Lex Talionis

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life had not turned out the way that he'd expected. Not at all. He reflected upon this, as he sat alone in the Supreme Chancellor’s office, leaning back in the absurdly throne-like chair, his feet on the desk.

As a youngling, his ambition was simply to be a great Jedi Knight. He loved the Code, loved the Order, loved the Force. He was a bit emotional and foolish, but a normal Jedi youngling. Far down on the list of those who would become… something else.

When did it begin? When was he changed? 

Was it perhaps on Naboo, when Master Qui-Gon was cut down, and gave his final order? When his instinct to defy the Council came for the first time, in order to train Anakin? When the Council acknowledged the return of the Sith but did nothing to confront the threat, until that threat swallowed them whole? Was that when his faith was broken?

Questions like these were ultimately pointless—Obi-Wan already knew the real answer to when everything had changed.

He had been sixteen, when he had first dreamed of Anakin. 

It had been a well known fact around the Temple that Obi-Wan was unusually strong with the unifying Force. He had been identified by Master Yoda as a sensitive youngling after experiencing a number of visions of the near future in his dreams. He sometimes knew things he could not know, and had seen things he could not have seen—not yet. 

The prophetic dreams always showed the future from his own perspective, as if he was a spectator of his future experience, watching as he lived events that would take place days or weeks, sometimes even months, in the future. It was occasionally difficult for him to focus on anything else when awake, trying always to match where he was to what he’d seen in visions, never fully present in the moment. 

By age thirteen, it was clear that Obi-Wan needed to be better anchored in the living Force, so Yoda engineered a partnership with Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who was an expert on such things, in the hopes that it would be mutually beneficial. It both was and was not helpful. 

Obi-Wan did learn a great deal about the living Force. He learned to be connected to all life, how to tie himself to a particular moment of mutual existence. This centering and grounding was useful, as it was a skill that opposed his natural inclination to be drawn within the unifying Force, stolen from the moment, and woven into the entirety of the fabric of space-time.

In dreams his consciousness still seemed able to slide along his own timeline, visiting itself in future states.

This was the power that he desperately needed to learn to understand and control, and this was where the partnership with Master Qui-Gon failed. Qui-Gon’s disinterest in and disinclination to teach Obi-Wan about the unifying Force left Obi-Wan adrift. He had to research for himself, without supervision. He had to determine which of his dreams were prophetic or not, without supervision.

Obi-Wan would have appreciated supervision. He craved structure, feedback, improvement. He wanted clear expectations for success and he wanted to meet them. He liked rules, and when people followed them. He was profoundly uncomfortable in front of the Council, trying to reconcile Master Qui-Gon’s irreconcilable behavior over and over. Obi-Wan just wanted to be a good Jedi.

He was sixteen when the dreams began. There had been nothing special about the day before, just an ordinary day at the Temple. He was recently back from a year running from bounty hunters with the Duchess, and was settling back into Temple routine. It’d been an easy day of coursework and sparring. No indications of anything amiss. 

He had three vivid dreams in one night. It was extremely unusual for him to remember more than one dream in the morning, if any. 

He would never forget these three.

His dreams that night were not visions of tomorrow, or next week, or next month. For some inexplicable reason, overnight he seemed to have become exponentially more powerful in the Force. It made no sense. He seemed to be looking many, many years in the future—if they were indeed prophetic dreams at all. They had felt as vivid and real as the other prophetic dreams, but they simply couldn’t be accurate visions of his future. 

They must have just been nightmares.

He was a Jedi, he didn’t…

He’s using the willing body beneath him for his own pleasure, fucking deliberately and roughly, the slap of skin on skin, smiling at a whining moan of submission. His cock is pounding in, so hot, tight, slick, his hands are gripping hips, fingers aching with the pressure as he squeezes bruises into the smooth golden skin. He slides one hand down the long, muscled back swayed in front of him, tracing the curved ridge of the spine down to the neck, tangling a hand in the curly golden mess and grabbing tight, pressing down, shoving the unseen face into the mattress as he continued to slam his cock into their perfect ass, murmuring in a low voice, take it, yes, good, you take my cock so well, Padawan. 

They had to be nightmares. He wouldn’t…

He’s laughing at the sound of gagging as he fucks into a gaping mouth, pulling roughly on golden curls as he drags an unseen face down his cock, drool dripping from the swollen red lips stretched around him, fucking in again, deeper, pushing in, feeling the moment when they finally relax and just take it, let him use their throat, own their body, however he wants. He slides out and hears frantic gasps, sucking in precious air before asking for it again, saying please, please, Master, please, ever so desperately, opening their wet mouth and looking up, begging him for his cock. He slams himself back in, watching eyes roll back and flutter shut in pleasure at being so good, so useful, he says, very good, yes, darling, sweetheart, Padawan, take it. 

He was positively sure they could not be visions of his own future. He couldn’t…

He’s using the Force, holding someone still, binding their hands together, bent over the back of what looks like a curved, metal desk in a large red room, and he’s roughly shoving himself inside, not quite enough preparation, he’s hurting them, and they’re asking for more, more, please, Force, more, so he fucks them, and they say thank you, Master, thank you, please can you, will you, so he does, using even more of the Force to gently begin to cut off the air, choking them as he fucks them, letting them gasp and struggle, before they come, unable to make a sound but their body trembling and tensing around him, so he comes too, looking over at an ornate mirror, at his much older, bearded face with a faint hint of amusement showing in his golden eyes. 

Obi-Wan had awoken to messy sheets, and had stared vacantly at the wall. 

What.

None of it had made sense to him. He had thought about sex, certainly. He was a young, healthy human male with instincts. Not sex like that, though. Never sex like that. Nothing violent, nothing aggressive. He would never, could never, imagine himself having sex with his own Padawan, if he ever had one. He could never imagine laughing as he hurt them, used them. 

If asked the day before the dream, he wouldn’t have even been able to fathom the idea of conjuring up such things. He hadn’t known that people could or would do such things. And yet he had dreamt it. It was just a nightmare, something imagined, not the future, so that meant those desires had already existed inside him, right? How else could he dream of such things?  

How could he even have golden eyes? That simply must mean it was symbolic.  

When asked, Master Qui-Gon’s face had gone still, his tone grave as he acknowledged what happened to those who fell to the dark. Golden eyes. He then swiftly transitioned to a more comfortable topic—discussing thousand-year-old references to golden eyes from various texts he had discovered in the archives. He loved old stories, and so knew a surprising amount of relevant information about the ancient Sith, to Obi-Wan’s horror and despair. 

Sith.

Surely that meant that they definitely couldn’t be prophetic dreams, because the Sith had been vanquished a thousand years in the past. Sith had become the stuff of legend, one step past history, figures bigger than life, becoming a perfect villain for the Jedi’s story of themselves. The story they told the younglings about who they were, why their Code was correct. Mere crèche stories. Sith were just the Jedi’s nemesis, their foil. A narrative device, a concept. 

Sith.

Not possible.

Obi-Wan thus unhappily dismissed the dreams as nightmares indicative of worrying problems with his mental health—his anxiety was out of control. Master Qui-Gon agreed (in abstract, without details that Obi-Wan adamantly declined to share) that dreams pass in time and that Obi-Wan should focus on the here and now. So he did. 

He decided that his problem had been that somehow he became fixated on being the best Jedi possible, a perfect Jedi, which meant that the fear of being a bad Jedi lived inside him. What was the worst Jedi? A Sith. So, his fears had synthesized those dreams, shown him nightmares about being the worst possible Jedi. They were a symptom of a disease that he could cure. 

They were not prophetic. 

All Obi-Wan had to do was be even a moderately good Jedi, and stick by the Code, and those things would never happen. Since they would never happen, that meant those dreams were not visions of his future. His partner was just an amalgamation of things he apparently and worryingly desired, not a real person, not someone he would ever really meet. They were nightmares he wouldn’t have again. He nodded to himself. Sighed in relief. Went to sleep. 

Sucking dark purple bruises down a long neck and across golden collarbones, laughing at whimpering and pleading, knocking flimsy off the desk, pushing down roughly, kicking legs apart, fingers causing moans stretching and preparing, slicking himself quickly with bacta, then teasing with just the tip, waiting for begging, pleading, before slamming the entire length of his cock in with one rough thrust, murmuring, very good, take it, darling, dearest one, Padawan, take it, fucking hard and fast, no more time to adjust, no more time to waste, they’re almost caught, he has to take what what his…

He opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling. He closed them again, in defeat.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

This would become something of a waking-up ritual, in the following years. Not every morning, but enough mornings. 

The dreams weren’t always of sex. Sometimes he was fighting unseen enemies, his Padawan at his back. Sometimes the enemies shot blasters, sometimes the enemies had red lightsabers. Several times, the enemies had blue and green lightsabers. No matter the color of the blade, the mood of these dreams was visceral joy, savage pleasure. One time he had been laughing as his apprentice decapitated an enemy, the sound of the body hitting the floor making his heart race with satisfaction and pride.

It did not sound like a laugh that would come out of his mouth. It did not sound like him. Definitely not. His subconscious was just processing anxiety.

He would try to give the dreams to the Force. He would pretend that he had successfully given the dreams to the Force. He would pretend that he was at peace. He would recite the Code several times. Then, he would get out of bed.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

During the day, Obi-Wan was a good Jedi. A bit too serious, a bit too focused on the rules, to Master Qui-Gon’s endless despair, but as long as he had conscious control of himself and his faculties, he was an exceptionally good Jedi. Obi-Wan knew, though, that he was something else, in dreams. Something feral. Something wrong. He had decided to accept this as just the way it was. The dreams were part of his path to walk as a Jedi, part of his struggle—something to overcome. 

They were just dreams.

Nine years after the dreams began, Obi-Wan Kenobi met a boy and heard the Force whisper, “Padawan.” 

Nine years after the dreams began, Obi-Wan Kenobi met and killed a Sith.

If the Sith were real…

Kriff.

Alone in his office, seated on his de facto throne, Obi-Wan knew. The dreams had been where it all began.

22 BBY

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan shouted down the collapsed tunnel. “Anakin! Where are you?” The dust was beginning to settle, and the obstruction was clearly visible. “Anakin!” The shaft had collapsed completely. Obi-Wan took a deep breath through the cloth of his sleeve and was about to shout again when— 

“I’m here, Master!” Anakin’s voice was muffled behind the wall of rubble. “I’m fine.”

Obi-Wan checked his comlink—no reception. “This is not fine, Padawan!” His voice was loud, and a little more shaky than he liked. 

“Well, obviously, this is bad, Master, but I am fine. There were three miners caught, did you feel them die? I did.” Anakin’s voice came from inside his head, now, a rapid burst of verbalized thoughts. “I sense there are about ten feet of rock between us, what do you feel?”

“Fifteen!” Obi-Wan shouted and then coughed. Blasted dust. He could never let his shields down far enough to openly share his thoughts—he could never, ever, allow Anakin to enter his mind—and he didn’t have the concentration to push a thought at him intentionally. Hence, yelling: “Can you shift them?” He considered, coughed, and added, “I can’t do it alone!”

“Probably, Master, but I worry about making it weaker elsewhere right now, it seems settled like this. I can’t bring down the mine with people still inside.” Anakin’s tone was apologetic. “I’m going to do a sweep, I can feel life forms below us.”

“We do not have time! This is all about to collapse!” Obi-Wan yelled, frustrated. “Do not leave!”

“Master, I know you don’t want to let people be crushed to death if we can prevent it.” Anakin’s voice was almost chiding. 

“I’m sorry, Padawan, but we DO NOT have time!” Obi-Wan’s sense of danger was spiking. “Can’t you feel it?!” He began to hold the tunnel open around him, just in case. “Anakin!”

“Sorry, Master.” Anakin said, and his Force signature began moving away, and down. “I won’t let slaves die like this.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, furious, resigned. “I know you won’t.” Anakin was beyond hearing range from him anyway. Obi-Wan’s head was ringing slightly, the blast had caught both of them off-guard, which was very rare. Obi-Wan’s sense of ‘I-have-a-bad-feeling-about-this’ had been absent, and Anakin hadn’t felt uneasy. The Force was quiet. Until… explosion. 

“I’ve found twelve slaves, Master. Four chained to the wall.” Anakin’s thoughts were a sticky ooze of anger. “Two more dead, still in chains. Days old.” 

Obi-Wan focused as hard as he could and sent one word: “Hurry.” He held the structural integrity of the mineshaft together as best he could, keeping the upper parts of the mine above the collapse as stable as possible. He couldn’t reach below, and he could feel it giving way. “Hurry, Anakin!”

“Stop fussing, Master.” Anakin sounded both resentful and gratified. He always seemed to like it when Obi-Wan communicated through the bond, but he usually didn’t like what Obi-Wan had to say. That was normal. “We are on our way up. One couldn’t walk, we had a delay.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t spare the focus to comment. He held his hands in front of him, sinking in the Force, feeling the shape of the stone and the weight of the earth, pressing his will up against gravity’s pull, giving all of his available resources to the Force, feeding his energy into keeping everything stable and still. 

It was exhausting. 

He wished to the Force that he could be powerful enough to hold up a mountain by himself, but he knew that despite his own relatively considerable power in the Force, he could not do this. Not without Anakin. He was beginning to feel dizzy with the effort.

“I’m here.” Anakin finally projected. “I’m here!” He shouted, immediately after, letting Obi-Wan hear his position. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t yell, he couldn’t lose focus, so he used what sliver of attention he had left over and sent out a weak, undirected “Help me, now!” into the Force at large. Immediately he felt a bit of relief, Anakin’s ocean of power sweeping through and reinforcing all the places that Obi-Wan’s hold was fraying. Obi-Wan relaxed marginally. 

Anakin began shifting the stones to clear a path when the shafts cut directly beneath them suddenly began to cave in, turning their tunnel’s floor into a fracturing mess. 

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan shouted, voice flush with panic, “Now! We have to go NOW!” He pushed his last bit of effort into the Force, holding the floor up. 

“Let it drop!” Anakin’s thoughts came fast, frantic. “No, Master, Obi-Wan, let it drop, I can hold the ceiling up.” Obi-Wan didn’t understand. Anakin’s voice came even faster, “Let the floor fall under the blockage! Let it drop! It’s the only way!” With a sense of resignation, Obi-Wan refocused his powers on holding his side of the tunnel and only his side alone open. It was all he had left in him to do. “Thank you, Master, yes, that is perfect, Master, thank you!”

Anakin’s low, grateful murmur in his head made Obi-Wan’s stomach turn over, hands trembling slightly. He had heard those words before. Many, many times over the past twenty years. He swallowed and forcefully refocused, having almost lost his grasp. 

Anakin let the floor drop and controlled the fall, filling in the hole with the rubble from above, creating and holding a tunnel open for the surviving miners to hustle through, Anakin following up the last. The miners were all pale, starved, filthy, and terrified, streaming around him. Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared in frustration as he began to lose his grip. “Anakin!” His voice was strangled. The miners weren’t clear. They weren’t clear. They were all about to die if—

Anakin was there, Anakin was grabbing him, Anakin was pulling him along, Anakin was keeping him running. Obi-Wan had exhausted himself totally into the Force and had almost nothing left. The tunnel was collapsing behind them, on their heels. They shot out of the door into the refinery with only moments to spare, the crash behind them was tremendous, the dust cloud billowing out with them. Obi-Wan tripped over his feet, Anakin’s grip on his arm turned Anakin sharply back towards him, and then Anakin tripped over backwards over his heels, and they both went down hard, Obi-Wan landing on Anakin’s stomach.

For a long moment, they both just lay there, while the collapsing mountain settled and the reverberating cracks stopped shaking the ground. Anakin was still gripping his arm tightly, holding him close—Obi-Wan was boneless, exhausted, lying stretched on top of Anakin’s body, cradled on his chest. They were both gasping for air. Obi-Wan’s face was pressed near the junction of Anakin’s neck and shoulder, and before Obi-Wan regained his sense of balance and understanding of where his body was and what it was doing, he breathed in one long breath with his nose, taking in the scent of Anakin—

He felt a lightning strike of arousal, and jerked back so that he rolled off and lay next to Anakin instead, pulling his arm sharply out of Anakin’s grip. He was furious with himself. The dreams didn’t have scent. He didn’t need to add scent.

These occasional spikes of arousal had only become a problem after Anakin had gone through his final growth spurt, becoming taller than Obi-Wan, gaining broader shoulders than Obi-Wan. Ever since his voice had deepened from his high childish tones to the hauntingly familiar low, melodic, masculine ones. His cock should not get hard whenever his Padawan merely called him Master in a deeply grateful tone, and yet it did. He gave those feelings to the Force, over and over. 

Anakin had become—almost overnight, it seemed—almost identical to the man Obi-Wan had been dreaming about for as long as he could really remember. All that was missing were curls that he would presumably grow as a Knight, a metal hand, which was concerning, and a scar over an eyebrow. The otherwise familiar form and presence of Anakin’s adult body—the strength of his chest, the length of his arms, the softness of his skin—was known somewhere deep in Obi-Wan’s consciousness, and his subconscious recognized him in a way that Obi-Wan found completely unacceptable. His reactions began to be wrong. Anakin was still a Padawan.

His Padawan. 

Obi-Wan pursed his lips and breathed his calming breath. “You disobeyed a direct order, Anakin.” Anakin scoffed lightly back at him. He didn’t even bother to defend himself, or to acknowledge Obi-Wan’s point at all. He just scoffed. “Excuse me?” Obi-Wan asked, voice sharp.

Anakin rolled his head to the side to look at him. “It was a bad order, Master.” Obi-Wan looked sharply over, making furious eye contact. “You knew I wasn’t going to follow it.”

“What did you just say?” Obi-Wan was livid. He could still smell Anakin’s sweat. He suddenly had enough energy to get up, so he did. “We need to leave. I cannot speak with you about this right now. Believe me when I say we are going to talk about this later.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and got up too. “You can skip the lecture, Master, I’ve heard it before.”

Obi-Wan stopped, turned, and took a step forward at Anakin. He wanted to wring his neck. “That is enough, Anakin!” He took another involuntary step closer. “You will learn your place, young one.” His voice had become deceptively mild. “If you cannot follow simple orders, I can not and will not take you with me on missions.” Anakin looked flushed. “I cannot wonder if you will follow directions, Anakin. That is not how this works. That is not acceptable. That is not sufficient.” He prevented himself with difficulty from moving any further forward, from coming within arm’s reach. “I am supposed to be your Master. You are allegedly my Padawan.” Anakin’s blush was deep red, now. “I need to know you will listen to me!”

“You wanted me to let those people die!” Anakin’s voice was loud and defensive. “Why would you ask me to do that?”

“Because I wanted you to live!” Obi-Wan snapped back at him. This was not the time or place for this argument, but Obi-Wan couldn’t stop. “Because I wanted you not to die!” Anakin swallowed and looked hard at the floor. “You are my responsibility, Anakin!” Obi-Wan tried to push his frustration into the Force, and felt slightly dizzy. “Sometimes as Jedi we have to make hard choices, but it’s not a hard choice if the choice is to live or to die with them! We can’t save every person every time, and it’s hubris to try, Anakin. It’s up to the will of the Force, sometimes.” Obi-Wan ran his eyes over Anakin’s tense posture and clenched jaw. For some reason it made his frustration flare back up. “I was unable to get you out without your help, and you just left to go running off into more danger because you just felt like you could handle it!”

“I could handle it!” Anakin’s head had snapped back up, he looked indignant. “I did handle it.” His jaw clenched again and he took a deep breath. “You never acknowledge what I can do, what I have done. You don’t want me to use my powers, you don’t seem to think I have them, but I do. Why can’t I use them if I know I can?”

“You didn’t know, Padawan. You guessed. You could easily have guessed wrong.” Anakin was glaring at him, defiant. Obi-Wan wanted to shake him. “When a mineshaft is collapsing on top of you is hardly the correct time to indulge your ego, Anakin.” Obi-Wan forcefully turned and began to walk measuredly towards the door. “We need to leave.” After three fast paces away, he heard Anakin follow, dragging his feet.

As Obi-Wan strode back to their speeder, he couldn’t stop thinking, it’s getting worse.

Back when Anakin was a young boy, the discrepancy between Obi-Wan’s dreams and reality made it very easy to keep them separate. Obi-Wan was sure that he could handle it, when he undertook Qui-Gon’s dying request. The Force pushed him hard, telling him it was important that he do so, besides, the future was always in motion, according to Master Yoda. Obi-Wan had free will, and he was going to choose to be a Jedi, every time.

The child he took as his Padawan only held the Padawan that he knew in his dreams as a lurking potential, a distant shadow, a hypothetical problem. Everything was fine for years, Obi-Wan had everything under control. The occasional dreams inspired him and motivated him as a teacher—it was essential that Anakin be the best Jedi it was possible for him to be. 

That would just be another way to disprove the nightmares. They showed just one of many possible futures, and it would not be theirs.

Obi-Wan diligently taught Anakin the Code, and he taught him everything he knew about the Jedi arts. He dedicated himself to setting the best possible example of Jedi behavior. He maintained a respectful and professional distance between them, and did not encourage affection or indulge in attachment. He was a mentor, not anything else. For many years, until Anakin was in his mid-teens, everything had worked relatively well between them. Then, suddenly, it had cracked apart.

All the other Jedi seemed to agree that Obi-Wan was just doing his best, which was admirable, and that it was Anakin who was the problem in the relationship. Obi-Wan knew, however, that was not the case. He was the one failing Anakin, failing to guide and protect him. He was the one who was distracted, who was struggling with his emotions. Anakin was the apprentice, it was up to the Master to lead the way, and Obi-Wan knew he was not leading. Not anymore.

As a child, Anakin would accept Obi-Wan’s discipline without too much backchat. Anakin was and had always been willful, argumentative, emotional, and a million other things that Jedi were not, but he used to have a modicum of respect. Now, because of Anakin’s recent attitude, Obi-Wan was losing the ability to confront Anakin without his own emotions breaking through his façade, without losing his cool. Obi-Wan did not lose his cool. That was not a thing that Obi-Wan did. 

Anakin’s changed appearance only made things worse. Obi-Wan’s failure to control his attraction was not Anakin’s fault. 

Obi-Wan let Anakin drive the speeder, rather than argue about that, too.

“You did do good work today, Padawan.” Obi-Wan said, at length. “It’s not that I don’t see that. It was unequivocally good that those miners’ lives were saved.” Obi-Wan looked over at Anakin, who was staring straight ahead with a fixed expression. Obi-Wan looked back out the window. He pinched his nose, warding off a headache. “It’s about trust.”

Anakin huffed out a disbelieving breath. “You don’t trust me when I say I can do something, Master.”

“I know you are capable of many things, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said in a pressed tone, “But you must trust my more experienced understanding of risk. You must trust me when I say you shouldn’t do it. We’re not necessarily talking about can or can’t, Padawan.” Obi-Wan was trying to not let his emotions enter the argument. This was merely a high-level conversation about their last conversation. A meta-conversation. No need to become emotional.

Anakin frowned. “If I can, I should, Master.”

“That is overly simplistic, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed. “You must realize that.”

“Why is a simple rule not a good rule?” Anakin sounded honestly frustrated. “Why shouldn’t I help, if I can help? That makes no sense at all, Master.”

“As you never trust my judgement, I’m not sure why you bother to call me ‘Master.’” Obi-Wan mused, suddenly very tired. Anakin looked over at him sharply. “Nevertheless,“ he pressed on, “you are my Padawan, and that means that ensuring your safety is going to be a factor in my calculations. It does not appear to be one in your own.” Anakin looked back at the road. “Forgive me if that does not inspire me with confidence in your decision making abilities.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Anakin said, grumpy. “If I can help, I should help. Why is that wrong?”

Obi-Wan kept his breathing as steady as possible. “Why are you resistant to the nuance that a situation with an exceptionally high risk of death is an exception to your tidy little rule?”

“But they would have died!”

“So would you, if you had misjudged any one of a million single decisions you made over the course of five fraught minutes.”

“See! You still don’t believe I can do it, even after I did do it!”

“Blast it, Anakin. What if we escaped, exactly as we had, but the bomber had been waiting for us at the door? I couldn’t have fought them off. I probably still couldn’t. We’re extraordinarily lucky it was on a timer.” Obi-Wan slumped back in his seat, resigned. “I’m exhausted. I nearly depleted myself holding things together until you got back. If we had left when I wanted to, I wouldn’t have had to risk being this exposed.”

There was a long, quiet moment.

“I’m sorry, Master.” Anakin sounded much sorrier that he had put Obi-Wan’s life at risk than his own. “Master, I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t think Anakin. You just act.” Obi-Wan could see Anakin’s shoulders dropping all the way, now. Obi-Wan continued, still a little more waspish than usual. “You do what seems right in the moment, but never consider more than two steps ahead. I do, and that’s why you should trust my judgement. At least until you figure out how to do it yourself.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin swallowed, loudly. “Sorry, Master.” Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped over, again. He looked out the window. Pushed the memory of a dream into the Force, and then pressed his hands hard against his temples against the spiking migraine that followed. He felt Anakin’s attention snap back to him, again. “What was that, Master? Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes, Anakin. I am fine. I am tired. I am depleted. I tried to use the Force beyond when I should have.”

“To do what? You’re just sitting there.” Anakin looked confused.

Obi-Wan didn’t want to talk about it. “Focus on driving, Padawan. I was just meditating.”

“Uh huh.” Anakin sounded dubious. Obi-Wan did not appreciate that. “If you say so, Master, I suppose I’ll just have to trust you.” He said the last words with a hint of a smile. Obi-Wan’s mouth quirked up too, for a moment, before it dropped. 

He needed rest.

Being nearly blown up and crushed was the least of the problems with their mission, Anakin thought sullenly as he sat beside Obi-Wan in the Parliament chamber, two days later. He shifted in his padded chair, stretching his legs out long before him, and sighing loudly, which made Obi-Wan glare at him briefly. After he looked away, Anakin grimaced. 

The reality of being a Jedi was nothing like he had expected when he was a boy on Tatooine, dreaming of traveling the galaxy and helping people—freeing slaves. It had felt like his destiny, his obligation. He would become a Jedi, and come back to Tatooine, destroy the Hutts, and make the people free. 

He was forbidden to do this by the Council, of course. Anakin despised the Council, sometimes. They had forbidden Obi-Wan to help his mother, too, he knew that for a fact. He had heard Obi-Wan arguing about it once. He sometimes overheard Obi-Wan defending him, or advocating for him. 

If only Obi-Wan would be like that when Anakin was around… Whenever Anakin was in the same room, Obi-Wan’s spine seemed to turn into a metal rod, his face lost all humor, his presence in the Force disappeared almost entirely.

Anakin hated that. 

Obi-Wan did a lot of inexplicable things that Anakin hated. It didn’t mean that he hated Obi-Wan, though. Far from it.

He watched as Obi-Wan tried to negotiate to improve conditions for the local population, watched with a secret well of pride as his Master passionately and earnestly attempted to right the injustice that was being done to them—to prevent the loss of their sacred land to extractive mining, to prevent their enslavement, and to prevent them being forced to dig up the mountain they held as divine. 

Apparently Obi-Wan had a history with Offworld Mining Corporation. He seemed much more angry than usual, beneath his very effective façade. Anakin was very familiar with the cracks in that façade, and how to see through them. He knew Obi-Wan was furious, but everyone other than Anakin would read him Obi-Wan as entirely calm. 

Anakin smirked. His chair creaked as he leaned back to watch the show, arms crossed. It might as well have been a show. He knew in advance that all of Obi-Wan’s pointed eloquence was probably just wasted breath. Obi-Wan doubtless knew it to—he shot Anakin another dirty look before returning focus to the negotiation. Anakin sighed, quieter this time. 

The fact that Obi-Wan knew it was pointless but was still trying anyway made Anakin’s chest ache a little bit. 

He was slightly surprised Obi-Wan was even allowed to be advocating on the side of the vulnerable population. Anakin had been going on missions with Obi-Wan for years, so he knew that the crimes against the indigenous people were probably not the reason Jedi had really been dispatched to the planet. 

He knew well enough by now that the real reason was that the planet’s Senator probably just didn’t like the terms that Offworld had offered, wanted more money, and was connected enough to get a motion through the courts. He had seen it a million times, the Senate was so corrupt. At least the current Supreme Chancellor was a wise, good man, or else the situation would be intolerable. 

Anakin hated politics. He thought that economics was boring. He had zero interest in sitting around listening to people talk. He would much rather be fixing something, fighting something, doing pretty much anything else. 

The only time Anakin was interested in history class was when they covered the Jedi before the Ruusan Reformation, back before the Jedi Order only enforced the laws, back when the Jedi did what they thought was right. There were Jedi who defended worlds, and even regions of space, from Sith, pirates, slavers and warlords. 

Anakin wanted nothing more in life than to defend regions of space from Sith, pirates, slavers and warlords.

Just because of stupid war, a thousand years ago, Anakin had been hounded all his life by a stupid Code, criticized all the time for just being a person, and was currently stuck in this stuffy Parliament chamber on this neglected Mid-Rim planet, listening to Obi-Wan pour his heart out in a pointless effort to use words to fight money—instead of just going and freeing the slaves he knew for a fact were in more mines not twenty miles away. 

He was beyond frustrated at everything that put him in that room. The Senate and the Council. They were the ones who were always stopping Anakin from being useful. At least Obi-Wan seemed to agree with him about the Senate, but Obi-Wan practically loved the Council. He always agreed with the Council. 

“Let’s go, Anakin.” Obi-Wan was suddenly talking to him, the room was suddenly full of the sound of chairs scraping, rustling of expensive clothes, and low murmuring. “It’s lunch break.”

Anakin stood up gratefully. “Alright, Master.” He trotted after Obi-Wan, who was already striding out with his angriest walk. It was Anakin’s favorite walk. It made Obi-Wan swagger. “What’s wrong?”

“Not now, Padawan.” Obi-Wan snapped over his shoulder. “We obviously cannot speak now.”

Anakin looked around at the Parliament building, at the people milling about. He projected in the Force: “Of course, I’m sorry, Master.” 

“Thank you, Anakin.” Came floating back through the bond, to Anakin’s surprise. A faint smile appeared on Anakin’s face as they left the building. The feeling of Obi-Wan’s mind brushing his always made Anakin feel slightly warm and dizzy. He loved the feeling of his Master’s mind. He wanted to feel it all the time. The feeling retreated, almost immediately. Anakin sighed.

“Where are we going to eat, Master?” Anakin asked a more publicly acceptable question. “Do we have a meeting scheduled?” 

Obi-Wan huffed a false laugh. “Thankfully not.” He led them back out to their speeder, leaving the pilot’s seat open. Anakin smiled widely as Obi-Wan continued, “We can return to our hotel and have a quiet minute.” He deliberately pushed his shoulders down and took a deep breath before he said, “I am going to contact the Council and then meditate.”

Anakin frowned as he drove away quickly, swerving around a slow transport. “What does the Council want now?”

“It’s me who wants to talk to them, not the other way around.” Obi-Wan’s voice was bleak. “This mission is a failure. We need to leave.”

“What?” Anakin turned his head sharply, and studied the mask of Obi-Wan’s face, trying to get a better read. “We’re in the middle of negotiations, I thought?” He quickly veered back into their own lane. Obi-Wan hadn’t reacted to his reckless driving, which was a very bad sign about his state of mind. He asked the question anyway: “What about the people? They’ll be slaves and die if we go.”

“You know as well as I do that’s not why we’re really here, Anakin, and I wish you would, for once, not attempt to rub salt in wounds that I cannot heal.” Obi-Wan snapped. Anakin’s heart raced at Obi-Wan’s tone, and he swallowed. There was something about the fervent iciness that made him oddly feel warm and special. He shouldn’t like being chastised this much. Obi-Wan continued in the same tone of voice: “It became clear to me today during negotiations that the deal has already been finished in a backroom meeting last night. Today was just performative.” The last word was barbed. 

Anakin swallowed again and tried to calm down, shaking his head slightly and refocusing on the road. Ever since he was about fifteen, Obi-Wan’s angry voice always made him feel unacceptable things. Extremely unacceptable things, that he hid as best he could. “I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin said, finally getting to a place where his voice would be steady. “I didn’t know that for sure. How can you tell?” 

“I could feel it in the Force as they were speaking.” Obi-Wan’s tone was still glacial. Anakin tightened his grip on the steering controls. “Their minds were saturated with self-congratulations and smugness at me and my responsibility as a Jedi, as if I was a dancing Kowakian monkey-lizard.” Anakin almost shivered at the suppressed emotion in the last phrase. He knew that Obi-Wan’s skill with mind tricks far surpassed his own, and so probably could have felt the mood of the room viscerally if he’d tried. How he had kept his cool in such a scenario was beyond Anakin’s comprehension.  

It seemed that Obi-Wan had almost complete control over his own mind and over his public persona. Anakin had spent a decade looking for cracks, and had appreciated every hairline fracture he could find. He had an instinct for how to press on those weakened areas, and an addiction for doing it, despite the consequences—or because of the consequences, he could never be entirely sure about that. He also knew when it was actually a bad idea to press. 

“What’s next, Master? What do we do?” Anakin asked, attempting to act the part of dutiful Padawan to appease Obi-Wan’s coiling frustration. “How can I help, Master?”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a moment, and then relaxed minutely. “I’m not sure, Anakin.” He smiled faintly, eyes crinkling a hint. “Thank you for asking.” Anakin wanted to grin back, but tried to maintain a calm face. Obi-Wan pulled out his data pad and rubbed a sleeve on the display, clearing it of dust and fingerprints. “I’ll figure it out after we talk to the Council.” The smile was gone. “They doubtless have opinions about what our next move should be.”

“Yes, they probably do.” Anakin agreed, as neutrally as he was able to. Obi-Wan shot him a look that almost looked fond. Anakin felt a glow of pleasure, at having been useful in calming Obi-Wan down. He wanted very badly to say, I can be a good Padawan too, see? I can be useful. 

Obi-Wan looked up again sharply. “You’re projecting, Anakin.” He looked vaguely ill, for some reason. 

Anakin winced. “Sorry, Master.” He quieted his thoughts and slowed down the speeder, stopped swerving quite so much. “Should we look into who attacked us before we leave? It was strange that we both didn’t feel any warning in the Force.”

“It was strange, but not unprecedented.” Obi-Wan agreed, still looking unsettled. “We’re not omniscient, unfortunately.” He typed rapidly on his data pad before saying in a reluctant undertone, “Offworld really is the most likely culprit. They don’t exactly have a history of being troubled by killing Jedi, Anakin.” His tone was final, as if he would not be continuing on that topic. Anakin had a vague sense of why asking the question right then was not wise but—

“What happened?” It slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. As Obi-Wan’s face went still and he sighed deeply, Anakin immediately said, “Never mind, sorry, Master.”

“It’s a story for another time, Padawan.” Obi-Wan just sounded tired, now.

“Yes, I know.” He said. He sent across the bond. “I’m really sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to pry right now.” 

Obi-Wan sighed and looked at him. “I know, Anakin.” Anakin met his unreadable gaze for a long moment before he turned his eyes back to the road. Obi-Wan said, “Your braid is coming undone. You need to take better care of it, it’s supposed to symbolize—”

“—my dedication to and accomplishment in the Jedi arts. I know, Master.” He winced. “It just slipped my mind this morning, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Padawan.” They had arrived at the hotel, and Anakin parked in a very narrow space. Obi-Wan watched warily, his own shoulder-length copper hair blowing gently in the breeze, which distracted Anakin minutely. No real damage to the speeder, just a bump and a sharp “Anakin!” and they were parked. 

“I’ll bet you five credits the Council will make us stay for the duration of the assignment, no matter how pointless it is.” Anakin said as they walked inside. 

“I refuse to take the bet,” Obi-Wan replied, resigned.

Anakin was right—Council insisted they stay for the remaining two weeks. Obi-Wan had agreed, immediately and politely. 

Anakin wanted to punch a wall. 

Just another normal day as a Jedi, Anakin thought as he flopped dramatically back on one of the beds. He looked over at Obi-Wan who had ended the com with the Council and was looking at him blankly. Anakin stretched and whined, “I want to leave.” Obi-Wan just looked at him for another moment before shaking his head and swiftly leaving the room. Anakin slumped back and frowned at the ceiling. 

Just another normal day.

Kriff.

I can be a good Padawan too, see? I can be useful…

The question had haunted Obi-Wan for the past two months. Ever since the first time Anakin had thought it loudly in a speeder on Ithor—this Anakin, the real Anakin, the sitting-here-by-his-side-currently Anakin. His real Padawan.

Not dream Padawan, fake Padawan, nightmare Padawan. The eyes-flutter-shut-in-pleasure-at-being-so-useful Padawan.

Obi-Wan had been so sure that his real Padawan, his argumentative, disobedient, and independent Padawan, would never think such a thing, in such a tone. It was a key support for his working theory that the dreams would never happen because life simply would never happen that way.

I can be a good Padawan too, see?

It had been such a fervent internal wish that it had saturated the Force around Anakin. It had been burnt across Obi-Wan’s mind. It was still burning, now. It was impossible, and it was upsetting. 

I can be useful…

Obi-Wan shifted further into a shadow, the light in his eyes from the setting sun was too bright. 

“What are we waiting for, Master?” Anakin was lounging beside him, far too comfortable for someone stretched out over several different chairs in the Temple Hanger. He began a light whine: “Why can’t I go inside and drop my bags yet? Ansion was awful. I want a nap.” The sunset was bathing him in an orange glow. Obi-Wan looked away.

“I just received a com from Master Windu, to expect a holo call in the next minute.”

“What does Windu want,” Anakin asked in a mild voice with what Obi-Wan recognized as a sneer in the Force. He sighed. 

“Master. Master Windu, Anakin.” The rebuke was ignored, as always. Obi-Wan sighed again, louder. “He was not specific, it was just a request for contact. I’m sure I’ll find out…” the light flashed. “Imminently.” 

The look on Anakin’s face when he heard the name Padmé Amidala made Obi-Wan have a very bad feeling indeed.

Hanging immobile in the force field on Geonosis a couple weeks later, restrained by a web of threatening bolts of energy, Obi-Wan tried to understand how things had escalated so quickly. He had almost died an alarming number of times in the past several days, let alone the weeks before that. Ever since he had jumped out of that window to catch the assassin’s drone, it felt in a way as if he had never stopped falling.

Clones. An entire army. Millions. Ordered by a Jedi, for the Republic. Why? Who paid?

Why had Qui-Gon’s voice echoed in the Force last night telling Anakin to ‘Stop!’? Why was Anakin so angry?

What had Sifo-Dyas foreseen? The factories of battle droids? Why would a Jedi order clones? 

Why was Anakin on Tatooine? Was it his mother, his dreams? Why couldn’t he be trusted to follow orders?

Why would Jango Fett, template for the Republic’s army come to a meeting with a cabal of Separatists?

Who hired him? Who was Tyranus? 

“Aren't you fed up with the corruption, the bureaucrats, the hypocrisy of it all?… Aren't you?” 

Count Dooku was looking at him, expectantly. 

Obi-Wan refocused on the man in front of him. He had been posturing for several minutes now, regally dressed and cordial of manner, as he attempted to convince Obi-Wan to join his cause. How this man was a former Jedi, Obi-Wan had no idea. No Jedi would wear such expensive looking velvets. 

“I beg your pardon,” Obi-Wan said. He’d seen Dooku give nearly the same exact speech many times on the HoloNet, one of his many polemics against corruption in the Republic. It was not as if Obi-Wan even disagreed with him about any of it, either. Obi-Wan just strongly disagreed with what Dooku was doing about it. “Could you repeat the last bit there? I’m afraid my attention has wandered.”

Dooku looked less than impressed. He began again, more forcefully: “Qui-Gon and I agreed about the Senate and we agreed about the Council too. Qui-Gon’s renegade opinions made him immensely resented by the Council, as I’m sure you’re aware, grand-Pandawan.” Obi-Wan made a face at that. The Count had never met with him when he still was a Jedi, and now here he was claiming line privileges? Dooku pressed on, “If Qui-Gon had learned the truth that I have, he would never have gone along with any of it. He would have joined me if he knew the truth.” 

He paused dramatically. 

Obi-Wan dutifully played along. “The truth?”

“The truth!” Dooku’s voice was fervent. Obi-Wan wanted to lean his head back, away from the intensity of his gaze, but was immobilized by his blasted force field. Dooku’s tone was very serious: “What if I told you that the Republic was now under the control of the Dark Lords of the Sith?” 

Obi-Wan blinked. The truth. He blinked again, mind blank for a moment, before the full meaning of Dooku’s words struck like a bolt of lightning. His heart missed a beat, his stomach dropped. Memories of Naboo flashed, Qui-Gon, red laser barrier, anger, bisection—his mind was spinning, he felt nauseous. Senate missions flashed, harming instead of helping. Red lightsaber—No other living Jedi had battled a Sith Lord. No one else knew how it felt. Only he was a Sith in his dreams.

Obi-Wan frowned at himself, at the way his hands wanted to shake. Dark Lords. Lord in the plural. It was fear, this feeling. He’d had a panic reaction, an adrenaline dump—it had been awhile since he had done that. 

Dark Lords of the Sith. 

“Excuse me?” Obi-Wan replied finally, in his mildest tone. Dooku had been watching him think, which was irritating. “I’m afraid I will need you to be a touch more specific.” Obi-Wan focused on the feeling of Dooku’s mind in the Force. It was slippery, as if Obi-Wan’s gaze couldn’t directly land on it. 

Dooku’s grin grew sharper. “Hundreds of Senators are now under the influence of a Sith Lord called Darth Sidious.” 

It was unexpectedly difficult to tell if he was lying. His emotions were clouded, occluded from view by something. Obi-Wan frowned and said, “Surely the Jedi would be aware of that.” It seemed an incredible claim.

“They are.” Dooku waved a hand. He sounded resentful and dismissive. “I tried many times to warn the Council, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

What. 

Obi-Wan felt his lingering fear morph suddenly into a jumping, hot feeling that he gave immediately to the Force. 

“What exactly did you tell the Council?” Obi-Wan’s voice was sharper than he meant it to be. He swallowed and continued more neutrally. “How specific was your information, could it have been acted upon?”

For the last ten years, he had asked the Council over and over for leads, information, intel on the Sith. He wanted to know more about who he had fought, where the other Sith was, if that other Sith had recruited, anything at all that would give him a hint. He wanted to protect the Jedi, and see justice for Master Qui-Gon.

The Council had always denied him access to that information by letting him know that they would inform him when they had actionable intelligence, and that otherwise he needed to work on letting go of his attachments and focus on training his Padawan. Let them handle the Sith. Every time he’d asked, they said they had nothing actionable. 

Dooku looked slightly surprised at the question. “Yes, it was an extremely strong lead. The viceroy of the Trade Federation was once in league with this Darth Sidious,” he explained. Obi-Wan blinked—given the events on Naboo, that made a strange kind of sense. “He was betrayed ten years ago by the Dark Lord. He came to me for help. He told me everything. The Jedi Council would not believe him.”

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw. “He came to you after he informed the Jedi Council that he had been an ally of Darth Sidious, and they refused to believe him?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan.” Dooku nodded. “He told Master Yoda and Master Windu that he had been an ally of the Sith Lord.”

“They never followed up with him?” Obi-Wan could not believe that.

“No,” Dooku said. “At least they did not follow up with him, if they did at all. I doubt it. They were content to take a passive posture, wait for the Sith to reveal themselves rather than hunt overtly for them.” Obi-Wan studied his face, tried to sense if he was lying. The Force was frustratingly opaque. “Viceroy Gunray had to come to me with his concerns about the Sith. He didn’t know where else to turn.”

“I don’t understand.” Obi-Wan said, trying to see past his own personal frustration with the Council to the bigger picture. “Gunray said that Darth Sidious is in control of the Senate? How did he know that? Did he tell the Council that, too?”

“Yes, he did. Darth Sidious allegedly told the Viceroy that he controlled the Senate to the degree that he could make his embargo and invasion of a sovereign planet legal.” Dooku looked extremely grave. “The Council has known about that for the last decade, Obi-Wan. I tried many times to warn them, but they wouldn’t listen to me either. It’s one of the reasons I left the Order. They told me that they were ‘keeping an eye on the Senate,’ whatever that means… Once they sense the Dark Lord’s presence and realize their error, it will be too late.” For a moment, Obi-Wan could suddenly sense Dooku’s feelings, as if they emerged out from behind a cloud. They were roiling with a kind of angry longing. They quickly disappeared again. 

“Do you know where Darth Sidious is hiding, Count?” Obi-Wan figured that it couldn’t hurt to ask. “If you are truly seeking to end the threat of the Sith, surely you have done something with that intelligence? Is that why you’ve formed your little army?”

Dooku looked very pleased. “Will you join me?”

“Almost certainly not,” Obi-Wan said, too frustrated to play coy. “I will not participate in the instigation of galactic civil war.” Dooku looked less pleased, now. Obi-Wan didn’t care; he still had the adrenaline in his system, he was emotional, he was so close to finally getting a lead on Qui-Gon’s murderer. “I want to know more about the Sith, Count.” When Dooku looked evasive, Obi-Wan said much too sharply: “Tell me what you know!”

Dooku opened and closed his mouth, frowned, and raised an eyebrow at him. “I wouldn’t have expected you to try a mind trick on me.” Obi-Wan blanched. “Or perhaps that was unintentional.” He looked very thoughtful. “That was sloppy, of you, Master Kenobi. Surprisingly powerful, but sloppy.” Obi-Wan steadied his breathing.

“I… apologize.” Obi-Wan ground out. It had been many years since he had done that, too.

“It happens.” Dooku had a glint in his eye, now, and something almost like a smile. “Why would you be loyal to a corrupt Senate if it’s loyal to the Sith? Why would you be loyal to the Council if they’re loyal to the Senate? Why won’t you join me, Obi-Wan?”

“I am absolutely certain that starting a war is not the correct solution, Dooku. You don’t need to throw the entire galaxy into chaos to kill a Sith.”

“Are you sure? Because—” Dooku’s com beeped and he looked down. “Apologies, Master Kenobi. Until next time.”

“Wait, no, stop,” Obi-Wan said, eyes widening, as Dooku left the cell. He called after him, “Dooku! Where is Darth Sidious?” The door closed, and silence remained. 

What. 

Obi-Wan felt completely off-centered by the conversation he’d just had. It all aligned with the mythology of Dooku that he’d heard, the story of the noble renegade, but something felt wrong about it, something felt sticky. Obi-Wan didn’t like that he couldn’t sense Dooku’s emotions. In the Force, Dooku hadn’t felt like any other Jedi who Obi-Wan had encountered before. Could that be what Yoda meant, when the dark side of the Force is hiding something? 

The Council knew for a decade…

How could Windu and Yoda have known? Was Dooku lying? Why couldn’t he tell if Dooku was lying? 

Obi-Wan hadn’t accidentally mind-tricked anyone since he was a teenager, that was embarrassing. Obi-Wan had lost his cool. That was unacceptable, but understandable given the week he’d been having.

By the time guards came back to take him to his execution, he had regained his composure. 

Time to face death. Again. At least Anakin was on Tatooine, this might get messy.

It did—of course, it did.

Anakin moved his metal fingers glumly, practicing with the neural interface. He was determined. He had to get perfectly adjusted to the prosthetic, immediately—he needed to be able to use his lightsaber even better than before. Now. This could never happen again. Though, in the future it would probably be just an inconvenience to get his right hand cut off, not the end of his day. The thought was oddly comforting. 

“How is the feedback?” Obi-Wan sat down heavily in the  armchair opposite his couch, the Jedi-approved minimalism of their furniture making them both slightly uncomfortable. Obi-Wan carefully set his very hot tea on the low table between them. He was looking over Anakin, studying his face. Anakin didn’t want that. Anakin didn’t want Obi-Wan to look too closely at him. Everything he had done on Tatooine was probably written all over his expression, and he couldn’t lie to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan always could tell if Anakin was lying. 

“I’m getting used to it,” he replied, flatly. “I will be used to it soon.”

“I’m sure you will be.” Obi-Wan reassured him. He looked at the hand again, his face going blank. He’d been doing that a lot since Anakin got back from Naboo earlier that day. Anakin wondered what exactly caused it, as he couldn’t read Obi-Wan’s face or his Force signature, as usual. Anakin clenched his fist and Obi-Wan looked away before saying, “I have a few questions for you, Padawan.”

Of course. The first time they were alone together in a month and he’d gotten maybe one hour to relax in their rooms before an inquisition. Anakin took a deep, slow breath. “What are they, Master?”

“Why were you on Tatooine?” Obi-Wan asked, mildly. Anakin felt his stomach drop. First question, already a mild tone. He didn’t answer immediately, and Obi-Wan looked at him pointedly. “Was it your dreams?”

“Yes,” Anakin said shortly. “They were worse.” 

“So you left Naboo?” Obi-Wan blew on his tea before venturing a sip. He made a face and set it back down, too hot.

Anakin nodded, and then at Obi-Wan’s expectant look said, “Yes.”

Obi-Wan waited for more explanation that was not forthcoming. He sighed and said, “Senator Amidala went with you,” Obi-Wan looked closely at him. “Did you ask her to come with you?”

“No,” Anakin said. “She offered.”

“That was kind of her.” Obi-Wan’s voice was level. “You would have been expelled from the Jedi Order if you’d left her behind.”

“I know, Master,” Anakin said. “I didn’t though, so it doesn’t matter.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him, and Anakin studied his arm closely, keeping his eyes down.

“Would you like a hint of what the possible consequences of your little escapade might have been?” Obi-Wan’s voice was dry.

Obi-Wan paused and waited for his acknowledgement. Anakin nodded. It was a well-known signal that a lecture was coming. Anakin swallowed, determined to listen without getting aroused inappropriately for once. 

Obi-Wan sipped his tea and set it down, collecting his thoughts. Then he looked seriously at Anakin and began, “I spent minutes, crucial minutes, Anakin, searching for your signal in order to retransmit my message on Geonosis. I had just witnessed a critically important meeting between the key figures of the Separatist movement and Count Dooku. I had a lot of essential information to report. After I spent minutes finding your signal, I began making the report. I got only halfway through the introduction, when I was apprehended by droidekas, as you doubtless witnessed in the holo. If I hadn’t thought to widen the search to include Tatooine, because I suspected that was where you had gone, I would have wasted so much time that message would have never gotten off Geonosis.” 

Obi-Wan paused for a breath. Anakin was staring at him, now, his face flushed. 

“Do you understand, Anakin? Without that message, I would be dead, the Senate would not have passed the Military Creation Act when it did, and the Chancellor would not have executive power. The entire battle of Geonosis might have never happened. The Republic might have found out about the droid army in a much more catastrophic way, without preparation or defense. It is possible that millions could have died before the Republic could muster defense. It was one of the most important messages I’ll ever send in my entire life and I almost failed because I needed to have known that you left Naboo, Anakin.” 

The silence was very loud. Anakin nodded as he shakily let out the breath that he had been holding, eyes fixed on the floor now. He said quietly, “Yes, Master. I understand.” The admonishment had made him feel flooded with heat, almost nauseated by the magnitude of Obi-Wan’s rebuke.

The weight of his choices hung on him—so many choices, so many mistakes. The last few weeks had ripped him apart, confronting him with every weakness—his mother’s brutalized condition when he felt her death in his arms, Padmé’s cool rejection after his impassioned marriage proposal, losing his dominant hand through his own arrogance, almost getting Obi-Wan killed.

Anakin wanted to disappear. He looked up at Obi-Wan and nodded again.

“I really hope you do understand, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, looking very stern for a moment before his eyes softened slightly and he asked, “What happened with your mother?”

Anakin clenched his fist involuntarily. He felt all of his muscles tense, felt himself breathe faster. He couldn’t talk about this with Obi-Wan. This needed to end. His eyes flicked up to his bedroom door, contemplating escape.

“Don’t leave, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a rebuke. “I can feel your desire to run in the Force. Stay put.”

Anakin felt a swell of resentment, an urge to do it anyway. He didn’t need to listen to Obi-Wan. It was all his fault. He looked Obi-Wan’s deceptively relaxed posture over, testing the cracks in the façade, gauging the risk. He swallowed. Obi-Wan’s eyes were steel. They were apparently going to have this conversation, and now. Anakin paused for as long as he could, moving his fingers deliberately. Obi-Wan was about to make him talk, he knew it. Obi-Wan didn’t deserve to know, it was all his fault. Obi-Wan took another sip of tea and looked expectant.

Anakin’s shoulders slumped a little and he said curtly, “She’s dead.” He tried to steady his shaky breathing.

“I’m very sorry to hear that.” Obi-Wan’s eyes were moving on him. “I feel there is more to the story.”

Anakin glared up at him. He didn’t want to do this. He spoke tersely, “Yes.” 

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long moment, nodding absently. “The night before your arrival on Geonosis,” Obi-Wan began slowly, and Anakin felt like he was about to be crushed by falling rock. “I felt something peculiar in the Force.”

“Did you?” Anakin asked, as neutrally as possible with his heart pounding in his ears and his breath caught in his lungs.

“It was as if Master Qui-Gon were speaking, but he was not speaking to me.” Obi-Wan sounded genial and curious, which made Anakin anxious. “It was as if I could hear my deceased Master telling you to stop doing something. It was very strange, Anakin, especially considering the timing.”

“The timing?” Anakin didn’t want to talk about the worst day of his life, he didn’t know how to get away from this.

“Oddly enough, it coincided with the largest surge of pain and anger I’ve ever felt from you. I was a parsec away, it should have been impossible for me to sense you at that distance. That has never happened before.” Obi-Wan said, rearranging his pillow behind him before resettling and kicking his feet up on the low table between them. “I would like to know why.”

Anakin felt cornered. “I was there when she died.” Obi-Wan folded his hands on his lap, looking expectant. Anakin looked down and spoke the rest silently through the Force. He could think things that he couldn’t say.“She was very badly hurt—tortured. They only keep captured women alive for one thing, Master. She’d been there for… weeks probably. My mother. For as long as I had been dreaming about her, she’d been a captive, brutalized, Obi-Wan! She was so badly hurt, in the worst possible ways! They were touching her! My mother! If I had gone earlier, I could have saved her, saved her life, but I didn’t go because you told me not to! And she died in agony!” His breathing was getting labored, his muscles tensed as he sat rigidly on the small sofa. “You told me the dreams weren’t real, but they were real. You were wrong!” 

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said seriously. “I was wrong. You’d never told me about any prophetic dreams before, only upsetting but ordinary nightmares. You are very, very strong with the living Force, but you have never shown any unusual skills with the unifying Force.” 

Anakin looked up sharply. He accidentally projected the thought, “Obi-Wan didn’t take me seriously because he thinks I’m weak?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “It’s not that you’re not very powerful, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was coming from inside his head, now. Obi-Wan was silently looking at him, his mouth in a firm line, and his voice was inside him. Anakin blushed for a reason other than anger. He loved when his Master used the bond. “It’s just that usually dreams first manifest younger. Or so I had learned, and I didn’t know that it would be different for you. I should have guessed, you are very strong with the Force. I wonder if instead you were sensing the present rather than the future, but I’m not sure. Did you see her death or just her suffering?” 

Anakin closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him, curling into the warmth of Obi-Wan’s mind as long as it was tangled in his. Trying to focus on how the words sounded, rather than their meaning. He projected back slowly, “Her suffering. I think. The dreams were different than any other I’ve ever had, hazy and emotional. I remember waking up feeling sick.” Obi-Wan looked concerned, knowing. “Would you have let me go? I know the Council wouldn’t have let me rescue her.”

Obi-Wan frowned at him when he referenced the Council. “You’re right about that, they would not have let you go. However,” and he looked vaguely apologetic, “For once, I’m not sure they would have been wrong.”

Anakin first noticed Obi-Wan’s unhappy tone when he referenced the Council. Then, he processed the words and felt betrayed. He looked over to meet Obi-Wan’s piercing look.

Obi-Wan asked, “What happened on Tatooine, Anakin?” His eyes demanded answers. “Why could I hear my Master?” He pushed the rest silently: “What brought him out of the Force? What did he break out of death to try to stop? What did you do, Padawan?”

Anakin was frozen. He couldn’t lie, Obi-Wan would know. He couldn’t tell the truth, Obi-Wan would hate him and kick him out of the Order. He couldn’t remain silent, he couldn’t talk. 

Obi-Wan was watching him, waiting. 

Anakin swallowed and projected, “I was angry when she died.” Obi-Wan nodded like he knew that already. “I defeated some unarmed men.” Obi-Wan looked unconvinced. Anakin took a deep breath. “I didn’t stop after. Weeks, Master. She’d been there for weeks. Everyone in that village knew she was there.” Anakin looked at the ceiling, breathing hard, blinking rapidly. “They’re all animals. I slaughtered them all, like animals.” His fists clenched, he wanted to throw something. “I hate them!”

Obi-Wan ran his hand down his beard. “Not just unarmed men, then.” Anakin shook his head, eyes shifting down to his hands, relaxing the left and focusing on the right. He rotated the wrist, touched the fingers and thumb together, slowly and then quickly, waiting for Obi-Wan to do something, say something. 

Obi-Wan’s voice was both knowing and disappointed. “You were angry while you did this?” Anakin nodded. “When it was over, how did you feel?” Anakin frowned at the question. Obi-Wan’s voice filled his mind: “I mean, did you feel full of the Force, full of power, full of life? Did you feel a surge of energy and strength beyond anything you’d ever known before in your life? Could you do bigger jumps, move bigger objects? When it was done, did you look at what you’d done and been surprised?” 

Anakin jerked his head up and looked at his Master like he’d never seen him before. “Yes, I did feel that. I did that.”

“You touched the dark side, Anakin.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that. I know. I have once before, on Naboo, after Qui-Gon was cut down by the Sith. Not to the extent it sounds like you did, but I know how it feels when it’s over. It was a surreal, hyper-real state of being, and I remember how it felt very clearly. I remember the lack of control. Once you’d started, you couldn’t stop.”

Anakin nodded slowly. He was struggling to comprehend Obi-Wan’s reaction. He had been so afraid that Obi-Wan would hate him, cast him out, and turn him over to the Council, that he had tried to hide it, tried to lie about it. “The Chancellor said you’d hate me,” slipped out of his mouth before he could censor himself. Obi-Wan’s face grew stormy. 

“You told the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic about this, and he told you not to tell me? What else did he say about it?” Obi-Wan glared at him now, his tone was icy. Anakin shivered. “I cannot believe you told a politician about this.”

Anakin laughed humorlessly at that. “Two, actually.” He looked back at his hand. “Padmé knows.”

“Senator Amidala, you mean?” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “Padmé? Really, Anakin?” He shook his head. “Setting that aside, for now.” His tone was still cold. Anakin swallowed. “I need you to be extremely specific when you tell me what the Chancellor said to you about your violence on Tatooine.”

Anakin frowned. “He said it was understandable, given the circumstances, and in a way to be admired. At least I administered justice, on a planet like Tatooine otherwise there would be no recourse. It’s not like the Hutts have a judicial system.”

“I was under the impression you killed women and children, Anakin.” Hearing Obi-Wan say it out loud was horrific—it was the most chilling Obi-Wan had ever sounded. If all the talking in the bond and time Anakin had just spent communing with his Master’s mind wasn’t already making him feel distracted and inappropriately aroused, the knife’s blade of Obi-Wan voice would be enough. Pity it was pointed at him.

“Yes,” Anakin agreed, silently. “I know that wasn’t justice.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan stood up sharply, and began to pace. Anakin’s eyes followed his progress. Obi-Wan’s shoulders were set, his steps deliberate and measured, his expression still dark. After a few moments, his eyes slid over to meet Anakin’s and continued: “I am certainly pleased to hear that you, Anakin, Padawan, you, understand that small distinction, between mass slaughter and judicial proceedings.” Anakin shivered again, and shifted on the sofa. “It is most distressing to me, however, to discover that it is the opinion of our dear Supreme Chancellor of the Galaxy that a proportionate and admirable response to a murder is to indiscriminately slaughter an entire village in return! Why does that not bother you, Anakin? Why did that not sound off, to you? Why can’t you see in the moment when something like that is wrong?” 

Anakin shrugged and shook his head. “He cares about me, that’s all. He was just trying to be kind to me, Master.” 

“No, he was flattering you! Humoring you!” Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to strangle him. Anakin swallowed and looked down. “Do you know what a mentor should do?” Anakin shook his head. “What I’m doing right now!”

“Yelling at me?” Anakin ventured, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Yes!” Obi-Wan glared at him. “At least! It’s not kindness, it’s not caring if you let someone become worse than their worst self! If you encourage it! He’s the leader of the Republic, Anakin. The most powerful person in the galaxy, arguably. Why is he spending his extraordinarily—” Anakin swallowed and felt blood rush to his cock as Obi-Wan crisply sounded out all seven of the syllables of ‘extraordinarily’ with extra emphases, as though Anakin were slow on the uptake. “—valuable time telling you over tea to go ahead and just feel free to deal out summary executions of civilians?” Anakin felt flushed. “He should not be encouraging his Jedi Knights to do extrajudicial killing at whim!”

“Not at whim,” Anakin muttered resentfully.

“I’m ever so sorry, what was that?” Obi-Wan had frozen where he stood across the room. He was looking at Anakin with an intensity Anakin hadn’t ever seen before. “Do you have a question or comment, perhaps a concern, about what I’ve said?” His voice was very mild. “I would appreciate it, as a general rule, Padawan, if you would desist from the commentary under your breath.” His tone had grown dangerous. “Care to share?” 

“No,” Anakin said. “I don’t have anything to say. Sorry, Master”

Obi-Wan continued to glare. “I have grown extremely tired of the backchat, Anakin.”

“I’m very sorry, Master.” Anakin tried again.

“Very sorry, yes, I’ll bet you are,” Obi-Wan said, pausing with an uncharacteristically menacing look before he continued, “I don’t even want to know about what you did with the Senator, it’s written all over your face that something did. I expected better of you, but considering everything else that happened, this large violation of the Code is just a minor footnote to your larger transgressions!” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “It is not truly minor, though, Padawan. Not to me.” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and lethal. “I will need to know if this will be an ongoing issue, Anakin.”

“No, Master.” Anakin felt cornered. “She said we can’t.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was ice. “Well, at least someone in that room had the ability to think critically about the future more than thirty seconds in advance. I am unsurprised to hear it was not you.”   

Anakin shifted on the sofa again, wanting to get up before remembering he had been ordered to stay. He needed to have some private time, a cold shower, something. Crash a speeder into a wall, fly a ship into a star, something. Anything away from Obi-Wan’s accented, disappointed voice, his sleek, predatory pacing, his deep, penetrating stare. “Do you have any other questions, Master? Or can we be done now?”

Obi-Wan looked livid. “Can we be done now?” His voice slid through the bond, flooding Anakin’s mind with incredulous anger. Anakin closed his eyes. “I think we have more to talk about.” Obi-Wan’s intensity made him shiver. Anakin swallowed and fixed his posture before he swayed. His master’s mind was intoxicating—Anakin felt like he was burning up.

“What is it, Master?” Anakin asked. All the terrible things he hadn’t wanted to share were already said. He didn’t have anything left to confess, so what else could Obi-Wan want?

Obi-Wan was pacing again. “Do you know how hard I have tried for the past decade to give you the training you would need to avoid this exact situation? How hard I have tried to teach you the way of the Jedi, so you would not touch the dark side and murder a village?” Obi-Wan shot him an extremely dirty look, and Anakin winced. “I think we need to discuss the consequences for that, Anakin.”

“There’s nothing I can do to make it right, Master. I know that.” Anakin spoken slowly, at a loss. “I can’t undo it.”

“I know, it is terribly hard to un-murder a child.” Obi-Wan had made the circuit and was standing directly behind the sofa, now. The hair on Anakin's neck raised, the Force almost pushing out a warning. “As this atrocity was not committed in the Republic, I doubt there is a way to prosecute you, so legally what you’ve done is invisible,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “It is not invisible in the Force, Anakin. You have darkness clinging to you.”

“What?” Anakin twisted in his seat, looking up at Obi-Wan. “What do you mean?”

“I can feel it in your mind, Padawan.” Obi-Wan looked intent and Anakin felt a wash of his Master’s mind flooding through his own, prodding, testing, evaluating. Anakin breathed out sharply, eyes fluttering shut. He felt himself flushed with inappropriate arousal again, felt dizzy with the bond. The feeling retreated immediately and he let out a shaky breath. Obi-Wan’s voice was disgusted. “You are not feeling nearly guilty enough.”

Anakin hated that Obi-Wan could know that at a glance, and worried that he knew about the fact that Anakin was hard because of Obi-Wan’s chastisement. He replied defensively, shoving away inappropriate thoughts, “What would be the point of feeling guilty? I can’t undo it, I can’t fix it. I still hate them, I will never forgive them, not ever, for what they did to her.” His voice was rising in strength, pushing back at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan looked down at him, grim. Anakin stood up sharply so they were facing each other with the sofa as a barrier. “Why should I feel guilty?”

“There’s the anger,” Obi-Wan said dangerously. “I felt how afraid you were of me when I sat down, Padawan. You were afraid of my judgment more than you were afraid of the magnitude of what you’ve done. You should be even more afraid of how you’ve changed.”

“I don’t feel any different,” Anakin said, throwing his arms up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Obi-Wan tracked the motion of his arms and clenched his jaw before snapping, “I’m surprised Master Yoda hasn’t confronted you with a lightsaber yet, let alone Master Windu. Have you been in front of either of them yet? Before Naboo? Since you returned?”

“No, Master, you sent me back with—” Anakin swallowed. “—Senator Amidala to Naboo directly after Geonosis. That’s where they fixed my hand.” He clenched it and raised it at Obi-Wan. “You met me in the hanger. I haven’t seen them yet.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan said curtly, looking quickly away from his hand again. Anakin wondered again why he kept doing that. “That is remarkably fortuitous, Padawan.” He began pacing, moving away from their standoff over the sofa. His voice was cold. 

“Why?” Anakin asked. “What would they do? Are you going to hand me over to them, to the Council? Is that going to be my punishment? What will they do to me?” The questions spilled out. “Will you report me to them?”

“Obviously not.” Obi-Wan said. “I would already have done so. Think, Anakin. Pay attention to what is happening, and stop asking questions to which you should already know the answer.”

Anakin looked at him and sat back down. “I don’t understand, I’m sorry Master. Why not hand me over? That’s what I expected you to do.”

“The Council doesn't deserve to know,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin was startled by the venom in the words. “They would do more to ruin your life for this than they have in the last decade to fight actual Sith!” 

Anakin’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Oh yes, I learned some very interesting things about the Council from our esteemed Count during my visit with him on Geonosis.” Obi-Wan’s pacing was approaching his truly angry walk. Anakin watched him swagger, and felt another spike of arousal. He wondered if Obi-Wan could feel it in the Force. Probably. Obi-Wan was inexplicably the most powerful Jedi with mind tricks, and he seemed extraordinarily sensitive to how Anakin was feeling.

“Was Dooku telling the truth?” Anakin was cautious. “He fought us with a red blade, Master.”

“I noticed that, thank you, Padawan.” Anakin flushed. Obi-Wan’s voice was uncharacteristically charged with emotion. “He told me that the Republic is under the control of the Dark Lords of the Sith, Anakin. He told me the Senate is run by a Sith named Darth Sidious who controls hundreds of Senators.”

“That’s...” Anakin wasn’t sure what to say. He hated the Senate, thought it was a corrupt, useless bunch of slavers, but being run by the Sith? “Did he have proof?”

“He had good information.” Obi-Wan looked very frustrated. “The Council knows, Anakin.”

Anakin’s head jerked up. He considered the implications with unfocused eyes. “They know the Senate is controlled by the Sith?”

“Yes. They do, Anakin. They’ve known for as long as I’ve known you.” Obi-Wan said.

“They blindly follow the Senate’s orders! All these awful missions from Senators we’ve had in the last couple years… Have we been helping the Sith? Master? Has the Council been tracking them down? Surely they must have followed the lead and found nothing, right? The Jedi would know if the Sith was controlling hundreds of Senators!”

“One would think so, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, nodding along as Anakin processed the information out loud. “One would think so.” He paused his pacing and looked at him intently. “I personally find it terribly interesting that the leader of the Separatists is also definitely dark, if not a Sith himself. Can you guess why, Anakin? Can you put those pieces together?”

“If Sith are controlling both the Republic and the Separatists…” Anakin tried, keeping his voice level. Obi-Wan’s tone sent a shiver down his spine. His cock had never been harder. “The war is the Sith fighting the Sith.”

“That is one hypothesis.” Obi-Wan said. “Give me another.” He was drawing closer.

Anakin tried to think beyond his haze of arousal. “The Sith are allies, not rivals.”

“Correct,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Very good, Anakin.”

Anakin breathed a steadying breath. “Thank you, Master.” Obi-Wan’s tone made him want to get on his knees. 

“You’re projecting again, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, standing very close now. Anakin looked up from his seat on the sofa, he couldn’t read the look on Obi-Wan’s face. “Kneel.”

Anakin blinked. “What?”

“You wanted to get on your knees.” Obi-Wan’s tone was unrecognizable. “I think it would be an appropriate position for you, after everything you’ve done.

Anakin couldn’t process the words, so he slid off the couch and onto his knees, kneeling before Obi-Wan, looking up at him tentatively. This was different. Obi-Wan’s eyes were different. Something had changed about him, since Geonosis, Anakin was realizing late. If Obi-Wan was no longer loyal to the Council, had never been loyal to the Senate, and refused to join Dooku and the Separatists, who was he loyal to now?

“A very good question, Padawan. An important question.” Came from Obi-Wan across the bond. “Who deserves my loyalty?”

“I don’t know, Master.” Anakin’s eyes fell to the floor. “I don’t know anything.”

“That is not true, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was too kind. Anakin shivered. “You are skilled enough with a blade to kill children, which is quite an accomplishment.” Obi-Wan ran his hand through Anakin’s short hair, around and down to grab on to Anakin’s Padawan braid. “I really should cut this and banish you for what you’ve done, you’re a murderer, a tainted Jedi—” Obi-Wan mused. Fear shot through Anakin. “—and yet I have no desire to do so. What am I, now? To allow such evil to be rewarded?” He pulled hard on the braid, and Anakin made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Something to say, Padawan?”

“N-no, Master.” Anakin said, staring at the mask of Obi-Wan’s face, his braid still in Obi-Wan’s grip. Being on his knees and looking up was making him feel dizzy, his cock was so hard. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“You are not sorry for the right things, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, letting go of his braid with another small tug. “You don’t learn the lessons you should learn.”

“I’m so sorry, I want to do better please, how do I do better?” The words flooded across the bond. Anakin looked up, feeling his face burning. He felt like he was begging for something to hold on to—some way out, some way to get away from himself. His breathing was heavy, he wanted Obi-Wan’s hand back on his braid, touching him. He wanted Obi-Wan to touch him so badly he felt like he was on fire. “What should I do, Master?”

Obi-Wan’s face was that odd blank expression again. Anakin had seen it so often over the past five or so years, Obi-Wan’s face would go blank, his Force signature would disappear, he would leave the room. Anakin never understood why, what caused it, what it meant. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked to his hand again, drawn as if by a magnet. Anakin hated that, he couldn’t help projecting: “Why do you keep looking at my hand? Don’t look at it. It’s awful, I don’t like it when you look at it, I’m sorry I failed you, I was so angry at Dooku, I was so mad, still mad from Tatooine, Padmé fell from our transport and you made me leave her, I was in a rage, I couldn’t stop to think, I’m so sorry, you almost died, Master, I—” 

Obi-Wan cut him off. “Stop.” Anakin froze. “Be silent.” Anakin swallowed hard. Obi-Wan spoke quietly. “Dooku is the living master of blade-to-blade combat. Makashi was always his specialty. I am not angry that you were defeated by him. I, too, had to be rescued by Yoda. I do not think your hand is awful. I look at it for a different reason. It does not bother me.”

