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The Faithful and Ferocious	By : HatefulWitch Category: Star Wars (All) > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3332 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the plot, characters, or creation of Star Wars, nor do I make any money off of it.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Seven hours passed since they cut themselves open and bled their souls all over the landing. Anakin paced the sitting room and tried to prepare himself for the letdown headed his way, but the more he thought about it, the more inconsolable he became. For the latter eighteen years of his life, he'd faced constant, ceaseless rejection from Obi-Wan. Granted, most of it was probably never conscious or intentional, but still, it was unyielding. As long as they'd known each other, the only time his heart was ever intact was during the earliest point in their relationship, when he was a perfectly naïve child.
-::-::-
The Council wanted him to be taught the ways of the Force in the main academy within the Jedi Temple before the official apprenticeship with his master began. Only a few months into his training he ignored the calls of his instructor and ran from his classroom. As he ran to the accommodation sector, he felt in his bones he'd made a mistake in coming to Coruscant. His mother was lightyears away, Qui-Gon was dead, and he would never fit in with these spoiled urchins. As soon as he got to the Knights' Billet, he darted through the common room and fell face-first into the couch, sobbing. He still shamelessly wept into the cushions some while later when two steady hands gently rolled him over. It was Obi-Wan. There was only patience in his voice, "Master Sinube called to tell me you ran out of class. Somehow, I knew I'd find you here. What's wrong?"
"Why do you even ask me questions like that? So we can play our predetermined roles? So I can tell you what happened and you can say," the boy imitated his master's distinctive accent, "oh, Anakin, I'm so sorry to hear that happened, like it changed anything?"
"Well, I could play this alleged predetermined role much better if I knew what I'm so sorry to hear. For the second time, Anakin: what's wrong?" the Jedi Knight kneeled in front of the couch to level their eyes.
Anakin shook his head and looked down at his hands, "I don't belong here."
Obi-Wan's eyebrows creased, "Why do you think that?" The teary-eyed child sucked in his bottom lip in a clear refusal to answer, so the Stewjonian ducked his head to try to link their gaze again, "Look at me." His padawan eventually followed the directive and looked up at him with batting lashes, "Why do you think that?"
"If you have to be like them to be a Jedi, then I can't be one," the ten-year-old resentfully declared.
"Like whom?"
"Those pillocks in the academy."
Used to Anakin's perfectly enunciated, sophisticated insults, the older Forceful didn't bother with a scolding that would go in one ear and out the other, "Did one of them say something to you?" More evasive maneuvers were employed, with lips twisting to the side and eyes shifting nervously, but he couldn't be put off so easily, "What did they say to you?" At the sight of additional tears, his tone became more insistent, "What did they say, Anakin?"
The blue-eyed boy couldn't make himself look at his master, but he knew when it was time to hang it up, "He called me…he called me…he said I am a subhuman slave."
Obi-Wan did the best he could to mask his rage when he quietly pressed, "Who said that?"
"It doesn't matter," Anakin smeared his hands under his eyes.
The words came out sharper than intended, "Yes, it does. Who said that to you?"
"Iy'steir."
Obi-Wan tried to remind himself the culprit was only a youngling, "We will have a talk with him. What happened today will not happen again."
Anakin sunk further into the couch, "What does it matter? He's right, isn't he?"
"Absolutely not. You are extremely intelligent, talented, and big-hearted; never forget this. Anyone who thinks you are less than human because you were a slave is lacking in humanity themselves and must be morally retrained."
"Do you not care I was a slave?"
"I only wish it wasn't something you had to of endured. It doesn't change how special you are or make you any less of a person. Do not let them dictate who you are or what actions you take, my little padawan. If you give your power away to others, eventually you will be powerless."
Glimmering sapphires widened with hope, "So, you don't wish I was different?"
"Never."
-::-::-
He developed a strong preference for Obi-Wan after leaving Tatooine. With each passing rotatioin and every additional encounter, he craved his master's presence more and more. He fancied the overall security and encouragement he felt when they were together but eventually focused in on more personal particulars- on Obi-Wan's rare, gentle touches, his eloquence, his warmhearted emerald eyes, his sharp sarcasm, his dulcet voice, his mental and physical strength. Within six months Anakin was crushing hard, but after the conversation in the billet, nine months after his arrival, he knew he was in love with his master.
His love amplified every rotation over the course of the consequent months. All he would want to do was sit and drink in Obi-Wan's hair, voice, smile, eyes, and laugh. It never occurred to him what he was doing was wrong or would lead to the worst rejection of his life. He thought that when he was old enough, his feelings would be returned. Obi-Wan and he were going to be in love one day and that was how their lives would play out. His pipe dream was ravaged a couple months after his eleventh birthday.
-::-::-
"Master?"
The Jedi Knight had stopped getting incensed when Anakin interrupted their meditations. He came to the realization it was very difficult for someone with such an active mind and energy to focus during the placidity of the practice. It would take many more attempts before the boy would be able to get through a solid ten minutes in a meditative state without initiating a random, outlandish conversation. His brows arched, but his eyes remained closed, "Hm?"
