Star Wars work in progress You Became to Me

[polgarawolf]

Forty-third part of a WIP
Title: You Became to Me (as suggested by avari_maethor)
*Pairing: Mainly Anakin/Obi-Wan with some mention of Padmé
Rating: Back to PG-13ish (?)
Disclaimer: Same as previous ones.
Summary: Same as previous ones.
*Author’s Note: 1) Again, please see most of the previous notes - including the one about comments not seeming to match the contents of entries, since I've been doing some rather extensive editing again!
2) Please recall that lengthy italicized passages signify memories.


For once, there’s no transition between sleeping and waking. In one moment, he was still asleep, and only a heartbeat later he finds himself wide awake, lying in huge and unfamiliar bed and with the feel of a hand - large, at least in comparison to him, and calloused too but oddly light, the touch oddly delicate - on his head, smoothing back his hair. His entire body yearns up towards that gentle touch and he finds his eyes have opened even without him having to tell them to do it, giving him the sight of a pale and solemn faced Obi-Wan Kenobi, perched on the edge of the bed Anakin is lying in (having apparently been carried to it and tucked in, by somebody, at some point after he’d fallen asleep, even though the last thing he can remember is holding on to Obi-Wan just as tight as he could, so he couldn’t lose him, too, and crying with Master Obi-Wan - and is Obi-Wan an orphan, now, since he’s lost his Master? Since they’ve lost Master Qui-Gon, does that make them both war orphans? - about Master Qui-Gon’s death) and leaning over him, his left hand resting on the mattress between them and his right hand still smoothing absently over his hair, his fingers combing through the longer strands of hair on top, almost as though measuring them for something. "Ah. There you are, Anakin. You’ve slept for well over two days, now. Milady Sabé was concerned, when she could not wake you. I think perhaps I may have told you to sleep with a bit more Force than I intended," Obi-Wan quietly notes in a sad, beautiful voice, giving Anakin a small, tired smile as his thumb strokes idly across Anakin’s forehead, the soft, absent-minded touch making him move his whole head up towards Obi-Wan’s hand, trying to press himself more firmly up against it. "I am sorry to have left you to sleep for so long, but I fear I believed Queen Amidala without reserve when she said that she and her handmaids could see to your care, and between seeing to it that the blockade has been properly dismantled, in the wake of the Viceroy’s capture, and that the mission report has been sent back to the Temple and the incoming ship from Coruscant has been directly properly, I’m afraid that I haven’t had time, before now, to check on you. And apparently, between seeing to it that the various prisoners have all been freed and that the regular dispersal of food has been reinstated to all of the outlying areas, milady Padmé and her handmaidens have all been kept so busy that no one had a chance to notice, before now, that you had not woken, yet. Are you feeling all right now, young one?"

"Yessir, Master Obi-Wan, Sir, but - but Master Qui-Gon - " Anakin begins hesitantly, unsure how to ask but needing to make sure that he is remembering what happened correctly.

Obi-Wan seems to sense his confusion. In any case, he gives a small, tired sounding sigh and then directs another small and somehow distracted smile at Anakin before he cuts him off, his voice very gentle as he tells him, "I am sorry, Anakin. I wish I could tell you that what you remember is nothing more than a horrible nightmare. But I can’t tell you that. Grand Master Yoda and his recently appointed second-in-command on the High Council, Master Mace Windu, have both come to Naboo, themselves, to grace us with their presence during the funeral rites. Those will be held tomorrow, in accordance with the traditions of the Jedi Order. You may attend with Queen Amidala and her handmaidens, or else you may come with me, if you wish."

"I want to come with you, please," Anakin immediately declares, reaching out and taking Obi-Wan’s left hand so that he’ll know, without a doubt, that Anakin is sure.

Obi-Wan startles a little, as if he’s not used to be touched - something that Anakin has noticed him doing a couple of times before now, come to think of it - but doesn’t quite pull away from him. With another small, sad smile, he tells him, "Well, then we will need to see that you are ready for company, won’t we? Come along, please, young one."

"Where are we going, Master Obi-Wan, Sir?" Anakin asks cautiously as he lets Obi-Wan’s left hand (which he is still holding onto securely) tug him up into a sitting position on the bed, the unfamiliar soft white sheets rustling and giving off a faint and sweet but unfamiliar smell as he moves around in them.

"I took the liberty of passing along one of my own changes of clothing and one of your changes of clothing to the Queen’s tailors, so there will be no need for you to stand for a fitting. Your new clothes should be ready for you before the day is out. But your hair, young one, is another thing entirely. I am afraid that it is much too long and is in need of a thorough clipping," Obi-Wan explains patiently, his manner still oddly gentle, but distant, as though he isn’t really all there and so doesn’t know that the person he’s speaking to so gently is Anakin Skywalker.

With a slight frown, Anakin asks, "Too long for what?" hoping that the blunt question will startle Obi-Wan enough to wake him the rest of the way up, so that he’ll be all here when he’s talking to Anakin and won’t be able to say, later, that he’s changed his mind about anything that he might tell Anakin now, like about how Anakin will be able to come to Master Qui-Gon’s funeral tomorrow with him, since he wasn’t all the way here, really, when he told him that.

But Obi-Wan only smiles at him again in a tired and distant sort of way, his eyes dark and not quite focused on him as he tells Anakin, "It’s simply too long, altogether, young one. Come along, now. The day is already hastening away, and I’m sure you’ll be wanting something to eat before we can see about your hair, won’t you?" Anakin’s stomach answers him with a loud and protracted rumble before Anakin can even get his mouth open to reply, startling a brief look of genuine amusement from Obi-Wan before his eyes go all distant and dark again, a lot of the blue in them fading away in a cold dark gray color. "I believe that settles it, youngling. Food first, for you, and then we shall see to your hair. Your clothes are laid out on the trunk at the foot of the bed. I am going to go ask about getting you a meal. It shouldn’t take but a moment. I will be right back. Will you be all right alone?"

Too embarrassed to admit that he doesn’t want Obi-Wan to leave him, even for only a couple of minutes, Anakin ducks his head and reluctantly nods.

