One Last Chance to say Goodbye

A/N: …So it's been a while. Hello for the first time in a few years- and in return I offer an idea that I've been playing with for a stretch, and from a new fandom no less! This was the product of spending a week in a hotel with no wi-fi, so let me know what you think… hopefully I haven't lost my touch!

The thing about being on Coruscant so sporadically, Anakin thought, was that his old routines were practically non-existent. Constant, brutal campaigns with the 501st, the training of his own student and spending what little, precious time he could with his wife was his new normal. He hadn't even had the chance to move out of the apartment he shared with Obi-Wan yet, which was where he was currently; in his old room.

Which, his sleep addled brain tried to tell him, seemed wrong. Hadn't he been bunking on The Negotiator while on a mission with his Master and Padawan?

He dismissed the thought with a mental wave of his hand. He must have been exhausted when they returned to the Temple. Instead, he tried desperately to fall back to sleep before having to face the rest of the day.

However, it appeared that this was one battle he was going to have to lose. Although he wasn't too heartbroken about his upcoming defeat, as he knew what was going to happen next. Obi-Wan, being the mature, responsible adult that he was, would come in to ensure Anakin was awake, so that he could reach a level of coherency that allowed him to be understood by people he didn't share a force-bond with. He himself, not quite at the same level of maturity, would respond by pulling the covers up higher over his head and rolling over away from the door. In retaliation, his Master would stand in the doorway and say his name in that unique mixture of exasperation and fondness that only he was able to pull off. After a few more unintelligible mumbles and half-awake ravings, Obi-Wan, with all the grace and dignity of his status, would simply force-nudge Anakin out of his bed, and make a tactical retreat to the kitchen before his old Padawan could draw enough focus to do anything about it.

The thought made Anakin smile. It had been their routine for years now, and though he would exude annoyance, in secret he cherished these rare moments of normality with Obi-Wan. With the constant fighting and strain of the Senate breathing down their backs, Anakin could see better than anyone that despite his outer Jedi serenity, his Master was simply exhausted, physically and mentally. He suspected that he wasn't the only one who took comfort from a resurface of silly little rituals like their morning dance, so he was more than happy to participate, for both of their sakes.

Thinking about Obi-Wan, he sighed. One of his biggest regrets throughout this whole blasted affair was the sacrifice of his relationship with his Master. No longer could they simply sit together and enjoy each other's company, or discuss current Temple news like the pair of gossips they secretly were. No, instead, most of the time it seemed as if they were on opposite ends of the galaxy. Anakin wasn't always there to make sure his stubborn gundark of a big brother remembered to eat, sleep and generally take care of himself. Yes, the entirety of the 212th (and a lot of the 501st come to think about it) had seemingly adopted their General into their ranks as one of their own vods, but for the Jedi Knight, unless he was physically there, he would never be satisfied that Obi-Wan was safe and not pulling reckless acts of heroism (Why anyone thought Obi-Wan was the cautious one baffled Anakin for so many reasons; where -or who- exactly did everyone think that he had learned his recklessness from?). Joint campaigns between their factions were the only times when Anakin could truly begin to relax.

Anakin had a theory; if anything were to happen to Obi-Wan, he'd know. They could be in the same building or a star system apart. If Obi-Wan were to fall, Anakin would just know. And would probably fall along with him. Rather that, he supposed, than trying to keep fighting with the knowledge that he had failed - another he loved being snatched from his grasp.

Damn but mornings made him soft.

He knew there was no way he could fall asleep again with those pleasant thought swimming around in his consciousness, yet he didn't rise. He instead stared at the ceiling, and waited for his Master to appear. Sure enough, he heard footsteps heading towards his door. Anakin smiled again, and grasped the edges of his blanket in preparation, but instead of the familiar whoosh of his door opening, he heard a few sharp, succinct knocks.

The Knight frowned. The two of them had never knocked, unless they were in the middle of an argument and didn't want to escalate the other's foul mood (alright, he admitted in his head, it's usually me in the foul mood). The point was, they were on good terms. So why would Obi-Wan break routine? He hazily recalled feeling angry at Obi-Wan over something, but they hadn't had an argument, had they?...

His musings were interrupted by more raps on his door, followed by a muffled voice.

"Come on, Anakin. I'm well aware that you enjoy sleeping more than any other life form in the Galaxy, but the morning is pressing on and you have a training session with Ashoka if I'm not mistaken."

Anakin had never sat up faster. Instead of the cultured, Corusanti accent that was oh so familiar to him, he was greeted instead by another voice. A deep, baritone timbre he had not heard since he was a little boy.

