Disclaimer: Don't belong to me, yadda yadda, no money, so
on...you know the drill.
Summary: Anakin gets a lesson in poetry and in his Master.
Notes: Will give credit to "poetry" at the end. Some lyrics
were altered slightly to fit context of story, but not so far
as to affect the original intent.
"Ohhh!"
The loud groan accompanied by a broadcast of annoyance drew
Obi-Wan Kenobi's attention away from the datapad he studied and
cast his gaze towards his Padawan's room.
"You alright, Ani?" he called out, unable to hide the amusement
in his voice. He already knew what troubled the boy having
received an earfull of complaint earlier. Obi-Wan let the boy
vent about the remedial class he'd just returned from, silently
letting him say his piece. He hoped it's help, allowing Anakin
to express himself and regain balance, but perhaps he could be
of more help than that. Obi-Wan didn't have much time before an
extended meeting with the Jedi Council would pull him away, but
he could easily spare his last moments to assist Ani in his
appreciation of things other than hyperdrive-dynamics. Obi-Wan
rose from the couch in the common room and approached Ani's
door. Leaning against the frame of the threshold, Obi-Wan
smiled at the sight. Anakin sat at his desk, head hanging over
a pile of electro-books and datapads, melodramatically moaning
about his assignment.
"It can't be that bad." Obi-Wan folded his arms across
his chest, trying not to laugh. Ani, in the past three years,
had easily caught up with his peer-mates in combatives,
Planetary Diplomacy, Dueling, and Aero studies, but there were
still subjects he remained behind on, needing additional
courses. Arts appreciation encompassing most of them, specific
to this tantrum - poetry.
"You would think so," Anakin answered. "But I'm trying to take
this assignment as seriously as possible and it's just not
working," Anakin flashed his Master a forlorned look before
peering down again at the book in his hand. "It's so boring."
Obi-Wan shook his head, Ani typically took his assignments
quite seriously, even the remedial ones. But he could tell the
Padawan hinted for his Master to dismiss the assignment as
unimportant or trivial, allowing him to give minimal effort
towards completion. Obi-Wan would do no such thing.
"What's the assignment?" He strode over to Ani's desk and
peered at the electro-books laid out before him. Alderranian
Love Sonnets, Corillian Lyricals, a variety of Corurscant Art
books and even a Nabooian "Words of Romance" anthology. He
could easily guess who suggested that one.
"I have to find a poem that speaks to me and be able to
explain why I chose it in detail." Another moan crawled from
the boy's chest, the mocking word "boring" sing-songed in
Obi-Wan's mind - not of his own doing. Obi-Wan affectionately
glared down at his apprentice for his sarcasm, but the look
went unnoticed. He then reached forward and punched up page
after page, his brow furrowing more with each read.
"Well, Anakin, these are all books of love poetry, something
you've yet to experience. If you need to find a poem that
speaks to you, these books won't help," Obi-Wan explained as he
picked up the Corillian Lyricals, punching up the first page
and shuddered at a rather inappropriate limerick for boy in
only his twelfth year of age.
"But that's all poetry is, love and flowers and boring stuff."
Anakin whined, a rather undignified noise for a Jedi Padawan
and yet that didn't stop him in the least. This time Obi-Wan
did chuckle, tucking the Lyricals book discreetly under his
arm.
"Poetry is written about anything that inspires."
Obi-Wan began, smiling as Anakin's interest piqued. "There's
poetry about nature, culture, even dueling and space travel."
Anakin almost leaped out of his seat at the latter mentioned.
"Really?"
"In fact," Obi-Wan continued, turning away and striding back
out into the common room and to a storage closet, Anakin
staying tight on his heels, "The Duros take their piloting
skills very seriously, so much so, that they have a book of
poetry inspired by their adventures."
"REALLY?!" Anakin could hardly believe his ears, poetry about
something interesting! Obi-Wan slid open the closet doors,
setting the limerick book on the shelf above before crouching
down and digging around in the closet. He quickly found the box
he searched for. He had shoved it in here when he and Anakin
were finally moved into their own quarters, out of Qui-Gon's
about two years ago. He had sealed the box for the move and
hadn't opened it since.
