Driving Obi-Wan to Drink
Title: Driving Obi-Wan to Drink
Summary: Dawn succeeds where even Anakin Skywalker couldn’t. She has driven Obi-Wan to drink! (Dawn/Obi-Wan Kenobi FFA)
Disclaimer: Since these are miscellaneous FFAs, the disclaimer will likely change with each one. Hopefully, I will get them right, but please let me know if I get mixed up. For this one: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and, of course, BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon.
Thank you to MaraLiz for your lovely beta assistance!
Notes: For FFA Dominoes
Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose and, for some reason that just made Dawn giggle and then, in a matter of seconds, her face crumbled and the tears poured forth. Before he even made it across the room to try to help her through her latest remembered tragedy, she waved him off, wiping her face off with one hand and turning on her lightsaber—correction, his old training saber—with the other. She had covered at least three different emotions less than a minute. How was he supposed to guide her through her emotions when she wouldn’t settle on one of them long enough for him to help her?
She stood up and motioned to the practice ring again, “So, we doing this or what?”
Obi-Wan resisted the urge to sigh. Four months ago, his newest charge had fallen—literally—out of a tear in the fabric of reality, landing on top of him and Anakin just moments after Anakin was declared a Jedi Knight. Of course, there was a huge uproar of what to do with the girl, but strangely, all she seemed to do was stare at Master Yoda until the oldest Jedi Master on the Council knocked his walking stick on the ground next to his chair to reclaim everyone’s attention.
“Decided, it is,” he declared. “Will of the Force, it is.”
Then, he said the words that had sealed Obi-Wan’s fate. He pointed one bony, green finger in his direction and declared, “Your apprentice, she will be. Take her to Medlab before you begin training, you will. Certain you make she did not injure herself falling on your hard head.”
The room fell to chaos again, but Yoda ignored them all as he slid off his chair and made his way to the turbolift, never once looking back at the teenage girl he had just saddled Obi-Wan with. A teenage girl who was dressed in an ornate gown that had slices along the stomach.
From that moment on, Obi-Wan decided that this teenage girl had been sent specifically by the Force to test the limits of his patience and
his sanity. From her first refusal to cut her hair and her insistence that the Jedi robes made her look like something called a “heifer” (which he came to realize was a smaller version of a bantha), he thought he would go mad inside of a week. And, she listened to the worst music in the galaxy. More than once, Obi-Wan realized that he had actually been grinding his teeth while silly popular music was blaring and Dawn was dancing around the living room, his training saber in hand and objects floating all around her so she could call it practice instead of playtime.
The only saving grace had been the girl’s gift for languages. She was constantly surprising him at how easily she picked up every new language she encountered. It was almost as if she had a translator droid built into her mind. She even once corrected his pronunciation of a word that he had been saying wrong for years and the indigenous speakers had been too embarrassed by his mispronunciation to tell him about it. Apparently, stressing the wrong syllable in that language altered a seemingly innocuous word like “transport” into something much more lewd. When she heard him say it, Dawn’s eyes had grown comically wide and she apologized profusely to the alien race and Force-shoved him back into the turbolift, declaring she couldn’t take him anywhere.
Okay, and she was actually very kind. He often saw her spending her free time down in the crèche, helping out the apprentices and other caretakers in keeping the children occupied. And, she had formed several quick friendships with girls her own age, although that was something that the other Masters had not been very appreciative of when they all came back with newly styled wigs and refused to keep their hair in the traditional Padawan style of shorn hair and a braid that indicated the status of their education. The beads that had previously adorned her friend’s braids were hanging on cords around each of their necks instead and they refused to be moved, regardless of any shame or punishment bestowed upon them.
She also seemed to be able to cook, for which Obi-Wan was thoroughly grateful. Even her more ambitious cooking experiments seemed to turn out edible, most of the time. After the first time he had complimented her cooking, he didn’t understand why she had burst into tears, but he knew now. They had taken her in and given her a home and training and a purpose, but they hadn’t really given any thought to what she had left behind. None of the Jedi had family outside of the Jedi Order and it hadn’t occurred to Obi-Wan that she had come from a different place where family did not mean distraction and emotional instability, but strength and dedication to succeed to keep everyone, including them, safe.
Obi-Wan didn’t understand how Dawn seemed to intrinsically comprehend the meaning of sacrifice until the night that she finally told him about what had happened in her old home…in her old dimension. It was in Sunnydale, California on a planet called Earth, star system unknown, that Dawn sacrificed herself to save her family. The rest of the world was just a bonus, she said, but Obi-Wan knew better. She had done it not only because of her family but because it needed doing, regardless of the personal cost to herself. For that reason alone, he knew she would be a Jedi one day in the not too distant future. She had already been through her Trial. She just needed the training to back it up.
That thought was what brought Obi-Wan back to the present and his not-so-patient Padawan tapping her foot and staring at him like he had suddenly sprouted a Jawa from his head.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked bluntly.
Ten minutes ago, she had been sitting cross-legged on the floor, refusing to practice with him on the grounds that she hadn’t worn the right outfit and there were boys in the room. When he had attempted to delicately point out that had she been wearing her Jedi robes as she was supposed to she promptly told him that if he didn’t know where he could stick those Jedi robes, she would be happy to show him. She also sniped that if he had told her what they were going to do that day, she would have worn other clothes. It was pointless, he had found, to argue that a Jedi must be ready for any occurrence at any time, which prompted her to sit on the floor and glare up at him, telling him that "he should have been ready, then, for this occurrence.”
Now, suddenly, she was fine with practicing. He looked around the room and discovered that he was the only member of the male species still left in the room. Apparently, he did not count as a ‘boy,’ so she didn’t care what she looked like in front of him. That suited him just fine. They had work to do and she needed the training. She had the basics down, but had yet to learn any finesse. He was just contemplating asking Anakin to help with her lightsaber training when she suddenly powered down her saber and tucked it into her monstrosity of a bag that she insisted she had to carry with her everywhere.
“See you at dinner,” she called over her shoulder. “It’s your turn to cook and I’m not eating frozen bantha patties again.”
“Where are you going?” he asked as she walked quickly toward the exit.
She turned then and faced him, stating, “I promised Master Yoda I would help him translate some older Jedi chronicles. I swear, he won’t send us on missions because he might unearth some ‘new’ old thing for me to decipher. But, it’s cute. He does a little dance when we discover a new piece of Jedi history.”
She started toward the door again.
“But, we just started sparring a few minutes ago,” Obi-Wan complained. He expected her to turn around and apologize and then return to finish her practice, but he should have known better.
“Sorry,” she shrugged. “You’ll have to plan better next time.”
Suddenly faced with a rare free afternoon, and hoping for just a small bit of sanity to return, Obi-Wan bypassed his quarters and went straight to the turbolift. Several of the Masters had joked with him while he was training Anakin that they knew of a bar where no one even blinked if a Jedi Master showed up and drank until he or she couldn’t stand straight, but he had never been there. No matter how frustrated teaching Anakin could be, he had managed to hold out. But, now, he was going to tie one on. He might not even come home for dinner. Even if it was his turn to cook.
End FFA Ficlet