Summary: In a rare moment of downtime, Anakin and Obi-Wan discuss Qui-Gon, ruminate on the past, and still somehow manage to live in the present. Takes place in maybe season 1-2 of Clone Wars, before everything gets too complicated. Inspiration comes mainly from a comic wherein Anakin and Obi-Wan briefly discuss Qui-Gon (see my LJ/AO3 posting for a copy of the scan), for which I have yet to figure out the source. (Any help is appreciated! I've searched pretty extensively, but I'd love to be able to own this one/read the rest!) Title comes from George Michael's "Father Figure." This wasn't absolutely aimed to be a (belated, just about) Father's Day-dedicated story, but it ended up happening that way anyway, somehow.

I'll Be Your Father Figure, Put Your Tiny Hand in Mine

The details of some of their Outer Rim missions begin to blend together after a while; they plan, they fight - on the ground, in the sky, in space, with words, with lightsabers - they win, they lose, they report enough back to the Council to satisfy their increasingly overstretched mentors, they mourn the loss of their fallen comrades - fellow Jedi, Clones, the occasional civilian - they recover (never enough), they get the occasional bout of furlough (never enough), they wake up - on the ground, in their beds, in other people's beds, in the Healer's Ward - and they do it all over again.

In spite of the tedium, however, they have each other, their Master and Padawan bond reforged into something greater, stronger, better. Anakin's Knighting was the key: Without deference as a required component of their relationship, the boy seemed to grow up overnight, becoming polite (at least, to Obi-Wan), careful (no more losing his lightsaber), thoughtful when his former Master made a suggestion or even a critique, rather than belligerent. No more hackles raised, at least where Obi-Wan is concerned, and with a war going on and secrets that could never be told between them - because it would ruin everything they have now, because, Anakin knows, it would break Obi-Wan's heart - it would have to be enough.

Anakin's favorite missions are those which require but two squadrons. The 501st and the 212th have a lot of experience working with one another; they synergize easily, respect vastly both General Kenobi and Skywalker. It is a simple enough matter to leave the troops in charge of setting up camp while the Jedi take to the hills, scouting out other potential locales, running calculations, trying to ascertain when and where the enemy might strike next. The camaraderie between them is uncomplicated and friendly, and as they make their way to a squat hill overlooking an expanse of valley, the system's small sun hanging low overhead, Anakin is struck with an urge to make sure Obi-Wan knows how much he appreciates that.

"Nice night," he intones, hands splayed behind him, legs crossed at the ankles. Next to him, Obi-Wan, cross-legged, sitting on his own cloak, smiles.

"The places we get to go are yet beautiful sometimes, even plagued by this war. It is one of the conundrums of our calling, I daresay." It's an invitation to ruminate on the past, and Anakin suspects that Obi-Wan anticipates his next question somehow.

"D'you still miss him?"

His Master does not have to ask for clarification, but does anyways: "Qui-Gon?" Anakin nods. "Oh, well." He pauses, duty warring with what is in his heart, what he will never be able to fully eradicate or release into the Force, what he's not sure he wants to get rid of even if he could. "Of course," he says finally, and Anakin, surprised a little by the candidness, blinks, listens attentively. He is rewarded handsomely for doing so: "Not a day goes by when I do not think about his teachings, or how much I sincerely wish that he was here; as a mentor, a father figure, a friend." Obi-Wan looks at Anakin then, his expression fond, like when he'd looked behind him when Master Yoda announced that he was a Knight now, to Obi-Wan's beaming visage. "He had ... so much to teach you, Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice is wistful, now. "I only hope that I am hitting all of the cliff notes in his lessons."

Anakin is compelled to move closer, to place his hand on his Master's shoulder. "I don't think you did so bad, Master. After all," he adds, "it's not as though you didn't have your work cut out for you."

Obi-Wan's eyes are warm. "You were not the apprentice I would have chosen for myself," he offers, and it is conciliatory, half-apology and half-rationalization for their shared rough patches throughout the past decade or so. "And we both had a lot of growing up to do. You disobeyed and I yelled; you challenged me and I grew flustered easily. Qui-Gon would have come up with some creative way to channel your energy into a suitable correction for your behavior. I simply grounded you. Often."

"I did spend a lot of time in my room," Anakin grins.