"If you're in love with someone and the likelihood-"
His eyes snapped open, "In love?"
"Yes, and the likelihood-"
"Wait, wait," he interrupted a second time. His legs uncrossed and he scooted to the side of the bench to sit normally. "Why are you asking this question?"
Anakin anxiously dug his fingers into the grassy foliage beneath him, "Well..."
Obi-Wan knew the answer before it was spoken. The nervous mannerisms were a dead give away. He leaned forward and grasped the edge of the bench, "As a padawan and a Jedi, love and attachments cannot be pursued, Anakin."
"What? Why?"
He searched his apprentice's face for any trace of jest but found none. One of his hands rubbed over his mouth, "Qui-Gon told me he spoke of this with you before you were taken from Tatooine."
Anakin's tiny fingers tunneled deep into the earth to counteract the pressure he felt in his chest, "Well, he didn't. I don't know what you're talking about. What do you mean I can't love people?"
Obi-Wan stood only to take a knee a couple steps away from his padawan, "Love is attachment. Attachment is very dangerous for a Jedi. It can lead to jealousy, to fear of loss, to-"
The world felt like it was losing its gravitational pull.
"You're a Jedi." When he only received a blank stare, Anakin pushed, "You're saying you cannot love?"
"It is not a matter of being literally unable to love. It is a matter of lessening our susceptibility to the dark side."
He yanked up the vegetation at his fingertips only to throw it back down in indignation, "Can you actually answer instead of treating me like a mentally deficient neonate and picking at the technicality of my question?"
"No, I cannot love. The Order and the greater good we serve comes before the individual." Obi-Wan was expecting the tears. Anakin had immense talent in the Force, but there was no denying the raw, round-the-clock emotions the eleven-year-old experienced. It was gravely worrisome, but every time he decided he would put an end to the madness, he'd see those shiny sapphires and his resolve was broken. This time was no exception, "I didn't know this hadn't been discussed with you. I was under the impression Jedi conventions were explained to you before we even met."
The boy bit his lip and used his arms to pull his legs against his chest. His chin nestled between his knees, giving a perfect view of the tears pouring down his face. Obi-Wan leaned forward on his hand, "Don't cry, Anakin."
The shouts were unexpected, "Why not? Isn't that the whole reason you don't tell me crucial information like this? So you can watch me cry about it when I find out?"
"Absolutely not, my little padawan," he vehemently denied and reached out for the upset child.
Surprisingly, Anakin scuttled back out of reach and climbed to his feet, "You take me away from my mother, you make me converse with those lurdos at the academy, you won't let me live with you, you make me play nice with Windu, you make me drink nasty synthetic milk, and now you tell me I'm not allowed to feel or act on a basic human emotion? Fuck you!"
The enraged Tatooinian turned and dashed away after the furious proclamations. Obi-Wan stood and called after him, but it was no use.
-::-::-
He never cried so fiercely as he did in that damp grotto in the Meditation Garden. It felt like his heart and all his dreams had been ripped out, leaving only a vacuum inside him. Obi-Wan not only rejected his love and made it clear there would never be reciprocal love but even told him he wasn't allowed to possess his ever-deepening attachment. He'd never felt agony like that before. He considered the pain he would have felt if he'd been denied the attachment to his mother, but his love for her was a foregone conclusion. Nobody would have been able to take that from him no matter what they did and he would always have her love. To this day, that remained true.
No, only Obi-Wan had ever shattered his heart so consummately and only Obi-Wan held the power to break him like that more than once.
-::-::-
The Festival of Life grew on Anakin over the years. Overall, he hated everything about it. He hated the horrendous soiree Obi-Wan and he were forced to attend where he was forced to listen to Jedi Knights and Masters gush about how great, smart, and advanced their padawan was- something which his contradictory tongue never could resist. He hated to watch all the padawans give gifts to each other but somehow manage to consistently leave him out of their exchanges. He hated to hear the reminiscence on past lives that always seemed less slave-oriented than his. He hated the asinine males and females that senselessly used the occasion as an excuse to try to secretly woo him, only to pretend he didn't exist when they were around other people. Despite all these things, he was fond of the Festival of Life.
Every year for the past four years he'd been on Coruscant, Obi-Wan would spend every morning and evening of the five-day holiday with him. If he was lucky, there would be a rotation when neither one of them would have a monotonous social engagement and they could spend that time together, too. Tonight was not such a night. Obi-Wan forcefully suggested he go to the dreadful annual ball, which was a silly dance-oriented party for padawans to gather without their masters. He despised it, but he went every year anyway to make his beloved Stewjonian happy. As tradition, he ducked out of the ball early, but instead of having to return to the dormitories as in the previous four years, he got to return to the chambers Obi-Wan and he shared.
