FicWad

Additional Author's Note: The hybridized kata is informed mainly by my reading of other fanfic descriptions of Jedi katas, not any specialized knowledge of Jedi fighting techniques. Given a choice between a stylized dance of sequential moves and countermoves or a more elemental kind of choreography, I chose to go the elemental route. It seemed more natural.






"Anakin."

The sound of his name being quietly spoken is enough to rouse Anakin from his inward gazing. His eyes automatically snap open and his muscles tense for action before the surprisingly gentle tone of Obi-Wan Kenobi's voice has time to fully register. For a moment he is confused, adrift, unsure about what it is that's happening and why. Anakin has not heard his former Master speak to him in such a soft and frankly loving tone of voice in - in -

Anakin's eyes catch up with his thoughts, what he is seeing finally registering, and his thought processes immediately come to a stuttering, painful stop.

Obi-Wan - the man he still thinks of in his innermost heart as his Master - is radiant.

This is not - how can - Obi-Wan doesn't - but he is - why would - and /now/?!

Of all the disjointed thoughts that try and fail to form as Anakin Skywalker unabashedly stares at Obi-Wan, with his mouth slightly open, the only thing that is clear is that Anakin does not understand what is happening. This is not like his Master. Yes, Obi-Wan is an undeniably beautiful being, and, yes, Obi-Wan actually physically glows sometimes when he meditates. But not like this! Not while he is sitting gracefully in front of Anakin, his mouth smiling at the shape and sound of Anakin's name, his changeful sea-blue eyes stilled not to the calm emptiness of serenity but rather fixed in the certainty of love for the person upon whom he is gazing. Obi-Wan, his Obi-Wan, may joke more often, may laugh more openly, may smile more quickly and naturally, and he may even be finally learning how to not shrug away from the public touch of hands that are meant to be helpful or kindly supportive or that are simply desperately in need of the reassurance that can be found in touch. But Obi-Wan Kenobi does not, not, not look upon Anakin Skywalker with a soft smile and adoring eyes and shine like a living manifestation of the Force with love. At least, he doesn't outside of Anakin's dreams.

Anakin is shattering again, but this time, he wants to break. He longs to shiver to pieces.

He is reminded, oddly of a day several months after the Clone Wars first began. Padmé had been assigned a seat on a Senate oversight committee that was supposed to meet regularly with Master Yoda and other members of the High Council about the Order's role in the fighting and had unexpectedly shown up at the Temple with Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan to try to schedule some extra meetings. Master Yoda had wished to consult Master Windu on the timing of the proposed meetings and had led the two Senators down to one of the Temple's larger, open training salles, where the legendary 'saberist could most often be found on the few evenings he had free of Council meetings and other personal responsibilities, watching the sparring. On that particular evening, Anakin and Obi-Wan had already been sparring together for quite some time, more than long enough for both of them to have worked up enough of a sweat to have finally stripped down to just their trousers and boots, the blue gemstones from Naboo sparkling on identical black leather cords against their bare chests, Anakin's Padawan braid tied up neatly in a tight loop to keep it safe from any close passes and Obi-Wan's hair for once grown long enough to require being tied back to keep the ruddy golden locks back out of his eyes. They'd been on an extended assignment and hadn't been back at the Temple quite long enough for Obi-Wan to have arranged to have it cut yet, so Anakin had leant him one of his ties to pull it back. At the time, Anakin hadn't thought the sparring session was all that incredibly important, but watching it had apparently had a great effect on Padmé, so great that, when she had spoken to Anakin later about seeing it, he had all but been able to slip within her thoughts and share her memories of the match, as if he had been there with her, watching it.

The particular kata that Anakin and Obi-Wan had begun almost as soon as Master Yoda entered the seating area with the two Senators in tow was one of several of their own devising, a hybridized sequence designed to incorporate aspects of both of their individual fighting styles, pairing Anakin's unexpectedly sudden, powerful, enormously flowing offensive movements with the blinding velocity of Obi-Wan's intricate, almost infinitesimally tiny defensive motions. Their blue blades had twined together seamlessly in a complex pattern of flickering light that easily caught and held the attention of quite a few of the watchers in the stands. Padmé had stared at them openly, entranced by the display, bright flickers dancing across her wide eyes as the bodies that held and commanded that frozen lightning appeared to weave themselves gracefully into and throughout a living tapestry of light. They had woven those streamers of color over, around, and throughout the space surrounding their gracefully mesmeric moving bodies with increasing skill and speed, the hypnotic, kinetic wheel of their only ever so slightly noticeably differently colored lightsabers eventually drawing every stray eye in the place to the particular section of the arena where they were dancing. The kata was a rare display of talent and skill, performed for no other purpose than to prove, in that place, at that time, that they were both worthy of being called Jedi, worthy of fighting one another, and there was a deadly beauty to it that anyone could have easily appreciated. Their pairing was seamless, complementing each other's fighting styles perfectly, so attuned to one another that it truly seemed as if there must only be one mind in control of their two bodies or else one or the other would surely falter, surely fail. Padmé had been as bedazzled as she was terrified by the overwhelmingly complex yet strangely organic feel of those long swirls, loops, and curls in their two slightly differing shades of electric blue.

After several long minutes of watching, it had finally occurred to Padmé that the crashing together of the long, rippling motions and their easy, blindingly quick redirection mimicked the motion of water being pulled by the tides of a moon and the natural movement of a living planet. Their blades were flickering to match the arch of the motion of a sea. In and out, up and down, they had moved continuously, swirling around each other much as the sea will foam up at the breaking line of sand upon a shore. There was a pure beauty to the movements that became even more mesmerizing once she had realized what pattern it was that she was seeing. The two men truly appeared to flow around each other seamlessly, imitating waves chasing each other across the surface of a living sea. Obi-Wan's undeniably genuine grin at being chased by Anakin was shockingly open and had called an answering smile of almost angelic luminosity to the face of Padmé's husband. The powerful muscles in their arms and across the broad expanses of their flexing backs and shoulders were bared to every eye, the rolling pull of their interplay as the two kept circling and darting up around to crash against each other almost hypnotic, and the two were intoxicatingly beautiful, fitting together in a way that Padmé could not quite understand, except to fleetingly think that they were identical, blade to blade as they were, despite their obviously far different appearances. They were the same. Two halves of one whole warrior, joyfully dancing upon the sand-scattered stone floor of the arena salle. After an indeterminable amount of time, the increasingly energetic tempo of that dance finally changed as the two had blended together to finish the kata, their blades moving side by side as Obi-Wan became comfortably, naturally, enclosed within Anakin's arms, back to chest, their bodies so close together that their hair mingled freely. Obi-Wan's slightly bluer blade had followed Anakin's slightly lighter blade in one last sweeping motion that ended with the two of them facing each other again, lightsabers held parallel to the ground, their movements slowing, growing smaller and quieter, imitating a sea becalmed, the varying depths of water reflecting in the two shades of blue, the two very different men reflecting in each other but one soul, or so she could have sworn. Anakin had held the final motion for a heartbeat before straightening, saluting his Master and deactivating his lightsaber before abruptly throwing himself at Obi-Wan with a rumbling laugh that Padmé could hear, even from where she stood in the stands, being answered by a peal of silvery-fine laughter, a sound so high and pure that it had made her think, again, of water, of chiming crystal droplets, and she'd shivered to the sound of their mingled mirth.

