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Chapter Text

Obi-Wan is thirteen on one of his very first, real field missions with his relatively new Master, Qui-Gon Jinn – a Master that he’d still been working to adjust to. Obi-Wan wants nothing more than to connect with him, relate to him. . . to prove himself to him. There had been an ongoing awkwardness between them, as obtaining him as a Master had been a stressful and narrow victory sort of ordeal. Much emotion had been involved – a sign of weakness in any Jedi, no matter how young in age. But Obi-Wan was determined to get it right, to become what he felt he was destined to be. . .

A Jedi? Yes, but Obi-Wan Kenobi was also destined to be Anakin Skywalker’s very best friend. 

It was an unexpected landing on Tatooine that brought Obi-Wan and his Master before the twelve-year-old orphan and slave. Right from the start, Obi-Wan’s instincts told him that Anakin was auspicious and brilliant, and quite clearly the bearer of a beautiful and captivating soul.

Having lost his mother three years prior, and never having had a father, Anakin’s life truly belonged to the stringent Toydarian he served. But Watto was no parent. The junk shop he owned was no home. Anakin spent his days working, and his nights scrounging for whatever food and comfort he could find, leaving him grateful for any act of kindness shown to him, and always eager to bestow his own kind acts upon anyone with whom he crossed paths. . . like the Jedi Master and his teen-aged Padawan that had floated into his life like holy saviors.

Whether they had encountered one another by chance or by the will of the Force, that was up for debate; it depended on who you asked. Qui-Gon had said he believed Anakin to be the Order’s prophesized Chosen One. Though he could feel the intensity of Anakin’s strength in the Force, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he believed in those legends, but when Anakin miraculously won a podrace to help them barter for parts they needed to repair their ship, Obi-Wan decided he might be a believer. What he was sure of, was Anakin had a big heart. He was so helpful and sweet; and Obi-Wan took a liking to him immediately, but so did Qui-Gon. . . a greater liking than what his Master seemed to have for his own Padawan. 

When Qui-Gon had arranged for Anakin’s freedom and told Obi-Wan they’d all be returning to Coruscant together, the young apprentice’s initial reaction was excitement. To have Anakin become his fellow Jedi, and to have him taken out of a life of slavery and loneliness, was absolutely ideal. But there was this small seed of doubt within Obi-Wan’s heart. It was a part of him that wasn’t sure of his Master’s intentions. Would Anakin replace him? It seemed Anakin had already formed a greater and more casual bond with his Master in two rotations than Obi-Wan had in nearly a year. Anakin had somehow reached the man on an emotional level that Obi-Wan couldn’t seem to touch. . . But Anakin had reached Obi-Wan on that emotional level as well.

On the journey home, Obi-Wan fantasized about he and Anakin being the best of friends amongst all the other Padawans. Obi-Wan was accustomed to feeling self-conscious around his peers, but for once in his life, he found confidence in the way Anakin appeared to follow him as if he were a leader – idolizing him, never judging him, and always inquisitively probing him about his ‘glamourous’ life as a Jedi. Obi-Wan had tried to set him straight, explaining that the path of a Jedi wasn’t very glamorous or very easy, but he surmised compared to the life of a slave. . .

So, Obi-Wan only spoke encouraging words and offered reassuring smiles to his new friend.

Now, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin stand before the Council, the Jedi Master quickly skipping over the details of the completed mission, and moving the topic of conversation straight to Anakin. This is not difficult to do, as the Masters are all curious about this intriguing young stowaway in their midst. Qui-Gon does not waste any time in informing his colleagues of his plans to have Anakin trained as a Jedi, insinuating it was something he himself wanted to do. 

“An apprentice you have,” Yoda reminds. “Impossible to take on a second.”

Obi-Wan braces himself for the rejection, for when Qui-Gon might say the words – that he wishes to train Anakin, resulting in Obi-Wan being cast aside. Would another Master guide him? Would his former fate at the Agri-Corps be reinstated? His resistance to the idea is more concrete than ever before, not only because he wanted to stay a Jedi, but because he wanted to stay with Anakin – to look after him.

“Surely there is a Master here who can see to his training,” Qui-Gon offers.

“Before we get ahead of ourselves, Anakin must be tested,” Mace Windu informs. “Evaluated. He is twelve years old, much older than any other inductee we’ve allowed into the Order in the past. We do not take this decision lightly.”

“Yes, Master.” Qui-Gon bows his head in understanding.

“We adjourn for now. Keep Anakin with you for the night; his fate will be decided in the morning.”

And Obi-Wan knows this will decide his fate as well. He moves to place a hand on Anakin’s shoulder as they exit, but Qui-Gon has already done so, leading him out in front of him, as opposed to the way Obi-Wan always trails behind.

*

Qui-Gon sees the young lads to Obi-Wan’s quarters, satisfied that his Padawan shares his fondness for Anakin, and proud that he can trust him to take on the responsibility to look after him for the night. He knows Obi-Wan will tend to their guest’s needs as well as make him feel welcome.

Qui-Gon then rushes to find his dear friend, and fellow Jedi, Tahl, hoping he can quickly resolve one obstacle the Council has identified in regards to Anakin’s training.

“Just please consider it, Tahl.” Qui-Gon has tracked down the Noorian in the Temple Archives, as expected.

“Qui, I have my hands full with being Lore Keeper here between missions as it is. I can’t take a Padawan.”

“We both know Jocasta has her eye on the position. You could pass on the torch, a little earlier than planned, but to have a Padawan. . . there is no greater reward. Anakin will be a blessing to your life. He is the Chosen One,” Qui-Gon adds confidently.

Tahl raises her brows. “So you say,” she replies tersely. “And if that is true, I’m not sure I want the responsibility, even more so.”

“He’s lived such a hard life, Tahl. He wants this; he needs this. If you would just meet him, you will see how strong he is with the Force. You won’t be able to ignore that he belongs here with us.”

“Maybe he does, but the likelihood that there is another Master better suited. . .”

“I believe he would benefit from a female Master – someone with a maternal side; he lost his mother in recent years, and never had a father.”

“Maternal side?” Tahl chuckles, but then sharply reminds, “An apprentice is not a son, Qui-Gon. You know this. Be careful of your feelings for these boys,” she warns. “And there are many other female Jedi; you’ve just come to me first hoping to run back to the Council this evening with a Master lined up before they test him. You think it will sway their decision to have already completed the task on their behalf.”

Qui-Gon is quiet, his usually cryptic eyes revealing much. He can’t deny what she’s claimed, but there is more truth to the matter than what she has scratched on the surface. To have Tahl train Anakin would mean that he would remain close to him, as he remains close to Tahl. It would mean Obi-Wan would remain close to him. Qui-Gon knows his Padawan has already formed a bond with the polite and empathetic boy from Tatooine. Qui-Gon longs for a true friend for his Padawan who often appears lonely and unsure. He believes a cherished connection such as this would be the confidence boost Obi-Wan needs.

“Please just consider it,” Qui-Gon requests. “Meet him. He is with Obi-Wan at his quarters. Let us stop in for a quick visit,” he coaxes with a voice like silk.

And though both Qui-Gon and Tahl are known for their stubbornness, they are more likely to bend for one another. “Very well,” Tahl agrees with a soft smile. “I’ll meet him.” 

*

Anakin feels secure in the confines of Obi-Wan’s quarters. He feels safe. The Temple is large, much larger than he’d envisioned it to be. He’s thrilled to be on Coruscant, excited at the prospect of becoming a Jedi, but for the moment, he’s afraid.

“Are you sure it’s okay that I stay here?” Anakin asks Obi-Wan skittishly.

“Yes, of course,” Obi-Wan responds in assurance. “I’m happy to have you here. I. . . I hope you can stay.”

“What do you think they’ll do with me if I can’t?” And this is Anakin’s biggest fear on the forefront. He is so thankful to be free from slavery. . . Would he have to go back to Watto if he can’t make it here? “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he tells Obi-Wan sadly.

The Agri-Corps? Obi-Wan thinks horrified, but he won’t even tell Anakin of their existence. Force, he hopes that won’t happen. If Anakin wasn’t inducted into the Order, then he would hope he’d still be nearby. “Maybe you can work here; you were working before. But if you worked here, you could earn credits, and the accommodations are much nicer than the parts shop.” Obi-Wan stops to smile. “I hope you can stay,” he discloses again.

“Me too.”

Anakin pushes greasy hair from his eyes, and Obi-Wan examines the dirt on his brow. “I can show you to the refreshers now. You can get cleaned up, and change into a set of my clothes.”

“I couldn’t,” Anakin protests.

“I insist.”

Anakin’s grin is humble. “Thank you, Obi-Wan. You’re so. . . you’re like an angel.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth goes in a wide, thin line, unsure how to take the intense observation.

Anakin laughs uncomfortably. “I just mean. . . I dunno. When you and Master Qui-Gon first walked into the shop, and the way the light of the suns was behind you. . . I just thought, for a minute. . . I just got a feeling about you – a good feeling – a great feeling. I just knew we were going to be friends. . . Probably stupid.” Anakin lowers his head.

“It’s not stupid,” Obi-Wan asserts. “I felt a connection to you as well. And I did feel like we were friends, practically from the instant we met.”

Anakin raises his eyes, and his lower lip marginally twitches.

“Ready to head to the refreshers? I’m anxious to wash away this sand. I don’t know how you do it.”

“You get used to it,” Anakin remarks chuckling. “It’s weird to feel air conditioning here. I’m a little chilly, really. You don’t have any blankets for your. . . ?” Anakin gestures to the large, bare floor cushion that he assumes is for sleeping, though it isn’t exactly a bed.

“I can get you a blanket from the linen department. No problem.”

“Thanks. . . And it’s okay if I stay in here with you?”

“Definitely. Come on; let’s get tidied up.”

*

Anakin is in awe as he looks overhead, trying not to trip over his own two feet while Obi-Wan glides across the Temple. He’d seen a portion of it on the ride up the lift to the Council Chambers, and back to Obi-Wan’s space, but now he sees areas of the Temple that give him a true sense of what it might be like to live here. . . Anakin really wants to live here. His stomach has been in knots from the moment they’d arrived, knowing that by tomorrow this can either all be his. . . or. . . Well, he doesn’t know what the alternative is, but it surely isn’t best case scenario. Obi-Wan is best case scenario.

The refresher stations are beautiful, with intricate fixtures of flowing waters that disperse like rain. Anakin has never seen rain in his life, and running water is a rare commodity on Tatooine, a luxury that surely does not drip from any fancy faucets like these gold-colored works of art.

“What’s. . . ?” Anakin motions to the various assortment of pumps in the stall Obi-Wan has shown him to.

“This one is soap, this one is shampoo. . . and this is hand cleaner, if you’re extra grimy,” Obi-Wan laughs.

“Oh.” Anakin grins. “And I can use these?”

“Absolutely.” The Temple is no palace, but Obi-Wan feels like a spoiled prince in explaining this to Anakin – so many things he’s had all his life that he’s taken for granted. “The more you turn the knob to the left, the hotter the water gets,” he explains, realizing Anakin is probably not aware.

“You get to control the water temperature??”

“Yes. . .” Obi-Wan answers slowly. “I’ll. . . meet you over by the lavatories afterwards?” He points to the collection of sinks.

“Okay. . .” The word comes out equally slow.

“You’re not like, afraid, are you?”

“No,” Anakin defends. “I don’t think so? . . .I’m not sure what I feel.”

“Just relax, and enjoy it.” Obi-Wan rarely would’ve associated the word enjoy with a shower; it’s just something humanoids do, a basic part of life, but Anakin hadn’t been fortunate to have access this common practice he considered a necessity. “I’ll be right next door, so to speak,” Obi-Wan chuckles. “If you need me – though, I can’t imagine you will, just. . . call for me.”

“Okay,” Anakin says more confidently.

Obi-Wan lingers, but moves to his own stall. Anakin hesitates, but does the same.

This is not a big deal, Anakin tells himself. He knows if he wants to be a Jedi, this is something he’ll quickly get accustomed to – a plethora of soaps, and hot water. He smiles, then undresses, and moves under the steaming stream. . . and yelps.

“ANAKIN?” He hears Obi-Wan’s voice echo distantly.

“I’M FINE!” Anakin calls back. He adjusts the dial – that was too hot. Now, it’s. . . oh, it’s nice. And Anakin wants to stand there under the flow of this warm, artificial rainstorm forever, but that would be a waste of resources. He needs to move quickly.

He urgently pumps soap into one hand, balls it into a fist, then uses that fist to disperse shampoo into the other palm. Now, he gets to work, simultaneously lathering up both hair and body, as swiftly and efficiently as possible. Rinse. And out.

Anakin waits for Obi-Wan on the other side of the center, as instructed. He watches other Padawans come and go, his awkwardness increasing as time passes. Just about everyone has done a double take, curious about this stranger in their refreshers.

A boy about his age with stark white hair stops in front of him. “Hi,” he tells Anakin. “I’ve never seen you before. . . Visiting?”

“Um. Yes. Yes, I am. Sort of. I. . . Yes.”

The young man snorts. “I’m Bruck.”

“Anakin.” He puts out a hand.

“Are you waiting for someone, or did you need help finding your way?”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin answers. “I’m here with Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan, huh?” Bruck lets out a wicked laugh.

Anakin senses something that leaves him uneasy. Had Obi-Wan left without him?? He’d heard the water running in the adjacent stall. He wouldn’t have missed him. Did he? He feels his face go pale.

Bruck notices Anakin’s change in color. “Geez. You look like you’re gonna hurl. You okay?”

“He’s fine,” Obi-Wan barks. He hustles over, taking Anakin’s arm in defense. This is not a Padawan he wants Anakin associating with. He’s a bully and a jerk. “That’ll be all; thanks,” Obi-Wan tells Bruck intently, rudely, as he pulls Anakin away to a further corner of the wash basins. He’d seen Anakin’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry,” he begins to explain. “Bruck is. . . not a very nice person. Likely would’ve pranked you or something; that’s what he does to me.”

“Oh.” Anakin hadn’t expected to hear of troublemakers amongst the Jedi. He imagined them all much like Obi-Wan. Good. Pure. Well-behaved, as he planned to be. 