Anakin moaned quietly in relief, Obi-Wan’s words lifting a crushing weight from his chest that he hadn’t known had even been there. Obi-Wan frowned and sent a strong suggestion to explain the sound through the Force. Anakin said, “Padmé…” before he realized he was answering, speaking out loud. He stopped and licked his lips, feeling confused. Had Obi-Wan just mind tricked him? 

Obi-Wan looked furious, and repeated the suggestion, stronger. He had. Anakin swallowed and gave him the answer: “Senator Amidala, she thought that it was too cold. She never said it out loud, but I could feel in the Force how much she hated it. Hated the feel of cold metal on her skin.” Anakin whispered silently into the Force.

“Why were you touching her skin, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, voice knowing and dangerous. “Why were you laying hands on the Senator, Padawan?”

“We…” Anakin said. He looked down at the ground, and shivered. “I love her.”

“You what?” Obi-Wan grabbed his short hair and pulled his head back so he could look him in the eyes. “You what?”

“I loved her, Master” Anakin projected. “I wanted to be with her forever, she said no.”

Obi-Wan tightened his grip on Anakin’s hair. Anakin whimpered. “She said no? No to what?” 

Anakin saw the danger in what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t possibly stop now that he found a large crack in Obi-Wan’s façade. It was the crack he had always been searching for—the crack that might unleash real consequences, and let him see Obi-Wan as he really was, not the mask he always had to see. Anakin pushed on the crack, he couldn’t help it. “I asked her to marry me,” Anakin said.

“You would have left?” Obi-Wan roughly shoved Anakin’s head back, releasing his hair. He was livid. “You were planning to leave the Order? Leave me?”

“I wasn’t going to leave the Order.” Anakin said, reeling slightly. “We would have kept it a secret.”

Obi-Wan glared at him, fists clenched. His voice was a lash. “You would be the least capable person in the entire Order of the subtlety required to pull that off, Padawan.”

Anakin looked up. The chastisement felt good. He wanted more. He spoke insolently. “Why?”

“You cannot keep secrets, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said sharply. “You are the most openly emotional person in the entire Order.” He spat it like a rebuke. “The Council would rip you apart in seconds. You have no ability to present a public face, no ability to contain yourself.”

“Like you do?” Anakin said. His eyes were focused forward, on the way Obi-Wan’s tabards fell down his chest and stomach, tucked behind the obi and belt, down to hide the fastening of his pants. He stared where Obi-Wan’s cock must be, but was concealed. Obi-Wan was always shielded behind about fifteen layers of clothes. Fifteen layers of façade. 

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “Like I do.”

“Master… please…” Anakin looked up at him from his knees. Obi-Wan had been standing over him, looking down at him, keeping him there for a long time. “What can I do? What are the consequences? How can I make it right?”

Obi-Wan looked unsettled, again. “You can never make it right, Padawan…” Obi-Wan took a deep breath and smoothed his face, but his eyes were still full of emotion. “Over the last few weeks, you have broken your vows in the most serious ways possible—in all the possible ways to break them. What you have done is indefensible—” Obi-Wan broke off and swallowed.

Anakin stared as Obi-Wan breathed heavily, trying to regain his composure. It was as if the magnitude of Anakin’s crimes were washing over him again. What Obi-Wan was willing to accept, willing to help conceal. Obi-Wan’s voice had began intentionally mild and genial, as usual, but the emotions had began to leak through as he lost control, coloring his words, tinting them with rage. 

Obi-Wan continued after a long moment, words clipped and precise. “I have given a decade of my life to make you into a Jedi. You have no idea how important it was that you be the best Jedi possible.” The anger was coming through the cracks. Anakin was entranced, Obi-Wan was speaking louder and louder: “You have no idea of the implications of what you have done. No idea what it means for me, for us, for the galaxy. All of this, the Council, you—” 

Obi-Wan turned sharply away from him again and began pacing, his angriest walk. Anakin was stunned. Obi-Wan was still talking. “You have no idea what this means. The implications, Anakin. This is not how our lives were supposed to go! The Code should have been enough! The Council was supposed to lead me—lead us!— in the right direction! I have lived my entire life, given everything I had, trying to obey the rules, play everything by the rules, stay on the path! To avoid this exact outcome, Anakin! You have no idea what you’ve done.” Obi-Wan was suddenly standing in front of him again, eyes blazing.

Anakin had not moved from his kneeling position. He looked back up and projected: “Please, Master, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what any of that means, I don’t know what’s wrong, I only want to help.”

“Oh, I know.” Obi-Wan’s voice was unsteady, “I know how much you want to be useful. I’ve known since the very moment you were born, when I had my first dream of fucking you, Anakin.” He laughed hollowly as Anakin’s head jerked back, looking up, eyes wide. “I’ll bet you didn’t know that!” 

Anakin stared, frozen. Obi-Wan’s face was suddenly full of emotion, his brow furling, lip curling into a snarl. “Well, I’ve seen this coming since I was sixteen! I have done everything I could to change it. The future is not fixed. Master Yoda always told me: “Always in motion is the future.” and “Your path you must decide.” I followed the rules, I followed the path, and I failed! Thank you very much, Anakin. You’ve made my worst nightmares come true!”

The severity of the reprimand from Obi-Wan, the slowly escalating rage in his voice, the way his accent shaped the words, the concentration on Anakin, the look in his eyes—Anakin felt drunk. He didn’t understand how he had done this, how he had made Obi-Wan focus on him like this. He almost slurred when he said, “I’m so sorry, Master. Please… What can I do? For you? What can I do? What do you need me to do?” 

Obi-Wan looked like Anakin slapped him.

Anakin reached his hand out and grabbed the end of Obi-Wan’s tabard, tugging on it gently. “Please, Master.” Anakin needed this. Everything had gone so wrong, everything was so out of control. “Tell me what to do.” Anakin looked up and searched his Master’s eyes. Obi-Wan looked almost afraid, Anakin could see him, really see him. Anakin thought, “I can’t control myself, I need you to take me, please, have me instead, I can’t do this, please, I’m giving myself, Master—”

“Stop.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “Now.” 

Obi-Wan was still for a moment. Anakin held his breath, waiting. 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, his gaze newly dark and intent. His voice was rough, and his hand came down to absently stroke Anakin’s hair. “I understand now.” He let out a shaky breath. “I finally understand why.”

“Why what, Master?” Anakin whispered. “Why what?”

“For more than half my life, I assumed it would be all my fault. I would be the one who broke the rules. I would be the one who crossed the line, became a molester, an abuser. I never understood how I could, or why I would. That’s why I felt safe. I understand now, that I was wrong. I was never safe. It was never me. It was always you. You need this. You were born needing this.”

Anakin was confused but recognized the word need and nodded, his eyes seeking Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan searched his vulnerable expression and asked, “You are asking me to take care of you?” Anakin nodded again. “You need me to do whatever I want?”

“Yes,” Anakin said quietly, eyes fixing on the floor, blushing fiercely. “Whatever you want.”

“You need me to tell you what to do?” Obi-Wan’s tone was still dark. 

Anakin nodded again. “Yes, Master.” 

Obi-Wan’s voice slid lower. “Or else you slaughter villages and attempt to marry politicians?” 

Anakin recoiled slightly. “I guess, Master.”

“You guess?” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Do I have a choice, even? Did I ever?” Obi-Wan’s questions sounded almost wistful. “Who would you be if I’d turned you away at nine? Apparently I really should have. Qui-Gon and the Force were rather insistent that I keep you, though…” Obi-Wan shrugged and shook his head. “What would you do if I turned you away now?”

Anakin looked up helplessly at him. “I don’t know, Master.” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Nothing good, I’d imagine,” Obi-Wan said. “Certainly nothing wise.”

Anakin swallowed. “No, Master.”

Obi-Wan turned and began to pace again. Anakin watched him walk away with displeasure. “Now that I understand, Anakin, it changes things slightly. I need to keep you here, that’s the first problem we must address.” Obi-Wan’s mind swept through Anakin’s again, tasting and testing. Anakin wobbled. “The darkness is not too deep.” He sighed in relief. “I suspect because your crimes were an extension of a misguided sense of righteous indignation, rather than lust or greed, that you were only lightly tainted. Only atonement will truly remove the stain, though, and you seem extremely resistant to that idea. We have to figure out how to keep you in the Order, I—” 

Anakin made to get up and Obi-Wan shot him a disapproving look, throwing up a hand and immobilizing him with the Force. “You will not move yet.” He came closer. “I told you to kneel, and I have not altered my request. Do you want your agency back quite so quickly, Anakin? You seemed awfully interested in giving it away.” He dropped his hand, freeing Anakin. “Stay put.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin gasped. “Thank you, Master.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan went back to his pacing. Anakin resisted the urge to pout. He watched Obi-Wan’s progress instead, taking in his neat hair, his tidy robes, his shiny boots. Obi-Wan was always so well put together, so composed. He always seemed to know what to do.

“I assure you that I do not, Padawan.” Obi-Wan said absently over his shoulder. “Are you projecting or just thinking?”

“Thinking,” Anakin said, a little unsettled. “I wasn’t projecting at all.”

“Curious,” Obi-Wan said. “I was not listening intentionally either. Can you hear my thoughts?”

“No, Master,” Anakin said, frustrated. “I have never once been able to enter your mind. No matter the situation, you’re always closed.”

“Interesting, and good.” Obi-Wan sounded distracted.

“Good?” Anakin’s voice was sulky. “Why can’t we really open the bond? We never have. Why don’t you want to?” He pushed out the questions, finally getting to ask the one thing that had bothered him since he was nine. “Why don’t you want the bond?”

Obi-Wan laughed shortly. “It’s not about wanting it, Anakin.” He said, but it wasn’t with the usual smooth, distant, teacherly tone that he’d always used with Anakin. It sounded like he was talking to a friend. Anakin swallowed down a shudder of pleasure at that fact alone. “At nine, would you like to have accidentally seen an image of what you might look like in the future, bent over and getting fucked? I couldn’t possibly have done that.” 

Obi-Wan’s words made Anakin whine involuntarily. His throbbing cock sharply reminded him of how good it felt to be on his knees, how good it felt to not have to make choices—he was so painfully hard, he felt a desperate need to palm himself, needed to touch himself, incredulous at how good it sounded to hear Obi-Wan say things like that.

“I…” Anakin tried again. “I wouldn’t mind now.”

Obi-Wan laughed at him again, genuinely, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Of course not.” He shook his head, the smile fading, his voice chilling. “Keep your hands off yourself. I can feel what you want, and you are not to touch yourself. You don’t deserve it.” Anakin swallowed hard and nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Obi-Wan looked away from him and resumed pacing. “I am concerned about the strength of the bond even with me shielding at my full capacity, Anakin. I am honestly unsure of what would happen if we opened it the whole way. Although…” He ran a hand over his beard, looking speculative as he reached out with his mind, feeling Anakin’s for darkness again.

Anakin moaned, eyes sliding shut. It felt so good, Obi-Wan’s mental touch was what he was always missing, he felt empty and unbalanced without it. Even this tendril was amazing. “Please open the bond, Master… I would do anything, just once…”

Obi-Wan hummed deliberatively. “It might alleviate the tainted nature of your Force signature.” He came back over to Anakin, studying him closely.

“Please, Master. Obi-Wan, please.” Anakin looked up at him as seriously as he could, “Let me in.” 

“This is unwise,” Obi-Wan said, moving closer. Suddenly Anakin took what felt like the first breath of air in his life. It felt like he was sinking into hot water—he shivered, the hairs raising on his arms, eyes fluttering shut. Having the bond open, the vacant field between them was flooded with a thick level of mutual awareness. Anakin felt a wave of fear and awe track through Obi-Wan. He heard Obi-Wan’s private thought, “I didn’t expect it to be this dramatic.”

Anakin’s eyes had unfocused, his mouth dropped open. He had never felt more stable in his entire life, had never felt more calm, never felt this warm, never this safe. He sunk forward into the feeling, and Obi-Wan’s mind was open to him, catching him for the first time. Anakin eagerly wrapped himself with Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan huffed out a breath. “Hello, Anakin.” He smiled. “Feel good?”

“Yes!” Anakin beamed his widest smile. His eyes opened and caught Obi-Wan’s fond look. “It does!”

“Let me check your signature again,” Obi-Wan said. The connected feeling abruptly receded. Anakin winced. It was worse to be without it, but still—it had been worth it. He felt Obi-Wan’s pokes and smiled. “Better, not perfect but it is better. I think Master Windu will keep his lightsaber on his belt.”

“Thank you, Master,”  Anakin projected. Obi-Wan nodded absently, still looking at him. 

“Do you think I should touch you now?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin exhaled sharply, relieved at even getting the question. “Yes, Master. Please.” 

Obi-Wan still didn’t move. “That’s the interesting thing, Anakin, about asking me to treat you how I want to”—Anakin felt a swell of dread—“is that today, of all days, I am not feeling particularly affectionate. Do you have a guess why?”

“Yes, I do,” Anakin said, ashamed. He muttered, “I have a couple guesses.” 

“Good. I want you to think about those reasons. You can move now.” Obi-Wan grabbed his data pad and sat on the sofa. “Do not touch yourself, either, Anakin. I will know.”

Anakin swallowed. 

Kriff.

Obi-Wan woke up with a headache. 

He didn’t recite the Code before he got out of bed. He didn’t give his dreams—an actually rather pleasant experience of taking a lightsaber to Dooku—to the Force.  He didn’t pretend that everything was fine.  Obi-Wan knew things were not even a little bit fine. 

He felt unsettled at the degree to which he had lost his cool. He had overreacted. Well, probably not. It’s hard to over-react to mass murder and gross misconduct. He’d under-reacted in very important ways. 

Force damn Anakin to the lowest level of all the Sith hells. How had this happened so fast? Army of clones, Sith-appeasing Council, disloyal Padawan swimming in darkness—

He’d reacted irrationally. He’d reacted emotionally.  He’d told one of his biggest secrets, because he’d been angry and afraid. It was something that couldn’t be unsaid, and saying it had certainly been unwise. 

He’d used a mind trick on his own Padawan, twice, because he’d been possessive. That was something that couldn’t be undone, and doing it was more than unwise. 

It was dark.  He had reached for the Force out of emotion. His crèche-master would be horrified. Jedi do not have attachments. Jedi do not have possessions. 

Obi-Wan looked at his reflection in the ‘fresher mirror. His eyes were still blue. It was only a matter of time, he knew now. He had chosen his path. 

Anakin’s fall had been so clear, last night. It was in the moment when he recognized that he had truly, completely failed at making Anakin a Jedi—Obi-Wan had seen its inevitability, in a sudden rush that felt like the unifying Force whispering in his ear. Anakin would fall, and the galaxy would burn. Like an overgrown forest, the Force had whispered, the galaxy needed to burn, it was healthy, it was time. Who will wield the flame?

Obi-Wan had realized it must be him, not any other. Anakin had chosen him.

That had also been the exact moment when Obi-Wan decided that the golden eyes future was not just an acceptable future, it was actually the only tolerable future—a life without Anakin was not acceptable, the idea of his Anakin pledging to fuck a politician for life or kneeling to an unknown Sith Master was physically painful to consider.

Anakin was his responsibility. Anakin gave himself to him.

Anakin had been on his knees before Obi-Wan, eyes begging for approval, face flushed red with shame and desperation, cock painfully hard. It looked right, it felt right. 

The Force had put them together, and Anakin wasn’t allowed to just wander away. 

If it really took fucking him to keep him, Obi-Wan would. He would gladly fuck the disobedience out of him. He would gladly shove his cock in his insolent mouth. He would gladly gag him, tie him up, deny him... Anything to keep him a Jedi, as long as possible. 

The irony was amusing.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror. Perhaps the dreams had never been warnings from the Force at all. 

Maybe they’d been promises.

The Council chamber was very low on the list of places that Anakin would like to be at that particular moment. He’d managed to avoid debriefing the previous day upon his initial arrival from Naboo, probably thanks to some kind of interference run by Obi-Wan. Anakin didn’t know. 

Anakin just knew he woke up to a summons from the Council, and a profound sense of dread. He kept sneaking glances at Obi-Wan’s stern face as they left, listening to Obi-Wan's crisp voice as he intently and specifically talked Anakin through what to expect, testing his Force signature and pulling out more of his darkness.

Master Yoda broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well, would you say, your mission went, Padawan Skywalker?” 

“Uh... Yes, Master Yoda.” Anakin swallowed. “Senator Amidala is uninjured, and able to return to the Senate.” Anakin didn’t know what else to say. Obi-Wan shifted. Anakin tried again. “There were no security incidents on Naboo, now that Gunray is busy with the war maybe he’s paying attention to that instead?”

Silence began, again. Anakin hated the Council so much. He crushed the feeling up and pressed it down. Everything could take so much less time if they didn’t pause to feel his Force signature after every question to test for lies. They didn’t do that to anyone else. 

Looking out the Council windows, Coruscant was gleaming in the morning light. It was a sea of metal and glass, a twisting and artificial mess stretching to the horizon. Anakin thought it looked better at night, when the lights seemed to go on forever. Only Coruscant would look better in the dark.

Anakin refocused on Yoda’s twitching ears. It was strange, this debriefing. Instead of standing slightly behind and to the side of his Master, he was standing in front. Obi-Wan was a reassuring presence over his shoulder. 

Anakin self-consciously fixed his posture again as the pause extended. He had been right about Yoda and Windu giving him extra scrutiny. He felt them examining him closely in the Force.

“That is possible, Skywalker.” Windu’s voice was as unfriendly as usual. Anakin turned to face him. “Why were you on Tatooine?”

Anakin repeated the answer coached to him by Obi-Wan word-by-word: “Senator Amidala received a distress call. She had contacts from her involvement with humanitarian concerns. She decided to respond. I attempted to dissuade her but was unsuccessful. I accompanied her as a security escort.” All of these things were true, from a certain point of view.

“Headstrong, she is.” Yoda chimed in. “Stubborn, and impulsive.”

Anakin looked cautiously at him. “I was not able to dissuade her from flying to Geonosis as well, in her attempt to rescue Master Obi-Wan.”

“I never thought I would suggest assertiveness training, Obi-Wan.” Master Windu was talking over his shoulder, his voice skeptical. Anakin ground his teeth. “I see you have him following orders, now.” 

“Certainly not mine, Mace.” Obi-Wan’s voice was warm and resigned. Anakin could feel something coiling underneath in the bond. “We’re working on that.” 

Anakin flushed.

“How are you adjusting to your arm? Are you troubled by pain?” Master Plo Koon’s voice was kind. Anakin turned to him in relief. 

“I had very good care on Naboo, and my rehabilitation work is going well. I am almost at a stage where my lightsaber work is unaffected.”

“He needs more time to heal, though.” Obi-Wan added on quickly. Anakin could feel him getting a disapproving nudge through the bond. “Several more weeks here at the Temple at least.”

“You want to delay your deployment until he’s ready?” Windu’s voice was dubious. “He can do rehab on the ship.”

“That is my preference, yes.” Obi-Wan sounded very respectful. “I also would personally appreciate the time to prepare to enter the war.”

“Time, we may not have.” Yoda’s voice was admonitory. “First steps, taken they have been. Begun, the war has.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wait for us it will not!”

Obi-Wan spoke politely, bowing his head several degrees, “That is very true, Master Yoda.” Anakin suddenly could hear Obi-Wan’s thoughts—“You’ve waited ten Force-damned years to lift a finger, now I can’t have a couple weeks to prepare for your bloody farce of a war?”

“There are always the battalions who fought during the battle of Geonosis.” Ki-Adi-Mundi’s voice was mild. “Those clones are scheduled to have up to three weeks to regroup and repair their equipment. Key officers need to be replaced, which will take time.”

“That would work.” Windu sounded appeased. “We will inform you when you are matched with a battalion.”

“That is acceptable to me,” Obi-Wan said in a grateful tone, bowing again slightly. Anakin closed his eyes and felt Obi-Wan’s discontent boiling beneath his shields. Obi-Wan’s voice was placid, “I would prefer to work with soldiers who have already experienced combat.” 

Anakin shivered when the thought echoed through his mind, “How many are already dead? How many need to be ‘replaced’? How can Mundi possibly say it like that, like it’s replacing spare parts?”

They bowed again when they were dismissed, and Anakin swam in his Master’s hidden resentment and frustration. It felt good, it felt like Obi-Wan, the real Obi-Wan. Anakin’s Obi-Wan. Anakin wanted more of it, directed at him.

“That went rather well, all things considered.” Obi-Wan’s voice was level as they walked down the hallway, his posture relaxed, his face mild. “I appreciate them giving you time to heal.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin tried to match his casual tone. “They seemed more concerned with the future than the past.”

“Indeed, Padawan.” Obi-Wan shot him a look. “They did not press the issues. It was curious.”

Anakin swallowed and asked, “Do you think they’ve dropped it?”

Obi-Wan sighed as they entered the lift. “No, Anakin.” He shook his head and waited before the door slid shut before continuing. “Almost certainly not. They are placing you under scrutiny, I could tell that much from skimming their feelings.”

Anakin’s stomach dropped. He knew that was coming. “How are you able to read them back? I always just feel their touch.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I’ve always had an unusual capacity for the mental arts. You have your own capacities. I would prefer you to focus on your abilities, not your deficiencies, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded dutifully. “Yes, Master.” He fixed his posture. “I will focus on my abilities.”

Obi-Wan’s voice came out like a caress. “Very good, Padawan.” Anakin shivered and pushed into Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force. Obi-Wan let him in, and gave him the equivalent of a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Very good.”

“But do you think it’s really alright?” Anakin was laying haphazardly on a chair in their rooms in the Temple, his thumb skimming a long report on his data pad. 

Obi-Wan had several data pads and a holomap open at the table. Over the past several days, they had received their first briefings about their new roles as General and Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic. Obi-Wan was looking over their new responsibilities, their new obligations. Obi-Wan was working. 

“… Master? Is it right?”

“No, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said without looking up. “Of course it’s not right.” They’d discussed this plenty—Anakin was asking questions to which he already knew the answer. This game was not Obi-Wan’s favorite pastime. Obi-Wan reiterated slowly and kindly, as if to a remedial student: “We absolutely should not be using clones to fight a war. It is wrong. Very good, Padawan.”

Anakin’s signature in the Force became muddied with arousal. Good. Obi-Wan had been enjoying allowing himself to notice when Anakin reacted like this. He then enjoyed ignoring him.

“It does seem wrong to me.” Anakin sighed. “I’m glad you think so too, Master.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and switched data pads. Several quiet moments let him begin to concentrate again on the command structure.

“Should we even be doing this, though?” Anakin’s voice again. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and looked over again. Anakin wanted his attention, he would get it. Then maybe Obi-Wan could finally get some work done. 

“We must, Anakin.” His voice was emphatic. Anakin looked at him with wide eyes. “We are not being given a choice. We are either Jedi Generals, or we leave, handing over the Order to the Sith and allowing the warmongers in the Senate to use the Jedi to throw the galaxy into chaos without our intervention.” He tossed his data pad on the table, running a hand over his beard. “We would be bystanders, Padawan. We cannot be bystanders. We need resources to find and destroy the Sith, running a war will have utility for that purpose. Besides, I need to find and talk to Dooku, and he has an army and a navy in front of him.”

“That all makes sense.” Anakin said, sounding overwhelmed. His voice lost confidence. “Only I don’t know anything about running a war, Master. It’s too big. I’m basically a pilot who can use a sword.”

Obi-Wan examined Anakin’s perplexed face and laughed quietly. “You are one or two more things than that, Anakin.” He sighed. “I’ll admit I don’t know either, Padawan. Not really. I’ve read theoretical things, historical things. I don’t know how I’ll be able to apply it.” 

Anakin looked amused. “You’ll be fine, Master. I’ve never seen you be bad at anything.”

“I am rather bad at teaching a Padawan how to be a Jedi.” Obi-Wan sniped back dryly. Anakin’s Force presence spiked with want and shame. Obi-Wan ignored it, with pleasure. “Will you please get back to work?”

“Yes, Master.” He agreed, and then kept talking. Obi-Wan ground his teeth. “I’m glad we’ll be together at least. You will be able to help me.” 

“I will try, Anakin.” Obi-Wan tapped the table, his eyes lingering on Anakin’s broad shoulders and the way his long legs draped over the arm of the chair, a bare foot dangling and bouncing anxiously. “Until they decide to Knight you, that is.” 

Obi-Wan frowned, momentarily distracted by the memory of the numbers he’d drawn up. “I don’t think we have enough Generals for all the battalions. I imagine they’ll be pushing us all out into the field quickly.”

“I don’t want to leave, Master.” Anakin was worried, his pretense of reading fully abandoned. “Will they do that soon?”

“It will probably be soon, yes.” Obi-Wan ran his eyes slowly down the length of Anakin’s sprawled body, the strength and vitality of his form. “You appear ready to transition into Knighthood.” His eyes narrowed. “I, alone, know how unready you truly are.“

Anakin swallowed. “Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan was becoming very fond of the ‘Yes, Master,’ ’Sorry, Master,’ routine that he had been getting from Anakin. In so many parts of his life at the moment he had no idea to proceed, and yet here Anakin was—trusting him and him alone to give him instruction. 

Obi-Wan took a moment to look at Anakin’s eager expression.

It felt strange, having only one thing under his control, and having that one thing be the most powerful Force user in the Order. His eyes fixed back on Anakin’s metal hand, lingering on the familiar shape. It made him feel almost hot, unsteady. His dreams could be about now. They could be about right now. 

He could take Anakin any time he wanted to, however he wanted to. Obi-Wan knew this, and yet had not done anything. It had been almost better, somehow, to watch Anakin squirm and huff in frustration. To know he needed it, and it was something Obi-Wan could deny, that felt very good. Obi-Wan had a strong suspicion, though, that giving in would feel even better than that.  

Perhaps it was time to give Anakin a taste of what he needed, so he wouldn’t go somewhere else looking for it. He’d managed to keep Anakin away from a surprise tea invitation with the worst of all the Force-damned politicians yesterday, but Anakin had very badly wanted to go. That was a problem.

Anakin was apparently still just walking around asking to be taken by anyone who wanted. Offering himself to politicians left and right. That was not acceptable. Anakin was not available to be taken by politicians. If he was wandering around doing that, dangling himself out there, slaughtering villages on the side, the Sith would find him, take him for their own. The Sith were very probably watching the Chancellor’s office closely.

Anakin pouted a little bit at Obi-Wan’s inaction, and reached back for his data pad. Obi-Wan could sense that Anakin still wanted to talk to the Chancellor very badly.

Obi-Wan frowned, a spike of irritation flaring. Anakin’s eyes flicked back up to him, asking.

If Anakin needed his Master so very, very badly, fine. 

Anakin was still looking at him, his Force presence a puddle of need.

Fine.

“Stand up, Padawan.” Anakin immediately followed orders. Obi-Wan smiled darkly as he felt a jolt of arousal at the unthinking obedience. Was this really the solution to the incessant backchat all along? Shoving my cock in his mouth? “Come closer.”

Anakin approached, eyes growing hopeful. “Yes, Master?” Obi-Wan appreciated how he looked freshly-showered, undershirt clinging slightly to a damp chest, skin slightly flushed, muscles relaxed. They had been left alone, having a quiet morning together in their rooms at the Temple, able to just be—sharing each other’s space, murmuring about the contents of their coms, drinking tea and caf, hearing each other breathe. 

“Stop.” Anakin stood still, a few paces away, vibrating with energy. Obi-Wan looked him over slowly, and watched as Anakin’s cheeks grew pinker and pinker. Obi-Wan smiled. Anakin was all edges and hard angles—lean frame, sharp cheekbones, strong jawline—except for his mouth. His lips were almost feminine, plush and pink. He pouted easily, and bit them frequently when he focused. Obi-Wan found his lips extremely distracting.

Fine.

Obi-Wan slid his chair back from the table and turned it towards Anakin. He gestured to the ground in front of him, “Come here.” Anakin stepped closer, visibly swallowing. Obi-Wan could see the hard outline of his cock through his soft lounge pants. He smirked slightly. “Kneel.” Anakin dropped to his knees. Obi-Wan spread his legs slightly and slid forward on his chair, voice teasing. “Have you been good, Padawan?”

Anakin’s eyes lit up even brighter. He looked so eager. “Yes!” Anakin’s voice was pleading. “I’m sure you felt in the Force that I didn’t, Master, I didn’t touch myself.”

“I know you didn’t, Padawan.” Obi-Wan ran a hand over Anakin’s hair and Anakin beamed at the contact. His misery at keeping his hands off himself had almost been a fog in the Force. Obi-Wan continued, petting him again. “I have been keeping an eye on you.” His words were somewhere between a threat and a promise.

Anakin blushed even more crimson. “Thank you, Master.” He settled slightly to get more comfortable between Obi-Wan’s knees, hands coming up to rest on Obi-Wan’s thighs.

Obi-Wan smiled more softly, appreciating Anakin’s nearness and the release of scent of his freshly washed hair when he ran his fingers through it. It was still slightly damp. His Padawan braid was freshly braided, perfectly neat. “You’ve done well, Anakin.” Anakin breathed shakily, his eyes searching Obi-Wan’s.

“Really?” His voice was small. “I’ve been trying to read everything I’ve been assigned by the Republic Military and do what I’m supposed to do and be on time for things. I’ve tried—”

Obi-Wan cut him off by grabbing his Padawan braid. “You have behaved for several days, yes, Padawan.” His voice was teasing, and Anakin smiled. Obi-Wan then pulled harder on the braid and said, much less teasing: “It’s all you can do, now.”

Anakin looked down. “I know, Master.”

“Do you?” Obi-Wan tugged on the braid. “Do you understand?”

“I’m trying to, Master.” Anakin’s eyes were wide. He pushed the last part through the bond. “I need your help.” 

Obi-Wan hummed negatively. “No… I think you need to be helpful, instead. I will let you help me, Padawan.” Anakin’s presence in the Force lit up with relief, and Obi-Wan opened their bond, causing Anakin to whimper, his arousal causing Obi-Wan’s cock to throb. “Take me out of my pants.” The words came roughly out of Obi-Wan’s mouth, echoing into the real world the shared intention in the Force. 

Anakin sighed in relief and hastened to obey, reaching forward and gently grasping the top of Obi-Wan’s pants, his fingers sliding down Obi-Wan’s skin for the first time with intent. Metal and flesh—just like his dreams. Obi-Wan swallowed. Anakin tentatively pulled the soft pants down, his eyes looked cautious and incredulous. 

Obi-Wan stroked his face with his thumb, encouraging. Anakin breathed in deeply and reached his hand inside, gently grasping Obi-Wan’s cock and pulling him out, his shaky breath releasing against the sensitive skin. Anakin’s eyes widened as he took in the length and width of Obi-Wan’s hard cock, and he began to lean forward, his mouth automatically seeking contact.

Obi-Wan wrapped his hand in Anakin’s braid and gripped harder, pulling back, holding Anakin’s head in place, reminding him to wait for permission. Anakin blinked up at him and nodded at the warning in the bond, instead using his left hand to stroke down the length of Obi-Wan’s cock, grasping it gently, his fingers gently pressing, reaching the head and pausing, his eyes flicking up to Obi-Wan for instruction.

“Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin’s hand squeezed lightly in response, his pleasure washing over Obi-Wan through the bond. Anakin apparently loved it when Obi-Wan praised him, loved it when Obi-Wan lectured him, loved it when Obi-Wan even just said his name or called him his Padawan. He apparently wanted anything, everything from Obi-Wan, he would take anything, take everything. 

“You’ve dreamed of this?” Anakin shared the thought cautiously as if he was testing to make sure he’d understood Obi-Wan’s confession. Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly, fury at himself spiking for his inability to keep his mouth shut. Anakin’s thoughts were tinted with disbelief and insecurity: “You’ve had this, but I’ve never done this before…”

Obi-Wan nodded down at him again, understanding him, stroking his skin. “I’ll guide you, Anakin.” He used his hold on Anakin’s hair to bring him closer. Anakin’s pupils were blown, he licked his lips. 

“Thank you, Master,” he said, the breath of his whisper on Obi-Wan’s sensitive skin.

Obi-Wan held Anakin’s head, lining up his mouth in front of his cock. His words came to him from a dream, came out through his mouth, without him thinking about it at all—“Suck spit into your mouth, Padawan.” Anakin closed his mouth, sucking in his cheeks, eyes wide. “Show me.” 

Anakin opened his mouth, relaxing his jaw, looking up for approval. He stuck his tongue out slightly, waiting. Obi-Wan could see the wet shine of his saliva. “Very good.” He brushed Anakin’s bottom lip lightly with the tip of his cock. Obi-Wan couldn’t believe this was real, that he was finally about to give it to him. “Are you certain you want this?” 

Anakin nodded as best he could with his head in Obi-Wan’s grip, mouth still open, eyes begging, approval radiating in the Force. Obi-Wan pulled Anakin’s face forward, letting his cock slide along the tongue, pushing the head inside, projecting to Anakin how to hold his lips over his teeth. Anakin’s hand slid back down the length as he sucked on the head. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers tightened, holding Anakin in place. Anakin was still looking up, his blue eyes wide and vulnerable, he looked so good with a cock in his mouth. Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut, and Obi-Wan realized he had projected the thought across the bond. He smiled slightly and pushed his cock further into Anakin’s mouth, sliding in until Anakin’s lips touched his hand, and Obi-Wan’s cock brushed the back of Anakin’s throat. 

Anakin made a muffled, incredulous choking sound and took it as best he could, learning how it felt to have his mouth stuffed full for the first time. Obi-Wan groaned as he appreciated the sight of his Padawan’s face filled with his cock. 

He let go of Anakin’s hair, letting him move up and slide back down experimentally. “Yes, good, Anakin, just like that.” His voice was low and encouraging as Anakin began to move his head up and down faster, lips sliding and catching on the head, his tongue pressing and licking. He had always been a fast learner. 

Anakin’s metal hand moved to gently cradle Obi-Wan’s balls, and at the feel of the cool metal Obi-Wan’s eyes rolled back and he murmured, “So much better than I even imagined, I knew it would, I knew you would be so good, very good, just like that, Padawan, yes—” Anakin hummed in acknowledgement around his cock and Obi-Wan’s control broke slightly, fucking forward, down his throat. Anakin took it, gagging slightly, and seemed to smile with pride around his cock. 

Obi-Wan incredulously petted his hair. His heart was racing, his breathing shaky. “Very good, yes, very good, Padawan. I’m very close.” Anakin sent a wave of joy at almost accomplishing his task, the only goal in the world that seemed to matter to him at that moment—the only thing he had to worry about—was making Obi-Wan come. Nothing else mattered. 

Anakin began to speed up, focusing his mouth on the head, making sloppy sounds when his mouth would pop off the end of Obi-Wan’s cock so he could gasp a breath, his hand stroking the length quickly. Obi-Wan was so close, so close. 

Obi-Wan felt almost high—he was doing the unforgivable thing, the forbidden thing, and it felt like the Force was singing, the bond was a living thing, coiling around them, urging them on, get closer, get closer. 

Obi-Wan gave in, grabbed Anakin’s head again, thrusting deep, holding him still so he could rub the head of his cock against the back of his throat, fucking in further, feeling him gag. Incredulous at the wave of desire and gratitude radiating from Anakin for choking him with his cock, Obi-Wan laughed. 

Anakin’s intense pleasure radiating in the Force felt like an absolution for all the rougher dreams that he had never forgiven himself for before. Anakin wanted this, needed this. Obi-Wan unconsciously projected: “I’m going to get to do this again, as many times as I want, however I want—”

“Yes, please, Master, whenever, please, use me, I love it, yes—”

Obi-Wan thrust forward, fucking Anakin’s face hard one last time and came, moaning as Anakin’s voice lingering in his mind—use me, I love it, yes. His orgasm washed over him, his come spilling down Anakin’s throat. Anakin tasted it and nearly overwhelmed Obi-Wan through the bond with his feelings of being proud, special, useful, important, good. 

Obi-Wan felt his orgasm stretch out, impossibly long, impossibly good, until he finally crested, the last spill of his come draining him completely. All the tension in his body slid away, and stroked Anakin’s head as he slipped his oversensitive cock back out of his mouth. 

He watched rapt as Anakin licked his lips, wiped them lazily with the back of his hand. Obi-Wan’s breath was shaky, the entire world was muted except for their eye contact. 

The bond was thick with shared attention, almost a haze of pleasure and connection. It saturated his consciousness, this feeling of being one—his come was inside Anakin—the Force seemed to be trembling with Anakin’s intense, disbelieving joy as Obi-Wan became part of him, mixing their essential personhood in the Force. The living Force inside Anakin was incandescent, mesmerizing, intoxicating—Obi-Wan was wrapped in it, encompassed by it.

Obi-Wan absently wondered if his come had midi-chlorians in it, and he imagined asking Yoda about it. Hello, Master Yoda, I have been coming inside my Padawan and it looks like it glows in the Force, do advise. The mental image of Yoda’s eyes widening in horror made him laugh, breaking the connection. He shook his head, his vision of the Force completely fading, just back to Anakin’s handsome, flushed face. 

Obi-Wan felt calm, the pleasure of his own orgasm loosening in his limbs, making him feel heavy and sated. His eyes explored Anakin, who was still looking up at him with a dreamy expression on his face at the taste of his Master’s come, fingers tracing his swollen lips, his need blooming in the Force.

“You may touch yourself.” Obi-Wan said graciously in response, a small smile on his face.

Anakin groaned, “Thank you, Master, thank you so much.” His hand immediately jumped to his pants, whining and palming himself roughly. “I needed to, it almost hurt, I wanted to so badly.” His hand had slipped beneath his pants, pulling himself out, stroking quickly. “Oh, Force, Master, thank you.” 

Obi-Wan tucked himself away and ran a hand through his own hair to neaten away dishevelment. He leaned back in his chair, watching Anakin stroke himself, still between his knees. Anakin’s face slackened as he reached his climax quickly, moaning as he came, eyes sliding shut. Obi-Wan smiled slowly. 

The bond thickened even more—he closed his eyes and lost himself inside the Force. Anakin felt quiet, for once—he felt settled. Obi-Wan explored the new sense of peace saturating Anakin’s Force signature. He’d never seen it before, like this. “How do you feel, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, checking in. “Was that alright with you?”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said, slumping from his knees to sit back on the floor. “That was…” His voice trailed off. He sent the rest through the bond. “That was the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “It was very good, Padawan.” Anakin smiled gently, a wave of pleasure coming off him into the Force. 

“I’m glad, Master. I’m so glad.”

Obi-Wan sent a gentle wave of reprimand through the Force. “Now let me work, Anakin.” He turned himself back to his data pads, flipping to a new view on his holomap. 

"Yes, Master." Anakin nodded vacantly from the floor by his feet. "Sorry, Master.”

Obi-Wan smiled.

That evening, Obi-Wan was reading in his bedroom, just one last memo before preparing to go to sleep. Suddenly the air pressure in the room seemed to change, go still, become more silent than the silence that preceded it. His blood rushed in his ears, he looked up in alarm. The Force was telling him that Anakin was in his room, unexpectedly and without warning.

He did see Anakin, but what he saw made no sense at all. Anakin appeared to be lying on the floor next to his bed, wearing his coveralls and covered in engine grease and oil. He was holding a spot welder and looked extremely confused.

“When did you get here?” Anakin asked, bewildered. “Why are you sitting on my tool chest?”

Obi-Wan’s face was blank as he tried to process what was happening. “I assure you, I am in my room.”

“No, you’re not.” Anakin shook his head, confused. “The Force is telling me that you are here.”

“I don’t”—Obi-Wan began, and Anakin disappeared from his floor—“understand.” He finished speaking to an empty room. 

What in the Force had that been?

It happened again, three days later. Anakin was in a class on lightsaber technique and Obi-Wan was reading in the archives. It was incredibly surreal, disorienting, and difficult to ignore.

It just kept happening after that. A series of close calls rapidly taught them that it was imperative not to touch in order to keep the secret. Touching somehow made their impossible transit visible to onlookers.

Obi-Wan only had to mind trick a few Jedi to get them to forget they saw Anakin appear in the hallway when Obi-Wan absentmindedly tugged on his Padawan braid. Obi-Wan noticed with trepidation that his mind tricks were becoming easier and more powerful, especially when he was emotional. 

This was concerning, but it did not hold Obi-Wan’s attention—he was distracted by the small fact that for some reason, he was occasionally and inexplicably standing about five feet apart from Anakin, as well as being in completely different parts of the Temple.

They rapidly gained experience with their performances as they practiced communicating mentally while ignoring each other. Obi-Wan excelled at pretending while Anakin struggled, but eventually they both became accustomed to the experience. It was incredible, difficult, slightly terrifying, and theirs.

Obi-Wan wondered if the unifying Force were folding the very fabric of space-time between them. The thought worried him—the only place he had read about that phenomenon had been in one of the few theoretical books remaining in the archives about Sith metaphysics. 

He suspected the archivists didn't even really know the book was there. It was stored in a collection of books more important for their bindings and paper-making techniques than for the text itself. It was stored as an object, not cataloged for its content.

Obi-Wan had stumbled on it when he was about eighteen, without understanding its origins. He had been ecstatic when he finally discovered that a book had an explanation for his particular kind of Force visions—that of his consciousness sliding along his timeline when unmoored in sleep. 

He just hadn’t understood where all the energy was coming from to power his dreams—it seemed he was accessing exponentially more power than someone with his midi-chlorian count should be able to access.  He had been tempted to ask someone, before he overheard Master Yoda include the temporal displacement of consciousness in a discussion of the most corrupt uses of the dark side, as a violation of the natural laws of the unifying Force. 

Obi-Wan had spent a long time staring at the ceiling that night, trying to process. There was nothing so dark about him that he was unwittingly using the dark side in the crèche. Right? 

No wonder Master Yoda had tried so hard to place him with Master Qui-Gon.

No wonder Qui-Gon hadn’t wanted him.

Where is the energy coming from? It should be killing us…

Obi-Wan was worried.

Anakin was worried about Obi-Wan.

This was not an unusual state of being for him, but more of a default. He was always somewhat on alert for his Master, and what he needed. He always had been, he didn’t know why. The Force had sung in ways he didn’t understand when he met Obi-Wan as a child. He knew that Obi-Wan was special, and needed to be looked after. He somehow knew that was his job.

Anakin worried he was failing.

Obi-Wan seemed to have lost something important on Geonosis, and something more important when he’d learned about Tatooine. Anakin kept looking, hoping to find it back in his eyes. He felt guilty. He didn’t know what exactly was missing, but some kind of light had gone out. It had been replaced by steel. 

It was uncomfortably attractive, but still. Anakin was worried.

“I assure you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded exhausted. “I am fine.”

Anakin looked doubtfully at Obi-Wan as they walked down the Temple hallway. Obi-Wan had been walking fast and thinking hard, but by mutual agreement the bond was just open enough for Anakin to lightly feel his tension and discomfort. “I’m just worried, Master.” 

Obi-Wan gave him a look. “I am very aware, Padawan.”

Anakin scowled back, pressing the call for the lift down to the Temple hanger. They were finally getting the opportunity to meet with Obi-Wan’s second-in-command and the other staff officers of the 212th Attack Battalion, as well as get a tour of their Star Destroyer.

The war was almost here, for them. Just a few more minutes of being Jedi. At the bottom of the lift, they would have rank. 

In the lift, Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably and murmured. “I may have been to Kamino before, but it was a deeply upsetting experience.” He sighed, his eyes fixed to the display flashing the descending floor number. “I never had the opportunity to meet any of the clones. I only ever saw the men displayed like animals in a zoo, behind transparisteel, performing tasks. Lama Su had called them my army, my units. Like they were objects. He said they manipulated their minds to make them compliant.” 

They’d discussed this all before. Anakin knew that it was very unusual for Obi-Wan to be nervous enough to act nervous, and wanted him to stop feeling anxious. When Obi-Wan was unsettled like this, Anakin felt adrift. “I have heard good things from other Padawans. They like the men a lot.” Anakin tried to reassure him.

Obi-Wan sighed again, trepidation lingering in the Force. “I just don’t like how proprietary this all is. I have no desire to meet men who are mine. I don’t want to own people.” The end came out bleak.

Anakin swallowed down a swell of emotion and turned as the door opened. “Happy birthday, Master,” he quipped. “The Senate and the Council have a present for you.” They shared a grim look and entered the hanger. 

The first thing that Anakin noticed was all the armor, the inherent strangeness of being unmasked in a room of masked men. The second thing he noticed was the divergence in all of their Force signatures. Each was an individual, strongly defined. It was odd—he seemed very attuned to them, as if he already knew them well. 

When Obi-Wan stumbled next to him, Anakin sent over the bond “Can you feel them too?”

“Yes, Anakin. Very much,” Obi-Wan projected. “I’m having trouble staying out of their minds.”

Anakin felt the fear coating the words, and swallowed hard. He looked over all the small, occasional distinguishing marks on the armor as they walked closer. They were so strongly individualized in his mind, it was almost as if his eyes snapped to each little symbol and could read its meaning. “Why, Master? Why is it like this?”

“I have theories, Padawan, but I don’t like them,” Obi-Wan muttered out loud. 

As they drew nearer to the correct transport, and were met by men snapping to attention. One with a distinguishing visor stepped forward. “General Kenobi, Commander Skywalker. Welcome. We are from the 212th to escort you to the ship, sir.” He turned to Obi-Wan and said, “I am CC-2224, sir, we’ve communicated.” 

“CC—” It sounded like Obi-Wan had begun to respond before he’d cut himself off abruptly. Anakin looked at him sharply. There was an awkward pause while Obi-Wan frowned. Almost everyone had looked over, confusion and wariness flaring in the Force. Anakin tried to listen as the Force hummed, full of all of the men’s emotions and opinions. He heard Obi-Wan uncertainly say, “... Apologies. Your preferred name is Cody?” 

“Y-yes, sir.” Cody’s mind was blank with confusion and pleasure. “That’s… that’s right.”

“Wonderful.” Obi-Wan said, suddenly smiling warmly at Cody. Anakin blinked at the expression, hope blooming in his chest. “Would you prefer that I call you Cody, Cody?”

“Yes, sir” was said with a confused smile, a sense of relief and a hint of glee in his Force signature. Anakin could feel the bemused thought spreading through the room, Jetiise. 

Obi-Wan turned to face the rest of the men next to the transport and spoke with conviction, his natural authority coloring his tone. “Please tell me your name. I will not be calling you by your official designations.” He said, and then hastily tacking on “…Unless of course that is your preferred nomenclature in which case let me know at once.” Anakin smiled at Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan smiled at the men apologetically. Obi-Wan’s eyes caught his and raised an eyebrow at him. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Anakin gladly joined in saying when he saw something, in Obi-Wan’s eyes. A new kind of light, a darker, fiercer light.

Obi-Wan’s voice flooded into his head suddenly. “We have to keep these men alive, Padawan. No matter what. That’s what matters now.” The voice took on a self-deprecating tone. “They are ours, after all.” They exchanged a look, and Obi-Wan’s tone became serious, almost dangerous again: “We belong to them. Not the other way around. We must get them through this war alive.” 

Anakin swallowed and nodded. They followed the men onto the transport and held on as they left the Temple, Anakin’s eyes flicking between each of the men, testing their Force presences, and projecting to Obi-Wan, “How am I supposed to feel them die, if I can feel them this much alive?”

He had always felt deaths much more clearly than other Jedi—the level of his connection to the living Force was unprecedented and unmatched. It meant an unusual sensitivity to the moments of transition, the moments of change, the moments of death. He already felt these men so clearly. 

“It will be a nightmare.” Obi-Wan’s voice was not particularly reassuring, for once. His voice in Anakin’s head sounded angry at himself, angry at the Force, angry at the Council, the Senate, the Sith. “I’m sorry.”

Anakin nodded again, and smiled politely at a clone who introduced himself as Waxer. He tried to project confidence and patience. He tried to project resolve and competence. He was fairly certain he just projected his insecurity, anyway. He was only twenty. He should not be in charge of anything, let alone highly trained special forces. 

Who were half his age. Kriff this was all so wrong. 

Anakin’s eyes flicked back to Obi-Wan, and his reassuring presence in the Force. He agreed with him, completely and totally. 

This was already a nightmare.

MUUNILINEST

Five months after the Battle of Geonosis

The fight should have ended when Obi-Wan thrust his lightsaber through the armored chest. 

That seemed like a reasonable and normal concluding moment, Obi-Wan thought. He hung there for a moment, blade humming, shoved through the heart. Obi-Wan waited for the feeling of his opponent’s death to wash over him, to signal that his job was done, but it wasn’t coming. 

The monstrosity laughed at him. Obi-Wan looked at the helmet’s eyeslits and raised an eyebrow.

All around them, fire crackled over the city lying in ruin—the devastation that Obi-Wan’s invasion had wrought. Obi-Wan smiled that he could hear the heavy artillery continuing to fire, which means that his pincer move had been successful. 

He needed to eliminate the enemy commander on the field, hence the lightsaber through the heart. The moment stretched uncomfortably.

Suddenly Obi-Wan was getting punched. Hard. In the face. Many times. How? He rolled, thrown to the ground, dazed. Lightsaber to the chest was apparently an insufficient finishing move. The lightsaber was still in his chest.

Obi-Wan looked up to see slug bullets flying at him, a weapon even more uncivilized than blasters, a whole barrage of them. Obi-Wan frowned and put up a hand, creating a shield in the Force to bounce back the lead slugs. Truly uncivilized. 

The monstrosity noticed the failure of his slugthrower and put up his other arm, shooting out a jet of fire at Obi-Wan. Flamethrower. Fantastic. Obi-Wan threw up his other hand, creating another shield in the Force, withstanding the terrific heat that almost touched his palm. The flames were strangely beautiful.

Obi-Wan suddenly had enough of laying on the ground. He squeezed the hand holding out a protecting palm into a fist, and he focused his attention on the enemy’s weapons. He felt them in the Force, and contracted his hand quickly, crushing the metal of the armor from across the courtyard. The flames stopped. 

Obi-Wan recalled his lightsaber from where it was still buried in the chest armor, and used the Force to swing it midair to block an attack from some kind of Force-damned morningstar the creature had produced, before the blade slapped into his palm, ready to be swung again immediately into another block. He flipped to his feet and a strange thought floated through his mind: I’m good at this.

He moved with Force-assisted quickness, beginning with Ataru to get nearby and end the fight. He sliced with the blade but the creature threw up an arm and the lightsaber bounced back. Obi-Wan growled. The armor on his opponent’s arms was beskar, apparently, and resistant to his blade. 

Obi-Was was growing more and more frustrated. He had a timeline to keep, he didn’t have time to waste playing games with monsters that didn’t have the common decency to die when stabbed in the heart. Obi-Wan quirked a small smile and switched to Djem So, using Anakin’s preferred aggressive form to attack with strong blows, pushing his enemy back, off-centering them. So much better than slashing through waves of mindless droids…

Finally, an opening. Obi-Wan slashed his blade and cut off his right arm entirely. As the creature instinctively looked to the damage, Obi-Wan spun to the right and bisected him. Obi-Wan heard the heavy sound of the body hitting the ground in pieces. 

Obi-Wan breathed heavily for a moment, looking at the wreckage of the body of his enemy, thoughtless but feeling a rush of victory. He closed his eyes, feeling out with the Force. He’d missed the feeling of death, which for some reason made him upset. There was no confirmation of his kill, no guarantee that the task was done. 

“General Kenobi, sir, we’re in position.” Cody’s holo had popped up on his wrist, breaking his concentration. 

Obi-Wan blinked and straightened, voice steady. “I’m on my way.” He jumped on his speeder bike and moved on to the rendezvous point, not another thought available to spare for the brutal fight. 

On to the next one. This was war, now.

Now, this was war! Anakin thought, spinning beneath a Cruiser and shooting down droid after droid, lost in the Force as he hunted and fired. He was protecting the entire flank of Gold, Blue, and Red Squadrons by himself, his senses spread wide out through space, deeply embedded in the moment—an impenetrable shield for his men. 

Anakin was proud of his first command as a Knight. The Chancellor had asked for him specifically to lead the battle in space, recognizing his skill as a pilot. He darted through the black, annihilating droid ships with unnatural quickness and skill.

The carnage was oddly beautiful, when he had a moment to notice it. He did not have a moment now. All the glittering explosions and vibrant lasers were just obstacles to avoid, not there to be looked at. He spiraled around, using his connection with the Force to instinctively understand the exact parameters of his ship, sliding by with inches to spare as an enemy ship nearby spun out of control. 

Anakin smiled. He was good at this. He’d been unknowingly training for it ever since he was podracing as a very small boy. It was instinctual, it was almost easy, it was almost fun. 

If only he couldn’t feel the fog of death.

“We lost Gold Leader!” A voice crackled on his coms. “General, enemy reinforcements coming in point three five!”

“Clear out, Gold Two,” Anakin replied. “I’m coming in. Arfour, switch all power to forward shields!” 

Anakin flew recklessly, trying to gain the attention of as many of the droids as possible. He baited them until he was being followed by a massive wave of fighters, his hands gentle on the steering, allowing minute adjustments that moved his ship around the lasers with Force-assisted dexterity. 

He collected as many ships as possible and drew them into a trap. “Red Leader! Fire all your missiles across the bow of Cruiser 8!”

“But General, there’s nothing out there, no targets!”

“Do it now, trooper!”

It worked perfectly. The droid ships were annihilated by a barrage of heavy fire, and Anakin was now being chased by several friendly missiles. While this could normally be considered a bad thing, for Anakin it was just another weapon for him to use. 

He flew with intention, dangerously close to targets, spinning and twirling and diving, enough to confuse the missiles tailing him like ducklings into blowing up enemy ships. It was a reckless dance that should not have worked, but for Anakin it did. 

Anakin smiled as he flew through the docking bay of a droid ship, remembering Naboo and the tremendous explosion he’d caused at age nine. His smile slipped when he remembered Padmé’s face when she’d learned about the Tuskens. He flipped the controls, spinning around and dodged death by a fraction of an inch.

“General, almost all the gun platforms are destroyed and only… Wait, what’s that?” Anakin began to feel death all around him, his eyes searching for the ship that was creating the explosions. “General! We’ve lost all Blue Squadron! A rogue fighter has…”

“I see him!” Anakin’s hands trembled slightly as he felt two more troopers die. That felt like Eagleyes and Windy. He swallowed and focused all of his attention on their murderer. He would make him pay. “Mop up the fighters as planned, Red Leader.” He darted after the fighter. “This one’s mine.”

Obi-Wan was frustrated. They were advancing through the city block by block, fighting through the ruined husks of buildings destroyed by bombs. It was ugly, it was slow, it was unbearably frustrating. Men were dying around him, mown down by so many droids, it was carnage, it was heinous, it wasn’t ending.

They’d just taken a market square when Obi-Wan heard the roar of an engine much too powerful to be flying this low. He looked up just in time to see a ship buzz past, a fanblade starfighter. His eyes barely tracked it as the noise cracked by. He wondered out loud, “What was that?” 

“I don’t know, General.” Cody answered, giving Obi-Wan a slight start. Cody was standing behind him, attentive as always at his right shoulder. Good man, that Cody. 

Obi-Wan frowned. “That’s not one of ours.” He said, and his senses tingled again, the slight noise of another engine coming down. 

“No, General.”

The other ship shot past at incredible speed, and Obi-Wan’s senses lit up. “That was Anakin!”

“Yes, General.” Cody managed a dry tone through his helmet’s vocoder.

Obi-Wan brought his wrist to his mouth and barked into his com, “Anakin!”

Anakin’s falsely calm voice answered back, “It’s under control, General.”

Obi-Wan was furious. “You’re supposed to be in space leading our forces.”

“It’s under control!” Anakin snapped back. The sound of the starfighters’ engines was enormous, and painful. Obi-Wan’s senses lit up and he narrowly dodged a blaster bolt from a droidika that had arrived while he’d been distracted. He flipped behind a nearby collapsed wall, finding cover, breathing hard. Cody was on his right, firing back. 

“Under control?” Obi-Wan growled. He took a breath, trying to calm down. “I don’t think so. Your place is with your squadrons, Anakin.” The fighters buzzed by again. “Not chasing one ship through the city streets!” He was not yelling, but doing the closest approximation to yelling that Obi-Wan permitted to be observed in public. It was a fervent, pressed tone, dripping with anger. 

Anakin sounded distracted. “This is no droid pilot, and the Force is with him! I can’t let him get away.”

The ships shot past again, and then up, higher and higher off into space. Obi-Wan’s head was tipped back, watching them fly away. He felt out with the Force and brought his wrist to his mouth again, voice marginally more calm. “Anakin, I am also sensing something strange, but you must let that ship go! It’s baiting you!” He brought the speaker to his ear and tried to hear with his ringing ears. 

Obi-Wan could hear faintly through the comlink when Arfour emitted a loud series of beeps, and Anakin’s quiet voice said “He’s jumping into hyperspace? Do you have his coordinates? Then plug them in! He’s not losing us.”

Obi-Wan sharply spoke into the com, “Anakin!”

Anakin’s voice now was cocky, almost insolent. “Obi-Wan, the battle up here is more than won. I can handle this!”

Obi-Wan did not appreciate that tone. His voice lost all warmth and grew louder as Anakin’s defiance continued, “Do not follow that ship! Anakin! Do you hear me?! Do not follow that ship! That is an order! Anakin!”

Anakin said in a falsely choppy way, “Sorry General, your signal is breaking up.”

“Padawan, if you—” Anakin cut the com and jumped to hyperspace, the link going silent. Obi-Wan glared at the sky for a moment, then turned his head to Cody. “You have the coordinates?”

“Yes, General.” Cody immediately replied, anticipating the question. 

“Choose a squad to follow him.” Obi-Wan looked darkly back up at the sky when Cody nodded and darted away. He sighed. 

I’ve got a bad feeling about all of this.

YAVIN 4

“Trooper—” Anakin said shakily across the clearing before trying again, “Hey!” He’d returned from his brief scouting into the jungle to find carnage. Bodies strewn everywhere. A man staggered to his feet, standing near their transport. “Trooper, are you alright? What happened?”

He flinched as suddenly the ship exploded into a fiery ball that engulfed the man standing before it, consuming him in the blast. Anakin was pushed back, face turning away from the incredible heat. He staggered for a moment, blinking, trying to clear his eyes. He looked up at his own ship, and saw Arfour beeping frantically. He shouted, “Arfour!” and then his own ship exploded too.

Anakin was flung down, and hit the ground hard. He was shaken and dazed for a long pause before realizing he was laying near a fallen trooper who was still moving. He shook his head hard and darted over, kneeling over him, checking for injuries. There was a massive hole cracked in the stomach of the man’s armor, and Anakin could see the bloody mess underneath. He sat heavily beside him and pulled him onto his lap, breath and hands shaking, ears ringing.

He began to murmur, “No, Grist, don’t die, I can heal you, no…” Anakin shifted the body in his arms, hands pressed on the bloody wound in his stomach. He looked around for the source of the injury, eventually looking up slightly to see that the trooper had been flung somehow up against a tree, a branch gored him, and then he’d fallen about ten feet. Anakin looked away from the bloody broken branch. He whispered, “Hold on for a few more moments, please, Grist…”

Life left the body in his arms, and Anakin felt him die. 

Why did Obi-Wan send these men after me? Why?

Anakin squeezed Grist’s body one more time involuntarily, and then laid him down on the ground as gently as he could. Anakin looked around the clearing at the broken bodies of the squad of troopers he’d just stepped away from a moment before. They’d been thrown and snapped, and looked like misshapen dolls scattering the ground. 

He looked down and squeezed his eyes shut. Near his foot, the red dome Arfour’s head lay cracked open—it must have been blown off when the ship exploded. Anakin clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. He reached out to see if any were still alive when—

He felt a shift in the Force and snapped his head around, scanning the visible forest. 

A figure in a black cloak was walking through the flames of the burning ships on the other side of the clearing. Anakin narrowed his eyes. He could feel the death lingering around them, he remembered the name of every member of Blue Squadron who had been annihilated. He would have justice for them. The figure stopped, silhouetted by the fire. Anakin felt a surge of hatred, and said with intent, “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done.” 

The figure disrobed dramatically, revealing a pale, bald woman with tattoos and a spindly physique. Her voice was husky and low, taunting him: “Come on then, little Knight,” she said, lighting a red lightsaber in each hand. “Your pathetic fall will be my ascension to the Sith.”

Anakin ignited his blade, and charged.

MUUNILINEST

Obi-Wan and Cody’s squadron had finally reached the core of the city, and were circled around the main bank and headquarters of the InterGalactic Banking Clan. They needed to apprehend the Chairman, a member of the Separatist Council, San Hill, and get his surrender to end the fighting on the planet. 

There was an impenetrable perimeter to the building, an almost perfect defense woven of droids and shields that it would have taken months of a siege to attack in frontal assault. They had to try something else. Obi-Wan was currently crouched behind a broken wall, waiting for the other team to get in position to attempt a more covert method. It would be minutes more. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, trying to stay present and agile. 

He looked at the faceplate of Cody’s helmet for a long moment, and asked, “You were trained extensively in military studies, correct?”

“Yes, General.” Cody’s flat tone replied. In the Force, Obi-Wan could feel an overwhelming rush of Cody’s thoughts, I know this game. The General likes to run his mouth when he’s worried about Skywalker. I wonder what it’ll be this time…. 

Obi-Wan bounced again, smiling a little. They’d been shoulder to shoulder for pretty much every waking moment of the last few months of hell. They knew each other far too well already. “Did that include historical studies?”

Cody’s tone was tentative, “Yes, General.” Here we go…

Obi-Wan smiled wider. “So you’re familiar with the Remulan Empire?”

“Yes, General.” Cody agreed, and Obi-Wan saw a quick flash in the Force of Cody’s thoughts, flicking back over all the different strategy pods he’d done. Obi-Wan blinked and shook his head. That had been happening more and more frequently with some members of the Third Systems Army, many of the 7th Sky Corps, most of the 212th, and particularly with Cody. The closer they were to him, the more they came into contact with him, the more they were open to his perception in a way that he’d never experienced before. 

It was unsettling. 

Obi-Wan pushed the thought aside, and came back to the present. What could he do? He could get a visual on what’s happening, that would help. He saw Cody intently punching a message into his com. Obi-Wan said to him, a bit wistfully, as he stood up a bit, poking his head up to look over the barricade, “Remulan history has always been a bit of a pet topic of mine.”

“Yes, General.” Cody said, without looking up, pulling Obi-Wan’s robe down sharply, jerking him back out of line of fire. A spray of lasers flew overhead, causing explosive damage on the wall behind them.

Obi-Wan gave him a glare. Code just looked over, faceplate obviously blank, but his Force presence was so loud with exasperation that Obi-Wan couldn’t hold an angry expression. Obi-Wan smiled as he crouched down again and said, “Their Republic fell, you know, after it rotted from the inside.” 

Cody looked blankly at him, “Yes, General?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan said, pensive, adjusting his robes. “Outrageous levels of inequality, systematic corruption. Loans with forty, fifty percent interest. Turning whole planets into debtors, which turned entire peoples into slaves.” He looked up at the bank, thinking about all the suffering that came from institutions like this, that held people hostage in debt.

Cody’s tone and presence were unreadable. “Slaves, sir?”

Obi-Wan looked back at Cody and nodded. “Yes, their whole economy was built on slavery. All the Senators owned massive plantations worked by thousands and thousands of slaves.” The entire perimeter was too quiet. Obi-Wan wondered if the other team was nearing position yet. They needed to move, soon.

Cody turned to adjust some of his equipment. He spoke towards the opposite wall. “That’s interesting, General.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan looked bemused. “It is to some. Apologies for babbling.” Cody nodded and made a no-problem gesture with his hand. Obi-Wan sighed. “I’ve lost contact with Anakin, you know, and he’s disobeyed orders, again.”

“I know, sir.” Cody looked back, sounded reassuring. “We’re trying to reestablish communication, but the problem is not on our end.” 

Obi-Wan sighed and checked the time. They still had minutes. “Thanks for trying, Cody.” He bounced on his feet again.

Cody said, “No problem, sir.”

They waited.

YAVIN 4

The jungle was hot and dark, and Anakin was alone. 

Not alone.

He was being hunted. They’d both darted into the trees as soon as they engaged, looking for advantageous ground, trying to draw their opponent into danger. Anakin had to keep dodging logs and branches as they were flung with the Force at him at high speeds. It was very distracting.

He heard a humming coming from his left, and followed the noise deeper into the jungle. The air was hot and moist, filling his lungs. Tatooine’s air had practically no water content, so Anakin always felt like he was in a steam room on planets like this. Not his preferred fighting environment. 

The red blades swung at him suddenly from above, and he blocked, rejecting the attack with Force-assisted strength, throwing his assailant backwards. She landed gracefully, and attacked again, her blades moving in a kind of jar’kai that Anakin was not familiar with exactly, but could block well enough.

It was finding an opening to attack that was the difficult part. The woman was a formidable opponent, to his disgust. Anakin’s strikes grew harder and more aggressive, scowling at her wide grin and remembering Eagleye’s distinctive laugh. 

He forced one lightsaber from her hand, and then the other. Disarmed, she stood for a moment before him with one eyebrow raised, and as he swung the killing blow, she jumped up, disappearing into the canopy.

Anakin checked his swing and growled. Her lightsaber hilts shot up past him back up to their owner. He’d missed the window of keeping her disarmed by trying to kill her. He ground his teeth, and looked up into the dark branching tangle of the canopy trying to catch sight of her blades. He sighed, and jumped up too. 

Fighting on tree branches was even worse. 

He was being pulled deeper and deeper into the jungle, led on a chase. He couldn’t focus on anything but the hum of the red blades, the small sounds of her light feet on wood, the occasional husky laugh that made him snarl. Blades crashed and separated, crashed and separated. 

Anakin’s branch suddenly gave out beneath him, and he began to fall reaching frantically with the Force for one of the vines clinging to the tree. It came and he caught it, breathing out hard. He swung trying to get to a stable branch when red streaked overhead and his vine was cut and he was falling again. He reached out hard and summoned another one to break his fall. 

He was much lower down than she was now. He had to get back up to her, he had to get his blade through her neck. Anakin ran and jumped, climbing hastily and recklessly, grabbing vines and using the Force to make assisted leaps. He was closing in, he heard her cackle. 

The witch would pay.

MUUNILINEST

“Did you know that slavery exists on every planet in the Republic?”

“No, sir.” Cody sounded annoyed by the fact a conversation was happening in the middle of a firefight. He thought “How can he possibly even know that for sure?”

“Oh, I suppose I don’t.” Obi-Wan said, and frowned. “Every planet I’ve ever visited in the Republic has slaves somewhere. Having Anakin as a Padawan showed me that.”

“Yes, sir?” Cody signaled to the squad, and then laid down suppressing fire. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, deflecting blaster bolts back. His voice was distracted. “Every planet we have a mission together, he would always end up somewhere, disobeying orders, freeing slaves. I think he killed his first slaver when he was fourteen. I didn’t know what to do, Cody. How do you explain to a youngling it’s not alright to kill? He knew that already, but did it anyway.” 

“Self-defense, sir?” The street was quiet and they moved quickly. They had to meet with the second team to ascend the bank from its one vulnerable angle. Cody signaled a complex maneuver to Waxer, who passed it on, the team spread out strategically.

Obi-Wan spun his blade, eyes sharp. “In a loose sense, yes. The responsibility for the killing rests with him, though. Anakin sought out the interaction, and so in that way provoked the attack. The Jedi path we were taught said we were always to leave the situation alone, to not exceed our mandate.” Obi-Wan sighed. Droids began shooting them from a new angle, and two troopers fell. Obi-Wan grimaced as he felt them die, sharing the distinctive experience of Tews and Pepper being ripped from life, their final thoughts of agony and surprise.

Obi-Wan huffed a breath, refocused on the blaster bolts. His mind slid to Anakin again, rambling to Cody. “I think he has an excessively strong ability to sense pockets of suffering, and is called to them in order to resolve and mitigate the situation, and cleansing the cloud of suffering in the Force.” 

Cody paused for a second while his mind tried to process all the words the General had just thrown at him, shook his head and began returning fire. “Cloud of suffering, sir?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said as his lightsaber hummed, reflecting bolt after bolt. “Emotions release disturbances into the Force, did you know that?” Obi-Wan’s tone had become conversational as he fell into rhythm with his blade. 

“No, sir.” Cody signaled to the squadron to watch the gun turrets closely. 

“They do.” Obi-Wan blocked a spray of blaster bolts while Cody’s careful aim eliminated targets. Obi-Wan continued on almost absently, “Places where many people feel strong emotion are tainted with those feelings. It can be good, you know. I guess places can be tinted or tainted.” Obi-Wan smiled to himself for a moment, and then decapitated a droid that was trying to lurk in a nook. “Good places like concert halls or churches can vibrate in harmony with the Force. Places where people gather for good reasons.”

“Yes, sir.” Cody said, distracted. The second team had reached the rendezvous, only missing three men. Obi-Wan nodded at Boil and took the ascension cable extender.

They looked up at the hundred story tall building. Obi-Wan sighed and prepared his equipment, still chatting at Cody who was mostly listening. “Well, Anakin feels the bad places very strongly. As Anakin feels the suffering, he feels the imbalance in the Force. He can instinctually tell what he must do to rebalance it. Help people, relieve pain. Water for the thirsty, shelter for the exposed, food for the hungry. Snapping off of shackles. Direct aid. The concept of systematic change makes his brain hurt apparently. Too abstract.” Obi-Wan looked up one moment before a blaster bolt unexpectedly shot down a nearby trooper, and Obi-Wan spun his blade back, returning the bolts. Droids had found them, they needed to ascend, now. 

Cody signaled for the squad to begin moving up, thinking, “He says snapping shackles that like it’s a bad thing.”

Obi-Wan blocked a bolt that was coming straight for Cody’s head with satisfaction. He grumbled, “It’s not that it’s a bad thing. Anakin is just very difficult to manage. He runs off! All the time! He is very stubborn, and believes he is impervious to danger.”  Cody looked at him, disbelieving. Obi-Wan continued oblivious, “He is not.”

“No, sir.” Cody said, taking out a droid that was taking aim at his General’s insufficiently armored back. “He is not.”

YAVIN 4

Anakin hit the ground hard, the wind knocked completely from his lungs. He lay dazed for a moment before the pain hit, and then the agony of attempting to return air to his lungs, the suffocating collapse of the chest, the crushing pressure on the heart slammed into him. It hurt. He’d fallen on stone, not jungle floor. Somehow he’d been led to a temple that was nearly engulfed by the jungle, rotting slowly.

The whole place felt dark.

He got up, body convulsing slightly. His lightsaber had never left his metal hand, and he was glad for it. His grip with his old hand would have released. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he got the blade up in time. Crash. The two red blades flashed quickly, and he fell into the Force and let his reflexes take over, trusting his skill and his senses.

The witch flipped up stones and hurled them at him, distracting him from her darting attacks. Anakin parried it all, moving faster and faster and he fell into the frenzied rhythm of the fight. His anger spiked as he was turned back again and again, and put on the defensive over and over, it galled him, he hated it, hated her, hated Obi-Wan for sending those men, hated the Council for sending him here, hated Qui-Gon for finding him at all, hated—

Lightning cracked overhead, and large raindrops began to fall on top of the temple, nowhere else. It began to truly pour down on the both of them, a wind rising, small strikes of lightning cracking. Their blades began to hiss with raindrops striking the vibrating energy. Anakin fought harder, fought faster, robes soaking, face wet. The cackling, taunting laugh drove him on. 

