Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars.

Warnings: Implications of suicidal thoughts, adult sexuality.

Reunion of the Fallen

Chapter 4

Obi-Wan sat cross-legged on the padded floor of the dojo, trying to clear his mind of distractions in order to meditate properly. Contrary to what Anakin had once believed, meditation had not always come easily to him. It was only in his early twenties that the exercise had started to feel natural, or even particularly helpful, which was why he'd tried to find ways of easing Anakin's own difficulties. For a long time, he'd preferred a nice stiff drink to meditation when he was feeling particularly overwrought.

Over the years on Tatooine, however, he had come to appreciate the solace one could find in meditation more than ever before. It was a retreat from his solitude, into the infinite expanse of the Force. And sometimes, into the company of his master.

But it was difficult to find the right state of mind with Vader so near, his presence in the Force like black tendrils tickling at the edges of Obi-Wan's perception. It was likely a twisted extension of Vader's obvious longing for closeness, but that only made it all the more distracting. Because along with the usual undercurrents of the Dark Side – anger, hatred, greed – there was also a depth of affection Obi-Wan wasn't certain he knew how to process.

He had been prepared for Vader anger; he had been prepared for Vader's hatred. But he had not been prepared for Vader's love.

It contradicted everything he had ever been taught about the Sith, and everything that he had made himself believe after Anakin's fall.

Because he knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Vader and Anakin were one and the same. The separation he'd created in his mind had been nothing more than an imperfect method of coping with the reality that the boy he'd trained had the capacity to be Vader all along. And that he'd failed to realize it before it was too late.

I made him wonder just how much he could trust the assumptions he'd taken for granted about the nature of the Dark Side. Certainly, it changed those who used it. But how much did it change them? He remembered that Asajj Ventress – a war criminal in her own right, and callous on the best of days – had not been some mindless monster incapable of empathy or compassion. She had been able to set aside her hatred for him when they were both in danger from Maul, after all. She had even helped to save Ahsoka's life out of what appeared to be pure sentiment born of shared experiences – or so Anakin had made it seem, when he had later shared the details of his encounter with the woman.

The Dark Side, he was starting to believe, relied in part, or perhaps even entirely, on an individual's innate capacity for darkness. He had simply not wished to acknowledge that Anakin's capacity was so great.

But however much it hurt to accept this truth, it provided him with a vital piece of insight: he knew Anakin Skywalker, better than anyone else in the galaxy. Better even, in some ways, than Anakin had known himself.

And thus, he also knew Darth Vader. He knew of his desire for control, his thirst for order, his need for authority and respect. But he also knew of his desperation for intimacy, and how – ultimately – he was more loyal to people than ideas. He had known of these traits in Anakin Skywalker, but had thought it his duty not to encourage any of them. Attachment, he had believed, was Anakin's greatest weakness.

But the damage was already done now; Anakin was a Sith Lord who had committed countless atrocities. And if there was a way to influence Vader now, it was through his attachments. Obi-Wan doubted that he would ever be able to turn Vader away from the Dark Side, but that didn't mean he couldn't turn the man's loyalties.

Even failing that, Obi-Wan was in a unique position to monitor Vader's activities – though admittedly in a limited capacity – and to a lesser extent the Emperor's. He was also going to have a much easier time protecting Luke and Leia from discovery, using himself as a distraction.

And when Vader was away on his "business", Obi-Wan would still have plenty of time to communicate with Qui-Gon. Which brought him to the largest flaw in his plan:

The matter of his own attachment, and how it would interfere with retaining his consciousness in the Cosmic Force after the death of his physical body. Now would have been an excellent time for some input from Qui-Gon about that, as a matter of fact.

As if on cue, music began blaring from the living room.

Sighing, Obi-Wan pushed himself to his feet and padded out of the dojo. Vader was at the work table, welding some parts together as heavily synthesized music pounded from speakers that must have been embedded in the walls. Obi-Wan felt the beginnings of a headache coming on.

"A little loud, isn't it? I don't believe that the Force protects your ears from nerve damage, though I could be mistaken."

Vader set down his tool and turned to face him, smirking. He waved a hand and the music stopped. "Just wanted to see how the meditation was going, old man," he said. "If you were doing it right, the music shouldn't have bothered you."

Obi-Wan walked over to one of the sofas and sat down, rubbing his temples in a circular motion. "It turns out that having such a strong presence of the Dark Side nearby is quite a distraction."

"Poor Jedi," said Vader. "All those pent-up emotions, making you feel things. It must be unbearable for you."

Obi-Wan didn't deign to respond to Vader's mockery, though it was more due to the growing pounding in his head than anything. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the edge of the sofa and took a deep breath.

