Work Text:
Anakin is fourteen, and there is a round, white pendant the size of a small egg resting on the palm of his outstretched hand.
"What is that, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asks, polite, but making no move to reach after Anakin's offering.
"A gift," Anakin replies, eager and shy all at once. "For you."
Obi-Wan sighs. Sometimes he cannot help but wonder if anything he says ever reaches Anakin. "Jedi do not have possessions," Obi-Wan recites dutifully. He is starting to bore himself with constant repetitions. "You know this. Or you should, considering how many times I have already said it."
"This is a gift ," Anakin insists, as if there is a distinction between the two. As if it matters. "You can't refuse a gift."
Obi-Wan certainly can. But he knows better than to say so to Anakin. This… matters to Anakin, for whatever reason. Quite a lot, if the fierce gleam in his eyes is any indication.
Swallowing a sigh, Obi-Wan picks the pendant off of Anakin's palm. Sometimes, admitting defeat is the wiser course of action. That is one lesson Obi-Wan had learned well after taking Anakin as his Padawan.
"Thank you, Anakin."
The explosion of joy coming from Anakin is loud and unconstrained, grating against Obi-Wan's senses.
"Shields, Anakin," Obi-Wan warns, frowning. "That could have been felt by everyone in the Temple."
"Sorry, Master," Anakin says, glancing down. "It won't happen again."
Obi-Wan knows it is an empty promise, although not a lie. Anakin is an eager and talented student, fiercely dedicated, but control still remains largely elusive to him.
"Do you like it? I made it myself."
Obi-Wan glances down at the pendant in his hand, brushing a finger across its smooth surface. "What is it made from?" Obi-Wan asks, turning the pendant around.
"Japor wood," Anakin replies. "It is tradition."
"Tradition?" Obi-Wan says, glancing up.
"On Tatooine," Anakin says, shuffling in place and picking at the end of his sleeve. "You carve a piece of japor wood and give it as a gift to your family. Or friends."
"Ah. I see," Obi-Wan says, smiling faintly.
Anakin's face falls. "You don't like it," he says glumly.
"No. I-- It is beautiful, Anakin. Thank you."
Anakin's expression brightens immediately. "I drilled a hole in it so you could wear it as a necklace." His face twists with regret. "I wanted to make a chain for it. Silver, maybe, or polished durasteel, but I didn't have enough time."
Obi-Wan blinks, confused. "Time? For what?"
Anakin gives him an incredulous look. "Your name day, of course. Don't- Don't you know it is today?"
Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow. "I do, but the better question is how is it that you know it."
Anakin freezes, his eyes growing large. Obi-Wan swallows an exasperated sigh. Anakin could not have looked guiltier if he had tried.
"Padawan?" Obi-Wan says. "I believe you have something to say."
Anakin bows his head."I sliced into your records," Anakin says in the tone of someone who doesn't regret the misdeed but very much regrets having been caught.
Obi-Wan takes a deep breath. And releases it slowly. "Have you left any evidence?"
Anakin snaps his head up, startled. "What evidence?"
"Of your illegal entry into protected files."
"Why?" Anakin asks, his brow creasing with suspicion.
"So I won't be caught unprepared should it be necessary that I lie to Jocasta Nu."
Anakin's bewildered expression is a reward on it's own. Sadly, it lasts only a moment.
"No, I didn't," Anakin says, a trace of smugness curling in the corner of his mouth. But it is the expression of near wonder in his eyes that snags Obi-Wan's attention. "Master, would you really-"
Obi-Wan stops him with a raised hand. "You are never to repeat this. I do not care how valid a reason you believe you have. Is that clear, Anakin?"
Anakin's expression turns sullen. "Yes, Master."
"As for your punishment," Obi-Wan says, watching a flash of alarm cross Anakin's face. "You will spend the next month volunteering in the Archives."
"But, Master-"
"Two months," Obi-Wan interjects, voice flat. Anakin snaps his mouth shut, glaring at Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan returns it with a level look. A beat passes, followed by another, and another. Then, Anakin's shoulders fall, and he looks away.
"Yes, Master," Anakin says, sounding as if the words pain him.
Obi-Wan sighs, his gaze flicking down to the pendant in his hand. Frowning, he brings it up to eye level, studying the intricate symbols carved painstakingly into the wood.
Such a simple, unassuming thing. But it was obviously made with a great deal of effort and patience.
And affection.
Something warm curls inside Obi-Wan's chest. He glances at Anakin, still standing in sullen silence a step away.
"Are you done with your coursework?"
"Yes, Master," Anakin says, looking somewhere over Obi-Wan's shoulder.
Obi-Wan barely manages to stop himself from smirking. "Then you can come with me to Dex's. That is if you want."
Anakin's eyes light up instantly, his mood brightening. "Yes, Master. I just need a minute."
Anakin turns and breaks into a run. Obi-Wan shakes his head but refrains from rebuking him, his gaze once again drawn to the pendant.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan calls after him, tracing the central carving with the pad of his thumb. "Is there a meaning to the symbols?"
For a moment there is no reply. Obi-Wan lifts his gaze, finding Anakin almost at the door, frozen in spot.
"Anakin?" Obi-Wan says, suddenly feeling a mix of uncertainty and restlessness. As if something momentous is about to happen.
"Yes," Anakin says over his shoulder. "There are many symbols. Each has a different meaning."
"Oh," Obi-Wan says, trying but failing to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest. "So what does mine mean?"
Anakin hesitates for a long moment. "Luck," he says finally. "Yours means luck."
The next moment, Anakin is gone, doors whooshing closed after him.
Obi-Wan gazes down at the pendant, smiling ruefully. "There is no such thing as luck," he whispers to the empty room, his chest still feeling tight, and getting tighter with each inhale.
Anakin is fifteen, and Obi-Wan is glaring at a locked door to Anakin's room, feeling more like a character from a silly holodrama than a Jedi Knight.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan says, somehow managing to keep his voice steady and calm. "I need you to stop acting like a youngling, and open this door."
Nothing happens. Obi-Wan drags his fingers through his hair, feeling frustration mount inside his chest.
"Anakin, this is ridiculous," Obi-Wan says, and starts pacing in front of Anakin's room. He forces himself to stop after a few paces. He takes a deep, grounding breath, then exhales it slowly. "I am willing to overlook your behavior if you come out and offer a suitable explanation."
Obi-Wan waits a moment, then tries again. "If this is about having left you behind, I have already explained. You-"
Obi-Wan cuts himself off when he hears the distinct hiss of the door opening. It is followed closely by the heavy sound of Anakin's footsteps.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan says when Anakin comes up to him. Much to his dismay, he sounds relieved, and not stern. "What-"
"Here," Anakin bites out, slapping a hand - palm open - against Obi-Wan's chest. "You forgot this."
Obi-Wan blinks, far too perplexed by Anakin's bizarre behavior to summon true indignation. His gaze flicks down to Anakin's hand, then back up to his face. "Forgot? Forgot what? Honestly, Anakin, I have no idea what you're talking about."
" This ," Anakin hisses, his voice drenched with vitriol. He pushes hard at Obi-Wan's chest with his hand, only to pull it back in the next moment.
Obi-Wan, dismayed as he is, almost misses it. Later, he would not be able to tell whether it had been the Force or something else that had made him catch it before it could hit the ground.
"You could've let it drop, it's not made of glass," Anakin says, his mouth twisting bitterly. But it is raw misery, seeping through the cracks in Anakin's shields, that snags Obi-Wan's entire attention. "Not that it matters to you."
Anakin goes silent, staring at Obi-Wan with a cold, hard gaze. "You've never had any intention of wearing it, right, Master?"
Obi-Wan has no answer to Anakin's question. He doesn't even understand the question.
In the end, it doesn't even matter. Without a glance at him, Anakin walks past Obi-Wan and out of the room.
Bewildered, Obi-Wan opens his hand, hoping for a semblance of sense, an explanation as to what has happened in the three days he's been away from Coruscant, and finding only a humble wooden pendant.
