Chapter Text
Anakin’s eyes were still adjusting to the low light as he followed Obi-Wan down yet another concrete corridor. The more time they spent down here, the more the underground fortress felt like a labyrinth, one fork leading to another, each path looking the same. Up until now they’d been alone, but Anakin was sure he had heard something at the end of the tunnel.
“Master,” Anakin said softly. Obi-Wan paused, his body still as a statue. He met Anakin’s eyes, and a look of anticipation passed between them. Anakin strained to hear. Heavy footsteps made the ground shake. The emergency lights rattled and flickered inside their steel casings. “Someone’s coming.”
Anakin waited, breathless, and Obi-Wan stayed stiff and silent beside him. A figure in a dark cloak emerged, his face hidden beneath his hood.
He’s a Sith. Anakin knew it with absolute and immediate certainty.
Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan. There was grim acceptance in the set of his jaw, and recognition glinted in his eyes. He shrugged off his robe and drew his lightsaber, tense and controlled as he fell into a defensive stance. Obi-Wan knew this Sith, Anakin realized, shifting his gaze to watch as the figure lowered his dark hood with a gloved hand.
Anakin gasped, feeling the pull of a distant memory as he met a pair of glowing yellow eyes. Red skin covered in black tattoos was as sinister as it was familiar. Anakin knew this Sith, too. He was the one who had attacked them all those years ago on Tatooine, the one who had killed Qui-Gon on Naboo. Darth Maul.
Anakin took his position at Obi-Wan’s left, his own robe falling to the floor in one swift motion as he drew his saber. Maul mirrored him, black fabric slipping from broad shoulders, and Anakin had to stop himself from stepping back when he saw the place where Maul’s bare chest connected to large cybernetic legs. Maul’s saber thrummed as it ignited, the red a menacing glow against steel and skin.
Seconds passed, and Anakin’s quick breaths felt loud in the stretched silence. He knew before Obi-Wan moved what Obi-Wan was planning. They broke the stalemate as two halves of a whole, lunging toward Maul in the same instant. Blue and red light painted the walls, and blade met blade in rapid, cacophonous succession, the echoes bouncing off of cement to rattle in Anakin’s ears. Maul was more agile than Anakin had guessed, and he sensed Obi-Wan working hard to keep up, each jump and swing and block more taxing than the last. Anakin took the lead, driving Maul backward down the tunnel and through a sliding durasteel door.
There was an explosion of sound as they swung into the chamber, and Anakin realized they’d been thrown into the middle of a different kind of fight. Droids and clones shot at each other from the lower and upper levels, and shouting and blaster fire reverberated off the high ceiling, leaving Anakin stunned. He shook his head, tuning out the chaos to refocus on his target.
He and Obi-Wan ducked and blocked blasts as they chased Maul backward, lured toward the center of the room through a haze of color and sound. Maul used the tumult to his advantage, striking at each of them in their most distracted moments. One of the claws on the ends of those cybernetic legs clipped Obi-Wan’s chin, knocking him off his feet and into the air. He landed several meters away, and Anakin stepped in quickly to capture Maul’s attention. The two of them leapt toward each other at the same time, and Maul’s metal foot struck again, this time straight into Anakin’s side.
Anakin surged forward as soon as he landed, the pain forgotten. Obi-Wan arrived seconds later, and Anakin saw a bruise forming on the pale skin just above his jaw.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Obi-Wan said, making Maul snarl.
They dove in again, Anakin and Obi-Wan in perfect sync. They were both tired now, but neither of them let up; they pummeled Maul’s saber, bearing down on Maul’s defense until all three blades locked together with a jolt. Anakin made a strained sound. It took all of his energy and focus to maintain that pressure, to keep Maul trapped in the blade lock. When Obi-Wan pulled away to attack Maul’s unprotected side, Maul threw Anakin back, then pulled Obi-Wan into his iron grip, his blade held to Obi-Wan’s chest.
“Obi-Wan!”
Anakin didn’t move fast enough. Before he could get to Obi-Wan, Maul drove the saber down into Obi-Wan’s heart.
No. No, no, no. Anakin couldn’t breathe. His lungs burned, screaming for oxygen, but the breath had been punched out of his chest, and no matter how much he gasped, he couldn’t get air in through the tightening of his throat. His diaphragm spasmed, and he bent forward, indescribable pain making his vision blur. Not Obi-Wan. Please. It was unthinkable. Unimaginable.
His head dropped forward as he felt their force bond sever, sliced through and cauterized with the same burning, excruciating heat he’d felt when Dooku had cut off his hand. Obi-Wan’s consciousness was ripped away from him; where there had once been the warmth of Obi-Wan’s presence in the force, now there was… nothing. Anakin felt as though he was stumbling, plummeting through darkness, reaching for Obi-Wan and grasping only air.
