FicWad

Additional Author's Note: The scene that had to be cut in two to post the previous chapter on the lj and which was also cut in the comparable chapter here to keep the chapters of a comparable size picks up immediately below!










“The Master-Padawan bond with Bail. When he joined that larger network of ties binding us to each other and the Grand Masters, the amount of energy we raised in the Force blasted him free of every single shield he’s ever woven about himself. And most of them were instinctive – entirely unconsciously made – in the first place. Bail has had no shields since then, except for the ones we built for him, on Naboo. Which wouldn’t be so bad, I suppose, except for the fact that he’s easily potentially as strong as Qui-Gon or Dooku ever were, while living, and he is a natural empath. An empath with no shields to speak of! Great stars, Anakin, we’ve been such fools!”

Pulling back away from him a little – not enough that he has to take his arms from around Obi-Wan’s waist and back, but sufficiently to allow him to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze and to frown down at him in confusion – Anakin hesitantly asks, “And this means . . . what, exactly?”

“Anakin, I know we never talked about this much, but do you remember what happened, after I was captured, on Jabiim, and put in that Sith torture mask?”

“I remember pain,” is Anakin’s flat, clipped response. “Agony, to be more precise.”

“Yes, but, do you remember feeling as if you were trapped in an endless loop of nightmarish pain, bounced endlessly back and forth from one extreme to the next and then back again?” Obi-Wan presses, his gaze sympathetic but expectant of a response.

“I . . . suppose so . . . ” Anakin finally allows, frowning deeply.

“The Soul Healers informed me that most of the mental and emotional distress I suffered, under the Sith torture mask, was enhanced by a certain feature of the device that traps the wearer in a sort of feedback loop. Once caught in that loop, it is very difficult to break the cycle of pain. Whoever it was who injected you with that Force-inhibitor provided a shock that resonated along the bond and was great enough to break the cycle, which is why I was eventually able to find a way around the constraints imposed upon me by the mask, so that I could still touch and use at least a little bit of the Force. Bail is an extremely Force-strong natural empath who doubtlessly no longer has any shields to act as a barrier between him and the emotions of other beings. And he is bonded specifically to both of us, Anakin.”

Anakin’s eyes fly wide with sudden, horrified shock. “You mean – ?”

“Yes. Exactly so!” Obi-Wan replies, his tone half exultant over having figured the problem out and half simply grimly horrified over the actual nature of the problem. “Bail has been acting as a sort of natural conductor, receiving and then resonating our stronger emotions back at us.”

Anakin’s face turns a hideously bloodless shade, the skin shockingly white despite its natural golden pigmentation, and then flushes so red that it looks as if he has been dipped in vermillion dye. “You mean – when we were – together and – Obi-Wan – Force – !”

“He can’t possibly realize what he’s doing, though, Anakin, so it must be nearly all subconscious,” Obi-Wan replies quickly, reassuringly, though there is a faint tinge of color in his fact that betrays his own discomfort with the idea that their Padawan might have been picking up on their stronger emotions, however inadvertently. Soothingly, he adds, “If it weren’t, he would know or at least sense what was happening, and I’m sure he would have said something to us, by now, if that were true. There was more than enough time for him to speak of such a thing, on Naboo, after Padmé’s spirit departed from Sola’s body. We were all of us there for nearly two weeks, after all. So I don’t believe there’s cause to worry about that. But he has been caught in the undertow of our darker emotions, Anakin, and because he is an empath and he lacks shields, he keeps receiving and projecting and receiving and projecting a continuous, escalating cycle of self-doubt and pain and self-hatred and shame and regret. That’s most likely the reason things became so bad, so quickly – because he would have felt those same emotions, to one degree or another, after learning of Breha’s death, and the addition of his own emotions to the feedback loop were doubtlessly enough to send it spiraling wildly out of control.”

Weakly, Anakin makes a circling gesture with his hand back towards the door, asking, “Well, should we – I mean, if he’s still – ?”

“We just now got him to rest. He hasn’t truly slept in a week. Exhaustion has probably aggravated things, as well. I think it should be safe to wait until he’s woken on his own, before we broach the subject.”

“Yes, but – but if we – I mean, if we were to want to – ” Anakin’s voice trails off into embarrassed silence, his face once again flushing so full of color that he looks as if someone has painted him with red dye.

Obi-Wan’s answering blush is so painfully dark that he looks as if he’s been scorched by sunburn or scalded by heat. But he manages to make his reply without stammering, opining, “I honestly don’t believe that Bail would be able to pick up on anything right now even if we were to deliberately attempt to broadcast in his direction, Anakin. He’s simply exhausted too many of his reserves. And we know now that we need to shield ourselves from him, whereas before we didn’t bother, since the main purpose of the Master-Padawan bond is essentially to fashion a safe means of consistently open communication. I believe that if we simply shield ourselves from that part of the bond that leads to Bail, we should be alright. Hopefully, we’ll even be able to actually do something about moving past this endless argument over which one of us is carrying the most uncalled for guilt and laboring under the most impossible to fulfill and therefore damaging and unreasonable expectations,” he adds, a hint of a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You are, of course,” is Anakin’s almost offhanded response, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. Then, seeming to suddenly realize that he’s actually said that out loud, he throws up his hands in a defensive gesture, exclaiming, “But let’s not argue about it now! Force! I’m sick to death of fighting about this and not really getting anywhere. Besides, I don’t really see the point of trying to argue with you about something this serious when we could still be being influenced by somebody else’s emotions. If all we can do now is shield ourselves, then we should do that and worry about the rest later, once we’ve had a chance to get some real shields up around Bail.”