Her husband and his Master had embraced easily, entirely unselfconsciously, Anakin raking his human hand carelessly through Obi-Wan's tousled overlong hair, completely loosing it from the already slipping tie, and Obi-Wan had not flinched, had not moved away or tried to shrug off that carelessly intimate gesture. Instead, Obi-Wan had tossed his head slightly, with another laugh, and Anakin had again raked his long fingers with casual possessiveness through those red-tinged locks, prompting Obi-Wan to reach up and tug gently, affectionately, on the loop of Anakin's Padawan braid until it came sliding down over her husband's shoulder and Obi-Wan could wrap a loop of it securely around his hand, tugging upon the braid again until Anakin had ducked his head and laughed. For a moment, then, their heads were so close together that their foreheads touched, and the sight of them like that, in such close, easy proximity, with Anakin's head tilted down over Obi-Wan's and Obi-Wan's hand still wrapped in a loop of her husband's braid, made Padmé's heart clench painfully in her chest. They held that telling pose for so long, though, that Padmé had finally understood that the two were conversing, somehow, though she knew she hadn't seen their mouths move to form the shape of words. In fact, their mouths were smiling silently the entire time their foreheads were pressed together. Their lips still stretched into identical smiles, entirely unaware of the many eyes that were upon them, the two eventually wandered off towards the bench where they had earlier shed their excess layers, carelessly scooping up their discarded tunics and robes before gracefully departing the arena floor and the training salle entirely, their heads still inclined so closely together that their hair once again mingled, Anakin's fleshy arm curled around Obi-Wan's shoulders and Obi-Wan's arm slung about Anakin's waist, their positions together so casual, so possessive, so natural, that Padmé had felt such a pain in her heart that she'd gasped audibly, startling Bail out of his own lingering engrossment with the match and prompting several technical comments from a harshly frowning Master Windu that neither one of the Senators had at all known how to follow.

When Anakin had finished examining the memory through Padmé's eyes, he had looked at her with a puzzled frown, not understanding, and she had looked at him with very dark, very serious eyes and asked him a question that he had not understood the importance of, at the time.

"You love Obi-Wan, don't you, Anakin?"

The crease between Anakin's eyes had deepened a little bit as he had told her, "Of course I love him, Padmé, he's my Master! But why do you ask? You seem upset about something. I assure you that the kata is perfectly safe for us to perform, especially with our lightsabers powered down to lower settings like - "

"Anakin, please, it's important that I know this."

As patiently as possible for as perplexed as he felt, Anakin had told her, "But you know that I love him, Padmé. He's Obi-Wan. He's my Master. You're the one who kept reminding me of it on Naboo and Tatooine, remember?"

Her mouth thinned to a flat, narrow line, Padmé had only asked him, "Did Obi-Wan give you that jewel you had around your neck when you were sparring? I would swear that both of the stones you were wearing are Nubian starfire adamants."

Anakin had simply shrugged and noncommittally told her, "He didn't give it to me, Padmé. Honestly, I don't know what it is. I've just always loved it for its color. It's the same as Qui-Gon's eyes were."

Padmé's face had twisted up into painful lines of unhappiness then and, with a sorrowful murmur of, "Oh, Anakin!" she had simply walked over to him and embraced him, hard, and the matter of the kata and the blue stones were both summarily dropped. Neither subject ever came up again, quite possibly because Padmé never again had a chance to see the two spar together and Anakin very carefully never wore his blue jewel again when he was going to see her (usually temporarily stowing it in one of his pockets or a belt pouch, in amongst his gear, instead), thereby ensuring that she never got a good chance to look at it and examine it, up close.

At the time, Anakin had merely been bewildered, not understanding Padmé's question.

Now, he thinks he might understand. In fact, he's afraid that he knows he understands.

For a moment, Anakin seriously wonders if he has gone mad or if this is just a sign that he's finally turning into the monster that the High Council has always been afraid he'll become.

Oh, Force, no. No. No! No!

Anakin is not - he cannot - he can't, please/, Obi-Wan - Obi-Wan will never - he would never forgive him for - for something like this, for a betrayal like this - Force, /please/, no! /No!

Force help him, he is doing it again. It feels wrong, he feels wrong, and he feels like a monster, like an abomination, like sin itself, substantial and personified. But he cannot stop. He doesn't truly want to stop. He likes it. He feels solid and raw and hard and real and he likes it. That's the crux of it. He likes it. No, he doesn't just like it, he wants it. He wants to feel this, to have this, to revel in it, the rush of this intoxicating high that lays him to waste and yet makes him feel so terribly alive. Desire is a disease in him. A disease that taints others. Already it has claimed Padmé Amidala Naberrie, contaminated her with its insanity, made her turn away from her own good sense and forced her betray her loyalty not only to him, as a friend, but to her responsibilities, as Senator for Naboo, by giving in to the lure of its heat, allowing herself to be had by him, to be owned by him, to become Anakin's possession, his reassurance, his anchor, his secret wife. The High Council is right about him. They're all right about him! Force take him, he is bad to want like this, wicked to need this so much! How can it be that he can have her/, that he can essentially /own Padmé, once the most pure, beautiful creature Anakin Skywalker had ever had the good fortune to lay eyes upon, and yet still not have enough? How can Padmé suddenly not be enough?! Sin. Stigma. Disease. Insanity. Filth. All this, all these things, he is, he is evil, he is a contagion, and if he even so much as touches - No. No/, Force take it! /No. For a Jedi there is no passion, except the passion of being owned by the Force, and that ownership brings only serenity! There is no passion - there is no passion - there is no passion - there is no passion - there is no passion - there is no passion - there is no passion - there is no passion - there is no passion - there is no (O but there is) passion (and you know it) - there is no passion!