It takes more than a few minutes, of course. Anakin wriggles out of his sleeping clothes (wondering, idly, who managed to get him into them, when he was asleep and couldn’t help) and gets himself dressed, finds the ’fresher off to the side of the room and takes advantage of it (even managing to find some paste so he can clean his teeth and get rid of the icky taste in his mouth from having slept for so long), goes back out into the big bedroom to struggle awhile with the huge and unfamiliar bedclothes, trying to make the bed up all nice and neat again to show his appreciation for being lent such a good, soft bed to sleep in, fusses over it for a bit longer than necessary, and then finally gives up on it and goes over to open the main door, pulling on the old-fashioned doorknob so that it’ll move just enough for him to poke his head around the edge of it, taking a cautious peak, first, to see what’s there (and whether or not Master Obi-Wan might be waiting for him on the other side of the door and is just being polite and giving him a chance to get dressed). Master Obi-Wan is there, though he is standing about halfway across the room and has his back mostly to the door, and so is Padmé! Anakin is about to dash out to see her, happy to see her and certain that she feels bad about forgetting about him and so has finally come to visit, when he notices something.

Padmé is standing really, really close to Master Obi-Wan, and she has her right hand on his arm, like she’s afraid that if she doesn’t hold on to him, he might turn and run away from her. And Master Obi-Wan does not look happy about it. In fact, he looks about as far from happy as Anakin has seen him look since just before they left the Jedi Temple to escort Queen Amidala (only it ended up being Padmé, and he’s still not too sure he understands how that could be or why she didn’t tell them about it earlier - though come to think of it, neither Master Qui-Gon nor Master Obi-Wan had seemed particularly surprised, when she had finally admitted who she was. Huh. That’s kind of strange) back to Naboo. They’re standing at an angle to the door, so Anakin can see part of both of their faces. Master Obi-Wan is standing very straight and very still and Anakin can almost see the words "Don’t Touch Me" writ in the severe angle of his spine and the squareness of his shoulders. Anakin is certain that only Master Obi-Wan’s good manners are keeping him from lifting Padmé’s hand up off of his arm and dropping it away from him. His face is very white, and very hard, and very cold, and what Anakin can see of his eyes are a gray so pale that they are almost scary, they’re so colorless. Padmé is looking up at Obi-Wan with a sad, hurt, pleading expression, like she’s trying to ask him for something that she really, really, really wants badly and knows that she is going to be refused but still can’t keep herself from asking because she thinks she needs whatever it is that she’s asking for so much. And there’s something in the way that they’re standing, something about the way that Padmé is kind of, sort of, almost invading Obi-Wan’s space, that makes Anakin think that they wouldn’t appreciate him seeing them - though Master Obi-Wan, at least, might appreciate being interrupted as a reason to get away from Padmé, though Anakin can’t imagine why anyone would ever want to get away from her instead of get closer to her, she’s so pretty and nice and, well, he’s sure that she’s a good person, even if she did lie to them and all . . .

Sighing, Anakin carefully pulls his head back from around the door, before either one can notice him, and then even more carefully shuts the door. He walks back over the bed and then sits down on it and waits what he thinks is a minute or two (well, it’s a good half a minute, anyway) before calling out, in a loud voice, "Master Obi-Wan, Sir? Are you out there? Can I come out? I’m all done, in here. And I’m kind of hungry, Sir."

Enough time passes that Anakin is about to open his mouth and ask again when the door swings inward, startling him into leaping up off of the bed, and Obi-Wan’s severely blank looking white face leans in around the edge of the door. "Come along then, young one. There is a sitting room with a decent-sized table beyond this anteroom, and Mistress Sabé appears to have brought enough food to cover the entire table."

Anakin considers asking about Padmé, but figures that he probably shouldn’t press his luck. And anyway, who knows? Maybe Sabé really did bring the actual food. She had seemed to follow Padmé around an awful lot, after he found out who she really was and all . . .

The meal is kind of a strange one. There is an awful lot of food, and it all smells really, really good, even though a lot of it is unfamiliar looking, but Master Obi-Wan declares that he has eaten already and is in no need of further nourishment, and goes and sits himself down cross-legged on the floor square in the center of a curtain of softly tinted rosy light coming in from a brilliantly colored transparisteel window in the ceiling shaped like an opening flower. Obi-Wan then declares that he is going to meditate and that Anakin should rouse him when he is certain that he is finished eating, and then he shuts his eyes and promptly appears to go to sleep while sitting there, bolt upright, in the sunlight. Anakin, remembering seeing Obi-Wan in a similar position once before, on the ship (during the trip to Coruscant), shrugs, and tucks into the food, hungrier than he can remember being in a long, long time. It feels weird to be eating by himself and to have so much food all to himself, but he’s just too hungry to let it slow him down. In fact, he’s so hungry that he eats for a long time, and when he finally finishes the last bit of food he’s served himself (slices of some kind of sweet, crunchy fruit) he’s so full that he almost feels sleepy again, even though Obi-Wan said that he’d just slept for over two whole days. Yawning a little, he pushes his chair back away from the table and then ambles over to where Obi-Wan is still sitting, cross-legged and bolt upright, in the center of that rose-colored dazzle of light coming down from the flower-window in the ceiling.

Obi-Wan looks . . . oddly peaceful, sitting there in the floor, even with his back so terribly straight and all bundled up in his Jedi robes as if he were as cold as Anakin had felt on the ship, with the darker, long, hooded over-robe gathered in close around him and its deep hood pulled up around his head. With his eyes closed and his face tilted up towards the skylight just enough so that the soft, pretty pink light is pouring down across his face, though, he doesn’t look nearly so white, or severe, or tired. In fact, he looks almost happy, in an odd sort of way. Well, maybe more relaxed than happy, but still . . . he looks younger, somehow, and more at peace than Anakin can remember seeing him look in a long while. Like, since maybe when he snuck in and spied on him, on the ship, when he was also doing this meditating thing. Obi-Wan looks much more like Anakin remembers him looking whenever he would dream about him and Master Qui-Gon, before the day when Master Qui-Gon and the others came in to Watto’s shop, and Anakin wonders, sadly, if maybe he had stayed out in the salvage yard just a little bit longer, instead of heading back in to the shop for another clean rag when he had, if he mightn’t have missed them and if maybe, then, Masters Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan might have been forced to come looking for him, and if things mightn’t have turned out right, like they were supposed to, then, instead of coming out only half-right and then kind of messed up and then completely and utterly wrong, like they actually have. Sighing unhappily, Anakin sits down in front of Obi-Wan and just watches him, raptly, for a while, trying to imagine what it would be like, now, if he’d just stayed out in the yard a little while longer and things had turned out just enough differently to have been all the way right. At first, sitting in the nice rosy sunlight warms him up and makes him feel safe and drowsy and happy, in addition to being nice and full, but thinking about how things should have been gradually makes him sadder and sadder, until finally, with a sniffled little half-sob, he just has to crawl up into Obi-Wan’s lap and reassure himself by giving Obi-Wan a hug.

