Archive of Our Own

A star. Burning bright and hot. An offering life and shelter, of growth and renewal. 

A star. Power and ecstasy. An offering of death and rage, hungry lashes of untamed fury and madness. 

A kaleidescope of beautiful contradictions, messy and consuming and impossible to look away from.  

Anakin Skywalker was a blinding star on the cusp of going supernova, threatening to drag everyone into his death spiral. 

XXX

One, two, three. Pause. Four, five, six. Pause. Seven, eight, nine…

Obi-Wan counted the steps of his padawan as he skipped across the rocks, footfalls light against the well worn surface. Water flowed between the stones from a small stream that traveled through the gardens of Naboo in a lazy, twisted path. Eventually it would widen and pick up pace, developing into a rushing river that headed without thought toward a steep precipice below.

Obi-Wan stilled his mind and closed his eyes, legs crossed as he breathed in the scent of wet earth and unfurled roses. He centered himself, drew from the force that swirled and tangled and danced around him and Anakin as they shared a moment of respite from the confluence of crises that had brought them together. Joined as Master and Padawan. Teacher and student. Friends, perhaps, in time. 

Reaching out into the force Obi-Wan tested their bond gently, prodding the wall that Anakin had already managed to put up. He lowered them quickly, and Obi-Wan was greeted with a rush of brilliant white light, strong and warm. Anakin was happy, at peace in the green space. Obi-Wan withdrew, giving Anakin his privacy, and rolled his shoulders before settling into his meditations.

It wasn’t long before Obi-Wan lost track of the gentle tap of toes against stone. 

Opening his eyes he couldn’t see Anakin anywhere in the grove. Standing, he reached out through the force, trying to find that bright light once more but received nothing but silence in return. He must have just run off to somewhere nearby, he thought, but worry shot through his gut regardless. He should have still been able to feel his presence - no padawan was able to just shut themselves off entirely. Not this soon in their training. Not like this.

Following along the side of the stream Obi-Wan called out, mindful of his voice in the serene space. He’d warned Anakin about the river and the waterfall; had told him to stay away from it until he was older. Stronger. Could actually swim. Picking up speed, Obi-Wan tried to use the energies in the garden to focus his attention and not fall into blind panic, but it was becoming harder the longer Anakin remained elusive both in the physical and force realms. 

Breaking into a sprint Obi-Wan jumped over logs and hurried along a well worn path that ran in tandem with the stream before breaking out through a dense rosebush, ignoring the sting of the brambles against his cheek. 

And there was Anakin stood along the banks of the rushing river. He didn’t move when Obi-Wan approached, his attention focused on the madness of the water as it struck and tumbled and swirled against the stones beneath the surface. The crash of water over the falls drowned out almost all noise - all thought - until one could barely hear their own heart. 

Anakin stood transfixed, eyes glassy as he watched the surface with longing, as if someone were speaking to him, whispering something only Anakin could hear. He remained transfixed, paying no heed to Obi-Wan’s yells until —

He stepped forward, one foot hovering a moment over the water before going downward and— 

Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin’s shoulder and yanked him back away from the river - from the precipice he seemed drawn to. 

The sudden motion brought Anakin back to his senses and a wave of fear washed through their force bond, almost knocking Obi-Wan over. Turning to look at Obi-Wan, Anakin seemed to choke on his surprise, mouth open in a silence yelp before he snapped his mouth shut, pale cheeks blossoming into deep pink.

“What were you doing sneaking off like that,” Obi-Wan said, unable to keep from snapping at him. He was scared. The look in Anakin’s eyes as he stared at the river had unnerved Obi-Wan for reasons he couldn’t describe.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he blurted out. “I only wanted to see the river.” 

Obi-Wan relaxed slightly when he heard Anakin’s voice - bright and clear. Leading him away from the river with a gentle but firm grip on his arm, he took them further into the forest until they could no longer hear the pounding of the water on the rocks below. 

“Next time you wish to see something, please tell me where you’re going. Perhaps we can go together,” he said, kneeling down to speak to Anakin face to face. 

Anakin nodded, his cheeks still pink with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“And don’t close yourself off from me like that again. There’s a reason we forge these bonds through the force. We rely on one another now. We mustn't close each other off.”

Anakin nodded again. Standing, Obi-Wann guided the two of them back to the palace, mindful of the look in Anakin’s eyes as he stared at the chaos of the river.

XXX

“That’s good, Anakin! Now keep your feet braced on that ledge and take a moment of respite before you continue. Map out where you’re going to go next using the force. Trust it to guide you!”

The sun was blazing up above the rocky canyon, cycling warm air around the gaggle that had gathered for a training exercise. All around Obi-Wan were shouts of encouragements and words of advice as masters watched their padawans ascend the steep cliff face to the top of the canyon. It was supposed to be one of the last lessons in patience and self-reliance for padawans nearing the end of their training. One last encouragement for them that they were fit to rely on themselves. A trust exercise, between them and the force. 

But the element of competition inevitably always crept in. Every master secretly wanted their padawan to reach the top and come back down the fastest, but none ever openly admitted to it. 

Obi-Wan remembered making the very same climb years ago. He recalled how brutal the sun had been on his fair cheeks, and the way his fingers trembled for days afterward, weakened by the way in which he clung to the rocks. He also remembered how thrilled he had been to make it down first, and the joy and pride on Master Qui-Gon’s face as he leapt down the last few meters. It was a moment he cherished, and one he hoped Anakin would also be able to enjoy. 

So far he was doing well, light and quick on his feet, easily finding the grooves and holes he needed. He’d made quick work at the start and managed to maintain his lead from the others, but Obi-Wan could see he was beginning to strain. Searching through the force he caught hold of Anakin’s emotions, feeling the tremble of anticipation and the stubborn determination he’d come to associate with the young man. He’d tried to teach Anakin to steady himself more - to view the challenge as more of a journey than a destination - but it appeared his words had fallen on deaf, distracted ears. Anakin wanted to win. 

Anakin took his steadying breaths just as instructed, before he continued, his long limbs that had appeared overnight carrying him quickly up the next section and out of earshot. Obi-Wan was left looking on in silence as other masters quieted down next to him. This was the most difficult part of the challenge. Separated from their masters they were reliant entirely on themselves and the force, guided by their knowledge of both. 

Obi-Wan was unsure of which was harder - the climb itself, or the waiting down below. 

Keep steady and take your time, Obi-Wan thought, purposefully not using the force to carry his message upward. It would defeat the purpose and besides, it was cheating - even if no one ever admitted this was a competition. 

The padawans were nearing the top then, but they all kept their pace - save for one. 

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin sped up even further, hands reaching out for higher and higher points. 

And then he slipped. 

It was minor but present, Anakin’s fear breaking their bond to strike Obi-Wan between the brows, a headache blooming out from the unintended action. But Anakin maintained his grip and swung himself back up to continue the trek. Other padwans had almost caught up to him during his stumble, but Anakin deftly moved away once more, climbing on to the top of the ridge. 

Now come back down. Slowly.

Anakin turned but didn’t make move to venture back just yet. Instead he shielded his eyes from the sun and looked down, waving enthusiastically when he saw Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile and wave back, ignoring Kit Fisto’s grin from nearby. 

When the second padawan managed to crest the top it seemed to remind Anakin that he was due to return at some point, and he swung his legs back over and began his trek down at breakneck speed. He was going fast - quicker than Obi-Wan had ever seen someone scramble down. It was as if he had memorized the way in which he came up, his hands and feet finding purchase every single time, no hesitation. He was confident in his descent. 

When Anakin finally dropped down on to the ground he was a good minute ahead of anyone else. Wasting no time he ran toward Obi-Wan with a brilliant smile on his lips, youthful cheeks flushed with pride and accomplishment. He practically glowed with the force, a hum vibrating all around him.

He was out of breath by the time he approached, but it didn’t stop him from speaking through pants. “I told you I’d beat the record.” 

Obi-Wan let his joy take over and laughed, patting Anakin on the shoulder. “I never doubted you, my padawan.”

Anakin’s smile bloomed further, white teeth shocking against his dirt streaked face. Obi-Wan could have plucked him up and paraded him about the canyon for all the other masters to see, but knew it was unbecoming. Anakin’s competitiveness was rubbing off on him. 

Other masters and their padwans came by after they had finished to congratulate Anakin, and Obi-Wan sensed only genuine sincerity in their words. Anakin had managed to collect himself a small pile of admirers in the temple, either through his talents or his burgeoning good looks, or perhaps both. He was coming so far from the scared boy he’d first met all those years ago. 

“Very impressive.” Mace Windu’s voice carried through the hum of chatter in the canyon as he approached the pair. 

Obi-Wan bowed in appreciation. Anakin did so only when Obi-Wan’s elbow made contact with his ribs. 

“Thank you, master,” Anakin said.

“I never thought I’d see the day Rell Strax’s record was overcome,” Windu continued, pointedly ignoring the discourtesy for which Obi-Wan was grateful. “It stood for more than two-hundred years.”

“Well, hopefully mine will stand for three hundred,” Anakin said, chin tilted upward. If Obi-Wan could shove his head down and not make a scene, he’d have done it. 

“Indeed. If you had shown a little more patience at the end before you crested the top I’m sure you’d have beaten the record more handily. It only takes one second of time to make all the difference. Remember that, padawan.”

Windu left to go and speak with the others, Obi-Wan bowing as he left. As he straightened he noted of Anakin’s changed expression. His smile was gone, replaced with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows, his dust covered fingers, cracked and bleeding, squeezed tight into a fist. 

He knew Anakin had a tenuous relationship with Master Windu at the best of times. There was an understanding there that while Anakin was the Chosen One with abilities beyond what most Jedi could ever imagine, he was still young and inexperienced and needed to learn how to harness his powers. Anakin knew he was the best, but Windu reminded him that power alone wasn’t enough to make a Jedi. 

But Anakin saw any critique as jealousy. 

Not wanting Windu’s benign words of advice to send Anakin spiraling, Obi-Wan tried to head it off with some of his own advice. “Anakin, you needn’t let a simple word of advice hinder your sense of accomplishment. You did beautifully.”

It was too late.

Anakin let out a sharp breath and turned to Obi-Wan. He was pouting. “He didn’t have to belittle me like that. Not after what I just accomplished. You heard him yourself - he didn’t think what I just did was possible. He should have just said his respects and left it at that. I don’t need his criticism.”

“He wasn’t criticizing you, Anakin, merely offering some sage advice.”

“So you agree with him?” Anakin asked, anger flashing in his eyes. 

“You could have slowed down slightly and avoided that slip near the top, yes, but that doesn’t take away from what you just accomplished.” Anakin looked away, but Obi-Wan cupped his chin and drew his attention back to him, desperate to see him smile again. “I’m proud of you, Anakin. You did well today.”

