A/N: Hey! I hope the last chapter of Sweetly Shaken didn't discourage you from reading this! All will be explained in time, I promise!

POV: Obi-Wan Kenobi

It's been a year since Anakin's death and I still can't bring myself to cope with the fact that he was gone, cut right out of my life. It was something I didn't think I'd ever manage to deal with, losing the love of my life. Nobody truly understood and it was frustrating. Everyone was just waiting for me to snap and I really couldn't blame them.

Nothing's gone right so far and everything's been exhausting. I've been in close quarters with unwanted company as well and that whole situation made me uncomfortable all by itself. Then rough hands gripped my shoulders and I violently shrugged them off. I really didn't want to deal with him right now. Not when I was still thinking about Anakin as if he'd only died yesterday. "Obi-Wan," he said exasperatedly, "I'm only trying to help."

I rolled my eyes, not looking up at him. "If that's what you're trying to do, leave," I hissed. "You're not welcome here."

He's been a pain in my ass since he came back and I truly wished he'd just stayed away. He chose the wrong time to come back. "I know he's alive," he said quietly. "I know Xanatos and I know that killing my son would be too easy, too desperate a move for him to make."

I ground my teeth, then growled, "He is not your son. You were never there for him." I stood up and got in his face. Damn him and his height. He was obviously where Anakin got it from. "You abandoned him, his mother, and me." He would never be Anakin's father in my eyes, not after everything he's done. "The damn building exploded right in front of me. He was inside." I closed my eyes and clenched my hands into fists. "As much as I want to say otherwise," I said bitterly, "he is dead."

He was eager in his reply. "I know Xanatos and this is just him trying to get revenge, Obi-Wan. He hates me for leaving him to be with Shmi. He never knew I was with you." Yes, that made it all right. Qui-Gon and Xanatos were husbands, Granta being a product of a failed heterosexual marriage of Xanatos and whoever. Qui-Gon decided to cheat on his husband and found Shmi, an innocent bystander in the whole affair. "Anakin wasn't planned," he said agonizingly slow. "He was an accident that I was responsible for."

I gaped at him, wishing that he'd said something else other than that. This was not the man I knew and loved over twenty years ago. This was a man who'd hardened and become bitter. "Only you would call your own son a mistake. If you'd ever been there for him, you could have saved him." I firmly believed that, too. Xanatos knew Anakin was Qui-Gon's somehow and that was how he'd found him. He wanted to hurt Qui-Gon without actually hurting him, so he'd wrought pain upon Anakin. Raping Anakin had been planned well in advance. Ten years later, even Granta, Xanatos' son, played a part in hurting Anakin to hurt Qui-Gon. Xanatos was playing dirty and it worked because he'd drawn Qui-Gon out of hiding. "He is not a mistake, you bastard."

I glared up at him to see him smiling softly. "You've always been a sweet man," he whispered. "You always wanted children." I was disgusted with him for even thinking that was okay to bring up. When I was twenty, I was just a fool who blindly fell in love with a man I hardly knew as anything but my guardian. "That's why I love you."

Without even a second's hesitation, I bit out, "I love Anakin with all of my heart and soul, Qui-Gon." My face was burning up and I was getting furious with each and every word that came out of his mouth. "I feel nothing for you. I resent you. You brought him into a cruel world and stood by as he was raped and beaten. No father should allow that to happen, but you did."

He stared at me in exasperation. "I wish I could have stopped those things, but I couldn't risk my—"

"If he were my son, I would die for him." Even as my lover, I would still die for him, but the connection between father and son was something I'd always dreamt of having. "I would have done something to help him even if it meant I put myself at risk."

Silence ensued after that and I moved to sit down, getting back to work. Qui-Gon should've stayed either under the rock he'd lived beneath for twenty years or the pit of lava burning in hell. I hate him even though he's the reason Anakin was born. If not for this son of a bitch, I wouldn't have the light of my life. That didn't make me soften towards Qui-Gon though. Anakin was my life's purpose… and I'd failed him miserably. "I love him, Obi-Wan. I should have reached out to him. I know that now and I'm so sorry."