Anakin catches himself before it can happen, sometimes, before consciousness of this desire, this passion, can claw its way so close to his surface that it must be dealt with, although that does not often happen. Whenever it does, he finds his tongue slamming up and pressing words against the roof of his mouth, trapping them in. He knows, instinctively, that the words are dangerous, and so Anakin struggles against uttering them, holding in sounds that are sharp, struggling, threatening things that try to burn themselves free, so that the effort of keeping them imprisoned within him makes his lungs sear and his head grow light and dizzy from the scent of scorching words. It hurts. Sears. Strips the top layer off of the roof of his mouth so every exhale brings a muted scream of pain to inflamed nerves and senses. Often Anakin hurts so much that he feels as if he shall be ill, but instead he only curls in around his pain a little bit tighter and grows a little bit thinner, as if a chisel has been taken to him and used to scrape away another strip, peel away another protective layer. Yet, the thinner Anakin grows, the more violently the words struggle to get away from him. Then the hated familiar dark flood of mysterious yet still inescapably dangerous words would translate into a rising need to just open his mouth and let those words escape, let their scorching darkness out of him, however harmful they might be, just to finally be free of their burning weight, and that terrible need would return again and again, with a recoiling snap like a misfiring blaster breaking backwards towards him. In the year that led up to his marriage to Padmé, this had happened so many times that Anakin finally began to snarl and boil with a terrible black humor hovering always just beneath his surface. He had also grown so thin that Obi-Wan finally forced him to go visit the Healers, certain that there must be something physically wrong with Anakin to make him act this way and to make him lose so much weight for no apparent reason. The Healers, of course, could not help him. And Obi-Wan's concern had only made things worse, so much worse that the words had actually begun to claw their way out of him, once, on that first night he and Obi-Wan were assigned to guard Padmé Amidala against the assassin or assassins seeking her life.

Anakin vividly remembers his reaction to the news that their new mission was going to be guarding Padmé. They had only just been returning to the Temple from their latest mission, on Ansion, where they had saved Jedi Master Luminara Unduli and her Padawan, Barriss Offee, and helped bring about a peaceful agreement between the Alwari and Unity so that the planet (Ansion, that is) would not secede from the Republic. Normally, they should have been given at least a week of downtime, but Palpatine had specifically asked for Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker to help keep the Senator safe, and Padmé would have likely proved too reluctant to accept such protection if it had involved Jedi unknown to her, and so the Council had requested their aid in watching over the Naboo Senator almost as soon as their ship had touched down. For Anakin, the mission to Ansion had been one long torturous bout of struggle against the looming danger rising within him, and he was exhausted and brittle from fighting against himself, against the unnamed darkness he felt threatening to escape him every single time he moved to open his mouth. The thought of seeing Padmé again had been like a balm for his troubled soul, soothing nerves that were seared and scraped raw with the promise of the openly warm, loving regard and admiration of one who had acted as a confidence booster, a steadying influence, and a good friend to him during an extremely rough patch in his life, a time of chaotic transition in which he had desperately needed the support of a friend like Padmé. Whatever it was that might be wrong, whatever it was that he feared so much within himself, surely Padmé - lovely, sweet, attentive, helpful Padmé - would either distract Anakin from it or help him deal with it entirely. Or so Anakin had thought - or at least sincerely hoped.

Anakin had been so eager to get to her, to see her again, that he had slipped and allowed too much of his impatience and anxiety to show. Obi-Wan - who normally would not have pried but who had been becoming steadily more and more frustrated and concerned over the course of the year about Anakin's recent weight loss, increasingly erratic behavior, and the inexplicable tetchy humor that had continually threatened Anakin's emotional control that Obi-Wan could not help but be worried enough to speak out - had turned towards him in the turbolift of the Senate apartment complex and quietly noted, "You seem a little on edge, Anakin."

Anakin, caught off guard and panicking, had unconvincingly replied, "Not at all."

His eyes shading towards a striking shade of grey-tinged violet in his distress - a color that Obi-Wan's changeful eyes often adopted when the Jedi was both sad and anxious - Obi-Wan had refused Anakin's evasion by pressing on. "I haven't seen you this nervous since we fell into that nest of gundarks."

Thinking swiftly, Anakin had forced a grin and tilted his head to one side, as he often did when they were teasing one another, stating, "You fell into that nightmare, Master, and I rescued you. Remember?"

The distraction had at first seemed to have its desired effect, as Obi-Wan had smiled and, in a somewhat surprised and slightly wondering tone, remarked, "Oh, yes," after which they had been able to share a much-needed laugh together. However, afterwards Anakin had remained on edge enough to continue to worry Obi-Wan, who had frowned as he concernedly noted, "Anakin, you're sweating. Take a deep breath. Relax."

Casting about blindly, terrified that Obi-Wan was about to order the turbolift back down and send Anakin back to the Healers for another round of tests, he had seized upon the following excuse: "I haven't seen her in ten years, Master."

Puzzled, Obi-Wan could only say, "Anakin, relax. She's not the Queen anymore."

As the lift door slid open and Obi-Wan started away, Anakin, pausing for a moment to gather his courage and his wits before falling in behind his Master, had muttered, "That's not why I'm nervous." Before he could try to explain himself further to Obi-Wan, though, they had discovered the embarrassingly excitable and immensely happy to see them Jar Jar Binks, who had rushed them both forward into Padmé's apartment almost before Anakin could finish explaining what they were doing there, in the apartment complex. Anakin had been given no time to ready himself for the shock of seeing her again, and that, on top of Padmé's incredulity over who he was and how much he'd grown and her intent focus on Obi-Wan as she attempted to explain how unnecessary she thought their presence in her apartment would be, had so utterly flustered Anakin that he had been able to do nothing but say one wrong thing after another. He'd disappointed Obi-Wan enough to shock him into lecture mode in front of Padmé and what had felt like all of the most important members of her household and staff; he'd discomforted Padmé with his intent focus, his inane remark about how she had changed too - growing more beautiful as well as shorter - and his unthinking promise to find whoever was trying to kill her; and he'd even managed to make a fool of himself in front of Jar Jar when he'd tried to explain how badly he'd flubbed the meeting. Padmé had changed. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and shorter, but she was also much more abrupt. Businesslike. Much less friendly and interested in other people than he remembered.

