Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sound and smell of blaster fire filled the air. Anakin Skywalker, feeling wild and exultant and free, feeling one with the Force as he never did while meditating, ducked a ricochet, sliced cleanly through a tactical droid, and then jumped down, taking cover behind a still-smoking Separatist tank.

Obi-Wan was there. He spared Anakin a mildly exasperated glance before he continued talking to Cody in his comm, ordering the Clone Commander to begin the flanking maneuver. Then he turned calm, blue-grey eyes upon his former apprentice. “I see you’re enjoying yourself, at least,” was all he commented, although Anakin felt that gaze rake him up and down, looking for any injuries.

Anakin flashed his cockiest grin, the one he knew caused an automatic lecture from his former Master on humility and proper Jedi behavior. “Well, you know me, Master--,” he said, twirling the hilt of his lightsaber around, the blade still lit recklessly, as he looked around the edge of their makeshift shelter to find more enemies to fight –

“Always on the move,” they both said at the same time.

Anakin met Obi-Wan’s eyes again, now brilliant blue due to fondness and humor, and he smiled, soothing the tendrils of his Master’s Force presence as they reached out towards him to make sure that he was truly alright.

“Just one last push, and we’re through,” Anakin continued. “Then we can leave this Sith-forsaken shithole behind and finally head back home.”

“Language, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured, but it was half-hearted at best. Anakin knew that Obi-Wan had no more love for Dantooine than he did himself.  The place was a nightmare – constant rain and fog and humidity, which caused blasters to rust, tempers to flare, and an ever-present sinus headache. Everything was wet and moldy, including the food and their clothing. Sometimes Anakin checked in the morning to make sure that he hadn’t started growing mold behind his ears.

Obi-Wan was enjoying the experience no more than Anakin, if his constant mutterings and restless sleep in their shared tent was any indication. It was when Obi-Wan had stopped getting up so early to brew his usual morning cup of bitter tea that Anakin knew this place was getting to his Master. The sooner they all got out of here, the better.

A sudden lull in the blaster fire told them that Cody and his men had begun their attack from behind the droids.

Anakin jumped out and back into the fray, Obi-Wan at his side. Together they danced around each other, perfectly in sync, blue blades flashing in deadly arcs as they carved a hole deep into the Separatist lines. They were two halves of a single warrior – beautiful and lethal and balanced – and Anakin had never felt more alive.

That night, however, stumbling wearily back to their encampment several miles away, Anakin admitted that he might, perhaps, have been slightly over optimistic about things.

Generals Kenobi and Skywalker, with the 212^th and the 501^st in tow, had been fighting in the Outer Rim non-stop for four months. Four months, in which Anakin hadn’t been able to hold Padmé in his arms, tell her he loved her, make sure she was safe. Four months since Ahsoka had left the Order – had left him.

Anakin knew that he wouldn’t have been able to get through it without Obi-Wan.

There was only one narrow cot in their shared tent on Dantooine. Anakin stalked through the flap that night – soaked, squelching and tired – and threw himself upon it with a groan.

Dramatically, he flung one arm over his face and vocally wished for death. He felt Obi-Wan’s slightly exasperated amusement through their still-unbroken bond and suppressed a smile, peaking underneath his arm at the other man, seated at their one table, surrounded by datapads as he dutifully typed up a report to the Council.

The glow of the light on the table shone on his copper hair, slightly greying at the sides now – a fact which he always blamed upon Anakin – his pale skin – which Anakin knew for certain was covered in freckles beneath his robes – which was clean of the ever-present mud and dust, and his eyes – now green with fatigue – crinkled at the corners with fondness as he darted a quick look at his former Padawan before returning to his task.  He always seemed tired these days, and Anakin would do a lot to bring a smile or a laugh into his Master’s voice.

“Now come, Anakin,” he chided, his familiar elegant tones washing over the younger man soothingly. “Today wasn’t so bad and we are making good progress.”

“Whatever you say, Master,” he said, in tones designed to convey the exact opposite. Anakin sighed, stretched, and with his eyes still closed he pulled up his tunic and absently scratched at his stomach, feeling content and relaxing at the familiar banter between his Master and himself.

Opening his eyes again, he saw Obi-Wan hurriedly avert his own gaze back to the table, cheeks stained slightly red in embarrassment. Anakin withheld another sigh, waiting for a lecture on proper decorum even in their own tent, but Obi-Wan said nothing.

“Master,” Anakin whined after a few minutes and suppressed a grin when Obi-Wan grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“Yes, my very young Padawan,” his master asked, acidly.

Anakin fought against the instinctive swell of anger at those words. “I’m not your Padawan anymore,” he said, sharper than he meant to. After a pause he added, “Come to bed, Master. The Council report can wait until morning.”

“And I am no longer your Master, Anakin,” Obi-Wan returned gently, but he put away the datapads and turned off the light.

Anakin pulled off his over-tunic and boots, and moved over to give Obi-Wan room. He restrained himself from telling Obi-Wan that he would always be his Master, no matter what, for he knew that Obi-Wan would not appreciate those words. His Master had been trying to get Anakin to call him just ‘Obi-Wan’ for a couple years now, but Anakin refused. How could he explain that the term was not just acknowledgement of skill and accomplishment, or the respect of a student to a teacher, but something more than that. Obi-Wan was his Master, the one person who would always…be there?...have his back?...save him?...protect him?....Anakin didn’t truly know what he wanted to say with honorific either. But he was sure it was important.

Obi-Wan sighed tiredly as he perched at the edge of the cot and undid the laces on his boots. His back was pressed lightly against Anakin’s arm and the younger man closed his eyes and breathed deeply – imitating his Master’s calm, even breaths, as he relished in the closeness of the other man. Obi-Wan wasn’t much for physical contact or displays of affection.

It had taken Anakin many years to realize that that was just him and not his Jedi reserve. It took Obi-Wan two repetitions of his name before Anakin could wake himself up enough to respond. “Hmm,” he hummed.

“Aren’t you going to even wash up, Anakin?” his Master asked. Obi-Wan had always been rather fastidious with regards to cleanliness.

Anakin just grunted. “No point,” he slurred, shifting a bit as he tried to get closer to Obi-Wan’s warmth. “Just get dirty in the morning,” he murmured, drifting back into his light doze.

Obi-Wan sighed. “So now even the bed must be dirty,” he muttered, but he moved to lie down all the same.

Anakin sighed happily and the last thing he remembered was Obi-Wan’s fingers stroking his hair soothingly as he curled into the other man. “Good night, Anakin,” he heard his Master murmur.

Anakin woke with a start sometime in the hour just before dawn. Obi-Wan was asleep next to him, flat on his back, his Force signature soothing and warm, gently brushing along Anakin’s own. Anakin had curled onto his other side in his sleep, towards the tent wall, and now he could feel Obi-Wan’s side pressed against the entire length of his back.

Anakin was glad there was only one cot.

He was glad Obi-Wan was all but pressed against him as he slept. He was glad the Council had left them to rot for four months in the outer rim, always together, having to rely only on each other, with no one else there to oversee or disapprove of the closeness between them.

Anakin was glad because he had lost too many people recently. First, there had been Padmé, who had seemed to grow more and more distant as the war progressed, accusing Anakin of jealousy and irrational anger, keeping secrets from him. He knew she had been in contact with Ahsoka since the girl had left the Order, but she wouldn’t tell him anything about it when he asked. Even though he had married her, even though he had given her everything, she always seemed on the point of pulling away. But she couldn’t! She was his, why couldn’t she understand that?

The last time they had seen each other had been the worst. She had told Anakin that they needed time apart, that she needed time alone for a while, that she was busy with something important, but then she had kissed him passionately and they had ended up in bed together. Anakin had thought they were alright then, but she had been gone in the morning and had not seen him off to the front when the Devastator, his new Venator-class flagship, left later that day.

She had not answered even one of his messages in the subsequent four months either, and now he was both confused and angry.

And then there had been Ahsoka. Ahsoka his Padawan – former Padawan now. Accused of treason, she had cleared her name with Anakin’s help, but she had still left the Jedi Order – had left him. She had simply walked away, turning her back on him…and even on Obi-Wan who had loved her just as much as Anakin had. And now she was out there, alone, wanting nothing more to do with either of her Jedi Masters, both of whom would have died for her.

The only good thing about all of this was that it had brought Anakin closer to Obi-Wan. After the Rako Hardeen incident, when Obi-Wan had faked his own death, Anakin had – pulled away. It had hurt – stars had it hurt – that Obi-Wan hadn’t trusted him; had instead used him – used his grief – to further the will of the Council. Anakin had felt like he was in a terrible nightmare the whole time he believed Obi-Wan was dead; nothing was real and there was only blinding pain alternating with aching numbness and despair and loneliness.

And then to find out Obi-Wan had put him through that willingly…

None of them – not Obi-Wan or Padmé or even Ahsoka – could understand why Anakin felt like his insides had been torn out, like any sure footing he had ever had in the universe had been ripped away. So, he had gone to Palpatine, who always understood, who was always kind to him. Palpatine had been as horrified as Anakin that the Jedi Council – that Obi-Wan – would do such a thing; would lie and deceive and use one of their own. He had suggested, hesitantly, sorrowfully, that Anakin not rely so heavily upon Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“I know, my young friend,” he said gently, “that Master Kenobi is revered as wise and powerful among the Jedi, and that you love him…but perhaps it would be best if you…pursued your own path for a while. Master Kenobi is a Jedi, first and foremost, and I cannot see him ever returning your…love. He would see the depth of your grief as attachment, Anakin. For him, I believe, there is only duty…and I don’t want you to be hurt by him again.”

And so, Anakin had pulled away – told Obi-Wan that he wanted separate assignments. Obi-Wan’s eyes had been silvery-grey in confusion and hurt, his posture slumped, when Anakin spoke to him – unable to meet his Master’s gaze – but he had brought it up to the Council and they had agreed.