'No! It can't be…'

It may have been over a decade, but that was a voice he wouldn't soon forget. Throwing off his covers, he scrambled to the door and yanked it open with such speed he was surprised that the rickety old thing stayed attached. Instead of looking down slightly to greet his red-haired Master, he was forced to crane his head upwards. The sight that greeted him was impossible for so many different reasons, and yet, here he was.

"…Master Qui-Gon?"

He was staring into the face of the man who had rescued him from Tatooine a life time ago. He was unchanged, from his slightly scruffy robes to his dark, kind eyes. His hair seemed greyer, and he leant on a cane for support, but other than that, there was no mistaking what, or rather whom, he was seeing;

Qui-Gon Jinn, in the flesh.

The man in question smiled slightly, before turning away towards the kitchen where Anakin could faintly smell freshly brewed tea, "Of course, someone else you were expecting?"

"But…how…what?" Hardly his finest response, but in Anakin's defence, he had just woken up, and was dealing with a major paradigm shift before breakfast. He was impressed by his ability to form consonants at all.

An amused chuckle was his response "Eloquent as ever I see, my old Padawan. That last mission must have taken a lot out of you." Qui-Gon carried on into the kitchen and started to pull cutlery and plates from various cupboards with the grace and precision of someone who had been there for years, seemingly unaware of the gaping man he had left in his wake.

The Force had called out no warning, and when he reached out with an extremely justified "what, pray tell, the fuck?" he received nothing back. This was no trick, no trap, no Sith plot. Here, simply was Qui-Gon, as if he had always been.

"You're…alive? I'm…not dreaming?"

"Yes, I'm alive, why wouldn't I be?" Qui-Gon looked up from the counter and scrutinised Anakin with a raised eyebrow. "Are you alright? I can sense your confusion."

"But…Naboo…you can't be…" His coherency wasn't returning as quickly as he would have liked, but again, he could be forgiven.

Now Qui-Gon looked as if he finally noticed something was off, but he had come to a completely different conclusion about what the problem was. "Naboo? Anakin, you're starting to worry me. What is it?"

"I, ah…" Suddenly, he was hit with a thought, a startling reminder of the man he had been lamenting on, gods had it only been a few moments ago. Because while he had been crushed by this man's death, he had only known Master Jinn for a few days. He knew for a fact that his former student's entire world had been pulled out from under him. How in the force's name would he perceive this apparent miracle? "Obi-Wan! Where is he?"

He may as well have declared his intentions to run away and join the Sith. Any warmth evaporated from the apartment, and the elder Jedi's face closed off immediately. A severe frown, a crinkling of the brow that was so Obi-Wan that it hurt. "Anakin, that's not funny," he stated with finality.

Anakin was…well he was already confused, now he was not only baffled, but he felt an indignant curse rise in his throat on his Master's behalf. "But…But he should be here! If you're back somehow…dear force he needs to see you. Is he with the council or something? Where is he?"

A teapot being slammed onto the bench startled him. Qui-Gon's voice was so cold, that it's resonance alone was surely enough to freeze Mustafar ten times over. "I'm going to overlook your impertinence and put it down to sleep deprivation and exhaustion. But that's quite enough."

"I don't understand," the theme of this morning apparently, "Obi-Wan…he always told me stories about the missions you went on, how close you were! Why don't you want to see-"

"ANAKIN SKYWALKER, ENOUGH."

Anakin froze, startled into silence. The other Jedi was gripping the handle of the pot in his hand so tightly Anakin was amazed it was still in one piece. It was clearly taking all Qui-Gon's considerable years of training not to throw it at him. Through clenched teeth, he spat, "I'm not sure if you think yourself humorous, but I can assure you it is not appreciated." Taking a few calming breaths, Qui-Gon shifted his gaze to beyond Anakin, looking past him with haunted, weary eyes.

"You know damn well that Obi-Wan died 12 years ago when I found you on Naboo, so I suggest you stop this little game now."

That impossible statement said with such raw emotion seemed to freeze time around him. As if he had been drenched in ice cold water, Anakin could do nothing but stare. The Chosen One had never felt so powerless.

What?

A/N: Ta-da! I have the rest of this story all lined out, with most of the dialogue written, I just need to make it coherent to read. I hope you enjoyed this little piece, and hopefully everyone was in character. All mistakes are my own, and I own none of these Space Wizards. Any feedback you can offer is welcome (just try not to be an asshole about it)

Come say hello on Tumblr! Find me at myiliterallyhavenolifegoals. Until next time my lovelies x