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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
- 12
- 13
- 14
He couldn't precisely diagnose what about it gave him temporary angina. This wasn't the first time they'd done it and they weren't doing it in any exceptional manner. Could it be the ordinariness of the action? Obi-Wan's grip tightened against his bony flesh and his breath became even more laborious. Was it the lingering incredulity that he and Obi-Wan were exploring a romantic relationship? Something as mundane as their hands clasped together while sauntering away from the landspeeder both electrified and terrified him. Perhaps it was fear that the changing definition of them would ultimately destroy them.
Obi-Wan still held tight to his hand after the front door shut behind them. The Jedi suddenly turned to lay out a concern that had surely been irking him since their first visit to the salt flat after the Affinity Accord, "Are we going to tell Luke?"
It was something Anakin already punched in many hours thinking about, so he was ready with a reassuring nod, "I plan to. I just need a little time to mentally prepare myself for all the questions he'll have." He lightly cleared his throat, "Primarily the ones he'll have about his mother."
"Well, whenever you're ready to address it with him, I'll be right beside you."
He smiled. We're still us. Changes between us won't change us.
:-:-:
Crystalline droplets streamed from his eyes as he leaned close, "Wake up. I-I-please. Please, Obi-Wan."
:-:-:
Oceanic eyes cracked open to a room in tenebrosity. He hysterically tossed back the bantha wool throw, clumsily pushed off of the couch- barely registering a trip over the coffee table- and desperately rummaged through both bedrooms, the fresher, the cellar, and the never-used additional lodge and study rooms. When his search proved fruitless, he sprinted past the kitchen and sitting room to vault up the landing stairs. After his frenetic mind remembered how to open the front door, his eyes locked onto a faraway figure laggardly hanging laundry.
He painstakingly ignored the screaming protests in his nervous system when the burning sand set fire to the artificial thermoreceptors in his bare cybernetic feet. The greeting he received went unacknowledged as he flung wet clothes down the line, creating a direct route to the mark of his hunt. He yanked a wet tunic out of Obi-Wan's hands, haphazardly threw it to the barren earth, and drew the other Forceful into a sturdy embrace. Once their bodies meshed together, he buried his profile against the perspiring skin of the blonde's neck.
Obi-Wan momentarily stood in stiff confusion before he tentatively clutched the black vicra shirt over his friend's shoulder blades, "Can I help you?" Only provided with an incomprehensible noise in response, he regarded the brunette warily, "Anakin."
"I needed to touch you."
There was surely a rationalization behind this abrupt, aggressively affectionate behavior, but the given deflection was a telltale sign. Although they were trying to be more open with one another, Anakin still lived and emoted on his own time. Rather than trying to pull teeth, Obi-Wan held his housemate and let himself be held. The heat from the suns caused the points where their skin met to be thoroughly saturated with sweat by the time they separated. His fingertips gently touched under Anakin's chin to assure their eyes met head-on when he cut to the heart of any issue that was going on, "I love you."
"Thank you," was the mumbled reply before their lips pressed together in an innocent kiss. Anakin's flesh fingers combed across his partner's caramel beard before he took a couple steps back to twirl towards the house. Now mentally and emotionally at ease, he acutely felt the scolding temperature of the sand against his nerve endings and made it inside even quicker than he made out to the clothesline.
As soon as he dived through the front door he'd left open, he was drawn to the main bedroom to locate a squawking comlink. He sat down on the edge of the bed and activated the device, "Yeah, I read you."
"Obi-Wan? Man, living with Anakin has really taken a toll on your accent."
"Ahsoka," he pinched the bridge of his nose and masked his laugh with a gnarled smile, "it's Anakin."
The Togrutan responded in muddle, "Hold the heliopause, did I freq you?"
"You really think it would take eighteen frinking years for me to begin to have an influence on his accent?"
"There's no need to get so defensive over a little slip, Skyguy. Now, is your boyfriend-with-the-perfect-delicious-Coruscanti-accent-and-how-dare-anyone-insinuate-otherwise-not-while-I'm-alive available to speak or not?"
"Cosmic Force, do not call him my boyfriend." He irritably pressed his index and middle fingertips into his eye, "He is outside. What do you want?"
She imitated Obi-Wan's accent as best she could, "I need to talk to Z'Master Jedi. Rush order."
Although he did not want to further the current conversation chock-full of his former padawan's persistent mockery and would have gladly given her overbold mouth over to Obi-Wan to deal with, he didn't want to interrupt laundry duties a second time, "Is it something I can help with?"
"No!" the Shilian's voice screeched through the crackling speaker of the long-range device. "I need to talk to Obi-Wan! That's why I comm-ed him, not you."
"Testy," he stood from the end of the bed, "hold on, Commander Rude-Ass, I have to walk out to him." He swiftly navigated through the house, slipped his boots on, and crossed the bluff to hold out the wrist comlink to Obi-Wan with a cocked hip, "Snips says she urgently needs to gossip with you about your accent, or something. Beware, she's being vexatious."
One of the Stewjonian's eyebrows arched and he placed the garment in his hand back into the wicker laundry basket to take the device. He held it a few centimeters from his mouth and cautiously inquired, "Ahsoka?"
"Obi-Wan?"
"Yes?"
"Is Anakin near you?"
"Yes."
"Tell him to shove off."
Baffled malachite eyes proximately found irritated cerulean ones. Obi-Wan translated the expletive-laden query that was surely about to be submitted into a politer form, "May I ask why?"
"Because I need to talk to you solo. I'm not saying any more than that." There was measurable grit in her words when she quickly tacked on, "Scram, Anakin!"
"You impudent brat! I teach you everything you know and you-"
"Anakin," Obi-Wan stretched his arm behind him to hold the comlink as far away from the raving man as he could and pointed towards their abode with the other hand.
Anakin weighed the ramifications of refusing to leave but summarily determined Obi-Wan would probably tell him whatever was said later anyway. He elected to take the path of least resistance, though that wasn't to say it didn't piss him off to do so, "Whatever, fuck you, Ahsoka!"
Obi-Wan could feel a migraine chomping at the back of his eyeballs when he heard the distant sound of the front door closing and the insistent inquiry of Is he gone. He drew the mic towards his mouth with an irritated sigh, "Was that really necessary? I'll never hear the end of this."
"Anakin can't get involved."
Static stained the silence between her sentences.
When she finally spoke, it was abundantly clear why the conversation must remain exclusive, "The rebels are in an emitter matrix bind and you're the only one that can unbind us."
::::
"I am on my knees."
"I can't. I absolutely cannot. Not after the month we've had."