Obi-Wan isn’t nearly so peaceful as he looks, though. He startles like somebody who’s been woken up all of a sudden, and flinches violently (enough that the deep hood of his robe falls back away from his face entirely), starting away from Anakin like his first instinct is to jump up and run, though he doesn’t quite cry out or completely move away from him. Though to be fair, maybe that’s less because of what Obi-Wan might want to do and more because Anakin, who’s startled by Obi-Wan’s shock, responds by hanging onto him tighter, burrowing his head down against Obi-Wan’s right shoulder and hugging him for dear life until Obi-Wan finally reaches up his left hand and pats him on the back a little. His touch awkward, as though he’s not quite sure what to do, but that hand on his back is reassuring enough that Anakin relaxes his grip around his neck some. "Here, now, what’s all this? Anakin? Are you hurt in some way, youngling?" Obi-Wan asks then, his voice sharp and startled, his confusion obvious.

"Not really hurt. Just hurting. I’m sorry I didn’t stay in the yard longer. I’m sorry things turned out so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Master Obi-Wan, Sir," Anakin finally admits, his voice a little muffled by Obi-Wan’s shoulder. "I wish things had turned out like they should’ve. I miss Master Qui-Gon. And I know him being gone hurts you a lot more than it hurts me because he was your Master and all. You look like you’re not even here all the way and I wish I could take away your hurt. Does being hugged help at all?"

"Anakin . . . it’s all right, child. Or it will be all right. I know you didn’t expect things to turn out like this. None of us did. I am truly sorry that you’ve been dragged into the middle of things, young one. But I won’t leave you. You don’t need to apologize to me for things that you could not have helped. I am sorry that things turned out as they have, more sorry than I could ever say, but we must make the best out of what we have been dealt. You needn’t cling to me as though you fear I might vanish. I am not going to leave you, youngling," Obi-Wan promises, his voice having once again gone gentle and distant and strange, as though only part of him is really there and speaking the words, and the rest of him has somehow gone away from it all. The feeling sparks a surprising amount of frustration in Anakin, and he hugs Obi-Wan a little bit harder, at first, hoping to somehow squeeze hard enough to startle the rest of Obi-Wan back from wherever he has gone, but Obi-Wan just sits there, patiently, with his right hand resting laxly on Anakin’s hand and his other hand spread awkwardly across Anakin’s back, and finally Anakin gives up and lets go, pulling back until he plops back out of Obi-Wan’s lap and into the floor again. "Ah. Good. Thank you, young one. My legs are not used to being treated as a chair," Obi-Wan says in that same absent-minded, gentle voice, making Anakin surer than ever that he is somehow not entirely present, even though his body is here in the room and he’s awake enough to be talking and moving around. Frowning slightly, Anakin watches him unfold from his severe position and rise with enviable grace up to his feet, but can’t think of anything to say or do that might make Obi-Wan come all of the way back to himself. He decides that Master Obi-Wan had looked all the way present in the room only when Padmé had also been in the room with him, but that he had also looked so thoroughly upset and miserable that Anakin would rather put up with him being only partially here than have to do or say something bad enough to make him look at him like that. So when Obi-Wan looks rather bemusedly down at him, where he’s still sitting in the floor, and extends him a hand, saying, "Come along, youngling. We need to see to your hair," Anakin just sighs, takes the hand, and lets Obi-Wan lift him up out of the floor.

He follows him uncomplainingly out of the room and out into the warren of hallways and passageways and stairs and corridors, but after awhile his legs start to hurt from the effort of keeping up and he asks, "Master Obi-Wan, Sir, are we almost there yet?"

"Patience, youngling. I’ve deliberately chosen the most roundabout way, to give your legs a chance to stretch themselves after so long without use. One more turning . . . ah. Here we are. Come along," Obi-Wan only says in that same calm, gentle, not entirely there voice, leading the way around one more turning of the hall and then seizing the handle of a door and pulling it boldly open before striding unhesitatingly within.

Anakin, hurrying, finds himself in what looks like a big, fancy suite of rooms rather like the ones they just left, and is about to complain when he realizes the Obi-Wan has led him up to his own rooms, in the Palace, and decides that maybe that’s a good enough reason to forgive the "deliberately . . . roundabout way" they’ve gotten there. Following Obi-Wan through a series of three connected huge rooms that seem dedicated entirely to just sitting around in and not a whole lot else, Anakin finds himself having to stop, abruptly, least he tread on Obi-Wan’s heels, because Obi-Wan has come to a sudden halt in front of fourth door, his right hand unmoving on the old-fashioned doorknob. "Sir?" he asks after several long seconds of not moving, afraid that Obi-Wan has somehow gotten lost in his not-all-hereness and slipped so far away from him that he’s lost track of what his body is supposed to be doing.

"Hmm? Oh. My apologies, young one. I was trying to remember if I had set everything out already. I believe I have. Come along," Obi-Wan says, in that vague and distant voice, his hand finally turning on the knob so that he can pull the door open and lead the way inside.

The room is laid out like the bedroom Anakin had woken up in, only with a few small differences. There’s a big huge bed against the one wall, directly across from the door, and an enormous desk against the wall off the to the left of them, but the chair from that desk has been moved out so that it is sitting about halfway between the trunk at the end of the bed and the door. And the little end table that belongs at the head of the bed, up at its right side, near the big set of double wardrobes, has been moved so that it is off to one side of and a little bit behind the chair. Anakin pauses, confused, just inside the doorway, and startles a little when the door closes with a firm snick behind him. Turning slightly towards that sound, a little slower than normal because of his fatigue, he sees that there is a full-length mirror set in the back of the now closed door, and, reflected in that mirror, he sees that there is an old-fashioned pair of extremely delicate looking silver and gold scissors sitting on the little table, and he starts to understand.

"Are you going to cut my hair now, Master Obi-Wan, Sir?" he asks, just to be certain.

Obi-Wan, with a soft, small smile, nods his head slightly in acknowledgment and tells him, "That is the plan, young one. If you are to join the ranks of the Jedi, it is only fitting that you should have the same treatment and partake of the same rituals that any other newly chosen Padawan apprentice would, wouldn’t you agree? And we want to encourage others to accept you among our ranks, as well, and the proper trappings should be of help in that. So. If you would have a seat, Anakin?"