Although he is sorely tempted to dispute Anakin’s rather nonchalant assumption that Obi-Wan is somehow irrationally holding on to much more unwarranted guilt than Anakin (who is still suffering from the misapprehension that he should be held accountable for Vader’s atrocities – crimes that he hasn’t and never will actually commit), Obi-Wan is also more than a little tired of arguing about the same things over and over again without ever seeming to make any progress on actually resolving those issues no matter how hard or how intelligently he attempts to resolve the thorny knots that lie at their core. And the sensation of being faced with not just one but two related problems between the two of them that they apparently cannot solve is both maddeningly frustrating and wholly depressing. His debates with Anakin have generally been just that – actual debates, with the two of them presenting evident for their sides of the argument and doing their level best to try to meet somewhere in the middle, where a compromise or at least a greater understanding of one another’s thoughts and feelings on the subject actually lie. The side-lectures and the sort of running patter that they so often keep up during and just after their more actively dangerous missions aren’t debates or even really actual arguments, per se. Or at least Obi-Wan and Anakin have never looked at them in that way, though they are both aware that others have often overheard the teasing quips and challenging barbs, the caustic jokes and verbal sparring and sometimes rather pointed commentary that they often trade back and forth during such missions, and mistaken those remarks for actual bickering and vert real complaints, despite the playful and good-natured intent of such exchanges. The lectures are what they are – lectures (or scoldings, as Anakin has often referred to them) generally prompted by some action of Anakin’s that’s nearly managed to frighten his Master into a heart attack – and are, in a way, a sort of proof of love, given that those lectures would not be nearly so forthcoming or so frequent if not for the fact that Obi-Wan cares so much about Anakin and wants to desperately to keep him safe.

Their actual arguments, though – disagreements in which they simply cannot seem to arrive at any kind of common ground or real sense of understanding regarding one another’s position on some specific issue – have been relatively rare, few, and far between. And most of those arguments (having either involved Palpatine and politics in some manner or else touched in some way on the Jedi Code and the rules and practices of the now defunct Jedi Order) have since been laid to rest, having either been settled (one way or another) or rendered entirely moot by outside events. Given that assurance of an actual lack of interference from Bail’s emotions might conceivably make it easier for them to find some way to resolve this hitherto seemingly endless cycle of disagreement, it would be not only foolish but actively counterproductive to try to argue any part of the overall issue now. So Obi-Wan forces himself to take a deep breath and then loose it in a long sigh instead of replying right away. “Alright, then. Fair enough. I don’t want to fight with you about this either, Anakin. Especially not when we could be making better use of our time, discussing things that we actually have a chance of resolving.”

The look of relief in Anakin’s eyes as Obi-Wan chooses to let the provocative remark go unremarked upon instantly transmutes to a sort of wary confusion. In the end, though, his curiosity trumps his caution, and he finally gives up and asks, “Should I ask what other things you think we still need to resolve?”

“Well, there’s the issue of the twins, for one thing, and what arrangements would be the best to make for them while we’re off on missions for the New Jedi Bendu Order. And there’s the question as to which chapterhouse should become the new seat of the Order, since it would be foolish indeed to allow the Coruscanti Temple to remain the heart of the Order. And then there’s also – ”

Groaning quietly, Anakin turns them away from the chairs and towards a divan where they’ll be able to sit side by side. “Hold on, let me get a datapad. I get the feeling we’ll probably have to justify some of these decisions, at some point, either to the Grand Masters or to the ex-members of the dissolved High Council. Now . . . what was that again, about making one of the old enclaves the new seat for the reborn Order?”

***

He does not realize at first that he is dreaming.

The sense of the place is heavy, closed-in, and almost claustrophobically stifling. The room is dark and almost eerily featureless, and there is a slow, steady drip-drip-drip somewhere in the background, the echoes from each plashing drop of water suggesting a vast space, cool and dank, possibly underground. A figure is positioned in a chair near the back of the room, so far back into the blanketing darkness that Anakin knows he shouldn’t even be able to make out the form of the chair, much less the figure in it. Anakin sees him though, nonetheless: a young one, so incredibly youthful and seemingly fragile that it’s not quite possible to tell whether he is in fact a slightly overgrown teen or just a very young man. Even bound securely to the chair it’s obvious that he’s all long legs and arms, all planes and angles and a sort of coltish awkwardness, painfully thin but with an odd promise of something like grace, in the elegant articulation of bones and joints, his hands thin and long and fine, fingers like some graceful arrangement of carefully strung beads, masterpieces of art, something about them reminding Anakin of his first sight of Bail Organa’s left hand, elegant as a piece of carving, spread across the back of Obi-Wan’s head and cradling him solidly up against the Crown Prince. This man-child is far too pale to be any relation of Bail Organa, though – his skin almost translucent, reminding Anakin of Obi-Wan, smooth and moon-pure and all but glowing with a luminescence of its own, as if his body were filled with light and his skin were only the thinnest membrane stretched around and between that illumination and the rest of the world. There is a strange sense of brightness around the youngling, despite both his dark surroundings and the fact that he has obviously been brought to this place against his will and more than a little ill-used. There is dried blood on his too-large (and far too lightweight, from the young one’s constant shivering) off-white shirt and his feet – incongruously bare, thin and high-arched and bluish-purple from more than the cold – are scraped and cut and battered enough that they look as if they’ve been deliberately injured, perhaps to hobble the boy-man and keep him from fleeing if he should somehow manage to win free of his bonds.

His face – what Anakin can see of it – looks as if it has been parred down from a natural slimness to an almost anorexic thinness, as if he’s been deliberately starved, the bones beneath that all but translucent pale skin all painfully visible, reminding Anakin of Bail again, of the sight of him kneeling in front of Breha’s portrait, chin sharp as a blade (and with a serrated edge, to boot, what might have seemed like a barely discernable dimple if only the boy-man were not balanced so close to the edge of starvation instead thrown into sharply jagged relief), cheekbones like knives pressing up against a thin layer of fabric and likely to cut through at any moment, and eyes so sunken that Anakin can’t get a clear sense of what color they are, whether they’re actually brown or black or simply look dark because of their sunken hollowness and the overall lack of light in the room. His hair is overlong, as well, which doesn’t help matters much, since quite a bit of it is dangling in his face and across his eyes – an awkward length, not long enough to be able to bind it safely and securely back away from his eyes but too long to simply trust it to remain tucked away behind his ears, not quite all of a length but close to it, hinting that the overlong length is not due to any lack of access to shears but rather is a deliberate choice, as if the youngling wishes to be able to hide behind the curtain of his slightly wavy hair at a moment’s notice, able to cut off the site of his face from others simply by moving his head in a certain manner. There is something about the way that his hair is curtaining off part of his face that reminds Anakin naggingly of someone, but not in a way that he can immediately pin down, other than to think that he knows someone else who’s prone to sitting in that same way, with his head canted down at a slight angle, the better to shake his hair forward around him and across his field of vision, in a sort of double screen between himself and the rest of existence. Anakin wishes that he could see the young one’s face and especially his eyes better. He can’t even really tell what color the man-child’s hair is – it’s nearly as nondescript in its darkness as the youngling’s eyes are, in the dim and uncertain lighting. He thinks it might be a middling shade of brown, with perhaps just the barest hint of amber or perhaps cinnamon (a color that makes Anakin think, again, of Bail, though because of his sister’s hair color rather than Bail’s), but he certainly couldn’t vouch for that with any real sense of sureness.