Anakin withdrew from his touch but nodded in resignation. This wasn’t the first time Obi-Wan had watched as Anakin’s emotions swung wildly from one extreme to the next. At first he’d told himself it was natural for him to be undergoing these changes - he was a boy coming into manhood. These things happened. But as Anakin left to speak with the other padawan Obi-Wan observed him as he hovered on the outside of the group, ignoring their invitations to join them for a celebratory picnic in the gardens. Instead his attention fixed entirely on Windu from across the way, his discontent vibrating through their shared force bond, a simmering rage bulging just beneath the surface. 

XXX 

“Now remember all the very important lessons I’ve given you, and you’ll do great, Snips.”

“Yes, Master Skywalker.”

“That wasn’t very enthusiastic.”

“Yes, Master Skywalker, sir!”

Obi-Wan didn’t have to see Ahsoka to know she was rolling her eyes. Clearly Anakin didn’t either, because there was a pause in the chatter over the com-link followed by a disgruntled ‘Just follow my lead’. 

Glancing up from the table at the centre of the ship’s command centre, Obi-Wan shared a look of amusement with Rex as they waited for the droids to finish their last minute maintenance. It was a simple enough clean-up mission, most of the heavy fighting above the planet of Sarrish having taken place a few days before Anakin had arrived with Ahsoka. Still, despite the victory the losses had been high on both sides of the battle, so high in fact that most communication had been lost with the forces on the ground. All the knew was that the Republic had been victorious and supplies - rations, medical, and morale - were urgently needed. 

At first Anakin had been annoyed when Obi-Wan had suggested he go on a ‘routine’ scouting mission, but when Obi-Wan had mentioned bringing his new padawan along his mood changed. Anakin enjoyed teaching Ahsoka everything he knew. He practically came alive when he mentored her, his eyes bright and hands animated as he gave her lessons in mechanics, the force, battle tactics - even the best way to pack a rucksack before a long mission. If Obi-Wan had had any doubts about Anakin taking a padawan under his wing so soon after being knighted, those worries had been quickly dashed. 

“Think they’ll be okay?” Rex asked, helmet stuffed casually under his arm. Obi-Wan knew Rex had already taken a liking to Ahsoka, his worry evident in his carved features. “There’s an awful lot of wreckage between here and the surface of the planet.”

“They’ll be fine, I’m sure of it,” Obi-wan assured. 

Chatter over the links indicated that Anakin and Ahsoka were ready for take-off, followed by two little blips appearing on the map, making their way out of the Destroyer and toward the planets surface. Obi-Wan watched their descent carefully, comforted by Anakin’s presence in their bond, like a steady hand reaching out to cup the side of his neck in a strong but gentle hold. 

“What’s that?” Ahsoka asked over the com-link. 

“A scavenger ship,” Anakin replied, clipped. “They’re always lurking around any battle, waiting to see what they can pilfer from the wrecks.”

“Is that allowed?” Ahsoka asked.

“Not technically, but it’s useless to try and stop it. They’ll just find other ways; more damaging ways. At least this way we can keep track of whose in what area.”

“He’s right about that,” Rex mumbled, brows furrowed.

Anakin was taking his time leading Ahsoka through the battlegrounds, Obi-Wan noted. If it had been just Anakin he’d have reached the surface by now, but he was clearly being with Ahsoka there, helping her pick her way through the dense amount of torn up ship parts, droid fragments, and, most likely, an unfortunate clone or two.

And then there was a blip on the map - an unregistered spacecraft, one that certainly wasn’t a scavenger ship. 

“You’ve got a bogey north-west of your location. Coming in hot,” Rex said over the com-link, breaking the relative peace. 

“I see it,” Anakin replied quickly. 

The phantom hand that remained resting on Obi-Wan’s shoulder twitched suddenly, and Obi-Wan stiffened just as Anakin’s dot began to move toward the craft, Ahsoka following behind. 

“Refrain from approaching it,” Obi-Wan said, “We’ll send Hawk out. You remain on course toward the planet.”

“But we’re closer to it than Hawk,” Ahoska said. “We can take it.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” Obi-Wan retorted. “Now continue on course, that’s an—”

“It’s a droid tri-fighter that didn’t get the memo,” Anakin cut-in. “It’s coming in hot. You ready, Snips?”

“Ready, Master” Ahsoka said. She sounded far too eager.

Obi-Wan was about to interject once more - scream through the com-link if he had to — when he saw the three blips meet in the middle. It was too late - they’d engaged already. 

“It’s only one droid fighter,” Rex said. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he was trying to assure him or himself. Either way it wasn’t working.

“I’ll distract while you come around back and surprise it,” Anakin ordered. 

“Got it.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, watching the events unfold on the radar. Ahsoka’s fighter took a wide, winding path around the droid while Anakin’s remained out in front, leading the fighter through the wreckage on a small chase. The droid seemed keen on engaging Anakin, but he remained just out of shooting range, masterfully toying with it. Obi-Wan knew Anakin was having fun - could practically feel his grin as he looped and dove, pulling behind just long enough to make the droid stood a chance before pushing forward once more. 

Ahsoka meanwhile was carefully making her way around, her radar blip working steadily behind. She was moving more cautiously, her speed registering a few seconds behind the droid and Anakin. But as soon as she came fully around she picked up speed, getting closer and closer as she bridged the gap.

Then the droid blip stopped. Anakin continued on ahead, oblivious that the droid had gotten bored and decided to pressure a different target.

“Ahsoka, it’s coming back around toward you,” Obi-Wan said quickly, trying to alert her to the new danger as the droid picked up speed.

“Kriff,” Anakin hissed, “Ahsoka, turn around and start heading back toward the Destroyer - I’m coming back around to—”

“No, it’s alright, Master. I’ve got this,”

“No you don’t!” Anakin shouted, but it was drowned out by the sounds of engagement over Ahsoka’s com-link. 

“Come in Hawk,” Rex said into his wrist, attention focused on the developing situation. “We’ve got a droid bandit on padawan Ahsoka, requesting immediate back-up.”

“Copy that,” Hawk replied quickly. 

Obi-Wan watched in mild horror as Ahsoka’s dot was covered by the droids, the two twirling through the debris, engaged in a tight fight while Anakin’s fighter hurried through as fast as it possibly could.

But it was too late.

“I’m hit!” Ahsoka called out through the com-link, followed by a shout and then silence.  

Ahsoka’s blip flickered weakly for a moment before it went dark. 

Obi-Wan immediately felt Anakin’s agony through the force, and he braced both hands on the edge of the table to try and steady himself. He felt like he was being pulled apart - hands reaching into his chest and ripping and tearing through him, bile and rage and heat pooling in the back of his throat as a deep sickness overtook. Momentarily ripped away from his connection to the force, Obi-Wan heard only the scream of the void behind him, like a black hole had opened up and was threatening to swallow him whole.

 It lasted only a second, but it was enough to make Obi-Wan think he’d never experience anything but numb despair for the rest of eternity.

Pushing through the haze and the ringing in his ears, Obi-Wan blinked back tears to see that Anakin had destroyed the droid tri-fighter and was making his way toward the SOS message that faded in and out near the impact area. Hawk’s spacecraft could be seen closing in as well, and Obi-Wan waved away Rex’s concern, telling him to go to the landing pad and see to it that Ahsoka was okay.

Taking a few steadying breaths, Obi-Wan rose with trembling knees only to hunch forward again, retching up his meager breakfast of ration bars and tea on the floor as the room spun. Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan mumbled an apology to the staff on the bridge and asked for a droid to come clean it up, mindful of the mess he’d made even as the room continued to twist and his stomach churned.

He’d never experienced something quite like that - hadn’t known it was possible, really. Master Yoda had once told Obi-Wan that Anakin’s force-bond with him was more powerful than most, and with that came great responsibility. And danger. At the time Obi-Wan had thought it just Master Yoda’s way of reminding Obi-Wan just how special - unique - training Anakin would be. Now he knew it had come from a place of concern.

Gripping the edge of the table until it hurt, he swallowed back the acid in the back of his throat. Standing, he kept his eyes closed and reached out for the force, finding its grounding presence with ease. Wrapping himself inside its familiarity, he took a steadying breath before opening his eyes, glad to see the room was wonderfully whole and still. 

He headed then for the hangar bay but was cut off by the medical droids as they carried a familiar face down the hallway toward the med unit. Obi-Wan locked eyes with Ahsoka as she passed, relief washing over him as she sent him a weak wave. She was conscious and aware - that was what mattered. 

“How is she?” he asked one of the droids, catching it before it could follow the rest.

The droid hummed and whirled before speaking in a low, monotone voice. “The young Togruta has sustained blunt-force injuries to her left side, resulting in three broken ribs and extensive bruising. A sharp cut above her right eye will require stitches, but there appears to be no sign of concussion.”

Broken ribs. That was all? Obi-Wan could have laughed with relief. 

“And her expected recovery time?”

“Two to three weeks. They are a surprisingly hearty species.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, unable to hide his smile. “And Ahsoka even more so.”

Obi-Wan waved the droid off and watched as it sped down the hallway and back to the medical centre. Turning to go into the hangar, he was surprised to see Rex standing in the wide doorway, a look of fright on his usually stoic features.

“General Kenobi, you’re needed in the hangar bay.”

“What’s this about?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“It’s General Skywalker, sir. He’s… he’s not well.”

I could have told you that, Obi-Wan thought, the rancid taste of stomach bile still thick on his palate. 

Following Rex into the hangar he came upon the wreckage of Ahsoka’s fighter. A blast had sheered the one wing clear off, and the other side of it was crushed inward, as if she’d been hit by the droid and collided with a bit of debris floating in the planet’s atmosphere. She was lucky to have survived, and with minimal injuries, it seemed.

But you wouldn’t have known all that the way Anakin was acting. He was pacing back and forth like a predator locked in a cage, muttering to himself as Hawk and Rex looked on. Droids that had come to try and repair Ahsoka’s fighter had been sent flying across the hangar with the use of the force, a crackling energy still present in the space that Obi-Wan had come to know as Anakin’s handy-work. A few ground crew off in the distance had stopped what they were doing to watch the proceedings with interest, but a curt nod from Rex had them turning away and diligently going back to their work.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently, trying to get his attention. Draw him back - coax him toward the path once again.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have engaged - I should have told her to go back so she wouldn’t be in danger,” Anakin said quietly and quickly. He was still pacing, eyes wide and unfocused. “But did I? No. Instead I left her out there. Left her alone when she should have been with me. And now she’s— she’s—”

Oh, Anakin… 

“She’s fine, Anakin,” Obi-Wan interrupted. He tried to wrap his energy around Anakin - touch him through the force despite the gentle creep of panic is inspired in him. 