Anakin, his tiredness momentarily forgotten, nods and hurries over to the chair, sitting down and scooting back on the seat until he is firmly ensconced (and never mind that his feet no longer quite touch the floor), making sure his back is straight so that his head will completely clear the back of the chair. Questions bubble on the tip of his tongue about why he needs to get his hair cut, but he manages, with an effort, to keep quiet and wait, in case Obi-Wan is planning to tell him all about it already. (Besides which, Anakin’s not entirely certain that he trusts Obi-Wan’s attention enough to be sure that he might not distract him, at an inopportune moment, if he were to speak up just now.) He waits patiently while Obi-Wan pulls another smaller mirror - this one an oblong roughly the size of small man’s two feet, together - out of a drawer in the side of the little table and sets it up just so on the table behind Anakin, who soon finds himself staring in fascination at the set of his infinite reflections created by the two opposing but ever so slightly angled mirrors. Through their limitless reflection, he watches as Master Obi-Wan reaches into the table’s drawer again, lifting out another small object to place on the surface of the table, next to the fancy pair of scissors, which perhaps aren’t quite as small or delicate as Anakin had first taken them to be, after all, now that he can see them next to Obi-Wan’s hands and see that they are actually about as long as one of those hands are. Though they are larger and shinier than the pair of scissors that his mother always uses whenever she does the mending, when Obi-Wan takes them into his right hand with practiced ease and moves briskly up behind him, until he is standing close enough behind the chair that Anakin can feel the warmth of his body behind him, the sight of the scissors in his hand nevertheless reminds him of Shmi, and the pang in his heart moves Anakin to declare, if only in a whisper, "I miss my mom."

"You’ll see her again someday," Obi-Wan merely murmurs in the same gentle, slightly distracted, distant voice as before, the extra softness in it somehow emphasizing how very lovely his voice actually is as well as how soothing it can potentially be. Anakin remembers, with a small, odd frisson of pleasure, how he fell in love with the sound of that voice upon first hearing it, and decides to ask Obi-Wan to sing to him tonight before he goes to bed, like his mother used to sing to him, hopeful that the odd detachment Obi-Wan is feeling will prompt him to agree. He has a feeling that Obi-Wan singing would be something special enough to more than make up for all of this strangeness and the frustration he can’t help from feeling because he knows that Obi-Wan isn’t entirely all here with him. "Trust in the Force to take care of her. You have to let your attachments go."

"Like we have to let Master Qui-Gon go?" Anakin sadly asks back, his voice very small indeed, afraid that even in his currently extremely detached state that Obi-Wan might be aware enough to tell him yes and order him to think of his mother as someone who has died instead of as someone who is only very far away from him.

Obi-Wan’s hands pause for a moment, straight over Anakin’s head. They hover there for a moment, shaking, before finally Obi-Wan turns slightly to the side and places the scissors back on the table before turning back and lowering both of his hands directly onto the crown of Anakin’s head, pressing down with a gentle strength as he says, "Not exactly the same as that, Anakin. Master Qui-Gon has passed on into the Force. His body has perished but his spirit has become one with the Force now, and the Force is eternal. All things in life are impermanent but the Force, young one. We should let go of our attachment to Master Qui-Gon because it is an attachment to a person and to a way of life that no longer exists. He has passed out of our lives. To seek to hold on to him when he is no longer here is to seek to turn back time itself, and that would be folly in its purest form. We cannot change what has come to pass, young one. We can only change what is yet to be. Do you understand? The difference, youngling, is that your mother is still alive and well on Tatooine, and likely will be for many years still to come. You may hope to see her again and it may well be that you will, one day, but that day is far off, now, likely as far off as the day of your Knighting. To seek to dwell overmuch on your memory of her is to deny yourself the reality of life around you. But to seek to forget her utterly is to shut out a living part of yourself, of your past and your potential future, and that would be sheer folly, as well. What you must do, instead, is to keep your memory of her alive and strong in your heart, but release all of your hopes and expectations as to what she might or might not be doing or thinking and when you might or might not one day be able to see her again, and instead trust in the Force that time will take care of itself and you both and that one day the tides of time and the Force will see you united once more. Trust in the Force and live your life as it is happening to you, Anakin. Do not miss out on your life by dwelling in the shadow of what might have been or what could one day perhaps come to be. Simply trust in the Force and live your life now. Do you see?"

"I . . . I think so, Master Obi-Wan. But Sir? What about you? Are you trusting in the Force and all that?" Anakin finally asks back, doubt plain in his voice.

"It is a little different for me, youngling. You may one day see your mother again. But I know that I will never be able to see my Master again. The period of adjustment will be a little bit longer and harder, for me. I will learn to let him go, because it is right that I do so and I must do what is expected of me, but I must ask for a little more time than I am allowing you, Anakin. And I fear I must beg your indulgence and insist, on this matter. I have no illusions regarding my own strength, and I doubt I would be able to function nearly so well as this, otherwise," is the oddly calm, almost cheerily detached answer, the gist of which is so frightening, when Anakin finally works his way through all of those words to their meaning, that he finds himself shrinking down in his chair and shivering a little, afraid and suddenly certain that he no longer wants Obi-Wan to stop being not all here when he talks to him.

"Oh. Okay. I understand," Anakin assures him, in a quick, quiet voice.

"Ah. Good, then. We can get started here, now," Obi-Wan smiles back, giving a small and somehow vague little nod before sliding his hands down off of Anakin’s head onto his shoulders.

Anakin closes his eyes for a moment, then, startled by the sudden weight of those hands, feeling the potential power in them as they close gently around his shoulders. Though Obi-Wan doesn’t say anything, either in explanation or warning, Anakin feels a ripple in the Force as Obi-Wan draws lightly on its power. The effect is that of a loving caress, all over his body, and is so sudden and unexpected that it steals Anakin’s breath away. Anakin’s skin tingles and his heart pounds as Obi-Wan sends a small wave of the Force directly into him, energizing him in a way that he has never felt before, so that both his fear and sorrow and exhaustion are all immediately forgotten. After a minute of shocked silence, Anakin remembers to breathe again. He opens his eyes with a small gasp to find Obi-Wan regarding him calmly, steadily, through the reflection in the mirrors and something about the look in his eyes - not quite loving, perhaps, but quietly possessive, in a way, like Obi-Wan is calmly and thoroughly staking a claim upon him, simply by being here with him and looking upon him in the endless maze of reflections upon reflections in the two mirrors - makes Anakin instantly forget how to breathe again. The words that Obi-Wan speaks next, resonant with the Force, have the power and weight of history and ceremony behind them, in a way that somehow makes the words seem to be more wholly present than the young man who is speaking them. Entranced by the idea, Anakin finds himself listening silently, intently, heart pounding in his throat with excitement, as he watches the infinite parade of little Obi-Wans and Anakins reflected together in the two mirrors, dizzied slightly by their limitless pairing.