It startled Anakin, how much Padmé seemed to have changed. It also made Anakin remember that Padmé - for all her friendliness and concern after they were safely on their way to Coruscant and after they had freed Naboo from the Trade Federation - had lied to him about her identity and deceived him about her name and her intentions from the moment they had first met, in Watto's junk shop, all the way up until when she had revealed herself and her intentions as she'd made an impassioned plea for help before the Gungun leader, Boss Nass. This memory made Anakin doubt whether or not she had ever truly liked him for himself or if she had just simply been grateful for the way he'd been able to help her save Naboo. After all, even though Padmé had always accepted Anakin's help, she'd also always been reluctant to rely on him for that help. In fact, one might even say that Padmé had accepted his aid because she'd had no other choice. She'd tried to argue Qui-Gon out of the Podrace until it had become clear there was no other way they were going to get their ship repaired, and she'd been shocked almost to the point of anger when she'd discovered that Anakin had been sent on the mission with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to safely return "Queen Amidala" to Naboo but had been unable to do anything about it. After Anakin had blown up the control ship for the droid armies, it was too late for her to refuse his help. Naboo had already been freed of the droid armies, because of him, and she and the Jedi had already managed to take care of the Viceroy and the Sith.

Yet, even though Anakin had been included in the victory celebrations and thanked for his part in securing Naboo's freedom, after he had become Obi-Wan's Padawan, he had never seen or heard from Padmé again. Padmé had never even once tried to see or to even contact him, after Anakin and Obi-Wan had left Naboo for Coruscant, even though she had to have been on Coruscant at least a few times while they were also in residence at the Jedi Temple while she had been Queen of Naboo and, as Senator of Naboo, had doubtlessly been on Coruscant at the same time they were many times. Even though it is relatively easy to travel to and from the Jedi Temple to the Great Rotunda or the senatorial apartment complexes at 500 Republica Way, she had never even tried to contact him. It was almost as if she had been finished with him, after he had no longer been of immediate use to her. It made Anakin feel used. It made him think that, when they had first met, Padmé had just been so desperate for her people and her planet that she would have taken any manner of aid from any quarter offered her, been grateful and friendly for any helpful hand extended towards her. It made him think that Padmé simply was not willing to share of her self, of the core that makes up her own inner life and being, with others. She would eagerly give of her energy, her time, her abilities and knowledge, and her devoted allegiance to her suzerainty - to those to whom and that to which she has pledged her support and protection, as the Queen and then the Senator of Naboo, to the point where she would even be willing to die for them, if that ended up being what it would take to secure their safety and freedom - but she was also jealous of her self and would not willingly share of that with others. That was why she was not truly happy to see him again. Padmé no longer had a use for Anakin and she was so busy being focused on her duty to Naboo and to the Republic that she didn't want to allow him to be close to her, as a friend would, since it would detract somewhat from the time and energy she would otherwise be able to devote entirely to her senatorial duties.

It was enough and more than enough to hurt his heart and to make Anakin's blood boil.

There Anakin was, he just wanted to help keep Padmé safe and be allowed to be as a friend to her, and what did she do? She rebuffed him because he was a distraction and she had no immediate use for him. It was foolish and selfish of him to feel so hurt and disappointed, no doubt - after all, Anakin had been hoping to find comfort and distraction from his own troubles, in focusing on Padmé's real and very specific danger and proving his worth to her as an equal, not just as the "strange little boy" who'd been a slave on Tatooine - but Anakin couldn't help himself. He had truly liked and admired Padmé a great deal, even before he'd known she was also Amidala, and it was a blow to discover that the image he'd kept of her, tucked close to his heart, hadn't been true, that he hadn't really known her at all. The disappointment and the hurt and the feeling of being used all combined to make him extremely angry - so angry that not even releasing his emotions into the Force could help to calm him - and that had only served to make him twice as determined to prove himself worthy of Padmé's regard, of her willingly given time and attention, whether he served an obvious purpose that could further her efforts in performing her senatorial duties or not, no matter what. In that moment, as Obi-Wan elected to accompany Captain Typho to the lower levels to double-check their security, leaving Anakin to keep an eye out until his return, he had come to a decision that he would later find to be irreversible. Anakin Skywalker would prove himself worthy of Padmé Amidala's time, attention, friendship, trust, and even her loyalty and devotion, or else he would die in the trying. Mandate or no mandate from the Jedi Council, he would find a way to keep Padmé safe from whoever was trying to hurt her, he would see to it that the responsible party or parties paid for everything they had done to Padmé - for the death of her handmaiden and loyal body double, Cordé - and Padmé Amidala would never again look upon him or Obi-Wan as if they were nothing more than part of a deal, a negotiation, a business arrangement, that she had struck with the powers that be in order to obtain leave to stay in the capital, where she could better perform her duties as a Naboo Senator, and must therefore simply be suffered.

So when Padmé had essentially offered herself as bait to draw out the assassin, Anakin had leapt at the chance to set a trap for the attacker and to hopefully accomplish something that would make Padmé stop treating him and his Master as if they were nothing more than hired hands. It just hadn't occurred to him that the assassin might somehow already know that a Jedi Master-Padawan pair had been assigned to protect Padmé and therefore would have adjusted the next plan of attack so that the hit could be accomplished from a "safe" distance. He had been so sure that Padmé wouldn't possibly be in any real danger, not with them right there, in just the next room. Anakin had even deliberately mislead Obi-Wan about his reaction to seeing Padmé again to distract him from the argument he had been trying to make against using Padmé as bait so that Obi-Wan wouldn't interfere with his plan. When the attack came and it ended up being a probe droid bearing poisonous kouhuns, Anakin had been so shocked that all he could think of was destroying the immediate threat and ascertaining Padmé's continuing health. He had been too slow to catch Obi-Wan's intent before his Master had whirled gracefully away from the bed and charged headfirst across the room to throw himself out of the broken window and onto the probe droid. Only the fact that his heart had flown up into his mouth when he had seen Obi-Wan sailing out of the window had kept him from screaming a denial. Anakin had torn headlong after first Obi-Wan and then the being who had dared to try to kill Obi-Wan simply in order to make good an escape, the thought that he must keep Obi-Wan safe by catching him and by killing the assassin overriding all else, even basic common sense, after Anakin had lost his lightsaber in the struggle not to lose the attacker in the tangled snarl of Coruscant traffic. Even after he had safely and neatly caught Obi-Wan in his speeder, it hadn't been enough to snap Anakin out of the dangerous rage he'd fallen into. This person, this assassin, had almost succeeded in taking Obi-Wan from him, and that was something that Anakin would not and could not simply let go.