“Were you waiting long?” Obi-Wan asks. “I was trying to be quick. Sorry.”

Anakin watches Obi-Wan move in front of a mirror as he ties the back tuft of his wet hair with an elastic. Now, he combs the long strands behind his ear down over his chest. He hands the comb to Anakin.

“Want to use mine?”

“Thanks.” Anakin takes the tool and smiles. He runs it through his own tresses, but keeps watching Obi-Wan, who’s now dividing the lengthy lock of hair into three sections. “Do they teach you how to do that??” Anakin wonders of the braiding.

Obi-Wan looks thoughtful. “Hmm. . . You know, I don’t really remember how I learned, but don’t worry, I can show you.”

“If it’s necessary.” Anakin shrugs. He can only dream of growing his own braid like Obi-Wan’s.

“It’s not a bad thing to learn, regardless. Come see,” Obi-Wan offers.

Anakin staggers forward.

“Watch.” Obi-Wan starts the braid at the appropriate speed for a tutorial, making sure Anakin can see how his fingers move, and the pattern he is making. “See, you just alternate which section you cross.”

Anakin tilts his head to the side; it looks easy enough.

“You do the rest.” Obi-Wan drops his arms and lifts his chin invitingly.

Shaky hands soon turn steady as Anakin weaves the wet strands all the way to the end. It is easy, and it looks nice.

“Now these.” Obi-Wan holds out his hand to show an array of colored bands. He secures the first, then hands Anakin the second. They continue trading off until the job is done. Obi-Wan smiles. “You’re already ahead of the game.”

Anakin lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’m going to have so much to catch up on. I want to do this, but I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Obi-Wan promises. “I’ll help you. . . If I’m still here. . .” he mutters.

“Why wouldn’t you be?!” Anakin nearly shrieks.

“Well, my Master can’t have two Padawans. Given the choice, I’m sure he’d want to train the one who’s supposed to bring balance to the Force.”

Anakin is mortified. “I wouldn’t.” He shakes his head. “If you’re not going to be here, I don’t want to be here. Where would you go? Qui-Gon wouldn’t do that,” Anakin decides. “No way. You’re his Padawan. He made a commitment. It’s just a matter of seeing if there’s a Master for me, and if the Masters think I should be trained at all.”

“I appreciate that, Anakin. But that may not be true, and you’ll have to do what’s right for you.”

“I wouldn’t do it without you,” Anakin repeats adamantly.

“You are indeed loyal.” Obi-Wan smiles at him. “You hardly know me.”

“But I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, and I want to know you for the rest of it.”

Obi-Wan once again flushes at the intensity, but finds he feels the same.

*

They boys find Master Tahl at Obi-Wan’s quarters when they return from the ‘freshers, Obi-Wan a tad suspicious, but catching on that Qui-Gon had talked with her about Anakin. . . It was a good plan – he and Anakin could each have a Master in Qui-Gon and Tahl. But did Qui-Gon intend for Obi-Wan to be reassigned to Master Tahl? He realizes the thought doesn’t trouble him as much as he’d expect. He could work with Master Tahl; he liked Master Tahl. At times, she seemed warmer than his own Master. Maybe they would be a better fit. But much like Qui-Gon, Tahl seems more interested in Anakin for the moment, and that’s okay. Obi-Wan can’t say he blames either of them.

When it’s bedtime, Obi-Wan offers Anakin his sleep cushion, but Anakin declines, citing he’ll be fine on the floor with the blanket Obi-Wan had gotten for him. After a little back and forth, they decide to share the cushion.

Obi-Wan watches Anakin appreciatively snuggle in the blanket and turn on his side to face him. Their eyes meet. Both are tired, but both young minds are overactive. They stare at one another, oddly neither shying away, but finding comfort in this nonphysical link. It is as if they can communicate without saying the words, somehow knowing what the other is thinking. . . Obi-Wan mystically giving Anakin an appropriate and helpful reply to his woes, just with his gaze alone.

Eventually, sleep does overtake them, and in the morning, they wake still facing one another, the continued, comfortable silence between them, until Obi-Wan announces it’s time to rise.

Obi-Wan helps Anakin select the perfect attire for his test with the Council, essentially making him a twin, save for his face and hair. Both boys are nervous – their fates feeling intertwined.

Anakin is to stand before the Council alone. Obi-Wan can’t go with him. Qui-Gon can’t go with him.

So, the Master and Padawan pair wait outside of the Chamber. Obi-Wan wants to talk to Qui-Gon. He wants to ask him what he’d prefer to take place. Obviously, they’d both like Anakin to stay, but with what Master? Obi-Wan yearns for an answer, but worries over how he might react if Qui-Gon does tell him he’d prefer to train Anakin. Last night, he’d thought himself okay with that, but was he truly?

When Anakin emerges from behind the grand doors, Qui-Gon races towards him – his enthusiasm somewhat bothersome to Obi-Wan, who has never seen his Master this eager in any news regarding him.

“They’d like to see you,” Anakin tells Qui-Gon.

“Are you all right?” Qui-Gon checks, holding a palm to Anakin’s cheek.

Again, Obi-Wan flinches at the tender touch – a touch he’s never been given. Anakin nods, then looks to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan can see it in his expression that he’s concerned.

“How was it?” Obi-Wan asks seconds later when Qui-Gon is behind closed doors.

In response, Anakin clobbers Obi-Wan in a hug. Obi-Wan goes stiff, surprised. Then, he relaxes and wraps his arms around his friend. “It’ll all work out,” he whispers. “We’re together no matter what.”

“What do you mean?” Anakin mumbles from over his shoulder.

“If you can’t stay, I don’t want to stay either.” And Obi-Wan hadn’t known when he’d made that decision, or that he’d even made it at all, but he wholeheartedly means what he’s said.

“You can’t do that,” Anakin objects as he comes out of the embrace to gawk at Obi-Wan.

“I can, and that is what I’ll do,” Obi-Wan pledges fondly. “But what do you think will happen? Did you get a sense of anything?”

Anakin’s face falls. “I just don’t think they were very impressed.”

“It always seems that way,” Obi-Wan attempts to encourage. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“I hope so.” Anakin flings himself in Obi-Wan’s hold once again.

Obi-Wan runs a hand along his back, and lets his head rest against Anakin’s. He breathes him in, the light scent of the sands somehow still lingering, not in any way a nuisance, but instead a piece of Anakin Obi-Wan knows he’ll always remember.

They are quiet for the moment, Obi-Wan debating over whether it’s time to separate. When he senses Master Tahl approaching, he loosens his hold on Anakin and whips around.

The Noorian greets the boys, but continues walking. . . straight into the chamber.

“This is good,” Obi-Wan professes. “I believe the plan is for her to train one of us. They wouldn’t have called her in unless they were serious about starting your training. I’m sure of it,” he happily instills, taking Anakin by the hands and squeezing. “We’re going to be Padawans together. I have a good feeling about it.”

Anakin involuntarily giggles. He sincerely hopes Obi-Wan is right.

It isn’t long before the doors open, and the two Masters emerge. They are both beaming.

“Anakin,” Tahl starts. “I have something I need to ask you.”

Chapter Text

More than seven years have passed. Obi-Wan and Anakin remain close, accompanying their Masters on missions in teams, thoroughly enjoying working together, but also choosing to spend their free time with one another whenever they are able.

Qui-Gon and Tahl have grown closer as well, in sharing in the joys of teaching, but also in that they no longer more often communicate across comms, with Tahl in the Archives and Qui-Gon out in the field. Along with Obi-Wan and Anakin, they are spending more time together, and their relationship has blossomed – into a secret romance, something they try to keep discreet about in front of their Padawans, for they understand the value in practicing what is preached.

Anakin has learned much from Tahl. Her presence in itself is a source of calm. She has taught him the stoic walk of a Jedi. Anakin has impressed many with his ability to forgo his sensitivity and more emotional traits, though he remains true to his familial roots. His heart remains large. He is generous, selfless, and helpful. He is wise beyond his years, his troubled youth surely attributing to this. He is popular. He has made many friends. But Obi-Wan remains his best friend. He will drop anything and everything for Obi-Wan – drop any other friend. He’ll put off all personal interests to be there for him in any capacity in which he may need him.

And Obi-Wan does what he can not to let it show just how much he does need Anakin.

As Anakin has relinquished some of those more civilian-like tendencies, Obi-Wan seems to have adopted them. In all the time that has passed, he has been unable to let go of his suspicion that his Master might have preferred to train Anakin over him. And unfortunately, their relationship has not fully developed to where Obi-Wan would feel comfortable in opening the discussion about this. He fears the outcome. His doubts have made him insecure, the lack of confidence bleeding over into many aspects of his life and into his training. He sees Anakin flourishing with Master Tahl and wonders if his path may have been different as her apprentice. Anakin is a year younger, and with a much later start, but advancing further and faster. Obi-Wan is not jealous; he’s happy for Anakin. He just wishes he were doing better himself. He wishes he were better. . . but he’s not the Chosen One, and he never will be. The fault does not lie in Qui-Gon. Or does it?

It still bothers him the way Qui-Gon lights up when Anakin enters the room, his whole demeanor changing as he addresses Anakin as something far more precious than a peer or even a Padawan. When they are all on group missions together, Qui-Gon often suggests entrusting the more difficult duties to Anakin, with Obi-Wan as the sidekick.

Their relationship has surely improved from its rocky start. . . They better communicate, and Obi-Wan does feel loved, but he does not feel valued. He does not feel a priority, and he does not feel chosen. As a result, Obi-Wan does not have complete trust in his Master. He hadn’t trusted that Qui-Gon chose him, and he doesn’t trust that he’ll choose him at any given point.

That lack of trust extends to his friends, whom he doesn’t often spend time without outside of Anakin. Obi-Wan had introduced Anakin to those few Padawans he'd always associated with long ago; he knows they prefer Anakin’s company to his own, and Obi-Wan can’t blame them for that. . . just as he doesn’t blame Qui-Gon. . .

Anakin has just turned nineteen, but physically, he looks older. He’s taller, having really sprouted about three years prior, but his height having appeared to be the only aspect of puberty that has affected him. He seemingly skipped the more torturous and humiliating parts of the change entirely, whereas Obi-Wan still felt as if he were trapped in transition at twenty. Obi-Wan had never seen a blemish on Anakin’s porcelain skin. His voice seemed to change overnight, easily and pristinely; the deep sound of it soothes Obi-Wan’s soul. Anakin walks the Temple confidently, while Obi-Wan mostly keeps his head down. It is ironic to think how uncertain and timid Anakin had been when he’d first arrived, and how Obi-Wan had been the one with his head held high, taking Anakin by the hand and leading him around. How does the saying go? The student has surpassed the Master? Obi-Wan had never been a Master of anything.

“Obi!”

Obi-Wan hears the siren call from across the dining hall. He looks up and sees Anakin’s winning smile, and Obi-Wan smiles in return. Because Anakin is coming towards him. Anakin wants him. Anakin chooses him. When he feels worthless to everyone else, and when he feels worthless to be anything else, Anakin always seems to want him – for reasons he can’t understand.

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan quietly sings.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Anakin charms.

And the charm works every time. Obi-Wan silently stares with stars in his eyes.

“I’m so glad to be back home,” Anakin breathes. They had just returned from a particularly long and draining mission on Miser. “Have lunch with me?”

“Yes.” And Obi-Wan adores how Anakin always extends the invitation. It is almost daily that they eat together, but each time, Anakin still asks for permission, as if it would be an inconvenience for Obi-Wan to do so. As if, indeed.

They take their usual seats.

“How was class this morning?”

It had been a disaster, in truth. Obi-Wan had awoken tired, not wanting to go. He’d felt behind after being away, and he was already stuck on this course that most Padawans his age were done with. As a result, he’d been daydreaming and embarrassed himself a time or two. . . “It was fine.”

“Mine, too. Aced that test I was worried about.”

“Of course you did,” Obi-Wan says admiringly as he passes Anakin his serving of jogan fruit.

“Thanks.” Anakin graciously accepts the routine gift.

“Anakin!” an approaching student calls out. “Hey, Obi-Wan. . . So, have you heard Smitty’s Laser Show is on-world this week only? Marcait has not shut up about it, and we’re gonna go tonight. You in?” The question is clearly for Anakin alone.

“Sounds wizard, but Obi-Wan and I already have plans to go swimming this evening. We’ve been on Miser, you know, and we’ve been fantasizing about coming home and getting in the water. Right, Obi-Wan?” He elbows his friend with a wink.

“Well, yes, but we can swim anytime; a laser show sounds more your speed. I don’t want you to miss out.”

“I promised,” Anakin validates. “And I want to. Sorry, Ketda. Next time.” The Padawan nods and bids them goodbye.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sounds distressed. “You can go with them. It’s really okay.” And it is. Obi-Wan would feel like a charity case if he couldn’t sense Anakin’s sincerity for the moment. Anakin genuinely wants to spend time with him – there again, Anakin chooses him. He’ll never quite understand.

“I wanna swim with you.” Anakin casually shoves enough fruit slices into his mouth to be the equivalent of a whole jogan fruit.

Obi-Wan can’t hide his smile. “You’ve never even been a big fan of swimming,” he reminds.

“Well, after days of climbing those searing rocks, maybe now I am.”

“Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“Survey time!” Obi-Wan and Anakin’s mutual friend, Siri Tachi, strides over with a clipboard in-hand.

Both boys laugh. “What is this one about?” Anakin asks, no stranger to her affinity for polling and data collection.

“This might be my most important research yet.”

“Sounds juicy,” Obi-Wan notes thoughtfully.

“Oh, it is,” Siri smirks. “Obi-Wan, have you ever had sex before?” she inquires professionally.

“What?” Obi-Wan bites out. “Are you serious? That’s your survey?”

Siri shrugs. “So?”

“So, you’re nosy,” Obi-Wan tells her dryly.

“It’s for informational purposes,” Siri defends.

“Or it’s just because you’re nosy,” Obi-Wan reiterates.

Siri shrugs again. “Answer the question.”

Obi-Wan scoffs. “I hardly think that’s your business.”

