A/N: Alright, it's done. And I still don't own Star Wars.

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"Maaaaster."

Obi-Wan groaned and pulled a pillow over his face. "Go away."

"I can't hear you, Master." The pillow was unceremoniously yanked away.

"Five minutes."

"Come on, Master, we have a lot to do today."

"Mmphm."

"Master, don't make me!"

Obi-Wan rolled over, ignoring the threat to his sanity.

A dramatic sigh. "All right, Master, but you forced me to it."

Obi-Wan yelped as he was hoisted into the air by his ankle. With that as incentive, he woke up very quickly indeed.

Anakin stood below him, arms crossed and grinning widely.

Obi-Wan glared at him - well, as much as he was able to glare while hanging over a meter above his bed from one foot. "Down. Now!" he rasped.

"If I let you down, you'll go back to sleep," objected Anakin.

"So? What time is it? Why shouldn't I sleep?"

"So, as your temporary Master, I don't want you to be asleep. It is 0600 hours, and you shouldn't sleep because I'm supposed to be teaching you!"

Obi-Wan moaned as full memory returned. Oh, he would kill whatever sadistic, power-enamoured Council idiot decided this had to start at 0600 hours. "I assure you, my dear Padawan, that I will remember this the next time that you refuse to wake up and are too disoriented to fight back."

"You know," Anakin grinned impudently, "I think this is worth it. Where did I put that holocamera. . ."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I would, if I could find it," Anakin mused. "I had it on the mission to Nagaar. . ."

"Then thank the Force for your disorganization," said Obi-Wan. He turned his attention to the Force-hold that Anakin had him in. A-ha! Hastily done, though strong, like most of his apprentice's work. And, like most of Anakin's work, it had certain weaknesses. It was a simple matter of worming through those weaknesses and increasing them, and the Force-hold was loosened while Anakin was distracted.

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan wasn't the greatest of multi-taskers at the best of times. And six-o-clock in the morning after an especially taxing mission was hardly the best of times. Obi-Wan's foot was freed, but he'd forgotten about the rest of himself. He tumbled onto his bed heavily, performing an awkward sort of somersault to save his neck and back.

Anakin snorted in amusement. "Five minutes, Master."

Glowering darkly as his Padawan left the room, Obi-Wan picked himself up and crossed to the closet to find some every-day clothes. He refused to look at his bed - still warm and inviting, blast the Council and their delusions of intelligence - until his sleep tunic and pants were safely folded.

Upon leaving his room, he found to his relief that Anakin had already started making the morning meal - nerf-sausage with an unfamiliar sort of fruit. Obi-Wan took over the slicing of the fruit as Anakin flipped the sausages, sizzling pleasantly from the stovetop. "So," he said, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "What have you got planned for today?"

"Oh, lots." Anakin replied, his eyes dancing mischievously.

Obi-Wan sighed irritably. It seemed that his padawan was determined to prolong the agony.

"Calm down, Master," Anakin said from the stove. "You're always complaining about how stressful it is having me for an apprentice. Consider this a vacation."

The knife slipped. "Ow!" Obi-Wan sucked at a cut on his index finger. "The thought of having you in charge is anything but reassuring."

Anakin only grinned, scooping the sausages onto their plates. Obi-Wan put the fruit slices into a small bowl, and the two headed for the table.

Over breakfast, Obi-Wan made a conscious effort to calm himself. Really, he was blowing this out of proportion. Anything Anakin had thought up couldn't be as unpleasant as some of their missions. The only inherent risk in this particular event was that of complete humiliation. But the announcement had been Temple-wide, so any other Jedi who happened to see anything embarassing would certainly understand why. Wouldn't they?

He stood up, taking his dishes and utensils into the kitchen and turning on the hot water to wash them. The flow of water shut off as quickly as it had turned on. Obi-Wan turned to Anakin with an aggrieved air.

"We'll take care of them later," Anakin said, waving a hand dismissively.

"We'll take care of them later," Obi-Wan agreed, nodding wisely. He shook his head violently a second later, trying to shake off the effects of the Force-suggestion. "Anakin!"

"Yes, Master?" Anakin grinned innocently, tilting his chair back and popping his knuckles.

Stars, when had he become so proficient in Force-suggestion? "Cleaning up will take all of a quarter-hour," Obi-Wan pointed out.

Anakin rolled his eyes and settled his chair back on all four legs. "A quarter-hour that can be spent elsewhere. I want to get going."

"Going where?"

"You'll find out," Anakin said mysteriously, standing to put his own dishes in the sink. "Ready?"

Obi-Wan ran a hand over his slightly-mussed hair and glanced wryly at a previously unnoticed stain on his tunic and shrugged. "I suppose so."

Anakin was already putting on his boots. "Let's go."

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"Token, please?"