Anakin is sixteen, and Obi-Wan swallows a curse as he slowly peels the fabric of his undershirt off the wound on his side.
Grimacing, Obi-Wan inspects the wound: much deeper than he'd originally thought, and still bleeding sluggishly, the raised edges showing first signs of inflammation.
All in all, not the worst wound he'd ever received. Nothing bacta will not stabilize until Obi-Wan receives professional medical attention.
Obi-Wan can easily imagine Vokara's reaction to seeing Obi-Wan once again in the Halls of Healing. Maybe this time she will make good on her promise to keep him there for two weeks.
If Obi-Wan manages to survive long enough to get back to Coruscant, considering his Padawan has yet to return with bacta.
There is something Obi-Wan could try. Something risky considering how depleted his Force reserve is.
Well. They do say that desperate times call for desperate measures.
Hissing out a breath, Obi-Wan presses a palm over his wound. He hesitates a moment, bracing himself, then sends a brief burst of healing energy into the wound.
It nearly knocks him out.
Obi-Wan hunches forward, grasping the edge of the cot with both hands, breathing raggedly.
All right, I will not be repeating that.
Swallowing thickly, Obi-Wan straightens, but keeps his white-knuckled grip on the cot.
Obi-Wan glances down at his wound, a breath of relief dragging out of his throat at the sight of a clear wound, with no signs of infection.
Thankfully, Obi-Wan's gamble with the Force healing has, more or less, paid off. Though, without bacta it will amount to nothing in the long run.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan calls, the pain turning his voice sandpaper rough. "Do take your time. It isn't like I am bleeding here."
The heavy sound of running footsteps is followed by Anakin bursting into the room, a medical kit in his hand.
"Sorry, Master," he says, breathless. Obi-Wan has heard him utter those words far too many times, but this time there is no doubt of their truthfulness. "I had to check the entire place."
Anakin plops down onto the cot, his expression twisting with anger and helplessness. There is a large bruise on his forehead, and a gash on his right cheek, but other than that Anakin seems unharmed. "There's nothing useful in this kriffing ruin."
Obi-Wan glances briefly at their… austere surroundings consisting of peeling walls and rotting furniture, forcing his mouth into a smile. "Try to remain positive, Anakin. It does have walls and almost an entire roof. And a distinct lack of people shooting at us."
Anakin gives him a heated glare but says nothing, focusing instead on rummaging through the medical kit. Which is surprisingly up to date, considering the state of the place. Sadly, more than half of its content is missing.
Obi-Wan shifts, grimacing as sharp pain shoots up from his wound. "Where did you find it?"
Anakin doesn't pause, nor look up, his expression drawn tight as he goes through the medical supplies. "Down in the basement. It was lying on the floor, like someone had dropped it in a hurry," Anakin says, distracted. He lets out a soft sound of relief as he pulls out a small jar of bacta gel.
Obi-Wan frowns, thoughtful. "Perhaps we are not the first to hide in this place from the local regime. It makes for a good hiding place, considering its location. We were fortunate to find it ourselves."
Anakin pulls out the last of the supplies, then gives their surroundings a look of disgust. "Yeah, very fortunate."
Obi-Wan allows Anakin's comment to slide, peering down at their small pile of medical equipment. "Well, it looks like we have everything we need."
"Just not a lot of it," Anakin says, glumly, eying the pile of bandages and patches as if it had personally offended him.
"We have enough," Obi-Wan says, managing to keep his voice light despite the sharp, pulsating pain in his side. "Just don't get shot, and we will be fine."
" You shouldn't have gotten shot," Anakin exclaims, distraught, the Force shimmering with the heat of his emotions. He looks away, clenching his hand into a fist. "We never should have come to this place. This whole mission was a disaster from the start."
Obi-Wan places his hand on Anakin's shoulder, wincing faintly when it pulls at his wound. "We could not have known it from the beginning. The appeal from the governor seemed legitimate," Obi-Wan says, mildly. Anakin lets out a derisive noise, turning his head aside. Obi-Wan sighs, squeezing Anakin's shoulder. "A civil war has raged on this planet for the last twenty years. Even the smallest of chances of aiding in the peace talks was worth coming here."
Anakin whips his head back, his eyes blazing. "Nothing is worth you dying. Nothing ."
Obi-Wan frowns and pulls back his hand, perturbed by the strength of Anakin's conviction. "That is not the way of the Jedi, Anakin. We are meant to serve the greater good. With our lives if need be."
Anakin clenches his jaw, looking torn. "I know, Master. But I-" Anakin breaks off, his voice cracking, his expression that of pure misery.
"Well, I am not dead yet," Obi-Wan says after a moment, taking pity on Anakin. Himself as well. This conversation is going to be difficult even without the constant blazing pain. "And you, Padawan, are going to make certain I remain among the living."
Anakin nods, determination written plainly across his face. "Yes, Master."
Obi-Wan shifts to the side to give Anakin better access to his wound, releasing a hissing breath.
Anakin's expression turns pained. As if Obi-Wan's pain hurts him as well.
"You need something for the pain," Anakin states, looking around the room as if something that would help will materialize out of thin air.
Obi-Wan gives him an impatient look. "I don't need anything for the pain, I have the Force to aid me. Just clean and dress the wound, Anakin."
"I will not hurt you, Master," Anakin says, still scanning the room.
Obi-Wan presses his mouth into a tight line. "Must you second guess-"
"A-ha!" Anakin exclaims victoriously, shooting up to his feet, and striding hurriedly across the room.
Obi-Wan sighs, staring resignedly at Anakin's back as he rummages through Obi-Wan's discarded clothes, left on the small, relatively undamaged cabinet.
"I know you keep painkillers on you since that time on Dantooine," Anakin says without turning around. "I can't believe you-" Anakin cuts himself off suddenly, his entire body going deathly still.
Even the Force goes unnaturally quiet, like a calm before the storm.
"Anakin?" Obi-Wan says, voice careful. He briefly considers standing up, but discards the idea. Further aggravating his wound will not help either of them. "Is something wrong?"
Anakin turns slowly, holding Obi-Wan's belt in one hand, and in the other-
"You kept it," Anakin says, reverent, glancing between Obi-Wan and the pendant in his hand, the Force around him feeling brighter and warmer by the second. "I thought you threw it away."
Obi-Wan drags a hand across his face, managing not to flinch at the subsequent flash of pain. "I wouldn't do that," Obi-Wan says quietly. And it is the truth. Obi-Wan doesn't particularly believe in luck, and especially not the kind a carved piece of wood could bring. But he cannot deny a certain sense of comfort the pendant brings him. Comfort he means to keep. Even if it goes against his better judgement. "Even a Jedi needs luck occasionally."
Anakin is seventeen, and Obi-Wan is standing in a stream, with water rising up to his waist. He is dressed in nothing but his underclothes, washing mud off of himself.
"You know, Anakin," Obi-Wan calls over his shoulder, scrubbing at his chest. "I think that good luck charm of yours is malfunctioning. This is the third consecutive diplomatic mission we've been on that has ended with someone trying to kill us."
There is no reply, just the soft splash that accompanies a body moving through water.
"Are you certain you have carved the right symbols?"
"Yes," comes Anakin's low reply, followed by a hand settling on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I am certain."
"Well, then-" Obi-Wan starts, but the words die on his lips when he turns around, meeting Anakin's heated gaze.
Anakin is standing close - far too close - to him, his eyes trailing across Obi-Wan's naked chest, leaving tendrils of heat in their wake. He strokes Obi-Wan's upper arm with the back of his hand. It is a soft, almost reverent touch, nothing like the look in his eyes.
And then Anakin's hand stills, turns, his fingers closing around Obi-Wan's bicep, his touch no longer a caress but a grip; proprietary and possessive.
Obi-Wan swallows, his throat feeling sandpaper rough. "Anakin," Obi-Wan says, then stops abruptly, as if there are no other words beyond that name.