Siri moves her stylus as if she’s marking a response. “Doesn’t sound like you’re doing any business; that’s a no, then.”

“I never said—!”

“Your lack of response is an answer in itself.”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes.

“Anakin, have you ever had sex before?”

“No,” Anakin answers honestly, fearlessly, as if he has nothing to prove.

Obi-Wan envies Anakin’s confidence. Why hadn’t he answered that way?

“Thanks!” Siri scurries away without another word.

“Why do you think she wanted to know that?” Anakin asks with a low laugh.

“I’m sure there’s a Padawan somewhere that wanted to know if you’d had sex, and they used the survey as an excuse to find out – to invade your privacy.”

“There’s nothing private about it,” Anakin cackles. “Nothing to hide – nothing going on.”

There is an awkward pause in conversation. . . Only awkward for Obi-Wan, because he’s thinking about things he has no business thinking about on this subject. . . A thought he’s often had to push away where his friend is concerned.

“I’ve never had sex either,” Obi-Wan confesses suddenly.

Anakin’s head jerks around. “You didn’t have to tell me that; it’s no one’s business, as you said.”

“I wanted to tell you.”

“I’m sort of glad you did,” Anakin decides. “Because now I’m kind of curious about that survey myself. Are we the only ones??”

“Maybe. . . Does it matter?”

“No, it doesn’t. I’d rather not have a reputation for sleeping around – like ­­­Quinlan.” Anakin chuckles.

Obi-Wan laughs. “So, you’ve heard that, too?”

“Here and there,” Anakin quips. 

Obi-Wan waits, watching Anakin chew. “. . .Would you?” he can’t help but wonder aloud. “Would you have sex if given the chance? Like, if someone offered?”

Anakin’s eyes go wide, and his mouth puckers guiltily. “Well, I’ve had. . . offers.”

“Oh.” Naturally. Of course. And Obi-Wan does NOT like that. “But you turned them down.” He does like that. . .

“Yeah. Maybe it’s my different upbringing, but it just feels sacred, you know? As Jedi, we can’t really have relationships, but somehow, I’d want it to be with someone special, if that makes any sense.”

“It makes sense. I feel the same. . . Not that I’ve gotten all these offers like you have,” Obi-Wan adds.

Anakin laughs. “It wasn’t that many.”

“You aren’t counting all the offers that went over your head, I’m sure.”

Anakin gives Obi-Wan a narrow-eyed look.

Another round of silence passes between them, and Obi-Wan has a question burning his tongue. His face already feels flushed and he hasn’t even opened his mouth. . . and doesn’t know if he can. He can’t. He does. . . “Is there anyone special you’d considering having sex with? Someone you care about? Someone you trust?”

“You’re the only one I really trust,” Anakin blurts without thinking, then realizes how it’s come out. . . as if he’d like to sleep with Obi-Wan. . . Not that that would be incorrect. He gulps.

“I trust you, too,” Obi-Wan concurs softly. “But I guess it would have to not only be with someone you care about, and someone you trust, but someone you’re attracted to, too,” he fishes.

“Well, you do meet all those criteria,” Anakin chortles uneasily. “But I’d have to meet them in return.”

“I think you’re gorgeous,” Obi-Wan bursts out, then nearly vomits. His heart is pounding at what he’s done here. What had he been thinking?

Anakin clears his throat. “That’s. . . sweet,” he concludes with a shy, smiley pout. “You’ve always been so sweet to me.”

“You make it easy.”

“What are you saying, Obi-Wan? Would you want to. . . ?”

“Only if you want to,” Obi-Wan speaks hurriedly. “We don’t have to. It’s just. . . It just came up, and it seems we both feel the same way, and we might never if. . . I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not,” Anakin protests. “And. . . you actually make a good point. Should we just never have sex because we’ll never be in relationships?” he asks rhetorically. He turns to Obi-Wan who is looking down at his plate. “Would you really consider. . . ?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan’s response is automatic. “No pressure. It doesn’t even matter to me. I would do it for you, but I’m fine. I don’t need to.”

“I don’t need to either; I’ve been fine all this time. . . but maybe. . .”

“Maybe.” Obi-Wan hates how hopeful he sounds as he meets Anakin’s gaze.

“Maybe, if we’re serious, we should continue this conversation elsewhere. . . ?”

“Want to come to my room?” Obi-Wan suggests meekly.

Anakin sucks in his lips. “Yes,” he replies slowly. “I do.”

Chapter Text

The boys enter Obi-Wan’s quarters a few minutes later. There has not been a word exchanged between them since Anakin’s consensual, ‘I do.’

Anakin sits on the edge of floor cushion, back straight, hands in lap. Normally, he’d plop down, and throw himself backwards.

Obi-Wan sits beside him, mimicking his posture.

“So. . .”

“So.”

“I don’t want things to change between us,” Anakin begins with worry in his tone.

“No.” Obi-Wan shakes his head vigorously.

“I feel like it already is.” Anakin lets out an uncomfortable laugh; his head gestures to Obi-Wan’s folded hands, then down to his own upon his lap.

“Okay, then. Maybe you shouldn’t have come in here like a droid,” Obi-Wan playfully taunts. “You changed it.”

Anakin grins. “Yeah, I guess I did.” He leans back on the cushion, and Obi-Wan follows suit. Their heads turn to face one another. . . they smile.

“Reminds me of our first night together,” Obi-Wan notes nostalgically.

“Yeah,” Anakin smiles wider.

“There really isn’t anyone I care for more – no one I trust more.”

“I feel the same, Obi.” Anakin’s voice is gentle and warm.

Obi-Wan melts. “Maybe to start. . . we could. . .” He arcs his neck and puckers. He closes his eyes, afraid of the rejection that threatens to slap him in the face. But then, he feels plush lips graze his own. His eyes pop open and he grins. Anakin grins back.

Their lips meet again, and they curl closer together, Obi-Wan’s hand finding itself resting upon the side of Anakin’s neck.

“Obi?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes acknowledge the call, his thumb now caressing Anakin’s jaw.

“Is this the first time you’ve ever kissed anyone?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan admits.

“Me too.” Their kissing doesn’t yet resume. “Obi?”

Obi-Wan looks at Anakin in question again.

“I’m not sure I know what to do. Like, at all.”

“I think I know,” Obi-Wan answers in earnest. “Have you ever. . . Do you. . . What do you do when you get aroused?” he rephrases.

“Workout,” Anakin responds both seriously and humorously, but there is shame underlying.

“Okay. You don’t ever. . . touch yourself?”

“Ummm. . . I might have, before.”

“Might have? You have or you haven’t.” Obi-Wan chortles. “You can trust me, Anakin,” he reassures.

“I’ve touched it before. Yeah,” Anakin confesses hesitantly.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Obi-Wan promises, still stroking Anakin’s face. 

“So, you have, then. Like, often?”

“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan is laughing again. “What’s often? I explore. I try to discover what makes me feel good – to offset the things that so often make me feel bad,” he divulges.

“What?” Anakin questions in concern. “What makes you feel bad?” Now he reaches for Obi-Wan’s face, and instead finds his Padawan braid and takes it tenderly between his fingers. “What do you mean?”

Obi-Wan hadn’t meant for that to slip out so crucially, not even fully aware it was how he’d felt in the first place. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just mean that I indulge.” He shows his teeth.

“Okay.” Anakin grins. “That’s. . . that’s good.”

“Yes. And I’d say that’s what we’d call this – indulging.” Obi-Wan pecks Anakin’s lips again, and it suddenly dawns on him what exactly is about to happen. All the times he’s sought physical pleasure, he’s pushed away thoughts of Anakin, sometimes without success. And now they were making a plan to give themselves to one another. Here. Now. . .

Obi-Wan gets to business, fully taking the reins, “I’ve also experimented with. . . opening myself up. . . Have you?”

Anakin flushes. “Um. No. I’ve never done that,” he croaks.

“Well, then, I think it best if I be the one to receive you.”

“Is that what you want? I’m sure I could. . . If you’d rather. . . If it would be better for you, I could be the one to. . .”

“Actually. . . I. . . I’d like you to. . . be the one inside of me,” Obi-Wan clarifies, now with cheeks as blazing as Anakin’s.

Anakin is embarrassed at his involuntary smile. “That’s what I want as well,” he mumbles.

Obi-Wan sucks in his lips. “Then, that works out nicely,” he responds alluringly.

“Yes.” Anakin is still fiddling with the end of Obi-Wan’s braid.

“Verbal consent?” Obi-Wan proposes.

“I. . . I’d like to have sex with you. . . I, uh. . . I’d like to put my dick in you??” Anakin cringes and cackles, feeling more relaxed to have cracked a joke – this feels more like him and Obi-Wan. “I’m not sure how you want me to phrase this.”

Obi-Wan is giggling fervently. “How about. . . you’d like to fuck me. . .” he suggests seductively.

At that, Anakin feels himself go hard, the situation suddenly unfunny once again. He gulps, the sound of thick saliva coating his throat. “I’d like to fuck you,” he whispers almost directly into Obi-Wan’s ear. “May I fuck you?” he asks innocently.

Obi-Wan hitches a breath. “Yes,” he practically moans.

They kiss. They frisk.

They concurrently kick off boots, while wandering hands tug at clothing. Obi-Wan is first to free himself from its confines, and once Anakin is revealed, Obi-Wan brazenly looks him up and down. They have surely seen each other nude before, but never with erections.

“Oh, Force,” Anakin unintentionally lets out as he eyes Obi-Wan’s package.

Obi-Wan feels a jolt of anxiety. “What?” He bites his lip.

“Nothing, just. . . Well, it fills out nicely,” Anakin laughs, the lighter mood rekindled as Obi-Wan joins in. “I think, more than before, I’m satisfied with the arrangement we came up with; I’m not ready for all of that.”

Obi-Wan is belly laughing now.

“But, you look, um. . . I like the way you look – you know, like this. . . without clothes. You look. . .”

“Your body is as gorgeous as the rest of you,” Obi-Wan counters. He lifts Anakin’s chin as if to examine him further. He can see the rapid beat of his pulse in the veins of his neck. “Nervous?”

“A little. . . What about you? Your part is harder physically,” Anakin winces.

“I’ll be fine; I have lube.” Obi-Wan rises to retrieve it. He feels Anakin’s eyes on his naked back body. At first, he feels exposed, but Anakin is about to see a lot more of him anyway. “I also have your blankie,” Obi-Wan teases in a baby voice, the comical moments between them continuing to come in natural waves.

Obi-Wan tosses Anakin the blanket he keeps in his quarters for him; it is the very same blanket from Anakin’s first night at the Temple. When Obi-Wan had tried to take it to be laundered, the sentimental twelve-year-old had expressed concern over knowing which one was ‘his.’ At the time, Obi-Wan had tried to explain that all of the linens were shared property amongst the Jedi as a whole. But at Anakin’s look of disappointment, Obi-Wan had taken out a small sewing kit and amateurly embroidered Anakin’s initials on the corner of it.

Anakin spreads the coveted blankie over his lower half. Although he now understands the Temple’s procedure for linens, this will always feel like a cherished gift from Obi-Wan.  

Obi-Wan returns to the cushion with the lubricant. “Do you feel comfortable to help me?”

“Help you. . . ?”

“Help me get ready to receive you.”

“I’d like to help, but I don’t really know how. . .” Ironic laughter fills Anakin again. “How?” He grins with a shake of his head and throws up his hands. “How do you know what to do?”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a gleam in his eye. “Instinct, mostly.”

“I thought I had good instincts. . . I guess not in every area.”

“You do have good instincts, you do. And I think they will lead you in the end. So, don’t worry. To start. . .” Obi-Wan reclines back, then hands Anakin the lube. “Use that to get your finger inside. Stretch me. Sort of like with a massage, the muscles will relax, and when you think I’m ready for a second finger, you can add it. I trust you.”

Anakin huffs. This certainly requires a great deal of trust on Obi-Wan’s part. Anakin hopes he can live up to his expectations; he hadn’t realized just how much Obi-Wan knew about this stuff. . . about sex.

Anakin takes the small bottle of lubricant and douses his fingers. Obi-Wan cocks a leg up in invitation. Anakin licks his lips, trying not to get distracted with the obscenely large penis that is practically waving at him. He shifts his focus to Obi-Wan’s face, watching his head go back to rest on the cushion below. His belly rises and falls, and Anakin takes in his own breath, mimicking the serene pace. His dry hand rests upon Obi-Wan’s straightened thigh, and his wet one spreads the cool gel around his entrance.

Obi-Wan inhales again, followed by an engrossing sound. Anakin gingerly pushes the tip of his middle finger inside, not taking his eyes off Obi-Wan’s face as he does. Stretch him, like a massage, Obi-Wan had said. Anakin wiggles the finger and shimmies it up, prompting Obi-Wan to let out a light gasp, and Anakin’s already stiff cock aches; he’s never felt the pressure this intensely. It is true that he’d wanted this, but with each second that passes, he’s becoming more desperate for it. Despite the fact that they’ve yet to truly begin, he’s wondering how he’s ever lived without this – without having Obi-Wan in this way. . . the way he has laid himself out before him – for him. . . the sweet little noises he is making. . . the way his lashes are fluttering. . . his fair and delicate neck, extended and accessible. Anakin can’t resist leaning down to press a kiss to it, barely grazing the flesh. He moves to Obi-Wan’s lips, with a slightly greater force, and he feels Obi-Wan’s fingers thread through his hair to delightfully scratch his scalp in return.

Enjoying this particular kind of attention, Anakin rests his head on Obi-Wan’s abdomen as he continues his prep work. He believes Obi-Wan is ready for that second finger, as discussed. So, the index one also takes part. The choked sound that escapes Obi-Wan’s throat is frontline to his compelling gasps and moans. Anakin lifts his head, craving the stunning view last witnessed. He more aggressively thrusts the fingers, and Obi-Wan lets out a high-pitched and long-winded whine. Now, his body rocks, his heavy cock bobbing as it does.

Force. Anakin has to fight not to come right then. He’s never seen Obi-Wan look so beautiful, looking the part of the angel Anakin had assigned him in their youth. He runs his free hand up and down Obi-Wan’s lean, gyrating torso – a once trembling hand becoming more stable, more confident, more eager. Anakin presses a third finger inside.