The rain made the mossy temple stones slippery, and Anakin had to watch his balance, and almost was taken out by a sizable chunk of stone flying at his face. He flipped over and landed, unsteady, on a higher ledge, looking for the red blades that crashed down on him almost immediately. 

He pushed her off, and she rolled and disappeared from view, retreating inside the gloom of the temple itself. Anakin swung his lightsaber a few times, anger building at her refusal to stand her ground. 

He descended the dark stair into the temple, ignoring the incomprehensible whisper in his ear, Μιδιχλῶρ, Ξαίρε Μιδιχλῶρ, Μιδιχλῶρ...

MUUNILINEST

The squadron reached the roof of the bank with only minimal casualties. 

While they prepared the bombs, Obi-Wan looked out over the gleaming, burning city, noting the wealth that could be seen in every soaring building, every delicate spire, every manicured green square.

They hadn’t heard from Anakin or the squad sent as backup. All coms were unanswered. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. He began speaking at Cody, who nodded once in acknowledgment and then looked back at the squad.

“I had a mission for the Senate where we had to enforce the terms of an IGBC settlement once,” Obi-Wan said blandly. “They had us eliminate a violent democratic uprising against the austerity conditions that were causing immense amounts of suffering and death.” Obi-Wan swallowed. “Inarguably, we were on the wrong side of that conflict. Every time I see the IGBC logo now, it reminds me of then. The refugee camps.” 

Cody thought, “Why did you do it, then?”

Obi-Wan looked down, disgusted at himself, the Senate, the situation, everything. He grimaced and said, “Every time the Senate asked us to do something immoral, I would always just follow orders.” Obi-Wan paused. “I still follow orders, of course.” He clarified, hastily, giving Cody a look. Cody made the no-problem gesture again. 

Obi-Wan sighed, and looked back at the city. The explosives were almost ready, they were almost ready to breach the roof. “On the way to the mission, I would always read about the Remulans to feel better. Their Senate lost almost all executive power when it was turned into an Empire.”

Obi-Wan said the last part much quieter, voice lowering even more into a reflective murmur that Cody half heard over the small noise of the squad getting ready. “Under the Empire, there was a long period called the Peace of Solon that was one of the most peaceful and productive eras in all of civilized history. Solon proved that Empire didn’t have to mean the end of democracy on the local level, could actually increase it by system stabilization.”

“Yes, sir.” Cody said, looking over the breaching preparation. “Why is this relevant now, sir?”

“It’s not, particularly.” Obi-Wan said, distracted. “I’m just thinking about it. About the Solonids. How they ended their century of civil war.”

Cody gave the final-check signal to Waxer and looked back at Obi-Wan. “How?” 

Obi-Wan ducked behind cover, Cody followed. “They let all the ambitious powers in their society fight it out, let them exhaust each other.”

“Then they took over, sir?” The roof exploded, and the first wave of soldiers defended on ropes, firing their blasters. The noise was tremendous. 

“Then they took over.” Obi-Wan unintentionally spoke directly into Cody’s mind as he ignited his lightsaber. “Yes.” 

They breached the bank and stormed the top floor, systematically taking possession of the building. Obi-Wan led the charge, leaping in front of the men to protect them from blasters and destroying droids before they could even take a shot. He felt a savage desperation to finish this and to end the threat, to stop feeling death.

The plan worked perfectly, as Obi-Wan knew it would. The clones were the finest army in history, all of Cody’s men in this elite squad were engineered to perfection, lethal and brilliant. Obi-Wan often was in awe of their quiet competence, their breadth of knowledge. He hoped that the other Jedi at least recognized that they shouldn’t be in command at all. Men like Cody were the ones who should be leading a war, any and all of them were more trained for military strategy than any Jedi.

Obi-Wan finally held his lightsaber to San Hill’s throat and felt a rush of pride. They had done the impossible in breeching the stronghold, capturing the Chairman. He looked around at his men taking control of the room. No other unit could have done it, these were the best of the best. They’d been a perfect storm of violence.

San Hill shook and cried. “I’m a banker, I’m just a banker—”

Obi-Wan snapped, “That depends on you and your unconditional surrender.” The lightsaber moved slightly closer. “Do you surrender?” Obi-Wan blinked, realizing he had laced the words with a suggestion. Hill was strong minded, but his eyes looked clouded.

“I surrender,” he said. Obi-Wan looked at him blankly and extinguished his blade, dropping him to the ground. He stepped back as troopers rushed in to apprehend Hill and secure his arrest. Obi-Wan stood there numbly for another moment, and then turned and walked steadily back to the corner of the room, drawn to Cody’s soothing Force presence. 

Obi-Wan leaned his shoulder against the wall next to where Cody was supervising the room, absently looking out with him over the ordered chaos of their teamwork. 

Cody was half-listening for him to begin rambling again, Obi-Wan knew. Obi-Wan was grateful. He murmured, “The Solonids were only able to take over through the loyalty of their legions, you know.” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet. “They had taken the side of the men, over and over. Gave them land, protected the veterans.”

“Did they?” Cody was looking at Waxer and Boil arguing over some minutia and signaling furiously at them.

“Yes. It was really the mandate of the army that ended the war, not any particular person.” Obi-Wan said. “The legions acclaimed a leader, and declared the end of war.”

They stood silent next to each other for a long moment. Cody cleared his throat. “Can you tell in the Force if I’m asking you a question right now?”

Obi-Wan felt Cody’s Force presence bubble with the request that he wear more armor. “Yes, and the answer is still not if it impacts my agility.”

Cody smiled. He said, “Now?”

Obi-Wan blinked. The Force was quiet. “No, I don’t perceive that you’re interacting with me at all.” 

Cody nodded. “I thought so. I wondered to myself if you would prefer to send an immediate shuttle with the prisoner back to Coruscant or keep him in the brig, and you want him on a ship to Coruscant.”

“Y-yes. I’d say that.” Obi-Wan looked at him, shaken. “You just knew my instructions without asking?” Obi-Wan looked extremely worried. “This will need monitoring.” He sounded apologetic, eyes flicking over Cody’s faceplate. “I am not doing this on purpose, something is at play that I do not understand.”

Cody made the no-problem hand gesture again. “If we don’t have to worry about coms going down on the field, sir, I think it’s worth a little strangeness.”

Obi-Wan sighed, reassured at least that he wasn’t being pressured to find a solution to a problem that seemed insoluble. “Very true, Cody.” He turned to look back at the chaos of the end of battle. “Very true.”

YAVIN 4

As the blade skimmed down his face, Anakin appreciated the fact that without his Force assisted reflexes jerking him backwards a fraction of an inch, the blade would have carved out his eye. As it was, the excruciating pain of his eyebrow and cheek being cut open was a relief. The pain just made him angrier. 

The witch laughed, and Anakin felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. He was so furious, so focused. The world tunneled to just her leering grin, her husky taunts. Anakin was going to kill her, make her pay. 

Luckily lightsaber wounds cauterized immediately, there was no distracting blood dripping, just the agony lancing through his head, the dizziness from the shock, but Anakin could stand and fight. The problem was that he had no lightsaber in his hand. She had disarmed and cut him, thrown him back. 

Anakin looked for his weapon, and saw one of hers laying nearby instead. He held out a hand, calling to the blade. The bled kyber shrieked at him, the hilt burning in his palm—he ignored it. Anakin ignited the blade and held up a guard, the unfamiliar red light blending with his angry focus, until all he could see was red. 

He attacked with a ferocity he didn’t know he had, even more than with the Tuskens, even more than with Dooku—he unleashed his hold on the Force, blade moving fast and striking hard. He was beating her back, and back, and then finally out and over the side of the temple, his heart thudding in his ears, breath ragged. He watched her fall and disappear with a roaring sense of achievement. 

He had done it, avenged them. She had suffered, and died. He had made things right.

He heard the whispers again from behind him, but he couldn’t understand them. It felt like a greeting. Μιδιχλῶρ, Ξαίρε Μιδιχλῶρ… He turned and looked back down the stairs, into the dark. It felt like a summoning.

Anakin mindlessly followed the sound of the whispers back inside the temple, moving down, not thinking. The storm had cleared, but the steps were wet. He followed, Ξαίρε Μιδιχλῶρ…

Finally he reached a room that had only a niche in the wall, and a palm-sized black pyramid resting on a little plinth. It seemed to gleam in the darkness, reaching out, whispering. Child of the Force, welcome, take it, it is yours, take it…

Anakin reached out, almost involuntarily, and wrapped his hand around the pyramid and picked it up slowly, thinking that it was neither lighter or heavier than he expected but somehow just exactly heavy enough to seem both delicate and dense. It was cool to the touch.

As he touched it, a figure appeared above, a glimmering holo of a man. Anakin started back, surprised, and almost dropped it. He was an elderly figure, and looked severe in a long black robe. His eyes were keen as they examined Anakin and then he laughed. Anakin was frozen. What had he done?

The holocron figure said, slightly patronizing, “Give me to your Master, boy,” and disappeared.

Anakin blinked and shook his head. He didn’t really remember deciding to come back inside the temple, let alone touching what in retrospect was absolutely a Sith holocron. 

Obi-Wan is going to kill me…

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan’s voice came suddenly from behind him. “Do you have transport off Yavin?” He twisted around, and Obi-Wan was standing in the temple with him, near the doorway. He was also on Muunilinest, Anakin knew. He frowned. Why did the bond always seem to connect them exactly whenever Anakin did not want to see him?

Obi-Wan had gasped loudly at the sight of the wound on Anakin's face and took a step forward. "Are you alright? Anakin!" His thought was projected, "So THIS is when he got that?" 

Anakin scowled, flinched, and turned away sharply back towards the holocron niche. He considered putting it back, and tossed it up and down in his palm several times. He was still angry, the battle was not settled from his limbs. He did not want to see Obi-Wan at all. Obi-Wan had dropped him and kicked him out, but Obi-Wan ordered him around like a Padawan—even though he made him go and be a Knight! 

“Anakin, are you listening to me? Answer me immediately. The bond may sever at any time.”

“Yes, I can fly her ship back.” Anakin said, voice as level as possible. “She is defeated. I'm fine.” He glared at Obi-Wan. “The men are all dead.”

Obi-Wan looked stricken, pausing his forward approach. “What?”

“She killed them all, Obi-Wan!” Anakin yelled. 

Obi-Wan fixed his posture and breathed deeply. “I am very sorry to hear that. You will rejoin the battle group above Muunilinest for medical care as soon as possible in case we are called away. Leave immediately.” He paused and frowned. “What are you holding?”

Anakin did not appreciate Obi-Wan’s tone and he did not appreciate the question. “A Sith holocron probably,” he said irreverently. He tossed it and caught it. “Yavin 4 has a Sith temple, did you know?”

“What?” Obi-Wan’s voice was blank. “You are in a Sith temple?”

“Yep!” Anakin said insolently, tossing and catching the holocron again. He felt beyond caring. Obi-Wan’s eyes tracked the motion. “Why did you send the men, Obi-Wan?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’” Obi-Wan asked, seeming to dislike the question immensely. 

Anakin snapped, posture becoming much less casual, “You shouldn’t have sent men after me! You got them killed!”

“Excuse me?” Obi-Wan’s voice was glacial.

Anakin began closing in, speaking louder and louder, until he was nearly in Obi-Wan’s face, and yelling, “They didn’t need to be here! They didn’t need to come! They didn’t need to die, I didn’t need help, I—”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was the end of the conversation. “Give me the holocron. We must turn this over to the Temple archives, it is too dangerous to be lying around.”

“Fine,” Anakin said, shrugging. “It asked to go to you anyway!”

“What?” Obi-Wan was flabbergasted and then furious. “You SPOKE to the holocron?! Anakin!” 

“Yeah, it asked to go to my Master because apparently I’m still just a boy! You’re not my Master anymore! I’m a Knight!”

“I’m not your Master?” Obi-Wan asked, voice mild.

“No!” Anakin’s face was red. He doubled down. “You’re not. I’m supposed to take orders from the Chancellor and the Republic Military and the Jedi Council now, not you!…”

“I see,” Obi-Wan said, quietly. “Give me the holocron, Anakin.” He waited and then said, even darker. “Now.”

MUUNILINEST  

Cody had walked around the corner, and seen his General alone in a room, talking intently to the wall. He had paused, wondering if this was something he wanted to be curious about or not. He’d then heard the General use a mild tone that made the hair stand up on his arms and he froze. “Give me the holocron, Anakin.” Cody looked over. “Now.” Cody had never heard that tone before.

Cody watched as Kenobi paused as if he was listening to a response, face blank, and then reached his hand forward, wrapped in the fabric of his long sleeve. There was still nobody and nothing there, Cody was sure. Suddenly, the General was grasping a black pyramid that appeared out of nowhere, held by a very angry and injured looking General Skywalker, who Cody knew for a fact was still on the fourth moon of Yavin. Rex had been complaining about it for over an hour.

“Thank you,” Kenobi said, in a chilly tone. Cody swallowed and looked at Skywalker’s face, at the cut down his eyebrow and cheek, his flushed cheeks and his scowl. That had to hurt...

“No problem,” Skywalker said in an abrupt and, to Cody’s judgement, unnecessarily rude tone. “Enjoy.” He let go and disappeared. 

The General stood still, and then used the Force to float the small black pyramid into a pouch on his belt, turning around warily. “Hello, Cody.” He seemed to be debating something internally, Cody could read him at least that far. 

“Sir,” Cody said, straightening for a moment before relaxing his posture. “Respectfully…” He searched for the words. “What?”

Kenobi’s posture relaxed a great deal and he laughed warmly, his eyes squinting slightly. “I should have warned you, Cody, I apologize.” He walked over and put his hand on Cody's arm, speaking quietly. “I see now that it was going to be impossible to hide this from you, and never should have tried.” Cody frowned behind his bucket and thought him a question, "Why is it hidden?"

Kenobi swallowed and looked away, voice getting quieter. “It is just that it cannot get back to the other Jedi. Can I trust you to keep this secret? Could others of the Vode help keep this a secret, help us protect the bond? What do you think?”

Cody examined his face. “You can communicate without coms? Pass objects? Between planets?” He thought, “What kind of Jetiise magic poodoo is this now?”

“Yes, we can do both,” Kenobi said, nodding sharply. “It’s not magic.”

Cody ignored the last part. He was busy considering possibilities. “From what distance?” 

The General shrugged. “Unclear, but very far. Many parsecs. It is something that is still patchy, but happens enough that we are beginning to rely on it, which I suppose is unwise—“ He trailed off, looking at Cody, probably reading him in the Force.

Cody didn’t need to think it through, he knew the answer instinctively. He straightened again and nodded once. “I will help.” My Jetii is the strangest but he's.... he's jatnese be te jatnese—best of the best.

Kenobi seemed weighed his words, thinking. “Thank you, Cody. Will you tell the men who need to know? Explain what you’ve seen, about how we can communicate and pass objects?” He paused and continued darkly, “Explain that what we do is forbidden by the Jedi Council, and could get us removed from command if discovered?” Cody frowned again at that. Is this wrong? Dar'jetii? Do I care?

“Yes, sir.” Cody thought through the order and needed to clarify. “Tell the men? Any of the men in particular? Does Rex know?”

“I believe that Anakin has not been seen, but you might ask him. Anakin is not the most subtle human." Cody shivered at how the General was saying 'Anakin.' It was chilly. Kenobi seemed to shake himself slightly and continued, "I know how word spreads among the Vode, Cody.” He smiled. “Tell those who you think should know, they’re probably going to find out anyway.” Cody laughed. He felt something like happiness at his General’s trust in his judgement of his brothers. Kenobi shrugged, “Might as well make sure they hear it from the source.”

“Very good, sir,” Cody said. “I—”

“Sir! General!” They were interrupted by the pressed tones of the com officer. “We’ve received a distress call!”

Cody snapped to attention. His General spoke sharply, “Who?”

“It’s coming from Hypori.” 

Kenobi seemed to search his memory for the name. “Is it General Barrek?” 

“Yes, Sir. They need reinforcements, right away!”

The General looked at Cody and nodded. “Gather the men.”

“Right away, General.” As Cody walked away, he thought, General Skywalker better make the rendezvous, or the General was probably going to actually kill him this time.

He’ll probably kill him anyway.

Di'kutla Jetiise.

THE NEGOTIATOR

Obi-Wan’s cabin was small, but Obi-Wan didn’t really need a lot of space. He was hunched over his small desk, sorting through a pile of data pads, lips pursed. His chest felt tight. They’d been in hyperspace for more than an hour, but perhaps the adrenaline from the battle hadn’t left yet. Perhaps Anakin was driving him insane. It was probably both.

He had disobeyed orders, fell into a trap by the Sith, almost died, had the audacity to yell at him, denied Obi-Wan was his Master… Obi-Wan felt hot, and Obi-Wan had a headache.

The door opened suddenly and Anakin knocked as he entered, barging into Obi-Wan’s space. It appeared that he had made the rendezvous after all. It had certainly been close. Obi-Wan clenched and released his jaw and then looked up slowly, setting down his data pad and turning his head. 

Anakin had stopped in the middle of the room and stood at attention like a trooper. “You requested to see me, General?”

Obi-Wan felt a pounding in his ears as he pushed his chair back, standing up and facing him. “You are angry with me, Anakin?” His voice was steady and mild.

Anakin’s posture was straight, eyes fixed straight ahead, his Force presence roiling. “No, General.”

“General…” Obi-Wan mused speculatively, looking Anakin up and down. He had been by medical, the lightsaber slice that he never should have gotten while leading a battle in space was closed and covered. He must have spent some energy healing himself as well, it looked smaller than he'd remembered. Anakin shifted uncomfortably under his observation.

“Am I your Master, or not?” Anakin was silent for a long pause, grinding his teeth. Obi-Wan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. 

“No! You’re not!” Anakin finally snapped back. “You asked them to Knight me early! I didn’t have to go so quickly and you know it. You’re not my Master, you gave it up!”

“We discussed why, Anakin.” Obi-Wan wanted to wring his neck with frustration. They’d talked about this. “You know I was under observation from the Council, and they were evaluating our level of attachment.” Obi-Wan began pacing, he couldn’t stand still. “They want to give me a Council seat, for some reason, Padawan. I had to advocate for separation, or they will never give it to me.” Obi-Wan said, flatly. “You are hurt by this, I gather?”

Anakin’s posture straightened, his voice sharp. “I thought you were going to help me, but you left me alone!”

Obi-Wan pressed on his temples, rubbing in small circles. “We talk constantly, Anakin!” He couldn’t help speaking louder. “We are connecting through the bond almost daily now!”

“And that’s too much!” Anakin said angrily, abandoning his trooper-pose and putting hands on hips, holding his elbows wide from his body, chest thrust out. “The Chancellor was right, I am too reliant on you. I need to make my own decisions!”

Obi-Wan felt like ice water had been poured down his spine. “When did you and the Chancellor discuss me, Anakin?”

Anakin’s voice was defensive. “I had a strategy meeting with him before I deployed for Muunilinest.” 

“Did you?” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet.

“Yes.” Anakin said, his Force presence spiking with desire at Obi-Wan’s dangerous tone. Obi-Wan felt incredibly irritated at his arousal, teeth grinding and nostrils flaring as Anakin continued proudly, “The Chancellor said I am one of the most gifted pilots in the galaxy and put me in charge of the space battle.”

“I knew he had done the latter, despite my reservations.” Obi-Wan let his contempt color his tone. “I should have assumed he’d done the former.” 

“Reservations?” Anakin was furious, face red. “We won!”

“You abandoned your post to engage in a personal spat with an enemy ship, ultimately abandoning the battlefield entirely.” The contempt in Obi-Wan’s voice was only growing. “You chased a starship around city streets, because you were baited into following like a youngling. You were clearly not nearly ready for that kind of responsibility on your first assignment as a Knight.”

“I’d been with you to plenty of battles, Obi-Wan, I don’t lack experience.” Anakin replied, blushing. Obi-Wan could feel his mixture of shame and desire radiating out into the Force. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw when Anakin nevertheless said in a confrontational voice. “We won today. You always try to bring me down, the Chancellor recognizes when I do well.”

“Yes, perhaps I am trying to bring you down, Anakin!” Obi-Wan snapped, “But I’m trying to bring you down to a healthy median, not plunge you into self-loathing!” He stepped further away, trying to not get muddied up in the pool of desire around Anakin in the Force. 

Obi-Wan continued stridently, “I’m trying to teach you to have a reasonable ego. You are one of the most transparently proud people I’ve ever met. You wear your faults on your sleeve, Anakin! It’s too easy to take you apart, figure out how you work, flatter or provoke you! You are not ready to be leading battle, and you are not ready to be having dinner with politicians by yourself! Do you understand?”

Anakin was blushing. Obi-Wan could feel his want thick in the Force. He said petulantly, “You don’t have control over me.” 

Obi-Wan’s voice was slippery. “Don’t I?”

“No.” Anakin raised his chin.

“Interesting.” Obi-Wan began to circle him, looking him up and down, considering the difference between his desire in the Force and his outward defiance. “How very interesting. I see what is going on here.” He stood directly behind Anakin, and said coldly. “You’re testing me.”

“What?” Anakin looked around, eyes wide. “No, I’m not.”

Obi-Wan did not feel amused. “I will not play these games with you, Anakin.”

“What games?” Anakin said forcefully, turning to face him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I suppose it is my fault,” Obi-Wan said, resuming his circle. “I was putting off claiming you properly until you were a Knight.” He smiled. “Consider it a lingering hangup about fucking your Padawan.”

Anakin didn’t appear to know what to say to that, but the vulgarity made his arousal spike. Anakin asked vaguely, “What?”

“A promise that I made to myself, when I was sixteen.” Obi-Wan said. “Technically, I’ve broken it all the times I’ve let you be helpful, but I’ve learned to live with that.” He smiled. “You really don’t shut up otherwise.” Anakin flushed. Obi-Wan observed the spreading color and continued to pace. “You feel neglected, is that it?”

“No.” Anakin scowled. “That’s not what this is about.” He puffed himself up again. “You tried to get me denied opportunities to command! You’re trying to hold me back!” Obi-Wan paused in front of him, searching his eyes. Anakin looked away, eyes flicking down. Obi-Wan watched him swallow nervously.

“Yes, I see.” Obi-Wan sighed. “You do feel neglected.” Obi-Wan began circling again. “I’m sorry, dear one. You know we haven’t been in the same place for very long since you were Knighted.” He raised an eyebrow. “I will point out, however, that it has only been several weeks, not an eternity. There is no call for this level of tantrum.”

“Tantrum!” Anakin started. “How dare—”

“No!” Obi-Wan cut him short. “How dare you! How dare you disobey a direct order like that? This isn’t a backwater planet fighting a corrupt mining company, Anakin. This is a war! Your defiance could lead us into—” 

“She’d killed all of Blue Squadron and was taunting me!” Anakin couldn’t seem but help but burst out angrily. “I had to pay her back for what she did!”

“No, you did not.” Obi-Wan snapped, voice a lash. “You absolutely did not! That is precisely why you are not ready to be in command of toy soldiers, let alone an actual squadron of men. You abandoned your station and endangered every other pilot in the sky, Anakin.”

“I had dealt with the primary threats.” Anakin’s voice was sulky, now, the Force sticky with his desire and resentment. “They were just mopping up. We’d basically won.”

“Basically.” Obi-Wan parodied his tone cruelly. 

“Yeah, basically!” Anakin turned to march away, and Obi-Wan’s hand struck out lightning-quick and grabbed him by the bicep. 

“You are not leaving, Anakin. Stop trying to always run away from consequences!” Obi-Wan shoved him back around, exhaling disgustedly. “You let yourself be led like a bantha to slaughter directly into a trap by the Sith! The Sith knows you well enough to lure you to use the dark side in a Sith temple and trick you into taking a Sith holocron! Is that what happened or not?” 

Anakin scowled, “No, not—”

“No?” Obi-Wan’s eyes were cold. “Stop playing, Anakin. Listen to me.”

“I’m not—” Anakin stopped when Obi-Wan laid a hand over his mouth.

“You will listen.” Anakin nodded unwillingly. “Good.” Obi-Wan removed his hand. 

“The Sith wants you dead or recruited, Anakin. That is the only explanation for today. That’s why they baited you, in particular, and drew you to the Sith temple.” Obi-Wan paused, so Anakin nodded again, eyes fixed on the opposite wall. 

“We’d assumed that already, but this is confirmation of that hypothesis, and it is extremely concerning, Anakin.” Obi-Wan looked at him seriously. Anakin nodded again once, curtly, his arousal clouding the force. 

Obi-Wan frowned and continued fiercely, “We need more information.” His voice sounded strange. “Try to keep the next one who comes for you alive. I need to ask them questions.”

“Fine.” Anakin snapped, jerking back and turning again to go. 

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was dangerous. “Stop.”

“Why should I?” Anakin’s taunt was almost childish.

Obi-Wan sounded very calm. “Because I told you to.” 

“No!” Anakin said, as he stepped forward towards the door.

“We have more to talk about!” Obi-Wan’s sharp voice was laced with a suggestion to stand still. Anakin stopped. Obi-Wan asked his back, “Why are you dripping with the dark side, Anakin?”

Anakin shook off the mind trick and turned around. “What?”

“Why is your Force signature snarled with darkness?” Obi-Wan was drawing closer. “What happened on Yavin 4?” 

“Nothing!” Anakin said, fists clenching, frustration flaring.

Obi-Wan leaned in, pressing his face close to Anakin’s. “You will tell me the truth, Padawan.”

“Nothing happened,” Anakin whispered fiercely. 

Obi-Wan moved his mouth to Anakin’s ear. His voice was cold. “Strip.”

Anakin’s Force signature spiked with lust and he said, uncertain, “What?”

Obi-Wan continued to speak coolly. “You’re lying to me.”

“So?” Anakin sounded confused.

“Anakin, don’t test me!” Obi-Wan snapped. “You asked me for this. Take it, or I will cease giving it to you.” Anakin clenched his jaw, standing still. “Make your choice, Anakin. Strip and tell the truth, or lie and leave.”

Anakin swallowed. He glared forward at the wall and took off his belt, dropping it haphazardly on the floor. He did not look at Obi-Wan as he continued to take off his clothes, blushing furiously, jerkily removing layer by layer, dropping them in a heap on the floor in front of him, until he stood naked and hard before Obi-Wan in the middle of the room, hands crossed in front of him.

Obi-Wan nodded once in approval and said, “Kneel and look at the floor.” Anakin gave him one last look before dropping to his knees and lowering his gaze. He placed his hands on his thighs, resting them very near to his hard cock. Obi-Wan was not impressed.

“Hands behind your back.” Anakin slowly obeyed, clasping his hands behind his back. He paused for a moment and then flushed red at the position he had put willingly himself in. Obi-Wan let him sit in that realization for a moment before reinforcing, “Do not move.” Anakin did not move. “Good.”

Obi-Wan began to pace around him in a circle. “Did you use the dark side to defeat the warrior on Yavin?”

Anakin swallowed and stared at the ground. “No.”

“Are you sure about that?” Obi-Wan’s walk was smooth. Anakin’s eyes tracked his feet, he was breathing hard, face red.

“Yes.” His voice shook.

Obi-Wan’s tone was conversational. “Did you know I can almost taste it in the air when you lie?”

Anakin cringed. “No.”

“No, what?” Obi-Wan was standing behind Anakin, and chills ran down Anakin’s spine. 

“No, Master.” He whispered. 

“Better.” Obi-Wan paused, then continued circling. Anakin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Obi-Wan’s voice was low when he repeated the question, “Did you use the dark side to defeat the warrior on Yavin?”

“M-maybe, Master.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Better, but not sufficient, Anakin. Try again.”

“It’s probable, Master.” Anakin swallowed loudly. “I was angry when we fought. I created a thunderstorm, I think. It rained on us and only us. I used one of her red blades to defeat her. It felt good.”

“Show me.”

“What?” Anakin looked up.

“Head down.” Obi-Wan rebuked him. Anakin looked back down. Obi-Wan walked closer, and rested his fingers lightly on Anakin’s forehead. “Think about your fight.”

Anakin remembered it all, as best he could from beginning to end. It felt like he was overfull in his own mind, a mild discomfort, but he did not resist Obi-Wan’s Force signature as it flooded and plundered his memory. The images flashed by flight—explosion—Grist’s blood—jungle—red blades—falling—pain—clashing blades—anger—rage—

Obi-Wan let his fingers drop away. “You did touch the dark side to defeat the warrior on Yavin.” His voice was glacial. Anakin’s cock throbbed, arousal spiking in the Force, and Obi-Wan glared at him. “There was absolutely no need for you to even be there in the first place, let alone slide further into darkness. We’re not six months into a war that threatens to stretch into years, Anakin. You are falling too fast!” 

Obi-Wan reached out with his hand, grabbing Anakin’s hair and at the same time reached out with his mind, roughly pulling at all the accumulated darkness, causing Anakin to whimper. Obi-Wan sunk into all the swirling pockets of resentment and anger, pulling them out and drawing them into the bond, accepting them into himself, fingers gripping tight. 

These days Obi-Wan seemed to have a vast black emptiness inside where he could hide all of Anakin’s anger and rage. All of his own anger. No other Jedi had ever sensed it before, even Master Yoda had only skimmed right over it—blind to the gaping void inside him—during the last Council meeting. 

Hard to see, the dark side is.

“This is too much!” Obi-Wan scolded as he accepted Anakin’s darkness to hide. Anakin did not respond, so Obi-Wan scowled and shook Anakin’s head slightly with his grip on his curls—Anakin’s eyes were unfocused, and he was panting. Anakin was projecting heavily, radiating in the Force, swimming in pleasure, the sensation of having his worst faults absolved and exorcised from inside the fabric of his soul was too intoxicating for him to stand. Obi-Wan growled.

Obi-Wan had discovered that his removal of the dark from Anakin’s Force signature was akin to a wave of acknowledgement and forgiveness that felt like a warm, cleansing mental embrace to Anakin, that it was a sensation more pleasurable and tingly than any possible head massage, and that it was incredible. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, annoyed at his enjoyment, and shoved Anakin’s head down hard, roughly releasing his curls.

“Please, Master, I need—” Anakin’s urge to touch himself was painful, and in reply Obi-Wan reinforced a suggestion that he keep his hands behind his back. Anakin whined, needing friction so badly, rubbing himself against Obi-Wan’s mind to get stimulation, asking, begging. Obi-Wan snapped.

“If I fuck you, Anakin, will you begin to obey orders? Or will it make you worse?” Anakin looked up hopefully at the rough sound of Obi-Wan’s voice and Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and snapped, “Head down!” Anakin fixed his posture while maintaining eye contact for a moment, dipping his head and reclasping his hands behind his back, and finally lowering his gaze to the floor. “I can’t reward you for behaving badly, Anakin, surely you understand the dilemma you put before me?”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said obediently. 

“You never learn the right lessons from anything I’ve ever tried to teach you.” Obi-Wan’s voice was cold and Anakin flushed, his cock throbbing painfully. 

“If I fuck you now, it should be for correction, not for a reward. And yet I do not want our first time together to be a punishment.” Anakin whimpered. “This is quite a dilemma, Anakin.” Obi-Wan stood before him, adopting a mockingly thoughtful posture. 

“I think you need to convince me that you understand everything you did wrong.” Obi-Wan smiled mildly. “If you convince me you understand, I’ll fuck you. If you don’t, I won’t. It will really be quite that simple, Padawan mine. Do you understand?” The last three words were extremely kind. Anakin shivered, his cock ached. 

Obi-Wan enjoyed his discomfort—Anakin had been such an insolent, insubordinate brat on the battlefield and then after his little jaunt to the Sith temple he’d been even worse. Obi-Wan wanted Anakin to know just how badly he had done, and more than just know. He wanted him to feel sorry.

Anakin tried to think, it was so hard when he felt almost light-headed with how hard he was. Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force was taunting, like he knew and appreciated the difficulty that Anakin was having in formulating a response, and it made it even harder for Anakin to put words together. His voice was quiet. “I didn’t follow orders.” He swallowed. “Master.”

Obi-Wan stopped pacing and nodded. “Correct.” He began pacing the opposite direction, circling and staring. “What else?”

Anakin shifted uncomfortably, hands clasping and unclasping behind his back. “I… I used the dark side when I was fighting on Yavin.” A silence stretched and he added. “Master.”

Obi-Wan’s heels clicked together, stopping crisply. “Indeed, you did.” He pivoted and began striding in the opposite direction again, asking, “What else?”

Anakin whined, slumping. “I don’t know! How much more is there?”

“Oh, dear,” Obi-Wan said sadly. “I don’t think you understand anything about today at all. That is disappointing.” Obi-Wan bent down and began to gather up Anakin’s clothes, as if to return them. He felt a wave of horror radiate from Anakin at the idea.

“I sh-shouldn’t have left the men.” Anakin said quickly. Eyes still fixed determinedly again on the ground. “Master, it was wrong to leave the men.”

“Correct, dear one.” Obi-Wan began folding the clothes. “It was wrong. What else?”

Anakin hung his head and mumbled. “I shouldn’t’ve chased’er through the streets.” 

Obi-Wan hummed negatively. “Speak up, Anakin.” 

Anakin tried again, emphasizing every word. “I should not have chased her through the streets, Master.”

“Very good, you should not have. What else?”

“I should not have…” Anakin began to look up for feedback but checked himself. He swallowed. “I should not have picked up the holocron in the temple.”

“Very good, Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s voice was dangerously calm. Anakin’s clothes were in a neat pile, and he moved back around to stand above Anakin, speaking down to him in a mild voice, “You should not have. It was extremely foolish for you to have done so. I wish I could say that I was surprised to discover that you’d been so arrogant as to assume nothing would go wrong with that little stunt, but you very well could have been entirely wrong, Anakin.” 

Anakin whimpered at the rebuke. 

“I’ll pretend for a moment that you missed ‘absolutely do not touch Sith memorabilia day’ in the Temple archives as a youngling. I know you attended because I attended with you, Anakin, nevertheless—I will pretend.” Obi-Wan began pacing around him again smoothly, looking back at him pointedly. “You could have died. You could have been possessed.” Obi-Wan’s voice was both fervent and cold. “Confirm you understand the danger of what you did.”

Anakin shivered and looked at the floor. Obi-Wan liked how his blush had spread down to his ears and his chest, his Force signature boiling with his shame and regret. “I understand, Master.”

“Explain to me why you did it anyway, Padawan.” Obi-Wan ordered. 

“It told me to take it,” Anakin said, hanging his head. He was painfully hard, his ache permeating the bond. 

Obi-Wan made a small noise indistinguishable from a growl, clenching his fists, letting his disgust pour back through the Force. “You know better, Anakin!”

Anakin said shakily, overwhelmed, “Yes, Master.”

“And yet you never act like it!”  Obi-Wan pivoted sharply and gestured up with his hands. He was growing very dangerously exasperated. “Why, Padawan? Why do you know rules and refuse to apply them? Acknowledge rules and refuse to abide by them? You know the rules, do you not?”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said. “I know them.” He projected, “Please give me what I deserve, I made so many mistakes.”

Obi-Wan looked at him for a long moment, incredulous. Anakin still wasn’t getting it, Obi-Wan needed to push him further. His voice was a weapon, so he used it, tone lashing. “I’m not convinced, Anakin.” Anakin cringed. “I don’t believe that you understand everything about today.”

“Master, please…” Anakin begged, aching. “Please, I’m sorry, what else do you want me to say?”

“You are the one who is supposed to be convincing me you understand, Anakin!” Obi-Wan let his disappointment color his voice. “Try!” Obi-Wan needed him to talk about the real issues, needed him to face the hardest parts, needed him to be sorry. He pushed a suggestion through the bond. “Try!”

Anakin was silent for a long moment before saying all at once: “Master, I shouldn’t have yelled at you for sending men after me when I flew off after her.” Anakin said it all very fast. “I shouldn’t have gone, I’m sorry I yelled at you, Master, that woman, she killed them, it was so bad, their bodies, Master did you see in my mind, their bodies were so broken. Kobo, Weltsy, Brats? Grist?” Anakin was tearing up, wanting to look at the ceiling and blink them back but with his head bowed they began to collect. He swallowed hard.

“I saw, Padawan.” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet. This was closer. “I know. I understand it was overwhelming.”

“She was laughing at me, laughing about them.” Anakin’s voice was thick. “I didn’t want them to be dead.” He sniffed. “I don’t.”

“Me neither, Padawan.” Obi-Wan sighed, and ran a hand over Anakin’s head, stroking him gently. “Ultimately, neither you nor I killed them, dear one. The Sith did. We are complicit but not responsible. Not that it helps any.” He pet his curls again. “Good, you’re nearly there, darling.”

Anakin sniffed and pressed his head into Obi-Wan’s touch, eyes still down. “You are my Master, Master.” He gulped. “I shouldn’t have said you weren’t. I shouldn’t have flown off without orders. I shouldn’t have touched the holocron when it whispered.” His voice broke. He pushed on, thicker, “I’m sorry, Master, I’m sorry I was so angry, you got rid of me so fast and then the Chancellor, he was so nice to me.” He sobbed.

“Shhh…” Obi-Wan stroked his head again. “Very good.”

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin wanted very badly to wipe the tears from his face, and was proud when Anakin didn’t move his hands, letting one teardrop fall to the floor, and then another. Anakin sniffed loudly, and sobbed again, leaning into Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan smiled. 

“You did well, today, in space,” Obi-Wan said gently, stroking him, reassuring him. “The men said you saved many lives, flew with incredible skill.” Anakin sniffed. “You are a remarkably gifted pilot, Anakin, you don’t need the Chancellor to tell you that.” Anakin’s shoulders shook and his head hung. Obi-Wan stroked him again. He had done well. 

Obi-Wan grabbed him firmly by the back of the neck, pulling him up from his knees to bring him back up to stand before him. Anakin’s eyes were red, face shiny with tears, his nose blocked, chin quivering. He stood, Obi-Wan’s hand still holding his neck firmly. 

“You know that, here.” Obi-Wan tapped fingers hard on his temple, then stroked softly next to his cut. Anakin blinked and refocused on Obi-Wan’s face at the sensation. “You need to know that, here.” Obi-Wan moved the hand to Anakin’s chest, tapping hard on the heart and then gently laying it on his chest, reassuring him in the Force.

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s heart beating quickly under his hand. Anakin was projecting waves of need and shame into the Force—he was crying, he was so hard, he was so tired, he was so sorry…

“Come here, dear one.” Obi-Wan’s voice was so kind. “Come sit down on the bed. It’ll all be alright, Padawan.” Anakin sobbed again involuntarily at the reassurance. Obi-Wan felt proud, stroking him gently and leading him forward. “It will be alright. You’ve convinced me that you understand the magnitude of your errors today. Do you understand what you did wrong?”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin sniffed loudly. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

“Good, very good." Obi-Wan sat Anakin down, and began to wipe the tears from his face with his sleeve, cleaning him up, gently avoiding the bandage under his eye. "You did well, Anakin." Anakin sniffled a little quieter, beginning to feel better as Obi-Wan took care of him. He looked at Obi-Wan’s face, trying to read him. Obi-Wan made sure his eyes were soft, his expression kind. 

“I’m sorry.” Anakin’s voice was quiet and raw. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know, dearest one,” Obi-Wan said, matching his low volume. “Let me give you some new advice. It’s alright to be angry, but you have to know when it’s alright to act angry, Padawan. You acted angry today, and it caused many problems.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to be angry,” Anakin said in a small voice. “That’s what you told me. That I had to give it all to the Force, be calm all the time.”

“That’s what I was taught since I was a small child, Anakin. That’s what the Council says, what their Code teaches. I was doing my best, but I was wrong.”

“You were wrong, Master?” Anakin said this like it was a nonsensical impossibility, like saying that the galaxy was made of cheese. “You’re never wrong.”

”Oh, Padawan...” Obi-Wan sat down next to Anakin heavily and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, hugging him tight to his side. “You know that’s not true. I have been very wrong about very important things.” He sighed, and began again, quieter. “You can be angry, but you have to know when you’re angry and decide to use the anger or not. That’s the new rule.”

“I can be angry?” Anakin asked cautiously. “You’re not disappointed in me for being angry?”

Obi-Wan squeezed him again in confirmation. "No, Padawan. I am not.”

Anakin looked over at him with skepticism, his face and naked body both so endearingly vulnerable. His face was split by that awful cut Obi-Wan had been waiting twenty years to see in person—had been promised to see.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help himself and he reached over, cupping Anakin’s chin, studying his trusting eyes. He was so perfect.  Obi-Wan's lips curved up in a smile as he tipped his head forward, kissing him gently.

Anakin almost sobbed again, it was so soft.

Obi-Wan deepened the kiss with deliberate slowness, his lips caressing Anakin's with increasing pressure, licking into his mouth. Anakin moaned and relaxed into his arms, his head feeling heavy in Obi-Wan's hand. Obi-Wan's thumb rubbed his cheek, his other arm wrapped around, holding him tight.

Anakin's hands twitched, and Obi-Wan pulled his head back, his eyes flicking over Anakin’s expression. He listened in the Force as Anakin projected, eyes wide and cheeks flushed pink, “Please, Master. It aches so bad, can I please—”

Obi-Wan gave him a small, knowing smirk and reached down, slowly brushing his fingers along the length of Anakin’s hard cock. Anakin’s whole body jerked, and he let out a pained moan. Obi-Wan gripped the head of his cock more firmly and Anakin gasped, “Thank you, Master.”

“Of course, dear one.” Obi-Wan stroked his hand up and down slowly, making Anakin groan, his hips jerking slightly. “Is that good?”

“Yes, please, I like it, Master.” Anakin swallowed loudly and took a deep breath. “I need you to touch me.” He projected, “Please, I’m sorry, please will you fuck me, Master, please, I really want…”

“Very well.” Obi-Wan shifted from sitting on the bed next to Anakin to kneeling in front of him, Anakin’s cock still held lightly in his grasp. “I’ll take care of you first, Padawan. I’ll make it better.”

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin said, disbelieving. “Thank y—” Obi-Wan bent down and licked the head of Anakin’s cock and then took the rest in his mouth, sucking gently. Anakin let out a “Oh! Ah, e chu ta.” He radiated surprise and relief in the Force so strongly Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped over in surprise and relief as well.

Obi-Wan sucked on Anakin’s cock, licking the soft skin and pleasuring him, rewarding him for telling the truth, for apologizing. He gently cupped Anakin's balls, and looked up at his face. Anakin's mouth hung open, his breathing fast and shallow.

Obi-Wan's attention slipped into the Force, and suddenly he was also in Anakin’s mind, seeing as Anakin looked disbelievingly down at the sight of his Master, his Obi-Wan, his Master’s mouth around his cock, his Master’s lips against his skin, the warm, wet, sliding mouth along the length, the head of his cock deep in his Master, brushing the back of his throat. It was so unreal, he was already buzzing with pleasure.

Obi-Wan sucked harder, blinking up, maintaining eye contact. He felt lost in the bond, overwhelmed with pleasure as he let Anakin’s cock slide deeper, hitting the back of his throat.

Anakin gasped and abruptly came hard, his eyes fluttering closed and moaning loudly as come began to spill out of him. Obi-Wan caught it on his tongue, swallowing Anakin’s come just as Anakin had swallowed his own so often in recent months.

Obi-Wan felt the Force tremble strongly, echoing Anakin's orgasm, compounding it, a wave of sensation rushing through Obi-Wan too, making him shiver with pleasure. He pulled back slowly and blinked, confused, after he swallowed. 

“Padawan—”

“Master—”

They spoke at the same time. Obi-Wan continued, voice shaky with pleasure. “What was that? You felt it too, I assume?”

“I don’t know…” Anakin’s voice was dazed, he sounded slightly intoxicated. “But it felt in the back of my mind… It was like when you’re trying to get a key in an analog lock over and over and then suddenly it just goes in. Clunk. You know?”

“Oddly enough, Padawan, I do know exactly what you mean.” Obi-Wan frowned. “It felt like something gave way, some kind of barrier at the back of my head.”

“That was…” Anakin’s brain was still nonfunctional, his orgasm still tingling in his limbs, sweet fatigue swamping his senses. “Weird.”

“Yes, it was.” Obi-Wan couldn’t believe the tingling, radiating joy that was lingering in his body. He felt so alive, so awake, so aware. “It felt very, very good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s eyes traced Anakin’s long, relaxed body, his golden skin. Obi-Wan’s fingers stroked gently along Anakin’s side, and his gaze fixed on Anakin’s metal hand, his dreams.

Obi-Wan felt drunk, dizzy. He had been so angry earlier, and then Anakin was so powerful in the living Force that Obi-Wan was sure that being near him while he was aroused was stronger than any aphrodisiac on the market, and it was targeted specifically at him. Lingering frustration from the day surfaced in his mind, mixing residual anger in with the pleasure radiating in the bond. His eyes grew sharper and he said, “Lay down and turn over, Padawan. I want to fuck you, now.”

Anakin looked up at him, eyes wide, hopeful and disbelieving. Obi-Wan felt like he was losing control of the words coming out of his mouth. “You’ve been so incredibly irritating today, Anakin, I had been looking forward to seeing you crying out as you take my cock. Do you still want it? Because I would very much like to give it to you.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said in a daze. Obi-Wan smirked and pinched him, and Anakin started and scowled. “Of course, Master.” He slumped ungracefully to the side and huffed a laugh at his own lassitude. He rolled over with effort, his oversensitive cock feeling too much friction from the sheets. He began to adjust himself when Obi-Wan put a hand on his hips. 

“Be still.” Anakin froze and Obi-Wan slid a pillow beneath his hips, adjusting him to how he wanted him. “Very good.” Obi-Wan stepped away into the small ‘fresher attached to his bedroom and grabbed the lube that he was extremely grateful that he had remembered at the very last moment to include with his kit. Staying in control was becoming difficult. It was hard to care, though, when Anakin was laid out for him, waiting for him.

Obi-Wan looked at him as he methodically removed and laid aside his clothing. Anakin was watching him in return, his eyes glowing with happiness, the bond alight. Obi-Wan got up on the bed, kneeling behind Anakin, moving closer between his legs. Anakin shifted them apart further, arching his back and exposing himself hopefully.

Obi-Wan smiled fondly. He ran a hand along Anakin’s calf and asked through the bond, “What’s the largest thing you’ve put in your ass, Anakin? Fingers? No toys, no other men?”

Anakin wriggled slightly, pressing his cock against the pillow. “My fingers, Master, just my fingers, I never…”

Obi-Wan stroked him reassuringly at his insecurity. “Very good, Padawan, I like that, thank you, I like that you waited.”

Anakin’s relief and pride saturated the bond.  “Please, Master, please, I need it, please, now, now….” He wiggled again, and Obi-Wan swatted him lightly.

“I’m not going fuck you before you’re open enough to take it, do you understand?” Anakin whined, and Obi-Wan huffed in exasperation. “I know you want me to hurt you, I know everything about what you want—but not today, alright? I will take you how I want to, and I want you not to feel discomfort.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said, readjusting his hips slightly, pushing his ass further up and back, his face burrowing down into the pillow—slightly savoring the discomfort from his cut. His grumbled “Thank you, Master,” was muffled by the bedding.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and then smirked, looking over the expanse of bare skin below him. His cock throbbed with anticipation, enjoying Anakin’s submissive posture. He pushed apart Anakin's knees and arranged his legs to spread them even wider, closing in. Anakin whined at being positioned, his Force presence trembling.

Obi-Wan hummed in response, running his palms up the backs of Anakin’s thighs, hands coming to cup and squeeze his ass, grabbing and spreading his cheeks, exposing him more. He bent down, his mouth pulled down to Anakin's skin as if drawn by magnetic force, and he licked the sensitive skin around Anakin's entrance briefly, exploring with his tongue.

"Master!" Anakin moaned and squirmed, and Obi-Wan leaned back, removing his hands, making Anakin whine.

“Stay still, Padawan.” 

Anakin stilled immediately, and Obi-Wan opened the lube. He slid one hand down Anakin's spine, pressing down on his back to keep him still, as the other hand began to gently rub lube around his entrance. Anakin moaned helplessly at the soft contact. He was so incredibly tight.

"Relax," Obi-Wam murmured, pressing a slick finger in gently, beginning to slide it in and out carefully until he was fucking Anakin with it easily, and only then added a second finger. 

Anakin whined and shifted impatiently, so Obi-Wan held his hip harder, probably bruising him with his grip, keeping him in place and fucking him faster with two fingers. He scissored them and pressed down, opening him up more. Anakin cried out, and bucked his hips against the pillow.

Obi-Wan's voice came out husky and low, “Very good, Padawan, you’re doing so well, being so patient, I think you’re ready for another.” Anakin nodded fiercely against the mattress.

Obi-Wan added another finger, and Anakin moaned, beginning to thank him over and over at the stretch. Obi-Wan began fucking him gently with three fingers, until Anakin was whining and begging, he need loud in the Force, “Please, Master, please, I will do anything, please, I’m ready, I need it….” 

Obi-Wan’s fingers moved easily now. He enjoyed the sight of Anakin, so ready to be fucked. He’d dreamed about this for so long. To feel Anakin’s heat on his fingers, to make him slick and open… It was almost too much. Obi-Wan's cock was impossibly hard, and it was becoming impossible for him to wait, too. He removed his fingers, and Anakin looked back sharply over his shoulder, alarmed. “What?”

Obi-Wan laughed at his expression, and asked, “Are you ready?”

Anakin blinked back at him for a moment, then scowled. “Obviously! I’ve been asking for it for about forever, Master.” His voice was exasperated and thrilled, his hips shifting slightly. “Can we? Now?”

Obi-Wan stroked his back and said, “Yes, dear one.” He repositioned Anakin’s legs and lined himself up, rubbing Anakin’s ass gently with the head of his cock. Anakin whined in desperation, bucking his hips back slightly, begging for it. 

Obi-Wan paused for a moment and swallowed, eyes flicking over Anakin’s body, acknowledging for the last time what he was about to do. Anakin looked back and caught his eyes, understanding in the Force that this was important for Obi-Wan. He nodded and sent a wave of approval, and Obi-Wan nodded back, feeling oddly solemn. He gripped Anakin's hips and thrust forward, slipping the head of his cock inside, letting the pressure of the tight, warm hole surround him, the world narrowing to that point. He stilled, eyes closed.

Anakin gasped and then began to whine and babble, “Yes, finally, yes, more!” He wriggled his hips. “More, now, more, more please?”

Obi-Wan swatted him lightly. “Stop moving.” Anakin stopped. “Relax.” Anakin tried to relax, and Obi-Wan smiled at the effort, stroking his back gently. “Good, very good.” He began to push in, letting him adjust, pressing in inch by inch. Obi-Wan knew he was large, and that it would be a stretch. He opened himself totally to the bond, swimming into the mutual space between them, aligning himself exactly to the limit of what Anakin could take and pushing in until their hips met, and Anakin was finally taking all of it.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slid back in his head for a long moment, the bond between them thick with awareness, completely surrounding and encompassing them, connecting and reflecting—uniting. Obi-Wan moved his hips gently as a test, and Anakin took it perfectly, no pain, so Obi-Wan fucked in harder.

Anakin moaned with incredulous pleasure, and Obi-Wan began thrust deep and slow, fucking him deliberately with increasing roughness. Their hips slapped together, and Obi-Wan smiled at the sound. 

Anakin whined, projecting his incandescent joy at being useful for Obi-Wan, that Obi-Wan was using his body for his pleasure. Obi-Wan slammed his hips in hard at the thought, squeezing more bruises with his fingers on Anakin’s hips. He appreciated the sway of Anakin’s back, the way he put his ass up and face down for Obi-Wan, the way he submitted to him. 

Obi-Wan slid a hand down his spine to his long neck. He tangled a hand in the short curly golden mess, glad to see no Padawan braid, no Padawan haircut. A Knight, he was fucking a Knight. His hips continued to slap forward, fucking Anakin roughly and he pushed down on Anakin’s head, shoving his face into the mattress, murmuring in a low voice, “Take it, yes, good, you take my cock so well, Padawan.” 

Now that he wasn’t his Master, Obi-Wan was free to be his Master. Obi-Wan smiled again. Hopefully this would clarify things for Anakin. He had seemed so dreadfully confused about who he belonged to, before. 

Anakin overheard the thought in the bond and jerked his hips down, moving on Obi-Wan’s cock, pressing and rubbing his cock against the bedding, fucking himself back against Obi-Wan. He was almost sobbing with pleasure, overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Obi-Wan grabbed hard and steadied his hips, holding him down to continue to fuck him hard, his own orgasm beginning to tighten in his stomach and shudder along his spine. Anakin unexpectedly came again, and the Force swirled around them, almost eddying, completely intoxicating. Obi-Wan asked, disbelieving, “Did you just come on my cock, Padawan?”

“Y-yes, Master,” Anakin said, his voice incredulous and dreamy, face pressed against the mattress, taking Obi-Wan’s cock completely passively now, back swayed, submitting totally to Obi-Wan using his body. “Yes, Master. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and stroked his back, thrusting in deliberately, appreciating the way Anakin took it, took it like he was born to take his cock. “You’ve done so well, Anakin, so very, very well.” Obi-Wan’s voice was a rasp, his thrusting speeding up. “I’m going to come in you now, put my come in you.”

“Thank you, yes, please, thank you, yes,” Anakin was murmuring out loud as he projected into the bond, “Master, please, come, Master.”

Obi-Wan grabbed his hips, thrust in once more, and came hard. Pleasure rolled up back through his brain and down, sparking through his body, his come spilling deep into Anakin. He groaned, and Anakin whimpered at the sound, his face rolling to the side, looking up at Obi-Wan, catching his eyes. 

The Force caught and held them both, causing them both to shudder at the strange sensation. It felt like a bell had been rung, somewhere outside the range of hearing. Something was rippling through the room. 

Obi-Wan slipped out of Anakin gently, exhausted. He looked down at Anakin’s prone figure in front of him, eye contact lingering with Anakin’s unfocused, pleasure-filled gaze. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, and Anakin’s mouth drew up into a smile, flashing white teeth. Anakin was beaming, and Obi-Wan’s heart felt tight. He was so beautiful. It echoed in the bond, and Anakin somehow blushed even deeper. 

Anakin’s Force signature was much less dark, Obi-Wan observed. Obi-Wan’s own darkness seemed to remain unchanged, hidden beneath his shields, maybe even a little larger. Anakin’s Force presence seemed cleaner though, somehow. Cleaner… Obi-Wan looked down at their bodies in disgust, his need for cleanliness spiking. He maneuvered Anakin out of bed, leading him over to the ‘fresher and turning on a quick sonic for them both. Anakin stood there looking vacant and relaxed, his Force signature stable and quiet. 

Obi-Wan smiled. He dressed Anakin in a spare set of sleep clothes, and led him back to his bed, changed the sheets and tucked him in, sitting beside him. Obi-Wan was not tired, not really. Anakin fell asleep almost immediately, a soft smile on his face, his head pressed against Obi-Wan’s hip. 

Obi-Wan looked down fondly and watched him sleep for a few minutes, trying to understand what they’d experienced in the Force. Suddenly he became aware that he was not alone, his head snapping up. 

Obi-Wan looked at the holocron to find that it had been opened somehow, an elderly man in a black robe looking at them from atop his perch on the deceptively delicate looking black pyramid. It looked gleaming and precious in the shadows, the figure flickered and stabilized. 

“Noticed me, have you?” The voice was deep and amused. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, slightly at a loss. “How did you get activated?”

“You two did something very interesting in the Force and I wanted to come take a look.”

Obi-Wan frowned and said warily, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Forgive me.” The austere man bowed his head fractionally. “I am Darth Solon.”

“What?” Obi-Wan looked at him closely. “Who? You can’t be.” Was it possible? Solon, the First Good Emperor, was a Jedi not a Sith… 

“Have you heard much of my Empire?” Darth Solon asked, in the tone of one willing to give a lecture.

Obi-Wan looked incredulously around the room. Was this really happening to him? Was he imagining this? He looked back at the holocron. He swallowed and answered, “Yes,” in the tone of one willing to hear a lecture.

Obi-Wan ended up deciding not to turn the Sith holocron that Anakin had brought back from Yavin 4 over to the Archives. He had questions, and it was just so refreshing for once to speak to someone with answers—Lord Solon, First Good Emperor of the Remulans, instigator of the Peace of Solon—his hero. Darth Solon, apparently.

Anakin slept gently beside him, and Obi-Wan stroked his hair. 

He had much to learn.

THE NEGOTIATOR 

1 month after the battle of Muunilinest

“Can you explain why the dark side seems to turn most people into mad dogs?” Obi-Wan asked, glaring at the slightly-too-bright screen of his data pad. He was very tired, and had progressed to the ‘reading his coms in bed’ phase of his nighttime routine. “And tell me why Dooku seems relatively coherent for a dark side user?”

Darth Solon scowled over at him from his position on the desk. “The dark side only makes you become more of who you always were. As you fall, you become more like yourself, and your personality is merely realized and carried to its natural extreme. Those who become mad dogs were not worthy of the power they craved. It destroyed them.” His voice was disdainful. 

“Some are worthy, however?” Obi-Wan was studying a holo of Dooku’s latest propaganda speech. “They can remain sane in the darkness?”

“Oh, their madness is just of a different sort.” Solon’s chuckle was without humor. “At extreme, all personality is a disorder, all individuality is a divergence. There will be a certain loss of reality that happens no matter what.”

“Dooku seems well engaged in reality,” Obi-Wan complained.

“Some defects can be strengths in the right context.” Solon said. “He was likely always arrogant, but now his understanding of empathy is damaged, or eradicated entirely, which will make it easier for him to stomach being responsible for the loss of billions of sentient lives.” Solon studied the holo as well. “His pride will also be his downfall—he believes his own story.” His lip curled with disgust. “That’s the sign that the madness has won.”

“How so?” Obi-Wan looked over, and studied the expression on Solon’s flickering face. “Believing your own story is wrong?”

“Yes,” Solon said, his deep voice sounding strangely rueful. “None of us fully understand ourselves and our role. It will only become clear in retrospect. To assume you know your story is delusional. This Dooku will likely be a minor player in the unfolding of events, yet he believes that he is either king or kingmaker. He does not understand reality.”

Obi-Wan thought about that for a long, quiet moment, watching the fervent gestures of Dooku’s hands. “How do you avoid it? It seems like the natural instinct. Thinking you understand reality.”

“Well, don’t assume.” Solon’s frown was forbidding. “The game is always bigger than one mind can fathom. One cannot forget the agency of other players on the board. Much is and will always be beyond control.” He looked grim. “Total control is both the highest goal and the greatest delusion of the Sith, and is always their downfall.” 

Obi-Wan tapped his data pad against his knee thoughtfully and continued reading his coms for awhile, the topic stewing in the back of his mind.

Obi-Wan finally asked, “Would you define victory as taking total control of a situation?” Solon frowned and nodded. Obi-Wan continued, “Through strength, I gain power, and through power, I gain victory,” Solon nodded again at the Sith Code. “If strength is finite, that means no power is absolute, so no victory is truly final, and there is no such thing as total control. Is that what you meant?”

“Indeed,” Solon said, with a moderate amount of patience. “Remember the Code of the Sith begins with the truth that ‘Peace is a lie’—All victories are contingent and transitory, and that is the true heart of the teachings.”

“Peace carries within itself the seeds for the end of peace, as you’ve said,” Obi-Wan said, thinking. “The leftovers of past conflicts are the ingredients of future wars.” 

Solon nodded again. “Yes. No victory is total, so every victory is also a strategic defeat in some respect—with respect to other players who have a share of power. There must consequently be more struggle. More conflict.”

“So a good Sith should like conflict, but shouldn’t like winning too much?” Obi-Wan was very confused, finally thumbing off his data pad and tossing it aside, turning finally to really look at the holocron of the Emperor for the lesson. Solon raised an imperious brow.  

“Winning, winning.” He made a dismissive hand gesture. “The ultimate winner will be the one who is willing to lose a battle in order to gain more strategic positioning in the ongoing war. The one who would choose to endure and fight on rather than attempt a complete victory once and for all, and stop the fight. Only the mad dog chases winning without thought of tomorrow, and a mad dog can win a battle but never wage a war. War is ongoing, never final—struggle is the lifeblood of both society and the individual.” Solon shook his head. “This is the paradox of power, and why this Dooku will lose and be unprepared.”

“The fact that he has a plan to win everything means he will lose?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes,” Solon said. “He is mad, even though he is of a more refined madness than most. He believes completely that he both knows what victory looks like and what he needs to do to achieve it. He thinks that he can make grandiose plans using the behavior of every person in the galaxy as anticipated in his own imagination—” Solon’s voice grew increasingly strident, watching as Obi-Wan looked away and pulled his data pad back over towards himself, as if Obi-Wan’s attention had wandered. It definitely had not. Obi-Wan was listening. “—Dooku is trying to play dejarik with pieces that may choose to leave their squares. If he doesn’t continually supervise and accurately alter his predictions, he may soon be playing with a board that no longer reflects reality.”

“So… if I don’t disturb his plans, I could stay invisible to him? If I seem to have stayed on my square?” Obi-Wan had pulled up and was watching the holo of Dooku’s speech from Serenno again. “Does he truly have such a restricted range of vision?”

“He will easily believe your façade if it contributes to his narrative,” Solon said. “He will ignore small signals that you are not who he believes you are. It is the nature of his madness to see his own story written into the world. Try not to wave any massive red flags, and you will slide by his notice. This is also how you can walk unseen through the Jedi temple, Σιθαρίς.”

Obi-Wan scowled at him for the undefined term, which he despised. Solon used it occasionally, but it never registered correctly into Basic, was always slightly undecipherable, and he could never catch it clearly enough to pronounce. Sitharis?  Same with what Solon called Anakin, Μιδιχλῶρ. Midichlor? Was that like midichlorian? Solon refused to explain. It was apparently some kind of untranslatable old Sith magic and Obi-Wan could never even hear it clearly enough to reproduce it. It wasn’t as if Solon were mumbling, either. The words simply resisted full perception, and Obi-Wan did not appreciate it.

Obi-Wan forcibly refocused on what had been said, turning off his data pad and tossing it aside for good. He moved under the covers and asked quietly, “Is that why the Jedi haven’t noticed my darkness? Because they’ve already decided who I am?”

“Yes,” Solon said with a kind of glee. “The Jedi are equally vulnerable. Their arrogance is what blinds them too.”

CORUSCANT

“Who is she, Master?” Anakin asked quietly. He had finally found Obi-Wan in the Halls of Healing, which, as he thought rather grumpily, was an extremely unlikely place for Obi-Wan to be. Anakin had spent far too long tracking him down.

“Master Depa Billaba,” Obi-Wan said gravely. The bacta tank was the only thing lit in the room, and the light cast an eerie glow on his face as he stood before it, looking up. “She is on the Council, and was Master Windu’s Padawan learner. You know who she is.”

Anakin looked at her dark, glossy hair bound in complex braids. They floated strangely in the thick density liquid. Her face was beautiful and severe. “I mean, yes. But I’ve never seen her like this.” He gestured at the tight, white garments worn in the tank. “I was a little put off.”

Obi-Wan looked over at him, and grinned. “I suppose it is a bit distracting.”

“It is!” Anakin grinned back. Their smiles both faded and they looked back in the tank. “Why is she here?”

“She has fallen to the dark side of the Force.” Obi-Wan spoke quietly. “She has been responsible for several atrocities, and is under arrest.”

“What?” Anakin looked at him, his heart suddenly pounding. 

Obi-Wan continued to study her face, sending Anakin a wave of calm through the Force. “She was sent on a mission to Haruun Kal to stop Separatist activity. She got involved in an internal conflict, chose a side, formed an unsanctioned Force bond with a local Force sensitive warlord.” Anakin raised his eyebrows, Obi-Wan nodded and then sighed. “She is a master of Vaapad, you know. Very dangerous to fight. Mace had to search the jungles for her, and she attacked him.”

“She attacked her own Master?” Anakin said, looking back at her serene expression, horrified. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, sounding sad. “She was insane. The darkness changed her, Anakin. She lost herself.” Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s gaze as he studied Anakin’s profile intently before continuing. “Apparently she regained her self-awareness at the end of the fight, and tried to end her life with her own lightsaber to atone for the atrocities she committed while lost in the dark. It is perhaps best she is in this coma, for now.”

“Lost in the dark,” Anakin said, very quietly. He began projecting, instead, “What does that really mean?” They tried not to talk over the bond in the Temple, just in case anything registered as off with any of the surrounding Masters, but Anakin felt awkward asking for more information out loud in the quiet Halls, even with no-one else around. He also had a sense Obi-Wan didn’t want to talk there.

“That’s what I’m trying to understand too, Anakin. What I just told you is Master Windu’s version of events—” Obi-Wan’s tone was growing frustrated, “—obviously I was not a witness to any of it. I don’t know how reliable he is as a narrator. I wish I could ask her, but she’s being kept under.” Obi-Wan turned away from the tank and began to walk away. Anakin hastened after.

“Being kept under?” Anakin asked, confused and concerned.

Obi-Wan was walking very quickly and Anakin tried to read his mood, reaching out and sliding through his shields. He recoiled quickly in surprise. Obi-Wan was afraid. Anakin stared at the side of his head as Obi-Wan projected, “As far as I can tell she is being kept in that coma, but I don’t have access to her full medical records, only some stray thoughts I pulled off the healers, nothing conclusive.” Anakin did a double take when he heard that Obi-Wan had been skimming thoughts from Jedi Healers before smiling at a group of younglings running down the hall and then nodding to the harried looking crèche-master trailing after.

Obi-Wan had continued unceasingly down the hallway, looking composed and smiling a friendly greeting to Master Gallia. Anakin hastened to catch back up.“I cannot enter her mind without physical contact, Anakin, not while it’s shrouded in so much darkness, and I can’t ask to do it because my own use of that Force ability would be considered dark. Nobody will explain to me the nature of the injury that caused her coma and what is causing it to endure. Everything about it seems just slightly off to me, Padawan. Why is she still asleep?” Anakin swallowed as he considered the implications. They walked on in silence.

Anakin dutifully waited to speak further until they reached their rooms, until Obi-Wan had shut the door, and until Obi-Wan’s posture had relaxed. Only then did Anakin ask what he’d been dying to know all along: “Why are you even at the Temple right now? I thought the 212th was on the Corellian Run. I thought I was going insane or that the bond had mutated again when I woke up knowing you were on world, but was sure I’d seen Rex checking in on the 212th right before I went to bed and getting an update from the Outer Rim.”

“Cody is there.” Obi-Wan said, shortly. “I am here. We don’t advertise my location, not since Grievous seems to have taken a particular fondness for me after our recent altercation.” He stretched out his legs on their uncomfortable, minimalist couch, and began attempting to arrange the pillows to support his not-injured back. “They are giving me Master Billaba’s seat on the Council, Anakin. I had to come back for the administrative aspect of the takeover of responsibilities and alteration of my identity record and access keys.”

“Ah!” Anakin said, a rising feeling in his stomach. Finally. “So with your new access, can you read the super-classified intel? The Sith intel?”

“I am going to be abominably close to the top of the military hierarchy now, Anakin, so yes. I will have access, and trust me I’m excited.” Anakin laughed and Obi-Wan smiled slightly. Finally settled on his pillows, Obi-Wan let out a long sigh, allowing his uncertainty to radiate unshielded into the Force. “This really is all just so strange and far too hasty. I am not old enough to be on the Council, let alone a High General. They keep giving me responsibilities far beyond my reasonable capacity. I don’t understand why. There are hundreds and hundreds of more qualified, more senior Jedi.”

“It’s good though, right?” Anakin asked, confused. Who would possibly be better? 

“Absolutely.” Obi-Wan said before making a face. “Maybe. If I can handle it. I’ve never been in charge of hundreds of thousands of men, soon to be millions, Anakin. The scale of this war is truly alarming, the size and complexity of the galaxy is staggering.” Anakin nodded, sure that this was probably true, and he just was missing ninety percent of it as usual. Obi-Wan sounded on-edge. “This war is designed for the Jedi to fail, and I don’t enjoy failing.” Obi-Wan’s growing anxiety made Anakin’s eyes narrow. He had to fix this.

“Is Darth Sleemo helping?” He asked, trying to irritate and distract. 

“Emperor Solon has been helpful, yes,” Obi-Wan sent him a small reprimand and thanks through the Force. “His story really is remarkable, Anakin. How he deceived both sides, rewrote his own history...” Anakin nodded encouragingly and went to their small kitchen, boiling water. Tea would help. Obi-Wan kept talking to his back. “The holocron is thousands of years old, you know. His perfect understanding of modern Basic is incomprehensible to me, and he won’t explain if it’s some kind of spell, or if he was around people the whole time and his language naturally evolved with them. The latter possibility is concerning. I’m leaning towards some kind of Sith spell that’s probably drawing his language out of my head, because…” He trailed off.

Anakin looked back out of the kitchen and made the no-problem hand gesture at Obi-Wan to get him to keep talking. He’d observed Cody using it as a distraction tool for whenever his Master’s anxiety was spiking. It worked surprisingly well as a release valve for his stress. It was convenient that the sound of his Master’s voice was also his own favorite sound in the galaxy.

The signal triggered speech, as was intended. Anakin smiled as he pulled down the mugs, but then grew concerned as the words came in a flood instead of a ramble. “I feel like I’ve known him, Solon, for much longer than I actually have, Anakin, and it’s very alarming. Is that why I read so much about him as a Padawan? I think I must have dreamed of him too, but I don’t remember any of those dreams. Why?” Anakin began to hurry as fast as possible to assemble the tea. 

Obi-Wan continued, speeding up. “I feel like I have déjà vu constantly here at the Temple, sometimes so strong it can make me feel nauseated, Anakin, and it’s happening more and more, but I don’t ever remember anything about my dreams except you and sometimes the war so I’m continually getting a sense of recognizing things and I don’t remember why they’re important. I’m reading too many minds too easily and I’m having trouble staying present in the living Force when you’re not around as anchor and—”

Anakin was suddenly back with tea, which he shoved into Obi-Wan’s hands to slow down the speech that had dramatically sped up. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, leaning forward over the mug slightly, letting the damp, scented heat wash over his face. He grumbled when Anakin pulled on a leg, but raised his feet up amicably enough, and Anakin slid underneath, sitting on the couch with Obi-Wan’s legs draped over his lap, rubbing on his shin, trying to reassure him.

“They’re keeping her in a tank, Anakin.” Obi-Wan murmured. Anakin looked to examine the cracks in Obi-Wan’s mask to guess what might be happening, but when he saw Obi-Wan’s expression his stomach dropped. Obi-Wan’s mask wasn’t on at all. Anakin studied his open face, capturing it and storing it in his memories, almost guiltily—his Master’s vulnerability was so rare and precious that Anakin treasured it despite the cause. Obi-Wan’s blue eyes were so sad, so afraid. “Is that better or worse than just killing her?”

Anakin tried to reassure him. “I’m sure they’ll let her out once her wounds are healed, Master.”

“I wish I was so certain,” Obi-Wan said, bleakly. “Doesn’t that show how far my trust in the Council has fallen? My gut instinct is to believe that they’re keeping her sedated, because they’d prefer to deal with the dark later instead of now.” He winced, having accidentally straightened up in anger and pulled on his not-an-injury injury. Obi-Wan sat back gingerly, and sighed. “They think inaction is wisdom, and that it shows restraint, not cowardice. They’re wrong.”

Anakin caught Obi-Wan’s eyes and intentionally took a sip of his tea, subconsciously prompting Obi-Wan to take a sip of his own tea. It worked, and Obi-Wan drank without seeming to notice he was doing it, until the flavor distracted him. Anakin enjoyed seeing the moment he noticed he was drinking. Anakin shook his head and refocused. 

