Chapter Text
It had been a long day, and all fourteen-year old Anakin Skywalker wanted was for it to be over. He'd been reprimanded by Master Windu in the dojo for "using too much aggression" while sparring - whatever that meant, and he'd flunked his intergalactic history test - a fact he was not looking forward to Obi-Wan finding out. He'd tried to study; really, he had. The timelines had just been so jumbled and politically charged that his brain couldn't keep them straight no matter how hard he'd tried. Master Jocasta Nu from the archives offered tutoring to most padawans who were struggling, but he got the distinct impression that the wizened Jedi master harbored an intense dislike for him, so he chose not to approach her for help. None of the Jedi here really liked him, he acknowledged ruefully. Obi-Wan had said to give it time, that they would warm up eventually, but he'd been here for five years now, and if anything, it seemed like they liked him less than before.
The chancellor would have helped him with his test, he thought sadly. Chancellor Palpatine had sat with him through countless study sessions, never making Anakin feel dumb for knowing less than his peers. Even when he was brand new at the Temple and just learning to read at nine years old, the older man had met every bout of tears, frustration, and despair with steady patience and kindness, always expressing his belief in Anakin and celebrating every win. But the chancellor had been unusually busy this past week, and Anakin hadn't wanted to intrude. So here he was - a flunked test, a soon-to-be pissed master, and a whole lot of pent-up frustration that he apparently wasn't allowed to let out while sparring.
There were other ways to let it out, he supposed, though he really knew he shouldn't. Obi-Wan would be pissed, but Obi-Wan was already going to be pissed, so what did that even matter at this point? He dropped to his knees next to his cot, fished around under it for a moment, and pulled out a small cardboard box. He opened it, contemplating the tightly wrapped paper cylinders in them. He pulled one out, inhaling the scent, and made his decision. He was already in trouble, and the spice would help calm him, since he was apparently "too volatile" for the Jedi's tastes anyway. Chancellor Palpatine hadn't judged him for smoking the drug; in fact, he'd encouraged it, explaining that it was only fair Anakin have an outlet for all of his stress. Other Jedi had meditation - a practice instilled in them since they were infants, but Anakin always struggled with meditation. The Force was too loud, screaming at him and threatening to drown him in its essence. As an alternative, he had spice. He lit it and settled into the rickety chair by his work desk, inhaling deeply as he closed his eyes.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was livid. He'd just received a report from Master Windu that his padawan had lifted his sparring opponent three feet into the air with the Force and launched her, slamming her into the wall of the dojo with enough force to nearly knock her out. Master Windu had explained that boy had clearly been using the rage that always seemed to surround Anakin no matter how much Obi-Wan made him meditate to fuel his fighting style - a practice that brought one into a dangerously close dance between the fine lines of tapping into one's strength and tapping into one's darker urges. On top of that, he'd received a report that his ever-challenging padawan had failed his most recent intergalactic history test. Obi-Wan didn't expect perfection, by any means, but failure was unacceptable. He took a deep breath, trying to temper his frustration before he talked to the boy. He entered their small quarters and marched to the boy's room. He knocked and recieved no answer. A futile delaying tactic, he thought irritably. He could sense Anakin's Force signature in the room, so after another unanswered knock, he opened the door, only to be blasted by the scent of spice.
He heard the knock, and sighed deeply. Obi-Wan was home, and judging from the sound of his heavier footsteps and the way the Force swirled around his signature in red wisps before dissipating, he was quite upset. He'd probably already gotten the news about his failures. He heard him knock again and closed his eyes. He was too tired to get up. Let Obi-Wan come in here and throw him around or beat him, or whatever, but didn't have the energy to get up. Obi-Wan had never used physical force against him before, he mused, but somehow, here under the foggy influence of the spice he was smoking, it seemed to make sense in Anakin's brain that this time he would. That was okay. Watto and Gardulla had punished him in ways Obi-Wan would be horrified to think of, so he was pretty sure he could handle whatever punishment Obi-Wan would deal him. He heard the door hiss open and felt the pause in the Force.
Oh. He was still smoking. Obi-Wan's force signature erupted into flames, writhing, shrieking with anger. Anakin opened his eyes blearily and looked through the haze at his master. Obi-Wan stood motionless in the doorway, looking at him. Anakin was pretty sure he was supposed to say something, but the spice was making his brain too sluggish to come up with a greeting. Before he could, his master abruptly turned on his heel and walked out. Huh. "He didn't say anything . . ." the boy slurred, his head dropping back.
Obi-Wan had never been so pissed at his padawan. On top of everything else this idiotic maniac got into trouble over, he had decided to add drugs? He resisted the urge to snatch the spice roll out of Anakin's fingers and drag the boy out of the room by his hair for a proper lecture. The boy looked up at him, blue eyes glassy. Anger would get him nowhere, he told himself. He couldn't talk to Anakin like this, he decided. He turned and walked out of the room to clear his head. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Deep breaths. Anger didn't solve anything. He was supposed to be the one in control. Questions swirled in his mind. How long had the kid been doing drugs? Why had he started? Would Obi-Wan be able to make him stop? Should he tell the Council? He closed his eyes and sank into meditation, trying to calm his mind before confronting his wayward padawan.
Anakin was almost asleep, the spice quieting the frightful visions and nightmares that normally tormented him, when he heard his door hiss open again. Obi-Wan. He looked up at his master through half-lidded eyes. Obi-Wan was less angry now. That was good, some part of him thought. "Master," he sighed absently.
Obi-Wan sat down on the edge of his bed. "Anakin," he said quietly. "Put the spice roll down."
Anakin blinked slowly. Best not to make him angry, a part of his mind thought. He closed his eyes and placed the mostly burnt nub down on a metal dish he had placed on the desk. "Sorry . . ." he muttered.
Obi-Wan sighed. "Talk to me, young one." That was it. An invitation to let him into the clearly complicated mind of his young padawan. A chance to let Anakin vent freely.
Anakin leaned back, shifting slightly in the chair. "'m tired . . ." Obi-Wan didn't respond. Right. He probably wanted an explanation for why he was doing drugs in his master's home. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. " . . . dunno, master . . . 'm just tired." Somehow, that's all his brain could compute. "'m tired of being behind, 'm tired of being too angry, of bein' scared, of hurting - 'm just - tired."
Obi-Wan nodded. "Tell me more," he said softly.
Anakin opened his eyes, looking at his master, and Obi-Wan was surprised to see the amount of HURT those blue eyes held. "Watto gave it to me first," he murmured. "To help, he said. Mom was mad . . . I miss her . . ." he trailed off. "Sorry," he mumbled again, realizing he'd said the forbidden words. He wasn't supposed to love or miss anyone. Stupid fog in his brain was making it hard to think before he spoke.
"It's okay, Anakin," Obi-Wan reassured him. "You can tell me whatever. I'm not going to punish you."
Anakin blinked lazily. "Thanks . . ." he murmured because somehow, Obi-Wan's words and signature seemed sincere. He pulsed a warm yellow glow through the Force, inviting Anakin to bask in it's warmth, relishing in one of the rare moments of safety he got in the Temple. "Normally only chancellor feels this safe," he slurred, not realizing he'd spoken it out loud. Obi-Wan tactfully chose to ignore that statement. "I - oh, yeah . . . Watto. Mom was mad, but it did help." He yawned. "I was real little, prob'ly about four or five. He'd sold me - for the night, y'know," he explained. Part of his brain wasn't sure why he was telling Obi-Wan this, and he was sure he was going to get in trouble for it, but the other part was still basking in the warmth and safety Obi-Wan was offering through the Force and too hazy from the spice to really feel real enough for consequences.
"It was my first real time . . ." he added, the haze and comfort winning out. "And the guy was fucking HUGE." He chuckled ruefully. "Or at least, he seemed that way. I was really small, y'know, so I guess everything seemed huge. Anyway - he ripped me open," he chuckled again. He wasn't sure why he was laughing, but the fog in his brain was mixing emotions up and right now, the pain usually associated with the image of himself as a child bloodied and bawling after the customer had used him was strangely dulled. "I couldn't walk when he was done. Jus' kept crying and shakin' . . . Watto was mad that I couldn't work - a crying slave's no good, y'know - but he was nice enough to help me."
"Help you?" Obi-Wan prodded, carefully shielding the absolute rage and sickness that was spreading through him as the teenager talked. Anakin needed to feel safe around him. Anger wouldn't help that.
Anakin nodded lazily and chuckled dryly. "Yeah . . . he got out some spice and rolled it up in paper and made me smoke it. I hated it at first," he remembered, almost forgetting Obi-Wan was there now. "Kept chokin' on the smoke an' it burned my throat and chest. But it did help. Quieted the pain. Made everything seem - farther."
"And now?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.
Anakin shrugged. " 've used it on and off ever since. I didn't tell mom when I got older. She didn't like it. Hurt her soul. So I didn't tell her. It does help, though," he added, almost pleadingly. "Shuts off my mind for a while, y'know? Everything usually hurts and is so - big," he explained, his hazy mind unable to grasp the words he was really looking for. "So overwhelming - I just - I need to make it all go away for a while sometimes." Then he chuckled. Obi-Wan wasn't here about the spice. He'd almost forgotten. Obi-Wan was here for the test. To punish him. "Sorry . . ." he muttered. "Got carried away. Stupid mouth," he grumbled, struggling to stand up.
"It's okay, padawan," Obi-Wan said. "I told you that you can come to me whenever, and I meant that. I - I'm sorry you went through that, Anakin." He didn't really know what else to say.
Anakin shook his head, trying to clear it. "Didn't mean to fail that test," he mumbled. "Tried hard -"
Obi-Wan rested a hand on the teen's shoulder, a piece of his heart cracking as he noticed the slight flinch his touch elicited. "Never mind the test, Anakin. We'll talk about that later. For now, why don't you lie down?"
A shiver ran down Anakin's spine and a tendril of what felt suspiciously like fear wrapped around his core. "Are you gonna use me?" he asked almost tearfully.
Again, Obi-Wan had never even demonstrated the slightest bit of interest in using him like the old slavers did, but right now, the spice was clouding his brain and he'd just told Obi-Wan that story, so maybe he'd given him the idea, and he had just made Obi-Wan really mad, so maybe this was punishment, and he really didn't want to but he didn't think he had a choice, and he couldn't breathe or see now that he thought about it, and -
"Anakin." The voice was firm and quiet, bringing him back to reality for a moment. It was Obi-Wan's. "Anakin. Listen to me carefully. Can you do that?" Anakin nodded, the treacherous fear still lingering in his throat.
"Anakin, I will never touch you in any way that you don't want. I will never hurt you in the ways you've been hurt, and I'm so sorry you went through that. I will do everything in my power to make sure you're never hurt in that way again. Okay?"
Anakin nodded again, the words slipping incomprehensively through his mind. "Never?" he asked, and somehow, it seemed like an important question to ask.
"Never," Obi-Wan repeated firmly. "Now get some sleep, my young padawan. You need it."
Anakin was pretty tired, though he couldn't really remember why. "'kay," he muttered, dropping onto the bed. "Stay?" he pleaded. "Jus' till I'm asleep?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "Of course, young one."
Chapter 2
Summary:
Shout out to TheWayOfTheForce and Azelma_Thenardier for the inspiration for this chapter! Thanks, guys!