"And you spent a lot of time out of it," Obi-Wan adds, and Anakin shrugs sheepishly. "But I cannot help but think you would have yet tested Qui-Gon's reach, as well. Because even though you are the Chosen One, you were also but a curious teenager, trying to figure out your place within the galaxy. I cannot say that that is so different than any other person, prophecy-bringer, Jedi, or otherwise."

Anakin looks a little sardonic now. "I wish you'd felt that way every time I got compared to Ferus Olin," he says ruefully, and Obi-Wan chuckles.

"And I wish I had never gotten to learn the layout of the Outlander or its parking structure as well as I did as a direct result of your antics."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that, Master." It's an honest, sincere, albeit still-light-hearted comment, but Obi-Wan's face grows yet more serious.

"I am sorry," he begins, his eyes flitting away briefly before resting on his lap, "that I was not the Master you deserved, Anakin."

"Obi-Wan." Anakin's voice is firm, and so are his hands as he braces them on Obi-Wan's shoulders, even shaking him a little until the other man meets his gaze. "I love you. I loved Qui-Gon, too, what I knew of him, and I know how much you care about him - and vice-versa. But it doesn't mean I'm not grateful for all that you've done for me. I wouldn't be a Jedi without you; I wouldn't be a Master of a Padawan of my own if you hadn't done a good job. So stop saying you haven't."

Obi-Wan, resigned, and also obviously pleased by this assessment, simply nods. "I love you, too, Anakin," he says, and the blush across Anakin's face at such confirmation is nothing short of dazzling. "Qui-Gon's interest in you was so all-consuming. I think ... I know I was jealous," he amends. "His final words to me were to elicit my promise to train you. I suppose ... I just wanted some final confirmation that I was half as important to him as he was to me."

"You are." The affirmation is immediate, the implications (the present tense) strange. Still, Anakin does not rush to correct or explain himself, even as Obi-Wan looks at him curiously.

"How do you know that, Anakin?"

Anakin shrugs. "The Force told me."

"The Force told you." Obi-Wan's raised eyebrow is reminiscent of his Padawanhood perhaps more than any other aspect of his Master's body language; with the possible exception of his penchant for crossing his arms, however.

It would be a simple enough matter to delve deeper into his statement, to explain that, in fact, Qui-Gon has told him quite explicitly how important Obi-Wan is, not only to Anakin, but to the future of the Jedi Order itself. "It has been foreseen," Qui-Gon had said simply the last time he had appeared, and then he had bade Anakin to have a fitful rest, and disappeared anew in the nondescript manner of Force ghosts. In truth, Qui-Gon's ghost is the only one to which Anakin has been privy thus far; also, he is not absolutely sure that this is as commonplace as it seems like it could be. He's never heard anybody else mention it, anyways. Also, he's pretty sure Obi-Wan does not receive these sorts of sporadic, otherworldly visits, and it bothers him a little because he wonders whether his Master would still be feeling as though he has done Anakin a disservice by reluctantly agreeing to train him in Qui-Gon's place if his own old Master would deign to tell him himself that he is loved, missed, that in fact, he is doing passable work as Anakin's mentor.

Instead, Anakin just smiles mysteriously. "Yes, the Force," he offers, and then: "It's a Chosen One thing."

"Oh, I see." Obi-Wan does not push the issue any further, and they spend the next several minutes in companionable silence, watching the setting sun dip lower and lower on the horizon, opening themselves up to the natural world around them. "We should head back soon," the elder of the two murmurs, and Anakin nods.

As they stand and brush themselves off, Anakin collects his Master's old cloak from whence it has been spread out upon the ground, picking it up and dusting it off with his free hand. "You know what else the Force tells me, Master?" he asks, helping Obi-Wan to shrug on the worn, familiar garment.

"What?" Obi-Wan asks curiously, straightening the folds of the cloak. In front of him, Anakin's face is mischievous.

"It's telling me," his former Padawan says carefully, "that I'm gonna win the race back to camp." He begins edging forward, and Obi-Wan's mouth drops open in a slight 'o' shape.

"Oh, I'm afraid the Force is quite mistaken on this point, my very young former apprentice."

"Never question the will of the Force, my old Master. GO!" Anakin takes off, Obi-Wan in hot pursuit.

"That's cheating!" the smaller man yells, watching Anakin's long limbs press him swiftly forward, making considerable headway himself, though not enough yet. "You had a head start, Anakin!"

"Tough luck, old man!" Anakin calls behind him, and their laughter and heaving breaths and even the occasional insult ("is that a gray hair, Anakin? How premature!") mingle in the air in sweet harmony.