Complexities of Love | By : agentj Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 2424 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
"You were right," he gasped, trying desperately to keep his son in sight. Luke seemed to stretch further and further away as he felt himself slip down a long, dark tunnel. "Tell your sister—you were right."
Anakin felt himself slip down into the abyss. The warm arms of eternal sleep wrapped themselves around his tortured torso and caressed his brow, slipping their fingers into his hair—
Wait. His hair?
Slowly, Anakin turned his head and opened his eyes, blinking against the soft, golden light that streamed in from the windows of Obi-Wan's sleeping quarters in the Temple.
Obi-Wan?!
Anakin's hands hooked around the bare masculine arms that held him firmly against the other man's chest. His breath quickened as he felt the soft pulse of a familiar presence through the Force.
Obi-Wan's tapered fingers continued to caress Anakin's cheek, the older man sending reassurances to the other like gentle waves through the Force.
The rustle of the bed clothes drew Anakin's attention downward, and he felt the warmth of two powerful legs wrapping themselves around his. Anakin responded with a perplexed frown when he realised he could feel the soft downy hairs against his skin. To affirm what he felt was real, Anakin lifted his right arm and stared at it. Although he wasn't entirely sure his eyes were working properly now that the red haze he had become accustomed was gone, the colour was undeniable—Anakin's limbs were flesh again.
He struggled to turn himself, but try as he might, Anakin couldn't face his former master. He was still too weak from his ordeal, so instead he allowed himself to relax against the masculine chest beneath him, soothed by the quiet rise and fall of the other man's breathing. With a soft smile, Anakin lowered his head back into the crook of Obi-Wan's familiar neck and shoulder, reveling in the sensual pleasure of being held, being warm, and being home. His own breath slowed until it matched Obi-Wan's, and soon he was fast asleep.
Anakin's eyes flew open as he bolted up in bed. The cool air of the darkened bed chamber prickled his bare skin as the bed clothes fell away. Blinking rapidly, Anakin's eyes darted about the room, momentarily confused. Suddenly the only sound in the room—or more accurately, the lack thereof—jolted Anakin's memory.
He peered down at his heaving chest. The tips of his fingers traced along the contours of his muscles, lightly touching the areolas that had hardened in the cool air, feeling sensations he hadn't felt in a very long time. His bronze skin was perfect—flawless. Gone were the deep scars and the durasteel monstrosity that intruded into his lungs, regulating every breath he took. Even the old war wounds and blaster burns he had suffered had been erased.
With new-found sense of wonder, Anakin stood and examined his entire body, head to foot. His hands luxuriously gripped his member like the embrace of a long-forgotten friend, enjoying the feel of real skin against skin of the first time again in decades.
Opening his eyes after drinking in the pleasure of his touch, Anakin caught a reflection of himself in the darkening transparasteel. His unruly tawny curls stuck out in every direction as they were wont to do when he rose from slumber. His skin was a healthy tan, and his eyes were a deep blue.
Peering closer to the glass, Anakin traced along his right eye. The scar he had once worn like a badge of honour was also gone. It saddened him a bit to lose this particular scar. Taken in the heat of battle against Asaaj Ventress, Anakin's Clone War scar had made him a man.
Lowering his eyes, Anakin knew why this scar, too, had to go. He had been prideful. He had reveled in the attention it garnered him when the HoloNet tabloids plastered his newly-scared image after the battle and dubbed him the Hero With No Fear. Most importantly, it was because he had enjoyed taking her life, extracting payment far beyond what she owed. Anakin knew his badge of honour was, like the power he welded as a Sith Lord, an empty token.
Anakin's eyes wandered the room. Scattered books and mementos reminded him these were the rooms his former master, Obi-Wan, had taken in the Temple once they were no longer master and padawan. Despite the separation in the title, they had continued to share the rooms from time to time. In truth, Anakin had never secured his own quarters, but rather seemed to split his time between his former master's apartment and his wife Padmé's.
Anakin sighed. Of all the people he owed an apology to, Obi-Wan was one he owed the most. Going to the closet, Anakin found Obi-Wan's clothing hung with perfect care, his cloaks separated from his gis, and his polished boots lined up in rows. Anakin smiled. Nothing about Obi-Wan ever changed. Pulling on a pair of trousers that obviously didn't fit his tall frame, Anakin made do and dressed.
—In the middle of a forest glade. Not just any glade, oh no. He recognised the unique tall, red trees and tenebrous vines that grew between them. He was back on Endor. Anakin frowned and strained his senses. His nostrils flared at the smell of numerous bonfires and the wafting scent of cooking food.
"Arrived, you have, at last!" exclaimed a crackled voice from below him in the foliage. Anakin's head snapped down in surprise to find the voice's source. Master Yoda's green skin tone had blended him into his surroundings; however, the longer Anakin looked at the ancient Jedi Master, the more blue he seemed to sparkle.
"Come, come!" Yoda motioned with a taloned hand as he turned and propelled himself forward with his gimmer stick. "Others awaiting your arrival, they are!"
