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Anakin and Obi-Wan were fighting again. Well, it was more like Anakin was screaming at Obi-Wan while the latter stared at him impassively and occasionally tried to get a word in edgewise. This always happened when Ahsoka wasn’t there to mediate, but she was back on Coruscant catching up on classwork.

Nobody remembered what the original point of the argument was anymore, and it didn’t really matter. Every single one ended the same—with Anakin screaming that Obi-Wan didn’t understand him, didn’t trust him.

This time, however, was different. Anakin had just gotten off a call with the Chancellor, where he had been describing the situation (no, he was not complaining). His friend had brought up some extremely valid points, which he was explaining to his former master quite loudly in the middle of the bridge on the Negotiator. 

“I just can’t believe you would do this to me, to Ahsoka!” Anakin was screaming.

“Anakin, please, I don’t know how many times I can apologize. It was never my intention to cause you so much distress. However, I have already explained my reasons for making the choice I did. What more do you want me to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Master,” Anakin responded snidely. “Rack your brains. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Anakin, pl—” Obi-Wan tried, but Anakin cut him off. 

“NO! You know what, Obi-Wan? I’m done! You’ve never understood me! You never trusted me. Not when I was a boy, not now. You’ve always wanted to control me, sabotage me, and stop me from being the great Jedi we both know I am! You’ve always been jealous—jealous that Master Qui-Gon saw what you never could. He would have chosen me. Not you.”

Obi-Wan’s composure faltered, just for a heartbeat. Anakin’s words had hit their mark, deep and cruel. His jaw tightened, but when he spoke again, his tone was as calm as ever—too calm. “Anakin, tha—” Obi-Wan tried again. However, Anakin interrupted him again. He was on a roll now. 

“No! It’s true, and the Chancellor agrees with me!” Obi-Wan visibly flinched at the mention of Palpatine. Anakin knew he didn’t like the man, which solidified his knowledge that Obi-Wan was clearly in the wrong. How could anybody not like the chancellor? He was always so kind to Anakin and always understood when his master didn’t.

“Anakin, the Chancellor does not see all the angles. You must—" But Anakin cut him off again. He wouldn’t hear a word against Palpatine, who supported him when nobody else did. He knew how to hurt Obi-Wan, and he was angry enough to say it.

“I KNOW that if Qui-Gon had survived, if you hadn’t been so slow, so weak, that day on Naboo, he never would have done this. He would have found a different way.” Obi-Wan’s face had crumbled, but Anakin hadn’t even noticed. He was ready to deliver the killing blow.

“Maybe it would have been better if you stayed dead.”

And with that, Anakin turned on his heel and stormed off the bridge. Obi-Wan stood frozen, a look of shock and a strange emotion the others couldn’t read on his face. Then, he schooled his features once again into the blank face of the Negotiator. 

“Back to work, please, everybody,” he said, before striding away.

Anakin was mad—no, furious. Obi-Wan just made him feel so angry. He hated how impassive he was. He wanted him to just scream back, but the man never raised his voice. He was so calm and collected. So in control of his emotions. He was, as everyone said, the perfect Jedi. Anakin hated it.

Obi-Wan was everything he wasn’t. This was why he could never tell him about Padmé, about the Sandpeople, about his mother, or about all of the darkness he struggled to force down. His old master would never understand him the way his Angel did, the way the Chancellor did. 

He could still hear the Chancellor’s voice from their call earlier, smooth and reassuring: ‘Your talents are wasted under such rigid command, my boy. Obi-Wan’s fear of you blinds him.’ His old master never listened. Never saw him. Not like Padmé, not like the Chancellor, who always praised him and always told him he was destined for more.

Still fuming, Anakin wandered back to his quarters, realizing too late that he was sharing with Obi-Wan while on the Negotiator.

Figures.

Deciding to lock himself in his room for the rest of the night and brood, he punched the code into the door and stormed inside, hands clenched into fists. He needed to hit something. Anything.

Anakin’s metal hand slammed into the wall before he could stop himself, the slam echoing through the tiny quarters. A nearby shelf rattled violently, spilling its contents across the floor in a clatter. 

“Kriff,” he muttered furiously, bending down to inspect the mess. That was when he saw it. A datapad had slid out from beneath a stack of flimsi. Unlike the others, this one was old, its casing scuffed, and its corners worn down. Curiosity flared—and then froze.

Across the top of the screen, in neat, precise lettering, read:

The Diary of Obi-Wan Kenobi 

Anakin stared at it, his anger momentarily replaced by bewilderment. A diary? Obi-Wan kept a diary?

For a heartbeat, he considered putting it back. It wasn’t his, and he knew how furious he would be at his former master if he found him snooping in his things. But then Palpatine’s smooth voice echoed in his mind: ‘Obi-Wan fears you. He hides things from you. He doesn’t trust you.’

Slowly, Anakin’s frown shifted into something darker. If Obi-Wan truly trusted him, why hide this? What secrets had he kept locked away while lecturing Anakin about honesty? The temptation was unbearable. Besides, maybe he could collect more blackmail to use in their inevitable next arguments. 

Anakin brought the datapad to his room and sat down on his bed with it, flash fingers hovering over the screen. His pulse quickened. He told himself he was just… checking. Just confirming what he already knew—that Obi-Wan was a hypocrite. That he was jealous of Anakin. That he didn’t trust him with anything. That he still saw him as a child. This would make it fair.

And before his rational mind could stop him, he tapped the first file. The screen lit up, displaying a date—over twenty-five standard years ago. Long before Anakin had even been brought to Coruscant.

A thrill ran through him, mingled with something darker. Whatever this was, it wasn’t meant for him. Which meant it was all the more important that he saw it.

And with a sharp breath, Anakin began to read.

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The handwriting was messy, nothing like his former master’s neat scrawl. Each letter seemed to have been written in a rush, as though the words were just begging to be released.

Quinlan said a diary might help — like the ones in the holofilms — though I suspect he just doesn’t want to listen to me complain all the time. Still, it's worth a try. I’m going to store this under my bed in my dorm and write in it when the feelings get to be too much and meditation doesn’t work. I know I’m supposed to release all of my emotions into the Force and stuff, but sometimes I get so angry and nothing helps. I guess that’s why none of the masters want me as their padawan.

At this, Anakin paused. What did that mean? Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had been the team. Maybe Qui-Gon just hadn’t been asked yet. Yes, that must be it. Anakin couldn’t imagine a world in which the two of them weren’t a pair. 

Also, what was this about Obi-Wan being angry? He had only ever seen his master express anything beyond a slight crack in his calm, emotionless Jedi persona a few times, most of which involved the war or something Anakin did to upset him. Well, maybe the two of them were a bit more alike during their early years, though obviously Obi-Wan had grown out of that while Anakin, to his former master’s great disappointment, had not.

I have a list of all the masters I’ve asked so far and their reasons for saying no so that I can fix it. They all say I’m too emotional, too reckless, and too angry. I don’t know what to do! I’m trying to be better; I really am. I just CAN’T. My last option is Master Jinn when he returns from his mission. If he says no… Well, I’m sure he’ll say yes. I’m going to try to be the best Jedi ever when he’s here, and he’ll be so impressed he’ll definitely ask me to be his Padawan. Wait, I have to go. Master Yoda is here, and I don’t want anybody to know about this diary.

Anakin felt another pang of guilt in his chest at the thought of reading Obi-Wan’s private thoughts, though it was overshadowed by confusion at what he just read. If he had to describe his former master, he would say words like calm, brilliant, or maddening. He had never thought of Obi-Wan as emotional or reckless — and certainly never as angry. If he didn’t know better, he would say he was reading about an entirely different person: himself.

Qui-Gon must have made an even bigger difference than he thought. Anakin wondered, frustrated, how different he would have been if Qui-Gon had been his master. He would probably be less angry and emotional. A small voice whispered, ‘Another way Obi-Wan failed you.’

He brushed it off and clicked the next file; its date was a little later than the last.