Obi-Wan is rapidly losing control, but trying to show restraint. He has waited for this for. . . well, he isn’t sure how long, but it is a fantasy he’d never imagined would play out, and thus far, it is better than anything from his illusions. Anakin’s anticipated good instincts make their appearance, telling him exactly what Obi-Wan’s deprived body needs. He hollers as the trio of fingers stroke him in just the right spot.

Anakin’s mouth hangs open, perplexed that he is responsible for these unbridled reactions from Obi-Wan – those clearly derived from supreme satisfaction. . . in a place where he hadn’t imagined could evoke such a sensation. Anakin longs to share in his pleasure. “I think you’re ready,” he tells Obi-Wan gently.

“Yes!” Obi-Wan breathes out.

“May I fuck you now, Obi-Wan?”

And of course, the savory words drip with honey when coming from Anakin’s sweet tongue. Obi-Wan is almost frustrated at his extreme level of politeness; talk about the prime example of, ‘Don’t think. Do.’

“Please,” Obi-Wan pants. “Please, Anakin.” His unrestrained body still rhythmically waves up off the floor cushion, his limbs somehow both restless and numb. When he is empty, he inadvertently settles, but his ragged breathing has not yet evened out. He searches for Anakin’s face, enthralled that it is hungry, but touched at the way it is ever so considerate. He maintains eye contact as his legs elevate, and he feels a mass pushing against his formerly taut opening.

Anakin waits, fighting the impulse to shove himself inside. He communicates with his gaze, knowing Obi-Wan knows just what he’s asking without having to verbally pose the question. And the answer easily comes to Anakin: it’s okay. Obi-Wan has always made everything okay. He has always been able to assure Anakin in a way no one else can. 

Time stops in the moment when Anakin allows himself entry. It is modest, only occupying a fraction of the available space, but all of the color drains from his face, and he forgets how to breathe as Obi-Wan’s tight body binds him, holds him, brings him in. “Oh, Force,” Anakin loudly exhales, then sucks in the air his lungs had been lacking. “Oh, Force,” he repeats.

The intuition Obi-Wan had warned would come, quickly takes control – the urge for the feeling of friction along his length. With what little headway he’s made, Anakin retracts, and automatically pumps forward again. And Obi-Wan. . . Obi-Wan lets out an obliterating, yet yearnful scream. So, Anakin pumps again. And with another of Obi-Wan’s passionate cries, Anakin dares to label: Mine!

Obi-Wan clenches his stomach, grounding himself against the cushion, a hand gripping his own abs. The heel of his foot shoves against Anakin’s shoulder, but Anakin fights back, strong pectorals straight as his lower half jerks into him. He is vaguely aware that Anakin is not fully enclosed, but what he has allowed is of greater girth than his fingers, and it will do just fine. More than fine.

Obi-Wan struggles to keep himself still, concentrating on the gratification he receives at remaining in place. He freely releases howls and ecstasy-filled groans, noticing how they affect Anakin – his motions becoming more alive, and his hands creeping closer to his flesh; Anakin now has a firm grip around his bicep.

Anakin knows he will soon erupt, equally stimulated by the physical and emotional impact. It’s Obi-Wan, and this feels so. . . right. A perfect fit. He hears Obi-Wan call out his name, feeding his possessive ego.

Obi-Wan. Mine. Obi-Wan. He’s mine.

He’s always been his. He’ll always be his. He’s never letting go. . . A dangerous sentiment for a studying Jedi. . .

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin grunts. And there it is – the name upon tainted lips. The taste of the forbidden fruit by a mouth so dirty and unclean. It can’t be this way; they can’t do this all the time, but Anakin finds he is already planning their next encounter before the first is complete. And with that, with that tempting and tantalizing lust for more, he ejaculates. . . releasing, but not letting go.

And at knowing Anakin’s sanctified seed is flowing into him, Obi-Wan has never felt more desired, never more wanted or worthy. Anakin wants him. Anakin chose him. He chose him above all others for this intimate act. He screeches and grabs his own cock, the simple touch combined with the magnitude of what he’s just experienced causing him to immediately overflow, the evidence of his climax seeping through his fingers and into a clammy-turned-sticky palm.

At the sight of the mighty, weeping cock, Anakin spews out a shocked gasp that threatens hyperventilation. He still clutches Obi-Wan’s arm as his more voluntary movements have halted. He carefully ejects, then hovers over his partner, gaping at him, trying to form words to communicate with him, because as of now, their silent language won’t do, as Obi-Wan’s eyes are rolled back in his head. “Oh, my Force,” Anakin huffs. “Obi-Wan. Oh, Force!”

Obi-Wan wipes sweat from his brow. His breathing is rapid, and there is a burning below, now that Anakin has moved out, and the air has hit him. But the stinging pleases him, and he wouldn’t mind if it were to last for rotations beyond this one – into next week. . . Until they do this again. . .

Still panting, Anakin collapses beside Obi-Wan, when finally, they lock eyes in that old, familiar way, and both expel unsteady laughs. They scoot closer to one another, Obi-Wan innately clinging to Anakin, and Anakin wrapping his arms around him on reflex.

Obi-Wan’s heavy breaths are now stifled in Anakin’s chest as he takes comfort in the feel of the heat around his damp and dancing pectorals. When Anakin’s hand begins carding through his hair, Obi-Wan nuzzles him and tangles their legs together. This. This is. . . everything he’d wanted it to be. All this time they’d been holding back, when they could’ve had each other in this way. The seal is broken, the start of something new, of something big. They don’t have to hold back any longer. Obi-Wan can’t hold back any longer, “I love you, Anakin. So much.”

Anakin’s breathing quiets as he works to slow his heartrate, having had it just climb back up at Obi-Wan’s prohibited confession. He loves Obi-Wan, too. Very much. But he isn’t supposed to. He’s already feeling ashamed for the possessive thoughts he’s just held. This isn’t the way Jedi relationships are meant to be. There can be closeness and connections, but not romance. Obi-Wan knows this.

Anakin isn’t positive of the meaning of Obi-Wan’s words, but he can’t risk him taking them for a greater value than what they are worth if he says them back. So, he discontinues stroking Obi-Wan’s hair and instead, cuddles him closer and kisses the top his head, then tucks it under his chin, but he is silent.

Obi-Wan is desperately trying not to panic. He’d been sure Anakin loved him, too. He’d felt it. But he hadn’t said it. And now what? Humiliation is sinking in, but at least Anakin hadn’t run out on him. Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you.

The next four minutes pass like forty. Neither of them make a move. Obi-Wan is sure Anakin can feel his anxiety; he is sweating more than he had been during the sex. Even so, Anakin still holds him close.

Obi-Wan is the one to break the silence. . .

“Will we still go swimming tonight?”

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t we?”

Because I just told you I loved you and you didn’t say it back, Obi-Wan doesn’t say.

“What time is it now?” Anakin bends his neck to see. “There are a few things I need to take care of before then.”

Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. “Well, if you have to go. . .”

I can’t leave him. “I’d like to stay a bit longer. Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” Obi-Wan strives to sound easygoing, but there is nothing casual about this moment. Nothing about it is okay. He wants Anakin to stay, but he also wants him to go, so he can scream into the sleep cushion for the way he’s destroyed this. So he can cry about how Anakin doesn’t love him. . . He’d thought Anakin loved him. . . It was just sex. . .

“Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t respond in his usual way – he keeps his face hidden.  

Anakin talks anyway; it’s critical Obi-Wan know how much he cares, even without the significant phrasing. “This was really special to me.”

‘Special.’ Here comes the official rejection.

“You’re my best friend.”

Yep. Friend-zoned. Obi-Wan wants to gag.

“No one means more to me than you do.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan tries not to sound too wounded. He shuffles and sits up right, his back to Anakin. “I think it’s time for you to go. You need to go.” He frantically reaches for his clothing.

“Obi,” Anakin starts remorsefully.

“Please go.”

“Obi.” Now Anakin says the name pained. “Please don’t do this.”

“Go.”

Anakin’s clothes are being flung in his direction. He catches them one by one, but puts them to the side, the priceless blanket covers his lap. “Obi-Wan, can you just listen to me? Look at me.”

Obi-Wan has just gotten into his tunic. He stands and spins with the force of anger behind the motion. “What? I’m listening. I’m looking. What do you have to say?”

“I care about you,” Anakin emphasizes.

Obi-Wan scoffs and turns away.

“Please don’t do this. Don’t let this change things between us; it doesn’t have to.”

Obi-Wan momentarily contemplates. That was true before he’d said what he’d said. But he’d said it. And now, he’s angry. He’s angry at himself for saying it. He’s angry at Anakin for not saying it back. Most of all, he’s angry for who he is, and for who he’ll never be – someone worthy.

Anakin knows Obi-Wan well. He knows he’s embarrassed. He knows that embarrassment has turned from frustration to rage. Anakin can handle the wrath; he’s sure it’ll only be temporary, but he doesn’t want Obi-Wan to be upset with himself. “You’re spiraling. Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t do this to us.”

“There is no us!!”

Anakin is caught off guard and wordless for a beat. “There is,” he slowly corrects. “It’s always been us.”

“Go, Anakin.”

Anakin’s heart is broken at the thought that he could’ve broken Obi-Wan’s. But he complies with his request and starts getting dressed. “Can we still meet later?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“But just before, you—”

“I can’t, Anakin. I can’t.”

“Obi, please,” Anakin begs. He’s dressed, and there’s nothing to do but leave. He puts a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, only to have it coldly shrugged off. Obi-Wan doesn’t respond beyond that, doesn’t turn around. “I’ll be there, if you change your mind; I’ll be waiting for you.”

Obi-Wan hears the door slide open and footsteps fade out. Please don’t leave me. He bursts into tears.

Chapter Text

Anakin wipes at his eyes as he moves to his quarters just across the hall. He doesn’t like his quarters; he likes Obi-Wan’s. He’s always preferred Obi-Wan’s. But he’s hurt him. He’s destroyed him. The words haunt him:

‘I love you, Anakin. So much.’

‘I love you, too, Obi-Wan.’ . . .Why hadn’t he just said that? Wasn’t it the truth? Yes, it was true. Terrifyingly true. The kind of truth his Master had always warned him about – attachment. Possession. . . Mine. Obi-Wan. Mine. . . Anakin had crossed that line. He’d felt those feral feelings. The kind of feelings that would interfere with his purpose – his pledge to the Order.

A short while later, Anakin goes to The Room of a Thousand Fountains to meet Obi-Wan for their earlier planned evening swim, but unsurprisingly, Obi-Wan isn’t there. Anakin waits. He waits for hours. Obi-Wan doesn’t come.

Anakin returns to his quarters, lurking by Obi-Wan’s door before retreating inside. Tomorrow. Things will be better tomorrow. Anakin knows Obi-Wan just needs time; things will go back to normal tomorrow. . .

But they don’t. Obi-Wan avoids him. In the halls in the morning. At lunch. All evening. Anakin knocks on his door at one point, but Obi-Wan doesn’t answer. Tomorrow. He just needs more time. Tomorrow it will be easier. . .

But it isn’t. Obi-Wan is unreachable just as before. The following rotation, Anakin waits outside the chamber where Obi-Wan’s morning class is held, but Obi-Wan never surfaces. Had he skipped class?? Obi-Wan doesn’t skip class. It wasn’t like him.

Anakin asks around, inquiring as to whether anyone has seen him, but no one has any answers for him. Obi-Wan is doing an impeccable job at hiding out.

Finally, Anakin bumps into Qui-Gon.

“Master!”

“Hello, Anakin.” There is something hidden beneath Qui-Gon’s usual, friendly smile, and it reflects in his soulful eyes.

“Obi-Wan. . . ? Is he all right?” Anakin inquires delicately.

Now, Qui-Gon frowns, an action that better matches up with the trouble Anakin can sense within him. “Have you not spoken with him?”

“He’s. . . We keep missing each other.”

“He hasn’t been feeling well,” Qui-Gon informs in regret.

“What’s wrong with him?” Anakin asks in alarm.

Qui-Gon sighs. “I am not sure. I was actually coming to find you; I was hoping you could tell me. He won’t talk to me, won’t open the door for me. He’s only sent messages that he isn’t feeling well. That is all I have heard. I have sent a healer to his quarters, but they’ve reported back to me that although they did get a verbal response, he would not authorize them to enter, and they cannot do so without consent, at least not at this time. I am more worried to know he’s not spoken with you either.” His brows knit.

“I’ll go check on him now. I’ll let you know.” Anakin literally runs down the hall, and straight to Obi-Wan’s room. He pounds on the door.

“Obi-Wan!”

No answer.

“Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon told me you were sick. Please, is it true? You need to see the healer if so.”

No response.

“Obi-Wan, please open the door. Please. . . I. . . I need to see you. I need to know you’re okay.”

From inside, in the dark, Obi-Wan sniffles. He’s not okay. He won’t be okay. Not ever. And he won’t open the door, and he knows Anakin is too much of a rule-follower to barge in. . . or so he’d thought. . .

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin bellows once he’s inside. 

Obi-Wan shoots forward from a horizontal position. “What are you doing in here?! Get out!!”

“No! Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Are you really sick? Please,” Anakin softens. “I’m worried about you. Qui-Gon is worried about you, too.”

“Stop talking to my Master,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin sharply. “Stop talking to him about me! You have no right! He’s not your Master!”

“I have every right! You’re my best friend!”

“Stop saying that,” Obi-Wan bites out angrily. “You don’t know what a friend is. You have a fan club, not friends.”

Anakin is stung. He opens his mouth to defend himself, but nothing comes out.

“I told you to GO!" Obi-Wan suddenly loses his patience. "Get OUT! And don’t come back! I don’t need this; I don’t need you! All you’ve ever done is make me feel badly about myself – always flaunting how much better you are, always doing everything right, making sure I feel wrong!”

“I never want you to feel that way!” Anakin shouts back emotionally.