Chapter Text
Anakin Skywalker sank down on the cracked leather seat of the transport dazedly. He'd just taken a life. He swallowed hard and reminded himself to breathe. He'd just killed someone. He - he hadn't meant to - at least, he didn't think he had. The hunter had been chasing him and Obi-Wan and had been firing rapidly with a blaster. They'd been making good progress until the hunter's beast had joined in the chase. Anakin wasn't sure what exactly it was, but it's saliva was evidently some type of potent paralytic, as Obi-Wan quickly found out when it bit his ankle. The Jedi Knight had managed to shake himself free, but promptly had collapsed, unable to move his bitten leg. Anakin had absolutely panicked, though he'd never admit it, and had slung his master over his shoulders with a strength only panic and adrenaline could induce. He'd run, deflecting blaster bolts the whole time, until he'd mis-timed (or subconsciously redirected? a nasty voice in the back of his head suggested) one and deflected it straight into the hunter's chest. He'd fallen, gasping, and Anakin had been able to feel his dying light and writhing, bleeding groans through the Force for at least ten minutes afterward before the hunter's signature faded entirely, leaving only a scar in the force as any indication he'd ever existed.
He'd just killed someone - completely erased them from existence. His knuckles gripped the seat edge, sweat oozing out of them as he fought to keep his composure. Jedi didn't cry, he reminded himself fiercely. Jedi didn't cry. He'd be fine, really, except he couldn't breathe, and he couldn't see, and his ears were ringing, and his body was too hot and tense, and -
He jumped off the transport and started running. Where to, he wasn't sure. He just knew he had to move, had to get away, he ran until his chest burned and his eyes watered (he wasn't crying - it was just the wind from running), and his legs were wobbly.
"Anakin, my boy."
He glanced up, blue eyes glassy as he surveyed the man in front of him. The chancellor. When the hell had he come to the senate building? He shook his head.
"Anakin, are you well?" Chancellor Palpatine's voice dripped with concern through the force, his presence a welcome embrace.
Anakin dropped to his knees, his exhaustion winning out over his absolute hatred of being on his knees for or near anyone. His shoulders heaved as he shook his head violently. Chancellor shouldn't be near him. He was dangerous. He'd killed someone. Would the Jedi kick him out? They all hated him - said he was too dangerous. Maybe they were right. He killed someone. They wouldn't sell him back to someone on Tatooine, right? Jedi killed all the time, right? If they had to? He'd had to, hadn't he? They'd understand. They had to.
"Anakin -" Palpatine placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, and before he could think, his defensive reflexes kicked in and he'd hurled the old man against the wall of the senate building, pinning him there with the force.
"Don't touch me!" he yelled, eyes wide and wild before focusing on the Chancellor. Shocked, he dropped the man and rushed over. "Sir - I - I'm so sorry," he choked out. "I didn't-"
"Nonsense, my boy," Palpatine chuckled, standing up and dusting himself off. "I'm quite all right. It's you I'm worried about."
Anakin dropped his gaze. "Did something happen, Anakin?" Anakin nodded mutely. The chancellor sighed. "I see. Why don't you come to my office, my boy? We can talk there." Anakin nodded mutely, following the older man into the building.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was frantic. One minute they'd been running, and he'd been worried about his very reckless padawan falling behind, then he'd been bitten by that blasted pathetic lifeform. His leg promptly gave out under him, and before he could think of a decent escape plan, he'd been hauled over his fifteen-year old padawan's shoulders like a child and bounced roughly around as his padawan ran. Part of him was surprised at the boy's strength, but part of him was dismayed to see the absolute panic and terror in the boy's signature as he ran. Too attached, the words of the Council rang in his ears. No time for that now, he thought. Anakin was deflecting the blaster bolts with admirable accuracy, and Obi-Wan was just starting to feel confident in their escape when he saw it. The hunter stumbled, clutched his chest, and groaned. Wait. Had Anakin -
Grimly, Obi-Wan realized what had just happened. This was not how he'd wanted Anakin's first kill to go down. He'd tried to call the boy's name, but Anakin ignored him and ran them to the ship, dumped him on the floor and screamed with the power and rage of a krayt dragon for a med droid.
"Relax, young one," he reassured the blonde teen. "It's just temporary paralysis, I'm sure. Calm yourself."
The wild unfocused look in Anakin's eyes showed that he would most definitely not be calming himself. The med droid came and began its assessment, and Anakin disappeared. The ship landed, and with his newly restored mobility in his leg,Obi-Wan went to deliver his report to the Council. After the debriefing, he returned to their quarters. To his dismay, the boy was nowhere to be found. He was supposed to have taken the shuttle straight to the Temple. Sighing deeply, he reached across the bond and recoiled at the waves of panic, rage, fear, and horror that crashed through it. Grimly, he pulled his shields up. Anakin was too unstable; he should not be left alone after such a tremendous event. He had a bad feeling about this, he acknowledged as he set out to find his wayward padawan.
"I killed him," Anakin confessed, sitting on the edge of the ornate couch.
"You had to," Palpatine consoled.
"What if there was another way?" the boy asked desperately. "What if I didn't have to? What if I'm just a monster?"
Palpatine shook his head and smiled before placing both hands on the boy's shoulders. "Don't you see, Anakin? This is a good thing. A milestone."
The boy gaped. "How?"
"You're finally realizing your potential and learning a valuable lesson in the process. Do you know what that lesson is, my boy?"
Anakin shook his head, because how could this possibly be a good thing? Palpatine walked around the couch and squatted in front of the grieving teenager, pulling Anakin's chin up to force eye contact. He looked into the turbulent blue eyes and firmly said, "Sometimes, good people must do bad things to ensure a good outcome. Do you understand me?"
Anakin nodded slowly. "So - so, you really think it was necessary?" he asked in a small voice.
"Obi-Wan and yourself might have died, my boy," Palpatine replied gravely. "You did what you had to. That's what makes you so special, Anakin. You're not like other Jedi. Your heart knows before your mind even does what must be done, and it isn't afraid to do it."
Anakin pondered that. The Jedi always told him that such passions were forbidden and dangerous. Palpatine seemed to think they were an asset, And he and Obi-Wan were alive because of what he'd done. Was it possible that maybe his instincts were stronger than his reason and he should trust them more? Come to think of it, hadn't it been those very instincts that had kept him alive in the horrifying world of slavery as a mere child? Maybe his training was only meant to build on and hone those instincts, not eradicate them entirely.
He shuddered. "I feel sick," he whispered. "I - I felt him die." He looked pleadingly at his friend.
Palpatine nodded. "I'm not force-sensitive, Anakin," he replied, "but I can relate to the pain of having to make difficult decisions and of having to live with those." He smiled and pulled out a glass bottle of potent liquor from under his desk. "Fortunately, I do have a remedy." He poured out a glass and offered it to the boy.
Anakin eyed it. "I - I really shouldn't," he said. "Obi-Wan would be pissed."
"Anakin," Palpatine sighed. "Obi-Wan doesn't understand you. He does try, but he can't possibly understand what it's like to have to hold as much raw power as you do. You are a unique individual, and so unique exceptions to the rules should be made. You need the release."
Anakin shook his head. "I - I don't know ..."
"Anakin," Palpatine said kindly. "What do you think happens when we don't have release?"
Anakin bit his lower lip. "We lash out."
Palpatine nodded. "Didn't you throw me into a wall not even an hour ago, Anakin?" The boy ducked his head in shame at the mention. "You clearly need the release, my boy. Denying yourself that is not only unhealthy, it's dangerous."
He'd searched everywhere for that boy. Obi-Wan sat down in his speeder, thoroughly exhausted. He'd checked with Dex, he'd checked the gardens, the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the dojo, and the hangar. He'd even ventured into the lower levels, hoping to find the boy at some seedy bar or illegal podracing course. All had proved fruitless. He reached out again over the bond. The rage and fear were gone, in their place a confusing fuzziness and murkiness he couldn't understand. The last time Anakin's force signature had felt that hazy -
He scowled and headed home to wait for Anakin to return. He was going to kill that boy.
Anakin stumbled into the quarters, cursing under his breath. He couldn't stand straight, and the stupid floor kept rocking. He groaned, shaking his head. Obi-Wan was going to be pissed. Palpatine had told him it didn't matter - why, he couldn't really remember right now, but he knew that Palpatine was wise enough to know what did or didn't matter. He laughed at the thought, before covering his mouth. He shouldn't wake Obi-Wan up.
The light cut on to reveal a very grumpy looking ginger master. "Welcome home," Obi-Wan greeted flatly.
Anakin giggled. "Thankssss, mmaster," he slurred.
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "Anakin, you're drunk. I can smell the alcohol on your breath."
Anakin flopped into the chair. "Palpatine said it was healthy," he defended.
Obi-Wan frowned. "Palpatine? Anakin, he's a galactic senator, and you'd do well to remember his title."
"He doesn't make me use titles," Anakin pouted. Why was Obi-Wan so pissy all the time? He and Palpatine were friends.
"Well, that's inappropriate," Obi-Wan snapped. "As his encouraging juvenile drunkenness is. What were you doing with him anyway? I wanted to talk to you."
"I talked to him," the boy grumbled. "He's always there . . . always there to - to . . ." his words faded off as he forgot what he was going to say. Damn. It had been a really good point, too. He sighed in resignation and closed his eyes. He could tell Obi-Wan was upset, but he couldn't really tell why.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan snapped. "Pay attention to me."
Anakin blearily opened his eyes. "Palpatine's my only friend," he mumbled sadly. "Don't take him, too. Already took mom . . ."
Obi-Wan bit his lip. This was ridiculous. It was the alcohol talking, right? Right? There was no way the boy actually thought the Jedi had taken his mother from him or that Palpatine was his only friend. "Anakin, that's not true, and you know it," he countered.
Anakin huffed but didn't immediately respond. "He can be kinda confusing," Anakin mumbled finally. "All the stuff that I try not to do, he - he makes it okay. He helps," he added, finally, not fully grasping the words necessary to explain just how much of a godsend the chancellor was to him. "He's really smart," he trailed off lamely. "An' he really cares 'bout me and 'bout people who are hurting - shows me how I can help them."
Obi-Wan had heard enough of this nonsense. At the next possible opportunity, he'd have to make a visit to the chancellor and politely explain to him that Anakin would be needing to focus on training and wouldn't have time for social visits anymore. Something about the reverence in the boy's voice when he talked about Palpatine made Obi-Wan's skin crawl. "You need to sober up," he sighed. "We'll talk in the morning."
Anakin opened his eyes, and his first thought was that his head kriffing hurt. He shielded his eyes from the sunlight streaming in through the window, wincing at the unpleasant intrusion upon his senses. Gods, he was so hungover.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, suppressing a gag, and mentally checked his body over. He wasn't physically harmed. He must've gotten wasted last night. What had happened? He furrowed his brow, trying to collect the scattered, wispy memories of the day before. Right. He grimaced as the memories of the hunter came back to him. And Palpatine. Palpatine had helped. He'd have to thank the man later, he thought. He bit back a groan as he made his way to the fresher.
Twenty minutes later he emerged, rubbing his red eyes. Obi-Wan was sitting at the table, arms crossed. "Sit down, Anakin."
Anakin groaned inwardly, but obeyed.
"You got drunk last night."
There was no point in denying it. He nodded.
Obi-Wan sighed and dragged a hand down his face. "We've talked about this, Anakin," he said quietly. "First it was spice, now it's alcohol too." Anakin made no reply.
"I let it go the first time, Anakin," Obi-Wan continued. "But I cannot allow you to run wild. Do you understand?"
Anakin nodded. "A-are you going to punish me?" he asked.
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, sighing. "You must realize your behavior was inappropriate and inexcusable."
Anakin nodded, then got up and stripped down to the waist and stood with both hands planted against the wall, head down.
Obi-Wan gaped. "I - Anakin, what are you doing?" he spluttered.
