Cappa Grus

Authour's Notes: I stole Life Day from one of George Lucas' more ill-considered marketing ideas, and the character of Tahl from Jude Watson's Jedi Apprentice series. Cappa Grus is my little creation, because if you're gonna have a Christmas equivalent in a universe, you gotta take both the good and the ugly. Thanks: To Lanning for drunken but helpful comments, and Nicole for talking me out of deleting the whole thing. Oh, and to LFL, for not suing me out of seasonal good will. Feedback: I crave it, and I love you for it in advance.

"But, Obi-Wan, Master," Anakin said, as he always did, as though the title were still something he had to remind himself to add. "It's almost Life Day."

Obi-Wan tried not to sigh as he looked up from his datapad again. "Yes, Anakin. Does something concern you about this?"

"No, it's just...." Anakin trailed off and ducked his head. Small booted feet kicked nervously at the rungs of his chair and then stopped suddenly, as if he had just remembered a Jedi was supposed to be still.

"Just what, Padawan?" He tried to add an approving nod to his question, to applaud and encourage Anakin's attempts at immobility. Not that Obi-Wan had ever verbally quelled his apprentice's youthful energy, but he tried to encourage serenity by example.

Anakin looked up, then down, hesitating. He had started chewing his lower lip, probably to distract himself from the urge to fidget. Obi-Wan would have liked to break him of that habit even more, but had not yet found a diplomatic way to approach the subject. "I was talking to Bora this morning and...."

The boy trailed off again, and Obi-Wan fought a surge of impatience. Serene. A master must always be serene and patient. "And which one is Bora again?"

"You know, Bora," Anakin replied unhelpfully. "Master Carvan just took her as his padawan."

"Ah. That Bora." Whether there were any others, he did not know. Anakin had found friends among the oldest of the initiates and the youngest of the apprentices, most of whom Obi-Wan had never known existed. Before Anakin, he had never needed to know. "And what did Bora have to say?"

Anakin hesitated again, and a moment later, Obi-Wan understood why. "I asked how Cappa Grus delivers presents here, and then she laughed at me and said he doesn't exist, and I was a stupid baby if I didn't know that."

Obi-Wan started to laugh-a funnier prank than he would have expected from Anakin, and he had almost fallen for it-but then the laughter stuck in his throat. Anakin was looking at him with great solemnity, the same earnest look he had worn when arguing--in vain--that he was ready to build his own lightsaber. "Anakin... Cappa Grus?"

"She said he wasn't real." As his padawan spoke, it slowly sank in that Anakin was quite serious. "I told her she didn't know what she was talking about, and maybe she wasn't as good as she says she is if Cappa Grus hasn't ever given her anything. She said prove it, and I said I'd ask you and you'd prove it."

All he could do was stare at the boy who was looking up at him with faith that his master would affirm this ridiculous-- Obi-Wan shook his head, at a loss. Of all the stumbling blocks in having a padawan that his overanxious imagination had foreseen, this had not even crossed his mind. "She said he doesn't exist?" he repeated, stalling for time.

Anakin nodded vehemently. "I know! Can you believe it?"

It was the one thing about this situation that he could believe. Obi-Wan rubbed his hands over his face, groping for something to say. He still half-hoped Anakin would start giggling at the joke he had played on his hapless master, but that hope grew dimmer as the seconds ticked past.

Who would have thought an old children's story would end up ruining his day?

Captain Orlan Gar Ruskka, the wily Corellian smuggler from the early Republic, had become a legend whose historical exploits were indistinguishable from his myth. After decades of dubious trading and outright theft across the galaxy, Gar Ruskka's ship had fallen out of hyperspace, leaving him stranded and helpless, with plenty of time for an epiphany about the course of his life. A miracle, varying in its details, saved him, and he spent the rest of his life hopping from planet to planet helping needy children.

If one believed the folklore that had accumulated over the centuries, he still did, although he now limited his galactic rounds to the evening before Life Day and confined himself to climbing in windows to leave gifts for obedient children. He took different forms and names on various planets, but Cappa Grus was known and loved by all--especially the Corellian toy export market.

The Jedi, of course, did not believe in mythic creatures such as Cappa Grus, nor did they allow their children to do so. Young Jedi grew up with few illusions of any kind. They celebrated the peace and unity of Life Day as it should be celebrated. They did not need the false comfort and frivolity of Cappa Grus.

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes again. He could have had one of those Padawans. He could have picked one from a hand-selected group of young hopefuls, raised to be dutiful and eager to impress him. His new Padawan would have been obedient and helpful, begging him to impart the wisdom of the Jedi to a receptive mind free of silly distractions.