Anakin had been sure it was the right decision at the time. After all, he still woke in the night, frantically searching their bond to make sure Obi-Wan was still alive, that he hadn’t blocked Anakin out again.

But instead it had been Obi-Wan who was hurt by Anakin pulling away. And Anakin had never wanted that.

Anakin hadn’t been there when Maul came back and beat Obi-Wan half to death. He hadn’t been there when Obi-Wan defied the Council and went to Mandalore to rescue Satine Kryze. And he hadn’t been there when his Master held his former love as she died in his arms. All those times when Obi-Wan had needed him, and Anakin hadn’t been there.

“Keep those who love you close to you, Anakin Skywalker,” the enigmatic, brilliant Chiss commander, Mitth’raw’nuruodo had told him in parting, after they had escaped death together in the Thrugii asteroid belt. “And make sure you trust those you love.”

Anakin Skywalker had trusted his Master since the moment Qui-Gon introduced them. And he had been deeply, passionately, hopelessly in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi since he was fifteen years old.

He had no hope that Obi-Wan would ever love him back; he was a Jedi Master, perfect and serene and dispassionate. And Anakin loved and desired Padmé – she was his. His powerful, beautiful queen. She was a dream and she had chosen him. How many men could say that?

But Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan was the other half of his soul, the calm presence always in his mind, the quiet, sarcastic voice getting him to think, the person who always had his back. He was the person Anakin looked up to and admired more than anyone else. He was the one person whom Anakin could never live without.

But Obi-Wan would never love him back; at least, not in the way Anakin wanted him to.

“My brother,” Obi-Wan would whisper, pressing cool fingers against Anakin’s flushed cheeks. Anakin would lean into that familiar caress and pretend that he had enough courage to cross that last little divide between them and press his lips against Obi-Wan’s own. He would pretend that Obi-Wan would gasp and sigh with desire, mouth parting instantly because he had wanted Anakin for as long as Anakin wanted him, and kiss him back.

Anakin was brought back to the present – in their tent at the basecamp on Dantooine, oh how he hated this planet – when his Master shifted a bit next to him. Obi-Wan sighed and muttered in his sleep, and then he rolled over and curled himself against Anakin, one arm thrown over his hip, and his groin pressed tight into the curve of Anakin’s ass.

Anakin whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and willing his body to remain calm. Obi-Wan was half-hard and then he pressed himself even tighter against Anakin, a slight noise of contentment escaping as he settled again. Little puffs of air were brushing the hair at the back of Anakin’s neck. He shivered, his breathing becoming ragged as he reached down the front of his pants and wrapped a hand around himself. Trying to be as quiet and as quick as possible, Anakin jerked himself off, feeling Obi-Wan all around him, seeing Obi-Wan’s face in his mind as he came.

Later that morning, at the briefing with Rex and Cody, Anakin couldn’t meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. He watched Obi-Wan’s face crinkle with confusion. Afterwards, his Master caught him by the arm. “Is everything alright, Anakin?” His gloved hand felt like fire, burning through Anakin’s tunic.

Anakin flinched from the touch, feeling guilt and shame, and then he felt a pang of remorse on top of it all as Obi-Wan’s eyes faded from bright blue to grey.

“Yes, Master, everything’s fine,” Anakin told him hurriedly. There was no way he could tell his Master what the problem was, or how many times he had found pleasure in the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice, the touch of his skin, the brilliance of his ever-changing, kaleidoscopic eyes.

Obi-Wan’s hand fell and hung uselessly by his side. Anakin forced a smile, a shadow of his familiar, cocky grin. “Come on, Master, let’s go kill some of these clankers!” And then he was rushing out the tent flap, Rex on his heels, to lose himself in the heat and fury of battle, and to maybe forget, for a little while, that he could never have that which he truly wanted.

&……&……&……&……&……&

The day should have been routine – another Separatist outpost, one more mop-up duty. But sometime in the late afternoon, when a hot, muggy sun shone down upon them and Obi-Wan and the 212^th were across the battlefield from Anakin and the 501^st, something changed. They had been fighting on a wide plain between two separate ranges of cliffs. Along the edges, wilted trees with scant leaves stood disconsolately. The slope was steep and treacherous and more than once a clone or droid had lost their balance and gotten killed because of a misplaced step. Rex had taken a wound early in the day and Anakin had remained protectively at his side since then.

The usual Force-meld he and Obi-Wan sunk into during battle had been all but impossible to attain today, due to Anakin’s flustered and unsettled thoughts, so the two Jedi had split up. Anakin could feel Obi-Wan, strong and serene, across the plain. There was a slight edge of tension to his old Master’s presence and Anakin could feel him occasionally reach out towards his former Padawan, trying to sense what was wrong. Anakin cursed himself for ten kinds of fool and tried to reassure his Master as best he could, without words, but he could tell that Obi-Wan remained unconvinced.

It was in one of their careful Force brushes against one another that there was a sudden, strange lull in the fighting. Anakin looked out towards Obi-Wan, frowning, his awareness suddenly tingling with undefined danger. And then, without any other warning, the entire cliff face before which the 212^th was positioned, exploded outward. The noise was deafening as debris rained down on the clones. Anakin saw Obi-Wan throw up his hands, halting a huge piece of the cliff from crushing Cody and several other men.

“General!” Rex shouted, pointing, and Anakin saw several Separatist ships escaping towards space from the newly blown hole in the cliffside. One of them was Dooku’s pretentious little craft.

What was Dooku doing on Dantooine?

Anakin had no time to ponder this. He was already running towards Obi-Wan, hearing Rex curse volubly and order his men to follow. “We need air support,” Rex yelled, “now!”

Obi-Wan had been hit with a piece of flying debris as he tried to save his men, a glancing blow on the shoulder. He held onto the boulders through the Force long enough for Cody and the others to get out from underneath, before he dropped them and stumbled forwards. But that second of inattention was all the cyborg General Grievous needed. He dropped down from one of the ships, which was making hard for outer space above, straight down onto Obi-Wan, who tried to move, bring his now-injured arm up enough to block the downward stroke of a lightsaber.

Everything was happening too fast. Anakin knew with a sick feeling that he wasn’t going to make it.

He was never where he was supposed to be; at his Master’s side.

Obi-Wan blocked the first strike and tried to duck the immediate follow up from the second blade, but Grievous’ other arm swung around, raking a third lightsaber upwards along Obi-Wan’s back in one, brutal stroke. Blinding pain burst across their Bond. Obi-Wan fell, instantly, silently, and Anakin screamed.

Anakin didn’t remember what happened next. Afterwards, Rex and Fives told him in hushed, awed voices that he had Force-pushed Grievous. and every single droid between him and Obi-Wan, out of the way so violently that some of the droids had been utterly crushed; pulverized into scrap. Grievous had fled and Anakin had reached Obi-Wan’s side faster than even Cody, who had been all-but next to him.

All Anakin knew was that when he pulled Obi-Wan into his arms, he wasn’t moving and Anakin wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. He was still, so very still, and all Anakin could hear was his own voice, begging Obi-Wan to hang on, to come back to him, to be alright. The past mixed with the present and all Anakin could see was Obi-Wan dying over and over again – hit by a sniper blast, felled by Asajj Ventress, alone and injured on Zigoola, captured by Maul, enslaved by Zygerrians, cut down by Grievous, and sliced in half by a dark, masked black-armored monster, who called him ‘Master’ with derision in its voice.

There was the smell of charred flesh in the air as Anakin desperately reached into the Force towards their bond and towards Obi-Wan’s Force signature. It was faint and frayed and the calm light that Anakin always associated with his Master was already very far away. And fading fast. Anakin reached for it frantically, feeling it slip through his grasp the harder he tried to grab it.

‘Please Master, please,’ he begged through their bond. ‘Please don’t leave me.’

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered – mud and blood and the salt of his tears mixing as he buried his face in Obi-Wan’s soft, fragrant hair. Desperately he held onto the remnants of Obi-Wan’s light, twining their signatures together so tightly that he could no longer see where he ended and his Master began. He tried to push his own strength through that bond and into the dimming light of the man in his arms.

He pushed and he held and he refused to let go.

The next moment he knew, he was in the med evac, Dantooine already far behind them. Kix was trying to take Obi-Wan from him, murmuring soothing words that Anakin ignored. Obi-Wan was cold and still in his arms, Anakin’s face was still buried in his hair…but he was alive. Anakin could feel his Force presence steadying, could feel all the energy draining from his own body after he had given so much of it – too much of it – to Obi-Wan.

“Is he – ” Anakin’s voice was a crack, a ruin. “Is he going to make it?” he whispered. Rex and Cody were there, starring at him with blank, exhausted faces, but Ahsoka was not. Ahsoka was gone, when she should have been here. With him. With Obi-Wan.

“I’m not sure, sir,” Kix said, carefully, trying to tend to Obi-Wan around the cage of Anakin’s arms. “The sooner we get him to Republic space, the better.”

Anakin tried to nod, tried to pull Obi-Wan even closer to him, but everything went dark and he knew nothing else.

Anakin woke to Obi-Wan’s gentle fingers stroking his hair, his elegant, Coruscanti voice berating him for being ten kinds of fool. Everything hurt but Anakin couldn’t stop the huge smile that spread across his face as he opened his eyes and saw Obi-Wan above him – his eyes a bright, blue-green.

“Nice to see you too, Master,” he joked, having no other way to express the joy that made his heart ache at the knowledge that Obi-Wan was alright. He reached out automatically with the Force, felt his Master’s vibrant presence – frayed, exhausted, weaker than normal – but mending fast. He knew his own smile was blinding.

Obi-Wan removed his hand from Anakin’s hair but Anakin grabbed it, sitting up with a groan of pain before the older Jedi could pull away. He wrapped his hands in Obi-Wan’s robes and pressed his face into the curve of Obi-Wan’s throat, closing his eyes as he listened to the steady beating of his Master’s heart. He felt Obi-Wan’s arms come up around him, holding him tightly.