The teenager glanced over his shoulder confusedly. "I - you said you were going to punish me, master."
Obi-Wan noticed the long crisscrossing scars across the boy's back, some raised, indicating the depth of the cuts that had once been there, and realization dawned on him. "Anakin," he said quietly. "Put your clothes back on."
Hesitantly, the boy obeyed. "I'm not going to whip you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly. "Do you understand me?"
Anakin nodded slowly. "Then - then how are you going to punish me?" he asked hesitantly.
Obi-Wan sighed. "You're grounded, Anakin," he groaned. Why was everything so complicated with his padawan? Leave it to Qui-Gon to leave him with the most difficult person in the galaxy to tend to, he thought irritably.
"Grounded?"
"Yes, Anakin." Obi-Wan scanned the boy's face, realizing that he was seeing not distress but confusion. "Don't you know what that means, Anakin?"
The boy shook his head slowly. "I - I've never heard of that punishment, master."
"Oh." The fact that such a mundane punishment had never been dealt upon the boy had never even occurred to Obi-Wan. What kid didn't know what grounding was? Unfortunately, he thought, the scars on the boy's back spoke volumes about the kind of punishment he was evidently used to. "It - it means you can't go anywhere," he explained. "You will go only to classes, and you will return back to our quarters immediately afterwards."
Anakin frowned. "But that's ridiculous," he protested. "What about missions?"
"I can handle them alone," Obi-Wan retorted. He knew this was going to be an effective punishment for Anakin, considering the boy's restless temperament and thirst for action. "You are grounded until I deem you responsible enough to earn back your freedom."
Anakin scowled. "This is stupid," he snapped.
"Getting drunk was stupid," Obi-Wan argued back. "So, maybe you should have thought about that before you went and got drunk."
Anakin opened his mouth to argue, but Obi-Wan raised a hand, cutting him off. "One more word about it, padawan, and I'll extend the time."
The boy glared at him, but didn't dare protest. Instead he crossed his arms and stormed off to his room, anger radiating through his force signature.
Obi-Wan watched him go, then sank wearily into a chair. That boy was going to be the death of him.
Chapter 3
Summary:
Thanks again to TheWayOfTheForce for your continued support and inspiration! You rock!
Chapter Text
"Thank you, I will set out immediately." Obi-Wan ended the communication.
His padawan's ears perked up. "We have a mission?"
"I have a mission. you're still very much so grounded, my young padawan," he replied.
Anakin scowled. "Look, I said I'm sorry for getting drunk. Let me come with you."
"I don't think you really are, young one. Plus, it's just a body guard role. It would bore you to tears."
The blonde fifteen-year-old crossed his arms. "What's the mission?"
"The senator of Ryloth is going off world to attend his niece's wedding, and he would like a Jedi for security."
Anakin narrowed his eyes. "I'm still coming. We're a team."
"You should have thought about this before getting into trouble, Anakin. My decision is final."
"Well, that's stupid!" the boy cried out passionately. "You can't go on a mission without me, master. Who's gonna watch your back? Who's gonna fly for you? Who's gonna make sure you eat and don't work yourself to death?"
"Nonsense, Anakin, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Plus, I'll probably take Padawan Olin, as his master has been wanting him to get some bodyguard experience in. She doesn't get many bodyguard assignments, so this will be a good opportunity for him to learn. I'll be back in four days, young one," he added consolingly, because he could see the discontent in Anakin's eyes. He really wouldn't have minded taking Anakin, but he had to stand firm. Anakin hadn't even been grounded a week. He ran a hand through his hair and sat down wearily as the boy scowled and stormed off to his room. Is this what being a parent was like? Thank the stars the Jedi didn't have children of their own; he wasn't sure he could handle that.
Anakin Skywalker was livid. Obi-Wan Kenobi had no business leaving him behind to go off on some bodyguard assignment. What if he needed help? What if he was outnumbered in a fight? He'd seen Ferus Olin's fighting skills in the dojo, and honestly, they were sad. That shrimp wouldn't do anything to help Obi-Wan. What if they both got killed? Because he wasn't there? Maybe he should just sneak on board anyway, just in case. He didn't want to upset Obi-Wan, though. He trusted Obi-Wan, but he also worried about him. He was supposed to have his master's back no matter what. But he was also supposed to obey his master, and Obi-Wan had given him direct orders not to go. He rubbed his forehead fretfully. He had to make a decision soon.
Stealthily, he masked his force presence, cloaking himself in the waves and essence of the force itself, blending seamlessly in with its ebbs and flows. Then, successfully hidden from any Jedi's perception, he slipped out of the window, leaped lightly down the roof of the Temple, and landed gracefully on the ground. He knew what he had to do.
Obi-Wan made his way down to Siri Tachi's quarters. Seeing his old friend was always a joy, though it had been some time as she'd been on an undercover mission for the past few months. He knocked on the door, and smiled as she opened it, greeting him with a, "Hey, there!"
"Hello, Siri. It's a pleasure, as always. Is Ferus ready?"
She nodded. "Thanks for agreeing to take him with you. He really needs the experience, and I trust no one more than you to teach him."
"Of course. I know you'd do the same for me."
She smiled. "You know it! Anakin's a great kid."
"Yes . . . he's quite the persona."
"Hopefully the boys being together on this mission will help them grow together. Ferus says Anakin's too aggressive to make friends, but I'm hoping they'll learn to put their differences aside on this mission."
"Actually, Siri," he sighed. "Anakin won't be joining us."
Her face fell. "Is everything okay with him?"
"Oh, yes," he reassured her. "He's just been his usual headstrong self, and I finally grounded him."
"Oh, I see."
His face darkened slightly. "Siri - he - he didn't know what grounding meant. I had to explain it to him. When I told him I was going to punish him, he thought I was going to - to whip him. Am I - do you think I'm too harsh with him?"
She placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "Obi, you're doing great with that kid. Teenagers are hard as it is, and you've gone and gotten yourself one with boatloads of trauma that none of us can comprehend. I'm sure he thinks the world of you."
"I - I just don't understand why he would think that of me. I've never - never - raised a hand to him, Siri."
She shrugged. "Who knows, Obi-Wan? As much as I love that kid, we all know he'd kinda crazy. It doesn't surprise me that he expected extremes. He is extreme."
He smiled wearily. "I suppose you're right, my friend."
"And he won't let me come with him!" Anakin pouted, scowling at the ground.
Chancellor Palpatine stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I see, my boy . . . that is quite the dilemma."
"And Ferus won't protect him! I know it! Ferus can't even protect himself!"
Palpatine's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He's taking someone else?"
Anakin nodded glumly. "Master Tachi asked him to."
"Did she? Or is that just what he told you?"
Anakin frowned. "Obi-Wan wouldn't lie to me . . . "
Palpatine sighed patiently. "My boy . . . you yourself have told me how polite and sophisticated Obi-Wan can be. Is it so far fetched to believe that he might have told you a little white lie just to spare your feelings?"
The boy shook his head doubtfully. "I don't think he'd do that . . ."
Palpatine hummed dubiously. "If you say so, my boy. I suppose you do know him better than I do."
Anakin looked up. "I mean, there's no reason to lie. Why would my feelings be hurt?"
"Oh, Anakin . . . I - never mind."
"What?"
Palpatine shook his head. "No, no ,my boy. If you think Obi-Wan is sincere,, then I trust your judgement. My thoughts have no importance whatsoever."
"No, that's not true. Tell me what you're thinking." Anakin said quickly. Palpatine was, after all, way smarter than he was. "Please?"
Palpatine sighed reluctantly. "Well, it could just be my concern for your well-being clouding my judgement, but it all seems very convenient to me, my boy."
"What does?"
"He conveniently grounds you just in time to go on a mission. Then he chooses to go with another padawan? It seems to me like he's trying to - well - I hate to say it, Anakin, but it sounds an awful lot like he's trying to replace you."
Anakin scowled, but before he could protest, Palpatine kept going. "He did tell me that he never really chose you, my boy. I'm no Jedi, so perhaps I'm mistaken here, but I thought Jedi typically chose their padawans."
Anakin dropped his gaze. "They do," he admitted quietly. "Obi-Wan - he actually told you that? About not choosing me?"
Palpatine nodded. "I'm sure he was just overwhelmed at the time," he offered consolingly.
Anakin blinked away tears. Jedi didn't cry. "What should I do?" he asked plaintively.
"Well," the older man offered. "I think if it were me, I would show him how useful you are."
"How?"
"Go on the mission," the old man replied. "Sneak on board, and if he needs you, aid him. Then he will see that you cannot be replaced, my boy."
Anakin nodded. "Thank you, sir," he said finally. The chancellor always knew just what to do. He'd said it before, and he'd say it again: this man was a godsend. He turned to leave when the man interrupted him again. "And Anakin?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You aren't replaceable."
Obi-Wan was glad this assignment was almost over. Ferus a great kid - he wasn't nearly as headstrong as Anakin, and he was much more polite, but Obi-Wan found himself missing his rambunctious, wild teenager. The senator rose to leave the ceremony, when Obi-Wan's Jedi senses screamed danger right before shots rang out. He activated his lightsaber, deflecting bolts while trying to gauge what was happening. "Ferus!" he called.
Ferus was looking around wildly, standing in a traditional fighting stance with his lightsaber activated. "Where are they coming from, Master?"
"It doesn't matter!" Obi-Wan yelled. "Get the senator, and take him to safety!"
"Not so fast!" a cruel voice rang out. "My uncle doesn't leave here alive."
The Jedi looked up to see the bride standing up on the table. "The Jedi may leave, but he stays."
Obi-Wan realized the room was surrounded by armed hitmen now. "Milady," he offered - attempting to negotiate a solution. This was not good.
"Enough!" she shouted. "He knows what he's done!" she cried, pure venom in her eyes.
Some kind of family matter, then. He sighed, "Milady, if you would -"
The rest of his sentence was cut off as a violently bright volcano of light erupted into the force, shrieking with heat and rage and adrenaline. The overwhelming sense was quickly followed by a deafening roar of engines and a blast of heat as a ship crashed into the reception hall, sending rubble flying and guests screaming and ducking for cover.
Obi-Wan looked up in as daze as Anakin Skywalker - the very same Anakin Skywalker he had grounded - the one he'd told explicitly to stay home - stood up and gestured wildly. "Come on!"
No time to lecture him now, he supposed. He grabbed Ferus's shoulder and pushed. "Run!" he commanded, dragging the senator behind them.
"What part of do not come, do you not understand?" Obi-Wan hissed.
"I had to!" Anakin cried. "You needed help! Just like I said you would!"
"I had the situation well under control padawan," Obi-Wan retorted. "You deliberately disobeyed orders."
"I'm your padawan! Not Ferus! You can't replace me!" Anakin yelled vehemently.
Obi-Wan stopped. "Replace you? Wherever did you get that idea, young one?" he asked softly.
Anakin looked down. "I went to see Palpatine, and - "
"Enough," Obi-Wan said shortly. " We're going to straighten this mess out right now."
"Master Kenobi," Palpatine greeted warmly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Chancellor," Obi-Wan greeted. "I would like to discuss Anakin with you, if you don't mind."
Anakin stared at the floor, trailing behind his master. "Master, please - I didn't"
"Hush, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. The boy fell silent once again.
"You see, Chancellor, Anakin has made me aware of the fact that he's been spending an awful lot of time here with you. While I'm sure he appreciates the extra attention from you , he is till a student and must focus on his studies. I'm afraid Anakin will not have time to visit you as often in the future."
"Oh?" Palpatine asked, surprisedly. "Is that so?"
