“What’s this?”
“A picture of me and my friends.”
“What are their names?”
“Luminara, Quinlan, Garen, and Bant.”
“They’re pretty.”
“I’ll make sure to let them know.”
“What’s this?”
“A plant.”
“Wizard.”
“Hmm.”
“What’re these?”
“My holonovels.”
“Can I read them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re for big kids, Anakin,” Obi-Wan snaps, dropping the tunic he’d been folding and turning around. Big blue eyes look up at him, curiosity dampened by shame, and Obi-Wan sighs. “I apologize. I- yes, I apologize. Please feel free to look around.”
“Sorry,” Anakin murmurs, and returns to rifling through all of Obi-Wan’s belongings sans commentary.
Obi-Wan folds the tunic and tucks it into its proper drawer before pausing to lean against the dresser, resting his head in his hands. Not two days ago, he’d cleared this room out, taking Qui-Gon’s things and boxing them up and bringing them to the Quartermaster or to any friends that might appreciate them. It had been harder than it should have been. Obi-Wan should be used to this sort of thing by now, but this time it felt final. He had finally found something so fucked up and terrible that there was no going back. Granted, he’d thought that on Bandomeer and Melida/Daan and a thousand other times, but this time, his Master’s dead. Qui-Gon is dead and he’s never coming back and Obi-Wan should have been faster, Force damn it!
Now, he’s got to move all of his things from the Padawan space of the apartment into the Master section and find enough things for Anakin to put in his room. He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees sparks, trying to find some relief from the headache that’d chased him here from Naboo. He pokes at the severed training bond again. He’s found himself unable to leave it alone, like the hole left by a pulled tooth.
There’s a tug and, for a delirious moment, Obi-Wan thinks it’s from Qui-Gon. Then, he realizes that Anakin’s stopped rummaging and he’s stopped shielding. Anakin’s prodding clumsily at their new training bond, trying his best to ask a question about Obi-Wan’s sudden emotional outburst. Before he gets a chance, though, there’s a knock at the front door.
Obi-Wan stands and smoothes his hair back. “I’ll just be in the front,” he tells Anakin, then goes to answer.
In the first few days back at the Temple, people had been in and out nearly constantly, offering condolences and help and food and flowers and advice and asking him to fill out this or that form or pulling Anakin to receive yet another vaccination. It was endless and exhausting, and he’s rather hoping this new visitor isn’t expecting a cup of tea and a chat. He presses the button with halfhearted resignation.
“Obi-Wan,” his visitor breathes, and then Quinlan Vos is tugging him into a suffocating hug.
It’s at this moment that Obi-Wan realizes that he hasn’t touched anyone (save for Anakin, which isn’t to say hugging him is bad, it’s just so not what Obi-Wan’s looking for) since the fight. Quinlan is warm and solid and everything Obi-Wan’s come to associate with home and Obi-Wan really doesn’t think he can be faulted for crying a little bit when Quinlan hugs him. Just like always, just like the countless times he’s held Quinlan since they were eleven and Obi-Wan stopped being the taller one, he tilts his head to the side and lays his cheek on Quinlan’s shoulder. Quinlan just pulls him closer.
“Hello, Quinlan,” Obi-Wan manages, pulling away only to have Quinlan pull him back and press their foreheads together. It’s not as though they’ve been apart forever; he just saw Quinlan two months ago, but somehow it feels as though an age has passed. Obi-Wan feels so old and distant and untouchable. Quinlan takes his hand and squeezes.
“Um, hi?”
Oh, Force, he’d forgotten about Anakin.
Quinlan startles, standing up on his tiptoes to look over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Then, a smile breaks over his face and that signature energy rekindles in his eyes. Quinlan bounds past Obi-Wan and stands in front of a confused-looking Anakin. “Oh, my Gods, they weren’t kidding when they said you had a little,” he exclaims. “I’m Quinlan Vos.” He holds a hand down to Anakin, who looks from it to Obi-Wan several times.
“It’s okay,” Obi-Wan reassures him. “He’s my friend. Quinlan, this is Anakin Skywalker. Go ahead, Anakin, shake his hand.”
Anakin frowns with adorable seriousness, taking Quinlan’s hand and shaking it hesitantly. “Hi,” he says.