Anakin moves closer, reducing the space between them, until heat is the only thing Obi-Wan is aware of. Heat of Anakin's gaze, his breath, his skin and the blazing fire of Anakin's desire in the Force.
An image flashes before Obi-Wan's mind's eye. It is of himself and Anakin, naked skin against naked skin, Obi-Wan's back arched and mouth open in silent pleasure as Anakin drags his lips down Obi-Wan's abdomen, going lower, and lower-
The image cracks, then shatters entirely, as something bitter and angry crackles in the air between them.
"Did you sleep with her?" Anakin asks, voice gruff, digging his fingers into Obi-Wan's skin.
Obi-Wan cannot say what causes the flare of indignation that rises up inside him, cutting through the haze around his mind: Anakin's grip on his arm, or the sheer impudence of his question.
Obi-Wan grabs onto it, and doesn't let go. Doesn't dare let go.
Obi-Wan levels Anakin with a hard stare, frustrated more than ever by the fact that Anakin is now taller than him. "That is no concern of yours, Padawan ."
Anakin's eyes flash darkly, his breath leaving his mouth on a sharp exhale. "So you did," Anakin says, his voice wavering. Desperation flickers across his face, his grip on Obi-Wan's arm tightening to the point of pain. "Why? What does she have that I don't?"
For a brief, surreal moment Obi-Wan finds himself completely at a loss for words. His thoughts crash against each other as Obi-Wan tries to reconcile the image of the nine-year-old boy with a sunshine smile with the intense, forceful youth standing in front of him, upending Obi-Wan's carefully structured world with each desperate word.
Then, the moment passes, and reality reasserts itself. But it is no longer the same reality.
"Release me, Anakin," Obi-Wan commands, his voice as hard as durasteel. For one terrible second, Obi-Wan doesn't think Anakin will listen.
But Anakin does. Slowly, reluctantly, as if it pains him to let go of Obi-Wan. But he does. He does.
Holding Anakin's gaze unblinkingly, Obi-Wan releases a deep breath. And takes a step back.
Anakin winces as if hit, his expression twisting miserably. But he stays silent and still. Waiting.
"First off," Obi-Wan says, keeping his voice carefully blank. "I haven't slept with Senator Bassti."
Anakin's eyes flicker with something very much like hope. It withers under Obi-Wan's icy glare. "I am giving you this information not because you are entitled to it, but because I have chosen to do so. First, and only time."
Pausing, Obi-Wan drags his fingers through his wet hair, frowning when they come out dirty. He swallows back a laugh, suddenly hit with the absurdity of his current situation: he is having one of the most difficult and most important conversations of his life, wet and nearly naked, with mud drying in his hair.
Anakin gives him a confused look that quickly morphs into that of stubborn resolve.
Obi-Wan knows that look. Has grown to dread it. But he had also learned to deal with it.
"I will not sleep with you, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, his voice surprisingly steady despite… everything.
Anakin blinks, then frowns. A myriad of emotions are chasing each other across his face. He shifts his weight, looking torn between two opposing impulses, the water lapping at Obi-Wan's waist at the movement.
"Why?" Anakin says finally, sounding petulant.
Obi-Wan gives him an incredulous look. "There are so many reasons, I hardly know where to start."
"Can I try to guess?" Anakin asks, but doesn't wait for a reply. Not that Obi-Wan expected him to. "I am too young. You are too old. I am your Padawan. We are Jedi."
Obi-Wan's brow creases at the way Anakin says the word 'Jedi'. As if it were a curse. Or, perhaps, the biggest reason Obi-Wan is saying 'no'.
"Is that all? Or am I forgetting something?" Anakin says, challenge sparking in his eyes.
Obi-Wan's mouth quirks into a mirthless smile, amused by the irony of Anakin's speculation. He is, of course, not wrong. The reasons he's named are all true and valid. But there is another one.
You are far too dear to me, to ever take advantage of you.
"Those are the major ones, yes," Obi-Wan says, keeping his voice light, as if that will lessen the gravity of their conversation. "Honestly, Anakin, even just one of those reasons should be enough for you. That -" Obi-Wan inclines his head in the direction of Anakin's braid, now hanging well past Anakin's shoulder, "if nothing else."
Anakin straightens fully, aggravation coming off of him in thick waves. "I know you're my Master, that's not going to change. It's not like you'll lecture me less if you fuck me."
" Language , Anakin," Obi-Wan snaps, agitated. At Anakin, for his impertinence, but more at himself. For the unwanted spark of heat low in his abdomen.
Obi-Wan dips a hand in the water, then drags it across his face, welcoming the cooling touch of water on his skin. And very much ignoring the way Anakin's gaze seems to follow the droplets of water as they slide down Obi-Wan's neck.
"I know you think differently now," Obi-Wan says after a moment, once he is certain of his control over himself. "But one day, when you are older and with a Padawan of your own, you will understand."
"I am not a child," Anakin demands.
Obi-Wan's gaze flicks briefly down to Anakin's shoulders, and the dip of his collarbone, and back up. No, Anakin certainly doesn't look like a child. But the width of his shoulders doesn't make him a man.
"You know what is generally a good indication that someone is not a child?" Obi-Wan says. He feels… weary, all of a sudden. Physically, mentally, emotionally. And in dire need of meditation.
Anakin frowns. "What?"
"They don't have to insist on it," Obi-Wan says, flatly.
Without another word, Obi-Wan turns around, and starts wading through the water on his way back to the bank. He half expects Anakin to try and stop him, or at least get in the last word. But Anakin still manages to surprise him.
"Obi-Wan," Anakin says, voice quiet.
The sound of his given name stops Obi-Wan more surely than if Anakin had used the Force. But he doesn't turn around.
"I may be a child to you but I know exactly what I want," Anakin says, his voice unusually calm. Almost solemn. "Can you say the same?"
Obi-Wan doesn't say a thing. His silence is as good of an answer.
Anakin is eighteen, and Obi-Wan is leaning against a counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Anakin stalk forward, his eyes set unerringly on Obi-Wan.
It would have been a ridiculous situation were it not for the tightening in Obi-Wan's chest; caused by a memory of standing in a stream on a backwater planet in the Outer Rim, and listening to his Padawan admitting to wanting to sleep with Obi-Wan.
Fuck , an insidious voice whispers inside Obi-Wan's mind. He'd said 'fuck'.
Obi-Wan clears his throat. "Anakin. I haven't expected you to be back yet. You were supposed to be out with your friends."
"It is my eighteenth name day," Anakin announces as if that provides an explanation, and not raises more questions. He sidesteps the half-assembled cleaning droid, without taking his gaze off Obi-Wan. His steps are unhurried but sure, his trajectory leading to a single possible destination in the narrow kitchenette: Obi-Wan. "On Tatooine, that is the day a boy becomes a man."
"Congratulations," Obi-Wan says. "It sounds like an occasion for celebration. One lasting more than--" Obi-Wan glances at his chrono, "--hour and a half."
Anakin shrugs, finally coming to a halt barely a step away from Obi-Wan. "I am exactly where I want to be."
Obi-Wan sighs, throwing a mournful look at the kettle, the water in it only just starting to boil. He hesitates a second, not yet ready to relinquish his plan for a quiet, relaxed night. Then, with a flick of a finger, he turns off the stove.
This conversation has been hanging over them since that day on Kossi, a silent but persistent presence, coloring each word, each look, and each touch with an undercurrent of heated tension.
Obi-Wan is somewhat surprised Anakin has managed to restrain himself this long. Or, perhaps, he has merely been waiting.
Waiting for this exact day to come. Anakin may detest the planet of his birth, but he cannot let go of his roots.
Anakin has never been good at letting go.
Obi-Wan straightens, aware of the ever increasing difference in height between them. Difference Anakin is now using, consciously or not, to loom over Obi-Wan.