“I could ask the Chancellor—“ Anakin began and Obi-Wan looked at him sharply, his glance demanding an immediate explanation. Anakin rolled his eyes and said defensively, “—who I saw from a distance in the Temple in the Halls when I had to do my physical upon arrival with the 501st. We did not speak. The Chancellor was with Yoda and Windu, I think they might have been visiting her room.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened and he looked speculative. “Chancellor Palpatine was in the Halls with Yoda and Mace? About Depa? How very strange.” Anakin could feel his fear beginning to dissipate in the Force as he began to solve a puzzle. He had to get him planning, that was the only real way to get Obi-Wan functional again.  

“Do you want me to ask?” Anakin prompted.

Obi-Wan took another sip of tea, eyes flicking over Anakin’s face, weighing the odds that Anakin would kriff it up royally, he assumed. “Yes,” Obi-Wan eventually said. “What does a politician want with a comatose rogue Jedi? Is it about Haruun Kal?” His eyes sharpened. “I am curious, and I want to know.” 

“I will try to find out, Master,” Anakin said, nodding decisively and taking a sip of his own tea.

“Just tell him you saw him in the Halls and were curious about why he was there.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him. “Do not attempt to approach the matter sideways or get him to unintentionally slip anything. He will not. Ask him what you want to know, but don’t get pushy.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin blushed and smiled into his mug. When Obi-Wan was lecturing, things were back to normal. “I will not try to be clever.”

“You are fiendishly clever, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, making eye contact, tone sincere. “Don’t mistake my meaning. I want you to know that.” Anakin blushed very deeply, eyes flicking between Obi-Wan’s. “You are perhaps not especially subtle with your wordplay, or exceptionally patient at asking questions, or overly sensitive to the particular nuances of terms used by politicians to ensnare or entrap people—” Anakin shifted to keep his growing arousal away from Obi-Wan’s legs. Why did he have to look me in the eye and then talk like that? “—but you are very clever, dear one… and also not very good at shielding your thoughts.”

Anakin huffed, overwhelmed by sudden arousal and then the sudden attention to that arousal. “Well, it’s not fair. All you have to do is talk.” 

Obi-Wan took a sip of his tea and set the mug on the low table with a pleased expression. “I know.” 

Anakin glared over but couldn’t hold it, and they ended up smiling at each other for a long moment, their bodies gravitating closer, before Obi-Wan’s com link chimed. Anakin’s chimed several moments later, and then both began chiming at the same time. They broke eye contact and looked over at the source of the noise, before looking back at each other, already exhausted. 

Obi-Wan frowned slightly and then Anakin suddenly shuddered, eyes falling closed. Obi-Wan had sent a wave of his attention across the bond—in, around and through Anakin’s mind, very quickly and very deeply, checking and possessing him, making Anakin waver slightly and then blush crimson. 

Obi-Wan nodded once, satisfied. “Time to work, Padawan.” 

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said, licking his lips. He took a few more moments to attempt to return blood to his brain. “Let’s go.”

ARANTARA

The last thing that Rex remembered, he had been cut off. He’d been yelling on his com, shooting droids, and looking directly at the target generators.

Now he was on the ground, looking up at the sky. Everything felt fuzzy. Somehow his faceplate had been cracked clean off. How close to the explosion was I? He tried to move his toes and fingers, and was relieved when they suddenly hurt a great deal. At least he wasn’t paralyzed. He breathed intentionally, deeply, to test his ribs. Aching but no stabbing. All in all, he thought, as he stared at the sky, he was going to be fine. Probably. He just hurt, a lot. 

He’d be fine unless a droid shot him while he was lying down—his least preferred imagined death. He closed his eyes and listened. His bucket was cracked in half, no coms coming through. The battlefield was extremely quiet. Had they won or lost? Had he been left for dead? He would need to get up to find out, and he estimated he was at least twenty minutes away from standing up. He suddenly felt very tired, and sunk back into the black.

The next time Rex woke, it was because he’d subconsciously recognized that the warmth on his face had been replaced by sudden chill—the sun had been blocked. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up to see something very similar to the form of General Skywalker bending over him. He blinked. Skywalker wasn’t planetside. Rex’s vision was blurry. He coughed to test his voice and then said, “You… came for me.” 

Skywalker was looking him over, and grumbled apologetically, “It should have been me that went in the first place.” 

“Thank you, General.” Rex murmured. He began to feel suddenly much less like he’s been run over by a transport. Must be some Jetii Force poodoo that Rex appreciated a great deal. His brain was getting back on line. “You would’ve been helpful, sir” he said in a deadpan tone, moving his fingers and toes, wrists and ankles.

“A leader always leads from the front,” Skywalker said with surprising conviction. Rex focused hazily on the General’s face. He looked fierce, and sorry. “I should have been here.” 

Rex heard both the words and the sentiment behind them, and took both to his heart and stored them in the special place he had for the General. How much he cared for the Vode, how much he was willing to risk for them, how much he suffered on their behalf. He swallowed down a swell of emotion. 

The General suddenly looked over his shoulder and began talking to the empty air. “Yes, I know.” Rex frowned at the sudden annoyed expression on Skywalker’s face. “I’m working on it!”

“Who are you talking to, sir?” Rex felt a swell of trepidation. They can’t have been serious. They’d been having a go at him.

Skywalker held out a hand and suddenly was holding the elbow of a stressed looking General Kenobi who was glaring at them both. “Get out of there, you do not have time to banter. Air support is on its way. Do not get caught in friendly fire.” He made significant and charged eye contact with General Skywalker, and pulled away, igniting his lightsaber as he disappeared. 

Rex saw Skywalker observing his face warily, waiting for his reaction. Rex blinked and grumbled. “That’s… sure, sir. That’s great, sir.” He laughed once. “Great and totally normal, sir.” Skywalker looked happily at him as Rex shook his head in resigned acceptance of something else totally kriffing crazy. It’s always something weirder and weirder. He complained, “I owe Waxer 10 credits. I thought Cody was joking.” 

“You seriously bet credits on Cody telling a joke?” Skywalker smirked and Rex huffed a laugh. “Let’s get moving.” He hauled Rex’s arm over his shoulder and they began to go.

Rex grunted, that had hurt. Everything hurt. He focused on keeping his feet moving on the ground, trying to get himself together. He finally asked the burning question, “This is really such a big secret? Other Jetiise don’t do this too?”

“No, they don’t, or can’t. I don’t know…” Skywalker said, readjusting his hold on Rex’s arm. “Obi-Wan says that we could get in a lot of trouble.”

“Why, sir?” Rex asked, attempting to match Skywalker’s rapid pace, tripping slightly and out of breath. It hurt to move. 

“Well, I personally don’t see why it’s such a big deal…” Skywalker began, resentfully. With effort Rex pulled his head up to look up from the ground to see the horizon—he could hear air support incoming. By tacit agreement, they both sped up. Skywalker continued in a breathless rant, “… but apparently the Council would freak out and try to break us apart in the Force, which would be really traumatic and we wouldn’t be able to see each other, probably for at least like a decade and even then it would be like, always supervised and discouraged. Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments.”  

“That’s…” Rex processed. He tried to imagine not being able to care for his brothers. “None of the other Jetiise care about other people, sir?”

“They care in general,” the General said, with the sound of someone who has given this particular rant before and would give it again at the slightest provocation, “Jedi can have compassion for all beings, but no attachment.” His voice grew more serious. “They will care when a trooper dies and try to prevent it, or they should,” Skywalker said, answering the real question. “They’re supposed to care.”

“That’s good, General.” Rex was out of breath. “Great. Where are we going?”

“Oh, the transport’s over the ridge.” The answer was huffed out of heaving lungs. Air support was almost there, and they were moving fast. Skywalker was basically dragging him, at this point. Rex tried as hard as he could to keep his legs moving. “They’re waiting for us.” The noise was getting louder. “We’re almost there…”

They crested the rocky hill and slid over the other side at a sprint. The doors of the LAAT/i were open, everyone holding on and strapped in, ready to depart. They made it in and the pilot took off immediately—the ship made it out before the bombs began to fall. Barely. The noise behind them was indescribable, the proximity to the explosions radically unsafe. They made it. Rex released a disbelieving breath. 

They made it out. 

Rex looked over at the cocky smile and bright eyes of his General, his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. He had almost died to pull Rex from the field. A leader always leads from the front, he’d said. Rex smiled slightly and relaxed. His Jetii was jatnese be te jatnese. 

Best of the best.

THE RESOLUTE / THE NEGOTIATOR

Anakin was technically in his own room on the Resolute, relaxing on his narrow bed with his back against the wall, appreciating the fact that he was finally not wearing his boots. It had been a long day of fighting. He was watching Obi-Wan pace angrily back and forth down the length of his identically shaped room on the Negotiator. The bond really was convenient sometimes.

“There is no top-secret Sith intel file, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was very calm, very quiet, and devoid of human warmth. 

“What?” Anakin was aghast. “What do you mean?” 

“There have been individual investigations into specific rumors,” Obi-Wan explained carefully. His anger made the air around him prickly with a cloud of undirected power. The hair stood on Anakin’s arms. “There is, however, no underlying, unifying, systematic investigation. There is no file. There is nothing of significant value to me. The Sith Lords remain as elusive as ever.” 

“I just don’t understand how that can be true.” Anakin said, evaluating the degree of tension in his Master’s walk. It was very bad, again. Anakin swallowed, trying to suppress the itch to fix it. He didn’t know how, exactly, but it was an overwhelming urge to help. “Master, why do you think that’s the case?” Anakin watched as Obi-Wan turned his head towards where Darth Solon must be talking. Anakin made a face, he hated having to share attention with a dead Sith. “Master?” 

Obi-Wan held up a finger and Anakin pouted.

“The Emperor is correct, Anakin. This discovery functionally makes no difference.” Obi-Wan nodded once towards Anakin’s bare desk. “I’ve known since Kamino that the Temple archives have been tampered with, that the information systems of the Temple are not secure. Any intel would likely have been compromised by the Sith anyway.” His frown intensified. “It would, however, have been nice to have evidence that the Jedi Council had been dealing with the threat responsibly. They, of course, have not.” 

He walked by Anakin’s legs, and Anakin felt tempted to stick out a leg and trip him. Obi-Wan shot him an extremely dirty look, and he didn’t. “I need to get in contact with the Jedi Shadows, but that is not a simple thing to do without causing ripples in places I don’t want ripples.”

“What would you need to ask them?” Anakin asked, as Obi-Wan made another lap. He noticed that Obi-Wan was paying attention to his desk again, nodding to something Anakin couldn’t hear. “Master?” Obi-Wan gave him an exasperated look, and then looked apologetically back at the desk. Anakin scowled. “You can talk to him all the time, Master. I’m here now!”

“The bond has been connecting us for longer and longer, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “I apologize if this is no longer a special treat.”

Anakin looked down, hurt. “Ok, Master.” He reached and slid over his data pad, pulling up a summary of the day’s action on Arantara. He had been proud, he’d managed to get Torrent Company out of a killbox using only his lightsaber and his determination. He’d saved almost all of them. He had done well that day. He refused to let Obi-Wan bring him down. “I get it.” 

“Stop.” Obi-Wan’s voice was sharp. “I don’t have the energy for this, Anakin.”

“Energy for what?” Anakin said, not looking up. “I’m not bothering you anymore.”

“Stop sulking.” Obi-Wan had stopped pacing and was standing in front of him. “It’s irritating.”

“Ok, Master.” Anakin said again, clenching his jaw. “Sorry.” He moved off the bed, sliding around Obi-Wan and standing up, not looking at him. “I’ll go, now.”

“No,” Obi-Wan said to his back. “Sit back down.”

“I don’t think so,” Anakin said. He looked for his belt, eyes finally landing on its tail sticking out from under the bed. “I want to go see how Rex is doing. He was hurt pretty bad.” He crouched down, and pulled out the belt with satisfaction. He stood up straight, looking for his boots. “You can ask Darth Sleemo how to find the other Darths. You don’t need me here for that.” He pulled the belt around his waist. He said quieter, “You don’t want me here for that.” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice was mild. “I told you to sit down.”

Anakin scowled at the fastener of his belt, trying to get it to snap into place. “And I said no. I’m going.”

Suddenly Obi-Wan’s hand was on his fastener, pulling it out of Anakin’s hands and pulling the belt off his waist roughly. Anakin jerked his head up to see Obi-Wan’s cabin, making eye contact with an unamused Darth Solon. 

Obi-Wan spoke very quietly. “I told you to sit down, Padawan.” Anakin looked away from the Sith to meet Obi-Wan’s frustrated eyes. Anakin’s face crumpled a little. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it wasn’t fair that Obi-Wan was so mad at him. “Stop pouting!”

“Sorry, Master,” Anakin said, looking down again, inexplicably feeling close to tears. Obi-Wan had let him go, and he was back in his own room. Obi-Wan was still in front of him. He wished that the bond would disconnect, he wanted to be alone. Anakin sucked in a deep shaky breath and suddenly he was angry, the feeling rising up against his sadness, rejecting it. He raised his head again and met Obi-Wan’s glare. “I’m going.”

They held furious eye contact for several long seconds, and then Anakin was swept through by a searching, searing wave of Obi-Wan’s attention in the Force, making him feel unsteady on his feet. He involuntarily closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, shuddering. As soon as he did, he was moving, Obi-Wan having grabbed his wrists and pushed him back down hard on the bed, yanking his arms above his head and then using the Force to hold them in place near the metal bars of the headboard. 

Anakin pulled ineffectually, his eyes reopening to see Obi-Wan holding his belt and examining his wrists. Obi-Wan raised a deliberative eyebrow and then began wrapping Anakin’s wrists and attaching him to the bar. Anakin pulled against him again. “I want to go, Master.” 

“Do you?” Obi-Wan’s voice was absent. “Are you sure about that?” He clicked shut the fastener, and stood back, examining his handiwork. Anakin was now attached to the bed. “I know that you do not.” Another wave of attention made Anakin feel limp and he stopped pulling against the belt. “Good.” Obi-Wan stepped away and continued pacing, looking intently at the desk. “Say that again, Solon?”

Anakin looked at the ceiling, trying to evaluate what was happening. He tugged experimentally on his wrists and wanted to moan at the feeling of being bound. He was feeling light-headed and hot, he was getting painfully hard. Obi-Wan had tied him down, and was now ignoring him again. He tried for anger but his body very much betrayed how much he liked where he was. 

Obi-Wan’s face appeared over him, looking down. “Better?” Anakin swallowed and nodded reluctantly. “Good.” Obi-Wan gently ran a hand through his hair, fingers scratching and Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut. The grip tightened suddenly and he whimpered. Obi-Wan used his hold to turn Anakin’s head, pulling an ear up closer to his mouth as he leaned down to whisper in his ear, “Be quiet, Padawan.”

“Yes, Master,” came out a whine. “I’m sorry.”

“I really don’t think you are, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was absent again, and he was looking back at the desk. He laughed at something the holocron said, and Anakin’s cock throbbed at Obi-Wan ignoring him while pulling his hair. 

Obi-Wan seemed to catch the thought and looked down, smirking. He dropped Anakin’s head and stepped away again. Anakin shifted, pulling on his wrists and made a disapproving sound. Obi-Wan said, “Quiet.”

Anakin could hear the familiar sound of Obi-Wan’s robes swish and his boots click as he paced back and forth beside him. His conversation with the holocron was a low murmur. “I suppose that I could contact Vos, but I’d almost rather eat my lightsaber.”

Anakin stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out how Obi-Wan tied him while on the Resolute when he should only be able to pull Anakin to the Negotiator, not enter Anakin’s side at will. Anakin should have had to initiate contact for Obi-Wan to appear on his ship! It’s not fair, the bond was too powerful! Nothing was fair at all, why was Obi-Wan so mad anyway? The Council was Sith-appeasing cowards, but he knew that already! The battle of Arantara went well, Obi-Wan’s team hadn’t even suffered losses! Anakin had made it out in plenty of time, he hadn’t even really been in danger!

“You are thinking very loud,” Obi-Wan said. “I asked you to be quiet.”

Anakin was so frustrated he wanted to rip the belt off the bed with the Force and punch Obi-Wan in the face. He knew that it would be unwise, but he pictured it extremely clearly and extremely loudly in his mind. 

“Really?” Obi-Wan’s face was over him again. Anakin barely resisted the urge to snarl, pursing his lips and looking away pointedly. “Luckily, this is a problem I can fix.” 

“What?” Anakin turned his head back sharply. “What do you mean, ‘fix’?” Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow at him for a moment before he reached down and suddenly palmed Anakin’s cock roughly through his pants. Anakin moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. He was so hard, it wasn’t fair. 

Obi-Wan smirked as Anakin’s hips arched into his touch. He continued to rub him, squeezing as he pulled his fingers down along the length and then massaging the head just shy of too hard, giving him the friction he was craving. Anakin was panting, pulling against his restraints.  

Obi-Wan suddenly moved his hand away and Anakin’s eyes opened wide, his mind blank with need for him to keep touching him. He writhed up, his hips attempting to follow Obi-Wan’s rising hand. Obi-Wan smirked at him and stood up, walking away. Anakin groaned and went limp on the bed. It had felt so good, he’d been getting close. Obi-Wan had just walked away. Anakin felt nothing but an aching need, he was lost in the sensation. He felt so hot, his breathing was shaky, his heart was pounding.

“Better.” Obi-Wan kept pacing. “Much quieter.” Anakin whimpered at the sound of his mild voice. He sounded so gentle and caring, but he was making Anakin ache so badly. Obi-Wan began speaking lowly to the holocron again, “You’re right, I need to deal with Vos soon, but I’d prefer… Yes, I know his psychometry will become a problem… He could possibly be… Yes, alright, I know you don’t find that line of argument particularly convincing…” 

Anakin swallowed, closing his eyes. The feeling of being caught in a rising tide of pleasure had receded, but he was still so hard. He pulled on his restraints for the sensation, seeking any kind of touch, any kind of friction. He whined and shifted.

Obi-Wan was back. “You are so incredibly needy,” his voice was exasperated. “Why are you so impossibly impatient?”

“Master, it hurts, please, I want—” Anakin looked up, trying to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes, begging him for his touch. 

“I know,” Obi-Wan cut him off. “I’m perfectly aware, Padawan, thank you.” He sighed and reached down, opened Anakin’s pants, exposing just his hard cock. Anakin moaned loudly as the cool air touched him, and again when Obi-Wan’s fingers pulled him free. He writhed, and shuddered as Obi-Wan spat in his palm and began to stroke him hard, dragging him closer and closer, relieving Anakin’s ache with an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Obi-Wan twisted his wrist and squeezed the head of Anakin’s cock hard. Anakin moaned loudly, his hips involuntarily thrusting up, he was so close.

“Please, Master, yes, please, thank you,” Anakin begin to babble, moving his hips for more friction, pressing up, Obi-Wan’s hands were lightsaber-calloused and strong, it felt so good to have him touching Anakin exactly where he needed him to, fingers digging in under the base of the head, rubbing gently.  

Obi-Wan abruptly let go and walked away, again. Anakin gasped, and made a pained noise. “No! Please, Master, come back!” He looked around as best he could, pulling on his restraints. “Master, please…” He whined. 

“Quiet, Padawan.”

Anakin whimpered and shifted. His cock ached, the entire world had collapsed to how badly he needed to come, how badly he needed Obi-Wan to touch him. He pulled against his restraints again, looking over desperately to try to find Obi-Wan, to see what he was doing, to get him back. Anakin tried to listen, tried to interrupt, but words wouldn’t come. He just whined and slumped back, his hips still shifting, his cock jutting up, the tip shiny with Obi-Wan’s spit and his own precome. 

Obi-Wan was murmuring, “Talking to Dooku is too risky, though… I know he’s the only lead… How do you propose?… I don’t particularly enjoy the concept of being captured, that…”

Anakin tried to stay quiet, tried to be as quiet as possible—he knew that the best way to get what he wanted was to give Obi-Wan what he wanted. Anakin was shaky, light-headed, his breathing heavy, his pulse pounding and his cock ached. The belt on his wrists was tight, but not too tight, Obi-Wan had wrapped him well. He pulled again, trying to stay still, stay quiet.

“Very good,” Obi-Wan said as he paced by, looking down casually. “Just like that.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin murmured. He swallowed and closed his eyes. He tried to steady his breathing, tried to be good. Obi-Wan paced by several times, Anakin’s full attention was tracking the sound of his boots clicking sharply closer and further away, back and forth. 

The world was so quiet, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. He got lost in the sound of Obi-Wan’s movement, hypnotized, breathing in rhythm with it, trying to focus on anything except the incredible ache, the overwhelming need. 

“I like seeing you like this, Padawan,” Anakin’s eyes shot open. Obi-Wan had paused and was looking down at him. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” Anakin nodded vigorously, hips pushing up. Obi-Wan trailed his fingers lightly over Anakin’s cock and Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut. “You’re mine, you know that, right?” Anakin whined and nodded again. For years, all he wanted was a hint that Obi-Wan had even a bit of attachment to him. He’d been so evasive, always disappearing and retreating. Now his fingers felt so good on Anakin’s cock, he was so, so close. 

“Thank you, Master, yes, I know,” Anakin said, seeking his eyes. “I’m yours, I told you I was yours.”

“You did,” Obi-Wan said with a gentle smile. “I remember.” The smile slipped from his face. “I remember exactly why you did.” Anakin felt a swell of dread and his hips jerked as Obi-Wan’s fingers left him. “That’s why you need to be tied up, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded regretful. “You’re reckless, disobedient, violent, and disloyal.” Anakin whimpered. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Master…”

“Quiet.” Obi-Wan said repressively. Anakin bit off his words and swallowed. He was shuddering with need to come, he was so close. “I will take care of you, but you don’t get to choose when, Padawan.” He stepped back and Anakin whined. “You need a lesson in patience.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin panted. “I’m paying attention, Master.”

“You are.” Obi-Wan’s smile was back, a softness back in his eyes. “You’re doing well, Anakin—” Anakin nodded eagerly. “—Not good enough, though, Padawan.”

Anakin’s voice was petulant. “Why?” Obi-Wan looked back over his shoulder, and laughed at a comment that Anakin couldn’t hear. “Master! What do I need to do? What am I doing wrong? I want to do better, Master, please?” 

When Anakin’s questions didn’t draw back Obi-Wan’s attention, Anakin closed his eyes and dropped his attention into the Force, focusing as best he could with his mind a hazy shaky mess, and projected his need as loud as he could. 

“Better involves not shouting in the Force, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s tone was conversational. “Do yourself a favor, and think things through.”

“Sorry, Master.” Anakin withdrew as far as he could, making himself small, holding himself contained. He tried to quiet his breathing, still his motions, become as quiet as possible. He tried to make it so Obi-Wan wouldn’t notice him at all.

“Much better,” Obi-Wan said, his voice rough. “Very, very good.” Anakin looked up hopefully. “That was a very impressive use of the Force, Anakin.”

“What did I do?” Anakin said, confused. “Master? What’s happening?” His arousal was so distracting, he had been so close to coming for so long and then Obi-Wan was talking to him, why wasn’t his hand back on his cock? “Please, Master?” He pulled on his restraints.

Anakin almost cried out in relief when he saw Obi-Wan approach with intent, and saw him slide off his boots, one and then the other. Two clunks on the floor. Obi-Wan was finally paying attention to only him. 

Obi-Wan smiled dangerously as he caught the thought, and he knelt on the end of the bed, crawling up Anakin’s body until he was holding himself above Anakin, not touching but hovering above so close they were sharing breath. Obi-Wan pressed his hips down and rubbed his own hard cock down against Anakin’s and smiled again as Anakin moaned loudly.

Obi-Wan looked deeply into his eyes and whispered, “You made yourself invisible with the Force, Anakin.” 

“What?” Anakin was so distracted by Obi-Wan’s sudden proximity, he was trying to understand what he was saying but was not following at all. The blue of Obi-Wan’s eyes was almost grey in this half-light. Anakin could see his Master’s pupils were blown. His body was warm above him, the pressure of their hips together was incredible. “Wh-what do you mean, Master?”

“That was a very powerful illusion.” Obi-Wan kissed him once, lightly on the lips and moved his head back, looking him in the eye again. “You made me see an empty bed.” He kissed him again, a little harder, and moved back again. They were both breathing hard. “The only way I could tell you hadn’t left was our bond.” He kissed him again, hard, and whispered against his lips. “No-one else would have been able to tell, Anakin. It was a perfect disguise.” 

“I didn’t mean to, Master,” Anakin pushed his head up and kissed him back, desperately. Obi-Wan took control of the kiss, pushing him back down, licking into his mouth. Anakin rocked his hips in response, rubbed his hard cock against Obi-Wan's, and broke the kiss with a moan. He begged, “Will you please fuck me, please, Master, or something, anything, I need, I am dying, please…”

“Yes, my needy little Padawan.” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. “I am absolutely going to fuck you now.”

The words made Anakin gasp in relief, his eyes sliding shut, his legs falling further open slightly, making room for Obi-Wan to slide down between them. Obi-Wan kissed his neck, biting once before shaking his head and making a disappointed noise. Anakin whimpered back. Obi-Wan moved his mouth further down, shoving Anakin’s tunic aside, finding his collarbone, biting hard, sucking purple marks into his skin. 

Anakin wrapped his legs around Obi-Wan and said, “Please, Master, please, you were so mad earlier, I don’t like it when you’re mad, use me please to stop being mad, be mad at me, please, feel better, Master—”

Obi-Wan cut him off with a laugh. “I will fuck you hard, Anakin, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, yes, please, Master, I would like that,” Anakin said nodding. 

“I know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan laughed again, ruefully. “I know how to make you come. I have had more practice than you can possibly imagine.” Anakin whined, pressing up with his hips. Obi-Wan had dreamed of him. Anakin was important. Anakin was special. Obi-Wan withdrew back to his knees, and began to undress them both. Anakin tugged on his restraints as Obi-Wan opened their tunics and pulled off their pants. “Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said as he came back, “You’ve done well.”

Anakin whimpered and opened his legs further, and Obi-Wan took advantage of the motion, grasping the back of Anakin’s thighs and pushed them back, putting Anakin’s knees by his ears, exposing him completely at once. 

Anakin whined and pulled at his restraints when Obi-Wan looked him in the eyes and leaned down, licking him, preparing him to take his cock. Obi-Wan used his tongue to tease the entrance, sucking saliva and spreading it, getting it as wet as he could. He licked up to Anakin’s balls and sucked on them, making Anakin jerk hard and moan. Obi-Wan pulled his head back and pressed down harder on Anakin’s legs to keep him still. 

Anakin caught his eyes and said very quickly, “I’m trying to stay still, I am, I am trying Master, I’m sorry, please don’t stop, please…” 

Obi-Wan reassured him over the bond. “I know, dear one.” Anakin felt a spike of desire, his hips jerked and he took a deep shaky breath. He was so flushed, he felt so hot. He had just barely stopped himself from coming—he’d almost orgasmed just from Obi-Wan’s kind voice in his head.

Obi-Wan smiled, understanding what had just happened and sent a sense of pride to Anakin through the bond for holding back. He abandoned holding back one leg and pushed two of his fingers deep into Anakin’s open mouth and said, “Make them wet, Padawan.” Anakin obediently closed his lips and made the fingers as wet as he could. Obi-Wan said, “Open,” and Anakin opened his mouth. 

Obi-Wan used the two fingers to swipe his mouth, collecting as much of Anakin’s spit as he could, and then moved the fingers down and pushed them roughly inside Anakin’s ass, pressing in hard through the muscle’s resistance. Anakin jerked at the sudden penetration, his back arching, arms pulling against the restraints. Obi-Wan’s fingers curled and pressed relentlessly, stroking hard against Anakin’s prostate, and Anakin moaned loudly, “Finally, finally, yes!” as he abruptly came. 

Anakin shuddered and whined, a wave of intense pleasure rolling back through his brain as his cock spilled come. It was as if a concussion missile had detonated in his mind, the fallout spreading throughout his body in tingling shivers of pleasure.  His eyes jerked open as Obi-Wan bent his head and swallowed the tip of his cock into his mouth, sucking and licking up his come. They looked at each other, the last of his come spilling directly onto Obi-Wan’s waiting tongue. 

The bond hummed with the rightness of the moment, the perfection and completion. There was a sense of necessity in the Force, Anakin wasn’t sure where it came from. Obi-Wan’s warm mouth felt incredible and Anakin looked down incredulously as Obi-Wan cleaned him up. Obi-Wan eventually moved his head back, licking his lips. 

For a long, suspended moment, their eye contact was strong and Obi-Wan queried with the Force through Anakin’s diffuse pleasure-soaked mind to check how he was doing. He smiled as Anakin hazily welcomed and thanked him, then suddenly slid his fingers hard into his ass again, making Anakin moan. Obi-Wan smiled and began fucking him harder and faster with his fingers.

Anakin sighed happily and let his hips fall open all the way, completely relaxing into the sensation, still curled up with his knee by his ear and the other leg slung loosely around Obi-Wan. He was happily letting Obi-Wan move his fingers in and out, stretching and preparing him. With only spit, it would be uncomfortable. The thought made him smile. Obi-Wan wanted him so much he didn’t want to stop for lube, and knew Anakin would take it, could take it, and wanted it. 

“I know, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, his smile wide and genuine now. Anakin’s eyes fixed on the secret dimples under his beard—the ones that only those with previous knowledge could spot with years of training. Anakin watched with pleasure as Obi-Wan grinned. “I truly do know, Anakin.” Obi-Wan leaned down and kissed him again, sucking his lip into his mouth. Anakin was floating, Obi-Wan was fingering him and kissing him, licking roughly into his mouth, tongue tangling, possessing, until he fucking Anakin there too. 

Obi-Wan removed his hand, used it to line up his cock and pressed the tip in without warning. Anakin moaned loudly, sucked on Obi-Wan's tongue, and projected, “Oh, Master, yes, more, thank you!” The only thing that Anakin could feel was Obi-Wan’s thick cock, opening him up, pushing in relentlessly. Anakin broke the kiss as he gasped and looked up at Obi-Wan, disbelieving, as Obi-Wan smirked at him and then fucked in hard, taking him deeply. It hurt, it was too much, it was overwhelming, and Anakin’s eyes rolled back in his head in pleasure.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and said, “Unbelievable,” and began to fuck him harder and harder as he adjusted, until he was holding him open and thrusting deep and fast. All of Obi-Wan’s frustration with the Council, with the Sith, with the war, with Anakin himself—it all was turned into Obi-Wan’s complete possession of Anakin’s body, using him hard as Anakin whined and murmured incomprehensible happy sounds. Obi-Wan murmured, “You take my cock so well, Padawan, so very, very well.” His hips slapped into Anakin, smiling at the sound, fingers in a bruising grip. 

Anakin relaxed, smiling a proud, silly grin at how well he took it all. Obi-Wan laughed at his intoxicated expression and kissed him again. Anakin projected all of his happiness into the bond, sharing it back with Obi-Wan, adjusting his body and rolling his hips to open himself up as much as he could, making himself as perfect as possible to take all of Obi-Wan’s cock. It was all perfect, it felt incredible. 

Anakin whined as he yanked on the belt restricting his arms just to feel the pressure of being restrained, and Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. He moved back up to his knees and pulled Anakin down the bed, stretching him out, pulling his hips out using the different angle and slid in deliberately, fucking him hard. Anakin couldn’t move and couldn’t think, it felt so good.

Obi-Wan’s voice was rough, “Very good, darling, thank you, you’ve been very helpful, I needed this, thank you,” and at Anakin’s huge spike of pleasure that radiated out into the Force, Obi-Wan slammed his cock in one final time and came, his head dropping to curl into Anakin’s neck, breathing hard, trembling slightly with the force of his orgasm. 

Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin and held him tight and gave him a gentle kiss on the neck before slipping out. Anakin thought he could feel Obi-Wan’s come dripping down his leg, and shivered with pleasure. He’d been so helpful.

Obi-Wan slid off, and reached for an undershirt, silently cleaning up Anakin and then himself. The bond was so strong, the atmosphere of the cabin was so charged with everything they’d done and everything they were to each other. 

Obi-Wan reached up and undid the binding of Anakin’s belt, gently unwrapping him. He winced apologetically at the marks that had appeared on Anakin’s wrists, glancing at his face. Anakin said, “Thank you, Master,” and Obi-Wan sighed and let him go, brushing the hair back off Anakin’s forehead. 

His tone was suddenly businesslike, as if his orgasm had cleared his mind, refreshed his memory. “Master Yoda wants to give you a Padawan, Padawan.”

“What?” Anakin was nowhere near coherent enough to have a conversation that included the word ‘Yoda.’

“Never mind, dearest, we’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Obi-Wan said, his eyes full of affection and humor. “Go to the ‘fresher and go to bed. You need sleep, you really must rest.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin smiled. “Of course, Master.”

Everything was back to normal. Obi-Wan seemed balanced again, his Force presence was calm. Anakin had a sense that he had done his job, what he was born to do.

It felt good.

CHRISTOPHSIS

Late 22BBY

Obi-Wan was standing alone in a large natural cave of reddish brown rock. It had been extended back into the hill to create a large nave of some kind of church, which was ornately carved into the stone. There were shafts of light coming in from the setting sun behind him. It was beautiful.

Everything around him was hushed and perfectly still except for occasional whispers too low to understand, and Obi-Wan had felt like an intruder in a truly sacred place. The air in the cave had been extremely dry but he could hear water trickling, which was strange.

At the far back of the heavily sculpted cavern, he’d seen a series of rising steps leading to a wide altar made of a glossy black stone that Obi-Wan hadn’t recognized. It stood out oddly among the native rock.

He did a double take. A beam of light had caught on a large silver knife that had been buried blade down in the altar. Obi-Wan hadn’t understood how the metal had been strong enough to penetrate the rock, let alone why it had been done.

It looked like the blade had been somehow filigreed to be covered in the twisting form of a language he couldn’t read. He began to move closer and…

Obi-Wan woke up, and frowned.

He’d never had that particular dream before. It was one of the least eventful dreams that he’d ever remembered. Nothing had happened. It felt like his future, but it also felt somehow more significant than that. There was not very much information to be gleaned, just the memory of the cave, sunset, black altar, silver knife. The whisper… Sitharis?

Obi-Wan sighed and rolled out of bed. He knew well that there was no point dwelling on the future. Anakin was off scouting with Rex, and hopefully they should be back soon. He needed to focus on now. He slid on his boots, fastened his belt, attached his lightsaber and comlink. He smoothed a hand through his recently shorn hair and beard, and was ready to go.

He headed over to the command center first. Cody was already there, of course, looking over a holomap of the capital city. They’d been trying to free Christophsis from a Separatist siege for weeks now. First, they’d broken the blockade, now they needed to clean up the planet.

It seemed like all they were doing was making a mess. He looked at the holo’s representation of the wreckage of several massive crystalline skyscrapers that had come down during the Separatist bombing runs—so many civilians had died there before the city was successfully evacuated. The city infrastructure was a disaster, would only get worse, and would be terrible for a long time after they left.

It did not feel good.

“Sitrep, Cody?” Obi-Wan asked.

“All quiet, General.” Cody was looking him over, likely wondering if he’d slept. Obi-Wan nodded and Cody nodded back slightly, satisfied. “There’s no sign of any deviation from their normal activity.”

“Good, that’s good.” Obi-Wan said, switching to a different view on the holomap. They’d been planning an ambush on the Separatists’ routine troop movements through the occupied areas of the city. Obi-Wan crossed his arms and said, “I’d prefer it if they walked into our trap blind, but truthfully I’m concerned. They’ve been predicting our moves very well.”

“They have, General.” Cody agreed, and pressed his lips together. Obi-Wan always appreciated seeing his bare face, even if it was still a mask of frustration. Cody sighed and said, “We’re going to have evac waiting for when this goes sideways.”

“Thank you, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, and raised his eyebrows at a cup of tea that was set in front of him. “And thank you, Slick.”

“No problem, sir.” Slick smiled. “No problem at all.”

Anakin did not enjoy watching droids surround his Master with blaster fire.

He definitely did not appreciate watching it happen without being there to help. He was trapped in another skyscraper on the other side of the main road, looking across through the floor-to-ceiling transparisteel windows and seeing flashes of blaster bolts—not acceptable. “Master, what's going on?”

“We're cut off.” The sound of Obi-Wan’s voice coming back on the comlink was a relief. “The droids are onto us.” That was definitely not.

How do they always know? Anakin made a decision. “Gunship, come in. Hawk, we need an evac in the south tower.”

“Roger that, sir. We're coming.”

Rex sounded both confused and wary. “South tower? We're in the north.”

“Not for long.” Anakin cocked an eyebrow and tipped his head. Rex sighed and nodded. Anakin turned back to the window, ignited his lightsaber and slashed twice before kicking out the transparisteel. The wind at their height was surprisingly strong. “Rex, fire your cables.”

“Yes, sir!” 

The droids were not allowed to surround and shoot down his Master. That was simply an unacceptable outcome of the day. He would not allow that to happen. Their ambush was blown, somehow, and it was time to get his Master out. Alive.

Anakin grabbed an extra blaster and hooked it over the thick cable, keeping one hand on his ignited lightsaber. He jumped out of the window and began to slide—troopers jumped around him and held on desperately to their blasters with both hands. They slid as a squadron precipitously from skyscraper to skyscraper, hands slowly shaking numb with the vibration.

The droids started firing, and they began to dodge blaster bolts. The wind was too strong. Micky got hit and went down, and Anakin felt him die.

Anakin smashed furious through the opposite window, his men swarming around him, and they began to save the day.

Again.

Night was falling, and it was growing dark. Obi-Wan accelerated his speeder bike. Their plan to infiltrate Separatist headquarters and discover how the enemy was getting so much of their intel wasn’t so much of a plan as a loose directive. An Anakin-style plan.

Obi-Wan didn’t know how they were going to find out what they needed to know, but by now he trusted the Force to lead him to the answer.

“We appear to have picked up some friends.” Anakin’s tone was sardonic. Obi-Wan appreciated the understatement. There were thousands and thousands of droids, lurking in every imaginable position. It was not a surprise. He hoped that Cody and Rex could do a thorough sweep of the base for bugs.

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan called back. He accelerated and Anakin kept pace. “I believe the number of eyes watching us has been steadily growing.”

“Great!” Anakin looked over at him, frustrated. He yelled, “Perhaps this means they’ve somehow learned our plans.” Obi-Wan swerved a little closer so he could hear him over the sound of his engine.

“Perhaps it does.” Obi-Wan agreed amicably.

Anakin glowered. “Which means this is a trap, Master.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him before returning his eyes to the road. “I imagine it is. You know our policy on traps, Padawan.”

“I guess the trap is unfortunate...” Anakin smirked. “...for them.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and accelerated to maximum speed. He wanted to get this finished. They were obviously being allowed to enter the enemy Headquarters unopposed, so enter the Headquarters they would.

They finally arrived, the silence and inaction from so many lurking droids was making Obi-Wan feel incredibly twitchy. “So, this is the belly of the beast,” he said disparagingly when he walked into an empty room. He did admire the native blue crystalline building materials. It was very beautiful. Pity the Separatists had occupied it.

He looked up sharply when the Force trembled.

Anakin moved forward quickly, “Master, I sense—”

“I sense it too,” Obi-Wan cut him off. A black cloaked figure moved out of the shadows and Anakin blanched.

“No!” Lightsaber slapped into Anakin’s palm, ignited in an instant. “I killed you on Yavin.”

“Obviously not, Padawan,” Obi-Wan snarked back. The black cloak was seductively rolled back off shoulders and dropped to the floor. He raised an eyebrow at the woman’s tight clothing and leering smile. “Here I thought this mission would be unpleasant.”

“Master—” Anakin said in exasperation and Obi-Wan cut him off.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He dipped his head in a courtly manner as he unclipped his lightsaber but did not ignite it. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. May I inquire as to your name?” Anakin grumbled beside him, lightsaber in hand, buzzing and blue.

“You may inquire.” Her voice was raspy and low. She grasped her blades and ignited them, the red glow making Obi-Wan’s stomach clench and breathing accelerate. “My name is Ventress, and I’ve lured you here to your doom.”

“Charmed to meet you, my dear.” Obi-Wan said back. Anakin complained loudly next to him and Obi-Wan sent him a wave of “Quiet” through the bond. Anakin closed his mouth, gave him a sullen look, and then abruptly charged forward and attacked.

Obi-Wan sighed, ignited his lightsaber, and shouted through the bond. “Not helpful, Padawan, I want to learn things from her!”

“I don’t care, she killed Eagleyes!”

“Who?” Ventress asked lazily, easily parrying Anakin’s forceful blows. “Was he important to you? I’m almost sorry.” She spun and kicked Anakin back, flipping to the follow and nearly taking off his head. Obi-Wan couldn’t have that. She’d already almost taken out an eye.

Obi-Wan called over, “May I ask the name of your Master?” Ventress looked sharply back at him, and Anakin scrambled away. Good. Obi-Wan tried to look politely inquisitive, wrist spinning his blade absently before coming up into his Soresu guard, two fingers pointing. “Dooku, I presume?”

Ventress rolled her eyes. “Obviously, pet.” She charged him, a dizzying whirl of long limbs and red blades approaching very quickly. Obi-Wan relaxed and let the Force guide his movements, a lifetime of muscle memory blocking blows at a pace too quick for conscious thought.

Ventress smiled savagely as she attacked, augmenting her strikes with the strength of the dark side. She made a series of low blows before flicking her blade up and around, a beautiful and lethal combination that Obi-Wan repelled with finesse, and she frowned.

Obi-Wan’s impenetrable Soresu defense was holding strong against her strange form of jar’kai Makashi. Obi-Wan had never seen anyone fight exactly like her before. It was a challenge to keep up, but the Force did not fail him. Anakin jumped back into the fight, attacking her from behind, splitting her attention.

“Does Dooku have any other names?” Obi-Wan asked, starting to breathe a little harder. “Darth Something, perhaps?” He pushed her back towards Anakin in their usual teamwork, but she flipped over to the stairs and darted away, laughing, leaving Obi-Wan’s question unanswered.

“She does that.” Anakin grumbled as they hastened up the stairs after her. “She never holds her ground.”

“Charming,” Obi-Wan grimaced. “I don’t think she’s a Sith. She doesn’t feel like a true Sith in the Force.”

“Really?” Anakin asked as they followed her upstairs. They were both breathing hard. “But the red blades?”

“Anybody can pick up a lightsaber and swing it, Padawan.” Obi-Wan retorted, catching his breath. They ran out of the stairwell into a spacious penthouse ballroom, looking around for where she’d disappeared to now.  “She even could have bled them herself, you don’t need to be a Sith to do that—just psychotic.”

“Quite rude, my dear Obi-Wan.” Ventress dropped from the ceiling, her two crimson blades swinging down hard from above, and Obi-Wan pushed her back. She grinned ferociously and began to duel him in earnest. Obi-Wan moved quickly, rejecting blow after blow, dancing a furious defense against her elegant and ruthless style.

Anakin attacked too, but Ventress parried his blow and pushed him back with the Force into the wall, hard enough to cause a cracking sound. Obi-Wan felt a spike of anger and swung hard. Ventress spun and barely blocked his attempted decapitation. They locked blades and she pressed body-to-body for a moment. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

Ventress winked at him flirtatiously and then Force-pushed him, moving immediately onto the offensive again, backing him into a corner. Obi-Wan dodged and blocked, occasionally attempting a return attack that was repelled. He smiled winningly at her and said, “You’ve been trained rather well.”

Anakin attacked suddenly from the side, splitting her focus. He shot a quick glare at Obi-Wan before growling, “You will pay for what you’ve done, witch.”

“I don’t think so,” Ventress said huskily as she dodged under Anakin’s arm, denying him momentum and catching him off balance. Anakin was graceful too, though, and turned cleanly for an attack. Their lightsabers clashed in a furious exchange before Ventress flipped back and away from him. Anakin snarled, twisting his blade in an unnecessary flourish in frustration as she got away.

Anakin’s anger was beginning to show in his fighting, his aggression was making him strike harder and move faster, but thoughtlessly and recklessly. Obi-Wan took a shaky breath, his own heart pounding, his own anger was beginning to grow as it resonated in harmony with Anakin’s anger, darkness rising in him too. He tracked Ventress as she moved smoothly away from Anakin, one step away, taunting him.

Obi-Wan focused hard on steadying his breathing and asked again, “Does your Master have a name that begins with Darth?” She raised an eyebrow and ignored him, continuing to playfully evade Anakin, attempting to lure him off balance again. Obi-Wan moved quickly to catch her and engage her on the offensive, attempting to drive Ventress back into Anakin’s reach.

Obi-Wan gave her his best roguish grin and asked, “Do you know where Darth Sidious is hiding?” Ventress’s eyes widened, and her rhythm was interrupted—Obi-Wan felt very satisfied as he hooked one of her blades out of her hand and then kicked her hard over to Anakin.

Anakin smirked and attacked fiercely, putting Ventress on the defensive. Without two blades, she was much more vulnerable, and Anakin’s anger drove him to strike aggressively, his blade moving at unnatural speed. Obi-Wan felt the ripples of his rage in the Force, the air started to crackle with energy as he pressed her hard.

Obi-Wan joined, pushing her back toward the windows. They appeared to have an advantage. He quickly decided that Dooku’s attack dog would be unlikely to know where Sidious really was, and returned to his refrain.

“What’s your Master’s name, Ventress?” Obi-Wan asked, heart pounding. It occurred to him that he was extremely close to finally finding something out.

Ventress sneered at him, ignored him again, kept desperately fighting on—anger spiked in him again, she was keeping the truth locked up inside her head, it was all right there, he could know—and suddenly he’d had enough of waiting, enough of playing around. Was Dooku a named Sith? Obi-Wan needed to know, now.

For the first time, Obi-Wan grabbed for the dark intentionally. He summoned the energy of his frustration, felt an unexpected boost of power from the ambient force of Anakin’s wrath, and pushed a little too hard with a suggestion. He tried aggressively to break her mental defenses—to make her obey. He needed to know.

“Darth What, Ventress? Tell me.”

Ventress’s blade faltered for a moment, her mouth opening to say, “Ty—” before she slammed it shut and glared at him with savage fierceness. Her next few strikes were fast and furious, her face a mask of frustrated loathing.

She unexpectedly reached her empty hand out and called back her second blade from across the room with the Force, turning it on midway, dragging a long burning line through the floor. The brittle blue crystal shattered beneath Obi-Wan and Anakin as she jumped nimbly away.

Obi-Wan hit the floor below hard on his back, landing on crystalline shards of varying sizes. It hurt quite a lot. He blinked, adjusted to his new position, and then stood up quickly. Anakin was immediately at his shoulder. Their lightsabers were humming, the blue light making the walls glow. Obi-Wan glared up at Ventress.

Anakin’s anger was fully bleeding over into him now, the bond had become a pool of feeling between them, surrounding and encompassing them both. He tried to pull back from the bond but didn’t have the focus to hold his anger contained.

Dooku was a named Sith.

Obi-Wan felt the dark side calling—his powers seemed to be waking up, emotional energy was creeping and curling around him now, as if it were hiding in the corners of his vision, waiting, ready and available to be pulled on. He clenched his jaw and steadied his breathing. He would not fall to the dark side for something as trivial as this. 

Ventress frowned down from the high ground, and Obi-Wan could feel her frustration bubbling in the Force, but suddenly her comlink chimed and her posture changed dramatically. Her confidence returned and she grinned—a menacing, knowing leer that Obi-Wan disliked immensely—and said, “And now you’ve both served your purpose.”

Anakin groaned and looked at Obi-Wan, “We have to get back.” The anger in his voice was now touched with fear. “Now.”

“It’s already too late,” Ventress gloated. “So hard to know whom to trust these days, isn’t it.”

Obi-Wan thought that through quickly and did not like the implications. At all.

Anakin bounced on his feet, twirled his lightsaber, and asked, “What's the plan, Master?” His voice was coiling with his frustrated aggression, and Obi-Wan appreciated that Anakin was still letting him take the lead. Obi-Wan hastily evaluated the odds and decided on trying to capture or kill. He knew that he could defeat her together with Anakin’s help. They could do this.

“It was a mistake to bring us here, my sweet,—” Anakin shot him another incredulous, displeased look and Obi-Wan pressed his plan at him through the Force. Anakin nodded and they both readied to jump as Obi-Wan informed her regretfully, “—You’ve overestimated your abilities.”

“Really?” Ventress said, annoyed. She abruptly turned and ran away, slashing her way out through the window. Obi-Wan and Anakin Force-jumped up after her and ran to the hole in the transparisteel she’d left behind. Obi-Wan stopped short and Anakin ran into his back.

“Come and get me, boys!” Ventress stood proudly on top of the massive head of a droid. It looked to Obi-Wan like an malignant, metal octopus clinging to the side of the building. Her arms were raised, and she gestured around grandly.

Obi-Wan looked out past her, surveying the sea of Separatist reinforcements: the ground was covered with every imaginable kind of monstrous, spidery, city-leveling killing machines, marching in formation. He looked up to the sky at all of the landing craft filled to the brim with more battle droids. He swallowed, and kept his voice level. “You didn't tell us you were bringing friends.”

She pretended to pout. “Poor Obi-Wan, You've been betrayed—” Her voice grew more menacing, “—and now we're about to take control of this world.”

Obi-Wan took a steadying breath, and jumped out of the window. Anakin followed immediately. They had to find a ride, get back, check on the men, see if the base was secure.

Ventress would have to wait. Besides, she’d been ever so helpful. 

The moment that Cody had been dreading ever since the General left the base was the moment he returned. Cody knew that they would have no good news to report, but he’d never expected anything this bad.

“Slick? It was you?”

General Kenobi sounded deeply betrayed. Cody crossed his arms and looked hard at the floor. He still couldn’t believe this was happening.

Rex pushed Slick forward towards the Generals slightly and said, “He gave us a bit of a chase, sir.” It was a frustrated apology. Cody swallowed down a surge of anger. He had to remain calm. Their security had become compromised. They didn’t have time for dramatics.

Cody looked up at the sound of Skywalker’s huff of disapproval, making unintentional eye contact with Kenobi. The General’s face was blank, and Cody looked away first. Skywalker focused intently on Slick, his glower deepening, his question a demand: “How could you do this to your brothers?”

“Only a Jetii would ask that,” Slick scoffed back. Cody clenched his jaw. He knew what was coming. “It's the Jetiise who keep the Vode enslaved!” Both Generals stiffened. Slick continued, fervent, “We do your bidding! We serve at your whim! I just wanted something more! I—”

Rex cut across him hard. “—And all you had to do to get it was put the rest of us all at risk.”

Slick continued, “I love my brothers—” and Skywalker stepped forward slightly. Kenobi reached back a hand, holding him back, and looked meaningfully over at Cody. Cody nodded, signaled to two troopers and ordered, “Take him to lock-up.” Rex roughly handed Slick over and Cody stood to the side to let them pass.

The corridor was very quiet when they’d gone.

Cody felt numb. He couldn’t believe the scale of what just happened, how much equipment had been destroyed, how large the enemy reinforcements were—Slick, a brother, they’d been sold out by a brother…

“One of my least favorite phenomena is when people do the wrong thing for the right reason.” Kenobi said, vaguely. He moved his hand from holding Skywalker back to rubbing the blue grime from his beard. Cody noticed for the first time that both of them were covered in the distinctive blue dust that came from shattered crystal, and that there was a smudge of blood on his General neck. “It’s like with Dooku.”

“What?” Skywalker laughed incredulously, his face was still flushed red. “How?”

“Dooku’s not wrong about the Republic,” Kenobi said, glancing at Cody as he always did before saying anything even remotely seditious, as if Cody were going to report him. He was not. “He just shouldn’t have become an actual Sith about it. Slick’s not wrong about the ethics of all of this.”

“He sure did the wrong thing about it!” Skywalker said, emphatically. “Slick got his brothers killed. Why would he do that?”

Cody was glad to hear a question he could answer. “Slick said that a woman with the Separatists offered him freedom and that it was something I’d never understand, sir.”

“Did he?” Kenobi’s tone was friendly and Skywalker suddenly looked nervous. “Did he say that?” Cody felt an unusual urge to back away.

“Yes, sir.” Cody said. He straightened his posture and said, “Should we take inventory and prepare for attack, sir?”

“Yes, Cody, thank you,” Kenobi said, nodding gratefully, voice returning to his normal tone. “Keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir!” Cody saluted, looked meaningfully at Rex and together they got away as fast as they possibly could. There was really not much to be said, and Rex was quiet.

They both headed back to the command center on autopilot. Cody thought as they walked silently down the corridor: Slick should have just talked to me. He should have talked to the General—either Kenobi or Skywalker. They were different from the other Jetiise, they would have understood.

Now Cody was facing an invasion force with no weapons. This would not be easy. He reflected to himself what the General wanted done first, and said to a still-silent Rex, “Kenobi actually wants us to talk to the men now, before rumors have a chance to grow out of control.” Cody tapped out an assembly order and Rex nodded. They both changed direction towards the mess.

“How does that work?” Rex asked. “You just know?”

Cody considered. “No, I have to ask myself the question first. Knowing the answer to his preferences doesn’t make me do anything. I could ignore it if I thought I should.” He shrugged. “I don’t, though, because our priorities are always the same.” He’d long ago stopped worrying about it.

“I wish I knew what General Skywalker preferred,” Rex said ruefully. “I’d appreciate some warning for what’s going to explode next.” Cody laughed once and shook his head.

A group of troopers hurried by, hustling to beat them to the mess. Cody smiled slightly. He was quiet until the corridor was clear again and then quietly asked Rex, “Have you tried?” He was curious. He’d never asked anyone outside of the other staff officers of the 212th about this before. “Ask yourself whether General Skywalker thinks you should be doing inventory or talking to the men.”

Rex was quiet for a long moment. “You know what’s funny?” His voice no longer had humor in it. “I seem to know that Kenobi wants more recon.”

“What?” Cody couldn’t believe it. “Not Skywalker?”

“No,” Rex said, sounding disappointed. “I guess Kenobi’s the C.O., even Skywalker follows his orders.” Cody looked over and Rex corrected himself, “Most of the time.”

“That’s true,” Cody was unconvinced. “Kenobi’s also more strange with the mind stuff than Skywalker is. Skywalker seems better at blowing things up.”

“He’s very good at that.” Rex nodded sagely. “Yes.”

They paused for a moment outside the mess doors before entering together. Cody was truly, deeply not looking forward to giving the following briefing. The news about the weapons and the walkers was bad. The news about Slick was devastating.

The room was very full, and bristling with nervous energy. As Cody entered, the men snapped to attention. He moved to the head of the room and faced them, standing tall and speaking plainly.

“As I am sure you are all aware, Sergeant CT-4377, named Slick, has been taken to lock-up. Slick sabotaged the base, destroying the landing pad, weapon store, and walkers. At least three troopers were caught in the explosions, but no fatalities have been reported.” The extent of the damage made everyone cringe. Cody swallowed and pushed on.

“Slick has been passing intel to the Seppies in exchange for money and freedom. His espionage was responsible for today’s failed ambush, which killed five of our brothers.” The discipline in the room broke slightly as the men reacted to the magnitude of the betrayal in various small ways. Cody knew how hard the information would hit. A brother…

He squared up and continued forcefully, “Slick endangered all of us because he resented the Jetiise.” An element of uncertainty hung in the air, so he clarified, “He called General Kenobi and General Skywalker slavers to their faces.”

The room went very still.

“General Kenobi claims Slick did the wrong things for the right reasons.” Several people huffed a laugh, a few murmured ‘of-course-he-did’. Cody continued over the top, gaining volume, “I will not debate slavery while the clankers are at our door! We are soldiers, we follow orders, and we protect our General!” The room was quiet again. “Understood?”

The room resounded with an emphatic, “Yes, sir!”

“We’re about to have a really bad time.” He acknowledged. “But we’ve still got the heavy cannon and there is resupply coming,” Cody said repressively. “We’ll make do, troopers. We always have. We always will. Watch for your updated orders. Dismissed.”

The room erupted into babble and organized chaos as some returned immediately to duties while others lingered to talk. Rex took a squad and went out for recon, and Cody stayed behind for a moment, keeping an eye on the emptying mess. His presence would stop arguments, and he would not allow conflict between troopers while the Separatists were massing on the other side of the city.

Cody pulled out his data pad and began collating inventory reports as they streamed in, listening to sample the trooper morale. Most were in shock, discussing the weapons supply or the size of the reinforcements, and he tuned most of that out. Some were talking about Slick and the espionage, mostly just hurt incredulity. That was not incendiary. He was listening for the word Jetiise.

He heard Waxer ask loudly, “…Why would Slick take it out on the General? We all know Kenobi understands.” There was a murmur of agreement. “No Seppie was ever going to give us freedom, but we all know the General’s trying.” A louder murmur. “Kenobi is on our side, I heard him talking to Cody about land.” A very loud murmur.

“The General’s not like the others, though,” Boil’s voice cut through the babble, a little quieter than Waxer’s. He clarified hastily, looking over at Cody. Cody sighed. They all did that. “Some of them are alright. I’ve heard Wolffe thinks very highly of General Plo Koon.” There was a murmur of agreement about General Plo before the group became quiet again.

“Slick still should have talked to us, even if he didn’t want to talk to Jetiise.” Wooley said, resentfully. “I can’t believe it.”

“I hope he’s enjoying all his freedom in the brig.” The voice was menacing. Cody didn’t see who said that. A very loud murmur followed this, before coms started beeping with updated orders and the small groups dispersed.

Cody headed back to the command center. He wondered what Slick meant by freedom. Freedom to do what? Freedom from what? How many brothers were going to die tomorrow because of Slick’s desire for freedom?

It didn’t matter now. It was time to get to work.

Obi-Wan was sitting cross legged on the floor when Anakin found him, but he was looking at his data pad instead of meditating. He looked up at Anakin closing the bedroom door quietly behind him, a question in his eyes.

“Well,” Anakin said heavily, “Slick completely destroyed the landing pad, the walkers, and the weapon supply depot.”

“Did anything survive at all?” Obi-Wan sounded resigned to a negative.

“We’ve still got the heavy cannon.” Anakin shrugged, plopping down on the bed. Obi-Wan frowned up at him for getting blue dust on the blanket. Anakin rolled his eyes and got up to change his clothes. “We’ll be able to hold them back—”

“Unless they’ve got a shield.” Obi-Wan interjected.

“—unless they’ve got a shield.” Anakin sighed, exhausted. He reached for some of Obi-Wan’s sleepwear and began to change. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Obi-Wan mused, an eyebrow raised as he watched the show, “I’ve sent Yularen back to Republic space, but the round trip on a fast resupply run is still a dangerously long window.” He sighed and straightened his legs, wincing slightly before standing up. “He’ll probably have a fresh blockade to break when he comes back, too.”

Anakin nodded, shaking off his pants, blue dust puffing out in a cloud. “Do you think he’ll bring my Padawan?”

“Probably,” Obi-Wan said, and he began to change for sleep too. “Yoda made the arrival seem imminent before we lost contact. No other details, but he seems to have already made a choice.”

“It’s weird being assigned one, right?” Anakin asked, tossing him a shirt. “Masters usually choose.”

“Yes, this war is muddying things up in a lot of ways.” Obi-Wan smiled. “Though if you asked Master Qui-Gon, I’m sure he’d say that Yoda’s requests have always been the equivalent of an assignment.” He frowned and picked at shards of blue crystal embedded in the leather of his belt.

“What?” Anakin laughed incredulously and Obi-Wan looked up. Obi-Wan never talked about his past. “Yoda assigned you to Master Qui-Gon?”

“Something like that.” The humor had mostly slid off Obi-Wan’s face. “Please be kind to your Padawan when they arrive. They didn’t have a say in this.”

“What?” Anakin said again, more seriously. He was both slightly offended and alarmed at the implication. “What did Qui-Gon do?”

“Nothing!” Obi-Wan said quickly. “He was fine. It worked out fine. You’ll be fine. Regardless.” He pushed past the topic, to Anakin’s displeasure. “The rest of the Council no longer has the ability to legitimately interrogate me about your adherence to the Code or hold me responsible as proxy for your perceived transgressions.” Anakin frowned to hear that they’d done either of those things. Obi-Wan continued, “They will not feel any compunction about shifting that burden to your Padawan, whether they deserve it or not.”

Anakin sensed they were still at least partly talking about Qui-Gon, but didn’t push it. “I already agreed that I’d teach the standard curriculum.”

“That is very important,” Obi-Wan nodded. “A child is an excellent unwitting spy, especially when they still do have to turn in homework. They’ll scrutinize every word for heretical teachings, and will be trying to catch you going awry. I cannot think of another reason to assign a Padawan to a twenty-year-old. It will be a test for you in some way.”

“Fantastic.” Anakin said, collapsing onto the bed. “Can’t wait to be responsible for a youngling.” He made room in the narrow bed as Obi-Wan lay down next to him shoulder pressed against shoulder, both exhausted, and they both stared at the ceiling. “You’ll help me, right, Master?” His voice was small.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said. “Of course I will help. Someone has to teach the poor thing how to meditate.” Anakin laughed and then grew more serious.

“I can’t believe Slick sold us out,” Anakin said quietly, “and I can’t believe the size of the force that Dooku sent here. It’s massive. What if they do have a shield?”

“I don’t know, Padawan. Hopefully we can get reinforcements and resupply in time.” Obi-Wan sighed and spoke, his voice sounding off. “Today has been just a series of increasingly awful revelations.”

“How so?” Anakin asked, turning on to his side, facing Obi-Wan. He felt for him in the Force, tried to initiate the bond. It was unusually easy for him to slide into his mind, easier than it had ever been. That was strange. Obi-Wan was angry and afraid. That was even stranger. “What do you mean?”

“Well, other than that small issue with a clone with indoctrinated loyalty managing to betray the Republic,” Obi-Wan frowned, “and discovering the anti-Jedi sentiment in the clones is growing, the fact that we discovered that Count Dooku ordered the clones in the first place is what really made my day.”

“Wait…” Anakin’s mind was blank. He studied Obi-Wan’s profile. “What? How do we know that?”

Obi-Wan looked over at him and smiled wolfishly, and Anakin swallowed. “Our good friend Ventress let it slip.” When Anakin looked confused, Obi-Wan said, “Darth Ty-?” Anakin nodded. “When I met Jango Fett on Kamino he told me that he’d been hired by a man of the name Tyranus. Fett led me straight from Kamino to Dooku, I just didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle at the time.” He made a face. “In retrospect, Sifo Dyas was also a good friend of Dooku’s before he left the order. I should have made the connection, but I did not.”

“So the Sith ordered the clones,” Anakin said slowly.

“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Obi-Wan said. “A Sith Empire is always built on slavery.”

“A what?” Anakin felt his eyes widen. “Master, what are you talking about?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “I suspect that what’s really happening is the Sith Master is using the war to clear the board.” Anakin frowned and Obi-Wan continued. “They’re eliminating all other major players by inciting conflict between them. The allied business interests versus the allied democratic and bureaucratic interests. Once they’re all dead or enfeebled, the Sith will have a clear playing field to gain power.”

Anakin felt sick. “We’re helping?”

“We weren’t given a choice, remember?” Obi-Wan didn’t look too upset. “Anakin, we have to let them do it.”

“What?” Anakin felt cornered. “I thought you wanted to end the war.”

“I do.” Obi-Wan nodded. “I will do everything in my power to end it as fast as I can, Padawan, but much is outside my control. We’re going to do what we can with what we have, but beyond that—we are going to have to let it happen or we will go insane and start making serious mistakes.”

“So, what, we’re letting the Sith take over?” Anakin asked.

“I don’t think you appreciate how little we can do to stop things already in motion, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said. “You have to come to terms with the war. It took me a bit, I’ll admit, but Padawan—the entire establishment of the galaxy has grown so corrupt and stagnant. You’ve seen it. We’ve both seen it. This war will end with many of them dead or out of power. I just can’t find it in myself to be terribly upset about that.”

“What about all the destruction, the innocent people dying?”

Obi-Wan sighed and looked back at the ceiling. “I will try with every breath I take to save lives, Padawan, you know that.” Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan’s voice grew quieter. “I’m not omnipotent, Anakin. I can’t stop more than I can stop. What matters more is what happens after the war.”

 “After?” Anakin could barely imagine it.

“The Sith Empire will presumably not have equitable reconstruction programs.” Anakin huffed a laugh at the mental image of Ventress cleaning up rubble. Obi-Wan caught the image in the bond and laughed too. “We can’t stop the war, Anakin.” Obi-Wan swallowed. “I believe we can stop the Sith from creating a true Sith Empire.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan looked evasive for a moment and then seemed to make a decision, making strong eye contact and saying, “Do you know why everyone remembers Darth Solon as a Jedi?” Anakin shook his head. 

Obi-Wan said, “Solon was elected, you know. He was just the Consul—” Anakin frowned and Obi-Wan corrected “—just the leader of the Senate at first. The history books say that their Senate foisted honor upon honor on him, despite his protests, but ultimately called him the First Among Equals and gave him a lifetime term of office. It looked to contemporaries as if their Republic was otherwise intact from the outside.”

“Not from the inside?”

“No, inside Solon had consolidated all power in the executive using the power of his legions and made all other participants in government either ornamental or subservient. It was an Empire. It took a generation before the people adjusted, but he controlled the schools, the media. All of it. He refounded the Jedi Order on Remule after it had been almost annihilated on the planet. There was nobody left to say he wasn’t a Jedi and he discredited anyone who asked questions. Solon sold the story, and the story was what lasted.”

“… and the people didn’t know all that was happening,” Anakin said slowly. “They thought everything was the same.”

“Exactly. Jedi are Jedi and Senators are Senators. What’s it matter to you if you just sell speeders on Corellia? Just keep taxes low and secure the food supply. It mattered very little to people outside the capital cities.”

Anakin just didn’t understand how the government would fall to the Sith and nobody would care. “What about all the people who complained?”

“Why would ordinary people complain about the end of a hundred years of civil war? They were so desperate for peace that they would have put up with just about anything, and Solon made it completely palatable for them. The economy of the Remulans flourished, and a small middle class developed. Remember, Anakin, the board had been cleared. Everyone who would have complained was dead.”

“Great.” Anakin said. There was a long pause, so he prompted, “So what, Master? I don’t understand.”

“The Council has failed. The Republic has already fallen. We can’t let the Sith come in to fill the vacuum, so we have to make sure there is no vacuum for them to fill.” Obi-Wan said quietly. He whispered, “We might have to be the ones writing history, Padawan, it might have to be us."

“You mean…” Anakin trailed off.

“We could do what he did.” Obi-Wan sighed. “It’s just a fantasy of mine, I guess. I feel so powerless all the time, even on the Council… I don’t have control. I just like to think about what I would do better, how I would fix things. It’s just a fantasy.”

Anakin was quiet for a long moment. “Who else is there, Master?” Obi-Wan waited for him to clarify. “Other than us? Who else would fill the vacuum?”

“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan said. “I just don’t know, Padawan. If we look at the Remulan parallel, it’s Palpatine.” Anakin’s stomach dropped.

“What?” Anakin tried to read his face. “Palpatine is the only good politician there is, beside Padmé—” At Obi-Wan’s look, he corrected. “Senator Amidala.”

“Maybe.” Obi-Wan’s voice was very quiet. “He’s at least complicit, Anakin. He’s working very hard to use the war to destroy the economic coalition behind the Separatists.”

“No, he’s not!” Anakin felt a surge of defensive anger. “The Chancellor is a good man. He’s trying to end the war.”

“Is he?” Obi-Wan caught his eye. “Watch him, please.”

“You want me to spy on my friend?” Anakin frowned.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes. I do.” There was a very uncomfortable silence. Anakin was trying to imagine the Chancellor as anything but the kind mentor that had been his outside support since he was a boy. The Chancellor had helped raise him, had always supported him, and had taken him on educational day trips. He was a good man, who only wanted the best for him. He believed in him! Anakin opened his mouth to keep arguing when Obi-Wan said repressively, “We can talk about Palpatine later.”

Anakin swallowed and nodded.

“Putting that aside,” Obi-Wan continued, slightly sardonic. “Truthfully, It doesn’t matter who is the one clearing the board, if we’re focusing on what happens when the board is cleared. We just have to try to keep an eye on those waiting to capitalize on the chaos. There will be a power vacuum. Someone has to fill it, at least long enough to rebuild some kind of stabilizing government.” He shrugged. “I think it could be us, at least I think about it a lot.”

Anakin yawned and slumped back. “Well, sure. I think that sounds good, Master. You’re very wise. I think you would be good as Emperor.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m not that wise, Padawan. I’m just not. Your immediate acceptance of this plan is either comforting or concerning, I haven’t decided which yet.” Anakin laughed quietly and Obi-Wan smiled at him, reaching out a hand and running a hand through his hair.

“Remember, though, we’re not going to plan beyond our scope.” Obi-Wan spoke in a low murmur, continuing to stroke his hair. Anakin pressed his head into his hand.  Obi-Wan’s tone was determined. “We’re going to fight this war one battle at a time. The plan is going to shift every time we learn something new, every time we gain a new ally. We have a trajectory, but our eyes are focused on tomorrow, not next month, or next year from now on.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin’s voice was sleepy. He wasn’t exactly sure what Obi-Wan meant, and Obi-Wan smiled because he knew.

“Come here, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, opening his arms. Anakin immediately snuggled over, resting a head on his shoulder. Obi-Wan hugged him closer, pulling their chests together and tangling their legs together. Anakin relaxed completely against his body, so happy to be touching him, so happy to be near him. He breathed in the scent of Obi-Wan deeply, feeling at home. Obi-Wan said, “Let’s see if I can get your darkness back under control.”

Anakin shuddered happily and nuzzled his face against Obi-Wan as he felt the unbelievable sense of well-being and validation washing through the bond. Obi-Wan understood him, he forgave him, he accepted him. Anakin didn’t need to feel guilty, or ashamed, or afraid. His anger and fear seeped away. He was safe. Obi-Wan cared for him, and Obi-Wan was protecting him.

Anakin wanted the feeling to never end, but of course it did. The bond stayed partially open, though, and he clung to it. He whispered, “You almost died today, Master. Back in the skyscrapers. If I hadn’t gotten across when I had, you would be dead.”

“Yes, Padawan.” Obi-Wan stroked his back gently. “That is possible. You didn’t let that happen though—don’t think I don’t notice or appreciate it.”

Anakin blushed and pressed his face against Obi-Wan’s neck. “That’s not why I do it.”

“I know, Anakin.” Obi-Wan held him tight and kissed the top of his head. He murmured. “You shouldn’t have run in ahead.”

“Back with the witch?” Anakin sighed. “I know.”

Obi-Wan sounded worried. “Last time you did that—”

Anakin cut him off. “—I lost a hand, yes I know.”

“What am I going to do with you?” Obi-Wan sighed, holding him tight for a moment before relaxing. “Let’s sleep. We probably have four hours.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin agreed. “I’m exhausted. I might actually be able to rest, too.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan said. “Tomorrow will be terrible.”

“Today,” Anakin said drowsily. “It’s already today.”

“Shush,” Obi-Wan whispered. “Sleep.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin smiled and relaxed into Obi-Wan’s warm body. “Sorry, Master.”

CHRISTOPHSIS

Late 22BBY

This was terrible! 

Ahsoka looked at the Separatist blockade of the planet and frowned. How was she even supposed to get down there? Was she going to fail at her first mission?

“We’ll be sending you down in a Nu-class attack shuttle,” Admiral Yularen said. “You should be able to run the blockade before we engage with the fleet.” 

“I sure hope so,” Ahsoka said warily. “Won’t I get shot down?” 

