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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Obi-Wan managed to convince the Lars patriarch to allow Anakin daily visits with Luke, but there was a catch.
It was clear Owen Lars did not truly want Anakin coming around the farm or Luke and he set the condition all visits must be supervised by Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan kept that little detail under wraps as he related the news of the negotiation to Anakin. It was best he reveal that condition in private and bear the brunt of the disgraced Jedi's rage personally.
However, Owen Lars couldn't take it! Was there no decency left? He did not like the repulsive look of Luke's so-called father and he was even less enthused about the horror stories he'd heard about the black nerf traitor. He was going to spell it out nice and clear who was calling the shots in this ballgame! He marched up relatively close to the two quietly-talking men as they slowly walked towards the corvette and loudly reminded Ben not to let the unwashed savage near the Great Chott salt flat unaccompanied.
This did not sit well with the unwashed savage. The shouting, cursing, and pinkish radiance illuminating his rabid eyes made it clear to even Owen Lars to refrain from any further provocation.
Obi-Wan immediately tried to silence Anakin and steadfastly stepped in front of him as soon as he took a step towards his verbal-assault victim. Though Obi-Wan met substantial resistance, he manually turned his infuriated friend around.
When Anakin attempted to glare menacingly over his shoulder at the red-faced moisture farmer, Obi-Wan slung an arm around him and quietly soothed, "It will be alright, you won't have to see him. I'll take care of it. Come now, let's go home."
He gritted in low tones through clenched teeth, "I want to twine his intestines around his throat."
The older Forceful didn't bat an eye, "No, you don't. If you did that, your five-year-old son would witness the resulting carnage."
He croakily conceded, "Let's go home then."
Obi-Wan kept an arm around his shoulders, for comfort and for insurance, as they walked back towards the corvette. Streaks of incandescent pink still lingered in his eyes when Ahsoka opened the hatch. She caught sight of the coloration instantly and wisely withheld her questions, instead turning straight back around and making her way towards the cabin. The two former generals stepped into the ship and sealed the hatch.
Obi-Wan was shut down the second he opened his mouth to speak.
"I don't want to talk about it."
Anakin turned and headed towards the rest compartments section. Obi-Wan let out an inaudible sigh but didn't pursue. Instead, he tiredly made his way to the cabin and sat down in the co-pilot seat. Ahsoka and he sat in cautious silence while she fired up the engines and took to the sky. She was almost afraid to inquire what happened at the Larses' residence, fearing Anakin lost his chance to visit Luke. What frightened her more were the irresponsible immoralities he would commit if Owen Lars refused him his son. Her wandering mind didn't have to go far before Obi-Wan freely commented, "He still has a way with people."
"Did he draw blood or just fling a cluster of Huttese expletives around?" the Shilian lightly jested.
He heftily exhaled in exasperation, "In the course of the confrontation, he called Mister Lars corpulent, insensate, misshapen, ill-bred, amoebalike, worthless, and taeditet, whatever that means, and declared the poor man to be a bastard, a bitch, a sand flea, and a cercopithecoid. Of course, he had to throw in that Missus Lars is a mastodon and they are trying to steal his son because they're grabby, predatory sickos that like destroying families. I finally got him to stop talking about there."
"He handled it better than I expected."
Obi-Wan couldn't stop the small grin that stretched over his lips, "I'd like to think it's a blend between my fine childrearing and his voyage into maturity that's brought him to this composed, considerate phase of life."
Ahsoka wore an impish smile when she turned back towards the windshield. However, the humor was lost by the time she observed, "His eyes recolored."
"They did," he nodded, "though I'm not quite sure what it means. Anakin's always had a nasty temper and an even nastier mouth. Still, something moved over him and exacerbated his behavior just now. When he was consumed by darkness before, he had no control over himself. He couldn't be reasoned with, couldn't be talked down. I was able to get through and converse with him back there."
"Something tells me you have a theory about it."
"I suspect there's possibly an aftereffect, traces of darkness still lingering within him. It's like an addict kicking narco-spice. When they stop, they go into withdrawal, but they have to wait out adverse symptoms until the drug is out of their system."
"It's been five years since he was overcome," she reminded unhappily. "The symptoms of withdrawal appear to be ongoing. What if the traces of darkness never evacuate his system? What if he remains this way?"
He resolutely crossed his arms, not seeking even a moment to consider the negative implications, "So be it."
She bit her lip for a moment before finally muttering, "You're going to have to watch over him from sun-up to sundown. If he goes ballistic-"
"I don't care."
