Anakin and Ahsoka's week-long mission passed in what should have been relative ease: a simple escort mission for a diplomatic team going to talks on a planet long-pledged to the Republic and well behind the front lines of the war. It was a lovely planet, the site of the meeting in a temperate forest that sprawled in lush native blues and violets all around the city they stayed in and the weather that fine balance between cool and cold that made every morning feel crisp and gorgeous.
But Anakin and Ahsoka's moods were out of sync and he was frustrated that the one time he was feeling a little optimistic and slightly less depressed about life, she wasn't.
Anakin didn't bring it up because he didn't dare tell her where the mood came from. Not only that I'm learning to fight Maul, but that I've… well… I think I might have made a friend. And I think maybe I could save him given enough time. Maybe one day, who knows, Obi-Wan could even stand next to me as a Jedi somehow? He'd be an incredible one as talented as he is. This idea pleased him greatly, and he set about ignoring how unlikely it was with the single-mindedness he was famous for in more than one circle.
His sleep had gotten better, too, Anakin noticed. He hadn't had a single nightmare so far this mission.
Ahsoka, on the other hand, was quiet and withdrawn, much surlier than usual and quick to snap when he tried to make an innocent joke or suggest something for them to do in the long hours their assigned delegates were under the protection of the local chieftain's guards. Instead she spent most of her time on her datapad, curled up with it in her room or under the vibrant purple canopy of the trees that lined the stone walkway outside of their rooms.
The fourth day, when he'd jokingly asked if she was slicing into something as he strolled up to her outside and pretended to peek, she'd buried it against her chest and glared at him. "I'm just busy, ok? I have a lot on my mind."
"All right," he said, puzzled at the sharp twinge of fear around her. "Ahsoka, is everything ok with you?"
"Yes. I promise. Just please let me study, ok?"
Does she know what I'm up to with Obi-Wan and the training? She can't know. I mean, how would she? "Is there anything you want to tell me? You know you can, right?"
"No," she mumbled, not relaxing and clearly waiting for him to leave.
Like any good Master, he backed off, gave her space, and then stole into her room while she was out on her shift standing watch over their delegates. Tired, ready for bed, he pretended to wander into the wrong room and pretended to think he was picking up his datapad and entering his own passcode.
One try and he was in: Master Shaak Ti, gone three years now in the war, was one of Ahsoka's biggest inspirations and heroes. Her name was Ahsoka's password for just about anything.
Anakin crossed his legs as he sat on her bed, unhappy that he'd had to do this. The datapad took a moment, pulling up the various topics and papers she'd been working on.
There was her Exocultures III essay, and a dozen long trails of notes for her classes, but there was also a whole holocron icon stuffed with thousands of documents that were all strings of numbers that appeared to be bare code. Anakin frowned at it: he wasn't sure where all of this was from, but two words were highlighted red over and over again on random lines as he tapped through a subgroup of pages that had been culled from the mass. "Anakin Skywalker?" he asked the empty room, reading his own name aloud in befuddlement.
What is this? And what is she doing?
He looked at one document, hating the random hodge-podge of code sentient beings wrote compared to the beautiful two-tone simplicity of binary. There were names of spaceports on different planets at the beginning of each line, and as he skimmed over more and more of the endless walls of text he realized these were Jedi Order ship rosters. Daily ones from the Temple docking bay, from what he could tell. One document per day, going back for years, it seemed.
Let's see if I can parse this out inbetween all the garbage. Outbound, to Janmik VII: Anakin Skywalker, Haane Lokai, Nadao Winvaln. The date, about two years ago. Yes. I remember that trip. We were all Knights sent to help out with a siege on that planet.
Ok, so next is Inbound to the Temple from Janmik VII, and the next one should be… yeah. Telladoria II. Outbound and Inbound.
He scrolled through the lengthy streams of code for a minute or two, not really concentrating on them as his curiosity fought his disappointment. Whatever she's doing, there is no way she got this by asking nicely. This had to be pulled directly from the Temple docking bay systems. Only the hangar staff has the codes to that.
Anakin put the datapad back, locking it first before he left to take a long walk, trying to make sense of what his Padawan could possibly be doing. When he had worn the worst of his anger and confusion out, he returned to his room and pulled out a small holocron from his personal items, tugging a cushion from the bed and laying it out on the floor.
Sitting down, placing the holocron in front of him, he clicked it on and sat back, taking a deep breath and trying to focus on the warm sound of his master's voice, gone even longer than Shaak Ti.
The static glow made his master's face softer than it had been in real life, his gentle words low and soothing despite the faint hiss of the tiny speaker and the fact they hadn't been heard when they were supposed to. This holocron had been meant for Anakin's initiation day as a Knight, something they'd thought would happen fairly soon when it was made, but upon Qui-Gon's death on Takodana he had been instantly promoted, the Council declaring no Trials would be necessary given the unfortunate situation.