“Probably not, Commander,” the Admiral said, with a small smile on his face.

“Alright,” she said. “Leave now?”

“Yes, you are prepped for transport.” He nodded crisply. “Details are on your com.”

“Thanks, Admiral.” Ahsoka tried not to sound nervous. It was hard. She was only fourteen, and did not want to get shot down before she even got to be a Padawan! That would not be fair. “I’ll go now.” 

He’d already turned back to the holomap. She sighed and left, finding her way through the massive cruiser, clones were running to positions, some nodding and saying “Commander” in a respectful tone before hurrying on. It was so weird, so different from the Temple.

She sure hoped that Yoda knew what he was doing. Ahsoka knew she was at the top of her clan when it came to fighting; her Togruta hunting instincts were a great help in combat. She could move faster and had sharper senses. She was a predator. She didn’t need to be afraid. It’s just war, no big deal, right?!

The pilot and the gunner were kind to her as she boarded, and they took off at once. She strapped herself in and stared incredulously out the window at the scale of the forces arrayed in space. It was almost creepy how they all seemed to be hanging silent in the black, looming near each other waiting for something to spark a fight. 

The pilot spun the shuttle fast to avoid a sudden spray of laser fire, dodging and swerving unexpectedly. Ahsoka held her breath as the brilliant lights shot around them. The vacuum of space was silent, but she felt like it should have been extremely loud. 

It was morbid, but she imagined what would happen if they were hit—her body floating there, in space, above Christophsis, forever. She let out a deep, shaky breath as they made it past the blockade and approached the planet’s surface. The pilot said, “We’re through the worst of it, Commander,” in a reassuring tone. 

Ahsoka nodded, shooting him a small grateful smile.“Thanks, Wingtip.” 

He smiled back and then refocused on the ground, eyes suddenly widening and forehead furrowing, yanking sharply up on the controls. “We’ve lost the landing pad!” He shouted into his com. “I’m going to try to set her down somewhere else!” Ahsoka heard the gunner was swearing in Mando’a and trying to help find a new place to put down as Wingtip did more spinning maneuvers, narrowly avoiding being shot down. 

Ahsoka’s pulse was racing. There was nothing she could do to help. She just needed to survive the next two minutes, and she would be a Padawan. She was so close to everything, it was all about to begin. It all might be ending. This was terrible.

They landed, thankfully. Ahsoka felt a bit shaky but tried to collect herself. The ramp lowered slowly and she walked down, feeling tentative and looking around wide-eyed at all the rubble and running troops, overwhelmed by the vibrations. It was all so loud! 

Everything was so different from the Temple; it was overwhelming chaos. Ahsoka felt a sense of whiplash, having been taken abruptly from her daydreams of battle and suddenly dropped in the middle of a real situation way, way too big for her. She swallowed, steadying her breath and standing up straight.

Her eyes finally caught on the faces of her new Master and Master Kenobi. They were legends around the Temple—nobody knew them at all and everyone seemed to know everything about them. Ahsoka still couldn’t believe Yoda assigned her to the Chosen One. She really hoped she’d be good enough; she wasn’t foretold or anything.

She gulped and walked towards them. Master Skywalker looked so young in person! It hit her that he really was only twenty, barely a Knight and now her Master. They were both looking at her, and speaking lowly to each other. She strained to hear but couldn’t over all the vibrations from the explosions. Master Skywalker looked frustrated. That was not good.

“Hello, young one,” Master Kenobi said. She nodded and smiled, drawing closer. He’d taught her class once, and she knew he was very kind. “Welcome to Christophsis. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hi,” she said a little shyly before squaring her shoulders. They were famous, but they were both Jedi. She didn’t have to be intimidated. “My name is Ahsoka Tano, Master Yoda sent me. I'm the new Padawan learner.” She winced internally. Obviously.

“Hi.” Master Skywalker spoke shortly. His voice was strained but not angry. “Are reinforcements coming too?”

She felt nervous that she didn’t have a positive response. “I was told to tell both of you that you must get back to the Jedi Temple immediately.” They looked unhappy, and so she finished kind of lamely, “There's an emergency.”

Anakin scoffed and looked back at Obi-Wan. “Well, I don't know if you've noticed but we're in a bit of an emergency right here.”

Obi-Wan’s face was frustrated too. “Yes, our communications have been a bit unreliable but we've been calling for help.”

She didn’t know what to say. “Master Yoda hadn't heard from you so he sent me to deliver that message.”

“Oh, great!” Anakin threw up his hands and glared at her transport for failing to bring more than just her. At least he wasn’t glaring at her… “They don't even know we're in trouble.” 

Ahsoka swallowed again, and tried to think how she could be useful, how she could prove that she should be there. An idea came. “Maybe you can relay a signal through the cruiser that just dropped me off?” 

They exchanged a glance and then looked back at her. Anakin’s face was chagrined and a bit more welcoming. “Right, we can do that.”

Ahsoka relaxed a little as they went back to contact Master Yoda. The first hurdle was over. She’d spoken with the Chosen One and he was just like everybody else. She was finally a Padawan, she’d someday be a Knight. Everything would be fine. 

She could do this.

“She’s too young, Master,” Anakin said in a low murmur as a Togruta teenager without any armor walked off the shuttle. “She shouldn’t be here. This is a battlefield.” He frowned. “What was Yoda thinking?”

“I don’t know, Padawan.” Obi-Wan murmured back. “It is wildly irresponsible.”

“I can’t believe they think spying is important enough to make younglings into soldiers,” Anakin grumbled. “She’s going to have to fight.”

“Yes, she will.” Obi-Wan agreed in an equally resigned and furious voice. His face remained neutral and welcoming. Anakin really wished sometimes that he could master that particular skill. 

Anakin was glad that she was clever, and seemed brave.

From the shuttle, they were able to make contact with the cruiser, and Admiral Yularen was able to patch them through to the Temple, and a flickering holo of Yoda appeared. Anakin let out a breath of relief that they’d finally made contact. 

“Master Kenobi, glad Ahsoka found you, I am.” The sound of his voice made Anakin cross his arms and frown. He wasn’t feeling particularly friendly towards Yoda at the moment. He could feel Obi-Wan’s prickling resentment in the bond too, but he spoke as smoothly as ever.

“Master Yoda, we are trapped here, and vastly outnumbered. We are in no position to go anywhere or do anything. Our support ships have all been destroyed.”

The holo began to flicker wildly, the audio breaking up. “Send reinforcements to you, we will—” 

“Master Yoda?” Obi-Wan said, alarmed. “Master Yoda?” The figure of Yoda disappeared.

Yularen’s holo reappeared, looking harassed. “We've lost the transmission, sir. We have to leave orbit immediately. More enemy ships have just arrived. We'll get back to you as soon as we can.” The com dropped entirely. The shuttle was very quiet for a long moment, the muffled sound of nearby explosions very loud.

“Well, I guess we'll have to hold out a little longer.” Anakin said bleakly and turned on a holomap of the city.

Obi-Wan manipulated the view on the map to show a growing red dome. “Our main problem is with their energy shield.” He tapped the controls to show progression over time. “They're slowly increasing the diameter, and keeping it just ahead of their troops. Our heavy cannons are useless against it. They will march forward under the protection of their shield until they are right on top of our cannons.” 

Anakin nodded and frowned, trying to figure out a solution. They were running out of time. He increased the magnification of the holomap and began looking at the very familiar layout of the streets of the city, considering defensive positions. 

He gestured to a main arterial. “We could try to draw the droids into these buildings. There are too many to fight on the streets and Slick took out most of our capacity for that anyway. We need to create bottlenecks. That might level the playing field a bit.” 

Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully and reoriented the map for a better view. He crossed his arms and stroked his beard. Anakin waited, watching him decide on the merits of the idea.

“I have a question?” 

They both started a little and looked around at the same time. The sound of Ahsoka’s girlish voice was so different from all the clone’s slight variations on one shared voice that they had grown used to hearing around them on the battlefield.

Ahsoka took their confused silence as permission to speak and asked, “If that shield's gonna be such a problem, why don't we just take it out?” She looked at Anakin for approval, and Anakin considered a moment and then raised an eyebrow and looked at Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan frowned at them both. “That is easier said than done, young one.” He manipulated the map to show the sea of droids between their position and the shield generator.

“Well, I agree with her, Master.” Anakin said, resigned. “Someone has to get to that shield generator and destroy it. That's the only way we’re going to survive until reinforcements arrive.” There was a long, strained silence.

Obi-Wan sighed heavily. “Anakin, I’m afraid you’re right... or, Ahsoka, actually.” Anakin smiled widely as Obi-Wan corrected himself and Ahsoka giggled as the tension broke slightly. “Maybe you two can tiptoe through the enemy lines and solve this particular problem together.”

Ahsoka seemed to bounce in excitement. “Can do, Master Kenobi!” Anakin frowned at her. 

“I’ll decide what we do, Padawan.” She looked at him and stopped bouncing. 

“Sorry… Master.” They studied each other, recognizing each other’s presence and importance fully for the first time. Anakin felt a tingle in the Force, and realized that they had already formed a slight bond.

Obi-Wan was ignoring them in favor of the holomap. He finally manipulated the view to show a corridor of downed buildings and said, “If Rex and I can engage them here, you two might have a chance to get through their lines undetected, here.” He changed the holomap’s perspective and pointed out the vulnerable bridge. Anakin saw concern in his eyes. “You won't have much time.”

Anakin shrugged. “We'll have to figure out a way.” They made significant eye contact for a long moment and he felt Obi-Wan’s mind press against his. 

“Watch out for Ahsoka, make sure to see what she is capable of handling before taking risks with her life, alright? I know you’ll do well. Be safe.” Anakin nodded back in acknowledgement.

“Come on, Master, let's go?” Anakin blinked and looked over at his Padawan. Ahsoka was looking between him and Obi-Wan with wide, confused eyes. She stood up straighter under observation, trying to look ready to go. It was almost cute. Anakin sighed.

“Let’s go, youngling,” Anakin said, turning to leave and waving her to follow. He heard her jogging to catch up.

“Hey! I am not a youngling!”

He smiled. This might be fun.

Obi-Wan noticed the clone being choked to death in the street, and jumped out the window.

Using the momentum of his fall to swing a powerful blow, he severed the arms of the super battle droid, used the Force to lift and throw it, using it to crush another advancing droid against the wall. 

The downed trooper threw off the metal arms that had been clutching his neck and began rapidly firing his blaster, protecting the General’s back, and took out a third super droid that emerged from the smoke. Obi-Wan flipped over a piece of rubble and dispatched another group approaching from an alleyway.

It felt never-ending. 

Obi-Wan was holding a key chokepoint, and the pile of crushed and slashed droids was growing around him. He mused that if this kept up, he could create a barricade just from the wreckage of their bodies and hide behind a wall of CIS scrap. He felt a surge of gratitude that they were fighting inanimate objects. A wall of corpses would be much less amusing. 

The droids just kept coming. All Obi-Wan could feel was the adrenaline of battle and the lingering fog of trooper deaths in the Force. He pushed and pushed, kept fighting, kept defending, kept failing. His despair and frustration with the futility of the carnage made the dark side crackle around him. He resisted a siren call that grew louder with every familiar, precious Force signature that went out like snuffed candles one by one in flares of pain and confusion, and then absence.

Obi-Wan turned to cut down another droid when it unexpectedly fell forward, shot down from behind, Rex running forward to fill the space. Troopers were streaming back with him through the gap, the final wave retreating from the fight on the streets and in the buildings. There were too few. 

Rex was breathing hard. “They're right behind us, sir! They wiped out most of my unit.” Obi-Wan’s stomach dropped. “We had to pull out of there.” Obi-Wan blocked a bright red bolt headed for Rex’s head, and then spun his blade with more speed at a barrage of blaster fire. Super droids emerged out of the dust and smoke. There were too many.

The increasingly heavy fire was becoming impossible for Obi-Wan to block, and they ducked for cover. Obi-Wan reported with Force-sensed certainty, “The shield has almost reached the heavy cannons!” 

“We're not gonna be able to stop them, sir.” Rex sounded frustrated. They could hear the sound of marching droids advancing on their position quickly. 

Obi-Wan made a decision. “Move your troops back to the heavy cannons. Do everything you can to protect them. I'll delay the droids.”

“But…” Rex was looking at him, offended at the idea of leaving his General behind.

“That is an ORDER, Captain!” Obi-Wan’s voice was aggressive, but he put a reassuring hand on Rex’s shoulder. Rex nodded and ran. Men around him started running too, retreating before Rex started shouting into his com for the men to follow. Obi-Wan frowned and then shook his head. He didn’t have time to consider that.

Obi-Wan was rapidly left alone, men retreating behind him. He was one man standing between a legion of droids and the lives of his troopers. Obi-Wan simply would not allow a massacre. They needed to hold out longer, they needed a delay. He would provide it.

The Force trembled with the warning of incoming droids and Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He jumped on top of the barricade, lightsaber flashing, blocking as many bolts from reaching the retreating troopers as he could. He would hold his position for as long as possible, but he knew well what to do when he was surrounded.

It wasn’t even technically a war crime.

Eventually, the droids’ superior numbers proved overwhelming, and Obi-Wan found himself encircled by layers of super droids, too many to count. He smirked and deactivated his blade, handing it over without fuss.

“I surrender.” He was careful with his words. That was the key. The droids led him away, taking him deep into droid controlled territory toward their command center. Obi-Wan cracked his neck. It was time for stalling. He was very good at that.

He was surprised at how long the ruse lasted, actually. The CIS leader, General Loathsom, was incredibly easy to persuade to tea. A subtle Force suggestion didn’t hurt, either. It amused him greatly to see how Loathsom’s behavior confused and frustrated the droids.

Droids are so uncivilized. They had no appreciation for a good ruse of war. Obi-Wan made sure to speak hypothetically, and was appropriately sycophantic and verbose, inventing details and points of contention, alternatively flattering and frustrating, waiting for Anakin and Ahsoka. They were his only hope of avoiding being killed or taken hostage.

Eventually, his luck ran out. 

Loathsom flipped the table, frustrated. “Enough of this! You are stalling! Unless you call off your troops right now, I will have no choice but to destroy you.”

“Nonsense, General,” Obi-Wan replied in an intentionally sincere voice. “There are numerous details still to be discussed!”

Loathsom ordered, “Seize him!”

Obi-Wan sighed, sitting back in his chair and dropping the act, voice flat. “Truthfully, I was hoping your shield would be knocked out by now.” The droids moved closer to take him into custody when they were interrupted by a very loud, distant explosion. Obi-Wan smiled as the shield fell. Anakin had done the impossible, again. The Republic’s heavy cannon began firing rapidly. His heart swelled with happiness and pride—enough troopers had survived to fire them. 

Obi-Wan’s voice became mockingly sympathetic. ”Something does appear to have happened to your shield, General.”

His com lit up and the voice of Admiral Yularen came through loud and clear. “General Kenobi, if you can hear me, we're through the blockade. The Separatist armada is in retreat. Your reinforcements should be landing in a moment.”

He smirked at General Loathsom, who looked horrified, and replied with satisfaction. 

“Your timing is perfect.”

Master Yoda paced thoughtfully with his gimmer stick. Anakin watched, disgruntled. He was very tired, and admittedly short tempered. He did not appreciate back to back assignments like this. He’d been under siege for weeks, dealing with sabotage and treason. He wanted a break. Just today alone had been an incredibly long and stressful infiltration behind enemy lines—though Ahsoka had been a surprisingly large help. She was very skilled with a blade and very agile. She needed armor. He needed to talk to Rex.

Yoda looked at him keenly, and Anakin crushed all his emotions, looking back blankly. Yoda nodded and said, “To the Teth system, you must go.”

“Teth?” Anakin frowned and looked at Obi-Wan for confirmation. “That's Wild Space. The droid army isn't even in that sector.”

“Kidnapped, Jabba the Hutt's son has been.” Yoda tapped the ground with his stick. There was a pause as Anakin realized what was being asked of him. 

“You want ME to rescue Jabba's son?” He looked wide-eyed at Obi-Wan for assistance. He didn’t find any, only sympathy.

Obi-Wan tipped his head slightly towards Yoda and said, “Anakin, we'll need the Hutts' allegiance to give us an advantage over Dooku.” Anakin knew he was playing his part as Councilor, but he hated it.

“Negotiate the treaty with Jabba, Obi-Wan will.” Yoda looked at Anakin again with an evaluating gaze that Anakin did not appreciate. “Find the renegades that hold Jabba's son, your mission will be, Skywalker.” Anakin clenched his jaw. Why him? Why were they always testing him? Did they want to see him break? 

Ahsoka piped up next to him, “Come on, Master, it doesn't sound that hard. I'll find Rex and get the troops organized.” He nodded and she darted away, leaving him alone with Obi-Wan and Yoda. 

He grumbled, “I still don't think dealing with the Hutts is a good idea.”

“Anakin, you know they control shipping routes in the Outer Rim.” Obi-Wan gave him a significant look—one of his least favorite looks, the ‘the-Council-Is-Right-Unfortunately’ look. “Jabba's cooperation is crucial to the war effort. Whoever gains Jabba's favor will control the war in the Outer Rim.” 

Anakin sighed. Obi-Wan needed him to do this. He would do it for Obi-Wan. Not for Yoda and the rest of the hypocritical, slavery-complict Council.

“Fine, Master. I’ll go.” But I won’t be happy about it.

Obi-Wan nodded like he’d heard the second part. Anakin nodded back and left, getting as far away from Yoda as he could as fast as possible. 

Time to rescue a Hutt.

TATOOINE

One Standard Rotation Later

Anakin was walking as straight as possible and as fast as possible. He was carrying a backpack full of rocks across the desert, sliding through the gritty, abrasive sand of Tatooine. Why him? There were about five hundred other Jedi they could have chosen, why him? He wanted to get off this planet, immediately. 

He felt the night air grow colder as a speeder bike approached him from a distance. It was Dooku, just as he’d predicted. Hopefully Ahsoka was making her way to Jabba’s palace unharmed with the Huttlet. It was time for Anakin to do his least favorite thing: be the distraction. Where was Obi-Wan when he needed him?

“Anakin!” Anakin looked over, wide eyed. Obi-Wan was standing five feet away, looking concerned at the lightsaber in his hand. “What’s happening.” 

Dooku’s cape fluttered dramatically as he dismounted his bike. He struck a pose on a hill and said in his deep, magisterial tone, “Surrender the Huttlet or die, Skywalker.” Anakin glared at him and clenched his metal hand tightly around his lightsaber.

“Dooku,” Anakin replied to both and ignited his lightsaber. “Good to see you.”

“What?” Obi-Wan barked. “Are you facing Dooku?” Anakin nodded slightly, raising his guard, waiting. The air was growing even colder. “Do not kill him!”

“What?” Anakin projected in the bond. “Why the kriff not?”

“We know he’s the Sith Apprentice.” Obi-Wan said quickly. “We don’t want a new one!”

Dooku suddenly shot a bolt of lightning at him, and it took all of Anakin’s concentration to feed the energy into his lightsaber. He’d worked hard on this, since the last time they fought. He would never be caught off guard by lightning again. He could sense Obi-Wan’s frustration and concern, but ignored it. He needed all his concentration to contain the lightning. 

Dooku smirked as his lighting failed, “Your training has come a long way, boy.” He drew closer, red blade extending.

Anakin grit his teeth as he heard Obi-Wan say, “I’m coming, I’m leaving the fleet early, taking a faster ship. I’ll be there soon, do not kill him!” 

Anakin scowled and fell into Soresu. He sincerely hoped that Dooku would make a mistake, however unlikely that may be. He knew that delaying Dooku and defending himself were a much higher priority than kill or capture, but if Dooku got snagged and killed by Anakin’s defense, Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to say anything.  

Dooku attacked ferociously, and Anakin blocked and gave ground. Dooku frowned slightly and attacked again, and Anakin gave more ground. Anakin smirked when Dooku glowered at him, continuing to refuse to engage him properly, continuing to retreat and draw Dooku along the sandy hills to nowhere. 

Blue and red blades continued a pattern of meeting and separating, the crashing and humming filling the air, the light casting strange shadows on the dunes. 

Dooku grew frustrated, and pulled away entirely, moving to better ground. He looked at Anakin consideringly, as if trying to figure out his uncharacteristically passive fighting style. His eyes filled with malice and he spoke tauntingly, trying to make Anakin angry, trying to distract him. “This was your home planet, wasn't it? I sense your strong feelings. Feelings of pain, loss.” 

Anakin smiled and shrugged, blade coming up to defend again. His feelings of pain and loss were sharp, but he did not fall into a rage over them. He was playing a game. Dooku was being toyed with. Anakin enjoyed that. He shifted slightly, frowning at being off balance in the sand. Wearing a backpack full of rocks was not helpful for balance or speed, but he made do. The longer Dooku engaged with him, the safer Ahsoka would be. 

Their blades moved swiftly, Dooku’s clever attacks being met with Anakin’s solid impression of Obi-Wan’s impenetrable Soresu defense. Finally, one exchange finally got too close, and Dooku’s blade cut through Anakin’s backpack, slicing through the rocks. 

Dooku’s wicked joy spiked in the Force. “You've failed, Jedi. I have just killed Jabba's son.”

Anakin was thrilled that he finally got to dump off the heavy backpack, letting the sliced rocks spill out. He smirked, breathing hard. “You've fallen for my little trick, Count. It's nothing but rocks. The Huttlet is with my Padawan, safely at Jabba's palace.” He pulled up his blade into a defensive stance and waited for an attack that never came.

“I expected such treachery from a Jedi.” Dooku sneered, his tone contemptuous. “I assure you my web is strong enough to catch your insignificant little Padawan.”

Anakin spat back, “She's more skillful than you think!” He realized it was even true.

“You deceive yourself!” Dooku laughed and pulled out his comlink. “Look, I have a message from your Padawan.” He played a recording of three MagnaGuards pressing Ahsoka hard. Dooku crowed, “After my droids kill Jabba's son they will deliver your Padawan to him for punishment for the Huttlet's murder.” His tone grew falsely regretful. “I can't imagine he will be merciful.”

Anakin had a single moment of indecision before the weight of both Obi-Wan’s command not to kill Dooku and his need to check on his Padawan combined to move him with urgency. He needed to get to Jabba’s palace, and fast. Anakin’s eyes fell on Dooku’s speeder bike, and bolted. 

Dooku let him go without a fight, and Anakin wondered if the Sith had given Dooku instructions not to kill Anakin either. If that were true, that would have been the biggest farce of a fight he’d ever been in. Anakin ground his teeth and accelerated. He knew this land like the back of his hand. He felt almost like he was podracing, again. He felt like a child.

Anakin hated Tatooine.

He had faith in Ahsoka. She’d proved herself over and over in the last day, and he knew that Dooku was a liar. He headed straight for Jabba’s palace, feeling certainty from the Force that Ahsoka was both in that direction and that she was alright. Their bond was developing nicely for only one mission together, he thought. 

He arrived at the palace and felt her nearby. Good. They took his lightsaber, but he didn’t much mind. It would just be a Force-pull away. He felt Obi-Wan’s ship enter the system and smiled. His Master’s anxiety was all for nothing.

The protocol droid led him in and said, “This is Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.” Anakin stood before Jabba, looking warily around for Ahsoka. He knew she was there. Where was she? The protocol droid continued, “As Count Dooku said, your son is not with him.”

“What?” Anakin said in genuine surprise. “Your son's not here?” He felt out with the Force again. He could feel her! Where was she? “Where's Ahsoka? What have you done with my Padawan?”

The Hutt started speaking and Anakin felt a spike of loathing. He hated hearing Huttese in the first place, let alone hearing it from one of the disgusting slugs themselves. The protocol droid translated unnecessarily, “You came here to kill Jabba.”

He glared. “Mighty Jabba, I came here to negotiate.”

The droid again translated, “You came here to die.” Anakin sighed. Fantastic. A room full of blasters were suddenly pointed at him, and Anakin sensed danger all around him in the Force. He reached out and was about to pull his lightsaber when Ahsoka ran into the room, holding up the Huttlet.

“Stop!” She yelled, “Stop! He’s here, he’s right here, he’s fine.” She was out of breath as she handed him over. 

Anakin sighed a breath of relief, looking her over for injuries as Jabba reached out for his son, babbling excitedly as they were reunited. Anakin’s lip curled and he turned to Ahsoka, ignoring the Hutts as best he could. The mission was over, and his Padawan seemed unharmed. He took another deep breath and smiled at her. 

“You’re late.” Anakin teased. 

She grinned back up at him, “But I made it!” She huffed a breath and stood up straight, looking very proud. “I destroyed three MagnaGuards!” Anakin laughed and looked at the door, hoping they could leave. He opened his mouth to suggest it, and was cut off by Jabba’s slimy Huttese.

“You are to be executed immediately.” The protocol droid cheerfully translated. 

They both looked up at the dais and frowned, speaking at the same time: “What?!” 

Blasters were raised again, surrounding them. The room devolved into chaos, party-goers disturbed by all the bounty hunters pulling their weapons and taking positions. Anakin scowled and raised a hand, summoning his lightsaber and immediately igniting it. Ahsoka did the same.

“Does this always happen to you?” She sounded disbelieving.

“Everywhere I go.” Anakin groaned. 

Ahsoka giggled and moved to stand back-to-back with him, lightsaber ready for defense. He smiled and raised his blade, readying himself for a fight, the moment pregnant with expectation of violence.

“Stop!” 

Obi-Wan’s sharp voice cut through the chaos. His words were laced with a mild force suggestion and much of the activity in the room ground to a halt. Some party goers froze and some bounty hunters lowered their blasters. Anakin and Ahsoka stood ready with lightsabers ignited, looking around at the effect, and Jabba laughed from the dais. 

“You will all stop!” 

Obi-Wan’s voice cracked like a whip, and everything went quiet. Anakin was just as frozen as the rest of the room for a moment before he stood up straight. Ahsoka took a couple more seconds, but she shook herself free too, looking up at Anakin with wide eyes before looking at the silhouette of Obi-Wan in the doorway. 

Jabba began to yell and his droids protested, but Obi-Wan simply ordered, “You will all return to your homes!” 

The room began to empty as the drunk and simple-minded left in a stampede, and the sober and clever were wise enough to leave with them. Nobody wanted to get involved in Jedi business. As Obi-Wan entered, he raised a hand and lifted Jabba off the ground with the Force, preventing him from leaving too.

Obi-Wan walked smoothly against the tide of bodies, coming to meet Anakin and Ahsoka and standing with them for a moment before Jabba’s platform. Obi-Wan said, much more quietly, “Ahsoka, my ship was under assault by Jawas, will you go help Arsix?”

Ahsoka looked at Anakin and Anakin nodded. 

She smiled up at Obi-Wan and agreed cheerfully, “Of course, Master Kenobi!” She scampered out, following the exodus. Obi-Wan began to use the Force to move all of Jabba’s droids into the entryway as the room emptied completely, and Anakin hastened to help. Anakin watched bemused as Obi-Wan closed the door on the droids with relish, boxing them all out.

Obi-Wan moved directly to the wall, found the security panel, and began to work on locking down all the doors to the palace and the throne room and all the security cameras. He asked distractedly, “Do you sense any recording devices, Anakin?” 

“Yes, several.” Anakin said, looking around.

“Destroy them all.” Anakin looked confused and Obi-Wan said. “I’m going to negotiate to get the treaty signed and I don’t think any recording would be wise.”

“Fine.” Anakin shrugged and began crushing bugs. “How are you going to get him to agree? We gave him the Huttlet and he was still trying to kill us.”

“Yes, I saw him do that.” Anakin got chills from the threat carried in his voice. Obi-Wan finished up and they both did one more sweep with the Force to ensure that they were totally alone with Jabba. “Anakin, I need your help. I need your anger.”

“What?” Anakin wasn’t sure he heard correctly. “What do you mean?”

“I need you to get angry.” Obi-Wan looked slightly uncomfortable. “I need to mind trick Jabba.” 

Anakin laughed like it was a joke. At Obi-Wan’s serious look he shook his head, “It’s not possible to mind trick a Hutt.”

“Not for a Jedi.” Obi-Wan swallowed and looked sick. “I’ve read that Darth Revan did it. Sith can do it. I need all of your anger to add to mine. It’s the only way.”

“We’re not Sith!” Anakin couldn’t believe Obi-Wan was suggesting this. “Anyway, I can’t just get that angry on command!”

“Can’t you?” Obi-Wan snarked at him. “Anakin, you’ve been able to become angry at the slightest provocation for as long as I’ve known you. Now, the first time it would actually be helpful, you are telling me you can’t?”

“No! I can’t!” Anakin frowned. “I’m very irritated, but I don’t just get really angry for no reason. There’s always a reason.”

“Fine, I’ll start giving you reasons. This shouldn’t take long.” Obi-Wan began pacing back and forth looking him up and down. “Yoda told me that he only gave you a Padawan to see how you will react when you inevitably lose her. He thinks losing her will teach you a lesson.”

“What?” Anakin was taken aback, indignation rising. “What do you mean lose her?” Obi-Wan gave him a pointed look, letting him draw his own conclusions, and continued to pace.

“I truly despise Palpatine.” Obi-Wan shot him a provocative sneer. “He’s a lying snake and a self-serving puppet figurehead for the Sith.” 

“No, he isn’t!” Anakin snapped back, immediately on the defensive. “He is not! He’s trying to help! He doesn’t deserve your—” Obi-Wan cut him off, squaring up to face him.

“How long did a Hutt own your mother?” Anakin took a sharp breath. He felt hot. Obi-Wan twisted the knife. “What kind of slave was she? What did they make her do? What kind of slave were you?”

“Obi-Wan, that’s enough!” Anakin’s skin was flushed, his nostrils flaring, his neck corded. Anakin felt his skin prickle at the energy of his rage hanging in the Force, radiating out and almost creating an almost imperceptible heat shimmer in the air.

Obi-Wan smiled widely. “See? Hardly took any effort at all to make you angry.” His pupils were blown. “And you are so very, very angry.”

“Yes.” Anakin ground out, breathing hard. “Well done, Master.” He spat the words. 

“Do you truly hate them?” Obi-Wan asked softly. “Hate the Hutts? Hate what they did to you? To your mother?” 

“Yes.” Anakin began moving towards him slowly and deliberately. “Obviously, Obi-Wan.”

“Then help me.” Obi-Wan said, holding eye contact as Anakin drew nearer. “Open the bond all the way.” 

Anakin stood in his personal space and looked down at him, glaring. “It is all the way open.”

“No,” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and dangerous. “It is not. I know you have more to give.” Anakin looked away from him and over at the floating, yelling Hutt, staring at him and letting his anger build and focus. He clenched his jaw and tried to empty his well of suppressed anger, reaching deep down into the resentment he had crushed down as a child slave, touching the rage that had never truly left him about leaving his mother behind in bondage, and drew it forth in a great wave, inundating Obi-Wan—forcing him to feel it all too.

Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath. “Very good, Anakin.” Obi-Wan turned to the immobilized Jabba and waved a hand, pushing hard. “You will listen to me.” 

Jabba laughed. “Beeogola Jeedai mind tricks widd not beet nop Jabba.” 

“Anakin, translate his response.” Obi-Wan sounded annoyed.

“He says ‘Stupid Jedi, Jabba cannot be tricked.” Anakin shrugged. Obi-Wan sighed dramatically and stepped closer. Anakin felt Obi-Wan grasping and pulling the Force against its natural grain, twisting it hard, wringing more power from the storm cloud in the Force that was Anakin’s anger. He waved his hand again. 

“You will sign the treaty.”

Jabba seemed angry and growled in Huttese. Anakin translated immediately, “Stop that. Jabba will never allow any Republic ships through Hutt space again.” Obi-Wan nodded. He jumped up onto Jabba’s platform and stalked closer. 

Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force expanded suddenly, filling the room. Anakin realized that Obi-Wan was intentionally resonating with the disturbance already around them, all the suffering and passion left hanging in the Force, drawing on the fact that they were already standing in a cesspool of the dark side. 

The lingering haze of lust and resentment from Jabba’s parties, mixed with the pervasive miasma of suffering left by generations of Jabba’s slaves—Obi-Wan drew all of it into himself, all the energy of all the emotions humming in the Force. Obi-Wan was bending it all to his will. 

Anakin’s eyes widened as he felt the room begin to go cold, like it had when he’d fought Dooku. Obi-Wan’s frigid wrath had begun leeching all of the energy from the heat in the air, all of Anakin’s hot anger shimmering in the Force. The gradient of energy all flowed towards Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan had completely stopped holding back. His use of the Force spiked and Anakin shuddered, pushing his awe with his anger as he gave as much emotion as he had to give. 

Obi-Wan touched Jabba’s forehead lightly and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and pushed all that power out through his fingertips and down into Jabba’s mind, bending it to his will: “You will sign the treaty.” 

Anakin was frozen, Anakin was burning up, the Force was flowing and bending, it was mesmerizing, it was draining. Jabba seemed dazed—dazed enough to speak Basic. “I will sign the treaty.” Anakin sucked in a surprised gasp. Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed and he pushed again. 

“You agreed of your own free will, because Dooku kidnapped your punky muffin.” 

Anakin wanted to laugh, but the amount of the dark side flowing through his Master was the least funny thing he’d ever seen. His own anger grew that his Master, his Obi-Wan, was having to do this just for access to kriffing shipping lanes.

“I agreed of my own free will, because Dooku kidnapped my punky muffin.” Jabba’s voice was muddled.

Obi-Was glared at him and emphasized, “You will say that Dooku is responsible and you signed the treaty with the Republic because of him.”

“Dooku did this. I signed because of him.” Obi-Wan nodded and pushed again. Jabba’s eyes were crossing. Anakin swallowed anxiously, all of his energy focused on helping his Master. He shivered with cold as Obi-Wan pressed his fingers harder against Jabba, hand shaking lightly.

“You did not see me use the Force. You negotiated with me to let Anakin and Ahsoka go and sign the treaty.”

“I negotiated with you.” Jabba sounded obedient, and Obi-Wan smirked wickedly in satisfaction at his response. That expression made Anakin blush, and he began pushing his desire out with the rest of his emotions, sending everything towards Obi-Wan, letting him have it all. Obi-Wan shot him a look and took a shaky breath before pushing one last time.

“Sleep.” Jabba’s eyes closed. The room was silent.

Obi-Wan looked back at Anakin, gleaming eyes heavy lidded and cheeks flushed. The dark side hung around him like a mantle, crackling with power. A crooked, satisfied grin spread across his face, and Anakin swallowed. Obi-Wan spoke with pleasure, “Anakin, we might well have done it.” 

“I hope so, Master.” Anakin said, lost in Obi-Wan’s bright eyes, breathing hard. He had been so angry, then suddenly so aroused by Obi-Wan’s power and control, and now Obi-Wan was looking at him like that. He felt his cock throb painfully. Obi-Wan hopped down from Jabba’s platform and stood before Anakin, looking him over. 

“Kneel, Anakin.” All of the blood left in Anakin’s brain shot to his cock, and he thoughtlessly sunk to his knees. Obi-Wan sounded so aroused. “I need your help, dear one. Yoda is coming, his arrival is imminent. I am not in control.”

“How can I help?” Anakin asked, dazed.

“Open your mouth,” Obi-Wan said, pushing his tabards out of the way, opening his pants. “Suck my cock.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said, his eyes widening. He looked around the deserted room. Jabba was asleep. They’d debugged the room completely. Nobody would know. But still. He couldn’t believe he was about to suck cock in the throne room of Jabba’s palace. He looked back up at Obi-Wan to see him already stroking himself, looking down at Anakin intently. He looked painfully hard. Anakin breathed, “Of course, Master,” and opened his mouth.

“Show me your tongue.” Anakin relaxed his jaw and opened his mouth wider, letting his tongue stick out. His eyes were stuck on Obi-Wan’s hand stroking himself. Anakin was so hard, he couldn’t stand it. He slid a hand down and palmed his own cock. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “You may touch yourself, thank you for asking, Padawan.” Anakin whined, sending a wave of apology in the Force.

Obi-Wan grabbed his hair tightly, and positioned his face at the right angle. Anakin’s eyes fluttered closed at the pull, and then opened wide when the tip of Obi-Wan’s cock slid between his lips and into his mouth. He looked up to make eye contact with Obi-Wan, relaxing his jaw further. Obi-Wan held Anakin’s head still and thrust his hips forward, shoving his cock down the back of Anakin’s throat.

Anakin gagged slightly, but relaxed into the feeling. He loved when Obi-Wan fucked his mouth, he had gotten so good at taking it. Obi-Wan smiled down at him, his cheeks flushed, and began slowly sliding his cock in and out. Anakin moaned and pressed his lips against the length of Obi-Wan’s cock, sucking as best he could. 

Obi-Wan fucked in hard several times and then pulled out, letting him breathe. Anakin hastily opened his own pants and licked his palm wet, using his own spit and some of Obi-Wan’s precome to stroke himself quickly.

Obi-Wan smiled. “So needy, dear.” Anakin nodded and opened his mouth again, looking up with a question in his eyes. Obi-Wan obligingly put his cock back on Anakin’s tongue, letting Anakin lick and suck at the sensitive skin of the head. “Good, very good, Padawan, thank you,” Obi-Wan murmured, pulling away, “Are you ready to take it?” 

Anakin moaned and nodded, stroking himself harder, looking up and begging, “Please, Master, I am, I want to.” Obi-Wan let him breathe for a moment more before pushing in hard, pulling Anakin forward towards his hips by the hair. Obi-Wan groaned as his cock slid down the back of Anakin’s throat, and then groaned again as he began to fuck harder and harder into the wet heat of Anakin’s mouth.

Anakin felt his eyes roll back and flutter shut in pleasure. Obi-Wan needed him, he needed to use Anakin as a release for his anger, for his darkness. Anakin felt so helpful, so useful. Drool dripped out of his mouth and he reached the hand on his own cock up to his mouth and took some of the wetness back down, stroking himself even harder, his other hand reaching to cup his balls with cool metal.

Anakin looked up, mouth full of cock, and made eye contact with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s eyes were so bright they looked almost golden—he was so focused on Anakin, looking at him like he knew him completely, owned him completely. Anakin felt himself begin to get lightheaded for lack of air, and Obi-Wan pulled out. Anakin gasped. “Please, please, more, Master,” he begged. 

Obi-Wan laughed and fucked back in hard, sinking nearly his entire cock in and down Anakin’s throat, gripping his hair tight and pulling his head, thrusting even deeper. Anakin took it, stroking himself hard, twisting his wrist and squeezing tight. He heard Obi-Wan murmur, thrusting hard between words, “Very good, yes, darling, sweetheart, Padawan, take it.” 

Anakin’s orgasm rolled over him and he came hard all over his hands, moaning around Obi-Wan’s cock, eyes fluttering shut. Obi-Wan was holding him up by the hair and by the jaw—holding Anakin still, fucking his face through his orgasm—Anakin’s body felt limp. Obi-Wan thrust once more deep into Anakin’s mouth and came too, groaning and spilling his come down his throat, his breath shaky. 

Anakin swallowed down his Master’s come with a thrill of pride. It always felt like an accomplishment when Obi-Wan came. He needed to breathe rather badly, now, so he tapped Obi-Wan's thigh, and Obi-Wan slid his cock out.

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly, slowly tucking himself away. He breathed deeply, posture relaxing, eyes warming back up. “I feel better, more in control.” He began fixing his robes.

“I feel—” Anakin looked up sharply.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh. “I feel Yoda too, he’s just entered the system. We have very good timing. Come here for one moment.” He pulled Anakin up to standing, and surrounded him with his Force signature. “You must be completely ready for Yoda too.” Anakin suddenly felt a rush of being warm and safe, wanted and special. He leaned against Obi-Wan, letting him hug him tight, happily dissolved into Obi-Wan’s mind, his anger and fear were gone. When he opened his eyes he felt at peace. 

They stood closely together for a long moment, waiting for their breathing to return to normal. Anakin pulled back and  frowned at his dirty hands. He looked apologetically at Obi-Wan and then stepped away over to the bar to wash them. Obi-Wan followed along, checking him over for tidiness too, straightening his tabards. They looked at each other and nodded. They were ready, and the room had regained its natural heat. 

“Let’s hope the mind trick on Jabba holds steady.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I felt it take. His mind is strangely organized and was highly resistant, but I felt him accept the new thoughts. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Anakin shook his head, looking at him sideways. “I don’t think anyone’s done that. Not for a long time.”

“That may very well be true, Padawan.” Obi-Wan looked down. “It’s probably true.” He used the security panel to reopen Jabba’s palace, and they headed toward the entrance, passing a huddle of confused droids waiting outside.

“I wonder if Ahsoka is having trouble with the Jawas,” Anakin smirked. “They won’t know what hit them.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him warmly. “No, they won’t.”

THE NEGOTIATOR

It might qualify as the strangest thing that Ahsoka had ever seen. 

First of all, her Master and Master Obi-Wan had been practicing fighting while holding hands. 

That, in itself, was very weird. 

What was even weirder was that as soon as they finished destroying a training droid and let go of each other’s hands, Anakin had just disappeared. Then, about thirty seconds later, he came running in from down the hallway, grinning!

Ahsoka’d had enough. She dropped her head down from the ventilation shaft into the otherwise empty gym and asked loudly, “What was that?”

They both jumped and looked up at her, looked back at each other, and then looked back at her again. They were so in sync sometimes it was creepy. She climbed out of the vent and then dropped down to the ground, landing lightly and walking closer. 

“Hey, Snips.” Anakin ran a hand over the back of his head, sheepishly. “I’ve been… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“You were supposed to tell her earlier today, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded exasperated and Ahsoka tried hard not to smile. “We talked about this. You cannot avoid conversations simply because they are hard.”

“Yes, Master, I know.” Anakin said, a little guilty. “We just got distracted fixing that junker from Teth and then suddenly it was way too late for Ahsoka to be awake and she needed to go to bed.” Anakin said the last few words more emphatically, as if he were just then remembering the time. His eyes narrowed. “It’s the middle of the night, Ahsoka, what the kriff are you doing in the ventilation shafts?” She cringed.

“Language, Padawan,” Obi-Wan chided. Ahsoka could have sworn his eyes actually twinkled slightly before refocusing on her, growing more serious. “The question is a good one, however. What were you doing up there?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Ahsoka shrugged. The entire ship vibrated constantly around her, and she wasn’t used to it. “I was just exploring, I figured I had enough time before we reached Ryloth. Waxer and Boil showed me how to get in the vents and drew me a little map.” She held up the back of her hand with the smudged drawing on it. “How did you disappear and reappear, though?” She wasn’t letting this go. It was weird. 

Her Master and Master Obi-Wan were the best, but just weird. She didn't understand why they hadn't let her watch the negotiations earlier, it was amazing how Jabba had sided with the Republic! She wanted to know how to do that. Obi-Wan was so good at negotiating. The Force had trembled a little, but she hadn't been sure why. Things were so weird.

“Well…” Anakin began, and then stopped. Ahsoka studied his face, trying to understand his expression. She tentatively tried using their new teaching bond and reached out with the Force for his feelings. At this distance, his anxiety hit her like a hydrospanner to the face, and she recoiled, pulling back as hard as she could. 

“Sorry!” Anakin’s eyes widened and Obi-Wan sighed. Anakin said, “I just… I cannot stress enough how important it is that you tell no one about this. Not even other Jedi.” He grimaced apologetically. “Especially not other Jedi.”

“Why?” Ahsoka didn’t like the sound of that.

“It could get us in quite a bit of trouble,” Obi-Wan said, his tone serious. “It is essential that you know about it, though, as you will doubtless see it happen a lot.”

“See what happen?” She furrowed her brows, still not following. “Why would teleporting get you in trouble? How can you even teleport? I didn’t even think that was a real thing.”

“It’s not quite teleporting…” Anakin said awkwardly. “It’s our Force bond.”

Ahsoka felt even more confused. “You two still have a teaching bond?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said bluntly. Ahsoka’s eyes widened and she nervously toyed with the end of one of her lekku. That was not done. He continued, “It is much stronger than any normal teaching bond, and it was not possible for us to break.”

“Too strong to break?” Ahsoka looked between their faces. “Is…” She swallowed, not knowing how to say what she wanted to say. She was fourteen! She wasn’t a baby. She knew some things. “Is that part of why you were holding hands?” The reaction was immediate from both.

Anakin blanched and said, “No! That is NOT part—”

Obi-Wan laughed and said, “I suppose it is part—”

They broke off at the same time and looked at each other, back at her, and then back at each other. Ahsoka watched fascinated as Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and Anakin’s eyes widened, jerking his head towards her slightly. 

Obi-Wan sighed and looked at Ahsoka again. “Our Force bond is simply strong enough that the Force will periodically connect Anakin and I across space.” 

“Across... space?” Ahsoka repeated faintly. Obi-Wan nodded.

Anakin explained rapidly. “We can perceive and touch each other like we’re standing next to each other, even while being in two different places. We can be from the length of the ship to many parsecs apart, we don’t actually know the maximum range yet.” Ahsoka felt her jaw drop a little. 

“Parsecs?” Anakin nodded, synchronizing with Obi-Wan’s body language again. This was all the weirdest thing ever. 

“Physical contact brings us through to the other side for the duration we are touching,” Anakin explained. “That’s why we were holding hands. To practice fighting as a unit. If I could have brought Obi-Wan over while engaging Dooku on Tatooine, I could have defeated him.” He frowned sulkily. “I could have anyway.”

“Yes, you probably could have.” Obi-Wan said appeasingly, and Ahsoka suppressed a smile. “However, the point stands that you did not.” She giggled.

“I know.” Anakin gave her a disapproving look and then sighed, clenching his mechanical fist. “I did not.” Ahsoka saw him give Obi-Wan a significant glance. She didn’t understand.

“No other Jedi know about this at all?” Ahsoka asked, needing clarification. “Why not?”

Anakin made a face. “It’s… it’s a serious violation of the Code. The section on non-attachment, specifically.” Obi-Wan nodded seriously.

“Oh,” Ahsoka said, looking between their faces. “I guess I can see that?” 

“Yes, the consequences would be quite severe if the rest of the Council were to find out about it,” Obi-Wan said. “Which is why we cannot allow it to be known, Ahsoka.”

She felt offended at his warning tone. “I won’t tell anybody!”

“Not even Master Yoda, if he asks for anything… weird?”

Ahsoka swallowed and shook her head. Had Master Obi-Wan heard her thoughts? She spoke awkwardly, looking at Anakin for validation. “No? I wouldn’t… I won’t tell Master Yoda.” She looked back at Obi-Wan, his face was still neutral. 

At his silence she continued, “He and I don’t talk much anyway, so I don’t imagine that will be much of a problem, really, it’s pretty unlikely that I would even… umm… talk to him.” She finished lamely. Obi-Wan finally smiled at her, and she felt a ball of stress release. 

“Good,” Obi-Wan said. “Thank you, young one. Our lives could be in your hands.”

“Lives?” Ahsoka felt her eyes widen. “They would kill you? For having such a strong bond?”

Obi-Wan and Anakin made eye contact again. Obi-Wan shrugged one shoulder and said, “Probably not.”

She opened her mouth to ask another question and Anakin frowned at her. “You really need to be in bed, asleep, Snips.”

“Alright,” she grumbled. “Fine. I’ll go to bed.” They nodded at her in sync and looked expectant, so she turned sharply and stalked away, heading to her bunk. 

So weird.

“That went well,” Obi-Wan said mildly to Ahsoka’s retreating back. “I can’t imagine how it could have gone better. Perhaps if she’d been warned in advance.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Anakin ran a hand over his face. “I just didn’t know how to tell her and make sure she understood that it was really important that it be kept a secret. She’s fourteen.”

“Yes, she is.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Very much so.”

“She did very well against the MagnaGuards!” Anakin felt suddenly defensive. He’d known her for all of two long days, but she was still his Padawan. “She’s an amazing fighter for being so little.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him. “She is an amazing fighter, Anakin. She is wonderful. I was not criticizing her at all, merely her age.”

“Right,” Anakin said, shoulders lowering slightly. “Fourteen is not good.”

“No, it’s not.” Obi-Wan said. “If I wasn’t absolutely certain that she needs to know, I would have tried to keep it away from her.”

“Hey!” Anakin scowled. “No mind tricks on my Padawan.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and turned towards the door, walking quickly. 

“Not unless necessary, Anakin.” Obi-Wan spoke waspishly. “I don’t make it a habit to use the Force on younglings.” Anakin huffed in frustration and followed after him, shaking his head.

“I didn’t mean that you do generally, only that you shouldn’t do it to her specifically.”

“I said I wouldn’t unless necessary, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was hard. “That statement will not change.” 

“You mind trick me all the time,” Anakin said, resentful. “It’s reasonable for me to be concerned, alright?”

“Not all the time—” Obi-Wan began and Anakin glared. Obi-Wan continued, “You know very well that our relationship is different.”

“Well, I don’t like it very much!” Anakin wished he sounded less like he was whining and more like he was making a very valid and reasonable argument, which he was.

“It is a pity,” Obi-Wan said, voice cooling off. “It’s truly a pity that I’ve needed to.”

“That’s not…” Anakin sighed and looked at the floor. “Fine. Just don’t mess with Ahsoka.”

“I was never going to mess with her, Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice grew even more frigid. “You know the stakes as well as I do.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said quietly. “I know, alright? I’m sorry. I just want to protect her.”

“From me? Splendid.” Obi-Wan snapped. “I’m gratified to know you consider me a threat.” Obi-Wan kept silent the last bit of corridor to his room and opened his door, his voice level again. “I am very tired. I am going to sleep.”

“Great,” Anakin said, stepping to follow him. “Sleep would be nice.”

“Yes, it will be,” Obi-Wan said, and closed the door in his face.

Kriff.

Obi-Wan stared at the closed door until Anakin’s angry and confused Force signature moved away. Then Obi-Wan ran a hand over his face and turned to face his empty room.

He was using mind tricks too much. Anakin was right. 

Obi-Wan’s chest felt tight. He wished he could go back and redo that last conversation, but knew he couldn’t. Anakin was right. He sighed and raised a hand, accessing the dark side slightly to wake the holocron. It was too easy.

“You look ill,” Darth Solon said immediately.

Obi-Wan scoffed. “Well spotted, I do feel sick. I’m using the dark side too much, Solon.” He sat on his bed and tossed his lightsaber towards his pillow. His hands were shaking slightly.

“Too much?” Solon looked skeptical. “I don’t understand.”

“Too frequently, for too little cause! Mind tricking Jabba was one thing, but I’ve been mind tricking my Padawan! I just almost mind tricked a youngling. Now that I’ve crossed the bright-line, there’s nothing preventing me from doing it all the time!” He kicked off his boots and sighed deeply in relief.

“Nothing except yourself and your judgement,” Solon said, watching the boots as they landed on the floor haphazardly. “Did you mind trick the youngling?”

“No,” Obi-Wan said heavily. “I didn’t. I’m not sure if it was because Anakin was there or if I wouldn’t have alone too. I’m just not sure.”

Solon sighed. “You cannot waste your time on hypotheticals. You did not, and that’s what matters.”

“I’m not sure,” Obi-Wan felt doubtful. “The inclination matters, the habit matters.” 

“A habit is still one decision at a time,” Solon said dismissively. “You have to measure each moment by its need, or else you will lose sight of how things really are. You are focusing on how things should be again.”

“It’s good to have standards.” Obi-Wan dropped his armor piece by piece. “It’s good to have values. It used to be important to me that I keep my mind inside my own mind. It’s not, anymore. That’s different, and that’s concerning.”

“Your values,” Solon said the word like it was a profanity, “Your values would permit a situation to slide into ruin, because you are too afraid to act! You are just like the rest of the Council.”

“It’s not fear!” Obi-Wan argued. “It’s not that I’m afraid. I just don’t want to be the sort of person whose first reaction to a surprise is to edit other people’s reactions.”

“I’m afraid you really won’t have much of a choice, Σιθαρίς.”

“Sitharis, what the kriff does that mean, Solon?” Obi-Wan had never been quite so tempted to throw the holocron against the wall. “I am so tired of this.” 

Solon was quiet for a long moment, as if processing Obi-Wan’s question. Eventually he said, “It’s a title, it’s not directly translatable. You will never be able to hear it clearly. There were steps that must have been taken before one could have been initiated into the Mysteries. The proper pronunciation is closer to Sith’ari in basic. The ’s’ at the end is more of a sibilant breathing notation, and should not be emphasized.”

“Helpful.” Obi-Wan ground his teeth. “Is that it? Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

“I’m not sure I should say more!” Solon spit out. “I’ve made mistakes before.”

“Mistakes?” Obi-Wan studied the holocron’s flickering face. He saw regret there, which was extremely unusual. “How can a holocron make mistakes?”

“Telling the wrong information to the wrong person at the wrong time—that is a large and often unredeemable mistake.” Solon frowned deeper. “This is why it might not have been wrong to mind trick the youngling. If you need to withhold truly dangerous information, you should.”

“Of course you would think mind tricking a youngling is acceptable.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Do you have any limits on your behavior? Is there anything you wouldn’t do?” 

Solon just crossed his arms and frowned. “I’m the gatekeeper of a holocron, not a person. Darth Solon himself did not have limits. You must not either.”

Obi-Wan scowled at him. “How is the meaning of an old Sith title dangerous information, anyway?” He raised an eyebrow and asked pointedly, “I’m the wrong person to know what you’ve been calling me?”

“Not the wrong person,” Solon said. “It’s the wrong time.”

“Well then you shouldn’t have kriffing used yet!” Obi-Wan growled, and then swallowed and fixed his breathing. “You should have withheld the entire thing. You can’t just give me fragments and expect me to accept it! You are driving me insane.”

“Fine!” Solon snapped. “Fine.” He was quiet for another moment. “Sith’ari means something similar to ‘One Who Was Chosen.’” He did not explain further.

“That’s it? That’s what was so dangerous for me to know?” Obi-Wan said, his heart rate slowing. He shook his head in denial. “You’re mistaken anyway. I’m not the Chosen One. Anakin is.”

Solon shook his head back. “The Jedi are wrong about the prophecy. He is something else entirely. He is not the Chosen One. He is the One Who Chooses.”

Obi-Wan sat in silence for a long time, trying to understand. “Is that what Midichlor means?”

“No.” Solon said and crossed his arms, closing his mouth. Obi-Wan gave him a dirty look and he unwillingly continued. “The nearest approximation in Basic of ‘Midichlor’ is ‘Force-Incarnate.’ The Midichlor has had many titles, many names. One can occur in almost all cultures, unfortunately.”

“Force-Incarnate?” Obi-Wan spoke slowly. He was processing. “One can occur? Unfortunately? What do you mean? What is Anakin?”

“He’s human. Mostly.” Solon seemed to be debating something internally. “Has he ever talked about his father?”

Obi-Wan was taken aback by the question. “No… Master Qui-Gon told me that there was no father. That he was a vergence in the Force.”

“And you did not find that interesting or strange? Why were you not more curious about a human conceiving without intercourse?”

“I always thought she was just…” Obi-Wan frowned. “She was a slave. She could have been assaulted.”

“True, but not applicable in this case. She was telling the truth. His amount of power in the living Force is not actually possible for a naturally conceived sentient. It requires direct input of energy from the Force itself. Anakin is truly a child of the Force. He is both more and less than human.”

“How is that possible?” Obi-Wan frowned. He had never heard of anything like this before. “That doesn’t make any biological sense.” 

“As far as we know, a Midichlor is created by the living Force in response to…” Solon trailed off, searching for words. He continued, looking oddly tentative. “In response to an event that produces a shockwave of pure darkness in the Force. A shockwave of pure will-to-life. The child born is the echo of the will-to-life that tried and failed to match the spike of suffering released into the Force by this event.” Solon paused and evaluated Obi-Wan’s face.

“What event, Solon?” Obi-Wan asked. “What don’t you want to tell me?”

Solon sighed and looked away. “It’s usually when a Force sensitive female desperately tries to survive being raped to death over the course of weeks. That amount of struggle to survive, to endure, to live—it’s pure emotion, pure darkness. It causes the vergence in the Force that ripples down her entire timeline. Her son is born of the energy she spent in her failed struggle for self-preservation. He is born of her righteous, futile darkness.”

Obi-Wan stared at him, horrified. “Anakin was born because his mother died like that?”

Solon nodded once. “As far as Sith research could discover. This is mostly theoretical. They are very rare, thankfully, and so are not well understood. The theory is that causality is not unidirectional within the Force.” Obi-Wan made a skeptical face and Solon shrugged. “The phenomenon was thought to parallel how bodies heal themselves. If you accept the analogy, he is an autoimmune response of the Force, born to soothe the disturbance and restore balance. The profound disturbance of his mother’s death in the fabric of the living Force triggered a healing feedback cycle, and her child was the result.”

“The Sith researched this?” Obi-Wan grimaced. “How?”

“The Sith are very interested in people born from pure darkness.” Solon’s voice was dry. “The blood, sweat, and tears of a Midichlor are also key reagents in very powerful Sith alchemical spells. They are very useful apprentices to have.” Solon nodded like it was the end of a lesson. “That’s what a Midichlor is.” 

“Force.” Obi-Wan exhaled and stared blankly at the wall. Obi-Wan noticed he never explained how the Sith knew these things, but had suspicion that he really did not want to know. He refocused on the key implication. “They’re coming after Anakin for sure, then.”

“He is very powerful,” Solon said vaguely. “It is essential you keep him safe and loyal.”

“Loyal?” Obi-Wan didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Why?”

“He is the One Who Chooses, remember. He needs an anchor, and will always seek one. He can be easily misled, you know this.” Solon raised an eyebrow and Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly. “His power could be stolen and misused.”

“Stolen?” Obi-Wan felt a surge of something hot and possessive.

Solon nodded, looking almost wistful. “It already has been once, you know. He truly belonged with his mother; they were one flesh. He was born to help her. The Jedi removed him and left her in bondage. The Jedi are the ones who split that particular atom. It’s up to you now to deal with the fallout, or Darth Sidious will use his power for his own ends.”

Solon abruptly turned himself off, and Obi-Wan stared numbly at the black pyramid.

What the kriff.

Anakin was in a bad mood. Alone in his assigned cabin, he had changed for sleep on autopilot and was sitting on the bed, staring at the wall. Obi-Wan had locked him out. Obi-Wan didn’t want him around. Obi-Wan wanted to sleep alone. Anakin tried to refocus on the war, on his responsibilities, on his new Padawan. He hadn’t meant that Obi-Wan was a threat to her. He hadn’t.

He looked up sharply at the sound of a knock on his door. Obi-Wan’s Force presence was outside, a mix of feelings that Anakin couldn’t read. His confusion overrode his anger, and Anakin slid off the bed to open the door. 

Obi-Wan was dressed for sleep, but had pulled his boots on. He looked strange, just wearing his undershirt and pants in the hall of the Star Destroyer, no tabards or robes. Anakin couldn’t believe he’d come to his room like that. Obi-Wan’s face was neutral, but Anakin could see regret in his eyes. It all made Anakin feel warm. He still kept his voice curt. “Yes?”

“May I come in?” Obi-Wan asked carefully.

“Yes.” Anakin stood aside and let him enter. “What do you want?”

“To apologize,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin felt a sudden release of tension, and closed the door. He sat heavily on his bed and examined Obi-Wan as he leaned against the small desk near the door. He looked tired. Obi-Wan broke the growing silence, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, pushed you away. I was defensive. I know what you meant. About the mind tricks.”

“You do?” Anakin asked, tentative. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m struggling with it, Anakin.” Anakin frowned. The words didn’t make sense. 

“What do you mean?” Anakin studied his face and realized that Obi-Wan was letting him see that he was afraid. Anakin felt a wave of concern and reached out with the Force. Obi-Wan reached back, and Anakin felt his fear and regret. They communicated in the bond for a moment, mixing and sharing their feelings and coming back into a mutual understanding. Anakin sighed in relief. 

Obi-Wan admitted, “I find the dark to be lingering nearby, closer than it ever has been. It is becoming easier to touch it.”

“Really?” Anakin frowned. He hadn’t known that was happening to Obi-Wan too. Ever since Tatooine, his own darkness seemed to build faster and grow larger.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I think taking in your darkness is making me feel my own emotions much more strongly.” Anakin felt a spike of guilt. Obi-Wan continued ruefully, “It’s lucky we’re so often deployed on assignment. I’m worried about the day that I can no longer hide who I am from the rest of the Council. Seeing Yoda directly after everything on Tatooine was incredibly risky.”

“Your Force signature is never dark, though,” Anakin said uncertainly. “I’ve never felt a hint of it.”

“That is comforting,” Obi-Wan acknowledged. “But you are not necessarily the best judge. It is unclear if our bond is altering your perception.”

“I guess.” Anakin sighed. Obi-Wan pushed off the desk and stepped closer, moving slowly to stand between Anakin’s legs and looking down at him. Anakin opened his legs slightly wider to make room, and looked up at Obi-Wan, trying to read his face. 

“I am truly sorry, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, reaching up a hand and resting his palm against Anakin’s cheek. His thumb stroked lightly and Anakin leaned into the touch. “I panicked.”

“It’s alright, Master.” Anakin said, realizing that it really was. His voice carried his empathy. “I really understand.”

“You do?” Obi-Wan smiled. “I suppose you do.” He kissed him gently, his hand sliding from Anakin’s cheek back into his hair, pulling Anakin’s face close. Anakin kissed him back, reassuring him. His hands slid up to Obi-Wan’s back, pulling him even closer, falling into the feeling of Obi-Wan’s mouth moving gently against his own.

Obi-Wan pulled his head back slightly and looked into Anakin’s eyes. Anakin affectionately pushed his head back into Obi-Wan’s grip in his hair. Obi-Wan smiled faintly and scratched his head. Anakin melted slightly. Obi-Wan kissed his forehead and pulled back with a sigh. “I will protect Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan said in a low voice. He swallowed and promised seriously, “I will never harm her.”

“I know you won’t,” Anakin said. “You never harm me either.” He clenched his jaw and looked down, taking a deep breath. Anakin admitted quietly, “I think I need it sometimes. I get so angry that I get confused. I need help thinking clearly.”

“I know you do, dearest one.” Obi-Wan’s voice was very gentle. He cupped Anakin’s face and kissed his forehead again. “I’m looking out for you.” Anakin looked up and Obi-Wan kissed him on the temple and the cheek before whispering in his ear seriously, “I’m trying as hard as I can to help. I’m not trying to hurt you.” He began to kiss down Anakin’s neck.

“You are helping,” Anakin sighed, tilting his head back to present his throat. Obi-Wan sucked lightly on his pulse point, and Anakin whimpered, “This is all so hard.” 

Obi-Wan pulled back and smiled at him. “It is the hardest thing we’ve ever done, but we’re doing it together, right?” He took off his shirt, and his pants. Anakin watched him strip himself down, and smiled widely, pulling off his own shirt too.

“Yes,” Anakin said, the word together suddenly filling him with happiness. Obi-Wan tugged at his pants and Anakin lifted his hips to help remove them. “We’re together. I had always been so afraid of being a Knight, of leaving you. The war is good, I guess.” Anakin laughed. “The Council would never assign us together so much otherwise, right?”

“Probably not,” Obi-Wan agreed, sliding his hands down Anakin’s chest, feeling his pectorals and running his thumbs over his nipples. Anakin sucked in a loud breath. Obi-Wan murmured, “I do use my position on the Council to advocate for assignments with you.” He leaned in and licked and sucked one of Anakin’s nipples, making Anakin’s hips jerk. Obi-Wan smiled against his skin and switched to the other side, biting gently and sucking hard, leaving a purple mark. Anakin felt a rush of pleasure at being marked. He loved being Obi-Wan’s.

Anakin felt like he was glowing. “You do? You ask to be with me?” Obi-Wan’s mouth traveled lower, sucking a row of purple marks down Anakin’s stomach. Anakin felt like his cock had never been harder, and then Obi-Wan kneeled in front of him, speaking up at him, looking up at him. Anakin felt dizzy with all the blood rushing out of his head. He whimpered.

“Of course I do, Anakin.” Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled. “Why did you think I wanted to be on the Council so very badly?” He ran a hand along Anakin’s hard cock and squeezed gently.

“Sith intel,” Anakin panted as if the answer was obvious. His eyes were fixed on Obi-Wan’s mouth as it lowered and he groaned loudly when Obi-Wan sucked the tip of his cock into his mouth. Obi-Wan’s tongue swept in a circle as he sucked, and Anakin groaned again. Obi-Wan pulled his head back.

“Not really,” Obi-Wan said playfully, smiling wider. “I only wanted more power to stay close to you.” Anakin moaned as Obi-Wan’s wet, warm mouth swallowed his cock again. Obi-Wan’s lips slid down the length, stopping when the tip of Anakin’s cock the back of his throat.

Anakin’s eyes fluttered closed and he whined. “Really?” Obi-Wan hummed around his cock and Anakin thrust involuntarily, his eyes opening wide in apology and Obi-Wan just sent him a wave of acceptance over the bond. Anakin gripped the blankets hard, the bond and Obi-Wan’s wet mouth on his cock were making his head swim.

Obi-Wan slid his mouth up and down Anakin’s cock slowly a few more times, his hand coming up to stroke his balls, and then he leaned back to breathe. “Yes, really.” Anakin leaned down and grabbed Obi-Wan’s head, tilting it up and kissed him hard. 

“Please, I don’t want to come yet,” Anakin said against his lips. “Please, Master, I want…” His voice trailed off.

“How do you want me, dearest?” Obi-Wan asked, in one motion standing up and pushing Anakin further back onto the bed, crawling over him. Obi-Wan looked down at him and asked, “How do you want it?”

Anakin blushed, his eyes flicking between Obi-Wan’s. He liked it when Obi-Wan decided. He liked not making choices. He liked when Obi-Wan was happy. That was his favorite thing. It seemed like it would make Obi-Wan happy for him to choose. He projected, “I… Can I sit? On you?” He sent an image across the bond. Obi-Wan smiled. 

“We can do that.” His hand slid down to brush a finger along Anakin’s tight entrance. “You’re not ready yet, though.”

“I know,” Anakin’s blush got deeper. “I have plenty of lube. I want to…” He looked down and sent the rest on the bond. “I want to adjust around you.”

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and said, “Fine. Do it the unpleasant way. Where is it?” He sat down, pushing his back against the wall and patting his thigh. Anakin summoned it with the Force and handed over the small bottle. Obi-Wan dispensed a large amount onto his hand and began rubbing his own hard cock, Anakin watching fascinated. He loved watching his Master rub his own cock, watching his Master please himself. “Come here and turn around.”

Anakin hastened to obey, moving so he was sitting with this back to Obi-Wan’s chest, hovering on his knees over Obi-Wan’s cock. His blush increased dramatically when he realized Obi-Wan had intentionally sat opposite the open ‘fresher door with line of sight to the mirror. He moaned when he realized Obi-Wan wanted him to watch himself get fucked, and then moaned louder when Obi-Wan gently began using his slick fingers to spread the lube around his entrance. 

When Obi-Wan pressed his slick fingers into him slightly, Anakin protested loudly. Obi-Wan laughed as he swatted him, saying, “Fine, you do it all. I tried to help.” He put even more lube on his cock and then used one hand to guide Anakin’s hips down and the other to line up the tip of his cock, barely brushing his sensitive skin. Obi-Wan released his hip and said roughly, “Take what you want. Fuck yourself on my cock, Padawan.” Anakin felt like his face was burning up, and he met his own eyes in the mirror. 

“Thank you, Master,” he said in a shaky voice. He looked away from his flushed cheeks and down at his own hard cock, and spread his legs wider, pressing down and whimpering when he felt how very hard Obi-Wan’s cock was, how much he wanted Anakin to do this, how much he liked what Anakin was doing. 

Anakin lowered himself down slightly, letting the tip push in. He whined at the stretch and paused, Obi-Wan’s hand grasping his hip hard but not moving him at all. He heard Obi-Wan’s breath hitch and the echo of his desire in the bond. Anakin circled his hips slightly, stretching himself and pushing down a little more.

Obi-Wan slid his slick hand around to Anakin’s cock, beginning to stroke him gently, his voice was a low murmur behind Anakin’s ear that made his heart beat even faster, “Very good, Anakin, take more, you can take more, please, Padawan, please move.” 

Anakin lowered himself a bit more, a slight twinge of pain making him pause and then groan loudly as all his focus remained at the spot of the pain even after the pain turned into pleasure, and all his attention was filled by the feeling of Obi-Wan’s hard cock. His mind was buzzing and he couldn’t think of anything else. Anakin fucked himself down harder in response, seeking more of that stimulation. 

Obi-Wan groaned in relief and Anakin smiled widely. He spread his legs a bit more, opening himself further, pressing his hips back and down, taking as much as he could. Obi-Wan said gratefully, “So good, very good, darling, yes, thank you.” Anakin began to raise himself up and down slightly, realizing that he still had inches left to take. 

The feeling of Obi-Wan’s hand moving on his cock and his other hand coming up to gently hold and stroke his balls was so good, the pleasure was so distracting. He spread his legs wider, opening himself up more and sliding down again, harder. Obi-Wan’s voice was low and fervent. “Nearly there, Padawan, you’ve nearly taken it, you’re doing so well.”

Anakin took a deep breath and then rocked back and down hard, taking it all, his hips finally meeting Obi-Wan’s. He looked forward at the mirror and realized that he was making eye contact with Obi-Wan. He whined and jerked his hips. Obi-Wan’s grip on his cock tightened and he stroked harder, his wrist twisting slightly. Anakin groaned, “E chu ta, Master, that’s so good, it feels so good.” He bounced slightly, changing the angle before fucking back again and feeling Obi-Wan’s cock press against a place that made him cry out. He slid up and back down hard, beginning to rock his hips deliberately, chasing that spot, that feeling.

“You’re doing so well, Anakin,” Obi-Wan panted. “You feel so good to me, so good around my cock, so good for me.” Anakin whimpered at the praise, trying to both fuck himself back onto Obi-Wan’s cock and into Obi-Wan’s hand. “Do you know how good you are?” Anakin whined and shook his head, staring at Obi-Wan’s intense blue eyes in the mirror. 

Obi-Wan kissed the side of his neck, and murmured into this skin, keeping eye contact in the mirror as Anakin rocked on his lap. “You are perfect, Anakin, you try so hard, and you mean so well, you do so much good, I see it, I promise, Padawan, I notice.” Anakin gasped and whined, it felt so good, his rhythm was growing sloppy. Obi-Wan abruptly pulled his hands off Anakin’s cock and Anakin made a loud noise of protest, his own hands quickly replacing Obi-Wan’s, speeding up and squeezing himself tighter. 

Obi-Wan slid his hands under Anakin’s thighs and hooked his legs with his elbows, pulling Anakin’s back against his chest, opening him wider and holding him still. Anakin whined as Obi-Wan began to thrust his hips up slowly, speaking lowly, “You look so good like this, do you see yourself? Do you see yourself taking me so well?” 

Anakin let out a shaky breath, eyes moving down to where Obi-Wan’s cock was sliding in and out of him. Anakin nodded desperately, moving his hand fast on his cock, drawing himself closer and closer. Obi-Wan bit Anakin’s shoulder hard as he began to fuck up into him harder and then said, “I want you to watch yourself come, Anakin, Padawan, look at yourself,” Obi-Wan’s words had become an order. Anakin obeyed, unthinkingly, looking at himself in the mirror, so close to coming, so very close. 

Obi-Wan murmured in approval and fixed his grip on Anakin’s legs, spreading him open completely and began fucking up fast and hard, driving his cock over and over into Anakin, thrusting against the spot that made Anakin cry out with pleasure. Obi-Wan’s firm grip on his body and the fast, sudden rhythm of his cock driving in hard against him pushed Anakin over the edge, and he groaned, his eyes rolling back, pleasure crackling through him as he spilled his come into his hands.

