Gundarks and Trust

Anakin's silence was disturbing, to say the very least. The normally verbose teenager was certainly not a man (or boy) of few words, and he never shied away from expressing his feelings on any subject, no matter the inappropriateness of it. Most Jedi Masters would likely relish in the sudden silence; perhaps the blonde haired Padawan had finally found the meaning behind Force-blessed silence. Obi-Wan would certainly like too. Yet, he could not shake the feeling that something was very utterly wrong. Maybe it was the Force that guided his next action, or perhaps it was something different, something parental. Who was he to decide which? "Anakin, why are you being so quiet? This isn't like you."

Anakin glances at his Master, eyes downcast though level with his Master's own. The nearly 16 year old was already as tall as him, and he was growing every day it seemed. Obi-Wan suppressed his sudden nostalgia for the little, outspoken, stubborn, yet sometimes adorable, compassionate, and sweet boy that Anakin was growing out of. And it certainly did not help when he had to ask Anakin for assistance with reaching a spice in the back of the cabinet. Anakin's sudden spike of fear broke Obi-Wan free of his musings. With a start, Obi-Wan realizes he had been waiting for Anakin's response for over a minute now. He turns his body fully to face the boy (nearly a man now) sitting rigidly on the couch. "Anakin?"

Anakin seems to jolt out of a deep meditation, though Obi-Wan knew that Anakin rarely, if ever, meditated. "I'm sorry, Master, what was the question?" His blue eyes shine, the emotions fading away from his Force signature.

"I had asked if you were feeling alright? Are you quite well?"

Anakin nods after a moment's hesitation. As time progressed and the teenager aged, Obi-Wan had noticed Anakin did not seem to trust him as much. It worried Obi-Wan, even as he remembered going through this with Qui-Gon. It was likely just a stage, and he still trusted Anakin to come to him with any real problems. It went without saying that Anakin saw him as a father-figure. "I'm fine, Master. Just tired. Still recovering from that nest of gundarks, I suppose."

Obi-Wan sees the teasing glint in Anakin's sky-blue eyes and allows the deflection to pass without comment. Trust was key in a Master-Padawan relationship, and he trusted Anakin would approach him when he was ready, as he always has done. "Hmm...yes. Vanqor certainly was tiresome. I do believe the gundarks quite liked you."

Anakin smiles that Force-damned smile of his, almost as if he knew something his master did not. "I could live without them, if I'm being honest with you, Master. Next time, let me arrange the introductions with the wildlife."

"Ahhh, yes. I'll keep that in mind. Especially since I have the scar to remind me that your, shall we say, rescues aren't quite yet expertly done," Obi-Wan adopts the tone of a diplomat, not dissimilar to what he did when Anakin was a young boy who needed a laugh.

Anakin rolls his eyes, "Your fault, not mine."

Obi-Wan allows a laugh to escape, one rarely used during these stressful times. Things would be normal between them again soon. Anakin would be a Knight in a few years, perhaps with his own cheeky Padawan. Trust would return of it's own accord. After all, Anakin was very much like Obi-Wan in his younger days. A ray of hope shines through the window, the cloudy Coruscanti sky revealing a setting sun. The Council's fears of Anakin's turn would be for naught, and he would honor Qui-Gon's memory by completing Anakin's training. However, he never thought he would gain a brother from this experience.

There is No Emotion

Obi-Wan first rid the apartment he and Qui-Gon shared of Master Qui-Gon's clothes. Tossed haphazardly into the recycler, they quickly disappeared, along with his smell. Soon to follow was the rich aromas of his Master's many teas and spices. Each was carefully packed into a box and sent to Master Secura, a Jedi of refined tastes who could appreciate the various tastes and scents. Obi-Wan did so stoically this early morning in the Temple, shortly after his new charge left for his first classes. If the door chime went off several times, he did not notice. There is no contemplation, only duty.

Obi-Wan set to work on his Master's various collections next. The fragile glass paperweights, each with an artfully crafted design swirling throughout the translucent material, were ignored as he packed these carefully into another box. Even the paperweight from Bandomeer. Many of these were priceless, and he knew Madame Nu would appreciate them for her archives. If only she would accept them. When the box was returned by a padawan, Obi-Wan tossed the note and shoved the box into his old closet, now belonging to Anakin. Force knew the boy was too short to reach the tallest shelf, and Obi-Wan could find a place for them later.

As Obi-Wan set to cleaning the apartment in preparation for Anakin's return, he ignored the time that passed. There is no contemplation, only duty. And he had a duty to Anakin now. He could not, would not allow himself to be distracted by the past. There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. He owed it to Qui-Gon, and especially to Anakin. By the time noon had come (his growling stomach ignored as he missed his second meal of the day), Qui-Gon's room had been fully scrubbed, any trace of his old Master gone or hidden away. Yet, his ghost lingered, which was ridiculous really as ghosts did not exist. It provided a perplexing question: How could he be gone and still remain?

When Anakin returned to the apartment, his signature a maelstrom of trepidation, sadness, fear, and even joy and eagerness, he started in surprise. A small plate laid on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room. A glass of blue milk rested next to this plate of Alderaanian cheese cubes. It was ignored. Instead, Anakin focused on the now almost empty apartment. When he had first visited, the place had seemed homely with various knick knacks notating the pair's many travels. Now, only the essentials remained, all traces of his savior gone. Tears threatened to fall, his vision blurred. Master Qui-Gon was gone. His hero. And Anakin blamed himself even as he hated the red-skinned monster that stole Master Qui-Gon away. "Padawan?"

A crisp, accented voice chased away the tears quickly, reminding Anakin of his place as a Jedi. As he learned today, there was no emotion. There was peace. "Yes, Master Kenobi, I'm home."

The word home fell from his lips awkwardly. This was no longer a home, the pair thought. Just an echo of what should have been. They ignored it, however. There was no emotion. There is only peace.

A/N: So...that took longer than expected. By a bunch. But here it is! Honestly, I just depressed myself with this one. I am still upset Qui-Gon died in TPM. Let me know what you think and what you want to see! I have 8 chapters left to go for this story! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! I love you all so much!