“You do! And I’m done, thanks to your reminder that I’m the corrupted, idiot Padawan who fell in love, and with the holier-than-thou Chosen One, no less! Thanks for reminding me that we’re just friends – that you only ever saw me as another one of your followers!”

“You know it isn’t like that. You know you mean more to me than anyone!”

Obi-Wan won’t hear it. He’s shaking his head and muttering under his breath. “No. I was a fool to think you could love me; I’m nothing! Nothing but an unlovable, worthless waste of space! And now I know you think so, too!”

Anakin is mortified. “Obi,” he struggles to speak, unbidden tears in his eyes. He can’t bear to hear Obi-Wan speak this way about himself. “I would never think that. I don’t feel that way. You are loveable. You are worthy.”

“I’m not.”

“Obi. Please don’t do this.”

“Leave me alone, Anakin.”

“I won’t– I can’t,” Anakin replies pained.

“I said, get out. It’s done; I don’t want to see you again.”

“You don’t mean it. You can’t,” Anakin cries.

Obi-Wan’s frustration bubbles over. “What aren’t you understanding?! GET OUT! GO! LEAVE!”

Anakin stands there, wordless with a quivering lip.

“What’s the matter with you?!! For a former SLAVE, you sure don’t know how to take an order! GO!! GET OUT OF MY LIFE!!” Oh, no. Oh, Force, no. Please don’t leave me.

And Anakin is gone. And he’ll never come back. Because Obi-Wan told him not to.

*

Two weeks have passed, and Anakin isn’t any less devastated than when he’d left Obi-Wan’s quarters for the last time. He’s given Obi-Wan space, complying with the heartbreaking directive. It was the derogatory comment about his past as a slave that had finally gotten Anakin to walk away, before saying something he’d regret, but his hurt and anger quickly fizzled.

Anakin is tortured in wondering what his next steps should be. When will it be safe to approach? He doesn’t want to risk setting Obi-Wan off again. With the void of his closest companion, Anakin meditates, mostly, trying to find the patience he needs until Obi-Wan gives him a sign that he’s ready to talk. He hopes it’s soon.

As for Qui-Gon, he doesn’t recognize his Padawan any longer. He is fully aware there is a problem, but in the literal and metaphorical sense, Obi-Wan won’t let him in. He and Obi-Wan had never had the easiest time in communicating, but his mild-mannered and obedient Padawan had never shown this hostile side of himself.

Obi-Wan does come out of his quarters; he is no longer claiming sick, and has returned to his duties, even accompanying Qui-Gon on a mission earlier in the week, but no matter the circumstance, Obi-Wan remains moody and disconnected. He’s short with his Master – his attitude is blatantly disrespectful, but Qui-Gon can’t bring himself to scold; he doesn’t know how to navigate this behavior, and he doesn’t want to make things worse. It’s clear Obi-Wan is hurting, and Qui-Gon suspects any reprimands will only drive the wedge further between them.

The Jedi Master is at a loss. He spends much of his time contemplating what he can do to help his Padawan, but always comes up empty. Initially, he’d relied on Anakin to get to the bottom of things, but that had obviously caused greater complications. As a result, Qui-Gon can only suspect that Obi-Wan’s issues are directly related to Anakin and the relationship between the two boys.

So, Qui-Gon prods Tahl. Perhaps Anakin had confided in her, and she could shed some light on the subject. Qui-Gon finds her in one of the meditation chambers. He slips inside and perches beside her. Only Master Tahl’s eyebrows twitch. Qui-Gon knows she senses him there.

“Tell me what troubles you, my dear.” Tahl’s eyes stay closed, her disciplined posture unwavering.

“Something that I suspect has been troubling you as well, as it involves our boys.”

Tahl’s eyebrows flex again.

“You know something.”

“I do.”

“I am worried about Obi-Wan. He is not himself. Please, can you give me some clarity, so that I may try to help him?”

“I don’t think what I know would give you what you need to help.”

“What is happening with our boys, Tahl?”

“Anakin hasn’t told me much.”

“What has he told you?”

Tahl’s eyes open, and Qui-Gon can see the sadness in them, the green stripes of the iris overtaking the gold. “Just that they aren’t friends for the moment; Obi-Wan has asked Anakin to keep his distance.” Tahl relaxes her meditation pose and watches Qui-Gon take this in. “Anakin is having a difficult time respecting the boundary Obi-Wan has set, but he is doing it.”

“Why? Why would Obi-Wan want this? They’ve always been so close.”

“We have both expressed our concern over them being too close.” Tahl gives Qui-Gon a knowing look.

Qui-Gon sighs. “Their relationship became romantic. . .”

“Anakin has not confirmed that. I do not know if that is the case, but they have maintained their friendship for nearly a decade; they’ve just about made it through their dramatic and hormonal teen years without issue. They’ve grown up together, and their bond survived the hardest times of adolescence. So, what is it now that they can’t work out? Anakin won’t tell me. . . but there is one thing he has told me. . .”

“What?” Qui-Gon’s heart skips a beat.

“He is considering leaving the Order.”

“What??”

Tahl nods. “The rift is that great – which is what leads me to believe it has more to do with love than friendship.”

“What did you tell Anakin? You’ve told him not to leave?” Qui-Gon confirms fretfully.

“I told him I will support him in whatever he decides, but that he must not make a rash choice, and that he must meditate upon it and consider every outcome.”

“He can’t go,” Qui-Gon insists.

“I don’t want him to.” Tahl’s stoic exterior reveals a crack.

Qui-Gon hears the emotion in her voice and puts an arm around her shoulders. She leans into her strong, supportive rock of a partner.

“I am torn as to whether or not I should intervene. I had considered talking to Obi-Wan,” Tahl confesses.

“Well, I did talk to Anakin when Obi-Wan first showed signs of distress, and that appears to have been a mistake.”

“We waited too long,” Tahl broods. “We waited too long to have that conversation with them that we’ve long imagined would have to take place. . . We should’ve done it sooner. We were prepared, but still let it slip by. How did we not notice the nature of their relationship had changed?”

“Either they hid it well or it was abrupt; I suspect the latter. There hadn’t been any signs we needed to have that conversation. Their routines had not been altered, nor had their study habits changed - their time spent together was consistent with what it always has been.”

“Should we try to have that talk now? Should we intervene?”

Qui-Gon blows out a breath. “I wonder. . . If I were to tell Obi-Wan of Anakin’s indecision to stay in the Order, I wonder if it would prompt them to talk. I know Obi-Wan would not want him to leave.”

“Normally, I’d advise against a Master telling his student something another Padawan said in confidence, but in this case. . .”

“We can’t let their friendship fall apart. They need one another.”

*

Qui-Gon debates, but within an hour, he is at Obi-Wan’s door. The danger of Anakin’s departure has to be the component that will make an impact. He knows Obi-Wan won’t treat him any differently to begin with; he’ll still be closed off and probably cold, but Qui-Gon imagines he’ll have no choice but to let go of some of the bitterness at the reveal. Anakin is too important to him. . . the evidence is in the heartbreak. If he did not care for Anakin, their feud would not have taken control of his emotions the way that it has.

Qui-Gon hits the buzzer before the threshold of Obi-Wan’s quarters. Naturally, there is no answer, but he knows Obi-Wan is inside.

“Obi-Wan, may I come in?”

This isn’t Qui-Gon’s fault, and Obi-Wan has been doing his best not to take it out on him, but knows he has been failing miserably. He’s been baffled that he hasn’t been chastised for his poor behavior. . . perhaps if he had, it wouldn’t be so easy to continue it.

Obi-Wan wrestles with his thoughts each time his Master approaches. ‘Why doesn’t he care enough to correct me? Well, he must care, otherwise he wouldn’t keep trying to get me to talk to him. . . but he’s not actually trying to get me to talk. . . he’s just hanging around more than he has before. Why? What does he want? I can’t do any better, I can’t be any better, especially now. Is he trying to tell me he’s given up on me? Has he? I want to do right, but everything feels so wrong.’

Obi-Wan is tired of the effort it takes to deny his Master entry to his quarters. He rises and opens the door.

As per usual, Obi-Wan is in the dark. He’s hardly dressed. His hair is a mess, and his face is blank. Qui-Gon can sense nothing from him. He is truly and entirely closed off. “Good afternoon, Padawan.” Qui-Gon tries to sound as cheerful as possible.

“Hello, Master,” Obi-Wan’s voice is void of emotion. He leaves Qui-Gon standing at the door and retreats back to his sleep cushion. He rolls on his side and turns away from him. In the past, he would’ve obediently stood at attention until he felt it okay to be at ease.

“You still aren’t feeling well,” Qui-Gon observes.

“No,” Obi-Wan replies faintly.

“I. . . wish there was something I could do to help.”

“You can’t.”

“So you’ve said. . .” Qui-Gon waits for an opening he isn’t going to get. “Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan grunts in response.

“I know this has to do with Anakin. I know the two of you have not spoken for many days now.”

Obi-Wan’s blood boils. He swallows hard and remains unmoving.

“I have some news that I think might put things into perspective for you.”

Obi-Wan flinches, but doesn’t speak, doesn’t face him.

“I know you are hurting, and I know he is as well. I do not know what has transpired between you, nor am I here to pass judgement, but I thought you should know that Anakin is considering leaving the Order.”

WHAT? Obi-Wan has to fight to keep unresponsive. Of course. Of course Anakin would take this dramatic approach. Obi-Wan is disgusted. Furious!

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon was sure this would’ve prompted a greater reaction, but what his Padawan is feeling remains a mystery to him. He’d hoped the news would’ve torn him out of the prison he’d built around himself.

“I’ll talk to him,” Obi-Wan grits between his teeth.

Qui-Gon feels a weight lifted. He believes if the boys can communicate, they can work this out. Obi-Wan’s willingness to speak to Anakin is a good sign. “I think that would be for the best,” he praises carefully. “I think that would be very big of you to be the one to reach out first.”

“Big of me?” Obi-Wan quickly moves to his feet. He looks at his Master incredulously. “Big of me. Huh. Interesting. Because I often do the small thing? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, Padawan,” Qui-Gon starts. He’s apparently messed this up again. “I just want you to be okay. If you can make that first step, I think you will be.”

“You want me to be okay, or you want Anakin to be okay? You want Anakin to stay! That’s why you’re here. It isn’t about me at all!”

“It is about you, Obi-Wan. I want nothing more than your happiness.”

“And you think my happiness is keeping Anakin here – that’s your happiness! Why didn’t you dispose of me when you had the chance?!”

“Dispose of you?”

“Anakin was the Padawan you wanted! Why didn’t you take him? Why have we been kidding ourselves all these years?”

Qui-Gon’s face contorts in confused pain. “You know that isn’t true. I am very pleased to have you as my Padawan. And Anakin is well-matched with Tahl.”

“Oh, and we must make sure Anakin is taken care of, mustn’t we? That’s why you’re here. You don’t care about me. You just need me to smooth things over so Anakin doesn’t leave the Order. So, you can continue to sing the praises of your precious Chosen One while I get cast aside!”

Qui-Gon’s mouth is agape. He’d been doing better when Obi-Wan had been one-wording him over the last two weeks. He is filled with regret; he surely hadn’t expected this turn. Obi-Wan’s insecurities lie much deeper than he’d ever known, and now he understands it has likely played a factor in whatever falling out he had with Anakin.

Obi-Wan storms past his confounded and speechless Master. “Anakin thinks he’s leaving? No! I am!”

Obi-Wan is out the door as Qui-Gon crumbles, not knowing if he should follow or keep his distance.

Obi-Wan moves straight for Anakin’s quarters. He doesn’t alert him he’s there, but bursts through the door.

“I told you!” Obi-Wan seethes. “I told you to stay away from him!!” he screams at Anakin.

“What are you talking about!?” Anakin fires back. He’d been in a meditative state and unaware that anything had been going on across the hall.

“YOU! Crying to my Master that you’re leaving the Order! Now he’s disappointed with me, because it’s my fault that you’re going to go! You aren’t going anywhere! If anyone is going to leave, it’s going to be me!”

“What in the hells are you talking about!? I never spoke to Qui-Gon! You told me to stay away and I have!”

“Bantha shit!”

“It’s the truth!”

“So you weren’t debating leaving? Admit it!”

“I was debating it, but—” Anakin is cut off before he can say it, ‘I couldn’t leave you.’

“There it is – it has to be all about you!”

Anakin clenches his fists, and air fumes from his nostrils. “I am getting really SICK of you talking down to me like this, Obi-Wan; I don’t deserve it. I didn’t do anything to you; I’ve only tried to be your friend. You’re acting out of anger because of your own bruised ego. You need to let it go.”

“Oh, thanks for the lesson, Master Skywalker. Say, what’s that feeling you’re feeling?” Obi-Wan taunts at noticing Anakin’s own anger beginning to simmer beneath the surface. “Are you willing to let it go? Wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize your reputation as the Order’s golden boy.”

Anakin scowls. “Fuck you,” he spits under his breath.

Obi-Wan’s face goes red with rage. “Do NOT say that word to me. You did fuck me, and then you left me!”

“You told me to!!”

Obi-Wan charges at Anakin, wrestling him to the ground in the small space, knocking over the comm station, causing an alarmingly loud crash.

Obi-Wan wants Anakin to hurt the way he’s been hurting. No matter what he’s said or done or hasn’t done in the last few weeks hasn’t made the slightest impact in the impassive Padawan’s behavior. Anakin remains his insufferable, poised self. And Obi-Wan needs him to understand the pain he’s in – the pain he’d caused. If words, or lack thereof, won’t do, then perhaps it’s time to get physical.

Anakin is on his back, and Obi-Wan is on top of him. He manages one hit, a balled fist pounding straight down on Anakin’s cheek. Anakin’s hands shoot upright and grab Obi-Wan’s wrists in defense. Obi-Wan fights to break free, wailing and screeching as Anakin struggles beneath him.

Qui-Gon had been lingering in Obi-Wan’s quarters, but at hearing the ruckus, he charges into Anakin’s room and breaks up the unfathomable fight.

“PADAWAN!” Qui-Gon lifts Obi-Wan off Anakin and restrains him in his massive arms, backing away to drag him to his own space.

