Chapter 8

"So, at what point are we going to talk about how utterly terrifying your Padawan has become?" Dooku asked his grandpadawan.

"We will not talk about it," Obi-Wan replied, stubbornly watching Anakin execute another block. "Not yet, at least."

"If you say so."

Life at the temple hadn't changed much in the past years except in all the ways it had. Dooku couldn't explain how, though he certainly knew the why, but the entire temple seemed lighter, filled with a grace it had forgotten. He had missed the warmth and comfort of the temple and as it healed an infection it hadn't been aware of, Dooku healed his own. He was getting stronger again, his shields better. He felt more at home than he had in all the previous decades.

"He is going to surpass you soon," Dooku pointed out, watching Anakin fight in the training ring below. "It won't take too long."

"I am aware," Obi-Wan shot back. The young man didn't sound bitter, no, more scared. In all the years he had known him now, Dooku could count the number of times he had actually seen Obi-Wan Kenobi scared on one hand with fingers still left over. There wasn't much to fear when you knew that the Force themself was your backup.

But there were some things to be wary of nevertheless.

"I have a meeting with the Chancellor later today," Dooku stated. Palpatine was a sympathetic man who cared to listen for the Jedi, though Dooku would still prefer it if he were at least a little less interested in the going-ons of the temple. He didn't particularly trust politicians, a sentiment he was proud to have installed in his lineage.

"Here at the temple?"

"Force, no," Dooku retorted. "He wanted to, was quite interested in meeting the rest of my lineage as well after I told him of you."

Obi-Wan's head whipped around, taking his eyes off Anakin for the first time in minutes. "Did you say anything about Anakin?"

Dooku snorted. "Please, Padawan, don't think me a fool. I'm not going to tell the Chancellor of the Republic that we are harboring the strongest Force-sensitive in centuries under our roof, who happens to casually break space whenever he gets too worried."

"He hasn't done that in a while," Obi-Wan defended his apprentice quickly. It was true. While his control over the Force had been a mess in the aftermath of Naboo, little Anakin Skywalker had grown since. He had, and Dooku used these terms very lightly, become more human, approachable. His Force presence wasn't nearly hurtful anymore, and he had made a few more friends his age whose shields still needed some work, but not as much as they had before.

"But he can do it," Dooku argued just to be contrary. "Just because he had learned some more control doesn't mean that his sheer capability to do as he pleases isn't enough already. In any case, if he continues insisting on practicing Djem So and settling on a form so early, I would suggest switching yours as well."

Obi-Wan raised a brow at him. "To what? Makashi?"

Dooku would be delighted if his grandpadawan would follow his footsteps, but he didn't think that was the path Obi-Wan should follow. "That you have to figure out yourself."

X

Qui-Go was sick of people fussing over him. He was an accomplished Knight, had raised two Padawans to Knighthood, and done countless missions. He didn't need to be treated as a Padawan going on their first solo-mission.

He had had time to recover. Force, he wasn't even going on this mission on his own.

"I think it's sweet," Shmi said, smiling mischievously. "All of them are worrying over you."

Qui-Gon fixed her with a blank stare. "Forgive me if I don't think it's overly reassuring to have a nine-year-old tell me to be careful and pack me an extra package of bacta patches."

"Ahsoka means well," Shmi pointed out and attempted to tug her hair behind her ear only to realize the traditional braid was gone. She sighed in frustration but still glowed with pride. Qui-Gon remembered how long it had taken Obi-Wan to get used to his changed hair cut.

"Still, did it have to be neon-colored bacta patches?"

"They will look very good on your handsome face. Now get going, Qui-Gon Jinn."

Shmi ushered him up the ramp of the ship.

"As you wish, Knight Skywalker."

X

".. and I think I might just back out of politics for a while once my term is over," Padmé said as she picked out her next outfit. Had she already worn this to a formal dinner with her advisors? She couldn't remember. Where was Eirtaé when she needed her?

"Just, catch a break from all the troubles," Padmé explained herself. She didn't want to sound as if she hadn't fought to serve her people. "Though, I suppose you don't really get breaks, do you?"

"Nope."

Even though she couldn't see Anakin's face, she somehow gained the impression that he was smiling at her.

"Yes, yes, laugh it up. And what are your grand plans?"

"Nothing much really," Anakin replied. "Finish all my classes soon, get my credits, study lightsaber forms, figure out what the hell is giving me such a headache, become a Knight, train Ahsoka—"

Padmé froze. "Slow down. What headache?"

Silence followed her statement, but Padmé had been friends with Anakin Skywalker long enough that this was his attempt at dropping a discussion he didn't want to have.

Thankfully, Padmé was a noisy person by nature.

"Anakin Skywalker." Padmé tried to put as much offense into her voice as possible. "You don't just get headaches. Have you talked with Obi-Wan about them?"

"Yes," came the frustrated reply. "And with Ahsoka and Qui-Gon and Mom and Dooku, and just about everyone in the Order! Why am I never allowed to just be a regular person like everyone else? Why does it always have to be such a huge thing!?"

Padmé thought she heard the glass of her windows shatter, but when she turned around to look at them, they were still intact.