"I'm afraid it is, your Excellency," Obi-Wan said shortly.
"Well, I don't think that's such a good idea," Palpatine said, quietly.
Obi-Wan turned. "Excuse me?" he asked dangerously.
"I said -"
"Please, master," Anakin butted in, stepping between Obi-Wan and Palpatine. "It - it's my fault. I - I made all those decisions on my own. I only talked to him about them. He - he tried to tell me not to. I didn't listen."
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "Anakin -"
"I'm sorry," the boy was near tears now. "Please - I'm sorry. Don't take it out on him, master. I'm the one who should be punished."
Obi-Wan stiffened. "Is that really true, Anakin."
The boy nodded shakily. "Yes, master. I - it's really all my fault."
Obi-Wan sighed. "My apologies, Chancellor. It seems my padawan and I have some discussing to do. Come along, Anakin," he finished tightly.
Anakin was shaking by the time they made it back to the apartment .
"Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm very disappointed in you."
"Yes, master," the boy whispered. He disappeared into his room and came back with a lit cigarette.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan started exasperatedly. "Not now. I- "
He stopped short. Anakin had rolled up his sleeve and was offering him the cigarette. "Anakin, what are you doing?" he asked carefully.
"I lied," Anakin replied quietly. "The punishment for lying is -"
"Stop, young one," Obi-Wan interrupted because the kid was shaking and he could see the little round white and brownish scars up and down Anakin's forearm, and he'd already pieced together what Anakin was implying, and frankly, it made him sick. He put the cigarette out and pulled Anakin into a hug. "I'm not going to hurt you, young one," he whispered.
Anakin made no response. He just stood there in his master's embrace, trembling.
"I think we've had enough excitement for one night," Obi-Wan finally said after a long silence, realizing that he was too emotionally exhausted to have this conversation right now, and if that's how he felt, then he couldn't even imagine how Anakin felt right now. "I - go to bed, Anakin. We'll talk in the morning."
Anakin looked at him strangely for a moment, then walked obediently to his room without another word.
Chapter Text
Obi-Wan Kenobi sat on the couch with his head in his hands, pondering the events of the previous evening. Something hadn't seemed right when in the chancellor's office - the way Anakin had changed his story - the chancellor's unwillingness to accept his decision to withhold visits with the boy - something was off. The boy clearly adored the older man; he never spoke of him without a tone of reverence, and he'd confessed to lying (a crime for which he'd clearly expected a horrendous punishment) just to keep the man out of Obi-Wan's line of fire, so to speak. It didn't make sense, though. In the six years he'd known Anakin, Obi-Wan had never known him to tell lies about other people - especially someone he cared for. Anakin was fiercely protective - sometimes too protective. Why would he make up lies about Palpatine to avoid getting in trouble? And the kinds of lies they were - giving him alcohol, encouraging him to break rules - those weren't exactly little harmless white lies. They were serious ones that could damage the chancellor's reputation if they got out. Why would Anakin risk that just to avoid getting in trouble?
Deciding he needed a bit of help with this puzzle, he went to consult with someone older, wiser, and more experienced.
Anakin Skywalker hadn't slept. The Coruscant sun rose, shining upon the many skyscrapers with a shimmering brilliance that provided a stark contrast to his mood. His mind was turbulent - more turbulent than it normally was. He'd nearly gotten Palpatine into a lot of trouble. He'd been stupid, he realized, to tell Obi-Wan everything the chancellor had talked to him about. Obi-Wan didn't understand - Palpatine told him that all the time. He was a good man, and he really tried, but he simply couldn't.
He dragged a hand down his face. His eyes were burning, and his head was throbbing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept, come to think of it. It had been at least two or three days, since he'd been so caught up with the mission and the events from last night to sleep. He couldn't sleep now, though - he had a visit to make.
He popped open a hidden cabinet in his wall that he'd installed when he had first come here (He'd mostly used it for stashing food back then. Obi-Wan had always fed him, but there was a primal instinct he couldn't quite explain or understand that drove him to always make sure he had a stash of food somewhere. Even now, he kept some ration bars and nutrition shakes stored in the cabinet.) and pulled out a small bag of bluish powder. He put a little in his palm, and snorted it, before replacing the bag. Then he popped the door to the cabinet shut and left.
"Master Windu - do you have a moment?" Obi-Wan stood respectfully at the entrance to the room the Korun master sat meditating in.
Mace opened his eyes and gestured. "Come in, Kenobi. What brings you here so early?"
Obi-wan settled himself on the meditation cushion across from Mace. "I - it's about my padawan, Master."
"I sense you are troubled."
"Yes - he - he's been getting into trouble lately, and I - well, it doesn't really make sense to me."
Mace frowned. "Trouble how, Kenobi?" he asked sternly.
"Just - you know - normal teenage stuff, I guess."
"Normal teenage stuff?" Mace echoed impassively.
Obi-Wan sighed. "Well, normal for most teenagers, I suppose. Not Jedi teenagers, obviously. Sneaking out, disobeying direct orders - that kind of stuff." It was probably not a great time to mention the drugs and alcohol, Obi-Wan figured.
Mace narrowed his eyes. "The boy has a disobedient spirit," he said. "Have you considered disciplining him?"
"It's just that, master. I'm afraid the punishments he's endured as a slave - well, they were atrocious. I don't think anything I could do to him could compare."
"So, he doesn't take you seriously."
"I - it's not that, Master," Obi-Wan sighed. "At least, I don't think it is. He's a good kid. I just don't know how to support him in the way he needs."
Mace stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You say he doesn't fear your punishments because he's suffered much worse. Nonetheless, he cannot be allowed to run wild. Skywalker harbors a darkness within him, Kenobi. All of the masters can sense it."
"He's fifteen," Obi-Wan snapped. Despite preaching patience to his padawan, he was getting tired of everyone here constantly putting Anakin down. "A child still. And maybe he'd have an easier time adjusting if he wasn't constantly ostracized."
"You forget yourself, Kenobi," Mace rebuked sternly. "Show respect when speaking to your elders."
Obi-Wan bit back the fiery response. He was here for Windu's help. They both wanted the same thing - whatever was best for Anakin, he reminded himself. "I - forgive me, Master."
Windu nodded. "Perhaps the boy has been given too much freedom. Have you considered restricting him to the temple until he behaves?"
Obi-Wan let out a bitter laugh. "Sure. That worked great last time," he said. "The kid snuck onto my ship and flew it into a wedding reception hall on a mission I strictly forbade him from going on. He won't be constrained."
Windu scowled. "Then you'll have to be harsher, Obi-Wan. The boy is clearly out of control."
"That's just it, master," Obi-Wan sighed. "I don't think he means badly, and I don't think he needs more punishment after all the trauma he's been through. What he needs is support - I just don't know how to give him that while still ensuring he obeys the Jedi Code. I know, Anakin, though, and his behavior recently - lying, sneaking out - it's not like him."
"Then perhaps you do not know the boy like you thought you did," Mace said impassively. "Do not let your affection for him and your admiration for your late master blind you to his many flaws, Kenobi. Discipline the boy, or he will only grow worse."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, master."
"Sir?" Anakin was standing at the door of the chancellor's office, shifting from foot to foot. There was a buzzing noise in the back of his brain, but that was just the stimulant, he told himself . Still, he couldn't help but shift his eyes, to and fro, looking for the source of the irritating noise.
"Anakin, my boy," Palpatine greeted. "It's so good to see you. Especially after that unfortunate incident last night."
Anakin nodded, chewing his lower lip. "Yeah - about that. I - you're not upset, right?" he asked plaintively.
The older man sighed. "Well, it did seem as though you'd nearly gotten me into quite scrape there, my boy. It would have been quite unfortunate if your master had decided to try and keep you from me. There's no telling what he would have told the Council, and they, in turn, the media. It would have made me look like quite a terrible person, when all I've ever done is try to look out for you, Anakin," he said reprovingly.
Anakin nodded. "I'm really sorry. I didn't know Obi-Wan was gonna freak out like that. It won't happen again. I promise."
Palpatine nodded approvingly. "Good boy, Anakin. It's really quite lucky you think so quickly on your feet. That was quite a brilliant little fib you told him. I've always told you how smart you are, my boy. Come, sit next to me."
Anakin obeyed, offering a smile at the praise but bouncing one knee nervously. His palms were sweaty, and his head was still buzzing.
Palpatine narrowed his eyes. "Anakin, are you on something?"
The boy bit his lip again. "Yeah - it's something they used to give us as slaves to keep us awake longer so we could work more. I - I haven't really slept too well these past few days."
Palpatine nodded understandingly. "See? This is why some things should stay secret. Master Kenobi would never understand how necessary it is for you to do things like that."
Anakin furrowed his brow. "Yeah - well, he wasn't as mad as I thought he'd be. Last time."
"Last time?" Palpatine pressed.
"Yeah, I got really drunk with you that one time, and he was awake when I got home. He grounded me, but that was all. He didn't hurt me or anything."
Palpatine hummed. "Do you think maybe he was angry, but couldn't show it? Doesn't the Code forbid Jedi from expressing emotions such as anger?"
Anakin frowned. "Uhhh - yeah," he admitted. "But - I'm pretty good at feeling people - their minds and stuff, y'know. Always have been. Mom didn't like it. Said the masters would think I was a witch. Told me I couldn't let them know I had powers or they'd torture me to death."
Palpatine patted his thigh soothingly and for some reason, little electric volts shuddered through Anakin's body, triggering a response and a memory he couldn't quite grasp with his jittery brain. He jerked his leg back. "Don't do that," he snapped.
Palpatine withdrew, surprised. "I'm so sorry, my boy. I -"
Shame flooded Anakin when he saw the older man's hurt expression. Palpatine was his friend. He wasn't like the masters back at home, and what had happened on the burning sands of Tatooine in the dark shadows of his memory did not involve the chancellor in any way. "No, I'm sorry. I - I'm just kinda shaky. 'Cause of the drug," he added.
Palpatine nodded understandingly. "Which again brings me to my point of your master. You said he wasn't hiding his anger?"
Anakin shook his head. "Nah - I can usually tell when he's mad. His force signature gets all red and writhy, and it whips around him. I - I don't know. He felt almost like he was worried about me."
Palpatine sighed. "Anakin, I would love nothing more than for that to be the truth."
"You don't think it is?"
"Obi-Wan is answerable for you, Anakin. I'm sure he's just worried about what would happen if you were found out. All your life, people have been trying to repress you. Your mother did it for your safety. Your owners did it to control you. Your master does it for his image."
Anakin furrowed his brow again, his hyperactive brain trying to piece together what his friend was telling him with what his senses were telling him. "I - I'm sorry . . ."
The older man chuckled. "No need, my boy. Come, let me give you something to calm you a bit." He retrieved a bag with a small tablet from his desk. "Here. Swallow this."
Anakin eyed it. "What is it?"
"Just something to calm you a bit. It's really mild and quite harmless," the chancellor assured him.
Anakin hesitated. He knew how dangerous accepting drugs he didn't know was, but he really didn't want his friend to think he didn't trust him. The chancellor was trustworthy. Plus, he wasn't trying to sell it to him or anything. "I - thank you," he finally accepting, swallowing the lump in his throat and the tablet with it.
"Now, do you think you can focus for a moment?" the older man asked. Anakin nodded. "Good. Where were we?"
"Uh - Obi-Wan - you think he's not worried about me," Anakin said softly.
"Ah, yes - Anakin, my point is, almost everyone out there is out to get something from you. That includes Obi-Wan. Now, I trust your judgement, but it's hard for me to believe that Master Kenobi is capable of putting you first because - well . . ."
"Because what?"