The void of Anakin’s grief still ricocheted through Obi-Wan.

Anakin was too hot to touch. Obi-Wan flinched back before diving back in, holding on to Anakin, overpowering his mania with his own source of peace and inner-calm. It was like holding on to a star. Anakin wrestled against his touch, tried to drive Obi-Wan back with all the barriers he could come up with, but it was too late - Obi-Wan knew his tricks and failsafe, knew how to push just enough so that he’d let him in. 

Eventually the walls came down in full, and a wash of cool overtook them both. Anakin stopped pacing and simply stood, staring at the floor with terrified, unseeing eyes. Obi-Wan approached in the physical realm then, reaching out to take Anakin’s mechanical hand in his own. Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan, breath hitching as he hyperventilated.

“I almost got her killed,” he said between catches of breath. 

“No, you didn’t,” Obi-Wan assured.

Anakin shook his head, jaw clenching tight. “No, you’re wrong. She almost died because I made a bad call. I thought we could handle it but you were right. I should have pulled back and—”

“There is no use worrying about what-ifs, Anakin. What’s done is done. All that is left is the here and now, and right now you need to get control of yourself. For Ahsoka’s sake.”

Anakin looked ready to refuse - to fight with Obi-Wan about it like he always did. But the words died on his lips, and he nodded slowly in agreement.

“Y-yeah. You’re right. I need to go see her. Need to apologize and make amends.”

“You just need to be with her, Anakin. Nothing more or less,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin had moved his hand so that it was clutching Obi-Wan’s. His grip hurt, but Obi-Wan ignored it. “And she doesn’t need your apologies or your pleas for forgiveness. She needs her master, alright?”

Not a scared little boy screaming out into the nothingness. 

Anakin rested his forehead against Obi-Wan’s, ducking his head to share their space. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and continued to hold Anakin up, willing to remain in the hangar away from his duties and obligations for as long as Anakin needed, despite knowing just how dangerous this dependency between them was becoming. Eventually Anakin’s breathing evened out, and his familiar strength returned in their bond - warm and comforting. 

Pulling away, Anakin nodded his head to Rex and Hawk before he practically ran out of the hangar, any notion of maintaining his professionalism long since abandoned. Obi-Wan would have a talk with him about his responsibilities as a general and a master - about keeping control of himself and regulating his emotions - later. For now he would allow the transgressions. After all, he’d been worried about Ahsoka, too.

“Gentlemen, a word if you please,” Obi-Wan said, turning to Hawk and Rex who had remained politely out of the way. The two stepped forward and snapped to attention, relaxing only when Obi-Wan instructed them to. “About what you just saw…”

“We didn’t see a thing, sir,” Rex said quickly.

Obi-Wan smiled a tired little smile. “I appreciate that, Rex. If the council heard about this, well… they wouldn’t understand.”

“But we understand, sir,” Hawk said. “General Skywalker has been through a lot these last few months. It’d get to any one of us.”

Rex nodded in agreement, though Obi-Wan could feel the fear in both of them. 

Obi-Wan shared in it. 

XXX

Obi-Wan and Anakin sat on some rocks, sheltered from the steady drizzle of rain by a broad leafed tree that has remained remarkably unblemished by the battle that just took place. Beneath them mud mixed with blood and torn bits of armour, the smell of acrid smoke and melted plastoid-alloy sitting heavy in the air. In the distance the sound of drop-ships could be heard shuttling in reinforcements and picking up survivors. 

Obi-Wan keeps his focus on the tree for a moment longer, drawing energy from it with silent thanks. His hands ached from holding his lightsaber, tongue heavy in his dry mouth, back stiff from use. They’d been fighting for hours for one small patch of land. Obi-Wan would call it a small victory if he was feeling charitable. He was not. Dropping his gaze from the tree he stared out at the muddy field, watching the clone troopers collect the bodies of their fallen brothers, their white armour soiled with blood and muck.

Flexing his foot, Obi-Wan tested his ability to bear weight. He’d twisted his ankle on the mud earlier, the tendons and bone straining under the motion. He’d ignored it at the time, but with a short rest came clarity, and with that clarity came pain. 

“We should probably help,” Obi-Wan said, making move to stand.

Anakin remained where he was. 

Hovering above his perch, Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin.

He did not look well.

Anakin was hunched over on a rock watching the clones, skin pale and head bowed. His hair was matted to his face and neck with sweat and rain, and his armour - usually so polished and well-maintained - was covered in grime, the fabric of his robes soaked through. He was gripping his lightsaber still, holding on to it like he was ready - expecting - to use it again at any moment. But it was his eyes that gave Obi-Wan pause. Vivid blue had dulled as he stared at the still boot of a fallen clone. If Obi-Wan hadn’t been very certain of their surroundings - of where they were right then and there - he’d have thought Anakin was looking at the floors of the meditation chambers back at the temple. Disinterested. Apathetic. Bored.

Obi-Wan reached out using the Force, gently prodding Anakin’s defenses. They did not yield. It was as if Obi-Wan was little more than a bug trying to forge his way through granite. 

Obi-Wan watched Anakin a while longer, hoping to see the life come back. To see the proud, excitable man come out from beneath the death shroud that lay across his shoulders. Yet Anakin remained at his post, silently watching with dead eyes as the pile of corpses grew. 

For Anakin, they were never just clones - never just bodies created in some laboratory to fight and die for the Republic. They weren’t slaves. They were living, breathing people with the same wants and desires as everyone else. It was both admirable and pitiable to want to put a name to every face that was, ultimately, destine to lie in a pile of their brethren on some forgettable planet in a forgettable battle in an unforgettable war. 

Standing, Obi-Wan approached, mindful of the weapon that remained in Anakin’s grasp. Kneeling next to him, he reached out to touch Anakin’s arm gently. 

“Anakin?” He kept his voice calm and low, unsure of how Anakin would react.

Anakin stiffened, body going rigid. A small gasp broke through pale lips; a shudder in the force; a spark of something in Anakin’s eyes that Obi-Wan couldn’t identify. All of it happened in a matter of seconds before he stilled. 

“Master,” Anakin said, his attention snapping to Obi-Wan as he remained knelt before him. 

Life had returned to his eyes. Red-rimmed and bloodshot as they were, Obi-Wan found comfort in the clarity that had returned. The beauty. 

Reaching out with practiced ease, Obi-Wan placed his hand over Anakin’s free hand. Anakin tensed again and made motion to rip his hand away, but stilled as soon as Obi-Wan touched his pulse point through worn leather and held. His pulse was frantic, like he was still in the heat of battle, fast and hard and pushed to the limit and past it. Always pushing, always straining, always going further than anyone else. 

Until it would burn him up and consumed him.

“We should probably get your lightsaber out of the rain,” Obi-Wan said gently as soon as he felt Anakin’s pulse begin to match his own. He didn’t let go though, wanting that physical connection to remain as he guided Anakin back to the here and now. 

It was becoming harder to guide him through the brambles of his mind. 

Anakin nodded in agreement. His grip loosened marginally on the hilt, and Obi-Wan watched as he carefully tucked it on to his belt, hiding it beneath his soiled robes. Obi-Wan remained where he was a moment longer, fearing the peace was tenuous at best. But then Anakin reached down and gently clasped the side of Obi-Wans neck, holding on to him and sharing his energy - blazing hot and unfocused, but alive and so achingly perfect.

Obi-Wan was reticent to suggest they help with the clean-up, fearful of Anakin’s dead gaze moments ago. He’d heard of other soldiers - Jedi and non-force users alike - who buckled under the strain of constant warfare, losing their sense of purpose and self and even, in rare occasions, their humanity. It was a brutal irony, really. The ones who cared the most became the most disconnected from everything. It was as if their compassion - their desire to do right, to help - became twisted until suddenly nothing mattered. Not really. 

They became deadened to the death and pain before them until they became desensitize; joys and wonders stifled, pain and agony numbing. 

Anakin relished the fight - practically came alive under the strain, a blinding light as he swept through the battlefield like wildfire. It was like he was made for this sole purpose - to defend and destroy, captivate and release those caught up in his whirlwind. The force practically sang around him when he fought, a sight that struck wonder in Obi-Wan as he watched his padawan and friend present to the galaxy why he was the Chosen One. 

But then the quiet moments came. Battles ended, wars would end too, and Anakin was left with thoughts that dragged him into the brambles. Apathy would take over. A raw, deep ache, he’d described it once to Obi-Wan. Like he was still hungry, insatiable for something he couldn’t quite describe. It was those moments that came on suddenly, without notice. 

It was something that Obi-Wan was beginning to prepare himself for - to catch it before Anakin slipped away too far. 

“Come,” he said, standing slowly. “I need your help back to one of the drop ships.”

Anakin raised a brow in curiosity but stood all the same, dipping his shoulder for Obi-Wan to drape his arm over. 

“You slip on the mud, old man?” he asked teasingly. Obi-Wan smiled, allowing Anakin to shoulder some of his burden. 

“Only because you distracted me by tossing that battle droid over my head. I’ll take a sprained ankle over losing my head, thank you very much.”

Anakin laughed, and Obi-Wan breathed deeply.   

Obi-Wan would always be there to lead Anakin back from wherever he wandered off to. Always. 

XXX

“-they need more support in the quadrant, otherwise we run the risk of losing the entire sector.”

“And how important is this sector, Master Fisto?”

“It’s the main trading route in the area. Respectfully, Master Windu, if we lose it, the civilian causalities will be in the thousands.”

“Reinforcements, send we will.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda.”

“Master Kenobi? Master Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan blinked, realizing five sets of eyes were looking at him expectantly. Master Fisto’s hologram had disappeared from the centre of the room, his report evidently done. Which meant it was Obi-Wan’s turn.

Sitting up straighter, Obi-Wan rested his left ankle over his right knee and smiled tightly at the group. Master Yoda, Master Tiin, and Master Mundi returned the courtesy, but Master Windu and Master Billaba’s features remained impassive. Cold, almost.

“When will you be returning to duty?” Mundi asked, warmth in his tone. 

“Tomorrow,” Obi-Wan said, already dreading the long travel time it would take to get from Coruscant to the Outer Rim. He’d been out in the area prior to coming to Coruscant and had been perfectly willing to remain out there, but the council had called him back for an in-person debriefing. Obi-Wan had suspected it was a not-so-subtle ploy to get him to rest for a few days, but he wasn’t quite sure whose suggestion it was.

“The area has been a point of near constant aggression, has it not?” Billaba asked.

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan replied. “Despite our best efforts, the internal squabbling of the different communities who call the sector their homes have… complicated matters. Where one group has agreed to help us in exchange for protection, the group down the river have found themselves deceived by the Separatists. But we are making ground - it’s just slow.”

