Title: Attachment

Author: PinChajta

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Summary: Anakin is lost and Obi-Wan is only one man…oh how the wars tear them apart.

Disclaimer: I don't own them

Sacred series: Within these words they speak of kings and gods. Glory could never be known greater by these characters if they were to be Steinbeck, Shakespeare, or Proust himself. The scarceness of virtues is not to be overlooked by any which one and is so lost on a path of vindication so forth until the blessing of love is set in stone between these souls. Bonds of destiny allow us to collide into a beautiful swirl of fiction and our interpretation of what could have been. This focus could have never been more sacred than our right to breathe or press our lips to the one we worship.

Their missions were assigned. Nothing could change the fact they were going to be separated. Obi-Wan Kenobi was off to Utapau to see if Clone Intelligence were wise to split up the best Jedi warriors in the galaxy. Anakin Skywalker was to be left behind on Coruscant to keep watch over Supreme Chancellor Palpatine to see if his dealings were admirable or questionably precarious.

The war was making Anakin anxious. He had to be away from Padme for so long; he missed her loving touch, it reminded him of his mother, Shmi Skywalker. But Padme had seemed distant after his return from the Outer Rim sieges. She was hiding something—and she was especially good at blocking her thoughts from him now. Wanting to stay with Coruscant's warm baths and the Temple's stone floors he could stand no more durasteel platforms of starships or undesirable, unimaginable terrains of battlefields in the Outer Rim territory.

He was a star pilot, a commander of clones, and seemingly the best swordsman in the universe. Wherever his battlefield may fall, all the action came to him—and with all the action came the death of thousands even millions of sentient beings. Clones were even considered men to him…in the beginning. But as the months grew long and waged on he saw them as expendable supplies that merely got in his way. Beginning to believe he could win the Clone Wars all on his own, he certainly won the Praesitlyn Conquest on his own with that undoubted confidence. Nothing was getting done until he arrived. He could, though…feel nothing for the falling men. He felt nothing for any natives that got in the Separatist's or Republic's way.

Anakin felt nothing for the Confederacy that he had foreseen would fall to his blade. He knew he would end this war because he felt nothing but the thrill of winning, defeating, longing. Longing for peace through the destruction of evil. Defeating those in the wrong, weak, and powerless against whom should really rule. It was pathetic for them to think that they could rule through trade and diplomats and droids.

Soon there would be a leader of men. A…supreme ruler of rulers. None would think other than to bow or cower. The Republic would win. Anakin Skywalker would win. And he would be rewarded. He was knighted…too late in the war, he thought. His mastery awaited him soon enough. If only…if only he wasn't being held back by his former master! They would soon be parting ways—in the morning! And to think he could have been master long before Obi-Wan had to leave him; and for what felt like the last time. The man was too careful, too mindful of what he produced through his actions. Obi-Wan tried so hard to keep him at bay but Anakin's something too volatile to handle, something to be reckoned with.

Anakin twitched in his meditation. He could feel Obi-Wan's presence in the room next to his, briefing on his assignment to locate and destroy General Grievous. His signature was…soothing. But it irritated Anakin that it was so soothing. The whole situation was irritating. The man destroyed what he could be. He could be more powerful—even that of Master Yoda. He was connected to the Force—born from the force! With that his artificial arm grew hot thinking of the good man in the next room. Something else grew hot and fatigued within him merely from his thoughts. There on the floor of his quarters Anakin sat in nothing but his abrasive, deep brown trousers, sweating over his conflicting emotions of the calmed, cool, revered man who raised him, dueled with him, sweat and bleed with him and accidentally and unmistakably brought out the demons within him. Meditation was getting difficult.

Dressed in full beige tunic sans durable copper-colored leather boots, robe, and utility belt, a young Jedi of slight facial hair, tanned features from excursions, and piercing blue eyes sat cross-legged on his quarter's floor after reviewing terrain, citadels, and vehicles of his trip to Utapau. Obi-Wan thought of Anakin. He felt close to the young man but Anakin's words were so elusive, so evasive. It disturbed him to think he felt more for young Skywalker than that of a brother, that of a father. Jedi Masters and Padawans typically grew a father-son relationship, but Obi-Wan knew his relationship with Anakin was something offbeat, something of fate.

He couldn't help but think Anakin had already grown up in a home with his mother—a mother that died in his arms. Obi-Wan knew Anakin had a sense of attachment because of his childhood. It was part of the Jedi Code not to hold attachment to anything of any sort—it led to suffering when it would pass. It was part of the Jedi training to rid oneself of all attachment, no matter if family or Jedi Master raised you. Obi-Wan knew Anakin still held the concept of "attachment" close to his heart. That was failure on Obi-Wan's part and he knew it too. He knew all too well that Anakin attached himself to things—people mostly: Padme he knew for certain, Obi-Wan as his master, his lost mother which he was still broken about, Qui-Gon, and the Supreme Chancellor.

Obi-Wan could sense something wrong though—coming directly from Anakin's adjoining room. He was fighting within himself a great battle of futures. Obi-Wan could not decipher what though. Anakin's heart was quickening and the muscles of his jaw and shoulders were clenching intermittently. Obi-Wan concentrated harder for he was being pulled in to this storm by intrigue.

The Jedi Master was sensing images now: of pain, suffering, loss, and…gain. A physical gain—through violence. Visions of death slammed in around him of everyone dear to his preceding Padawan: Shmi, Qui-Gon, Padme, Anakin, himself.