Palpatine sighed. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, Anakin, and I would never want you to be upset with Obi-Wan. It isn't his fault. But it's because he is a Jedi first."
Anakin bit his lip. "Why can't it be both? Why can't he care for me and be a Jedi?"
"Because, my boy," Palpatine explained patiently. "The very code he lives by forbids it. Don't the Jedi forbid attachment? Forbid love? Even that between a mother and a child?"
Anakin looked down, realizing how true the man's words were. "How can he care for you if he must remain unattached? Again," he added quickly. "I'm not trying to make him seem like a villain, Anakin. It's just the way of the world."
Tears were swimming in his eyes now, mostly because the man's words stung. He'd felt it himself. The Jedi did forbid attachment; Obi-Wan himself often lectured Anakin on being too attached. His brain was slowing now, and he was able to see the sense and logic in Palpatine's argument. Suddenly, he felt very lonely. He'd really started to believe that Obi-Wan cared for him, and now - well, now he just felt like he was drowning and there was no one there to save him. "What about you?" he whimpered because his world was swimming in despair right now and he was suddenly childishly desperate for someone, anyone to care about him.
"What about me, Anakin?"
"I - do you just want something from me, too?" Part of him wondered if maybe this was the drug Palpatine had just given him taking effect, but he was too sad to really care. He was still just a tool, and it had been foolish of him to think otherwise.
"Of course, Anakin," the man replied, sinking his heart. "I want your everlasting friendship."
And just like that, floods of warmth filled his soul, because he'd been stupid to forget that Palpatine would always be there for him, and aside from R2 and his mother, was the only one in the galaxy who didn't need anything from him. He relaxed into the chair. His whole being was fuzzy and warm now, and everything seemed out of focus. "Don't leave me," he mumbled because somehow, he knew that whatever happened, he could never lose this man.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Palpatine replied. "Let's get you comfortable, shall we?" Anakin was vaguely aware of the man pulling a blanket of some kind over him before slipping away into unconsciousness. Somewhere out in the void, he heard a familiar voice telling him how precious he was, and he smiled slightly, knowing it was his friend.
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Obi-Wan returned to his quarters and sighed, realizing Anakin was not there. He was probably still in class, he realized, glancing at the chrono. He sighed and sat down, pondering Master Windu's advice. It felt wrong. He was no expert on trauma, but somehow, he knew that Anakin's years as a slave had affected him deeply in ways he wasn't fully sure either of them understood. Was he being too soft on the boy? Assuming that because he'd been hurt so badly as a child that he now needed to be coddled? He thought back to the first time he'd seen Anakin high. No. The pain in the boy's eyes had been unmistakable - overwhelming. There was no way he could believe Anakin was doing this for attention. But what to do?
His comm chirped, and he groaned internally as he read the message informing him that his wayward padawan had once again skipped class. Where in the seven Sith hells was he, then? He had a nasty sneaking suspicion that he already knew the answer tot hat question. He bit down his irritation, and called the boy's comm.
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Anakin woke up to his commlink beeping annoyingly in his ear. He sat up and looked around wildly, frightened as he realized he wasn't in his room or anywhere else familiar, for that matter.
"Relax, my boy," a familiar voice said. He looked over to see the chancellor. "You fell into quite a deep sleep in my office, so I brought you here to my quarters so you wouldn't be disturbed by my work. You looked like you really needed the rest."
Anakin glanced around, relaxing now. His head did feel a lot better. "Thank you," he said. His commlink beeped again. He frowned as he looked at it. "I'd better get this. It's Obi-Wan."
"I imagine he's worried about you. You've been asleep all day. It's already late evening. "
Anakin's eyes widened as he realized the time on the chrono. Holy kriffing hells. Obi-Wan was going to kill him. He answered the comm. "Yes, master?"
"Anakin, where are you?" Obi-Wan's irritated voice came through the comm. "It's late, and your teachers kindly informed me that you took the liberty of skipping class. Again."
He sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, master. I - I needed to clear my head, so I went out. I'm on my way back now."
"Out where, Anakin?"
"Just - out, master. Nowhere specific." The chancellor nodded approvingly.
"That doesn't answer my question, padawan. Did you go see Chancellor Palpatine again?"
"Stars, master," Anakin snapped, exasperated. "Relax. I'm not gonna do anything to piss the Council off. It's fine!"
"The Council? Anakin - what - nobody said anything about the Council. I'm asking about you, padawan. Where. Are. You."
Anakin groaned. "I just went for a walk and lost track of time. That's it. Nothing that's gonna get you in trouble. I'll be back soon." He ended the transmission.
Palpatine raised an eyebrow. "I haven't gotten you into any trouble, have I?" he asked anxiously.
Anakin shook his head. "Nah. He's just pissy like that sometimes. He says he worries about me when I stay out too late."
"And you believe that?" Palpatine asked. "It's a genuine question, my boy," he added, as Anakin sighed.
"I don't know anymore," the teenager admitted quietly. "I - I think I'd like to believe him."
Palpatine nodded. "Of course, Anakin, and who knows? It could just be that he really is worried about you. After all, I am just an old man, hardened into natural suspicion by life, you know."
Anakin chuckled. "You're not old. And you're not hardened or suspicious either. It made a lot of sense, what you said earlier today. I do gotta go, though, or he's going to call again."
"Of course, Anakin. As always, it's been a pleasure."
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"You certainly took your time," Obi-Wan said flatly as he entered the quarters.
"Sorry, master."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Anakin, I'm not asking you to be sorry. Look, I just want to know where you were. You can't keep skipping class like that, either."
"Why not?" Anakin challenged. "It's no good, anyway. I'll never catch up to the others. I'll never be one of them. Don't you see, master? They'll never accept me no matter what I do."
Obi-Wan thought back to Mace Windu's words from earlier that day. He harbors a darkness within him. "Anakin, I - that's not true. You are different, but they will accept you eventually. You just have to try. And skipping class is not exactly proving them wrong, padawan."
Anakin's shoulders dropped in defeat. "Yes, master."
"I'm not trying to lecture you, padawan."
"Yes, master."
Obi-Wan sighed. He'd clearly lost him. "Anakin, I - I only want what's best for you."
"Yes, master."
Clearly, then, this conversation was over. "Very well, padawan. I had your teachers send along the work you were supposed to do today. Go take a shower, and then you can get started."
He sighed inwardly as he watched Anakin retreat to the fresher. That went well, he thought sarcastically. He ran a hand through his hair. The boy DID seem less exhausted now than he had when he'd left that morning. Maybe he'd just needed a day off. Obi-Wan truly hoped so.
Chapter Text
Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead to prepare himself for the impending headache. He'd spent the night in deep meditation, trying to find any explanation or even a clue from the force for what exactly he had to do next. He wasn't sure why Anakin was behaving the way he was, but he somehow knew that Palpatine wasn't helping matters. The old man gave him extremely creepy vibes, and Anakin's adoration for him only made the feeling worse. The possessiveness he'd seen in the man's eyes as he'd told him he couldn't see Anakin anymore had unnerved him. And he was pretty sure that Anakin had gone to see him again after that, even though he wouldn't admit it. That meant he and his very headstrong padawan were about to have a difficult conversation.
"Anakin, do you have a moment to talk?"
The boy glanced Obi-Wan over before sitting down. "What's up?"
"I - I don't think you need to be seeing the chancellor anymore."
Anakin scowled. "Why not? He's my friend, master."
"He's a bad influence, padawan," Obi-Wan argued, crossing his arms.
"I already told you - all that stuff was me. I just said it was him so I wouldn't get in trouble."
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe you, Anakin."
"Why would I lie about that?" Anakin challenged.
"I don't know, Anakin!" the ginger Jedi exploded, his exasperation boiling over. "I don't know why you do half the things you do! You drink! You smoke! You do drugs! Who knows what else you're doing? I don't understand you, padawan, and clearly, I don't know you as well as I thought I did!"
Anakin's face darkened. "See?" he said quietly. "This is why. This is why I need him. Nobody else gets me."
Obi-Wan sighed. "I - I'm trying, young one. I really am. I'm sorry I yelled . . . it's just so frustrating. I don't know how to help you."
"Master, I can't stop seeing him. He's a friend."
"He's not a good one, Anakin. You don't think it's the slightest bit strange or inappropriate that an older man has taken such an interest in you?"
"No, I don't!" the boy snapped. "He's always been there! Always! From day one! When you couldn't get out of bed after Master Qui-Gon died, and I was struggling to read and write and my teachers were failing me instead of helping, who do you think stepped up? He did! When you couldn't take care of me because you were out on missions and I was 'too young to go', who do you think checked up on me? When I missed my mom so much it physically hurt, who do you think heard me cry? He's always been there, even when no one else was!" Anakin's breathing was heavy now, and he was shaking slightly. "So do whatever you want to me, but I can't abandon him! He's one of the only people in the galaxy who care about me, not what I offer!"
"Anakin-"
"No! I don't wanna hear it! This conversation is over!"
And with that, he'd stood up and stormed out with the rage that was so concerning to all of the Jedi erupting through the force. Obi-Wan sighed. That had gone well.
Anakin Skywalker was trying to focus on the class. Really, he was. He'd stormed out after a stupid argument with Obi-Wan this morning, and he was still pissed. Who in the Sith hells did Obi-Wan think he was, anyway, trying to tell him who he could be friends with? The sickening black rage suffocated him, smothering his vision. He bit his lip and tried to refocus on the lecture. Something about the wildlife of Dagoba. Anakin liked animals and he had a deep connection with all living things, but Intergalactic Biology bored him to tears. How could Obi-Wan try to take his only real friend away? Another wave of rage washed over him. It wasn't right. How could Jedi live like this? Cutting off all connection to anyone who dared come close? Palpatine was right. Obi-Wan could never truly care about him. All he cared about was avoiding attachment and molding Anakin into the perfect Jedi. He struggled to control his breathing, fighting the urge to crush his datapad with the force. He was supposed to be taking notes, but he couldn't really see anything clearly.
"Skywalker!"
Damn these Jedi. They just loved to pick on him for no reason. "Yes, master?"
"If my class is so boring to you that you're zoning out, perhaps you have more important things to attend to."
Deep breath, he told himself. Anger got slaves killed. Don't defy the masters. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, wrestling the flames of anger down into his chest.
"Well, Skywalker?"
Don't lose control. He was shaking now with the effort as power and fury threatened to break free. He'd always been too powerful for his own good. His mother had tried to teach him to hide his powers, but the older he got, the harder it seemed to be. Hold it down, he reminded himself firmly. Don't let go. She was baiting him. It was a test. Don't give in.
"Padawan Skywalker," the instructor said firmly. "I asked you a question."
"Bitch," he gritted out. Crap.
Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.
Her eyes widened. "Padawan Skywalker what did you just call me?"
His chest was way too tight, and he couldn't breathe, and all he could see was a murky haze. He stood up and left, shaking. He strode out of the cool, peaceful confines of the Temple and into the busy streets of Coruscant. He was so screwed. The instructor had probably already commed Obi-Wan. His body buzzed with energy that he wasn't fully sure was fear or anger. Probably both, he thought absently. He wandered through the levels, going progressively deeper. The streets got darker and narrower. The people got sketchier, and the buildings got dirtier. He let his body wander independently of his mind, absently noting the grotesque graffiti and the filthy alleys. He was deep in Coruscant's lower levels now. He took note of a run-down building with grime-streaked grey walls, an aging black slate roof, and rusty bars on the windows. In faded neon green letters above the rusty door was the word "Rummy's." Good as any, he thought, striding in. The barstools were greasy and cracked, and the bar itself had crumbs all over it, but the place was well-lit with a few occupants. He slid onto a barstool. "I'll take a Dathomir special," he mumbled, sliding some credits over the the Zabrak bartender.