Master Yoda says the path of a Jedi Knight is not a path for everyone. He claims that I will do very well at the Agricorps and that I should trust in the Force to guide me. I think that’s pretty rich coming from the little green troll who’s spent the last eight hundred years lecturing as a Jedi yet still dismisses my visions. ‘Clouded the future is’ – my ass. He doesn’t know what it feels like to be rejected by every single master in the Order.

Anakin had to stop reading for a moment, reeling from the shock of seeing Obi-Wan Kenobi insult Yoda. It was so unlike the man he knew, or at least, thought he knew. Also, what was this about visions? He didn’t know his former master also had them! What else had Obi-Wan been hiding from him? This proved that he didn’t trust him!

Before he could focus on that, however, there was the matter that Obi-Wan was going to the Agricorps of all places. How had that happened? Did this mean that Qui-Gon had rejected him too? It seemed so, but that made no sense! Obviously Qui-Gon had taken Obi-Wan on as his padawan at some point, so why was Obi-Wan being shipped off to the Agricorps?

Anakin had too many questions. He couldn’t imagine High Council Member Obi-Wan Kenobi aging out of the Order. It was laughable. And yet, it had happened. Clearly, there was much more to his former master than the man had ever thought to divulge to Anakin. 

Now fully invested, he continued to read.

The visions also don’t seem to be getting better. It’s so hard to sleep. When I close my eyes, I keep on seeing this dark place full of lava. There are so many intense feelings of hatred, guilt, and sadness. I have no idea what the visions mean, but I always wake up shaking and sweaty. Sometimes I shout or mutter and wake up the others. They get so annoyed. I think some of them are glad I’m leaving a month early for the Agricorps. I guess the rest of this diary will be full of riveting information on different plants and soil. Kriff. I’m trying so hard not to be angry, but I feel it’s justified. Anyway, I need to pack my bag. The transport will be here in the morning.

Anakin leaned back after reaching the end of the page, mind reeling. There was so much to unpack there. He had never known about the visions. Did Obi-Wan still have them? He didn’t know. An hour ago he would have confidently said no because if he had, Anakin would have noticed. Now he wasn’t so sure. It seems that there is much more to Obi-Wan than he previously knew.

Sighing, Anakin closed the file and opened the next, feeling slightly more trepidation about what he might find.

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The next entry was dated a little after the last. Anakin wanted to know how Obi-Wan had gone from farmhand to Padawan—how Qui-Gon had changed his mind. He wasn’t sure he wanted to read the answer.

Life on Bandomeer is just as boring and terrible as I knew it would be. Since I’m an initiate, I get all the drudge work as a farmhand. I hate this! I know hate is not the Jedi way, but I’m never going to be a Jedi Knight, so who cares anymore?! It’s so mundane and boring here, and I feel like I’ve been sidelined. I know why the Council sent me here, but I can’t help but feel abandoned. 

Anakin felt, if anything, more shocked than before. If he had been in Obi-Wan’s place, he would have felt the same—and the thought scared him. Obi-Wan was supposed to be the level-headed one; the thought didn’t fit.

It was humiliating to see Master Jinn on the Monument with me—both of us sent to the same place for entirely different reasons. He had a mission on Bandomeer; we didn’t speak, but seeing the man who’d last rejected me was awful. People said his previous apprentice, Xanatos, fell to darkness—gossip from the initiates—but I knew I would have been different. I would never turn to the dark side.

To this, Anakin had to agree. Never, in a million years, could he ever picture his former Master Falling. This younger version might have been a bit angrier, but Obi-Wan would never even touch the dark side of the Force. Of this, Anakin was sure. 

Bandomeer is a harsh mining world. It is partially controlled by the Offworld Mining Corporation. They put me in the AgriCorps enrichment zone, where I use my Force abilities to help the crops grow in the hostile soil. 

That, in Anakin’s opinion, sounded like the most dull job in the history of the galaxy. He couldn’t blame young Obi-Wan for being angry. If he’d been there, Anakin thought, he would have been furious too—good thing Qui-Gon had fought for him.

The good news: I made a friend, Si Treemba. Maybe he’ll make this tolerable.

Anakin hadn’t heard of Si Treemba. There was a lot about his former master he didn’t know. He closed the file and opened the next, dated months later. The handwriting was shakier. With apprehension, he read on.

I’ll start at the beginning. Maybe writing it all down will help me come to terms with it. I have to get over this, and this seems the only way.

Anakin was now seriously worried. What had happened in this stretch of time that his Master needed to ‘get over’?

One day, while I was working, I found some hidden Offworld crates. It seemed suspicious, and I realized something illegal must have been happening. Si and I decided to investigate. However, I was ambushed by Offworld guards, knocked unconscious, and taken prisoner. When I woke up, I was on a deep-sea mining platform in Bandomeer’s oceans. There were others with me—people taken captive for whatever reason and forced to work in that awful place. We were all fitted with these slave collars that shocked or detonated if tampered with. The guards used them to force compliance so we wouldn’t rebel.

Anakin stopped reading, his mind reeling. What had he just read? This had to be a mistake. He couldn’t even begin to process this revelation. It turned his world completely upside-down. His Master couldn’t have been a slave. It just wasn’t possible!

Anakin knew better than most the scars such things left. You didn’t simply “get over” slavery, as Obi-Wan seemed to claim. He had always believed Obi-Wan couldn’t understand him—now he wondered why Obi-Wan had never told him. It would have meant so much to young Anakin. This connected them in a way he’d longed for.

This wasn’t to say he wanted Obi-Wan to experience slavery. Of course he didn’t! But it would have been so nice to know his Master knew how it felt to have one’s freedom stripped away. Shelving these thoughts for the moment, Anakin looked back at the datapad. He dreaded knowing all Obi-Wan went through but was anxious to know how his young Master got out of this.

I hauled ionite ore. If I slowed, the collar shocked me; if I resisted, it could detonate. The labor was backbreaking and the platform dangerous—people collapsed from exhaustion or punishment. The guards were cruel.

Anakin felt sick. He remembered, faintly, the Masters threatening the slaves on Tatooine that if they did not do their work perfectly, they would be sent to one of the undersea mines. Nobody who went there ever came back. Most people died within a few months. He couldn’t imagine his Master, only thirteen, being there. It just didn’t seem possible.

At one point, I decided I wouldn’t cooperate. I thought, foolishly, that since I was part of the Order, I was invincible. A guard threw me off the platform and into the ocean. Only all the time I spent swimming with Bant and basic instincts stopped me from drowning long enough to be pulled out of the water. I realized then that I was vulnerable and that my survival depended on my cooperation. 

Anakin let out a sigh. It was a cruel lesson all slaves learned eventually: either submit or be punished. He was just horrified that his Master had to learn the lesson the hard way.

I decided, however, that I couldn’t just do nothing. Even if I wasn’t a real Jedi Knight, I couldn’t just give up . That wasn’t the Jedi way. So, I organized the other captives to resist. Then, Master Jinn infiltrated the facility and found me with the other slaves. When I saw him, I was so relieved. He followed my Force presence to come save me! But I was also so ashamed. After proclaiming that I could be a Jedi Knight and begging him to take me as his Padawan, I managed to get myself captured. I didn’t want him to see me like that—see me broken.  

Anakin’s heart broke a little at that, though it was overshadowed by relief. If Qui-Gon was there, then surely Obi-Wan would be fine. Now he would finally see how they became the dream team!

Master Jinn and I coordinated with the captives to revolt, and he used the Force to deactivate some of the controls to give the prisoners a chance. During the melee, a guard threw me off the platform again. Master Jinn saved me by using the Force to make the miners catch me. Then, Xanatos, who was the leader of this whole thing, retreated to the core chamber of the mine and activated a huge ionite bomb. It was linked to all the collars. If it detonated, Bandomeer’s Council chamber and technology across the sector would have been crippled.

Master Jinn and I went after him and cornered him, but he escaped and left the bomb primed to explode. Master Jinn then tried to dismantle the bomb, but it was rigged: the collars acted as both keys and triggers. Someone has to hold the collar’s circuit in place at close range, absorbing the feedback, to keep it stable long enough for the bomb to be disabled.