Pain and anger blinded Anakin, and he threw Maul with a strength he hadn’t known he possessed, calling on the force in a way he never had before. Hurt him, Anakin thought, and the force obeyed. He watched Maul’s body hit the wall, head cracking against the concrete.
The blow didn’t kill Maul, but it gave Anakin the time he needed to rush forward and kneel over Obi-Wan. Kind grey eyes were still open, unseeing.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered, tracing Obi-Wan’s brow with trembling fingers. He stared, his body wrung with pain, tears stinging his eyes. He longed to bury his face in his master’s chest, to feel those strong arms around him one last time. He wanted to lie down beside Obi-Wan and cling with all his might, not letting go until someone dared to haul him away.
He bit his lip, holding back a sob. I never got to tell you how much I love you. It was too late. Obi-Wan was gone, and Anakin was alone. The force around him was nothing but vast emptiness and howling sorrow. Tears spilled, hot and angry. He picked up Obi-Wan’s saber, brushing his thumb gently over the hilt before taking a firmer grip and igniting it along with his own.
Anakin turned around slowly at the sound of Maul’s footsteps. He felt broken, ravaged and cracked and jagged like the land after an earthquake. He looked up. He could see Maul’s twisted smile across the small distance. He would destroy Maul, he decided, the way Maul had destroyed him.
Vengeance overtook him then, tearing through his veins like wildfire. He fed on the blaze, drawing strength from his desire to watch Maul suffer. He stood and stalked forward with slow steps. Maul countered him. Blaster fire still rained around them, but the force protected Anakin, bending the blasts away. The grief that had cleaved Anakin in two made him suddenly fearless. How could this Sith hurt him when he had nothing left to lose?
Anakin took up his stance, baring his teeth in threat. “You should’ve killed me first.”
Anakin’s attack was ruthless. He threw his anger at Maul with everything he had left. The force made him fast; his fury made him unstoppable. Lightsabers clashed together again and again and again, and Maul faltered, no longer quick enough to match the frenzied swipes of Anakin’s blade.
Maul lost his grip. Anakin used the force to send his weapon flying, hurling it across the room. Before Maul could retaliate, Anakin dropped his sabers and opened his palms, wrapping Maul in a crushing force grip and lifting him into the air.
Kill him, he thought. He lifted one hand and squeezed, imagining Maul’s throat between his fingers and his thumb. He watched as Maul struggled to breathe, not letting up his deadly pressure until he heard the snap of bone. Anakin let Maul’s body hang for a moment, then dropped him. He landed face down, the cybernetic legs making a terrible noise as they struck the ground.
Anakin called Maul’s saber back to him, and it landed obediently in his open palm. He ignited it, then plunged the blade into Maul’s back with a two-handed grip, drawing it out only when the smell of burning flesh overpowered him. He stood over the dead Sith, the weapon heavy in his gloved hand. Something sinister whispered to him through the force, a soft siren song calling his name. Anakin.
He dropped the saber with a start, then watched as it rolled away from him, coming to rest next to Obi-Wan.
No. Not Obi-Wan. Not anymore.
He stared into Obi-Wan’s lifeless face. The softness there didn’t look like sleep. It looked like death, cold and horrible and final. It was a permanent end to the one man who had always accepted Anakin for who he was, embracing every flaw and failure with a grace Anakin had never deserved.
Grief wrung Anakin, dark tendrils curling around him, clutching at his heart. He couldn’t breathe. He might never be able to breathe again. Pain stabbed through his chest and rippled outward, engulfing every part of him. He fell to his knees, surrendering, some deep abyss of sadness opening up and drowning him in darkness.
Anakin woke with a gasping breath. He sat up, stunned, blinking as the room came into hazy focus. His room. His bed. He wasn’t on some Outer Rim planet. He was home, and Obi-Wan was sleeping just down the hall. Anakin dropped his head into his hands. A dream. Only a dream.
He scrubbed at his face, still seeing red behind his eyes. The glow of the Sith’s saber haunted him. He could hear that mysterious whisper of his name, beckoning him, luring him toward… something. The dark side of the force, his mind supplied.
Dread shivered through him. Of course. He hadn’t just held the weapon. He’d used it. Violently. Vengefully. Maul had already been dead, but Anakin had wanted justice. That wasn’t the Jedi way. Of course, neither was strangling people to death. Anakin winced. He hadn’t meant to do it. He’d seen Obi-Wan dead in front of him, and he’d—he’d lost control. Something inside him had snapped.
His throat grew tight as the memory resurfaced in sharp detail. He felt the pain in his chest and the fire in his lungs, and then he was gasping for air, his eyes stinging as he stared down at Obi-Wan’s corpse. “Stop,” he said to himself, shaking his head to clear the image from his mind. “It isn’t real.”