The man looked at him and chuckled. "Ain't ya a bit young to be drinking?"
Anakin shrugged. "I figure my money's as good as anyone else's."
"Eh, fair enough," the Zabrak said. He pushed the drink over to Anakin and went back to the kitchen.
Anakin took a long drink and sighed deeply and pondered the mess he'd managed to get himself into. Maybe he shouldn't go back. Maybe he could just make a life for himself somewhere down here, far away from the Jedi. He shook his head, chiding himself for such childish thoughts. He couldn't leave. The Jedi owned him. Well, kinda. Their system never really made sense to him. They were masters, but not owners, and yet Master Qui-Gon had won him like property from Watto. And he had yet to have his chip deactivated, even though he clearly remembered telling the Jedi master that slaves had a microchip implanted. Clearly, then, they meant to keep it in. Why if they weren't owners? He finished his drink, shaking his head again. Who cared? As anyone who had felt the sting of a whip, the aching pressure of a chain, or the hungry predatorial look in someone's gaze knowing full well they couldn't say no to what was about to happen, knew all too well - once a slave, always a slave. He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to block out the memories that threatened to rise from the grave he buried them in. He was fine. He wasn't in that life anymore. He was totally fine.
He choked and whirled around - his chain of though broken as someone touched his arm. A Dug was standing behind him, grinning. "You look like someone who needs a pick-me-up."
Anakin scowled. "Mind your own business."
The Dug looked around, then leaned in close. "I've got what ya need, kid. Only eighteen credits for a hit."
Anakin's eyes narrowed. "What is it?"
The Dug pulled out a small paper envelope. "Devil's Speed."
Huh. Anakin probed into the Dug's head. The stuff was legit. That was a really cheap price. He dug deeper, concentrating, trying to feel the inner workings of the dealer's mind. Anxiety. Eagerness. Gonna get caught . . .. It all suddenly clicked. This dealer had some form of law enforcement on his tail - at least, he seemed to think so, and he was trying to get rid of his product before he could get caught with it on him. That meant Anakin was about to get a really good stimulant at a really low price.
"Deal."
Obi-Wan Kenobi stared at the message in dismay. An instructor conference. That could only mean that Anakin had yet again either skipped class or gotten into trouble. He groaned. Why couldn't that boy be like other padawans? Well-mannered, obedient - he cut that train of thought off before it could keep going. That was dangerous and unfair to Anakin, he reminded himself. Anakin was at a severe disadvantage and was trying his best. At least, that's what Obi-Wan wanted to believe despite Anakin making that difficult. He sighed and headed off to the classroom.
"Master Kenobi, thank you for meeting with me," the instructor greeted. "Please, sit down."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Please, skip the formalities. What did he do this time?"
The instructor smiled slightly. "I'm glad to see you and I are on the same page. Your padawan is disrespectful, inattentive, and oftentimes downright belligerent. I called him out in class today for his lack of attention and he responded with further disrespect."
"I - Anakin is having a hard time recently," Obi-Wan started. He really didn't need Anakin getting dropped from this class. "He's -"
"He called me a bitch, Kenobi."
Oh. That was - new. He sighed. "I do apologize. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will have a conversation with him, and it will not happen again."
"Respectfully, Kenobi, I think he needs more than a conversation. You're far too lenient with the boy."
He sighed. "I see. I will take care of it. Again, thank you."
He was buzzing with energy and absolutely frickin ecstatic. The drug was more than a pick-me-up. It was a total gamechanger, and he was about to smoke all of these losers. Anakin grinned lopsidedly and hopped into the pod. It was an older model, and it definitely needed some engine work, but he'd flown worse. He flipped off the other racers as they called him slurs that he couldn't comprehend due to the blood rushing through his ears, and he took off. This was where he truly shone. Making turns and adjustments faster than the eye could process, screaming around the racetrack so quickly he couldn't rely on thought - only reflexes and skill. A deafening roar and a wave of heat surrounded him. The racer right behind him had crashed. He narrowly avoided a pillar and ducked the pod under an arch. Another crash behind him. Holy stars above, this was amazing. He laughed giddily, speeding around another lap, narrowly avoiding a collision with another racer. A piece of shrapnel from someone's pod soared towards him, striking his face. He only laughed harder. This was what he was meant to do. He'd been born to fly, and he was flying free right now, and it was awesome.
He screamed across the finish line, breathless, grinning, sweaty and bloodied, but he'd won. Screams, cheers, and brawls were erupting under the bright lights around him now as he claimed the cash pool. He could do this all night.
Obi-Wan Kenobi tapped his foot impatiently. It was past two in the morning, and Anakin hadn't returned. The boy was going to be the death of him. He scowled as he heard the door hiss open and felt the familiar presence enter the quarter.
"Nice of you to finally drop by," he said flatly.
Anakin grinned at him. "Master. Sorry, I know it's late." He laughed. "I was busy and got carried away."
Obi-Wan looked closer at the teenager, noting the greasy stains on his tunic, the grime on his face and hands, and the breathless, sweaty appearance. And was that blood on his shirt? He noted the cut on the boy's forehead and frowned. "Where were you, padawan?"
Anakin giggled breezily. "Out."
"Padawan, this is no laughing matter," Obi-Wan said sternly. "Where. Were. You?"
For some reason, that only made Anakin laugh harder. "I was out. Out and away," he chuckled.
Irritation was rising in Obi-Wan now. "Pay attention," he snapped. "Did you take something again? I swear if Palpatine did this-"
"Aw, shut up!" Anakin replied. "I wasn't even with him." He laughed harder now. "I was out flying." He grinned mischievously. "Out and about and flying."
"Anakin -"
"Anakin! Anakin!" the boy was laughing uncontrollably now, and Obi-Wan found it both irritating and unnerving. "Shut up, Anakin! Be perfect Anakin! Hate everyone Anakin!" the boy mimicked. He collapsed onto the sofa, clutching his sides with laughter. He gazed at Obi-Wan with dilated pupils and grinned. "Eat shit, Obi-Wan."
Something snapped. Obi-Wan slapped him. Hard. He shrank back, shocked. The boy's cheek was bright red from the impact, and his eyes were wide. "Holy shit, you hit me!" he said incredulously. Then he giggled. again. "You hit me. I didn't think you had it in you!"
Obi-Wan felt sick. "Go to your room, padawan." Anakin made no move to get up from the sofa; he only continued to laugh with eerie mirth. Obi-Wan grabbed his shoulder roughly and shoved him towards his bedroom. "Go!" He watched as the boy stumbled into the room, still giggling, then he sank down onto the floor, dropping his head into his hands. He'd just hit his padawan. Anakin had clearly been on some sort of stimulant, and obviously was not fully with it, but he'd still hit him. And even though Anakin hadn't seemed bothered, Obi-Wan was. Somehow, someway, a line had been crossed, and he wasn't sure if they would be able to go back.
Chapter Text
Anakin Skywalker opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. For some absurd reason, he was lying on the floor, and his clothes were dirty and smelled of smoke. His head was pounding and his eyes kriffing burned. He winced as he sat up and touched his forehead, feeling the sticky dried blood. What the hell had he done last night?
He shut his eyes against the rudely intruding sunlight and scowled, searching his mind for the events of the previous day. Right. Class. The bar. Drugs. Podracing. He smiled slightly, remembering the thrill of the race, then immediately grimaced as his head throbbed. He groaned and dragged himself to his feet, glancing at the chrono. Crap. He was going to be late to his first class of the day. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face, then winced, realizing the left side was unusually tender. He stripped down to his boxers, dumping all of his clothes into the hamper and went into the fresher, staring into the mirror as he gripped the edge of the sink.
Holy. Shit.
The left side of his face was reddish purple and swollen. Had he fought someone? He closed his eyes, thinking back. Shit. Obi-Wan. He'd hit him last night. He swallowed hard as the realization hit him. Obi-Wan had hit him. He'd definitely deserved it and some, but - still. Obi-Wan had hit him. He grabbed the bottle of painkillers from the cabinet and swallowed a handful dry, not bothering to count how many he took. He was in so much trouble. Obi-Wan was going to kill him. He'd pushed probably the most patient person in the galaxy to hitting him. His comm alarm chirped, announcing his second class was starting in thirty minutes. Kriff.
Obi-Wan Kenobi had not slept. He'd spent the night furious and trying to meditate - perhaps for the first time since Qui-Gon's death - had failed to help him. He was furious with himself for losing his composure, furious with Anakin for acting out, and furious with the other Jedi for not being able to help him. He didn't know what to do, and the problem was only getting worse. Anakin probably hated him now. Heck, he wouldn't be surprised if the boy asked to be transferred to someone else's tutelage. Clearly, he was an unfit teacher for the boy.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes, and brewed a cup of caf. Anakin was supposed to have been gone for his classes twenty minutes ago, but he had more pressing issues right now.
The fresher door hissed open and Anakin stepped out, clearly exhausted. His eyes were red-rimmed and the dark circles beneath them stood out starkly against his pale face. There was a good-sized bruise on his left cheek where Obi-Wan had slapped him, and there was an ugly gash on his forehead from wherever he'd been the previous night. "Anakin."
The boy glanced up at him, but notably didn't make eye contact. Obi-Wan sighed. "Sit, young one." The boy obeyed, still avoiding eye contact. Obi-Wan gently brushed his thumb against the bruised flesh, noting the slight wince it elicited from the boy. "Let's get you some bacta for that." Anakin didn't react, so Obi-Wan took that as permission, retrieving the small bottle from the fresher and gently applying it to the skin.
"What happened last night, Anakin?"
The boy swallowed hard. "I - I'm sure my teacher already talked to you," he said quietly.
"I'm not asking about her. I want to hear your side of things, padawan."
Anakin bit his lower lip. "Why?"
The young knight frowned. "Because, Anakin - because - because you matter."
Anakin glanced up at him quickly, then immediately dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry. I just - I'll do better."
"I want to know what happened, Anakin." He made sure to keep his tone gentle but firm, hoping Anakin would understand he wasn't trying to attack him.
"I - she was goading me. At least - it seemed like that. I tried to focus. I really did, but she just kept pushing, and I tried to control it, but I feel so much, and it just explodes without me wanting it to. I - I snapped. So I left. She's probably going to kick me out anyway. I just - they were all staring, and she was just waiting for me to fail, and I'm never going to be able to get it anyway, so why even try?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "And then? After you left?"
"I - I started wandering. Just to clear my head, y'know? And then I met some people, and I just wanted to remind myself that I'm good at some things. I can fly. It's what I do. So I podraced. I'm good at it, and it's so - freeing. It's just me and pure instinct and adrenaline, and it's kriffing great."
"And the drugs? We talked about that, Anakin."
"I - I know." Anakin's tone now was almost pleading. "They help me, though. They temper all the bad stuff - the anger and guilt and hate and all the stuff Master Yoda says I shouldn't feel. They make it all go away."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Anakin, there are better ways to deal with your emotions."
"I - I can't meditate, master. The force is too loud. I hear everything. Everyone's thoughts, everyone's emotions - everything. It's too much. It makes everything worse."
Obi-Wan placed a hand on his shoulder. "Nonetheless, Anakin, what you did last night was inexcusable. Your behavior was not only inappropriate, but also illegal and dangerous."
Anakin dropped his head again. "I - I'm sorry, master. I didn't mean to disrespect you. I - please forgive me."