After he broke six bones in Iy'steir's face, the Council deemed it necessary he be moved in to his master's private senior quarters until his "behavioral issues" were under control. He knew if Iy'steir hadn't caused constant problems with him and other padawans for the last four years, he most likely would have been kicked out of the Order. Instead they brought down a punishment that he could never consider unfortunate: living with the love of his life.
Obi-Wan greeted him with sapir tea and their normal banter, not making mention of his early arrival. It was shaping up to be a lovely night when an excited knock drew his master to the front door. Their visitor was none other than Aayla Secura. He didn't pay attention to what was said- causing him to miss Aayla's explanation regarding her "fun experiment" to see how many fellow Knights she could give gifts to before this year's festival was over- until the Twi'lek pulled out a palm-sized music box from behind her back and chirped, "Happy Festival of Life!"
He always gave a gift to Obi-Wan for the holiday, but he'd never seen anyone else do so. Although he knew it wasn't rational, the friendly gesture filled him with animosity and, more overwhelmingly, jealousy. His knuckles whitened with how tightly he clenched his fist and his breaths came out in short spurts. Only after he heard Obi-Wan say, "If I'd known, I would have gotten one for you," did he slam his teacup on the glass coffee table. Even though the cup bounced twice, making an awful clanging sound, and skidded over the side of the table, it didn't break. Green liquid sprayed all over the floor as he stomped to his bedroom and shut the door.
Aayla tried to speak very quietly, "He does not seem to have improved any in the last two months."
Despite his sister-in-arms' secretiveness, Obi-Wan had nothing to hide and spoke at his normal volume, "No, he has been doing much better. I'm not sure what we witnessed a second ago." He looked towards the closed bedroom door, "He really doesn't like the festival. He probably thought he escaped the festivities."
The Rylothite put her hands on her hips and her voice still rolled out in whispers, "Someone saying happy Festival of Life is not a reasonable excuse for throwing a teacup, Obi-Wan. If he has made no improvement since the incident in the padawan dormitories, the Council is not going to let him stay. Please do not take that threateningly. I am telling you as a friend. If you cannot help him-"
"Anakin is not a droid. I cannot rewire and tune him until he behaves the way he is expected to nor do I wish to," Obi-Wan mirrored Aayla's hands-on-hip stance. "People don't get better because you will it so and they certainly don't get better when you try to force them to. Anakin experiences emotions much more intensely than not only other padawan and Jedi but most other people. He will master them someday, but it will happen on his own time. Unless the Council removes him from my tutelage and care, he only has my patience, guidance, and understanding."
"His temper and hatred are setting both of you up for a collision course with the dark side."
"And if we crash, the culpability will rest on my shoulders, not his." His head bowed in dismissal, "Happy Festival of Life, Aayla. Thank you for the music box."
Anakin laid flat in his bed with rapidly blinking eyes fixed on the ceiling and fists clenched. He heard the front door close then the sound of footfalls grew louder and louder until his bedroom door was opened.
Obi-Wan carefully inspected his padawan's tense face with full knowledge the conversation in the common room had been overheard through the thin walls. He gripped the bedpost at the foot of the bed and decided to approach from a different angle, "Did you have a good time at the ball?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"The same reason I always have a terrible time with those vacuous clowns," Anakin scathed with an increasingly irritated expression. "They either think I'm inferior or they think I'm cavalier and sanctimonious or they think if they step too close they'll be soaked in midichlorians. They aren't worth my concerted time or effort."
"Maybe you can-"
His lips adopted a snarl and his eyelashes continued to flash in rapid succession, "Leave me the fuck alone. I didn't ask for your sympathy and your advice in regards to decorum and camaraderie is always much less than conducive."
Obi-Wan waited until the snarl faded from his lips before quietly quizzing, "What did I do, Anakin?"
"Nothing! You just won't ever blinking leave me alone! Am I not allowed to retire to my bedroom for solitude?"
Everything was fine when they sipped on their tea. If Obi-Wan didn't personally do something to cause upset and nothing of note happened at the ball, there was only one viable conclusion. The Jedi sat on the end of the bed and rotated his body enough to look Anakin head-on, "Why did Aayla's presence upset you?"
The brunette shot upright in the bed to give his rebuke more clout, "It didn't! I don't give a smeg what she does! Why don't you go pester her? You can shower each other in gifts and I can get some Force-damn peace and quiet!"
At first, Obi-Wan's mouth hung open in shock. Then he started to stand but sat back down and pulled his right leg onto the bed to hunch forwards. Disbelief colored his voice, "I can't believe you're this upset she didn't get you a gift."
At first, Anakin only stared. Then his hands slathered over his face and he agitatedly groaned, "You're so stupid, Master. Can you leave?"
Surprisingly, the command was followed. However, Obi-Wan came back a few moments after his abrupt exit to gently place a giftwrapped package on the side of the bed. A smile slowly stretched over the fourteen-year-old's lips as he stared at the triangular object. He looked up to find conciliatory emerald orbs, "You got me a gift?"