"If you explain you're not leaving him but-"
"You do not understand," Obi-Wan leaned his back against the clothesline post, consciously facing away from the house to hide his expressions and emotions from a meddlesome Tatooinian he instinctively knew was watching him like a Drayberian hawk from the picture window in the sitting room. He crossed his arms and let his eyes freely rove over the canyons, sand dunes, and mountains beyond the bluff. "Do not let him know I told you this." His face turned somewhat towards the device sitting on the bend of his elbow, "He told me the dark side speaks to him."
The spacer's response was one of downright dismay and defeat, "Oh, motherfuck." There was a sizable pause sheathed in static before she deeply inhaled, "What's the damage?"
"I don't have all the details yet," the Jedi lamented. "All I know is it speaks to him as our consciences speaks to us. It is padding his mind with toxic thoughts and evidently has been doing so since he returned to himself at the end of the War."
"Oh, motherfuck," she groaned, "that narco-spice analogy was on the nose."
He pushed away from the clothesline post to aimlessly tread forward, "He needs me here."
"I wouldn't be asking this if it wasn't fast-moving-black-hole critical. Three or four rotations. No, two or three! Give me two or three rotations."
"I can't. I can't leave him while he's being bombarded by the dark side." He held up his index finger in emphasis although the motion couldn't be seen, "One second is all it takes and he could be taken from me again. I'm sorry, Ahsoka, but I refuse to increase the likelihood for that risk to become a reality, especially in the case I'd be unavailable to provide him with the Living Force he'd need to return to himself."
"Two or three rotations is all I'm asking, Master Obi-Wan. Please."
"No, and that's my final word on the matter," he sternly spoke.
"What will you say to Anakin when he finds out you turned down a chance to bat?"
He agitatedly repositioned the comlink directly in front of his mouth, "Just so you know, customarily I would not entertain these mind games you're attempting to play with me." His stance and tone slackened with a sigh, "I know he would want me to take this assignment and I know he would tell me he'd be fine for a couple rotations, but I must protect him come hell or high water. Even if I have to enrage him to care for him, I will do so."
"It's only on Corellia. Five seconds in hyperspace can get you back to him if he bleeps you whacked out, burning nerves or the kind."
"I think it takes a little more than five seconds. Not to mention, he waits five and ten years to tell me about life-altering deliberations, determinations, and theorizations. He will not comm if he needs me to return."
She importunately tried to foil his concerns, "He has been on cloud nine since you two reconciled."
"That has no bearing on this. The dark side is speaking to him; it is in his head."
"Can you hear it?"
"What a preposterous question."
She made an a-ha noise, "If you can't hear the voice in his head and he doesn't tell you his deliberations, determinations, and theorizations for ten years, then how much can you really do to help him?"
There were a few moments of sweeping silence before he answered, "We're working on our communication. Not that it's any of your business."
"If you're improving your communication skillset then by all means, go ask him what he thinks the best action strategy is here."
It was a warning, "Ahsoka…"
The warning went unheeded, "My bet is he would tell you he was a general in a war, he was a Jedi, a Sith apprentice, a recluse. He would say he knows how to survive and he will survive if you leave for a couple rotations, expressly since he knows you're winging out to assist me and the rebellion. He would say he has been warring with this voice for more than five and a half years and it only tripped him up once, when he thought he was going to lose you. All you have to do is make it clear as crystalplex you're coming to help me."
He decided to demonstrate the myriad issues that would arise were he to accept this assignment, "He'd want to come with me."
"Tell him I didn't invite him!"
An amused laugh burst from his lips and he tossed a transitory glance over his shoulder towards the picture window, "Yes, that will go over well, because he's never been known to show up places he hasn't been invited to."
Her voice held the same level of amusement, "I guess he did crash Kav Bayons' birthday bash pretty spectacularly, didn't he?"
His hand clasped over his sweaty forehead in woe at the memory, "Cleared out the entire refectory. The people only had to hear his voice and they were gone."
"Well, that's what Kav gets for inviting basically everyone but him."
He exasperatedly explicated, "It's because he got into a brawl with Calitraz Sadizir at Bultar Swan's birthday bash two months earlier."
"He only did that because Sadizir was trying to conquest you."
His hand clasped over the center of his chest in sheer scandal, "No, he most certainly was not!"
"Obi-Wan. He practically followed you around with electrobinoculars and made sexual intimations about you to anyone that would listen. He wanted to…" Despite the feeble attempts to hide it, her snorts and snickers were audible, "…get with you. Anakin saw and heard what everyone else saw and heard and decided to step in."
"He should have told me and let me address it instead of fighting like an ill-mannered youngling."
"To be fair, he verbally warned Sadizir to back off and the next rotation Sadizir told a flock of other apprentices, right outside the Room of a Thousand Fountains of all places, that he was going to, um, shall we say, make his adult-rated move during the Festival of Stars. Anakin and I were in the Sparring Arena when the skinny spread and he rocketed through the ionosphere. He was acting so psychotic I thought he was going to rip someone's arm off and eat it. He couldn't stand how Sadizir was disrespecting you and decided to put a very violent end to it."
"Yes, well," Obi-Wan scoffed, "instead of simply telling me like a judicious individual, he earned reprimand from the Council over brutalizing other Jedi. For the third time. And if this alleged stalker of mine hadn't been embarrassed and acted like the entire affair was a spar gone awry, Anakin would have been expelled from the Order."
Hearty laughter filled the desert air, "He wasn't embarrassed! Everyone with a lightsaber knew Anakin was as vicious as a sleeth in a fight and more than half of them had been defeated by him in spars. No, after he finished breaking teeth, he told Sadizir If you so much as utter Obi-Wan's name again, I'll tear your bowels out through your mouth. He was afraid of Anakin!"
Obi-Wan was clearly scandalized for a second time, "Anakin did not say that. That's a tall tale he spun to impress you."
"I was standing right there. I heard him say it and I heard him say Even if they kick my ass out, I will find you and I will end you."
"Somehow this is not persuading me to take on your assignment," he heatedly huffed.
She coughed and cleared her throat to expel all traces of mirth, "Alright, alright, think about it this way. If you leave for a couple rotations, it will give him some alone time. Think about it. He was in total reclusion on Naboo then thrust into a situation where he is living with someone else full-time. When he wants to be alone, something he'd been for five years, he has to go into his bedroom and stay in that one room until he feels for company again."
Why does this sound so specific? He crossed his arms and swallowed heavily, "Is that why you're trying to get me out of the house? He's talked to you about this? He's told you he needs space from me?"