In all honesty, despite the fact that a large and rather persistent part of him keeps trying to insist that he knows this boy-man from somewhere – well enough to justify both the sense of sick horror and helpless fury that floods him, on seeing the youngling tied up like this – he’s not sure that he could swear to much of anything about the young one aside from his obvious distress. He certainly strikes Anakin as being familiar, but then, Anakin has no real notion as to why he seems so familiar, and his utter inability to resolve this conundrum sends his thoughts into a decidedly unhelpful continuous loop. It would be entirely frustrating, if not for the fact that just the sight of the more obvious injuries and the way he’s been tied so cruelly tight to the chair instantly makes Anakin’s blood boil with the sort of unrestrained fury and his stomach roil with the kind of fear that he normally only experiences when Obi-Wan or one of the rare few people he has come to care a great deal for are in some kind of danger. In any case, Anakin has rushed over to the man-child in an attempt to help him to quickly and is filled with such a need to render aid, to rescue, that it takes him half a dozen tries at laying hands on the youngling’s bonds before Anakin finally notices that he’s not really physically present in the dark, dank, and probably underground as well as cold chamber with the young one and the realization hits that he’s actually just dreaming this, not experiencing it in any tangibly real sense. Anakin is so shocked that he just stands there for a few moments, still half crouched over the still unplaceably familiar man-child, staring dumbly down at his transparent hands, which are resting somewhere half over and half within the bonds tying the young one to the chair. And then, with a suddenness that startles him enough to take one startled step backwards, the youngling abruptly rolls his head up on his neck, turning so that Anakin catches sight of the blood matted in his hair, from a much too hard blow to the left side of his head, and then looks directly up at him through the slightly matted but still strangely baby-fine silken curtain of his hair, and says, in a dazed voice that hits Anakin like a physical blow, “Father? Is that you? Dad? You’ve got to tell the Grand Masters to hurry with the investigation. We won’t last much longer down here alone. Please. We know you don’t know us, yet, but we really want you to get the chance to. Both of you. Please? Just tell them to hurry things up a bit.”

Then, while Anakin is still trying to recover from his instinctive recoil (some part of his mind noting, almost absently, that the young one’s mouth is like a strange wedding of Anakin’s to Obi-Wan’s, the lower lip Anakin’s and the top Obi-Wan’s) it starts to happen, the sight that is as familiar and it is horrible. The young one’s luminously pale skin actually pales even more as it crystallizes, becoming all but translucent, as if the youngling were a figure made of old-fashioned glass. Glass! And as soon as Anakin realizes what he’s seeing, the man-child becomes entirely fashioned of glass. What little illumination there is in the chamber glistens off of his crystalline highlights, the blood in his hair and on his too thin arms and chest (rising to the surface beneath the paleness of his shirt) and on his bare feet turning liquid and running swiftly over the hard planes of his smooth surface. And his expression, a look both of tired resignation and abject apology, a look that more than acknowledges the fact that they have somehow failed each other and that the man-child knows of no way to fix that, drives a dagger’s sharp point of pain straight into Anakin’s heart. He remembers a scene like this, knows exactly what it means. The only truly prescient dreams he’d had about his mother’s impending death (all the others dreams he’d had about her having corresponded – as far as he’d only been able to piece together after it was too late to do anything about it – with the actual pain she’d been suffering at the hands of the Sand People who’d kidnaped her) had been like this. They’d always ended like this, with Shmi turning into a glass figurine and then exploding outwards into fragments. And so even though he knows that the gesture will be futile, he tries to reach out for the youngling, tries to save him. Cracks immediately begin to appear in the glass. Anakin hears the horrible crunching sounds they make as they elongate and finds himself crying out helplessly, repeatedly, reached for the youngling desperately. Although it never worked in the dreams of his mother, he also instantly reaches out to the Force, reaching for its energy and then channeling it towards the boy-man’s form with all his considerable willpower, reaching for the young one with all of his might. But then, as in the other dreams, the boy-man shatters, flying apart into a million tiny glittering fragments.

And, still screaming out a desperate denial, Anakin wakes, caught close in Obi-Wan’s arms, tears pouring helplessly down his face, shaking so badly that he stammers involuntarily when he tries to answer Obi-Wan’s concerned questions and can’t make himself understood, in the end reaching out along the bond and showing Obi-Wan both the whole of the dream and the beginning of the sequence of nightmares he’d suffered about his mother before her death, panic all but making his thoughts white out when he notices, again, the familiar shape of the young one’s mouth, when he’d rolled his head back on his neck, shaking his hair back slightly from his face, and spoken.

Anakin. Anakin, love, calm down. I’ve got you. Breathe. I have you and I won’t let you go. We’ll figure this out. It’ll be alright. Just try to calm down, love. Take deep breaths. We have a comm unit that’s keyed to the Grand Masters. We can contact them directly and tell them about your dream, as soon as you’re alright. If they have any kind of investigation going that would involve rooms like the one you saw or a young man matching that description, I’m sure they’ll be able to help him. But Anakin, love, I have to tell you that I don’t know how this young one could be related to either one of us. It certainly wasn’t Luke. Even the dim lighting and a good disguise couldn’t account for all of the differences I could see between this youngling and what I’ve seen of Luke. And he rather looked like he was at least in his mid to late teens, to me, so –

But the mouth! Obi-Wan –

Anakin. Love. You’re not the only person who has a fuller lower than upper lip. I admit there was something rather familiar about the young man, but unless you were capable of siring a child well before Qui-Gon found you, on Tatooine, and what you did when we gave the twins new bodies somehow affected this other young man’s body, too, I honestly don’t know how he could be related to both of us. Unless you think your mother had a very close blood relative who did not reside on Tatooine and could have somehow married a Kenobi?

I – I – I don’t think so. I don’t know! But Obi-Wan, he called me –

I know what he called you, Anakin. And if I knew of a better way to explain it, I would, love. But that’s not Luke. And it’s certainly not Leia. I don’t know who else it could be . . . unless you’ve simply adopted someone at some point and I’m not aware of it?

No! Of course not! Anakin doesn’t quite flinch, but it’s a near thing, and Obi-Wan makes an extra effort to hold him even closer then, hands rubbing in soothing circles across his back.