"I always get you a gift."
"But you didn't get Aayla a gift."
Obi-Wan's eyebrow arched and his arms crossed, "Why would I? She is not my padawan."
As soon as the words were spoken, he knew he made a mistake. He didn't know what the mistake was, but he knew it had been made. Anakin flinched away, as though the words physically wounded him, and huddled in the corner of his bed with a deep frown. Obi-Wan didn't realize he misperceived the teasing remark to mean the gifts he received for the past four years were simply a dutiful errand a master completed for a padawan.
Anakin kicked the triangle-shaped package off the bed and growled, "Your padawan doesn't want your yearly fucking trainer tax. Go give it to Aayla."
Now I see. Obi-Wan bent down and picked up the forsaken gift. He peered directly into burning blue eyes as he replaced it on the side of the bed, "It's your gift. And I am giving it to you because I care about you, not because anybody asked or directed me to."
He then turned and made his way out of the bedroom, leaving the wrapped present on the bed.
-::-::-
Somehow, Obi-Wan's grand gestures repeatedly ended up as reminders he was an assignment and the more the Jedi Master denied that's all he was, the more convinced of it he became. There'd never been a time before the month prior, when it was expressly stated to him, that he thought Obi-Wan held true attachment to him. He'd always assumed there was a strong sense of responsibility but never attachment. Despite how elated the Attachment Proclamation made him, he knew it held the potential to do as much damage as when a lack of attachment had been proclaimed.
-::-::-
"Master," Anakin whisperingly hissed as he swept up behind Obi-Wan.
The older Forceful glanced over one shoulder then the other to try to get a good look at his strangely-behaving padawan, "What are you doing?"
"Trade me posts," the Tatooinian ducked his head below the Stewjonian's and turned their bodies to face the way he came in the off-chance someone came searching after him.
"I most certainly will not," Obi-Wan tried to turn around but was held in place by the shoulders. "What in the name of the Force is wrong with you?"
"Either trade me posts or I'm going to backfist a Senator," Anakin angrily albeit quietly declared.
He rotated his head as far to the side as he could and sternly warned, "You better not."
"Look, I'm doing the levelheaded thing here. Instead of punching the bastard like he deserves, I've come to you for abetment. Trade me," the brunette tried to step him forward.
"There is absolutely no basis, I repeat, no basis for ever striking a Senator," he hotly scolded while resisting the push on his shoulders. "This isn't even something that should have to be said."
Anakin's hands fell into fists at his sides and he rancorously mocked, "No basis ever?"
"No basis for a Jedi," Obi-Wan rubbed two fingers into his temple. "Not over his politics or-"
"He grabbed my ass and offered me five-thousand credits to bend me over the desk in his office."
His hand dropped from his temple and tensely froze near his midsection when he spun around, "What? What? Five-thousand- what?"
"So, I guess I would only have basis if he treated me like a low-class whore instead of a high-class one?" Anakin's fingers combed through his short hair and a humiliated mumble left his tongue as he turned away, "Forget I asked for your help."
"I didn't mean it like that," Obi-Wan stepped forward to hook his fingers around the seventeen-year-old's arm. "I just…It's just…" Unable to find the right words, he instead informed, "You're trading me posts. We'll talk about this later." He started towards the Senate Building, but as soon as he thought on the unnamed Senator's vulgar proposition, he paused. It felt like a noose was around his neck and his stomach churned with nausea. He retraced his steps so he could wrap his hand around the back of his apprentice's neck, "If anyone ever touches you like that again, Senator or otherwise, put them to the floor." He dropped his hand and took a step back but again paused, "Give me his name."
::::
When Obi-Wan got to their chambers later that night, Anakin had already returned and retired. Despite the lightlessness of the bedroom, he was able to spot alert azure eyes. He leaned with crossed arms against the wall beside the door, "How was the rest of your rotation?"
The response was drenched in exasperation, "Fine. How about yours?"
"Uneventful," he causally commented. Based on the dark-room brooding, he easily deciphered, "You're still irate."
"Why would I be irate?" Anakin scornfully laughed, "Why would I be irate, Obi-Wan? I'm apparently a great kriffing piece of ass. All the other padawans pretend I'm a disease unless they're asking me to fuck and now I have Senators willing to pay me to take my clothes off. Thank the damn fucking Force I'm so attractive." The Jedi Knight was at a loss for words, especially when fingers pushed against air-tight eyes to obviously wipe away tears. "No one can hold more than a ten-minute conversation with me, I have no friends, everyone thinks I'm a lunatic, but hey, at least people want to use me to get off."
"I pray that was sarcasm." Obi-Wan crossed the floor, pulled tear-stained hands into his, and stared into reddened eyes, "Do you know what I see when I look at you? I see quick wit and ample compassion, awesome intelligence, talent. I see someone capable of unending conversations and debates when engaged properly.