Instead, he had Anakin.

His real padawan was still looking at him with the same hopeful, inquisitive expression. But instead of Jedi wisdom, Anakin wanted Obi-Wan to tell him lies. And he was starting to fidget again.

He had never done this to his master.

"No, you were much, much worse." Her head turned back and forth as though following his progress between the walls of her living room. "And sit down, would you?"

He glared at her, despite the futility of the gesture. Tahl had been optically blind every since Obi-Wan had met her, over twelve years earlier.

"And I saw that."

Not that mere blindness had ever hindered her. He sat down on the couch beside her.

"So what did you say to the child?"

"I said I'd be right back. Then I came here."

She stared at him for a moment, though whether she was reading his Force signature or had simply never lost the mannerism from her sighted days, he was not sure. "Obi-Wan, you must be joking."

"No, I'm not."

"You just left him there?"

"I didn't know what to tell him!" Obi-Wan protested. "Who would have thought he'd even have heard of Cappa Grus, out on the Outer Rim?"

"So you just walked out and left him there. What a fine thing to do to a boy."

"You're supposed to be giving me sage advice, not abuse." He glared at her again, hoping she felt it. "He obviously thinks that living on Coruscant means that Cappa Grus is going to start bringing him Life Day presents now. What do I say to that?"

She sighed and shook her head. "I don't understand this. I've never had an apprentice myself, but you always seem to think I can solve your problems with yours."

He smiled a little, assuming she could see it somehow. "Qui-Gon used to go talk to you when we had problems, and things always got better afterward."

"I didn't do anything except kick him around a bit, then boot him out the door." Her hand settled onto his shoulder, mitigating the acerbity of her tone. "I assume at some point on the way back to your quarters, he remembered that he loved you and decided not to be an ass."

"Are you saying that I'm being an ass?"

"No, I'm--"

"Because I think that's unfair." He jumped up and started pacing again. Tahl, of all people, should be sympathetic to his dilemma. She knew how hard he had tried to make things work with Anakin, how hard he had tried to rise to an occasion he was not ready for. How hard doing anything had been without--

Her head jerked toward him when he stopped short in the middle of the room. "Obi-Wan?"

"I'm not an ass. And I'm going back to talk to him."

"Brave Jedi warrior," she taunted as he went out the door. He could not imagine what Qui-Gon had ever found supportive or comforting about talking to Tahl.

Obi-Wan found Anakin sitting exactly where he had left him, only craning his neck to follow Obi-Wan across the room. Obi-Wan resumed his seat and leaned forward to meet his apprentice's curious gaze as though he had never left.

"Well?" Anakin prompted after they had sat in silence for a moment.

He was not sure if Anakin was prompting for the answer to his earlier question or an explanation for where his master had been all this time. Either way, nothing Obi-Wan said was likely to make him happy. "Ani... Life Day is a very special occasion here. You'll see, there are songs and food and plenty of things to do for someone your age."

"And there are presents."

Obi-Wan smiled. If that was Anakin's concern, he could solve it easily enough. They could deal with the unexpected streak of materialism later. "Yes, of course, presents. Padawans always get gifts from their masters and friends."

"And Cappa Grus." Once again, it was not a question. Obi-Wan tried not to wince.

"I'll be glad to help you pick out presents for your friends, if you like."

"Master...." Anakin pinned him with a chiding look. The lure of more bonding time with his master was not going to distract him.

"Ani... Cappa Grus comes in through the window." Even just saying the name was starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth. There had to be a way around this. "We live in the Temple." He waved his hands to emphasize their surroundings. "We don't even have a window."

Anakin looked around, and Obi-Wan turned away from the disappointment that had to be in his padawan's eyes. They had once had a window. Qui-Gon's rooms had a wide balcony with a fine view of the Temple District. But Obi-Wan did not have his master's seniority, nor enough pull to keep their accommodations after Qui-Gon's death. He had annoyed enough people in his struggle to keep and train Anakin that they had been relegated to small quarters in the depths of the Temple, many rooms and a long walk from the nearest window.

"It's okay," Anakin was saying. Obi-Wan looked back to find Anakin's gaze fixed on him once more, eyes brightening. "Cappa Grus doesn't need a window."

"What?" He knew he sounded flummoxed, if not completely idiotic.

"Don't worry." Anakin leaned forward as though sharing a secret. "When Gargolla first bought us, we spent Life Day on a spaceship. And then for a long time we lived in the underground slave quarters. Less windows than in this place."

"Fewer windows," Obi-Wan corrected automatically. "Ani, what are you--"

"Mom always told me that if I was good, Cappa Grus would find me no matter where we lived. He doesn't actually need the window."