“It’s the 501st and the 212th that are out there, correct?” Billaba asked, although she waited for no answer before continuing. “If such elite units are struggling to make progress in the area, perhaps we should send in reinforcements? Rotate the 501st and 212th out and give them a chance to recuperate.” 

“And replace them with who?” Mundi shifted in his chair. “We’re stretched thin as it is. If we pull out two battalions than we have to send in the forces we just promised to Master Fisto.”

“Respectfully, Master Billaba, it’s not brute force or man-power that we’re lacking,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s connections. It’s an understanding of the inner politics between tribes and neighbours. For all of their skills in battle, our clone forces are no match for century long feuds.”

“General Skywalker - he comes from Tatooine, does he not?” Tiin asked. 

Obi-Wan nodded. “He does. And he knows the inner-workings of his home village well. But that’s just one planet in a vast and deeply complex area.”

There was a small lull in the conversation as they pondered their positions, Obi-Wan waiting for the next suggestion with idle curiosity. 

“And the boy?” Master Windu asked. He stared at Obi-Wan, hands linked together, pointer fingers and pressed against his chin. 

Obi-Wan disliked how Windu continued to call Anakin ‘the boy’. It was a leftover from a time that had long since passed. The boy had been knighted years ago, and had spent the last year as the commander and general of, as Billaba had just described, the elite 501st. Obi-Wan long understood Windu’s distrust of Anakin’s powers, but surely he had proved himself worthy of a new moniker. 

Perhaps The Chosen One was too flashy for Windu’s tastes.

“What of Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, emphasizing his name.  

“How is he doing?”

Obi-Wan could have told them the truth; he was showing signs of emotional fatigue; his irritability and mood-swings were becoming more chaotic; he was drifting; the only time he ever seemed truly alive was when he was dancing with his own death. That Obi-Wan lay awake most nights wondering how many more times he could catch Anakin before he finally fell. 

But Obi-Wan would never betray Anakin’s trust like that. The council had never been fully understanding of Anakin’s nature, and Obi-Wan had grown tired of the constant back and forth about what do ‘do with him’ when he wasn’t even present to defend himself. 

So instead he fell back on bad habits Master Qui-Gon had tried to break him from years ago.

“Considering he was given command of a legion when he was only nineteen, sent out to fight in a galaxy wide-war, and has never had the opportunity to experience the beauty of what being a Jedi truly is on account of everything, I’d say he’s doing remarkably well.”

Windu’s eyes narrowed, but before Obi-Wan could continue Master Yoda’s small, frail voice interjected.

“Right, Master Kenobi is. Difficult circumstances, in we are. Strong, General Skywalker is, given the conditions.”

Obi-Wan knew there was something left unsaid. The rest of the council seemed uncomfortable with the sudden change in tone. Obi-Wan wondered if someone had reported an incident to the council - something he was unaware of, or had perhaps neglected to cover-up. But no one said anything further.

That was, until Windu arrived at Obi-Wan’s side the next day as he watched the ground crew prepare his shuttle craft.  

Obi-Wan had felt his presence before he saw him, and knew full well Windu had wanted him to. He was giving him time to prepare.

“Oh this should be good,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. Windu at least had the courtesy to smile. 

It was dropped quickly. 

“You know you’re not doing Skywalker any favours by protecting him like you are,” he said quietly, attention fixed on the goings on in front of them. 

“How am I protecting him?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Don’t feign ignorance, Kenobi. We receive scuttlebutt same as you.”

“Then you should know that often times these rumours are wild fabrications thought up by young recruits and gossip mongers.”

“Not when they come from the sources we’ve received them from.”

Rex? Cody? No, they would never. 

“And what, pray tell, have you heard?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It does,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “If you’re going to accuse him of something, then you should get into specifics.”

Windu sighed next to Obi-Wan, deep and low, before he spoke, voice even and nonplussed. “We’ve received reports of General Skywalker acting out in a manner unbecoming of a Jedi. He disobeys commands, he throws himself into danger without thinking of the consequences, he’s lied to allies about our mission parameters and has been accused of deliberately going back on his word as a Jedi. And, perhaps most disturbingly, we’ve received reports that he killed a person.”  

Obi-Wan swallowed. Tal Merrik. 

“We’ve all been doing things unbecoming of a Jedi. It’s the cost of war,” he finally said, words hollow even to his own ears. Windu was right. At times, Anakin had done those things - and more. But he’d also done brilliant things, beautiful and moving things - saved countless worlds and sacrificed his safety for the lives of complete strangers. He overflowed with compassion - with a desire to do good. 

But he could get lose sometimes, overcome with the burden and responsibilities. Obi-Wan, Windu, even Master Yoda could never fully understand what it meant to be Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One, the one born to fulfill a prophecy like some puppet. His future had been decided before he could even make a choice about who he wanted to be. Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine the strain Anakin had always been under - the scrutiny and the pressure he faced daily from those who would never understand. It must be suffocating. Stifling. Completely and utterly maddening. 

Obi-Wan wanted to say all of this to Windu - wanted to have him see his side of things. Wanted him to understand the passion and beauty and life that Anakin held within him, like a star at the apex of its creation. But the words died on his lips when Windu spoke again.

“But at what cost to him?” Windu turned to Obi-Wan, locking eyes. “The council knows you’ve kept your force bond with Skywalker despite him no longer being your padawan. But we look the other way because we know how important that trust is between Jedi, especially during these dark times. Which is why I am asking you to be mindful of the boy, and to be open about his struggles. We all knew that raising him would not be an easy task, but we believed that the village - our community - could make the difference in his life that would dispel any reservations we - that I - had. Don’t make us regret the choices we’ve made as a collective. If Skywalker starts to slip - if he does anything further that concerns you, come to us. If there is something to report, I want to hear it from you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t expected that. He’d never heard Windu so emotional - so vulnerable. There was a pleading to his tone, an openness that he let bleed through the force. All walls had been struck down, and Obi-Wan was left exposed to Windu’s pleas. 

And then Obi-Wan lied.

“You’re right, Master Windu. Anakin is ours-” mine “-to protect, and I promise to report any troubling activity should I witness it.”
 
Even as he said the words Obi-Wan knew Windu could sense the deception. Disappointment flashed across his features, but he turned and left with simple well-wishes for a safe trip. Obi-Wan felt an ache in his chest but did nothing to correct it.  

XXX

He didn’t know when it started - didn’t care to think on it too much, if he was being honest with himself. It was naturally, Obi-Wan told himself, to be drawn closer and closer to someone who had experienced the same things as you, seen the same things, done the same things. It was natural to seek solace and comfort in the familiarity, free of judgment and reprisal. It had been Anakin who had initiated it, hot and hungry and hard in all the right places and there, in front of Obi-Wan, burning up in front of him at just at the right time, the thrum of battle still vibrating through their bodies, the force electric and scalding. 

Since that moment - Anakin pressed against Obi-Wan, fitting so well together that Obi-Wan had no reason to say ‘no’ - they’d repeated the pattern. Again and again, a joining between two tired warriors. A moment of reprieve, if just for the night.

They had both agreed it was casual but recognized even in that moment that it wasn’t, it never could be - never between them. The intimacy was always present, even when they were at their most base, rutting against each other just to get off, nothing else mattering but the immediacy of release. Even in those moments Obi-Wan felt tender lips against his temples and along his necks, breathy moans that he knew were barely contained sentiments of adoration, possession, of love. 

Obi-Wan knew that if he let him, Anakin would swallow him whole, drag him down into whatever mess he’d made for himself, and Obi-Wan would let him. Always.  

Nothing was ever simple with Anakin. 

“You’re heavy.”

“You’re bed is too small.”

“We’re on a destroyer, Anakin.”

“So? Get a bigger bed.”

“Next time I’ll request the penthouse.”

“Good.”

They were pressed in together on Obi-Wan’s bunk, half undressed and thoroughly spent. Once their duties had been seen to, things put back in order, clone’s concerns attended to, Obi-Wan found himself dragged into his cabin, eager hands pulling and ripping at robes and armour, a hungry mouth hot against his own. Obi-Wan hadn’t complained about the sudden intrusion. He was, however, going to complain about one thing…

“I’m sticky,” he said, ignoring Anakin’s huff of amusement against his neck. “Don’t laugh - you at least got to fully undress. I’m still half-dressed.”

“You just need to learn how to keep up.”

“And you need to learn how to slow down.”

Obi-Wan remained where he was a moment longer, staring up at the ceiling of his cabin. The ship hummed quietly in the background, monotonous and mechanical but oddly soothing. Anakin smelled like sweat and sex and something so wonderfully him, and Obi-Wan turned to kiss his temple, nuzzling curls that tickled his nose. Eventually, however, Obi-Wan really did have to move, his legs going numb. 

Wiggling out from under Anakin - who wasn’t helping matters by remaining entirely limp - Obi-Wan stood and kicked off his trousers the rest of the way, along with his undershirt which had been thoroughly soiled. With the afterglow waning, Obi-Wan could feel every ache and bruise he’d collected from the fight just mere hours ago, and finally noticed the long stretch of purple and blue that flared out along his thigh. 

“What’s that from?” Anakin asked. He was stretched out on his stomach, long limbs taking up most of the free space on the bed. His hair were mussed atop his head and he stared at Obi-Wan through the mess of golden brown curls. Anakin was wrong; Obi-Wan’s cot was the perfect size.  

“A droid tackled me,” Obi-Wan mumbled. He’d been so focused on clearing out the battle droids that were in front he hadn’t had time to take stock of the very determined droid running full tilt at him. Obi-Wan hadn’t known of any droids that were programmed to leave their formation during a firefight, let alone one that would try and tackle a Jedi. So surprised he was that Obi-Wan didn’t even have time to brace for impact, instead hitting the ground with all his weight landing on his leg. 

“A droid tackled you?” Anakin asked, his head rising from the pillow. 

“Would I lie to you, Anakin?”

“Well did you keep it?” he asked, seeingly more interested in the droid rather than Obi-Wan’s bruise.

“No, I didn’t keep it. I cut its head off and continued on with the mission.”

Anakin glowered and dropped his head back down, voice partly muffled by the pillow. “I would have grabbed its circuitry to see what sort of programming it had in it. Maybe it was becoming sentient, you know, starting to think for itself.”

“I know what sentient means, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a sigh. He caught a small smile on the corner of Anakin’s lips. 

Approaching his ruck-sack, Obi-Wan felt around inside it for some sleep-wear. Grabbing his cotton pants, he pulled out a pair of underclothes and tossed them at Anakin’s head.

“What are these for?” Anakin grumbled, mechanical hand deftly picking the offending garment up. Rolling on to his back, Anakin inspected it before dropping it down on his stomach.

“They’re to wear, Anakin. You put each leg through the two smaller holes and slide it up your waist.”