Then I’m sorry, Anakin, but aside from telling the Grand Masters, I’m not entirely sure what else, if anything, we can actually do. And if time is of the essence –

Of course, yes, the comm! Do you know where – ?

I have it on my belt. Just a moment . . . Obi-Wan concentrates a moment, reaching out into the Force to snag his utility belt from where it’s been neatly coiled on one of the chairs, pulling the whole thing over to him on the bed. Normally he wouldn’t use the Force like this – it seems somehow disrespectful to him, to use the Force for menial tasks like this, which he could perform just as easily with his own hands and feet – but Anakin is still shaking ever so slightly, in a sort of low level full body shudder, and Obi-Wan isn’t comfortable with the idea of letting go of him quite yet. So just this once he uses the Force instead and, after locating the comm unit, he sends the belt back over to the chair, absently using the Force to coil it in a neat spiral on the cushioned seat again, before holding the comm up in front of Anakin questioningly. Do you wish to speak to speak to them first, or shall I?

A part of Anakin’s brain immediately flashes to the series of lectures he had to weather through in his youth, regarding proper and improper uses of telekinetic Force abilities, but Obi-Wan is holding onto him so tightly that he can guess why Obi-Wan didn’t just slide out of bed and go after the comm himself, so he just hugs Obi-Wan back a little bit tighter and admits, I’m not sure how coherent I could be right now. Maybe you could put through the call and then if they have questions I could get on the comm then?

Good enough, love. Here. Shift over a bit, so I can get at the sheets. Unless you’d feel more comfortable –

They know we’re together. Just pull the sheets up a little higher, okay? You want your robe? Hold on and I’ll get it for you. Wardrobe, right?

Yes, but –

Hush. I know you don’t like people to see any part of you unclothed, aside from your face and hands, though I’ve no idea why. If I looked like you, beloved –

Flatterer! Obi-Wan turns a dusky shade of red, the embarrassed flush spreading across most of his body, and quickly accepts the robe after Anakin has called it over from the wardrobe and offered it to him, shrugging into the silky garment gradually, a little bit at a time, shifting just enough to get himself into it without ever quite letting completely go of Anakin, before cinching it tightly around his waist. Less than fifteen minutes later, a miniature representation of an oddly rumpled and extremely startled looking Qui-Gon is forming in the air above the bed, concernedly inquiring after Bail’s health and asking what he can do to help. Obi-Wan quickly reassures his former Master that Bail seems to be doing better and then launches into an account of Anakin’s nightmare and the way it had echoed the prescient dreams he’d had of his mother before Shmi’s death. Dooku soon joins Qui-Gon, crowding into the miniature holocomm’s field and stroking his bearded chin thoughtfully as he listens, frowning in confusion when Obi-Wan gets to the part where the youngling had spoken to Anakin and urged him to tell please the Grand Masters to hurry in their investigations.

“The only investigations we are currently running involve the collection and cataloguing of Darth Sidious’ records and the exploration, mapping, and stripping of his various bolt holes and training grounds on Coruscant. Information and evidence collected in his records will be of inestimable value, in the rooting out of corruption among the Senate and various special interest groups, and he has some rather nasty artifacts in various collections he has stored in safe houses scattered across the planet. I wasn’t aware of any actual hostages that he might have tucked away in one of his hidden abodes, though I know that he preferred more subterranean or at least lower level locals. Qui-Gon, did you see any live hostages Sidious might have taken, when you were spying on him?” Dooku asks, turning to Qui-Gon with a slightly puzzled frown.

“No, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that he can’t have had some. I spent most of my time trying to watch over the three of you, and there were some rooms in certain of his facilities that I never entered. I was . . . much weaker than I am now, for some time after Naboo, and any rooms that were warded against the Force in any way were chambers that I could not enter. I could sometimes convince the ones who taught me to go where I could not or to be where I could not and to then share the information they had gathered, thus, with me, and they never seemed particularly bothered by the contents of these chambers, so I never thought to ascertain their contents myself, afterwards, when I came into my strength as a Force spirit. But if there is even the faintest possibility of living hostages being held somewhere in that labyrinthine warren of bolt holes and secret passageways Sidious made his own, then we will need to hurry to find them before their stores of water and food give out. He must have either left them with a certain set amount of water and rations, due to his inability to visit on a regular basis, or else programmed droids to see to it that they would be given enough water and food to sustain life, or else it would already be too late. If Sidious had plans that required him to take hostages rather than simply murdering these individuals out of hand, though, he certainly would have made sure that they would be able to survive, in the event of any unexpected circumstances that took or otherwise kept him away from Coruscant for any extended period of time. It is even possible that they might have somehow been placed in a sort of suspended animation. Some Force sensitives do have the ability to induce such states in other beings, at least for a limited amount of time, without inducing any sort of adverse effects in those affected,” /Qui-Gon offers, hurriedly adding the last bit when a gasp of worry escapes Anakin. /“We will get more people on this project – both projects, actually, come to think of it, for there might be locations of other, newer safe houses that neither Dooku nor I know of in his records. I would not worry, young ones. If there are any hostages hidden away on Coruscant, we will find them. You may rest assured of that.”

“Qui-Gon. Grand Master. Please, don’t take this the wrong way,” is Anakin’s slightly curt response as he abruptly budges over on the bed, crowding up next to Obi-Wan and into the miniature holocomm’s reception area so that he’ll show up on the other end of the transmission, “but I don’t really know you – either one of you, actually – all that well, and I have a feeling that this dream was meant as a serious warning. I know that what the young man called me doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but I feel like I know him or should recognize him from somewhere, and I really want him to be found in time to save him. So please make sure that you look everywhere – and go in yourselves, if you have to, if you don’t think it would be safe for anyone else and we’re not back yet to check it out ourselves. Please. Okay?”

If Qui-Gon is surprised by the request, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he simply inclines his head once, gravely, and promises, “We will search through the whole of The Works and along the pathway Sidious established between Palpatine’s quarters at 500 Republica and The Works as well as throughout the surrounding environs and even the entire mass of the ecumenopolis’ lowest underlevels, if we must. Coruscant has not only been damaged by the war but by years of corruption in the government, and those underlevels need a good cleaning out, anyway. Force alone only knows how much criminal activity and organized crime or how many petty criminals and monsters those underlevels are hiding. The pain and misery of the people of Coruscant should be addressed along with that of the war refugees and the residents of planets that have sustained damage over the course of the war.”

