A/N: I'm not sure why I am in such a Star Wars writing mood. Forgive me.

First Clone Wars fic, as always, have no other extensive knowledge on the universe, etc. Don't hate me please. This was done for my own pleasure, so everything might be ooc. It was also written in an afternoon, so yea me!

One-shot exploring how Obi-Wan felt after Ahsoka left. No Slash, no Ahsoka pairings, just a lot of friendship and ooc stuff. But no oc. Kind of makes sense, then the plot shifted half-way through…not sure how or what happened. As always, enjoy, and please review! They're like candy.

Word Count: 1,998 (so close, yet so far away)

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars. Or Clone Wars, which is basically Star Wars, so never mind.

The temple was losing its usual splendor. There were no longer smiles or happy younglings, only grave Jedi who had one mission on their minds. It wasn't a very pleasant mission either. Let's kill Dooku, let's kill Grievous, but remember; a Jedi is a peaceful person with no attachments. As if. You don't tell someone to assassinate another and expect the winner to come out completely peaceful. It was hypocritical and counterproductive. Or maybe it wasn't, they were peace protectors after all. You give someone a weapon, instruct them on the technique, and allow them to healthily learn that a weapon can be used for peace. Sometimes, those innocent opinions are still corrupted though. Sweet innocent youths who were pulled so early into the gruesome war, it wasn't fair for anyone.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and steels himself for when he opens them. He is not going to forget his training and rush out the door which is closed in front of him. "He will be fine," Plo whispers. Long fingers tighten around his shoulder, because what else was there to do? What else was there to say?

He, more than anyone, understood that Anakin was going to need to sort this out on his own. It was his way, his personality more than anything. The overzealous general would take his space when he needed it, like right now. Though something in his mind helpfully pointed out that Anakin had never lost a padawan before. His first student nonetheless, regardless of how every piece of information suggested her leaving from the very beginning. Honestly, who wouldn't? The council had most certainly shown where they stood on the matter. They may have as well opened the door for her and ushered her out. Anakin would be agreeing with him right now. The boy seemed to agree with anything that went against the council. He still couldn't decide if that was because his personality was so against authority, or if Anakin really despised the council to that degree.

The grasp on his shoulder lessens so he opens his eyes. The room suddenly feels overcrowded. The rushed footsteps had long ago disappeared down the decorated hall, yet Anakin's presence heavily lingered in the area. Skywalker was still somewhere in the temple then. He took a step forward hesitantly, still unsure on how the council felt about him rushing after his former apprentice. He may have been one of them, but he felt too young to sit amongst them, especially now after they witnessed yet another extravagant scene unfolding from around Anakin. The Chosen One certainly had a way with making anything and everything about him. The council were the ones that pressured her, Anakin's voice reminded him. Now she's gone, and you've still found a way to blame me.

Someone leads him to his chair as other voices discuss what to do. What was to be done about Ahsoka? Should we go after her? "You'll only make the situation worse," he heard Mace Windu say.

Good, he thought to himself, stay away. You don't understand the impact you'll have on Anakin should you interfere.

He presses a hand to his head to still the inner monologue. It hadn't been my fault as much as it had been Anakin's, he told himself. That's what he believed, truly. If Anakin chose to blame him it would be his own doing, under his own thoughts and influences. "Master Yoda," he bites out. His whole mouth tastes sour right now, and he is disoriented at not being able to tell if it was because of nerves, or some self-pitying guilt.

"Go to him, you should," replies Yoda.

"He's going to be angry," he blurts. Truly, this is how he feels. Anakin would say it was Obi-Wan's fault for not standing up against the council. He would tell him all the ways it would have turned for the better had Kenobi taken a stand against them for once. Maybe he should have. Qui-Gon never had respected them, what pushed him to please them so often? Was it really because of the order and respect?

The other members nod, a simultaneous agreement that yes, the Chosen One would, in fact, be furious. It wasn't a secret that he suffered from anger issues, combined with his undying love for the council…they were asking for an argument.

Slowly, the revered masters dispersed from the room, leaving Obi-Wan to contemplate his thoughts in solitude. Again, his apprentice chose to show his master was the one in the wrong. A force shattering cry of anguish echoes throughout the room as the skies had begun to darken.

A glance told him Yoda had felt it, but he did not dwell on that as more and more emotion pushed into his barriers. It cried out and grieved, beckoning him. He winced as the onslaught came to an abrupt end. It left him shaking, with a headache that surpassed any corporal pain he had ever felt. The room silenced itself as the sun shifted to the other side of the tired city. The room felt empty without the presence of the other masters, as Obi-Wan shakily rose from his curled position. Master Yoda removed a small hand from his head and frowned.

"Anakin," he states.

Obi-Wan nods, still not quite comprehending the pain he had only moments ago endured. The way it seeped through would have had caused Obi-Wan the false notion that someone had died, had he received something from the sort on the battlefield. He cringed at the thought. This was no battlefield; it was an ailing friend whom he had prolonged the suffering of. It was foolish of him to think that Anakin could not support himself for a measly six hours, but reason explained that he had never the pleasure of knowing a Jedi whose padawan had been released from the order. There were always firsts with Anakin.