"Be that as it may," Obi-Wan says dryly. "I seem to remember teaching you about the value of personal space. You, however, seem to have forgotten all about it."
Anakin huffs out an impatient breath, but takes a step back. Only a step. "There. Are you satisfied now?"
Obi-Wan presses his mouth into a tight line, giving Anakin an annoyed glare. "I would have been, were it not for my plan for tonight being derailed."
Anakin blinks. And then he smiles, somehow managing to achieve a balance between smug and soft. "You don't have to be afraid."
Obi-Wan lets out a noise of distaste."I am as far from afraid as I can possibly be, Anakin." He pauses to pinch the bridge of his nose, and quell the urge to shake a semblance of sense into Anakin. "I am, however, disappointed to have to go through this... discussion with you yet again."
Anakin's smile falters, then fades. Only to be replaced by a stubborn set of Anakin's jaw. "Some things have changed since the last time. I'm a man now, not the boy you took in nine years ago."
Obi-Wan simply stares at Anakin, incredulous. "It's been only five months since then. Five blasted months , Anakin," Obi-Wan exclaims, gesturing helplessly. He feels an almost overwhelming need to pace, to give an outlet to the tension gathering inside his chest, but he is quite literally backed into a corner, caught between the kitchen counter and Anakin, who is blocking the narrow exit. "Legally, you may be an adult now, but that changes nothing. You are my Padawan and I am still sixteen years your senior."
"I won't be your Padawan forever," Anakin insists, confidence pouring from his words. "Soon, I'll be ready for the Trials."
"I will be the judge of that, Padawan ," Obi-Wan says, sharply, folding his arms across his chest. "Not you."
Anakin's expression twists with helpless frustration and yearning. "Why do you have to make this so kriffing difficult? Why can't you just-" Anakin's voice cracks, and he looks away.
Obi-Wan unfolds his hands, but manages to stifle the urge to reach out and soothe the tension from his shoulders. To calm the storm raging inside him. But he cannot, not this time.
Not in the way Anakin wants him to.
"This is not a negotiation, Anakin. It has never been," Obi-Wan says. He aims his voice to be stern, but it comes out weary, resigned. "There is no list of demands, no requirements you need to meet. Just a truth you need to accept. The sooner you do so, the better will be for both of us."
Anakin flinches. Something dark flashes in his eyes, and disappears just as quickly.
"I remember everything about that day, everything you said," Anakin says with quiet intensity, eyes fixed on Obi-Wan's. Obi-Wan keeps himself still, keeps his shields tight. But it is difficult. A lot more than Obi-Wan is comfortable admitting. Even to himself. "Every stupid reason you gave. But you never said you didn't want me. You still haven't said it."
Obi-Wan's throat goes dry, but he manages to keep his expression neutral. Anakin is telling the truth, he realizes. Obi-Wan has said plenty about why he shouldn't be with Anakin. And not a single word why he doesn't want to.
"If I say it now, will it be enough for you?" Obi-Wan says, his voice steady and calm. And nothing but an illusion. "Will you let go of this silly infatuation once and for all?"
Obi-Wan could say the words. Easily. Would say them if need be. But it won't make them true.
"You're a good liar, Master," Anakin says, his mouth twisting bitterly. "But I'm not interested in listening to your lies."
Obi-Wan narrows his eyes. "Careful, Anakin. You are treading dangerous ground."
"And you're a coward," Anakin bites out, eyes flashing as he takes a step forward, his hands clenched tight. "So afraid of attachment you're willing to punish us both."
Obi-Wan takes a deep breath, but it does little to calm the anger that is rising inside him. Anger at Anakin's insolence, defiance and stubbornness.
And a rare, but unfortunate moment of perfect insight: Obi-Wan is a coward. Has been for a while now. But he would rather be a coward than walk the path Anakin wants him to. Path that leads nowhere but to their mutual ruin.
Anakin refuses to see it. Obi-Wan cannot afford such willful blindness.
"Anakin, remember yourself," Obi-Wan snaps, voice sharp. "I am your master. You will show me respect."
Anakin flinches as if hit, his eyes widening.
Obi-Wan expects an explosion of temper. Expects fierce scowls and loud, accusing words. For the first time, Obi-Wan wishes that Anakin loses control. That is something Obi-Wan knows how to deal with.
But it is not anger, nor is it defiance Obi-Wan sees written across Anakin's face, plain as day. And it changes everything.
"What I feel for you isn't infatuation but love," Anakin says, the words leaving his mouth on a rush of breath. As if he couldn't contain them inside himself anymore. Words that are declaration and an offer, but not demand. "I've been in love with you for years. And I will love you until my last breath."
Obi-Wan knows it to be true. Every frightening, dangerous, impossible word. He cannot even attempt to deny it. Not here, not now. Not when Obi-Wan can feel the truth of it, burning brightly in the Force, curling around him: a warm, protective embrace of pure light.
Obi-Wan doesn't know what to do. What to say. How to make everything right. More than ever in his life, he feels lost.
A soft brush of fingers against his cheek drags him back to reality. It is a light, gentle, undemanding touch. Almost reverent. And Obi-Wan's first - honest, unguarded - impulse is to lean into it.
Before Obi-Wan could do something exceptionally unwise, Anakin pulls his hand back. Something hollow and aching twists inside Obi-Wan's chest. Something he can see reflected on Anakin's face.
"Good night, Obi-Wan," Anakin says softly. Then, without giving Obi-Wan a chance to say something, he turns and walks away.
Anakin is nineteen, and Obi-Wan is standing under a relative shelter of a building entrance, watching Anakin stand in the rain, arms spread and head tipped back.
Anakin had used to do this often when he'd been younger. Obi-Wan can recall the first time he'd done it: he was nine, dressed in his sleeping clothes, and standing at the entrance to the Temple.
Anakin is no longer a boy, no longer Obi-Wan's Padawan, and he is dressed in the robes of a Jedi Knight, but he is beckoning Obi-Wan to join him, just as he had done on that day years ago.
"Come on, Obi-Wan," Anakin calls, grinning, his expression that of unrestrained joy. There has always been something untamed about him. A side Obi-Wan could not reach, or even fully understand. "Don't tell me General Kenobi is afraid to get wet?"
Obi-Wan glances up at the seemingly endless stretch of buildings, then back at Anakin. "This is Coruscant, Anakin. That rain you are enjoying is far from sanitary." Obi-Wan's mouth presses into a tight line at the mention of the title that's been thrust upon him. Along with the majority of the Jedi. Including Anakin. "I would hate to fall I'll from some yet to be discovered bacteria, and deprive the Separatists the chance to kill me in battle."
Anakin straightens, his expression hardening. He jogs up to Obi-Wan, joining him in the building entrance.
"No one will kill you, Master," Anakin says, voice grave. "I won't allow it."
Obi-Wan smiles faintly. "That is not a promise you can keep," Obi-Wan says. Then, before Anakin can argue, he taps the pouch on his belt. "Besides, I have my trusted good luck charm with me at all times."
Force shimmers briefly with the echo of Anakin's satisfaction and pride. And something else, heated and intimate that sends an involuntary shiver down Obi-Wan's spine.
"You really should start calling me by my given name," Obi-Wan says, smiling. "After all, we are equals now."
"I will," Anakin says. Then, after a beat, his eyes light up with a mischievous glint. "Master."
Obi-Wan sighs and shakes his head, but his heart feels light for the first time in a long while. It is a momentary reprieve, that much Obi-Wan knows, but certainly a welcome one.
Obi-Wan takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. The usual noise of Coruscanti nightlife is quieter here in the Lower Levels, so the only sounds he can hear are the rhythmic patter of rain and Anakin's steady breaths.
There is enough space for at least one person in the building's entrance, and yet Anakin is standing close to Obi-Wan, radiating heat and smelling like rainwater and, beneath that, a heavy, spicy perfume. Probably from that Twi'lek singer Anakin had been dancing with.