"No, he has never said anything like that. I am simply saying you could pitch this as, happy landings, Ahsoka greatly needs my help and it would give you time to yourself, then I'll axis back."
"That's not the bone of contention. I don't think I would have any trouble convincing him I should go. The point is I cannot leave him after what he told me a couple weeks ago."
The pleading in her voice was inescapable, "The top brass of the Ammyex Bloc doesn't swear by anybody since the rise of the Empire. They don't buy I am who I say I am and they've marked Organa as corrupt because of the part he's having to play, but you have case history with them. Their Chieftain knows you, your name and face."
There was a trickle of white noise before he eventually sighed, "Is their Chieftain still Lomriv?"
Made hopeful by the inquest, she hurriedly spoke, "Yes, you and Master Windu backed down the Black Sun scumbags that tried to railroad her and the Bloc into giving them armaments."
"Even if they know my face, who I am, how would they know I am still trustworthy?"
"Everyone from the Deep Core to Wild Space knows your rep for standing against Palpatine during the last days of the Republic. I need you."
"Anakin needs me and he comes before anything else."
"What if I come to Tatooine and stay with him while you go to Corellia?"
"He would threaten me with death if I tried to contract a babysitter for him."
"I will talk to him!" she avidly offered. "I will tout how much I need you to roll out to the Corellian system and ask him if I can keep him company during your assignment. If I play it like a social visit-"
"He is not dense by the thinnest stretch of the imagination; you are exceedingly aware of this. He will know what you are doing."
She hummed in contemplation, "What if I get you access to an auxiliary bird to planetfall in? He can nest in my corvette and he'll be waiting there for you when you jump back."
"Where would you get the auxiliary ship?"
"I'd find someone that would blind lease, no questions asked. I wouldn't tell them about Anakin."
"I don't know about this, Ahsoka," he groaned with scenario after scenario of things that could go wrong wheeling through his head.
"He wants to aid the rebellion. Think how much this will mean to him."
Obi-Wan lived with Anakin: he knew what emotional manipulation looked and sounded like. Nonetheless, it appeared that as long as Anakin's happiness was involved, he couldn't muster much of a defense against it. After we've trained adequately, I want to join the rebellion. I can't stay here and pretend the galaxy's soul isn't in need of reclamation! There's still more to give. To help relieve the tremendous guilt and burden his soulmate felt, he knew it was almost impossible to say no. Ahsoka took his silence as an encouraging sign and tried to tip his teetering verdict in her favor, "I'll take any precautions or measures you deem necessary for his safety."
His arms straightened at his sides to hold the communication device near his hip while he assessed the pros and cons. Provided they followed their hypothesized plan, he could keep Anakin with him and out of sight on the corvette. There would be a few hours they'd be apart while he dropped down to Corellia then he'd soar back and they would head straight home. It would seem the only way Anakin could be spotted was through pure chance and the probability was very remote. Existent but very remote. He raised the comlink to his mouth, "I'll do it."
"Thank you."
"You're not to speak a word of it to him. Let me tell him."
::::
"No."
"Anakin-"
"No. The Bloc has always been astutely aware of the galaxy's sociopolitical history and climate. We both know they'd recognize me as Darth Vader instantaneously. If anybody, anybody, catches my scent, it puts your life at risk. It puts Ahsoka's life at risk."
Obi-Wan sat on the couch next to the Tatooinian and leaned his elbows onto his knees, "Nobody would be able to-"
The brunette swiftly grabbed the blonde's hand and ducked his head down against the side on their interlocked digits, "If shit can happen, it will happen to us. I am not going if there is even one-hundredth of a percentile that your or Ahsoka's life could be put in danger."
The solution seemed very simple, "I'll tell her to find someone else."
Anakin lowered their hands and turned until his mechanical knees pressed against the older man's thigh, "No, tell her you're on-board and tell her she doesn't need to do twice as much work locating an auxiliary ship, or anything else, for me."
The Jedi clutched his forearm, "I don't want to leave you here by yourself."
The pads of his mechno-fingers touched underneath Obi-Wan's jaw, "I want you to do this. I'll be okay for a couple rotations. I'll be in a good mood knowing one of us is contributing to the rebellion."
"Will you comm me if you need me to come home?"
"Yeah."
"For any reason at all?"
"Yes."
Obi-Wan didn't believe he was receiving a sincere answer, but he knew if he challenged the promise, he would be accused of labeling Anakin a liar. While he tried to give off the illusion of facetiousness, he honestly hoped his next suggestion would be considered, "Do you want Ahsoka to stay with you in my absence?"
The menacing tone and words belied the younger man's smile, "I don't know, do you want a grave made of sand?"
He couldn't resist laughing, considering he was threatened with what he prognosticated he would be threatened with. He used the holds on his partner's hand and forearm to tug their bodies closer and puzzle their lips together. As he relished in the heat of Anakin's lips and skin, he couldn't shake the terrible feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. This is a tragic error. He broke their lip lock when he realized there was no part of him that wasn't demanding he renege on the deal.
He loved Anakin. He trusted Anakin. He did not love or trust the dark side.
He clutched the top of the taller man's knee, "I can't. I'm not going."
Anakin turned to fully face the back of the couch and hook his mechno-hand over the Jedi's shoulder, "I want you to go." He presented a dazzling smile, "This is good."
"No," Obi-Wan's hand encircled his friend's cybernetic wrist. "No, it's not. It's not a good idea."
"How old am I?" The lack of response prompted Anakin to tilt his head to the side to better find emerald eyes, "How old am I, Obi-Wan?"
"Your age has nothing to do with this. I can't leave you while you're-"
"I've been fighting the dark side for a long time, rotation after rotation, year after year, whether you were there or not. I know you think I'm weak, but-"
"I've never thought you are weak," Obi-Wan fervently framed the disgraced Jedi's face with his hands. "You may have had moments of weakness in your life, but so have I. There isn't anybody that hasn't. If there's anything certain in this universe, it's moments of weakness and the limitlessness of your strength. I don't doubt you can combat the dark side on your own, Anakin. I just don't want you to. I am here to help drag your crosses and there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Anakin only stared at Obi-Wan- his eyes, his nose- while the words haloed around his head. I am here to help drag your crosses and there's nowhere else I'd rather be. At that moment, he could find no vindication as to why he compartmentalized this declaration as the most erotic thing he'd ever heard. His knees pressed into the back of the couch, lining their right thighs against one another, and his flesh hand settled on the older Force-sensitive's shoulder. Mechanical fingertips gently ghosted over Obi-Wan's brow, temple, cheek, then ear, "It's only a couple rotations." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to a pale cheekbone, "We can meditate before you go. By the time we'll get needy for each other's energy again, you'll be back home. Then we can wrap our arms around each other and I'll tell you how much I missed you, how desperately I need your energy."