The rest of the route was made in taciturnity. She knew it was pointless to try to convince the Jedi it wasn't wise to live in close quarters with their recovered comrade. As soon as that hooded figure turned around on the walkway in Theed, she knew Obi-Wan's life was no longer his own. There was never a question of what he was going to do: he was going to dedicate his life to keeping Anakin safe and healthy. Even if it cost him everything in return. Her most consuming fear was a reversion or, even worse, that this was all an illusion. She heard what it took for Obi-Wan to realize Anakin was lost the last time. She cringed to think what it would take a second time. Obi-Wan's home in the Jundland Wastes came into view. After planetfalling, they stood from their seats and she swiftly turned to grab his shoulder, "That temper is going to turn on you eventually. You know this."
"I don't care."
As he walked past her, she gave a sigh and turned her gaze to the floor, "I really hate to say this. I hope you know I do." She warily met his curious gaze, "Did you ever think Anakin returning to the light is too good to be true? Have you even considered this might be a ploy by the Sith, by Darth Vader, to kill you? Vader knows it's a slim chance he can kill you in a battle of brute physical and Force strength. Did you ever think this isn't really Anakin? That it's Darth Vader trying to play the part of Anakin? It would explain the even-more-than-usual explosive temper and the pink eyes."
His voice maintained a cool tone, though his flaring nostrils gave away his crossness, "How would you explain when his eyes are azure? Like they were earlier today?"
"Intraocular implants? Maybe even they can't conceal the iris coloration the dark force imposes when he's enraged. Or dark side voodoo? Maybe another abuse of the Force they love to delve into."
He turned away from her and quietly, crisply whispered, "This is Anakin."
"No one has ever stepped back into the light after being engulfed by the darkness, Obi-Wan. No one. I know Anakin Skywalker was an exceptional man, but this is too unachievable, even for him," she swallowed heavily and clutched the headrest of the pilot's seat.
"I know Anakin. I know the cadence of his speech, his normal pattern of breathing, the types of words he uses. I know his humor, what will make him upset, what to say to make him less upset. I know his anxious tics, I know when he's faking a smile. I know the tense way he holds his mechno-arm, the normal angle of his posture, how wide his average stride is." Obi-Wan transitorily paused to look back at Ahsoka, "This is Anakin."
"I don't want to see you get hurt," she miserably admitted as he treaded to the doorway.
"You can't imagine what Anakin's return means to me," he quietly declared and raised his hands to securely grip the doorframe.
"I think I can," the renounced Jedi contended. "That doesn't mean you should fork all your trust over to him again. At least, not right away."
His hands dropped from the doorframe, "I didn't say he has my trust. He'll have to earn that back."
She couldn't stop herself from asking one last burning question, "What if it happens again?"
Without sparing a glance, he stopped, crossed his arms, and vowed, "It will kill me. Whether our sabers clash again or not… if I lose him again, it will kill me."
Once he was out of sight, she mumbled to herself, "That's what I'm afraid of."
::::
Anakin noticed a drastic difference in Ahsoka within a matter of hours. When they were first reunited, she embraced him and expressed how elated she was to see him again. It didn't take too much time before she put distance between them and answered his attempts at conversation with small, tight smiles. After he and Obi-Wan returned to the corvette from the moisture farm, she wouldn't even look at him. When Obi-Wan escorted him off the ship to show him around what was to be his new home, she told Obi-Wan they needed to talk and stayed behind. He didn't have the first clue what they spoke of, but when the Stewjonian came back from the ship without Ahsoka, he walked into the blazing desert day as swiftly as he could with the pain radiating in his thin frame.
His former padawan was boarding the vessel when he called out, "Snips, wait up!" She turned with her arms folded behind her back and forced her eyes to meet his as he approached. "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"
She nervously wiped a hand over her browbone, "Sorry, my thoughts are wound up like cosmic strings. I didn't even realize I hadn't said goodbye."
His brows lowered in disbelief and he easily picked up the distress in her expression and voice, "Banthashit. Don't start lying to me now."
She took a moment before finally braving her old master's stare, "Fine. Honestly? I'm not sure if I believe this or not."
"Believe what?" his head shook in misunderstanding.
"Believe that this is you, back from the dark side," she confessed, waving a hand towards him.
"What the hell else would it be?"
"I'm not sure," the spacer pressed a palm against her forehead, "a trick of the Sith or something equally nefarious."
"I…" his eyes darted around before meeting hers again, "I don't know what to do to convince you, Ahsoka. What do you want me to do?"
"Prove me wrong. Don't hurt Obi-Wan. Be there for Luke. Just prove me wrong."