"Oh no," Anakin thought with mounting horror. He, unfortunately, knew exactly what his former Master was about to do. Regardless of the fact that he was thirteen and not even a Padawan, Obi-Wan would absolutely try to sacrifice himself. Anxious, Anakin brought his eyes back to the datapad, desperate to know what happened.

I knew what that meant. I was the obvious choice.

Oh, Master, Anakin groaned internally.

I grabbed the collar’s housing. The energy surged; it tore through me. Qui-Gon shouted for me to stop, but I held the circuit closed. If I let go, they would have died. Better me than them. Qui-Gon disabled the bomb at the last second. I collapsed; I remember little after that.

Anakin leaned back, eyes closed. Of course his former Master would do something like that; he was kriffing Obi-Wan Kenobi. He tried to banish the image of his tiny Master, already weak and malnourished from being a slave, purposefully electrocuting himself to save everyone else. He noticed there was a bit left and, with a sigh, continued to read.

The Council on Bandomeer hailed me as a hero for breaking Xanatos’s scheme, but that doesn’t really matter. The most important thing was that Master Jinn actually asked me to be his Padawan Learner. I’m writing this from our quarters on the ship taking us back to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. I honestly think I’m still in shock. He said that I was nothing like Xanatos. He said I was brave and selfless. I’m going to work so hard to be the best Padawan ever! I think writing this down really helped! When we get back, Master Jinn and I are going to start training right away since I’m already behind. I can’t wait!

Anakin sighed. Knowing his Master, he probably never saw the mind-healers after this and instead told everyone that he was ‘fine,’ while clearly he wasn’t. This entry proved as much. This also explained Obi-Wan’s extreme lack of self-preservation skills and habit of being the galaxy’s biggest self-sacrificing idiot. If the first time he truly felt accepted was after almost dying for others and then being called selfless, of course he would feel like he always had to help others.

Heart heavy, Anakin clicked out of this entry and moved on to the next one, already planning the conversation he was going to have to have with his master after he finished reading. Hopefully, this would be the most eventful thing that happened to Obi-Wan during his Padawan years.

Chapter Text

The next entry seemed to take place a little after the whole incident on Bandomeer. The handwriting was shaky, so different from Obi-Wan’s precise letters. This in itself filled Anakin with much trepidation as he began to read.

I never thought I’d be writing in this datapad again. I left it in my quarters at the temple and, as such, assumed it would be thrown out or repurposed with the rest of my belongings. However, it was still where I left it 6 months ago, and I figured I would honor tradition by completing another entry.

At this, Anakin paused. Why was Obi-Wan away from the temple for 6 months? Missions never lasted that long, especially for a Master/Padawan pair so early in their partnership. He had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like where this was going.

I feel like I should provide some context, though nobody but me is going to read this.

Anakin felt another pang of guilt but soldiered on.

Master Tahl had been sent to the planet Melida/Daan to mediate. The world had been split in two by a war so long the original cause had been forgotten. Master Tahl was taken prisoner. The Order sent Master Qui-Gon and me to negotiate and rescue her. There, I met a third faction. 

The conflict produced many orphans who formed a youth movement called the Young. They rejected their elder’s war and wanted to build a different future. During the mission, we got pulled into the local politics, and I started getting closer with the Young. I began… questioning what the Order told me about distance from ordinary people.

Anakin paused, momentarily stunned. Obi-Wan, the man who constantly lectured about attachments and the Jedi Code, was questioning the Order’s teachings. It was unbelievable. If somebody had told Anakin about this even hours ago, he would have laughed in their face. If he wasn’t reading the evidence right now, he wouldn’t have believed it. And yet…

He remembered a conversation he wasn’t supposed to hear. If you had said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order. Maybe this wasn’t as outlandish as he thought.

My commitment to the Young grew, and I wanted to help them in their actions against the Elders. The Force was telling me to help. However, Master Tahl was badly hurt, and Master Qui-Gon wanted to take her back to the temple. I begged him to stay and help, but he refused. I… drew my saber against him. He told me that if I stayed, I would no longer be a Jedi. I knew what I had to do. The Force was screaming at me to help, and I knew that my limited knowledge could be of use to the Young. I chose to stay. I found out later that Master Qui-Gon told the Council I left for a girl, though I don’t know if they believed that. I think Master Qui-Gon thought I would return shortly.

Anakin didn’t know what to do. For what felt like the millionth time that night, his mind was frozen. He couldn’t form any coherent thoughts, the revelation too intense to comprehend. He just didn’t understand! Master Qui-Gon was his hero, the man who freed him from slavery and brought him to the Temple. And now he was learning that he had abandoned Obi-Wan at 13 on a war-torn planet and lied about it, or at least not divulged the whole truth.

This didn’t make any sense! And also, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi LEFT the Order. It was preposterous, unbelievable, utterly ridiculous, yet it happened. He was staring at the proof in front of him, in the handwriting of a traumatized teenager who had been left by himself to fight a war that wasn’t his own because he was too good of a person to leave children alone to do what adults couldn’t.

Horrified, Anakin looked down at the datapad clutched in his white-knuckled grip and resigned himself to seeing this through, dreading what he might discover next.

I quickly rose to the rank of general since I was one of the oldest, and my Jedi training helped during battles. Nield and Cerasi, other high-ranking members, became my closest friends. Together, the three of us led the Young. Over time, we were able to push toward halting much of the open fighting, though the campaign wasn’t clean. Too many people died. I held the bodies of children as they breathed their last breaths and tried to help ease their pain in the Force, but it was no use.

I could feel it every time one of them died, feel them become one with the Force. And I knew that every single one was my fault. If I had just been faster, or better, or stronger, I could have saved them. If I had just convinced Master Qui-Gon to stay and help, maybe we could have had peace. Maybe if I were a better general, a 9-year-old wouldn’t have missing limbs or shrapnel in their stomachs. We lost so many, and it was all my fault.

Anakin didn’t realize he was crying until he couldn’t see the writing through the tears. The handwriting here was harried and messy, as though young Obi-Wan was hurrying to get this out, to confess to his supposed wrongs. Oh, how he longed to tell his teenage Master that it wasn’t his fault. He was a child, just like them. A child who had no business fighting a war. And yet, he also knew Obi-Wan too well. He knew that these losses still haunted him, like the deaths of the clones.

And wasn’t that a sickening thought? This wasn’t even Obi-Wan’s first time being in a war or being a general. They had thrust him into this conflict, put him in charge of the 3rd Systems Army, and sent him off. Then, he got applauded for his incredible skills on the battlefield and as a tactician. No wonder, if he had done all this before. Anakin decided, right then and there, that he needed to have a meeting with the Council after all this. Chances are, nobody except Obi-Wan, and now him, knew exactly what his former Master had been through all those years ago, and Anakin decided to change that. For now, however, he continued to read with mounting horror.

We were doing it. Maybe not winning, but we were bringing an end to the fighting. Then, tensions rose as the Young began to fragment, and there were escalating clashes with the Elders. During an attack against the Hall of Evidence led by Nield, an armed confrontation was triggered between us and the Melida elders.

In the chaos, a sniper on a rooftop shot Cerasi, and she died on the spot. I felt her Force presence flicker and fade. I couldn’t stop it. I was too weak and too slow, and I couldn’t do anything but watch.

The elders and the Young used her death to justify more violence and destroyed all of our momentum, threatening to bring Melida/Daan back to civil war. Nield and parts of the Young blamed me since I was the de facto leader and should have protected her. They were right, of course.

They stripped me of my leadership and authority and isolated me, as they should have. I didn’t deserve their loyalty. I became an outsider, just like before. 

Anakin felt nothing but anger and grief for his young Master. It was obvious to Anakin that there was nothing he could have done. He was a child, for Force’s sake, and couldn’t be expected to protect everybody all the time. This was war, and sometimes there were casualties. He hated to hear Obi-Wan like this, full of self-hatred and doubt. Was this still how his former Master thought of himself? Surely not, though Anakin guessed he would just have to read to find out.

I decided my only choice was to reach out to the Jedi. Master Qui-Gon returned to help. Together, we stabilized the situation. We wrapped up the fighting, and I returned to the Temple. I realized that staying as a lone revolutionary wasn’t my path, and I decided to resume my Jedi training. Master Qui-Gon allowed me to be his Padawan again. 