He kissed the skin beneath his partner's ear before breathily speaking against it, "I'll open my Living Force to yours and you'll fill me so completely. I won't know anything but you. I never do when you're inside me."
Obi-Wan tried to hide the shiver that shook his body like a sonic amplifier. Any energy he would have afforded to a response was rerouted to try to extinguish the rising fire in his heart and groin.
Anakin turned the other man's face towards him, "I want you to go and help on both our behalves, okay?"
The blonde dumbly nodded. He still didn't trust himself to speak, not intelligibly.
::::
"Comm if you need me," Obi-Wan anxiously sat his worn ankarax leather suitcase on the landing.
"I will," Anakin assured with an endearing smile. "Be careful."
The smile was returned but quickly smothered by the younger Forceful's mouth. Their lips lovingly tussled before the Jedi Master admitted defeat and tilted his face away, "I love you."
"I love you, too. Be careful, amanica."
Anakin smiled when lips melded with his yet again, even though the contact was short-lived, "I will be." Obi-Wan finally stepped back and picked up his suitcase. He circularly motioned with his hand to reference the house, "Don't break anything or do anything weird."
"I'm going to establish a clown hotel in the cellar and sacrifice Living Force to the Demon Savior Valkorion skyclad."
Obi-Wan only stared at the Tatooinian with a half-smile. After passing through the doorway, he turned back around, "Please don't get into any trouble while I'm gone."
Anakin's hands hitched to his hips, "What do you really think I'm going to do? Break the water pump? Maybe be original and target the generator?"
"I never have any idea what you're going to do," Obi-Wan laughed. He was almost through the door again when Anakin fiercely yanked the collar of his shirt, bending him backwards and to the side for one last kiss before he left. He dropped his suitcase and tried to return the affection but found reciprocation difficult in his position. He stepped back and stood up straight, delightedly hugging the other man's thin waist. When the kiss ended, he held his precious faneta close, not wanting to let go.
To his dissatisfaction, however, Anakin grabbed his shoulders and began to slowly waltz them out the door, "You're going to keep Snips waiting."
He eventually relinquished his hold but still managed one last little peck, "I'll be home as soon as possible, love."
::::
Since he'd been staying on Tatooine, Obi-Wan insisted he could not wander off alone, not for a moment. Not to the Sea, not to purchase supplies for his prosthetics, not even to buy food. He made it very loudly known how much he did not agree with these restrictions, but his complaints never made a difference. If there wasn't a shadow of a doubt he would be promptly located were he to sneak off, he'd do it. When Obi-Wan ruefully told him Ahsoka was begging for bureaucratic help in convincing the rich, supply-wealthy Ammyex Bloc to arm rebel cells, his pledge of support was sincere. It just so happened Obi-Wan would have to leave for a few rotations and he would have a chance to do everything he couldn't do with his lovable oppressor over his shoulder.
On the first rotation, he manically cleaned the house while blasting glimmik and rock music at deafening levels before lazily trudging around the Roiya Rift. When he returned home, he again cranked up the music player loud enough to rattle the glass in the freshly-cleaned windowpanes. After a few melodies ran their course, he decided to engorge himself on the red dwarf he knew was under a certain someone's bed. He felt relatively guilty as he drank the commandeered liquor while pacing around the sitting room. He knew he shouldn't be nicking Obi-Wan's things and he definitely shouldn't be consuming alcohol given his mental, emotional, and cosmic state. It went without saying his physical body wasn't in the best shape to receive much ethanol either. Although he'd gained a few pounds back, he remained underweight and there was hardly any food in his system at one time since he was still rebuilding his appetite. Despite these deterrents, he gradually consumed nearly half of the bottle of red dwarf from a glass whisky tumbler he found on a top shelf in one of the kitchen cabinets.
He eventually needed to use the fresher, which opened the opportunity for him to be taken hostage by his worst enemy. As his face stared back at him from the rustic mirror on the wall, he found he still hated his reflection. He hated his oddly-angled nose, his wide chin, the bags that were always under his eyes from not sleeping, the unremarkable shape of his lips. The fingers of his unfettered hand violently coiled around his toffee tresses with a fuming snarl, "I hate this fucking hair!"
He drunkenly slammed the whisky tumbler on the sink, causing the remaining liquid in it to slosh wildly, then pressed the bottom of his palm against the edge of the porcelain to bend over and yank drawer after drawer under the sink open until he found a nice, oxidized pair of scissors. There wasn't much about his appearance he could change, not without mutilation, but this was one thing in his control. He felt nothing but rage when he pinched a lock of his honey hair, raised the unlatched blades, and snipped it from his head. The curl fell to the beige flextile and the acrimony and adrenaline inside him magnified staggeringly. He straightened another curl and snipped, then another and another, repeating the actions with increasing vigor. His canines clenched as he watched strands float to the floor like archidia seeds in a breeze. The scissors opened and closed like the mouth of a starved maligator until he ran out of lengthy locks to lop off.
A few deep breaths passed in and out of his lips before he finally found the courage to look back up at the mirror. It wasn't as short as it was during his years as Obi-Wan's padawan. Thank smegging shell stars, I hated it like that. Locks of hair barely curved over the top of his ears and most of the mane that laid against his neck had been cut away. He combed his hair back and to the side, styling it as best he could before shaping up a few areas. He didn't like the new hairdo, but then, he didn't like his previous one either.
He settled the scissors on the sink and hoisted his tumbler to finish off its contents. He made his way to the kitchen to refill his glass and rifle through cabinets and drawers until he found one of his mini screwdrivers. With his new haircut, his red dwarf, and his screwdriver, he headed back to the sitting room and collapsed on the couch. He took large swigs of his liquor and twisted the screwdriver to tighten joints and parts of shielding that felt loose on his cybernetic arm. After a few minutes, the screwdriver slowed in its turn.
Fake arm. Fake legs. Repulsive face. Scars littering his flesh. Annoying, annoyed voice. Underweight. Do you think Obi-Wan deserves this? A husk of a man that can barely face himself? Why does he want me? It seemed impossible for someone as stunning as Obi-Wan to want him.