"I want to be there for Luke," he earnestly insisted. "I want to shield him and nurture him and give him anything he may want or need. I will never abandon him like I did five years ago. Especially not for something as transitory and hollow as power or as perfidious as affairs of state." His voice shrunk, "I don't want to hurt Obi-Wan again. You don't know how much I despise myself for betraying him, for attempting to hurt him. The last thing I said to him was I hate you and if it takes until my last breath, I will earn his forgiveness and earn his friendship back. Conversely, if my last breath is what's needed to stop from hurting him again, I would welcome it."
Appeased by the sincerity and devotion in his voice, she sighed, "You really do sound like your old self." She reached to her belt and pulled a small device from a zipper pocket. She held it out to Anakin, "Here, take this comlink. Keep in touch with me, okay? Let me know how things are going here and I'll let you know how things are going out there."
He received the comlink then grasped her wrist, disregarding her unsure visage. The aches and pains in his body were too ignored as he dragged her into an unannounced hug, "I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to you. I hope eventually you can forgive me for all the torment and horror I caused."
He stepped out of the embrace as soon as the words were spoken with the intent to make tracks back to his new home but delicate words stilled his feet.
"You already have my forgiveness. What I need is reassurance."
"Then you shall receive it," he saluted over his shoulder.
::::
As Obi-Wan finished laying the coverlet over the bed in the extra bedroom, he considerately looked up, "I will go to the Market Place in Mos Eisley tomorrow to purchase you new garb. They have the kind you like. You can borrow something of mine for tonight."
Anakin's face was stone cold serious despite his joking inquiry, "What's wrong with the clothes I'm wearing?"
Obi-Wan stood upright and put his hands on his cocked hips, "Mud, blood, grime, tatters, and bloodcurdling odor should be all I need to say. You're not getting in this clean bed with those clothes on."
"Oh, Obi-Wan," the younger Forceful grinned tiredly, "you haven't loosened up at all since I've been gone."
Obi-Wan's chin dropped and he peered at the mouthy brunette from under flashing lashes, "Yes, and you still like to try my patience."
Anakin's smile turned toothy as he leaned against the wall, "I suppose you're going to demand I get in the shower before I dare touch your clothes, yeah?"
"I'm touched you remember I enjoy cleanliness."
"Why, of course. Second only to your enjoyment of condescension."
"Go get in the shower," he commanded as his hands dropped from his hips and he moved to turn down the sheets.
"Yes, chief," Anakin snickered and pushed off the wall.
"Be mindful of the limited water supply."
An expression reading Are you serious passed over Anakin's face, "I hail from this planet."
"Yes, you do."
"I took showers for nine years on this planet."
"Yes, you did."
"I know to be mindful of the limited water supply."
Obi-Wan exasperatedly rolled his eyes, "Accept the friendly reminder and go take a shower."
Anakin couldn't fight the smile that stretched over his lips. He passed through the doorway but doubled back, smile lost and humbled eyes fixed on the beige flextile floor, "I-I forgot to tell you…I used the Force today." He glanced up only long enough to view Obi-Wan's perplexed stare, "That probably doesn't…Let me start over. I haven't used the Force in five years. Not since…But I used it earlier today when Ahsoka brought Luke to the corvette to take off his restraints. I didn't even consider it at the time. It didn't even cross my mind. I didn't realize it until you were showing me around this place, for whatever reason."
Unable to look into his friend's eyes and find any amount of bitterness or dissatisfaction, he prattled on, "I wanted-needed to tell you. I've abstained from using the Force because I didn't want to chance the dark side re-entering me. I was afraid any amount of cosmic stimulus would instantaneously be blackened and I would be consumed again. Then the minute I saw those fucking stun cuffs on my son, like he was a slave, the Force flowed through me before I willfully permitted it or even considered it. I broke my restraints without a first thought, let alone a second, and I needed you to know."
Although he was surprised all this was freely confessed to him, Obi-Wan managed a heartening smile as he paced to the other side of the bed, "You've given into much worse impulses than helping your son, Anakin." When his smile was returned, he cooed, "Now off you go. Stay under that water until your skin is its natural color again."
Anakin nodded with a widened grin, "Right, chief."
Not much time passed before he stripped off the last piece of clothing he wore and turned towards the shower door. Unexpectedly, he encountered a metaphorical knife to the gut. A rustic mirror was perched above the sink and it reflected a horrifying vision. Raised high enough that he only had to see from his waist up, he still saw more than he bargained for. How did none of them flee in terror? His eyes were sunken into dark circles, his cheeks were gaunt, his hair was greasy and knotted, his skin was filthy and crusted with blood, he was all angles and bones. Luke, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka all embraced him as though he didn't look like a battered corpse. To be fair, Ahsoka did tell me I look terrible. He never tried to acquire a mirror while staying in the Lake Country hut and he wish he didn't have one now. I'm nauseating. His hands smeared over his face and his head shook with a growl at himself, "Suck it the flott up. Who cares?"