"For over a thousand generations, twenty-five thousand years and more, the Jedi Bendu Knights have been the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy. In many cases, it has been the Jedi alone whose selfless sacrifices and ceaseless striving have kept the forces of chaos and evil at bay. This is our duty, in exchange for the great power and abilities that have granted to us through the will of the Force, to dedicate our lives, through the swearing of solemn vows, to serve the Galactic Republic and to live according to the values and Code of our Order. To do otherwise would be to needlessly and selfishly endanger the galaxy with evil and darkness. Only a student who possesses not only the skill and ability to grow in power within the Force but also the presence of mind and discipline of emotion to undergo the necessary years of rigorous one-on-one training can be chosen to become Padawan learner by a Jedi Knight or Bendu Master. The Padawan’s Master, in making of such a choice, willingly dedicates a decade or more of life solely to the task of nurturing and developing the talents of that chosen apprentice. Only by training each chosen Padawan individually can we keep those who might abuse the privilege and powers of a full Jedi Bendu from attaining the rank, skill, and power of a true Jedi Knight. Only through individual training can the rough talents of the student be honed into the grace and skill of a true Knight. This choice lies at the heart of our many traditions, which carry the weight of millennia behind them." Obi-Wan pauses, then, and, to Anakin’s surprise, take up the object that he had placed on the small table only a little earlier - an old-fashioned straight silver comb, with many fine teeth set closely together - and begins, slowly, to work those numerous sharp silver teeth down through the thickness of his apparently too long hair. Anakin’s scalp tingles, reacting to the whispering touch of the Force through Obi-Wan’s gentle hands, as conducted through the comb. The rhythm of the gentle strokes soothes him. When, at great length, Obi-Wan at last stops combing through his immaculately ordered and now glossily shining hair, Anakin feels a pang of regret spear through his heart. He watches sadly as Obi-Wan reaches down and replace the comb on the little table and once again picks up the silver and gold scissors. Instead of simply starting at once to cut, though, Obi-Wan holds the scissors poised over Anakin’s head, where he cannot help but see them, and solemnly declares, "Whenever a human or humanoid Jedi Knight or Bendu Master makes the decision to take on a human or humanoid Padawan learner and so become that student’s particular Master, it is traditional within the Order for the apprentice’s hair be shorn by his new Master. The Padawan haircut serves to symbolize the apprentice’s new life within the Order, of the solemn dedication of that apprentice to obey and serve his Master in all things, and it is also a sign of the Master’s dedication to the training of that apprentice, until such as time as he rises to the level of full Knight."

Through the connection to the Force opened to Anakin through the gentle touch of Obi-Wan’s hands, Anakin receives a brief and dizzying glimpse of what has to be millions of other human and humanoid Padawans whose hair had all been cut by their newly declared Masters, with just such a set of scissors as the ones currently held in Obi-Wan’s right hand. Anakin gasps, startled, and then shudders as the sudden vision just as abruptly fades away. Afterwards, though, he freezes completely as the scissors open with a slightly rasping sound and Obi-Wan finally begins cutting his hair, strands of sun-bleached golden blond hair falling irrevocably away from the blades of the scissors to slide past his left shoulder and drift down to the floor. In a distant and undisciplined corner of his mind, Anakin can’t help but wonder how long it has been since Obi-Wan last cut anyone’s hair - if, indeed, he has ever actually had to cut another person’s hair at all in his life. For despite his hitherto seeming detachment from the whole procedure, Obi-Wan’s brows furrow in deep concentration as he begins snipping away on Anakin’s left side, carefully grasping first one small section of hair and cutting it close to Anakin’s head before delicate moving his fingers on to start on another. As Obi-Wan works, the only sound is the scissors’ rasping cuts. Through the mirror, Anakin watches helplessly as more and more of his hair falls to his shoulders, to his knees, and onto the floor. Seeing that Obi-Wan has left the shorn sections neat and even, Anakin eventually forgets his worries about Obi-Wan’s skill with the scissors. Muscles straining to keep himself absolutely still, Anakin begins to feel the weight of childhood worry and care lift away from his shoulders as each new section of hair is lifted and its weight is released in turn as it is cut. With the fall of each new section of hair, Anakin sees his childhood falling, bit by bit, behind him.

He is no longer a young slave child of desolate, desert Tatooine, instinctively seeking to help whatever desperate strangers might happen into his life because the seriousness of their plight might help make his own life seem a little bit better and brighter, in comparison. He is no longer a young boy who could, out of duty to his mother and her devoted and loving hope for him as much as because of the prompting of his own fading dreams, blindly follow a virtual stranger off of his homeworld out into the unknown simply because the man is a Jedi Master and seems to him to be both wise and kind, like the figure of a man known to him in dreams . . . only to have those dreams violently broken open and trod upon, smashed beyond recognition and seemingly all possible repair, by the appearance of a Sith, the petty displeasure and fear of a supposedly wise and unemotional Jedi Council, and the actual death of that same seemingly kind and wise Jedi Master. He is no longer a desperate and barely ten-year-old former slave from the Outer Rim, striving for comfort and reassurance in wholehearted and almost violent attempts to seek to help others, so that his own plight might not seem so very awful when viewed in comparison to the truly desperate straits of others, like the poor blockaded and invaded people of Naboo. More importantly, though, he is no longer a virtual orphan, taken away from the only one who has ever loved him, unconditionally, and abandoned among virtual strangers by the untimely death of the one whose professed belief in him had led him to leave that one loving person and their whole world behind. With each small snipping cut, he comes to belong more and more fully to Obi-Wan Kenobi, his new Master. For he now understands that this is what Master Obi-Wan is becoming to him. He is, through the action of those scissors, being claimed and proclaimed irrevocably (no matter what certain frowning members of the Jedi High Council might want to say about it) as Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Bendu Padawan learner to Jedi Bendu Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. He will come to follow in Obi-Wan’s every footstep, obey his commands, and be the best apprentice in the whole Jedi Order, and then they’ll all see and have to agree that Master Qui-Gon had been right to save him from Tatooine and that Master Obi-Wan is right, too, to choose to do this, now.

The rhythm of cutting slows at last when Obi-Wan reaches Anakin’s right side. After a time, Obi-Wan carefully sets the scissors down on the table again, leaving a square of longer hair untouched above Anakin’s right ear, the strand easily long enough to reach past the bottom of his earlobe. After turning back around to face him directly through the mirror, Obi-Wan breaks the silence that has come to dominate the room by declaring, "Male human and humanoid Padawan learners display their dedication to their training by keeping their hair cut short, free of style and ornament, except for their Padawan braid, which is a visible and living symbol of their status as a Padawan apprentice. Only when the Padawan becomes a Knight is the braid cut by his former Master." Obi-Wan pauses, then, looking directly into Anakin’s eyes, as reflected in the mirror in front of them. "It will be my distinct pleasure to cut your braid when you have passed your Trials, my Padawan."