"Well, this would be my collection of electro-books. I know the
Duro poetry is in here, as well as some other texts from my
days as an apprentice." He couldn't help but accompany that
statement with a sigh. He hefted and carried the box into Ani's
room, placing it on his sleep couch. Ani climbed onto the
cushions wasting no time to attack the seal, pushing down hard
on the persistent lock. He broke the fastener just as the
intercom chimed; the call requesting Obi-Wan's presence with
the Council had just arrived. Obi-Wan looked up, staring out
into the other room at the blinking light on the com-board and
sighed. He'd certainly been keeping himself busy lately. He
turned his attention back to his apprentice and the box.
"It's in there somewhere, Ani, have at it," he smiled, resting
fists on hips. "I have to go and I'll probably be late in
returning." He reached out and ran his fingers through the
sandy blond spikes of his apprentice's hair. "Try not to be up
too late, alright?"
"I won't, Master," Ani only absently responded, his
concentration deep inside the box, digging for the Duro book.
Obi-Wan watched him for a moment longer before turning and
striding out into the common room again, snatching the data pad
he had been studying and exiting their quarters.
Anakin sat on the sleep couch, stacking electro-books on the
outside of the box, burrowing inside. Books on Wookie Art,
Yavin Cave drawings, Hoth natural ice sculptures... AH! Duro
aero-dynamic poetry! With exuberant excitement, Anakin bounced
off the mattress, landing squarely on his feet. The spring
filled cushion, however, responded by sending the box flying up
into the air. Anakin tried to catch it in it's airborne tumble,
but only grabbed one book before the box crashed to the floor,
all contents spilt.
"Poodoo!"
Anakin laid the Duro book on his desk and knelt down, tipping
the box back up and gathered books to refill it. He reached out
for an old style bound book, which had skidded away. The front
cover flopped open just before he dropped it back into the box,
giving him a quick glance at the scrawling on the inside.
Obi-Wan Kenobi
Poetry Appreciation Level Three
The same class that Anakin took now! He left the box
immediately, crawled up into his desk chair and started
reading, overpowered by his curiosity. There were several
poems, all about lightsaber dueling. Each one very similar to
it's predecessor; swirling lights, like a dance, perfection in
motion.
That was it.
Anakin shrugged, Obi-Wan's entries didn't give him anymore
insight about what to do for his assignment. He giggled as he
ran his thumb along the pages, flipping them and reveling in
the feel of actual pages against his skin, books like these
were rare. In the blur of riffled paper, something caught
Anakin's attention - another entry, many blank pages later into
the book. Folding it open to the page, Ani pressed the book
down to his desk and marveled at what he read. Another poem by
Obi-Wan, but nothing like the one's he'd already seen. This one
written much later, after he'd already begun his
apprenticeship.
6th year of apprenticeship - Obi-Wan Kenobi
If I only had the words to tell you,
If you only had the time to understand.
Though I know it wouldn't change your feelings,
And I know we'll carry on the best we can.
If I only had the urge to tell you,
If you only knew how hard it is to say.
When the simple lines have all been taken,
And it's pointless to repeat them everyday.
This would be a love poem. Obi-Wan wrote a love poem?
Unrequited love at that. Obi-Wan had been right, this was
nothing Anakin felt he could relate to and he even had a hard
time imaging his reserved Master mooning over anyone. He always
carried himself with so much dignity, silently demanding
respect from everyone he encountered. The only person who ever
outwardly affected him was...
Anakin paused before completing the thought and flipped forward
in the book, anxious as ever. There were again several blank
pages before the next poem. He settled back into his chair,
drawing his knees up to his chest, completely engrossed.
8th year of apprenticeship - Obi-Wan Kenobi
In every heart there is a room,
A sanctuary safe and strong.
To heal the wounds of lover's past,
Until a new one comes along.
I spoke to you in cautious tones,
You answered me with no pretense.
And still I feel I've said too much,
My silence is my self-defense.
And every time I've held a rose,
It seems I've only felt the thorns.
And so it goes, and so it goes,
And so will you soon, I suppose.
But if my silence made you leave,
Then that would be my worst mistake.
So I will share this room with you,
And you can have this heart to break.
And this is why my eyes are closed,
It's just as well for all I've seen.
And so it goes and so it goes,
And you're the only one who knows.
So I would choose to be with you,
That's if the choice were mine to make.
But you can make decisions too,
And you can have this heart to break.
Wow. So, he told him, he confessed. What happened next? Anakin
closed his eyes, trying to remember seeing them together. How
did they behave? He then shook his head and settled his gaze
back on the book. It would be a pointless attempt to remember,
so much had been going on then and he never would have noticed
anything, anyway. Besides, it didn't seem possible, Obi-Wan
having a crush on his own Master? Maybe he's mistaken; maybe
this wasn't about Qui-Gon. The poetry didn't make it clear. The
only thing apparent to him was that Master Obi-Wan must have
been motivated by very strong emotions to write these poems.