I know I don’t deserve to be a Jedi. I am just as they always told me: too angry, too impulsive, too emotional. I let innocents die, and I will spend every day of the rest of my life trying to make it up to them. I know Master Qui-Gon doesn't trust me. I know he thinks I might leave again. I have to prove to him I can be a Jedi, a perfect Jedi. I’ll always follow the Code; I’ll study and practice and do everything I can to prove that this is my path. Even though it’s more than I deserve, I will be the perfect padawan. Then, maybe, Master Qui-Gon will forgive me.

Anakin was shaking so badly he needed to put the datapad down. This was too much. How many times had he hated Obi-Wan for being the ‘perfect Jedi’? He remembered jealously listening to all the other younglings in the Temple whispering about how Knight Kenobi could do no wrong, wondering why he couldn’t be that way too. How everything, from Obi-Wan’s mission reports to his lightsaber forms, was perfect. 

And all of it was an act, a defense mechanism, a desperate need from a traumatized child to be enough. Anakin felt sick. Obi-Wan had done nothing wrong. He had done what all Jedi were trained to do and listened to the Force. He had fought for peace and justice. He had saved innocent lives. And yet, he believed he was wrong, that he didn’t deserve the place he so rightfully earned.

“Oh, Master,” Anakin murmured. “You don’t need to be perfect.” Now, more resolved than ever, Anakin knew he and Obi-Wan were due for a very long conversation. First, however, he needed to finish what he had started. With mounting dread, Anakin opened the next file.

Chapter Text

This file was dated several years after the last, and the handwriting was much neater. 

I haven't used this diary in forever. I almost forgot about it; I needed to stop using it as a crutch. However, old habits die hard, I guess, and I have nobody to tell about this. If anybody finds this datapad, I will surely be expelled from the Order.

Anakin was shocked. He seemed to be feeling that a lot lately. However, it was hard to imagine something his Master could have done to get him kicked out. Slowly, the perfect image of Obi-Wan he had built in his mind was crumbling, but it was still so hard to picture him doing anything disobeying the Jedi’s teachings, regardless of what he had already read.

Being Master Qui-Gon’s Padawan has been… trying. I have been doing all I can to be perfect, though it can be difficult at times. I still struggle with my anger and impulsiveness. My Master reminds me of this. However, I believe I have gotten much better, or at least better at hiding it. 

However, it can be very hard sometimes. Master Qui-Gon likes to disobey the Council, and when I voice my opinion that perhaps it would be better if we listened to them and did what we were told, he gets… upset. I have stopped sharing these thoughts, and now I do my best to defend him when questioned. As a Padawan, it is my duty to support my Master, even if I do not always agree with him.

Anakin frowned at this. He may have had his gripes with Obi-Wan's ideas and methods, but his Master always allowed him to express his concerns. Even if, looking back, many of his ‘genius plans’ had not been as incredible as he previously thought, Obi-Wan had always heard Anakin out and calmly explained why they were doing something the way they were. 

Anakin’s teenage self had never appreciated it, but his adult self certainly did. It made him feel seen and heard, like his opinions mattered, even if they almost always went with the original plan. Hearing what teenage Obi-Wan was saying, it seemed that his own Master had not extended the same courtesy. He made a note to thank Obi-Wan for it at a later time.

I’ve taken to writing Qui-Gon’s mission reports as well. He never includes details and sometimes leaves entire parts out, if he even writes them at all. I started doing it myself, though I am not sure if he’s noticed. The Council, however, told him at the last debriefing that his latest report was “extremely thorough and insightful," so I must be doing a good job. Qui-Gon thanked them but seemed confused. Maybe I’ll mention it so that he can add anything else to them before I send them in.

Again, Anakin frowned. He remembered Obi-Wan writing mission reports before passing them to Anakin. He would then read through them and add in anything his Master missed. Then, he would give them back to Obi-Wan, who would check them over one more time before submitting. Anakin always thought they were long and tedious, and he was extremely grateful he didn't have to write the whole thing. It seemed, more and more, that Obi-Wan had been considering the parts of his own Padawanhood he disliked and changing them for Anakin.

Anyway, the real reason I’m writing is because I just returned from my longest mission yet. Qui-Gon and I spent a year on Mandalore, protecting the Dutchess, Satine Kryze. Basically, Mandalore had been torn between two factions. On one side were the Traditionalists, who were warriors. They were clans who wanted to maintain the planet’s ancient warrior culture.

On the other side were the Reformists, or the New Mandalorians. Duchess Satine Kryze, who was advocating for pacifism and alignment with the Republic, led them. The ideological clash became violent, and civil war threatened to spiral into full planetary destruction. Due to Mandalore’s strategic importance, the Galactic Republic sent Jedi, like Qui-Gon and me, to keep peace and prevent the planet from dragging neighboring systems into the chaos. 

Our assignment was to protect Duchess Satine since she was a prime target for assassination by the warrior clans. As a young duchess, she embodied the New Mandalorian idea of renouncing violence and embracing pacifism. However, the warrior clans were angered by this since they believed she was betraying the Mandalorian’s warrior heritage. If Satine had died, the pacifist movement might have collapsed.

During our year together, Qui-Gon and I constantly defended Satine against assassination attempts and sabotage. Furthermore, warrior factions continued to try and undermine her legitimacy. Some clans allied with criminal groups. If Mandalore went to war, it could destabilize entire trade routes. Staine had to survive until her government could stand on its own and maintain stability throughout the Mid Rim.

Anakin vaguely remembered learning about this conflict in one of his classes during his Padawanship. However, he never realized how close his Master was to it all. He imagined how Obi-Wan must have felt, thrown into yet another war. His poor Master couldn’t seem to catch a break.

During the year, we moved from safehouse to safehouse, both on Mandalore and offworld. Satine and I grew… close. We were so different. I am a Jedi; I carry a lightsaber and engage in aggressive negotiations. Satine is a pacifist. However, we were also so alike. Above all, of course, Jedi are peacekeepers.

Satine and I spent hours talking about anything and everything. She understood me in a way no one has before. We discussed literature and politics, and when we debated, she was a thrilling opponent. Satine was incredibly wise. She was stubborn and headstrong. She stuck to her beliefs and was not afraid to voice her opinions. And just because she was a pacifist didn’t mean she didn’t know her way around a blaster. She was a dead shot, and we spent hours talking during target practice. She was even good with a lightsaber when I let her borrow mine.

Anakin froze. He was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as he read. Though everything so far had been his Master’s private thoughts, this somehow felt even more invasive. However, he was too far to stop now. And he had to pause at the mention of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. As his Master so often lectured, a Jedi’s weapon was his life. Jedi rarely let anybody borrow their blades. However, was Obi-Wan training somebody else on how to use it. It seemed extremely… intimate.

Satine was an incredible person. Her signature burned bright in the Force, and when I was with her, all the stress of war and expectations melted away. Around Satine, I didn’t have to be the perfect Padawan. I just had to be Obi-Wan, or Ben, as she called me. Just Ben. Despite the war, despite the running around and the hiding and the constant danger, that year on Mandalore was the best of my entire life. How could it not be?

We were in love.

Anakin’s brain short-circuited. He knew Obi-Wan cared for Satine, that he was perhaps more than a bit attached. However, he never would have guessed in a million years that his Master, Jedi Council Member Obi-Wan Kenobi, who followed the Jedi Code to an almost fanatical level and who constantly lectured about the dangers of attachment, was not only attached but also in love with the Duchess of Mandalore.

However, it made sense. The way teenage Obi-Wan described Satine sounded like the way Anakin described Padmé. Not for the first time, he considered if he should tell Obi-Wan about his marriage. If his Master had also been in love and never told anyone, he would perhaps understand. In fact, he probably wouldn’t even tell the Council. If he did, he would be a massive hypocrite. 

But, as most good things tend to go, it did not last. Eventually, it was time to return to Coruscant. Leaving was perhaps the hardest thing I have ever done. I know, deep down, that if Satine had asked me, I would have stayed. If she had only voiced the request, I would have left the Order for her. But she respected me too much to do that, and I respected her too much to stay. She has a duty to her people, to her planet. And I have a duty to the Jedi, to the galaxy. 