Obi-Wan is far from drunk. But he is not fully sober. If he were, he would care more about the fact that wearing Jedi robes in the Lower Levels means target as much as it means warning. And care less about the warmth emanating from Anakin despite his soaked robes.
"Obi-Wan?"
"Yes?" Obi-Wan says, reluctantly opening his eyes.
Anakin shuffles on his feet, brushing against Obi-Wan. "Thank you," he says, his voice unusually uncertain, bordering on shy. "For tonight."
Obi-Wan's gaze flicks down to Anakin's right hand involuntarily. "You don't have to thank me. A celebration of your Knighting is the least you deserve. I am sorry I couldn't get the Council to extend your leave. Give you more time to get used to your prosthesis."
Anakin waves his hand dismissively. "My hand is fine. It will be even better when I'm done with it." Anakin pauses, his expression softening, gaze fixed on Obi-Wan's face. "I meant about tonight. It- It wouldn't matter without you here. Nothing matters without you."
And just like that, the pretense and silence of the entire last year shatters.
Suddenly, the small space between them no longer feels soothing as it did moments ago. Now, the heat between them burns .
Obi-Wan takes an unconscious step back, only to be stopped by his back hitting duracrete. "Anakin," he says
Anakin follows, crowding Obi-Wan against the wall, but keeping his hands by his sides.
"I've tried to be patient. You know I have. I would have waited for you, I swear. Then you almost died," Anakin's voice cracks, his face contorting into a grimace of raw anguish. He bows his head until their foreheads touch, his hands clutching at the front of Obi-Wan's robes with a strength born from desperation. "I cannot lose you. Not you too."
Obi-Wan cannot pinpoint the moment he makes the decision. Only that it feels inevitable. As if this is where he belongs. Where he has always meant to be.
Obi-Wan takes Anakin's face between his hands carefully. But when he tries to pull back so he could look him in the eyes, Anakin lets out a noise of distress, and burrows his face in the crook of Obi-Wan's neck, refusing to let go, his body shaking with silent sobs.
Obi-Wan feels an answering ache in the hollow of his chest. It is nowhere near the yawning pit of misery that has Anakin at its center but it still cuts deep. Guilt cuts deep. Guilt for his part in Anakin's misery. For not listening when Anakin had told him about his dreams, for dragging him into a fight that had cost him his hand.
Obi-Wan has failed Anakin. He knows it now. By trying to mold him into an ideal he will never achieve. By stubbornly denying him a part of himself that was already Anakin's.
And has been for a while.
Obi-Wan wraps his arms around Anakin's shoulders, and gathers him close, running his fingers through Anakin's still wet hair. And waits.
Waits until Anakin's shoulders stop shaking and his grip on Obi-Wan's robes loosens. Until he can no longer feel warm wetness on his neck.
Obi-Wan is somewhat surprised how steady his heartbeat is, how calm and certain he feels as he brings his mouth to Anakin's ear. "Look at me, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, soft but sure.
Anakin shivers, his breath stuttering against Obi-Wan's neck. His mind feels tremulous when Obi-Wan brushes against it, but there is a wellspring of almost desperate need hidden beneath. All of it mirrored in Anakin's gaze as he finally meets Obi-Wan's eyes.
Bluntness is something Obi-Wan rarely employs, but Anakin seems to be an exception to every rule Obi-Wan has ever followed.
"Do you still want me?" Obi-Wan asks calmly, his eyes holding Anakin's gaze unblinkingly. He knows the answer, has seen it in Anakin's eyes countless times. But he needs to hear it said out loud.
Anakin's expression freezes with disbelief. "Of course I do," Anakin says after a moment, incredulous and offended, and hopeful all at once. "Why?"
Obi-Wan wants to kiss him more than he remembers wanting anything in a long while. He nearly laughs out loud when he realizes that there is nothing stopping him from doing so.
Which is precisely what he does.
Anakin is twenty, and he is lying with his head pillowed on Obi-Wan's naked chest, playing with the pendant hanging around Obi-Wan's neck.
Obi-Wan strokes his fingers through Anakin's curls, watching, amused, the gentle, almost reverent way Anakin traces the symbols he'd carved himself years ago.
Obi-Wan shifts a little, then frowns when his body decides to remind him that he is not as young as his lover. Though, this is one ache Obi-Wan doesn't mind in the slightest.
"You know," Obi-Wan says. "I am starting to think you prefer that pendant to me."
Anakin raises his head, his eyes gleaming in the half-light of Obi-Wan's cabin on The Negotiator. "I don't. I just like how it looks on you."
Obi-Wan pulls his hand back from Anakin's hair, his eyebrows shooting up. "Is that so?" he says slowly.
Anakin rolls his eyes, ignoring entirely Obi-Wan's pointed gaze. "Not like that." Anakin shifts until he is half-lying on Obi-Wan's chest, head pillowed on his folded arms, grinning. "And you accuse me of having a dirty mind."
"Are you certain?" Obi-Wan says, gesturing down at himself. "I seem to have acquired a large assortment of bruises. Among other things."
Anakin's grin disappears immediately, replaced by worry. "Did I hurt you?" Anakin says, moving to sit up.
Obi-Wan grabs his wrist stopping Anakin from moving. He brings Anakin's hand up to his mouth, all the while holding Anakin's gaze. "You didn't do anything I didn't want you to," Obi-Wan says in a soft voice, enjoying the way Anakin's eyes go darker at the brush of his mouth against Anakin's knuckles. "Anything I didn't ask for."
It is the truth. But not the only truth.
What they have is still new, every touch accompanied by a sense of wonder and urgency. But it is also uncertain. Both are serving in a war, and every day spent out in the field could be their last. And, most important, they were separated for the better part of two months. Two long, frustrating, aching months.
Obi-Wan is still somewhat unclear how they managed the trip from the bridge to Obi-Wan's cabin. All he can recall is the need to touch Anakin rushing through his blood, so all-encompassing, it felt like a physical ache.
Anakin blinks, then grins; slow and full of promise. "I don't know what you're thinking about, but don't stop," he says in a low voice. He rolls on top of Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan spreads his thighs obligingly.
Anakin's eyes grow darker in answer to Obi-Wan's easy compliance. He turns the hand Obi-Wan is still holding in a loose grip against his lips, until his palm is covering Obi-Wan's mouth. "Lick," Anakin commands.
Obi-Wan lets out a huff of laughter, muffled against Anakin's hand, but obeys.
"You know," Obi-Wan says, amused. "I do believe this entire General Skywalker bu- ahh ."
Obi-Wan's words dissolve into a low moan when Anakin's hand closes around his already hardening length, his hips involuntarily arching into the touch.
Anakin gives him a smug look, then lowers his head, his teeth scraping against Obi-Wan's neck, as his hand continues stroking Obi-Wan's length.
Obi-Wan shuts his eyes, fisting the sheet with one hand, while he treads the fingers of the other through Anakin's hair.
"So," Obi-Wan says, breathless, his fingers tightening in Anakin's hair, drawing a ragged moan from Anakin. "You don't want to mark me as yours?"
Anakin stops in his slow, torturous descent down Obi-Wan's chest. Obi-Wan manages to swallow a whine of protest but only just.
Obi-Wan opens his eyes, meeting Anakin's burning gaze. " I do," Anakin admits, then - slowly and purposely - he grazes his teeth on the inside of Obi-Wan's tigh, dragging a groan out of Obi-Wan's throat. "But that is not why I enjoy seeing the pendant on you."
Obi-Wan inhales sharply, trying to drag his concentration back to the conversation - he feels as if there is something here he is missing, something important - and away from Anakin's mouth, so close to where he wants it the most.
"No?"
"It's about choice. Your choice. Your choice to keep it as your own. Your choice to wear it," Anakin says, low and fervent, each word accompanied by a slow stroke up and down his length.
Obi-Wan opens his mouth but what comes out is a loud moan, all thoughts of his pendant and Anakin's fixation on it fleeing from his mind as Anakin's mouth finally - finally - closes over his hard length.