Anakin searched for more, bending the book slightly to flip
through the pages. The book fell open to the next entry easily,
marked with a piece of folded paper just a few pages away.
8th year of apprenticeship - Obi-Wan Kenobi
Accepting all I've done and said,
I want to stand and stare again,
Till there's nothing left out.
Oh, it remains there, in your eyes.
Whatever comes and goes,
It's in your eyes.
Anakin starred blankly at the page. This reminded him of some
of the professional poetry he'd read for class. These were
nothing less than pure expressions poured directly from his
Master's heart. Stunned, it took him a moment to think to
unfold the piece of paper in his hand.
Love, I don't like to see so much pain,
So much wasted,
And this moment keeps slipping away.
I get so tried,
Working so hard for our survival.
I look for the times with you,
To keep me awake and alive.
QGJ
Anakin swallowed hard. His suspicions were true. They loved
each other just like the pair-bonded Jedi who taught his
Diplomacy course. Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon... He didn't
realize, never considered it, really. He knew that Obi-Wan
missed Qui-Gon immensely, but he never understood how much they
obviously meant to each other. These poems made it very plain.
Only, they were so sad, Obi-Wan's love no longer in his life.
Tragic and unfair. Anakin eagerly flipped further into the
book.
12th year of apprenticeship - Obi-Wan Kenobi
Love, I love you.
I want to give you the mountain,
The sunshine,
The sunset, too.
I just want to give you a world,
As beautiful as you are to me.
12th year, the same year Qui-Gon died. Anakin skimmed more
pages and wasn't the least bit surprised to find them empty.
Why would he continue to write, his inspiration gone? Anakin
twisted sideways in his seat, hanging his feet again and
dejectedly tossed the book upon his desk. The impact forced a
corner of paper out of the binding cover. Anakin reached out
and pulled the paper loose, unfolding to reveal two sheets,
each with a poem. He recognized the royal letterhead of Maseen,
their first mission away from the Temple two years ago. They
came back from that excursion and almost immediately moved from
their old quarters to new ones.
Please let me forget all those sweet smiles,
All of the passion.
All of the heat, the peace, the pain,
All those blue skies,
Where your words were my freedom.
Anakin sighed, remembering how grave Obi-Wan had been during
the entire engagement. He thought it had something to do with
him, as if he'd done something wrong. How mistaken he had been.
He turned his attention to the next sheet and poem.
Why do they always say,
Don't look back?
Keep your head held high,
Don't ask them why,
Because life is short.
And before you know,
You're feeling old,
And your heart is breaking.
Don't hold on to the past,
Well that's too much to ask.
And why do they always say,
No regrets?
Well, I wish that you were here with me,
Well then, there's hope yet.
I can see your face in a secret place,
You're not just a memory.
Say good-by to yesterday,
Those are words I'll never say.
Wishing you were here with me.
He couldn't believe it. Anakin folded the sheets and returned
them to the book, taking care as if he held fragile priceless
parchments. He then released a long sigh. He suddenly
understood his Master as he never had before. The solemn mask,
the reserved nature, all hiding his pain and loss. Quietly
taking on the final request of the love of his life with
determination - training him. Anakin at times resented that
Obi-Wan only choose him because Qui-Gon asked him to, but he
realized now how much more that fulfillment meant. Training him
would be like keeping Qui-Gon alive, his last wish realized.
Obi-Wan suddenly had a lot more depth. Anakin felt sorry for
and wished his Master had told him and ... and then he moaned,
dropping his forehead into his open palm, struck with an
overpowering wave of guilt. He had completely invaded Obi-Wan's
privacy. These poems, this knowledge, had not been meant for
his eyes or anyone eyes. Except maybe Qui-Gon's. If Obi-Wan
wanted him to know, he would have told him.
Anakin pushed the book aside, righting himself in his seat and
returning to his assignment. He leaned into his desk, flicked
on the Duro poetry electro-book and started flipping, but his
gaze kept drifting up to Obi-Wan's bound book. Things had
changed with this knowledge, he saw his Master differently. He
saw more than just the Jedi commited to his duty, he saw the
man. He wanted to do something for him, show him he understood.