Anakin watches Obi-Wan as he’s carried out with kicking legs and screams of ‘hate’. . . all directed at him. He hates him? His best friend hates him? And just mere weeks after he’d told him he’d loved him. Now Anakin knows – he should’ve said it back. It’s too late now.

The blooming bruise on Anakin’s face hurts, but it is nothing compared to the pain in his heart. He rolls over, curling into a ball and sobbing into his hands.

Chapter Text

Eight harrowing months have passed.

Following the physical altercation, the Council had placed Obi-Wan on probation. Before the judgement had been made, the Masters had given him the opportunity to explain or defend his actions. He’d said nothing, just stood numbly before them.

Anakin had spoken in his defense, acknowledging that there had been a quarrel between them that had went unresolved and gotten out of hand. Anakin wants to take equal responsibility; if Obi-Wan is on probation, then that is what he wants as well, but he can’t deny the indisputable testimony that’s left his face swollen and purple. And when asked about details of the fight, Anakin doesn’t lie, leaving him filled with anguish at having incriminated his friend. Obi-Wan had started the physical fight, but Anakin’s unspoken words from weeks prior had been to blame. . . and he won’t tell the Council about that. He knows Obi-Wan wouldn’t want him to, and it could make things worse. . .

But the worst happens anyway. . .

It is the recommendation of the Council that Anakin and Obi-Wan stay away from one another. And Anakin isn’t naïve to think that this ‘recommendation’ is a choice. It is a stern warning. For the time being, they think it is in the best interest of Obi-Wan. So, Anakin no longer has the turmoil over what to say to him or how soon to approach him – it is now a rule that he doesn’t. . . and Anakin isn’t sure how he’ll go on, but somehow, he does.

Anakin feels empty. He feels as if the joy has been sucked out of his life, but he does his best to move forward, and does what he has to do. His friends still support him, and Anakin is still kind to them when they seek him out, but he rarely initiates interactions with them, and almost never spends social time with them, or anyone. Anakin does not partake in any activity that brings true happiness, because Obi-Wan was his true source of happiness. He’s lonely, and he’s fine with that, because he’s sure Obi-Wan is lonely, too.

Anakin focuses on his studies, focuses on whatever mission he is on, sometimes volunteering to take on extra field work, even without his Master, and each time, he excels. Because of this, Anakin achieves his Knighthood at just twenty years old – much earlier than any other Padawan in the history of the Order.

The proud day is nothing like Anakin once envisioned it to be, because he’d always envisioned Obi-Wan at his side.

Obi-Wan hears the news. Who hasn’t? Anakin Skywalker: Youngest Jedi Knight ever inducted into the Order. Shocker. He’s not jealous. He’s annoyed. He’s insulted. Because how dare Anakin thrive once Obi-Wan is out of his life, viciously proving how much better off he is without him. And why wouldn’t he be? And now Obi-Wan understands that he’d been holding him back. How much sooner would Anakin have become a Jedi had he not been around? Obi-Wan had always thought if he were nothing else in this life, nothing else in this Order, he was proud to say he was Anakin Skywalker’s best friend, but now, he is truly nothing. . . which is the convoluted belief he’s spent most of days fighting to overcome. But he’s always known; he’s worthless. He doesn’t matter.

And at feeling this dejection, Obi-Wan does not have the drive to fight his prolonged probation. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care to stay, but he doesn’t care to leave, so he does nothing. He knows there are whispers that he’s lost it – that he’s mentally unwell. As a result, the Jedi aren’t going to cast him out. His training has essentially been put on hold. He’s mustered up the stamina to return to classes, or maybe he’s just bored, but he is devoid of reaching any goals – long or short term.

Qui-Gon is just about as desolate as his apprentice. Obi-Wan has been ‘grounded’ and cannot accompany him on missions until he starts actively trying to further his Jedi education. His apprentice’s inattention has been deemed a risk. All Obi-Wan has to do to have his probation revoked is want to have his probation revoked. How Qui-Gon wishes to have his passionate Padawan back, but he doesn’t know how to make that happen. He knows well enough now, it cannot happen through the likes of Anakin. In fact, Qui-Gon does his best to stay clear of Anakin for fear that Obi-Wan could misconstrue any encounters he might have with him. He admires Anakin from afar, missing him as he misses Obi-Wan, though Obi-Wan is right there. . . within reach, but untouchable.

Qui-Gon seeks out his Padawan multiple times a day. Even if he is off-world, he still makes contact. Obi-Wan isn’t as harsh with him, but isn’t likely to smile or strike up a conversation on his own either. They small talk, at best. Qui-Gon never brings up Anakin, and he never brings up training. He doesn’t want to push Obi-Wan and have it come across as disapproval, as he still seems to be in such a fragile state.

Obi-Wan is still found in the dark most days, and though his different attire matches the lighting, it is more often appropriate compared to what had been before. But he hides behind shaggy hair, grown enough to blend in with the longer strands in the back that are no longer tied in an elastic. . . and his braid is. . . gone. . . and Qui-Gon hadn’t been the one to cut it, nor does he know what Obi-Wan has done with it. It is another unmentionable topic, one that Qui-Gon fears to mean his Padawan has given up on being a Padawan for good.

Obi-Wan appreciates his Master’s efforts. Though he is not sure if Qui-Gon is worried for him or just feels sorry for him. Regardless, he lives day to day only for the man’s brief and mundane chatter. Once in a while, one of Obi-Wan’s former friends will try to reach him in a similar way, namely Siri, but Obi-Wan will typically brush off anyone who may or may not still have communications with Anakin.

Beneath his numbness, that bitterness is always there. Obi-Wan is unable to let go; ironically, this is precisely what Anakin had told him he needed to do the very last time they’d spoken. But he can’t. Nothing seems to assuage him. Nothing seems to bring him true peace, nor comfort. But that’s fine. He doesn’t deserve either of those. He loathes himself more than he ever has. On the more difficult days, he toys with telling Qui-Gon to stop coming by. Whatever his Master’s intentions are, he knows he’s become a burden. More than ever before, he is a waste of existence – a waste of space.

Another five months pass.

Not much has changed. Anakin has been going off on more missions on his own. He likes those. He likes to get away from the Temple. He used to know peace there, but since he’d lost Obi-Wan, he only feels a heaviness within the confines of the walls that once made him feel safe and secure.

But Anakin worries about Obi-Wan when he is away; when he’s home, he can discreetly keep tabs on his well-being, but being away from Coruscant, he doesn’t get the same intel. Anakin thinks of Obi-Wan often, but particularly when he travels. He imagines what it might be like if Obi-Wan were Knighted as well; he imagines being on these adventures together.

One of Anakin’s solo missions has just wrapped, and he is enroute to the Temple. . . with a nerve-racking feeling that something is wrong. His Master had been on Vagadarr Prime for several weeks. During a recent check-in, she’d informed Anakin that the Council had appointed Qui-Gon to join her. Anakin had felt good about that, but now. . . well, now he feels apprehensive for what news he’ll return to. He hasn’t heard from Master Tahl since he’d first landed on Oosalon, five rotations prior, but that wasn’t unusual – she had a job to do, and she knew Anakin did as well.

When Anakin enters the Temple, the heaviness he’s felt over the last thirteen months is heightened. He jogs to the Council Chambers and discovers his intuition was spot on. A war had broken out amongst the divided inhabitants of the diverse planet in the Vagadarr System. Battles have now ceased, but disputes remain unsettled, and Tahl had been badly wounded in trying to stop the fighting.

“She should pull through,” Master Windu is explaining. “But she must remain where she is for now. She is too weak to be transported. Qui-Gon is with her, but he requires aid in wrapping the negotiations, and he has requested you.”

“Of course,” Anakin obliges. “I’ll leave immediately. Is my Master conscious?”

“She has been in and out from what we understand. She is. . .”

Anakin sees the nervous swallow; Master Windu is the one to evoke nervousness – rarely does he feel it. Something is very wrong.

“I believe Master Tahl will pull through,” Master Windu encourages before the reveal of another devastating detail of the story, “But. . . she has lost her sight. And there is nothing that can be done to reverse this,” he informs in regret.

Anakin feels his heart shatter. No. Not his Master. How could this happen? She didn’t deserve this! “I. . . I understand,” Anakin acknowledges professionally, yet sadly.

“I think it would very much be a comfort to her to have you there.”

Anakin gives a slight nod, his head bowed.

“There is something more,” Master Windu proceeds.

“Yes?” Anakin involuntarily gulps.

“Qui-Gon has also requested Obi-Wan’s presence. Obi-Wan is not authorized to leave unaccompanied at this time. You will travel together.”

Anakin does his best to hide his shock. “Is that. . . Is that allowed?”

Master Windu nods. “It is, for the purpose of this assignment.”

“Obi-Wan. . . He’s. . . I don’t think he’ll want to go with me.”

“We have spoken with him,” Master Windu apprises. “The news seems to have hit him hard; he wants to be there for Qui-Gon, and Tahl. . . and for you.”

This is a promising turn of events, but Anakin will approach the situation with caution. Obi-Wan had made it clear he’d wanted nothing to do with him, and he’d been doing his best to respect those boundaries. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up that things could go back to the way they were after all this time spent apart.

“Will he be ready to go soon?” Anakin tries to pretend he isn’t shaken by this unexpected addendum.

“We have instructed him to meet you at the hanger in an hour.”

Anakin bows. “I will be there.”

“Take care, Anakin.” Mace’s statement is loaded.

“I will,” Anakin promises and exits the chamber. His eyes are at first focused on his feet, but when he looks up. . .

Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan is there. . . seemingly waiting for him. A flash of a memory overtakes him for the moment – Obi-Wan had been standing here waiting for him, just like this, after his very first individual appearance before the Council, before he was a Jedi, before he was anything – before Obi-Wan had been a constant in his life.

Anakin stops short and meets his gaze. The gray-blue eyes that he’d last seen only as wild and infuriated appear calm; they are sorrowful. . . caring. . . beautiful, as are the flowing strawberry locks that reach Obi-Wan’s shoulders. But the precious braid that Anakin had first practiced with before he’d had his own, is no longer there. He’d heard the rumors, but now sees for himself, and it saddens him.

Anakin blinks back tears, unsure of what do to. He’s afraid to speak, afraid to move. But then Obi-Wan takes a single step forward, head down, but eyes up.

And they both urgently stride together to meet in a fierce embrace.

Anakin crumbles in Obi-Wan’s hold, a wealth of emotions threatening to take him down. He whimpers as he feels Obi-Wan’s strong hands gripping his back. . . and now they stroke gently.

“I’m sure she’ll be just fine.” Obi-Wan works to make his voice sound positive and pleasant.

Anakin lets out a breath, and a mass collection of tears, then squeezes his best friend. He is wordless and unable to do anything but let Obi-Wan hold him. He’s needed this for so long. He’s needed Obi-Wan to tell him everything’s okay. He’s needed him.

Anakin wants to tell Obi-Wan this. He wants to tell him how much he’s missed him, but expressing his platonic feelings had left Obi-Wan upset in the past, and it is not the time for the too-late love confession. He doesn’t want to risk it.

Anakin reluctantly breaks the embrace and wipes at his eyes. “Do you want to come with me to Vagadarr Prime?”

“Yes. The Council said Qui-Gon requested I go. . . Do you want me to go?”

Anakin nods and sniffles.

“When do you want to leave? I’m ready. I have my pack right here with me.”

“My stuff from Oosalon is still on the ship.”

“Leave now, then?”

“Yeah,” Anakin agrees somberly. “I’d like to leave now.”

They migrate down the hall, side by side. . . as one.

Obi-Wan had always walked behind Qui-Gon, but he’d always walked beside Anakin, and he’d missed doing so. In letting his guard down, he now realizes there’s so many things he’s missed. Upon hearing about Tahl, it was as if something within him that had been disconnected snapped back into place – a first-class reality slap. . . because it could’ve easily been Qui-Gon in Tahl’s place, and it could’ve easily been a fatal incident. . . And how would Obi-Wan have felt had it been? How would he have lived out the rest of his days knowing how his last year with Qui-Gon had been? He’d been a terrible excuse for a Padawan. He’d been a terrible excuse for a friend. . . and what if Anakin had been with Master Tahl on this mission. . . and what if it had been him near death or even dead?

But it is Master Tahl, someone whom Obi-Wan has always cared for, someone who had always been very patient and attentive with him, and his heart breaks for what she’s been through and what obstacles she faces moving forward. His heart breaks for Anakin, for it is his Master, and she’s hurt, and she’s so far away, and having lost her vision, she’ll never truly see Anakin again. Obi-Wan can’t fathom everything he must be feeling, especially since Tahl is still fighting for her life.

Obi-Wan has vowed to do whatever he can to make this better for Anakin. He’s done with being bitter. He’s done with self-loathing, because Anakin needs him, and it’s time to let go and step up. He feels fortunate that Anakin hadn’t just refused him – that even after everything, after all the times he’d refused him first, Anakin still wants him around. And Obi-Wan still wants Anakin in return. He feels foolish and ashamed for how he’s pushed him away. It is suddenly very hard to look back on the past thirteen months and understand what he’d been thinking. What had he been doing?

Anakin had been right – this had all stemmed from his own bruised ego. Obi-Wan had long been accustomed to feeling second best where Anakin was concerned, but it had never been Anakin to make him feel anything less than perfect. Anakin had always lifted him up – made him feel special. To find that rejection in the form of his best friend had been a blow. . . but had it really been a rejection at all?

Anakin had tried to express his heartfelt feelings for him, but Obi-Wan hadn’t wanted to hear it, rather, completely lost control – to the point of where he’d caused him physical harm. The recollection makes him ill – frustrates him to tears. He snivels as they walk to the docks. If Anakin notices, he doesn’t let it show.

There is so much Obi-Wan wants to say, but he doesn’t want to make this about him and his guilt for the moment. Anakin needs to be the one to pilot the conversations, as he will pilot the ship. . .

The wait is torturous, as Anakin has stayed quiet all through takeoff and into hyperspace. The two sit in the designated seats in the cockpit. Obi-Wan has been discreetly watching him, worrying for him, admiring him. Lately, he’s only seen Anakin in passing, and that has not occurred often, and when it had, Obi-Wan would keep his head low and move away as quickly as possible. But now he can see – how the year has been kind to Anakin physically.