I know, for the rest of my life, I will partially regret not staying. I will always love Satine, and I will never stop wondering what would have happened if I had only left behind by duty and remained with her. However, I know, with time, I will be at peace with my decision. If anybody in the Order finds out about this, I will definitely be expelled. I will bury this secret deep down, behind the mask of the perfect Jedi. Nobody will ever know, and I will live the rest of my life contemplating what-ifs. 

Anakin was shaken. He and his Master had faced the same decision, forced to choose between their duty and their heart. But while Obi-Wan had chosen duty, Anakin had not. Instead, he tried to have both. He wanted everything. Anakin couldn’t imagine how his master felt. He tried to picture what it would be like to lose Padmé, to turn his back on their love, and he couldn’t. He didn’t think he had the strength. 

Again, the memory of an overheard conversation came to mind:

“Obi-Wan... it looks like I may never see you again. I don't know quite how to say this, but I've loved you from the moment you came to my aid, all those years ago.”

“Satine, this is hardly the time or place for… Alright. Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order.”

Perhaps Anakin had known, deep down, that his Master would understand, but he had buried it under his impression of Obi-Wan as the perfect Jedi. However, Anakin had finally made up his mind. After this, he was going to talk to Padmé. Then, he was finally going to confide in Obi-Wan. Clicking out of this file, he scrolled to the next one, apprehension already mounting as he wondered what he would learn next.

Chapter Text

A shock of excitement swept through Anakin at the date of the newest entry. He’d finally reached the time when everything began—when Qui-Gon found him, when Obi-Wan met him, when fate changed everything. Another surge of guilt came over him at the thought of what he had said to his Master earlier, though a tiny part of him still believed he was right. 

Qui-Gon was the one who wanted him, not Obi-Wan. In fact, Obi-Wan had actively disliked him and only taken Anakin on because Qui-Gon asked him to. Obi-Wan just didn’t understand him the way Qui-Gon had. Qui-Gon was attuned with the Living Force, like Anakin, while Obi-Wan’s connection was to the Unifying Force. Maybe, if Obi-Wan was just a bit faster…

Anakin shook himself. Now was not the time for these thoughts. Instead, he opened up the file and began to read.

Much has happened lately, and I don’t know what to do anymore. Maybe, if I write it down, it will all make sense. It is so difficult to release these feelings into the Force, and I have nobody to talk to. I guess I’m back to using this journal as the crutch it is. Some Jedi I am…

I feel I must explain the events that have led up to this point. It began with a routine mission to the Trade Federation ship. Our goal was to negotiate an end to a blockade around Naboo. However, something felt wrong. The Federation betrayed Master Qui-Gon and me. They tried to assassinate us with poisonous gas and droids. We were able to dispatch them easily and escape to the planet’s surface.

On Naboo, Master Qui-Gon and I encountered one of the locals, a Gungan by the name of Jar Jar Binks. I admit I am not his biggest fan.

Anakin chuckled at that. Jar Jar was an… acquired taste.

He took us to a city underwater. The leaders provided us with transport, which we used to travel through the planet’s core to reach the Naboo. The journey was relatively uneventful.

Anakin smiled. He vividly remembered Jar Jar’s extensive rattling about giant fish eating other giant fish and something about losing power. But that must have been just another boring mission to Obi-Wan. 

After arriving, we rescued Queen Amidala and her entourage. We fought off the rest of the battle droids, who were invading, and escaped the planet. Master Qui-Gon handled the unexpected while I focused on the logistics of our mission and everybody’s continued survival. However, our ship was damaged, and we were forced to stop at a Hutt-controlled planet in the Outer Rim called Tatooine.

Anakin kept reading nervously. He was finally going to see what Obi-Wan really thought of him initially. He was worried about what he might uncover.

While Master Qui-Gon and many others left the ship to go find the necessary parts, I stayed behind to do repairs. I worked and meditated, but I felt the presence of something dark and unusual on that planet.

Later, Master Qui-Gon returned with a child I didn’t recognize. His name was Anakin. There was something powerful, something untrained, about the boy. Master Qui-Gon believes the boy is something special—a prophecy, he says…

Anakin grimaced. Ever since he had been found, he had felt the overbearing weight of that prophecy bearing down on him. Everybody was always watching him, waiting to see if he was some all-powerful Jedi who would single-handedly kill all the Sith, judging every move he made. It was exhausting.

To me, this so-called prophecy feels more like a dangerous myth. I fear my Master has become too attached to this conviction, and that I will have to clean it up if it goes badly. However, who am I to question my Master’s wisdom? I resolved myself to observe and learn while being ready if Master Qui-Gon’s faith is misplaced. 

Anakin would admit it stung a bit to hear how little faith Obi-Wan had in him. At the same time, however, he couldn’t blame him. He would probably also be a little skeptical if his Master returned with a random kid and claimed they were the Chosen One. Still, it hurt to find his Master had felt no instant connection to Anakin, the boy who would one day become his student and best friend. 

When Master Qui-Gon and I spoke to the Council, they claimed the boy was too old, too fearful, and too set in his ways. I admit I fear they may be right. I sense great darkness in Anakin, great pain. Master Qui-Gon never told me much of how he found Anakin, but it must not have been good.

Anakin remembered the moment Obi-Wan had found out he had been a slave. His younger self had innocently asked if Obi-Wan had the controller for his explosive chip since he was his new Master, and all of the color had drained from Obi-Wan’s face. He had dropped to his knees in front of Anakin and looked him in the eye. He had explained that Anakin was free, that the word “Master” meant something very different for the Jedi than it did on Tatooine. He had told Anakin that if he would rather not call Obi-Wan “Master,” he didn’t have to. 

That was the moment Anakin finally understood he was free, and he had burst into tears and sobbed into Obi-Wan’s chest while he squeezed him tightly. Then, his Master had taken him to the Halls of Healing, where he held his hand as the chip was removed. It was probably one of the greatest days of Anakin’s life. He wondered if Obi-Wan remembered it. It made sense now how horrified he was. He had been a slave too. He knew the feeling of terror, the crushing sense of hopelessness knowing someone else held your life in their hands. Force. Why hadn’t Obi-Wan told him? Shaking his head, Anakin turned back to the datapad clutched in his white-knuckled grip.

I felt torn. On one hand, I will always stand by my Master. He took me in when nobody wanted me, not even him. He came back for me on Melida/Daan, even when I betrayed him and the Order. I was never good enough, and he still stayed with me and trained me. 

On the other hand, he constantly defies the Council. Yoda believed that placing me with Qui-Gon would temper his rebellious nature, but there is only so much I can do. It can be exhausting, writing his mission reports and smoothing things over with the Council. Master Qui-Gon follows the spirit of the Jedi Code, while I try to uphold it to the letter. I trust my Master’s instincts, but sometimes I worry about just how much faith he places in the guidance of the Living Force as opposed to the orders of the Council.

Anakin shifted guiltily. It seemed Obi-Wan’s role hadn’t changed. He still wrote the mission reports if their battalions were on the same mission, and every time Anakin messed up or defied orders, Obi-Wan was always there to smooth things over. He had taken it for granted, but thinking back, it sounded exhausting.

Suddenly, a flash of anger shot through Anakin as he considered what his Master had written. How could he think that he owed Qui-Gon for taking him as a Padawan? It took nearly blowing himself up to do it, for kriff’s sake. And Melida/Daan? Anakin didn't want to think about it. How could Obi-Wan be grateful for his Master coming back after abandoning him in an active warzone? It didn’t make sense. Surely, Obi-Wan still didn’t believe this… right?

Before the meeting, Master Qui-Gon had seemed… distant. He was so preoccupied with Anakin, and I now see why. I tried to warn my Master that the Council would not approve of training a boy so old. However, it is not my place to say.