Obi-Wan glumly put the small silver token that certified that he was indeed a Jedi Master and taking a ship for a good reason into his Padawan's open hand. He should have guessed that the hanger would be the first stop with Anakin in charge. His apprentice's endless fascination with flying was a constant source of wonder for Obi-Wan. Even after seven years of being Anakin's master, he failed to understand how anyone could get such exhilaration from simply moving from one place to another. It made no sense whatsoever.

Anakin was unlocking the controls for two one-man fighters, the sort he'd been wheedling his master to let him try almost from the moment he'd first set foot in the Jedi Temple. They had never needed to use the fighters, as the Council had continued to take advantage of Obi-Wan's significant negotiation skills, even after Anakin was advanced enough to accompany his master on more dangerous missions.

"Can you fly these?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin snorted derisively. "If it has wings, I can fly it."

And Obi-Wan had to agree. Anakin was already just as good a pilot as he was, and he had shown several times that his skills could be adapted to almost anything with an engine.

"The question is," Anakin continued. "Can you?"

For the first time that day, Obi-Wan let a grin split his face. "Was that a challenge, Padawan?" he inquired, stepping into the cockpit and tugging on the helmet with practiced ease.

"Maybe," Anakin replied, mirroring his actions. Two glassy, domed shields hissed into place, and the fighters taxied out of the hangar. Anakin glanced over at his unsuspecting master. Obi-Wan would check and double-check every aspect of his fighter, and expect Anakin to do the same. He grinned. He would have some fun, just this once. Leaning back into his seat, he closed his eyes and reached for the Force. . .

Obi-Wan jumped in alarm. Across his display screen was an error message: Code Red - Evacuate fighter immediately. He reached for the button to retract the transparisteel shield, then hesitated. There had been no warning from the Force at all; in fact, if not for the message in front of him, he would swear that there was nothing. . .

His thoughts broke off as the message changed. Just kidding. He swung around to look at his apprentice, and just caught a glimpse of Anakin's fighter soaring out of sight.

-Padawan!-

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Ten minutes later, Obi-Wan had caught up to Anakin. "That was uncalled for."

"You're only jealous that I beat you out of the hangar."

"Or perhaps simply irked that you cheated to do it?"

"It worked, didn't it?"

Obi-Wan raised both eyebrows, despite the fact that Anakin couldn't see the expression. "Cheating will not get you far, my dear Padawan."

A mild pulse of annoyance seeped through the bond. "Hey, who's the Master for the day again? If anything, I should be berating you for being so uptight!"

"Excuse me for forgetting my place," Obi-Wan returned icily. When nothing further was said, he probed along the link tentatively. Finding a slightly-ashamed Anakin on the other side, he softened. "What are we doing?"

"Flying, obviously," replied Anakin, bemused.

Obi-Wan sighed, feeling some of his impatience return. "Yes, I realize that we are flying. Why are we flying?"

Silence as his apprentice mulled this over. "For fun? Come on, Master, don't you ever do anything just for fun?"

"Of course I..." Obi-Wan paused. Well, no, he didn't, not really. His days, when they weren't occupied with a mission, were comprised mainly of sparring and meditation. Dueling with Anakin was entertaining, occasionally, but he did it more for the purposes of teaching his padawan, out of a sense of duty, than fun.

"I thought not," Anakin said. "Well, then, here are my orders. You are not to waste time worrying until at least midnight tonight."

"My worrying has saved both our lives more often than I can count," objected Obi-Wan.

"Yes, and I'm very grateful, but today we're not in any mortal danger," Anakin replied.

"That you know of."

Anakin's exasperation was clear through the crackle of the transmitter. "Master, please. Try to enjoy yourself? Live in the moment, for once."

Echoes of another's voice resounded in the words. Obi-Wan blinked, wondering if his padawan was telling him honestly what he thought or simply being sneaky. Either way, he realized abruptly, it was good, sound advice. He hesitated, then sent a wordless pulse of respect along the bond.

It was accepted with gratitude. "Now, Master," said Anakin. "Let's have some fun."

The idling fighter two to three meters to his left shot into motion, leaping forward through silent space like Anakin's elation embodied. A whoop came over the radio as the fighter entered a dizzying series of spins. Obi-Wan started to call out in caution, but then checked himself. They were far above Coruscanti traffic, and there was a healthy amount of space between them and the nearest registered hyperspace exit point. They were as safe as they could possibly be in the general area of Coruscant, and Anakin was an excellent pilot.

Meanwhile, the boy had tired of flips and dives and sharp turns. His fighter idled perhaps a kilometer away - funny, how irrelevant distance seemed when faced with the cold, sharp reality of space. "Come on, Master! Gardulla the Hutt moved faster than you!"

Obi-Wan laughed, then, really laughed, as he hadn't taken the time to do in. . .how long had it been? Grasping the controls, he copied his apprentice's erratic path perfectly, until his own craft hung next to Anakin's, with almost exactly the same amount of space between them.