"I see my little padawan who gets into far too much mischief and a strong young man that dwells with far too many ghosts. I see someone who gets fed up because he knows he is not a lunatic and knows he deserves better than what he is given." His forefinger gently pressed against a sun-blushed cheek, "I see the blinding light perpetually radiating from inside you."
Anakin's eyes closed as he threw all his focus into Obi-Wan's touch and loving words, "Your worth is invaluable. It is not based in opinions, credits, or unwanted sexual advances. Every sun, moon, and diamond in this galaxy combined are less valuable than you are. I mean that." When the touch on his cheek withdrew, he gazed up at his master, hooking eyes in spite of the darkness engulfing them, "I also meant what I said earlier today. If anyone puts their hands on you without your permission, go postal."
The Jedi patted the hand under his and gave a reassuring smile before he stood to leave. He was stopped, however, by an uncertain query, "Why did you change your mind so quickly? About how I should handle it, I mean."
"How you were treated today made me sick. It made me sicker you felt you had to come to me to ask permission to stop someone from inappropriately touching you. I don't want you to come to me. If you are physically and emotionally able, I want you to protect yourself when you're being mistreated," he softly explained. He was about to step back into the common room when he tacked on, "And never think you are friendless, Anakin."
An unobtrusive call of his name lured him back into the bedroom before he got too far. The next words spoken felt like a fist to the face, "Are you attached to me?"
In all honesty, he didn't know the answer. He did everything within his power to never assess the question. As a mentor and friend, he wanted nothing but Anakin's safety and happiness. He wasn't sure what that amounted to, but if any deep-seated attachment did exist, it was best he didn't know about it, that way he could never react to or act on it. Of course, he didn't go into all this. His answer was simple, "No."
Anakin felt like a bomb went off in his chest. The radioactive debris climbed up his throat and down into his stomach, instant pain and loss of breath. How could he have possibly thought Obi-Wan was trying to admit some sort of feelings for him? The comments on how nauseating the Senator's unsolicited advance had been and how blinding his internal light was filled him with more hope than ever before, but as soon as that unapologetic no shot through the night, straight into his heart, he felt like a dumb, foolish child. Tears and fury welled up, "How can you be friends with someone and not be attached to them?"
"We've gone over this, Anakin."
The Jedi-in-training became more brutal and unrelenting than he usually was on the topic, "Yeah, and I think it's a folly. If you're my friend, you're attached to me; if you're not attached to me, you can't be my friend."
Obi-Wan turned towards the bed with a shake of the head, "It doesn't work like that."
Anakin let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a laugh and a scoff, "Does a Jedi ever stop cowering behind the Code to take accountability for his own feelings and determinations?"
Jade eyes narrowed in disturbance and confusion at where this volley of rebellion was coming from, "That's a dangerous line of thinking, padawan."
"Why?" he bellowed through another scoffing laugh. "Because you say it is, because the Code says it is, or because it actually is?"
The blonde's worry multiplied and it was evident in his voice, "The Code was developed-"
"By a group of people who decided to dictate other peoples' lives. It. Is. An inane. Folly. Hutt slime stupidity."
"Do you honestly think attachment cannot act as a gateway to the dark side?" he heatedly combated the argument being presented. "Do you truly believe that?"
The response came in cold blood.
"I believe that if I was soullessly fucked for two minutes by a Senator, even he wouldn't deny he felt at least one basic human emotion in the middle of it, which would be more emotion than I get from you, my so-called friend."
The target of such viciousness didn't respond. He simply turned, retreated to his bedroom, and drank himself into a stupor. It was his best desperate remedy when he needed to keep himself from assessing the question.
-::-::-
With everything that happened tonight, the memory of the Politician Predicament was even more painful to think about. An immediate, outright rejection would have been highly preferred to all the heart-sickening hope that had accumulated. The joint meditations with temporary bonds, the confessions of attachment, the declarations of love, the insanity-inducing physical contact. And now Obi-Wan was going to say it all meant nothing. I know it. It would be nothing less than soul-shattering, but Anakin tried to convince himself it was something he could handle. After all, it wouldn't be the first time Obi-Wan shattered his soul.
-::-::-
He sat at the kitchen table and stared at the clock, waiting for the minutes in this rotation to slip away. He vaguely heard the front door open but didn't turn and greet his roommate. Without warning, a slice of puff cake, his favorite, was placed on the table.
"Happy birthday, Anakin."
There couldn't be less enthusiasm in his voice if he'd actually put effort into sounding unenthused, "Yeah, thanks."
Obi-Wan traipsed to the other side of the table to sit down and examine him with a curious eye, "You don't seem too happy about turning nineteen."
His face and voice were devoid of emotion as he stared at the Devros crystal plate under his birthday cake, "Overjoyed."
"What is it?"
"I don't know," he shrugged noncommittally. "Nothing."
"Anakin," Obi-Wan soothingly entreated, "talk to me."
With a shake of the head, he stood from the table, "You wouldn't understand."