At the meeting, Master Qui-Gon told the Council that he would train Anakin. I know I should not be upset. I know I should release my feelings into the Force and not let attachment blind me. But I just can’t. I’ve been asking my Master for months to allow me to take my trials. I was so sure I was ready. But now… I am not so sure. Master Qui-Gon claims there is nothing more he can teach me, but I disagree.

I just can't believe he could do this. He repudiated me. He humiliated me in front of the entire Council. He gave me no warning, no idea what he planned to do. After everything we’ve been through together, he threw me away for Anakin, for the Chosen One.

I knew it. I’ve known it since I was a child being shipped off to Bandomeer. Nobody ever wants me. I’ve never been good enough. Average connection to the Force, too angry, too impatient. Why would anybody ever want me as their Padawan? I guess I just hoped, foolishly, that after all this time, Qui-Gon could have grown to care for me the way I do for him. 

But I see now that I have always been the Padawan he never wanted, the child he was forced to take through guilt and pressure. I was the child who abandoned him, who failed him over and over again. Nothing I did was ever good enough. I tried so hard to be the perfect Padawan, the perfect Jedi. I followed the code to the letter. I’ve given everything to the Order. And still, it is not enough. Why would it be? I’m a disappointment, a failure. No amount of training or study or hard work could ever allow me to live up to the Chosen One, brimming with light and potential. I’ve just been too blind to see it. But I understand now. 

I will force down the feelings of betrayal and jealousy. I will keep moving forward. I can’t let anybody, especially Qui-Gon, know how this hurts. I do not blame Anakin. He is just a child. A child who, until very recently, had never even seen a Jedi. No, the fault lies with me for not being good enough, not being Jedi enough to let go.

Maybe this is another trial from the Force—another test I just have to survive. I will complete my trials and become a Knight. I will be civil with Qui-Gon and Anakin, who do not deserve to see and deal with all my shortcomings. I will resist the temptation of anger and be the best Jedi I can because if I’m not that, then what am I? 

If Master Qui-Gon says I am ready, then ready I must be. I will be the best Padawan-Brother to Anakin because he deserves it. I will swallow my pride and resign myself to forever living in the shadow of the Chosen One. I know that, with time, I will accept it. Now, I must go and prepare for our mission to Naboo. Afterwards, I will go through my Trials and become a real Jedi Knight, ready or not.

Anakin blew out a shaky breath. The more he read, the more his stomach seemed to sink. He had never considered how Obi-Wan felt about that meeting in the Council chambers. He imagined himself in Obi-Wan’s position, finding out he was being repudiated in front of the entire Council. It was incomprehensible.

Somehow, that thought had never crossed Anakin’s mind. He’d always only considered his own experience, though the memory was hazy. He remembered how nervous he was and how scared and confused he felt in the strange new place. Then, he remembered the joy at knowing that Qui-Gon was going to teach him. He had never stopped to wonder what happened to Obi-Wan, who was already Qui-Gon’s student. 

But the way Obi-Wan spoke about himself made Anakin sick. His Master blamed himself for everything, constantly claiming he was a failure. There was no way he still believed this? In every memory Anakin had of Obi-Wan, the man had always come off as confident, in control… the perfect Jedi. The phrase now made him feel vaguely ill. How many times had he cursed his Master for always being so perfect, only to realize it was a carefully crafted mask to hide behind? 

Anakin’s opinion of Qui-Gon, which had already been quite low, was currently plummeting. He couldn’t imagine for a single moment doing to Ahsoka what Qui-Gon had done to Obi-Wan. It was ridiculous. And yet… it had happened. Anakin had just been too blind to see it. He couldn’t blame his younger self, but now, he had no excuse. The perfect Jedi didn’t exist—only the man beneath, bleeding in silence. And Force help him; Anakin didn’t know how to face that truth. He was terrified to read about what happened next, even though he knew. The next file, dated just a few days later, was all the confirmation he needed about what the next entry would hold. He just wondered if he would be able to handle reading it.

Chapter Text

Anakin opened the file with a sinking feeling. This was it—the moment that had changed everything. The death of Qui-Gon Jinn. The day Obi-Wan became his Master. He didn’t remember much of those days, just the major details. He remembered shooting the Trade Federation ship and coming back to see Obi-Wan standing there without Master Jinn. He had asked where the other man was, and Obi-Wan had calmly explained that he had become one with the Force. 

Anakin remembered being filled with grief and anger. How could Obi-Wan be so calm and composed when his Master died? Even now, it didn’t make sense to Anakin. When he thought Obi-Wan had died, just recently, he had been the opposite of the collected picture of the perfect Jedi Knight, or Padawan at the moment, the way Obi-Wan was. Perhaps now he would see…

I need this. I’ve come to accept that this journal—this weakness—is the only thing keeping me together. I think I’ve known it all along. I seem to be writing more recently, but there’s nobody I can talk to, nobody who could understand. I’ve spent so long building this persona that I don’t know how to break it. Everyone is watching for cracks. After everything that’s happened, I can’t lose this, too. As long as nobody finds this journal, I can keep my mind safe. 

The familiar feeling of guilt rushed through Anakin, but he couldn’t find it in himself to put the datapad down, so he continued reading.

I fear I must once again recount what has happened these past few days, for my own sake to try and understand the events that led me to where I am now, writing in Master Qui-Gon’s old room while Anakin sleeps in mine.

We returned to Naboo, where Master Qui-Gon and I prepared for the battle we knew was to come. In the palace, Darth Maul appeared. We gave chase. Maul’s presence was unlike any I have felt before. It was raw and filled with an indescribable darkness. Throughout the duel, it was hard to focus when rage and hate poured off of him into the Force.

Anakin realized, though it was obvious in hindsight, that this was the first time the Jedi had dealt with the Sith in countless years. The feelings that had become normal for him when fighting the likes of Dooku and Ventress were foreign to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. He remembered that first fight with Dooku and shuddered, his false hand tingling.

I focused on Master Qui-Gon’s rhythm, trying to mirror him. However, I got knocked off one of the platforms in the reactor room. While I was getting back up, Master Qui-Gon and Maul continued to fight. Eventually, the three of us were trapped between ray shields. When they disappeared, I ran. I ran as fast as I could, and it wasn’t fast enough. I got stuck behind the last one, and Maul shoved his saber through my Master’s stomach.

I felt it. I felt Qui-Gon’s pain in the Force. I felt our bond shudder. I stood there and watched and screamed while my Master fought alone. I became the very thing everyone knew I was from the beginning: useless. What is a Padawan’s role if not to protect their Master? I failed. 

Anakin winced. He’d thought those exact words more than once—on Geonosis, on Zygerria. How many times had they both failed the same way? And how many times had Obi-Wan assured him it wasn’t his fault, wasn’t his job to protect him, all while blaming himself for the same offense?

I failed in the worst way possible. If I had not been knocked off the platform, if I had simply fought harder, if I had spent more time in the training salas or done my katas just a few more times, would I have been good enough to save him? Perhaps, if I had not selfishly read in my room and instead spent my free time training, running faster and practicing harder, I would have made it through that final shield.

I’m a sorry excuse for a Padawan… Knight now, though I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve to be a Jedi at all. I don’t deserve to have a Padawan of my own when I failed so utterly and completely to protect the one person in my life who didn’t leave. The man who was in every way a father to me. Even when I left him and disappointed him. Even when I couldn't be the Jedi he needed me to be, the Jedi I had to be, he always took me back.

It seems so foolish now to be upset about him taking on Anakin. Perhaps he knew, even then, that I would never be good enough. He must have sensed, though his connection to the Living Force I have never fully understood, that I would let him down for the final time. Maybe he was trying to protect himself from having to live with the galaxy’s worst Jedi. I’m terrified I will let Anakin down, too. I will not be responsible for the death of another person I’m close to. 

Anakin was crying, though he barely even noticed it. How could he have been so blind, so foolish? How many times had he thought about this moment. He had seen the security footage. Everybody in the Temple had. He had watched his young Master stop just before that final ray shield. Had wondered what could have been if he had only run a little faster. Perhaps Qui-Gon would still be alive to train him?

