Now, he pushed away from the column, and ignoring the pain that racked his body, trotted up the short flight of steps that led to the throne room. He pounded briefly on the door and yelled his name in response to the Naboo guards' query. The doors slid apart a moment later, to reveal the queen sitting on her throne, flanked by handmaidens, including her decoy, and the Neimoidans ringed by blaster-yielding palace guards.  Amidala and Panaka looked at him as he entered, alone. His red-rimmed eyes locked with hers as he sagged against the doorframe. Amidala's eyes widened with realization.

Obi Wan sat in the hanger bay, waiting for the Naboo fighter pilots to return. He felt numb. Things were going on around him and he took little notice. All he could think was, He's Gone. He had known that one day soon, he would take the trials, become a true Jedi Knight, and leave his master. But he wasn't quite ready for that day to come. He wasn't quite ready to say goodbye. He heard steps behind him and felt his cloak wrapped around his shoulders.

"I'm not cold."

"You're shivering." It was Amidala's voice. He raised his eyes.  She was still in the handmaiden garb she had worn in the forest. "You were close to him." It was not a question.

"He was my master." To another Jedi, no other explanation would be necessary. "The relationship between a Padawan and a Master is akin to--" He stopped talking, mindful of the tremor in his voice.

"He was very kind. He was a very caring man. He will be missed, greatly."

Her words should have felt empty, hollow. He wanted them to feel empty, hollow. But instead they made him proud. Qui Gon had been a good man. A good master. And he had died doing what he had sworn to do. Obi Wan felt a warmth in his stomach. He didn't want to feel anything.  He didn't want to open himself up to the pain. Both looked up as the door of the hanger bay rumbled open. The point craft could be seen in the distance. Amidala squeezed Obi Wan's shoulder and melted away into the shadows. The planes slid into their assigned slots and pilots began pouring from them, jumping on each other
in congratulations, running past Obi Wan in their celebration. Obi Wan drew the cloak closer around him, and stood. There, in the corner. Anakin was scrambling from his plane, his face split by a brilliant smile. Ric Olie picked him up and hugged him tightly, ruffling his hair. He set him down, swatting him on the back, and the boy ran for the door. He would have lost him anyway. He would have taken the boy as his Padawan and Obi-Wan would move onward. He would take his own Padawan someday. Not now. Not this soon.

"Anakin." The boy stopped and saw Obi Wan standing to the side.

"Obi Wan!" The boy ran to him. "It wasn't my fault! The autopilot made the fighter take off, but me and Artoo, we took it off autopilot...that thing was going to kill us both! And then we ended up in the ship, and I though, aw, we're in big trouble now, but then we shot some stuff, and then stuff just started to fall apart, and--" he stuttered to a halt, seeing Obi Wan was not smiling. "What's wrong? Where's...?" He never finshed the question.

Obi Wan knelt to look Anakin in the eye. "I'm sorry, Anakin." Obi Wan swallowed, feeling a flash of jealousy. Why was he comforting this boy? Why was not someone
comforting him? Jealousy was unbecoming a Jedi knight. He knew this, and pushed his feelings to the side. Jealousy was not something in which he was free to indulge. "There was a battle. With a Sith warrior. Master Qui Gon...is dead, Ani. He's dead." Obi Wan watched the boy's eyes fill with tears and watched him bite his lip, trying to hold them back. "Now is the time, Ani. You must let go your grief before you can move on." He
allowed the boy to wrap his arms around his neck and push his face into his shoulder. He held him tightly, cradling the boy's small body against his own and felt his own tears escape. Images came to him, fragments. The huge man he would eventually love as a father, kneeling before him, almost 20 years before. Picking him up and laughing at him, telling him he had great potential and that he would be back. Master Qui Gon, refusing to
train him, until he let go his anger and leashed his emotions. A silly game created by Qui Gon, which tortured him for months before he deciphered the solution. The quiet rebukes, the solomn criticisms, the life lessons that tumbled through his mind, one after another, wanting those moments back, wishing for a thousand more, and knowing that they could never be. Obi Wan was brought back to reality by Anakin pulling away and wiping his face on a loose section of cloak. Obi Wan Kenobi was never one to be especially disposed to small children; they seemed to be messy, irresponsible creatures, and he had no clue what to do with the tearful one using his cloak as a handkerchief.

"Anakin, that's not a--" he stopped, realizing the boy had just lost the one thing in his life that made leaving his mother behind bearable. "Ah, well. It needs a good scrubbing anyway," he sighed, smoothing Anakin's matted hair. He leaned against the wall of the hanger, feeling the aches pulse through his body. Anakin sobbed softly into his
cloak. Though a thousand stampeding bantha could not draw a confession from the
young Jedi, Obi Wan Kenobi felt a stab of tenderness toward the boy. The boy
was his responsibility, now. His duty. And he was going to invest any amount of time
and effort necessary to turn this boy into a Jedi Knight.