Anakin smiles very brightly in answer, pleased at the certainty in his Master’s voice, the sureness that he will be able to pass these mysterious Trials at some point in the distant future. Anakin’s smile fades away quickly, however, when he takes in Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan’s eyes are focused inwardly and he is frowning again. For a few moments, then, Anakin can feel the doubt emanating from Obi-Wan, like a wave of crushing, drowning darkness. Before Anakin can do any more than begin to open his mouth to ask what’s wrong, though, Obi-Wan gives a small shake of his head and suddenly seems to return fully to himself, his eyes focusing sharply on Anakin and suddenly turning an intense and deeply saturated shade of almost achingly bright blue, his pale and withdrawn face flooding with life and color. Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, then seems to steel himself for some action requiring courage. Then, decision apparently reached, he reaches behind himself, picks up the scissors again, and, directing his attention carefully into the reflected maze of the mirrors, makes a single clean, neat cut behind his head, shearing loose the entire small tail of short hair gathered above the base of his neck.

"The single short tail of hair that a declared Padawan is allowed, thereafter, at the base of the neck, is kept in the face of an unlikely but not impossible occurrence that might otherwise damage that Padawan’s braid beyond easy repair, without the presence of a possible patch. Though it was not, exactly, meant for this duty, I wager it will do well enough." With a small but nonetheless entirely genuine smile, Obi-Wan holds the short cut-off tail of his own hair in his right hand while reaching around to grasp that one remaining lock of uncut hair, just above Anakin’s right ear. Then, after carefully maneuvering his own section of cut hair so that it matches up with Anakin’s uncut hair at the end of that remaining longer lock, near his earlobe, Obi-Wan hesitates for a moment, apparently deep in thought. Anakin feels one more tiny hint of uncertainty from Obi-Wan and shifts his weight awkwardly on the chair, wondering if he can dare say anything to seek to reassure Obi-Wan. But the moment is brief indeed. When Anakin looks up into the mirror, he catches Obi-Wan looking at him, and, by the time his eyes meet Obi-Wan in the mirror, Obi-Wan’s emotions have changed again, steadying out into a smooth purr of satisfaction and confidence, the surety suddenly all but resonating off of Obi-Wan, like a steady rising hum. Anakin’s eyes widen in astonishment and happiness, and in answer a broad and beaming genuine smile lights up Obi-Wan’s face, dimpling his cheeks and making Anakin long to reach up and kiss those two dips, just to prove to himself that they’re really there and he’s caused them to appear. (He isn’t quite brave enough to do it, though, even though he wishes with all of his might that he could. The best he can do is manage to smile back at Obi-Wan and hope that this will encourage him to smile at him more often.) "We are all connected, Anakin," Obi-Wan tells him then, still smiling that wonderfully wide and dimpled smile at him. "Not only through the miracle of the Force, but also through our dedication to learning and practice and living as tools of the Force’s will. As my Master before me has done, so, too, do I give a part of myself to you, as a symbol of our bond to one another. That part of me, in the ending of my status as a Padawan leaner, joins the beginning of your Padawan braid as symbol of the continuity of life within the Force and life within our Order." There is a small surge in the Force then, and, when the tingles from that surge have passed, Anakin watches with wide eyes as, with practiced hands, Obi-Wan neatly weaves together the result from where the slightly longer strands of his own hair have somehow miraculously come to join themselves to Anakin’s shorter hair just about at the level of his earlobe, plaiting the entire fantastic length and then binding the resulting slim braid securely with a bright yellow band. The finished plait hangs nearly to Anakin’s shoulder, the two hues of interwoven hair clearly visible in a shimmering bright pattern of amber and copper. Obi-Wan pushes that shining braid securely behind his new Padawan’s ear before looking up and smiling once again, with the whole of his satisfied, contented, and dedicated heart in his bright blue eyes.

Anakin just stares into the mirror, wide-eyed and wordlessly amazed, both at Obi-Wan and at his new braid. His heart is pounding as if he has run the length of the entire enormous Theed Palace. Carefully, he reaches up and feels the braid, fingering it reverently. His Master’s hair has become a part of him, now. As he looks up at Obi-Wan in the mirror, Anakin suddenly seems to see a procession of hundreds of thousands of other Bendu Masters, clothed in the simple robes of the Jedi and all standing and smiling proudly, in turn, from behind Obi-Wan. For an instant, almost, it seems as if he can see every single Master and Padawan pair, men and women, human and alien, all the way back to the beginning of the Jedi Order. His own reflection begins the line, stretching away back unbroken among the millions who have come before him. And at that moment, Anakin realizes his place as the recipient of a great inheritance - that of the wisdom and power of a long and noble line of Knights and Masters - and feels so enormously privileged and awed to have been allowed to partake of this heritage that his eyes fill up with tears. Briefly, he wonders who, in time, might step ahead of him, becoming his own Padawan learner after he has become a Knight. Though he realizes, logically, that this person has probably not even been born yet, Anakin can’t help but wonder who it will be, who will eventually receive a part of him, kneeling before him in a reflected maze of mirrors to join the unbroken line of Jedi Bendu.

Obi-Wan, still standing quietly behind Anakin, simply tilts his head ever so slightly to the side and continues to regard his new apprentice through the mirror’s reflection, as though he knows precisely what it is that Anakin is thinking and is wondering the same thing, himself. Noticing Anakin’s awe, though, he merely smiles and brightly notes, "You are now my chosen Padawan apprentice, Anakin, for better or for worse, and there is none who can gainsay that."

In answer to this proclamation, Anakin’s heart overflows with pride. He wants to jump up and shout for joy, cry out a triumphant, "Wizard!" and dance around as he pumps his fists in the air victoriously, but he has an idea that Padawan apprentices are supposed to be calm and dignified, and so he simply grins up at his new Master, instead, hoping to encourage another deep smile that will give him the sight of his Master’s dimples. But instead Obi-Wan’s eyes slide away from him, his attention apparently caught by the sight of himself in the mirror, and the little bit of a smile that is still lingering around the edges of his mouth slips away as his gaze fixes itself on a point directly to the right of Anakin - at a point, Anakin realizes after several long moments, that is fixed upon the long, slender braid that is still hanging from a point just above Obi-Wan’s own right ear.

Anakin is casting about for something to say when Obi-Wan sighs, his eyes going dark and strange and gray again, and he murmurs, his voice so sad and distant again that it makes Anakin want to cry again about the unfairness of whatever it is that has sent the rest of Master Obi-Wan back away from him again, "I suppose that I shall have to cut my own braid as well, now. Master Yoda confirmed the decision to confer the level of Jedi Knight on me earlier today, after the cruiser carrying him and Master Windu and the new Supreme Chancellor landed."