Anakin appears broader, stronger. He is currently wearing a color palette Obi-Wan has not previously seen him in – a dark burgundy that suits him well. Most notable is his changed hairstyle, having grown longer since being Knighted a handful of months ago. The soft curl above his brow is adorable and endearing, but for the moment, Anakin’s face is crestfallen, and Obi-Wan longs to see his infectious smile. A fierce protectiveness wells up in his gut when he spots a couple of scars on the lower part of Anakin’s left cheek. Who had hurt him? . . .Well, besides him. . . Obi-Wan doesn’t see any remainder of when he’d pounded his fist down on Anakin’s face. He cringes. It is hard to believe the person he’d been for the last year.

Anakin shows no ill will for all he’s done, but Obi-Wan wonders if he might want some time to himself – a break from being stared at. He decides to test the waters, and rises.

“Where—where are you going?” Anakin questions a bit pitifully.

And Obi-Wan is soothed at the sound of his voice; they are talking again, and it seems Anakin wants him near after all. “I thought I’d have a change in scenery. . . Did you. . . Did you plan to stay in the cockpit the entire ride?”

“I’m. . . not sure.”

“You could get up for a while, maybe, stretch your legs, if you feel like it. Or you could stay right here. It’s whatever you want. . . just a suggestion.”

“I. . .” Anakin moves to stand. “I’ll come with you.”

The words are an immense victory from Obi-Wan’s viewpoint. They make their way to an open area of the modest ship, just behind the cockpit. It’s awkward. There isn’t anything differently to do but stand rather than sit, and Obi-Wan can feel Anakin watching him as if he’s hoping he’ll direct, so he tries to do just that.

“Are you hungry?” Obi-Wan reaches for his pack. “I boxed up some fresh food from the dining hall. I figured you hadn’t eaten on your journey back. . . I know you used to like to wait until we got home – better food at the Temple over rations.”

Anakin’s lips involuntarily pout. How sweet, he thinks. “Thank you; I really appreciate that, but I’m not sure I can eat right now,” he admits gloomily.

“I understand.” Obi-Wan thinks of all the missed meals together. . . all the jogan fruit he hasn’t put on his lunch tray, because Anakin hadn’t been there to give them to, because he’d pushed him away.

Obi-Wan has jogan fruit today, having requested it for the first time since that fateful day. He unpacks the food containers, just in case Anakin might change his mind.

“Is that. . . ?” Anakin eyes the sentimental fruit slices, knowing they’re specifically for him; Obi-Wan doesn’t eat jogan fruit.

“Uh huh. If you don’t want them now, you can have them for later,” Obi-Wan proposes.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. Really.”

“You’re welcome,” Obi-Wan returns softly. “Maybe just a little water for now?” He offers Anakin a canteen.

Anakin accepts it and takes a small sip. “Thank you.” He starts to hand the jug back to Obi-Wan, but sees him produce a second one from his pack – one for each of them. “You, um. . . You were really prepared.”

“I was informed of the situation several hours before your return.”

“Good thing. I just wanted to get right back on the ship – it’s hard to care about anything else right now.”

“I understand; I wouldn’t have let you leave any essentials behind, even if the proper amount of time hadn’t been allotted.”

“Thank you. . .”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me – thank you for taking me with you. I know you were obligated, because I can’t travel alone.”

“I wouldn’t call it obligated. . . I’m glad you’re with me.”

“I’m glad to be with you, too. This is a difficult time, I mean,” Obi-Wan adds quickly. “You didn’t need to make this trip alone.”

Anakin sighs. “I know I’m supposed to trust in the Force – and should the worst happen, I have to accept it, but. . . I’m scared.”

“You have every right to feel that way,” Obi-Wan tells him ardently. “It’s normal to feel that way; I’m sure Qui-Gon feels the same. I’m worried for her, too. . . I’m worried for you. But I do think she’ll be all right. From what I understand, she is still weak, but has only gotten stronger. And I believe Vagadarr is a great place for her to be. There is a tribe there that practices a very unique kind of healing. It is similar to the techniques we rely on in the Force - faith based and natural elements. And Master Che is already there with the modern medicine. With the two combined, she truly is in the best of hands.”

“I didn’t realize Master Che was there,” Anakin says in surprise.

“Yes. She arrived within hours. She’s been the one reporting back on Master Tahl’s progress.”

“The Council told you this?”

“I asked Master Yoda about it in private after I was briefed. I wanted to gather as much information as I could. I assumed your meeting and exit would be abrupt.”

“And he told you about the tribe that practices specialized healing?”

“No, actually. I had went to the archives looking for information, and it worked out that Madame Nu was already doing her own research on the subject; she is very close with Master Tahl, as you know. Turns out, she had been in contact with Qui-Gon, and so, I was able to get confirmation that Master Che is in fact working with the Old Ones, as they are called. They are the elders of the Mud dwellers tribe – the tribe that our Masters were on Vagadarr Prime to help protect. Sorry. I should’ve mentioned all of this before. I wasn’t sure what the Council had told you.”

Anakin is stunned at the efforts Obi-Wan has made. “No, that’s okay; I’m so grateful. That is very comforting to hear, and I know I keep saying it, but thank you.”

And Anakin finally shows the slightest of smiles, and Obi-Wan can see a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“Thank you for going through all that trouble. This is such a relief.” Anakin blows out a breath and tears spring to the corners of his eyes.

“It was no trouble,” Obi-Wan tells him in earnest. “I couldn’t really do anything else; I figured having the information was the best I could do. I just want her to be okay, and I want you to be okay, too.”

“I am; I feel much better now. You always make everything okay.” That had slipped out, but nothing could be further from the truth. Anakin doesn’t give Obi-Wan the chance to reply. “Um, maybe I could eat a little something now,” he suggests, wanting to quickly move on from what he’s just expressed.

“Yeah?” Obi-Wan tries to suppress the grandest of smiles when he is able to pass Anakin jogan fruit once again.

Chapter Text

The remainder of the flight is mostly quiet, but easier. Obi-Wan and Anakin can better coexist, but nothing has been sorted out in regards to their friendship. Obi-Wan knows he has an apology to make, but maintains it is not the time; Anakin needs to see Tahl first. . . and Obi-Wan needs to see Qui-Gon. . . and another apology will have to be made.

When they exit hyperspace, Obi-Wan makes contact with Qui-Gon, and he can hear the subtle emotion in his Master’s voice. And when ‘Padawan’ falls from the man’s lips in the most desperate and loving way, Obi-Wan tears up. How many times had Qui-Gon said it in just the same manner, but Obi-Wan hadn’t allowed himself to truly listen? His anxiousness for their reunion suddenly peaks. He needs to make things right.

They land close to the camp where Tahl is being tended, a small population of manmade tents and small shelters. Qui-Gon is waiting for them. Anakin is the first to shake his hand, his urgency making it known where he wants to be. Qui-Gon tells him where he will find his Master, and Anakin races off to the village just ahead, leaving him alone with his Padawan.

Qui-Gon stares at his apprentice. The young man standing before him is a different one than he’d reluctantly left at the Temple less than a couple of weeks ago. For one, he is fully dressed in his traditional Jedi garb – and in the traditional color. He wears multiple layers of tan and white with his full-length boots and well-stocked utility belt, complete with his lightsaber; Qui-Gon had not seen the weapon on him since before the probation order. But far more important than his apparel, is the look upon his face. The brow that he’d long thought would be permanently furrowed is now soft, with only the tension of concern rather than of stress and pain. His eyes are brighter, more open and inviting, as is his presence in the Force, after having been completely off limits to his Master for such a long and trying time. He stands up taller, straighter, respectfully, in a sense, as opposed to hunched over in untrusting retreat.

“You requested my presence, Master,” Obi-Wan begins timidly, feeling self-conscious at the way the man has been silently watching him.

“I did,” Qui-Gon chokes out. “I needed you with me.”

“To assist in the close of the mission,” Obi-Wan finishes seriously.

Qui-Gon shakes his head. “The mission is complete. I just needed you here – I wanted you here, because you are my light. . . and maybe I haven’t been so good about telling you that.”

‘Wanted’. . . Chosen? What’s left of the fortress within Obi-Wan is torn down to the foundation. “Maybe I haven’t been so good about being. . . that,” he responds tearfully.

“It’s all right, my Padawan.”

“It’s not,” Obi-Wan blubbers. “I’m so sorry, Master!”

As Obi-Wan breaks down, Qui-Gon moves into his space. He takes Obi-Wan’s tear-streaked face between his palms, runs a hand through his hair, then pulls him in his arms. Obi-Wan quakes in his hold, and Qui-Gon’s own eyes run wet.

“I am sorry, Obi-Wan. I am so sorry to have ever hurt you or disappointed you. I’ve only ever loved you, and wanted to do right by you. I have done a bit of soul-searching throughout these rotations spent at Tahl’s bedside. And for the last year. . . I have been going over my mistakes again and again.”

Obi-Wan lifts his head. “What mistakes?” he cries. “You haven’t made any mistakes.” He wipes tears that are immediately replenished.

“I did. If I made you think for even a second that I. . .” Qui-Gon swallows hard. This needs to be said. “I do love Anakin, but not more than I love you.” He’d always assumed Obi-Wan had known this, but he can see it in his eyes now, that he did not. From the beginning, he had approached Anakin like a lost, stray pet that had needed an excess of intimacy and affection, because of where he had come from. And all the time, he hadn’t understood Obi-Wan needed that validation as well. While he’d thought his feelings about him had been clear, Qui-Gon now knows they weren’t so obvious to his sensitive Padawan, because he hadn’t said the words. 

Qui-Gon takes Obi-Wan’s face in his hands again. “I love you. You are my kind-hearted and level-headed, brilliant ray, and my life is enriched because you are in it. To have you as my Padawan is the greatest blessing, and given the choice, I would choose you over and over again. You have my whole heart. And in your difficult time, I should have just told you this. I shouldn’t have tip-toed around you, making you feel as if the struggles you were facing weren’t valid, and that I wasn’t willing to work through them with you – I was, but I wanted it to be easy. I mistakenly expected it to be easy; I wanted to check on you one day and find you well, because I couldn’t stand to see you hurting. I didn’t fully allow you to open your heart to me, and for that, you remained closed off, and it is my fault, and I am truly sorry. I’m so sorry, my dear Padawan, my dear Obi-Wan. . .”

Obi-Wan is sobbing as he moves to hug his Master again. He’d said it – he loved him, and he would choose him. Qui-Gon would choose him, again and again. “You came to me every day,” Obi-Wan snivels. “I could’ve. . . I should’ve. . . I wasted so much time,” he mumbles in broken defeat.

“We have plenty more,” Qui-Gon reminds tenderly. He cradles Obi-Wan close and rests his cheek atop his head.

*

“Anakin?” Tahl calls out almost as soon as he enters her tent.

“I’m here, Master,” Anakin replies as he rushes to her side and takes her battered hand.

“Is Obi-Wan here?”

It’s an interesting opener; Anakin grins curiously. “Yes, he came. He’s worried about you, too. He’ll be in to see you soon.”

“My boys,” Tahl smiles languidly.

“I think we classify as men now,” Anakin reminds with a small chuckle.

“You’ll always be my boys.”

“Enough about us; how are you feeling?” Anakin is stunned that Tahl seems so serene. He can’t imagine the grief and anguish he’d feel over losing something as precious as his sight, not to mention the extreme physical injuries she’s sustained. “What can I do for you? Are you in pain?”

“I am finally at peace.”

Anakin’s lips curl again. “Well, I’m glad, but I’m a bit surprised to hear it.”

“There is something I must talk with you about.”

“Maybe you need to be resting, rather than talking; I’m not going anywhere,” Anakin promises.

“No, no, this cannot wait. You must listen.”

“All right.” Anakin does not release his Master’s hand, but makes himself comfortable sitting beside her cot. Tahl seems coherent enough. She does not appear to be struggling to speak from either fatigue nor discomfort. “I’m listening.”

“Did you know it has been four years since Qui-Gon and I pledged our love to one another?”

Anakin’s cheeks redden. What the kark does that mean? “I did not know that, no. Should I have known?”

“Qui-Gon and I hadn’t wanted you and Obi-Wan to know. We knew our relationship was one that would be frowned upon and must be kept secret. We did not want to burden you boys with that secret.”

“A relationship??” Anakin asks for the sake of clarity.

“A romance. We love one another.”

Anakin’s eyes widen. He’d known his and Obi-Wan’s Masters were close, like he and Obi-Wan had been, but this sounded more serious and official than he’d imagined. “Okay, do you want to tell me what ‘pledge’ means?”

“It means we are for each other only – committed and bound for life.”

“Why are you telling me this now, Master?” Anakin’s fingers stroke her cheek. He hasn’t seen Master Che yet; he wonders what sort of healing techniques they’ve been practicing that would have Tahl making these urgent and private confessions.

“Because we have found balance, and you and Obi-Wan can have that as well.”

“Master,” Anakin prompts gently. “Tell me what you mean. What does this have to do with Obi-Wan and me?”

“Qui-Gon has always chosen me, and I him, just as we chose you and Obi-Wan as our Padawans. We have always taught you to be mindful of your feelings, careful that what you choose does not overtake you – that you would not lose sight of yourself and of your purpose. The pledge we made to one another challenged to defy the oath we made to the Order.”

Anakin brushes strands from Tahl’s face affectionately. “You shouldn’t be worrying about this right now; and your secret is safe with me.”

“You misunderstand. We have conquered that challenge. The village is safe, and the mission was not compromised, because Qui-Gon did not choose me this time; he knew he could not. There was too much at stake.”

Anakin processes what his Master is saying – the age-old principle of the Jedi: Sacrifice. Qui-Gon had apparently had to risk his Master’s life to save the lives of many. Anakin understands the philosophy well; Tahl had brought him up to understand and accept it, hard as it may be at times. As Tahl continues to explain, Anakin is piecing together the significance of the pledge.