Everything was going to be alright.

“Don’t ever do that again, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered, after several minutes, the raw emotion in his usually reserved voice causing Anakin to pull away a bit, surprised, to look at his Master’s face. Obi-Wan’s face was white and haggard from pain and stress, his lips thin and severe, and his eyes were now silvery-grey, which flashed as they took in Anakin’s confusion. He was taking deep, steadying breaths, plainly trying to suppress some sudden swell of feeling.

Anakin dropped his arms from around the other man and tried to remember what he had done wrong.

“You were unconscious for two weeks, Anakin,” Obi-Wan burst out., as though he could contain himself no longer. “Two weeks! Your Force levels were so low that we weren’t sure whether you would ever wake up!” He breathed harshly through his nose. “Don’t ever do that again!” he snapped, suddenly shouting, voice more furious than Anakin had ever heard it.

The younger man jumped in surprise, flinched at the fury Obi-Wan’s face, and then hardened himself. “You would have died!” he yelled back, loud – too loud. “You would have died if I hadn’t -- ,” his voice cracked and he broke off sharply.

Both men breathed harshly, their emotions visceral and jagged in the Force, their gazes furious and stubbornly locked.

“And you almost died trying to save me,” Obi-Wan said after a moment, voice glacially calm. He raised his hands to grip Anakin’s shoulders in a painful, bruising clasp. He shook his former Padawan, roughly. “Don’t ever…..” He took a deep breath. “Don’t ever do that for me again.”

The I’m not worth it remained unsaid, but Anakin knew they were there.

His Master let Anakin go then, retreating from the bed with trembling hands and a pale face. He looked lost all of a sudden. They stared at each other for a moment. Anakin knew his eyes were wide with shock and hurt and fury….far too much emotion for a Jedi. He wanted to reach out to Obi-Wan, to hold him and know that he was safe and here, and he wanted to bury his face back in his Master’s shoulder and be comforted.

But Obi-Wan was angry and Anakin didn’t understand why. He could feel himself trembling. He just needed….

“Get some rest,” Obi-Wan said at last, gently. He looked like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know the words he needed. After a second he turned away and the door hissed closed behind him, but Anakin did not rest. He felt tears slide down his cheeks as he lay there, listening to the quiet hum of machinery, and feeling more alone than he had ever felt before.

Obi-Wan did not come back for the three days Anakin was confined to the medical bay. Anakin could feel him through their bond – which Obi-Wan always kept open save for the Rako Hardeen incident – but he couldn’t really gauge his Master’s mood. Obi-Wan had always had impressive shields.

Occasionally, Obi-Wan sent him tendrils of comfort and warmth, so Anakin knew he wasn’t still mad. And besides, Anakin was used to his prickly, ever-irritated Master, the older man’s constant aggravation with and worry for his former Padawan, but he just didn’t understand why…

He supposed it didn’t matter. But he could feel this current of unease, and even fear, occasionally escape from Obi-Wan’s tight control over their bond, and he didn’t understand that either.

Anakin felt like he didn’t understand anything anymore.

After he was let out of the infirmary, he followed Obi-Wan around silently for several days, as they re-fitted their ships and welcomed new recruits. They didn’t have new orders yet, but after Dooku and Grievous had both escaped, Dantooine had been made secure quickly by the remnants of the 212^th and the 501^st. Both battalions had suffered heavy casualties and Rex was even transferred to the medical facility back on Kamino for treatment before he would be allowed back into the field.

Obi-Wan was quieter than even his usual wont and there was new tension between Master and former Padawan that Anakin also did not understand, as per usual these days. So, he followed Obi-Wan around and mostly managed to keep his mouth shut. He took a comm from the Chancellor, who seemed surprised that Obi-Wan had made a full recovery.

“But surely, Anakin, his wounds were severe,” the older man had said, concern in his voice.

Anakin didn’t feel like explaining what he had done and receiving another lecture on how he had made the wrong choice. Again. So all he said was, “My Master has always been resilient.” Which was nothing but the truth.

And the Chancellor had had nothing to say to that.

He called Padmé and she surprisingly answered, but she seemed busy and flustered. There were lines of tiredness around her eyes. “I have something very important to tell you when you come back, Ani. Something that will change both our lives,” she said, quietly, before signing off. “Please be safe. And keep Obi-Wan safe as well.”

Jedi Master Quinlan Vos arrived at the orbital battle station on the fifth day after Anakin had been let out of the medical wing. “Kenobi!” the Kiffar Jedi called out joyfully, as he sauntered down the ramp of his transport ship. He bounded over and clasped Obi-Wan hard on the shoulder in greeting. “Heard you almost died! Again. Good to see you’re tougher than I gave you credit for.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Yes, well-”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. “Anakin Skywalker,” he interrupted, shoving his hand between his Master and Vos, not liking that this man felt free enough to put his hands all over Obi-Wan.

Vos looked at the hand and then at Anakin’s face before heartily giving him a handshake, his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth. At least he removed himself from Obi-Wan’s…person.

“Young Skywalker, I’ve heard good things about you from Kenobi here.”

Obi-Wan had stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, watching the proceedings with an unreadable expression. Anakin felt a flare of anger.

“Really?” he said, flatly. “Then he must say all these good things behind my back, because they’re never to my face.” There was just a touch too much bitterness in the words for Anakin to pass them off as humor.

Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable and Vos looked between the two of them. “Well, you know Kenobi, that’s just his way,” he said at last, but there was speculation in his eyes.

There was silence between the three of them as they made their way towards one of the briefing rooms. Anakin could feel nothing from his Master; Obi-Wan looked outwardly serene and all other emotions were carefully locked away behind his imposing shields.

Quinlan Vos looked blithe and unconcerned, if a bit amused. Anakin, however, could feel a steadily building anger within himself, a counterpoint to the ever-growing confusion and fear he had felt these past months, as the war raged on and those he loved slipped further and further away from him. For reasons he didn’t understand.

And now, ever since he had saved his Master’s life, Obi-Wan was pulling away as well. And Anakin couldn’t handle that. He just couldn’t.

He tried to reach out to his Master in the Force, just to feel Obi-Wan’s soothing presence, but there was only a void. Obi-Wan had been doing that more and more often the past few days, blocking off even his Force presence, as though he didn’t want any part of himself able to be touched by Anakin.

Anakin felt his own anger and hurt – like a wave of bile – wash over him, saw Vos give him a startled look before he managed to rein it in, and slapped the switch to open the briefing room.

All three Jedi filed inside. Obi-Wan busied himself setting up the holoprojector and avoided all eyes, Anakin slouched moodily in a chair, and Quinlan Vos looked between the two of them again. At last he cleared his throat. “So, I heard your Padawan came to visit you, Skywalker. How’s she doing outside the Order? Causing havoc, I bet.” He grinned.

For a moment there was silence as Anakin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stared at Vos to make sure the man wasn’t lying. “Ahsoka was here?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Obi-Wan wince.

He swung to face his Master, standing up and taking an involuntary step forward. “You knew about this” he said, quietly, surprised at the sudden menace in his own voice.

Obi-Wan sighed tiredly and held up his hands in a peaceable manner, but he refused to budge. “She didn’t want you to know, Anakin.” His voice – quiet and calm – was all Jedi. “She asked me not to tell you.”

Anakin laughed, bitterly, heard the edge of hysteria in his own voice but couldn’t stop the words form pouring out him, like blood and pus from a wound. “So now you’re keeping my own Padawan from me!” he accused, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. Ahsoka hadn’t even…

“Our Padawan.” Obi-Wan was still calm.

“My Padawan!” Anakin snarled. His hands clenched useless at his sides. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to batter through the walls of Obi-Wan’s Jedi calm until he was as viscous and roiling a mess as Anakin always was. His breath caught as a sudden, terrible, thought occurred to him. “Have you been in contact with her since she left? Do you know where she is?” he demanded, almost unable to believe that Obi-Wan would –

Jedi Master Quinlan Vos took this opportunity to make a break for the exit.

Obi-Wan’s eyes followed him with faint exasperation. He pulled a hand through his hair, suddenly looking frustrated beyond measure.

“Anakin –

“Don’t you ‘Anakin’ me, Obi-Wan! Has she been in contact with you?!”

“Yes!” Obi-Wan all-but shouted. “Yes, she has. Sometimes,” he said, quieter, taking deep breaths until he was calm again. “I let her know that we were alright after Dantooine. She had heard the reports and she came to make sure for herself. She sat by your side for a while as you slept.”

In six quick strides Anakin had crossed the room and grabbed Obi-Wan by the shoulders. He all-but shook the older man. “Where is she?!”

Obi-Wan’s eyes were hard and grey, his voice like ice. “Let go of me, Anakin. Now.”

It was so Obi-Wan – so utterly immovable and in control even in the face of Anakin’s unrestrained fury and fear – that the younger man let out a sharp bark of unwilling laughter, his hands drifting down the coarse, plain fabric of his Master’s robes before dropping to hang uselessly by his sides once more. He automatically matched his strangled breaths to the other man’s.

From this narrow distance, he could feel the warmth of Obi-Wan’s skin, could feel his steady breaths, could see every color darting across his changeable eyes. That’s how close he was standing.

“This,” Obi-Wan said precisely, his lilting voice striking Anakin like a blow, not moving an inch but sweeping his hand out to encompass Anakin, “is why she did not want to tell you where she was.”

Then, and only then, did his Master step back, crossing his arms and staring at Anakin with irritation in his greenish-grey eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as though feeling the onset of a headache, as though Anakin was always such a trial, a burden, and Obi-Wan always had to clean up his messes. As though he wasn’t the one who had shut him out again, after Anakin had saved his life. As though he wasn’t the one who was keeping secrets.

“Anakin - ” he began, again, his tone long-suffering and tired and disappointed.