The raw hurt felt real enough. The familiarity of it wrenched Anakin’s gut. He swiped at his eyes, trying to catch his breath. His heart beat faster, a pounding rhythm, and when he felt the walls closing in on him, he threw off the covers and levered himself out of bed, stumbling out into the common room. The lights flicked on, and he shielded his eyes against the sudden brightness, cursing the motion sensor under his breath as he went to flip the switch. The room darkened again, and Anakin dragged anxious hands through his hair.
“Why did it have to be Obi-Wan?” The question wasn’t productive, but he asked it anyway, speaking quietly to the empty air. He’d already watched Obi-Wan die once. He’d believed that to be real, too, until he’d learned the truth. Obi-Wan had deceived him. Obi-Wan had faked his own death and hidden it. Apparently, Anakin hadn’t needed to know.
It had been, as all things were with the Jedi these days, for the good of the Republic. Anakin swallowed, the betrayal still sour in his mouth. He’d never known such absolute hopelessness. He’d mourned Obi-Wan, inconsolable, until his anguish had given way to anger. Then, when he’d finally learned the truth, that anger had multiplied, bringing him dangerously close to losing himself in the torrent of his rage.
Anakin had forgiven Obi-Wan in the end—he cared too much for Obi-Wan to deny him anything—but his trust in the Council had been irreparably broken. He’d done his best to choose missions that took him far away from Coruscant after that. Still, wherever Obi-Wan went, Anakin was compelled to follow, even if it meant dealing with the Jedi Masters he’d come to mistrust. He felt like a plant stretching toward the sunlight, reaching for the inviting warmth he could only get from Obi-Wan, not caring where it led him.
And what if Obi-Wan died in front of him like he’d seen in his dream? A world without Obi-Wan was a world without stars, cold and dark and empty. A chill crept up Anakin’s spine. He didn’t want to think about a world like that. Looking for a distraction, he stepped up close to the window and leaned his forehead against the glass. The city lights winked at him from the shadows outside, blurred and distorted by the rain, and he watched the water run down the panes in rivulets, listening to the soft patter of raindrops.
“Anakin. What’re you doing up?”
Anakin turned at the sound of Obi-Wan’s voice. “Master.” He looked up at Obi-Wan’s face, then glanced quickly away, the image of Obi-Wan’s lifeless body flashing in his mind’s eye. No. No, no, no. He fought to shut the memory out, caught up in a rushing current of grief and sorrow and loss. “I’m sorry,” Anakin managed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Obi-Wan approached him, concern radiating through their force bond. Anakin bit his lip. He didn’t want concern. He wanted comfort, wanted to wrap himself up in Obi-Wan’s arms and bury his face in Obi-Wan’s neck. He wanted-
You want Obi-Wan. That’s all.
Yes. Anakin wanted. He needed. He longed for something with Obi-Wan that he could never have, because Obi-Wan would never break the code, not even for Anakin. That didn’t stop Anakin from longing. It didn’t stop him from imagining Obi-Wan beside him as he fell asleep. It didn’t stop him from worrying about what would happen if Obi-Wan grew tired of him, or worse, what would happen if Obi-Wan left on a mission and never came back.
He saw another flash of red, the memory still potent in his mind. Stop, he thought. It’s not real.
“Something’s troubling you,” Obi-Wan said, stepping close and resting a gentle hand on Anakin’s face.
Anakin wished he could tilt his head and drop a kiss onto his master’s palm. He closed his eyes instead, secretly reveling in the feeling of Obi-Wan’s skin against his own. His dream felt further away now. Had Obi-Wan banished his distress with a single touch? Anakin took a deep breath, then released it with a sigh. “Nightmares,” he said, opening his eyes.
Obi-Wan’s face changed only slightly, the corners of his mouth drawn down. “What did you see?”
“The Sith who killed Qui-Gon—Darth Maul.” Anakin paused, not quite ready to say the words out loud. “He kills you.” Even with Obi-Wan’s hand to anchor him, the memory drove a stake through his heart. He clenched his jaw against the feeling. It didn’t help. “I was so angry, Obi-Wan. I wanted him to hurt for what he’d done. And then—then you were still gone, and I couldn’t breathe. I still can’t breathe.”
Grief clawed at him again, harsh and painful, mixed with the desperate fear that what he’d seen might actually come true. What if it hadn’t been a dream? What if it had been a vision? What if Obi-Wan—what if—no. If Obi-Wan died, Anakin would never survive it. He’d be lost.
I can’t let you go, master. I’m nothing without you.
Something like a sob escaped Anakin’s lips. He did turn his face into Obi-Wan’s palm then, seeking more of that comforting touch.
“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was thick with emotion, his eyes so full of care that Anakin nearly melted under his gaze. He drew Anakin down into his arms, and Anakin went willingly, a small, anguished whimper muffled against the fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic. “It’s alright, dear one. It will be alright, I promise.”