Qui-Gon wouldn't know love if it bit him in the ass. Abandoning your son, allowing him to suffer through rape and abuse… That was the complete opposite of what love was. Anakin should never have been subjected to those things, but he'd been placed in such a position because his father hadn't been there, his father had set him on the path of pain from the start. As much as I wish I could have changed Anakin's life sometimes, I realized that we may never have experienced our love if things had been different. Loving him is all I've needed since I fell for him. I gave him everything I had and he deserved so much more in addition. "I love Anakin. You can't feel love. You've never loved anyone, you self-involved bastard."

He sighed, shaking his head disapprovingly. He obviously didn't realize I'd grown up since his 'death.' "Obi-Wan, Anakin is my flesh and blood." I flinched at the thought that provoked. I would never consider Qui-Gon family, not after all that he'd allowed his son to go through. "If you love him, you love me."

I snorted and he gave me a look of disbelief. After a year, he should know me better. I would never love him again, not even as a companion. He was merely an acquaintance that meant nothing to me. "I could never love you, Qui-Gon. You're the reason he was hurt so horribly over the years. You're the reason he was a shy, sad, and broken young man." I closed my eyes, images of my sweet Anakin coming and going slowly. How could I possibly be sane without him? I had no idea how I hadn't gone insane. "You are the reason he's dead. I hate you," I bit out, glaring up at him.

He visibly flinched, but I'd had enough of this. He made excuses for what he'd done to Anakin and Shmi. It's all he's done since he came back into my life. I'd spent twenty years wasting away in my love for a man who hadn't even been dead. I could see his dark side as a result of it, and I didn't like it. Anakin also had a dark side, but he would never do what Qui-Gon did to me. Qui-Gon reeked of deception each time he was in my presence, avoiding and outright ignoring everything I'd said or asked. Yes, Anakin had done all of these at times, but never to this extent. Anakin truly loved me and he wouldn't let some little argument destroy us. He apologized in ways Qui-Gon wasn't capable of doing. Anakin was such a sweetheart; nothing he ever did could make me hate him. His anger, his self hatred... I loved him despite them. He didn't think he was better than anyone, especially me, and I admired that about him, not that I thought I was better than him by any means. He just... He felt that he was average.

A phone rang out in the main office and I sighed, glancing at Qui-Gon tiredly. He himself looked so aged now that I finally allowed myself to look at him. His hair and beard was grayer, face more ragged, shoulders slumped in defeat. "Obi-Wan, I know I hurt you and—"

"What you did was—"

The door to my office was thrust open and Mace's boss—Anakin's step-father's brother—entered. "Obi-Wan, your partner just called for backup." That set so many alarms off and worried me greatly. Quin was reckless and if he needed me, then something was terribly wrong. He'd been called out earlier on suspicions of foul play in an abandoned home in the worst part of town. Someone called to report that two men and a woman entered over six months ago and they'd only seen two of the three reemerge since.

I nodded and looked away from Qui-Gon. He shouldn't even be in here with me, the bastard. "I'll go right away." The other man backed out and I gave Qui-Gon a brief, last glance, only to see him looking at me apologetically. I shook my head and walked out. He'd caused too much pain for too many people. It was unforgivable. The fact that he'd had the nerve to spend time with Shmi and me on Anakin's birthday made me loathe him with all of my being. Shmi had only just been released from the hospital about three months after Anakin was gone. She required a lot of attention and assistance, so I'd devoted as much of my time as humanly possible to her. I owed that to Anakin. If I let his mother go downhill, he would be disappointed in me. Besides, I love his mother as if she were my own. This all meant I'd had to quit one of my jobs and, as much as I loved teaching, I couldn't bear more evidence of Anakin's passing when I looked at his empty desk. It became too difficult to focus on the class when I was nearly falling apart from just looking at the desk for a split second. It was hard enough to be home and not have him there with me.

I got into my cruiser and sighed, scrubbing over my face with one hand, my heart constricting. It's only been a year, but it felt like a decade. We would be mourning on the anniversary which was coming much quicker than I would've liked. Shoving my sadness aside, I forced myself to start up the car and drive out to Quin's location. It took half an hour, but Quin was the only one there when I'd arrived. The house looked like absolute shit.