Anakin watched the glowing blue form move swiftly through the underbrush and apparently float its way upward into the Ewok villages.
"Master Yoda?" Anakin called back, perplexed. "Uh—wait!" He ran through the underbrush, but found that not a leaf reacted to his passing. At the base of the tree where Yoda had gone, Anakin reached for a vine, but his fingers passed right through it.
A bit surprised, Anakin stared at his outstretched hand. Like Yoda, it had a faintly bluish glow about it. And he could see through it.
"Great." Anakin sighed, putting hands on hips that seemed solid enough to him. "I'm a ghost."
Anakin strained his neck to look upward. He watched a little blue figure move about above him. Yoda's cackling fits of giggles wafted down to his ears. "Very amusing!" Anakin shouted up at the diminutive Jedi Master far above.
"Rise yourself up, you must," Yoda called down to him, motioning a taloned hand. "Your ally, the Force is."
Anakin sighed, rolled his eyes and shifted the apparently nonexistent weight of his feet. "How does that toad expect me to—"Anakin mumbled to himself when suddenly he found himself lifting off the ground. "What the—?"
At first, Anakin struggled at his predicament, but then he looked up to see a column of blue light much taller than that of Master Yoda standing above. He blinked and stared in disbelief.
Anakin stared as the glow took shape before him. An older gentleman, his face a crisscross of lines like sand-weathered stone, stood on the walkway staring back at Anakin. As Anakin found his footing, the older gentleman eyes twinkled as he said, "Surely you haven't forgotten me, old friend."
Anakin continued to stare, not entirely sure of what to say. He dropped his eyes and swallowed, feeling like a padawan again who had stayed out past curfew. "You're—you're not angry at me?"
Obi-Wan straightened, hooking his thumbs in his utility belt. "That depends," he spoke, his eyes becoming stern, the colour shifting to steel.
Anakin looked into the old man's line-riddled features. Was his former master going to place conditions on him? Not that he didn't deserve it, of course, but.....
Obi-Wan's eyes shifted colour again as a sorrowful look crossed his face and he said, "It depends on whether or not you're still mad at me, my friend."
"Mad at—?" echoed Anakin, at first perplexed. For a moment, he had almost forgotten the pain of the past two decades, the solitude of endless nights without rest, the cold longing of desires that remained unfulfilled. In a flash the memory of Anakin's anguish echoed back to him from the black shore of Mustafar: the growing grumble of anger at a man long dead as he learned the truth that his child had, in fact, survived his wife's demise. Anakin had hated Obi-Wan as passionately as he had loved him. Their tumultuous relationship had twisted and turned, entwining them with the same complexity as one's understanding of the Force.
Looking away, Anakin finally responded, "I don't deserve your forgiveness."
Even without looking, Anakin could almost feel that crease in Obi-Wan's brow deepening, his crystalline eyes set firmly on Anakin's stormy features. When the stern silence lasted longer than he was accustomed, Anakin's deep blue eyes flickered up to find his former master pondering the cloak he was wearing instead.
"Are you wearing my cloak?" Obi-Wan questioned with that rising lilt to the end of his remark, a trait Anakin had learned meant the older man was teasing.
"What did you expect me to do?" Anakin lifted his chin with defiance, a quirk of a smile playing at the edge of his lips. How easy this game between them was played. "Would you have me come out to greet you naked?"
Obi-Wan's eyebrows quirked up into his brow line, his mouth parting as if to answer.
Anakin jabbed a finger up pointedly as he dipped his head to sternly whisper, "Don't answer that."
The eyes of the two men met again, and although they both trained their lips into straight lines, their eyes twinkled with familiar playfulness. Oh, yes. How good it was to play this game again.
"Come to see, you should," Yoda exclaimed from his perch on a walkway post, his gimmer stick leaning solidly against mid-air as if it were in fact supporting weight. "Returned, he has."
Obi-Wan turned a step away from Anakin, but then cast his gaze back. Tilting his head slightly, he spoke in a hushed tone, "As much as I love you—and truly I do love you, Anakin, but—please—stay out of my pants." Obi-Wan's eyes glittered with amusement before taking his side next to Yoda.
Anakin looked down at his ill-fitted trousers as he realised what Obi-Wan had said—in front of Master Yoda's all-hearing elongated ears, no less. Anakin chanced a side-ways glance at the old Jedi Master to find Yoda smirking up at him. Oh, yes. He had heard.
Anakin's own smirk grew upon his face as he looked up across from Yoda to find Obi-Wan flashing a rare smile upon him. Now Anakin could hardly contain himself from bursting out. He pressed his lips hard together, feeling a warm flush upon his cheeks.
Anakin felt the presence of his son approaching, and he turned to see Luke beaming with pride and joy upon his father. Anakin felt his heart jump to see the boy—this man—so accomplished and confident. Against all odds, Luke put his faith in his father and in the Force, and with childish innocence had guided Anakin back to the light.
Feeling out of place for the focus of so much happiness and merriment, Anakin played with the hem of his robe. It didn't quite cover his hands as he used to wear it. He realised that there was no need. Anakin didn't feel cold or in pain or any physical discomfort as he had for most of his life. For the first time, Anakin realised he just felt loved.