A few minutes later, he felt a cup being pressed into his hand. "Drink this," said Vader. "You're probably dehydrated."

Obi-Wan accepted the proffered drink gratefully, wondering when exactly it was he had last had some water. Then, after he'd downed the entire cup, his stomach made a rather interesting noise.

Vader frowned. "When was the last time you ate something?"

Obi-Wan sat the cup down on the table in front of him, then stroked his beard in thought. "You know, I don't actually recall."

Vader sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. "Just...wait here," he commanded, picking up the cup and making his way back to the kitchen.

Obi-Wan complied, if only out of a lack of anything else to do. Vader was back about ten minutes later with a tray, setting it down in front of Obi-Wan. It boasted a heated meal pack of nerf stew and rice, an unfamiliar fruit sliced into wedges on a plate, eating utensils, and another full cup of water.

"Eat," said Vader, sitting down beside him with a sour expression on his face.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "I must admit: I never expected to see a Sith Lord playing nursemaid."

"I'm not going to let you starve yourself, old man," said Vader, rolling his eyes again. "So just...eat."

Obi-Wan wasn't exactly going to argue, given how hungry he suddenly realized he was, so eat he did. The food was good enough, he supposed, though he probably couldn't have appreciated the taste even if it had been haute cuisine. Vader didn't move, apparently intent on making sure that Obi-Wan finished everything.

When Obi-Wan had drained the last drops of water from his cup, he had to admit that he felt much better. "Thank you," he said, once again struck by the absurdity of the fact that Vader had been quite intent on killing him not too long before.

Of course, his former apprentice had been mercurial since the very first day they'd met, but this was on another level than anything he'd experienced from Anakin. Or perhaps Vader had come to his own realizations over the course of their time together. Maybe there was indeed some truth to the belief that intercourse could lead to greater insight, he thought sardonically.

There were a few moments of pregnant silence between them, where Vader just looked at Obi-Wan as if he smelled very bad. Eventually he said, "Take off your shirt and lie on your stomach." Obi-Wan's eyebrows shot up, and Vader made a derisive sound. "Get your mind out of the gutter, old man. I just..." He sighed. "This has been difficult for you, and I can feel how tense you are. So...let me help."

He wanted to give him a back rub, Obi-Wan realized, a lump forming in his throat. It had been a frequent enough offer from Anakin, after particularly stressful missions during the Clone Wars. An offer that Obi-Wan had always declined. Because he had understood what the gesture had meant to Anakin, and had worried that it would test his own resolve to keep some measure of distance between them. He had known that he could never accept, because he would have liked nothing more than Anakin's hands on his bare skin.

But now, everything was different. "I was under the impression that you wished to cause me difficulty."

"Yeah, well – your constant self-pity party is starting to get tiresome," said Vader, reaching forward to pick up the tray. It was the closest thing to an apology he would likely ever get from the man, Obi-Wan mused.

He removed his tunic and lay face-down on the sofa, folding his arms as a make-shift headrest, as Vader took the tray to the kitchen. Vader was back in a hurry, not quite able to mask his eagerness in the Force, and straddled the back of his thighs.

He started by skimming his fingertips lightly over the exposed skin, perhaps to get a feel for where he should focus his efforts, then began to knead into the muscles of Obi-Wan's shoulders with his thumbs. Vader's hands were warm and strong and achingly familiar, and Obi-Wan released an involuntary sound that was somewhere between a groan and a grunt. Vader's touch gentled in response; the little discomfort there had been melted into into pure relief.

Perhaps this was something he needed after all.

Vader worked his way down Obi-Wan's back, loosening knots that had been in place for what Obi-Wan suspected was a very long time. Idly, he wondered how the Sith Lord had learned to be so good at this. During his time with Padme, perhaps, or when he was a young boy, trying to help his mother unwind after a long day of forced labor. As he gave in to the relaxation spreading throughout his body, he drifted into a hazy stupor that was not-quite meditation and not-quite sleep.

His focus was reestablished, however, when Vader leaned down to kiss the base of neck, and he felt conspicuous hardness where Vader was straddling him. "What was that you said about keeping my mind out of the gutter?" asked Obi-Wan sleepily.

Vader trailed his lips over the skin of Obi-Wan's right shoulder, doing the same with flesh fingers on his left. "You look so good like this," he murmured, his desire pulsing in the Force.

It wasn't desire Obi-Wan felt in return – or at least, not lustful desire. He was not of an age where he could recover his drive so quickly after what they'd done not so long ago. But he wanted to touch him, all the same. It was similar to the impulse that had made him wash the younger man's hair.