“Put your fingers in my mouth,” Obi-Wan’s voice was rough. “That’s mine.” Anakin was still hazy with pleasure, lost in the waves of the Force. He shakily offered his come covered hand over his shoulder for Obi-Wan to suck, and moaned when he felt Obi-Wan begin to lick him clean. Obi-Wan groaned and slammed his hips up. Anakin felt in the Force as Obi-Wan came, their mutual pleasure pooling together, rebounding and reinforcing each other.

Anakin lost the strength and concentration to hold himself up and relaxed completely backward, his head tipped back loosely on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, his fingers popping out of Obi-Wan’s mouth. Obi-Wan let Anakin’s legs down and wrapped his arms around his stomach, hugging Anakin tightly against his chest, his chin on Anakin’s shoulder. 

They breathed together for a long moment, intertwined in the Force, shared contentment eddying around them. Obi-Wan suddenly surrounded Anakin in the Force with his approval and acceptance, making Anakin go even more boneless, feeling his fears seep away. “Thank you, Master,” Anakin said thickly. “That’s nice.” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh into his neck and squeezed him once before pushing Anakin off and slipping out.

“I meant it, you know,” Obi-Wan said as he scooted off the bed toward the ‘fresher. Anakin looked up, frowning in confusion. Obi-Wan explained, “I will protect Ahsoka. I will not mess with her mind.”

“I know, Master,” Anakin nodded as he got up to follow to clean himself up too. “We’ll protect her together. She’s a good kid.”

“She really is.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I’ll protect you, too.”

“Thanks, Master.” Anakin smiled. “I’ll alway protect you first though, before you have to protect me. It’s my job.” He stepped in the shower and Obi-Wan followed him in. 

Anakin suddenly realized he couldn’t read the expression on Obi-Wan’s face. It was blank again—it was the same as it had always been before Tatooine, before Anakin had known about the dreams, back when Obi-Wan was hiding something from him. Anakin frowned slightly.

“Thank you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, an emotion Anakin couldn’t place in his voice. “Do you promise?”

“Yes, of course I promise,” Anakin said seriously, trying to read his eyes. “I’ll always protect you first, Master.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan smiled warmly at him. “I promise too.”

Anakin nodded. He felt the certainty of their attachment settle in his chest like a knot being tied around his heart, a string pulling him tight towards his Master. They felt connected. They felt like one. Anakin smiled.

“Thank you, Master.” 

THE RESOLUTE

Late 22BBY

Rex was sitting in the near-empty mess staring at his rations when Axe rushed in. The sudden clamor at the door made him look up sharply. It’s rare to see that much hustle without a damn good reason. It took Rex a moment to realize that everything was alright.

Axe had his bucket off, and was smiling and holding something in his arms. He was being trailed by about ten brothers, who all looked gleeful. “The box came, captain!” 

Rex felt a leap of excitement. More than alright, this is something good. The little Commander had done excellent work on Christophsis and Teth, but it was unbelievable what the Jedi had let her wear into battle. He grinned. “Let’s go find her.”

They found Commander Tano in the largest gym, where she was occupying most of the sparring area while drilling with her lightsaber. Rex watched, appreciating the skill with which she spun the blade. He figured he’d slice himself in half in a second if he tried.

“Can we interrupt, sir?” Rex asked.

“Sure!” Tano chirped and deactivated her saber, looking at him curiously. “What’s in the box, Rex?”

“Well, it’s for you, sir.” Rex held the box out stiffly, and Tano took it with wide eyes. “Take a look.”

She quickly set it on the ground and looked inside. “It’s armor?” Tano sounded both excited and confused. “Isn’t your armor too big for me?” 

“Try it on, Commander, it’s not standard issue,” Axe said encouragingly. “It came with the resupply, sir.”

“It did?” Tano wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “How? Why?”

“Well.” Rex and Axe looked at each other guilty. “Wingtip actually ordered it back on Christophsis, sir. He said it was very urgent.”

The Commander’s voice was small, her eyes were wide. Rex noticed that the color of her head-tails was getting darker. Was that how Togruta blushed? “He ordered armor for me?” 

Rex thought she sounded very young. He remembered being seven, so he figured it was about the same. It was a confusing time. He smiled reassuringly. “Of course, little Commander, you can’t go into battle dressed like you’re going to a party.” She scoffed. Rex continued with a smile, “He made the call just after checking into base when you first arrived.”

“I need to be able to move.” Tano explained herself apologetically, before she suddenly did a series of backflips and splits. Rex blinked. The Commander was so fast that his eyes had trouble tracking her. It was uncanny speed, relative to what a human could do. Rex remembered reading that Togruta could only eat meat, that they were predators. She flipped back over and landed proudly. “I need to be agile!”

“General Skywalker wears armor, sir,” Rex said placatingly. “So does General Kenobi.” He muttered, “Why they didn’t get you any is a whole separate question.”

“Try it on, at least, Skipper.” Axe said winningly. Rex wanted to roll his eyes. Axe and his stupid nicknames. 

“Oh, alright!” The Commander smiled widely. “I like presents. What first?” She started rummaging around.

“First, the bodysuit.” Rex said. “We had to guess measurements so it might need to be adjusted, but that is the base layer, sir.”

Tano pulled it out and held it up. It was definitely much smaller than the trooper blacks. Her forehead wrinkled speculatively before she nodded once and hopped up. “Be right back!” 

She darted off to the ‘fresher, and Rex suddenly realized that the crowd of brothers clustering around had multiplied several times. It looked like everyone off-duty was slowly beginning to accumulate. He shook his head and raised a brow at Axe who shrugged. “I don’t know who told.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Rex said. “It would have gotten out somehow.”

“Probably,” Axe chuckled. “The rest of Torrent Company is going to be so mad they weren’t here.”

Rex smirked. “Too bad for them.” 

“How do I look?” Commander Tano’s girlish voice made him start. He noticed the same reaction in almost everyone around him and wanted to laugh. She was looking herself over. “I think it fits!” 

Rex looked her up and down, the black material clung tightly to slender arms and legs. She was so little! He repressed a smile. “Yep! You look like a brother, sir.”

“Do I really?” Tano grinned and did a backflip. “I like this material, it’s really stretchy and comfy for being tactical .” She did another flip and some boys in the back cheered. She waved at them and asked, “Where did you get all this stuff?”

Axe shrugged. “One of the supply officers is good friends with their Republic counterpart, sir. They got it added to the resupply budget and specially printed, I think.”

“Nice work!” Tano smiled widely at him, and Rex could have sworn Axe blushed. “They did amazing, it fits perfectly!”

“That’s just phase one, Commander,” Rex said. “Let’s go bottom to top. Try on the kneepads and boots, sir.”

She nodded and rummaged around in the box. “What are they made of? I thought it would be heavier.” She wrapped her knuckles against a white kneepad.

“It’s a lightweight plastoid-alloy composite, sir,” Axe said smoothly. Rex nodded. All of the clones were a bit obsessive about their armor. 

“Okay!” The Commander said, shrugging. She slid on the kneepads and the boots and did a few lunges. “They fit, but the boots are a little bit too big. I’ll have to wear extra socks!” She said the last part like it was a feature, not a bug.

“We’ll take your exact measurements and get you fitted up right, Commander,” Rex said quickly, making eye contact with Axe who nodded. “These are just until we have more time.”

Tano did a speculative backflip and landed carefully, testing the feeling of the kneepads. She did another one much faster, nodded sharply, and smiled. “These will work.” 

Rex nodded back and smiled. “Utility belt next, sir.”

“Alright,” Tano said happily. She frowned briefly at the fastener before clicking it on. “It’s a little big, can I make it any smaller?”

“That’s because it’s not all the way fitted, sir. There’s a secondary adjustment location in the back, here.” Rex pointed to his own back and she reached around to feel behind, her eyes narrowing as she found the cinch. Her eyes lit up in triumph. “There you go, sir.”

“Thanks, Rex!” Tano chirped, patting her sides and opening flaps. “Look at all these pockets!”

“There are advantages to wearing tactical gear, Skipper.” Axe said dryly. 

Several brothers laughed and the Commander laughed too. “I get it, I get it!” She began pawing through the box again. “What’s next?“

“Chest and back plate, sir.” Rex bent to help her grab the right pieces, and she looked at him gratefully as he pointed, “These ones, Commander.”

“Why do I have to wear these?” Tano asked as she wriggled to get her head-tails through the neck hole. 

Rex smiled, watching her struggle. It was very cute. “They protect against blaster bolts to the heart and lungs, sir.”

Tano nodded gravely as she settled the white plastic to sit correctly on her shoulders. “That sounds good.”

“Yes, that is good, sir.” Rex smiled. “How does it feel?”

The Commander bent backwards and forwards, twisting and testing out the feel. “It’s really light, just like the boots.” She nodded. “I think it will work.”

“Good, sir.” Rex nodded and looked back at the box. “Now the shoulder pauldrons, both upper—” Rex pointed to the right piece. “—and lower.” He pointed again. “Then the gloves, then the gauntlets over top. The gauntlet can replace your comlink when you wear it, it has a wrist communicator built in.”

Tano wrinkled her forehead at the final pile of white plastic, eyes deliberative. “This seems like a lot.”

Rex shrugged, “Your arms are very important, sir.”

“I guess so,” Tano said and shrugged too. Axe helped her fasten the pieces in the correct order, and she listened to him explain the mechanisms with a serious expression on her face.

“There you go!” Axe said as he stepped back. Rex grinned. The Commander looked like a miniature General Kenobi mixed with a miniature trooper. 

Rex asked, “Can you move, sir?” 

The Commander began doing a series of flips and the crowd started cheering. 

“You got armor for my Padawan?”

The sound of General Skywalker’s curious voice made everyone jump. He’d been watching from the doorway. Rex wanted to facepalm. How long had he been there? Instead he stood at attention with everyone else.

“Sir!” Rex said, nodding tentatively. “Yes, we did, General.”

Axe agreed, “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Rex. You too, Axe.” Skywalker’s voice sounded serious and guilty as he came over, so Rex relaxed slightly. They weren’t in trouble. “All of you. Thank you all so much.”

“Yeah, thank you!” Tano said too, an earnest expression on her face. “This is incredible.”

Rex began to feel warm inside. He saw that Axe was definitely blushing now. “No problem, sir.”

Tano grinned at General Skywalker before doing a series of handsprings. “It’s amazing! It’s so light!” 

Rex made eye contact with Axe and Axe nodded. 

Rex knelt to reach into the box. He said, “There’s just one more thing, sir, Commander.” He pulled out a small bottle of blue paint from the bottom of the box. He held it out, offering it to Tano. “You’re not a Shiny, sir.” 

Tano’s face radiated with joy. “I’m not?”

“No, sir, you took out clankers with the rest of us. You get some 501st blue.” She took the bottle reverently. The General smiled and nodded at him, his eyes glowing with pride. Rex smiled and said, “Tonight, when you’re alone, you can decide how to paint it.”

“Thank you, Rex.” Her eyes were huge. “Thank you so much.”

The General pulled his lightsaber and ignited it. Rex noticed brothers trying to climb and sit on top of the weight machines and the rowing machines, trying to find the best seat in the gym to watch the fight. Watching the Jetiise spar was the best entertainment onboard. Skywalker grinned and swung his blade around dramatically. “Let’s spar, little Padawan.” 

“You’re on, Master!” Tano chuckled gleefully before beating on her chest, knuckles rapping on the plastic. “I’m INVINCIBLE!”

Rex sighed, satisfied, and turned to head to the bridge. He was still smiling as he wound his way out through the still-growing crowd of brothers.

Mission accomplished. Time to go break another blockade.

Ahsoka stared at the complex controls of the Aethersprite with a false smile on her face. The hanger was incredibly loud with the sound of ships being readied for battle. She shook her head slightly. She was about to have her first command of a squadron. They had given her command of a squadron.

Her. Ahsoka. Padawan. Fourteen.  

Ahsoka had flown a real Aethersprite only twice before in practice. She’d logged thousands of hours in simulators back at the Temple, especially after the war began. But it was something else to be sitting in the real thing. She needed to make a good impression with this first command. 

She had to do this right.

Arseven beeped at her inquisitively. She frowned. “Of course I’m not nervous.” She tapped her white gauntlet against the restraining belt. She hadn’t had time to paint yet, and hadn’t decided what she wanted. There was only so much paint… 

“Hey, Snips!” Anakin said cheerfully, jogging closer. Ahsoka looked up and swallowed. “This is it! Your first command.” He smiled encouragingly. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I wish everyone would stop saying that,” Ahsoka said in a low, fervent tone.

Anakin looked at her seriously, and she fought the urge to look down. His eyes were intense. “The men that you’re commanding are depending on you.” His gaze got even sharper. “With their lives.”

Ahsoka’s stomach dropped. “Thanks.” She turned and looked at the controls again and took a deep, shaky breath. “That sure takes the pressure off. If I wasn’t nervous before, I sure am now.” She looked back up at her Master, needing reassurance.

Anakin’s face softened, and his eyes were understanding. “Hey, I have faith in you.” He raised an eyebrow, kind of like how Master Kenobi did. “I wouldn’t send you out there if I didn’t think you could handle it.” He nodded once and turned to go, jogging back towards the lift to the bridge. 

He paused and looked back. “May the Force be with you.” 

Ahsoka dipped her head in thanks and said loudly, “I won’t let you down.” Anakin turned and left. To his back, she muttered, “I hope.” She began engaging systems and starting up her starfighter, finally activating her com. “Okay… You boys ready?”

“This is two, Axe, ready when you are, Skipper.” Axe’s reassuring voice came through. She absently tapped her gauntlet again, smiling at the nickname. She liked how it sounded much better than Snips. 

She listened as the rest checked in. There were fifteen pilots with her. She hadn’t spoken to most of them really, but some of the names stood out. Kickback had loaned his water canteen to her yesterday, she needed to give it back.

“Tucker on five, waiting for mother bird, over.” 

Ahsoka swallowed. Mother bird, that’s her. She put her hands on the controls, and engaged. She led the group up and out of the hull, hurtling out into the black. She curled her ship around and accelerated directly towards the Separatist blockade. 

She took a shaky breath, looking up out of the cockpit windows. The planet Ryloth filled the background, a massive blur of brown, streaked with green. There was just something different about flying a starfighter in space above a real planet that a simulator could never capture. The scale was different. She felt so small.

Arseven was doing most of the technical flying work, but it was still partially in her hands, so she kept them steady. She checked her vector, all good. The Admiral’s polite voice came through the com. “Commander, you’re all clear.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Ahsoka replied, trying to add some confidence to her voice, “Keep the cruisers back until we’ve softened them up!” There was no reply, of course. She sighed. “Well, Arseven, are you ready for some action?”

Arseven whistled in agreement. Ahsoka smiled, her eyes fixing on their target. 

Now that her flight was underway, her nerves were vanishing—the adrenaline was intoxicating. She was flying in real space, about to fight with live weapons. She was in so much danger, and it felt almost good.

Ahsoka felt more and more confident that she could do this. She spoke decisively. “Axe, keep your squadron back and wait for my signal.”

“You got it, boss.” 

She nodded, evaluating the distance between the newly launched Separatists fighters and her ship. She searched her feelings, reaching out with the Force. Just a little longer… Let them get a little closer…

Now. 

“Here we go, boys!” she called into the com and pressed all the way down on the accelerator, shooting impossibly fast towards the cluster of approaching vulture droids, the first group of her squad at her back. “Let’s clear a path!” 

Within a few heartbeats, the starfighters and the vulture droids met and crossed in the black, shooting past each other, weapons blazing. Ahsoka exhaled sharply, eyes sharp.

The simulator never prepared her for how her heart would pound and her palms would sweat.

She began dodging rapidly, her hands gentle on the controls. She spun around lasers and dipped under droids, firing back aggressively, her starfighter always pointed forward—flying ever closer to the heart of the Separatist fleet. 

The chatter of the troopers provided a steady stream of data about the fight, with everyone calling out targets and problems. She listened with half attention, the rest of her focus dedicated to staying alive and destroying droids. 

Her hands twitched and she spun, helping out Axe with a tail before spinning back around and taking care of one her own. She exhaled hard, resuming her vector towards the command ship and accelerating back up to speed. 

The battle was overwhelming. Arseven was helping a lot, but Ahsoka was having to process so much information so quickly. She reminded herself to breathe, keeping her hands steady and loose, delicately handling the steering. She inhaled slowly, calling on the Force to sharpen her focus. 

Ahsoka’s world had narrowed to only include the fight in front of her, every problem evaporated except surviving into the next second. She fired rapidly, taking out several vulture droids in a row, and felt better. She could do this.

She evaluated the positions of the engaged droids, and nodded in satisfaction. “We’ve got their fighters occupied!” She made the call: “Axe, it’s time to make a run for the battleship.”

“Come on, you whiners,” Axe agreed. “Let’s get dirty.” 

The second group moved in through the path cleared by Ahsoka and the first group, streaking towards the heart of the blockade. Ahsoka was still at the point, getting closer and closer to the target. She could see it clearly now. They had almost completely cleared the path, the bombers had a free run. 

Her heart was pounding, They were almost there.

Ahsoka looked up suddenly when four new huge Separatist ships came out of hyperspace, flanking her squad. She felt a thrill of horror, before barely dodging a laser and refocusing on her immediate surroundings. The frigates were looming around them, rapidly launching vulture droids.

Ahsoka evaluated the position of the new ships relative to her own. She somehow knew in her gut that her squadron could still make the bombing run if they maintained their vector, and could take out the enemy bridge. 

If they don’t break the blockade now, Master Obi-Wan couldn’t land his ground assault. The Twi’leks would keep dying. She had to do this. 

She clenched her jaw in determination, and focused on leading her squadron towards the battleship. 

“Commander, we’ve been caught in a trap!” Admiral Yularen’s pressed voice interrupted the steady stream of trooper chatter. 

Ahsoka frowned, hands twitching, darting over and around laser fire. Most of her focus was on flying, her mind only half on her mouth. “You’re overreacting, Admiral, I can get us through!” 

She knew their plan was so close to working, just a few more vulture droids and they would be there. Ahsoka changed channels, addressing her pilots. “Blue Squadron, stay the course.” 

“All set, Blue Leader!” came back through the com and she nodded. She did not pass on the Admiral’s warning, but doubled down. They were so close.

The Admiral’s voice came again, sounding a bit more stressed, “I’m ordering you to return to the ship! We’re going to need your help.”

“Ahsoka, it’s too risky!” Her Master’s voice was stressed too. “Get your pilots out of there!” 

She wrinkled her brow, but did not alter course. So close. She began to notice com chatter get more desperate, punctuated by occasional screams and silences. “Axe, are you still there?” She said, heart pounding. “Come on, boys! Stay in formation!” 

She couldn’t turn around now, could she? They were nearly…

“Ahsoka, we are in trouble,” Anakin stressed every word. “I order you back here!”

“Alright, alright!” She said, grinding her teeth and looking away from their target. She flipped channels again.  “Let’s go squad, fall back to the command ship.”

“Why are we retreating?” Axe sounded just as frustrated as she felt. 

“We’re not retreating, we’re following orders,” Ahsoka said, resentfully pulling on the steering, flipping around and leading the remaining squad back to the Resolute. Her stomach twisted at the holes in the formation. She’d lost fighters.

Ahsoka looked towards the cruisers and realized that the four Separatist frigates had launched a much larger number of vulture droids than she’d thought. The three Star Destroyers were under attack, and their way back was a lot messier than she’d realized. 

“Fighter squadron!” The Admiral’s voice was impatient. “Where are you?”

Ahsoka was flying as fast as she could, dodging around and narrowly missing a vulture droid that flew directly at her on a suicide pass. Her attention was split, again, and spoke defensively, “Cool your jets, Admiral. We’re almost there.” 

Ahsoka faintly heard him say, “It’s too late!” and then the com dropped. 

“Admiral? Come in!” She looked up and noticed the size of the fires on all three cruisers. One of the bridges of the Defender looked like it had been blown off completely. The Resolute looked like it was sliding sideways, one of the stabilizers must have been hit. She felt sick, and shouted into her com. “Admiral!”

A voice of an unidentified clone answered instead, “All fighters return! We are preparing for light speed!” 

“Um, right,” Ahsoka said, looking instinctively to her right at Axe’s fighter before snapping her head back forward to the controls, yanking the steering down. She’d just barely avoided getting rammed by another vulture droid— everything was too chaotic! 

She fixed her vector and said, “Axe, stand on it! We only have a few seconds to get on board.” 

“Don’t worry about me, Skipper.“ Axe replied confidently before saying, in a much less confident tone, “Ah, my power converters—” A long pause, filled with the desperate chatter of other troopers. Ahsoka couldn’t breathe. “—they’re failing!”

“Just stay with me, Axe!” Ahsoka called into her com, trying to move closer and to protect Axe’s fighter, let him shadow her back home. She noticed his tail too late.

“Overload, overload!” Axe screamed. “Ahh!”

“Axe!” Ahsoka cried, looking to her right. Axe’s fighter was a fiery ball, and as Ahsoka watched it was hit by a clean shot from a vulture droid, and exploded. “AXE!”

There was only silence on the com. She felt sick, and pressed her ship hard, leading the remaining two fighters out of the trap and back to the burning Resolute. They made it there as fast as they could. 

Ahsoka bit her lip, her sharp teeth digging in, the pain a useful distraction as they closed in. 

She looked sideways suddenly and watched in horror as the third cruiser, the Redeemer, fell to pieces. She could feel the shockwave of death in the Force, and could hear the many voices crying out in unison before the too-familiar silence followed. 

Oh Force, oh no.

Ahsoka wanted to cry.

“Close up the hanger doors,” she said as levelly as she could, flipping control back to Arseven. “We’re home.” 

Anakin barked, “Jump to lightspeed!” 

He frowned and took a deep, steadying breath. He still felt sick at the amount of death lingering in the Force around where the Redeemer had been, and he needed very badly to get away. Even the distance of their planned short hop out of the system would help. 

Anakin sighed with relief when the familiar streaks of hyperspace muted the disturbance in the Force. He handed over the bridge to Commander Appo and headed straight to the hanger. He could feel Ahsoka’s aching pain and sadness through their teaching bond. 

Anakin tried to do what his Master had always done for him, and attempted to shield her from feeling the extent of his frustration through their bond. He knew that he didn’t need to add to her already large emotional disturbance. 

Obi-Wan had taught him how to do this. He could do it. He breathed long, slow, deliberate breaths, remembering and strengthening the walls that belonged between him and Ahsoka, reinforcing their mutual instinctive privacy, closing himself off from her senses, hiding his true self behind his public self. 

It was a relief when her pain was muffled slightly. He hoped it worked a lot better on her end, though, because he knew that he was feeling emotions that he didn’t need to share. Specifically, anger at Ahsoka’s disobedience and hatred of the Separatists and their infinite resources and immense guilt over the more than nine thousand clones slaughtered in the last ten minutes on his orders. He took another deep breath and entered the hanger. 

Ahsoka was sitting on her starfigher’s wing, elbows on knees and head in hands. Her gaze was fixed on the ground, likely unable to look at the clones moving around her. Arseven was nearby, keeping her company. Anakin’s lips quirked in a small affectionate smile at the droid before his face fell again.

Anakin tried to keep his voice from carrying his anger. “Ahsoka, I am very disappointed in you.” Her head snapped up, eyes wide. He continued, “You not only disobeyed the Admiral, you disobeyed me.”

“I thought…” She looked at him pleadingly before looking back down. “I thought if I could knock out those battleships for Master Obi-Wan. So when he arrived, he could get through.” 

Anakin sighed. If there was one thing he understood, it was making mistakes while trying to impress Obi-Wan. 

He sat down next to her. “I know you meant well, Snips, but there’s often a bigger picture that you’re not aware of out there. First rule of war is to listen to your superiors and obey their instructions.” He was aware of the hypocrisy as he spoke, but it didn’t matter. She needed to learn this now.

Ahsoka looked up, brow wrinkled. “You get carried away sometimes, too, right?”

Anakin sighed and bumped shoulders, their pauldrons bouncing off each other. “That just means I understand what you’re going through.”

“But…” Ahsoka’s voice was small. “I failed.”

“It was a trap, Snips.” He wrapped an arm around her, squeezing once and letting go. She looked up at him, startled. Jedi didn’t really do hugs, he remembered suddenly. He’d spent too much time away from the Temple, too much time with the clones, too much time with Obi-Wan. He smiled apologetically before looking her seriously in the eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I lost so many…” She looked down again, face stricken. “So many of my pilots.”

“Take heart, little one,” Anakin said. She looked so sad, and her feelings were causing ripples in the Force strong enough to break his shields. He frowned and wrapped his arm around her again. She was stiff for a moment, and then slumped against him, letting him hold her. He said quietly, “That’s the reality of command.” 

She nodded slightly, her eyes squeezed closed tightly. Anakin saw but did not call attention to the tears that were leaking down her face. He clenched his jaw, looking at the ceiling himself. So many had died.

Rex’s toneless voice made Anakin snap to attention. “General, we’re approaching our staging area.” 

“Very good, Captain.” Anakin nodded sharply. Ahsoka had tensed at the sound of Rex’s voice. 

Rex continued in the same flat voice, and Ahsoka grew even more tense. “Master Windu is requesting a report on our progress.”

“Our progress, huh.” Anakin wanted to laugh in despair. He squeezed Ahsoka again, trying to get her to relax, and then let her go, standing up and rolling his shoulders. “We haven’t made any progress yet.”

“I’ll tell him,” Rex said, turning to go. 

“No, Rex.” Anakin cut him off. “I’ll tell him myself, thank you. As soon as we tend to our wounded, get me a damage report.”

Rex nodded. “Right away, sir.” He left quickly. 

Anakin watched him go for a moment, concerned. He turned back to the starfighter. “Now, Snips, I’m going to need you to…” He frowned at the empty wing. She had snuck away. 

Great. He didn’t have time to look for her, either. 

Anakin sighed, reluctantly heading towards the lifts to the bridge. He felt a pang of dread at the upcoming briefing. Windu would not appreciate any complication or delay, and Obi-Wan wouldn’t be helpful when Windu was around. Anakin didn’t have any good news to offer them at all. He had no idea how they were going to accomplish the same impossible task with half the number of forces. 

He had no idea how he was going to fix this mess. 

As expected, Windu told Anakin that he had one standard rotation to break the blockade or the ground invasion would have to be postponed, and that there were no available reinforcements for the 501st in the sector. Obi-Wan agreed, unfortunately. It was up to Anakin and Ahsoka.

Anakin knew that delaying the ground assault was simply not an option. The Twi’leks needed support as soon as possible. He had to break through. He only had his flagship, one additional damaged cruiser, and half his men. How?

Anakin bounced on the soles of his feet, looking around the bridge. He couldn’t think here. He needed to go repair some engines—that would let him process without distractions. He’d have to send Snips a message to meet him in the hangar. 

Obi-Wan had told him to give her time, but Anakin was afraid he didn’t have time to give.

THE NEGOTIATOR

The bridge of the Negotiator hummed around Cody, a specific pitch that he had grown unfortunately used to hearing. It was the low buzz of heavy gossip being passed. The mood was dark. The 212th had worked with the 501st many, many times, and there were many bonds of friendship between the two battalions. Many onboard had friends on the Redeemer. 

Cody did the math again. The Redeemer would have had 7,400 officers, pilots and enlisted crew. It would have carried an additional 2,000 troops. More than nine thousand dead in an instant. Plus a squadron of fighters from the Resolute. 

He frowned and refocused on the holomap of Ryloth, focusing on a possible droid fortification. General Kenobi was standing beside him, stroking his beard and looking pensive. They were trying to plan their ground assault on the Junxland Desert in coordination with the 187th, ignoring the unresolved question of the blockade for now. 

The General abruptly frowned and looked to his left. Cody sighed, and changed the view on the holomap.

“Anakin?” Kenobi’s voice was curious. “What’s happening?” He paused, watching something that Cody couldn’t see. “What?” 

Cody looked up sharply, and Kenobi made an appeasing gesture at him. “Nothing serious, Cody.”

“Yes, General,” Cody acknowledged, looking back at the holomap. He began to update it to match the last available information about the failing resistance movement’s position on the planet. 

“Bring me over.” Kenobi’s voice allowed no argument. Cody looked up and frowned, and the General nodded to him gravely. “Apologies, Cody. You have the bridge.”

“Yes, General,” Cody repeated, a little drier. 

Kenobi smiled, held out a hand, and disappeared. Cody frowned. It never got less uncanny to watch. He made a note of where the General had been standing; he always came back to the same place, and Cody had no desire to find out what would happen if someone was standing there.

“General Windu’s attempting to reach General Kenobi, sir.” A coms officer sounded concerned. “What do I tell him?” 

Cody looked up and frowned. “Tell him…” Cody was not a natural liar. He ran through a series of possible excuses, eliminating anything that would cause follow-up or sound too strange. He finally came up with, “Tell him that the General’s asleep.” 

Unlikely, but possible. Cody almost smiled. He wished his General would take rack time, same as the rest of them. Never happened, though. 

“I’ll… I’ll tell him, sir.” The trooper’s voice was nervous. 

Cody nodded at him, giving him permission to lie to a High General. It wasn’t the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last. Cody sighed and reoriented the holomap. 

Back to work. 

THE RESOLUTE

The first thing that Obi-Wan noticed was the rapidly darkening expression on Anakin’s face. Obi-Wan squeezed his hand gently, looking around the hanger of the Resolute to understand context. 

Ahsoka was pointing an accusatorial finger at Anakin and looking furious. Obi-Wan frowned. “What exactly is the problem?”

Ahsoka dropped her pointing hand and glared at Anakin, forcing him to explain. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and Anakin ground out, “Ahsoka doesn’t appreciate that we are going to proceed with our attack on the blockade.”

“We can’t!” Ahsoka’s voice was sharp. She looked at Obi-Wan, eyes pleading. “We’ve lost so many men.” 

Anakin groaned in frustration and said emphatically, “Like I just said, the Twi’leks on Ryloth are depending on us. We have to break the blockade. There is no alternative, Ahsoka. We have to get this done!”

Obi-Wan squeezed his hand again and sent him a wave of calm in the Force. Anakin’s shoulders dropped slightly. Obi-Wan heard him project, “She’s accusing me of being careless with the men’s lives, Master."

“Let her be angry, Anakin.” Obi-Wan projected back. “I’ll make sure she’s angry at the right people, not you."

Anakin’s shoulders dropped all the way. “Thank you, Master.”

Ahsoka looked between them, probably sensing that they were having a conversation in the Force, and glared. “How are we even going to do this, when last time we lost so many men?” Her voice was rising, her posture was tense and defensive. “We’re not getting any more support! We can’t just smash through that blockade! ” 

“We need to make do with the forces we have.” Anakin’s free hand fidgeted with a socket plug. “I just need to come up with a plan.”

Obi-Wan sighed.

“You don’t even have a plan?!” Ahsoka shouted. Troopers in the immediate area stopped, and Obi-Wan sent out a gentle Force suggestion to ignore what they’d heard and continue on their business. 

“Ahsoka, please keep your voice down.” Obi-Wan said gently. “We’re in a public place, be mindful of your surroundings.”

Ahsoka startled, looking around with wide eyes. “S-sorry, Master Kenobi.” 

“It’s alright, young one.” Obi-Wan smiled slightly. “I understand. This is hard, but you will find a way through.”

Anakin nodded, adding in a reassuring tone. “We will figure it out. Don’t worry, Snips.” 

Ahsoka’s eyes shifted back from Obi-Wan to Anakin and her posture stiffened again, suddenly pointing another accusatory finger. “No!” Her voice was loud, again. Obi-Wan blinked. “That’s what you said last time! Now everyone’s gone. My whole squadron!”  

Obi-Wan squeezed Anakin’s hand tightly, repressing his reaction. He kept his voice calm. “Yes, they did die, but it was not Anakin’s fault either, Ahsoka.” Ahsoka dropped her finger, face pained. Obi-Wan continued, “It was a trap set by an enemy with better access to reinforcements. You must understand that, and move on. The enemy killed your troops, you did not shoot them down.”

“But… it was my fault we didn’t come back faster. I could have saved more of them.” Ahsoka’s voice was trembling and speeding up. “I was there, I was so close, I felt Axe die and he was so afraid, Master Obi-Wan. He was so kind to me. He died! They all died! It was all my… my fault…” She trailed off in distress.

“No, it was not.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath, making absolutely sure that he wasn’t pressing her in the Force to accept his opinion, letting her work through this herself. “You must learn from this. You will never forget them, but you must move forward.” 

She nodded slowly and then her lip trembled and her eyes began filling with tears. “You said I’m supposed to learn, but what am I supposed to learn, Master Kenobi? I don’t understand.” 

Anakin met his eyes, and Obi-Wan nodded to him, encouraging him to be her Master. Anakin spoke quietly. “You must remember that, while it is important to obey orders generally, it is especially important in certain contexts, like the battle in space today.” Ahsoka nodded, and Anakin continued, as kindly as he could. “You did not have all the information, Ahsoka. You were doing your job well, but things changed outside of your control.”

“I should have turned back sooner.” She said weakly. “They died. They all died. I don’t know why I didn’t turn back. I was so sure I could do it.” 

“I understand, little one.” Anakin reassured her. "You probably could have completed the bombing run, but at the cost of your own life. That's an unacceptable level of risk." Obi-Wan repressed a smile at how much having a Padawan changed Anakin's tune on risk. "You almost made me choose between waiting for you and the lives of all the men on the Resolute. Don't make me choose like that, Ahsoka, please."

Ahsoka nodded seriously. Obi-Wan met Anakin’s eyes. Anakin looked haunted. He understood her guilt all too well, and Obi-Wan felt called to reassure him too. “It was a trap. The enemy intentionally hid the information you needed to make good decisions, in the hope that you’d expose yourself to exactly that risk. You did the best you could.” 

Anakin sent a wave of gratitude through the Force. Obi-Wan looked back at Ahsoka and deliberated for a long moment on how to say what he needed to say. “Don’t internalize this failure too deeply, young one. It’s not your fault that they died, and it doesn’t reflect on you personally or on your value as an individual.” Ahsoka’s wet eyes squeezed shut and she reopened them, looking grateful. Obi-Wan said cautiously, “You’ve been placed in a position that is setting you up to fail.” 

“What?” Ahsoka asked, confused. She wiped her eyes and frowned.

“You are an exceptional fighter and pilot, Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan said. “For your age, you are truly remarkable.” She looked extremely young to Obi-Wan then, incongruous with her armor. “You are, however, still very young, and deserved more training before being forced to war. I am very proud of you for surviving today.” His voice was gentle, and her coloring was much darker now. 

Obi-Wan placed a hand on her shoulder, slightly amazed at what the Force was allowing him to do. “Yoda asked for too much when he sent you here to be a soldier, it was unfair to you. No youngling should have such survivor’s guilt.” Ahsoka looked away and nodded slightly, visibly swallowing. “The Council is asking too much of us all.”

“The Council?” Ahsoka tilted her head to the side and frowned. “You’re on the Council.”

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. “Yes, I am. I am one of twelve, and my opinion rarely swings the votes.”

“What do you mean? The Council doesn’t agree with you? They don’t agree?” Ahsoka sounded baffled. 

Obi-Wan knew the feeling. Being raised in the Temple, the Council was considered infallible and wise. Younglings idolized them, and thought they were beyond reproach.

“No, Ahsoka. They— we —do not agree.” Obi-Wan said. “We do not have time for this discussion now. I need to get back to the Negotiator, and you and Anakin need to brainstorm a way through the blockade.” He smiled, as warmly as he could and spoke bracingly. “You are doing your best. You are learning. It is unrealistic to imagine you won’t make mistakes. Mistakes are how you will improve.” Ahsoka grimaced. Obi-Wan stressed, “You cannot fixate on being perfect.”

“They died though. My mistake made people die . They were so nice, such good people.”

“It was the Sith who killed them, not you.” Anakin said abruptly. Obi-Wan turned his head quickly, frowning. Anakin frowned back. “She should know.”

She wrinkled her brow. “What does that mean?” 

“There is a lot to explain, young one.” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “It is not the right time. We do not have time now, Padawan.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said, chastened.

Ahsoka shook her head, confused. “What?”

Obi-Wan spoke in a final manner. “All you need to learn from today is that your best is all you can do, Ahsoka. One moment at a time, each task as well done as you can.” He smiled and pulled away. “I recommend you listen to your Master, I spent a lot of time and effort training him. He has excellent instincts in battle and won’t lead you astray.” 

Anakin shot him a cocky grin. “Thank you, Master.”

Ahsoka looked at her feet. “I’m sorry, Skyguy. I should have listened to you. I shouldn’t have yelled at you either.”

“It’s alright, Snips. I really understand.” Anakin’s voice was encouraging. “What we’re asking you to do is hard. What we’ve all been asked to do is hard.”

Obi-Wan agreed. “I know you can do it, Ahsoka. You are a remarkably gifted Padawan.” 

Ahsoka’s posture straightened and she bowed formally, hands pressed together. “Thank you, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan bowed back, as best he could with Anakin holding one hand. Ahsoka let out a weak chuckle. “No problem at all, young one.” He squeezed Anakin’s hand tighter and caught his gaze. “Com me if there’s trouble?”

“Of course, Master.” Anakin rolled his eyes. “As always.”

“Thank you. May the Force be with you both.” Obi-Wan smiled at both of them, and dropped Anakin’s hand.

THE NEGOTIATOR

Between blinks, the General was back. 

“General Windu made contact, sir,” Cody said, not missing a beat. “He was told that you are asleep.”

Kenobi smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Cody.” 

“Do they have a plan to break the blockade, sir?”

“Not yet,” Kenobi said, observing some of Cody’s modifications of the holomap. “But Anakin’s about to do something so stupid he doesn’t want to admit it to me in advance. He had that look on his face. You know the one.”

“Yes, General.” Cody laughed once. “Rex imitates it when retelling stories. We’re all very familiar with Skywalker's Boom-Happy face.”

Kenobi laughed loudly, causing men all over the bridge to look over in surprise. “That’s an excellent name for it.” 

Cody felt a surge of warmth, and smiled slightly. “I’ll tell Rex you thought so, sir.”

“Good,” his General sighed and looked back at the map. “Very good. Will you contact Master Windu for me? I seem to have awoken from my slumber.”

“Of course, sir.”

THE RESOLUTE

“Commander on deck!”

“At ease.” The words did not sound natural coming out of her mouth. Ahsoka straightened her spine and walked towards the holomap. Rex and Appo had their helmets off, and both were watching her approach with blank faces. Ahsoka looked down.

“General Skywalker is contacting you from the Defender.” Rex spoke neutrally, neither encouraging nor discouraging.

Ahsoka nodded and the flickering holo of Anakin popped up across the table. He looked at her seriously, crossing his arms. “Alright, Ahsoka. We’re ready to get underway.”

“Master…” Ahsoka tried to keep emotion out of her voice, with moderate success. She was hyperaware of everyone listening and watching their exchange. “Are you sure you won't reconsider this?”

“This is the only way, trust me.” Anakin looked her over one final time. "You got this, Snips." He engaged his hyperdrive, his holo disappearing as his ship left the staging area.

There was a long, quiet moment amidst the sea of organized chaos that was the bridge. Ahsoka tried to keep it together. She felt like she'd been shoved onstage to act in a play without having been given a script. She wanted a script, very badly.

“Better fill us in, Commander.” Rex said, his voice was as steady as ever. 

“Right…” Her tone was weak, and she frowned, breathing deeply to remove the uncertainty from her voice. She tried again. “You know that Master Skywalker has evacuated the Defender and taken it back alone to engage the blockade.”

“Yes…” Rex sounded hesitant. “We have questions about that.”

She nodded, and began manipulating the holomap. “He is planning on piloting the Defender directly into their battleship and taking out the enemy commander.” The map showed the ships crashing and the resulting explosion.

“What?” Rex asked, staring blankly as the animation repeated itself. 

Ahsoka tried to explain Anakin’s reasoning as best she could. “The Defender is damaged already, and the enemy can't stop that ship from taking them out. He’s going to get in an escape pod and jettison right before impact.”

“What about the enemy fleet, sir?” Appo’s voice was incredulous. “There’s still the frigates.”

Ahsoka dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I know, and he’ll be defenseless in an escape pod. It’s up to us to engage the remaining fleet with the combined forces from the fighters evacuated from the Defender and those left…” She swallowed. “The fighters left from the Resolute.”

“I have to say…” Rex seemed to be searching for words. “This plan is questionable.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka agreed with him, but couldn’t do anything about it. “But with their general destroyed along with their battleship, the droid commanders will be in chaos.”

“Only temporarily.” Rex said it like he was breaking bad news. She already knew that, and nodded at him. “And there's still General Skywalker to find in all that mess.” 

She grimaced. “I know, but—”

Appo cut her off. He sounded frustrated. “In our first attack we had three fully armed cruisers, and we failed.” He made eye contact with Rex, ignoring her.

Rex sounded resigned. “I wish General Skywalker had discussed this plan with us. The odds are very much against us.”

“They always are, but—” Ahsoka said, mustering the courage to explain her solution. 

Appo cut her off again. “Yes, but normally we have General Skywalker to lead us, and—” Ahsoka looked sharply up at him, taken aback, her courage dropping instantly. He straightened. “I meant no offense, Commander.”

“None taken.” Ahsoka swallowed, looking back at the map. She already felt like an imposter. It was good to know they saw her as one too.

Appo appeared to clench his jaw and deigned to ask her the big question, the one she’d been expecting all along. “Sir, even if Skywalker is successful and destroys the battleship, how will we stand up to the combined firepower of the remaining frigates?”

Oh, you mean the most important part of the operation that Anakin left for me to figure out? Without his advice?  

She looked down, spinning the map and added the Resolute’s arrival to the projected combat. Their cruiser looked extremely outnumbered, flanked by massive Separatist frigates. 

“I thought about that and, well, I have an idea.” She squared her shoulders.

Rex gave her a penetrating look. “Go ahead, Commander.”

She looked back at the holomap, injecting strength into her voice. “If we took the Resolute and angled her hull against the incoming frigates, the bridge and hangar deck would be relatively safe from their attack.” She tilted the ship in the holo, and brought the enemy frigates closer. “We could draw them in and then use the bombers to outflank them." She showed the bombers curling around the Resolute and creating a kill box around the Separatist forces. "The bombers would be too fast, and they would be trapped.”

Appo said immediately, “I’m not sure about this, Commander.”

Ahsoka looked down, frustrated. He hadn’t even considered it. “I think…”

Rex spoke up. He didn’t sound as if he dismissed her outright, and she was very grateful. “If we were certain the shields would hold—”

Appo cut him off too. “Perhaps a different strategy. We need to take more time and plan.”

Ahsoka put both her hands down hard on the holotable and looked at Appo intently. “No!” The sound of her sharp voice made both troopers straighten. Her tone was fervent. “We don't have any more time! Master Skywalker needs me now!” She took a steadying breath. “He needs us now.”

There was a long moment of silence, and she stared at Appo hard. He still looked like he wanted to protest.

“The Commander is right.” The Admiral’s crisp voice came from behind her, and she startled and looked around. He had a bandaged head, but otherwise looked like himself. She smiled tentatively at him, and he gave her a small nod, turning to the officers. “I know this strategy is very bold, but these circumstances call for drastic measures.”

Ahsoka frowned as Appo instinctively deferred to the Admiral’s opinion. “Then, the strategy will work, sir?”

The Admiral looked down at her. “Well, will it?”

She squared her shoulders. “Yes, it will.” Ahsoka took a deep breath. “I’ll man the fighter squadron. Wait for my signal to begin our attack.”

Rex looked her over, and seemed to make up his mind. He gave her a hint of a smile. “Right, Commander.”

She smiled back gratefully and walked out with purpose. 

She could do this.

THE NEGOTIATOR

“We’re going to call it a Marg Sabl Maneuver.” Obi-Wan’s voice was extremely proud.

He'd come back to his quarters to dress and mentally prepare for his incipient invasion. Anakin and Ahsoka’s dramatic efforts had cleared the blockade, and now it was up to the 212th and the 187th to free Ryloth from the grip of the Techno Union. Obi-Wan was truly dreading what he would find on the surface. Ryloth was likely a mess, and the people were definitely starving. At least Ahsoka's surprising level of success gave him something positive for the day.

Darth Solon sounded confused. “Marg Sabl?”

Obi-Wan smiled, sitting heavily on the bed opposite the holocron. “It’s a Togrutan flower that opens its petals in a sunburst shape every morning.” He made a demonstrative gesture with his hands.

“Poetic,” Solon said dryly. 

“Well,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “She picked it, and she is fourteen.”

Solon tipped his head from side to side, and sounded speculative. “A fourteen-year-old who seems comfortable inventing battle tactics on the fly.”

“Yes, it was rather impressive, wasn’t it?” Obi-Wan said happily. “It shows real brilliance to invent a tactical maneuver at that age.”

Solon nodded thoughtfully, and offered a suggestion. “Ahsoka may very well be the perfect apprentice for you.”

“What?” Obi-Wan frowned at him, at a loss. “Anakin is my apprentice, you know that.”

“No,” Solon shook his head. “Anakin is your Midichlor and your right hand." Solon gave him a stern look that Obi-Wan resented immensely. "He is not suited to inherit an Empire, you know that.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. He couldn’t argue that particular point, so he wouldn’t try. “What are you talking about, Solon?”

“Do you know how my legacy ended up being seven clean power transfers? Hundreds of years of stability?”

Obi-Wan pulled out his comlink, checking that he had time for this conversation. He did. “Historians have many theories, Solon.”

Solon smirked and spoke like he was sharing a secret, instead of stating a fact. “After me, they were all true Jedi." Obi-Wan frowned and gave him a look that demanded explanation. Solon continued in the same tone. "They had no natural heirs, so they adopted.”

“Adoption?” Obi-Wan had heard that theory before, but had never given it much thought. “That’s the key to success?”

“Yes.” Solon sounded proud of himself. “You have to find a young person with talent and let them grow up observing you. Most monarchs make the mistake of assuming that their child would be the best. They are generally incorrect.”

“Hereditary monarchy is wrong,” Obi-Wan agreed wholeheartedly. 

“It’s not that it’s wrong, Sith’ari, but that it is not effective." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, and began to slide on his boots. "It is much better to find a youngling of thirteen or fourteen who has demonstrated the right capacities and disposition. Ahsoka sounds suitable. She will be a Jedi, and this is how you will be a Jedi to history. Also—” Obi-Wan crossed his arms, waiting for Solon to finish. “—Being a Togruta will be the perfect cosmetic change to the presentation of power when it comes time to make the transfer. People will feel like they are experiencing change when behind the front everything is the same.”

Obi-Wan was the one sounding speculative now. “What does being a Togruta have anything to do with it?”

“The Republic has been led by white men for several generations now. Valorum and Palpatine and then hopefully you, so by the time of power handover, a female Togruta will be fresh and inspirational, rather than more of the same.”

Obi-Wan felt a jolt of adrenaline. “How do you know the name Valorum? I’m fairly positive I’ve never mentioned that name to you.”

“You have.” Solon’s face was blank.

There was a long pause. Obi-Wan searched his memory and came up blank. Perhaps he’d forgotten?

“Very well,” Obi-Wan said slowly. His eyes lingered on Solon’s face, trying to read him. He still felt unsettled. “I suppose, yes, Ahsoka being a Togruta could be an asset.”

“Yes,” Solon said, voice becoming intent again. “She needs the loyalty of the legions, though, and a high level of name recognition or it won’t work.”

“I am scheduled with Anakin to do some publicity at the Chancellor’s request.” Obi-Wan frowned. “Now that you mention it, it is odd that Ahsoka was not invited too, as Anakin’s Padawan learner.”

“Perhaps the Chancellor simply prefers other white men to be the face of the leadership of the war.” Solon said. “It is not as if the Jedi Order is made up exclusively of white men.” 

“He’s probably xenobiophobic, I would not be surprised.” Obi-Wan sneered slightly. “He would be.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Solon was deliberative. “What exactly would you say is wrong with the Chancellor?”

“Nothing with a paper trail,” Obi-Wan mused. “He’s very fast to adapt to the polling data. I don’t believe that he believes in anything except power.”

“He is the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic,” Solon said blandly. “You don’t get to that position by ignoring power.”

Obi-Wan sighed. It was time for him to go. “I hate politics.” 

“Get used to it, Sith’ari. Even with absolute power, there will be politics.”

“Yes, but there will be less of it,” Obi-Wan said. “I could order people to shut up and leave the room.”

Solon smirked. “Yes, you can do that. It is very satisfying.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan smirked back. “I can’t wait.”

THE RESOLUTE

Early 21BBY

Ahsoka was about to begin painting her chest plate when her comlink chimed. She capped her paint and frowned at the comcode, unsure of who would be contacting her at this time of night. The comcode was one she recognized—almost. It was definitely coming from a Jedi, but it wasn’t any of her instructors or her friends. It definitely was not Barriss. Who else could it be?

She accepted the transmission, and felt a surge of alarm when the flickering holo of Master Yoda materialized in her bunk. 

Yoda smiled at her, his face friendly. “Ahsoka, very glad to see you, I am.” 

Ahsoka blinked and then bowed slightly. “Hello, Master Yoda.” She straightened and wrinkled her forehead slightly. “What can I do for you?”

Why was he comming her directly?

“Checking in with you, I am.” Yoda nodded decisively. “Sent you out, I did. Curious I am, if any problems, there are.”

Yoda wanted to know if she was having problems. 

Problems.

“I…” Ahsoka swallowed. She didn’t even know where to begin, and had no preparation at all for this conversation. Other than Master Obi-Wan’s warning, apparently. “It has been hard, Master Yoda.”

“Sorry I am to hear that, Padawan,” Yoda said, his voice empathetic. “Make things difficult, something has?” 

Difficult. 

“Y-yes, Master Yoda,” Ahsoka said. “I lost my squadron during my first command.” She looked at the bottle of blue paint and the picture of Axe’s helmet that she had pulled from the security holos. She hadn’t painted her armor yet, but she was almost ready. She knew how to honor his sacrifice. His pointless death…

“Yes, difficult, that is.” Yoda sounded sad. “But successful, you were. The blockade of Ryloth, broken it has been.”

“It was, yeah,” Ahsoka said, unwillingly. She shifted in her seat. “So many men died, though. It was really… It was really difficult.”

“Help you, your Master has?” Yoda asked, eyes curious. “Teach you, does he?”

“Yes, of course, Master Yoda.” Ahsoka nodded quickly, feeling a spike of defensiveness. “We haven’t had too much time between battles, but when we do he’s always there for me if I need help.”

“Good, that is.” Yoda sounded satisfied. “Capable, he is. Your classes, is he guiding? The Code, does he teach? Any trouble, have you had?”

Ahsoka tried to keep her alarm off her face. The voice of Master Obi-Wan floated up in her memory: ‘Our lives are in your hands.’ She’d told him then that it was unlikely that she would even speak to Yoda. It seems that Obi-Wan had been right, not her. Her mind flipped through all the things she could not say. She didn’t want to be removed back to the Temple! 

Master Yoda could never know how emotional her Master was, how little he seemed to meditate, how he never mentioned the Code except when prompted, how much he cared about everyone—let alone what she’d come to suspect about his… relationship… with Master Obi-Wan and their weird transportation-thingy. It wasn’t any of Master Yoda’s business, she decided all of a sudden. It was between them, nobody else.

“No trouble, Master Yoda,” Ahsoka said, hyperaware of how false her voice sounded. She tried to keep her tone level, keep it contained. “Master Skywalker has been great. He’s tried his hardest, but…” She collected her thoughts, remembering the question she had wanted to ask since the moment she’d arrived on Christophsis. “We’re pretty close to the same age. I was wondering… I was wondering why you chose me? Why you decided to send him a Padawan at all? I heard him say that he didn’t request one.”

“Needed help, he did.” Yoda explained with a mischievous smile that Ahsoka didn’t much like. “Need help, all Jedi do. Work together, we must, for the war to be won.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Ahsoka said slowly. “But…” She worried her lip, searching his expression. “I’m not actually sure I’m old enough to fight in a war, Master Yoda.”

Yoda chuckled. “Old enough! Certain of that you were, when the Temple, you left.”

“I didn’t…” Ahsoka looked down, swallowing. She’d been so naive. “I didn’t know what it would be like, Master Yoda.” She took a breath and looked back at the holo. “Are you sending out the rest of my clan?”

“Soon, yes,” Master Yoda said. “Away from the Temple, I have been called. Make assignments while absent, I can not.”

“I’m the only one you sent?” Ahsoka asked, something prickling down her spine. It felt like paranoia.

“Wrong, was I? Hmm?” Yoda seemed to narrow his eyes. “Return to Temple, think you need?”

“No,” Ahsoka spoke decisively. She could not imagine going back to life as a youngling, without Skyguy—it would be too awful. She was useful here. She was learning. “I am not asking to go back, Master Yoda. Thank you.”

“Contact me, you will, if more concerns, you have.” Yoda nodded slightly. “May the Force be with you.” 

“May the Force be with you too.” Ahsoka replied automatically, staring blankly at the place where Yoda had been for a long moment after he had disappeared. 

That hadn’t seemed normal.

RYLOTH

Cody was anxious to get on the ground. 

Ghost Company was leading the first wave of Republic forces landing on Ryloth, and their mission was to take the town of Nabat and disable the six proton cannons that had been installed. The problem with proton cannons is that they were each powerful enough to breach the shields of an Acclamator-class assault ship or completely destroy a LAAT/i Gunship with a single hit.

They were currently inside a LAAT/i, and Cody just wanted to be planetside.

“We need to remember why we're here.” General Kenobi was giving the troopers one final warning. He’d done this several times, but Cody acknowledged how important it was to do it again. “We came to aid the Twi'leks, not destroy their home. Cody?”

Cody stepped forward, giving everyone a stern look. “That means we'll be taking it back the hard way. Minimal destruction with blasters and droid poppers only. No rockets or detonators. Check your aim. Keep an eye out for the locals.” He looked hard at the back, keeping an eye on Boil. He was an excellent scout, but everyone knew his opinions. “Am I understood?”

His question was met by a resounding, “Sir, yes, sir!” 

“If we're here to free the tail-heads, the least they can do is get out of our way.” Boil’s grumble was audible over the sounds of other transports exploding in the sky, over the sound of their own engines. Cody rolled his eyes, and made for the back of the transport. He could almost feel Kenobi’s desire for him to give Boil a talking to specifically. 

“Is there a problem, trooper?” Cody asked in a quiet, intent tone—the one that seemed to get the most attention. He’d learned it from the General, and it really seemed to work. Boil snapped to attention. 

“No, sir!” 

“I heard the backchat, Boil!” Cody barked. “Will you follow orders?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Keep a lid on it, then.” He turned back to the front, repeating the point. “We don’t know what we’re going to find down there, but it’s not likely to be pretty, troopers. Let’s make the Twi’leks grateful we came, not make things worse.” 

Kenobi nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Cody.”

THE RESOLUTE / THE NEGOTIATOR

When Obi-Wan appeared suddenly in the middle of Anakin’s room, he was looking at his desk, yelling. 

“—bodies in the streets!”

Anakin jerked his head up sharply. “Master?”

Obi-Wan looked over, his mouth shutting with a click. His cheeks were flushed, his chest heaving. He fixed his posture and pushed his shoulders down, smoothing his sleep shirt reflexively. “Anakin, hello.”

“What’s going on?” Anakin asked warily, setting down his datapad. “Why are you yelling?”

“Just discussing the progress of the war with our dear friend Darth Solon.” Obi-Wan spat. Anakin raised his eyebrows at the venom in his tone. “Or lack thereof.” 

“What?” Anakin blinked, trying to understand. “Did something happen on Ryloth that wasn’t in the briefing?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said shortly. He stood still in the middle of the room, still vibrating with tension. “Plenty.”

Anakin evaluated his face with growing concern. “What happened, Master?” Obi-Wan didn’t answer directly. Anakin felt a jolt of panic when Obi-Wan just stared at the far wall for an extended pause. “Master?” 

“I’m glad Ahsoka never went planetside.” Obi-Wan’s tone was bleak. He sighed and began to pace. “I know plenty of the men are going to have nightmares. I might. It was bad, Anakin.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin said blankly. “That’s really terrible.”

“It was, yes.” Obi-Wan walked to the other side of the room and pivoted, walking back, his stride coiling with anxiety. Anakin watched his progress, his heart aching. “Droids don’t perceive or care about scent.” 

“And?” Anakin prompted. “What scent?”

Obi-Wan gave him a look. “Decomposition.”

“What?” Anakin was revolted.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked like a whip. Anakin instinctively straightened. “They were holding the Twi’leks in camps, not allowing them to return to bury the dead left behind during the roundup. Entire blocks of the town smell like death. Wild animals had eaten the bodies on the streets— mostly.” Obi-Wan looked ill. “Not completely, but mostly. The scent truly came from inside the houses. Waxer and Boil were helped by a small child who was starving, hiding in the drains. She’d been living amidst the bodies of her neighbors. She didn’t know where else to go. The gutkurrs would have killed her or the droids would have.”

“Force,” Anakin breathed out. “It’s all like that?”

“As far as I can tell. The population of the entire southern hemisphere had been concentrated into several large camps to be used as living shields around weapons and fortifications. It was one of the most evil things I’ve ever seen, but makes perfect sense from the perspective of a droid. They use our respect for sentient life against us. It made the job today much more difficult.”

“Master…” Anakin stood up slowly, drawing nearer. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Padawan.” Obi-Wan was still agitated. “This is unendurable. The war. I can’t…” He looked down, clenching his fists. Anakin reached out hesitantly, wrapping his arms around him, drawing him close. “The collateral damage, Anakin, it’s so much worse than I had possibly imagined.”

“There’s nothing you could have done to stop it, Master,” Anakin said seriously, holding him tight. “Ryloth was invaded months ago, the Twi’leks were rounded up weeks ago. We weren’t anywhere near. We had orders to be elsewhere.”

“Just following orders isn’t feeling like a sufficient excuse for our failures anymore. I should be able to do more, prevent more—I should have more control!” Obi-Wan still sounded angry. Anakin pulled him over towards his bed, sitting him down. Obi-Wan looked up at him, face pained. “I am trying to keep focused on what I can fix, but… Anakin… it was so bad. The Twi’leks deserved so much better. The galaxy deserves so much better.”

“Is there anything we can do about it?” Anakin asked, voice low. He stood between Obi-Wan’s spread legs, his hands coming to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, rubbing gently. “You said there wasn’t.”

“There isn’t,” Obi-Wan said, his forehead falling forward into Anakin’s chest. Anakin held him close as Obi-Wan spoke into his shirt. “I don’t know. Raising awareness of the atrocities wouldn’t do anything, Ryloth has been poverty-stricken and raided by slavers for generations and there’s been no public will to help. It would just be lost in the noise.”

Anakin wanted to throw something. He crushed the feeling down and stroked Obi-Wan’s head, scratching his scalp slightly, trying to relax him. He muttered in a resentful undertone, “I’ve never understood why people don’t care about the Twi’leks. There were a lot of Twi’lek slaves on Tatooine. Mostly female. Their life was horrible. Why don’t people care, Master?”

“They’re sexually appealing to many species in the galaxy,” Obi-Wan said darkly, relaxing into Anakin’s embrace. “Many consider them to be objects anyway, Anakin, and objects can be owned.”

“But they’re sentient,” Anakin complained. “That’s so unfair.”

Obi-Wan leaned back, looking up with resigned eyes. “You don’t have to convince me, Anakin.”

“I know, I’m just…” Anakin sighed, feeling the weight of the artificial gravity suddenly become too much to bear. It was all too much. He couldn’t be strong when Obi-Wan was weak, not right now, not today. He sank to his knees, resting a head on Obi-Wan’s thigh. “It makes me so angry I can’t see straight. It makes me so sad I want to give up and then that makes me angrier.” Obi-Wan looked down at him, absently petting him. “I’m so angry, Master.”

Obi-Wan nodded tightly, his tone was clipped. “It’s justified. You should be. I am too, Padawan.”

“What do we do?” Anakin asked, nuzzling his cheek against Obi-Wan’s leg. “Find the Sith?” He looked up hopefully. “Can I please kill Dooku?”

“Tempting.” Obi-Wan sighed, his hand cupping Anakin’s face, his thumb running thoughtfully along Anakin’s lips. “I’m not sure about Dooku. He’s a known problem. It could be worse, though I admit I’m not sure exactly how.”

“The Separatists all depend on him,” Anakin said, trying to suck the finger into his mouth. Obi-Wan smiled and pulled it away. Anakin pouted. “If he were gone, they’d fall apart.”

“That’s just what it looks like from the outside, Anakin,” Obi-Wan shrugged apologetically. Anakin held eye contact and began to slide his head further up Obi-Wan’s leg, moving his mouth closer to his cock. Obi-Wan neither encouraged nor dissuaded him, just watched his progress. “We have no way to know that for sure.”

“What?” Anakin frowned and pressed a chaste kiss against the shape of Obi-Wan’s cock in his pants. Obi-Wan wasn’t hard, and Anakin gave him another soft kiss and slid his head back. “He’s their leader.”

Obi-Wan sighed, running his hand through Anakin’s messy curls and gripping lightly. Anakin closed his eyes and pushed his head affectionately into Obi-Wan’s hand. “Grievous might actually be a worse option, Anakin, we simply don’t know. Dooku is the Sith Apprentice, not the Master. We can only guess at the Master’s perspective. They might even be hoping Dooku gets killed quickly.”

Anakin looked up in confusion. “Why would a Master want their Apprentice to die?” He shook his head, his hair pulling against Obi-Wan’s hold, and released a shaky breath. “That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Obi-Wan grabbed his hair more tightly, holding him still, and Anakin’s eyes slid closed again. That was better. He wanted Obi-Wan to take control back. He whined quietly and Obi-Wan said in a low tone, “The Sith work differently than the Jedi, Anakin. It’s a lot more… it’s a lot more competitive. There are only two, you know. If the Apprentice seems too powerful, the Master might find it necessary to put them down.”

Anakin laughed once, imagining Dooku in a kennel. “Like a really sick lothcat?” 

“Something like that,” Obi-Wan smiled slightly before his expression flattened. He roughly let go of Anakin, running a hand down his face, smoothing his beard and looking thoughtful. “I think that’s why Dooku was trying to recruit me on Geonosis. He knows he’s in danger. I can’t think of why else he told me what he did.”

“You want to ask him why more than you want him dead.” Anakin grumbled resentfully. He began sliding his head further up Obi-Wan’s leg again, moving his mouth closer to his cock. Obi-Wan looked down with a small smile.

“I do want to ask him,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “I need to ask him. He simply can’t die yet.”

“Fine,” Anakin said. “We’ll find him, ask him, and then kill him.” He began to suck lightly on the head of Obi-Wan’s cock through his soft pants, feeling Obi-Wan begin to stiffen under the attention. It made Anakin feel useful, and he sucked slightly harder.

“That works for me, Padawan mine.” Obi-Wan’s voice was warmer and he adjusted his hips minutely. “Thank you.” There was a long, quiet moment as Anakin nuzzled against Obi-Wan’s growing erection and sighed happily. 

Obi-Wan stroked Anakin’s head again, holding the back of his neck and pushing his mouth more firmly against his cock. His voice was slightly strained. “I’m so grateful for the bond sometimes… I had let myself get so worked up.” Obi-Wan sent his fondness through the Force, his mind encompassing and embracing. “I feel better now.”

Anakin felt like he was sinking into a warm bath, and shivered. His voice was slightly unsteady. “R-really?”

“Yes, darling.” Obi-Wan’s voice got quieter. He pulled up on Anakin’s neck, making him rise slightly, and kissed his forehead. “I need you.”

Anakin tipped his head back, studying the intent look on Obi-Wan’s face. His heart was racing, his face felt flushed. “You do?”

“I… I do.” Obi-Wan sounded slightly lost. “I can’t imagine fighting this war alone.”

“Well, that’s the good thing about the bond.” Anakin leaned closer and nudged Obi-Wan’s nose playfully with his own. “You don’t have to be. That’s what it felt like the first time you let me in, like I wasn’t alone anymore. Feeling alone had hurt so much, but I had mostly gotten used to it.” He sighed with satisfaction, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s stomach and hugging him tightly before letting go. “The bond makes me feel like a complete person.” 

Obi-Wan’s breathing hitched, his presence in the Force flickering slightly. Anakin frowned and pulled away, looking with concern at Obi-Wan’s unreadable expression. “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Obi-Wan asked, confused. “I’m not doing anything.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes, suspicion swelling in his gut. “You’re not telling the truth.”

“What?” Obi-Wan looked at him sharply, his brow furrowing. “What in the Force are you talking about?”

Anakin paused, searching his face for the expression he was so sure he’d seen, but it wasn’t there now. He shook his head once slowly. “Never mind, I thought…” He reached out tentatively with the bond, rubbing up against the edges of Obi-Wan’s mind. “I thought I saw something.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Obi-Wan sounded worried, reciprocating Anakin’s mental touch with a feeling of wary curiosity. “How could I have lied without speaking?”

“Never mind,” Anakin said again, suddenly blushing and looking down. He’d overreacted, and now felt extremely foolish about it. “I don’t know why I thought that.”

Obi-Wan looked unconvinced. “Alright.”

There was an almost awkward pause. Anakin fidgeted with his glove, trying to forget what he’d seen, what he’d felt. He looked back up, trying to communicate his apology with his eyes. “I’m sorry, Master.”

“It’s… it’s fine,” Obi-Wan sounded slightly defeated. “I’m not lying about needing you, dear one. I’m just… I’m distracted from today, and my thoughts are a mess. It really was despicable down there, Anakin.”

“I know… I know that,” Anakin said, hating how needy his voice sounded. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Come here,” Obi-Wan said, opening his arms. Anakin crawled up and sat in his lap, curling around him. Obi-Wan kissed him gently. “Thank you, Anakin.”

“Why are you thanking me?” Anakin said bashfully. “I didn’t do anything right.”

“You have, actually,” Obi-Wan said, his voice soft. He rearranged Anakin’s legs open slightly wider and pulled their hips together, holding him more securely on his lap. Anakin instinctively pressed their erections together, and Obi-Wan hummed in appreciation. “You’ve been very good lately, did you know that?”

“I have?” Anakin felt small. He rubbed his cheek against Obi-Wan’s beard and tucked his head into the crook of his neck. He took a long, slow breath, drinking in the familiar scent of Obi-Wan’s skin.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his voice a low rumble that Anakin more felt than heard. “You’ve done very well with Ahsoka, with the blockade, with me.” He tilted his head and kissed Anakin’s temple. “Even your darkness hasn’t been out of control, Anakin. You’ve been doing everything so well.”

Anakin whimpered and pulled his head up to study Obi-Wan’s genuine expression, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “I have, Master? I’ve been trying really hard.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Obi-Wan pulled his face close and kissed him with more intensity, licking between his lips and tasting his mouth. Anakin moaned and held on tighter when their tongues tangled together, and Obi-Wan pulled his head back. He smiled slowly, giving Anakin his warmest expression. 

Anakin eagerly raked his gaze over the visible signs of Obi-Wan’s approval, happily observing the crinkles by Obi-Wan’s eyes, the dimples in his cheeks, the affection in his gaze. Obi-Wan nodded at him, and his voice was a low, encouraging murmur. “You’ve been very obedient, very good. I’ve been proud of you, Padawan.”

“Thank you, thank you, Master,” Anakin gasped and felt like a weight fell from his shoulders. He moved against Obi-Wan, rolling his hips and groaning at the pleasure of the friction. He was already so hard. Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force swept through him and lingered, making him feel dizzy.

“In fact…” Obi-Wan’s hands moved to his ass, grabbing and holding him still. His voice was speculative. “I think you’ve more than earned a reward.”

“I have?” Anakin asked, incredulous. “What’s that mean?”

Obi-Wan smiled and kissed him softly for a moment before he sucked Anakin’s bottom lip into his mouth and bit down. The unexpected pain made Anakin moan loudly as his hips twitched. Obi-Wan smacked his ass hard and grabbed it again, holding it even tighter, keeping Anakin still as his kiss turned even more aggressive and consuming.

Obi-Wan eventually pulled back with a mischievous glint in his eye that made Anakin feel drunk with arousal. When Anakin made a questioning noise, Obi-Wan explained: “When you’re good, Padawan, I’ll give you what you want.”

“What do I want, Master?” Anakin asked curiously, eyes flicking between Obi-Wan’s. He tried to shift in Obi-Wan’s lap again, seeking stimulation, and he whined and pouted when Obi-Wan’s hands prevented his movement. 

“You would ask me that.” Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and shook his head slightly. “You want me to be very rough with you indeed, dear one.”

“I do?” Anakin asked breathily, knowing immediately that he did. “You dreamed it?”

“Rather frequently, yes…” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and then his hold on Anakin’s ass tightened even harder, the tips of his fingers digging into the muscle with bruising force. He moved Anakin’s hips against his own, setting a rough rhythm and groaning quietly at the pressure. 

Anakin’s eyes fluttered shut at the sound, and he relaxed happily into Obi-Wan’s tight grip, letting Obi-Wan move him however he wanted. He could feel Obi-Wan’s pleasure at his compliance wash through the bond—Obi-Wan was letting him feel how much he liked it too. 

“See?” Obi-Wan smirked at him. “You do.”

“Yes,” Anakin swallowed, his breathing unsteady. Obi-Wan was just as hard as he was. An incredible surge of arousal swept through Anakin at the very idea that Obi-Wan might want to hurt him just as much as Anakin wanted to be hurt, and Anakin shared his desire back over the bond as an invitation. “I… Yes, I do.” 

Obi-Wan gave him a satisfied look, his pupils blown. Anakin liked how smug he looked, how dangerous. He felt a rush of gratitude that someone as incredible as Obi-Wan had chosen him, chosen this—over the Council, over the Code. Obi-Wan always put him first; Obi-Wan always took care of him, and Anakin knew that he always would. “Thank you, Master.”

“My pleasure, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said with a dark chuckle, letting go of Anakin’s hips suddenly and giving him a light shove, pushing back off his lap and onto the floor. Anakin landed hard and looked up, huffing indignantly. Obi-Wan laughed. “Take off your clothes.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin grumbled, hastening to obey. 

“Good.” Obi-Wan stood up slowly; his movements were predatory. Anakin watched enthralled as Obi-Wan loomed over him, looking down at Anakin’s naked body with intent. “Now I want you to crawl to the ‘fresher and get in the shower.”

“Y-yes, Master,” Anakin said shakily. “Of course.” His breathing was rapid and shallow, he felt so hard and so warm. He moved to hands and knees as if in a daze, his body following instructions before he had time to think. He’d given control over to Obi-Wan completely. 

Obi-Wan sent him a wave of approval in the Force as Anakin happily crawled to the ‘fresher. “Very good, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, following him in. “Kneel in the shower and wait.”

“Yes, Master.” Anakin smiled as he settled into a kneeling position, looking up eagerly. “Now what?”

“Wait,” Obi-Wan repeated, rolling his eyes when Anakin made a sad, impatient noise. He waved a hand, using the Force to turn on the water and make it hot. Anakin spluttered in surprise and then scowled as the water poured unexpectedly over his head, making Obi-Wan laugh quietly and radiate glee in the Force.

Anakin sighed and tipped his head back, letting the hot water wash over his face—feeling all his confusing thoughts slide away. He pushed into the feeling of Obi-Wan in the Force, wrapping himself up in Obi-Wan’s mind, burrowing into the comfortable heat he found there too. Obi-Wan let him in, opening the bond wide, surrounding him with a heady feeling of appreciation. 