I got out quietly and he came over to greet me with, "This place makes me nervous."

"Did you get a warrant?" I asked pointedly, remembering the last assignment we'd had together.

"Of course I got the warrant," he said irritably, waving the paper around with a roll of his eyes. "I do learn from my mistakes, Obi. I'm not an imbecile."

"Could've fooled me," I muttered under my breath. "It took three visits from Mace to get you to see that?"

He glowered at me. "Some best friend you are," he said dejectedly. "Let's just go in, okay?" I nodded, following his lead up the small path towards the broken house, our hands immediately moving to rest on our holsters. We didn't know what we were walking into or who we'd be meeting inside. The front porch creaked at such an ungodly pitch that I knew we'd be caught now, but we couldn't stop. Not now. Quin paused and I rolled my eyes, moving forward to touch the doorknob. As expected, it was locked. I stepped back, figuring I may as well make more noise since we'd already alerted them of our presence. I shot the lock and the door swung open slowly. We slowly, cautiously entered and the intense smell of rust hit us immediately, gagging us. "That's a lot of fucking blood," he whispered. My stomach churned at the thought of what we'd find if this was how the place had been. Its first impression certainly wasn't a good one.

I tried to focus on my sight rather than my smell, but it didn't help much. The place was so old and it was blatantly obvious that no one had even tried to patch it up in a long time.

Glass shattered and our guns flew out in an instant. Quin and I shared an uneasy look before I tipped my chin towards the stairs leading up to the next floor. He nodded and I watched him exit before moving about this floor myself. I went into what I chose to assume was the kitchen, only to find a black, weathered door with a sliding lock. That seemed suspicious, but I still moved to unlock it.

Once I pulled it open, I saw a staircase that descended into what looked like a cellar of some sort. I went down slowly, trying to expect anything to happen. As soon as I touched down onto the cellar floor, I heard whimpering and the rattling of chains. That made me feel a hell of a lot worse. Someone was down here, chained and bloody, and they were so afraid. I looked down and immediately regretted the decision. Blood and a mixture of so many other things were stained into the floor. It was disgusting and the smells weren't pleasant, but I couldn't imagine having to live in this. Whoever was down here was more than likely permanently traumatized for having to live this way for so long. This was the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen in my life and I just couldn't begin to fathom why someone would do something like this to another human being.

I'd moved closer to the whimpering and it only worsened as I got closer. I could hear whoever it was, but there was a stack of crates barricading them, sheltering them from my vision. I moved cautiously around them, finding a chain binding them. That explained why they hadn't left. I stepped over the chain and peered in between the crates, the space that had been big enough for them to fit through. I found a naked man, huddling himself in the corner of several crates, shivering. He pressed his knees up to his chest and his face was pressed onto his kneecaps. His hair was long and dirty, skin bloodied and bruised, hands tied behind his back, and he trembled as though he thought I was his captor.

The closer I came, the more afraid he grew. He trembled and whimpered so viciously that it began to sound like he was sobbing and about to explode. He was so dirty, so...malnourished. I was drawn out of my inspection when I heard him muttering things I couldn't understand. His voice was hoarse and he sounded like he was expecting something horrible to happen to him. God, this poor boy.

I knelt beside him and looked at the extent to which he'd been tortured. He had so many cuts and bruises along his body and I couldn't tell which of them were new or old. I was crouched on his left side and my eyes trailed over his bruised and battered body clinically. There was nothing even moderately erotic about the situation. His ribs were prominent, disgustingly so. His wrists were bound tightly and it looked as though they hadn't been removed for quite some time, which meant his skin would be tender and raw. Glass was shattered around him and I wondered why he'd been trying to get to it. He couldn't cut through the chains holding him. He must've been startled by the noise above him if he'd dropped it. Maybe he... No. If he thought we were here to help him, then he wouldn't have been so afraid.

My eyes drifted along his body, following its path, until they landed upon his thigh. Something was sloppily etched into his skin and the closer I looked, the clearer the word became, and it chilled my heart. Obi-Wan.