"Nice," said Anakin appreciatively. "But keep up with THIS!" The fighter lunged forward again, this time even faster than before. The flips and spirals were even neater and more concise than previously, Anakin's complete confidence in his craft and skill clear.

Obi-Wan did not wait this time for Anakin to stop. He hurtled after his padawan with reckless abandon - a feeling as unfamiliar to the Master as fear. It was new and exhilarating. . . and he liked it. The complete focus given to copying Anakin's every move left no room for doubts or hesitation. Only for trust.

They continued for some time - neither could ever remember how long, but time has no meaning in space. They dived in and out of atmosphere, playing with air as a child plays in a puddle of water. The formation of their fighters grew even more precise, until they moved almost in unison. And when, at last, the crafts glided to a stop, just brushing the atmosphere, both remembered to breath.

The edge of Coruscant's sun, white and fierce and terrible, slid below the surface of the planet. The stars beyond - suns of myriad other planets - shone out with sudden, striking clarity. Deadly and lovely as a 'saber blade,they stretched across the galaxy, as far as the eye could see and farther.

-They're beautiful,- came a barely perceptible whisper of thought from the bond. A flood of emotion followed, blinding in its intensity. Joy, deep and poignant. Fierce, protective love. Bittersweet pain, mingled with each, as a vein of precious metal through a clear stone. And, beneath it all, a constant, steady current of peace.

That's it, realized Obi-Wan suddenly. That's what a Jedi ought to be like. A rush of pride and affection for his wayward and impulsive padawan filled him, settling into a thick lump in his throat.

Anakin stirred, glancing at Obi-Wan through the shields. "We should head back."

Obi-Wan agreed silently as they circled the planet towards the Temple's signal. The fighters dropped into traffic, reluctantly exchanging the smog and grime of the city for space's crystalline purity. They did not speak again until both crafts were safely landed and re-parked in their places in the hangar.

"It's strange, isn't it?" said Anakin as his master climbed out of the fighter, stretching. "Everything feels so clear out there. It's just you and the Force. You. . ." he paused, gesturing expansively. "You get a sense of purpose. You remember exactly what you are meant for, and you feel, almost, that you can do it." He stopped and turned, looking out the hangar's archway at the traffic teeming in the evening sky beyond. "And then you enter atmosphere. You come back to real life, and everything's fuzzy. Blurred."

Obi-Wan did not speak, but his silence, coupled with a gentle clap on his padawan's shoulder, spoke volumes. He understood.

They walked back to the apartment slowly in contemplative silence, turning over and examining the day in their thoughts. There was no need for speech: the bond was fully open. An exhausted contentment flowed between master and padawan, and a deep-seated longing for the galaxy to be as it should, for shades of gray to resolve into far-reaching darkness and points of inextinguishable light. And finally, though it was slow in coming, resigned acceptance of the way things were.

Anakin palmed open the door, and immediately flopped onto the couch in his usual position. "Hey, Master?"

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

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Ten minutes later, Obi-Wan found himself carrying a tray through the line in the dining hall, requesting double portions of everything. He should have seen it coming, though in truth he found irritation with his cheeky apprentice next to impossible at the moment.

"Ah, Master Obi-Wan. Hungry for your evening meal, are you?"

"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan greeted the diminutive Jedi, bobbing his head slightly in respect. He glanced down at the overloaded tray. "No, half is for Anakin." A sudden thought struck him and he pounced on it. "Master Yoda, was the Master-Padawan switch your idea?"

Yoda regarded him with a touch of curiousity. "My idea, it was."

"Then I must extend my deepest gratitude. I hadn't realized how much I was missing until this day."

"Sense, I do, that tell you your padawan did not," said Yoda, something undefinable flickering across the wizened face.

Obi-Wan blinked in confusion. "Tell . . . me?"

Yoda's face twitched again. "In light of your recently completed mission, defer you and your padawan from this activity, the Council did."

Obi-Wan was turning red again, he could feel it. Even the very tips of his ears were burning. The strange expression on Yoda's face appeared again, stronger, and Obi-Wan realized with another flash of embarassment that the green master was trying very hard to restrain his laughter. The flush covering Obi-Wan's entire face redoubled, and he turned back to the serving droid with a mumbled "Good night, Master Yoda."

His poor, wounded dignity picked itself up slightly as he saw the dessert that the droid held: Alderaanian bushberries, a dish fit for kings when served with cream and sweetener, as these were.

Anakin despised them.

A Jedi seeks not revenge, Obi-Wan told himself gleefully as he accepted a triple portion.

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A/N: I really didn't mean to turn it into an angsty-ish thing. Really. But it kinda popped out anyway. (sheepish) Reviews make me very happy! (goes off whistling)