Anakin opened his eyes in surprise when he felt three of Obi-Wan’s fingers suddenly push between his lips. Obi-Wan had stripped and joined him in the shower, closing the door behind him. The jet of water was very hot, and the air was thick and growing clouded with steam. They held eye contact for a long moment, and then Obi-Wan curled his fingers and pulled Anakin up hard by the jaw. Anakin whined and scrambled to his feet.

Obi-Wan grabbed his wrists and pushed him back against the wall, holding his hands above his head, kissing him in the same aggressive, possessive way as before. Anakin melted, letting Obi-Wan hold him up, his attention split between Obi-Wan’s mouth moving on his and the unexpected contact of Obi-Wan’s cock rubbing deliberately against Anakin’s, the smooth glide of the hot water between their skin. 

Anakin moaned, he was so aroused, so electrified, so overwhelmed—completely lost in the heat and the proximity of Obi-Wan’s body. He kissed him back desperately, meeting Obi-Wan’s urgency with his own, his own hips pressing forward, seeking contact.

“Very good, Padawan,” Obi-Wan quietly, dropping one more kiss on his lips before stepping back and reaching for the body wash. 

Anakin took a deep breath. He made sure to stand steady on his feet, leaning against the wall and waiting for further instructions. “Now what, Master?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Stay still. Be patient.” 

Anakin nodded in agreement and watched curiously as Obi-Wan knelt, dispensing the gel onto a washcloth and beginning to gently wash his way up Anakin’s right leg. It felt very nice to be taken care of like that, he loved when Obi-Wan took care of him. He sighed happily.

Obi-Wan suddenly pinched him painfully on the calf—Anakin’s breath caught and he made an involuntary noise deep in his throat. The sharp, unexpected sensation made his hips twitch, his cock throbbing. Obi-Wan immediately pinched him again even harder in the same spot, and then massaged the abused skin with the washcloth, soothing him. “No moving, Padawan.”

“Y-yes, Master, I’m sorry,” Anakin said quickly, his chest was heaving. The sharp, surprising little jolts of pain had sent a burst of adrenaline into his system, and he felt even more aroused, his heart racing with exhilaration. “Please don’t stop, I won’t move again, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt your intention, darling, merely your commitment,” Obi-Wan said affectionately. “You’ll just get an extra one whenever you do, but presumably that is no hardship for you.” He slid the washcloth up behind Anakin’s knee, pinching him hard, and then pinching again when Anakin’s hips jerked, then rubbing and lathering the spot before moving on. 

“No… no hardship.” Anakin agreed, watching with fascination and dizzying arousal as Obi-Wan continued to pinch a line of marks up his inner thigh, gently swiping with the washcloth in between each sharp bite of pain. The alternation and differentiation between the sensations completely captivated his attention, the world narrowing to Obi-Wan’s rising progress up his leg, the hot water, the steam-thick air, the aching throb of his cock. 

Anakin was so incredibly hard, and Obi-Wan was ignoring the erection directly in front of his face. It was maddening, it was wonderful. Obi-Wan’s hands stopped at the apex of his inner thigh—just before reaching where Anakin wanted him most—and abruptly dropped to begin the process again from the bottom of the other leg. Anakin whined in frustration when he realized and Obi-Wan smirked up at him, taking his time.

The tip of Anakin’s cock was shiny with precome as well as water, now, and he was desperate to touch it, desperate to relieve the ache. He clenched his fists but did not move, knowing Obi-Wan wanted him to wait. It was almost torture, frustrating and perfect. He held himself as still as possible, trying to be good, gasping at Obi-Wan’s methodical alternation of sharp and soft.

Obi-Wan was moving up the inside of his left thigh now, dropping kisses between pinches, soothing with the washcloth, moving closer and closer to Anakin’s cock. Anakin held his breath, waiting and wanting, his eyes trying to pull Obi-Wan closer to his cock through the force of his gaze alone. 

Anakin wasn’t sure the last time he’d been this hard, this desperate for contact—this was something beyond his regular arousal, it was almost an agony of anticipation. He liked it, so, so much. Obi-Wan knew him so well.

Obi-Wan gave him a satisfied look, suddenly grabbing his hips, and spinning him around and pulling him backwards, making sure that Anakin’s hips were far enough from the wall to prevent relieving contact against his cock. Anakin whined loudly, “Oh, Master, please, can’t you, why can’t I—”

“Shush, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said fondly. “Hands flat on the wall.” 

Obi-Wan sent his approval in the Force when Anakin unthinkingly obeyed the command. He began swiping the washcloth between Anakin’s legs, massaging his ass with the soft fabric, gently building up suds that made Anakin shiver and twitch. Anakin whined and pressed back into the touch, swaying his back and spreading his legs slightly, rolling his hips to make it easier for Obi-Wan to reach. He almost growled as Obi-Wan immediately moved back, letting the water rinse him clean. 

Obi-Wan laughed and pressed a soft kiss against the sensitive skin of his entrance before moving back. “Almost there.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin grumbled, pressing his forehead hard against the wall in frustration. Obi-Wan playfully bit the curve of his ass, teeth digging into the soft flesh, and Anakin pushed into the sensation, presenting himself as much as he could, desperate for more contact. Obi-Wan bit him again, even harder, before pulling back. Anakin begged in the Force,“Please, more, Master, please…” 

Obi-Wan suddenly slapped his ass hard, and the wet smacking sound was very loud in the narrow stall. It stung sharply and Anakin’s hips jerked, his mind whiting out for a moment before he began fervently begging, “I will do anything, please, Master, please, do that again.” 

Obi-Wan laughed and obeyed twice more in rapid succession. Anakin felt like his ass was burning, it hurt so much, it felt so good. He panted, “Thank you, Master.”

“My pleasure, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, voice carrying a smile. He stood, dragging the washcloth slowly up Anakin’s spine before tossing it aside. “Did you like that?”

“Master—” Anakin whined incredulously, hips pressing back, “—yes, of course I did, why are you stopping?”

“I rather thought you would prefer for me to fuck you now, but I can go back…” Obi-Wan teased, leaning forward to bite his ear and giving his ass another hard smack. 

Anakin moaned and spoke quickly, “No, no, you were right, of course, you were right, please, Master!” He spread his legs further and arched his back. “I want that.”

“Hmm…” Obi-Wan sounded deliberative. Anakin felt the blunt head of his thick cock pressing against his tight hole, and felt as Obi-Wan teased him with the tip. “Very well.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Anakin projected in the Force, whimpering quietly and trying to keep breathing as Obi-Wan began to push himself inside. It was too much, too fast—it hurt, he wasn’t ready, there wasn’t lube, water wasn’t nearly enough. Obi-Wan grabbed his hips roughly and pressed harder, thrusting almost all the way in. Anakin groaned loudly as he took it, his forehead clunking back against the wall. “Ow…”

“Sorry, does that hurt?” Obi-Wan’s tone was unrepentant, his hips’ movement unceasing, sliding his cock in and out, faster and faster as Anakin got used to the stretch. Anakin shivered with pleasure as Obi-Wan’s attention in the Force swept through him, testing him, checking on him, sharing his own pleasure with him. Obi-Wan seemed to decide he was ready and mercilessly began to fuck him, making Anakin whine.

“Yes, Master, thank you,” Anakin said, his voice faint and shaky. Obi-Wan’s tight hold on his hips and the cool pressure of the wall on his forehead and palms were his only supports, Anakin felt weak and overwhelmed, the feeling of Obi-Wan’s thick cock moving fast in his body the only thing that was real. “It’s so good, it feels so good.” 

Obi-Wan hummed his approval, his hips speeding up even more, the sound of Anakin getting fucked growing louder and louder as his force increased. He smacked Anakin’s ass again, the other hand sliding up slowly from Anakin’s hip to Anakin’s neck, circling around his throat and holding him firmly. Anakin gasped with the realization that Obi-Wan would choke him while he fucked him, and nodded as much as he could against the wall. “Please, yes, please, Master.”

Obi-Wan’s grip tightened, squeezing on Anakin’s pulse point to restrict blood-flow rather than air. Anakin took a shaky breath, feeling already far too close to coming, Obi-Wan’s pleasure eddying in the Force, mixing with his. “You’re so precious to me, Anakin, giving yourself to me like this, thank you, dear boy, sweetheart, Padawan, I needed this, I need you.” Obi-Wan’s other hand came around and firmly stroked Anakin’s cock, his wrist twisting slightly for the perfect amount of squeeze on the head.

Anakin gasped and came into Obi-Wan's hand, his orgasm crashing over him in overwhelming pulses of pleasure, so lightheaded he almost blacked out, his eyes full of stars. He collapsed entirely against the wall, the force Obi-Wan’s fucking him pushing him against it, trapping him between. He felt so secure, so safe, so incandescently happy as he spilled come, moaning loudly as he finished. Obi-Wan sucked his fingers clean, murmuring appreciation. Anakin smiled happily, still starry-eyed and growing dizzier.

Obi-Wan finally let go of his throat, both his arms sliding under and around Anakin’s shoulders, curling to hold him locked in place and pulling Anakin tight against his chest, fucking him through it all. Obi-Wan’s rhythm grew less certain, thrusting harder and deeper, until at last Obi-Wan came too, biting down hard on Anakin’s shoulder and groaning with satisfaction as he spilled his come inside Anakin’s tight body.

For a long moment, they stayed perfectly still, catching their breath. Anakin was in absolutely no hurry at all to move, he felt so happy exactly where he was, so shaky and overstimulated and wrung out. It was quiet in his mind, a completeness and a certainty of Obi-Wan’s physical and mental embrace. Anakin felt owned and he felt important. It was everything he sought for, everything he needed. He breathed out a sigh of relief, his heart full of the trust that lay between them. It was perfect.

Obi-Wan tilted Anakin’s head to the side and kissed him gently before pulling away, beginning to clean them both for real. “Very good, Anakin.”

“Thank you, Master,” Anakin’s mouth barely shaped the words, and he sent the rest in the Force. “I need you too, more than you could ever need me, you’re everything to me, thank you so much.”

Obi-Wan kissed him again, and Anakin sighed. He felt complete.

THE NEGOTIATOR

Obi-Wan was standing alone in a large natural cave of reddish brown rock that had been ornately carved into a kind of temple. The golden light of sunset penetrated deep into the chamber and made the statues cast interesting shadows that seemed to move in the corner of his eye.

Obi-Wan walked in cautiously, moving further into the cave towards the series of rising steps leading to the wide altar made of unfamiliar black stone. He examined the large silver knife that had been buried blade down in the altar, trying to parse the twisting form of writing filigreed onto the blade. It evaded clear perception. 

As Obi-Wan drew closer, sounds of trickling water and whispers grew louder and louder but remained equally elusive and incomprehensible. There was no water, there were no people; it was desert-dry and solitary, but the sounds teased his hearing nonetheless. 

Obi-Wan stepped further out of the rays of the setting sun and into a growing gloom. He blinked and there were suddenly two figures behind the altar—Anakin had appeared there, holding the arm of someone draped in a hooded black cloak, their face obscured in shadow except for a leering grin. 

Anakin looked soaking wet, vicious and triumphant, his eyes shining gold. His lips curled into a snarl at the sight of Obi-Wan, opening his mouth to speak, and—

Obi-Wan woke up with a gasp. He frowned at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest. 

His comlink chimed; he ignored it. 

The vision from the dream repeated in his head, again and again. Anakin had looked so angry. Obi-Wan had never seen Anakin look at him like that before, never seen his golden eyes so clearly full of loathing. He had looked at Obi-Wan like he… like he hated him.

Obi-Wan felt a surge of dread, and closed his eyes. 

At least he’d seen the Sith Master, finally, proof that they did exist as something other than a phantom. To see Anakin at his side like that, though, was torture—and now Obi-Wan could never forget. He wasn’t sure what to do with the information that Anakin would defect. He couldn’t process it. It was too big, too painful, too unacceptable. Would everything he’d done be for nothing? 

He would not, could not let that happen. 

His comlink chimed, and he grit his teeth. He needed to focus on the present. He couldn’t do anything else now. 

Back to work.

FLORRUM

21BBY

“I still don't get it.”

“Get what?” Obi-Wan asked, cheerfully.

Anakin gestured vaguely to the chaos around them. “How a bunch of drunken pirates managed to catch Dooku when we couldn’t. We just spent months ripping the galaxy apart, and nothing.” He grumbled, playing with the glass in his hands, staring doubtfully at the green liquid inside.

It’s not as if Anakin had minded the last few months—far from it. The Council had allowed them to mostly spend them together, searching for Dooku as a team. They had grown so entangled in the Force, and so accustomed to each other’s presence. It was wonderful, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Pirates still shouldn’t have beaten them to the prize.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Maybe there's a lesson to be learned here.”

Anakin looked at him flatly. “I still don't get it, Master.”

“It's to remind us to be humble and never too proud to accept a gift when it comes our way.” Obi-Wan invented, speaking in a lofty, arrogant tone reminiscent of Anakin’s least favorite Jedi Elders. 

Anakin smirked and raised his glass. “Well, to unexpected gifts, then.”

“Hear, hear.” Obi-Wan tapped his against Anakin’s with a crooked smile, and drank.

Anakin smiled back, taking a sip and grimacing immediately. “Yuck!” He took another sip to confirm that it was terrible, and Obi-Wan laughed at him. The sound made his heart feel full. He pressed his knee against Obi-Wan’s beneath the table.

Obi-Wan returned the pressure, smiling at him gently. He drank the awful stuff with no visible sign of disgust. He’d always been much better at holding his liquor. Probably he just had more experience with drinking, but still. It was unfair. Anakin pouted slightly.

“What, Padawan?” Obi-Wan teased him. “I’ve had worse.”

“Gross, Master.” Anakin drank some more. “It’s really gross.”

Obi-Wan gave him a fond look. Anakin’s chest hurt slightly and took another sip. He knew their time together was running out, that they would be split up once Dooku was in custody. It was unimaginable to consider being forced to the other side of the galaxy from what felt like his center of gravity. 

Obi-Wan’s hand curled into his, squeezing tightly. He spoke over the bond. “It will be alright, Padawan. I will get us paired again as soon as I can.”

Anakin looked at him desperately before looking away. “I don’t want to go back to Coruscant without you, Master.”

Obi-Wan sighed, running his hand over his face, scratching his beard. “They will assign us out with other Jedi for a while. We knew it was coming eventually, but it will not be forever.”

Anakin felt slightly woozy, and looked back at his glass and frowned. “This… this is really strong.” His mouth felt clumsy. When Obi-Wan didn’t immediately reply, Anakin lifted his head and looked curiously over. Obi-Wan was frowning at his glass with a deeply offended look. His eyes were slightly glassy, and his face was growing flushed. 

“It really is strong, probably too strong. We are almost certainly in trouble.” Obi-Wan spoke extremely deliberately, and Anakin giggled. Obi-Wan already sounded drunk, which was bad, but Anakin couldn’t take it seriously. He laughed again when Obi-Wan huffed at him, crossing his arms in an exaggerated movement. 

“Yes, Master,” Anakin slurred happily. He went to take another sip and Obi-Wan pushed him in the shoulder, making him spill on himself. “Hey!”

“No more, young one, we’re done,” Obi-Wan’s speech was slow, as if he was sounding out each syllable individually. 

Anakin stood abruptly, swaying slightly. He slurred, “I don’t feel good. I wanna use the ‘fresher, Master, tell me where it is, please.”

Obi-Wan grabbed a handful of his sleeve and stood up too. His feet were placed wide apart for balance, and Anakin giggled again. Obi-Wan stuck out his tongue at him, and Anakin leaned forward, drawn almost magnetically to kiss him.

Obi-Wan put up a hand, catching his forward momentum. “We… we are in public!” He sounded completely scandalized, and it was the cutest thing Anakin thought he’d ever heard.

“Oh, fine, fine, fine,” Anakin grumbled. He stumbled forward when Obi-Wan removed his hand and started to pull him towards the hallway. 

Anakin was only vaguely aware of the chaos around them now, the noise and movement blurring together into a hazy background. All he could see was Obi-Wan, all he could feel was Obi-Wan’s grip on his arm.

“I think,” Obi-Wan said slowly, looking left and right and frowning at the empty corridor. “I think it’s this way. This way.” He pulled Anakin around a dark corner and pushed him against the wall, kissing him with all the desperation that Anakin felt. 

Anakin melted, kissing him back. Nothing else mattered except the sweet pressure of Obi-Wan’s mouth on his, the soft slide of his lips, the scratch of his beard, the warmth of his tongue licking between his lips. Anakin whined, reaching out and pulling him close.

It felt like everything was spinning, and he pulled back with a gasp. Obi-Wan moved to kiss his neck. “I really feel… Master, I feel dizzy.”

Obi-Wan nodded, his nose and mouth nuzzling Anakin’s neck. Anakin held him tightly, and they both slid down the wall, landing in an ungraceful pile. Anakin giggled and Obi-Wan murmured, “We’re in trouble, sweetheart.”

“Yeah… What else is new.” 

Obi-Wan woke up slowly and then all at once. He lifted his head and shook it once, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. His eyes landed on Anakin’s prone body, bound with a length of blue electrified cord around his waist and wrists. He felt a surge of anxiety and tried to move closer. He immediately noticed he was tied too, and frowned in frustration, shuffling with bound hands.

He checked Anakin’s pulse, turning him on to his back to look at his face. Obi-Wan exhaled loudly in relief when he discovered Anakin was fine, if still drugged. He pushed Anakin’s messy hair back off his forehead affectionately, thinking of how they got into this mess in the first place. His own recollections still felt very foggy from the presumably drugged drink.

“It would be better for the galaxy if you let me kill him now.”

“What?” Obi-Wan looked over sharply, only then realizing that Count Dooku was in the same cell, attached by the same kind of cord to the far wall. 

Dooku sneered. “You should kill him now, and do the galaxy a favor.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, bemused. “Why in the Force would I do that?”

Dooku raised a hand and sent a wave of Force compulsion that Obi-Wan’s foggy mind didn’t have the reflex to block. He sucked in a gasp before he realized it was merely pushing Anakin further into sleep. He glared at Dooku, and Dooku gave him an evaluating stare.

“It’s only a matter of time until Sidious calls him home.”

“Home?” Obi-Wan echoed, sitting down heavily in the shadowy cell and staring at Dooku with wary eyes.

“Yes,” Dooku said, tone dry. He tapped his hand on the floor. “He isn’t yours to keep, you should know this. Sidious is letting you manage him out of convenience. He isn’t ready.”

“Letting me? He’s not ready for what?” Obi-Wan asked, heart racing. “Sidious isn’t ready? Or Anakin isn’t?”

“Both, I presume.” Dooku shrugged slightly. “I know Sidious is waiting for the war to end to show he’s holding pure sabacc in his hand.”

“What are you talking about, Tyranus?” Obi-Wan studied his face. Dooku betrayed no surprise at his use of his Sith name. “What does your Master want with Anakin?”

Dooku gave him a flat look. “You know what he wants.”

“I assure you, I do not,” Obi-Wan replied waspishly. 

“Interesting,” Dooku said. He tipped his head to the side and looked smug. “What have you been doing with that holocron if not talking to it? You certainly haven’t given it to the Temple Archives.”

It felt like the floor fell out beneath Obi-Wan, his stomach plummeting down and away. He felt sick, he felt foolish, he felt angry. He lifted every single shield around his mind in the Force he could muster, relaxed every single muscle in his body. He would give away nothing. His voice came out curious, but distant. “What holocron?”

Dooku gave him an amused look, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. “Darth Solon, obviously.”

“Did you give him to me?” Obi-Wan said, hands trembling slightly. He shook his head again, trying to purge the remnants of the drug. He needed to be thinking as clearly as possible. “Was he yours all along?”

“Not all along,” Dooku said precisely. “Sidious loaned him to me years ago, when I first became his Apprentice. He took him back eventually. When he requested that Anakin be tested, the holocron went to Yavin 4.”

“Tested?” Obi-Wan growled. The magnitude of the implications hit him, and he swallowed down a swell of hot anger.

“Yes, tested,” Dooku nodded, and his lip curled. “He confirmed to Sidious what he is when he heard the summoning and entered the temple. Though,” Dooku’s eyes studied Obi-Wan. “Sidious expected you to immediately turn the holocron over to the Temple, and has been rather curious as to its location ever since. We both know he’s wrong to be curious, don’t we?”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked shortly. “What do you mean?”

“I could help you with the eye problem, you know. It’s remarkable you haven’t already been caught out. Almost impressive, Master Kenobi.” Dooku sounded teasing, and the familiarity in the tone felt like sandpaper against Obi-Wan’s spine.

“Eye problem?” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “I would greatly appreciate more clarity, Dooku.”

“Your eyes are flashing gold,” Dooku smiled wolfishly. “Are you very angry with me? You are such a fool.”

Obi-Wan felt a surge of loathing, the pool of darkness in his Force signature roiling with desire to snap Dooku’s neck. He didn’t doubt it was pushing through to his face. “Why is it foolish to despise you? After everything you’ve done to the galaxy? To me?”

Dooku explained as if Obi-Wan were a child. “I’m the only one standing between your precious Padawan and Sidious. I do you a favor by merely existing. Without me, the boy would be lost to you. You’re welcome.”

Obi-Wan licked his lips and tried to process. “What do you want, Dooku?”

“I want you to stop being a fool!” Dooku’s voice spiked in volume. “You need to be more careful with Skywalker, and stop sending him to Sidious!”

“What?” Obi-Wan glared. “What are you talking about?”

“Fool,” Dooku repeated in a dismissive undertone. “How you’ve managed to remain blind to one of the most obvious facts about reality astonishes and disappoints me. I had hoped you would be a worthy ally.”

“I will not be your ally,” Obi-Wan snarled back. “Ever. Do you have any idea the magnitude of what you’ve done to the lives of billions of innocent sentients? Did you even deign to visit Ryloth to see the fruits of your labors? It’s only been a year, Darth Tyranus, and already the suffering is unforgivably heinous. I knew this would happen when you decided to start a galactic civil war.” His voice was getting louder and louder as his control grew tenuous. He cut himself off and swallowed.

Dooku was smiling indulgently as he ranted. “The Sith Master is Chancellor Palpatine, Obi-Wan.”

What? No…

Obi-Wan’s eyes unfocused, his heart stopped, and his ears rang. He asked weakly, “…What?”

“Last time we met, you said I couldn’t possibly need an army to defeat a single Sith.” Dooku raised an eyebrow at him. “You are wrong, I did and I do. Sidious has the entire Republic at his disposal for self preservation.”

“Palpatine?” Obi-Wan repeated shakily. His eyes snapped back to Anakin’s face, his heart rushing back to life with a torrent of adrenaline. Fear, he realized. It was fear, what he was feeling. He suddenly felt wide awake, his mind painfully clear. “The Chancellor is a Sith? All along? He’s been hiding in plain sight?” 

“Yes,” Dooku confirmed. “I personally wouldn’t call a Sith ruling the galaxy hiding, but call it what you will. Not all Sith have their faces tattooed red, Obi-Wan.” He gave him an almost pitying look. “Obviously.”

“How?” Obi-Wan glared fiercely back. “How could he possibly hide from the entire Jedi Council?”

“As my old Master would say,” Dooku’s eyes glinted malevolently. “Difficult to see, the dark side is. Palpatine is tremendously powerful with the dark side. More powerful than you can even begin to fathom.”

Obi-Wan was quiet, his thoughts racing almost too fast to be coherent. He was struggling to reconcile the information with his previous understanding of reality. A question slipped out, betraying his priorities: “He wants Anakin?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan,” Dooku confirmed again, his tone long-suffering. He cut off Obi-Wan’s next question. “I would ask Solon why, it’s really his story to tell.”

Obi-Wan stared at the wall, trying to catch up. “Why are you telling me this? Why did you tell me his name in the first place? Are you trying to kill your Master? Is he trying to kill you?” 

“Yes to both, I suppose,” Dooku chuckled. “It is the way of the Sith. But that is not the reason I told you, no.”

“Why, then?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling defeated. The scope of the problem was too big, bigger than he’d ever imagined. The Sith had truly, really already won. “Why me?”

Dooku leaned his head back against the wall, sounding wistful. “Qui-Gon told me things about you, back when you were still very young. Told me about your powers, your dreams.”

“He did?” Obi-Wan frowned, trying to remember seeing Dooku or hearing Qui-Gon ever mention him. “I didn’t realize you were still communicating at that point.”

“We were,” Dooku nodded. “He wanted my advice about how to train you. Not that he took it, but at least he asked.” His voice grew more arrogant. “As it is my duty to not only destroy the Sith but to rebuild it, better and stronger than before, you have always been on my list of candidates to join my new Order. You have the natural talent.”

“Wait, stop,” Obi-Wan said, holding up his hands in a warding-off gesture. “Your duty? Where did you get that idea?” 

Dooku smiled. “Qui-Gon, actually.”

“What?” Obi-Wan spat. “No, that is an obscene lie, Dooku.”

“He was always so fond of old legends, old stories. I’m sure you remember.” Obi-Wan nodded unwillingly. He loathed sharing precious memories with someone he hated quite this much. “One day he told me a very interesting story, one that I never forgot, about the Sith’ari.”

“What?” Obi-Wan used every shred of willpower available to keep his face blank. It was incredibly surreal to hear that word come out of a mouth that was not Solon’s. 

“The Sith have their own prophecy of the Chosen One, but it is different from the Jedi’s,” Dooku said in a lecturing tone, reciting grandly: “The Sith’ari will be free of limits. The Sith’ari will lead the Sith and destroy them. The Sith’ari will raise the Sith from death, and make them stronger than before.”

“Qui-Gon told you all that?” Obi-Wan asked, feeling numb. 

“He did not tell me the full text of the prophecy, no. I don’t believe he knew it. He only reported that the Sith also had a prophecy of the Chosen One, and the title. Darth Solon told me the rest.”

“So…” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Just because a holocron of dubious integrity calls you the Sith’ari, you decide it’s your responsibility to go along with it?”

“No,” Dooku frowned at him. “Solon never called me the Sith’ari, that’s not how it works.”

“It’s… it’s not?” Obi-Wan asked blankly. Then why…

“That is the passivity of a Jedi. A Sith takes ownership, a Sith decides their own fate. I am the Sith’ari, I know it, and I will accomplish my goals with or without your aid.” Dooku sneered again. “I suppose it’s not a surprise Solon didn’t tell you any of this, if this is your attitude.”

“Solon has… Solon has not been very forthcoming, apparently.” Obi-Wan’s tone was resentful, and he coughed. “What do you want from me?”

Dooku gave him a long, level look. “Stop trying to kill me. Help me destroy Sidious. Surely you recognize that the enemy of your enemy is your best ally.”

“In the very short term, I suppose,” Obi-Wan drawled. He considered it despite himself. “It seems as if you’re just postponing our fight to the death.”

Dooku shrugged. “If you like, yes.”

“Let me think about it,” Obi-Wan said, turning back to look at Anakin’s peaceful resting face. The cell was very quiet for an extended pause. He was desperate to understand how this information changed his plans—and it did change everything. 

The Sith was already clearing the board, he’d known that. This was something else. Palpatine was already in position to take over. There would be no power vacuum after the war unless Palpatine died, and Palpatine would be harder to kill than Obi-Wan could ever have predicted.

Darth kriffing Solon must have taught him everything he knows. 

Obi-Wan wanted very badly to have the holocron in front of him, and a turbohammer. He wanted to see it smashed into so many pieces that even the Force could never reassemble it. He wanted to turn it into dust, and eject the dust into the burning heart of a star.

“You cannot tell Skywalker about Palpatine,” Dooku abruptly warned. “He cannot know.”

Obi-Wan shot him a displeased frown. “Why?”

“Sidious will kill every single Jedi when he finds out that you know, and your boy—” Dooku’s tone was immeasurably snide. “Reports everything.” 

“He does, doesn’t he,” Obi-Wan said slowly. “He always has.” Obi-Wan sighed, hating himself. “Palpatine must have been grooming him for this since he was a child. I wish...” He cut himself off. He hadn’t had much of a choice over the years about Anakin’s visits, and had always tried to dissuade or distract but to no avail. The Chancellor was always too present, too powerful.

He should have known.

“What do you want from me?” Obi-Wan asked again, looking intently at Dooku. The world had pivoted on its axis. Somehow Dooku had managed to accomplish the previously inconceivable. One sentence had toppled everything, and all of Obi-Wan’s inhibitions had been overwhelmed with one fact. One threat to Anakin. “How can I help?”

Dooku smiled, and it looked almost genuine. “Do you know the Sith Code?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said dismissively. “What of it?”

“Repeat it for me.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow and recited tonelessly. “Peace is a lie, there is only passion; through passion I gain strength; through strength I gain power; through power I gain victory; through victory my chains are broken.” He swallowed and looked back at Anakin. “The Force shall free me.”

“Good,” Dooku nodded. “I hereby name you Darth Mendax.”

“What?” Obi-Wan recoiled, giving him a horrified look. “You can’t, I’m not...”

“Did you not kill Darth Maul?” Dooku asked in a knowing tone.

“Who? What?” Obi-Wan shook his head, head still ringing with the name Darth Mendax. It felt too right, like the knowledge had always been there, waiting for him to acknowledge it. He must have heard it a million times in his dreams. If it really was his destiny, why had he forgotten?

“The Zabrak on Naboo, the Sith Apprentice who killed Qui-Gon. I heard you cut him in half,” Dooku said with a dark gleam in his eyes. “A fact that I appreciated greatly at the time, and still appreciate now.”

“I… I did that, yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. He felt nauseated. Mendax.

“You’ve killed a Sith in a duel, so a Sith you are, by ancient rite.” Dooku smiled. “You earned your title by combat, Lord Mendax. I’ve merely formalized it now.”

“Phenomenal.” Obi-Wan’s voice was bone dry. 

“Now, about the eyes—” Dooku began, his voice almost excited. Obi-Wan looked at him, really seeing him, for perhaps the first time. This was Qui-Gon’s Master, another lost Jedi wandering in the dark. Just like him. He had no moral high ground anymore. At least he’d killed a few million fewer sentients. 

So far. A voice in his head whispered. Could it really only be a matter of time?

Obi-Wan swallowed and readjusted his posture into a more traditional cross-legged learning posture and rested his chin on his hands. He was literally tied down. He might as well learn now. Dooku asked, “Are you familiar with the basic theory of Force illusions?”

Obi-Wan nodded. His eyes fell back on Anakin, watching his chest softly rise and fall. He looked so peaceful. It no longer surprised Obi-Wan that he would defect. Not at all.

Palpatine must die. Soon.

THE NEGOTIATOR

Obi-Wan slammed the door to his cabin, and lifted the holocron with the Force as he activated it. He spun it precariously over the edge of the desk to hover at eye height in the center of the room, fully prepared to crush it. 

“What’s this?” Solon sounded wary.

“I finally had a chance to talk alone with Dooku.” Obi-Wan said, eyes narrowed. “Explain to me why I shouldn’t drop you out of the airlock, Darth Solon. You’ve been lying to me the entire time!” He had drawn nearer as he’d been talking, and they were almost eye to eye. “Lying about the most important information I needed!” 

He was feeling as incandescent with anger at that moment as he had been since he’d learned the history of the holocron, and he eyed the flickering figure dangerously. 

Solon crossed his arms. “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Lies of omission are lies!” Obi-Wan shouted. “I do it all the time! I know the game, Solon! Tell me the whole truth. Not the truth from a certain point of view!”

“Why should I do that?” Solon snapped back at him. “It was never the right time. It still isn’t right!”

Obi-Wan’s voice was menacing. “Are you working for Sidious? Are you trying to help the Sith?”

“Yes, of course I’m trying to help the Sith! I am a Sith, but I am not trying to help the Baneite Sith! I’m trying to end the Rule of Two! You don’t understand what’s at stake.” Solon’s tone had grown very defensive. “Darth Sidious is trying to make himself immortal, and that cannot be allowed to happen.”

“Immortal?” Obi-Wan swallowed, shoulders lowering fractionally. “Palpatine… How?”

“Well,” Solon looked slightly pleased now. Obi-Wan glared and his smile dropped as he hastened to explain. “I let him draw some wrong conclusions from incomplete information, and now he believes he knows the formula for a Sith binding to tie himself to life. The spell does something different than he thinks.” 

“Why can’t I just kill Sidious now, and prevent him casting it at all?” Obi-Wan asked slowly. “Death seems like a good solution to potential immortality. He needs to die before he takes Anakin away.”

“No!” Solon furrowed his brow. “You need to let him live. He already has clones waiting for his consciousness, among other contingency plans, and he is as close to practically immortal as he can get, so trying to kill him would be a futile distraction for now.” He took a breath. “Much more importantly—Sidious is seeking something else, and it is important that he finds it. I need him to make the attempt and fail, as his failure will allow you to break the curse.”

“The curse.” Obi-Wan moved back and sat down heavily. The room was very quiet. It was absurd. Obi-Wan didn’t feel like he knew what direction was up anymore. “Are you joking?”

“Unfortunately not,” Solon said, voice austere.

“What kind of curse? What does this have to do with Anakin? Why does he need him?” Obi-Wan asked doubtfully. Solon was silent, but looked vaguely guilty. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Dooku said that it was your story to tell, so tell me, Solon, or I swear I really will drop you out the airlock.”

“My holocron was not sitting untouched in that temple for four thousand years.” Solon sounded almost apologetic. “It was taken, and I have been spoken with many times over the years.”

“Handing out the wrong information to the wrong people at the wrong time?” Obi-Wan scoffed and sighed. “I should have guessed.”

“I thought…” Solon pursed his lips in frustration. “Darth Bane should not have survived casting it. It should have killed him. I told him the formula so that he would die. He did not die, and the entire galaxy is suffering, Obi-Wan.”

“Darth Mendax, actually,” Obi-Wan snarled at him. “You should address me properly, after everything that you’ve done to me.”

Solon shrugged, unsurprised and unconcerned. “Fine, Lord Mendax.”

“Let’s be perfectly clear.” Obi-Wan’s tone was dripping with disdain. “Darth Bane did some kind of Sith magic and cursed the entire galaxy a thousand years ago, and it’s all your fault.”

Solon nodded once. “Yes.”

“And you have subsequently been in the Line of Bane ever since, trying to manipulate them into breaking this… curse?”

“No,” Solon shook his head sadly. “I couldn’t. It’s not possible to break without a Midichlor.”

“So you’ve been waiting for Anakin?” Obi-Wan glared. “What does Anakin have to do with it?”

“Everything.” Solon sighed. “Everything, Sith’ari.”

“Sith’ari…” Obi-Wan stared at him. “Dooku said that you never called him the Sith’ari, is that true?”

“No, I didn’t,” Solon agreed immediately. “He is not the Sith’ari. He just believes that he is, and it was useful for him to do so." 

“Useful,” Obi-Wan sneered. “You’re just a holocron! You should not be able to exercise this much kriffing judgment!”

“I’m not a Jedi data cube.” Solon’s voice was full of derision. “I have more agency than you realize.” Obi-Wan glared at him and Solon glared back. ”You’re welcome for the army, by the way. Without me, Dooku would never have built them for you.”

“You mean the clones? They are hardly for me.”

“Dooku manipulated their control chips to be loyal to the Sith’ari first. Do you see? Do you see why it was so useful for him to believe he was building an army for himself?” Solon sounded almost proud of himself. “You’re welcome.” 

“Control chips?” Obi-Wan asked coolly. He wasn’t sure if there was any hideous fact that could surprise him at this point. 

Solon shrugged. “Control chips.”

“We’re certainly going to come back to that.” Obi-Wan began to pace. “However, you have failed so far to explain the nature of this curse.”

“What you must understand is that as opposed to light that radiates, darkness consolidates.” Solon’s voice was increasingly grave. “As people gain power over others, they hoard that power all to themselves. The dark is supposed to be as equally distributed as the light. That’s balance. As long as there are sentients who seek to live—who feel fear, anger, and desire—and use that energy to save and propagate themselves, there should be concentrations of darkness in each.”

Obi-Wan gave him a pointed look. “What’s the problem, then?”

Solon pursed his lips. “The problem is that by nature the dark can be stolen through bondage. Slavery harvests emotions and leaves the slaves hopeless and in shadow. They feed the energy of their darkness—of their agency—to their master. In this way, darkness tends to concentrate up the hierarchy, and the master grows in strength.”

“That sounds bad,” Obi-Wan allowed. It sounded like what he did to Anakin.

“Yes.” Solon nodded, unaware of Obi-Wan’s blooming internal crisis. “At a certain point, darkness must be redistributed back to those who need it or else the cycle ends with complete subjugation and total passivity. That is unacceptable. Sith grow the darkness by collecting it, but when they get too strong, the Sith’ari redistributes that darkness out, hopefully giving the galaxy a larger share each cycle. More hope. More will-to-live.” Solon sighed. “Or else the galaxy decays.”

“This has happened before?” Obi-Wan asked. It was satisfying to finally be getting some answers for why nobody was revolting against the corrupt institutions that oppressed them—if everyone was sapped of their vital energy. Nobody had any emotions to use to defend themselves, no righteous indignation. It was all stolen, extracted. That, at least, made so much sense. 

“It is the natural consequence of the ideology of the Sith and consistent with the inherent laws of the Force, so yes.” Solon said in a clipped tone. “The core of the prophecy is tens of thousands of years old, I do not know exactly. It is cyclical, it repeats and applies over and over. As a Sith prophecy, it is never complete, always contested. I suspect it is actually an ancient spell, but again,” Solon frowned. “I do not know.” 

“What does this have to do with Darth Bane? With Anakin? With me?” Obi-Wan asked insistently.

“Bane…” Solon sighed. “He used the death of a Midichlor to create a siphon on a galactic scale, leeching and concentrating the darkness. His followers have been hoarding power for a thousand years, letting everyone else persist with mere shadows as they grew in strength. Only a Midichlor can undo it by killing Sidious in the same way. Direct reversal.”

“So Anakin must kill Palpatine in a special way, is that it?” Obi-Wan said. 

“In a special place, yes,” Solon nodded. “The darkness must then be redistributed. That is your task, Sith’ari.”

“Is there...” Obi-Wan swallowed. “Will there be a silver knife?”

Solon smiled widely. “Yes, there will be. You’ve seen it then.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’ve only seen that Anakin will be there with Sidious, and that he will hate me. I can’t let that happen.”

“You must,” Solon said seriously. “You must trust that you are the true Sith’ari.”

“How many people have you told or encouraged to believe they are this… Chosen One?” Obi-Wan asked hopelessly. “Why should that title mean anything to me, when you seem to use it so liberally?”

“You are the Sith’ari. You’ve had the dreams, you’ve followed their commands. You’ve partaken of the flesh of the Midichlor, made yourself one in the Force. He already belongs to you. It doesn’t matter whether you believe it or not, although it would certainly be expedient for you to do so.” Solon seemed to make up his mind. “I know how to convince you that I am sincere.” 

The black pyramid of the holocron beneath the figure abruptly split open, revealing an inner chamber bathed in a red light. Obi-Wan frowned at the unexpected glow. “This is the lightsaber crystal of Darth Solon. I’ve carried it for thousands of years. It is yours.”

“What?” Obi-Wan drew nearer, and was overwhelmed in the Force by the intensity of emotions radiating from the small red shard. It screamed with indignation, even after all that time. His hand reached out without thinking, but he pulled it back before touching it. “You cannot give this to me.”

“Why not, Darth Mendax?” Solon gave him a dry look. “Or are you going to bleed your crystal yourself?”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “I don’t need or want a red blade.” 

“You will,” Solon said, closing the pyramid. “It’s here for you, when you do.”

“Fantastic.” Obi-Wan sat back on his bed and ran his hands through his hair anxiously.

“Master?” Anakin sounded worried. Obi-Wan looked to his left and realized that the bond had connected. “What’s fantastic?”

“Nothing, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said quietly. Anakin frowned and slid his arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, squeezing him gently. Obi-Wan made eye contact with Solon. “Everything’s fine.” 

CORUSCANT

“Sometimes I worry that Obi-Wan isn’t telling me something important.” Anakin sighed. “I wish he would trust me more.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Palpatine said, tone reassuring. He offered Anakin a platter full of different tea cakes. “You have such a strong bond, it would be such an egregious breach of trust for him to lie to you. No… That’s too unlikely.”

“I don’t think he’s lying, really.” Anakin shrugged, shifting on the couch and staring glumly at the red walls of the Chancellor’s office. “I’m being paranoid I guess. He’s just been acting funny, not talking to me as much as he used to.” He missed Obi-Wan, so much, already…

“It’s probably nothing important. Master Kenobi is much too honest, he would know better than to lie to you by omitting things. I’m sure he cares about you too much to do that.”

Anakin wrinkled his nose slightly. “I guess he doesn’t have to tell me everything all the time.”

“I think you’re just been spending too much time together, it might make it difficult to keep straight what he has and has not told you.” Palpatine laughed gently. “He does keep you on a very short leash.”

Anakin blushed. “No, he doesn’t. We just work well together.”

“Yes, you do,” Palpatine’s voice was very kind. “The HoloNet has been eating up all the footage of these last few months. Quite a series of daring adventures you two have been on. Did you see what they’re calling you?”

“It’s ‘the Team’ thing again, isn’t it?” Anakin laughed. “I don’t know where they come up with this stuff.”

Palpatine smiled encouragingly. “They’re calling you The Hero With No Fear.”  

“That’s stupid,” Anakin said sheepishly. “I have plenty of fear.”

“You accomplish such incredible things, though. Things that absolutely nobody else could do. It is very impressive, my boy.”

Anakin felt a glow of pride. “Thank you, Chancellor.”

Palpatine nodded agreeably. “I’ve seen that they’re calling Master Kenobi ‘the Negotiator.’ He’s very good at getting what he wants, and telling people what they need to hear, isn’t he?”

“He’s good at talking to people,” Anakin nodded. He took a bite of a new kind of cake and raised his eyebrows. “I like these new ones a lot!”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Palpatine said cheerfully. “Try these, the chocolate is especially fine.” 

“Obi-Wan can make anybody happy,” Anakin said, happily taking a bite. “I remember on Florrum even Dooku didn’t look like he wanted to kill him as much as usual. Once I woke up he got angry again pretty fast though. I don’t think Dooku likes me very much.” He smiled in satisfaction at that fact.

Palpatine’s hands paused before smoothly finishing bringing his teacup to his lips and setting it down delicately. “Count Dooku and Master Kenobi were talking on Florrum? How strange. I don’t remember reading anything about that in the briefing.”

Anakin shrugged. “I don’t think they said anything important. Obi-Wan would have told me, I think.”

“I’m sure,” Palpatine said quietly. “I’m sure he would have told you. It would be treason, otherwise.”

Anakin looked up with a frown. “What? Obi-Wan isn’t a traitor.”

Palpatine’s face cleared, and he smiled kindly. “I’m sure you’re right. Master Kenobi is a great Jedi Master. There’s no way that he would ever betray you and the Republic to talk illicitly with Dooku.”

“No...” Anakin’s forehead creased for a moment. “He wouldn’t do that. Obi-Wan hates Dooku.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it!” Palpatine’s laugh made Anakin smile. “That would be quite a lie, wouldn’t it.”

“Yes,” Anakin’s smile slipped away and he played with his teacup. “It would be.”

He missed Obi-Wan, so much, already, always. He craved him, ached for him, needed him. Obi-Wan was so far away, and Anakin felt like he was falling apart, his moods were so unstable. It almost hurt…

"More tea?" Palpatine offered him the teapot, and Anakin shook his head.

"No, thank you." He smiled gratefully. At least he always had the Chancellor. "I'm good."

CORUSCANT

Late 21BBY

Obi-Wan shifted to rest his ankle on his knee, resettling on his Council chair. The war had been an ongoing parade of horrors these last few months—months he’d spent passing by Anakin like ships in the night. Without the bond, they would have not have had the chance to see each other outside of battle since they were split up after Florrum. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t terribly upset that Dooku had escaped from Hondo, but everyone else had been frustrated. Obi-Wan knew that Dooku actually being captured and brought to visit his Master would have just ended up with Dooku’s escape or death. As attractive as the latter prospect was, Obi-Wan could count the number of allies he had against Palpatine on one hand. 

One finger. Kriffing Dooku. 

Darth Solon definitely did not count. Obi-Wan had not felt particularly charitable towards the holocron since the revelations of just how much he had kept secret. Solon continued to teach him about the dark side, and attempted to guide him—Obi-Wan begrudgingly took his instruction, for lack of better available alternatives. 

Dooku’s advice on Florrum had helped him maintain his cover, disguising his Force signature and his eyes. He had no way to be sure, but he suspected that these days they would be burning gold half the time—he was always so angry. His strength in the dark side continued to grow, a vast and expanding pool of energy that remained inexplicably hidden. It baffled him that nobody could sense anything at all behind his containing shields. 

Somehow Obi-Wan could keep his mind totally to himself, think and feel things entirely without the recognition of anyone in the room. Even Yoda appeared not to be able to sense his feelings, beyond what he projected. It was inexplicable. 

They were all satisfied with appearances, all hypocrites.

Obi-Wan realized that he had been pretending so long that nobody around seemed to even remember who he was as a youngling, how eager to fight, how eager to defend. How angry it was possible for him to get, if he knew he was in the right. Even Yoda, whose age made it seem as though he should remember Obi-Wan’s youth as if it were yesterday—even he was caught in the illusion.

Everyone saw the perfect Jedi.

It made him want to laugh, made him want to scream. The other Jedi on the Council were so docile, and so afraid. The Sith were literally giving them marching orders and they refused to figure out how and why. They had agreed to be Generals for the Sith’s Clone Army. It was just as indefensible that day as it had been on the first. 

More than a year and a half into the war, and Obi-Wan was still stunned by the choices of the Council. What kind of true Jedi would agree to use sentients who had been born and trained for the slaughter? Why didn’t they ask if the war was even truly necessary? Why didn’t they insist on drafting an army the normal way, asking for recruits, training them? Was it because it was easier to use slaves? 

The clones were far better men than anyone sitting in this room…

The Council was currently listening to a difficult briefing from Master Tiin, who had been discussing the lack of progress in his ongoing siege, the growing number of casualties. Obi-Wan ground his teeth, stroking his beard and looking intentionally neutral and pensive.

The room went oddly quiet, Obi-Wan heard his heartbeat, his breath. He sighed, made sure that his posture was fixed, his face smooth. It was extremely inconvenient when the bond connected around other Jedi, let alone the entirety of the Council—but he still felt a swell of excitement, of relief. He very much wanted to see Anakin. His eyes began to scan the room. 

Suddenly, there he was—Anakin was lying prone, bleeding, crushed, on the floor of the Council chamber. His pain and anxiety flooded through Obi-Wan’s mind, a wave of suffering that made Obi-Wan’s heart stop and then begin to pound. Nobody else could see Anakin, of course. Only Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan swallowed and repressed his reaction. His façade did not crack, but it was the closest he’d ever yet come to breaking.

Anakin was very injured. He and Master Windu had been sent to Vanqor to look for survivors and investigate the crash site of the Endurance. There was no reason that he should be this hurt. Obi-Wan took a controlled breath. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t indicate that he was aware of Anakin’s presence at all. 

Obi-Wan urgently pushed a question through the Force, acknowledging the connection.

Anakin began to mumble. “I really wish I could ask Obi-Wan about Jango Fett.” That meant that he was not alone, good. Master Windu must still be alive. “That was awful to see, the crew being massacred like that. I don’t understand why Fett’s helmet had a bomb inside it.” He paused as if listening to a response, and shifted minutely. “I hope Arfour can get the message to Coruscant, how we need assis—” He groaned and flinched. Then he disappeared. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. 

He had found out early on that if he focused, he could control the mechanism on his comlink to sound a chime, which was extremely useful for appearing to have a source for information that he should not have. He used that power, and his com lit up. He glanced around apologetically, and pretended to pull up a text communication on his datapad.

He sat up straight. “Excuse me, Master Tiin, I apologize. I have urgent news, may I interrupt?” The severe Iktotchi nodded his head and fell silent. “Master Windu and Anakin are in trouble on Vanqor. Anakin’s R4 unit managed to send me a distress message—they are in desperate need of aid.” He looked around at the Councilors at the Temple and the holos from the other Generals spread across the galaxy. “Do we have anyone available to send immediately? Is there anyone nearby? I cannot, the Negotiator is grounded for repairs.”

Master Plo Koon’s deep, grave voice came from across the room. “My men and I are ready to depart, we already planned to head in that direction en route to Felucia. Padawan Tano has been accompanying me in her Master’s absence, and part of my path was to reunite the two. We will depart at once, with the permission of the Council.” He was already beginning to stand, and Obi-Wan’s heart warmed. He could always count on Plo to come through. He relaxed slightly. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t sense Anakin’s pain from this distance without an active bond; Vanqor was on the other side of the galaxy. It was truly remarkable that the Force had even allowed him to see and hear him—he was grateful for that. It was almost enough. He couldn’t feel it, but intellectually he knew that Anakin was still in a great deal of danger, and he wasn’t there to help. 

He wished he could initiate the link at will, check and see how Anakin was doing—but no, the Force decided when his essentially continual wish to be near his Padawan was granted, not him. It was a unique kind of torture. 

Master Tiin resumed speaking, and Obi-Wan sighed and refocused. There was nothing he could do now, except wait. 

THE TRIUMPHANT

Ahsoka was nervous. She was beginning to feel pricklings in her training bond with Skyguy as they grew nearer to Vanqor. He was in a lot of pain, and extremely frustrated. She shifted in her seat. They were less than an hour away, and she couldn’t help but worry about what they would find.  

After watching her anxiously pace—a habit she’d picked up from Master Obi-Wan, and couldn’t seem to shake—Comet, Sinker, and Boost had abruptly decided that it was a great time for her to learn how to play Sabacc. They’d roped Wolffe into playing dealer, and over time a large and enthusiastic audience had clustered around in the officer’s mess of Plo’s flagship, cheering and jeering.

It was an excellent distraction, and Ahsoka was very grateful.

Sabacc itself was mind-bendingly complicated, and extremely fun. The sabacc pot at the middle of the table was filled with little scraps of flimsiplast with IOUs written on them—escapes from chore rotations, hot water shower rations, extra desserts, the little things that made life a little more tolerable during the war. 

Ahsoka looked around the table fondly. She had spent the last few weeks travelling and fighting with the Wolfpack, and they considered her an honorary pup. Master Plo didn’t have a Padawan learner of his own, and so at the beginning it had been a bit of an adjustment for Commander Wolffe and the rest of the troopers to have her around. Happily, she’d discovered that it was much easier to prove herself to Wolffe and boys than it had been to stand up to Appo above Ryloth. 

It was almost uncanny how quickly rumors could spread around the Vode, and by the time Ahsoka came aboard the Triumphant, all the troopers seemed to know exactly who she was and what she was capable of accomplishing. It made her feel strong, and important—especially when they trusted her and listened respectfully to her opinion on tactics. 

The troopers really loved when she told stories about her adventures with Skyguy and Master Obi-Wan. It took her a few days to notice the posters that lined the troopers’ bunks—there were many of Master Secura, for obvious reasons, but she’d discovered that for some reason there were also an unusual number of pictures of Master Obi-Wan. 

She wasn’t sure exactly why, he was a funny looking human with hair all over his face, but the clones seemed to really like him. There were posters of the Team everywhere, and lots of the posters included her face too. It was pretty surreal. She remembered Master Obi-Wan insisting she come with them to public relations functions and photoshoots, but hadn’t really thought through the consequences of it all. 

She was famous. It was so bizarre to see her face plastered on walls and all over the HoloNet. There was one candid of Master Obi-Wan teaching her how to fight jar’kai that had somehow gotten spread around, and she thought they both looked extremely badass. It made her smile every time she saw it. 

She just wished she got a cool nickname like Hero With No Fear or the Negotiator. She was always just Ahsoka. Obi-Wan had insisted on that too, weirdly. It was like he wanted everyone in the galaxy to know her name. She thought it was sweet, if unnecessary.

“General Kenobi said that one thing the galaxy has for sure is plenty of room. He said there’s no reason the Vode shouldn’t have a planet or a moon of their own.”

She looked up and tried to see who was speaking. That was another thing she had noticed: the amount of time the troopers spent talking about Master Obi-Wan and what he had promised to do for them when the war was over. It made Ahsoka both proud and extremely sad—proud that she was Obi-Wan’s grandpadawan, and sad that the clones had so little to look forward to otherwise. 

Comet shrugged, speaking over his shoulder while watching as Wolffe laid down his second card face down. “Cody told Wolffe that Kenobi said he’d give us Kamino if he could, but that it wasn’t up to him.” 

Wolffe nodded confirmation, and the unfamiliar trooper complained, “Don’t want that shabla puddle anyway. I want somewhere I could farm.”

“You can farm in a dome!” Boost said cheerfully, reaching for his cards. “I’ve heard it’s easier anyway.”

“Easy-schmeasy,” Comet said. “Since when is easy what we go for?”

“I guess you’re right,” Boost shrugged. He reached to draw a card, made a face, and dropped his cards with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve bombed out, boys.”

Ahsoka gave him an excited smirk, and laid down her cards. “And I have pure sabacc!” 

Chaos exploded around her, and she grinned. Hands patted her back, and she enthusiastically swept together the hand pot, gleefully counting up her winnings. At that particular moment, there was nowhere she’d rather be. 

If only Skyguy were here, and Master Obi-Wan too. If only the war were over. If only everyone were okay. If only.

THE TRIUMPHANT / CORUSCANT

Anakin cracked his neck as he left the shower in his borrowed cabin, looking at his reflection in the ‘fresher mirror with a tired expression. His eyes flicked over the deep bruise on his chest and shoulder, rolling it slightly to feel the pull and ache of the injured joint. 

He frowned, wincing slightly as he pulled on a soft sleep shirt and shorts, and began to clean his teeth resentfully. 

His shoulder wasn’t healing fast enough, and his ability to fight was going to be compromised. They needed him on Felucia, and soon. Master Plo was giving him a lift to rendezvous with the Resolute and the 501st, and he didn’t have much more time to heal. 

Anakin couldn’t wait to see Rex and the rest of Torrent Company. He missed them, and worried about their safety when he was away. He didn’t trust anyone except Obi-Wan and Snips to take care of his men properly. It had been just one more stressor during a very stressful few weeks. 

He had very much not enjoyed being sent out on assignment with Windu. It had been like being back at the Temple under continual surveillance, with his own personal Code enforcer. It had been punishment because the Council hadn’t liked how he’d been training Ahsoka, he was relatively certain. 

She’d been called back to the Temple for insubordination last time they were on Felucia, grounded on Coruscant, and then sent out with Master Plo instead of him. He hated watching her be punished, but at least Plo was the best possible person for her to be sent with, other than Obi-Wan of course. 

Anakin was proud that he seemed to have made it through the mission with Windu without raising too much suspicion—Obi-Wan had taken and hidden his darkness a few times, as many times as he’d been able. It always helped Anakin so much to have Obi-Wan’s assistance at staying in control. 

Anakin was not good at keeping himself together when he was alone. He hated being alone. Getting Snips back was excellent, getting Rex back would be great too, but the real problem remained the same. These days he was always a million miles away from Obi-Wan. No matter how hard Obi-Wan tried, they kept being assigned apart.

He moved out of the ‘fresher and smiled gratefully at his bed. The Force was being kind to him. Obi-Wan was there asleep, curled on his side with his back to Anakin. The room was full of the steady, gentle sound of his breathing.

Anakin felt warm and relieved, and he moved quietly across the room. He didn’t know if it was the middle of the night wherever Obi-Wan was, or if it was closer to morning, and didn’t want to disturb him. His Master never got enough sleep. 

He stood over the bed for a long moment, looking down fondly and trying to engrave all the details of Obi-Wan’s resting form into his memory. Obi-Wan’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, and his face was relaxed. He looked so peaceful. He was so handsome. 

Anakin lifted the covers and slid gently in behind him, curling around his body. He couldn’t help but press his face against the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck, breathing in deeply to catch the sweet scent of Obi-Wan’s hair and his skin. 

His self-perception in the Force began to blur as he synchronized their breathing, falling into the bond. It gave him the greatest possible feeling of release—it was the only thing that made him feel whole.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice was thick and drowsy, and he shifted slightly to allow Anakin’s arms to come around and hold him closer. Anakin smiled and pressed a kiss against the top of his spine. 

“Go back to sleep, Master.”

Obi-Wan made a sad noise and shook his head slightly as if to clear it. Anakin squeezed him, and Obi-Wan sighed, relaxing again into his embrace. His voice was full of regret. “I think it’s morning here, I need to get up.” 

He made no effort to move, and his presence in the Force wrapped itself around Anakin’s. They breathed together for a long moment of quiet, savoring the too-rare proximity of their bodies, the too-precious mingling of their Force bond. 

Anakin felt an overwhelming wave of Obi-Wan’s concern and attention in the Force, pulling away his fear and anger, his sadness and pain. He let out a shaky breath and let Obi-Wan in completely, giving him everything. Obi-Wan shifted in his arms, turning to face him.

Anakin leaned forward to kiss him, but Obi-Wan pulled his face back. “I need to use the ‘fresher, Padawan, my breath is terrible.”

Anakin scowled at him, and kissed his cheek, rubbing his face against his beard affectionately. “Fine, Master.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, his voice still sleepy. “You need to release me in order for me to move, dearest.” 

Anakin’s arms reflexively tightened at the endearment, and Obi-Wan snorted, wiggling a bit and pulling free and then looking worriedly at Anakin’s black and blue shoulder. Anakin sighed and watched him move away. “Do you have to?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, stretching his shoulders and cracking his back. His face crumpled slightly with disgust. “I’m going to be sent out with Vos today to Nal Hutta. I need to have my head on straight to be able to handle that much nonsense, Padawan.” He shuffled towards the ‘fresher, giving Anakin an apologetic look.

Anakin sighed and reached for his datapad, determined to stay up and see if the bond would hold steady until Obi-Wan was done in the shower. He pulled up maps and fresh reports from Felucia and began studying the terrain, steadily making notes. A lot had changed since he’d been on the ground there. 

Time seemed to stretch and linger as he worked, a quiet eddy of a moment in the rushing torrent of life that was the war.

“Oh, good,” Obi-Wan’s much more alert voice finally floated over from the ‘fresher door. “You’re still here.” 

Anakin looked up and smirked, appreciating the view. Obi-Wan had a towel wrapped low around his hips, and his hair was still damp. Anakin scanned his body reflexively for injuries, despite knowing there couldn’t possibly be new ones—it had become a habit to check and make sure Obi-Wan was fine, and he was.

Anakin nodded in satisfaction. “The Force isn’t being a sleemo, yeah.” His eyes followed Obi-Wan’s progress across the room, smiling as he drew near. 

Obi-Wan stole the datapad out of his hand and tossed it aside. Anakin made a falsely offended noise and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, laying back down next to him. He pressed a kiss against Anakin’s lips, lingering for a long moment to deepen it. Anakin licked into his mouth, and could taste Obi-Wan’s toothpaste. He moaned quietly and Obi-Wan pulled back with a considering look. 

“I was thinking in the shower, Anakin.”

“Oh, yeah?” Anakin raised an eyebrow, his hand sneaking toward Obi-Wan’s towel. “What about, Master?”

“Not that, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said with a knowing look, gently smacking his hand. Anakin pouted and Obi-Wan smiled fondly at him. “It’s come to my attention that I haven’t been a very good Master for you lately. Not as good as I should be.”

Anakin frowned. “Why’s that?” He shook his head in confusion. “Of course you’ve been a good Master. You’re the best.”

“I mean…” Obi-Wan trailed off. He sighed and brought a hand up and ran it through Anakin’s hair thoughtfully. Anakin’s eyelids fluttered closed, and he exhaled sharply, leaning into Obi-Wan’s gentle touch. “The reason I began studying so much with Solon was to learn enough to be able to teach you about the dark side, Anakin—because I couldn't teach you how to be a Jedi.”

Anakin blinked, processing, and then gave him an alarmed look. “You want to teach me how to be a Sith?”

Obi-Wan met his eyes with an earnest look and sent a reassuring wave in the Force that calmed Anakin’s heart rate. His voice was low and sincere. “I want to be your Master, Anakin. More than anything. It’s the most important thing to me. I want to teach you what you need to know, help you be the best you can be.”

Anakin blushed, looking down, overwhelmed with pleasure by his words and the possessive way they’d been said. Obi-Wan’s fingers scratched his scalp affectionately and Anakin almost purred. “Thank you, Master. I need your guidance, I always have.”

Obi-Wan kissed him again and gave him a warm, hopeful look that Anakin adored. “Do you want to learn something now?”

”Yes,” Anakin nodded. “If you want to teach me, yes, please. Are you sure you have time?”

Obi-Wan hummed in approval. He stretched out and pulled Anakin to lay on his chest, taking extreme care to not jostle his injured shoulder. Anakin tangled their legs together and snuggled against him, enjoying his fresh scent, his smooth, shower-warmed skin. He ran his hand down the soft hair on Obi-Wan’s chest, and Obi-Wan smiled at him. “I know how much you loathe the Jedi Code—Do you know the Sith one?”

“I… I think it had passion in it.” Anakin felt embarrassed. He coughed and pressed his forehead into Obi-Wan’s chest, hiding his eyes and muffling his voice. ”I didn’t really pay attention in history or Force cultures class.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that particular fact, Padawan mine,” Obi-Wan laughed. His hold on Anakin tightened slightly and then relaxed into a gentle hug. He stroked his back, sliding a hand under his shirt, his fingers absently tracing the ridge of his spine. Anakin melted against him, and Obi-Wan’s voice became a soothing rumble. “Well, it’s no problem. It’s a good place to start. Will you repeat after me?”

Anakin nodded, rubbing his cheek on Obi-Wan’s chest and sighing happily. The Force surrounded and embraced them both with mutual appreciation, and Anakin felt full of peace. “Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead. His voice was deliberate. “Peace is a lie.” 

Anakin wanted to laugh. He echoed him, imitating his accent and matching his tone and pitch. “Peace is a lie.” He looked up with a mischievous little smile.

Obi-Wan smiled back at him, and his pupils were blown. His eyes started to flare gold as he let his shields all the way down. Anakin thought he looked beautiful. Obi-Wan caught the thought in the bond and gave him a knowing look, his voice low and slightly teasing. “There is only passion.” 

Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s cock growing hard against his hip, and flushed. Obi-Wan sounded so aroused—it sent a spike of matching arousal straight to Anakin’s cock. Anakin licked his lips, his breathing was shallow and rapid. His heart was pounding, and he shifted his hips, pressing his growing erection against Obi-Wan’s leg. “There is only passion.” 

Obi-Wan nodded in satisfaction, stroking his back again and pulling him close. “Through passion,” Obi-Wan pressed a long, slow kiss against Anakin’s lips. He pulled back, and a hand came up to stroke Anakin’s cheek fondly, bumping their foreheads together. “I gain strength.”

Anakin tried to breathe, he couldn’t look away. His mouth felt clumsy. “Through passion...” He swallowed, shifting his hips slightly to rub his cock and relieve the ache. Obi-Wan’s hands found his ass and held him still. Anakin exhaled and said, “I gain strength.”

Obi-Wan nodded again and slid his hands up to pull Anakin’s sleep shirt off, and Anakin shifted to accommodate him, wincing slightly. Obi-Wan gently kissed his injury. “Through strength,” Obi-Wan murmured, looking over Anakin’s bruised chest with a displeased frown before hugging him close, “I gain power.”

Anakin enjoyed the feeling of their bare chests pressed together—the warmth and extent of contact with Obi-Wan’s skin. He tried to match the rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s chest with his own breathing. He tucked his head in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck, letting him stroke his back, and obediently repeated, “Through strength, I gain power.”

Obi-Wan’s hands slid back down past his hips, pushing under his waistband to touch his skin, squeezing the curve of his ass gently and pulling their hips together. He rocked slightly, rubbing his own hard cock against Anakin’s. His voice was becoming slightly rough. “Through power, I gain victory.”

Anakin whined with relief at the pressure against his erection, and Obi-Wan’s grip on his ass tightened at the sound. His fingertips slid between Anakin’s legs, drawing closer to the sensitive skin around Anakin’s entrance. He smiled and began stroking gently. 

Anakin’s hips jerked involuntarily and he whined again, cock throbbing, trying to remember what had just been said. “Through power… I gain...” He gave Obi-Wan an apologetic look.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh and kissed his forehead. “Victory.”

Anakin nodded slightly. “Through power, I gain victory. Please, Master, can—”

Obi-Wan cut him off with a kiss. He slid a hand out of Anakin’s shorts and held it up in the air, summoning his bottle of lube. Anakin hastily pushed his shorts off, and Obi-Wan hummed in approval. He dispensed some lube on his fingers. “Through victory, my chains are broken.” 

Anakin shuddered in anticipation, shifting to rub against Obi-Wan’s cock again. Obi-Wan gave him a look and he unwillingly stopped, pouting slightly. Obi-Wan huffed a laugh at him and kissed him again, sucking his pouting lip bottom lip into his mouth and biting it gently before pulling back.

Anakin whimpered when Obi-Wan’s slick fingers slid from his balls further back, pressing one inside him gently. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows encouragingly and Anakin began speaking, though his voice was weak and shaky. “Through victory, my...”

His voice lost coherence when Obi-Wan added a second finger and began fucking him gently, opening him up. 

Obi-Wan’s voice was indulgent as he repeated himself, his fingers moving faster. “My chains are broken.”

Anakin spread his legs wider, rocking his hips forward to make it easier to take it. Obi-Wan smiled and added a third finger, fucking him with them gently, and then less gently. Anakin’s eyes slid closed, and he used all his focus to say the words: “Through victory, my chains are broken.” 

He made a disappointed noise when Obi-Wan pulled his fingers out, but happily made room for Obi-Wan to open his towel and pull out his hard cock. Anakin eagerly reached for the lube and spread it on Obi-Wan, stroking down his cock and earning a hum of appreciation. 

Obi-Wan pulled him back on top, lining up his cock with his ass and pushing the tip in slightly. He spoke, his voice low and intent, looking deeply into Anakin’s eyes. “The Force shall free me.”

Anakin whined and nodded, and rocked his hips back and down, taking all of Obi-Wan’s cock with one long stroke. His eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned. Obi-Wan’s hands came to hold his hips tightly, hissing at the sudden heat and pressure. 

They took a moment to adjust to each other, and Anakin opened his eyes, looking down and taking in the sight of his Master’s pleasure-filled face, his flushed cheeks and pink lips, getting lost staring into his golden eyes. 

Suddenly, they looked so right. 

He couldn’t imagine his Master without them, not when they were so perfect for him. He smiled, and his heart felt full when Obi-Wan mirrored his expression, smiling crookedly back up at him, fucking up into him slighly. 

Anakin nodded at him and said assertively, “The Force shall free me.” He rocked his hips, and Obi-Wan made a noise low in his throat. His hands encouraged the motion again, and Anakin began riding him slowly, appreciating the quiet intimacy of the moment. 

“Very good, Padawan,” Obi-Wan murmured. He looked so proud of him, so very pleased with him. His hands squeezed Anakin’s hips. “Can you say it again?” Anakin made a despairing face, thinking back, and Obi-Wan laughed. 

Anakin dropped his head to kiss him, his hips moving faster, trying to distract him from the question. Obi-Wan sent a wave of amusement through the Force and kissed him thoroughly, holding him close and staying still, letting Anakin do the work with his hips. 

Anakin happily fucked himself on Obi-Wan’s cock and lost himself in the kiss, in the movement of their lips, the sweet pressure and gentle swipe of his tongue, the taste of Obi-Wan’s mouth—the toothpaste giving away to the indefinable, precious underlying taste of Obi-Wan. 

They were entirely tangled together, and Anakin began rolling his hips more quickly, the Force a shuddering pool of affection. He began to lose the ability to move smoothly, and Obi-Wan took back control, pushing him off and rolling them over before looking intensely apologetic when Anakin whined at the pain in his shoulder. “Sorry!” 

“Master,” Anakin panted up at him, his smile growing as Obi-Wan adjusted his legs, spreading them wider, and he moaned when Obi-Wan pushed the head of his cock back inside. He tilted his hips, trying to draw Obi-Wan in further, pouting when Obi-Wan held back. “You know I like that.”

“Of course you do.” Obi-Wan shook his head and smiled ruefully as he began to slide his cock in and out, fucking him deliberately, deeper and deeper, harder and harder, working back up to a rapid pace. He exhaled sharply, moving a hand to stroke Anakin’s hair, looking at him affectionately, “Anakin, my darling, whatever am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin whined, his eyes sliding shut, holding his legs open wider—the only thing in the world that mattered to him was the feeling of Obi-Wan fucking him hard with his thick cock, claiming and taking him, using him for his own pleasure too. It was perfect. Anakin sighed blissfully, and then felt his mouth move without permission. “I love you, Master.”

There was a moment of shocked silence as Obi-Wan’s rhythm stuttered abruptly to a halt. Anakin gasped and opened his eyes wide—he definitely hadn’t meant to say it. He’d somehow implicitly planned on never saying it. He swallowed as an extremely intense wave of Obi-Wan’s emotions broke over him in the Force. 

Anakin had never felt emotions this strong from Obi-Wan before. They rushed past all at once; he couldn’t pick them apart. It felt like Obi-Wan was both terrified and ecstatic, ashamed and elated. He was panicking, grieving, thrilled—Obi-Wan’s heart was so full and it was breaking. 

Anakin furrowed his brow slightly, and searched Obi-Wan’s face to try to understand the grief in his response. Obi-Wan’s eyes were wide and shining with desperation, filled with a wordless entreaty that Anakin didn’t understand. 

“Oh, Anakin, I...” Obi-Wan’s voice was thick with emotion. He kissed him hard, then pulled back and looked at him with an intensity that Anakin couldn’t read. “My Anakin, I… You are...” He shook his head, and tried again, his hips beginning to move again, filling him with his cock, burying himself deep inside. His voice was rough. “You’re the only thing that matters to me.” 

Obi-Wan suddenly wrapped Anakin in as much affection and attention in the Force as he was able, fucking him harder—the pace of his thrusts speeding up and the sound of their hips slapping together growing louder. Anakin whined at the overwhelming wave of sensation, his head dropping back against the pillow, the pleasure of being fucked smoothing the worry from his face.

Obi-Wan’s hand moved to stroke Anakin’s cock, squeezing gently on the head and twisting his wrist to bring him closer and closer to the edge. The movement of his hips grew more erratic, and forceful. Words came through the bond, saturated with emotion. “I swear to you, Anakin, I will always take care of you, Padawan. It’s all I want. You are mine. I need you. Always, forever.”

Anakin nodded, the words and their promise washing over him, and suddenly the feeling of his orgasm overwhelmed him all at once. He groaned loudly at the wave of pleasure, his muscles straining as he came—the sensation was cascading and intense. His eyes slid closed and all he could feel was his come spilling out into Obi-Wan’s hand, filling it, overflowing it, dripping to land on his stomach and chest. 

Obi-Wan licked the come from his hand and moaned, fucking him harder. His voice was deep and strained. “I… I swear, Anakin, I… You are the most important person in my life.”

Anakin whimpered and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. “Thank you, Master. I didn’t mean to tell you. I mean it though.”

Obi-Wan’s face was pained as he nodded and kissed him, fucking him hard, drawing close to coming too. “I know, Padawan.” He thrust a few final, decisive times, and then groaned again loudly. His head dropped to rest in the crook of Anakin’s neck, shuddering and pumping him full of come. “I meant it too.” He spoke quietly against Anakin’s skin, his lips caressing him gently. 

Anakin tightened his arms around him and held him close, trying to make the moment last forever, and Obi-Wan collapsed against him, breathing hard. Anakin felt so safe crushed under his weight, so secure. It was almost perfect. He loved his Master so much...