“It is over now, and there is victory here on ­­­Vagadarr Prime, and victory within our hearts. Qui-Gon is saddened for what I have lost. In his love for me, he has grieved with me, but we both know he did the right thing, for the mission, for the Order, and for our boys. We have both found acceptance and released our woes into the Force. . . and our love remains, with proof that making our pledge did not betray our commitment to the duties we hold.”

“That’s what you mean when you say you found balance,” Anakin acknowledges, stroking his Master’s hair.

“Yes.” Tahl reaches for Anakin’s face, and Anakin leans inward to help her find it, placing her palm to his cheek. “I worried for you, Padawan. I did my best to warn you of the dangers of attachment. I tried to teach you the difference between attachment and possession, hoping that you would read between the lines and grasp what I was saying.”

“And what are you saying?”

“I am saying you may love Obi-Wan and still be a Jedi. You do not have to choose, and you do not have to be afraid to tell him, because, in the end, I know you will do what is right. I know this of him as well.”

Anakin sighs, his hand still covering the frail one that holds his face. “He told me he loved me, and I didn’t say it back.” His tone is barely audible. “That’s why we stopped being friends.” Anakin hadn’t thought the confession could come so effortlessly, but there is a sudden realization that his Master can truly understand.

“I know,” Tahl claims purposefully.

Anakin snorts. “Did you?”

Tahl nods. “It is not too late.”

Anakin hopes that’s true.

“Everything has changed,” Tahl notes in wonder. “Can’t you feel it?”

Anakin can’t deny the shift he’s felt – from the moment he’d walked out of the chambers and Obi-Wan had been right there waiting for him. . . to assure him that everything would be okay; the simple act spoke volumes. 

“Do not hide your feelings, my Knight. That will be your undoing. It was Obi-Wan’s undoing. It was Qui-Gon’s as well.”

*

Obi-Wan now sits with Qui-Gon at the neighboring tent. They have been talking for the last hour, Qui-Gon eager to listen and offer his help as Obi-Wan tries to sort out his feelings.

“And I wasn’t jealous. . . not really. I was happy for him, and all he had achieved, I guess I just. . . wasn’t happy with myself.”

“I take full responsibility for the hardships that have taken a toll on your self-esteem,” Qui-Gon tells him in regret. “It has not just been these last thirteen months, but for the entirety of our partnership. I have withheld a certain part of myself from you. I have been cautious with my own heart, because of troubles from my past. You are a different person and a different student than my formers, and I never should’ve shut you out. I suppose I was afraid for us to open up to one another, because, in a sense, I was afraid of you, the love I felt for you, and the love I felt from you. But I am here now, Obi-Wan, ready and willing. May we begin again?”

“We begin again.” Obi-Wan smiles at his Master. “I wish Anakin and I could begin again,” he adds bleakly.

“I believe you already have. You are here, together.”

“Because you sent for me.”

Qui-Gon eyes his Padawan skeptically.

“But Anakin did say he was glad I was here.” Obi-Wan can’t help but grin.

“I am.” Anakin is grinning as well when he enters the tent.

Startled at Anakin’s sudden appearance, Obi-Wan jumps, and his face turns crimson. “Anakin! How is she?”

“She’s. . . really good,” Anakin informs bewildered, then shoots Qui-Gon a smile. “She’s asking for you.”

Obi-Wan looks at his Master, then realizes. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Anakin chuckles. “She’s happy you’re here. She’d like to see you.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan’s cheeks rise. He modestly makes his way to Tahl’s tent, leaving Qui-Gon and Anakin their own time alone.

“He’s going to be okay, now,” Qui-Gon promises Anakin. “We all are.”

Anakin hugs the neck of another man he’s missed severely.

Chapter Text

Anakin and Obi-Wan will stay on Vagadarr at least one more rotation. They have just had a festive evening, dining with the gracious villagers. Now, Qui-Gon has settled in for the night, and Anakin has just checked in on Tahl, and she is asleep as well. Anakin makes his way to the small tent he will share with Obi-Wan for their time spent on the now peaceful planet. Anakin sees Obi-Wan sitting with his knees in his chest in the corner of the shelter when he enters.

“Hey,” Anakin greets.

“Hey. . . She’s resting well?”

“Yeah. She’s good.” Anakin plops down on the ground and stretches out his legs with a sigh.

“Long day.”

“Yeah, it was. I’ll sleep good tonight. Especially after how well they fed us,” Anakin jokes.

“I thought I might vomit,” Obi-Wan teases in return. “They kept saying I was too skinny, adding more to my bowl; I didn’t want to be rude and refuse.”

Anakin laughs. “The puking might have come across ruder than the refusal.”

“True.” Obi-Wan grins, and he is filled with hope. It has been such a long time since he and Anakin had been able to play and laugh so easily.

Anakin takes off his boots and belt, and reaches for his pack. He unbinds his bedroll and looks at Obi-Wan in question. “That the side of the tent you want?” He gestures to where Obi-Wan is already perched.

“Doesn’t matter to me. If you’re fine there, I’m fine here.”

In response, Anakin remains where he is and lays out his portable sleeper. Obi-Wan follows suit. The beds are right beside one another, for this isn’t much space, and when a familiar blanket is exposed on Obi-Wan’s end, Anakin can’t help but notice.

And Obi-Wan notices Anakin noticing. He is tongue-tied in his explanation, “I. . . I figured we’d be sleeping in a meek, outdoor shelter like this, and I know when the air gets damp. . . you– you get cold. So I. . .”

“You kept that blanket?” Anakin asks in astonishment. “That’s the same one? That’s m-mine?” He leans over to confirm it’s his initials that are there.

Obi-Wan’s cheeks turn pink and he nods.

“I thought you’d want to erase all memory of me,” Anakin says sadly.

“I did. . . on the surface, but the way I felt in my heart. . . Well, I’m fortunate my heart remained intact, beneath the surface.”

They each speak the other’s name at the very same time, both with something dire to say.

Anakin pauses and smiles, but that smile quickly fades when he sees Obi-Wan’s lower lip quivering.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan pleads. “I’m so sorry.”

Anakin’s chest aches as he watches his friend cry, unsure of what he wants or needs, or what’s even acceptable from him in this moment.

“The way I treated you. . . I was awful.” Obi-Wan sobs.

On his knees, Anakin inches closer. He reaches over and runs a single finger over Obi-Wan’s forearm. “It’s all right,” he promises.

“It’s not. I was despicable. Verbally and physically attacking you; I hit you,” Obi-Wan laments. “I can’t believe I hit you! I’m so sorry.”

“You were upset; I understand. It’s all right. Really.” His index finger still slides over Obi-Wan’s arm.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. All this time, I don’t know what I was thinking. And all this time, you never. . . You should hate me.”

“I wouldn’t. Never.”

“I told you I hated you,” Obi-Wan bawls. “But I didn’t. I don’t. I just wanted to hurt you, and I did, and I’ll never forgive myself,” he blubbers.

“I forgive you,” Anakin tells him sweetly. Four fingers curl around Obi-Wan’s wrist.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness. You’re being so kind and courteous. I don’t understand why you aren’t still mad at me for what I did to you.”

“Me being kind and courteous?? You’re the one bringing me blankets and food,” Anakin aims for a smile and gets one that is so slight, he almost misses it. “And I was never mad at you. I was only upset that you were hurting, upset at the way you talked about yourself. That’s what broke my heart, because. . . I love you so much, Obi.” Anakin maneuvers his hand beneath Obi-Wan’s and interlocks their fingers together. “Don’t you know how incredible you are? How special you are to me?”

“I didn’t give you the chance to say it. I didn’t want to hear it, because I was selfish and would only accept it one way, but I want the love of your friendship, Anakin. I need it.”

“You have my friendship and more,” Anakin says intently. “I do love you. Truly.”

Obi-Wan’s brows knit in confusion. He registers that Anakin has taken his hand. What? He looks into his eyes; he needs Anakin to be clear. He doesn’t want to misconstrue his meaning.

“It scared me before, when we were. . . making love,” Anakin sputters. “I felt so. . . I wanted to say it before you did, but I was conflicted, not about you, but about whether or not it was okay to feel that way. I know now, that it is. And I love you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know what to do,” Anakin’s voice cracks. “You were so angry with me, and you told me to stay away, and I wanted to respect you, and then the Council said we had to keep apart, and. . . Obi, I’ve missed you so much,” he chokes out. “I tried to keep going, and I did what I had to do, but I was always thinking of you, always wishing you were with me.”

Obi-Wan grips the hand in his. He’s weeping heavily now, but the meaning of the tears has changed from when their conversation first began – at hearing Anakin’s heartfelt confession, at hearing how he’s missed him and loves him. “I always wanted you with me, too,” Obi-Wan snivels. “I just didn’t know it. I was stupid. I got in my head, and I’m so sorry for what I put you through.”

Anakin doesn’t have any restraint left; he tugs the hand he holds and takes Obi-Wan into his arms. When he has a firm grip, he nuzzles him close as Obi-Wan burrows into his neck. “I’m sorry, too,” Anakin mutters. “And you’re not stupid, and I forgive you – I forgave you a long time ago,” he tells him emotionally. “Let’s not spend any more time dwelling on it – either of us. Please. Can we just move forward? Me and you?” he sniffles.

“How? As what?” Obi-Wan asks, still sounding cross.

“As companions, partners, lovers – whatever you want to call it. It doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you. Can we just be together? Please,” Anakin adds borderline frantic.

Obi-Wan nods emphatically. “I love you, Anakin.” Tears are still streaking down his face, and his lips are turned down in a frown. He looks up at Anakin with the slightest bit of panic; he’s bluntly put himself out there again.

Anakin smiles through the last of his tears. “I love you, too. So much. So very much.”

They hug once again, both feeling a supreme relief at having made this decision to let go, and to move forward – together.

Anakin repositions just enough so that he may look at Obi-Wan, wanting to lock eyes with him to resume their old form of communication. He sees Obi-Wan’s tears are still incessantly flowing; he wipes them away. “It’s going to be okay now,” Anakin gets the opportunity to be the one to say it this time.

Obi-Wan lets out a breath and his shoulders finally relax.

“Lay with me?”

And it was impossible not to with their bedrolls right next to each other, but of course, Anakin will always ask permission. “Okay,” Obi-Wan replies softly. He smiles now, as they move to zip their sleepers together.

They get situated on their makeshift bed, their comfortable silence reawakening. Anakin’s loving arms invite Obi-Wan in as he cuddles beside him and rests his head upon his chest, the anxiousness and upset he’d felt at the last time they were in this position a distant memory. He sighs contentedly when Anakin’s fingers spread through his hair.

Anakin first combs through the strands, then flexes his hand as his fingertips massage Obi-Wan’s scalp. He serenely closes his eyes, satisfied in knowing he can stay right here for the remainder of the night, no distress for conflict to arise. An involuntary, long stretch moves along his torso, hand gliding down Obi-Wan’s back to secure him in place once again. His palm easily ascends to Obi-Wan’s nape, as before, but freezes when he realizes. . .

Obi-Wan stiffens. He lifts his head, and guiltily glances at Anakin.

Anakin’s fingers twitch, rubbing over the discovery to confirm. “You didn’t cut it,” he marvels.

Obi-Wan sucks in his lips and nervously sits upright. “I wanted to, but. . .”

Anakin rises, and gently reaches to remove a single pin that has Obi-Wan’s Padawan braid tacked in place under his long hair. “Why were you hiding it?” he rhetorically chastises. He unfolds and tries to straighten the plait, pulling it forward and over his shoulder, down the front of Obi-Wan’s chest, where it’s meant to be.

And Obi-Wan feels ashamed at the ratty, neglected state the braid is in. Yes, he’d kept it, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to take proper care of it. Despite this, Anakin takes it between his fingers lovingly.

“I’m glad you still have it, because I want to be there when it’s cut.” Anakin attempts to smooth the frizzy strands that are wildly sticking out from the rest of the bunch.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when yours was cut,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin remorsefully.

“I’m sorry, too, but it’s okay. We’re going forward, remember?” Anakin holds the braid, along with Obi-Wan’s jaw adoringly. Obi-Wan nods with eyes downcast. “Can I?” Anakin asks quietly yet hopefully.

“Please.”

Anakin starts removing the tiny colored bands with care, fighting to avoid tugging on knots and tangles.

Obi-Wan feels more at peace than he has in ages as he watches Anakin’s determined and handsome face. He listens to his hushed apologies, and always immediately forgives, when any strand of hair gets yanks a tad too forcefully.

When Anakin finally has the braid fully unbound, he smiles victoriously.

Obi-Wan smiles back. “Thank you.”

“I’m not done yet.” Anakin observes how much lengthier the lock has gotten as he brushes through it. Now, he begins overlapping the separated trio of tendrils, much more adept than he had been in doing this for the first time at twelve years old. “My best friend taught me how to braid,” Anakin provides the commentary. “He taught me lots of things. He always looked out for me, from the moment we met. And as long as I was with him, I was never cold or hungry – always warm with a full belly.”

Obi-Wan lets out a stuffy laugh, and Anakin beams.

“As long as I was with him, I knew everything was okay – because he told me so.” Anakin finishes braiding and begins putting the bands back in their rightful place. “And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him. And I never stopped loving him, even when times got tough. And I will always love him.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whimpers in sentiment.

“I’ll always love you,” Anakin emphasizes.

“I’ll always love you,” Obi-Wan repeats back.

“All done,” Anakin narrates sweetly.

Obi-Wan starts to smile, but reaches for the braid and sighs. “I’m going to have so much to catch up on. I don’t know if I can do it.”

Anakin lifts his chin. “You’re already ahead of the game, and I’ll help you,” he speaks the exact words Obi-Wan had once spoken to him in his own moment of doubt.

Obi-Wan’s pout grows deeper, then morphs. And without permission, Anakin steals a kiss.

'When my heart is like a stone

And I'm running far from home

Remind me who I am

When I can't receive your love

Afraid I'll never be enough

Remind me who I am'

    - Jason Gray - Remind Me Who I Am - Spotify - YouTube

(Wow. I had never seen this video before. Those first seconds before the song starts gave me chills.)

Art by Mayo, whom you can find on tumblr and twitter 😍