Anakin took a shuddering breath, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist and holding tight. He turned his head to press his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, enveloped by Obi-Wan’s scent, reassured by the steady thrum of Obi-Wan’s pulse. Obi-Wan let him linger there, not saying a word when Anakin’s tears smeared hotly onto his skin. Long minutes passed, Anakin breathing in and out in time with the rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s chest.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured, his fingers tracing soothingly through Anakin’s hair. “You don’t have to carry these things alone. I know I’ve let you down, but—you can still come to me if you need me. If you’re hurting.”
Anakin lifted his head to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes. He’d been too afraid to go to Obi-Wan the way he always had before. A few threads of tension from Obi-Wan’s deception had still lingered between them, and Anakin hadn’t known how to cut them away. He realized now that he’d been waiting for permission. He’d wanted Obi-Wan to be the one to invite him, to offer freely what Anakin had always taken without asking. “Thank you,” Anakin said, sighing his relief through a watery smile.
Obi-Wan’s lips curved up, and he wiped a stray tear from Anakin’s cheek with a gentle brush of his thumb. “Are you feeling any better?”
Anakin nodded. He felt calmer, less overwhelmed by the storm of emotion.
Obi-Wan’s thumb brushed his cheek again, a slow caress that had no right to feel as tender as it did. “Will you be able to sleep?”
Obi-Wan had helped Anakin through enough nightmares to know the answer. Anakin shook his head. “No.”
Obi-Wan considered him for a moment. “And if I’m with you?”
The offer made something needy and hopeful bloom in Anakin’s chest. Apart from one notable recent exception, the two of them hadn’t slept in the same bed since Anakin had been a padawan. “Master, you—” he broke off, not sure if he was trying to accept or refuse. “You don’t have to do that.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Obi-Wan said softly. He lowered his hand from Anakin’s face, and Anakin nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.
“I…” Anakin’s shoulders sagged, his resistance crumbling under Obi-Wan’s steady gaze. “It would help,” he admitted.
“Alright then.” Obi-Wan started toward Anakin’s room, pausing when Anakin didn’t follow. “Well?” He quirked an eyebrow, expectant and amused and exasperated, and Anakin marveled at how Obi-Wan managed to make such a small gesture communicate so much all at once.
Obi-Wan continued toward the bedroom, and this time Anakin followed him, nervous anticipation setting in only once they’d crossed the threshold. He watched Obi-Wan pull the blankets further back and slide into the bed, then shift to make room for him. Anakin hesitated. The last time they’d done this, Anakin had been curled up in a ball on the floor, his face pressed to his knees, his body wracked with hiccuping sobs. Obi-Wan had picked him up and set him down on the bed, and Anakin had clung to Obi-Wan like a lifeline, curled up in Obi-Wan’s warmth until he’d calmed enough to speak.
That had been two months ago, and though neither of them had spoken of it since, Anakin hadn’t stopped craving Obi-Wan’s touch. It made him nervous— nervous that, despite the strength of his mental shields, he would reveal his feelings without meaning to. Where was the line between the love a former padawan had for his master and the love that now made Anakin ache? And would Obi-Wan know that Anakin had crossed it?
He breathed his nervousness out into the force as he slid in next to Obi-Wan, keeping his master within reach but not making any move to touch. Obi-Wan shifted into him, back pressed into Anakin’s chest. Oh, kriff. It felt good to have Obi-Wan here, to have him close and warm and safe. Anakin’s durasteel hand wrapped tentatively around Obi-Wan’s waist. He tucked his head into Obi-Wan’s shoulder, hardly daring to breathe.
Relax, Anakin, Obi-Wan said through their bond. It’s alright.
Obi-Wan’s presence in the force was soothing and warm, and Anakin sighed, letting his tension drain away. He listened to the steady rhythm of Obi-Wan’s breathing, allowing himself to nuzzle just a bit closer. He knew this wouldn’t sustain him forever; when it came to Obi-Wan, he would always want more. But it was enough for now. With Obi-Wan wrapped safely in his arms, he fell into a dreamless sleep.
A few days passed, and the concerns of a galaxy at war were enough to put the dream out of Anakin’s mind. For all his efforts to make himself less available to the Council, his days filled quickly with meetings and tasks and diplomatic duties. How he was supposed to participate in diplomatic exchanges while acting as a General in a war was beyond him, not to mention that dealing with senators wasn’t exactly his favorite activity.
The exception to the rule, of course, was Padme. She was a breath of fresh air; her witty, intelligent commentary made even the dullest party survivable. Unfortunately for Anakin, Padme was off on some kind of assignment for the duration of his stay, and he’d been forced to mingle with the senators alone. He’d left the party early, retreating to his room to tinker with his droids.