Part of him thought he should just pretend, as if nothing
happened, nothing changed, but the guilt would eat at him. He
knew he'd have to confess eventually. Ani dropped his head
down, focusing back on the Duro book and tried not to think
about his invasion, too much information too fast. But his mind
dwelled on his Master's poems, for the first time, poetry
actually made sense to him - it spoke to him. Anakin
jerked up his head. The idea washed through his mind with
bittersweet excitement. He could complete his assignment and
make it up to Obi-Wan all in one fell swoop.
Obi-Wan sat back on the couch and watched the door, trying to
decide why Anakin stood outside it, stalling to come in. After
another long moment, he took the initiative to open the door
himself with a wave of his hand. The apprentice stood in the
hallway, a data pad his only companion. Anakin looked like a
kaduu caught in the beam of a bright light; stationary and
stunned, eyes gapping open.
"Why don't you join me, Padawan?" Obi-Wan gestured about the
room, displaying his invitation. Anakin shook himself out of
his freeze and slowly entered, walking directly up to his
Master, shoulder's slumped and head sagging low enough to rest
his chin on his chest.
"Master, I first want to apologize."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed a sigh, nothing good ever
came from that opening line.
"It seemed like a good idea last night, but standing before you
now. Maybe I was wrong," the boy continued, raising chin, but
still lacking it's usual stubborn angle.
Anakin's stance, his words - none of it eased Obi-Wan's mind.
He ran his hands roughly over his face, massaging the growing
tension in his features. Now he knew why Qui-Gon's hair had
silvered so early in life. It had probably been his fault and
now he received his payback, and, most likely, only the
beginning of it. Obi-Wan could feel the color drain from his
locks at that very moment.
"What did you do, Padawan?" Obi-Wan asked as he slid forward to
the edge of the cushion. He attempted to remain calm; there
would be no sense in getting completely upset, just yet.
"I read your poems," Anakin blurted and then winced, arms
folded behind his back.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes, puzzled. His questioning gaze met
Anakin's sorrowful eyes.
"The Duro poems," Obi-Wan clarified. Anakin shook his head,
meekly answering.
"No, your poems."
Like a spark of light, Obi-Wan instantly remembered every
electro-book and data pad he'd packed into that box. The boy
had read his book! He drew a sharp breath and felt the
blood rush from his face.
"Anakin!"
"No, wait, please don't be mad!" Anakin jerked his arm around
and lifted his left hand, trying to appease his Master. "It
helped me with my assignment, it helped me pick my poem." He
reached out with the data pad in his other hand, gesturing for
Obi-Wan to take it from him.
Obi-Wan grabbed the pad and peered down, a poem displayed on
the screen. He glanced up at his apprentice for a wary moment
before he looked back down to read.
Love, I only live a little,
Try to understand.
I put my soul in this life,
We created with these four hands.
Love I leave, but only a little,
This world holds me still.
My body may die now,
But our creations live.
Anakin cleared his throat; feeling choked up.
"I chose it for you. On Qui-Gon's behalf." His words quickened
in defense, his stance stiffening. "I know that was really
presumptuous of me, and I..." but Obi-Wan raised his hand,
cutting him off.
Who?" He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed to the pad in his
hands.
"An Alderannian folk artist. Are you disappointed with me?"
Anakin leaned forward, hesitant, trying to decipher the
expression on his Master's face.
Obi-Wan released a shaky breath, a lone tear rolling down his
cheek.
"What did you tell your class when you explained why you chose
it?" Still not looking up, his gaze glued to the poem. Anakin
fidgeted a little before he responded.
"I told them it reminded me of a story. A tragic story of two
people who loved each other very much but one of them died too
soon. Of what he would have said if given the chance."
Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, finally breaking his stare at the
screen. He met Anakin's worried gaze with softened features.
"And you just gave him that chance. See, Anakin, poetry isn't
so boring." He opened his arms and Anakin launched himself
forward, burying his face in Obi-Wan's shoulder, crying.
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and just held his apprentice,
they both missed Qui-Gon so much, to the depths of their souls.
He should have known the boy would understand, at least now
maybe they could miss him together.
"Thank you." Obi-Wan whispered, the sentiment echoing aloud in
the room and along the endless quiet tendrils of the Force that
once led to his beloved.
End
In order of appearance:
"If I Only" - Billy Joel
"So It Goes" - Billy Joel
"In Your Eyes" - Peter Gabriel (two consecutive poems)
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