"I can try to. What is it?"
He paced back and forth a couple times then stopped with his back turned to his master. He spoke to the darkened side of the kitchen, "I'm not going anywhere. My life, it's not going anywhere. I'm not going forwards; I'm not going backwards. I'm in suspension, in stasis."
The Jedi Knight's elbows leaned onto the tabletop, "In what aspect?"
"Every aspect," he lamented, with his voice growing fainter when he repeated, "every aspect."
Butterflies fluttered wildly in Obi-Wan's stomach upon witnessing such listlessness and he offered the first encouragement that came to mind, "Your training is moving forwards quite spectacularly."
This was obviously not the correct thing to say. The younger Forceful started to pace off with a hopeless sigh, "Chut chut."
"Stop, stop, wait," he stood up from his chair and moved around the table to reach a hand to the taller teenager's shoulder, "Help me understand. Illustrate one of the aspects you're referring to."
Anakin put his head in his hands to shield his eyes from view, "I feel like the seams of my soul are unraveling and I'm able to see inside it and it's empty and I keep trying to fill it with all this shit that means nothing; it means nothing. Another year has passed and I'm just filling my life, my time, my soul with inconsequential shit."
Obi-Wan turned him and held his shoulders firmly, "How long have you been feeling like this?"
"Nine years."
"Why haven't you said anything to me?"
"There's nothing you can do about it."
Unable to cope with the pangs his padawan's forlorn resignation beat into his chest, Obi-Wan countered, "I can try. Come with me." He spun on his heel towards the front door but quickly discerned a lack of footsteps behind him. He peered over his shoulder and repeated, "Follow me."
This time, Anakin blindly followed. He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't even pay attention to the route they took through the Temple. Only when they came to a stop did he realize where they were. A disgruntled groan trundled from the back of his throat, "The Meditation Garden? You know I loathe this place."
"Will you just indulge me?" Obi-Wan offered a smile. They weaved through the chambers, past babbling streams and stone pathways, until they came to a serene pond bathed in sunshine. He wisely avoided the sand-covered beach on the south side of the pond and instead led them to the green foliage on the north side. He sat cross-legged on the ground at the water's edge.
Anakin's disinterested stare gravitated to the fish in the pond, "You want me to meditate with you?"
"It won't be a permanent fix, but it might help you relax a bit."
"No, it won't," he dismissed and shifted on his feet in preparation for a swift exit.
The green-eyed Knight knew he was playing with fire when he proposed, "It will if we open a bond between our energies."
The Tatooinian's muscles tensed and his head shook warily, "I thought you said-"
"Do you trust me?"
"Of course I trust you."
"Then sit," Obi-Wan nodded to the space in front of him.
Anakin was mildly apprehensive as he lowered to the ground. His master frequently told him that if he were to meditate with another to never, never touch or share Living Forces. Why, he had asked. Obi-Wan responded, unless you trust them as wholly as you trust yourself, it is dangerous; they could do great harm to you. Also, his master added, you could become highly dependent on their Living Force or worse, they could become highly dependent on yours.
Any warnings or apprehension flew out the window when their energies laced together.
Within seconds of tasting Obi-Wan's Living Force, he did everything he could to devour it. Throughout the course of the meditation, he didn't give a single consideration to his fellow Forceful. All he knew was he needed more of this white-hot heat, this comfort, this earnest affection, inside him. With every wave of heat that passed through him, he lost track of reality. He forgot where he was and grappled more desperately at the Living Force cradling his.
Obi-Wan, for his part, was highly aware of what was happening. He knew Anakin wasn't paying attention to how invasive the bond had gotten and meant him no harm. As depressed and remote as his padawan was, he allowed the intimacy, grateful to offer some sort of consolation. If he were ever to be confronted about it, he wouldn't be able to deny he knew what he was doing was wrong, but when he felt the contentment bubbling from his friend through their temporary bond, he knew he would face any ramifications he must. If he didn't open himself up too much, kept their connection on a time limit, and didn't repeat the offense, it should result in a more upbeat Anakin with no damage done.
The nineteen-year-old was so lost in his meditative bliss, the ten minutes they spent in the Garden seemed like hours. He reluctantly blinked his eyes open when he felt Obi-Wan's energy begin to recede from their bond. When his vision finally focused, he zeroed in on joyous emerald jewels and a brilliant, toothy smile, "Did that help?" The fire crackling through him would only permit a slack nod. Obi-Wan's smile remained, "I'm glad to hear that."
One of his hands clutched his forehead, "I'm going to lay down."
The Jedi's cheerful mien turned to one of worry, "Are you alright?"
"Light-headed. I just need to lay down," he unsteadily stood from the ground.
The wobbliness in the teenager's movements caused Obi-Wan to shift onto his knees, "Do you need assistance?"
