The feeling begins as nothing more than a twinge, a small surge of emotion in the force sending a shiver through Obi-Wan's body. Pausing on his journey to find the starship he would be traveling home on today, Obi-Wan closes his eyes. Tries to identify the emotion flowing through his senses. It's vague. Cold. Familiar. He opens his mind to the force but quickly loses connection to the feeling. Gone as quick as it'd come. Obi-Wan's brow furrows and he opens his eyes. He takes in his surroundings, droids continue loading supplies onto the transport ships without pause. Nothing seems out of place. Drawing his long robes around his body, Obi-Wan continues on his way. He'd rather not delay getting off of this planet any longer. The negotiations had taken more time than expected, three months more, and he is tired to say the very least. He decides to meditate on the disturbance in the force later. For now, he focuses on not getting run over. And where the hell is that damn ship?
Returning to Coruscant is most pleasant, after discussing the results of his assignment with the council that is. Obi-Wan enjoys the luxury of a nice meal and bath before collapsing into his own bed. Asleep before his head hits the pillow. He forgot all about the unwanted chill he experienced while on the Outer Rim until its abrupt return in the middle of the night.
Obi-Wan wakes up mid scream, his voice caught in his throat. Eyes wide and unfocused. His chest heaves unhelpfully, gasping painfully for air. He lifts a shaking hand to pull off the thin blanket wrapped around his legs and falls to his knees at the edge of the bed. Deep breaths, he reminds himself, as he focuses on expelling the oddly familiar sense of panic, panic that does not originate within himself, that is currently commandeering his body. Staggering cold crashes over him like a rampant wave and his body convulses in response. So familiar. Something he hasn't felt in so long but would never be able to forget. The aching in Obi-Wan's chest increases exponentially.
It has been months since Obi-Wan felt anything through their force bond. Months since he had snarky little remarks or feelings of support and comfort or panic invade his thoughts. Months since he had been overwhelmed by the anguish and confusion Anakin felt during their battle at Mustafar; since he had seen the pure hatred radiating from his former Padawan's reddened eyes. Months since his best friend had screamed just how much hate he had harbored for him. Months since Obi-Wan finally admitted aloud how much he loved the man that Darth Vader brutally murdered.
As he turned away that night, letting the planet's scorching heat dry his tears into streaks on his soot covered face, Obi-Wan slid carefully constructed mental shields into place between himself and Anakin. He couldn't sever the bond completely. Just as he could not kill the monster in Anakin's body. His mind slowly silenced Anakin's screaming thoughts- the younger Jedi never was good at controlling his feelings. Less now that the darkness was thriving on his emotion like a parasite. The bond remained silent since then. An entire year. Exactly a year, Obi-Wan realizes with a jolt. A year to the day.
His breathing slows along with the subsiding panic. Vivid visions of lava and clashing light sabers not yet gone. Obi-Wan curses Anakin for bringing those memories back to the surface. His body shivers as if trying to shake off the ice sinking into his bones. Pain and loneliness rush through him once more, stronger this time. Obi-Wan's walls are weakening without his consent. Desperately he tries to separate himself from the emotion flooding his senses, rebuild his waning resolve to keep Anakin out when another wave hits him hard. Like a swift punch to the gut. The air taken from his lungs. He wonders briefly if Anakin is aware of just how much of himself he is revealing. If he had really taught the boy nothing.
The problem is, Obi-Wan can still remember being awoken to Anakin's screams, verbally and through their bond, for many years. He can picture himself jumping out of bed and hurrying into Anakin's room. Stepping over, though sometimes on, pieces of disassembled droids or other gadgets in his haste. He sees Anakin thrashing helplessly in his sleep, his young face lined with tears. Incomprehensible words and grunts fill in the spaces in between screams. Obi-Wan watches himself place a hand on Anakin's face, his thumb gently trying to smooth out the lines between his eyes. The other hand rests on the boy's shoulder as he coaxes him awake. Anakin, he'd whisper, Anakin, wake up. You're safe. Everything is okay, young one. Wake up now. Watery, panicked blue eyes search the ceiling before Anakin manages to focus on Obi-Wan's face, his relief palpable as his vision clears. The younger Jedi places his hand on Obi-Wan's and brings them to his cheek, nuzzling into the touch with his eyes closed. Obi-Wan sits on the edge of his bed and waits patiently. When his breath finally returns to normal, Anakin blinks his eyes open cautiously. A small lift of the corners of his mouth in thank you before he moves to face the wall and Obi-Wan slides in bed behind him obligingly, his arm tightly circling his apprentice's waist. Always too cold, Anakin was. He never quite adjusted after growing up on Tatooine. Some nights, just being held until his heart and breathing synced with his Master's was enough to lull him to sleep. On bad nights, which were more common, the older Jedi would stay awake to whisper reassurances in Anakin's ear. Their hands clasped firmly under the blanket until Anakin calmed. Then and only then, Obi-Wan allows himself to drift into sleep as well.