“Don’t. Just…don’t, Master.” Anakin hated when Obi-Wan used that tone with him. He hated disappointing his Master, he always had. He just had no idea why Obi-Wan would – why Ahsoka would –

Perhaps Obi-Wan sensed how lost he was – sometimes Anakin was sure his Master could see straight through him to all of his desires and fears and needs – for his gaze softened. “She loves you, Anakin. She just needs to make her own choices right now. She needs to find her own path, without you there.” He hesitated, as though not sure how to phrase what he wanted to say next. “You cannot hold onto her always, Anakin. You need to let her go, if that is what she wants…and if she loves you she will come back to you when she’s ready.”

Anakin felt all the fight drain out of him at his Master’s soft words. But he still didn’t really understand. If Ahsoka loved him, why would she want to leave him? They were family…they needed each other.

“We all must walk different paths. Sometimes love, alone, is not enough to keep people together, Anakin.”

Anakin shook his head. He refused to believe that. It should be.

Obi-Wan hesitated again. “One day I, too, will leave you, Anakin…if it is the will of the Force… when it is my time.” He sounded like he was feeling his way through a minefield, searching carefully for every safe footing. “I don’t want you to… but…I – I need you to…”

“No.” Anakin refused to hear those words. Refused to ever even consider them. As far as he was concerned, Obi-Wan Kenobi was indestructible. There was nothing he couldn’t come back from.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth – no doubt to argue some more – but Anakin took one, quick step towards him, brought his flesh hand up to caress his Master’s silken cheek, and then captured those lips with his own.

Obi-Wan’s lips were impossibly soft and he shivered under Anakin’s touch.

For half a heartbeat, Anakin held him, pressing their lips together, and it was perfect. He had everything he wanted. Obi-Wan’s prickly beard scratched his skin and his slightly chapped lips trembled under Anakin’s own. Then the Jedi Master pressed a strong hand on Anakin’s chest and shoved him away.

Anakin stumbled back, holding his breath and bracing himself for Ob-Wan to yell, or even to hit him. But Obi-Wan wouldn’t look up from his suddenly-intense study of the floor. The room was utterly silent save for Obi-Wan’s quick breathing.

His Master’s face was flushed, and after a moment he bit his lip before raising his eyes to meet Anakin’s own. Anakin gasped at the raw emotion in those blue-grey depths – at the confusion in them, like bruises – .

Obi-Wan raised one trembling hand to his own lips – looking as though he didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry – before he turned and left without a word.

&……&…….&…….&……..&……..&

Mace Windu’s stern and unamused features projected over the hologram the next morning did nothing for Anakin’s mood. Standing back in the Jedi Temple next to Master Yoda, and with his arms folded, he surveyed Obi-Wan, Anakin and Quinlan Vos with an utterly unimpressed look. Obi-Wan smiled his usual charming smile and Vos smirked, but Anakin just looked murderous. He didn’t even care what Master Windu thought. Obi-Wan was keeping Vos between himself and Anakin and refusing to even look at his former Padawan. Vos’ smirk grew. Master Yoda looked from Anakin to Obi-Wan and back again.

Master Windu snorted as he stared between them. “I don’t even want to know,” he said brusquely. “Whatever’s got you three on edge, deal with it.”

Anakin felt his eyes narrow and he opened his mouth, ignoring Vos’ sharp elbow in his side.

“An easy mission for you all, we have,” Master Yoda said, rapping his gimmer stick against the ground sharply to draw attention to him and heading off Anakin’s rant. “To Florrum will Obi-Wan and Anakin go. A message has the Jedi Council for the pirate, Hondo Ohnaka. A chance to aid the Republic we will give him.”

Anakin snorted. “I highly doubt -” he began.

“Hondo will hardly be accommodating to such a proposition,” Obi-Wan interrupted him smoothly, one hand going to stroke his beard in thought. “What will the Order be offering him to make it worth his while?”

Vos crossed his arms over his chest. “Protection from Dooku, no doubt, after his run in with Dooku.”

“Ohnaka has already relocated his base of operations to deep within Republic space,” Master Windu said. “He doesn’t need or want the Order’s protection.”

Anakin ground his teeth. Master Windu was being deliberately mysterious and he was in no mood for that today.

“Merely tell him the message came from me, the bald Jedi Master ordered sternly. “And that I said it would be well worth his while.””

Anakin didn’t understand – which was no surprise there – but at those words, Jedi Master Vos almost wet himself laughing.

&……&……&…….&…….&…….&

Like last time, after they had concluded their business, Hondo waved them to sit at one of the high tables in what he grandiosely called ‘the Great Hall.’ Sitting next to each other rather stiffly, the two Jedi avoided one another’s gazes so thoroughly that Anakin flinched when Hondo appeared behind them and clapped their shoulders in bonhomie.

“What is this?” he boomed, mock outraged. “My Jedi friends don’t trust the hospitality of Hondo Ohnaka?” He held one hand to his heart theatrically as he used the other to wave at their untouched drinks. “As if I would ever poison a Jedi,” he declared.

Anakin rolled his eyes but Obi-Wan opened his mouth, a polite smile already on his lips.

“Fine, fine. We will have new drinks brought,” Hondo declared, before Obi-Wan could attempt any diplomatic smoothing of the situation. He waved one hand towards the man serving drinks, who deliberately opened a new bottle before filling two goblets and bringing them over.

Hondo took a deep gulp from both cups before refilling them to the top – they were quite large goblets, Anakin noted – and passing them over to the Jedi. “Enjoy, my friends,” he said, before bustling off to place wagers on a minor scuffle breaking out on the other end of the Hall.

Obi-Wan looked dubiously into his drink. “Anakin—” he began, looking up with serious blue-grey eyes and an admonishing order on his lips.

Anakin growled in aggravation, held Obi-Wan’s gaze challengingly, and then drained his cup dry. “Another,” he called, louder than he’d intended, feeling the buzz of alcohol course through him and sending his head spinning.

Obi-Wan just sighed and took a sip.

Obi-Wan’s hair was so soft and beautiful and goldenish-red, Anakin decided, somewhere well into his third drink. And his lips were so red and full and plump. His Master’s presence in the Force was so warm, too, the younger man realized, feeling his thigh brush Obi-Wan’s as he leaned closer. He took another deep drink, knowing he was well passed the point of inebriation, but not caring.

He was warm and happy and floating, and the only thought in his head was how close Obi-Wan was next to him.

Heavily, he leaned against his Master’s side, head dropping onto his shoulder as he lazily looked up at the older man.

He was briefly amused when it took Obi-Wan two tries to place his drink on the table. “Anakin…..we’ve talked about this,” Obi-Wan said, trying for firmness, but his low and slightly-slurring words showed he was just as affected by the alcohol as Anakin.

Anakin examined his cup through blurred vision. What was in this hell-drink? Shrugging, he drained the cup dry again before hazily look back up at Obi-Wan…

…only to find that his Master had pulled back slightly and was staring down at him, his blue-grey eyes hazy and dark, their pupils blown wide

Anakin’s cup dropped unheeded from suddenly nerveless fingers, that hand stretching up to unconsciously trace those beloved lips, which parted with a gasp at the gentle pressure of Anakin’s fingertips.

For a moment they stilled, gazes locked and intense……searching.

Then, almost playfully, in a moved so unlike his Master, the tip of Obi-Wan’s tongue darted out and swiped over the pad of Anakin’s finger. Anakin shivered, a small, whimpering moan escaping him at the wet heat of that tongue. Obi-Wan would be so good with that clever mouth, hot and tight around Anakin’s cock…as he swirled that tongue around and around Anakin…..swallowing him all the way down…..

That organ gave a fierce pulse at the image, and as a wave of heat suffused him, Anakin realized that he was hard, fully erect and straining against the leather of his britches.

Pressing his face into the hollow of his Master’s throat, he half-fell, half-rolled off his stool and into Obi-Wan’s lap, almost toppling them both onto the floor.

Obi-Wan grabbed him, wrapped strong arms around his waist, until Anakin found his balance, legs draped around his Master’s thighs and dangling towards the floor. Against his aching groin, he could feel the evidence of Obi-Wan’s own arousal.

That hardness gave the lie to Obi-Wan’s words. His Master did want him. Anakin felt another jolt of arousal burn through him, shooting straight to his cock, which began to throb. Any form of restraint left him, and Anakin shamelessly bucked his hips forward lips pressed to Obi-Wan’s throat, until they were flush together, the hard planes of their stomachs quivering as Anakin rubbed himself against the other man.

Obi-Wan’s quiet groan was the most beautiful sound Anakin had ever heard. “You have no idea what you do to me, dear one,” his Master gasped, his voice suddenly ragged. His fingers helplessly clenched against Anakin’s back as he buried his face in Anakin’s hair and rocked back against him.

They both groaned then. ‘Me?’ Anakin thought, hazily, lifting his hips to grind wantonly against his Master once more, unable to believe this was actually happening. The pleasure this caused made Anakin see spots for a moment. He moaned, rocking them together yet again. “Obi-Wan,” he begged, voice a ruined croak.

And then they were stumbling up and away from the table, ignoring the indistinct shapes of people around them, Hondo’s distant voice, as they clumsily made for the dark opening of one of the hallways, stopping every few moments to run hesitant hands over one another, press themselves against one another, run fingers through hair and over lips and under each other’s’ tunics, feeling the warm skin underneath.

As soon as they were out of the hall, Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin and shoved him against the nearest wall, face first, before molding himself to the younger man’s back, his thick cock fitting perfectly into the cleft of Anakin’s buttocks as he mouthed at Anakin’s ear, one hand darting under Anakin’s tunics to skate over his stomach.

And then Anakin felt his Master’s mind pushing gently at his shields. Instantly Anakin dropped them, letting Obi-Wan fully inside, feeling glorious warmth flood every particle of his body, feeling Obi-Wan’s own desperate want and arousal echoing his own. He sighed in pleasure.