Obi-Wan's heart sank. He recognized that tone. It was the tone Anakin used when he woke up from nightmares, forgetting where he was and that he wasn't a slave anymore, and pleading for Obi-Wan not to hurt him. That tone killed him every time the boy used it. "Anakin, I'm not here to hurt you," he said gently. "I just want what's best for you. I'm not your enemy, padawan."
Anakin didn't respond, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground and trembling ever so slightly.
"Anakin - "
"Are you gonna get rid of me?" the teenager's voice was small - broken. It was the sound of heartbroken resignation.
"Anakin - no, I - I would never just get rid of you. You're not an object to be discarded once things get difficult." The boy didn't respond, so Obi-Wan squatted in front of him, forcing eye contact. "You're not an object, Anakin."
"But - but I'm - broken. I - you could choose someone better. Someone you actually want by your side." Kriff, he could feel the boy's pain, hurt, shame, and guilt radiating through the force. "Everyone leaves eventually," he added quietly. "I - I'll be okay."
Holy crap, was this kid trying to break his heart? Obi-Wan held him close. "Anakin, I do want you, and I'm not going anywhere. In fact, I - I've been worried that after last night you'd want someone else to teach you."
Anakin frowned. "But - but I deserved that."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, padawan. It's not okay for me to put my hands on you just because you make me angry. That was inexcusable, and I apologize."
Anakin shook his head uncomprehendingly, but let it slide. "I - I guess I should probably get to class. I already missed the first two of the day."
Obi-Wan nodded, allowing him to leave.
Obi-Wan decided that it was time for some outside help. Since the Council couldn't help him with Anakin, maybe someone close to him could. As much as he hated it, he found himself outside Palpatine's office, reminding himself that this was for Anakin.
"Master Kenobi! It's a pleasure," the old man greeted warmly. "You seem troubled. Is something amiss?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm afraid so. I - I understand you are close to Anakin. Has he - mentioned anything to you lately about anything notable?"
Palpatine frowned. "You're going to have to more specific, Master Kenobi. Anakin and I talk about a lot, you know."
Obi-Wan sat down, pushing down the crawling sensation that travelled up his spine as Palpatine said Anakin's name. "I - has anything been troubling him lately? He's been acting out recently, and I don't know how to help him or even what's going on. I was hoping you could provide some insight."
"Hmm . . . well, he did mention - no, I'm sure it's not important."
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"Well, like I said," the chancellor replied carefully. "I'm sure he didn't mean it or anything, but he has been quite agitated with you recently."
"With me?" Obi-Wan asked incredulously. "Why?"
"Well, he was upset one evening about not having any friends among the Jedi, and he told me that you weren't exactly helping matters. He said he'd never get ahead because you were too young to even be a knight, let alone a teacher. He told me he felt that he only agreed to leave his mother because he thought that he was going to be trained by a Jedi master, not a stand-in."
"A stand-in? He - he used that word?" Obi-Wan asked, swallowing the hurt the chancellor's words were eliciting. Because it was true. He was underqualified. He was only knighted because Qui-Gon had wanted to take Anakin on, and then he'd died, leaving Obi-Wan with nothing but a promise to train the boy.
"I - yes, but again, it was only one time, and I'm sure he was just upset. Other than that, he's full of good things to say about you. He says you always follow the Jedi Code no matter what the cost, and you always try your hardest, even when you don't succeed."
"I - is that all? Just the one night he was upset?" Obi-Wan pressed, because while still reeling from the new knowledge that his padawan didn't even respect him as a knight, he was sure there was more bothering Anakin.
"Yes. Of course, he has gripes with the other Jedi, but children will be children, you know. I do tell him to be patient, and that the Jedi want only the best for him, but I'm sure you know that Anakin is far from a patient person."
Obi-Wan chuckled dryly. "I'm afraid so. He's quite the persona. I - what do you think he needs from me?"
Palpatine sighed. "Anakin is a complicated child, and in my experience, children with as dark a past as Anakin has had unfortunately have some degree of manipulation to them. I think you need to be vigilant against that. He's used to fending for himself and surviving at all costs, so sometimes, he may revert back to old habits - unintentionally, I'm sure, but manipulative nonetheless."
"I - I don't think Anakin is manipulative or ill-meaning, your excellency," Obi-Wan countered, because he'd seen firsthand the pain the boy carried.
"Isn't that the beauty of manipulation?" Palpatine challenged with a small smile. "He doesn't do it consciously, I assure you, but he does it. For example, he's used to abhorrent punishment for misbehaving, so he might highlight how much he's hurting and how hard he's trying so he can detract attention from his mistakes and failures and thereby avoid punishment. If, say, he fails a test because he didn't study, he might try to avoid your anger by saying he tried so hard but nobody likes him, so he couldn't form a study group and absorb the material properly. He'll offer a thousand apologies and promises to do better, but he doesn't follow through on any of them. Again, he doesn't do this maliciously, but rather as a defense mechanism."
"So - he makes excuses to avoid responsibility," Obi-Wan said slowly, because now he was recalling how often Anakin cringed, apologizing and promising to improve - making references to his excessive power or his inability to fit in or his out-of-control emotions- only to get high again or sneak out a few days or weeks later. Could the chancellor be right? Was Anakin just playing him for a fool? He stood up to leave. "Thank you, chancellor. You've been very - insightful."
Obi-Wan heard Anakin's gasp, felt the jolt of fear through the force before the walls slammed up, and sat up in bed, glancing at the chrono. 0100. He heard Anakin's door hiss open quietly, and got out of bed, opening his own door. The boy was staring out the window into the busy night of Coruscant, his back turned to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan cleared his throat, and Anakin whirled around, eyes wide. "Going somewhere, padawan?"
Anakin shook his head, dropping his gaze. "I - couldn't sleep. I was just - I don't know. Tryna get out of my head, y'know?"
And for the first time in their relationship, Obi-Wan questioned whether or not he should believe the boy. Had he actually just woken up from a nightmare or was he trying to sneak out? There was no way for him to know, and the doubt hung thick in the air like a poisonous gas, permeating the space between them.
Chapter Text
Anakin Skywalker took a deep breath and blinked lazily up at the ceiling. Huh. That wasn't his ceiling. It was too ornate - a rich red hue decorated with shimmering gold figures painted into erotic poses. He wondered if the figures were slaves and if they had been forced into those poses. Perhaps the artist who'd painted them had thought of them as mere objects for his pleasure, fantasizing about them as he'd painted them. The thought made him sad as he thought about his mother and how easily that could be her. He was a master's child, another cursed spawn - the result of a master's selfish desires. At least, that's what the other slaves said. His mother told him he wasn't, though. She said he was the child of the desert, born of sun and sand, implanted in her womb by the sand spirits. He'd believed it when he was little, but he wasn't sure now. Maybe she'd only been trying to make him feel better; maybe it was herself she'd been trying to console.
He blinked again, trying to bring the ceiling back into focus. If that wasn't his ceiling, then, whose was it? He tried to search the archives of his memory, scanning for any hint of how he'd come to be here. He didn't remember taking anything, but he was clearly high. He let out a defeated sigh. He was coming up blank here. He reached out through the force, scanning. It was hazy and foggy, but he could sense someone in the room with him. He didn't sense any danger, though, so he supposed that was good. He yawned, blinking forcefully against the heaviness of his eyelids. Matter of fact, everything felt heavy right now. He couldn't even lift his head. He grunted slightly, attempting to shift his weight so he could roll over.
"Shhhh." The voice seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite pin it.
"Mom?" he slurred.
He heard a chuckle, but it didn't sound like the cruel chuckle of the masters. It sounded endearing. "No, my boy, I'm not your mother."
Huh. That was a man's voice. He tried to turn his head to get a better look, but it was too heavy, and he was way too tired to fight it. "Mmmm . . . where'm I?" he mumbled, closing his eyes again.
"You're safe, my boy," the voice soothed. A hand stroked back his hair, and he relaxed into the touch. The presence felt familiar, but his brain was too groggy to pull up a definite image.
His body tensed as he realized the person was running their hands along his body - stroking his shoulders, chest, and thighs. "Ssstop," he slurred, attempting fruitlessly to pull away from the touch. He wasn't quite sure why, but it made him uneasy.
"Shhhh . . . you're okay, my boy. Relax," the voice was firm but kind. Still, his body shivered at the touch.
"Please," he whined.
"Trust me, Anakin," the voice said firmly. He opened his eyes again, and this time saw a figure leaning over him. The facial features were blurry, but the person seemed almost frail. The signature pulsed urgently as though the force was trying to tell him something, but his mind couldn't grasp it. "Relax. I only want what's best for you."
Was it a master after all? Had the Jedi sold him? Panic grew thick in his throat as his breathing grew harsh and labored. "Please," he rasped out more clearly, trying to fight the drug. It wasn't anything he'd normally take. It was too dense to be spice, and it wasn't any of the stimulants he normally took. "Stop."
"Do try not to panic, my boy," the voice soothed.
Where did he know this person from? He jerked, trying to harness the force. He saw a sliver of the force - a strand of golden light - and reached out, straining, to grasp it.
He felt the person mumble something disapproving, and fear wrapped itself around his throat, constricting him with its ugly grasp. He needed to get out of here. He jerked his body harder this time, and managed to halfway sit up, emitting a strangling sound. The person was too blurry to recognize, but he could tell it was an elderly, pale-skinned, human male. The person sighed heavily. "Now, that won't do, my boy. I did try to be nice about it." He winced as a sharp object - a needle probably, he dimly noted - penetrated his neck.
"Ssstop . . . Don't - " he protested weakly, falling back onto what he could only assume was a bed of some sort. His vision was spotting out now, and his mind was going blank. Fuck. Not good.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was sitting on the Temple steps trying not to panic. Anakin had woken up from another nightmare and informed him he was going for a walk. Obi-Wan suspected he was going to see the chancellor, but let him go, deciding it wasn't worth the fight. After all, he'd reasoned, at least Anakin had informed him he was going out. That was a win, these days. Nonetheless, that had been hours ago. His comm signals weren't going through - meaning the device was probably dead, and he couldn't reach him through their bond. Worry twisted in his gut. Something nagged at the back of his mind, but he couldn't figure out what it meant.
He dragged a hand down his face and closed his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Let the worry wash away into the force. Breathe in, breathe out. He was with the force, and the force was with him. Breathe in, breathe out. Worrying helped no one. In and out. Slowly, he cleared his mind, allowing the gently tug of the force's essence wash over him. Danger. Anakin. His eyes opened. He had to find his padawan. And he was pretty sure he knew the one person who would be able to tell him of his whereabouts.
"I'm sorry, but His Excellency isn't in office today," the attendant said.
"Whatever do you mean?" Obi-Wan snapped, crossing his arms. Patience, he reminded himself. None of this was her fault.
"He cleared his schedule for the day and left. Said he had an important matter to attend to."
"Did a boy come through here earlier? Blonde hair? Blue eyes? Tall and skinny?"
"Oh, you must mean Skywalker. Yes, I believe he did come through here earlier, shortly before His Excellency left."
"Did he say what he wanted?" Obi-Wan demanded, dread growing in his stomach. This couldn't be good.
"We have strict orders not to question or bother Skywalker in any way when he comes to see His Excellency," she said shortly.
"Of course you do," Obi-Wan grumbled.
He clearly wasn't going to get anymore information from her. He sighed deeply and left, wandering the city aimlessly. Where could that boy be? Had Palpatine taken him somewhere? Why? And didn't Anakin see the inappropriateness of that situation? Of course he didn't, Obi-Wan thought. He was a kid. A lonely kid who loved too much and too hard and refused to see any flaws in the ones he loved. He sighed. Please let him be okay, he prayed into the force.
