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The Coruscant night was brisk and busy. The ships and speeders and lights and sounds danced in a never-ending cycle that would continue into the night and then the day. The scene could be marveled by newcomers, a cause of frustration for those in a rush, and ignored by residents. But to one, the activity was imposing.
Little Anakin Skywalker was curled up in a bed much too large for his 9-year-old body. The mattress was soft and the high thread count sheets were light and clean, so unlike his stiff pallet and tattered blanket at home on Tatooine. He feared he would sink right through and be swallowed by the unknowns of this new life he had jumped so eagerly into. A decision he was trying very hard not to regret as he laid alone and cold in the disturbed darkness.
He clutched at the covers and pulled them over his head, but it hardly made a difference. The luxurious silkiness was barely a ghost on his skin, leaving him feeling unprotected and exposed. At least his blanket at home, uncomfortable and itchy as it was, felt real. Anakin didn’t know if it was possible to feel any more vulnerable than he did now.
Fear gripped his stomach and he wished he hadn’t eaten so much. He was staying with Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi next to the reserved apartment building where Queen Amidala was staying. The extravagant hotel had a menu fit for kings, and Anakin, never having seen so much food in his life, had been spoiled by the staff who took pity on his wonderment.
Now he felt sick and far too heavy. But he was also exhausted. The fear gnawing at his belly and the fatigue pulling at his brain sent him spiraling into an uneasy sleep.
First, he dreamed he was back at Watto’s junk shop, but it was like he never left. He was fixing a joint on a DUM-series pit droid for an upcoming podrace. Then Watto flapped in, yelling curses in Huttese. Something had made him mad. Anakin got up and tried to hide behind a rack of tools, knowing his slaver would take his anger out on him if he saw him. He was almost in the clear when he heard an angry buzz and turned to see Watto flying right at him. The Toydarian grabbed a wrench off of the tool rack and started to hit him with forceful blows.
And then Anakin was walking home. Every particle of sand the wind blew at him triggered his bruises to start aching, but it wasn’t until he opened the door to the slave quarters and his mom came to welcome him home that he broke down into sobs in her arms.
Any ice that might’ve been on Tatooine certainly wasn’t available to slaves and they had used the last of their bacta rations when Anakin got a rather nasty cut during a podrace. So Shmi sat with her son and kissed all his bruises.
“Stay strong, Ani. Be brave.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek and when she pulled back, his mom had become Padmé. “Things are changing, Ani, but my caring for you will remain.”
She smiled her beautiful smile and Anakin smiled back, his pain forgotten. But then Padmé looked scared. She looked behind her at something he couldn’t see and then she was wrenched away by an unseeable force. He could hear her calling for him from somewhere close by and far away at the same time. “Anakin! Help me! Anakin!” Then he heard his mother’s voice. "Ani? Ani, is it you?” Their voices joined together. “Help us, Anakin! Help us!”
He wanted to help them. He wanted to scream after them. But when he opened his mouth, an intense cold rushed in and drowned his lungs and spread through his veins until every part of his body was frozen and he couldn’t move.
A voice that chilled his very bones echoed around him. “Naboo… Tatooine… Kill them. All of them.” The voice sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it and he doubted he had ever heard someone so utterly and obviously evil.
Then he heard his mom screaming. The kind of scream that is hardly human. A scream that can only come from someone who has lost their sanity or is on the brink of losing it.
“MOM!”
“MOM!”
“Anakin!”
Anakin shot up in bed and looked around wildly, his blond hair was in complete disarray and his face was very flushed. He looked to his left and saw Qui-Gon crouched by his side.
“Master Qui-Gon!” His surprise blocked out his fear.
“Anakin, are you alright?” His deep voice was gentle but had an air of urgency.
Anakin slid from the bed and Qui-Gon stood to his full height. Then the boy ran straight into him, hugging his waist with the strength of a child who had lived in slave labor all his life.
Qui-Gon was taken aback by the show of affection so uncommon amongst Jedi, but it seemed to ease the boy.
And it did. Anakin’s nightmare was already slipping from his mind. He could hardly remember anything. Not the bruises, not the pain, not the cold. But he felt the strong urge for familial comfort.
He pulled back and looked up at the tall, broad-shouldered man, gripping at his billowy cloak.
“Master Qui-Gon sir, are you going to be my father?”
The question certainly wasn’t what Qui-Gon had been expecting, but he schooled his surprise and answered in an almost rehearsed fashion. “No, Ani. I will be your teacher,” Anakin’s eyes sparkled with tears, wearing his emotions with the tenacity of a boy whose mother always wiped his cheeks dry, kissed his forehead, and told him she loved him. Qui-Gon knew he wasn’t comforted. He decided to take a different approach, almost just as surprised by how easily the words came to him as he was by Anakin’s question. “But I will guide you through every hardship and success you are yet to experience. I will care for you as a guardian and mentor. The path you have chosen is not one you will have to walk alone. I’ll be here every step of the way and, when the time comes, you will be knowledgeable enough to continue without me and help others. I promise.”
Anakin’s glistening tears spilled onto his pink cheeks, but his mouth curled up into a boyish grin. He wrapped his small arms as far as he could around Qui-Gon’s midsection and pressed his tearful face into the comforting coarse weave of his robed abdomen. Qui-Gon placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders to reciprocate.
“Thank you, Qui-Gon sir.”
“Of course, Ani.” A gentle smile graced his bearded mouth. “Now, let’s get you to bed.” He pushed gently at Anakin’s shoulders who obediently let go and jumped onto the bed.