“We need to…” Anakin gasped, trying to concentrate, head spinning from alcohol, Obi-Wan and arousal. “We need to…go somewhere,” he finished, lamely.

“Or I could have you right here, right now, against this wall,” Obi-Wan purred, dangerously. “I bet you’d like that, my Anakin. The danger of it. The idea that anyone could walk by and see us.”

Anakin felt white-hot heat travel straight to his cock, and couldn’t stop the whine that left his throat. Everything else left his head but his former Master, hot and hard against him. “Yes, Master,” he panted, all but begged. “Please.”

So, this is what lay under Obi-Wan’s cool, aloof demeanor; this maelstrom of want and need and control. Anakin shivered uncontrollably and felt his knees go weak.

Shamelessly he bucked back against Obi-Wan, feeling that delicious hardness against his ass and delighting in Obi-Wan’s stuttering breath.

He felt the shudder run through his own body. He was already close, so close, just from Obi-Wan’s nearness, his voice in his ear, his body pressed against him, his presence in his mind. Anakin didn’t have to think about anything that wasn’t Obi-Wan. He had wanted this for so long.

“Please, Master,” he begged again. With a growl, Obi-Wan ground against him, lips going to the back of Anakin’s neck and one hand pushing aside the waistband of Anakin’s pants.

He wrapped long, strong fingers around Anakin’s aching erection, stroking harshly, one finger swiping over the already leaking head, and ground once more against Anakin’s ass.

Anakin gave one strangled moan and then he was coming, exploding in Obi-Wan’s hands, head thrown back against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, as wave after wave of pleasure swept through him. His legs buckled and he would have fallen if Obi-Wan hadn’t held him up. He moaned again, long and ragged, as his cum spattered the wall in front of him, seeming to go on forever before he was spent. After, he hung limp in Obi-Wan’s arms, the only sound his ragged breathing.

His Master gave a low, delighted laugh as his beard and lips caressed Anakin’s flushed cheek. “Such a good boy you are for me, my Anakin,” he murmured, voice rough.

Anakin whimpered, turned his head slightly, and captured Obi-Wan’s lips with his own.

Obi-Wan responded instantly, one hand coming up to stroke Anakin’s cheek gently, even as he ground helplessly into Anakin’s leg.

“Anakin,” he panted, voice sounding wrecked, lips barely parted from Anakin’s own.

Oh, Anakin loved that voice, broken from raw want. “I…I need…” Obi-Wan groaned, as he rutted against Anakin again, desperate for more friction.

Anakin kissed him deeply, running his tongue all around Obi-Wan’s mouth, turning in the circle of Obi-Wan’s arms.

He palmed Obi-Wan’s hardness through his pants, swallowing his Master’s responsive moan as he unconsciously arched into the touch, before dropping to his knees before the older man.

He looked up through his lashes as he pushed aside Obi-Wan’s tunic and freed his swollen cock. Obi-Wan’s face was flushed, his soft, auburn hair was mussed, and his pupils were blown wide. His hand trembled as he threaded his fingers into Anakin’s curls.

The sight of his normally immaculate Master in such a state of dishabille made Anakin wild with need. He could feel his spent cock twitch with excitement and then start to harden again.

Anakin ran his fingers over the silky, hot flesh of his Master’s erection and then, holding Obi-Wan’s eyes, he swallowed him whole.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered closed as his head fell back, a quiet moan escaping him. His legs trembled. Anakin pulled back a bit.

“Look at me, Master,” he begged, one hand falling to his own cock. He pulled himself rapidly, hardening quickly as Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped back to his. His lips were parted and swollen with kisses.

Anakin swallowed him again, sucking and licking greedily, pulling at his own weeping erection, moaning as his Master’s hand gripped his hair so tight he felt the sharp sting.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fell to where Anakin was jerking himself off. “Anakin - ” he gasped, thrusting erratically into Anakin’s mouth. And then he was coming, Anakin swiftly following him over the edge.

Anakin swallowed it all, stroking the backs of Obi-Wan’s calves gently until he was done.

His Master’s knees hit the ground, hard, as he pulled Anakin roughly to him, lips harsh and fierce and perfect. He tasted overwhelmingly of Twi-lek liquor and something warm and comforting – like cinnamon and chocolate – that was uniquely Obi-Wan.

Anakin sighed in happiness – feeling warm and content, his head spinning – as his kisses slowed and he pressed his face into the hollow of Obi-Wan’s throat as everything went dark around him.

He woke up the next morning, sticky and with a pounding headache, somehow in a bed.

But Obi-Wan was already gone.

Obi-Wan was refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. That was the only proof he had that it hadn’t all been a dream. 

&……&…….&…….&…….&……..&

It was Master Yoda who finally had enough of the rift between the Jedi Generals of the Open Circle Fleet. True, he hadn’t exactly been aware of the rift until Jedi Master Luminara Unduli brought it to his attention. But once he had been made aware of the situation…….well, something had to be done.

Settling quietly next to the venerable Jedi Grand Master as he meditated in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, Luminara carefully arranged her skirts and listened to the steady tinkling and rush and roar from the myriad of waterfalls which surrounded them. Although many Jedi went to this place of water and trees to find peace, the Miralan Jedi Master had never done so. She found her own center in her well-ordered, private apartments, or in the quiet winds that were created in the desert room next to this one.

So, she did not seek her own meditation in this place, but patiently waited for Master Yoda to acknowledge her presence. At length, the little green Master opened his eyes and fixed her with his old and knowing eyes.

“Troubled, you are, Luminara,” he said, getting right to the point, as was his wont.

“Yes, Master,” she admitted. This was indeed true; she had been troubled for many months now; by the war, by Barriss’ fall to the Dark Side, by the deaths of so many Jedi and the loss of so much of what made the Republic something she believed in.

“Every week, your Padawan you visit,” Yoda continued, prompting her.

“Yes, Master,” she agreed. She wouldn’t apologize for her actions. She would never give up on her Padawan’s return to the light, and to hope. She just hoped, beyond hope, that if she ever despair, someone would reach out to her the same way. Everyone deserved someone who refused to give up on them.

“But not here because of that are you,” Yoda said, seemingly content to carry on the entire conversation by himself.

Luminara, out of faint curiosity, remained silent to see if he would go any further, but the venerable Jedi Master seemed to have caught onto her game. He fixed her with a faintly amused look and remained as silent as she.

At last he sighed and muttered something about ‘young Jedi these days.’ “Fond you are of young Skywalker. And of Master Kenobi, as well.”

Her smile was the first genuine one she’d had since Barriss was arrested. “Yes, Master,” she admitted, and it was true. Skywalker was reckless and brilliant, Kenobi steady and committed and noble, and together they were balance. She adored their pointless bickering even when she sternly urged them to remain on task.

But there hadn’t been any pointless bickering for many weeks now. “I’m concerned for them, Master. The war has been hard on all of us.” She swallowed, seeking the right words. “So many have become disheartened. Some of us have lost our way.” Pong Krell. Barriss Offee. Quinlan Vos. Ahsoka Tano. She did not say the names out loud, but she knew the aged Jedi Master heard them. “Master Kenobi and Master Skywalker have seen some of the worst action. They are always called to duty. And they have felt loss.”

Ahsoka’s leaving was still so fresh for both of them.

“Perhaps some time alone, to contemplate and find their balance again, you seek for them?” Master Yoda mused.

Luminara hesitated. That wasn’t quite the route she had been going for but…….it could work. “I bow to your wisdom in this matter, Master,” she murmured, politely, suppressing a faint smile at his snort.

Master Yoda thought for a moment. “Earned it they have,” he decided at last. “And wise you are, Luminara, to see fractures and seek to heal them, when others do not.”

Luminara rose and bowed to him, but her heart ached as she walked away. She had failed to see so many fractures; she did not deserve either thanks or praise for seeking, far too late, to heal only one of them.

&……&……&…….&…….&…….&

Anakin placed his knapsack down on the plain, wooden table of the small house and watched Obi-Wan, standing in the open doorway and staring after their transport shuttle. There was something almost fearful in how Obi-Wan was standing, as though he wanted to run.

Hesitantly, Anakin said, “Master, I think that…….”

Obi-Wan cut him off. “I think I’ll spend our retreat out in nature, Anakin.” His voice was soft, but he wouldn’t meet Anakin’s eyes. “You can have the house almost entirely to yourself.” He was trying to sound amused. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy not having me nagging you about everything.”

And then, looking suddenly defeated, he wandered off down the beach.

“I’m not going to jump you,” Anakin snapped, disgustedly, after the third night Obi-Wan refused to sleep under the same roof as him. “You made your opinions quiet clear, thank you very much, and I’m not such a monster as to…..,” he trailed off, angry and unwilling to go any further.

Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable, and not only from the sand which liberally coated his person. Anakin hated sand, but at the moment he felt almost charitable towards it. He hoped all those little grains were irritating Obi-Wan beyond all endurance.

His mumbled words were almost inaudible. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

And the younger Jedi Knight had nothing to say to that before heading back to the house.

Anakin began to take long runs around the island every morning, as a way to avoid Obi-Wan – who bull-headedly refused to sleep inside the house – but also as a way to calm his racing mind. He had always hated meditation and been unable to sink himself within the currents of the Force without his Master guiding him. Indeed, it had been Obi-Wan who taught Ahsoka how to meditate.

Often, after a battle, they would settle near Anakin as he worked on his starfighter and center themselves while he looked on – half resentful and half glad no one expected him to join in. Sometimes he would wait for Obi-Wan at night, and his Master would unquestioningly guide him into meditation, but often he was too proud to accept this help and would just refuse to meditate at all.

Now, with Obi-Wan maintaining a careful distance from him, both physically and within the Force, Anakin felt adrift, lost within the Force as it shouted at him and buffeted him and tried to consume him. Running helped. When he was running, it was just him and how far he could push his body. There was nothing else in his mind but trying to push his legs further an drag in enough air.