I looked at his head and the color was different, a honey coloring, but... I touched his arm gently and he lifted his head. He was blindfolded. However, there was no mistaking it now. I reached around behind him and untied the blindfold, slipping it away slowly once it was free. His eyes were open, but there was no recognition in them. Dear, God. Could he see?

A lump formed in my throat and my heart clenched. "Anakin," I said hoarsely. And then his eyes, distanced and glossy as they were, widened in absolute disbelief. I pulled him forward and held him against me. "Oh, my God," I whispered, sobbing. "My Anakin." He made unintelligible noises that I truly wished I could understand. His words were slurred and broken, blurring into each other. "Quin!" I shouted, knowing that bastard would hear me even two floors above me. I heard things crashing upstairs and I could hear his frantic stumbling down the stairs and through the kitchen, only to go down another set of stairs. Anakin was kissing my body, a whimpering and trembling mess.

"Obi-Wan!" He came crashing down the stairs and circled over to me quickly. As soon as he found us, he gaped, his eyes bulging from their sockets. "Holy shit. Holy fucking shit."

"Call an ambulance! Now!" I ordered fiercely. He quickly pulled his phone out, dialed, and described the nature of our emergency. Anakin was desperately in need of a hospital.

•◊•

I couldn't pull myself away from Anakin for even a second if I'd tried. Quin and a few other officers were waiting around the neighborhood for Anakin's captors to return. He would arrest the ones responsible for Anakin's suffering. The poor man's speech was altered so dramatically and he definitely couldn't see. He really couldn't take care of himself at the moment. It was heartbreaking.

I'd managed to convince him to take a shower, but only because he'd pulled me in with him, not like I'd objected however. I watched every bit of filth slide off his body and down the drain of the shower sadly. He knew it was me touching him, so he had no problem with me cleaning him. He'd stroked the nurse's jaw earlier and was immediately frightened. He felt me for my beard and listened for my voice. He needed me and I didn't even try to deny him.

I held him up, his arms draped over my shoulders. He was really trying to tell me something and I felt terrible. He got so frustrated because he knew what he was trying to tell me, but he also knew he wasn't getting anything through to me.

"Ani," I whispered, stroking his back and kissing his cheek. "My Anibanani." I chuckled until he made a choked sound close to a sob. "My love, relax. Everything will return in time. You heard the doctor. You just need patience." He scrambled to find my hand and I slipped it into his, letting him squeeze my hand. He shook violently and I stared up at his face sorrowfully. All of this was so frustrating for him. I could absolutely understand, too. If I couldn't see or talk to the man I love with all of my being, I'd be frustrated myself. "We're going to get you through this, darling. I promise."

I scrubbed his hair with soap while he stroked his thumbs along my hands and up my arms. He made a few quiet sounds before finally giving up and slumping his shoulders in defeat. I frowned, hating this. This shouldn't be how he has to live, not at twenty-four. "Tirr-eff-sis," he growled. I had no idea what that meant. He hoarsely got out, "Oh-baan," and I knew he'd said my name, or at least tried to say my name.

"Yes, lover?"

"Ee-errmey." He paused, seemingly distanced from himself. "Ee-errmey." He repeated that phrase a few more times and then he finally snapped, hitting the shower wall hard. His knuckles cracked and I winced. He looked so pained and it hurt. I stroked his cheek gently, hoping that he'd calm down a little. I was relieved when he leaned into my hand and nuzzled it. "Ul-oh-ou."