Anakin laughed, small but genuine, and Obi-Wan felt a warmth spread through his limbs that had nothing to do with the recycled air in the room. 

“I mean, why do I need them? Are you sending me back to my room already?”

“No, but what happens if there’s an emergency on deck, hm? Are you going to just run out and begin giving commands completely nude?”

“Why not? It’s not like the clones haven’t seen their fair share of co—”

“Not on the bridge deck,” Obi-Wan interrupted. “Honestly, Anakin, I have a hard enough time defending most of your actions to the council as is, I don’t know how I could possibly twist a story about you running through the halls of a Destroyer completely naked. I’d have to implore Senator Amidala’s help again to sooth things over with the Senate, too.”

Obi-Wan knew he’d slipped up even before he felt the sudden and violent shift in the force. One minute it was humming in joy as it swirled around and between them, the next it was like someone had shot a blaster off in the space - loud and sharp and acidic.

Oh this will be fun. 

“You and Padmé have been talking about me?” Anakin asked slowly. Obi-Wan turned to see he was sat upward, back ramrod straight as he stared at Obi-Wan with such focus Obi-Wan had to quickly shore up his defenses. 

“Not exactly,” Obi-Wan said, deciding that perhaps he would just make it worse. After all, he’d already gone and flicked the beast on the nose - why not pull its tail too. It wasn’t against the Jedi Code to be petty once in a while. “Senator Organa and I asked her to explain some of your… methodology to the senate after—”

“So you’ve dragged Senator Organa into this, too?” Anakin bit out as he stood up from the bed. “What have you three been saying about me? What’s there to explain?” 

“Exactly this,” Obi-Wan retorted before he could stop himself. “Your anger, Anakin. Your laissez-faire attitude with regards to rules and protocol. How you can’t take an ounce of criticism without resorting to petty accusations and acting out like a child. Have my lessons meant nothing to you, Anakin? What ever happened to controlling your emotions? Of centering yourself - finding balance within yourself and the force? It’s like you don’t even listen!”

Obi-Wan knew it had been wrong and unfair, but he didn’t regret his words - not yet, at least. He knew that Anakin struggled and it was through no fault of his own, but Obi-Wan was just tired. Tired of trying to stitch Anakin back together time and time again; tired of his words falling on deaf, obstinate ears; tired of explaining away outbursts and making excuses for inexcusable behaviour; tired of not knowing how to fix things for Anakin, of how to not just make things easy for him.  

He was just so tired. 

Anakin stood in front of Obi-Wan, chin raised high. Obi-Wan realized that they were both still naked, and wondered if Anakin really would run out of his room like that just to prove a point. He focused on that instead of the way the force warbled between them, a flicker of something dark under the surface. Obi-Wan trusted Anakin not to do anything, but try as he might there was a small pulling sensation in the centre of his gut that told him to move away - create distance between them just in case. 

Honestly, a part of Obi-Wan would have welcomed a physical confrontation. At least it was more productive than the two just staring each other down, still covered in the collective mess they had made of each other just minutes ago. 

Finally Anakin moved. Obi-Wan stayed where he was, determined not to flinch back from whatever Anakin was going to do. 

Which was pick up his clothes, apparently. 

“I don’t want you or Padmé talking about me anymore,” he said, throwing his undershirt on. “And I don’t want you having to explain my actions to the council - I can do that myself.” Pulling on his trousers and shoes, Anakin bundled up his robes and armour before heading out the door, leaving Obi-Wan alone in his room.

Obi-Wan sat down on the edge of his too-small bed and pinched the bridge of his nose, all the self-righteous bluster rushing out of him in an instant. 

How lovely, he thought. He was going to have to send an apology to Senator Amidala’s desk.

It took a few days for Anakin to cool down. Obi-Wan gave him his space, knowing that he would return as he always did. Indeed, after the third day of curt, polite discussions around the mess table and in the ready room, Anakin had resumed his usual position of falling asleep with his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as they shuttled from out-post to out-post. And Obi-Wan let him because despite know he was right - despite knowing that Anakin was a danger to himself and those around him, and it was only getting worse the longer Obi-Wan protected him - he had missed Anakin, in all his imperfections. And so he looked the other way and rested his cheek on the top of Anakin’s head, content to just having this moment. 

XXX

How about we practice.

A simple offer during a rare bit of reprieve from an unrelenting war. There was really no need to spar with Anakin anymore - he was an accomplished general with more time on the battlefield than most Jedi every saw in their lifetimes. He’d been taught everything Obi-Wan knew and had even surpassed him in many ways. But just because there was no need did not mean there was no want. Although their leave on Coruscant had been offered as an act of compassion from the Jedi Council in order for them to get some rest, Anakin had treated it much like a death sentence. It was boring, he had said, pouting like a youngling. There was nothing to do. People were in trouble out there and are depending on the Jedi to help them. 

Obi-Wan also noted that Senator Amidala was off-world and therefor could not meet with anyone, no matter how ‘important’ the information was that they were bringing. 

This left Anakin to prowl the halls of the temple, broad shoulders hunched and jaw clenched tight as he struggled to find a balance between the urging of the blood in his head and the gentle lull of the force that flitted through the rooms and gardens. Obi-Wan had thought he’d finally found some semblance of balance on their second day, but then Master Plo Koon had come to his chambers late in the afternoon to complain of the heavy stomps of footsteps past his room - back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It was then that Obi-Wan suggested a proper spar out in one of the well-used training rooms, determined to get Anakin back to that balance between action and relaxation, even if it meant smacking some of that inner-peace into him with the hilt of his lightsaber. 

They had begun with basic forms, Obi-Wan watching Anakin out of the corner of his eye as he swung his lightsaber slowly and methodically, eyes closed but brows still furrowed. Eventually, however, Anakin began to relax, the motions becoming more fluid - almost lazy - as the force guided their limbs and filled their lungs. 

And then they began. 

Obi-Wan brought them into the second form, drawing from Qui-Gon’s teachings to guide the two of them through the elegant motions. Obi-Wan had failed Anakin by not teaching him enough in the ways of Makashi. Their first encounter with a master of the style, Count Dooku, had left Anakin physically maimed, and Obi-Wan had blamed himself for focusing on other teachings - less painful ones, ones that didn’t bring back memories of a master lost. It was a weakness that he vowed to correct, and thus had trained Anakin in the graceful form the best he could. Encounters with Count Dooku and Ventress had made up for what Obi-Wan lacked, the two unknowingly offering their knowledge in place of Obi-Wan’s.

The motions were sharp and quick, a flurry of movement, followed by peace and thoughtfulness. They circled one another, looking for an opening while trying to hide their own intentions. A jab here, a series of quick footworks there, the force flowed through them with excitement. Obi-Wan let the motions take over and tried not to over think every twitch of Anakin’s hand or the smirk on his lips as he lunged forward. It was easy and simple. 

And then something changed.

Anakin shifted the grip in his hand and switched to a more aggressive stance, his strikes turning from jabs to swings as he seamlessly switched from Makashi to Djem Sho. Obi-Wan didn’t even have time to roll his eyes. Instead he rolled his whole body, striking the ground with his shoulder and coming back up to block the second swing. If Anakin wanted to change things up, Obi-Wan could oblige. Tucking his elbows in he blocked a third and fourth strike, more than happy to take on his preferred form, Soresu. 

The motions were as natural to them as breathing, the two swinging and turning and parring like two dancers who had long since learned the steps. Anakin moved forward and Obi-Wan stepped back. Anakin would turn and Obi-Wan would follow. They separated and circle before meeting again in the middle, their breath shared as the force humming and crackling between them, pleased with the performance. 

But just as Obi-Wan was beginning to get into the flow once more, Anakin switched it up again. Each blow became faster and stronger, each step a stride that pushed Obi-Wan further against the outer edges of the practice ring. Unable to pay attention to much else but blocking each strike, Obi-Wan focused on regulating his heart beat as he tried to match Anakin’s. It was near impossible. When Obi-Wan reached out to Anakin he was inundated with a rush of power that threatened to swallow Obi-Wan’s very sense of being. Surprised by by the sudden intensity, Obi-Wan slipped back and out of the circle, his shoulder hitting one of the pillars.

He had expected Anakin to back-off then - after all, he had technically won - but Anakin continued to strike Obi-Wan’s blade with his own, wearing him down further and further. Obi-Wan’s wrists trembled with the force at which Anakin hit, the electric crash of their lightsabers ringing out and worming its way into the back of Obi-Wan’s skull. Caught up in the unrelenting assault, Obi-Wan barely felt the force as it shifted around him, changing from something comforting and soothing to angry and unfocused. Looking through the blinding blue light as their blades finally locked, Obi-Wan saw wild, terrified eyes staring back at him, flecks of gold mixed in with familiar blue. 

Anakin wasn’t going to stop.  

Obi-Wan had little time to think about what he was going to do next, but when faced with such raw, unfiltered mania in the eyes of someone you trusted, options were severely limited. Throwing his weight into his blade, Obi-Wan managed to break the stalemate and took a more aggressive stance, pushing Anakin back just enough where he could kick Anakin - hard. Right in the gut.

Anakin hadn’t expected the brute physicality and curled in on himself briefly. It was just enough time for Obi-Wan to channel the force and shove him further away, knocking Anakin back against the opposing wall. He crumpled like a rag, a sudden exhale of air ringing out throughout the room. He was winded. Good. 

Obi-Wan rushed forward and kicked Anakin’s lightsaber hilt away, knowing full well that if he really wanted to, Anakin could just use the force to bring it back. But the energy in the room had changed. The wild madness that had rushed through the space like a sea of blood - thick and cloying and sickening - had left as soon as it had come. Anakin remained on the floor, trembling and sweating. Obi-Wan remained standing, unsure of what Anakin was going to do next. 

It was becoming all to common for Obi-Wan not to be able to sense Anakin’s thoughts and feelings. That revelation was almost more disturbing than what had just transpired.

Eventually Anakin moved, long limbs twisting round as he shifted to look up at Obi-Wan through thick lashes. His pupils were blown, chest rising and falling rapidly, curls a wild mess around his head. He was overworked and over-stimulated, body barley sated and humming for more. He looked like he did after sex. Or after a battle. Obi-Wan supposed the two were dangerously one in the same for Anakin. 

Obi-Wan didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Couldn’t speak. Anakin had crossed a line - threatened him, his master, inside a sacred space. And worst of all, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure Anakin even realized what he’d just done. Holding back any reprimand or accusation - there would be time for it later - Obi-Wan instead held his hand out for Anakin to take, silently offering Anakin a way past the initial discomfort. 

Anakin didn’t take his hand. Instead he stood on his own accord, steady despite the way he was shaking. He didn’t bother looking at Obi-Wan as he brushed past him - hand still open in offering - and grabbed his hilt. He left the room then, a gentle swoosh of the doors closing marking his exit. 