"Anakin," Qui-Gon said through the eye of the holo directly to him, "today is the day you have become a Knight."
The first time he'd watched this recording, that sentence had made him snap the device off so hard he'd almost broken it, the bacta fresh on his face from the wound Maul had given him and the scent of burning wood from his Master's cremation still fresh and hidden in the folds of his robes. It had been three more months and five more tries before he'd made it all the way through the entire recording.
"I know it has been difficult for you, but you have done it and I am so proud of you. I know life has not been easy here and the fight against attachment was long, but you persevered and have become an example for all of us. Congratulations, Anakin. There are great things in your future, and I am sure that one day you will sit on the Council itself, if not lead it. Do not let regret or doubt into your mind. You are the Chosen One, and you must always remember that. The Council needs you, Anakin. We will all need you one day. Do not be afraid of your destiny. Go forth and bring Light wherever you go. You have certainly brought it to me. Good luck, Padawan. Though I guess I can't call you that, anymore, can I?" A warm chuckle filled the room. "Good luck, Knight Skywalker. Thank you for being my Padawan."
Anakin mouthed the words sometimes, but not today, and reached down to click the holo off and tuck it back inside his bag. Master, what do I do about this slicing thing? Why is she doing this?
The idea that she had mentioned something about this before tugged on his mind, but it was gone as soon as it came and he was left with nothing to explain it. I guess I'll have to talk to her about this. Sooner rather than later.
But if I understand this kind of thing right, though, she's already burned the files onto her datapad. It's not like she's actively poking around in the docking bay systems right now.
Maybe we can talk about this after the mission and get it sorted out without anyone knowing about it. The Council would not be pleased at all to hear she's at this sort of thing again.
Settling on that, Anakin leaned back against the bed and gave a long, weary sigh to the ceiling. His life used to be so simple, and now there were so many secrets, so many things to carefully keep track of and lie about. Maul, Arev, and now whatever was going on with his Padawan. It was like walking through a field at midnight, laying out mines as you went, hoping you didn't step on them when you came back in the light of day. He hated it.
As it turned out, the mission finished two days ahead of schedule, and yet again while Anakin was pleased about this, quietly happy to get back and return to training with Obi-Wan, Ahsoka dragged her feet packing up and meeting him at the door to her guest room.
"Do we have to go back so soon? I like it here," she grumbled, falling in next to him as they carried their packs out to the transport. She was obviously tired, dark circles under her eyes and her feet slapping dully along the ground.
"Really? I couldn't tell," Anakin teased, but she only shrugged.
"Busy. Too much work."
He didn't push the issue, easily stealing her bag off her shoulder and adding it to his own. She frowned at first but then tried to smile as she realized what he was doing. "Thanks. You don't have to."
"You look like you're about to fall over."
"I'm just tired, Master."
"Physically or mentally? I mean, this was a nice, easy mission but too much downtime between action makes me restless sometimes. You know?" He took in the waves of indigo leaves dancing in the cool morning air, the peaceful city spread out below the base. "Sometimes you need to be busy."
"Yeah, it's not that. It's… I don't know. Nevermind."
Anakin squeezed her shoulder as they climbed the ramp into their ship. "I'm always here if you want to talk, Snips. Always. You ever need me, just come find me."
"I will, Master. I promise."
When they arrived back at the Temple and had finished making their report, Anakin giving all the details while Ahsoka stood in total and respectful silence, they had been told some surprising news: all Jedi not currently in combat situations were being recalled while the Council considered a new plan of action regarding the Jedi's assistance to the Republic, given the heavy losses the Order had suffered in the past several years.
"This is a delicate time for the Order. We hope, Skywalker, that you will be willing to help us speak in the Senate these coming months," Master Windu had intoned with an even more serious expression than usual.
Anakin had bowed, a little uncertain about this new, very public aspect of being the Chosen One but eager to fulfill his duties as best he could. "Yes, Masters. It would honor me to represent the Order in any way you find suitable."
"Thank you, Skywalker. Thanks to your victories, you are the name and, soon, will be the face of the Jedi to many in the galaxy." The handful of Council members present nodded their agreement as Windu spoke, all of them as grim-looking as he was.
Anakin said nothing to this, willing his thoughts to stay hidden in the lowest reaches of his mind and hoping his silence was mistaken for humility as he considered all of the ways he had failed recently at being the Jedi the Council had raised him to be.
"Because of this you and Padawan Tano will not be sent on any further missions for the foreseeable future. You may pursue meditation or study as you see fit, Skywalker, and you, Padawan, will attend your classes as usual."