“We cannot save everyone, of course. There are those who will attempt to insist on living only at the expense of other beings – those who will prefer to build themselves up upon the pain and suffering of others. It is our duty, though, to see to it that they are not permitted to indulge in such behavior. Some certain things will be easier to deal with in the wake of Sidious’ fall and the end of the war. There is a window during which we will have the ability to not only curtail but to essentially do away with most organized crime and trades which thrive only on the suffering of others, including slave trading and quite a bit of drug trafficking, at least within the bounds of the territory we will claim. After the New Jedi Bendu Order begins to work with the government of the New Alliance of the Republic to heal the many wounds inflicted on the sentient beings of the galaxy by both the war and the widespread corruption and injustice that helped pave the way to war, when we are well on our way to crafting a truly just galactic-wide order out of the ashes of the old orders and most of the remaining Separatist leaders have been seen to undergo High Justice and to be willing to do whatever they must to make reparations for the harm they have caused, there will be a time in which the majority of the sentient beings of the galaxy will find themselves united in sentiment, and all we will need do is help direct the backlash, so that it will be put to good use and foment change and an overall movement towards growth and cooperation and a prosperous harmony rather than yet another chaotic cycle of bitterness and revenge and endless counter-retaliation, oppression and isolation and eventual subjugation. You should be familiar with this plan already, young one. You and young Obi-Wan and your young Padawan established many of its particulars. We will do what we can to save as many as possible, youngling, and of course we will do everything we may to redress the many wrongs that Sidious has committed – even those on a more personal, individual level – but we do have other duties, Anakin, and we already have quite a few trustworthy individuals working their way through Sidious’ records and the rooms and living quarters he claimed as Palpatine,” Dooku adds, his voice slightly warning.

“You will save this one, Dooku. Or I swear I will see you tried for your own crimes, with the Separatists. They are not the only ones who must make reparations.”

Anakin’s response is so quietly matter-of-fact, with nothing coming across the bond aside from calm determination – no sense of real anger whatsoever – that it takes them all a moment to realize what he’s said. By the time Obi-Wan has started to turn towards him, shocked and concerned, mouth moving to shape Anakin’s name, Qui-Gon has already recoiled with a startled hiss, rather like a scalded feline, and Dooku is giving voice to one of his almost eerily resonant and dark low chuckles, shaking his head ever so slightly. The sparkle in his eye is, oddly enough, one of pride as he looks directly at Anakin and notes, “I am well aware of my crimes, young one, even as you are aware of yours. Whatever it may be possible, in all good conscience, to do for this particular youngling, you may be sure that I will do it. But I will not promise you more than that. To do so would be to knowingly deceive you, and I feel I have already told more than enough falsehoods and untruths for one lifetime. Senior Consul Fang Zar and junior Consul Mon Mothma have already contributed quite a few trustworthy individuals from their personal staff and several teams of clone troopers under the command of a squad of ARC commandos as well as over a handful of individuals from what used to be Republic Intelligence to the effort to uncover, catalogue, and thoroughly explore all of Sidious’ records as well as the many artifacts and hidden bases and safe houses he has tucked away on Coruscant. This investigation is already a joint effort between the New Jedi Bendu Order and the still somewhat nascent government of the New Alliance of the Republic, and we will not refuse their aid, Anakin. We need their aid too much for an undertaking of this magnitude, especially since Qui-Gon and I have been recognized as the Grand Masters of this remade Order and have duties pertaining to those positions that cannot be neglected. If it is at all possible, we will find and save this young one for you. We will expand the search to the lower underlevels and oversee as much of the search as we may. But it may be that others will find him. Or it may be that our efforts will be too little, too late, given that it /has been weeks, already, since Sidious’ death. You should prepare yourself for the worst possibility, child.”/

“If finding one person tucked away in Sidious’ Coruscanti warrens is too much for you to handle, Grand Master, then perhaps we should consider establishing a consular system within our Order as well as the government. I can always return to Coruscant to help you,” Anakin instantly offers, the seemingly heartfelt and innocuous offer of help entirely ruined by the answering glitter of absolute determination in Anakin’s eyes. The threat in those words is so plain that even Dooku looks slightly startled, his eyebrows shooting rapidly up towards his hairline. Qui-Gon just looks horrified, staring back and forth between Anakin and Dooku, plainly anticipating trouble but at a complete loss as to what to do to stave it off.

Sighing, Obi-Wan reaches out and places a restraining hand on Anakin’s right shoulder, curling his fingers down tight. “Anakin. Dooku. That’s enough. Both of you. We are all allies now, remember?” He gives Anakin’s shoulder the slightest little shake, to drive the words home, and then adds, “We do have duties that will keep us on Alderaan for at least another full week, possibly even two weeks. As Bail’s Masters, we cannot avoid that delay. But we can and we will be returning to Coruscant directly afterwards. And if it is necessary, if others prove unwilling to assume full responsibility for an organized search, then we will take over this investigation just as soon as we’ve returned to the Temple. This is not meant as a threat: it is a promise. And unless you wish to force us to explain to our Padawan that we are rushing through things here because we cannot trust you to do your duty not only as a Grand Master but also as a Jedi Bendu and a human being, Dooku, you will stop trying to bait Anakin and you will take this request seriously. My far-sight visions seem to be limited to the things that I am already at least somewhat aware of, if only peripherally, and while I am aware of the fact that both of you have access to powers that the rest of us do not, as you essentially exist as entities formed solely by the energies of the Force, I am not aware of your status as Force spirits granting you infallibility. Just because we have not seen this young one in any vision of the future or glimpse of the present elsewhere, that does not mean that he is not somewhere close by and presently in need of our help. As Jedi Bendu, it is our duty to render aid to those in need. And that means that we two must remain here, with Bail, and that you two must see to it that your investigation of Sidious’ things quickly expands into a planet-wide search for any living hostages he may have secured before his death. Such is simply our duty. Agreed?” Obi-Wan asks, sliding effortlessly into his role as the Negotiator, the firmness of his voice making it clear that this is more a demand for acquiescence than a request for reasonableness.

In answer, Anakin merely reaches up his left hand to twine his fingers through Obi-Wan’s, where his hand is still resting on Anakin’s shoulder, quietly declaring, “I know my duty, Obi-Wan. I’m still waiting to see if they do, though.” His gaze rests unwaveringly on Dooku as he says this, making it clear that he is still ready to take up any challenge Dooku might issue.