There was no debate on Padmé's exquisiteness and he felt guilty for not extending her the same title, but he knew he'd be lying to himself if he said Obi-Wan wasn't the most ethereal, breathtaking creature he'd ever laid eyes on. He loved every inch of skin, every bone, every muscle, every hair fiber… That was undoubtedly because Obi-Wan was Obi-Wan. The Jedi could look completely different- missing an eye, bald, cybernetic attachments- it wouldn't matter. He knew as long as Obi-Wan had the same soul, energy, and mind, he would love every cell of that man's body.
The glass of red dwarf was empty. Anakin sat his tumbler down on the coffee table and reclined back on the couch to prop his feet up. Was it because of the voice constantly deriding him that he'd become so focused on outward appearance? He couldn't plainly determine the origins of this fixation, but a fixation it was nevertheless. All he knew was he wanted Obi-Wan to find him attractive, physically and sexually, and the hang-up was that uncomplicated. Distressing and uncomplicated.
On a theoretical, moral level, he only needed his partner to love him, but on a primal, superficial level, he needed his partner to desire him. It shouldn't matter Obi-Wan never complimented his appearance, but it did. It shouldn't matter Obi-Wan hadn't tried to have sex with him yet, but it did. They'd known each other for nearly two decades and often shared Living Forces; it wasn't like their relationship was a light affair. They deemed each other soulmate. If that was the case, why hadn't the Jedi tried to take him to bed or at the very least let onto some physical attraction?
He knew there was a magnetism to his mind in spite of how un-magnetic it was. The older Forceful knew every layer of his personality, every second of his past, all that afflicted him. So why did he keep mentally recycling this awful, hackneyed fantasy of Obi-Wan gushing over his beauty while fucking him against a wall? Why am I wanting him to be magnetized to my body when he's already magnetized to my mind? Why am I wanting him to be shallow? Better yet, why was he so fixated on fornication? Worst of all, why was he not even taking into account what Obi-Wan thought and wanted? Despite occasional bouts of shyness, this was still Obi-Wan, who was unapologetically assertive and highly persistent when he decided he wanted something. If he simply didn't think Anakin was beautiful and didn't want to have sex with Anakin…
He did act freaked out when I made that innuendo yesterday. He froze and spaced out like he'd rather be anywhere else. Maybe their mental and spiritual connection was enough for Obi-Wan and a physical connection was immaterial. That would be a heartbreaking discovery, but Anakin would live with it in the end. His physicality was tolerable enough for kisses, hugs, and cuddles on the couch and if in the end that's all Obi-Wan wanted, he would just deal with it. His upset amalgamated with the red dwarf only to produce a spinning ceiling and tumbling tears. I don't want to just deal with that.
He moved the screwdriver to the proximal phalanx of his mechanical pinky to tighten another tiny titanium screw. After he was finished, he curled his fingers to test out the adjustments. He curled his fingers a second time. Then a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth. He dropped the screwdriver to the floor and gripped his mechno-wrist. He curled his cybernetic fingers a seventh time, this time holding them in a tight fist. This was the hand, these were the fingers, that choked his wife. He still had this hand and he was fretting like a pathetic teenager about whether or not Obi-Wan found him attractive. Why was he allowed to love somebody else and expect love or admiration, anything at all, from them after what this Force-forsaken hand had done?
Why didn't you care if Padmé thought you were physically appealing or not? Were she and her opinions, her love, less significant? Or were you never really invested in your relationship and marriage to her? Why didn't you care to give her the best parts of yourself like you so diligently try to do for Obi-Wan? We know the truth, Anakin. He was what you lusted after all along. You never felt as good as when you enwrapped the Force around her throat. You knew it meant he would take her place.
No.
You knew it meant you would be able to spread your legs like a whore for your master and beg for his empty praises and insincere declarations of love. Oh, but that plan didn't pan out, did it, kitten? Your so-called soulmate finds you repugnant and keeps his hands to himself.
Obi-Wan loves me.
As long as he doesn't have to touch you. That's rather funny, isn't it? You killed your wife because you wanted the Jedi to bow to you, worship you, fuck you, but he couldn't be any less attracted to you.
Anakin reached over to the infrared operating device on the coffee table to turn up the sound pressure on the music player. It was loud enough to drown out the voice hissing in his ears, for a time.
That insidious voice unremittingly reminded him of the transgressions he committed unto his wife. He'd hurt her irreversibly and the most jolting aftershock of it was the endless suffering. For five solid years, he marinated in his disgrace, but that castigation was growing very tiresome. He loved Padmé, but he loved Obi-Wan too and was now at a point where he couldn't be apart from the man for even a rotation. The voice kept telling him his new relationship was dishonorable, tasteless, but it had been almost six years since his wife's death. Misery was a heavy cross to drag on your own. I am here to help drag your crosses and there's nowhere else I'd rather be. Maybe it was dishonorable and tasteless, but he wanted and needed Obi-Wan too much to care anymore.
What if he doesn't want and need you?
He scrubbed a hand over his face, "These thoughts are based on nothing!"
Why did he take the mission? Your padawan could have found anyone else in the galaxy that wasn't childminding you. He said it wasn't a good idea to leave, yet he left regardless. Perhaps he wanted to get far away from you. Perhaps now he is not directly in this disastrous situation, he has gained perspective and realized how much better life would be without an emotionally-crippled, impulsive, indecisive time bomb strapped to his chest.
"Even if he wanted a break from me, he will come back."
What makes you so certain? Maybe he realizes he does not wish to be a slave to emotion as you are.
"I am a slave to no one and nothing."
You are less than a slave. You are a stain. A defective, worthless stain. You are nothing more than his little sheep to watch over. He has to make sure you stay in line, make sure the dark side does not become your shepherd again. He'd kill you if he didn't still abide by the Jedi Code.
"Get out of my head," he grated through clenched teeth.
I will forevermore be inside you, my little stain. In spite of anything he's ever told you, all the meditation in the world will not banish me. The more you love and desire your sweet swain, the more you seek me.
"No, your temptation is already here and even if I walk away from him, I will take you with me. I am already exposed to you, both of us are. Stop trying to snake your way into my soul. I may be a stain, but I am not your slave or sheep. You cannot tempt me into the flames again. Not while I breathe."
Obi-Wan is a paragon of Jedi reason and morality. In time, be it yesterday or ten years from now, he will leave you.
Anakin did his best to focus on a number of other topics to stop the train of thought from gaining traction. He knew what the outcome looked like. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but throw himself onto the tracks. I couldn't handle losing him. Through his preteen years, it took great pains to build up a wall strong enough to withstand separation, rejection, and criticism from Obi-Wan. Throughout his teenage years and early adulthood, there were times when something Obi-Wan did or said would breach that wall and he was sure he showed it. Then, after the Clone Wars, there was nothing left of him and his reunion with his old master made it clear the wall he spent so many years building and bolstering had been demolished. He was stripped completely bare of any safeguards, allowing Obi-Wan closer- emotionally, psychologically, physically, spiritually- than ever before.
