Warning: Anyone here who thinks that this is going to be anything like my other Xanatos/Obi-Wan stories might be a little upset. This is not like Tainted Love, Shattered Love, or even Every You and Every Me. This is darker, and a lot more twisted. The title says it all. Consider yourselves warned.

Obsession

Still your thoughts compress and you weep and sigh inside
Adolescent naïveté spawned my optimism
Whose head you wore on your coat of arms
You're the champion of my bleeding heart.

-Vendetta Red

The pull was unbearable.

It had been there for years, the horrible ache when he was away from me was only worse when he was near me. So painfully close.

I frequently returned to Coruscant – a dangerous place for someone who's supposed to be dead – to see him. He's older now, more appealing. That didn't help. Eventually I broke down and did something very, very stupid.

He was at Splendor, possibly getting information for an on-planet mission, when I lost my mind. I had followed him there, like I had followed him in the past (I'm hesitant to call it stalking, since that implies some sort of malicious intent), not actually intending to do anything, just to watch him. But he was so vulnerable, more helpless than he must realize, and I had the opportunity. I was never one to ignore a possible route to my own happiness, though I was often inconsiderate of others'.

It was so simple, so laughably easy. I force pushed a tray out of some random waitress's hands and, during the commotion, slipped the chemicals into the boy's drink. He didn't even notice my presence. I never really knew why I started carrying the knockout drug on me – I suppose I was subconsciously waiting for that moment.

And then I had him, asleep and so innocent. Logically, I knew I should return him to the temple. I didn't want to arouse my old master's suspicion to my return – or his suspicion that anything had happened to his precious Padawan.

But it was so hard to return him when he was finally mine.

Except he wasn't, and I had to keep reminding myself that. If he had actually belonged to me I wouldn't have had to kidnap him – he would have come on his own accord. He wasn't my property, and when he awoke he would be scared.

But, frankly, I couldn't bring myself to care.

It wasn't a matter of apathy – I had never suffered from that – it was merely a matter of selfishness. I wanted him, and I would have him. The means to that end were completely and utterly irrelevant, and they did not concern me. He would hate me at first, but not forever.

And if I was lucky, maybe not even very long.

It is possible that he hates being a Jedi. It doesn't feel very likely to me, but that doesn't mean that it's untrue. He might thank me.

He might want me too.

That thought was far more agreeable to me than any of the previous, though the latter was the least likely. He loved being a Jedi, and I knew this. He loved it more than I could ever expect him to love me.

But I'd take my chances.

So that's where I found myself: in a room with a sleeping angel who very well might try to kill me when he awoke, but if I had to die by anyone's hands…

I brushed some stray hairs off his forehead and pressed my lips against it. Even his skin tasted sweet.

He would wake up soon; I'd have to keep drugging him to avoid that, which I would not do. He wouldn't be happy when he awoke, and the outcome of his anger and the anger that he's sure to spurn in me is unpredictable. But I have this for now.

And I'll have him always, even if I let him leave. No one will ever be with him that doesn't know he was belonged to me first.

I was shocked that it hadn't occurred to me before then – it seemed like something that should have been in my mind since the beginning. But then again the boy shuts down my brain. It probably was always there, just dormant; much like my need to carry knockout chemicals with me.

This would make him even more furious, but I found that, once again, I couldn't bring myself to care. I wouldn't expect him to understand – he doesn't know what it's like to have everything stolen from you.

There would be no stealing this.

Conveniently, I still had the original. Another thing I couldn't explain to myself. I never knew why I kept it, I just did.

I pulled the ring out of a small case next to my sleepcouch. It was already mutated and burnt, one side missing. It was already a symbol that they both hated.

It was already perfect.

After rolling back the boy's sleeve I slid on my gloves and laid the distorted ring on a small table. I didn't have anything to heat it with except my lightsaber, but that seemed fitting enough. It took only a few moments to get the ring to glow a satisfying red. It took even less time to grip his wrist in my left hand and push the ring against the smooth side of his forearm with my right.

He jerked in his sleep, but the drugs kept him unconscious. The blackened smell of burnt flesh twisted around my nose, but I ignored it, instead focusing on the sizzling of burning skin. Somehow, that was far more appealing.

After a few moments I pulled the ring back, dropping the hot token in its case again. I didn't care if it burnt the wood.

The skin curled back into the broken circle shape, the burnt flesh already darkened and blistering. It was probably second degree; it would leave the mark just fine. I smiled when I laid his arm back down.

He started to sweat in his sleep and I wiped off his face with my sleeve before kissing his cheek.

It is possible that when he wakes up now he'll see how much he matters to me.

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A/N: Please Review!