Eventually Obi-Wan kissed Anakin’s neck softly one more time and slipped out of his body, pulling away. He sat up and sighed at the mess he left behind, lazily cleaning up Anakin with his sleep shirt before tossing it away. 

He met Anakin’s eyes for a long moment with an unreadable expression before looking over at the ‘fresher unwillingly. “I need to go get clean again, Anakin, and then I really do need to go.”

Anakin nodded at him, his brain slowly returning back to speed after the overwhelming intensity of his orgasm. He blinked and yawned, realizing that he was much closer to being asleep than being awake. 

Obi-Wan looked at him fondly, kissing him on the forehead and murmuring quietly, “Good to sleep, dear one, get some rest,” before rolling off the bed and moving out of the room to the ‘fresher. Anakin sighed and snuggled himself under the blanket, trying to stay awake until Obi-Wan came back and quietly failing, drifting inexorably towards the black.

As he fell asleep, one last thought bubbled up from the secret, weakest part of himself. It was tinged with dread.

Obi-Wan hadn’t actually said it back.

CORUSCANT

Obi-Wan looked fixedly and vacantly into the ‘fresher mirror for a long time. He was tempted to punch it, shatter the glass, hurt his hand. He had never hated himself quite this much, and he had no idea what to do about it. He didn’t think there was a way to un-kriff this up.

I love you, Master...

Anakin’s love in the Force had felt so innocent, so pure, complete and uncomplicated. It was full of trust, and infinite acceptance. No wonder he would hate him quite so much. How betrayed he would feel when he learned the truth about who Obi-Wan was and what he had done. Anakin's love could not, would not, survive the lies that allowed it to grow.

Obi-Wan knew in his heart that Anakin’s acceptance was not truly infinite. That was the problem. He knew that his time was running out—his lies would come out somehow, and he had no way to prevent it. There was no way to spin it, no way to present it in a way to convince him of Obi-Wan’s good intentions.

It would all be over the moment that Anakin really understood that the Jedi truly were to blame for his mother’s death—that Obi-Wan was using the bond that was designed by the Force for her, had stolen and was stealing that power for his own ends, power he had no right to have.

Nothing he could say would ever make that better. 

Anakin would be furious that Obi-Wan had known so much and hadn’t ever found the words to tell. He wouldn’t forgive him for that, and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure that he should. Everything was so kriffed up. 

I love you, Master...

Obi-Wan had listened without comprehending to years of Anakin crying himself to sleep as a boy, missing his mother, aching for her presence. He’d listened and done nothing. He hadn’t known...

He had disregarded Anakin’s dreams about her suffering, had held him back from fulfilling his one true purpose of being alive—the true reason that he’d even been born at all. He’d listened and made Anakin do nothing. He hadn’t known...

Obi-Wan had punished Anakin for being what he was and shamed him for having killed a village that the Force itself had apparently decided needed to die. He’d listened to Anakin’s righteous indignation and made Anakin doubt himself, made him think that he was wrong—he’d made Anakin submit to his will because of it. He hadn’t known...

He didn’t for a moment believe that Anakin would excuse him for not having known. It was raw, too big. He would be filled with righteous fury at having been right all along, and would be crushed and betrayed by the reality of Obi-Wan’s actions. He wouldn't care about his reasons why. 

Anakin and his mother had been a true dyad in the Force—they had been one sacred object that Obi-Wan had been more than complicit in ripping asunder and holding apart for his own gain.

I love you, Master...

Obi-Wan had tried to say it back, but there had been a blockage stopping his tongue. The words simply wouldn’t come out. It was somehow too manipulative. He couldn’t say it, not like this. He couldn’t let the truest thing about himself be spoken in the middle of so many lies. He just couldn’t do it. He’d finally found the line, apparently—and that line was telling that particular truth as a lie. Anakin deserved so much better.

He’d seen the hurt and confusion in Anakin’s eyes and had been filled with dread. Is this it? Is this the beginning of the end? Is this when I lose him? Is this how?

His comlink kept chiming. Cody was probably extremely curious about where he was, and why he was late to meet with Vos. Obi-Wan hoped that Vos was late too and wasn’t pestering Cody. He reflexively reached out in the Force and easily found Cody’s mind, waiting and open for instruction. He skimmed the knowledge that Vos was, indeed, pestering Cody. He pushed over the thought that he was coming as soon as he could and a sincere apology. His comlink went silent.

Obi-Wan took a deep, shaky breath and tried as hard as he could to move past his emotions, refocus on the war—on what must happen.

It wasn’t working. He felt like a monster. He didn’t know who he’d become, or what he was going to do. Anakin didn’t deserve this. Nothing made sense, everything was awful. Somewhere a clock was counting down, and he was just waiting to lose the only thing in his life that mattered. How had it come to this?

I love you, Master…

Obi-Wan washed his hands, splashed water on his face, wiped himself clean. He took a bracing breath and dressed. 

He had to go.

TETH

Early 20BBY

“I never did enjoy hanging out with you.”

“Hilarious, Obi-Wan.” Quinlan Vos pulled himself up to the top of the rock, sitting heavily with mock despair. “I hate that bounty hunter.”

Obi-Wan pulled himself up too, standing and cracking his back. He glowered in the direction of Bane’s departing ship. “He is not on my list of favorite sentients, no.” He lightly nudged Quinlan’s leg with his foot, tapping him with the toe of his boot and gesturing towards their ship. “Let’s go.”

Quinlan rolled his eyes and put his lightsaber back on his belt. He began to fix his hair, and Obi-Wan sighed impatiently. Quinlan looked out over the misty valley, and sounded thoughtful. “I guess that’s finally the end of the mission. Ziro’s dead, anyway.”

“It would be futile to pursue Bane,” Obi-Wan nodded. “He’s both evaded arrest and escaped prison so many times, it’s entirely a waste of time and energy.”

“Back to Coruscant, then?” Quinlan stood up, resigned, and clapped Obi-Wan companionably on the back. “Is your—” His fingers caught and lingered on the soft wool gauze of Obi-Wan’s tabard. 

Obi-Wan looked over at him with a frown when Quinlan abruptly stopped speaking, and then his eyes opened wide when he recognized the expression on Quinlan’s face. He felt a surge of dread. Nothing good could come of this.

Quinlan’s power of psychometry had been somehow activated, and he was experiencing a memory in the Force that clung to the tabard. His hand suddenly clenched on the fabric before he leapt away, lightsaber lit in an instant and held in a guard position.

“Who are you?” Quinlan spat, eyes running up and down Obi-Wan’s body. “What have you done to Obi-Wan? Where is he?”

Obi-Wan slowly raised his hands, keeping his lightsaber on his belt. His heart was racing, his face was blank. “What do you mean?”

“You...” Quinlan frowned, eyes flicking slightly as he remembered the details of the vision. He shook his head and firmed up his stance, blade held out defensively. “I don’t even... It’s supposed to be impossible to mind trick a Hutt.”

Obi-Wan’s stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Quinlan glared. “I cannot believe you made me see you and Skywalker. How long has that been going on? I’m traumatized.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide what to do. No matter how much he had worried about this in the abstract, he’d never really thought it would happen. He hadn’t thought there would be anything incriminating for Vos to touch—his lightsaber hadn’t been involved at all. How could he possibly be unlucky enough to be wearing the same blasted tabards? Tabards that he’d pushed aside in haste to...

“I am Obi-Wan, Quin.” Obi-Wan swallowed at Quinlan’s unconvinced face and still-raised saber. “Sixteen, Room of a Thousand Fountains, Twi’lek liquor.”

Quinlan’s nostrils flared and his hands tightened on the hilt of his saber for a moment before deactivating it. His presence in the Force was still saturated with betrayal and wariness. “When did you fall to the dark side?”

Obi-Wan laughed without humor, lowering his hands. “Before the war even properly started, I suspect. I don’t know for sure. It’s not like breaking a leg, Vos, it’s not all or nothing, all at once. I do know it’s been more than a year, though.”

“Seriously?” Quinlan looked almost impressed despite himself, clipping his lightsaber to his belt and putting his hands on his hips. “How’ve you pulled that off?”

“I’m not actually sure,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “I’ve never been caught by anyone I couldn’t mind trick into forgetting.”

Quinlan looked offended and slightly afraid, his hand drifting back toward his lightsaber. “Is that what you’re going to do to me?” 

“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest defensively, his tone reluctant. “Do I need to?”

“What made you fall?” Quinlan’s fingers drummed indecisively on the metal of his hilt, his voice sounded extremely curious. “The Obi-Wan Kenobi I know would never have fallen to the dark side.”

Obi-Wan grimaced apologetically. “I’m… I’m afraid you don’t and haven’t really known me for a long time, Quinlan. I haven’t been honest about who… what… I am, since I was sixteen. I’ve always been a liar.”

Quinlan’s head recoiled slightly in surprise, and he looked more curious than ever. “Really? What do you mean?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes followed Quinlan’s hand dropping away from his lightsaber with relief. He looked back up and studied Quinlan’s open face, and decided to take the chance. The damage was already done, anyway—but maybe he wouldn’t have to use the dark side to overpower, twist, and strip the mind of one of his oldest friends. He really didn’t want to do that. He just needed to convince him. “Will you listen to me without going to the Council first? I could really use your help.”

Quinlan crossed his arms and peered into Obi-Wan’s disguised eyes for a long moment before nodding slowly. “I’ll listen, but no promises.”

FELUCIA

Ahsoka hated Felucia. 

The battle on the planet never seemed to end. There was always a crisis on Felucia—the nearby hyperspace lane was too strategically important. It was never over. So many troopers she knew had died there. Far, far too many.

The last time the 501st had been deployed there, she'd gotten carried away again, disobeying orders and endangering her men enough to be recalled to Temple and put on probation. She’d sent good men to their deaths, again. 

Skyguy had been so disappointed with her, and her repeated failure still ate at her inside—so strongly that the distinctive shape and color of the Felucian trees was enough to make her feel guilty and oddly resentful at the Council for sending her back here. 

Hadn’t she done enough damage last time? When were they going to stop trusting her with men’s lives? How many times would she have to fail before they finally knew better?

She refocused on the briefing, and frowned at the number of reinforcements that had just arrived at the droid outpost. It was the last major installation they had to neutralize in order to complete their offensive push into Separatist territory, and it was definitely going to be a challenge.

Master Plo took charge of tactics, his voice deep and deliberative. He gestured with precision, “We shall break into three groups to divide their defenses. I'll take the left flank. Skywalker, attack the front gate, Ahsoka, you scale the back wall, we'll meet in the middle.” 

Ahsoka nodded confirmation that she understood, and Anakin looked to several local Felucians who had volunteered to assist the Republic forces. “Okay, scouts, find me a way down there, quiet-like.” 

The locals saluted, or tried to, looking a bit like children playing soldiers. Ahsoka frowned after them as they hustled away. They had been a peaceful people, before the war. Farmers. She hoped they would be peaceful again when it was done.

Ahsoka looked up at Anakin, slightly concerned by the task Plo had assigned him. She said a statement as a question, “Going through the front gate won't be easy.”

Anakin scoffed slightly at the implication that it might be hard for him to take out a measly droid outpost, but his face became serious again very quickly. He radiated a sudden wave of discontent in the Force that made Ahsoka raise her brows. He seemed to really hate the idea of splitting up. His tone was a warning and a plea for caution. “You have it tougher going over that wall, Snips.”

“You taught me well.” She tried to reassure him, mimicking his boastful tone very well after so much time together. “I can handle anything.” 

He gave her a raised eyebrow worthy of Master Obi-Wan. “Don't get cocky.” Ahsoka suppressed a smile and nodded, signalling to a squadron from the Wolfpack and leading them away.

They circled around the outpost, moving steadily through the trees, silent and in formation. Ahsoka’s intuition abruptly lit up, the Force whispering, danger, danger. She frowned, raised a fist and signaled immediate halt. She murmured to Comet, “I sense something out there.”

Comet raised his blaster, looking around through the sight. “A droid?”

It didn’t feel like a droid to Ahsoka, but she wasn’t sure. The threat was amorphous, yet oddly personal. “I don't think so…” 

The moment stretched out uncomfortably as she tried to understand what she was feeling. The sound of flies buzzing was very loud. She couldn’t get any more information from the Force, and nothing was happening. She shook her head, resigned. “It’s probably just an animal.” She signalled all clear, and began to advance. “Come on, we gotta get to that wall.”

Comet looked back, checking the trooper’s positions before turning to follow after. “Stay alert, men. Let's move.”

After several more minutes of painstakingly covert navigation of the forest, they came near to the rear wall of the outpost. Plo’s voice came through the com. “Skywalker, Ahsoka, are you in position?” 

Anakin’s determined voice answered first. “Ready and waiting, Master Plo.” Ahsoka could strongly feel his nervous anticipation, almost excitement, through their bond. He seemed to really want to fight, for some reason. 

Skyguy had been weirdly grumpy off and on for the last few months, but recently he’d gotten in such a bad mood. It hadn’t ever really gone away, and Ahsoka didn’t understand why something seemed to have flipped in his head. He seemed to be brooding more, and was unexpectedly volatile. 

Ahsoka almost smiled as she imagined the carnage he was about to unleash on those droids. 

She shook her head slightly to refocus, and ran her eyes from turret to turret along the top of the back wall, noting the obstacles. She nodded in satisfaction at their location and checked in. “We're in position.”

Suddenly, many things happened at once. 

Just on the other side of the wall, relentless artillery fire pounded the ground and filled the air with smoke and flames, the vibrations of the explosions making Ahsoka’s montrals ache. She signalled and her troopers moved from behind cover, sniping all the visible droid targets on the top of the wall. 

After the first wave of droids were eliminated, she ordered, “Comet, Sinker, Boost, get up there!” and watched as the squad moved forward with ascension cables, moving up the wall quickly and taking the fight to the droids. 

Her lightsabers were a defensive blur, all of her hours of practice of jar’kai Soresu with Master Obi-Wan was coming in handy. She protected as many troopers as she could from returned fire while they were vulnerable between the forest and the wall, her blades flashing as she tried to reflect blasts back to eliminate the droid that fired them. Every time it worked, she felt a small thrill of satisfaction.

“We're all clear, Commander, come on up.” Comet’s voice came through her com, and she replied confidently.

“I'll be right there.” 

Comet’s head disappeared over the side of the wall, and she gave one last suspicious look at the forest that still vibrated with danger in the Force. Why?

A greedy laugh was the last thing she heard before electrocution and unconsciousness. 

TETH

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “The Sith Master is Chancellor Palpatine.”

Quinlan didn’t visibly react. “No, he’s not.”

“He is Darth Sidious, I’m afraid it is true.” Obi-Wan tipped his head towards the ship in question and Quinlan nodded. They began walking, speaking in hushed tones despite their isolation. They seemed to share an instinctive respect for the secrecy of the topic. “Dooku, or I should properly say, Darth Tyranus, told me.”

“You trust him?” Quinlan sounded incredulous and gave him a bemused look. 

Obi-Wan felt a surge of frustration that he swallowed down, keeping his voice level. “Sidious is after Anakin. He’s been after him since he was a boy, when he decided that he wants him as his Apprentice. Dooku wants me to stop his Master killing him to replace him with Anakin. So…” He shrugged. “I believe him, but I don’t trust him.”

Quinlan looked thoughtful, and then amused. “No loyalty among the Sith, I suppose.”

“The culture does not encourage or reward it, no.” Obi-Wan’s voice was very dry. 

Quinlan asked cautiously, “What are you even doing about it? Palpatine, I mean. Why haven’t you told anyone?”

Obi-Wan shuddered slightly at the idea. “Quinlan, he would be able to kill all the Jedi within a matter of hours if he discovers that his cover is blown. He will exterminate them as soon as they are no longer useful for his war effort, and I can’t afford to trigger that. I have to know how to stop it first. I have to be sure that I can.” 

Obi-Wan didn’t trust for a moment that Darth Solon’s assurances of the clones’ ultimate loyalty would be able to withstand Sidious’s machinations. He wasn’t willing to trust the lives of every single Jedi on the words of a Sith holocron with questionable credibility.

“How could he possibly be able to kill that many Jedi at once?” Quinlan sounded disbelieving and slightly mocking. “I don’t think that’s possible, Obi.”

“My name has three syllables,” Obi-Wan snapped reflexively, as he’d done ever since they were in the crèche together as younglings. Quinlan raised an eyebrow and Obi-Wan looked away, voice bleak. “He can override the free will of the clones. Every Jedi is surrounded by legions of them. It will be a slaughter. They won’t expect it.”

Quinlan’s pace slowed, and he sounded disturbed. “Override their free will?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sighed. “At any time. We have to remove him from power at least, kill him preferably, before he has a chance to do it. I don’t know if I could stop it once it started, and I can’t take that risk. The stakes are too high... That’s why secrecy is so important. Do you see?” There was a hunt of pleading running through his voice. “I need an ally I can trust, Quin. Please help me.”

It was like Obi-Wan couldn’t help but layer in some level of Force compulsion, wrapping the words in the dark side. It seemed almost like it wasn’t optional or voluntary anymore. He needed something from Quinlan, and he would get it. 

Obi-Wan hated that this is who he had become. He felt sick at the irony of using Quinlan’s horror at the clones losing their free will as a way to lead him toward losing some degree of his own. 

Obi-Wan’s face remained earnest and his body language relaxed and trustworthy as Quinlan processed the request. It was quiet for a long moment before he finally replied, his voice still slightly wary. “What exactly do you need me to do?”

Obi-Wan felt a surge of excitement, and something else that almost resembled hope. It had worked. The suggestion had buried itself deep, and Quinlan didn’t seem to register that it had been planted. His begrudging and distrustful attitude was shifting into a much more malleable one.

Obi-Wan spoke quickly. “I need proof that Dooku and Palpatine are conspiring. It’s the only way to stop the war and get him out of power. I know they are, we just need to prove it.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Quinlan sounded speculative, but dubious. “They haven’t been caught yet, and they’re the most visible people in the galaxy. If there was any proof it would have been found by now, right?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, “I think that someone just has to get close enough to Dooku. He’s the weak link. It can’t be me, though.” He huffed a frustrated sigh. “The Count already knows that I know, and would be very careful around me.”

Quinlan put the pieces together. “But he doesn’t know that I know.”

“Exactly,” Obi-Wan nodded and his voice turned slightly tentative. “You could… you could become an acolyte. Pretend to hate me, hate the Jedi. Get close to him. See if you can get proof.”

Quinlan gave him an unimpressed look. “You want me to spy for you.” 

“It’s what you’ve always been excellent at, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan tried to remove the pleading from his tone. “You’re the best tracker, you always have been. Or, if you don’t want to do that...” He thought for a moment, and offered an alternative plan. “I know that Palpatine has clones ready for his consciousness if his current body dies. If you destroyed those, it would make him much easier to kill completely.”

“He has what?” Quinlan sounded revolted. 

Obi-Wan looked over, face grim. “Do you see now? He must be stopped, at any cost. He’s trying to make himself immortal, and start a Sith Empire. We can’t let that happen, Quinlan.”

“No…” Quinlan sighed deeply and gave him a small smile. “We won’t let it happen, Obi-Wan. I’ll help you. I’ll spy for you.”

“Thank the Force.” Obi-Wan felt a weight drop from his shoulders. “Thank you, Quin.”

Quinlan shoved him lightly and beat him up the ramp to the pilots seat. Obi-Wan gave him a resigned look, and Quinlan grinned, initiating takeoff. “No problem, Obi.”

FELUCIA

Anakin cut down the tactical droid at the heart of the outpost with savage satisfaction. He looked back at the trail of scrap metal that he’d left behind with a smile. 

He’d mowed his way through the droids, a perfect storm of violence. It had felt so good to give himself over to the Force and become a living weapon, to let himself become one with his blade—to live in the moment without doubt. He was so, so tired of doubt.

“The outpost is secure.” Anakin spoke confirmation of their success into his comlink, and waited for Ahsoka to respond. He frowned at her silence, looking around for an explanation. He saw Comet and reflexively smiled. “Good job, Corporal. Where's Commander Tano?”

Comet stopped moving suddenly, and his voice radiated confusion and concern, looking around too. “She was covering our flank when we scaled the wall, sir.”

The fact that Comet didn’t know made Anakin have a very bad feeling. He ordered loudly, “Everybody fan out. I want a perimeter sweep now!” He watched them move out with dread and spoke with a pressed tone into his com. “Ahsoka, state your location.” 

There was only silence. 

He reached out with the Force, but found only loose proximity without emotion. He tried harder, holding his hand out and focusing. She wasn’t dead, he knew that much, but almost certainly unconscious. 

He felt Master Plo’s eyes on him as he began speaking loudly into his comlink, hoping to wake her. “Ahsoka! Come in. Are you there? Can you hear me?” He glared at the com, willing her voice to come through, but there was nothing, only silence.

Anakin’s nostrils flared with frustration. He reached out to her with all the power he could muster without dipping into the dark side, heightening his awareness of the living Force around him in all directions. He opened himself up completely, loosening the barriers of his mind and seeking her unique Force signature inside the vibrant complexity of life and growth that surrounded him.

In the Force, the Felucian forest was teeming with luminous life, almost overbright with it, a deafening, overwhelming thrum of interdependent beings—Ahsoka’s unconscious mind was barely a dim shadow of a hum in comparison. 

Anakin’s eyes widened as he realized even that faint feeling was slipping away. The urgency in his voice spiked sharply, his tone drawing attention from troopers all around him. “Ahsoka! Can you hear me?! Ahsoka!” 

The transmission suddenly went dead, as if someone had destroyed her comlink. No.

Anakin instinctively looked to the sky, and saw a ship leaving atmo. He felt this stomach drop with horror, and wanted to scream. A few more frozen moments passed and the ship must have hit hyperspace because abruptly... 

Ahsoka was gone. 

Someone had taken her. Someone had touched her when she couldn’t fight, had picked her up and moved her, putting her unconscious body on that ship. Someone had his vulnerable, young, female Padawan in their possession. It was absolutely and completely unacceptable. He felt a roiling surge of emotion, darkness bubbling up from within. 

Master Plo’s eyes on the back of his head felt almost like a physical itch. 

Anakin ground his teeth and pulled all of his power back inside, making himself small and contained in the Force, attempting to appease his audience at the same time as he made an fervent internal vow.

Someone would pay for this in blood.

HYPERSPACE

Ahsoka woke up in a cage. 

It was so unreal that it seemed false, at first. She appeared to be in a ship’s cargo bay, shivering with chill and locked in a large square metal cage. She felt a burst of hot panic, looking around frantically for an escape. 

They’d stripped off her armor while she’d been unconscious. 

She shuddered, feeling violated and vulnerable. The clinging black fabric of her bodysuit was keeping her relatively warm and covered, but in all the ways that mattered, she was naked without her armor and her lightsabers.

She noticed someone in a nearby container and called out to their shadowy figure, her voice echoing strangely around the objects in the ship’s partially full hold. “H-hey, what is this place? Who are these... pirates?” 

A voice numbed with horror came floating back. “They are Trandoshans. They're gonna release us and hunt us down for sport.”

“What?” Ahsoka felt like she’d been struck, and she clutched her hands against the bars hopelessly, her knuckles turning white. “Hunt us down?!” 

When there was no response, she slumped back to the ground, holding her aching head in her hands. This was very, very bad. 

She didn’t know what to do, so she sat down to meditate, trying as hard as possible to reach out into the Force and contact someone, anyone. Skyguy wasn’t nearby, so they must have jumped to hyperspace. If they had been in a system together, she would have felt him, she was sure of it. 

That meant she was alone. 

She swallowed thickly, blinking away tears of frustration, and took a shaky breath. She was a Jedi. She would be fine. She would find a way out of this. She would survive this. 

It became somewhat of a mantra over the next few hours as she meditated. Ahsoka had eventually relaxed into lotus position, letting her body rest heavy on the ground. Little by little, she pulled her attention away from her senses, away from her physical body, and out into the Force.

In hyperspace, the living Force was muted and hollow, only radiating strongly from the beings onboard the ship. It was uncomfortably quiet—she was so used to the hum of the troopers minds and emotions while in transit that she’d almost forgotten what it was truly like to be on a ship with limited crew. 

Everyone else in the cages around her was sitting in a thick fog of terror and despair. She shook her head, refusing to let it affect her. She was a Jedi. She would be fine. She would find a way out of this.

Thinking back to a conversation she’d had with Master Obi-Wan, she pulled away from the luminous beings of the living Force and pushed her awareness out into the infinite architecture of the unifying Force. 

Hyperspace felt strange, an odd sensation in space-time. She drifted in it, unsettled, getting her bearings. She began to feel more and more removed from her body, her consciousness floating further and further away. It was very dangerous, what she was doing. She knew that. It seemed less dangerous than being hunted for sport, though, so it was worth the risk.

Time seemed less exact while she was meditating so deeply. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but all at once something very peculiar shifted in her perception of reality. Where before the unifying Force stretched out around her impersonally, as a kind of infinite, morphing container and living clock—all of a sudden it began to be saturated with a strange feeling, one that she was sure that she had sensed before. 

Master Obi-Wan?

His Force signature was ambient, pervasive, elusive. It was like he was hiding on the other side of a veil. He was everywhere, and nowhere. She poked hard at the veil, but there was no response. She plucked it instead, feeling the vibrations echo out into the void. 

Suddenly, it felt like someone plucked back.

Her heart stuttered and then started pounding. She frantically pushed the thought Trandosha, Trandosha, Trandosha, over and over, again and again, out into the Force, calling it and crying it, begging for help.

The ship dropped from hyperspace, and she was thrown out of her meditation so abruptly that she almost felt nauseated. Her head was pounding, her feet were completely numb. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, or if she had gotten her message across. She hoped to the Force that she had. 

The floor of her cage opened, and she fell about ten feet to the sandy ground, landing hard. Her feet were still asleep, and she staggered up, wincing at the pain. It was night, and difficult to see. She looked around at the others scattered around the beach, frowning in confusion. 

The Force lit up with danger, and despite the overwhelming ache in her feet as her circulation returned, she staggered and bolted before the first blaster bolts hit the ground. She felt as others were shot down, felt them die, but she kept running. She had to get out of sight.

This was a nightmare.

FELUCIA

Master Plo’s voice came suddenly from behind Anakin, as slow and deep as ever. “We have alerted our forces throughout the Outer Rim and our intelligence assets inside the Confederacy. If she's spotted, we shall know about it.”

“Good.” Anakin tipped his head slightly in gratitude and then turned back to the map of the galaxy. He was trying to use his intuition to sense where they had taken her, but he couldn’t get a read on it. She must still be in hyperspace, and that meant they were taking her far away. Far meant he might not be able to feel her when she went back to realspace. 

Far was bad.

Plo interrupted his thoughts again. He sounded reluctant, but firm. “Skywalker, our mission here is finished. We must return to Coruscant.”

The idea of returning to the Temple without his Padawan made Anakin’s jaw clench. He shook his head strongly and looked back at the map. “I am not abandoning her.”

“Your emotions are clouding your judgment.” Plo rebuked him gently. 

“My emotions?” Anakin’s head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes, “Do you know what happens to a young female Togruta? I do! The exact same things that happen to a young female Twi’lek! She was kidnapped and taken and…” Plo did not respond, and Anakin’s voice became low and dangerous. “If she is forced to be a slave, to go through things… to face that risk, she could never be the same. They could harm her in ways we might not be able to heal, Plo!” He shook his head forcefully. “I will not leave her fate up to chance, up to others!”

Plo shook his head sadly, “It’s time to go.”

“No!” Anakin spat. “I refuse. I will find her first.” 

“This may not be within your power, Skywalker. You must understand that. It is outside of your control.” When Anakin merely deepened his scowl, Plo continued seriously. “It is up to her, now. She is determined and brave. If you have trained her well, she shall take care of herself, and find a way back to you.”

“Find her way back?!” Anakin almost exploded with rage, barely swallowing it down. “She’s a youngling who might be sold into slavery! Or worse!” His voice was tight with tension, and Plo’s body language became more forbidding. “Why are the Jedi always so kriffing passive? Why do we always give up? Why can’t I help find her? She’s my responsibility, Plo! She was too young to have been on a battlefield in the first place, let alone been separated from me!”

His comlink lit up suddenly, and he frowned at it. It was text only, and from Obi-Wan. It just said, Trandosha.

Anakin straightened, feeling a thrill of electricity and relief. He could always count on his Master. He turned and looked eagerly for Rex, signalling him to ready a ship. He glanced at Master Plo, who had his arms crossed and seemed extremely unimpressed. Anakin felt a hot surge of emotion. 

Plo knew Ahsoka. Plo had found Ahsoka as a youngling, travelled with her, fought with her. Plo should care about where Ahsoka was going to be sold and used. Anakin swallowed his resentment and turned away. “Go back to Coruscant without me, Master Plo. I will come when I have my Padawan.”

“You will be violating orders, Skywalker,” Plo’s voice was serious and admonitory. “Absent without leave. That is not acceptable for a Jedi and a General. You will be reprimanded by the Council, and there will be consequences.”

“I don’t care!” Anakin growled. “I am wasting time talking to you. I’m sorry, but I’m not going back until she’s safe.” He turned on his heel and stormed away, getting on the com with Rex and asking for volunteers from the 501st.

It was time to break some rules. 

TRANDOSHA 3

“We used to be Jedi younglings.”

“What?” Ahsoka looked at her rescuer with horror. A group of three other Force sensitive younglings had pulled her away from certain death, a fact for which she was grateful—but she couldn’t believe they had been willing to stand aside and let the non-Force sensitives get chased down and murdered before their eyes. Every time Ahsoka closed her eyes she saw them die.

It felt so wrong, even if they really were right and her efforts would have only gotten her killed. She shook her head and tried again. “What do you mean by ‘used to be?’”

The leader only shook her head resentfully and darted away, beckoning Ahsoka to follow her. They made it eventually to a kind of tree fort that could only be reached using Force-assisted jumps and Force-assisted reflexes. No wonder they’d left the others behind, if it would have been impossible for them to even reach shelter.

The Twi’lek youngling’s tone was bitter as they walked inside. “We never really stood a chance. They attacked us on a training mission, killed our crèchemaster. We were captured and brought here.” He sat, exhausted and defeated. “We've been stuck here for more rotations than we can count.”

“No one has come for us.” The young Cerean sounded equally resigned, his eyes lost and betrayed. “I doubt anyone is still looking.”

Ahsoka’s head snapped back slightly. It was incredible to her that nobody would look for missing younglings, and yet—there was a war happening. All the Masters were busy leading an army. Who would be free to look? Who would place the lives of young Jedi ahead of the security of a planet? That wouldn’t be the Jedi way...

It made her feel sick to her stomach. She asked numbly, “Why would they take younglings?”

“Because Jedi Knights are too powerful for them.” The leader sneered before her face softened slightly. “I'm Kalifa. This is O-Mer and Jinx. Who are you?”

“Ahsoka Tano.” She bowed her head respectfully. “I was captured during the Battle of Felucia. I'm a Padawan learner. What's… what’s the situation like here?”

“You'd better sit down.” Kalifa gestured towards their small fire pit. Ahsoka settled close to the flames, appreciating the warmth. Kalifa’s voice was quiet and simmering with rage. “We were taken by those foul lizards for their amusement. To be hunted, killed and mounted on their wall as trophies.”

“Chew on that, Padawan, then rest.” Jinx lay back, momentary resentment at her status almost immediately turning into a reassuring murmur. “You'll need your strength.”

Kalifa pursed her lips and nodded, laying back herself. Ahsoka didn’t feel very tired, and wandered back over to the door, sitting and staring sadly at the sky. She sent out a fervent wish into the Force that Master Obi-Wan had heard her, and that help was on the way. She hoped that they would come for her—that Skyguy would consider her important enough to search for.

She eventually nodded off and fell asleep in that same position, face pointed towards the stars. Her dreams were full of strange and haunting images; nothing made sense and everything was full of danger. She was alone, she was surrounded. Troopers everywhere began pointing their blasters at her instead of at droids. 

A tremble in the Force jerked her awake.

Ahsoka’s head shot up the moment Skyguy’s Force signature bloomed in the system. He must have just dropped from hyperspace. She jumped up with excitement, almost crowing with sheer excitement and satisfaction. 

Her Master looked for her, of course he would. She never should have doubted him. Skyguy would never, ever give up on her. 

The eyes of the other younglings followed her sudden movements warily, easily startled awake. She felt bad for scaring them, but couldn’t help looking up excitedly at the sky. She turned to Kalifa and grinned. “Someone was looking for me! They’ve come to take us home.”

Kalifa and O-Mer exchanged incredulous glances, and Jinx stuttered. “R-really?” 

“Yes!” Ahsoka looked back at the sky, pointing at the growing dot. “My Master came for me. I knew he would. Skyguy would never let me go like that.” She spoke with satisfaction, barely resisting dancing in place.

“His name is Skyguy?” Kalifa asked doubtfully. “Master Skyguy?”

“What? No.” Ahsoka looked at her with a laugh. “His name is Anakin Skywalker, and he’s come to rescue us.” 

The other younglings all stood up quickly. “The Chosen One?” O-Mer asked incredulously. “The Hero With No Fear is your Master? He came for us?”

Ahsoka laughed again as the Twilight came into view. “Yes, I knew he would.” Her cheeks were beginning to ache with the size of her smile. She reached out with the bond, and sighed when she felt him reach back desperately. Closing her eyes, she fell into the bond and pulled at his attention, leading him to them.

O-mer and Jinx were bustling around happily, and Kalifa was staring at the ship with shock. A small smile crossed her face. “Thank you, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her gently. “I’m glad the Force brought me here. You deserved to be rescued.” She looked away and let Kalifa blink away tears without comment. 

A cable dropped down, and the four younglings scampered up it quickly, crawling into the cargo bay. Ahsoka looked around and then darted forward, throwing her arms around Anakin and clinging to him tight.

He held her close, murmuring with confusion, “Where are your lightsabers, Snips? Your armor? Why are you here?”

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at the sky, looking for the Trandoshan ship. “They took them from me, Master. I don’t know where they’re keeping them. The Trandoshans dropped me here because they hunt Jedi younglings for sport.”

“What?!” Anakin said, looking with horror at the others. Rex was putting a blanket around Kalifa’s shoulders, and Fives was crouched down, consoling a sobbing Jinx. “How long have they been here?”

“Long enough they can’t remember, Master. They don’t know how many rotations. Did you hear anything about a captured clan of younglings?” Anakin shook his head, lips pressed together tightly. Ahsoka sighed. “I hadn’t either.” 

She took a long shaky breath, overwhelmed by the growing strength of Anakin’s anger in the Force. The other younglings looked over, alarmed. “Let’s go... ” Anakin gestured vaguely. “Let’s go get your armor back. I want to… I want to… Talk to them about that...”

Ahsoka grinned. “Thank you, Master.”

CORUSCANT

Obi-Wan didn’t know what exactly was going to happen when Anakin was summoned to report to the Council for a disciplinary session, and he had a very, very bad feeling about it. 

“Glad to see you and Ahsoka back at the Temple, we are.” Yoda spoke, voice solemn. “But much to discuss, there is.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Anakin agreed in a wary tone. There was a full assembly of all twelve members of the Council, although luckily most were only attending in holo. Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin still felt uncomfortable and extremely observed, standing alone. 

At least he couldn’t feel Master Windu pressing him in the Force. Obi-Wan was very grateful that Mace was out in the field. He had a suspicion that this meeting would make Anakin angry, and Windu’s presence in the Force would have only compounded the issue. 

“Defy orders, you did,” Yoda said sadly. “Driven by attachment, your choices were. Your emotions, you were not able to let go, and like a Jedi, that was not.”

Obi-Wan did not like the sound of that, and it seemed like Anakin didn’t either. His posture stiffened and his chin rose. “They were hunting younglings for sport, Master Yoda. Stuffing them and mounting them on the wall!” Anakin’s eyes flicked around at the other Masters, his voice becoming incredulous and judgemental. “Are you saying I should have sat back and let that happen? That’s absurd! The Jedi should never have let their younglings be taken and hunted down!”

Yoda shook his head. “Follow orders, a Jedi must. Not ready to teach, these events show you to be.” His voice was emphatic, and Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat. “Removed from your instruction, Padawan Tano will be.”

Anakin‘s eyes opened wide. “What?” 

Yoda’s eyes narrowed, and Obi-Wan stared at him with growing horror. “A Padawan, you no longer have. When learned to let go, you have, another Padawan may you seek.”

“What?!” Anakin repeated himself, louder this time, tone sharp. “Because I saved her, I can’t teach her?” 

Yoda gave Anakin an unreadable look, not immediately responding. Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s emotions roiling and almost shouted across the bond. “Anakin! Calm down. Now!”

Anakin’s jaw clenched. “He can’t do this, Master! I can’t lose her!” 

Obi-Wan broke the silence, his voice respectful. “Master Yoda, surely this is an excessive move. Separating a Master and Padawan team is… Isn’t that disproportionate?”

“No,” Yoda shook his head sadly at him too. “Disproportionate it is not. Unable to let go, Skywalker is. Only worse will it become, if more time is given. Let go, he must.”

“Doesn’t Ahsoka have a say in this?” Anakin crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. “What’s going to happen to her? She deserves to be a Knight someday.”

“A Knight she will be.” Yoda’s ears twitched. “Reassigned, she will be. A new Master to guide her to Knighthood, she will have.”

“Who?” Anakin almost growled. Obi-Wan sent another wave of calm through the Force, which was ignored. “Who are you giving my Padawan to?”

Yoda’s eyes slid from Anakin to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan felt a thrill of dread. “Master Kenobi, a new Padawan you will take.”

“No—” Obi-Wan shook his head, frowning. “No, Master Yoda. I do not want a Padawan at this time. If she truly must be reassigned, there are other options. Do not give her to me.” Anakin was staring at him, eyes full of emotion that Obi-Wan couldn’t parse.

“Because of attachment, this request is made!” Yoda tapped his stick against his palm in frustration before pointing it at Obi-Wan, his tone almost accusatory. “A new Padawan you need. Too attached, you are. Knight Skywalker, your Padawan, he is not!”

“I know he’s not,” Obi-Wan said with careful diction, hyperaware of the eyes of the other eleven members of the Council. “That is not what is prompting my request.”

Yoda hummed doubtfully. “Wrong, I am not. Let go, you both must. Too attached, you are. Assigned apart, you will continue to be.”

“We’re fighting a war!” Anakin’s voice was very loud, his posture tense. He gestured around sharply, “This cannot be more important than winning battles, protecting planets!”

Yoda frowned, eyes tracking Anakin’s hands. His voice was disappointed. “Much more important, it is, for you. Much to learn, you still have.”

“Was this your plan all along?” Anakin sounded resentful, glancing around suspiciously at all the other Masters and finally focusing on Obi-Wan for a long moment before returning to Yoda. “Did you want me to fail? To teach me a lesson?”

Yoda shook his head sadly, ears drooping. “Wanted you to succeed, I did. Learn from this failure, you will. Dismissed, you are. Tell Padawan Tano, you will, that move quarters, she must.”

Anakin spun and strode angrily from the room. An almost awkward silence fell behind at the display of temper. Obi-Wan looked sideways at Yoda. “Was this your plan all along?”

Yoda’s ears flicked with annoyance. “Knew it might happen, I did. Wanted it to happen, I did not!”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan bowed slightly in his chair, dipping his head respectfully. “Is that the content of today’s session? Are we dismissed as well?”

“No,” Yoda gave him a knowing look. “More to the Council session, there is. Let him go, you must. Come to terms with this, Skywalker will—need your help, he does not!”

“Yes, Master Yoda.” Obi-Wan nodded again and reinforced his shields by relaxing his posture, smoothing his face, projecting equanimity into the Force. 

Yoda nodded with satisfaction, and turned to the holo of Master Windu. “An updated mission report, do you have?”

“Yes,” Windu’s voice sounded too satisfied. “In fact...”

Obi-Wan swallowed, his attention wavering as he tried to think through the consequences of removing Ahsoka—both on Anakin himself and on their relationship. He wasn’t looking forward to adding an apprentice to the growing list of things that he’d taken from Anakin. 

Would only Rex even be enough to keep Anakin level? Would Anakin be able to handle himself without the stabilizing presence of his Padawan? If he no longer had to be responsible for anyone but himself and his troops? If they were to be assigned apart indefinitely?

What was the Council thinking, alienating him like this? It was almost as if… 

Obi-Wan narrowly resisted emoting his frustration. The Chancellor probably had a hand in this somehow. He was obviously beginning his play for Anakin’s loyalties—pulling him away, cutting at his roots, exacerbating his loneliness. Making Palpatine the one true safe harbor.

Obi-Wan hastily crushed down the feeling of loathing that was blooming in his gut. The Council Chamber was not the correct forum for him to forget himself. Yoda was not a fool, no matter how blind to the dark side of the Force. He must have picked up on their unbroken bond somehow.

Despite that, Obi-Wan still compulsively reached out with the Force, stroking anxiously against the fringes of Anakin’s mind. Anakin withdrew instead of reaching back, and Obi-Wan looked at the ceiling for a long moment to keep composure. There was nothing he could do now, and Anakin’s pain and anger would only grow. 

This was all so kriffing unhelpful.

“Anakin?”

Anakin used the Force to open the door to his rooms and called out flatly, “Yes, Obi-Wan?” He did not move from his position sprawled on the bare mattress in Ahsoka’s old bedroom. His eyes continued to lazily wander around the empty room, seeing what used to be there. 

It hurt to be in her old room, but he just couldn’t seem to leave. Ahsoka had just finished moving her things into Obi-Wan’s apartment and was busy settling into Anakin’s old Padawan room. She was gone, and Anakin had been replaced. 

He was alone. 

Anakin reflected on how he hadn’t even had very much time with Snips, all things considered, but he had still managed to become so attached. Moving her scanty belongings had been one of the most difficult and emotional things that Anakin had ever had to do.

Ahsoka hadn’t wanted to go. She had been so upset, and he hadn’t been able to comfort her. Leaving her at Obi-Wan’s reminded him of leaving his mom behind, and he really didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment. 

“Can I come in?”

Especially Obi-Wan.

Anakin’s voice stayed level. “If you need to, yeah.”

Obi-Wan hovered by the doorway, washing him with concern in the Force. Words washed over Anakin through the bond, “Are you alright, dear one?”

“No.” Anakin lifted his head up and frowned at Obi-Wan for a moment before dropping it back to the mattress and staring fixedly at the ceiling. “I’m not alright. I’ve lost everybody at once. You and Snips…”

Obi-Wan shook his head vehemently, drawing closer and sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand found Anakin’s and he squeezed it gently. His words echoed through Anakin’s mind, heavy with his feelings of reassurance and possession. “You will never lose me, Anakin. Not ever. I am always and have always been yours.”

“You’re Ahsoka’s now.” Anakin’s voice was weak. “There’s nobody that’s mine.”

Obi-Wan hummed negatively, his hand moving to push messy curls off Anakin’s forehead. “She’s always been ours, Anakin. Yours and mine. Ours. Yoda’s opinions about it don’t matter. I will make sure that you spend time together through the bond.”

Anakin sighed and closed his eyes. “You know it’s not the same.”

“I know, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sounded so earnest, it made Anakin’s heart ache. He pushed his face into Obi-Wan’s hand, seeing contact. Obi-Wan cupped his cheek, his fingers sliding into his hair while his thumb stroked gently along his cheekbone. “I’m trying, Anakin. I really didn’t want this to happen.”

“Why couldn’t you stop it?” His eyes opened, meeting Obi-Wan’s gaze. “Why doesn’t your seat on the Council actually ever seem to do anything, Obi-Wan? We’re never together, and now we’ll never be together again. Yoda said so.” Anakin’s voice began as a whine, but slowly ramped up almost into an accusation. 

Obi-Wan shook his head fiercely. “Anakin, the Force itself disagrees with Yoda. You and I are always together. We are connected in ways that the Jedi will never appreciate or understand.” He looked deeply into Anakin’s eyes, as if trying to make him believe his sincerity. “You are mine and I am yours, Padawan.”

The word unexpectedly made Anakin flinch. He looked away, voice resentful. “I’m not your Padawan, you have a new one.”

“You will always be my Padawan, Anakin. Always,” Obi-Wan vowed to him, and kissed him gently. “You are my Apprentice. You’re the most important person in my life, I need you to know that.”

“Am I?” Anakin sounded slightly dubious. “I know you. I know how you are about responsibilities. You’re going to become distracted teaching Ahsoka. You won’t have time for me, between that and the war!”

And you don’t love me, anyway...

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sounded exasperated, his hold on Anakin’s face tightening slightly and he pulled his head around to meet his eyes. “Nothing has to change. Nothing will change. Not between us.”

“I don’t…” Anakin swallowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Come here, Anakin,” Obi-Wan opened his arms, inviting him to come close. When Anakin hesitated, Obi-Wan said, “Please, Padawan. Please come here.”

Anakin took a deep breath and sat up, throwing himself forward into Obi-Wan’s embrace, clinging to him tightly. Obi-Wan’s arms wrapped him up, pulling him close. Anakin whispered, “Will you make me feel better, Master?”

Obi-Wan’s voice was serious and low. “Any time, always, however you need. I’m always here for you first.”

“Promise?” Anakin’s voice felt small. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan kissed him again softly, his eyes warm and his tone possessive. “I promise, Padawan.”

CORUSCANT

20BBY

“They took me off the mission!” Anakin’s voice was too loud. He was looking fixedly out of the transparisteel windows of the Chancellor’s office, seeing nothing, fists clenched with impotent rage. “The Council is making Obi-Wan take Snips to the Citadel instead of me, even though I had specifically requested she be excluded! It’s too dangerous for her to have gone!”

The Chancellor came to stand beside him, and gave him a concerned look, meeting his eyes in the faint reflection of the window. “It seems strange that Master Kenobi would put your Padawan in danger with such a reckless decision.” Palpatine’s tone was cautious. “Your former Padawan, I mean. It’s unusual for him to be so irresponsible.” 

It seemed to Anakin that the Chancellor didn’t really want to criticize Obi-Wan. He appreciated the sentiment, no matter how frustrated he was with Obi-Wan these days. He missed him, needed him. He was losing him—he’d already lost him.

“He didn’t want to take her either,” Anakin sighed. At least he was sure that Obi-Wan would always protect Ahsoka—it was about the only thing in the galaxy he was sure about. His brow furrowed, his tone dark. “They made him take her, like it was some kind of test. They’re always testing us.”

“It’s almost as if the Council is trying to make sure he’s negligent enough to be a guardian.” Palpatine sounded disturbed to Anakin’s ears.

Anakin nodded fiercely. “That’s exactly what it is. Force forbid anyone try to take care of anyone else ever, or try too hard to protect them.” His voice grew mocking, “That’s attachment, Skywalker! It’s not the Jedi Way.” 

“It’s dreadfully unfair, my boy,” Palpatine’s voice was sympathetic. “I simply don’t understand how the Council can treat you both this way.”

“It is so unfair,” Anakin looked at the ceiling, trying to keep his emotions under control. He hadn’t seen Obi-Wan alone for long enough to give him his darkness—to feel his acceptance, feel his forgiveness, feel his protection—before Obi-Wan had been forced to leave for Lola Sayu to rescue Master Piell. 

As a result, Anakin’s rage was bubbling ever closer to the surface. He tried and failed to keep the scorn out of his voice. “I even rescued the other Jedi younglings that they had left for dead. I should have been rewarded, not punished.”

“Yes, you should have been!” Palpatine shook his head. “And then instead to turn around and give your Padawan learner to Master Kenobi, that’s just cruel.” He put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze, and Anakin smiled at him slightly. Palpatine asked, his tone doubtful, “Do you think he requested it? I didn’t think he’d be so eager to replace you, and with your own Padawan no less.”

Anakin’s jaw clenched at the word replace. 

“No.” He sighed and consciously relaxed his face like Obi-Wan had taught him. “He didn’t know either, they surprised him too. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d held a whole meeting without the two of us, just so they could plan to surprise us and see how we reacted.” He growled in frustration, putting his fist against the window. He wanted to smash it. “Everything is always a test, with them.”

“Why they don’t trust you, Anakin, is beyond comprehension. You are the best and most skilled Jedi I’ve ever known.” Palpatine’s voice was kind, and Anakin felt a surge of gratitude before it turned back into resentment.

“That’s just it, they don’t trust me, and I don’t know why!” Anakin huffed a loud breath in frustration, turning back towards the red room and playing resentfully with the straps on his gloved wrist. “I’d done everything they’d ever asked me to do before, even if I didn’t want to. I rescued a Hutt because of them!” He spat the word Hutt.

Palpatine gave him a long, thoughtful look. “Perhaps they don’t trust you because they sense that you have an independent mind and a good heart. They seem to have neither, at times.” His tone was wry.

Anakin laughed without humor. “You’re right about that. I could not believe Master Plo’s response to all this. I had thought he was kind, and Ahsoka loves him. That’s why she rescued him back at the beginning of the war, remember that?” Palpatine nodded and Anakin narrowed his eyes, looking away. “Without her, he would’ve died years ago—but when she really needed his help, he refused to provide it. He chose some arbitrary rule instead, like that is more important to him than Ahsoka’s life!” His volume was rising again, but he didn’t care to keep it down.

“Perhaps to him it is, my boy.” Palpatine shook his head, sounding disappointed. “Perhaps it is.”

“That’s awful!” Anakin turned suddenly and began to pace. He was so mad he couldn’t stay still. His hands clenched and unclenched, and he felt almost shaky with indignation. “What is wrong with the Jedi? Why can’t they see that what they’re doing is terrible? They had no right to take Ahsoka away from me, I was only doing the right thing in getting her back! Why can’t they see that? What is wrong with them?!”

“I have an idea to make you feel better,” Palpatine said suddenly, and Anakin paused from his rant to look over at him curiously. Palpatine returned to his desk and sat down, sighing with relief to be off his feet. 

Anakin suddenly felt bad—the Chancellor was already under so much stress, he shouldn’t be adding to it with his own small problems. At least Palpatine didn’t seem bothered by Anakin’s emotional outburst. “What is it, Chancellor?”

A small, fond smile appeared on the Chancellor’s face, and he gestured an invitation for Anakin to take the seat across from him. “I was just speaking with Senator Amidala about the unfortunate situation on Naboo. She could certainly use a Jedi escort to talk the Gungans out of marching on Theed, and I could send you to accompany her, if you’d like. You could spend some time with an old friend, and take a break from all these… politics.”

“Go with Padmé to Naboo?” Anakin felt a surge of mixed emotions. Obi-Wan’s angry face flashed suddenly in his mind, and Anakin almost scowled. Obi-Wan barely had time for him these days anyway, so why’d it even matter what he thought? He gave the Chancellor a grateful smile. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Good,” Palpatine smiled back at him, eyes twinkling. “I will see that it is done.”

Anakin sat heavily in one of the visitor’s chairs, and tried to calm down. Palpatine pressed a button on his desk, summoning tea, and Anakin ran a hand over his face, thinking about Padmé. Going to Naboo might be nice. Obi-Wan would hate it. Obi-Wan would be jealous. The thought made him smile. 

“Thank you, Chancellor.”

LOLA SAYU

It should not have been quite so distracting to Obi-Wan to know that at that very moment, on the other side of the galaxy, Anakin was alone in the company of Senator Amidala, visiting the planet where they’d… fallen in love. 

He could not afford to be distracted. 

Obi-Wan and his squad were free-climbing up the sheer face of the prison complex called the Citadel—the wind was howling at dangerous speed, the electromines studding the wall crackled with arcs of deadly voltage, and the lava pit below radiated heat even up to his current altitude. 

Ahsoka was below him, and he looked down to check on her location. She gave him the all-good hand gesture and he nodded and looked back up. At least someone had enthusiasm about being a part of the rescue mission. He did worry slightly about her appetite for risk and her disdain for the Council, but really—when compared to Anakin, she was a very manageable Apprentice.

The memory of Anakin on his knees flashed into his mind, his words running on a loop. I loved her, Master. I asked her to marry me. I wanted to be with her forever, she said no. Obi-Wan’s nostrils flared and he pressed his lips together, grip tightening involuntarily. I wanted to be with her forever. She said no.  He moved his feet higher up before moving his hands, reaching as far as he could while making sure to keep his center of gravity tight against the wall. 

I loved her, Master. She said no. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t bear to imagine a scenario where the Senator’s opinion on that matter had changed. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He needed to focus. They were only halfway up the wall, and he was already growing fatigued. He hadn’t been sleeping well. 

When the assignment request for Anakin to travel to Naboo with the Senator had come to the Council from the Chancellor’s office, Obi-Wan had to resist with every single ounce of willpower he possessed from drawing attention to just how much he absolutely despised that plan. He had known that it wouldn’t help his case in the slightest if he were to vehemently protest. 

Darth Sidious was certainly clever and worked fast, Obi-Wan almost had to give him credit—it was an excellent move in the game for Anakin’s loyalties, another brilliant isolating technique, and the Jedi had been more than happy to accomodate his request. Yoda had seemed almost relieved to have an excuse to pull Anakin from the Citadel team. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t really believed that the Council would have let both of them go anyway—despite the fact that there was nobody in the Order with a better chance to succeed at the rescue and getting the intel than the Team. Obi-Wan didn’t think they’d ever let them be the Team again. 

Not after that disastrous disciplinary meeting. 

Anakin had still not recovered from it, not really. Obi-Wan was terribly worried about him, and missed him constantly. He hated the separation just as much as Anakin did—even more, because he knew where it would lead. He hated the Council for doing it to them, hated himself for letting them do it. He didn’t know what else to do.

He wished beyond reason that he could initiate the bond, and see how Anakin was doing. What he was doing. Who...

Obi-Wan’s hand almost slipped, and he clenched his jaw and refocused. Palpatine also seemed to know exactly how to set Obi-Wan up to die on a mission. Distract him with his emotions and let the Separatists do the dirty work. Obi-Wan refused to die here, and he could not die now. He refused to let Sidious have Anakin without a fight. 

She couldn’t have him either. Anakin wasn’t available to be taken. Anakin was his.

NABOO

Anakin walked two paces behind Padmé, his eyes caught on the way her brown hair managed to shine in the dappled light of the forest. They’d almost reached the shore of Lake Paonga and their rendezvous-point with Jar Jar. It had been a pleasant trip so far, and it was exactly as relaxing as he’d hoped to be back on Naboo—back with Padmé—no matter the amount of unrest they were there to solve.

Padmé had been so excited to see him, despite the awkward way their first mission together had ended. Anakin figured that they were both different people now, older and more experienced. She’d smiled at him kindly, and said she’d been worried about him, and that she’d followed the news about him. Her voice was familiar and soothing—so soft and sweet. 

All he could think about was Obi-Wan. 

Padmé looked over her shoulder, her eyes filled with curiosity. “The Chancellor told me the strangest thing about Master Kenobi,” Anakin frowned at the thought of them talking about Obi-Wan behind his back, and she looked vaguely apologetic before continuing. “Chancellor Palpatine told me he’d heard a rumor that Master Kenobi was colluding with Count Dooku and aiding the Separatists, drawing out the war.”

Anakin immediately scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I know for a fact that Obi-Wan’s trying to win the war as fast as possible.” His tone was defensive. “I also know that Obi-Wan hates Dooku for all the suffering he’s caused.” He swallowed, and tried very hard not to think about Obi-Wan’s standing order to spare Dooku’s life. Anakin continued speaking, sounding less certain. “I’m sure he’ll take out Dooku when the time is right.”

“Isn’t…” Padmé’s brow creased for a moment, and she looked confused. “Isn’t it the right time as soon as you see him? I also heard…” She looked away and spoke quickly, as if ashamed to be repeating gossip. “I heard several Senators say that he let Dooku escape on Florrum.”

“What? That is absurd.” Anakin felt aghast. He couldn’t believe she’d listen to such ridiculous rumors, let alone repeat them. “I was there, Padmé, and Obi-Wan did not do that.”

“I wonder why people in the Senate were talking about it,” Padmé shook her head, pushing a low-hanging branch out of her way absently. “I suppose a smear campaign against a popular General is not unheard of during a war, but it seems unlikely to me to be completely baseless, Ani.”

Anakin shrugged helplessly, as the branch swung back, almost hitting Anakin in the face by accident before he got a hand up. He scowled at her back. “It is baseless. I think maybe the Senators just don’t like how popular he is with the troopers and on the HoloNet,” he mused, slightly bitter. “Everybody in the galaxy seems to love Obi-Wan.” 

Padmé laughed in agreement, and Anakin almost smiled back involuntarily at the bright, tinkling sound. Her tone was light and amused. “Everyone loves him except half the Loyalist Committee. They talk about him all the time. The Military Oversight Committee does it too—they all say he’s too much of a military leader, not a peacekeeper.”

“But…” Anakin gaped at her. “They’re the ones who put him in charge of the military! What else is he supposed to be?”

Padmé pursed her lips. “They want him to be more like any other anonymous Jedi, I suppose. He is too popular, Ani. Too famous. Senators don’t like that in High Generals, it makes them uncomfortable.”

“So they spread rumors that he’s a traitor?“ Anakin was offended on Obi-Wan’s behalf. Actually, he was more than offended—he was almost furious. How dare they? “He’s doing his best to stop the war. He wants peace more than anyone. He—”

“Peace under the Republic?” Padmé gave him a sideways look that cut off his momentum. Her voice grew more quiet and cautious, and Anakin had to lean closer to hear her words. “Or peace under a new kind of government? He’s been making promises to the army that he has no authority to keep.”

Anakin stared at her, his stomach dropping at the amount of genuine anxiety that began to radiate out from her in the Force. “What do you mean?

“He’s… he’s doing a lot of things that historically have led to the end of democracy, Ani.” Padmé’s walk towards the shore of the lake was quick and confident, but her voice was hesitant. “I… I am worried about a military coup. The Chancellor is too, but he told me not to tell you. I don’t know why he didn’t want you to know.”

“Obi-Wan isn’t... He’s not a traitor,” Anakin said weakly, trying to match her pace. “He’s trying to end the war and protect people, not just overthrow the government to seize power for himself. He’s not working with Dooku to extend the war. He’s not.” 

Despite the words, he still felt a surge of unease as his memory showed him Obi-Wan’s occasionally inscrutable face and blank Force signature again. 

Even if Obi-Wan did bring down the Republic, he’d be a much better leader than the corrupt Senate... right? The Chancellor and Padmé must be wrong about him... right? Obi-Wan would have told Anakin if the plan had changed about Dooku... right? 

“I hope you’re right about him, Ani.“ Padmé sighed, and looked away. They’d finally reached the bank, and just on time. She waved to Jar Jar as he surfaced. “I really hope you’re right.”

NABOO / LOLA SAYU

Obi-Wan watched another trooper fall and grimly fixed his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber, spinning the blade faster. They were getting overwhelmed, and Ahsoka was alone protecting their flank. It was too much for them. He grimaced and pushed himself harder.

“Let me help!” Anakin said sharply. Obi-Wan looked over, startled at his voice, before shaking his head and turning back to the fight. Anakin followed after him, frustrated. “We practiced for this! Please, Master, let me help.”

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan asked distractedly, his lightsaber flashing and returning blaster bolts at a rapid pace as he moved down the hallway. He decapitated a commando droid and spun, barely preventing a blaster bolt from taking down Cody. “What about your mission?”

“It’s not more important than you and Ahsoka!” Anakin stood close to Obi-Wan and ignited his blade, careful not to touch him. Obi-Wan didn’t want to get accidentally pulled to Naboo and away from Ahsoka and the men, and leave them unprotected and surrounded by droids. Anakin offered his hand, “Master, please!”

Obi-Wan growled and tossed his lightsaber into his left hand, grabbing Anakin with his right—he always had been better at wielding with his off-hand than Anakin. The sound of Anakin’s lightsaber joining in the battle and Cody’s bark of surprise made Obi-Wan smile slightly. 

Anakin used the Force to bind their hands together tightly, and they worked together to bring down the commando droids as efficiently as possible, guarding each other and using their contact to maneuver each other. They moved around each other and supported each other flawlessly, their fighting seeming almost choreographed in its smooth, relentless application of violence. 

It really was much easier and more enjoyable to fight back-to-back with his Padawan again, and Obi-Wan’s smile stuck around. He tried not to get too distracted by Anakin’s presence in the Force, and tried not to enjoy their small amount of contact too much. It had been too long since they’d touched, and his body never stopped craving it. 

Obi-Wan heard Ahsoka cry out as he cut down the last droid. He whipped his head around and heard Anakin call out, “Ahsoka!”

“I’m fine, Master!” She sounded relieved. “It nearly got me, but Waxer shot it!”

“Nice work, Waxer,” Obi-Wan said gratefully, breathing a little hard. “We have to keep moving...” He grimaced. “I just realized we are going to have to find a way to wipe the surveillance tapes of the entire facility. I wasn’t thinking clearly, bringing you across,” he gave Anakin a slightly sour look. Anakin shrugged unapologetically, and Obi-Wan squeezed his hand. “Thank you for your help though, Padawan.”

Anakin grinned back at him for a moment, before seeming to hear something over Obi-Wan’s shoulder. His eyes widened and he yanked Obi-Wan hard to the left—and the blaster bolt meant for Obi-Wan’s back connected with Anakin’s side, making him curl around the wound instinctively, and let out a pained whimper. 

Obi-Wan felt a surge of emotion—stronger perhaps than any emotion ever before in his entire life. Anakin’s whimper replayed in his mind as he turned his head to see a group of nine commando droids coming very quickly down the corridor at them. He heard Ahsoka’s lightsabers ignite, but he ignored the sound. Time seemed to slow down.

He could feel Anakin’s agony shrieking in the Force.

Obi-Wan swiftly clipped his lightsaber to his belt and held out his left hand, fingers extended, focusing intently. His power lashed out, grasping and holding, containing and restraining. All of the droids immediately froze in place. Ahsoka gasped and stood up straight, her arms going slack by her sides. 

Obi-Wan raised his hand, and the droids rose as one into the air and away from the walls. He snarled as his hand clenched tight into a fist, and all the droids were suddenly crushed with immense force into small balls of scrap, the hallway filled with a loud, sharp crunch of metal on metal.

Obi-Wan’s eyes slid to the corner of the hallway and he lifted his hand again, crushing all the cameras and sensors that he could sense in the Force. 

He then reached out a third time, and focused intently on electricity in the way that Darth Solon had taught him. He perceived clearly for the first time how all the energy captured in the droid’s power packs and portable generators seemed to hum in the Force, whispering to him, asking to be set free. 

Obi-Wan obliged, pulling all the strength he could from his own and Anakin’s resonant darkness. He ripped free as much energy as he could away from every droid he could sense—above, below, and around them—powering them all down. The energy dissipated harmlessly, and the Force itself felt quieter. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and looked around with satisfaction. Within the space of a few heartbeats, he had ensured that they were all safe. Why had he been holding back before? Why had he let Anakin get hurt? 

He looked back at Anakin, who was unsteady on his feet, gaping at him. Anakin’s gloved hand was red with blood, pressed against his side. Ahsoka was hovering, seeming unsure of what to do about Anakin’s injury and very, very unsure of what to do about Obi-Wan’s eyes that were likely shining gold.

“Are you close to a medic?” Obi-Wan asked Anakin, voice low. “If I let go of you, what will happen?”

“I’m...” Anakin’s voice was almost inaudible. “I was in the underwater city. They’ll… They’ll help me.”

Obi-Wan squeezed his hand as tightly as he could, pulling him close, his other hand holding the back of Anakin’s neck. He pressed their foreheads together, and reluctantly pulled back, meeting Anakin’s pain-glazed eyes. “I need you to get medical care, Padawan. I’m going to let you go.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin nodded, legs going weak and moving to sit down. Obi-Wan helped him down gently. Anakin murmured to him, “I will be fine. You… take care of Snips, alright? Take care of my Padawan.”

“I’ll be fine, Master!” Ahsoka sounded on the verge of tears. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

“Good,” Anakin said vaguely. “Be safe, Master.”

Obi-Wan kissed his forehead and inhaled deeply, trying to fix the scent of Anakin’s hair in his mind. He whispered, “Try to heal yourself, Padawan, I know you can do it. Feel into the living Force around you. It will help you, it must.”

Anakin nodded shakily. Obi-Wan took a steadying breath, and let go of his hand.

There was a very loud moment of silence in the hall when Anakin disappeared from the sight of everybody else. Anakin’s slumped body remained visible to Obi-Wan, the bond holding on for a few moments more before Anakin disappeared entirely. Obi-Wan finally looked up, trying to regain control. “We have to keep moving,” he said, his voice coming out dark and intent. 

Ahsoka looked scared, but she also looked very determined. She finally put her lightsabers back on her belt and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Obi-Wan looked to Cody and Cody also signaled readiness. Obi-Wan nodded in satisfaction and turned. “Let’s wipe the tapes first.”

“Yes, sir!”

NABOO

“Anakin!” Padmé shouted, her voice ringing with panic. “What happened? Who shot you?” She darted over to where he was lying on the side of the road, pushing aside curious Gungans. He looked up at the glittering dome of the city, his eyes sliding in and out of focus. 

“I...” Anakin pressed his hand against his side, keeping pressure on the wound, trying to stand. He tried to think of a lie, but was in so much pain his brain couldn’t handle complex thought. He was drowning in pain, he was going into shock. He sounded shaky. “I don’t know.”

Padmé bent down, offering to help him up. He gratefully took her hand, and slung an arm around her shoulders, wincing. She began to pull him forward, leading him away from the crowd, speaking quickly. “We need to get you to the medical facility! As soon as we can!”

“Yes…” Anakin agreed reflexively. “Thank you.” He blinked, trying to move his focus away from the agony lancing up his side. “What about Rish Loo? Is Boss Lyonie alright?”

“He’s alive, but unconscious,” Padmé’s tone was pressed. “I got Jar Jar to go try to calm down the mob in his place, but I don’t know if he’ll be able to pull it off!” 

“Alright,” Anakin nodded slightly, his speech slurring a bit. “Jar Jar’s always pulled things off before.”

She laughed almost fondly, “I suppose he has, yes.” She adjusted Anakin’s arm on her shoulders and he hissed involuntarily with pain. “What happened, Ani? I left you for about five minutes, and then I couldn’t find you, and then you were on the ground bleeding! Who shot you?”

“I don’t know!” Anakin repeated through clenched teeth. “I didn’t see, alright?”

Padmé let out a frustrated breath, “I don’t like that. Do you think this all could just be a trap for you? I’m sure you have lots of enemies.”

“Not a trap,” Anakin murmured. His eyes felt heavy. Padmé sped up her pace, pulling him along. They were almost there. “I doubt it.”

“You’re lucky they just brought Boss Lyonie here,” Padmé grumbled. “Or I would have had no idea what to do with you. Maybe you can have the bed next to him.” She teased him lightly. Anakin tried to smile, and said nothing. They were almost there.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were still in so much danger. He should be back at the Citadel with them. He wouldn’t have gotten shot if he’d been there for real. At least Obi-Wan didn’t get shot. Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to get shot. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to die. 

The very idea made him so angry that he felt the dark side begin to eddy around him—that intangible, shimmering field of available energy, waiting and begging for him to use it. It called to him, sang to him, reached for him.

Anakin felt strangely as if he could almost grasp the living Force inside all the beings around him, and more than grasp it, he began to feel like he could pull from it, take from it, gain strength from it. He suddenly knew with a stroke of inspiration that it really would be possible for him to heal himself with the power of the dark side, just as Obi-Wan had said he could. 

It would only have a cost to the others around him, but it was a cost that currently Anakin was more than willing to let them pay. 

Anakin closed his eyes, letting his feet follow wherever Padmé pointed him. He began breaking down the barriers in his mind, the ones that held him apart from the living Force around him. He felt looser, freer, more connected to every living thing than he ever had before. 

His injury pulsed with agony, and he reached out to the environment to give him the energy he needed to heal, stem the bleeding, and knit the wound closed. He instinctively skimmed and assimilated a fraction of the brilliant living Force from all the beings around him—the Gungans, the plants and animals. Even from Padmé, who glowed incandescent in the Force with her purity of spirit and strength of will.

The dark side didn’t particularly care where the energy would come from, and was indiscriminate and greedy as it reached out and ripped away what Anakin needed to give himself strength.

Anakin’s rage and pride commingled into a sudden wave of emotion so powerful that the wound stopped bleeding all at once. He jerked forward at the odd sensation of the accelerated repair of his flesh and put his hands on his knees, breathing hard. He looked over and saw Padmé frowning at him and blinking quickly, her face oddly pale. “What was that?”

“I used... I used the Force to heal myself, partially.” Anakin shook his head and stood up straight, rolling his shoulders back. Sith hells but it did still hurt. “I’m fine to walk, now.” She gave him an extremely dubious look, and he smiled tightly. “I’m not bleeding anymore, I promise.”

“If you say so,” she said. She gave him an imperious look. “You’re still going to get checked out.”

“Of course,” Anakin smiled. Once a Queen, always a Queen. “Thank you, Padmé.”

Their walk continued in silence, and Anakin couldn’t stop staring at the dead flowers that lined the path, slumped and grey in their boxes. 

Had he done that?

LOLA SAYU

“You’re just going to walk into the command center?” Ahsoka couldn’t believe that this was really the plan after all. She ran her hands over her face and took a deep breath. Everything was fine. Anakin would be fine. Master Obi-Wan wouldn’t let her be hurt. He wouldn’t hurt her, either. He wouldn’t. Everything was fine.

Obi-Wan smiled wickedly, tilting his head to the side and looking almost as cocky as Skyguy on a bad day. Suddenly, Ahsoka could barely resist rolling her eyes. All Obi-Wan’s golden eyes did was seem to make his eyes twinkle. Nobody should be that charming, it was absurd. 

Obi-Wan’s voice was encouraging, “You wanted to see me try to mind trick someone, right?”

“Of course, yes, I want to see that!” Ahsoka nodded, her curiosity spiking and she tagged along, following him as he strode quickly down the hallway towards the lift. “Is that what you did to Jabba? Is that why you sent me out of the building? I didn’t think it was possible to do that to a Hutt!” 

She realized that she was chattering nervously—she still couldn’t stop seeing Anakin’s pained face in her mind, hearing the sound of his shaky breathing. Why had he done that? Why had he had to do that? She shook her head and tried to refous. “Shouldn’t we split up so I can rescue Master Piell first though? That’s what you said needed to happen in the briefing…”

Obi-Wan frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think Anakin would forgive me if I let you out of my sight, Ahsoka.”

She nodded, and smiled gratefully. Obi-Wan had still never once called her ‘Padawan.’ Somehow they had both just silently agreed that she wasn’t his Padawan, not really. No matter what the stupid kriffing Council had said. They both knew that Anakin was her real Master. 

“Fine, Master Obi-Wan. Won’t Master Piell be able to sense...” Ahsoka gestured cautiously at Obi-Wan’s eyes. “That?” She was trying extremely hard not to freak out about it herself. She told herself she would think about it later, when they weren’t in so much danger.

Obi-Wan shrugged and gave her a measuring look. She resisted the urge to stand up straight for inspection. He smirked. “It doesn’t matter if Even senses it. He won’t remember for long if he does.”

Ahsoka swallowed and looked away, feeling anxious. The lift was quiet, the troopers seemed numb with grief at their lost brothers. It made Ahsoka want to cry and punch Master Yoda in the face. Nobody should have to feel as much sadness and pain as the men around her were currently attempting to hide from each other. It was awful. 

She watched with incredulous awe as Master Obi-Wan strode almost casually into the command center, freezing the Warden in place with a wave of his hand and somehow turning off all the droids in the room. She shivered with sudden cold. It was unlike anything she’d seen before, and she was both impressed and extremely uncomfortable.