If he lost his soulmate after they'd harmonized themselves so intensely, he wasn't sure what he would do. Breath quivered past his trembling lips. You know exactly what you'd do. He took another deep, unsteady breath and tried to lead himself away from the morbid sequences in his head, "Think about happier things. Think about sand bunnies or the changing colors of a Ch'hala tree or holding hands with Obi-Wan or-"
How tight your sheets will be around your neck when the Jedi doesn't return.
He slammed his head back against the arm of the couch, "Stop."
Not even a full minute passed in the music-drenched darkness of the house before his mind wandered back to irrational, paranoid musings. What if he breathes easier without me? What if he decides I'm too much baggage and he can do better than me? What if he wants to find someone more like Satine Kryze? More delicate, more prim and proper and agreeable than me? What if he wants someone whose eyes don't turn fripping red when they make out with him? What if he wants someone who doesn't radiate evil? What if he wants someone who hasn't kill their wife? Hasn't murdered children? What if-
Anakin gasped frantically and gripped the couch cushions tightly as he sat upright. If you ever have these thoughts again, remind yourself I have seen the very worst parts of you. I have seen them many times for many years at very close proximity and still I am here with you. He couldn't blink back the tears in his eyes, "Obi-Wan knows you. He knows everything about you and he's known it for many years. There's no reason he would take off now. Calm down, Anakin."
He doesn't know your vile body.
He whimpered, "Go away."
He doesn't know the feel of your inhuman legs. He doesn't know the scars that ruin your flesh. He doesn't know the stab of your jagged hipbones. He doesn't know the gruesomeness of your severed thighs. He doesn't know the nastiness of your tainted backside. He doesn't know the decay of your rotten insides.
"Shut the fuck up!"
There was nothing except hatred for himself when teardrops fell onto the back of his flesh hand. He hated being victim to this abuse and degradation. He hated having his self-worth chipped away until he sat around deliberating whether or not his partner was physically and sexually attracted to him. He hated doubting Obi-Wan, by no fault of the Jedi's in the least. He hated having absolutely no way to stop this shit or run away from it or silence it. His initial instinct was always to buck up against anything that voice articulated, but sometimes it knew exactly what to say to bite a bloody mouthful right out of his heart.
Through his teenage years, he generated ceaseless fury for those that made passes at him. They didn't know him or care to know him; they only knew and cared what he looked like. It was the reason that by adulthood he knew the most central trait he'd need in a significant other was deep-rooted spiritual, emotional, personal love. Not love based on looks but based on who he was, inside. He had that. Obi-Wan loved him. Why was he acting like physical attraction had anywhere near the same level of importance as Obi-Wan loving him? How could he possibly entertain the thought of wanting to change Obi-Wan in this aspect? Why did this matter? Why did any of this baseless banthashit matter? I'm a shallow, disgusting pig.
"Shut up, Anakin," he pleaded with himself. "Obi-Wan could have absolutely anybody he wants, people who are much more appealing than you. He loves you and that's all that matters. Stop."
I agree, pet, he definitely could do better than you. He could have someone infinitely purer than you, someone with clean hands and conscience that would be able to lure him into their bed with a simple wink or kiss. He is only accommodating your fictional romance to take control of your energy and will. Once he has tamed you into submission, he will leave you chained in a dark hole, like an exhausted owner neutering their uncontrollable mutt only to tie it to a tree on the side of the road before speeding away.
He shut his eyes against the tears steadily cascading down his cheeks, "Obi-Wan loves me."
Jedi complete their mission by any means necessary. You know this better than anyone.
He laid on his side and allowed the tears to freely pour over the bridge of his nose and across his temple. Maybe if he laid still enough, he would cease to exist. He forfeited his stomach to churning nausea and his brain to the pounding music still pumping from the player. After a little while, his bitterness and tears exhausted him into an emotionally-fatigued, dreamless sleep.
::::
On the second morning, he tried to purge the previous night from his mind with vomit. Unfortunately, the poisonous dialogue didn't vacate him even after his hangover symptoms passed. The next option was to find a formidable distraction and he decided there was no better way to spend his time than with his son. The Skywalkers easily slipped off the moisture farm without raising attention to their supervisor's absence. Normally when they'd leave the farmland, Obi-Wan would make them take Luke back after two or three hours, but Obi-Wan wasn't here. He was going to keep his son out until nightfall and he didn't care if those dull-witted windbags got mad. They took the speeder back to the Jundland Wastes and spent the rotation making crafts.
First, he let Luke go to town cutting up a pair of his pants which they subsequently made leather crowns out of. Then they made a model house from liquid slickplast and toothpicks. Next, Luke professed he wanted to make a suncatcher, so Anakin popped off the metal lid of a jar of zog, heated up distilled vinegar, nahcolite, and bantha milk to make glue, emulsified some raw, some cooked foods with milk and Kodari rice flour for paint, and then gave him a toothpick to swirl the colors with. By the end of the rotation, they were pretending to be leather-crown-wearing warlocks as Luke stirred a brew of distilled vinegar, water, nahcolite, and homemade green paint with a stock pot spoon. Once they finally set out for the salt flat, Luke asked the question he expected to come much earlier in the rotation, "Where's Obi at?"
He used their connected hands to pull the boy to a stop by the speeder then kneeled down in the sand, "He went to help Ahsoka fight against the Empire."
Luke used his free hand to frantically grab his father's shoulder, "Fight the Empire? You mean the strangazoid lizard lady that dragged me on a chain and those egg heads that shot at me and Soki? What if he gets hurt? Why'd you let him go?"
"When did Ahsoka teach you the term egg heads?"
"He woulda listened to you! If you said, no, Obi, you can't go, he woulda listened to you!"
"Let me clarify," Anakin sat cross-legged on the ground, prepared to stay in that position and talk as long as necessary to calm and reassure his frantic child. "He is helping Ahsoka talk to someone about getting some supplies so she can help other people fight the Empire. Obi-Wan isn't physically fighting anyone. He's only negotiating, or speaking, for Ahsoka, okay? He isn't fighting."
Luke's voice still tremored in terror, "He's coming back, isn't he?"
He put on a confident face for his teary-eyed offspring, "Of course he is."
The boy nervously fidgeted with his fingers, "He's not going to keep moving around like Soki does?"