Anakin is twenty-one, and he is pacing back and forth like a caged nexu, radiating animosity and barely leashed fury.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan says, almost wincing at the sound of his - Hardeen's - voice. "This is not the time nor the place for this discussion."
They have yet to leave Naboo, and Obi-Wan is still wearing the wrong face, and there is the matter of dealing with the fallout of the entire fiasco concerning the Chancellor's kidnapping.
And Obi-Wan's thrice-cursed undercover assignment.
Anakin stops dead in his tracks, glaring fiercely at Obi-Wan. Something rattles behind Obi-Wan, followed by a soft thump as it hits the floor. "Kriff the time and place!" Anakin curses. "And kriff you , Obi-Wan!"
Obi-Wan shuts his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly. "Anakin," Obi-Wan tries again. "You have every right to be angry-"
"How could you do it?" Anakin cuts in, his words both a demand and a plea. "How could you do it to me ?"
"I had no choice," Obi-Wan says, trying to sound calm. Trying to keep the dread that is slowly coiling around his heart at bay. "The Chancellor's life was at stake. Perhaps the entire war."
"I'm not talking about the mission, no matter how stupid and suicidal it was," Anakin snaps, eyes blazing. "I am talking about you lying to me. About how you made me think you were dead."
Obi-Wan suddenly feels like there is a yawning chasm waiting for him. And there is nowhere for him to go but forward.
Straightening, Obi-Wan fixes Anakin with a level look. "The secrecy was paramount for the success of the mission. We couldn't risk even the whisper of doubt to reach Dooku."
Anakin crosses his hands, his expression hardening. "We?" he repeats, voice dangerously low.
Obi-Wan hesitates only a second, wishing he could lie or invent some clever story. But there is no lie, no story that could help him now. He has done this himself when he'd accepted the assignment. When he'd decided not to tell anything to Anakin. When he'd chosen duty over heart.
And now the time has come for him to face the consequences.
"Yoda, Mace Windu. And myself," Obi-Wan says, voice steady but hollow.
Anakin's expression cracks, anguish bleeding through for one moment. In the next, he is staring at Obi-Wan with the eyes of a stranger. "I always knew the Council didn't trust me, but I never thought you felt the same. I thought-" Anakin cuts himself off, breathing heavily.
Obi-Wan dares not to reach out for Anakin, either physically or with the Force, no matter how he longs to hold him.
Anakin lets out a sharp bark of laughter that almost makes Obi-Wan flinch. "You know, I just remembered," Anakin says, venom dripping from his words. "You fucked me the night before."
This time, Obi-Wan cannot stop himself from flinching. Not because of the word but the way Anakin had said it, like what they had done had been nothing more than a meaningless tryst in some darkened alley.
"Anakin, that's enough," Obi-Wan says, voice very quiet.
Anakin's eyes narrow, the temperature in the room suddenly dropping. "I am not done yet," he sneers. "Tell me, what did you think about while you were inside me? While you were kissing me?"
That I love you. That I'm afraid.
Obi-Wan swallows against the lump in his throat. He remembers that night. Remembers desperation and need, guilt, and doubt. Remembers making the decision not to tell Anakin anything.
"I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't risk you endangering the mission," Obi-Wan says, each word scraping the inside of his throat.
Anakin shakes his head, mouth twisting bitterly. "So you used me to sell the story," Anakin says, voice blank. "I felt you die, you know. It felt like dying but without the mercy of actual death. And to you, it was just another mission."
Obi-Wan moves before the thought fully registers inside his mind. He grabs Anakin by the shoulders, desperate to make him understand, desperate to somehow fix what he had broken.
Just… desperate.
"Anakin, please," Obi-Wan pleads, barely managing to force the words past the lump of dread in his throat. Obi-Wan has never been prone to fear, but now, he is drowning in it. "I didn't want to hurt you, you must believe me. But there was no other way. I did what I had to do. I did my duty."
Anakin shrugs out of Obi-Wan's hold. "Always the perfect Jedi," Anakin spits out venomously.
"Anakin, you are a Jedi as well," Obi-Wan says, desperation seeping into his voice. "Wouldn't you have done the same under the circumstances?"
It is the wrong thing to say.
Anakin's eyes flash suddenly. It is followed by the sound of glass shattering.
In the following silence, Obi-Wan flicks a glance at the round, ornamental mirror on the far side of the room, unable to shake the feeling that it is not the only thing that has been broken just then.
"No, I wouldn't," Anakin says, low and fierce, his hands curled into fists. "If it came down to a choice between you and the Jedi, I would let all them burn."
" Anakin ," Obi-Wan exclaims, unconsciously taking a step back.
Anakin's face falls for a moment, and he takes half a step forward before forcibly stopping himself. Obi-Wan can feel him reigning himself, feel his shields go tight, until Obi-Wan could barely feel him in the Force.
"But that is something you'll never do," Anakin says, voice harsh and cold. "You will never choose me."
Without another word, Anakin walks past Obi-Wan and out of the room, leaving the door open after himself.
As if in a daze, Obi-Wan goes to close the door, almost tripping over something lying discarded on the floor.
Slowly, Obi-Wan bends down and picks it up, something inside his chest shattering irrevocably as his fingers close over the pendant Anakin has given him all those years ago.
Anakin is twenty-two, and he is sitting on the couch in Obi-Wan's quarters in the Temple, regarding Obi-Wan with carefully guarded eyes.
There is less than a feet of space separating them on the couch, but Obi-Wan cannot help but feel that there is a yawning chasm between them. A chasm he is not certain he will ever be able to cross. Even just to touch Anakin on the shoulder, and tell him he is proud of him. Or tell him how sorry he is for Ahsoka's leaving the Order.
It seems when he had lost a lover, he had lost a friend and a former apprentice. But that has always been the gamble. Ever since that day in the stream five years ago.
Obi-Wan forces himself to smile. It is a cordial smile that feels wrong on his lips. But Obi-Wan is not the one who had set the new boundaries between them. Leaving Obi-Wan no choice but to comply.
"It is good to see you, Anakin," Obi-Wan says. "I hear you had another run in with Dooku on Telerath. I hope-"
"Don't," Anakin cuts him off, holding up a hand. "Just… don't. I am not here to exchange war stories. I-" Anakin breaks off, glances down at his hands, resting on his knees, then back up. "I need to tell you something."
Obi-Wan tenses involuntarily, his throat closing. He dreads what is about to come. And is it not ridiculous.
What could Anakin possibly tell him that could hurt more than what has happened between them already?
Anakin takes a deep breath and lifts his chin. "Padmé and I are married," Anakin says, voice steady. "I am leaving the Order after the war ends."
Obi-Wan just… sits there for one long moment. Looking at Anakin but not seeing him. Not seeing anything, really; lost in the white noise in his head.
A moment - or ten, Obi-Wan cannot tell - later he rises to his feet and walks over to a small window across the room, bracing himself on the windowsill, and bowing his head.
He is mad at his own foolishness, mad that all he can think of is: when. When had they gotten married. As if that matters. As if there is a difference between two months or four. Or a single day.
Anakin is… truly lost to him.
Bit he'd known that already.
"Well," Anakin's voice cuts through Obi-Wan's thoughts. "Aren't you going to say something?"
Obi-Wan feels his mouth curve into a bitter smile. "What do you want me to say?" he says without turning around.
"I don't know," Anakin says, impatient and frustrated and, for the first time since Naboo, sounding like Anakin , and not a stranger wearing his face. It is beyond ironic considering their topic. "Something. Anything."
Obi-Wan raises his head, grimacing when he meets his own gaze in the window: weary and hollow.
Dragging a hand across his face, Obi-Wan turns around, folding his hands across his chest.
"Congratulations," Obi-Wan says, voice steady.
Anakin blinks, then frowns. "That's it? Congratulations?"