So instead, Anakin had leapt out of the speeder after the fleeing assassin, dropped about five stories or so onto the Clawdite's speeder, and eventually lost his lightsaber in the process of forcing that speeder down. He'd been in such a towering fury that even after the speeder had skidded down hard along a stretch of broken permacrete in one of the many seedy sections of Coruscant's underbelly and slammed to a halt, sending him flying into a long and only partially controlled tumble along the street, he'd quickly regained his feet and torn off after the running Clawdite, lightsaber or no lightsaber, shoving his way through a wide variety of species among the crowds of lowlifes, thrill seekers, and panhandlers. The hired killer had disappeared through the doorway of some kind of combination nightclub and gambling hall and he'd been just about to follow when he'd heard Obi-Wan calling him and a familiar yellow speeder had dropped to a resting place on the side of the street. "Anakin!" He'd turned around to see Obi-Wan's familiar form striding purposefully towards him, pointedly holding Anakin's dropped lightsaber in his hand and radiating so much concern and upset along their bond that it was disconcerting to see how utterly tranquil Obi-Wan's face remained.

"She went into that club, Master!" Anakin had immediately declared, knowing that he was broadcasting far too much emotion and trying to divert Obi-Wan from commenting on it.

At that time, Obi-Wan had still been terribly discomforted by public displays of touch, of affection, and there had been many curious bystanders, so he had merely made a calming stoking gesture to the air, as if to soothe it, rather than running his hand along his Padawan's head and down his braid to his shoulder, as he might have if they had been in private. Obi-Wan's distress was such that he failed to even register Anakin's surprising use of the feminine pronoun. "Patience," he had chided. "Use the Force, Anakin. Think."

"Sorry, Master," Anakin had offered, trying to shunt his excess anger aside, into the Force, before his Master picked up on it along their open bond and asked about it.

"He went in there to hide, not run," Obi-Wan calmly reasoned while at the same time reaching out along their bond and tersely demanding, You are alright, my Padawan? You have not been injured? No sharp blows to the head, perhaps?

"Yes, Master," Anakin had meekly agreed to the one remark while forcibly reining himself in from a snarl as he'd replied, No, Master. I am quite fine. Perchance did /you suffer a sharp blow to the head sometime earlier today that I was not aware of?/

"Here. Next time, try not to lose it," Obi-Wan serenely demanded, holding out the hilt of the dropped lightsaber towards its owner. No, Padawan-mine. Why do you ask?

"Sorry, Master," Anakin again apologized as he reached for his lightsaber. Well, gee, let's see, could it be because you jumped out of a Force-knows how many hundreds of meters high above the ground window, with no clue as to whether or not that probe droid could have even supported your weight? Master, you could have been killed! I certainly don't mind having to save your life occasionally, but tonight I almost didn't find you in time to catch you. What if I hadn't been able to get to the docking bay as quickly as I did or there hadn't been any speeders available? What do you think would have happened to you then?

"A Jedi's saber is his most precious possession," Obi-Wan had quietly reminded Anakin as he pulled the precious weapon back from Anakin's reaching hand, capturing his Padawan's gaze with a stern look and then holding it. It was not my time, Anakin. Obviously. The Force would have provided. You, on the other hand . . . Padawan-mine, we could have come up with a safer way to capture the attacker. It was not necessary to leap from the speeder like that. And it certainly was not wise to lose your lightsaber in the process, not if you were intending to be able to do anything to subdue the assassin once you had forced the speeder to land. Most skilled assassins tend to be heavily armed and to not be terribly vulnerable to mind tricks, Anakin. Just what, precisely, were you planning to do once you had caught up with the attacker? Capture and hold the being on charm and wit alone?

"Yes, Master," Anakin had again agreed, reaching for the lightsaber. I knew you were coming, Master. As long as I didn't lose the attacker, I knew you'd be able to track us both by following the bond. I wasn't trying to do anything except to not lose the Force-forsaken -

Anakin Skywalker! You are telling me a deliberate untruth, and you well know it. What in the Force did you think you were doing? Obi-Wan again pulled the lightsaber back, never letting Anakin go from his scrutinizing stare. "He must keep it with him at all times," he had stressed.

"I know, Master," Anakin replied, a bit of exasperation creeping into his tone. Probably the same thing you were thinking when you went out that window, Master! That this filth nearly murdered Senator Amidala in her sleep and we could not allow that to stand! What, you think I was /trying to put myself in harm's way?/

"This weapon is your life," Obi-Wan snapped, refusing to let go of his hold on the lightsaber hilt. I don't know, Padawan. Were you?

"I've heard this lesson before," Anakin had just barely managed not to snarl back, determinedly holding on to the hilt. I don't know, Master, were /you/? Come on: you tell me! That sounded like a scream to me as I was coming around underneath you with the speeder.

Don't be absurd, Anakin! I leave the heroics to you, as you very well know. Force knows you're reckless enough for the both of us without me trying to be anything other than the lowly Jedi Master that I am. Obi-Wan finally relinquished his hold on the lightsaber, allowing Anakin to take the weapon and replace it on his belt, but he had held that awful stare for several more long moments. There was a trace of bitterness in his words along the bond that crept out into his voice as disappointment as he had remarked, "But you haven't learned anything, Anakin," as he was turning away.

Don't you talk like that, Master! You're not a lowly /anything, Force take it! You're Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith-Killer, Master to the Chosen One, and if those old fools on the Council were a bit more concerned with honest deeds and less concerned with ridiculous rumors of Grey Jedi, less frightened of nonexistent shadows, you'd also be a Master in truth!/ The explosion of anger along their bond had rocked Obi-Wan, causing him to turn back around before he had entirely finished turning away.