The meaning slowly dawned. "Cappa Grus brought you presents? On the spaceship? And on Tatooine?"

Anakin nodded with relieved vigor. "Ever since I was born. When we didn't have a window, he just left them outside our door. We always had one of those."

Obi-Wan clasped his hands in his lap to keep from covering his face again. This was much, much worse than he had thought. "Well."

The inquisitive look had turned concerned. For a moment, Obi-Wan felt as though they had exchanged places. "Hasn't Cappa Grus ever brought you anything?"

He sighed, not caring if Anakin heard. "No, Anakin. No, he hasn't."

"Oh." The concern now mingled with a hint of suspicion. Anakin hesitated, and Obi-Wan just knew he was pondering whether Obi-Wan had never been good enough to receive a gift from Cappa Grus. "Well, maybe this year."

"No, Anakin." He could feel the exact instant the last of his patience evaporated. "Cappa Grus is not coming. Cappa Grus does not exist."

"What?" The word was barely more than a squeak, and Anakin's face and Force sense now conveyed only shocked disbelief. The impact was at once satisfying and sickening. "No. That's not true."

Obi-Wan shook his head and focused his best stern lecturing look on Anakin. "It is true. Cappa Grus is a children's fable, a myth. He is a story. He is not real."

Anakin's eyes grew even wider, and two big tears started to trickle their way down his cheeks. "No, you don't understand. He came."

Obi-Wan shook his head again. His resolve was beginning to unravel as the sick feeling in his stomach grew stronger with the first tiny, hiccuping sob from his padawan. But it was for the boy's own good. "The presents were from your mother, Anakin. She may have told you they were from Cappa Grus, but she was the one who put them there."

"My mother didn't lie!" Anakin shouted around the sobs that were starting to come harder. His anger and grief struck Obi-Wan like a mallet.

"Ani, please, it's--"

"No, you're the one who's lying!" Anakin jumped up and backed up as though Obi-Wan were trying to bite him. "You're lying!"

"Ani!" It came out strangled, half-reprimand and half-plea, but the door to Anakin's room had already shut behind him.

"You said what?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds." Nonetheless, he ducked his head away from the accusation in her voice. Tahl was the one pacing this time. He remained impressed, despite his distraction, at her ease at avoiding the furniture she could not physically see.

"You called the child's mother a liar. Tell me how that's a good thing?"

"I did not call her a liar. That was not what I said."

"It's what he heard. Really, Obi-Wan."

"What else could I have done?" He clenched his hands and tried to breathe deep enough to still his whirling thoughts. "He wouldn't let it go, and what else could I tell him? That Cappa Grus was real and would bring him presents? He'd find out differently on Life Day anyway, and that after everyone in the Temple laughed at him."

With a sigh and swish of her robes, Tahl finally settled next to him on the couch. "I know. But the poor child. He's just so young."

"He's too old. That's the problem." He watched his fists clench and unclench again. The empty gesture spent some of his tense energy, and it would hardly bother Tahl. "I thought I would just raise him the same way Qui-Gon raised me, but it isn't the same. He didn't grow up like we did."

"I thought he was adapting well."

And he had been, apart from occasional moments of culture shock, of which this was admittedly the most severe. "I told him all about what we did for Life Day, more than once. I thought he would be excited. It's so much more than he could ever have had as a slave. And now Cappa Grus is suddenly of devastating importance?"

"Obi-Wan, he misses his mother. You can't blame him for wanting to believe in something that reminds him of her. And he has to face the reality eventually, no matter what. Try to be kind to him, and he'll forget about it in a week."

"That isn't even the point anymore, Tahl. What other mines am I going to hit that I don't know how to deal with?" He stared at the section of floor he could see between his thighs. Tears stung the back of his eyes, though he did not understand why. He had never cried from frustration before. "Qui-Gon would know what to do."

Her hand gripped the back of his neck. "He didn't know everything. And everything he knew, he taught you."

"I still wish he was here." Everything would be easier if he were. But his eyes were still burning, and he did not want to pursue the subject with her. "At least then all of this would probably be his problem, not mine."

Tahl seemed unimpressed with his attempt at levity. "This is your first holiday without him, isn't it?"

"No. His birthday was--would have been--two months ago." He still had the gift he had intended for Qui-Gon: discs of the ancient choral and drum music his master had loved, that Obi-Wan had found in one of the dustier parts of the Temple archives. Someday, he would have to play it for Anakin.

"He would have been proud of you, you know."

He could not tell her how sick he was of people saying that to him. Certainly he would not tell her; he would like someone in his life to still be speaking to him by the end of the day. She was only trying to be kind.