"What more is there for me to say," Obi-Wan says, a trace of bitterness seeping into his voice despite his best efforts. "You are your own person. I have no say in what you do with your life. Besides, it has been a long time since last you cared about my opinion."
Anakin rises to his feet, looking at Obi-Wan dubiously. "No lecture? Nothing on duty and honor and dangers of attachment?"
Obi-Wan smiles mildly. "I think we can both agree how that would only make me a hypocrite."
Anakin's frown deepens. "You won't tell the Council?"
"No, I won't tell them," Obi-Wan says, a touch sharply. He pauses, then sighs. "I know you may not believe it but I do want you to be happy, Anakin. And you have never been truly happy here."
Something flicks in Anakin's eyes, something buried deep, but it is gone before Obi-Wan could recognize it; replaced by a bitter expression. "That's surprisingly generous of you."
Obi-Wan breathes through a flare of anger and hurt sparking inside his chest. "If you think so little of me, why are you even here? Why tell me this?"
Anakin's face grows serious. "I didn't want to lie to you. I- I feel like I owe you the truth."
"You owe me nothing," Obi-Wan says in a clipped tone. He grimaces, annoyed at himself, continuing in a softer tone, "I would like to offer you advice, if I may?"
Anakin snorts. " You are asking for permission to lecture? Well, now I really have heard everything. Go ahead."
Obi-Wan ignores the sarcasm. "If I were you, I would not wait for the war to end to leave the Order."
Anakin's eyes widen and he takes a step back. "What?"
Obi-Wan sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair. "You are a married man, Anakin. You should be with your wife and not on some Sithforsaken planet, risking your life in a meaningless war."
"Since when do you think the war is meaningless?" Anakin says in a quiet voice, looking almost… lost.
Obi-Wan lets out a mirthless laugh. "Since almost the beginning."
Since it had started to feel as if they are fighting solely for fighting sake.
"Then why are you still fighting?" Anakin asks, voice low and fierce. "Why are you risking your life?"
"Because I'm a Jedi," Obi-Wan says, resigned. Maybe not the Jedi he has always strived to be, one who has been dwelling on this matter far too often lately, but still. He is a Jedi. And he will die one. Perhaps sooner rather than later. "And it is my duty."
Anakin takes a step forward, his eyes flashing with anger. "And I'm not?"
Obi-Wan gives him a level look. "In name only," Obi-Wan says flatly. "A Jedi Knight cannot tie their life to anyone because their life belongs to the Order. And you have done that. You cannot live with your loyalties divided. You are either a Jedi or Padmé's husband. You cannot be both."
"Until the war ends, I can," Anakin says, eyes glinting in challenge. "You keep talking about duty. Well, let me tell you, Obi-Wan, I do know what duty is. And I have no intention of leaving my men and leaving-"
Obi-Wan tilts his head, curious, when Anakin forcibly cuts himself off, dragging fingers through his messy curls, and looking away, his jaw visibly clenching.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan says, softly, and takes a step forward, then another, closing the distance between them to place a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "This war… there is no telling how long it could last. We both know it. For every victory there is a defeat. You have already made your choice. You needn't risk your life to prove a point."
For the briefest of moments, Anakin leans further into Obi-Wan's touch; a small, perhaps even meaningless, movement but it fills Obi-Wan's heart with a near unbearable longing. And then Anakin tears himself away, scowling fiercely at Obi-Wan.
"I am not proving anything to anyone. I no longer have the reason for it," Anakin says, voice hard. Then, inhaling sharply, he straightens fully. "I have done what I meant to do. You now know the truth. I- I appreciate that you won't tell anything to the Council until I am ready. I hope you won't change your mind."
With a sharp nod, Anakin turns to go. Obi-Wan watches him leave, his chest aching more with each step Anakin takes toward the door and away from Obi-Wan.
Anakin is almost at the door when Obi-Wan remembers something.
"Anakin, a moment please."
Anakin stops, shoulders tensing. "What do you want?" he says over his shoulder.
Obi-Wan walks over to the small cabinet near the window and takes out a small wooden box. It is a simple, undecorated thing, made of scentwood. But the box itself is not the reason Obi-Wan handles it with extreme care; it is its content.
Obi-Wan flips the lid, brushing his fingers against a dirty blond Padawan braid, and picks up the only other item in the box.
Anakin turns when Obi-Wan comes closer, his eyes widening in shock at the sight of the pendant in Obi-Wan's outstretched hand. He glances briefly down at the pendant then back up at Obi-Wan, his expression a strange twisted grimace that seems pained.
Obi-Wan exhales deeply. "I know this means much to you. And now that Padmé is your wife, perhaps-"
"It's yours," Anakin interjects, voice solemn for all that he cannot seem to even look at the pendant. Or Obi-Wan. "It has always been yours."
Anakin pauses, then swallows heavily, finally meeting Obi-Wan's gaze, something final mirrored in his eyes. "It will always be yours."
Anakin's parting words echo in the silence of Obi-Wan's room long after Anakin leaves.
Anakin is twenty-three, and he is standing on the flat head of a droid collector, hovering over a river of lava, staring up at Obi-Wan with burning eyes, full of fury and hate.
And all Obi-Wan wants is to wake up. Wake up from the nightmare where Anakin has destroyed everything Obi-Wan has ever cared for.
Beginning with Anakin himself.
Obi-Wan thinks he may be crying, but there is no proof of it; his tears drying as soon as they appear.
"Do you even know what you have done?" Obi-Wan cries out, desperate, words tearing at his throat along with the heat of this Sithforsaken place, his lightsaber a heavy weight in his hand.
Yoda had sent him here to kill Darth Vader - to kill Anakin - and for all that it tears at his very soul, it is becoming clear that only one of them will leave Mustafar alive.
"I have done what the Jedi couldn't," Anakin answers, the strength of his conviction burning hotter than the lava that surrounds them. "I have brought peace to the galaxy."
Obi-Wan shakes his head, feeling like he is drowning in despair. How had it come to this? What madness had taken hold of Anakin to have him speak such things? How had the boy Obi-Wan had to drag inside the Temple the first time he'd seen rain ended up burning that very Temple? How had the man who had held Obi-Wan so gently ended with his hands drenched with the blood of children?
Gods, let this be a nightmare. Let me wake up.
"You have destroyed the Republic and all the ideals it had stood for," Obi-Wan accuses, voice sharp. "And brought nothing but darkness and terror."
"Only a Jedi would defend a rotting, corrupt institution," Anakin says, disdain dripping from his words.
Obi-Wan winces, guilt and regret clawing at his heart. He doesn't want to think it, let alone accept it, but there is less and less hope in Obi-Wan's heart that Anakin can be saved from the darkness.
"And only a Sith would enforce tyranny," Obi-Wan says, but it doesn't come out as an accusation, as steeped as Obi-Wan's words are in sorrow and regret.
Anakin's face hardens, his eyes flashing with steely resolve. "It didn't have to end like this, Obi-Wan. You could have joined me. Or you could have walked away. I would have let you walk away."
Obi-Wan lets out a sharp bark of laughter. "And go where? Your new Master has made sure there is no safe place for a Jedi in his new Empire."
"My Master has promised me powers beyond your imagination," Anakin says, eyes glinting with fervor. "Unlike you."
"I have given you all I could have," Obi-Wan says, his voice almost gentle. He is regarding Anakin with sorrow in his heart; Anakin's image blurring from the smoke and unshed tears. "I am sorry it hadn't been enough."
Anakin's face twists into a grimace of terrible rage. "You lie. You have only ever held me back. Always jealous of my powers. Always berating me. I was never good enough for you."
Obi-Wan shakes his head in fierce denial. He almost takes a step forward, but then he remembers where they are. And what they are.
"I have only ever wanted you to be the best you could be," Obi-Wan says, voice low but unyielding. "And I have always been proud of you."
Anakin's expression wavers for the tiniest fraction of a moment before it hardens further. "Do not think you will sway me with your silver tongue, old man. I know your lies. Soon, I will be more powerful than anyone. More powerful than you could ever hoped to be."