You want Obi-Wan to find you attractive.
"He never found me attractive."
You want him to fuck you.
He barked back, "Get out of my head."
Poor Anakin. Here with Obi-Wan, who is still as sexy, magnetic, and beautiful as he's always been and you're a cadaverous, hideous, ill-natured goblin. He wouldn't touch you before and he especially won't now.
"Stop trying to use him to make me spiral out of control. All you want is for me to harm him and I will never harm him again."
Oh, not only will you harm him, but you'll break his will and annihilate every single facet of his being. The vileness in you is vast.
"I will not harm him. I won't lay a hand on him."
When did I ever say you will lay a hand on him?
His mouth moved, but the taunt went unaddressed. He heard nothing else as the pace of his breathing increased and decided it was best to distract himself. He moved from the mirror to the shower and slid open the glass door to step inside. As soon as he turned on the showerhead, the spray of water elicited a hiss. It beat against the raw wounds over his ribs and chest mercilessly. See where your anger problems get you? Spinning around to relieve the pain only drew a louder hiss as the warm water pulverized the open wounds he forgot about on his back. This wouldn't be a Force-damn problem if you'd been able to control yourself after reading that fucking bulletin. He stepped out of the spray and leaned his flat palms against the slippery walls, getting a clear view of the gash on his forearm, and mentally prepped for the upcoming pain. But no, you felt compelled to use your right arm to throw the canister of bacta against a Force-damn tree. He pushed back under the water after a couple moments and heaved through the stinging bites in his wounds. He knew how unhappy Obi-Wan would be with him if he didn't come out sparkling.
Teeth were grit tight as the filth was gradually washed from his person. Once he was sure Obi-Wan would be pleased, he turned off the faucet and leaned his hands against the shower wall once more. In time, he caught his breath and opened the shower door to grab a light blue towel from a rack on the wall. After drying off, he started towards the exit but stopped short. Suddenly, the image he beheld in the mirror flashed through his mind and he didn't want to go out in only a towel. In his newly-acquired self-consciousness, he cracked the door to the fresher open to timidly call out, "Obi-Wan?"
He heard a few shuffling noises then approaching footsteps, "What is it? Is everything alright?"
"Fine," he lied. "You said you have something I can wear tonight, right?"
"Yes, it's in your bedroom," was the innocent rejoinder.
He consciously tried to stop his voice from shaking, "Can you bring it to me?"
Normally, Obi-Wan would never indulge such tripe. Anakin was a grown man and could easily walk to the bedroom and get his own change of clothes. However, a few things didn't sit right. For starters, in spite of the ineffective attempt to mask it, the Jedi could discern by voice alone how jittery his old padawan was. Anakin's normal speaking voice was very strong and commanding. Sometimes he was louder than he realized or intended and he usually always sounded irritated even if he wasn't. Whenever he spoke in the quivering voice just used, something was wrong and it was usually serious.
Secondly, if there were no problems as the Tatooinian claimed, yet he refused to exit the fresher until he was clothed, he plainly did not want to be seen unclothed. Anakin had never been anything less than absolutely secure about his body, at least that was always so when it was only him and Obi-Wan and no one else around. What made him become so insecure about his body that it would cause him to ask for help- something else that was strange within itself- to avoid displaying it? Because you've lost weight? Ultimately, Obi-Wan responded, "Sure, hold on."
He retrieved the outfit from Anakin's new bedroom and handed it through the small opening in the door. After receiving a curt thanks, he went back to the sitting room and waited. When his friend finally emerged from the fresher, his worries were momentarily forgotten and a grin decorated his lips. The younger Force-sensitive looked lightyears better than he did when he went in. His hair was no longer matted and fell into its natural honey ringlets. Blood no longer caked his brows or dipped into the lines of his lips and his skin was back to its immaculately bronze complexion. As beautiful as always, my dear. Obi-Wan pushed that thought to the back of his brain as he quipped, "Do you feel human again?"
"I didn't know I was ever not human."
Between this response and the odd request minutes before, Obi-Wan's smile faded, "That was a joke. Did something unpleasant happen in the refresher?"
"No," Anakin began frantically pacing around the sitting room then suddenly strode to his new bedroom.
