Chapter Eight

When Anakin finally managed to make his way up to the level of daily laps and stretches, the healers re-evaluated him. They ultimately agreed to let Anakin have some time in a Bacta tank—he'd been nagging the droids for weeks, but they found unexplainable anomalies in his medical reports and denied him access. The dumbfounded healers previously concocted a theory about the mass amount of spinal damage and the long-term muscle deterioration, but Anakin had seen worse treated by Bacta in the field. It seemed like nothing involving him would ever be typical, not even medical treatment.

After a few hours of floating in half-consciousness, they lifted him out and sent him on his way. He felt slightly shaky from the sudden and complete lack of pain; not a muscle ached, not a bone creaked. There was a slight pang of regret that Qui-Gon had departed earlier and was unable to see Anakin back to his usual self. Anakin ignored the disappointment and retired to his chambers. He started to do some tentative stretching in order to assess how much, if any, muscle mass and strength he'd lost during his long recuperation. His calves protested the more intensive poses, but it did not seem as though Anakin had lost much of his former physique.

Now that he was free of pain, Anakin felt it was time to meditate. The clarity and unhindered focus felt like a much-needed swallow after being parched for ages. The Force centered in him as if it had never been lost in a sea of Anakin's despair. He breathed steadily, slowly, legs crossed and eyes closed. He needed answers and he needed to reclaim his viewpoint on the Force, on the Jedi way.

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There was no telling how long Anakin stayed that way, lost in the pulsing guidance of the Force. By the time he blinked himself back into the present, he felt calm, with purpose, and distinctly hungry. Glancing at the sun, Anakin stood up and headed for the dining hall, intent on finding his Padawan and establishing the beginnings of their long journey in a positive, communal atmosphere.

Obi-Wan sat with some other Padawans near his age, talking animatedly. Anakin probed gently and picked up something about hyperdrives. At the faint brush of an intruding mind, Obi-Wan looked up directly at Anakin, who hid his surprise at being discovered and nodded in greeting. The other Padawans immediately went silent at his arrival, staring up at him in a sort of suspended awe. He ignored it and looked down at Obi-Wan.

"Would you care to dine with me?" He decided not to casually use Obi-Wan's name, or some forced soubriquet like 'my apprentice.' Neither of them seemed ready for the intimacy, or so Anakin felt.

"Yes, Master. Bruck, Kensa, Roth, will you excuse me?" Obi-Wan was already standing up to leave, though he waited politely for acquiescence. All three of them shook their heads and Obi-Wan turned away from the table, waiting to follow Anakin's lead.

"Shall we sit with Master Windu at his table?"

Obi-Wan glanced at the table where Mace Windu and his companions sat, eating and discussing various planets and their brewing political unrest. Normally it would be a stark introduction to such an environment (Anakin's first experience eating with Qui-Gon had been just as intense, though he was ultimately glad for Qui-Gon's initiative). However, Obi-Wan was formerly Yoda's Padawan, and no doubt he was used to eating with his superiors. "Yes, Master, of course."

The pair of them made their way to Mace's table, taking seats at the right of him. The Knights seated greeted Anakin warmly, a few even expressing congratulations at his full recovery. Obi-Wan waited for Anakin to serve himself and then took small portions, having already eaten a little with his peers. Anakin took note of what foods he preferred and offered a word or two of conversation; Obi-Wan did not seem entirely comfortable, so Anakin let it rest. He turned his attention to Mace and the ongoing dialog over the planet Aragau's alliances.

"Aragau should be left to its own devices until we are shown a reason to act," Mace continued. "At present, they are not a threat."

By now Anakin felt he had the gist of the conversation and felt it worthwhile to add his own opinion. "But it's the home of a significant bank. It'd be worth our time to investigate, at least."

Mace waved him off. "Jedi are meant to keep the peace, not monitor finances."

"Wouldn't it be prudent to send people down there and give some incentives to stay neutral, though? Losing the bank would be a huge liability to the Republic."

"You say that as though they aren't already a liability, young Skywalker."

Anakin's brow furrowed, recalling Mace's earlier statement about leaving them alone until given a reason not to. "But I thought—"

"One of the advantages of living as long as I have is learning when to pick your battles," Mace said somewhat wearily. "This is one we cannot win, even if we wanted to. The bank is neutral but the planet is under the control of the Separatists. Interference would be considered an act of further war."

Slightly embarrassed over the sudden lecture, Anakin turned back to his plate.

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After dinner, Anakin considered the rest of the evening. Obi-Wan had no classes that day. Mostly he only had lightsaber sessions or research in the archives scheduled, as Anakin was now in charge of Obi-Wan's training. He had yet to see his Padawan's skills with the weapon, and he figured now was as good of a time as any.

"Come with me to the practice room," Anakin instructed.

Obi-Wan followed without question, probably having already anticipated such a test. Anakin heard a rustle of fabric and recognized it as Obi-Wan shedding his cloak; they were cumbersome during any type of battle, especially when one fought in Form IV. Obi-Wan's garb was vastly different than Anakin's, who even as a Padawan chose to wear dark browns and tans instead of the traditional white linen. He still preferred a less obviously Jedi style—blacks, leather, earth tones, heavier boots than standard issue.

The room was empty. Anakin adjusted the lights to his satisfaction and stood against the wall, arms folded across his chest. "Warm up, please."

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Thanks to Catrina and Trey for the beta, as always. Hey, did anyone notice how I finally addressed the Bacta issue? I'd been planning to explain it, oh, I don't know, in the first few chapters, but it continually escaped me. Anyway. I'm kind of freaking out because of Hurricane Rita, as I know someone caught in her path. My thoughts with everyone in a similar situation.