Obi-Wan's expression twists into a grimace. "And alone, lost in the darkness. Is that what you want for yourself, Anakin?"
Anakin's eyes flash with an almost mad gleam, his gloved fingers tightening around the hilt of his lightsaber. "I won't be alone. I have Padmé. And soon our child. She will see reason once you're no longer here to poison her mind."
"I have said nothing to Padmé but the truth," Obi-Wan says, voice sharp. "You have married her so you should know that Padmé has a mind of her own. If she has turned from you, that is no one's fault but your own."
Anakin bares his teeth in a snarl, yellow seeping into his eyes. "Liar. You wouldn't love me but you won't let me have anyone else. But you won't succeed. You won't take anyone else from me."
"Oh, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, each word leaving a deep gash on his heart. He has never said it before, and now it is too late. Far too late. "I have never loved anyone as I have loved you."
And I never will.
Anakin freezes for a second. "Loved?" Anakin repeats in an almost dazed voice, staring at Obi-Wan with a burning, yellow gaze. " No. No. You lie. "
There is but a second of warning - Anakin's eyes flaring with hate, and his body coiling for a jump - 'don't ' staying frozen on Obi-Wan's lips as Anakin vaults from the droid he's been standing on.
And Obi-Wan swings his lightsaber.
Anakin is… no more.
Galaxy is shrouded in darkness and terror, but on a harsh, desert planet in the Outer Rim, there is a kindle of hope and light.
A boy with bright blue eyes and a shining presence in the Force.
Much like his father before him.
But there is a man there, too, a shadow of his former self, watching over the boy from afar.
The man is a lone hermit, living far in the Jundland Wastes, always wearing a faded white pendant on a string around his neck.
Some call him the Wizard of the Wastes, but the name he goes by is Ben Kenobi.
Anakin is forty-one, and he answers to another name.
To survive, and not go mad with grief, Obi-Wan had made himself believe that Anakin is dead, and the monster clad in black armor terrorizing the galaxy is an entirely different person.
But Obi-Wan has come to the end of his path in life, and there is no more need for benevolent lies and self-delusion.
Darth Vader and Ben Kenobi are what has become of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi after Obi-Wan had cut down Anakin, and left him to burn on Mustafar all those years ago.
And now, years after, they are once again crossing blades.
"I have been looking forward to this," Vader says, in deep, flat tones that are nowhere near his true voice.
Obi-Wan allows himself a small smile, easily slipping into a role he hasn't played in nineteen years. "Can't say that I have, Darth."
They fight, but there is only one possible outcome to it, Obi-Wan knows it. He is far too old, far too tired, and hasn't used a lightsaber in years. There is no conceivable way for him to win this duel.
Well. There is also the fact that he doesn't plan on surviving. He merely has to keep Vader occupied for a while longer.
Which is no trouble at all. Anakin has always been bad at forgiving and forgetting. And considering the gravity of Obi-Wan's offense, there is nothing Obi-Wan needs to say or do to have Vader's undivided attention. He needs only to exist.
"You should not have returned, Obi-Wan," Vader says and brings his lightsaber down in a powerful strike Obi-Wan barely manages to block. "There is no escape for you."
Obi-Wan stretches his senses, and… there. Luke is not far. There is also another, muted presence near him: Leia. Be it for good or ill, it seems the time has come for brother and sister to be reunited. Well, whatever the Force's plan is, it is out of Obi-Wan's hands now.
It is time for him to finish this.
"What makes you think I mean to escape?" Obi-Wan taunts, mildly, catching the sight of the open hanger door with the corner of his eye.
"You cannot possibly think you stand a chance against me, old man," Vader says, and Obi-Wan suddenly feels a visceral need to hear Anakin's voice. His real voice.
It is… unexpected. Obi-Wan had thought time and regret have released him of the last traces of longing, leaving him with nothing but sadness.
It seems there is still a part of Obi-Wan that cannot let go of the love he has always felt for Anakin. Cannot let go of the man himself, despite the lies he has been telling himself for almost twenty years. Despite everything they have done to each other. Despite the ashes and fire, blood and betrayal.
And almost twenty years of living with nothing but ghosts and his memories.
If it weren't for Luke and Qui-Gon's training, Obi-Wan would have gone mad years ago.
"There are other ways of achieving victory," Obi-Wan says, leading Vader toward the hanger door. It is a risk and an old man's indulgence but he wishes to see Luke one last time. "Haven't I taught you that?"
Vader falters for the first time since the beginning of their duel. Only to resume it with more anger, more power, his strikes making Obi-Wan's bones ache from the effort of blocking them.
"Do not talk to me of the past," Vader says, his fury and hate lashing at Obi-Wan in the Force. "It is dead as you shall be soon, my old master."
Obi-Wan's mouth curves faintly. "Then I suppose there is nothing for me to say anymore." Obi-Wan chances one last glance at Luke; the boy so much alike his father, and yet so different. "Except one more thing."
There are a number of things Obi-Wan could say, but in the end he chooses what his heart tells him.
"Goodbye, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, and lifts his lightsaber harmlessly in front of himself.
Force erupts with an explosion of rage from Vader and an anguished cry from Luke, and then Vader's red blade cuts through him, and Obi-Wan is no more.
Leaving behind an old, worn robe, a lightsaber, and a pendant made of japor wood.
Leia carefully steps over a fallen branch, aware that she is entering deeper into the forest with every step, the lights from the Ewok village dimming and the sounds of the ongoing party growing quiet.
Her father would have undoubtedly had more than a few choice words about her wandering around an unknown and potentially hostile territory without a blaster.
But Leia knows she is safe. With the same terrifying certainty that she knows where she needs to go, following a deep sense of sorrow that is not her own.
She knows what this… this power means, and who she had probably gotten it from, but pushes those thoughts to the back of her mind.
Later. She will deal with it later.
She finds Luke in a moonlit clearing, sitting on a fallen log, and staring intently at something resting on the palm of his hand.
Luke acknowledges her presence with a quick glance and a flicker of a smile, then goes back to studying what appears to be a round, white pendant, the size of a small egg, hanging on a piece of string.
"You should come back to the party," Leia says lightly, taking a seat next to Luke. "Han and Lando are teaching our new friends how to play sabacc, and Threepio is translating. It is certainly a sight."
Luke smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I will. Later."
Anger catches in Leia's throat. Even in death, Vader won't stop haunting them.
"What is that?" Leia asks, tilting her head toward the pendant in Luke's hand, swallowing the bitter taste of helpless anger. "It looks old. Well kept, but old."
"It is- was Father's," Luke says softly, offering her the pendant. "I found it after-" Luke trails off, then swallows. "There was a small compartment on the back of his belt. I found it inside."
Reluctantly, Leia takes the pendant, then brings it up to her eye level. Frowning, she traces the carved markings with her finger.
"It is beautiful," she says, almost absently. "Nothing I could ever imagine Vader would own."
Not that she could have ever imagined Vader having children, and she being one of them.
"Yeah," Luke says, but there is a certain warmth to his voice that Leia cannot imagine ever feeling toward the man who was their biological father. "Especially this particular one."
"You know what this is?" Leia asks, curious despite herself.
Luke laughs, a soft whisper of a sound. "Sure I do. It's from Tatooine. It is a charm, made from japor wood. It is sort of tradition there. My Uncle never cared for it, but my Aunt Beru taught me how to read the various symbols."
Leia flicks a glance at Luke then back at the pendant, her thumb still tracing the lines of the middle symbol.
"And what does this one mean?" Leia asks, feeling a sharp, heavy, almost suffocating ache emanate from the pendant. Ache, and, deeper underneath, an almost unbearable sadness.
Luke's face twists with sorrow. "That one is meant to be given to the one person you love the most. It is sort of a pledge. Through life, and beyond." Luke pauses, then adds, "It is called Eternally Beloved."