Obi-Wan spent the rest of the day collecting the scattered pieces of himself, stitching his resolve back together with tired hands. Anakin’s eyes, cerulean blue fractured with gold cracks of madness, staring out at him whenever he closed his eyes, haunting his meditations as he willed himself to remain strong. Remain stalwart in his unsaid promises to keep Anakin whole. To lead him from the twisted, labyrinth of his mind back back into sanity and peace.

 It wasn’t until late in the evening, when Obi-Wan had decided to keep the incident to himself and not inform the council, that he felt Anakin’s return.

Once again the sound of the door opening and closing marked Anakin’s presence in his space, and Obi-Wan allowed the intrusion. He remained still on his bed, only moving when a firm body pressed up against his own. Anakin pushed his face against Obi-Wan’s neck, hot breath sliding along cool skin. He gripped the collar of Obi-Wan’s sleep tunic, twisting the fabric as he held on for dear life. He smelled of turmeric, ginger, and roses. He’d been at Padmé’s, despite her absence. 

“I’m sorry,” Anakin whispered, voice breaking at the end. “I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan.” He breathed in, a stutter in his breath as he if were breaking apart. “I feel like I’m losing myself sometimes - like I’m falling deeper and deeper away from what the Jedi are supposed to be. Like I should be. Like what you want me to be. And I don’t know why and I don’t know how to fix it. I just… I just feel like there’s something rotting inside of me and I can’t make it stop. Please forgive me, Obi-Wan. Please.”

Swallowing down his own hurt, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin and held him through his sobs. 

I forgive you, he bled into their bond. Always and forever. 

XXX

Ahsoka was gone.

Obi-Wan had watched as Anakin did everything in his power to help her; bent and twisted and broke the rules, advised and lied and pleaded and screamed at anyone who would listen, desperate to absolve her name and prove her innocence. He’d thrown all of himself into her defense to keep her there, with him. Obi-Wan had done what he could to help, but ultimately it was out of his and Anakin’s and the entire council’s hands. 

Ahsoka was gone through her own accord.

Obi-Wan had heard of Jedi leaving the order but he’d never known anyone personally, and especially not someone he’d come to cherish closely. But his sadness at her decision was incomparable to Anakin’s grief. After chasing after her Anakin had returned to the temple late in the day, eyes red rimmed and shoulders heavy with sorrow. Obi-Wan had wanted to ask what was said between them before she left, wanted to try and get some insight into what had happened, but retreated when he felt Anakin push back through the force. He would let him grieve in peace, Obi-Wan decided, knowing all too well what it felt like to lose someone so close, whether through absence or death. Qui-Gon, Satine, and now Ahsoka…

Eventually Anakin opened up. Quiet, controlled words spoken on the rocky plains of Utapau. He blamed himself, the Jedi Order, the constraints placed on her by her peers. He wrestled with the idea of Ahsoka simply deciding for herself what was best for her. It always had to be someone or something that had caused Anakin harm so he could fix it - correct it in whatever ways and by whatever means necessary. But this wasn’t something he could just change. For all his skills with the force, Anakin couldn’t bend free will.

Obi-Wan could have lectured Anakin. Could have told him that this was why the Jedi feared such close relations. It had clouded his judgment - warped his views and made him a weaker warrior, compromised by his love for Ahsoka and Padmé and even Obi-Wan. But Obi-Wan knew it would fall on deaf ears or, worse yet, Anakin would call him out on his blatant hypocrisy. After all, what was all of this between them if not attachment? What were their countless evenings spent talking or loving or just being present with one another, if not a blatant violation of a code Obi-Wan still believed in despite it all? He knew that he had strayed, and knew he would stray again if given the chance, but it had never lost sight of his mission or duty as a Jedi. 

Obi-Wan would always do what he must, regardless of his feelings on the matter.

But Anakin was a different story. At first Obi-Wan had thought Anakin’s stead-fast devotion to those he cared for a hindrance to his training, then knew it to be a strength. 

Now, Obi-Wan wasn’t so sure either way.

Time stretched on. Days bled into weeks, weeks into a month, and Obi-Wan thought perhaps Anakin had begun to heal - had begun to move on. But then he walked into Obi-Wan’s room one day, wilted with exhaustion, his defenses down as he bled onto Obi-Wan’s heart. He was clutching Ahsoka’s beaded padawan braid, found in a drawer in his often abandoned room at the temple. 

“I thought I could forgot,” he said, voice tight. “I thought I could make it so I wouldn’t hurt like this anymore. I thought I could control it but I can’t. It feels like an ache deep in my chest, and its so tight and painful that I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe, Obi-Wan.” 

He collapsed on to his knees, a sob wretched from his lips. 

Obi-Wan approached and Anakin immediately reaching out to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, holding on to him like he thought Obi-Wan might disappear if he didn’t grip hard enough. Threading his fingers through thick curls, Obi-Wan stroked the soft spot behind his ear - a spot he knew Anakin enjoyed being touched - as he cried into his robes like a small child, lost and afraid and desperate for easy answers and happy endings. 

“She left me,” he chocked out. “Everyone keeps leaving. Ahsoka, my mother…” A fresh wave of grief rushed through the force, swallowing Obi-Wan. He could hear Anakin’s mother in the force, taken up in Anakin’s memories of her. How she sounded when she laughed, what she looked like when she smiled, her smell and her touch and her very essence. He could feel Anakin’s longing to be in her arms, how desperate he was to feel her smile on the crown of his head. Just one more time - just this once, oh please, please, please —

And then Obi-Wan sensed fear. Pain. Death. The scream of a small child on a desolate desert plain and—

“Anakin, what was—”

Anakin stood then, eyes wild and bright, tears streaked down his cheeks. He grabbed Obi-Wan’s face between his hands and held him close. “Promise me you’ll never leave me, Obi-Wan. Promise me you’ll always be with me, no matter what happens. Even if we die, promise me we’ll meet again in the netherworld. I don’t care if it’s not possible - I’ll make it possible.”

“Anakin, you know I can’t promise—”

“Please,” Anakin practically begged, desperate for that assurance. 

Obi-Wan knew it was dangerous - knew that he was feeding into whatever it was that made Anakin act the way he did in these moments. But it was so hard to say no to someone when they clung to you like Anakin was clinging to him, frenzied with grief and loss and mad with envisioned outcomes and ‘what-ifs’. Obi-Wan wanted so desperately to quiet his mind; to focus him and bring him back to him, to this room, to this moment, no matter how much it hurt to face the reality. 

Obi-Wan didn’t want to go searching for him in the brambles. Didn’t want to prick his fingers on the knotted thorns as he tried to drag Anakin out of it. Not again. Not tonight.

He didn’t say anything but voiced no protest when Anakin dragged him into a kiss, hot and passionate and so achingly perfect in its imperfection.

“Never leave me,” Anakin repeated again and again between messy kisses across his lips and cheeks and jaw. “Just never let me go.”

XXX

There has been an incident at Senator Amidala’s apartment in Coruscant. Obi-Wan hadn’t been informed of the details, but rumours had rumbled through the halls of the senate and temple alike that it had involved a Jedi and an ex-Senator. It wasn’t difficult to put the pieces together, especially when one of the pieces was pacing around Obi-Wan’s room looking for a fight or a fuck or perhaps both.

And here Obi-Wan thought his day was going to be peaceful.

“—and he’s acting the victim in all of this. When he tried to assault Padmé.” Anakin moved from one corner of Obi-Wan’s room to the other, hands on his hips, the force shuddering around him, inconsistent and frantic. 

Obi-Want didn’t want to point out that Clovis could both be an instigator and a victim, but chose to remain silent as he sat on his chair next to his desk. His tea was getting cold, he noted, as Anakin continued his ravings. 

“And the worst part is, Padmé sided with him - with that traitor. She told me to leave and that we needed to—”

Anakin cut himself off then, no doubt fearful he’d said too much, but Obi-Wan wasn’t a fool. He knew Padmé had finally set up some boundaries with Anakin. Something Obi-Wan knew he ought to mimic but was too weak to fully commit to.

“She pretends to be on my side - to be an ally - but when has she ever picked me over whatever else she has going on? Hm? Never. It’s always the Senate first, or her friends first, or her duties first. Never me.”

“Are you done?” Obi-Wan asked idly. 

“No.”

Anakin punched the wall.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan watched as bits of rock fell from the wall, a small hole gouged into the solid stone. A mechanical whirling ran out through the room, Anakin’s mechno-arm twitching and spasming. He’d broken his hand. Unable to form any reprimands Obi-Wan remained seated, completely shocked at the sudden violence. 

Anakin stared down at his malfunctioning hand with idle curiosity, watching the fingers move involuntarily before going completely limp. 

“Guess I’ll have to fix it,” Anakin said quietly.

“And my wall while you’re at it,” Obi-Wan added.

Anakin smiled tightly, but Obi-Wan had meant it. 

The force still shuddered around them, Anakin’s disjointed rhythm crashing against Obi-Wan’s resolve. Unsure of what to do to calm Anakin down, Obi-Wan fell back on old routines. Standing he approached the centre of the room, kneeling down on the circular carpet.

“Sit,” he commanded.

“I’m not meditating—” 

“Sit.”

Anakin looked down at Obi-Wan, hesitation flickering in his gaze before he nodded and did as instructed. Sitting across from Obi-Wan, he crossed his legs and threw his broken hand on to his lap with a gruesome thud. Obi-Wan knew Anakin wasn’t bothered by his prosthetic, but Obi-Wan was. It was a physical reminder of incomplete teachings and failed duties. 

“Close your eyes and breathe in, and out. In… and out.”

They fell into a familiar pattern, and Obi-Wan’s mind began to wander.

Padmé had done the right thing, despite Anakin’s ravings. She had picked her role as a senator over her passions. She’d finally set her boundaries - seen Anakin’s actions for what they were: dangerous and destructive. 

Frightening. 

Padmé had done her duty, but could Obi-Wan say the same?

His current actions told him no. He continued to explain away troublesome behaviour, defended inexcusable actions, and lied to the council time and time again. Worst of all, Obi-Wan knew that he’d do it all again, every single time. He’d repeatedly make the same decisions; blur the lines between the two of them until he found it difficult to criticize Anakin’s actions without critiquing himself. He’d compromised the two of them. And no matter how much Obi-Wan lied to himself that what they had - the bond they’d forged - hadn’t gone against the Jedi Code, he knew it was untrue. 

He still remembered Anakin’s words to him after reuniting over a year ago, weeks spent apart on their respective missions. His words heated Obi-Wan through to his very core. I ache for your closeness - for your presence nearby. I’m desperate without you. I’m completely untethered the longer we’re were apart, our force bond not hugging us close, suffocating me in your essence.  