Another onslaught of emotion caressed the room in fire, before dissipating. It had not lasted longer than the first, but the emotions were more repressed. "Go to him," Yoda spoke again, "need you more than ever, he will."

With the disguised permission, Obi-Wan bowed to master Yoda, before excusing himself from the council room. He kept composure as the doors closed behind him, but as the long hall lay out in front of him, well, he couldn't remember a time he had ever made such haste.

The halls themselves seemed to rush by as he ran to where the force was strongest. He was going to help whether Plo, or anyone else thought it was logical. Screw logic, he was the only one who understood Anakin. Anakin who needed someone right now, who couldn't handle his emotions, who would probably be lashing out in grief because that's just what he did; he just forbade himself to think of a broken Anakin. He wasn't sure how to help that. Anakin, who lashed out, yelled, and cursed was one that could be reasoned with. Strangely, Obi-Wan wasn't quite sure what to do if Anakin didn't want to talk. Which, he came to the conclusion, would most likely be the outcome; perhaps that's why Master Plo had held him back.

The thought process halted his speedy chase. What if Anakin didn't want help? How exactly did you console someone who had not lost a padawan not to the dead, but to the grief of the loss of the order? It would seem like death, at least for some time. Was he equipped to assist Anakin in the long run? The entrance of the tower couldn't have come soon enough. The dark sky ahead forbade shadows, but still a dark figure stayed huddled, by the pillars. A dark hood was pulled over long hair which dripped into the Jedi's tunic. It wasn't raining, per say, but the mist which casted over Coruscant was enough to dampen the area.

Out of place, and feeling awkward, he sat down next to his padawan who stared blankly ahead. Red eyes betrayed what Anakin was feeling, but the young man was otherwise stoic. The force around him was quiet, though it pulsed with his every heartbeat. Obi-Wan took one last look, before he glossed over what Anakin was actually observing. Which was apparently nothing, aside from a few scattered city lights which even depressed the stars natural light.

"It's cold," he commented.

Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan nodded back. They both went back to their staring.

"You think she's cold, Master?"

Kenobi didn't budge from where his vision was focused on a particular star, "she's smart enough to find shelter, wouldn't you agree?"

Anakin fidgeted as Obi-Wan redirected his gaze to his padawan's face, "she's fine. Wherever she is, or ends up, she will be alright. She is smart, cunning, and has learned some valuable lessons. You should be glad she made that wise of a decision considering the situation she was in."

"She never should have been in that situation to begin with."

"No one should ever have to be."

He was silent, preferring to listen to his apprentice's quick breaths as he fought to control an outburst. It was common for these outbreaks to take place after events such as these. Plenty of Jedi would have cracked sooner with the amount of weight placed on the boy's shoulders. "You shouldn't have to be," he added.

He left it there. Anakin would take it however he took it, and then Obi-Wan would deal with the consequences. Outburst or not, Anakin needed to handle this with care, under the supervision of someone who actually knew him, unlike the council.

Deep breaths turned into ragged ones as the mist turns into a light rain, "Master, I can't," Anakin chokes out.

Eyebrows furrowing together, he turns to his padawan who is now trying to catch his breath, "Can't what, Anakin?"

"This," he gestures wildly, "It's too much. How am I supposed to be a good Jedi, if I can't even train a padawan?"

"Plenty of masters have succeeded without a padawan, Anakin."

He wipes his now soaked hair from his face, "Yes, but, I needed to succeed. I needed to show the council…" he stops himself there. Face tight with unshed tears. He brings his hand to his mouth, where he keeps it to try and stifle the sobs which are now breaking through his steel exterior. Obi-Wan has never seen a picture so pathetic in his many years of training as a Jedi. When there is war, there is death. Someone leaving is the worst kind. It leaves a wound that can't be fixed by any medical droid, or healing power that the Jedi possess. Anakin is clearly discovering this for the first time.

"You needed to show them nothing," he assures his friend, "you have already done plenty to prove yourself, Mr. Hero With no Fear."

His friend laughs at the old nickname, a side—effect he was hoping it would elicit.

Anakin wipes the fresh tears from his eye and pushes his cloak back to allow the rain to run down his face. Something, Obi-wan belatedly notes, will inevitably cause a cold later. His padawan always did have a penchant for getting sick. He was going to have to make a grocery list now. He hadn't taken care of Anakin in a while, but it appeared he would have to restock now.

"I want chicken soup."

"You better not be getting sick on purpose," Obi-Wan mumbled. Not that he cared.

"Who? Me, why would I do that? You're the one that came out here without a cloak; at least I had enough brain to bring that with me," Anakin laughs, effectively ending the crying from moments before.

"Yes, you've done a marvelous job keeping yourself dry. You should get a medal."

"Master, I'm offended by you lack of trust in me." Feigning a look of shock, Anakin dramatically put his hood back on.

Obi-Wan laughed, and then added shampoo to his mental list. Anakin wasn't going to like when the cape made his hair frizzy and uncontrollable.

Let me know how I did, or if you just want to say hi, review. Thanks again!