Before Anakin knew it, it was the end of his first week on-planet. Hours of strategic planning had left him mentally exhausted. He rubbed tension from his forehead, then pinched the bridge of his nose, setting his datapad aside. He’d read enough reports for one day. He’d read enough reports for a lifetime, really, but that wouldn’t help him get out of reading more. He levered himself out of his chair and made his way to the refectory, determined to spend some time outside of a tactics room before he went to sleep.
That night, Anakin dreamt of Maul again. He shot upright, Maul’s snarling face still swimming in his vision even as he woke. His body shook, the tremors making it hard for him to catch his breath.
It wasn’t just a dream, he thought, the realization making him feel sick. He never dreamed the same dream so vividly. This was a premonition—a vision of the future.
He reached around for his pillow and held it to his chest, then buried his face in it, gripping the fabric with shaking hands. He wanted to scream, but when he tried, no sound came out. His throat felt raw. Had he been screaming in his sleep?
The vision replayed behind Anakin’s closed eyes, snapshots of moments he wished he’d never seen. He saw himself picking up Maul’s saber, red light washing over him; he heard the soft, entrancing whisper of the dark side. Would Anakin reject that call? Or would he follow it? When Obi-Wan dies, am I fated to fall?
Another thought cut in, even more troubling than the first: does it matter if I do?
He’d killed Maul in cold blood, and it still hadn’t been enough to dull the sharp edge of his grief. It didn’t matter which side of the force he chose. Obi-Wan’s death would break him either way.
Anakin exhaled, releasing his breath with a shaking shudder. He was suddenly aware of just how deeply attached he was: his feelings for Obi-Wan consumed him the way fire consumed a forest; he burned and burned and burned.
He finally lifted his head, glancing over at the chrono and wincing at the time. It was early. Inhumanly early.
Obi-Wan told you to go find him if you needed him.
Anakin swallowed. Force help him, he needed Obi-Wan more than he wanted to admit. He needed those strong arms around him, keeping him safe. He needed that comforting voice, soothing and soft in his ear. Which would upset Obi-Wan more? Being woken up before dawn, or learning that Anakin had needed him and had refused to seek him out? Anakin sighed, already knowing the answer. He threw off the covers and stood, making his way quietly to Obi-Wan’s room.
“Master?” he asked in a low voice, rapping softly on the door with two fingers.
Several long seconds later, the door slid open to reveal a sleepy-looking Obi-Wan. His brow creased in concern as he took in Anakin’s face. “Anakin. Come in.” Obi-Wan ushered him inside, and Anakin followed obediently. “Another nightmare?” Obi-Wan asked.
“The same one,” Anakin said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. “It’s—it’s not a nightmare, Obi-Wan. It’s a vision. I know Maul is dead. I know it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t seem possible, but—”
Obi-Wan didn’t let him finish, stepping forward and wrapping Anakin up in an embrace. Anakin breathed in sharply. He closed his eyes, then slid his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck, tucking his face into Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured, one hand cradling the back of his head. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m sorry,” was all Anakin managed to say.
Obi-Wan’s grip on Anakin tightened. He turned, his cheek pressed against Anakin’s hair. “Dear one, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
Anakin spent the rest of the night curled up against Obi-Wan, his head resting on Obi-Wan’s chest. He stayed awake for a long time, counting Obi-Wan’s steady, even breaths, barely noticing their rhythm lulling him to sleep.
They fell into a pattern after that. They slept in the same bed every night, sometimes in Anakin’s room, sometimes in Obi-Wan’s. While Anakin hadn’t asked for it, he hadn’t refused it either. The selfish part of him that longed for more with Obi-Wan couldn’t help but sink greedily into every embrace, curling closer, holding tighter.
Of course, it never lasted. Obi-Wan was usually gone by the time Anakin rose. It was better that way, Anakin decided. The daylight changed things. It made everything sharper. More real.
And yet, when Anakin woke one morning to find Obi-Wan still asleep in his arms, he was convinced he’d fallen into another dream.
He exhaled slowly, afraid to move, afraid that Obi-Wan would wake up and pull away. The heat from Obi-Wan’s body radiated against his chest. He lowered his head a little to breathe in Obi-Wan’s scent, his nose tracing the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. When he closed his eyes, he imagined himself dropping languid kisses along Obi-Wan’s exposed skin.
Stop. Don’t. That line of thought was dangerous, but Anakin couldn’t help it. Waking up like this, still tangled so closely together, made him want.
Anakin drew away gently, trying not to wake Obi-Wan as he sat up. He brought his knees to his chest, then breathed deeply, hoping to calm his arousal before it became too apparent. He combed his hands through his hair, pausing halfway to tug a little at the strands.
“Anakin.” Obi-Wan turned, propping himself up on one elbow. His face was still soft with sleep, his tunic rumpled, his hair just the slightest bit out of place. “Are you alright?”