“We will see to it, young ones,” Qui-Gon quickly interjects, before Dooku can do any more than open his mouth. “Most of the clone troopers involved in the abbreviated attack on the Temple have remained on hand, performing odd jobs around the complex and volunteering to act as protection details for trustworthy members of the Senate and government. I’m sure they would be happy to help us organize a thorough sweep of the lowest levels of Coruscant, to be carried out in conjunction with an expanded search in the area of The Works. Isn’t that right, Master?” Qui-Gon asks, turning expectantly towards Dooku, gaze hardening slightly, a noticeable edge of warning in his voice.

Dooku’s mouth quirks slightly, but he finally simply nods, allowing, “If we send most of the former members of the High Council who are currently on Coruscant out with new search and sweep details, it should be possible to safely begin such a search. I will ask Master Nu to lend her expertise to the collating and combing of Sidious’ records and request that she ask for volunteers among the best researchers still present in the Temple to aid her. The Consuls and other Senators might even be moved to volunteer more of their own staff to the effort, once they begin receiving regular reports as to Sidious’ activities on Coruscant . . . as well as elsewhere.”

“Good. Then we will see you when we are finished here, Grand Masters.” Obi-Wan gives them a noncommittal but carefully genial smile and nods his head almost deeply enough for the gesture to be a bow, very carefully avoiding any obvious sign of triumph over the capitulation. “Oh. Before you go, though, you should be aware of the fact that our Padawan appears to be a natural empath. We’ve discovered a bit of a problem with overflow and bleed-through, and it’s serious enough that it seems to have been causing a feedback loop. You may want to tighten your personal shields for a time, at least until we’ve finally had enough time to teach him the basics of shielding. Otherwise, you may find yourselves acting a bit . . . irrationally, from time to time, as the effect of the emotional feedback appears to be both cumulative and compounding.”

The look Dooku and Qui-Gon share at that is plainly shocked and concerned, much more so than they have been at any other point during the conversation, and Obi-Wan has to squeeze Anakin’s hand tight to keep him from acting on the anger suddenly flaring across the bond. It’s not enough, though, to keep Anakin from snidely adding, “You should be careful, Grand Masters. You’ve probably already been affected by it, since you were in close proximity to our Padawan while we were on Utapau, and just haven’t caught on to it, yet.”

“You will see to it that he is shielded properly, though, correct?” Qui-Gon instantly asks, not bothering to hide his anxiety.

“Of course, Master! We wouldn’t purposefully leave Bail unshielded.” Obi-Wan can’t help but feel a little insulted by the question and doesn’t bother to hide it. “It will only solve part of the problem, though, until he learns how to shield himself, you know. Bail is apparently a natural empath and he’s been rather effortlessly telegraphing what he’s been picking up on from us, which means he’s also an extremely strong telepath. You should both be very careful. Bail can pick up on and broadcast back to you emotions that you may not even be consciously aware of having, and he won’t even be aware of the fact that he’s doing it.”

“And we can’t exactly shield him until he’s conscious enough to know what it is that we’re doing, so that he can learn the feel of it and start adding his own strength to the shields, so that they’ll actually last longer than the first surge of strong emotion he experiences,” Anakin adds more than a little wryly. “He’s exhausted right now and sleeping. He’ll likely sleep an entire day through still after this, and we won’t try to wake him before he’s ready. He truly/ needs/ the sleep, after what he’s been through.”

Surprisingly enough, Dooku answers this time, nodding his understanding. “Of course he needs the sleep. Given what he’s been through, I should be surprised if he weren’t still sleeping at this time tomorrow. You will be helping to arrange the funeral, though, while he is recovering, won’t you? There are people already headed to Alderaan for the funeral.”

“We are aware of that, Grand Master. We told Raymus, so that proper arrangements could be made for their comfort while they are here. Since there’s not an actual body, though, the funeral will largely be a formality and a matter of state. The family seems to have things already well in hand, from what I gather. Sheltay and Alaina have both spoken as if there have already been public assemblies to mark Breha’s death. She was well-loved and the people probably began holding public wakes and memorials to celebrate her life as soon as they found out she had died. They’re probably already nearly halfway through the mourning process, from a public standpoint. Bail’s family wishes to make this as easy on him as possible, so they’ll be sure to arrange essentially all of the other half while he’s sleeping. You needn’t worry about that. Sheltay and Alaina are quite protective of Bail,” Obi-Wan explains as reassuringly as possible. “In perhaps a week, Bail should be able to give a public and binding announcement of his abdication of the throne, in favor of Alaina, to both the Alderaanian High Council and High Court. Then it will just be a matter of seeing to it that Alaina and Raymus are confirmed as the new rulers. And I believe, too, that Bail has agreed to become young Winter’s honor-father, so there’s also a small matter involving a formal presentation and a short but binding ritual of acceptance, so that Bail will legally be considered Winter’s next of kin if anything were to happen to both Sheltay and her husband, Ob Khaddar.”

“Ah. And that’s why it will likely be two weeks before you’ll be able to return,” /Qui-Gon murmurs, half to himself, nodding and automatically tucking his hands away in the loose sleeves of his outer robe. Then, looking back up at them, he asks, “You do know, don’t you, that there will be something of a galactic-wide celebration when both the peace and the new government become wholly official, and that our Consuls are planning on publically disposing of Sidious’ body by burning the various pieces during that celebration, so that no unscrupulous scientists or cloners will be able to avail themselves of any possible samples and attempt to grow themselves an army of potential Sith Masters?”/

“It will be at least another three weeks before they’re able to hold and tabulate elections in enough of the systems that require new Senators for there to be a great enough number of seated members in the Senate to make both things completely binding. We will be back by then. You needn’t worry about that. I would have seen if this had changed,” is Obi-Wan’s immediate and calmly assured response. “We will be back in plenty of time to be present for the theatrics.”

“Those ‘theatrics,’ as you so dismissively refer to them, will help to spread a sense of real hope and returning peace and security everywhere that the HoloNet reaches in this galaxy, young one. It is vitally important to unite the sentient beings of the galaxy behind us as quickly and as firmly as possible. You know why – ” Dooku begins to point out in an almost condescendingly lecturing tone.

“I know far better than you, Grand Master,” Obi-Wan quietly but firmly cuts him off, unwilling to listen to the warning. “You need have no fear on that account. The Team of Kenobi and Skywalker, Anakin and Obi-Wan, your Warrior of the Infinite, will be there, at the very head of the processional. We will even bow our necks for medals, should Mon Mothma insist on it.”

