipped your Knighthood. It’s a fundamental stage in the growth of a Jedi Knight, and you–”
“Master, with all due respect. I gave Qui-Gon my word.”
At this, Master Windu did something Obi-Wan had never seen him do in the twenty-five years since he’d known him.
He sighed.
“Force protects us. I thought you’d escaped the curse of your lineage, Kenobi, but apparently Qui-Gon managed to rub off on you, too.”
“I–what?”
“You’re stubborn, Kenobi. Stubborn as Yoda, and Dooku, and as stubborn as your Master. You gave Qui-Gon Jinn your word that you would see Skywalker trained. He is being trained. If the Force wills it, Anakin Skywalker will become a Jedi Knight.”
“I promised Qui-Gon I would train him,” Obi-Wan said, perhaps indeed a little stubbornly. “He explicitly made me promise that. And I’m not going to renounce my padawan to go off on an adventure with my childhood friends.”
“When did I ever ask you to renounce Skywalker?” Master Windu snapped, now clearly irritated. “Kenobi, stop talking past me and listen to what I’m saying, or I’ll demote you to padawan before you can say Sith.”
Obi-Wan winced. He hadn’t been reprimanded like this possibly in years.
“I’m listening, Master.”
“Good.” Scooting his robe away from behind him, Master Windu sat down on the first row of stands. “Take a seat, Kenobi.”
Blinking, Obi-Wan sat beside him.
“What are you proposing, Master?”
“Let’s start from why I am proposing this. Being a Knight and being a Master are not the same thing. You are trying to teach Skywalker how to be a Knight without having ever been one yourself.”
That made Obi-Wan wince. He had never thought of it in quite those terms. But that meant…
He bowed his head, defeated. “I know. Most of the time, when Anakin asks me something, I have to think about what Qui-Gon would say. I'm imparting him second-hand wisdom, not my own.”
To Obi-Wan's surprise, Master Windu shrugged. “That’s just the reality of being a new teacher. You learn by doing, and to start doing you have to imitate what you watched others do. That's not the problem.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Kenobi, please, figure it out. You are smarter than this.”
Obi-Wan knew he was being baited, but he couldn't help rising to the bait. There were many insults to his character he could accept evenly, and slowness of wit was not one of them.
“I can teach like Qui-Gon did,” he said slowly. “I can’t be who Qui-Gon was.”
Master Windu’s pleased nod warmed the Force. “Exactly. The Order doesn’t need one Knight and a half, Kenobi. In twelve, fifteen years’ time, we’ll need a full Knight and a full Master. For this to happen, you have to become a Knight first. You owe it to the Order, to Skywalker, and to yourself. And also, if I may, to Qui-Gon’s memory.”
Obi-Wan took a long breath.
“What do I have to do, Master?”
“My suggestion – and it’s a suggestion, not an order – is that we ease Skywalker back into one of the Initiate clans, and that you resume his training in a few years, when the boy is twelve or thirteen. And in the meantime, you figure out who Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is.”
“No,” Obi-Wan said immediately, only vaguely realizing he was openly contradicting the Master of the Order. “Anakin–”
“Doesn’t need to know,” Master Windu said. “I can’t claim to know Skywalker well, but I know enough. We won’t be taking his Master away after he lost his mother and Qui-Gon. Precocious as he may be, the boy is still ten. That is why I said we’ll ease him.”
“He won’t understand,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Master, he is trying, he really is, but he doesn’t think like an Initiate – like a Jedi. Not yet.”
“The boy isn’t dense, Obi-Wan. We can frame it in a way he’ll understand. He needs time with his peers – and so do you.”
Obi-Wan curled his fists against his thighs. What Master Windu was suggesting–
“I’m not asking you to decide now,” Master Windu said, getting to his feet. “I’m asking you to think about it. Also, I’m asking you to go with Vos to Oba Diah – and that’s not a suggestion, Kenobi. It’s an order.”
“But Anakin's meditation–”
“I think,” Master Windu said with a flash of teeth, “that I'm more than capable of picking up where you left.”
*
“How come—” Obi-Wan parried a bolt, sending it straight back into the Pyke’s blaster. “—every mission with you—” He vaulted over a speeder as another volley flashed past, and crouched behind it to take cover. “—turns out like this?”
“Do you mean,” Quinlan retorted, sending a trash bin careening into two of the Pykes closing up on them, “why are all my missions fun?”