Quinlan laughs. “I promise I don’t bite, kiddo. Now, Master Yoda, on the other hand…”
“Quinlan! You can’t be teaching him that,” Obi-Wan cries, but it’s too late. Anakin is giggling like a madman and Quinlan looks ridiculously proud of himself.
“I’m telling you, Anakin, you make one mistake on a mission and it’s game over. He’s going to be all like, ‘The will of the Force, it is,’ and then you’re missing a finger. True story.” Quinlan ruffles Anakin’s hair, making Anakin squeeze his eyes shut. In the brief child-free interim, he turns and looks at Obi-Wan, eyes wide and worried and wondering. Obi-Wan glances to Anakin and shakes his head. Quinlan nods and releases Anakin. “Alright, kiddo, what’s going on in the Kenobi-Skywalker residence these days?”
Anakin brightens impossibly further, jumping in place and pointing to the door to his room. “On Naboo, we found some really cool rocks by a waterfall and Master Kenobi said I could keep ‘em so I put them next to where I’ve got this really neat compressor, except it’s mostly in pieces because it’s missing a bolt, and…” Anakin leads a grinning Quinlan back into his room to see his burgeoning pile of things.
Finally, some quiet. It’s not that Obi-Wan dislikes Anakin, but he’s a child, and children are loud, and Obi-Wan is already so frayed at the edges that all the sensory stimulation is threatening to take him apart entirely. His ears ring over the muffled conversation coming through the door.
He should go back to putting his things away. He should be looking over the paperwork to finalize Anakin’s padawanship. He should be doing a dozen other things, but right now it’s all he can manage to drag himself to a chair and drop his head into his hands. The kitchen table isn’t the best place to meditate, but it’ll do for now. He lets himself drift for a while, immersing himself in Quinlan’s familiar signature and Anakin’s bright one, ebbing and flowing in sync as Anakin chats Quinlan’s ear off. He closes his eyes.
“Obes?” Someone shakes his shoulder and Obi-Wan sits up quickly enough to see spots. “Hey, take it easy.”
Quinlan’s sitting across from him at the table, one hand on his shoulder and eyes wide with concern. Obi-Wan feels awful, so much worse than before he fell asleep. He looks around the room, vision blurry. Where’s….?
“The kid’s in his room looking through a box of games,” Quinlan says, tugging gently at Obi-Wan’s ponytail to get his attention back. “He’s fine.”
“Oh.” God, he sounds terrible. “What…?”
Quinlan pulls his hand back and rests his elbows on the table. “Just wanted to talk for a minute. How are you?”
Obi-Wan sighs, looking down at the table. There’s a scar in the wood where Obi-Wan had slipped using a vegetable knife. “I’m alright.”
“Obi-Wan…”
“Really, Quinlan. It’s alright.” Obi-Wan shakes his head. He can’t talk about this right now. He doesn’t have time to even look at his emotions, not with Anakin still getting settled in and him so new to the whole… everything. Force, he hasn’t even cut his hair since his Knighting. The braid’s gone, but the ponytail remains. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admits.
Quinlan hums. “That’s alright. Just… we’re here for you, okay? You aren’t alone. Everything’s going to be alright.”
Obi-Wan blinks. Tears burn at the back of his eyes, refusing to fall. “Quinlan, I… you know I get these… feelings. Something bad’s going to happen, Quin, something really, really bad, and-”
The door to Anakin’s room slides open and Anakin tumbles out, box in hand. “What’s a puzzle?” Then, he stops, looking back and forth between Quinlan and Obi-Wan. “What are you guys talking about? Is Obi-Wan okay?”
Obi-Wan swipes a hand over his eyes and offers Anakin the best smile he can. “I’m fine, Anakin. Quin and I were just having an adult conversation.” Quinlan snorts. “Now, what’s this about a puzzle?”
“Now, see this little logo stamped on the edge? That means it’s the bottom left corner piece.” Quinlan holds the puzzle piece in question up to Anakin for inspection. “Now, we need to find the other edge piece with the rest of the writing.”
Anakin chews his lip. “It’ll be green, right? Just like the corner piece?”
“Exactly! Now you’re getting the hang of it.” Quinlan sets the piece down in its proper orientation. “Now, we could spend forever looking for the right piece, but you know what else we could do?”