“You just make sure that the HoloNet reporters know that the Hero With No Fear and the Negotiator are a couple now in every since of the word. And make sure that you’ve had that long talk with the Sullustan reporter, Den Dhur, who made friends with Barriss on Drongar, first, okay?” Anakin adds, the words much more a command than an interrogation.

Dooku’s right eyebrow wings its way upwards again, but he replies, this time, with patient reassurance. “We’ve already discussed this, young Skywalker. And young Obi-Wan left detailed instructions. Qui-Gon and I have already contacted the Sullustan and he made an appointment to come to the Temple tomorrow evening for a personal interview. It will be taken care of. The New Jedi Bendu Order will neither ignore nor squander the public’s good opinion. We’ve already held several meetings with the press, to keep them appraised of changes within the Order and our efforts to help clean up the mess that Sidious made of the government. That Commander Cody made some rather . . . interesting holovids pubic, quite soon after Utapau. I assume this was your doing? There have been parents clamoring to have their children tested for Force-sensitivity from the Core Worlds all the way out to the Mid Rim ever since.”

“That was my idea,” Anakin replies, his smile smugly self-satisfied as he releases Obi-Wan’s hand to wind his arm around Obi-Wan’s back, hugging him close and dropping a quick kiss on his flaming cheek. “I figured the extra publicity couldn’t hurt. Besides, the sentient beings of the galaxy need to know just how much of this war has been won by the Jedi. And they more they know what we’re capable of doing, the more of them will want to be like us, and the more of them will leap at the chance to actually become Jedi Bendu, when our recruitment drive really gets going. The galaxy will need just as many of us as we can gather together and train. There’s a storm of storm’s coming, remember?”

“We know, Anakin. It was a very good idea, young one. That young man Cody is very proud of and even more protective of the both of you, just as all of the men who’ve served under the two of you for any real length of time are, and it comes across quite well during interviews. He’s informed us that he’s in the process of arranging testimonials, of sorts, from troopers and commandos who’ve worked under other Jedi, and they’ll likely be given to Den Dhur for editing and release to a wider audience,” Qui-Gon informs him with a proud, pleased smile.

“Get Den Dhur or someone he trusts to publish the details of Sidious’ records. He’ll have kept track of every evil deed he ever performed or convinced others to do for him. He probably has detailed files on every halfway important person from here all the way out to the Outer Rim, if not further. Dossiers of potential allies and minions. Blackmail material to bend more stubborn souls into shapes that’ll be more useful for tools. Catalogues of weaknesses and of strengths that might potentially be turned against their owners, to let him manipulate his foes. You’ll probably find a lot of concrete evidence of corruption and criminal activity tucked away in Sidious’ files that can be used against potential enemies of the new government. And the public will go crazy over it. People will be so outraged that they’ll start wracking their minds for information and clues to pass on to the authorities, to try to help catch these people and to identify potential sites where Sidious may have had contacts or set up safe houses. Someone on Coruscant may know about the hostages. Or they may at least be able to tell you about influential or powerful people – or even relatives of such people, maybe – who’ve mysteriously gone missing. Give the people of Coruscant a reason to care about what you’re doing and half a chance to do something about it, and they’ll help you with this investigation,” Anakin only insists in reply, staring at the Grand Masters intently, as though willing them to share his need to find this potential hostage. “They’ll probably do half your job for you, if you let them. And you’ll also be bringing more of the people in even more solidly behind the new government and the New Jedi Bendu Order, because their disgust with Sidious and the old ways will be so overwhelmingly high. And if people know what was really going on, they’ll probably be too furious and ashamed to ever let it happen again.”

“If it is that important to you, youngling, then perhaps – ” Qui-Gon begins to say, deep furrows creasing his forehead.

Anakin promptly lowers a stare at the Force spirit that Obi-Wan has seen before and which has been known to quail hardened criminals to the point where they’ve stopped in their tracks and rather abruptly rethought both their current jobs and their chosen professions. “It is.”

Recognizing that things are about to get out of hand (that is never a good look to see on Anakin’s face. He had been wearing it last when they went up against Grievous and the sight of that implacably battle-ready look being leveled against Obi-Wan’s former Master prompts a cold swirl of sickness to stir in the pit of his stomach), Obi-Wan rapidly adds, “Yes, but we can’t be seen to be part of a media circus, here. Our Padawan is a bit fragile right now and it would be irresponsible of us to subject him to the media – even to those within the media whom we trust – at this point. Please, just see to it.”

Dooku, evidently recognizing something in Anakin’s face that Qui-Gon is not seeing (and little wonder why! The Force spirit likely remembers that hardened glare quite well from his own battles with Anakin), reaches out and places a hand on Qui-Gon’s right shoulder, stopping him from speaking./ “Of course, young Master Kenobi. As I have promised, we will do what we can. Come, Qui-Gon. We have some meetings to arrange.”/

The look of puzzlement on Qui-Gon’s face eloquently attests to the Force spirit’s utter confusion over this sudden turnaround. However, he has the presence of mind (quite possibly due to the relatively tightness of Dooku’s hand upon his shoulder. Irregardless of their current state of solidity or incorporeality, such gestures always seem to translate as they would for two beings of flesh and blood) not to protest, which is really all that Obi-Wan could dare hope for, given that this is, after all, his former Master. The reflexive response of, “Of course, Master,” is oddly subdued, for Qui-Gon, and for a moment Obi-Wan feels a slight twinge of guilt for essentially ordering his old Master around as if Qui-Gon were the one who’d been the Padawan and Obi-Wan had been the Master. However, the addition of a rather pointedly dry, “If that is quite alright with the two of you?” nips that feeling in the bud, reassuring him that, whatever Qui-Gon does, it will either be because he wants to do it or else because he honestly feels it is necessary, not because anyone has actually managed to pressure him into doing it.

Anakin, though, who is much less familiar with Qui-Gon’s stubbornness, simply sees the response as a sign of capitulation. In a magnanimously cheerful tone, he simply shrugs and notes, “Why shouldn’t it be? The sooner you get started, the sooner he can be found.”