Anakin groaned, blinking into consciousness. His head was pounding, and the force felt disgusted with him. He tentatively tested each one of his limbs, satisfied to find out he was uninjured. His whole body was sore, though, and he felt strangely raw and dirty - like he used to feel around some of the masters when they - he cut that thought short. He had to find out where he was and what had happened. He sat up, cursing quietly under his breath.
"Anakin! You're awake!"
He looked over to see the chancellor sitting at the foot of the couch he was laying on. "I was so worried, my boy!"
"What happened?" he asked. His whole memory was blank. He couldn't pull anything up, only a dim feeling of panic and disgust.
"You commed me, said you were hurt - I came as fast as I could."
"I commed you?" Anakin frowned. "Why?"
"You said you were hurt. I found you in a hotel room with a Zabrak. He didn't want to let me take you. I - I told him I was your father. I do hope you don't mind, my boy," the chancellor said apologetically. "I've never been so frightened. I couldn't think of any other way to make him let me take you."
"No, of course -" Anakin said quickly. He looked at the ground. "Palpatine?"
"Yes?"
"How - how was I when you - found me?" he asked quietly, dreading the answer.
"You were definitely drugged, my boy. That's all I really know. I couldn't get you to respond at all, so I carried you here to my quarters. You didn't look injured, though. I was so worried, my boy. Was he a friend of yours?"
"No," the boy said even more quietly, tears threatening to spill over now. "I - I have no idea who he was. I can't remember anything." He swallowed hard. "I - I -" his voice trembled and broke, so he stopped short, biting his lower lip instead.
"Anakin? I - are you all right?" The chancellor squatted in front of him. "Do you need me to call someone? Obi-Wan, perhaps?"
He shook his head hard. "I - can I just stay here for a minute?" he whispered.
"Of course," Palpatine said. "I - what happened Anakin?"
"I - I don't think I want to know," Anakin choked, the tears spilling over now.
"Anakin, if he hurt you, we need to tell someone. Maybe we should call the police."
"NO!" Anakin almost shouted. He didn't need this getting out. Obi-Wan would fucking kill him if he found out he'd been - with someone drugged and doing force-knows what in a hotel room with stars-knows-who. The Jedi would probably kick his sorry ass out on the streets. He took a deep breath. "No."
"Anakin, if he hurt you -"
"I'll live," Anakin gritted out. "I - it wouldn't be the first time," he said quietly.
Palpatine gaped at him for a moment, then sighed. "Anakin, I would like to see everyone who has hurt you brought to a painful justice," he said. "I wish I could help."
"You do help," the boy said. "I - you're the best friend I have. I'm sure that's why I called you first."
Palpatine nodded. "Thank you, my boy. I'm so glad you trust me so much. Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?"
Anakin rubbed his forehead fretfully. "No - I just - please don't tell anyone. I can't have this getting out. Besides -" he added. "We - we don't know that anything actually happened, right?" he looked pleadingly at his friend.
"Right," the old man reassured him. "I will respect your wishes, my boy," he continued. "Though it pains me to think that someone tried to hurt you and is going to get away with it. I'm so stupid. I should have tried to get a name or something. I was just too scared though. I suppose that's all I'm good for, though. Being a scared, stupid old man."
"No," Anakin said quickly. "This isn't your fault. You did exactly what I needed you to, okay? Please don't be upset on my account." He mentally kicked himself. Get it together, stupid, he thought fiercely. You're upsetting him. It's not his fault you're pathetic. "I promise, I'm okay. Really, I am."
Palpatine looked dubiously at him. "If you say, so my boy. If you ever need anything, though, please know that I'm here."
Anakin hugged him tightly. "I know. Thank you. So much," he whispered.
Obi-Wan sat on the couch in the dark living room with his head in his hands. He'd looked everywhere he could think of, and Anakin was nowhere to be found. He was a terrible master. What had made him think he could handle a kid like Anakin? He could barely handle himself. And now, Anakin was probably seriously hurt - possibly killed - all because he couldn't take care of him properly. He silently apologized to Qui-Gon, somewhat grateful that the master wasn't around to see his failures.
The door hissed open. Anakin walked in quietly, head down. His presence seemed - darker. Obi-Wan frowned. "Anakin - you've been gone for hours. What -"
"Please, master," Anakin said quietly. "Can we please not?"
Frustration rose in Obi-Wan's throat. Please not? The boy had the nerve to disappear for hours, worry him sick, then try to act like nothing happened? He sighed. Anakin did seem strangely distant and exhausted, though. "Anakin, you're not in trouble. I just want to know where you were."
"Out."
That was all. Just a single syllable. Obi-Wan collapsed onto the couch as he watched the boy disappear into his room. Something told him this was important. He steeled himself for the tantrum that was bound to ensue, then entered the boy's room. Anakin was lighting up a spice roll.
"Anakin. Put. That. Down." He struggled to maintain his composure, trying not to let the boy's blatant disrespect get under his skin. The kid wouldn't even turn around to acknowledge him. "I mean it, padawan," he said firmly.
"Please - I just - I really need something, master," the boy said shakily. "Please. Just walk away."
"Anakin, I will do no such thing. You are a Jedi, and it's time you start acting like one. Put it down. You don't need drugs anytime you're upset."
"You don't understand," Anakin said, his voice hollow. "You don't get it. You couldn't possibly get it."
"Anakin, I know what it's like to have emotions. I just choose to handle them in a healthy manner, padawan, as should you."
Anakin shook his head. "Walk away, master," he said firmly.
"Anakin Skywalker you give me that spice roll or - "
"Or what?" Anakin demanded, turning around now. "You'll ground me? Hit me? I don't care!"
"Anakin -"
"No! Why can't you see beyond your stupid Code? Why can't you see me?"
"Anakin, I'm trying - I -"
"Are you?" the boy challenged. "Are you trying? Because all I see is you worried about how I make you look in front of the other Jedi!"
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. "That's not true, padawan. There are rules, though, and they must be followed. Nobody forced you to become a Jedi, Anakin. You chose that."
"Really?" the teenager snapped. "Because last I checked, I was fucking bought! Qui-Gon fucking gambled on me like another piece of fucking property and dragged my ass here a million parsecs away from my mom while leaving her in that fucking hellhole, and then expected me to fucking forget everything and act like all of other perfect fucking shithead padawans you have here who haven't known pain a day in their privileged, sheltered lives!" The boy was panting now, eyes watering.
Obi-Wan saw red. How dare Anakin compare the Jedi - and especially Master Qui-Gon - to the slavers on Tatooine? How dare he? He slammed the boy's shoulders against the wall and pulled his face up to force eye contact. "You were lucky master Qui-Gon gave you a chance to escape. He did it how he could, and you'd do well to remember that, padawan. Maybe you should practice some gratitude instead of crying about how hard your life has been. News flash, Anakin - that wasn't our fault! It's nobody's fault that you endured what you did, and you have no right to resent your peers for not understanding that pain. I'm so tired of hearing your excuses, because that's all it is, Anakin. That's it! Just excuses! You're fifteen! It's time to grow up and start taking accountability for your actions!"
Anakin's face was unreadable. His signature was boiling with rage, shame, and pain. "Get the fuck out of my room, master!" he spat, venom lacing his voice.
"You don't get to order me around. In case you've forgotten, you're the student here!"
"Then I'll fucking leave!"
"You'll do no such thing! You will sit in this room and meditate, and reflect on your behavior to realized how inappropriate it has been," Obi-Wan hissed.
Anakin stood up and closed the gap between them, hovering inches away from the ginger's face. "You gonna stop me?" he challenged.
Obi-Wan shoved him back. "My decision is final, Anakin."
He turned to leave the room, only for the blonde teenager to block him. "Fucking make me," the boy snarled. "Fucking force me to stay here like a damn animal, Obi-Wan. Chain me up like the slave you all still see me as. Show me what you really think of me."
"Anakin, I'm warning you - step away," Obi-Wan said quietly, wrestling with his own anger and hating how easily Anakin seemed to bring out the worst in him.
"No."
"Where's your fucking code now, Obi-Wan? I feel your fucking anger. I know you do too. Where is it, Obi-Wan? Show me your healthy coping mechanisms."
"Anakin - " he was shaking, knowing Anakin was taunting him now. "Stop this at once. You've been warned." He looked into those turbulent blue eyes, blazing with pain and rage, swimming with depths of hurt and injustice.
"At least the masters on Tatooine were honest about who they were! At least they let me know what they thought of me! Why can't you be honest with me?"
Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. "You don't mean that, Anakin," he said quietly. "You're - you're talking nonsense. You don't mean that." Then he spun on his heel, and marched out the door.
Anakin laid out on his bed, inhaling the smoke from his spice roll, letting the smell fill his nostrils, willing his muscles to relax. He'd hurt Obi-Wan - that much had been evident. Why did he manage to destroy everything he touched? How was it that he managed to hurt everyone he loved? The chancellor, his mother, Obi-Wan - all of them had been hurt because of him. He sighed, breathing deeply. He was a good-for-nothing lowlife - a burden on everyone. He blinked slowly, his half-lidded eyes scanning the room. Why was he even still alive? His mother had always told him he had a great future ahead of him, but those were the wishful words of a woman forced to watch her child sob as masters used and abused him. Maybe that's all he ever would be. A tool. An object to be used, then cast aside as soon as his worth no longer outweighed his trouble. He closed his eyes. Obi-Wan would probably tell the Council to kick him out. Probably tell him he was ungrateful and didn't deserve to be a Jedi. He would be right, he thought. He didn't have what it took to be a Jedi. He closed his eyes, letting the drug lull him into a deep sleep.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath, looking around at the impassive faces of the Jedi Council. Somehow, they always managed to make him feel small. "I would like to request a meditative retreat, masters," he said carefully.
"A meditative retreat, you say?" Yoda repeated. "And why, I ask, a meditative retreat you need?"
"I - my padawan and I need some time. Anakin has been having a rough time, and I cannot effectively help him. I think we both need some time to grow as a team and strengthen our bond. I can feel him spiraling out of control, and I can tell that my own emotions are not as balanced as they should be."
"Hmm . . . so you think a meditative retreat would help?" Ki-Ad Mundi asked.
"Yes, masters," Obi-Wan insisted. "He needs the space to balance out his emotions and put his past to rest. He needs to process his trauma, and he cannot do that if he is here, distracted by missions and studies."
The masters looked around for a long moment, then finally focused back on Obi-Wan. "Denied," Mace said impassively.
Obi-Wan gaped at him. "Denied? I - why?"
"Not that we owe you an explanation," Mace said severely, "but if Skywalker is having issues here, avoiding the problem will not solve anything. He doesn't need a vacation; he needs discipline. "
"Masters -" Obi-Wan protested.
"Enough, Kenobi. You are dismissed."
Anakin woke up to the pale gray light of dawn filtering in through his window. Stars, his head hurt. He rolled out of bed and made his way to the living room. Obi-Wan was there, and by the looks of it, he hadn't slept at all. Anakin had never seen the man look so defeated. His head was in his hands as he sat desolately on the couch.
Anakin swallowed hard and knelt at the man's feet. "Master," he said quietly.
Obi-Wan looked at him with bloodshot eyes. "Anakin, get up," he said softly. "You don't have to kneel for me. You never have to kneel in front of me."
Anakin bit his lip and lowered his head. "I'm sorry," he offered. "I - I said some stuff yesterday - a lot of stuff - that I didn't mean and had no right to say. I've just - I've been having a lot of stuff go wrong recently, and I -"
"I know, Anakin," Obi-Wan said quietly. "I know."