Oh, kriff. How was Anakin supposed to form a sentence with Obi-Wan looking like that? He nodded, searching for an excuse that wouldn’t leave Obi-Wan worried. “I’m fine. I just—”
He was saved by the sound of Obi-Wan’s comm chiming on the dresser. Obi-Wan slipped out of bed and reached for it, sparing Anakin a quick glance before saying, “Kenobi here.”
“Master Kenobi.” It was Master Windu. He sounded tense. “There’s something you should see. Meet us in the tactics room as soon as you can, and bring General Skywalker with you.”
Anakin frowned. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good.
“Of course. Kenobi out.” Obi-Wan looked back at Anakin. “Well. We’d better not keep them waiting.”
“I’ll meet you outside,” Anakin replied. Obi-Wan left with a slight nod, and Anakin dressed quickly, barely remembering to grab his comm as he headed out the door.
They walked side by side to the tactics room, viscous dread pooling in the pit of Anakin’s stomach. The halls were quiet, the early morning light still pink as it crept in through the windows. The small echoes of their brisk footsteps only made Anakin more nervous; something in the force murmured restless unease, and Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan felt it too.
Master Windu and Master Yoda looked up, breaking off their conversation as Anakin and Obi-Wan entered. “Master Kenobi, General Skywalker.” Windu greeted. “We have something to show you.”
Anakin and Obi-Wan shared a worried look. They moved to stand close to the holoprojector in the center of the room, and Windu called up the holovid. Several figures appeared, their bodies hunched, their hands chained together. They stood in a line, fearful and trembling, as if they had been placed there to await execution. Anakin tensed, anticipating what came next.
Another figure stepped into the view of the vid pickup then, standing threateningly in front of them. Blind panic made Anakin’s chest tight. Those cybernetic legs, that snarling face, those glowing yellow eyes—they were unmistakable. The Sith in front of them was identical to the one from Anakin’s dream.
Darth Maul is alive.
So it had been a vision after all. All of the things Anakin had seen—they would come true. No. Please, no. He felt the weight of that grim reality settle on his shoulders. Maul would find them. Maul would kill Obi-Wan, and there was nothing Anakin could do to stop it. Now that they knew Maul was alive, it was only a matter of time. He tried to keep his breathing even, his wide eyes fixed on the holovid.
Maul stalked around the prisoners, sneering at them, toying with them, then ignited his lightsaber. He cut each figure down one by one, slaughtering them without a shred of hesitation or remorse. It was horrible. Brutal. Maul turned to the camera and bared his teeth in a smile. “There will be more innocent blood on your hands, Kenobi,” he growled, “unless you come here, face me. Come alone. If you do not, this world will burn.”
Windu paused the holovid, leaving Maul’s image wavering in front of them. Anakin looked at Obi-Wan. A frown drew deep lines into his face, and he rubbed a hand over his beard. Anakin knew what that gesture meant. Obi-Wan was upset. Distressed. Anakin probed gently at their force bond; Obi-Wan’s shields were like a door slammed shut in front of him.
Anakin knew Obi-Wan well enough to know that he would take the bait. He would walk right into Maul’s trap, not because he didn’t think it was dangerous, but because Maul had killed who knew how many innocent beings to get to him. And Maul had promised to kill more if Obi-Wan didn’t respond.
Anakin desperately wanted to know what Obi-Wan was thinking. Would he try to go alone, as Maul had demanded? Would he refuse to take Anakin with him because of Anakin’s vision?
Maybe if you don’t go with him, your vision won’t come true.
The thought had enough merit to give Anakin pause. In the future he’d seen, he’d been there with Obi-Wan. What would happen if he decided not to go?
No. It didn’t work like that. Anakin had felt Maul’s power. Alone, Obi-Wan didn’t stand a chance. But maybe—maybe there was a way to change the future. If Anakin couldn’t stop Obi-Wan from going, maybe Anakin could save him.
Anakin became suddenly aware of the force around him. It buzzed in his ears and fluttered between his fingers, a living, breathing thing, charged with power and possibility. He turned his palms up and felt energy surge through him as if his hands were some kind of conduit. The buzzing became a soft hum, steady and strong and so much more compelling than the siren song of the dark side.
It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the force speak. But what was it trying to tell him? In his vision, he’d called on the force to kill Maul. Was it capable of more? Could it grant him the ability to change what he’d seen, to alter the outcome? That hum grew louder, as if the force was answering, Yes.
Obi-Wan’s voice snapped Anakin out of his thoughts, the force’s hum growing distant as Obi-Wan spoke. “I have to go.”
Windu made a disapproving sound. “Not alone. We'll send a task force with you.”
“You see what he's capable of,” Obi-Wan argued, gesturing at the holovid. “He's broken. Unbalanced. I've dealt with him before. I can do it again.”
“I disagree.” Windu’s voice was stern this time, leaving little room for argument. “This is clearly a trap.”
Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan through the flickering image of the paused recording. There was a dark expression on his face, one that Anakin had only witnessed once before. The moment was still vivid in his mind. He remembered the flames engulfing Qui-Gon’s body, remembered the hard look on Obi-Wan’s face. Even the heat from the funeral pyre hadn’t been enough to shake Anakin’s cold discomfort at seeing Obi-Wan so serious.
Seeing that look now made Anakin feel like a padawan again, small and unsure. What was going through his master’s head? What was Obi-Wan thinking that he didn’t want Anakin to see?
Before Obi-Wan could argue with Master Windu a second time, Anakin cut in, speaking over Obi-Wan’s intake of breath. “I’ll go with him,” Anakin offered, looking at Master Windu and Master Yoda in turn. “Master Kenobi and I work well together. We’ll handle Darth Maul. We can bring a small squadron of clones in case there’s more trouble waiting for us.”
He held his breath and waited for a response. Obi-Wan met his gaze, something sharp glinting in grey eyes. “I don’t want to put anyone else at risk.”
“Unwise to go alone,” replied Master Yoda. “Send Skywalker with you, we will.”
“Then it’s decided,” Master Windu said, turning toward Anakin. “You will accompany Master Kenobi and apprehend Darth Maul.”
Anakin nodded in agreement. “Yes, Master.”
“Take ten clones with you,” Windu continued. “You can travel to the Outer Rim on Master Kenobi’s flagship.”
“Very well,” Obi-Wan said tightly. “I’ll go make the necessary preparations.” He inclined his head toward Master Yoda and Master Windu, giving Anakin an inscrutable look as he strode out of the room.
Anakin didn’t see Obi-Wan for the rest of the day. He busied himself gathering his belongings, trying not to read too much into Obi-Wan’s absence. Obi-Wan was arranging their travel and requisitioning the clone troops they needed—he wasn’t avoiding Anakin on purpose, or so Anakin told himself.
When packing his bags and sending them ahead to be loaded onto the ship only filled an hour of his time, Anakin set to work continuing his latest droid repair project, calling on Artoo to help him sort through his tools as he went. He made good progress, completing the droid’s internal parts and beginning to reconstruct the base.
As the afternoon wore on, Anakin started to lose focus. His thoughts wandered, and he replayed the meeting with the Jedi Masters in his head, watching Maul appear in the holovid, watching Obi-Wan’s expression turn to stone. He still didn’t understand what that look had been about, and he never would if Obi-Wan’s shields stayed up.
The silence those shields created between them seemed just a step away from the aching loneliness he’d felt in his vision when their bond had been obliterated. Anakin didn’t understand. Had he done something wrong? Why had Obi-Wan felt the need to shut Anakin out? There were parts of his mind that he hadn’t let Anakin see, but he’d never blocked Anakin completely.
No. That wasn’t true. He had blocked Anakin once. When he’d faked his death to become Rako Hardeen.
Anakin’s face fell. Could Obi-Wan be doing the same thing now? Was he cutting Anakin off because he planned to abandon Anakin to go after Maul alone? He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Don’t be stupid, Obi-Wan, he thought to himself. Don’t leave me behind again.
Noticing Anakin’s distraction, Artoo rolled forward and bumped his elbow. Anakin put a gentle hand on the droid’s domed head. “I’m fine, Artoo.”
Artoo emitted a series of beeps, and Anakin sighed, setting down his hydrospanner and sitting back. “You’re right. I’m not paying attention. I guess I’m just worried about this mission.”
The droid rolled just a little closer, making a low, sympathetic sound. Anakin smiled fondly down at him. “Thanks, buddy.”
Artoo made another noise, this one higher in pitch. Anakin laughed. “I can’t take you down to the planet with me.” At Artoo’s squeal, he said, “You’d protect me, huh? I’m sure you would. But I think Obi-Wan is the one who needs protecting this time.” Artoo’s quiet reply sounded a little like a drawn-out woah. Before Anakin could respond, his comm chimed.
“Skywalker,” he said into the comm.
“Anakin,” came Obi-Wan’s voice. “The shuttle is almost ready. Meet us in the loading bay in half an hour.”
“I’ll be there.” He blew out his breath, stretching in his seat. “Alright, Artoo. Looks like it’s time to go.” He stowed his tools haphazardly—Artoo would have to help him organize them again later—then put on his gloves and headed out the door. Artoo rolled along behind him as he made his way to the loading bay, the occasional trilling noises making Anakin smile.
Obi-Wan was already on the shuttle when Anakin boarded. He gave Anakin an acknowledging nod, but his eyes still looked distant, and when Anakin probed at Obi-Wan’s side of their bond, his shields were still up, utterly impenetrable. Anakin frowned. They wouldn’t be able to fight like Maul this, not with Obi-Wan completely closed off and Anakin agonizing over why.