"But why should you have to cut it yourself, Master?" Anakin demands, not bothering to hide all of his angry frustration.

"Because - " Obi-Wan’s voice falters away into silence after only the one word and he shuts his eyes tight, as though in pain, before beginning again, his eyes still shut. "Because Master Qui-Gon isn’t here to do it for me, youngling, and neither Grand Master Yoda nor the Jedi Bendu who was my Master’s own Master have volunteered to stand in for him and perform the simple cutting ceremony, as would be their right as the Master of all the Jedi Order and as the Master of my own Master." Obi-Wan’s face is paler and looks even more painfully drawn than ever before, so much that it looks like a mask made out of a sheet of plain white brittle paper, something fragile and old that might shatter if you were to touch it. It makes Anakin feel queasy and peculiar to see Obi-Wan look like this, like most of the life has leaked out or been sucked out of his body and he might just crumble up into pieces and blow away, given a good strong gust of wind. He has a feeling that whatever it is that Obi-Wan is doing to keep himself from feeling all of the pain of losing Master Qui-Gon, whatever it is that he thinks he’s doing to let himself be more functional, as he put it, is really, really unhealthy and a bad idea, and wishes that Obi-Wan would just let himself feel the pain and cry instead. He has a feeling that it would be better and safer, for his new Master to cry and let the pain out of him instead of putting it off and, in effect, saving it all up for later.

Feeling suddenly at a loss and impatient and tired with his own helplessness, Anakin squirms a little on the chair, wanting so badly to be able to do something to help that he can no longer keep still, even though he can’t think of anything to do or to say that might help make this better. The motion dislodges some of his newly shorn hair, so that the golden strands drift down around his collar and move against his neck, making him feel suddenly ticklish from the strange movement of the loose hairs. Squirming a little more, startled by the tickling motion of the hairs, he finally simply blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, without stopping to think about it first, certain that if he stops to think he won’t ever say anything. "Can I do it, Master Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan jolts a little then, as though he’s been smacked, and his head jerks around so that his wide, hurting, startled, and once again shockingly blue eyes are locked on Anakin’s in the mirror. "You want to cut my Padawan braid, young one?" There is something in Obi-Wan’s voice then, some quality of uncertainty and unvarnished pain and breathlessly half-held flinch (as though he is already flinching away, breathless with pain, so certain is he that he will receive a negative and hurtful reply) in his entire manner, that makes him sound as if he were no older than Anakin and he were in danger of being cut off and abandoned when he asks that question.

It makes Anakin angry at the pain and sad at that flinching uncertainty and sure that he wants to just reach up and hug Obi-Wan with all his strength and never let him go again. But he understands, somehow, that Obi-Wan wouldn’t understand if he were to try to hug him just now, and so he makes his voice and his face just as serious and convinced as he cay and says, "Yes."

Obi-Wan looks away with a little half shiver, as though the sight of Anakin’s certainty is somehow painful, but he whispers an acquiescent, "All right."

The sight of that little tremor makes Anakin so furious that he wants to scream, and so he tries to distract himself from thinking about it by concentrating on the tickling motion of the loose hairs on this neck, reaching up to scratch at his neck with his right hand like nothing out of the ordinary is going on at all. To distract himself even more, he stares fixedly, determinedly, at Obi-Wan’s long braid and tries to decide how long it might take for his own short braid to grow out to such a great length. Obi-Wan, apparently distracted from his own unhappy thoughts by Anakin’s squirmy little dance and his swipe at his itchy neck, abruptly bends low over him and blows softly on Anakin’s neck. That unexpected breath of air across his neck has the dual effect of making Anakin stop itching and have to shiver uncontrollably at the strange, not quite warmth but not really coolness of that carefully directed little breeze. He can’t help the shiver, and it’s a good shiver, anyway, not at all like the rather ugly, frightened, trembling shiver that Obi-Wan has just given. Anakin likes the feel of Obi-Wan blowing on his neck; it gives him the most pleasant tingly sensation on his skin and makes his heart speed up and his breath catch in his throat, almost like that first unexpected and refreshing touch of the Force through Obi-Wan’s hands had done, only this is somehow even better because it’s not the Force causing the lovely warming tingles of sensation but just Obi-Wan himself, his actual breath, directed purposefully at him, across his itchy neck. Feeling as though he is daring greatly, Anakin shifts around in the chair some more before quietly declaring, "My neck still itches a little, Master Obi-Wan, Sir."

Obi-Wan’s eyes focus on him enough to give him a funny look, but he leans in again and blows on Anakin neck again so that the small, loose hairs all go flying off his sensitive and now doubly sensitized skin. Anakin shivers in uncontrollable delight, the same strange combination of meltingly warm and tinglingly cool sensations running all the way down his back and along his body to the tips of his fingers and toes, just from the touch of Obi-Wan’s breath on his skin.

"I’m sorry, Master, but it just tickles so much!" he declares, boldly lying this time, when Obi-Wan stops. Obi-Wan sighs slightly before he carefully blows on Anakin’s neck again, and this little dance continues until Obi-Wan has blown across Anakin’s neck seven times in a row (including that first spontaneous time), at Anakin’s insistence, at which point he finally seems to wake up enough or come back to himself enough to wise up to Anakin’s game.

"It can’t possibly still be tickling," Obi-Wan declares then, a hint of his old impatience (the same snappishness from the ship, when he had been so busy worrying about Master Qui-Gon and the appearance of that evil creature - the man who’d turned out to be a Sith, after all, no matter what the Jedi High Council had tried to claim - that he simply couldn’t be bothered with one small and frightened little boy) back in his voice. He runs two searching fingers carefully across Anakin’s neck, which makes Anakin shiver uncontrollably again, this time trembling so hard that Obi-Wan appears to notice and places his entire hand flat to the back of Anakin’s neck, his palm curving protectively and calmingly across that expanse of skin. "There’s no hair left here, Anakin. You are imagining things, young one."