Obi-Wan made a split-decision to allow the oddly-behaving man a cool off period while he checked the fresher for any abnormalities. Upon entry, he didn't notice anything bizarre or noteworthy. The room looked as it usually did and nothing seemed out of place. The only thing even the slightest out of order was the blue towel left in a ball on the floor. The Stewjonian rolled his eyes though he was endeared by the characteristic disorderliness.
"Still can't pick up after himself," he merrily grumbled and picked the towel up off the floor. As he untangled it to hang it over the rack, he found copious amounts of fresh blood on it. The wound on his back. He dropped the towel and nearly sprinted through the house, not even bothering to knock before charging into his injured housemate's room. He found the brunette curled up in bed with both eyes squeezed shut and body unbelievably tense. He paced to the side of the bed, "On your stomach."
The dismissal came out strained, "I'm fine."
He covered the man's protruding hip with his hand, "Don't make me manhandle you on the first night."
Anakin felt tingling shivers course over the side of his body, branching down his thigh and up his shoulder, at the touch. He followed the directive without argument and rolled onto his stomach, which allowed him to hide his pained expression in a pillow. He'd pressured his wounds with that blue towel until they stopped seeping before dressing and leaving the bathroom, so if he kept his movements to a minimum, he might be able to get through this situation without bleeding through his black, long-sleeved shirt.
Even though the garment was drawn up only enough so the deep fissure on his lower back could be inspected, he didn't want his best friend to see even a millimeter of his bare flesh. However, his want for Obi-Wan to touch him was greater than his fear of Obi-Wan seeing his decrepit temple. He was simultaneously grateful and apprehensive when warm fingertips traced over his back and he prayed the goosebumps prickling over his skin went unnoticed. Even if they were noticed, they weren't mentioned.
"I feared it was going to be much worse considering all the blood on that towel," the fretful blonde breathed in relief. He couldn't make out what kind of weapon caused the deep-tissue damage since there were no tracks from a knife or burns from a lightsaber, but he treated the wound with care all the same. His hand hovered over the wound, "You know how this goes: hold still."
Anakin did as he was told. A few unintelligible murmurs helped to bring forth a blue-white glow that soon dimmed and erased the piercing sensation in his lower back. He chose not to inform his healer he sustained more open wounds and climbed onto his elbow to roll over, "Thanks."
Obi-Wan again settled his hand on his friend's hip, "Let me use the shirt to wipe off the excess blood so you don't get it on the bed." He gently wiped the blood away and stood upright, "I'll get you another shirt. Take this one off. I'll be right back."
The brunette swallowed nervously. He knew if he didn't remove his shirt by the time Obi-Wan returned it would raise colossal suspicion. Enough had been raised as it was and he really didn't want to explain his diffidence. Between humiliation, fear, and ego, he'd rather eat hot coals than tell Obi-Wan he was insecure. He hesitantly sat up and peeled off his bloodied shirt, tossing it on the floor. He tried to feign confidence while waiting shirtless on the bed but one glance down at his jutting bones and disfiguring scars and he went to pieces. His arms giftwrapped around his torso instinctively. He recognized how fishy that appeared and tried to drop his arms but ended up in the fishier position of his legs folded against his chest with his arms around his knees. Obi-Wan returned at this point.
He noticed how his old padawan was sitting, as if ashamed of being seen, right away. The prior events of the evening suddenly added up. Have you forgotten who I am? Nonetheless, he decided against saying anything. If Anakin wanted to talk about it, he would do so on his own time. If there was one aspect about Anakin that never altered it was that he did everything in his life on his own time. Obi-Wan leaned down to place the clean shirt on the end of the bed when he happened to see through his housemate's limbs, "Lower your arms and legs."
"Spast, I can put on the shirt. You don't have to help me."
"No," he brushed off the irritable comments, "I see prominent lines of blood on your chest and ribcage." His mystified eyes searched the other man's face, "Why are you trying to hide from- hide these wounds from me?"
"I don't want you worrying about me."
The appalled Jedi moved around the bed with a shake of the head, "It will take all of a minute to heal those wounds. Do you have anymore?"
"No."
He sat down on the side of the bed and promptly saw a mark peeking out from under a folded arm. He touched the pad of his forefinger under Anakin's chin to draw their eyes together, "Do you have anymore?"
The panicky Force-sensitive tugged his face to the side to disconnect the light touch, "It's nothing I can't handle."
"I don't doubt that. That doesn't change the fact I'm not going to leave you sitting around with open wounds."
Denial was a wasted labor. Sky-blue eyes squeezed shut, "I know you can see the one on my forearm. There's another one on my back, higher up."
"Is that all?" When the question only received a faint nod, Obi-Wan knew he was being brushed off, "Where else?"
