Anakin is fourteen when things truly begin to get difficult.
Of course, raising Anakin has always been difficult. Anakin’s young life was incredibly traumatic, as was joining the Order, and Obi-Wan was very young when they met. A child himself, he had no template to refer to when raising a headstrong, unpredictable child who was both much smarter and much less socially intelligent than Obi-Wan. He couldn’t help Anakin with his math homework because it was over his head, but he also couldn’t manage to drill the idea of ‘waiting one’s turn to speak’ into his head. Sometimes, Anakin would panic or react oddly and Obi-Wan would have no choice but to take the moment in stride and try to learn from it.
This, though, this was completely different. This was new.
“I hate it here,” Anakin screams, kicking a box of tools and sending them flying across the room. “I hate everyone and I’m always angry and it’s awful and it hurts!” Tears stream down his bright red face and he chokes on his own breath, collapsing to the ground and burying his face in his knees. He begins to rock back and forth, sobs hardly muffled by his position. Other Masters are staring.
Obi-Wan takes a moment to release his own anger into the Force. It won’t be helpful right now. Then, he crouches perhaps two meters away from Anakin and tries his best to soothe the raging storm of Anakin’s energy with his own. The last time he was this upset, several Knights ended up with nosebleeds. “Anakin,” he begins. “I really don’t think that a training mishap is worth all of this-”
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shutupshutupshutup…”
Okay, so that was the wrong thing to say. Obi-Wan sighs, running a hand through his hair and shooting the nearest Master an apologetic look. They glance away.
This is going to be a long day.
Over time, the problems worsen. Fourteen to seventeen is a long downward spiral that neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin can see the bottom of punctuated with tears and anger and breakdowns and panic attacks and mood swings that come and go too fast to quite catch the shape of.
One night, sitting exhausted in his bedroom after bringing Anakin down from an episode that had him pounding his fists against his head and screaming hate and rage at the top of his lungs, Obi-Wan makes his decision. They can’t live like this; it’s not fair to either of them. It’s time for him to admit that this problem is too big to handle alone.
The next morning, Obi-Wan takes Anakin to the Healers. They get him in with a Soul Healer right away. Obi-Wan is not allowed to come in.
Anakin comes out red-face and trembling and holding a fistful of orange bottles. The Healer beckons Obi-Wan into the room and tells him about undiagnosed ADHD and masking and high IQs versus small attention spans and personality disorders that could take years to properly diagnose. Anakin’s pills consist of a mood stabilizer, a generic antidepressant and anxiety dampener, and a stimulant that Obi-Wan is told should make it easier for Anakin to focus. They leave the Healers’ tired and raw and somewhat optimistic for the first time in a long time.
The rest of seventeen is something of a honeymoon period concerning Anakin’s meds. They stabilize and so, apparently, does Anakin. He’s happy for the first time in a long time, shaking off the sleepless nights and lethargic days to train and laugh and read and build and be a kid for once. Obi-Wan doesn’t even think to be nervous. This is what was supposed to happen. This is what the meds and the counseling were supposed to do. They’ll be alright.
Eighteen hits like a freight train.
“Anakin, you can’t keep doing this. You’re an adult now, and you need to take some responsibility for your actions,” Obi-Wan says, fighting to keep his voice level. At least this time, they’re in their quarters. If people are listening in, that’s a breach of social contract on their part, not Obi-Wan’s.
Anakin bristles, tear-filled eyes darting all over the room as he tries and fails to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. “I am trying, holy kriff! All I do is try, and nothing’s ever enough! Do you think I meant to get that upset? I try and I try to be good, to hold it back, but nothing’s ever good enough for you, is it?” The first tear falls.
Obi-Wan presses a hand to his brow. “Anakin, you shouted at Master Windu for nothing. This can’t continue. You know,” he says, switching tact as the tears fall faster, “this is my fault, really. I was too lenient when you were younger, and now… well, here we are. You must learn to control yourself, Anakin.”
“Oh, fuck you!” Anakin spins away swinging at the wall and pulling back just in time to avoid injuring his hand.
“ Don’t hit things,” Obi-Wan snaps.
“Stop telling me what to do,” he shrieks, voice hitting an octave Obi-Wan didn’t know he still had in him. “You know, for someone who was so adamant on getting me to see a counselor for my ‘issues,’ you sure are quick to ignore them when it gets bad for you! What part of ‘I can’t help it,’ is hard for you to understand?”
Oh, Force, no. They are not doing this again. “I’m not ignoring your problems, Anakin, I’m asking you to deal with them like a mature adult-”
“ I just turned eighteen!” On that brilliant note, Anakin storms out the door, slamming it behind him.
Obi-Wan finds him in the Halls of Healing being force-fed an emetic. They talk a lot. They cry a lot. They apologize perhaps less than they should. It is not the first or the last time that things go catastrophically wrong with Anakin, but Obi-Wan is slowly learning how to clean up the mess.
The War starts a year later.
Obi-Wan is more afraid than he has ever been.