He worked on kata and forms during the afternoon, made interesting things to eat in the kitchen – which he always brought out to the meditating Obi-Wan, who politely thanked him and ate whatever it was, but never engaged with him any further than that – and explored the island. Often, he could exhaust himself enough to sleep at night without Obi-Wan’s calming breathing beside him. Yet, on the nights he spent tossing and turning, vaguely wondering what Padmé was doing and where Ahsoka was, he would always wait until he felt Obi-Wan asleep in the Force, before going outside and lying within earshot of his Master. Eventually, he would sleep, but Obi-Wan would always be gone in the morning.

Anakin wondered what Obi-Wan sought through his meditation in this Force retreat they had been ordered on. He wondered if he had found it. For himself, Anakin realized that he needed Obi-Wan, would always need Obi-Wan, always want him, was utterly lost without him. If his Master didn’t look at him, talk to him, touch him soon…it felt like he would do something both desperate and crazy.

Matters went on like this for a fortnight. A month ago, Anakin would have considered a vacation involving himself and Obi-Wan alone on a deserted island to be a gift. Now, he considered it a curse. It felt like he was crawling out of his own skin, that he was constantly screaming inside his own mind, that he had to do something. Anything.

A fortnight after they arrived, a storm hit the island. It usually rained softly in the afternoons – warm and misty and gentle – but this was a day-long gale.

The wind howled, the ran fell in sheets of icy, pebble-like droplets, and Obi-Wan was forced to retreat into the house with Anakin. He was polite but distant and by the time mid-afternoon came around, Anakin knew he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m going out,” he announced brusquely, his tone a barely-repressed argument.

Obi-Wan glanced up, startled, looked out the window at the jagged bolts of lightning and then to Anakin. “Are you sure that’s…wise?” he asked, hesitantly.

For answer, Anakin stalked out the front door, slamming it shut behind him.

For an hour straight, he ran through pouring rain, until he was soaked through, shivering frantically, and exhausted. But still he felt too big for his own skin, his mind refusing to relinquish everything that had happened and what he couldn’t change. When he finally stopped, he was completely on the other side of the island from Obi-Wan and the house, and his Master’s concern was distant and small across their bond. Below him, the sheer slope of a cliff dropped hundreds of feet below to the roaring, churning, pounding waves of the sea.

Anakin had never really liked swimming. He supposed it came from growing up on a desert planet, but large bodies of water – anything larger than a puddle actually – made him uneasy. Obi-Wan had made sure he was at least a competent swimmer while still a young Padawan, yet Anakin never felt safe swimming unless Obi-Wan was with him. Not even at Varykino, with his new wife on their honeymoon, had he wanted to go into the water.

Now, though, that raging inferno below looked how Anakin felt. Deciding it was the perfect way to tire himself out for later, he dropped his outer tunic to the ground, pulled off his boots, and dove into those cold depths.

As soon as he hit the water, he knew that it was a mistake. The sea was fierce and rough, huge waves seeking to dash him against the rocks behind. Having come this far, Anakin refused to turn back. Trying to mostly remain above the white-capped swells, he set his face away from the island and headed out for open sea.

It was a fight to breathe, to not sink, to push himself further and further away from land. Anakin relished it – this constant battle against the elements – and moved further and further out, fighting with every stroke. There was nothing anymore in the entire universe, except the fight to survive.

He was aching, his limbs trembling from strain, by the time he stopped. Treading water, lightning burning the air in the distance, he turned and looked behind him. The land was only a distant speck through the silvery, driving rain and the giant waves created huge mountains and valleys on all sides of him.

Buffeted by the rain and the wind and the water, Anakin’s lungs burned in his chest and he felt suddenly tired – tired all the way through – exhausted in both mind and body. A thought flitted through his mind, gentle and yet, somehow, inexorable.

How easy would it be to just let the sea take him? There would finally be peace…

And it’s not like anyone would really care…they all keep pushing me away, anyway.

Grimly, Anakin struck out for the shore, trying to keep the saltwater out of his lungs, feeling as though every push of his limbs took him further away from Obi-Wan instead of closer.

It was a long time before he admitted to himself that he wasn’t going to make it. The land was no closer and he was tired…so very tired.

Frantically, arms flailing, he attempted to remain above the waves, kicking and fighting. But he was dragged under all the same, drawn downwards into darkness.

Desperately, with his last strength, he reached out for Obi-Wan in the Force. Master, I’m sorry…I’m so, so sorry…

And then darkness took him.

Anakin woke to pain.

Everything hurt. His eyes burned, his lungs ached, and it felt like he had been repeatedly punched in the chest. His limbs were too heavy to move, but Anakin was sure he was lying in sand. Water lapped at his feet, rain poured down upon his numb face, and he rolled over onto his side, retching out sea water and knowing he was still alive.

Familiar hands wrapped around his back and brushed wet tendrils of hair from his face. “Easy, easy,” Obi-Wan said, his voice rough. Anakin’s head was swimming, spots dancing across his vision. He tried to sit up, to focus on Obi-Wan. His Master aided him until Anakin was seated upright, but kept his hands on his shoulders to balance his former Padawan. They were on the very shore of the island – near the house – on the smooth sands that bordered the sea. The waves restlessly caressed their legs, but the storm had moved away a bit, so although the sky was dark, and the rain still fell, it was quiet around them.

Obi-Wan looked horrible. His hair hung wet about his face, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face haggard, and he was soaked through. He also looked like the best thing Anakin had ever seen. With a desperate little note in his voice, Anakin leaned forward, pressing into his Master and burying his face into the hollow of Obi-Wan’s throat, where he was safe.

Obi-Wan’s strong arms instantly wrapped around him, holding him too tight. The older man’s heart was pounding in his chest and Anakin could feel the fear coursing through his Master through their bond. “I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and ruined from sea water.

Obi-Wan held him even tighter, all-but hauling Anakin into his lap as he pressed his face to Anakin’s cheek, his beard scratching pleasantly.

“I thought--” Obi-Wan’s voice was strangled and frantic, and then he was kissing Anakin, mouth desperate and hot against his former padawan’s as he sought confirmation that Anakin was really alright.

Anakin made that desperate little noise against, going boneless in Obi-Wan’s arms as he greedily returned his kisses, arching up, wrapping his fingers around the back of his Master’s neck as he tilted the other man’s head, deepening the kiss. IT was hot and perfect and so, so good. Keening with relief, Anakin tried to lose himself entirely in Obi-Wan’s warmth.

Obi-Wan broke off the kiss, gasping, his hands restless along the sides of Anakin’s neck, kneading his back and shoulders, before grasping Anakin’s thighs and wrapping the younger man’s legs around his waist.

Anakin moaned softly, holding onto his Master and trying to kiss him again, loving the way Obi-Wan seemed helpless to resist, his lips caressing Anakin’s in deep, gentle brushes.

Obi-Wan at last broke away again, panting, his lips barely parted from Anakin’s. “We need to get you warm and dry.” He staggered to his feet, Anakin still held in his arms, and stumbled back up the back towards the house. Anakin rest his head tiredly against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, lips pressed against the side of his Master’s throat where he occasionally placed soft kisses.

The next Anakin knew, he was naked, standing under a spray of gloriously hot water and still wrapped in Obi-Wan’s arms. They were both in the shower back at the house and although Obi-Wan was distressingly clothed, he was wrapped around Anakin from behind, hard and firm and there as he washed Anakin’s body of the sand and salt. Anakin was so tired that his legs trembled, and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. He felt completely drained and draw and open.

As Obi-Wan’s hands brushed along his stomach, soapy and careful, he realized that his cock hung full and heavy, his balls low. Heat pooled low in his groin. With a moan, his head fell back onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his hips rolling slowly upwards as he silently begged for those beautiful hands to touch him where he longed to be touched.

“Later, dear one,” Obi-Wan murmured softly in his ear, “we ill have later.” But his voice was as aroused as Anakin felt and he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from wandering once Anakin was clean.

One hand brushed gently again and again over Anakin’s erect cock, circling the head, running up along the shaft before hesitantly skating over his balls. Anakin was moaning helplessly now, hips canting, eyes fluttering at the barely-there pressure of those callous fingers. Obi-Wan’s breath was ragged against his ear and the Jedi Master was hard against his hip.

Anakin was so worn-out, but his body knew what he desperately needed.

And then Obi-Wan’s other hand brushed tentatively, wonderingly, over Anakin’s hole, skating down until he circled the rim. As Anakin tried to spread his legs, hips tiredly trying to rise and press into Obi-Wan gentle, fluttering fingers on his cock, his Master pressed the tip of one finger just past the rim of Anakin’s hole.

He came, cock stiffening and ejecting. Crying out in relief, feeling pleasure burst over him in a wave, Anakin fell back into Obi-Wan’s arms and sank into unconsciousness.

He must have slept for a very long time.

The sun was golden and warm, well passed mid-day, when he woke amid tangled sheets, clothed but wrapped so completely around Obi-Wan that the other man had been unable to move without the risk of waking him. He groaned through sore muscles and raised his head a bit. His Master was giving him a wry look and an arched eyebrow, but his hair was utterly mussed, and a faint blush suffused his cheeks.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said after a moment, in which they just looked at one another. “I – I want to apologize,” Obi-Wan began, before Anakin leaned forward and kissed him. Hard.

Obi-Wan resisted for all of a moment before wrapping his arms once more around Anakin and rolling them both over until he covered the younger man entirely, his mouth devouring the soft, pliant lips beneath his.

Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s cock twitch and start to swell against his leg. “Don’t you dare pull back from me now,” he growled between kisses, before reaching down and grabbing Obi-Wan’s buttocks in both hands, hauling the other man hard and firm against his own, half-hard groin. His Master’s breath stuttered, his hands pulling at Anakin’s hair as a small moan escaped him. Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s cock swell even more as he lazily, deliberately rolled his hips, pressing their groins flush together.