I need you.

Compromised. Obi-Wan had become thoroughly compromised, and worst of all, he’d dragged Anakin into this mess.

“You’re thinking too much.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Anakin staring at him with hooded eyes. He was smiling coyly, head tilting to the side. The sun had begun to set, golden rays of light caressing Anakin’s skin, basking their favoured son in their touch. 

At least the meditation had worked for Anakin.

“You’re calmer now,” Obi-Wan said, more matter of fact than he was feeling. Anakin gone from punching walls, mutilating himself, and outright accusing a woman he loved of treachery and lying, to sitting calmly - almost seductively - on the floor of Obi-Wan’s chambers.

It was irrational. 

It was worrying. 

It was incomprehensibly dangerous.

And it was so achingly Anakin.

“Are you ready to tell me what happened?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“I was telling you—”

“You were ranting, Anakin. I need you to tell me. Calmly.”

Anakin sat up straighter and took a deep breath before speaking. “Senator Amidala was being… accosted by Clovis. I walked in to see him trying to push himself on to her and she was fighting him. So I went to pull him off of her and… things escalated.”

“Escalated how?”

“I… strangled him. Then I hit him. And kept hitting him. Hit him until he couldn’t look at Padmé, couldn’t speak to her, couldn’t touch her. And then Padmé got me to stop. Called security and had Clovis looked after and told me… told me she didn’t want to see me for a while. Didn’t want me coming around anymore.” Anakin stared down at his broken prosthetic, voice low, a tremor just on the edges. “I wanted him dead, Obi-Wan. I wanted to kill him.”

Obi-Wan had gathered that. “But what matter is that you—”

“And I’d have done it, too,” he said, looking up at Obi-Wan sharply and suddenly. Something flashed across his eyes - to fleeting for Obi-Wan to see what it was - before he tilted his head back down in shame. “If it weren’t for Padmé I wouldn’t have stopped myself.”

Obi-Wan thought of Tal Merrik. Poggle the Lesser. Thought of the countless others Anakin had deemed unfit for mercy in any capacity. Thought of the rage Obi-Wan felt within Anakin that always simmered deep below the surface. 

“There is no use thinking in ‘what ifs’. That is a path to madness,” Obi-Wan supplied. Anakin wasn’t looking at him, but Obi-Wan knew he was listening. “What’s matters is that you learn from this. Sometimes you need to reflect fully on your failures no matter how difficult it may be, so that you’re able to act differently the next time. Act in a manner more reflective of your true nature.”

Don’t repeat your mistakes - there’s still time to change the path you’re on.

“She doesn’t even want to speak to me…” 

Obi-Wan sighed. If she is anything like me, she’ll let you back in eventually.

“Give her time.”

Speaking of…

Obi-Wan glanced out the window to see the sun had almost fully set. He had agreed to help Master Shaak Ti with a training exercise. 

“I have to go, Anakin, but I’ll be back soon if you wish to continue to talk.” Please, don’t close yourself off from me. Not again. I promise I’ll never judge you for the thoughts you may have.

Anakin nodded. He was trying not to cry.

At least reality had sunk in. 

Standing, Obi-Wan left his room and headed toward the lecture halls at the other end of the temple. By the time he was finished it was well into the night hours, the sun completely gone, casting the temple in deep blue light and dark shadows. Returning to his room Obi-Wan was only mildly surprised to find Anakin had remained. He was shirtless and sitting at Obi-Wan’s desk, tinkering with his cybernetic arm that remained unmoving. Tools were strewn about on the surface of the desk, many of which Obi-Wan had no idea what they did let alone where they came from.

Obi-Wan didn’t often see Anakin without his mechno-arm unattached. He looked physically vulnerable - weakened. Because of Obi-Wan. 

But mentally Anakin seemed strong. He radiated calm energy, the busyness of his mind quieted for a moment as he prodded at electrical wiring and fiddled with metal clamps. He was in his element.

Approaching quietly, Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, his skin warm and muscles supple under his touch. He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask any questions, simply watched Anakin at work. 

Time passed - Obi-Wan wasn’t sure how long - before Anakin seemed satisfied with his work. Dropping one of the instruments he pushed a button on the underside of the arm and the two watched as it whirled back to life, a shudder going through the cybernetic that emanated a distinct electrical buzz that spoke of life. Anakin tapped each finger tip, watching as they jerked inward before flexing back out. Seemingly content, Anakin picked up the arm and attached it back to his residual one. Obi-Wan stepped back, letting Anakin move his arm around free of constraint.

“How does it feel?” Obi-Wan asked, leaning against the desk as soon as Anakin stopped swinging his arm around wildly.

“Good,” he said. He reached out and took Obi-Wan’s hand in his mechno one, gently holding on to each finger in turn, his touch feather light. Moving upward, his fingers danced across Obi-Wan’s arms before skittering across his thigh and—

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan yelped, jerking away from his touch as he went to grab his groin.

Anakin laughed and pulled his hand back, raising both arms in mock surrender. “Sorry, Master. I must have turned on auto-controls.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. It was good to see him in a good mood. He just hoped it would last.

“It feels good, you know… to fix something,” Anakin continued. He’s lost his smile, but Obi-Wan still felt contentment flowing through their bond. “There’s just so much in this galaxy that I can’t make right, but this—” he waved his hand around “—is something I do have control over. My hand and… other things.”

He looked up at Obi-Wan through thick lashes, head tilted back slightly. His hand returned to Obi-Wan’s leg, but this time Obi-Wan didn’t stop the advancement. 

“Are you insinuating something, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, gasping as the hand crept ever closer, swirling patterns on the inside of his thigh. 

“Admit it, Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered, staring up at Obi-Wan in such a way he thought he might burn up from the intensity of it all, “I’ve compromised you. You’re mine.”

Completely and utterly.  

XXX

Count Dooku was dead.

Obi-Wan hadn’t known how to react to the news. He was a murderer and a traitor, a terrorist and a manipulator. He’d twisted his use of the force to become a monster - defiled the powers in which he was gifted all because of greed. For a chance at power. He was disgusting, a pitiable creature who deserved only contempt.

But he was also a man, full of folly and mistakes that all were guilty of. He’d been a formidable warrior. A worthy opponent. And, no matter how twisted he’d become, he was the last vestiges Obi-Wan had of Master Qui-Gonn. 

Now all of that was gone. 

Anakin had been praised a hero for his actions on the Invisible Hand, and Obi-Wan couldn’t have been prouder of him despite the gnawing sensation that something had happened when he’d been knocked out. There was a tremor behind Anakin’s frivolity - a worry that worked its way into Anakin’s smile and proud shoulders. 

The worry only got worse.

Anakin became irritable - more than he’d been at the best at times - snapping at those he considered friends. He couldn’t stay still for long, pacing back and forth or plucking and pulling at the edges of his robes, tapping his foot on the ground as he sat before rising a short moment later to continue his pacing. And his appearance - usually so youthful and beautiful and invigorated - had become hardened. His skin was sallow, cheeks sunken and hair lank. It looked like a sickness had bore into him, sinking deeper and deeper into his very essence, rotting him from the inside. 

But it was his eyes that concerned Obi-Wan the most. Usually so vibrant and vivid, the blue in his gaze had dimmed, and every now and again Obi-Wan didn’t recognize the person looking back at him, as if a stranger had momentarily walked past, a vile sneer on their face. It chilled Obi-Wan. 

Days passed and Obi-Wan saw less and less of Anakin, but had comforted himself in the knowledge that he was probably just with Padmé - safe and cared for. 

That was until he received a polite - if not curt - request from Senator Amidala to come to her apartment for an important meeting. Alone.

Obi-Wan had to leave a meeting with the Jedi council early to make it on time, asking the council for forgiveness that they had already given. He knew they were worried about him despite his best efforts to hide his fatigue.

Approaching the Senator’s apartment Obi-Wan found he was nervous but was unclear as to why. He’d spent time with Padmé before - known her since she was just a girl. But then again, she’d never been ‘just a girl’, had she? He wondered if she was just as hesitant as he was. Despite the brevity of the message, Obi-Wan knew it was Anakin she wished to discuss. How could it be anything else? 

C-3PO greeted Obi-Wan at the door and led him deeper into Padmé’s - and Anakin’s - space. C-3PO was unusually quiet, his foot patters on the carpet the only noise he made as they approached Padmé. She was sat on a couch but rose when he entered. Obi-Wan was only mildly surprised to see the large bump of her belly beneath loose fitted robes. She was no longer trying to hide her pregnancy. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he felt flattered or concerned at the notion that she’d stopped caring. 

“Obi-Wan, it’s good to see you,” she said, her smile genuine. Obi-Wan bowed before approaching, kissing the top of her hand. She accepted the old-fashioned greeting with grace before indicating he should sit. “Would you like some tea?”

Obi-Wan would have politely declined, but everything had already been carefully laid out and he knew it would be rude to refuse. “Thank you.”

She took her time preparing the tea. Obi-Wan watched her hands as she raised the pot and poured. They were steady and firm in their task, but Obi-Wan could feel her anxiety despite her best efforts. Passing him one of the cups, Obi-Wan breathed in the scent of roasted camellia and Jasmine blossoms, the hint of something stronger at the edges. Obi-Wan wondered if she knew this was one of his favourite kinds. 

Anakin had probably told her.

“I guess there’s no reason to stall any longer,” Padmé said as soon as Obi-Wan had taken a polite sip.

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed, placing his cup down on the table, mindful to keep it within the boundaries of the coaster provided. “Did Anakin… do something?”

Padmé shook her head quickly, loose curls bouncing around her cheeks. “No, it’s nothing like that. Or… no, no it’s not.” She sighed and rested her hands on her stomach projectively. “I’m worried about him. He’s been acting… differently, lately. He’s not been sleeping most nights, and when he does sleep he’s woken by these intense nightmares. He calls them visions.”

“Visions? Can you describe them to me?” Obi-Wan asked gently.

“He says they’re of death. Of my death.”

Obi-Wan knew Anakin saw things in the force that others could not. He’d seen his mother before she died, spoke to Obi-Wan of ‘visions’ that made him wretch when he woke. But he also had just regular nightmares - horrible images he’d confused for visions that did not come to pass. 

“It’s probably just his anxieties bleeding into his dreams,” Obi-Wan said, trying to reassure Padmé.