Now, he realized that whatever he had thought of, Obi-Wan had pondered worse. It was horrifying to read what his Master truly thought, to peel back the mask of his exterior persona to the self-loathing young man beneath. Knowing his Master, he probably still felt this way. Another rush of shame spread through Anakin at what he had said to Obi-Wan just hours ago, “I KNOW that if Qui-Gon had survived, if you hadn’t been so slow, so weak, that day on Naboo, he never would have done this. He would have found a different way.”

Oh, how blind he had been. Obi-Wan hadn’t even refuted the accusation—he’d simply taken it. Because, Force help him, he probably agreed. Some friend he was. Anakin added this to the rapidly growing list of things he had to apologize for.

I almost lost control. When that shield went down, I attacked. All I could feel was the anger and the grief. I channeled it, used it to cut Maul in half where he stood. I could feel the darkness around me, and it was so tempting to fall into its embrace. Even now, I remember its presence. I touched the darkness, I harnessed it, I was nearly consumed by it. It terrifies me to know that beyond being a failure of a Jedi, I managed to nearly betray everything the Order stands for. 

The Council can never know. They are looking for any cracks, any excuse to take Anakin away from me. I’ve convinced them I’m okay. I’ve convinced everybody. But, I know the truth. So much for being the perfect Jedi.

Anakin didn’t think he could be even more shocked than he already was, but was proven wrong once again. His Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Council Member and General, the man who practically radiated light everywhere he went, even to non Force-sensitives, had harnessed the Dark Side?

It simply didn’t make any sense. Obi-Wan was the lightest person Anakin had ever known. It was why he never went to him when he felt the pull to the Darkness. He just couldn’t understand. After the Sandpeople, after so many moments during this Force-damned war, he had felt that lure. 

Anakin had never spoken to his Master, terrified he wouldn’t understand and instead tell the Council. Instead, he had gone to the Chancellor, who had told him that perhaps the Dark Side wasn’t as bad as he had been taught. It got the job done quicker, easier, and with so much more power. Palpatine had always assured Anakin he had done the right thing by coming to him, seconding the idea that Obi-Wan was a terrible person to confide in. Oh, how wrong they were. Perhaps his Master, more than anyone, could relate. Maybe Obi-Wan could help him resist the way he did, all those years ago. Anakin resolved to talk to his Master as soon as possible.

Maul’s death didn’t bring any satisfaction. The victory felt hollow and terrible, overshadowed by loss and pain. Master Qui-Gon was lying on the floor, dying, and there was nothing I could do to save him. In the end, he had one final request. He told me that Anakin was the Chosen One who would bring balance to the Force, and that I had to train him. I accepted, because what else could I do? Then, Master Qui-Gon died in my arms as I felt our bond shatter.

Anakin didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, he was honored that Qui-Gon's last thoughts and words had been about him. On the other hand, Qui-Gon's last thoughts and words had been about him, the boy he had met just days before instead of his Padawan who had been with him for years. Even if he believed Anakin was the Chosen One, how could Qui-Gon just disregard Obi-Wan like that in his final moments. It made Anakin feel slightly sick, especially at the thought of Obi-Wan dying in his arms while talking about someone he had just met. It truly was incredible Obi-Wan didn’t resent Anakin. Shamefully, he knew he probably would have, had he been in his Master’s shoes.

I sat with his body for some time. I still do not know how long. My mind is blank. At a certain point, when he had begun to grow cold, I lifted Master Qui-Gon’s body into my arms and carried out of that terrible place and back into the hangar bay. I left it with some of the Naboo, who promised it would be kept safe.

Then, I met Anakin, who had destroyed that Trade Federation ship. The boy asked where Master Qui-Gon was, and I had no idea what to tell him. How could I say that his teacher, the man who had taken him in, was gone? I knew I had to put on a brave face, to pretend everything was okay and not that my entire world had fallen apart. I couldn’t show Anakin how much of a terrible Jedi I was.

Instead, I tried to explain that Master Qui-Gon had passed on and become one with the Force. I told him it was a good thing, a thing to celebrate. I told him what all Jedi are told, what all Jedi should believe. I was a hypocrite.

Again, Anakin was amazed. Just hours after Qui-Gon’s death, Obi-Wan had already managed to compose himself enough to not let on how he felt. He remembered the anger his younger self had felt at Obi-Wan’s supposed carelessness. Anakin realized now that it was nothing but a perfectly curated mask, made to hide a bottomless pit of grief he couldn’t express. He sorely wished Obi-Wan had confided in him, had shown him that he wasn’t made of stone. It would have made Anakin feel less horrible every time he felt or acted in an un-Jedilike way.

On Theed, the people all celebrated victory, but I felt like a ghost. I carried Qui-Gon’s lightsaber, and it stays with me in my room at the Jedi Temple. Everyone kept praising me for defeating Maul. I didn’t deserve it. I knew I had to face the Council, and soon.

Standing before them, I felt smaller than I had since my Initiate days. They all praised my bravery and confirmed that Darth Maul was as feared: a Sith Lord, the first seen in a thousand years. However, when they mentioned Qui-Gon’s defiance and his insistence on training Anakin, I knew I had to step in. I told them, in no uncertain terms, that  I would train Anakin, with or without the Council’s approval. I owed Qui-Gon at least that. Yoda said the boy could be the Chosen One, as Master Qui-Gon believed. That did not stop me. Nothing will. 

Anakin didn’t know what to think. He was both honored and shocked that Obi-Wan would have left the Order for him, all those years ago. However, he couldn’t help feeling that their whole relationship had been built on the final wish of a dead man. Obi-Wan had taken him out of obligation, not because he wanted to. The Chancellor’s voice seemed to whisper in his mind. He resents you. He’s holding you back. He never wanted you. Anakin shook his head, resolved to read more and discover what Obi-Wan truly thought.

The funeral was the hardest. The Council had just Knighted me. They said that defeating Maul counted as my Trials. I don’t think I deserve it, but if being a Knight allows me to take on Anakin, then of course I will accept it. Master Yoda cut off my braid, since my Master wasn’t there to do it, and I burned it with his body. That way, he could still have it, even if I couldn’t hand it to him the way I’d always imagined.

Anakin stood by me, watching Qui-Gon’s body slowly disappear. I know the path ahead is uncertain. I know great danger lies before us. But I also know this: I will train Anakin. I will see him to Knighthood if it is the last and only thing I do. I owe it to both him and Master Qui-Gon. I failed my Master, I will not fail my Padawan, too.

“Oh, Master,” Anakin whispered to the empty room. “You swore not to fail me... yet everyone seems to have failed you.”

Chapter Text

Anakin clicked out of the file and moved on to the next one, which was dated just days after the last. The handwriting was messy, as if Obi-Wan had written it in a great hurry. He was still reeling from all of the previous revelations, but he was excited to see what Obi-Wan thought of their first days together as Master and Padawan.

Anakin didn’t remember much. Most of those first few years were now a blur to him. He did remember the feelings of fear and anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him. He had been so scared in that unfamiliar place, away from his mother and the life he had known. All the other children seemed to know so much more than him, and Obi-Wan had felt distant. It got better with time, Anakin supposed. The rumors seemed to quiet a bit. He had even gotten his slave chip removed! He was curious to see what Obi-Wan’s perspective was.

I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s as simple as that. I’m winging every choice, and I can’t ask for help. I’m being watched. I can sense it when I’m teaching Anakin in the training halls or walking down the halls with him. Everybody is looking to see what I’ll do. The Council members don’t think I’m up to the task, and the rest of them think I’m some crazy Jedi prodigy. Sith-Slayer, they call me.

I’ve seen them when they think I’m not looking. I see them watching the security footage. They’re going to start showing it in classes as a lesson on what the Sith can do. Everybody has watched me fail, over and over again. They see me run too slow, they see me lose myself to anger, and they see Master Jinn fall. Sith-Slayer. The name is ridiculous. It implies I did something good, something heroic. It makes it sound like I didn’t as good as kill my Master. 

Anakin understood. He had held many titles: The Hero With No Fear, The Chosen One. He felt how heavily the name, the reputation, and the responsibility weighed on a person. He knew how much Obi-Wan loathed the name Sith-Slayer. He tried to hide it, but Anakin could tell in the tightening of his jaw and his forced smile. He seemed to like The Negotiator a bit more, perhaps because it meant he was solving conflicts without violence, using his other skills instead.

