Chapter Text
Obi-Wan fiddled with his padawan braid as he read through the documents on Sith artifacts that Master Nu had sent over, wishing that Qui-Gon was here. Qui-Gon would have known what to do, would have excelled at the adaptive tactics needed for this ridiculous situation. More importantly, it would be better for everyone else if they could rely on a full Jedi master rather than a constantly-disappointing padawan.
Qui-Gon wasn’t here though, so Obi-Wan had to step up and figure everything out. So far, that meant reading a lot on battle strategy and Republic combat maneuvers in his spare time and reading even more on Sith artifacts and how to reverse their effects in whatever time he could eke out beyond that.
At least he was making good use of what Qui-Gon had taught him. Who knew that those long, boring hours of reading and memorizing ancient prophecies would actually come in handy? Qui-Gon had given him far more practice at memorizing and managing things he didn’t understand than probably any other padawan in the galaxy. At least battlefield strategies made sense, eventually; prophecies had always seemed to get more confusing and irrelevant the longer he’d studied them.
At the thought, he choked back a sob. It was horrible of him to be bitter about his assignments when his Master was dead .
Qui-Gon was dead.
Turns out Obi-Wan had been as bad a padawan as he’d always thought.
He didn’t know the details. There were a lot of things that he didn’t know now, ever since he’d woken up in a strange medbay on a strange ship populated by hundreds of identical troopers. What he did know is that every single one of them swore that he was actually in his thirties, that he’d been on a mission with Anakin when something happened with some sort of Sith artifact, and that he was a General who commanded a huge number of troops in a war against Separatists. They’d made a holocall to the Jedi Council, who basically told them that it was very weird what had happened, but they didn’t have any Jedi to spare, so Obi-Wan was still in charge for the time being. Even worse, when they found out what had happened to Anakin, they’d put Obi-Wan in charge of both the 212th and the 501st.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and released his grief, anger, and fear into the Force. Or, at the very least, he did his best to release it all into the Force, and whatever may or may not have been left over got shoved into the pit of his stomach where he could ignore it. He needed to focus. He could do this.
He did, after all, have experience in leading people to their deaths.
Obi-Wan scowled and pushed that thought away as well. Then he scrolled back up a few paragraphs on his datapad, trying to figure out at what point he’d stopped paying attention to what he was reading. Ah, yes. Darth Something-or-Other’s attempts to control aging in order to manipulate mortality.
He was paying attention to his reading with a vengeance when the door to his quarters slid open. Anakin was standing there, cradling a mousedroid in his arms, blond hair frizzy like he’d gotten shocked from working on something’s electric components.
“Are you busy, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.
“Incredibly,” Obi-Wan said shortly. It was probably a little bit mean, but he didn’t want to deal with Anakin right now. He barely knew the little kid, and he had other things to worry about.
“Oh,” Anakin said. “Okay.”
Obi-Wan had expected him to leave. Instead, Anakin sat down, just on the other side of the doorway. Technically staying out of Obi-Wan’s space. Technically not bothering him.
Obi-Wan had expected him to start chattering.
Instead, Anakin just took some tools out of a pocket and started working on the mousedroid. Obi-Wan waited a few more moments, still expecting whatever it was that Anakin was going to start talking nonsense about.
There was a small zap. Anakin frowned. He grabbed a different tool.
Slowly, Obi-Wan went back to his reading. They sat in silence together for a while, working on their separate projects. Obi-Wan almost started to relax. It was easier, somehow, with Anakin around. He felt a little less like he was completely alone in his predicament.
Strange, how much of a comfort the little kid was.
With Anakin humming and clicking in Binary at the mousedroid in the background, Obi-Wan finished his reading on the Sith artifacts. The article didn’t have any conclusive answers for him, but it gave him a few ideas to narrow down the research. He should probably get back to reading the battle manuals that Waxer had given him, then spend a few hours meditating; both to ask for advice from the Force and to get a bit of rest and regain his energy without wasting time on sleep. He couldn’t hold up this war forever, after all. He’d have to figure out a strategy for tomorrow that hopefully ended up with a lot of destroyed droids and not nearly as many trooper casualties.