Those are prideful thoughts, Anakin. As Jedi, they do not become us.

Supposedly neither do fear, or envy, or anger, but do you see that stopping the Council?

Padawan, I know it is sometimes difficult to understand, but the Council -

The Council fears me and so they take it out on you, since you're my Master.

Anakin -

It is /not right, Master!/

Though we are Jedi, we are still only mortal, fallible beings. All we can do is strive to be better than our lowest instincts would have us behave. We can but try, Anakin.

And you believe that I do not? Anakin had demanded, hurt, feeling a dangerously dark emotion stirring within. "I try, Master," he quietly swore. I have done nothing /but try ever since the Council deigned to admit that I was indeed powerful in the Force, after events on Naboo, and also finally ruled, after many heartfelt if never rationally explained or argued protests and more than a few longsuffering sighs, that I might be taken on as your Padawan learner./

/Oh, Anakin, Anakin, Padawan-mine . . . /Obi-Wan sighed, leading the way up to the club. "Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?"

"Don't say that, Master," Anakin had replied, a hundred percent seriously, the almost anguished intensity of his tone surprising both of them. The darkness had risen in him like a flood then, unknown but unavoidably dangerous words springing to his lips, only an enormous effort keeping them locked behind his teeth. For an instant, he had seen red, literally - a red field of molten fury, threatening to consume him, to destroy them both - and after that, no matter how hard he fought to cling to control, the agony of that thought, of losing Obi-Wan to that ravening fire, tore at him, shredding his shields until he's cried out, desperately, along the bond, Obi-Wan, I love you! You're all I have! I would not survive the loss of you. I would never, never hurt you, not deliberately, surely you must know that! You must not say such awful things! You are the compass of my heart and I would be lost forever without you.

. . . Anakin . . .

Obi-Wan had stared at him for a moment speechless. Stunned by his own thoughts, Anakin had plunged into the club, casting his gaze away from his Master and across the club's inhabitants. Humans and nonhumans mingled freely in the smoky air, sipping drinks of every color and puffing on exotic pipes full of colorful foreign plants and even more strikingly unusual synthetic mixes. Many robes showed bulges reminiscent of weapons while a few of the more skimpily clad patrons sported obvious accouterments of mayhem and destruction, meaning that everyone in the establishment was a potential threat. Obi-Wan was at his side, his hand tight just above his left wrist, almost immediately, and Anakin had to turn his attention back to him. Casting about desperately, he had spoken the first words that came to mind. "You're the closest thing I have to a father," he'd offered, trying to distract Obi-Wan with a plausible explanation and keep him from prying into the real, if not entirely understood, reason behind his outburst. "I love you. I don't want to cause you pain."

"Then why don't you listen to me?" Obi-Wan demanded, shockingly bluntly. Oh, Anakin . . . Padawan-mine, I only scold, I only lecture, because I love you and your recklessness worries me so. I would not see you get hurt, young one. Surely you must know that.

"I am trying, Master. And I do listen. I promise. I'll do better. I will. I promise you," Anakin had eagerly, fervently, sworn. I know, Master. But you worry me, too, sometimes. I'm your Padawan and I'm supposed to take care of you. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't scold you for leaping out of skyscraper windows at passing droids.

Point taken, Padawan. How about this: I shall avoid leaping out of windows if you will avoid leaping out of moving speeders, hmm? Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow dryly before nodding and then looking around, pointedly changing the subject. "Do you see him?"

Deal! Anakin immediately agreed. Then, remembering their reason for being in this disreputable establishment, he added, "I think he's a she."

"Then be extra careful," Obi-Wan had simply warned.

"And I think she's a changeling," Anakin added helpfully.

Obi-Wan had merely nodded to the crowd ahead of them, saying, "Go and find her," before starting in the opposite direction.

"Where are you going, Master?"

"To get a drink," had been the short response.

Startled and strangely hurt by the dismissal, Anakin had silently followed orders and begun canvassing the club for the Clawdite. Although they had eventually managed to disarm the changeling and take her into custody, a second, unknown assassin had shot her with a lethally poisoned dart before she could tell them anything useful. Afterwards, frustrated, angry, and plagued by a persistent feeling of impending doom, Anakin had quietly followed Obi-Wan back to the borrowed speeder. Obi-Wan wearily massaged his temple as he automatically climbed into the passenger seat, and for an instant Anakin was frozen, fighting the sudden urge to reach out and gather his Master into his arms for a long, hard embrace, knowing Obi-Wan would not appreciate the gesture in such a public venue, but wanting . . . something so badly that it rose within him, surging, dangerous, dark, striving to escape his control. His jaw slammed shut with an audible snap, teeth barely missing his tongue, and it burned, it burned like that lake of fire would, trying to eat a way out of him.

Anakin had thrown himself recklessly into a single-minded pursuit of Padmé's affections afterwards, in a desperate attempt to distract himself from that terrible burning need, and after the Council had, in their wisdom, decided to split their Master-Padawan team up, despite Obi-Wan's protests and his own misgivings, things had progressed fairly rapidly. Haunted by dark dreams of his mother in agony and fragmented, crazed images of the semi-confrontation with Obi-Wan in the midst of their pursuit of the assassin that left him miserable with confusion and ablaze with a need that he could not understand and could not find the courage to examine too terribly closely either, he had stayed as close to Padmé as a shadow, seeking the focus and the calm that only the challenge of her presence could bring him. Essentially alone with Anakin then, she had quickly begun to open up to him, to learn how to trust him, and, as they finally began to truly know one another, Anakin had realized that Padmé was beginning to look upon him in the way that a beautiful woman will regard an equal, rather than a much younger friend. And he had known then that she was, indeed, a very beautiful woman, inside as well as out. After being presented to her family on Naboo and treated like a potential and quite suitable suitor, Anakin had realized that he and Padmé could very easily fall in love with one another. And after that, things had progressed at lightning speed. Before he knew it, he was convinced he was in love, and Padmé was struggling against herself so violently that he had known it could not last - and indeed, it hadn't. On Geonosis, she had declared her love for Anakin and they had shared a quick kiss to seal that love. Almost before he knew it, he was married to Padmé. And although that dangerous darkness within him never entirely went away, after he married Padmé Anakin was able to wrap himself in her muffling love and shield himself from that searing, chiseling need. It had not vanquished the need, but it had buried it . . . mostly. He had even begun to hope that Padmé's love would eventually be enough to banish that strange and terrifying need entirely. But now, though . . .