Anakin falls still and silent under the curve of that hand, his body wanting badly to shiver again at the heat of Obi-Wan’s skin. He wouldn’t have expected someone so pale to be so warm (and Obi-Wan is pretty pale by Anakin’s standards. His skin is pale and smooth and just as soft looking as Padmé’s, except for where there are calluses on his hands from practicing with his lightsaber, and Anakin has wanted so much to touch him that even just the feel of Obi-Wan’s hand, cupped close but unmoving around his neck makes him feel warm and cold and tingly and alive and want to press back against Obi-Wan and beg for more, for real hug instead of just a little bit of a touch) and so it’s hard to hold still, but he does it. Obi-Wan seems to come to some decision then, and with another little smile he reaches out with his right hand, the back of his fingers brushing up against his cheek, and curls the length of his hand possessively around Anakin’s Padawan braid. That feels even nicer than the hand that’s still lying across his neck - or at least it does until a wicked little smile curls up the edges of Obi-Wan’s mouth and he abruptly gives the braid a good solid yank, startling a yelp (more shock and injured pride than actual pain) out of Anakin.

"Well, I needed to make sure it would hold, now didn’t I?" Obi-Wan declares with a solemnity that is belied by the lingering twinkle in his eyes as he meets Anakin’s injured gaze in the mirror. Anakin frowns at him, half pouting, liking the twinkle in Obi-Wan’s eyes but wishing that he hadn’t had to yank on his braid like that to produce the twinkle, unable to think of anything to say to encourage that twinkle to stay there and frustrated all over again by his own helplessness, his frown turning to a scowl the longer he looks up at Obi-Wan. After a few more moments of silence, Obi-Wan slides his left hand around to Anakin’s shoulder, leans in so close that Anakin’s heart thunders excitedly in his ears and his eyes fly wide, thinking hopefully that Obi-Wan might be moving in to kiss his cheek, but then, with a small, crooked, but genuine smile, Obi-Wan simply blows vigorously across Anakin’s neck one more time, making him shiver with unabashed delight even though a big part of him is disappointed to have not gotten a kiss (even if it doubtlessly would’ve just been a dry little peck on the cheek). His smile widening just a trifle, Obi-Wan blandly declares, "I saw another hair," but the twinkle in his eye lets Anakin know that this is just an excuse and it warms him through and through, all the way down to his toes again.

Anakin just smiles back at him, unable to help himself, and for a while afterwards he just sits there and looks at them, together in the seeming parade of mirrors, with their faces so close from where Obi-Wan is still bending down near him that their reflections almost appear to be touching. Something about the way that their faces look like that, so close together, reassures him tremendously, even though he still misses Master Qui-Gon and thinks that the Jedi Master should have been there with him, standing behind Obi-Wan with a hand on his shoulder, bending down so that his face would have framed the other, further side of Obi-Wan’s face. Even though Master Qui-Gon isn’t here, the shape of their features still seem to fit together, somehow, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. He has a feeling, suddenly, that if they can just stay together, as long as they become and remain as close as they look to be now, as long as he finds a way to help Obi-Wan let him truly get close to him, that everything will be alright, that it’ll all turn out right in the end, even though he can’t even begin to imagine, right now, how that could be, without Master Qui-Gon there to help shelter them from scared and distrustful and cold people like Master Yoda and the High Council and give them a center a focus around. As long as he stays with Obi-Wan, as long as he is close to Obi-Wan and not just together with him, somehow, someway, the Force will help them find a way to make this work.

Which means that now he needs to get starting on working his way through Obi-Wan’s defenses, so he can help him come back from whatever far place it is that most of him has gone away to and then prove to him that he, Anakin Skywalker, is the best Padawan, the best friend, the best Force-partner, and the best overall companion, that anyone could ever ask for. Anakin’s grin widens as he meets Obi-Wan’s gaze again in the mirrors. He always has liked a good challenge . . .

*********

Shock jars along the many branching paths of the bond tying them together, strong enough that it startles Anakin just enough to disrupt his concentration, so that the memory falters and the sharing fades for a few moments, just long enough for him to open his eyes and take in the sight of Obi-Wan’s surprised expression. Feeling his gaze, Obi-Wan moves ever so slightly (a small ripple of motion that reminds Anakin of the way an animal will move, when trying to shake something unwanted out of its fur), shoulders twitching, and then he opens his eyes and looks back at him, an expression of puzzlement on his face.

"Anakin, I remember most of that day well enough, though I’m certainly not proud of my behavior. You were right to think of me as being not entirely there: to avoid an outpouring of emotion and a breakdown that I was certain would reveal to Master Yoda and the rest of the High Council that I was not strong enough to be a true Knight, I had retreated as far within myself, as deep within my shields, as I could go and still remain functional. It distanced me from the pain and the grief and most of my anger, but it also removed me from you, in a way, and made our beginning time together more difficult than it needed to be. I am sorry for that, Anakin. But I am also fairly certain," he continues, the sorrow retreating from his voice as a small frown creases his forehead, "that I did not allow you to keep my Padawan braid for any great length of time, that day. And when I took it from you, I gave it to Milady Amidala with instructions that it be burned with Master Qui-Gon’s body. I am entirely certain of that. Master Yoda was most upset with me, the following morning, when he found out that I had not only allowed you to cut my braid in the process of irrefutably claiming you as my Padawan, by going ahead and giving you your braid, but that I had also already arranged for my severed Padawan braid to be placed in Master Qui-Gon’s hands, on the bier. He had hoped, I think, to dissuade me from my decision to honor Master Qui-Gon’s request and take you on as my own Padawan. And he had expected me to wait until after he and Master Windu had gotten a chance to interview you again to ask him to cut my braid while Master Windu stood witness to the ceremony. I am not certain if he had been planning on keeping my braid or on casting it into the fire, with Qui-Gon, but he was very nearly visibly angry with me for disrupting his plans, whatever all of the particulars might have been. I rather suspect that is the reason why the permission we had initially been given to go live at the chapterhouse on Alderaan was rescinded, because Yoda and Master Windu decided then that we were already showing signs of too great an amount of independence and that we needed to be at the Temple on Coruscant, where they could keep us under constant supervision for the next few years. In any case, though, I distinctly recall that Master Yoda was disgusted enough with my actions that he was too upset to try to countermand the arrangements I’d made, regarding my braid. So just how, exactly, are these particular memories of events pertinent to whatever manner of sleight of hand or instinctual use of the Force or whatever it was that you used to help you save my braid?"

With a grin that is not quite a smirk, Anakin takes great pleasure in telling him, "Patience, Master. I’m getting there. I just wanted you to understand what it was that drove me to find a way to take your braid, so it wouldn’t go into the fire. I’m almost there, though. If you’ll follow me just a little bit further?" he asks, raising a questioning eyebrow as he offers Obi-Wan his hands.

Still frowning, Obi-Wan simply regards him silently and skeptically for a few heartbeats, as though he’s not entirely sure that he really believes reliving such a goodly stretch of time from that day is entirely necessary, before finally, with a slight shrug and sigh, he reaches out and takes the offered hands, closing the circuit between then and willingly following Anakin back down into memory.

*********