Every second of my day has been filled with new responsibilities. Now that I am a Knight, I have new duties on top of what I have to do for Anakin. I don’t even know where to begin with the boy. He is so behind on everything, through no fault of his own, and I need to find a way to help him catch up the quickest. In my spare time, I’ve been reading anything I can find in the Archives about Tatooine slavery and how to help a traumatized child.

And wasn’t that a horrific thing to discover? For reasons unknown, Qui-Gon had not mentioned the boy had been a slave until he freed him. I think I, out of all people, deserved to know. But what’s past is past, and I can’t change it. The only thing I can do is try to help Anakin move forward. 

That didn’t make sense to Anakin either. Obi-Wan would probably be able to relate to and understand Anakin better than even Qui-Gon could in that regard. He supposed he would never know. Perhaps Qui-Gon didn’t want to burden his younger self even more during that time.

That moment will be burned into my mind for the rest of my life. Anakin, so innocent, asked me if I had the controller for his slave chip. He assumed that I was his new Master. The thought made me sick. How do I explain to this boy that he is free? How do I explain that “Master” does not mean the same thing when I myself had struggled to call Qui-Gon that for weeks after Bandomeer?

I did the best I could, and Anakin seemed pleased. I don’t mind not being called “Master” if it makes Anakin uncomfortable. It feels strange to hear someone call me that, anyway. I took the boy to the Halls of Healing to get his chip removed straight after. I was lucky enough to not have one implanted since they assumed I’d die quickly and the collar would suffice to keep me controlled. 

I considered, briefly, sharing my own experience with Anakin. But I thought better of it. How would it seem if I tried to compare my brief time at Bandomeer with his lifetime of suffering on Tatooine? It would not be fair to burden my Padawan with even more trauma. No, that is for me to carry, and me alone. 

Anakin shook his head sadly. He desperately wished Obi-Wan had told him. He understood why he didn’t, of course. It was the same reason why he didn’t share much of his past with Ahsoka. Still, it would have been an indescribable comfort for Anakin to know that he wasn't alone, that there was someone there that understood in some way what he had gone through.

While we were in the Halls, I made sure that Anakin got all of his shots and immunizations so he didn’t catch any diseases. I explained what each vaccine did before he got it, so he wasn’t confused or afraid. I also got a full medical workup done on him. The results were horrifying. 

That boy has suffered through so much in his short life. He was malnourished and covered in scars. I knew at that moment that I was right to not share my own past, for how could it ever compare? I also knew that I would do everything in my power to protect this boy from any more harm. I swore then, as I do now, that as long as Anakin Skywalker is under my protection, I will defend him until my dying breath.

Anakin’s throat was tight. No matter how much he complained about Obi-Wan, he had always known the man cared about him. However, it was a different thing to see it spelled out the way it was. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like attachment, like Obi-Wan loved him… 

No. He had to shut down thoughts like those. Despite what Anakin had already read, he knew that his Master was still extremely devoted to the Jedi Code and would put it above all else. He couldn’t allow himself to entertain such unlikely hopes.

Unfortunately, living with Anakin can be challenging at times. The boy shines like a beacon in the Force and has unfortunately not yet learned how to shield. The result is that I have a constant headache from the sheer power. However, I cannot allow this slight inconvenience to prevent me from completing my duties. I simply have to work harder to teach him so that he doesn’t accidentally harm anybody in the Temple.

Anakin shifted guiltily. He had often heard his Force presence described as a sort of supernova. However, he had never realized that it could actually hurt to be around. Obviously, he now kept shields up as all Jedi did. However, he remembered how much he had resisted back then. It had felt like Obi-Wan was asking him to hide part of himself. Now, however, he realized that he had been causing his Master even more unnecessary stress and pain. 

I’ve been spending my time making sure Anakin is enrolled in as many classes as possible. The boy has a lot to catch up on, but he seems quite eager and intelligent. I got him into the advanced engineering class, but the only class teaching Basic is for the Younglings still in the Creche. I don’t think Anakin will appreciate that. 

Anakin snorted. His younger self would most definitely have hated learning with the younger children. He had already felt behind and stupid, and that would have made it infinitely worse.

I cashed in every favor I had and managed to get another Master to cover the class so that that teacher could privately tutor Anakin every Primeday and Taungsday. I will also work with him every evening. If all goes to plan, he should be able to catch up quickly. The boy is a fast learner and doesn’t want to miss out. I will contact Madam Nu and see if she has any books on droids or podracing or the sort that might interest him or inspire him to read more.

Anakin remembered those private lessons. He had hated every single one because he felt like the galaxy’s biggest idiot for not understanding. He also remembered the evening sessions with Obi-Wan, which ended more often than not with him slamming the door while his Master rubbed circles on his temples. 

The books from Madam Nu had helped. Once Anakin realized that reading could be fun if the book was actually interesting, he worked harder to be able to understand. He had never noticed the lengths Obi-Wan had gone to make it happen and felt a surge of warmth for the other man.

Anakin is eager to learn to duel. I got him into a basic course to help him understand the fundamentals. I think I will reach out to Master Dooku soon to see if he has any tips I can use to train Anakin when he is ready. He was one of the greatest duelists in the Order.

Master Qui-Gon rarely spoke of him, but perhaps he would lend a hand to his Grandpadawan. He's the only other member of my lineage besides Master Yoda since Xanatos fell and died, and I really don’t know Feemor at all, but I also don’t want to go to somebody on the Council for help.

It was shocking to see Dooku’s name like that. He was so used to the man being a Sith, the Count of Sorreno, the leader of the Separatists, the enemy. It was striking to see him referred to as Master back when he was still allowed in the Temple.

Anakin had never really considered what it was like for Obi-Wan to fight Dooku, but now it finally clicked that Dooku was Obi-Wan’s Grandmaster. It would be the same as Anakin fighting Qui-Gon or Ahsoka fighting Obi-Wan. The idea was horrifying.

Everyone keeps on watching me. I’m trying my best to shield Anakin from the worst of it. The comments and the staring are making him even more uncomfortable than he already is. I can handle it; the boy shouldn’t have to. 

The Council doesn’t believe I can successfully train Anakin. I catch them watching me. A member is always nearby, observing. I know they are looking for any excuse to take the boy away from me, but I won’t let them. Nobody else wants to train him, and if I have to leave the Order to do it, then by the Force I will.

However, this is a slight setback, as it means I can’t really ask for help. Usually, Knights get advice from their former Masters, but as I can’t, I’m having to make do with books and copying the better parts of my own training. I know I’m not qualified for this, but what other choice do I have? If I don’t train him, nobody will, and that is unacceptable. 

Anakin gained a newfound respect for his Master at that. From the first day of training Ahsoka, he had constantly been asking for Obi-Wan’s advice, for his help and guidance. He had no idea what he was doing and truly didn’t know what he would have done without his Master. And yet, that is exactly what Obi-Wan had done with him. Sure, some parts of his apprenticeship were rough, but for the most part. Obi-Wan did the best he possibly could, and for that, Anakin is eternally grateful.

I just have to keep up the same front I always do. I have to hide how much it hurts, how much I’m struggling, and how lost I feel. I will keep up the ‘perfect Jedi’ mask because that is what’s expected of me. Anakin needs a role model. He needs a person to look up to who will show him what it looks like to be a Jedi. He doesn’t need some weakling who cries when watering his Master’s old plants or using his favorite mug. No, I will be strong for Anakin. I won’t let him see how much of a failure his Master truly is. 

Oh, Master. Anakin thought sadly. If you had only let me see how much you were struggling, if you had only allowed me to understand that there’s no such thing as the ‘perfect Jedi,’ perhaps many things would be different. If only Obi-Wan had shared all of this back then, or even now, without Anakin having to find out about it through a journal of all things. Perhaps this was a sign for Anakin to share with Obi-Wan as well? What would happen if they both stopped pretending? With a sigh, Anakin clicked out of this entry and moved on to the next, nervous about the rest of his apprenticeship.