Anakin looked back up and returned Luke's smile, just long enough to see Leia—his daughter, Anakin realised—spirit Luke away back into the fold of his living family of friends. With some regret, Anakin watched as Leia turned Luke away, she herself unable to see him as Luke had seen him. He stood and watched them laugh and talk, but he didn't feel sad. He knew that they had each other, and for the first time, Anakin realised that was enough. Luke's or Leia's abilities and their power to tap into the mysteries of the Force—none of that mattered except for the love and caring they had for each other and their friends.
Anakin closed his eyes. He had been wrong. He had not believed love was strong enough to save someone. He believed only in the harsh reality that power over others and brutality against those weaker than oneself was the way to control things. But slaughtering the Tuskens had not brought back his mother. Forcing Padmé to live a lie did not endure her to join him.
Anakin sighed, his shoulders slumping forward as he released his frustrations into the Force. Everything and everyone he ever knew was now gone, including himself. By the grace of the Force—or perhaps it was his punishment—his consciousness continued. He would be there to see his children, and perhaps their own as well, make a new and hopefully brighter future for themselves.
A large, firm hand gripped Anakin's shoulder. Like the insistent voice that had awoken him earlier, the grip was both strange and familiar, like the strains of a long-forgotten tune. Anakin opened his eyes and turned to look upon the presence behind him.
"Qui-Gon!" Anakin's voice breathed the name with as much reverence as astonishment. The Jedi Master's leonine features were framed by the same shimmering blue light as he and his other companions, yet at the same time, Qui-Gon's ethereal aura had a greater brightness to it, a quiet joyful energy of life that had not escaped his essence.
Qui-Gon's gentle smile assuaged Anakin's unspoken fears. "Yes, Ani. I was with you all those years."
Anakin glanced down, embarrassed. He had witnessed visions of Qui-Gon's form many times in the throes of his glitterstim addiction, a vice he took up to stay the unrelenting pain of his crippling injuries. He had begged Qui-Gon to release him from his self-inflicted prison, then railed against him when Qui-Gon failed to deliver him a reprieve. He cursed Qui-Gon and accused the Jedi of the cruelties of taking him from his home, the death of his mother, the abandonment of their principles, and worse.
"Ani, I would not have chosen Obi-Wan as your teacher if it were not the will of the Force," Qui-Gon answered Anakin's unspoken thoughts, an admonishment for all the years of accusations the boy had placed on him. "That is why it is he who shall continue your training in the Way of the Whills—"
"But, Master!" Obi-Wan interrupted, his voice raising an octave, making him sound much younger than the gentlemanly vision before them. "You said that—"
"I said," replied Qui-Gon forcibly with his characteristic gentle sternness as he slightly turned to face Obi-Wan, "the one who is most appropriate will train Anakin. By all measures, my former padawan, this person is you." Qui-Gon's midnight blue eyes focused directly into Obi-Wan's grey orbs.
Anakin watched the exchange with great interest. He noted the subtle changes in Obi-Wan's features, surprised to see vulnerability in the older man's eyes and uncertainty reflected within. Finally, Obi-Wan nodded his head in acknowledgement, but not with acquiescence of a man destined to fate. Instead, Anakin witnessed a man bestowed with a great honour, a warrior who had been given the right to carry the most elegant blade for his regent, a priest whose faith had been restored through the grace of his deity.
With a sly smirk, Anakin teased his newly-reappointed master, "It seems I will not be rid of you so easily, my master."
Obi-Wan's eyes shifted to look at Anakin as he returned the ribbing. "Nor I you, my padawan."
A quirky smile pushed up one cheek impetuously, and then the other over Anakin's face as he could no longer hide his joy for being able to share barbs with his old friend again.
"It is settled, then," Qui-Gon announced, patting both Anakin and Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Yoda and I will watch over the children."
Anakin turned and looked back over his shoulder. Much more time had passed than he realised, and the Rebel festivities were over. Dying embers smoked from the Ewok fire pits, and a mixture of skin and fur huddled together in slumber. A sentry walked past the sleeping warriors, and a lone couple remained awake at a distance.
Anakin could not hear what was being said, but Luke turned and looked directly at him. Leia's troubled features scanned the area, but obviously saw nothing.
"Will they be all right?" Anakin sighed. "Will they be able to rebuild everything that I had helped to tear down?"
A firm but gentle hand took Anakin by his chin and urged him to look once again on the taller man. Qui-Gon's deep voice reassured Anakin, "As sure as the suns will rise, your children's destinies are secure."
Anakin wasn't entirely sure Qui-Gon's answer was meant to be encouraging or not, but when the gentleman flashed a bemused look at him, Anakin realised it simply didn't matter. Life—and the Force—took care of itself.
Anakin smiled back, and Qui-Gon nodded to Obi-Wan. "Off you go, then."
Obi-Wan took Anakin by the shoulder and together they walked down the wooden pathway into the darkness.
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