Anakin closed his hand around Luke's, "He would never be able to stay away from you, cadet."
The father of two felt victorious when he received a little smile, "When's he coming back?"
"He should be back by tomorrow."
"Good," the almost-six-year-old exhaled in relief. "It's fun just you and me, but I love my guardian angel Obi and I'd miss him too much if it was only you and me forever."
Why did the syrupy assertion feel like plaque in his arteries? He probably feels safer with Obi-Wan than he does with me. Obi-Wan has all his natural limbs. He's more grounded, more reasonable, more even-tempered. He doesn't have to use his little one as a last-line defense from self-hanging. He plastered on a smile and tried not to reflect the pain of the plaque slowing the blood flow to his heart, "Me, too. He would have preferred to see you before he left, but the whole thing happened pretty fast."
"'s okay. He's coming home soon." Luke gave a smile, but it quickly faltered. He inched across the sand to touch his father's face, "Why are your eyes so red?"
Sith's blood. Do not plasting cry in front of him again. He did not want to lie, but what was he supposed to say? Your guardian angel doesn't want to fuck me, might only be in a relationship with me to control me, might have left for good, doesn't know I almost killed myself over him, deserves better than me. Lying was the only road to take, "I didn't sleep very well last night."
"Why not?"
"I was missing Obi-Wan."
Luke lunged forward to enfold his arms around the elder Skywalker's neck, "He misses you, too. I bet he didn't sleep good without you with him either."
He damned the tear that broke loose when he toothlessly assured, "I'm sure he misses both of us."
Luke laid his head on Anakin's shoulder, "Don't worry, Daddy, one more night and he'll be home."
The consoling embrace was returned, "You're totally right. Thank you for cheering me up, Luke."
::::
He decided he would go east to the market to buy some exotic cuisine he'd never tried (it was really to buy more alcohol). He dug through his storage closet until he found the old rags he'd arrived on Tatooine in, knowing they would allow him to blend in more easily.
Within the first five minutes of traversing the Market Place, he knew he'd made a misjudgment. The Market Place in Mos Eisley was the worst place to be while missing his wayfaring partner so fiercely. He saw a cask of tea leaves for sale- he thought of Obi-Wan. He passed a man with sandy hair- he thought of Obi-Wan. He heard a mother scolding her child about wandering off- he thought of Obi-Wan. Everywhere he turned, another reminder waited. He left the Market without buying anything.
He didn't want to go home. The thought of getting food from the kitchen or sitting on the couch or taking a shower or even laying in his bed was sickening. Every single square millimeter of that house smelled like sapir, eukamint, and oranges. He ended up in the Western Dune Sea and it was no better than going home. It reminded him of the Sea Circumstance, doing nothing to drown out the doubts he was trying to pretend the voice hadn't entrenched in his head the night before. Why would Obi-Wan stay with him after occurrences like the one that took place in these dunes? Someone loving him so stalwartly seemed impossible. Unless there's an ulterior motive. Unless he wasn't acting as Obi-Wan, the civilian but as Obi-Wan, the Jedi, determined to complete a mission by any means necessary. He gave over half his Living Force and almost died. All that for love or to control me and steer me away from the darkness?
Anakin growled, frustrated with himself for entertaining the demon's words, "He would never lie about loving me to control me, never. His heart and soul are pure light. He has only ever told one lie to me and he only did it because he was scared." He breathed in relief when he heard no counterargument then noticed the moons were on the rise. He managed to waste the whole rotation. Go home, Anakin.
He sat down on the couch once he made it to the house. After a series of restless positions, trying to get comfortable, he gave up and hunted the throw from the storage closet in the hallway outside his bedroom. He exited back through the front door and shook the throw to unfold it and lay it out on the most even patch of sand he could find. He laid his back and head flat against the bantha-wool-covered ground with the heels of his boots digging into sand. His hands folded over his stomach and he stared up at the night sky.
Stars, satellites, and spaceships twinkled down on him like sein jewels. Somewhere in those extraterrestrial heavens was Stewjon, the planet that birthed his son's guardian angel. Maybe the real reason he'd never been there was because it didn't really exist. What kind of place or people could beget a man like his amanica? It seemed more likely that a god breathed life into a shining star and named it Obi-Wan Kenobi. Why does such an immaculate light want a dark defect to stain him? Why does he want me? He obviously doesn't want me physically. I scream at him, create problems for him, accuse him, lie to him, insult him, take his energy... What's the real reason he wants me?
He didn't want you until you were reunited. Isn't it conceivable this is all a part of a mission to keep you in line?
"Shut up."
Since cutting your legs off didn't keep you in line, he was forced to find a new method. If he has you following him around like a bitch in heat, you certainly wouldn't bend over for the dark side again, would you?
"I hate you."
A Jedi will do what he must for the greater good, even pretend to have feelings for filth like you. Though I suppose fucking you isn't a step he's willing to take for the deception. Even for a seasoned warrior like Obi-Wan, that's asking a little too much of his bile ducts.
Anakin harshly pressed his palms against his eyes to try to reverse the flow of his tears. He rolled onto his side and bent his legs in towards his stomach. It was on Naboo; it was on Tatooine. No matter where he went, no matter what he did, he could never escape this. It was destroying his nerves, his thought processes, his Living Force. It was incessant. It was vulgar. It took no prisoners.
How can an angel love the shit of the Force? He lied to you about lack of attachment to control you. Why wouldn't he go to the other end of the spectrum and lie about loving you to control you? Lie about loving your children to control you? He slapped his temple with all the might of his mechno-hand, but it made no difference. And if he ever overcomes his bile ducts to fuck you, you'll know it's because you are so out of control he has to rein you in by the most extreme measures.
"No, stop trying to contort his love for me into something foul and cruel! I know what you want! You want me to turn to darkness and I will never seek refuge in your vacuum again. Leave me alone."
His love was conceived in contortion.
He rolled on his back with a roar of frustration. Through his tears he saw all the celestial lights exploding from the dark sky. Obi-Wan was out there and no matter how far he went or what he did, Anakin would love him. The brunette shivered at the tears that rolled over his temples, "You can't understand love. You have no clue what love feels like. You can never conceive what we feel for each other because you're a bodiless, phantasmal loudhailer for the dark side embedded in my Force-fucking brain. You are emotionless, coldblooded, fabricated! You don't even exist! You don't exist!"
He will never love you. You are a repulsive, scarred, dishonorable child killer with a terrible temper and a slimy soul. He could never love you. He could never love you.