He came to crouch beside Obi-Wan and peeked up over the canopy.
“Blast it. There are still five of them.”
Obi-Wan sighed. “You should really review your definition of fun.”
“Well, if you’d rather nurse Chandrilan priests in dentures—”
“You should try it, you know, seeing that you are clearly not cut for this line of work,” Obi-Wan snapped, then, without waiting to hear Quinlan’s reply, jumped to land with his splayed feet on the speeder canopy, which creaked under his weight.
Immediately the five Pykes focused their fire on him.
The first fell under Obi-Wan’s deflected bolts, most of which actually ricocheted into the speeder; the second lasted a little longer, just in time to see two of his remaining comrades being pushed against a wall with the Force. The fifth decided to beat it, and Obi-Wan caught him in the back of his head with the butt of his discarded blaster.
“Boring,” he said, powering off his lightsaber as he jumped down the speeder.
“Showoff.”
“Well, at least I have something to show.”
*
“...and then he hit the poor guy square in the back of the head with his own discarded blaster.”
Tholme barked out another laugh, and Obi-Wan had to hide his pleased grin into his ale.
“Admit it, Kenobi—”
“—that was fun,” Obi-Wan concluded. He chugged down another generous sip of his drink, sighing at the pleasant bitter tang, and put down the glass on the table. “I missed fieldwork.”
“You mean, you missed blasting people out of your way.”
“I didn’t blast anyone,” Obi-Wan replied primly. “You heard the medics, the most grievously wounded of them will be up and about in a week.”
“I’m afraid to inform you that sending people into a bacta tank for a week qualifies as blasting them,” Tholme said gravely, which made Obi-Wan chuckle.
“I’ll defer to your wisdom, Master. In my defense, they were clearly shooting to—”
“Jedi.”
The three Jedi turned as one. The newcomer was a handsome Zeltron man in his thirties, with sleek purple hair gathered in a bun at the top of his head, dressed in a full-body suit of pale yellow synthsilk.
Smiling dryly, he slid into an empty booth, resting his ringed hands on the table.
“Congratulations on a job well done, Master Jedi,” the man said. “You positively put Lom Pyke with his back against a wall.”
Obi-Wan almost stiffened. Beside him, both Tholme and Quinlan seemed to relax, which meant they were alarmed.
“Our intervention was legal,” Tholme said calmly. “Roj Karn and his associates had stolen classified Republic intelligence, and our treaty with the Syndicate allows us to freely pursue this kind of crime on Oba Diahn sole.”
“But it doesn’t allow the wanton destruction of private property, I hope,” the man said lightly, then turned to Obi-Wan. “That speeder you used as a shooting bench was worth more than your Jedi starship, and now it’s just a pretty metal scrap.”
“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan said, answering the smile in kind. “It was either me or the speeder; I’m sure you’ll understand my predicament.”
“I most certainly do. I'm also certain you'll understand mine, when I'm asked to pay next month’s loan for a speeder I no longer have.”
Obi-Wan had to call on all his training not to roll his eyes. “I have no doubts someone as clearly smart as you are will have his luxury speeder insured.”
The man gave him a toothy smile.
“Of course. For some reason, though, my insurance doesn't appear to cover firefights, and lightsaber damage and blaster bolts are very clearly outside the purview of vandalism. I checked.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Obi-Wan said airily, which gained him a kick in his shin from Quinlan.
“You will be if I don't get my refund,” the man said, still smiling. “I am not taking shit from your cult of pretty sword swingers.”
“There's no need to be petty,” Obi-Wan said with a grin, fueled by the mental image of himself punching this smug man in the face. “I am not your enemy, nor can I refund you. A Jedi shall have no possession, and all I've got is the clothes on me and my lightsaber.”
“Your Order is rich—”
“—and you have no idea of the paperwork involved in getting funds.” Obi-Wan leaned over, resting one hand over the man's wrist. “My dear friend, let's focus on who the real enemy is.”
*
The holovid from the street security camera was grainy, and Obi-Wan was glad to confirm his hope that his face wasn't recognizable from under his borrowed hoodie as he shoved the Zeltron out of the club door, sending him stumbling on the walkway. The man charged at him again, but Obi-Wan sidestepped him, and backed away towards the speeder, whose damage wasn't really visible in the low res.