I wished I knew what he was saying. I wanted to do something to alleviate his stress. I felt so bad being so clueless like this. He needed me to support him and I was powerless, absolutely powerless. He whispered the last phrase once more and simultaneously pressed a kiss to my forehead. After that small gesture, the words dawned on me. "You love me." I looked up at him incredulously to see him nod. "Even after all this time apart? You still love me?" He nodded again, adding a smile this time. "Do you… Do you know how long we've been apart, Ani?" He shook his head and swallowed hard. I could imagine that his captors never once told him how long it'd been and I bet it felt like an eternity to Anakin. I couldn't tell him he'd suffered for a year. I couldn't bring myself to do that to him just yet. Instead, I changed the subject. "Will you let me shave you and cut your hair?" He didn't respond, facially or otherwise, for a few moments, but eventually slowly nodded. I sighed, pressing myself against his naked body. His arms wrapped around me. He couldn't see me at all right now, but he'd somehow managed to fit us together perfectly. The embrace wasn't anywhere near being awkward. It felt…normal. "You still know my body so well," I whispered. "You… You fit perfectly against me." It did feel perfect. Even knowing he'd suffered greatly, this moment was the most important thing now. Living in the here and now was what he needed.

"Ul-oh-ou."

"I love you, too," I said without even thinking about it. That was what I liked the most about this. I didn't have to think I loved him. I know I love him and I could openly tell him that as easily as he could say it to me. He rubbed my back and I could feel his smile against my neck. I breathed slowly against him, relaxing. "I'm so glad to have you back."

He allowed me to finish washing him up and rinsing him off and, once I was sure he was as clean as he could be, I helped him out into the other room and got him onto the bed. I kissed his forehead, moving across the room to grab my jacket. I slid it on and began to zip it until I heard a strangled sound behind me. I turned instantly to face him. He looked like a wild animal, his eyes so frightened and fiery. I knew from that look that something was really wrong. "Du-nee-mey!" he cried out, scrambling about to find the edge of the bed so he could get up.

I ran over to him and gripped his arms tightly, wishing he could look at my face. "Ani, Ani," I said hurriedly, watching him thrash around manically. "I'm here. I'm right here." He breathed heavily, sobbing, as his hands came up to grip my forearms. His grip made it seem like I was planning on leaving him forever. "I'm not leaving you." Well, not now anyway. I was considering going home to get a razor, shaving cream, and a pair of scissors. I suppose I'd just have to call Quin and have him bring those things to me. "Baby," I whispered as he continued to tremble. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." Soon, I hoped to understand the extent to which he'd suffered so I knew how much damage I needed to repair in order to help him. I couldn't even begin to imagine the hell he'd been through. Seeing him like this told me that he'd gone through something extremely terrifying and traumatizing. I pressed the side of my face against his chest since he kept my arms captive in their current position, and began to hum to him.

His tense body slowly began to unwind, and I was grateful for that. "Mm-erre." He leaned forward to bury his face in my neck and repeated that word over and over. After what I thought was the fourth or fifth time, he began to sob again. "Mm-erre."

I closed my eyes and stroked his hair. "Darling, hush." He was apologizing. To me. "Good God," I said aloud, intending for that to be kept in my head. "Please, don't apologize. None of this was your fault." He made more strangled noises, denying what I'd just told him. "Anakin," I whispered. "Oh, baby, please. You're not at fault. We're going to get those fuckers, Ani. I will personally see to it that they die painfully for what they've done. I swear that to you." He kept sobbing and denying what we both knew was the truth. He is the victim here, so I don't know why he thinks he needs to say otherwise. He never asked for this to happen to him.

•◊•

The notebook flew across the room and I refrained from moving to retrieve it again. He's been home for two weeks, living quietly with me. No one knew he was alive but the hospital, Quin, Mace, Luminara, and me. Shmi was too far gone to understand right now and I knew Anakin couldn't cope with what he'd been through plus seeing what state his mother had been left in. He needed time to recover, but that was hard to do when he was irritable at every possible moment. Nothing I or his speech therapist said or did seems to help him in the slightest bit. He sat on the floor beside my legs, head in his hands. He'd regained a little of his vision, but it was still hazy. He could barely see his writing unless he held the notebook up to his face and then he loathed the fact that his handwriting now looked like a child scribbled across the paper.

I would wait for him to relax as the psychologist suggested. Then again, this same psychologist declared him emotionally disturbed, which infuriated Anakin to no end. He sighed in frustration and pushed himself up. I watched him stagger across the room, but noted that he was definitely getting better. He was able to keep himself upright without my help for the most part. There were still times when he'd fall to his hands and knees and I'd have to help him up as he sobbed, but he was improving a little more each day. He grabbed the notebook and smoothed out the crinkled papers before returning to me. He knelt in front of the living room coffee table, laying his notebook on the surface of it for him to write.