“Will you stay with me?” Anakin’s voice was full of hope and his face was expectant.
Qui-Gon sighed, knowing the boy was used to more attention. “I’m afraid I cannot. I have to make preparations for the return to Naboo tomorrow morning.” Before Anakin had time for his expression to fall, Qui-Gon continued, “I am not allowed to teach you, but allow me to bestow upon you some wisdom.” Anakin’s face went from disappointed to eager, excited to learn. “The Force is in all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us: it binds the galaxy together. Even if I am not physically with you, you can always find me in the Force. The same can be said for your mother.” He finished with a kind smile.
Anakin’s eyes were filled with wonder as he talked and now he was positively beaming. “Thank you, Qui-Gon sir! I won’t f-forget.”
The tremble on Anakin’s lip did not go unnoticed as the boy pulled the cool sheets around him. Qui-Gon slipped off his cloak and wrapped it around the boy’s small shoulders. Anakin smiled at him and flopped against the pillows, curling into the dark brown fabric.
Qui-Gon turned to the door which opened with a swish , but Anakin still had more to say.
“What about Obi-Wan?” It was the same voice he had used on Tatooine when asking if his mom had been freed too. “Is he my teacher too? I like him,” a pause, “but I don’t think he likes me.”
Qui-Gon smiled to himself, his back still to Anakin. Fondness for the boy before him and the man his padawan had grown into filled him with warmth. “Obi-Wan is worried and that worry manifests by him distancing himself from you. But don’t fret, Ani, with time he’ll come around. At least, he will if he has respect for his dear old Master.” He chuckled lightly, not mentioning his padawan’s worry was more about him than for him.
“Okay,” was Anakin’s thoughtful response. “Goodnight, Master.”
“Sleep well, Ani, and remember; the Force will be with you. Always.”
Qui-Gon stepped out of the room, the door swish ing closed behind him. He walked a few doors down to the room he shared with Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan was now awake and drinking a cup of tea. His eyes followed Qui-Gon as he followed the strong, calming scent to the warm kettle where an empty cup and saucer waited. At least his padawan hadn’t forgotten his manners in his frustration with his Master.
Qui-Gon was pouring the hot, aromatic tea when Obi-Wan spoke up.
“Where have you been, Master?” His strong Coruscanti accent was accusatory.
Qui-Gon turned to face him, leaning against the counter. He pressed his lips to the rim of the cup, testing the tea. Deciding it was satisfactory—Obi-Wan’s brews always were—but needed more time to cool, he placed the cup onto the saucer and set it to the side.
“Anakin had a nightmare.” His eyes bore into his padawan’s as if daring him to rant again, but Obi-Wan looked down into his teacup and swirled his drink lightly with a tiny spoon.
Even with the tension between them, Qui-Gon was so very proud of Obi-Wan. “I said it earlier, my young apprentice, you will make a fine Jedi Knight. I know you find my interests in prophecies and the guiding Force radical at some times, but you remain patient with me and open to learning. I sense our time as Master and Padawan is coming to a close. It has been a gift to teach you.” He bowed his head towards Obi-Wan who’s eyes widened at such a deep show of respect.
“...Thank you, Master.” Qui-Gon felt guilt pinch around his padawan.
“Get some rest, Obi-Wan. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
Obi-Wan nodded, drained his remaining tea, and stood with a bow to walk to his designated bed.
The perils of the coming days would taint these moments, but could never erase them.
Obi-Wan turned from the roaring flames consuming his Master’s body to the tearful boy beside him. Anakin looked up, his face wet and miserable and very different from Obi-Wan’s solemn frown.
“What will happen to me now?” He looked so hopeless.
Any disdain Obi-Wan may have felt for the boy was washed away in the cleansing fire of Qui-Gon’s cremation. Anakin was his Master’s dying wish, therefore he would honor him above all else.
“The council has granted me permission to train you. You will be a Jedi. I promise.” Anakin tried to put on a brave face, a smile, but the tears only rolled down his cheeks faster and he turned to face the fire.
Out of respect for his Master, Obi-Wan would teach the boy. He would pass down all the teachings he had given him. The boy held Qui-Gon’s confidence and, in time, he would hold his knowledge. Soon, Obi-Wan would hold him as he sobbed and shook from the nightmares that would never stop plaguing him.
“Will you stay with me?” Anakin will ask.
“Yes.” Obi-Wan will answer.
He will hold the boy through the night and care for him during the day. His fondness for him will grow as the years drag on. His hands hold the boy’s life, and the boy’s hands hold his.
He will love the Anakin more than anything in the universe. More than his Master, more than hot tea when he wakes up, and more than nobility on Mandalore.
Anakin wanted Qui-Gon to stay but he couldn’t. No one ever truly could…
Except Obi-Wan.
“Anakin.
The voice was familiar.
Although Anakin no longer had a body or a mouth with which to speak, he somehow answered, Obi-Wan? Master, I’m so sorry. So very, very—
Anakin, listen carefully, Obi-Wan interrupted, and Anakin was aware that the distant light was either growing brighter or closer, or perhaps both. You are in the netherworld of the Force, but if you ever wish to revisit corporeal space, then I still have one thing left to teach you. A way to become one with the Force. If you choose this path to immortality, then you must listen now, before your consciousness fades.”
- The Rise and Fall of Darth Vader by Ryder Windham
“Will you stay with me?”
“I will be with you. Always.”