As the man advanced on him again, Obi-Wan quickly took a plasma knife out of his pocket and cut straight through an utility pole, sending it crashing down straight onto the speeder.
The video ended with the man digging his hands into his hair as he stared at his destroyed vehicle, Obi-Wan quickly disappearing from the frame with his hood still pushed down over his face.
Feeling his cheeks burn, Obi-Wan raised his gaze to meet the Council’s faces.
“So. Let me get this straight,” Master Windu said. “You impersonated a civilian, staged a drunken brawl, destroyed civic infrastructure and a private speeder to help a syndicate executive commit insurance fraud?”
Quinlan sniggering beside him wasn't helping.
“You see, Masters, the insurance wasn't going to pay him back for the damage caused by our fight with the Pykes. We either needed to pass it off as vandalism, or pay him back with Temple funds, which, given the non totally sanctioned nature of the mission, wasn't ideal. Since that specific insurance company is owned by Tan Pyke, Lom's younger brother, I thought I could pull it off with my conscience clear.”
“Approved of this, Qui-Gon Jinn would have,” Yoda said, his eyes sparkling.
“Which means that the Council does not approve,” Mace added dryly.
“In Obi-Wan’s defense, this fellow had gotten our ship impounded, and we needed to wrap the mission up,” Tholme said. “His plan, while perhaps not completely ethical, did speed up the resolution.”
“And Oba Diah isn't in the Republic, so technically no Republic law was broken,” Quinlan supplied with a smirk.
Once again, Obi-Wan partook in the sight of Mace Windu sighing.
“Very well. Kenobi, we’ll let this slide for this time, but in the future try and exercise more restraint. And not a word to your padawan,” he added sternly. “From what I’ve learned over this fortnight, his idea of problem solving is alarming enough as it is. He doesn’t need full exposure to the Jinn lineage yet.”
At this, Obi-Wan could only grin.
*
“I am really sorry, Master Quinlan.”
Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up, and he turned in time to see Anakin’s pitying expression and Quinlan’s utter confusion.
“Master Obi-Wan told me your mission was sooo boring,” Anakin said, shaking his head. “Even more boring than the one with the Chandrilan priests. At least the moon was nice.”
Obi-Wan looked down at his datapad in utter concentration, trying hard not to laugh at Quinlan’s scathing gaze.
“Well, padawan, apparently not all the undercover missions to recover stolen intelligence can be exciting,” Quinlan said dryly.
“But it sounded cool. I was so upset you didn’t take me with you, but now I’m glad. Master Garen took me to the starship museum!”
“What do I always tell you, padawan? Appearances can be deceiving,” Obi-Wan said, offering Quinlan his best innocent smile.
Quinlan snorted. “Indeed.”
*
The pale light of summer dawn filtered through the shutters of their shared common room, accompanied by the remnants of the cool night breeze and the chirping of the morning birds from the garden below.
The pit-pat of bare feet on wood made Obi-Wan lift his gaze from his datapad and the list of missions open for claim he had been studying.
The door to Anakin’s bedroom hissed open, and he appeared in the doorway, his hair in spiked tufts and his cream pajamas askew. He was pressing one small fist to his eyes, yawning.
“What is it, Anakin?”
Anakin sniffled, then crossed the common room to drop down on the meditation mat opposite Obi-Wan. His eyes were red and puffy, and there was snot under his nose.
“What did you see?”
Anakin sniffled again.
“Padawan.”
“Naboo. It was you.”
Obi-Wan’s heart clenched in his chest.
“You hadn’t dreamt that in months.”
Anakin shook his head.
“Master Windu told me you had problems meditating with him.”
When Anakin nodded, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.
“Did a loth cat eat your tongue? Speak, padawan.”
“He scares me,” Anakin said, the words blurted out clearly against his will.
“I know Master Windu is imposing, and sometimes difficult to understand, but he is very kind, Anakin.”
“I know,” Anakin said, looking away. “I can… feel it in the Force. But he still scares me. It’s like — it’s like he’s always judging me. Like he did the first time I came here.”
“He is trying to understand you, padawan.”
“You were trying, too, but you didn’t scare me,” Anakin said, pouting, which made Obi-Wan laugh.
“That’s probably because I haven’t been a Jedi Master for twenty years. I stopped being a padawan the same day I became your Master.”
“You knew how I felt.”
At this, Obi-Wan could only nod.