“That’s what I told him, but he seems unconvinced.” She sighed and chewed her bottom lip for a moment, an uncharacteristically open act. Usually she was so poised - so dignified. But usually she wasn’t speaking about Anakin with Obi-Wan in such an unguarded manner. They both knew - there was no reason for such pretenses anymore. “But there’s more than the dreams. He’s been speaking about the Jedi Council and about the Jedi in general. He’s angry, Obi-Wan, more angry than I've ever seen him before. He thinks he’s being treated unfairly but instead of just speaking his mind and moving on, he begins ranting and I can’t stop him. He thinks you’re all afraid of him, and that you’re holding him back on purpose. I know it isn’t true, but he’s so convinced of it and I just can’t get him to stop obsessing over it.”

Obi-Wan tried not to show his hurt as she explained just how far Anakin’s resentment had gone with regards to their order - their family. Obi-Wan had tried countless times to explain to both Anakin and the Council each others’ reasonings for their behaviour. And each time both sides refused to work together toward a solution, both stalwart in their convictions that they were correct. 

Padmé paused and reached out for her neglected cup of tea. Taking it she drank it all as if to give herself time to compose herself. Obi-Wan had never seen her this impassioned. This scared.

 “He hasn’t been coming around as often. At first I thought he was just with you - it made sense, his absence - but then I had a meeting with fellow senators at Chancellor Palpatine’s office and Anakin was there. We both know they’ve always had a close relationship, but this felt different. Like Anakin was there to protect the Chancellor - from us. From me. I tried to catch his eye throughout the meeting and when I did it was like he wasn’t even there. It was like I was looking at another person. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to reach through to him. It’s like whatever he’s been struggling with all these years - whatever has been plaguing him - is finally taking hold.”

Like the monster had finally won - latched on to Anakin’s throat and dragged him into the brambles.  

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what Padmé wanted. Reassurances that everything would be alright? Someone to tell her that she was overreacting and misinterpreting things? Lies? These were things Obi-Wan could not - would not - give her. She deserved the truth. He deserved it, too. To finally speak aloud the worries and anxieties and intrusive thoughts he’d been having for years. 

“I’ve noticed these things as well,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “Anakin has always struggled, as you say, but never has it been quite this focused. I lose sight of him, sometimes, in the force. He’s always been remarkably able to hide himself away from me when he really wants to, ever since he was young. At first I thought he just needed privacy, but these meetings with Chancellor Palpatine are… concerning.”

Was that where he was, when Obi-Wan couldn’t feel the electric hum of his energies interlinked with his own? Obi-Wan had never trusted Palpatine, but also had no reason not to. For what purpose these engagements were for, Obi-Wan could not tell, but if Padmé was concerned Obi-Wan knew it was serious. 

“I know you two are very close,” she began, picking her words carefully. “I’ve never begrudged your relationship because I know how deeply he needs you, because I need him just as much. Which is why I’m asking you to help. Please, Obi-Wan, I’m desperate. Maybe you can get through to him.”

Obi-Wan wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream into the force until it shouted back and shattered him. I have been trying to get through to him, he thought, It’s all I’ve been trying to do these last fourteen years. He’d been banging against the doors, screaming for Anakin to let him in - let him take away his hurt and pain and agony so as to quiet his mind and soothe his soul. He’d been pulling Anakin from the darker corners of his mind for what seemed like centuries, hands bloodied and cut from the thorns on the brambles, each leaving a scar on Obi-Wan that never healed, only waited to be ripped open once again the next time Anakin slipped - was dragged in by powers neither could fight.

He wanted to tell Padmé to run - to get away before it was too late. Escape with her strength and determination while she still could. Anakin, Obi-Wan - they were lost causes, doomed to spiral into the chasm together. But Padmé and her unborn child could still escape.  

“He’s so precious to this galaxy, Obi-Wan. I know you feel it, too. Please…” she whispered.

But of course she couldn’t walk away. Obi-Wan couldn’t expect that of her. She was falling into the fire with them, her destiny intertwined Anakin’s, same as his.

Obi-Wan nodded. What else could he do?

“Next time I see him I’ll try and talk to him,” Obi-Wan said. His voice sounded unfamiliar to him, and he wondered briefly when he began to sound so weary. 

“Thank you,” she said relief in her voice, her shoulders relaxing. She scooted closer on the couch and took Obi-Wan’s hands in to her own and squeezed, the two holding on to each other like it was the only thing grounding them to this reality. 

“I can’t guarantee anything,” he said. 

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “I was beginning to lose hope, but you’ve just given it back to me.”

XXX

Fate was cruel. It was unkind. It was passionless and void of mercy. And it did not take kindly to meddling.

Obi-Wan had every intention of following through with his promise to speak to Anakin, but then an urgent message had come in. General Grievous had been spotted in the Tarabbas Sector on the planet Utapau. It was time to strike - to hit the last blow on the fractured and weakened Separatists. Obi-Wan had been asked to travel to the area and he could do nothing but agree. He wanted to go - wanted to see an end to the strife that had disrupted his life and the lives of so many others. He knew one death would not fully stop the war, but it was the beginning of the end. 

It was time to end the galaxy wide conflict. It was time for peace.

He had only time to collect a few belongings before the debriefing, and had every intention to head straight for the docking bays when a familiar presence made itself known, like a hand gently holding the back of his neck. So achingly familiar.

Anakin.

His signature in the force was as strong and warm as ever, and it had been so easy to be lulled into reassurances that he was fine - that Anakin was whole and well and going to be okay. They spoke like they used to, walking the halls of the temple, taking their time despite knowing they were needed elsewhere. It would have been so easy to let Padmé’s concerns blow away like smoke in the wind while he was in Anakin’s comforting presence. They said their goodbyes, neither knowing the significance of such a small act.

When I return, Obi-Wan thought, both as promised both himself and to Padmé. When this war is done and we have time to breathe, we will talk. 

But fate had other ideas. 

Obi-Wan returned to misery and grief. To fires burning in the halls of a sanctuary that had been defiled and desecrated. He returned to the stench of death and betrayal, of a fractured and broken society that screamed in agony as it was mercilessly put down by bloodied, dirty hands. Obi-Wan stepped over the bodies of his brethren. Of traitorous clones. Of small, innocent children, whose only fault had been to trust a fallen Jedi Knight.

Taking strength from Master Yoda, Obi-Wan hurried to Padmé’s apartment, desperate to find her safe so he could apologize - for his failures and his broken promises, desperate to be absolved even though he knew what he’d done was unforgivable. He had failed them all so terribly. 

And He still had hope tucked away on Padmé’s ship - another deception to add to the pile - that perhaps there was still a chance. That if he tried just a little harder he’d be able to reach Anakin. That despite the blood on his hands it could still be washed off; that he could be redeemed of the choices he had made. But then Obi-Wan felt him through the force one last time - felt the rage and the fury and the white-hot madness that coursed through him, and knew it was too late.

Anakin had burned too bright until it had consumed him - torn at his flesh and ripped himself apart in a bid for release from whatever stalked him all his life. The darkness had won. There could be no redemption. No happy endings.

In the end, all that was left was them - master and padawan, friends and battle brothers, lovers and soul mates - destine to be intertwined in all manner. 

Even in death. 

XXX

A soft sigh. 

The gentle trill of birds.

The scent of wet earth and heady spices from nearby blossoms.

And the ghost of a smile pressed against his cheek, warm to the touch.

“I remember this place.”

“I took you here, long ago. Back when we first became master and padawan.”

“It feels like forever ago.”

“Perhaps it was. Or perhaps it was just yesterday. Is time really something we can measure, or simply a device we came up with so we wouldn’t go mad?”

Anakin laughed, bright and fierce, but tinged the barest hint of hysteria.

“Don’t speak in riddles, old man.”

Obi-Wan smiled and opened his eyes. Anakin was stood next to him, hands on his hips as he stared out across the way. He looked beautiful, the sun on his face, eyes shut as he breathed in the scents of life. The cloak of grief had been shed, his shoulders pulled back and chin tilted up. 

He looked a boy of twenty, ready to live. 

“We should come here more often,” Anakin said after a time. 

Obi-Wan sat on the ground and closed his eyes. Anakin joined him, the two locking hands in the grass. They met was one, breathed as one, remained as one. The sun dipped below the banks of the expanding river, dripping its golden light into the water below as the sky pulled on her cloak and cast the galaxy in darkness. 

Obi-Wan knew he would never see the sun again. It had long since burned up, died in a glorious, horrifying mess, ripped asunder from within. 

A chill crept across Obi-Wan’s skin and he opened his eyes to see Anakin in front of him, hungry golden eyes staring at him through the dark. His cheeks were sunken, hair lank, a dark shroud draped over his hunched shoulders. 

He looked a boy of twenty-two, ready to die. 

Shadows played across his features then, twisting him, molding him, making him into something new. 

Someone had stolen his face. 

“You’re afraid,” the impostor whispered.

“Perhaps.”

“That was always your problem, wasn’t it? Your fear. Fear of failure; fear of letting people down; fear of disobeying the code.” The impostor crawled toward Obi-Wan and climbed on to his lap with familiar grace. “But most of all, you were afraid of me.”

Obi-Wan laughed, deep and low as the impostor’s cybernetic hand slowly closed around his throat. 

“That’s not true,” Obi-Wan whispered. The impostor tilted his head to the side, a mimicry of curiosity. “I was afraid of what I knew I had to do, and I was afraid of being unable to do it. I was afraid of my own follies - my own desires and jealousies and attachments. I was never afraid of you, dear Anakin. I was afraid of myself.” 

Obi-Wan woke with a start. Sitting up quickly he grabbed his throat, phantom steel pressing painfully against his skin. It took him a while to quiet his mind - to convince himself that he was in no danger. At least for now.  

Dropping his hand once he was sure - was completely certain - that he’d shaken off whatever had followed him through the force, Obi-Wan lay back down on his small cot and stared up at the patterned ceiling of the cave, counting the different layers calmly. All the while golden eyes watched from a perch just behind Obi-Wan’s vision - always just behind. 

The smell of earth and life still clung to him, and he chased the feeling for as long as he could before the dry, heat-sick scent of the desert took over. 

His mind wandered. He thought of cool marble beneath his feet. Of rain against his skin. Of the touch of a reverent lover deep in supplication.

And Obi-Wan thought of the day by the river in Naboo. How the water reflected light on the features of such an innocent boy, his hair freshly shorn and cheeks scrubbed clean. Something had called to him that day - something deep and primordial which spoke of things to come and deeds to be carried out, dark and dangerous and unrelenting in their inevitability.

Obi-Wan thought of that day and how he could have stopped it all right then. Taken the child in his arms and jumped - together - into the current; allowed the rush of the water to carry them over the edge and down the falls, into the rocks below. Down, down, down. Falling into the brambles together until there was nothing left - not even a whisper.

He could have ended things there before they’d ever begun. 

He could have saved everyone from grief and death and misery. 

He could have snuffed out the supernova before it swallowed the galaxy whole in pitiable rage.

But instead he’d loved both the boy and the monster far too much, and in doing so doomed them all.