Now, he knew that this had not and never would have happened. The pain and need were still there, just as strong and searing as ever, and they would not be dislodged, as the agonizing heat in his throat and belly now very well prove.

Anakin Skywalker's stomach roils, and he clenches his teeth. Darkness. Oh, Force, it is darkness, it is evil, this lust that fills him! He has to drive it from his soul, once and for all, this temptation that is tormenting him! He cannot let it take root in him. He will not allow it to take root in him. Obi-Wan - his beloved Obi-Wan - Force, please, no, he's already brought him so much pain and sorrow, /please/, he won't be able to live with himself if he ruins Obi-Wan too!

Anakin doesn't understand what's happening or why and yet a part of him does, a part of him understands completely, a part of him has even been expecting this, ever since that moment on Invisible Hand when Obi-Wan's hand had gently alighted on the crown of Anakin's head in a caress as light as a butterfly's kiss before sliding down to brush tenderly along his cheek, and ever since the moment Obi-Wan's voice had gone soft and his hand had fallen warmly on his arm and he had looked at Anakin with the whole of his soul, his innocent devotion and faithful trust in Anakin, pouring out of his eyes, and had sworn that there was no one he would rather be facing this moment with before smiling quietly and telling Anakin to get used to calling him Obi-Wan instead of Master. He has been expecting it ever since his Master woke, draped over his back, and did not automatically flinch away from the contact. He has been expecting it ever since Obi-Wan allowed Anakin not only to touch him but to hold him, to actively support him, in front of Jedi Master Mace Windu, of all people, when they'd made it back to the planet. He may not want to know what it is but he understands why, he expects it, because Anakin Skywalker is very good at forgetting things, and he has forced himself to forget this particular truth several times, in order to go on with his life and keep believing that he's still one of the good guys, that he's not the monster the eyes of the Masters on the Jedi High Council accuse him of being, not the emotionally uncontrolled and uncontrollable demon that the increasingly nervous reactions many of his so-called fellow Jedi have ,just because of his presence, reveal a growing fear of his becoming. That he's not the selfish and never faithful - not in his heart, not in his mind, not in his soul, not even in his flesh, given his fantasies - never truly in love or loving, only needful and wanting, son of a Sith that he sometimes is terrified he sees reflected in Padmé's always too trusting, too accepting, and too forgiving eyes. Not a disappointment to Obi-Wan, not the failure of Qui-Gon's last hope. Anakin Skywalker is very good at forcing himself to forget all of these things, though the damage he does to himself in order to accomplish it grows greater every time he does it. The fire at the core of him, where he destroys such thoughts, doubles and redoubles in strength, in ferocity, and the cold voice of that dead dragon grows louder, grows more persistent, fed strength from the acrid fumes of his burning hopes, his purposefully destroyed dreams, the continually sacrificed deepest and truest wish of his heart, his mind, his soul, his everything.

Every time he does this, Anakin Skywalker scars his soul, mutilates his heart, damages his mind, a little bit deeper, a little bit worse, a little bit more closely to permanently.

Every time he does this, Anakin weakens his resistence to the Dark, undermining his own ability to tell the difference between reality and dreams, between what is true and what he wants to believe or what he is told by another to take as the truth.

Every time he does this, the ability of the Sith or indeed of any creature of malefic intent to manipulate him, to turn him towards evil, grows a bit easier and lingers a bit longer.

Every time he does this, he has done or caused something awful to happen. A broken promise because of a wish to become worthy of notice and Qui-Gon Jinn's death. A bid for the freedom of forgetfulness because of an intolerable vague but consuming want for /more/, for more closeness, and the loss of an entire living planet. A panicky need to quench the fire of the flesh so utterly that not even dreams remain to potentially leak through shields that never seem strong enough and not only the loss of his mother while otherwise occupied by the despicable seduction of an innocent, of Padmé, but the unforgivable betrayal of a Master's trust and the beginning of a war that otherwise could have been easily stopped. A stubbornly burgeoning fascination with an awareness of beauty, of desirability, because of constant contact with one whose soul is so pure that he remains loyal even after repeated and increasingly ever more heinous betrayals of trust, of faith, and a distraction so great that it results in a complete inability to see the attack coming against Coruscant, against the government, the Senators, /Padmé/, and the Supreme Chancellor, a man who has all but been a surrogate father and grandfather rolled into one, Palpatine of Naboo.

Much more of this, and Anakin Skywalker will not just destroy himself, everything that makes him who he is, that makes him Anakin Skywalker, he will also destroy his entire world, his galaxy, the very foundations of reality that support everything he knows as true and good.

And he would never see it coming, either, never understand how or why it could have happened, because Anakin Skywalker will have caused it, will have brought it about, with the very best of his own good intentions.

***

Anakin's eyes snap open and he looks upon Obi-Wan for a moment, sightlessly, before his gaze abruptly sharpens and focuses and for an instant his face fills with hope and his eyes flare with a hunger so great, a desire so absolute, that Obi-Wan can feel his heart stuttering in his chest, his lungs momentarily refusing to draw another breath. But it's only the barest fraction of a second before Anakin's eyes darken, his face shutters, and Obi-Wan can all but see the miasma of darkness that reaches out to enfold his former Padawan in its evil embrace, invited in out of desperation and pain and a shame so cripplingly strong that the breath whooshes out of Obi-Wan's lungs in a rush of empathetic pain. Before that evil can take hold of him, Obi-Wan swiftly reaches out and carefully lays his right hand against Anakin's face, fingertips curling around the edge of his jaw and thumb brushing gently along the sharp jut of his cheekbone. The shock of skin to skin contact is all that is needed to yank the younger man back away from the dark place his mind is tumbling towards. Anakin's eyes fly wide, stunned, as he comes to himself fully to the unexpected caress of Obi-Wan's hand.

"Anakin, don't. Let go of your shame /now/. You hurt me by causing yourself this pain."