It didn’t take long for the shuttle to dock with Obi-Wan’s flagship. Anakin followed Obi-Wan wordlessly down the ramp and toward the staterooms, waiting to speak until they’d reached the relative privacy of the entrance to Obi-Wan’s quarters. “Master,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?”
Obi-Wan shook his head, avoiding Anakin’s gaze. “It’s nothing, Anakin.”
Anakin wasn’t giving up that easily. He took a step to the side, blocking Obi-Wan’s door. “Obviously it’s not.”
Obi-Wan let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
Anakin stuck out his chin in defiant disagreement. “I don’t believe you.”
Finally Obi-Wan met his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s impatience directed at him. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his tone level. “You got what you wanted. You’re here. We’ll take on Maul together. There’s nothing else for us to discuss.”
Anakin couldn’t help but feel hurt at the deliberate oversimplification. He hadn’t wanted any of this. He hadn’t asked to be haunted by visions of Obi-Wan’s death. He hadn’t wanted Darth Maul to turn up alive. He’d wished fervently for the opposite. The only thing Anakin wanted in this whole tangled mess was to keep Obi-Wan safe.
“You really think any of this is what I wanted? Obi-Wan, I’ve been turning myself inside out for weeks, watching you die over and over and over again. Don’t tell me I’m getting what I wanted.” He clenched his fists, his jaw tight with frustration. “I only asked to go with you because I know how powerful Maul has become. He’s strong enough to kill you, and if I’m not there, I won’t be able to stop him.”
It wasn’t the only reason Anakin had asked to go with Obi-Wan. Yes, he’d done it to protect Obi-Wan, but there was more than that. If things went wrong… he didn’t want Obi-Wan to die alone.
“What makes you think you can stop him?” Obi-Wan asked.
“I—I don’t know,” Anakin said, not sure how to explain that the force had all but told him it was possible. “But I have to try.”
Obi-Wan’s lips turned down, a small crease appearing between his brows. “It’s not your responsibility to protect me, Anakin.”
“Whose is it, then?” Anakin demanded, his voice too loud for the small space. “How many scrapes have I gotten you out of, Obi-Wan? Nine? Ten? What, will you only let me protect you when it suits you?”
“You don’t usually give me a choice.”
Under different circumstances, a dry reply like that might’ve made Anakin laugh. Instead, Anakin’s stomach churned with outraged disbelief. “Does it bother you that I care so much about your life?”
“Of course not, Anakin. But your feelings cloud your judgment.”
“Don’t lecture me about feelings, Obi-Wan,” Anakin bit back. “Not when you keep yours locked up the way you do. You’ve been shutting me out ever since we saw Darth Maul on that holovid. Why won’t you let me in? What could you possibly be hiding behind those shields that you don’t want me to see?”
Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, fixing Anakin with a searching stare. “What are you hiding behind yours?”
Anakin’s mouth fell open in surprise. He hadn’t expected Obi-Wan to turn the question around on him. Every argument he’d planned to use to draw Obi-Wan out evaporated into the air, and he stood there, startled, feeling transparent as glass. He felt Obi-Wan searching his mind, testing his shields as if to prove that he was concealing something too. Anakin swallowed. “That’s different,” he said hoarsely.
“How?”
“I…” Anakin trailed off, looking briefly away. He had a very good reason to hide behind his shields. But telling Obi-Wan the reason would mean revealing the truth of his attachment. “I’m hiding less,” he said. It was true, even if it overlooked the fact that Anakin was hiding something vitally important. “I’m not trying to lock you out of everything.”
“No,” Obi-Wan agreed in a low voice. “But there is one part of your mind that you always keep secret.”
“Yes,” Anakin replied, not knowing what else to say.
Obi-Wan offered him a tired, sad smile. “I’m not trying to keep secrets, Anakin. I’m only trying to keep myself together.”
Anakin could tell it was the only explanation he was going to get. He puzzled over the words, wondering what it was that had put Obi-Wan in danger of falling apart.
“We have a difficult mission ahead of us,” Obi-Wan added, a gentle hand pressing on Anakin’s shoulder to move him out of Obi-Wan’s path. “We should both take time to rest.”
“Right,” Anakin replied. The implication was clear—they would be sleeping separately tonight. Anakin wondered if he’d be able to sleep at all. You know you won’t. Maybe Anakin had become too dependent on Obi-Wan. Maybe it would be good for them to spend a night apart. The idea made him heartsick. He tried to put on a brave face, but he wasn’t sure his smile reached his eyes. “Goodnight, master.”
“Goodnight, Anakin.”
Anakin turned and took a few trudging steps, forcing himself not to look back. He heard Obi-Wan’s door swish open, then closed, leaving him alone in the empty hall. A kind of numbness washed over him, making his limbs feel like lead, and as he continued slowly down the corridor, he wished he’d had the courage to ask to stay.