Anakin staggered backwards with a shake of the head, "No." He then unceremoniously turned and dashed away from their place beside the pond without another word. He managed to make it back to their chambers without incident and darted directly into his bedroom. He locked the door- a rare occurrence- and paced around frantically. His hands hit against the wall, the table, the footboard, a deactivated droid in desperate attempts to clear his head by mindless motion, but he couldn't forget the feeling of Obi-Wan's energy licking his veins and fusing with his blood. He could still feel the intoxicating heat and hear Obi-Wan's saccharine voice as it crooned those hypnotic recitations. And then that smile after they were done.
One hand clutched the doorframe as his other hand slid under his tunics and into his pants. His eyes closed as he gripped himself and all he could see was Obi-Wan's beautiful smile. Breathing became labored and the hand on the doorframe dropped to unfasten his belt and pants. He wanted that exhilarating heat back. He wanted the pressure that lapped at his brain to commence again. His pants slid down his thighs and he desperately laid back on the bed, not bothering with further disrobement. He wanted Obi-Wan's tantalizing, kissable mouth on him, on his abdomen, his nipples, his neck, his tongue. His grip tightened and his strokes quickened when his free hand slid over the flesh he yearned for his beloved master to kiss. He wanted to feel Obi-Wan deep inside him, dotingly caressing his thighs, massaging the dimples in his back, loving him until neither one of them could move. He moaned and twisted the covers in his grip. His legs bent so his hips could hitch upwards in small thrusts as he imagined Obi-Wan fucking into him. He wanted that honeyed voice to say I love you, Anakin. The strokes of his hand grew in speed and strength. He wanted to get Obi-Wan off so hard that the only thing the Jedi would be able to do afterwards is smile that beautiful smile. He cried out as he came.
That was the moment he knew this was a lost cause. He would never know what it was like to have the man he loved inside him. He would never have Obi-Wan's heart.
Immediately after completion, he was stricken. Tears welled in his eyes and he rolled over onto his side to curl into a fetal position and hug his pillow. What happened in the Garden was a cruel joke, a teasing spoonful of what intimacy with Obi-Wan would be like. Now he knew a romantic bond between them would be nothing less than wild and passionate. Your Living Force alone had me disoriented and coming harder than I ever have before. The warnings flooded back into his head: you could become highly dependent on their Living Force or worse, they could become highly dependent on yours.
Why had Obi-Wan connected their energies like he did? There was no chance he didn't know the potential offshoots. Did he do this as punishment? Was it amusing to him? Is that what that ravishing smile was about?
Obi-Wan was right. He hadn't accomplished a permanent fix: he accomplished the most hurtful thing he'd ever done.
Anakin sobbed into his pillow and hands, resentful of this terrible day and his terrible yearning for Obi-Wan Kenobi.
-::-::-
There were no further offers to touch their Living Forces after his nineteenth birthday. It was somewhat of a relief because it meant he was never put in the awkward position of declining then trying to explain why, but it was mostly a torment because it meant Obi-Wan either didn't like the connection they shared or the entire affair had indeed been a vicious trick. Only within the last few months, some nine years later, did they bond their Living Forces again. This time though, the bonds were numerous and extensive. To say it was a setup for devastation was an understatement.
He tried to tell himself otherwise, but he knew in his marrow that when his housemate returned, the heart-decaying pain he felt when he was eleven, when he was fourteen, when he was seventeen, and on his nineteenth birthday would be relived.
No matter how many times Obi-Wan rejected him, it would cause pain to leak into his soul like blood through a diseased heart valve.
-::-::-
Obi-Wan dramatically sighed, "How do you keep getting us into these situations?"
"Me? I told you to stop!" Anakin tried to bury his laugh in an outraged scoff.
"No, you didn't."
His tone turned patronizing, "I verbatim said, Obi-Wan, stop, it's a fragmentation mine."
The green-eyed general firmly poked his index finger into the back of his friend's shoulder," Well, you should have said it louder."
The brunette tried to look over his shoulder at his agitator, "I was yelling at the top of my voice."
"Well, you need to work on your enunciation. You sounded like a screaming Wookiee." This earned a humorous snort given the frequent comments on the Tatooinian's perfect enunciation. "You know we're stuck in here until the next exhaust cycle, don't you?"
"Yes, I do, and we can thank you for the hour-and-fifteen-minute break," Anakin sighed and sightlessly clipped his lightsaber onto his leather belt.
Obi-Wan clipped his own lightsaber, "I honestly couldn't understand you."
The resulting laugh echoed against the metal material surrounding them, "Isn't there someone I know always going on and on about listening skills?"
He leaned against the wall of tungsten behind him, "I'm surprised you hear anything I say."
"Listening skills."
"When they're convenient."
Anakin basically felt the eye roll that accompanied the carping reply. Normally he would stretch out their battle of wits, but something about being this close to Obi-Wan made him witless. He tried to focus on anything else other than their proximity, even if it was only the sweat forming on his forehead. When his efforts failed and his mind brimmed over with vastly inappropriate thoughts involving the man beneath him, he tried to score some relief, "Can you move back at all?"