Just as he saw himself being strangled, throttled by a mechanical arm through Anakin's thoughts there was a loud knock on his quarter door. Obi-Wan freed himself from meditation and released the panel button.

The taller, younger, and darker Jedi with immensely penetrating eyes that bore into him, shaded and intent, now stood in his doorway.

"What is wrong?" Obi-Wan asked in Basic of an aristocratic Coruscanti accent.

"Leave me in peace, Obi-Wan." The war had rid him of most emotion.

Obi-Wan missed Anakin's smile the most.

There he stood with just his trousers and a sheen of sweat with no glove for his artificial arm. Anakin's body was that of a Corellian god but his shoulders slumped as if he couldn't even begin to care about a war waging on thousands of planets, in thousands of systems.

"Anakin, you can tell me—you do not have to hide yourself from me."

"I apparently do with Masters prying into my meditation."

"It is far from meditation if you have conflictions of emotions, visions of death…"

"That is too far, my master, and far from any of your affair," Anakin rebutted in a low, rough, slow tone, stepping to Obi-Wan, closing the distance between them. The door automatically closed with a swoosh. Obi-Wan was far from fearful of his former Padawan; he stood his ground.

It still irked him though that Anakin would refer to him as his master. He had passed the trials and was no longer a Padawan of Kenobi. Anakin always seemed to say the words in distain though. My Master. Obi-Wan thought it could be a concept of slavery still—something Anakin was far from accepting or ever falling into again. He was a slave until the age of nine and got yet another master through the Order. Anakin was a spirit no Order or law could handle and Obi-Wan was not near enough a master that could tame him. The youthful, disarming man was not meant for any kind of slavery.

They stood there for long moments staring at each other until Anakin gave in to a deep sigh and broke the eye contact. He looked to his side, pursing his lips. "I'm just so frustrated. The council has had no influence on the war and do they honestly believe my connection with Palpatine will turn the tides?"

"The council had their reasons. They believe…"

"Blast their beliefs! You know we could end this was with our lightsabers alone but once again they are spreading the Jedi too thin! They…"

"Anakin, it is Palpatine giving the orders. Not the council."

Anakin brought his eyes back to Obi-Wan's. They flashed with confusion.

He was lost.

"They are taking you away from me. They are doing something they should not do. I can feel it. I've had visions Obi-Wan."

"Visions are not to be overlooked but they are not to be analyzed too deeply."

"Save your paternal posturing for a Padawan, Master. Can you not feel the darkness of tomorrow? How everything is about to change?"

"This is not our last day Anakin. You need not…"

"It is our last day Obi-Wan! When we break apart tomorrow, when I see you off at the shuttle bay, I have envisioned the Republic falling. Something's happening. Something's not right. With all of this! Can you not see?" Anakin was flustered. He brushed past Obi-Wan and now paced the room.

"Anakin, I am a General of War and I must do my duty." Obi-Wan's voice on the edge of impatience.

"It's not right. It is NOT RIGHT!" Anakin made brisk gestures with his arms, pointing towards the floor, emphasizing his words. His hand brushed through his unruly hair violently and he choked out, holding his hair tightly, "Qui-Gon should have been my master—no restraints. He was older and wiser. Less vulnerable to conformism—you said so yourself." He stopped in front of Obi-Wan now. Anakin stood as tall as possible, seemingly intimidating, raising his chin, looking down his nose. He was inches from the older man's face.

Obi-Wan dropped his eyes in humility. What if Qui-Gon Jinn had taken little Annie under his wing? With his eyes cast downward he could take note of Anakin's clenching fists. "I am sorry you feel that way."

"I…" Anakin took a deep breath and started again, biting his bottom lip from nerves. "I do not want you to leave."

"Anakin, we went through this…" but Anakin had closed the space between them and crushed his lips to his former Master's. It was as if Anakin held onto Obi-Wan's head for dear life. Obi-Wan made an interesting noise deep in his chest but didn't budge.

After a moment of contact, Anakin withdrew but didn't go far, breathing on Obi-Wan's parted, panting lips, "I-I shouldn't have done that," sounding much like Padme by the lake on Naboo, but he didn't back away as she did.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, realizing just now he had had his eyes shut softly. "I concur." Inches from his face he could see Anakin's struggle with tight eyes, baring teeth, and shaking head. Dropping his hands from Obi-Wan he finally backed away. He stumbled, more like it. The troubled youth rested against Obi-Wan's cot as if he were back on Tatooine in the Lars' garage—panicking over his fate, holding his own head in dismay.

Obi-Wan stood there, contemplating whether he should approach the young man; but he couldn't move, he couldn't speak, all he could comprehend was the ghost of Anakin's lips against his. "A-a Jedi is not to have attachment, it is," he tried to gather himself, "it is forbidden."

Anakin looked up at him through his bangs, "Master, I will not allow you to leave. Everything will fall apart!" He was up again, wavering slightly. "I could have been more powerful though…"

"Anakin, we went through this and I greatly apologize…" but Obi-Wan trailed off as Anakin gently brought his left hand to his Master's throat, grazing it with his thumb.

He brushed his lips softly against Obi-Wan's while saying: "I don't want you to go. I can't. It's just too much to bear my master." Obi-Wan may be a Jedi but he was still human—susceptible to touch, want, and need. This young, handsome man was doing torturous things to him.