Obi-Wan tugged and tested his chains. Even if enhanced strength were his forte, he doubted he could have broken them.
"Don't bother."
He looked up at Anakin—no, Vader—stepping into the dank little cell. Obi-Wan forcibly held back a flinch, the younger man's aura painful and just as dark as his severe uniform.
"The Emperor had them specially forged for you and your ilk."
My ilk, Obi-Wan mouthed, then rolled his eyes.
"And here I was under the impression that you were done being a sidekick, Fearless."
"I am not the Emperor's sidekick," he growled. "I am his fist. I am Darth Vader."
"Congratulations," Obi-Wan deadpanned. "Disturbing sexual implications aside you're a crony, then. A mere sycophant."
"I am a mere nothing! You forget who has the power here, Obi-Wan."
"How could I forget? Darth Sidious wields it so well."
"And you never wielded it at all," Vader sneered.
"Power of my own or you?"
"Both. Neither."
Obi-Wan shook his head. In comparison to other members of the now defunct Order, his abilities were not flashy. He possessed some minor telekinesis, had trained rigorously with the lightsaber—a weapon crafted nearly a century ago by an especially talented technomancer for the Order—and could occasionally glimpse into the future, but in the end he was primarily an empath. It was one of Anakin's lesser abilities and one the young man had little patience for utilizing when he had such overwhelming power at hand over the world around him. Even so.
"Anakin was not a weapon to be used. The same cannot be said for Darth Vader."
Vader glared before his expression smoothed, rage simmering beneath a calm surface as he pulled off one of his gloves and leaned down.
Obi-Wan's breath hitched, "Don't."
But he didn't even pause and gripped Obi-Wan around the throat with his bare hand, the physical contact a direct link to his roiling emotions and the screaming, echoing pain he'd wrought on Mayor Palpatine's behalf.
"Stop," he choked, his shields cracking, fracturing. "Anakin."
Vader crouched, his grip never loosening, and stroked his jaw with his thumb.
"Tell me where my wife and children are and I'll take the pain away."
"D-dead."
"Liar," he snarled and shook him. "Give me the truth!"
Chains clinking, he grabbed Vader's wrist with both hands, blunt nails digging into the flesh, trying to find an anchor. He couldn't see the walls around him anymore, the world dark and getting darker as he struggled against the fear and lust and hatred, churning and crashing over him, dragging him under.
"Negotiator?"
Sitting with his legs crossed, hands resting on his knees, Obi-Wan didn't open his eyes.
"You can call me Obi-Wan when we're in private."
"Oh. Obi-Wan?"
Amusement tugged his lips upward.
"Yes, Anakin?"
Anakin shifted his weight from foot to foot. Behold, Obi-thought wryly, the boy who would bring balance. Or so Maverick insisted. It wasn't exactly that Obi-Wan doubted his mentor but—
"Oomph."
He blinked his eyes open, weight pressing down on his lap in the form of bony knees and elbows and sweet-soft hair tickling his nose.
"Comfortable?" Obi-Wan asked, arching a brow.
An elbow dug into his ribs and Obi-Wan was certain a naughty smiled was curving Ani's mouth.
"Yes."
But he settled and silence settled back over them, Anakin's small body warm and soothing. Projecting calm, Obi-Wan let his eyes drift closed again, his hands resting on Anakin's knees instead of his own.
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Anakin."
"Can we stay like this forever?"
"Mm. At least until my legs fall asleep."
Anakin wriggled and leaned back against him, resting his head against his shoulder with a little sigh.
"Okay."