He did it again and again, using his hands, clenched in Obi-Wan’s firm butt cheeks, to rock the older man against him each time, until Obi-Wan was fully hard, his cock swollen and curved upwards against his stomach.

His Master groaned loudly, now limp in Anakin’s arms, face pressed into the pillows beneath them as he tried to rock his hips even harder than Anakin’s slow, firm movements.

“Anakin--” he moaned, already sounding wrecked but obviously preparing an argument about why they could not go any further. But although Anakin felt tired and sore, his mind was completely clear.

“No,” he growled, lips against Obi-Wan’s ear. “You are mine, Master.” And he felt Obi-Wan shiver against him, felt the jerk of his cock, the sudden leak of pre-cum from the tip, as his Master moaned at his words.

The knowledge that he had the power to do this to Obi-Wan Kenobi was almost too much.

“Force,” Obi-Wan moaned again, raising his head a bit to devour Anakin’s lips once more.

His hands were dipping underneath the band of Anakin’s sleep pants when he stilled. “Anakin,” his voice was suddenly sharp, “you’re shivering.” His hands moved up, pressed to Anakin’s forehead, felt his pulse.

It was true. Although helplessly aroused and hard, aching for Obi-Wan’s touch like it was the only thing he needed to survive, Anakin was freeing. No longer distracted by kissing Obi-Wan, his teeth began chattering and his body began shaking.

Obi-Wan had dragged him up and out of bed, undressing him and pushing him backwards under the hot spray of the shower again, before he’d even though of moving. Anakin whimpered, reaching out desperate hands to pull Obi-Wan in after him.

With a sigh, his Master complied, shedding his own sleep cloths in an untidy pule on the floor.

Anakin nuzzled into his Master’s strong arms, felt himself stop shaking, and for long minutes they stood like that, simply pressed together, until Anakin stopped shivering entirely.

At last, warm and slightly drowsy, Anakin grew aware of Obi-Wan’s glorious, naked skin, pressed entirely against his own once more. His swollen cock, which had wilted a little in his distress, hardened rapidly until it jutted into the side of Obi-Wan’s hip. His Master shifted a bit and Anakin used the opening to press his now-fully erect cock against Obi-Wan’s deflated member. He raised his head, bringing his hands up to threat through Obi-Wan’s silken-wet hair, before bending and nudging the older man’s lips apart.

With a soft sigh, Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open and Anakin placed his own hot, open mouth over it, darting his tongue in to tangle with Obi-Wan’s own, teasing the sides of his Master’s mouth, pressing his body flush against the other man’s and rubbing their groins together until Obi-Wan was pliant in his arms.

Then he turned, walking them back until his Master’s back hit the shower wall. Rolling his hips up against the other man’s, delighting in the gasp this produced, Anakin deepened the kiss, one hand going down to wrap one of Obi-Wan’s legs around his own waist, rocking their groins together in a slow rhythm, while the other began to trail down from his Master’s back, skating every downwards until it brushed provocatively over his Master’s tight, puckered hole.

Obi-Wan moaned, sounding surprised, hips jerking, as he pulled his head back with a gasp. It hit the wall of the shower with a dull ‘thud.’ He tried to speak but Anakin rolled their hips together again, causing his words to end in another moan as his back arched, his eyes fluttered closed and he exposed the pale expanse of his throat.

Anakin bent to lick and nibble that perfect skin, brushing over Obi-Wan’s tight hole again as he did so, and feeling it flutter. Obi-Wan’s cocked pulsed from where it was pressed between their bodies and his Master trembled in Anakin’s arms.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan half-gasped, half-moaned, “I don’t…I don’t know how t do this!” he got out in a rush, as Anakin’s other hand came around and grasped his Master’s throbbing cock in a firm grip.

“Well, lucky for you, I do, Master,” Anakin said, with a wicked smile, before dropping to his knees, mouth now level with Obi-Wan’s thick cock. He gave it a couple of firm strokes before placing the head against his lips. Obi-Wan’s hips jerked, and then he moaned against as Anakin worked his tongue around the flap, lavishing attention on the slit until he’d drawn a drop of pre-cum from it and Obi-Wan tried to thrust into Anakin’s mouth.

Laughing softly, holding his Master back, Anakin bent forward and took as much of Obi-Wan as he could, hollowing his cheeks as he began to suck.

His other hand fondled Obi-Wan’s heavy balls before moving back up to slowly circle Obi-Wan’s hole. Not until Obi-Wan was a complete mess – alternating between trying to thrust into Anakin’s mouth and wiggling back against Anakin’s hand with little, desperate moans – did the Jedi Knight pull away.

Obi-Wan was collapsed, boneless, against the wall, panting and with his pupils blown wide as he hazily surveyed the kneeling young man before him. His cock was red and weeping. Anakin couldn’t resist bending forward and giving it another lick.

Obi-Wan cried out softly, his cock stiffening and filling even more. “Anakin, I’m going to----” he broke off with a cry as Anakin grabbed the base of his prick, halting his ejaculation. Keening desperately, Obi-Wan tried to thrust into Anakin’s hand, his hips jerking weakly.

“Not yet, Master,” he commanded and Obi-Wan stopped, trembling. “Turn around,” Anakin whispered, heady with the power his Master was giving to him.

Obi-Wan turned and braced his hands against the tiles. The room was filled with steam and heat. Anakin, still kneeling, reached his right hand up, its leather glove wet but still stiff and rough. Wrapping it once more around Obi-Wan’s shaft, he began to loosely stroke it.

Then he bent and nuzzled his face between Obi-Wan’s buttocks, parting those soft mounds of flesh as Obi-Wan bit off a groan and tried to spread his legs wider. He looked utterly wanton as he waited for Anakin to fuck him.

Anakin’s cock gave a throb at that thought, swelling huge and beginning to pulse at the knowledge of what he was about to do. Desperately, he pressed forward, and began to lick around Obi-Wan’s hole.

He was almost too far gone to wait and prepare Obi-Wan up properly, but the desire to not hurt his Master, to rather undo him completely, caused him to go slow, fucking Obi-Wan open with quick darts and long, luscious swaths of his tongue, delighting in every moan and cry, every helpless thrust of his hips, before adding fingers; one, two, three.

Only when Obi-Wan was thrusting back against him, begging in a voice Anakin had never head before, did he place his cock against the rim of Obi-Wan’s arse and slowly begin to push in. He had to stop when he was seated as far as he could go.

Obi-Wan was moaning again, half-pain, half-pleasure. He was so tight, so hot. Anakin’s hips jerked helplessly, and he slipped inside a little further, Obi-Wan biting off another moan.

“More,” Obi-Wan rasped, and Anakin pushed in yet again.

His head fell to the back of Obi-Wan’s. His Master’s arms shook as he tried to hold them both up. “You are mine, Master,” Anakin vowed, and began to thrust.

It took only a couple thrusts for Obi-Wan to begin moaning in pleasure once more. Oh Force, Anakin was so close. So close. Fuck. He moaned and buried himself entirely into Obi-Wan, feeling his Master completely sheathing him. Obi-Wan gasped as Anakin’s cock brushed his prostate.

Anakin reached around, brushing soft, flesh fingers over Obi-Wan’s straining erection, his mechanical hand tilting his Master’s head back until he could reach those full, parted lips. Erratically, Anakin thrust again, messily exchanging kisses with Obi-Wan, who writhed and moaned in his arms.

It took only two more thrusts, and then Obi-Wan was coming, his presence luminous in the Force. His blissed-out face, tiled upwards against Anakin’s shoulder as he breathed his padawan’s name, caused the young man to instantly follow him over the edge.

Gradually, he became aware of the warm water sluicing over them, washing evidence of their passion away. Obi-Wan was a warm, perfect weight in his arms. Turning, he shut the water off before pulling Obi-Wan gently out of the shower. They tumbled back into bed, still wet, kissing and exploring one another’s bodies.

Anakin, insatiable now he had what he’d always wanted, felt his cock begin to harden soon enough, begging for attention until Obi-Wan’s clever lips began to kiss and nibble his thighs and lick around his stomach, circling his erection maddeningly.

He came that time without even being touched.

Later that afternoon, lying out in the shade of a tree, the water a distant murmur and ensconced in Obi-Wan’s arms, Anakin finally felt at peace.

Although his Master had never done this, Anakin knew exactly what to do. He had spent his entire teenage years jerking himself off and fingering himself to the image of Obi-Wan. And as he had grown older and his Master grew ever more unobtainable and perfect, he had become more adventurous. Anakin rarely paid for sex; he found more than enough partners willing to help him try and forget Obi-Wan. But it never worked.

Until Padmé. Anakin had never been unfaithful to her since their marriage. Except once.

The day he and Ahsoka and Obi-Wan returned to the Temple after the conclusion of the Rako Hardeen incident on Naboo. Obi-Wan had gone to get reconstruction surgery and Anakin had left the Temple for the lower city. He had gotten so drunk and high that he couldn’t even remember his own name, and then he had proceeded to get ruthlessly fucked into a wall by a strong man with auburn hair. The man hadn’t even prepared Anakin properly, but relentlessly drove into him until he bled: until every flare of pain drove all else from Anakin’s mind but the feeling of the man’s huge cock in his ass, his harsh breaths in his ear and his fingers digging into his hips.

Anakin had passed out in some gutter, bruised and so insensible that his lightsaber would have been stolen with him none the wiser if he hadn’t forgotten it at Padmé ’s apartment. He had stumbled – bleeding, bruised, filthy and hungover – back to the Temple, drawn inexorably to his Master’s warm, calm presence in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. But seeing him – see that beloved face again, knowing he was really still alive – Anakin couldn’t face him. He had dragged himself into a shower instead, the hot water burning the cuts from the nameless man which littered his skin.