"If I could, you wouldn't be in my lap." When he began to twist around, Obi-Wan lightly gripped his hips, "What are you doing?"
"Getting comfortable," he continued to wiggle downwards.
Slightly more pressure was applied to his hips to try to still him, "You-you-"
He shifted until his head could comfortably lean back against the other general's shoulder, though the position caused his long legs to scrunch up like an accordion, " If I have to sit on someone in a dark, cramped energy exhaust vent for an hour, I'm going to be comfortable."
"You can't make things painless, can you?"
"Come on, you know me too well for such a question." Less than a minute of silence passed between them before his mind again homed in on the position of their bodies and became swamped with extraordinarily salacious thoughts. He needed a distraction immediately. He absolutely could not let himself get swept up in wild fantasies lest his body react in ways he deemed forbidden in his current situation. "Well, I'm bored. What do you want to talk about?"
"We've been in here for less than two minutes and he's bored," Obi-Wan incredulously announced.
"Thank you, narrator. Pick something to talk about."
A deep sigh hissed against the tungsten, "Can you try to stay focused on the mission?"
Anakin touched his cybernetic hand to the top of their temporary prison, "I'll focus on the mission when I'm not crammed in a vent. Right now, I'm a can of fluke fish and I'm frinking bored."
"Can you please just-just focus on the mission, okay?"
Why do you keep doing this? He tried to grow up. He tried to be civilized and courteous and easy-freaking-going. He kept telling himself Obi-Wan was only busy, like during the Holomessage Matter. Surely he was overreacting, he was exaggerating, he was irrational, being unreasonable. Still, if he heard Obi-Wan say the word mission one more time, he was going to choke someone with flexisteel wire. He couldn't handle this anymore. What the hell was happening to their relationship?
"Fine," he furiously huffed, "if you won't choose something to talk about, I will. How about we talk about why you never want to talk to me about anything except mission-related matters since I turned twenty? Even before that."
"That is entirely not true," Obi-Wan's perspiration-coated eyebrows furrowed.
"Name a single conversation we've had in the last one and a half brixing years that hasn't been about a mission."
"We…I…we just had a conversation about listening skills," he feebly declared.
The indignation in Anakin's voice sent shivers down his spine, "Two Force-fucking sentences to me about my listening skills doesn't count as a conversation. You can't think of one because it doesn't exist."
"Life has become very hectic, Anakin. The-"
"Right."
He consciously stopped his fingers from burrowing into his friend's hips, "Our lives can't be the way they used to be. There's a war raging and we have responsibilities we must tend to. There's nothing I would like more than to live like we used to, sharing a billet and talking for hours on end, but life moves forward. It must change, even if it is not necessarily for the better."
The bitter rage in the younger Forceful's voice was replaced by something much more chilling: despondency, "You're telling me that if we grow apart, that's just the way life is."
"I…That's not what-"
"I told you you couldn't be my friend without attachment."
He wrapped his arms around Anakin's chest, "Why do you have to say things like that?"
"Like what? The truth? Because I'm the only one that will tell you the actual truth."
"No," his arms tightened in their embrace, "you tell what you want the truth to be, not what it actually is."
Despite the curses, the brunette's voice was soft in its utter dejection, "Sure, you're fregging right. I guess the real truth is I was your Sith-damn nuisance padawan and now that you're not obligated to deal with me anymore, you don't have to talk to me anymore either." He tried to push the arms around his torso away, "The only reason you pretend we're still friends is because that's the convention of the Order."
Obi-Wan held his arms tight and tilted his forehead against the side of Anakin's head, "The truth is you don't get to dictate other people's reality. You were indeed my nuisance padawan, but you are also my friend. My best friend, in spite of your nasty mouth, terrible temper, and erroneous assumptions. Why do you let things build up like this instead of saying something to me?"
"I know you don't care."
"Care about what? About our friendship? About you?" His fingers curled into the other man's black tunic, "I care about both."
The whisper was barely audible, "No, you don't."
His chin leaned on the Tatooinian's shoulder, "Yes, I do."
Anakin turned his face as far from Obi-Wan's as he could, "You have a funny way of showing it."
"You don't exactly roll out the Wrodian carpet for me either, I hope you realize."
Cobalt eyes squeezed shut, "Can we suspend the truth? Just for a moment. We can suspend it and you can lie to me."
"No."
"Just for a second."
Obi-Wan twisted the cloth in his grip, "You are a seeker of truth and I am a giver of truth. There is no room between us for lies."
The plea was unrepentant, "Just this one."
"Especially this one."
Anakin was thankful the darkness hid the tears that buoyed to his eyes.
-::-::-
The front door finally opened and the motifs he'd become familiar with throughout the years of his life waltzed right on in.
Obi-Wan went straight to the main bedroom without addressing him at all. Refrain. Rejection. Some things never change.
- 10
- 11
- 12
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The Faithful and Ferocious