“What?”
“We say, ‘Oh, Obi-Wan, light of my life, would you be so kind as to hand me the green edge piece with the writing on it?’” Quinlan flashes Obi-Wan his best and most flirtatious smile, pointing at the pile of edge pieces Obi-Wan’s gathered and sorted. “Because Obi-Wan is a freak of nature who enjoys sorting things, he will surely know where the piece is.”
Anakin giggles madly and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “I suppose,” he sighs. “But only this once.”
Quinlan accepts the piece Obi-Wan offers with a bow made slightly less dramatic by his position sitting cross legged on the floor, fitting it in next to the first one. “Ah, a perfect fit! Thank you for your generosity, kind sir!”
“So now we try to match the edges to what the picture looks like, right?” Anakin picks up the puzzle box and inspects it, running his finger along the bottom edge. “So we’re trying to make this edge look like grass and we need a green piece with a not-pointy edge.”
Obi-Wan slips into a meditative sort of state, albeit one he was much less likely to fall asleep in, as the three of them work on the puzzle. The teamwork of the first few minutes settles out into a comfortable silence as each of them takes a section. Obi-Wan works to put an ysalamiri together as Anakin fills in the grass and Quinlan builds the lightsaber of the Old Republic Knight depicted in the puzzle. It’s calming, having nothing to think about except the placement of the next piece. Anakin enjoys it, too, if his relaxed signature is anything to go by. Their bond is filled with trust and joy and calm from both sides, and Obi-Wan does his best not to spoil it.
“Obi, d’you have anything that looks like a saber hilt?”
“No, sorry.”
“I do!”
“Thanks, Anakin.”
Obi-Wan patches his lizard in next to Anakin’s grass and begins looking for a place to put Quinlan’s lightsaber. His head brushes Quinlan’s shoulder and Quinlan hums, nudging Obi-Wan with his elbow. Obi-Wan leans against him.
Anakin, as it turns out, keeps up a steady stream of noise even when concentrating. He mumbles to himself as he works, making little noises of satisfaction whenever something fits just right. He’s glad Anakin’s finally settling in. He’s been tense since they arrived at the Temple, unsure of his place and wary of anything given to him. It makes sense. To go from slavery right into Jedi training and lose your only parent at the same time? Obi-Wan can’t even imagine.
They continue on like that for a while, working together until, finally, Anakin slots the last piece into place. “Wizard,” he breathes, then yawns so loud his jaw cracks.
“Me, too, kid,” Quinlan says, leaning back against the couch. “You know what I think it’s time for? A holovid. Can’t have a puzzle without a holovid, right?”
Obi-Wan sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and standing. “In that case,” he yawns, “I’ve got some more work to do in my room. You two have fun out here, alright?”
“What? Master, you have to watch the movie with us,” Anakin complains.
“Yeah, Master, you have to watch the movie,” Quinlan agrees, climbing onto the couch. “Come on, Obi-Wan, the stuff’ll still be there in a few hours.” Quinlan looks up at him, eyes all worry and seriousness. “Relax a bit.”
“Quinlan, I really shouldn’t.”
“You should,” he says. Then, he grabs Obi-Wan’s wrists and, in a move Obi-Wan should have been expecting, wrestles him down onto the couch, pinning him under one arm. “Movie time, Obes. It’s mandatory.”
“Quinlan…” He makes a halfhearted attempt to escape, but then Anakin’s clambering up there with him and Quinlan’s turning on the projector and it’s so warm and he’s so tired. “Fine. Just one vid, though.”
“Yes!” Anakin drags him upright and immediately plasters himself to Obi-Wan’s side, worming his way under his arm and sitting half-in his lap. Quinlan rearranges them until Obi-Wan’s leaning against him and Anakin’s entirely in his lap, tiny hands grabbing at Obi-Wan’s tunics in excitement. “This is gonna be so cool!”
Quinlan waves his hand to dim the lights. Obi-Wan tucks his head into his shoulder. A hand comes up to play with the longer part of his hair and Quinlan bends down to murmur, “I love you. Please get some rest.”
“Love you, too.”
“Ew! You guys are being gross!”
“Anakin, please…”