Once he'd finished, he gave me the notebook and I read what he needed to say. "I'm sorry. I love you. Thank you for dealing with me."

I smiled sadly at him and handed the notebook back to him. "I love you, too, and you know I'm here for you." I stroked his hair slowly. "And dealing with you? Sweetheart, I've been with you since I got you back. I want to see you get better. I'll be here every step of the way."

He scribbled quickly, and then held the notebook up to me. "You're amazing!"

I chuckled. "Only because I have such an amazing—" I paused, pondering what I was just about to say. After a year, were we still engaged to one another?

He gave me a confused look and wrote, "What?"

"Stay here," I said hurriedly. I rose from the couch and went into the bedroom, picking up a small box from my nightstand. I held it as though it was precious, and indeed it was. I went back into the living room, taking my place on the couch again before holding the box out between us. He gave me a perplexed look. I bit my lip and slowly opened the box, watching his reaction carefully. My heart fluttered when his entire face lit up. "Will you still marry me?" I asked timidly. He nodded eagerly, grinning, and held his left hand out to me. I loved to see that he was still excited about this. I know he still loves me, but I didn't know where he'd stand on the idea of marriage after a year apart. Slipping the ring onto his finger, I realized he was crying. "Oh, baby…" I set the box down beside my thigh and framed his face with my hands, leaning forward to kiss his nose. "Don't cry, my beautiful man."

He gave me a weak laugh and pulled back to scribble on the paper. "I didn't think you'd still want me forever." As I gaped at him for even thinking that, he wrote: "I'm grateful and I truly love you." This man, after all he'd been through, is still my everything.

"Ani, I love you more than anything." I pressed my lips to his forehead, sliding my hands over his broad shoulders and down his strong, scarred, bare arms until I could take his hands in mine. "God, do I love you," I said breathlessly, bumping my nose against his playfully. I was lucky to have him here with me. Thinking he was dead for a year hadn't sparked any hope within me. I never thought I'd see him again after he was kidnapped, after the explosion…

I still wondered why he was hiding what happened from me and the psychologist. I've never once turned him away or told him I didn't want to help him. That was the complete opposite of what our relationship is. We listen to each other and struggle to make it through hell together. For the first time in two weeks, he was absolutely unresponsive. There had been a few times where he'd frozen up like this, but he'd come out of it almost as quickly as he'd slipped into it. He wouldn't explain and I vowed not to push him.

It just… I worried about him.

I rubbed his fingers, waiting for him to come back to me. Several minutes passed and he still hadn't moved or reacted to my touch. His eyes looked distant and glossy. I desperately wanted to say something to snap him out of it, but I was afraid of what he was seeing. Some part of his torture must have crept back into the forefront of his mind and I couldn't do anything to stop it or help him. His eyes suddenly shut tightly, his fingers gripping mine tightly enough to nearly break them, and his teeth ground together. "Nn-gh!" He thrashed around, screaming what I assumed was 'no.' He threw himself forward, crashing right into me.

The psychologist warned me that this might happen. He told me that I needed to have patience and let him ride the nightmare out, but… I found that painful to do. "Anakin," I whispered, my voice shaking. I held him tightly, heart pounding in sync with each labored breath he took. "Love, I'm here. Obi-Wan's here." All I could do was give him support and let him know that he definitely had it. Watching him fall apart was breaking my heart. This was what hurt the most. I'd seen and felt him like this during the night several times over the last couple of weeks. He'd wake up in a cold sweat after screaming and thrashing in bed. Whatever happened to him broke him.

His strangled cries became quiet sobs as he finally began to calm down. He stopped fighting against me, instead leaning into me. "I'm here. I've got you." Oh, God. Why did this have to happen to him? He'd never done anything to deserve this. No one, not even the lowest human being—the exception being his captors—deserved this. He clutched me tightly, trying to make sure I wasn't going to leave him. He knew I would never let him go. Not again. Never again.