"It's…it's on my thigh."
His eyebrows knitted at the fretful tone in the admission. He did his best to soothe any concern, "That's fine, I will heal it."
He shifted closer on the side of the bed and raised his hand over Anakin's ribcage. Although he was focused on incantations for the Force-healing, he noticed quivers pulsating over his patient's incredibly tense body. He made no mention of his observations, as he didn't want to exacerbate whatever emotional distress his housemate appeared to be in. The quivers seemed to grow increasingly worse as he repeated the healing process over the slighter man's chest, forearm, and upper back. Still, he refrained from comment. However, he could not overlook the reaction to the attention the last wound received. He reached for the waistband of Anakin's sleep pants, intending to untie and remove them so he could get to his friend's thigh, when feeble hands shoved him away and a timid voice whimpered, "Don't."
Obi-Wan's hands and voice lowered, "What's going on, Anakin?"
"I can't do this," he moaned and rolled away from his healer. His hand automatically reached down and twisted into the waistband of his pants. As though he was afraid Obi-Wan would try to take them off without his permission.
What have they done to you? The older Force-sensitive leaned forward on his hand to move closer to the trembling man but still left a comfortable distance between them, "I won't even make contact. You know there's no need for me to. Your clothes can stay exactly where they are. It will take a little more time and concentration on my part, but all I'm asking is that you hold still for a few minutes."
Placated by these promises, Anakin lifted his hand from his pants and laid still as a hand hovered close to him. Numerous murmured incantations assisted in bringing forth a familiar, flickering blue-white glow. Cobalt eyes were still squeezed tight when Obi-Wan's fingertips touched his shoulder, "Finished."
He flinched and hunched his shoulder inwards, "Don't touch me right now."
Trying to squash his overwhelming worry with distraction, Obi-Wan stood from the bed and assigned himself a task, "I'm going to make sapir tea. After you dress, if you feel like it, come to the sitting room and I'll get you a cup."
To Anakin's relief, Obi-Wan turned and left the room.
::::
The only thing he could think of as he made tea was the events that unfolded in the bedroom. Not only had Anakin never recoiled from him like that, but he'd never, never seen the prodigy Force-wielder display that level of fear. Anakin was an incredibly strong, fearless individual and Obi-Wan could only imagine what he must have gone through, physically and psychologically, in the last five years that would cause him to behave in such a manner. The way he whimpered and protectively grappled at his clothes sent supernova remnants through Obi-Wan's body and soul. The only reason he could think of for those reactions made him want to scream, sob, and strike something all at the same time. He's been violated.
He shook his head and removed the teapot from the warmer. I have no proof of that. He tried to push the thought from his mind, but every time he recalled that dithering don't and Anakin's hand clenching that fabric, his mind strayed to the worst case scenario. The night's preceding events added to the speculation. It would explain why he no longer wants to be seen without clothes. His shaking hands gripped the edge of the countertop and his eyes crammed shut. Who could possibly be capable of overpowering him like that? Palpatine came to mind, but the Dark Lord was an extremely unlikely candidate. It wasn't his customary method of operation. No, it would have had to of been someone else, but that was even more inexplicable. The only individuals with a power level nearly equivalent to the fallen Jedi's was Palpatine, Yoda, and Obi-Wan himself. Safe to say neither of the latter two was the culprit.
Perhaps something was being overlooked here. Maybe they spaced him out. If the individual wasn't as strong as or stronger than Anakin, perhaps they drugged him. Most likely with somatoll. Perhaps there wasn't any narcotizing involved and they managed to catch Anakin off-guard, stunning him and imprisoning him in one way or another. This seemed like the less likely sequence of events though.
Whichever occurred, these were really the only two feasible circumstances in which someone as Force-proficient as Anakin would be able to be violated. But he said he hadn't accessed the Force in five years. Obi-Wan accidentally crushed the tea leaves in his hand. He basically stopped eating, he lost all the weight, lost all his strength, he stopped using the Force. What if it was after the War, after he settled on Naboo? Just a random…
His teeth clenched and his exhales came out in hitches. The fragments of tea leaves crumbled from his hand and he grasped the edge of the countertop again. If it took from this moment to eternity, he would find the vermin that dared to touch Anakin and make sure they could never touch anything again.
That would have to wait for now though. Right now, he needed to tend to his cherished faneta. What could he do to comfort Anakin? He didn't want to bring down any pressure and although he wanted to help with the healing process, he knew it needed to start and progress naturally. There was only room for patience and compassion in this house and to ensure both were given in abundance, he decided to play by ear. He would give reassurance when it was needed, give space when it was needed, give understanding when it was needed, and give reason when it was needed. There was no alternative if he wanted to help his best friend be a whole person again.