“Let us meditate, padawan.”
Grimacing, Anakin rested his hands on his knees and closed his eyes.
Before mirroring his position, Obi-Wan fished out a handkerchief from the pockets of his robe and wiped under Anakin’s nose, which made him wince in mortification.
“Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out — yes, very good. Now reach out.”
When he felt Anakin open up tentatively, Obi-Wan mirrored him, reaching out to the boy’s still shaky mental walls. They were tighter than they had been the last time, probably the remains of Anakin’s unconscious defense against Mace’s probing.
“Let your shields down, padawan,” Obi-Wan murmured. “Just a little.”
Sweat beaded on Anakin’s small forehead, matting his short hair to his temples.
“I won’t look into the nightmare, Anakin. Not today. But you have to let your shields down so that you can let it go into the Force.”
“But it hurts.”
“I know it does. But it’s like pulling teeth. You’ll feel better in the end.”
“They give you bacta before they pull your teeth.”
“Unfortunately, they still have to discover bacta for the soul,” Obi-Wan said, chuckling, which pulled them both definitely out of their trance. “Now focus, padawan, and let’s start again.”
“Yes, Master.”
*
Obi-Wan found Master Windu in the Room of a Thousand Fountains when the bright daylight was just about to turn orange gold.
He was sitting with his back against a beautiful galek tree, its silver leaves twinkling softly in the artificial breeze.
“So. Have you come up with an answer?”
Obi-Wan nodded.
“I have, Master.”
“Good. Sit down.”
Obi-Wan did as he was told, crossing his legs on the grass in front of the Master.
“I do miss fieldwork—” he began.
“So it’s a no,” Master Windu said, looking resigned. “I owe tea to Yoda.”
Obi-Wan blinked. “Did you and Master Yoda—”
“Of course Yoda wouldn’t let a chance to bet on his lineage’s stubbornness pass,” Master Windu said dryly. “You were right, by the way. Skywalker was set back by your departure.”
“We managed to regain some ground,” Obi-Wan said, which earned him a surprised brow. “But that is not the reason.”
“What is it, then, Knight Kenobi?”
Obi-Wan cleared his throat, hoping it would help keep his voice straight. “You told me I need to know who Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is. I don’t know yet, and I agree that this is unusual for a Knight with a Padawan, but Anakin’s apprenticeship is unusual anyway. There is one thing I know, though.” At this, he couldn’t help smiling. “Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi enjoys teaching more than he enjoys blasting Pykes. Or committing insurance fraud, for that matters.”
The glint in Master Windu’s eye only made Obi-Wan’s smile widen, but it was fleeting.
“I do wish things were different, Master,” he said, and meant it. “Not just about Qui-Gon, that is both obvious and absurd. I wish I had more time to figure out who I am as a Jedi Knight. I wish Anakin had a more experienced Master. I really wish I could take up your offer. But I don’t think that is the path the Force put before me.”
Master Windu nodded. “What is your path, then?”
“You were right. I can’t keep doing easy missions — escort missions, ceremonies and the likes. I am not learning, and Anakin is precocious enough that he can afford to skip a few steps,” Obi-Wan said slowly. He knew that this was the moment when he had to play his hand well. He offered the Master of the Order his best innocent smile, all dimples and teeth. “I’ll ask the Council to assign me and my padawan to the negotiation division," he said. “Anakin is old enough, or will soon be, and, well, it turns out I can negotiate. Effectively.”
Master Windu stared at him for a moment, apparently at a loss for words, and it took Obi-Wan all he had not to shrivel under his gaze.
Then, all of a sudden, he threw his head back and laughed.
“You, Kenobi, are doing your Master proud.”
His shoulders slumping, Obi-Wan let out a laugh of his own. “I strive to.”
Only when Master Windu had stopped laughing, did Obi-Wan gather the courage to ask one last question that had been tormenting him over the last weeks.
“Master, if I may… Why offer me this now? Why not last year, before Anakin officially became my apprentice?”
Master Windu rolled his eyes. “Of all the questions, Kenobi. Try and imagine it for a moment. What would you have answered last year? And, most of all, would you even have stopped to actually think about it?”
Obi-Wan pretended to think it over just to avoid answering embarrassingly fast.
“I suppose not.”
“And that’s because you are—”
“—stubborn,” Obi-Wan concluded, and shrugged.