"Get out of my head! Get out! Get out! Get out!" he howled, again turning onto his side and folding into a fetal position. His fingers burrowed against his scalp and his nose and eyes were running like rain, "Please come home. Please, I just n-need to hear you say you love me and I need you to sound like you franging mean it. I waited my whole life to hear you tell me you love me and now that you finally have…" A sob shook his frame and vocal chords, "I don't fucking believe you."
Oh, Anakin, if only you were convinced of my existence you could see my smiling face.
::::
It was very early on the third morning when Obi-Wan returned. He stepped into the barely lit house and peered around the wall of the landing, immediately trying to locate Anakin. He was admittedly in panic mode. After every single one of his comm-calls were missed, he was desperate to confirm the Tatooinian's safety and wellbeing.
He shot straight for the extra bedroom, but the space was empty. The dread weighing on his chest got heavier and he frenziedly decided to set his suitcase down in his room then resume his search. He was surprised and relieved to find Anakin asleep in his bed. The sheets were tangled around the younger man's legs and the sun-blushed skin of his shirtless torso shined under the moonlight peaking in through the curtained windows. His flesh hand lay unmoving over his stomach and his ungloved mechno-hand lay palm-up on the bed beside him. His head was tilted to the right, sunken into the pillow, and his mouth was slightly agape as he inhaled deeply. Obi-Wan was sure he'd never seen anything more beautiful.
He was so relieved to find Anakin at ease in his bed, the only thing he wanted to do was touch his partner's flesh to make sure absolutely nothing was amiss. He moved almost soundlessly when he sat his suitcase down, unbuckled his belt, placing it on the desk, and removed his tabard. He toed off his boots and crawled onto the bed to sit beside his bed-poacher. You usually would have woken up the second I walked through the front door. You must be very tired. He memorized every detail of the blessed peace etched on Anakin's face and lovingly touched his fingertips to the slumbering Forceful's brow, caressing the scar there. Drowsy sapphire eyes peaked open and a tired smile graced his lips, "I hope you realize this is my bed."
He received a hazy murmur, "Didn't know you'd be back tonight. I would have waited up for you."
"No, I shouldn't have awoken you. You never get any rest," he traced his fingertips over a bronze jaw then withdrew his touch. "Go back to sleep. I only wanted to let you know I was back, safe and sound."
As he turned to scoot off the bed, the mattress shook and mismatched hands twisted into the fabric over his biceps. Heated breath slid over his ear, "Get in the bed, Kenobi."
Anakin intently used all his weight to tumble them backwards. Obi-Wan made no protests as he wiggled into the warm bed with the man he loved. His partner curled up against his side and slid a hand under his tunic to lay against his naked collarbone. He made no mention of the prods he felt to his energy or of the ear that settled in the dead center of his chest. He was so focused on Anakin's face before they laid down, he'd failed to recognize a significant transformation. As soon as his fingers streamed through the shorter, thinned out curls on the younger Forceful's head, he observed, "You cut your hair."
"Yeah."
He pressed his head back further into the pillow and used both hands to lift his housemate's head to get a better look. One of his hands brushed over wisps of butterscotch brown hair as he stared on in silence. Only when he saw characteristic anxious blinking did he finally declare, "I like it. It looks good."
The mentally-battered brunette knew he was much more disappointed than he should be. He wanted Obi-Wan's endorsement to be more resolute. He wanted Obi-Wan to say it looked better than his old haircut. He wanted Obi-Wan to tell him he looked attractive, appealing, gorgeous. He of course only laid his head back down against the older man's chest. There was too much pride and shame streaming through his veins to beg for compliments and as he continually established to himself over the past two rotations, it was childish and superficial to want the compliments to begin with.
"Thanks."
The blonde shifted until he could wrap his arms around the body beside his, "I was worried about you. I tried to comm you morning and night, but you didn't answer. I was afraid something happened."
"I…I'm sorry," Anakain fought for words, truly caught off-guard. He never even considered that Obi-Wan might have been trying to contact him. "I think my comm has been in my room this whole time. I tried to keep myself busy."
He was convinced he imagined an accusatory undercurrent in Obi-Wan's words, "You didn't contact me."
"I didn't want to bother you."
"You wouldn't have bothered me. I missed hearing your voice."
Anakin felt his teeth chatter. He missed hearing me, talking to me. He missed me.
The Jedi fished around for the coverlet to pull over them, "How is Luke? I would assume you went to visit him, alone, against my wishes."
"You would assume correctly. He's fine." His hand slid across the Stewjonian's flesh, hooking over the outmost curve of the man's shoulder, "He called you his guardian angel."
"Did he?"
He was enraptured by the rhythmic heartbeats thumping against his ear when he admitted, "It must be a Skywalker thing. Only two rotations without you and I almost lost it."
"Anakin," Obi-Wan fortified his embrace, causing the upset Forceful's face to press against his clavicle. "I told you to comm me if you needed me."
The rejoinder came out muffled, "I figured you wanted a break from me."
He clutched the wrist on his chest as he used the arrest around Anakin's waist to gently flip them over. He elevated above his partner and their eyes linked, "I didn't leave to get away from you or take a break from you or anything like that. The only reason I went is because you wanted me to. I would have never gone for any other reason." He interweaved their fingers together, "It was hard to breathe without you." He pressed in for a short-lived kiss, "It was so very hard to breathe. I'm glad to be home."
Anakin didn't want to be the first to say it, but the longer emerald jewels shined down on him, the more fortitude he lost. He guided Obi-Wan's face against his neck, "I love you."
Obi-Wan inhaled the smell of salt and oil, "Not as much as I love you, my dear."
As he drifted in and out of sleep, the Jedi Master laid wide awake. How could I let such an avoidable, predictable mistake like this happen? Obi-Wan hadn't made mention of how jarring their conversation was. Anakin was clearly upset, but he hadn't wanted to exacerbate the situation, especially when he didn't even know what the situation was. If Anakin was distracting himself so effectively in the last two rotations that he didn't have time to make calls or hear the infamously obnoxious siren of a comlink, when did he find the time to almost lose it? Why did he think Obi-Wan wanted a break from him when he was the one that pushed for the assignment to be taken? Why did he look like he was about to cry after being told his hair looked good? In fact, why did he cut his hair to begin with? Why did his energy feel like it had been sharpened on silicon carbide, trying to painfully stab into Obi-Wan's?
The sorrowful inquirer knew the answer to all these harrowing inquiries.
We've lost all the progress we've made to the dark side. I failed you.
He would never take on another assignment, no matter how much he was begged or urged to.
His absence observably fed the darkness- and its jaws were open wide.
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The Faithful and Ferocious