The lowering of Qui-Gon’s head rather unfortunately brings to mind a bantha digging in its heels, preparing to refuse to be moved. He doesn’t manage to get any further than opening his mouth, though, before Dooku’s hand tightens perceptibly around his shoulder and the former Count interjects, in a deep, smoothly urbane, not quite smarmy voice that makes Obi-Wan reach out and clamp a restraining hand of his own upon Anakin’s nearest shoulder, “Quite true, young one. So, then, we will see to things here. The two of you may go back to whatever it was that you may have been doing. Do please remember to keep us updated. When the time comes, we will come and pay our own respects to Lady Breha. If that is quite acceptable to you?”

Anakin scowls, despite the hand on his shoulder, but he contents himself with stiff nod, even though he is practically bristling with prickly offense at the Grand Master’s exaggerated obedience. He can tell that the Force spirits are going to do what he wants them to, irregardless of whatever might or might not be said, now. He’s managed to prick their pride and invoke enough of their sense of duty that they will doubtlessly go and send word to the others who are helping to sort through the Sith Master’s possessions and the properties he’d been working out of about a widening of their investigation before going to contact Den Dhur early, to see about organizing the media and, thus, recruit the aid of the general public. The only reason they’re still talking to Anakin and Obi-Wan now is because Anakin has also managed to come quite close to insulting their intelligence and sense of honor, in insisting so bluntly on their immediate obedience. “We will contact you when arrangements for the state funeral have been finalized. That will probably not be before the day after tomorrow,” he allows, obviously begrudging every word. Pointedly, he then adds, “You will have plenty of time to get started on this, in the meanwhile.”

“And thank you for seeing to this, since we cannot be there to do it,” Obi-Wan hastily adds. “We will keep you apprised of any new developments.”

Dooku raises one brow in a blatantly, dryly sarcastic manner, but he nonetheless bows his head in polite acknowledgment, and his voice is mostly noncommittal when he replies, “Most gracious of you, I’m sure. Until later, then.”

“If you encounter any problems shielding Bail, don’t hesitate to ask for help,” Qui-Gon adds, and then the holo flickers and vanishes, leaving Obi-Wan to deal with a scowling Anakin.

“Anakin, love – ”

“What?” he automatically snarls, clearly in no mood for a reprimand, however much he may have earned it. “I was only asking them to do their duty, chaos take it!”

Resisting the urge to sigh (and once again regretting the horrible habit of rolling his eyes, which he’s picked up from Anakin), Obi-Wan very calmly points out, “They are the Grand Masters, Anakin.”

“Because we made them so!”

Firmly, Obi-Wan retorts, “Because they are currently the most fit beings for the job. Which they are both quite aware of, you do realize.”

It’s not really a question, but Anakin responds as if it were, anyway. “And so, what, I should let them get away with not doing part of their job?” he demands, anguish lurking at the back of his eyes.

Quietly, soothingly, Obi-Wan replies, “No, love. But you might try to remember that these are two very powerful beings and that we would not be here without them. A little bit of extra politeness can go a long way, with these two. Remember, Dooku was born an aristocrat, Anakin, and Qui-Gon was his Padawan.”

“This is important, though! That boy – ”

The bond is starting to spike with an increasingly irrational level of fear, and so Obi-Wan actually reaches out and covers Anakin’s mouth, both to bring his focus back to the here and now and to keep him from finishing the sentence. Earnestly, he seeks out Anakin’s eyes with his, promising, “I know it is, love. Believe me. I understand how important and how urgent a matter this is. But scolding the Grand Masters as if they were truant children to be blackmailed into better behavior isn’t the most productive way of securing their help, now is it?”

After a few frozen moments of tremblingly tense silence, Anakin twitches his shoulders to shrug away from Obi-Wan’s quieting hand, exhaling explosively. “I know, I know! I just – I’m worried, Obi-Wan. I want to be there, looking for him. And I know I can’t. I know it. I know Bail needs us here and he has priority. But I need someone to be looking for him, and the Grand Masters are the only ones I trust enough to be able to do it, even if they have to tear the planet apart looking for him.”

“Anakin. If he is there, they will find him. You know that, don’t you?”

Shoulders bowing in defeat, Anakin admits, voice very small, “I know it.”

“Then calm down and come back to bed. We can’t do anything else for him from here.”

“I just – I feel so helpless! I hate this!” Anakin finally cries, slamming his right hand down with explosive force against the mattress. “I hate feeling so frakkin’ helpless! I can’t stop thinking that I’m a Jedi and I should be able to take care of the people I care about, dammit all! And I know being a Jedi doesn’t make me all-powerful and I know thinking this way doesn’t help and is dangerous and what Sidious wanted me to think and I know/, I kriffing well /know/, we can’t save everyone, but /still – !”

Anakin’s voice breaks on the last word, his hands clenching spasmodically into fists as his body huddles in on itself in an position of increasingly abject misery, and Obi-Wan wants desperately just to reach out and take him into his arms, hold him close until the pain goes away. But he knows that Anakin’s right. It is a dangerous way of thinking, one encouraged in him by Sidious, and Obi-Wan understands that it’s important to Anakin that the decision not to give in to the obsessive behavior it could so easily prompt in him be Anakin’s choice, not something he’s been talked out of or distracted from by Obi-Wan. So instead of reaching out to him, Obi-Wan gently reminds him, “I know, love. I know. If there were anything else I could do to help, you know I would.”

For a few moments the tension in Anakin’s bowed back worsens, the muscles there all tightening to the point of clearly visible trembling, but then, shakily, Anakin catches his breath in a jerking motion with a hitching, not quite sob, after which he exhales that breath in a loud rush, the tension draining from his body along with that breath. Voice nearly inaudible, Anakin then admits, “I know. I don’t really deserve you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan merely gives him a small half smile at that before patiently points out, “Yes, well, but you have me, nonetheless.”

“I love you, Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s voice holds such absolute conviction that somehow it doesn’t matter that he’s still looking down at the mattress rather than up and over at Obi-Wan.

He smiles at Anakin again, knowing that Anakin will hear the smile in his voice and feel the warmth of the love it represents even though he can’t possibly see it. “I know. I love you, too, Anakin. Now come back to bed, love. Tomorrow will likely be a long day.”

Silently, Anakin turns and buries himself in Obi-Wan’s patiently open arms, clinging to him with a desperate strength and burrowing in as close to him as humanly possible. Silently, Obi-Wan begins to stroke his hair, running his fingers rhythmically, soothingly, through the loose curls, entirely prepared to continue the motion for as long as necessary, until Anakin finally manages to relax enough to fall back asleep.

***