Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars nor make any profit from this story. Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, Lucasfilm, etc.

A/N: A short vignette I thought up while listening to The Fighter by Gym Class Heroes. (Also not my property.)

The Contender

He was not the first.

The first bite of a rare delicacy; highly anticipated and hastily ingested in enthusiastic anxiety for its welcome newness and quick satisfaction and gratification. He was not Feemor. The first apprentice; the one taken up in duress after tragedy, but nonetheless a brief success and welcome as a great step towards higher authority and prestige.

He was not the second.

The most savored bite of the meal; the one in which the taste buds have already recognized delicious flavor from the first bite and therefore intend to much more carefully attend to the second morsel. The morsel which is missed all the more when it is gone, because it was so greatly savored in the first place. He was not Xanatos. The second apprentice; the beloved one whose loss stung too deeply to be properly healed, and the one who tainted the sweetness of authority and prestige.

He was not the last.

That last indulgent bite; too much for the stomach to easily digest, but consumed in a fit of prideful defiance against the confines of an organ that already filled itself to comfortable satisfaction upon the previous bite. He was not Anakin. The final slip of an apprentice; the wondrous and inimitable chosen child, arrogantly and thoughtlessly dredged into an arena already full of tension and unease.

He was the third.

Not the exciting first taste, nor the savored second morsel, nor the greedy final indulgence. No, he was the third bite that satisfied hunger and offered the fulfillment of nutrition, the one that left the meal's flavor still lingering pleasantly on the tongue. He was the third apprentice; the adoring, hardworking, many-times rejected one who knew he was not as wanted yet failed to stop grasping at the wisps he was granted.

He did not pray for clemency when there was no threat leveled against him, nor did he wait out justice and fairness until his pride allowed him to do what was right within its own selfish confines. He did not glide through life expecting all good things to come to him, or wait for that coveted silver lining to suddenly shine down when he was tired of the challenge and the uphill climb. He made his own lining, completed all his challenges, climbed to the top of the mountain, push himself until he had no more to give.

He was not Feemor, nor Xanatos, nor Anakin. He was not the much-anticipated first-born heir and charming prince, the spoiled son and self-satisfied prize fighter, the beloved hero and glorious reigning champion.

He was the unsettled upstart, always battling for his place – for love, honor, trust, faith, and acceptance. These things he had to wait for, hold out for, give in a little for. He gave up pride and dignity and rest to claim his share of these things. He even gave up the things themselves just to gain back a little more of them.

He was the negotiator, the contender. He made compromises and sacrifices. He never gave up, never gave out. And he always, always kept fighting.

He was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

-The End-