Silence fell in-between them as Anakin collected his breath, calming again. "I'm sorry," he apologized after a while. "I didn't mean to. It's just so frustrating. The Force is… they feel as if they're getting sicker by the day, and so am I. I think. I haven't told that anyone else. They'd just worry about things they can't fix."

Padmé sat down on her bed, imagining she wasn't planets away from her friend, but right beside him. "Do you think or know?"

"I'm not sure," Anakin answered. "I used to think that nothing had changed. I remember that I upset my parent when I helped heal Qui-Gon, but I thought that would be it. They— they don't speak to me as often anymore. It makes things more difficult."

Padmé recognized that tone of voice, the slight echo to it that stayed even when talking over the holo. Anakin struggled to find the right words, to express himself in any way that still made sense to people restricted to the mortal plane.

"Difficult, how?" she prompted him.

"It feels like… Like the training wheels are off. The Force used to show me everything, how the entire galaxy worked. Now I can still see all the strings and where they will all lead me, but I can no longer see what they mean."

She heard him sigh. "In any case, let's not talk so much about it. It sounds stupid, but I'm glad we're friends, Padmé. You ensure the world makes sense."

And what a wonderous thought that was. Padmé didn't think that she was doing anything extraordinarily helpful. Her rants about agricultural legislation wouldn't lead to him figuring out his problems, but maybe Anakin just needed someone who was not constantly seeking guidance from a primordial power.

"Alright," she said. "But if you do want to talk— "

"I don't," Anakin replied quickly. "Just— not now. Maybe later if that is alright?"

Padmé smiled. "Always."

X

He worries, Shmi told the Force. Your absence frightens him.

The Force stayed silent.

Shmi had never been a person who lost control of their temper easily, but even she found that she was starting to get impatient. Years of the Force whispering in her mind, teasing her, begging, crying, and ordering, and now they were turning silent. The closer to Coruscant she was, the more difficult it was to communicate with them.

As much as she had loathed them at times for all the pain they expected her to endure, she missed their breath on her neck, their strength in her blood. A sick person couldn't heal others, but the warmth the Force did offer was unlike that Shmi could find anywhere else.

"I have to go," she said out loud.

"Sure of this you are, Padawan mine?"

Shmi smiled at her teacher. "I haven't been a Padawan in some time now."

Yaddle only rolled her eyes and were she Yoda, Shmi knew she'd have to watch out for a gimmer stick. "My Padawan, you will always remain. Where do you think you will go?"

Shmi kept her eyes open, but she reached out as far as her mind could stretch, felt the wind caress her legs. "I'm not sure yet. Maybe— maybe I should return to Tatooine."

That got a reaction out of the Force. They hummed the sweet song of the desert, the noise barely above a whisper.

Yes.

She needed to return to Tatooine

X

Ahsoka chewed on her pencil and tried not to get too distracted by the steady curses she could hear Anakin whisper across their bond, klicks away from her. Focusing on his and Obi-Wan's adventures was just so much more interesting than her boring PolSci lessons. Soon she'd be able to go with them. They'd go on amazing adventures and Ahsoka would be the best Padawan this temple had ever seen.

That was if Anakin could hurry up and get himself knighted soon. She knew it was early, everyone knew it was too early, but Ahsoka was soon fourteen. She was already old for an Initiate and she didn't want to be the last of her year to be picked just because the Council thought that Anakin should remain a Padawan a little longer.

Or Obi-Wan.

She started to think that the separation would be more difficult on him than on Anakin. Then again, Anakin could always reach them with less difficulty than they could reach him.

"Initiate Tano." Her teacher didn't raise their voice, but Ahsoka still reacted as if they had, sitting up straight. "What do you think?"

"Eh, what?"

The Jedi Master studied her for a moment, then they sighed. "The question on the board, little one."

"Right, right." Ahsoka looked at the whiteboard.

What does the creation of a unified Republic army mean for the autonomy of single planets?

Ooh, that.

"Easy," Ahsoka replied and began to repeat the speech she knew Padmé was going to hold in less than a week. If there was one good thing about Anakin's crush on Padmé, it was that Ahsoka had unrestricted access to all the Senate gossip she could make use of in her classes.

X

Obi-Wan loved his family. All of them, no matter how annoying they could be at times, how crazy or stressful. He loved them with all he had, so he took any pain against them with a heavy heart. Obi-Wan had learned how to grief and let go, but some emotions he just couldn't shake.

He still carried the pain and guilt of his Padawan's first mission. Anakin had been too young for the task assigned to them. His screaming as the Force broke around him haunted Obi-Wan like a miserable nightmare. They had yet to tell Anakin of what they had done to him, not really. Sometimes it seemed like Anakin might suspect what they had done, but Obi-Wan wasn't sure if he had deduced it and simply decided to let it rest or if he was ignorant to it.

Obi-Wan would always regret that he had let his Master erect the wall that kept Anakin from speaking directly to his parent, but he would never apologize for saving his Padawan's life. Not when he smiled so happily and could barely contain his joy at seeing his friends.

"Padmé!"