Obi-Wan yawned despite himself. He glanced at the chrono and noticed that the time was far past the usual crècheling curfew. Anakin ought to be sleeping.
“I had a dream where Master Yoda was riding a womp rat,” Anakin said, seemingly out of the black.
“That so?” Obi-Wan asked, with a confused smile. Anakin was always saying the most absurd things, and Obi-Wan never knew how to react to it.
“You were there too,” Anakin said. He was still tinkering with the droid, not looking at Obi-Wan.
“Really,” Obi-Wan said. It was not quite a question.
“Boil made me take a nap earlier,” Anakin said, making a face. “I’m nine. ”
“Commander Cody said that Boil was the resident child expert,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m sure your nap was for the best.”
“Well I think it’s poodoo,” Anakin said, bluntly.
“Hmm,” Obi-Wan said, noncommittally. “Speaking of naps, it’s past curfew for you, youngling.”
“Aww, but I’m not tired!” Anakin said. “I already had a nap!”
“No arguing,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Do you want me to walk you back to yours and Ahsoka’s quarters?”
Ahsoka, apparently, was Anakin’s padawan. Why Anakin had chosen to take on a padawan in the middle of a war was beyond Obi-Wan’s comprehension. Why the Council had allowed Anakin a padawan, in the middle of a war , and at an age where he could barely be beyond padawanship himself , was also beyond Obi-Wan’s comprehension. Still, it was not for him to question the Council’s decisions.
Qui-Gon might have, but not Obi-Wan.
“Can I stay here?” Anakin asked. “I think Ahsoka thinks I’m annoying.”
Obi-Wan hoped that Anakin and Ahsoka didn’t have the same kind of strained Master-Padawan relationship that he and Qui-Gon often had. He sighed. “Sure, Anakin. My bed’s in there, you can sleep in it for tonight.”
Anakin finally scooted past the threshold. With a flick of his wrist, Obi-Wan shut the door with the Force.
“Where are you going to sleep?” Anakin asked.
“I’ve got studying to do,” Obi-Wan said. “I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep.”
“But you’ve got a battle tomorrow!” Anakin protested. “You need to rest so you can be alert or you’ll die! ”
The problem with crèchelings, Obi-Wan had always thought, is that they had a tendency to be exceedingly blunt, all of the time.
“I’ll be fine,” Obi-Wan reassured. “With meditation and the Force, it’ll be like I slept the whole night.”
Anakin clearly didn’t believe him. “But Qui-Gon said—”
“Well, Qui-Gon’s not here!” Obi-Wan said, a little sharper than he meant to.
Anakin shrunk back immediately, clutching the droid tightly. Kriff.
Obi-Wan took a breath to regain his composure and release his emotions into the Force. That had been very un-Jedi-like of him. Jedi were not thoughtlessly cruel to little kids.
“My apologies,” Obi-Wan said gently. “There was no reason for me to snap at you like that. I won’t do it again.”
After a hesitation, Anakin nodded an acceptance.
There was awkward silence for a few moments. Then, slowly, Anakin said, “My mom said that sometimes people lash out when they’re grieving. That you have to be patient with them, because they have too much hurt in their heart and it tries to get out any way it can.”
“Your mother is a wise woman,” Obi-Wan said.
Anakin nodded again. “I miss Qui-Gon a lot, but you miss him a whole lot more,” he said, in that blunt, far-knowing way of his. “It’s okay to be sad about it.”
“I’m not sad,” Obi-Wan denied automatically. “Qui-Gon has become one with the Force. That isn’t something to—to be sad about.”
Anakin frowned at Obi-Wan’s denial, but apparently decided it wasn’t worth an argument.
“Okay,” he said. “Good night, Obi-Wan.”
He closed up the mousedroid, stood up and disappeared into Obi-Wan’s bedroom, taking the droid with him. The door automatically shut behind him.
Obi-Wan stared at the closed door for a moment, feeling like he’d done something wrong, yet again. Then he sighed and headed towards the sink and self-heating kettle, intending to make a pot of tea.
These battle strategies weren’t going to learn themselves. He still had a long night ahead of him.