The nightmare that plagued his padawan for year had always been of Shmi or Padme, never of Obi-Wan as this one seemed to be. Obi-Wan's heart clenches again, if possible more painfully than before, though this time the emotion is his own.
As Obi-Wan reflects on the memory he realizes he has a choice to make. He knows what Anakin needs, the reassurance his Padawan always sought. The love he held above everything else. But he's a Sith Lord now, Obi-Wan tries to reason with himself, he's not the same boy who was my apprentice; not the same man who was my friend. My best friend. My Padawan. The only person I had left. The one I loved. The one I failed.
Another surge of grief distracts Obi-Wan, though more subdued this time. Actually, Obi-Wan squints, focuses directly on the bond; it feels as though Anakin may have realized his mistake and begun to shield his thoughts.
All at once Obi-Wan decides he doesn't want that to happen. Not right now. Not after all the memories Anakin drug up. All the feelings he brought back to the surface of Obi-Wan's conscious. And, though he doesn't want to admit it, he has missed Anakin's uncontrollable thoughts running through his mind. He lowers his walls completely. He never could deny his Padawan. Why start now?
After taking a deep, steadying breath, he reaches out with the force to gently run his finger down the scar he knows lies across Anakin's right eye. Obi-Wan feels Anakin's surprise before the bond cuts off entirely. Sadness, anger, loneliness, and regret bubble under Obi-Wan's skin. His fingers relax - forcefully relax, as to not break skin, on his thighs, his head hung low, as he tries to release his sorrow into the force without much success.
Before he's finished, or even really managed to start, the Jedi feels a small nudge as Anakin feels around the edge of their bond, walls slowly lowering as he detects nothing suspicious. Only the feelings he has been struggling with himself. Hope flashes through the bond on both ends. Anakin reaches out questioning his once Master. Obi-Wan answers by returning Anakin's emotions back to their rightful owner. If he includes a bit of his own grief after that initial rejection, Anakin deserves it.
Anakin is sheepish but Obi-Wan feels another pointed nudge in their bond, a spike of longing. Of memories. It seems he's not the only one who remembers late nights. A cold hand feels for his through the force, lacing the fingers together gingerly.
A vision fills Obi-Wan's mind, the only light in the room is a sliver of the moons peaking through the curtains. A large bed rests in the corner. He can see Anakin's mechanical hand, ungloved, pulling back the dark blanket. Obi-Wan understands and climbs into his own bed, dragging his covers from the floor. He senses Anakin laying down where his back would be pressing against him. Their clasped hands rest on the boy's stomach.
Obi-Wan presses his face where the back of Anakin's head would be. Pretends he can feel his curly hair tickle his skin. Pretends he can smell the sun and sand and metal that always surrounded Anakin.
Neither man pushes any further than what is being exchanged freely through the bond. There is no desire to know where the other is or what they're planning outside of this moment. On different sides of the war. It would just complicate things. And this is honestly complicated enough. The familiarity and appreciation radiating through the bond allow both men to relax.
This man is not the same, objectively Obi-Wan knows that. He knows he shouldn't be referring to him as 'his.' He shouldn't even be calling him 'Anakin.' But Force if he doesn't feel the same. Like the broken, wild, determined, loving boy who never could get it quite right no matter how hard he tried. The boy Obi-Wan wanted so desperately to save. To keep. But he settles for knowing that all of Anakin's light hadn't been extinguished. That some part of him lives on. Obi-Wan holds on to that with everything he has left.