"I can do something about that if you let me up," he said, now more awake, and felt Vader's breath stutter against his shoulder. His weight was gone a moment later.

Vader was standing by the time Obi-Wan was upright, looking down at him with pupils blown wide. Obi-Wan wondered if he should thank him again, since the massage had indeed been very nice, but decided it wasn't necessary in light of what he was about to do. "Have a seat," he said, which Vader did immediately. The man didn't have trouble following orders in this context, it seemed.

Kneeling between Vader's legs, he was amused by the thought of Sidious having to deal with that particular aspect of Anakin's personality. He filed that away as something to ask about another time as he undid the ties of Vader's trousers, opening the flap in the front.

"You look even better like this," said Vader softly. There was lust in those words, yes, but also something else. Obi-Wan looked up into the Sith Lord's clear blue eyes and saw Anakin Skywalker. Even twisted by the Dark Side, with the darkness of his presence permeating Obi-Wan's senses, and even after every atrocity he'd committed, he was still Anakin Skywalker.

And Obi-Wan loved him. He could admit that, now, if only to himself.

He loved him, and he wanted to make him feel good. Not because of some high-minded scheme, or for the good of the Galaxy, but simply for its own sake. That too he could admit to himself.

[Explicit scene removed in compliance with content standards of this website. For the full, unedited version, please check out my AO3 account. I have the same username there.]

Obi-Wan pulled away slowly when it was over, tucking Vader back into his pants and re-doing the ties. Vader didn't relinquish his hair, though, going back to petting it. And his eyes, when Obi-Wan caught sight of them, were that strange mix of yellow and blue, half-lidded and full of affection.

Smiling, he said, "I'm really glad I didn't kill you, Obi-Wan," and finally let go of Obi-Wan's hair. Then he grabbed Obi-Wan by the collar of his tunic and guided him up onto the sofa, kissing him. If Vader minded the lingering taste of his own ejaculate, he certainly didn't show it, the kiss lasting for several minutes. Indeed, it was Obi-Wan finally who pulled away, slumping against the backrest.

"You certainly know how to lay on the charm, Anakin," he said. "I do believe that's kindest thing that anyone has ever said to me."

Vader slumped back as well, chuckling darkly. "You're just going to keep calling me that, aren't you."

"Darth Vader is a title," said Obi-Wan, matter-of-factly. "Anakin is your name. And while I admit that I'm far from an expert on the matter, it does seem rather strange to call somebody by their title while engaged with them in intercourse." He quirked his eyebrows. "I would also like to note that you don't seem to mind it at all until after the fact."

Vader snorted. "And I'm already reconsidering the whole not-killing-you thing. That has to be some kind of record."

Obi-Wan pushed himself to his feet, and looked down at Vader with a small smile. "I've said it before, have I not? My life is in your hands."

Vader was on his feet in seconds, grabbing Obi-Wan by the wrist. "Are you glad that I didn't kill you?"

"I have no strong feelings on the matter one way or the other," he said, because it was true. Obviously, there were things he could only do if he were alive. But without having mastered Qui-Gon's technique, he would have no way of regretting his failures in death. It would all simply be over.

The thought was not an entirely unpleasant one.

Vader released his wrist, running a hand through his hair. "You know what? Just – call me whatever you like."

"That's very generous of you, Darth," said Obi-Wan. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I shall get some rest."

With that, he walked up to the bedroom and lay down, and was unsurprised when he felt the bed shift as Vader lay down beside him. After laying there for a few minutes, he realized that he was very thirsty, and that he needed to use the 'fresher. "Anakin?" he said softly, not sure if Vader was still awake.

"Hmm?" came the sleepy reply.

"Would you mind getting me some more water?"

"Sure thing," he said, without hesitation, and rolled off the bed.

Obi-Wan went about doing his business in the meantime, then crawled back into bed. He was so very tired, and his eyes were closing of their own volition, urging him to sleep.

"...Obi-Wan?"

He didn't open his eyes, using the Force to pry the cup of water from Vader's hand and set it down on the bedside table. "Thank you," he said. He was so, so tired. "Will you let me sleep?" he asked.

"Of course I'll let you sleep." He felt Vader's hand stroking his hair gently. "Of course I will."

"There is no 'of course' with you." he murmured. At least, not anymore. In hindsight, he wasn't sure there ever had been.

But when he finally drifted off to sleep, it was with the memory of before. When he was hopeful, if not happy; when he had still believed that everything would somehow work itself out, because Anakin Skywalker would never let him down.

And, for a few blissful, fleeting moments, Obi-Wan allowed himself to pretend that he never had.