"He will be," he declared, freeing himself from her touch and rising to his feet with a surge of determination. "I'm going to fix this."

In the end, fixing it could only mean one thing. Anakin had not responded to his most gentle and persistent overtures. "Yes, Master" and "No, Master" were the most he could draw from his charge, although Anakin kept up with his lessons and chores with meticulous care. He had declined every invitation from his friends and ignored his master's urgings to participate in the holiday preparations.

Now the earliest hours of Life Day itself had crept up on Obi-Wan. Anakin had long since gone to sleep, but Obi-Wan stood, wakeful and indecisive, in the doorway of his own room. He fingered a wide sheet of slick, glittery paper. Wealthy diplomatic families used this kind of stuff to wrap their gifts; the Jedi most certainly did not. Cappa Grus paper.

He looked at the modest array of presents he had gathered for his padawan. The vibrowrench for which Anakin had been pining lay atop two model kits and next to the microprocessors Anakin needed to finish his latest droid repair project. A small bound volume of poetry lay to the side, which Anakin was less likely to appreciate, but of which Obi-Wan had an entire shelf over his own bed. He thought of it as Qui-Gon's gift to the boy who would have been his padawan.

The paper began to wrinkle between his fingers; he smoothed it, then set his jaw and slid one of the model kits out. He began folding the paper around it, fixing it with adhesive gel, trying not to think too hard about what he was doing. Soon both models and the processors were neatly wrapped, leaving the book and wrench for Obi-Wan to give Anakin himself.

His stomach fluttered as he carried the wrapped gifts into the living room. He hesitated, then knelt down by the main door and arranged the presents in a tidy pile. Even in slavery, Shmi Skywalker had found a way to give her son this innocent pleasure, though he could hardly imagine how she had done it. He could not give Anakin his mother back, but he could do this much. He would worry about the rest of it later.

"What are you doing?"

He jumped and started to spin around, forgetting he was sitting on his heels until he toppled over onto his side. Heart racing, he looked up at his padawan, who stood in the center of the room, looking at him with an indecipherable expression. He righted himself with as much dignity as he could muster, folded his legs under him and calmed his pulse. "Anakin. I didn't hear you get up."

"I can see that." Anakin might have been mocking him, but it was more than his apprentice had said to him in days. "What are you doing?"

"I--I heard a noise," he said, then nodded toward the stack of gifts. "And I found these. It seems you were right about Cappa Grus, after all."

Anakin looked at the presents, then at his master, and back. Obi-Wan tried not to bite his lip like a guilty padawan himself. He hoped the paper in his room would not be visible from here. His heart began to pound again, and he started to get up. Then Anakin made a soft, strange sound, and a moment later Obi-Wan thudded to the floor again, arms full of small, trembling boy. "Anakin?" he said, trying not to panic. This had not been the reaction he expected. "Ani, what's wrong?"

"You didn't have to," came a wavering voice from somewhere around his armpit.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't have to do it."

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. "I don't understand. All I did was find--"

"I'm not stupid, you know." The arms tightening around his chest belied the belligerence of the words.

"I know you aren't, Ani. But what are you saying?"

"I asked Master Yoda. He gave me a book on the legend of Cappa Grus. I know all about it now."

"Oh." There seemed nothing else appropriate to say, so he settled for cautiously petting the blond hair against his shoulder and letting Anakin's inexplicable sniffles fade. His plan had failed, but when he reached into the Force, Anakin felt more happy than sad.

From the corridor, he heard faint singing voices, a dawn-greeting carol filled with both joy and irony from the windowless knights' common room down the hall. "It's pretty," Anakin said, his voice still muffled, but steady.

"Yes. We can go join them, if you like." Their neighbors were mostly young knights around Obi-Wan's age, who loved to fuss over Anakin.

"Maybe in a little while."

"After you open your presents, perhaps." The answering nod was the only sign of movement Anakin showed, and Obi-Wan found himself content just to be still. "And later, we can write a letter to your mother. You can tell her what Life Day on Coruscant is like."

Anakin finally pulled himself free. Obi-Wan sighed in relief to see his padawan smiling. "I'll tell her all about it. Can I open them now?"

It took a moment for his weary mind to make the jump. "Yes, of course." He kept an arm around Anakin for a few moments as his careful wrapping job vanished in shreds, then rose to fetch Anakin's other presents.

At his doorway, he looked back at his padawan, who was crowing with delight over one of the models. He leaned against the jamb and exhaled harshly. One crisis down, and despite his lingering confusion, it seemed he had done the right thing. Maybe the rest of his life would be bearable, after all.