The opening of a door sounded through the house and he realized he still hadn't finished brewing the tea. He retrieved more sapir leaves and went fast to work.
Anakin leisurely dressed and made his way towards the sitting room, drawn by the prospect of tea and, above all, Obi-Wan's company. He saw the blonde fussing about the teapot in the kitchen as he made his way across the sitting room and took a seat on the coffee-colored couch. The entire home smelled of sapir, eukamint oil, and Mandalorian oranges. The aromas steeped his olfactory senses no matter where he went but were especially potent in the sitting room. He leaned further into the couch with a smile. You still smell the same, my Obi-Wan.
"Tea, then?" Obi-Wan peered around the corner of the kitchen doorway.
It was as though nothing peculiar occurred in the bedroom. His smile grew, "You're going to give me a cup even if I say no."
"I believe that's a yes," the determined man nodded and disappeared back into the kitchen.
HIs head shook.
Obi-Wan soon came back around the corner with two cups of steaming, freshly-brewed tea. He took a seat on the couch and handed his friend one of the cups. That's when he noticed the leather glove over Anakin's mechno-arm, "Why are you still wearing your glove?"
"What are you talking about? I always wear my glove."
"Yes, in public. We aren't in public anymore. Or am I a part of the public now?"
"No. I don't like to look at it anymore. That's all."
Figuring this issue tied into the ones demonstrated in the fresher and bedroom, he backed off. He instead turned to a topic pressing more heavily on his mind, "Where did those wounds come from?"
"W-what?"
"The open wounds I healed. Where did they come from?"
The younger Forceful's teacup began to tremor and his breathing became audibly heavier. Easily perceiving he pushed too far too quickly, Obi-Wan went into reverse, "You don't have to answer. Forget I mentioned it." When the shimmer of tears welled up in distraught oceanic eyes, he shifted his teacup to one hand and twisted around, "Anakin." Once he saw eyelids fluttering wildly, he couldn't help but reach forward to grasp a mechanical knee, "Anakin."
The touch didn't even register; Anakin's merciless mind had consumed him. The many wounds he'd sustained over the last five years were reminders that he was pathetic and weak-willed, that he was damaged goods, that he'd afforded power with the cost of blood. He'd given his wife's blood, his fellow Jedi's blood, his own blood. They were reminders that all the blood he spilled meant nothing. He was the blemished incarnate of evil and all the credits in the galaxy would never buy back his soul. How could his old master nonchalantly speak of the tributes to the demon dwelling within him? He turned weepy eyes to the worried man beside him, "How can you so readily accept me into your home like this? Heal my wounds and serve me tea?"
The words were spoken like gospel truth, "You are my brother, Anakin."
They were met with soundless self-deprecation, "I am nothing."
Obi-Wan looked forward and his hand gravitated over his mouth, anxiously rubbing before his head whipped around to find flooding eyes again, "Do you have any idea what kind of grief I went through while you were gone, because you were gone? It was so devastating I lost the ability to feel."
Anakin looked down despondently, so Obi-Wan ducked closer to convey the solemnity of his words, "Every rotation, I repeated the same routine, never hoping for anything different because I was numb and I preferred to be numb than to feel what I should have felt. I lost the closest person in my life and there was nothing I could do about it. I hadn't been able to prevent you from falling into darkness; I hadn't been able to save you from it. I wasn't able to bring you back. When it hit me I'd lost you, it crippled my emotions so conclusively, I couldn't use them anymore. I didn't want to… The minute I saw you in Theed, I was revived."
He relinquished the knee in his tight grip to wipe away two roving tears that fell from incredulous, blue doe eyes, "You're my best friend and I'm so ecstatic to have you in my house, healing your wounds and serving you tea."
More tears slipped over Anakin's eyelashes when his face jerked away the tender touch, "I don't merit this, any of this."
"Anakin-"
The teacup shook violently, "I don't merit Luke's acceptance, your kindness, Ahsoka's forgiveness, none of it."
"I don't care what you think you deserve," Obi-Wan clutched the upset man's shaking hand, "it's what I want to give you."
"You should want to toss me out like the garbage I am."
The distraught man shoved off the couch, clumsily placing his teacup on the coffee table, and virtually dashed across the sitting room. Obi-Wan slid his teacup on the table as well and trailed close behind. They skipped up the stairs to the landing and raced through the front door one right after the other. The older Forceful followed a few meters behind the younger one through the moonless night across sandy terrain. They trekked all the way to the Dune Sea before he called out, "Anakin, stop!"