These are not Force-enhanced commands. Force-assisted far-sight of the most probable futures or no, Obi-Wan would never try to knowingly bend Anakin's mind in such a manner. In any case, his foreseeing had been quite clear on this particular subject. Any attempt at force or coercion at this juncture would only succeed in driving Anakin away from him and threaten to resurrect the path down which the wrath of the Temple would fall upon his former Padawan's head and all would be lost. Besides, because it is him, because it is Obi-Wan speaking to Anakin and looking at him as he does - his gaze steady and his eyes unclouded, the honesty of his words and the truth of his love for Anakin clear in every syllable, written plainly upon Obi-Wan's face, and communicated openly in the frankly caressing movement of his willing hand upon Anakin's face - Anakin obeys him instantly. Given who they are and the situation, Anakin has no choice but to comply. So the darkening cloud dissipates in the same instant it begins to form, and Anakin is left blinking at Obi-Wan owlishly, his train of thought having been so completely derailed that he essentially is no longer aware of the few moments that have passed since he resurfaced and Obi-Wan spoke. Eyes clear of panic though touched with a hint of puzzlement now, Anakin smiles at Obi-Wan, automatically leaning into his touch. "Master - ?"

"Anakin, I apologize if I frightened you earlier. I fear that I am the bearer of bad news. I was asked not to speak to you of some of these things, but that was before I came to a realization regarding the Sith Lord. I cannot, in good conscience, keep such things from you, no matter what the other members on the High Council might wish of me. I am afraid that it will be difficult for you to hear about many of the things I need to discuss with you. Anakin, please, realize that it is not my wish to hurt you by speaking of such things. You are my partner and I love you. I would never want to see you hurt. But there are things that I know that you need to know as well. It will be easier for both of us if I might share a few memories with you. Would you allow this?" Obi-Wan quietly asks, his thumb still moving in lazy arcs across Anakin's left cheekbone, fingers flexing slightly where Anakin is pressing more firmly up into his touch.

At first Anakin only stares, shocked silent not so much at the request but rather with the admission that Obi-Wan wishes to talk with him about matters that the de facto heads of the Jedi Order, the High Council, would not approve the two of them discussing. Anakin has dreamed of the day when Obi-Wan will have to choose between him and the High Council. Anakin has had countless nightmares in which Obi-Wan has stood with his fellow Masters of the Council and turned his back on his former Padawan, and he has also daydreamed often of a time when he will have won so much of his former Master's affection and trust that Obi-Wan might actually choose to openly defy the High Council in Anakin's name. But he has never imagined anything like this - this shockingly calm, incredibly certain admission of love and trust, this open willingness to defy the wishes of the High Council in order to fulfill what Obi-Wan believes to be the will of the Force, a preparedness to do whatever is necessary that reminds Anakin so much of Master Qui-Gon that it hurts his heart - and Anakin hardly knows how to react. "Master, the Council - ?" he begins hesitantly, feeling as if he ought to be pinching himself to make sure he's not dreaming.

"Master Windu and Master Yoda did present a persuasive argument against speaking to you regarding a part of what I wish to share with you now, Anakin, but that was before I came to possess several other pertinent facts. The High Council - and indeed the entire Order, as well as much of the Galactic Republic, including the portions of it that claim they no longer are a part of the Republic - has, I fear, been greatly deceived in the matter of Sidious. The Force has made this very plain to me. In this, I must obey the will of the Force and abide by the dictates of my own conscience. In truth, I had no great desire to keep anything from you, Anakin. I trust you. You are my partner and it is not right for us to keep things from one another. I am afraid that the High Council has never understood this, nor truly tried. They have wronged you, Anakin. The Order has wronged you. I have aided the Jedi in wronging you, in remaining silent and not challenging others enough about the level of mistrust, of condescension, evidenced by such an attitude." Obi-Wan bows his head for a moment at this, truly saddened by the High Council's blindness, and when he looks back up again Anakin's eyes are as wide as saucers.

"Master, are you - are you feeling alright?" Anakin finally asks.

With another slow, gentle smile, Obi-Wan assures his stunned friend, "I am quite fine, Anakin, all things considered. The Force has given me a great gift, and I can see many things much more clearly now than I once could. I am merely disappointed with myself, that it should take so much to make me realize how fallible the Jedi can be, even those who are meant to guide the Order with their collective wisdom. I fear that the Jedi have become far too deeply involved in the struggles and the political machinations of the power-mongers. The Order has fallen out of touch with the guiding principle of the Force, and this disconnection has already made far too many of the Jedi into easy targets for the Sith to manipulate and destroy. The Council and indeed the Order itself have been wrong about a great many things, but I do not believe that it is too late to save the Jedi . . . or the Republic's ideals of peace, justice, and freedom, which we are sworn to uphold and protect. Will you allow me to share my knowledge with you, Anakin? Things will go faster and much easier if I can share some of my memories directly with you."

"You know I will take anything that you are willing to give me."

There is meaning and then there is meaning to these words, so quietly and yet so intently, so intensely, spoken, sworn, and Obi-Wan shivers to hear them, for a moment lost to the fever-bright intensity of a memory that he has not yet experienced, the heat and passion of that mouth moving upon him, branding him with more indelible promises. Wracked with fire, his hand for a moment tightens upon Anakin, his eyes flaring with a bright promise of their own, and Anakin trembles beneath his touch, possessed of a sudden urge to just climb up into Obi-Wan's lap and wrap himself around his much beloved form, to chase away any lingering signs of sorrow and erase the traces of tears lingering like dark shadows on those shining features. Instead, feeling greatly daring, Anakin raises his hands to cover Obi-Wan's hand upon his face, guiding that hand down until he can press a fervent kiss into the palm.

"Anakin . . . "

It is not precisely a warning, or a question, or a requirement, and yet Obi-Wan clearly and easily intimates all of these things, just by speaking his name. This time, Anakin is the one who shivers, and yet he does not hesitate even so much as a heartbeat before yielding and agreeing to all of these things by saying, "Yes, Obi-Wan," before relinquishing his touch in order to offer his hands, palms out, as he normally does when the two of them join minds in order to willingly share entire memories. Obi-Wan's hands press up against his immediately, which he has expected, but then Anakin is stunned when Obi-Wan subsequently laces their fingers firmly together, the powerful tug of his curling fingers both in promise and in answer to a question that Anakin has never before dared to fully verbalize, not even to himself. There is no other choice for him, then, but to give in, as Obi-Wan has foreseen.

Anakin's shields are all down and Obi-Wan is within him almost instantly.

***