The man who wasn’t Obi-Wan because Obi-Wan didn’t even care enough about Anakin to tell him he was still alive. If he hadn’t felt the connection between them even with Obi-Wan’s altered face…

Anakin started crying and then he couldn’t stop. Ahsoka found him hours later, freezing and naked and huddled into the corner of the fresher. She had run for Obi-Wan, who hadn’t even hesitated before climbing into the fresher and wrapping Anakin in warm, strong arms, murmuring soothing words.

Anakin had closed his eyes and held on tightly to Obi-Wan’s robes, feeling as though he was caught in a maelstrom, that everything he was feeling was going to come up and drown him.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured, soft lips and prickly beard pressed against Anakin’s forehead, “I am so, so sorry.”

Ahsoka had slipped away then. And Anakin had cried into Obi-Wan’s shoulder until all his tears were spent. Obi-Wan bundled him into bed like he was a child and sat by him until he fell asleep, yet when he woke, alone, it still felt like his insides had been ripped out. It was a miracle that Obi-Wan was still alive, but he could have just as easily been dead. They were in the middle of a war; Jedi were dying all the time. Anakin could feel their loss – bright lights suddenly winking out – and it felt like pieces of him were being torn away.

When he thought Obi-Wan was gone it felt like his soul had been torn out. That may had been a melodramatic way of putting it, but Obi-Wan had been a part of Anakin – his mind, his heart, his entire world – for so long, that without him, Anakin had no idea who he was.

And now here they both were. Anakin lazily opened his eyes to find that Obi-Wan had dozed off. The dappled sunlight turned his hair red-gold and his features looked relaxed and young in sleep. He looked more at peace than Anakin had seen him since…..well, since that night he had watched Obi-Wan sleep aboard the Naboo cruiser when he was nine. Before Qui-Gon had been killed. Anakin reached over and gently pushed his Master’s soft hair out of his face, fingers skimming over Obi-Wan’s smooth skin. Obi-Wan didn’t stir.

Anakin held his breath a moment, hovering over the older Jedi, before bending down and gently brushing his lips against the other man’s. He closed his eyes and couldn’t resist kissing him once more before he pulled himself away, a disgusted frown on his face at his own behavior. Obi-Wan still seemed so hesitant about this whole thing that Anakin was afraid he would pull back again at any moment.

He sighed, flopping back down onto the blanket and throwing an arm over his eyes. He tried to quiet his mind, to align his erratic breaths to his Master’s even breathing, but to no avail.

Anakin had no idea when he stopped loving his wife – when the thought of her stopped bringing excitement and instead brought dread and confusion and fear. He turned on his side and looked once more at his Master.

He had an idea that it began one morning when he woke to find himself in his and Obi-Wan’s shared cot, curled around his former Master, with Obi-Wan’s face buried in his chest, and the sunlight turning the older man’s copper hair to gold.

He had a fear that it began in the Arena on Geonosis, when he had known with absolute certainty that if Padmé died he would one day recover, but if Obi-Wan died…if he failed him….

He believed sometimes that it began when he was nine-years-old, following his stern, perfect, wonderful new Master around, just needing to be near him to watch his ever-changing eyes in order to know what he is thinking. Perhaps it was the night Qui-Gon died and he went to Obi-Wan’s room, climbed into his lap, and fell asleep in the young man’s arms, curled around him like an octopus, and pretending not to notice the young Jedi Knight’s reddened eyes.

Obi-Wan had hesitantly stroked calloused fingers down the young Anakin’s back, murmuring soothing nothings in croaking voice as Anakin shook from loneliness and grief. He had never reprimanded Anakin once about his feelings, merely waited, patiently until Anakin calmed and eventually fell asleep in his arms.

He frequently told himself that he had fallen briefly in love with his Master at the age of fifteen, that it had been just a crush, and that he got over it when Padmé came back into his life; his perfect, beautiful Padmé.

Yet, Anakin has a horribly sinking suspicion that Padmé – a gentle reflection of power and grace and beauty and control – that damnable aloof serenity she shared with Obi-Wan – had always been a more attainable version of his Master.

But he loved her. He knew he loved her…. once.

He was still jealous of those she spent time with, still found her beautiful and wanted her to be his, and his alone.

Yet as he looked at Obi-Wan, twisting in his sleep until he was pressed into Anakin’s side, where he murmured quietly and settled once more into sleep, he knew he had never felt such peace and safety and…. overpowering joy, with Padmé, as he felt right now in this quiet moment on the shore of some distant ocean, the sun warming them, and no one there but himself and Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan muttered in his sleep again and curled even closer against his former Padawan. Anakin slung one arm around him, pulling his Master’s head onto his chest, entwining their legs, and listened to Obi-Wan’s steady heartbeat.

The sun was a reddish glow on the horizon when Obi-Wan stirred. He stretched like a cat in Anakin’s arms, reaching up to press warm lips to Anakin’s cheek before yawning and stretching once more. “I’m beginning to feel positively sinful,” the Jedi Master admitted after a moment, during which Anakin began to skate gentle fingers over Obi-Wan’s lips, down the bridge of his nose, across the soft skin of his eyelids. He could feel the wonder in himself that his Master was allowing this.

He hummed to urge Obi-Wan to continue.

“I feel that all we do on this island is eat and sleep………and now this,” Obi-Wan finished after a moment, embarrassment in his voice. “I’m positive this isn’t what Master Yoda had in mind when he sent us here.”

“Oh, are you sure, Obi-Wan?” Anakin could hear the laughter in his own voice. The image of Master Yoda and the Council Members sending him and Obi-Wan to this island so they could finally ravish each other, was so ludicrous that he couldn’t helped being amused by it.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Passion is not the Jedi Way.” He coughed a bit, awkwardly. “At least, not physical passion. Commitment to another person…..” he trailed off. “I’m not saying this the right way.” He pressed his lips together and stopped speaking.

Anakin absently continued tracing over Obi-Wan’s smooth skin. He didn’t need his Master to continue; he knew what Obi-Wan was trying to say. Being a Jedi was about being selfless; it was about sacrificing your own wants and desires to dedicate your life to helping others. It was a hard life and no one was forced to stay in it who didn’t want to, but those who did were honored.

Anakin had always seen Obi-Wan as a perfect example of what a Jedi shoulder be…….but……..

“Master,” he murmured, feeling Obi-Wan’s hands pause in their own gentle stroking along his spine.

“I’m not sure you should be calling me that anymore, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully.

“You’ll always be my master, no matter what happens,’ Anakin said, low but fierce. He needed Obi-Wan to truly understand how important he was to Anakin. But he also needed an answer to something.

“Master,” he said again, “run away with me. After the war’s done,” he hastened to qualify. He watched Obi-Wan carefully, feeling his shock in the Force and needing to see his eyes, those changeable blue-grey eyes. They were a sapphire color now, fading rapidly to grey as Obi-Wan frowned. “It could be like this, forever,” he whispered, feeling Obi-Wan’s hands clench around his waist, feeling his own heart pounding in his chest as he held his breath.

His Master was already shaking his head. “We made a commitment to the Jedi Order, Anakin.” Obi-Wan looked away from him. “We can’t just leave because of…what we fell for one another.”

Anakin shook his head stubbornly, though Obi-Wan could no longer see. “You would have left the Order for Satine. I heard you tell her that. Now I’m asking you to leave for me. I want you Master, more than I want to be a Jedi. I need you.”

He didn’t tell the Jedi Master that he’d only stayed in the Order this long because Obi-Wan had been there. Otherwise he would have left before he’d married Padmé. She had never pressed him to leave for her, and now he wondered if she had known even then that he couldn’t leave because of Obi-Wan. Padmé remained in the Senate because she saw it as her duty, just as Obi-Wan served as a Jedi for the same reason. Anakin knew he would betray either of those institutions in a heartbeat, if it meant saving either of them.

Now, though, Obi-Wan raised a challenging eyebrow at him, somehow always able to read his mind. “And what about your own commitments and promises, Anakin? You’re not free even if I left with you. What about---?”

The comm at Obi-Wan’s belt buzzed, startling them both. Obi-Wan scrambled up and away from Anakin before answering. Anakin followed more slowly, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach.

Of course, I’m not free in Obi-Wan’s eyes because of all that ‘Chosen One’ bullshit.

Even his Master believed he was destined to be some fated hero for the Jedi Order. Glumly, Anakin buckled on his own belt and realized that he couldn’t conceive of an Obi-Wan Kenobi who wasn’t a Jedi Knight. He had never truly thought his Master would truly say ‘yes’ to leaving the Order with him, because the older man was a Jedi, bound to that Order before all else.

Pain stabbed at his heart as he heard his Master’s low voice speaking to whoever was on the other end of that comm. No one had ever wanted him, needed him, the way he needed them – not Obi-Wan, not Padmé, not Ahsoka. He had a fear that by the time this war was over, he would have no one left.

Sudden silence made him look up. Obi-Wan’s face was tight and grim. Cody and Rex flickered in hologram before him.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and he was General Kenobi once more. “Chancellor Palpatine has been kidnapped by Grievous. We’re being recalled back to Coruscant immediately.”

Anakin felt anger and despair and fear fill him and tried, fruitlessly, to quell them.

He wanted to reach out to Obi-Wan, seek comfort in his arms, hear his Master say that they would make it through this together. But he didn’t reach out and Obi-Wan cut the communication with their Clone Commanders and then turned away.

He hesitated for a second, and then turned back to look at his former Padawan. “We will discuss everything when this is over, Anakin,” he promised.

But the Jedi Knight didn’t believe him. He tried to harden his heart and bent to buckle on his lightsaber. Obi-Wan passed him his spare pair of boots, tapping the back of his hand, gently.

Startled, Anakin looked up to find Obi-Wan giving him a fierce grin. His blue-grey eyes were bright and fond. “This war will end, Anakin, and we will be standing on the other side of it, together.”

And Anakin believed him. “Let’s get moving,” he said, his familiar, cocky grin spreading across his face.

The interlude was over.

The End

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