Anakin followed the order, if only because he didn't know what else to do, and stooped over without warning to place his head in his hands. By the time Obi-Wan finally caught up to him, he was nearly hyperventilating from sobbing. The Jedi circled round and drew his friend into his arms to allow a hand-covered face to rest against his chest, "I didn't tell you all that to upset you. I was trying to express how euphoric I am to have you here with me."
Mismatched arms enfolded Obi-Wan in a desperate embrace, "You can't imagine how much I missed you. I'd see your face in my dreams. I'd hear your voice. I remembered how disappointed in me and ashamed of me you were. Every single word you spoke on that last rotation was etched on my heart, played in my ears night after night. I relived trying to kill you every time I closed my eyes and I wanted to die. I never thought…" The brunette drew in a wobbly breath and straightened to his full height to press his face into caramel hair. The scent of sapir, orange, and eukamint again drowned his senses and he felt the arms around him tighten, "I never thought I would see you again."
"I'm right here," Obi-Wan attentively rubbed consoling circles against his friend's prominent shoulder blade. He felt the emaciated man melt against him and his voice poured like hot syrup, "Come back inside."
"Having me here will only bring you misery."
He tilted his head back with a challenging gaze, "I'm accustomed to your variety of misery."
Anakin rotated his head to the side, "I'm serious. I'm not the same person I once was."
Obi-Wan traced the tips of his middle and index fingers down the sun-blushed jawline turned towards him, "We all change, Anakin."
A covert shiver stemmed from the gentle touch, "Sometimes for the worse."
"Or perhaps-" he grasped his friend's tiny waist, resulting in a measurable recoil. When the Tatooinian stepped back and looked down abashedly, he worriedly questioned, "Did I hurt you?"
"No, of course not. Why would you think that?"
"You jumped when I touched you. What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Anakin denied but unexpectedly began pacing without direction as he did earlier in the house.
"You know you can tell me what's wrong."
Go ahead, tell him the truth. Tell him you don't want him touching your ghastly, grotesque figure. Maybe he'll surprise you and tell you he adores half-machine skeletons.
"What do you want me to fucking say?" he seethed as his fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt. "Do you want me to tell you you hurt me when you didn't?"
"I…I didn't say anything like that?" Obi-Wan's eyebrows furrowed bewilderedly. "I simply asked if I hurt you. You've never-"
His voice rose exponentially, "What happened to we all change? Can I not determine I don't like you kriffing touching me anymore?"
"That would be fine except it perceptibly bothers you that-"
"No, it doesn't bother me! I am not bothered!" he irately contended with emphatic hand motions. His maniacal pace intensified and his eyes remained trained on the cool sand at his feet, "I just don't like you touching me!"
"Fine, you don't like me touching you," the Jedi impatiently conceded, using all his willpower not to roll his eyes. Even if he took this explication at its face, which he didn't, more questions needed answering. "Why did you jump when I touched you instead of just telling me not to do it? Do I frighten you?"
The concession made seemed to bring the argument down a notch. When Anakin responded, he was no longer yelling, "I didn't jump because I was frightened, I jumped because I didn't expect you to touch me. That's it."
Considering their earlier proximity, Obi-Wan was not convinced. Instead of arguing, he waited until the other Forceful paced close enough that he was able to reach out and clasp an arm. Again, Anakin skidded back. He calmly lifted up a hand, "You did it again."
"Stop touching me."
He disregarded the warning and jetted a hand out to seize a thin wrist, firmly holding it. His other hand cupped around the back of Anakin's neck and his impassioned eyes drilled into anxious ones, "You do not have to hide from me. I understand if you don't want me to touch you as often as I used to, but I don't want you to cover your body because you think I can't stand the sight of it. You know me better than that. Or at least you should." He prompted, "Tell me you hear me."
Anakin eventually bashfully looked up, "I hear you."
He lingered close for a few moments in hopes his friend would open up like the night before, but when it was clear there would be no further discussion, his hands dropped to his side, "Let's head back to the house." His arms crossed as he walked past his new housemate, "This is only our first night together and you're already dragging me away from my tea."
He didn't mention he hadn't drank sapir tea in five years.
"I'll try not to make a habit out of it."
"That would be appreciated."
Once they got back to the house, Anakin didn't stop at the couch to resume their tea party. He passed on through the sitting room and quietly stated, "I'm going to bed."
"That's fine," Obi-Wan tried to strip the disappointment from his voice. "Call for me if you need anything."
"I will. Goodnight, Obi-Wan."
"Goodnight, Anakin."
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The Faithful and Ferocious