Once they had left, Anakin gently told Ahsoka to go get some rest before heading off to his own room, wondering if he could sit her down that evening and have a serious talk with her about whatever she was up to in the Temple computers. Her puzzling anger through their bond during the meeting had been palpable, not directed at him but the sentients around him.
Master, I'm no good at this. I hate telling other people what to do unless it's in a battle, he admitted to himself as he opened the door to his room, set down his pack, and almost stepped on a sealed flimsiplast that had been slid under the door.
It was not the most unusual thing he'd ever seen, the system of Initiate runners and sealed messages a holdover from long-ago days that the Temple still used more as busy work for the Initiates than anything else, but it was odd finding one under his door. The flimsiplast system was used for outsiders who holoed or commed the Temple and wanted to leave messages for a particular Jedi.
Since the Temple did not allow love letters, gushing songs of praise, or offers of marriage to make it past the receiving com workers, feeling it promoted unhealthy levels of emotion, the man with the name Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker had seen very few of these under his door.
He knelt and picked this one up, noting the date was the day after they'd left. Flipping it to find the seam to tear it open, he saw the sender, typed out by one of the receiving Padawans, and had to blink and look again to make sure it read what he thought it did.
Arev.
Tearing the thin plastic open, he read the simple words printed inside, and heard Obi-Wan's refined lilt in his mind as he did. "It's been awhile, old friend. Hope you're doing well and everything goes sky-side for you."
Anakin sat down at his desk and read it again, trying to figure out what Obi-Wan was saying here. It was clear he believed Anakin wouldn't see this for several more days. But why would he risk comming the Temple, even with a name no one else knew and likely sent from one of the public coms available around the upper levels?
"Sky-side," he murmured. It was a saying people used, of course, but there was no reason at all for Obi-Wan to send him generic well-wishes. Does he mean the apartment? Am I supposed to go there first when we meet again instead of the training ground?
Did something happen?
His issues with Ahsoka forgotten for the moment, Anakin stuffed the note into the pocket inside his tunic, his cloak a wide swirl as he turned and headed back out the door.
He was already in the second public shuttle going toward the apartment when he realized he was still in his Jedi robes and it was the middle of the afternoon. For a moment he considered going back and waiting for the date they'd agreed on, but the five days that would mean chafed at him given his nameless, growing discomfort. Some of it was the new role the Council had thrust upon him, but there was more worry for Obi-Wan and he wanted to confirm with his own eyes that nothing had happened to him while Anakin had been away.
I'm just a Jedi going to visit someone. No one will notice. No one will care, he reassured himself, staring out the window at the undulating spires of buildings along the horizon and listening to the low rumble of the shuttle's airbrakes beneath him. But this might get trickier once I start speaking at the Senate.
By the time he reached the high-level apartment and punched the door chime, he was tapping his fingers impatiently along his hip, hand over his saber under his cloak and the initial unease now so strong he almost expected someone to jump out at him when the door slid open.
"Anakin?" Obi-Wan stood there in simple black, his shock of red hair messy and faded yellow eyes hazy with sleep.
No. Drugs of some kind, the Force told Anakin, showing him ugly swirls of static along the rough edges of his aura. Powerful ones.
Are you all right? Anakin asked through the Force, trying to see past the tumble of pain and surprise and worry that emanated from Obi-Wan.
With some concentration and narrowing of his golden eyes, Obi-Wan's mental shields crawled back up into place as he wordlessly let Anakin in.
Anakin looked around in disbelief as he entered the large living area: the formerly pristine apartment was a mess, the cleaning droids in ugly, dented pieces in one corner and most of the fine glass and ceramic decorations that had dotted the room crushed into powder drifts across tables and the floor where they sat. Empty bottles and glasses and half-eaten dishes of food sat scattered about, empty vials of whatever it was currently lacing Obi-Wan's veins lying in small drifts around the room's long bench. Its crushed cushions showed he'd spent a lot of time there in the past few days.
Has he been there since I left? "Are you all right?" Anakin repeated, frustrated and not wanting to give Obi-Wan time to arrange a lie.
"You're in the right place, but I must say you're a little early, Anakin," Obi-Wan managed, clearly thinking hard to put all the words together as he moved back to collapse on the pillows. "What, five days?"
"I couldn't wait when I saw your message. What is this?" He picked up one of the vials and held it front of Obi-Wan's face.
He received a lop-sided, dazed grin in return, Obi-Wan's voice soft. "Fucking excellent. That's what that is. I told you, you can get anything you want this high up."
"What is it?" he growled.
"Painkiller," Obi-Wan sighed, lowering his head and trying to find what he wanted to say through the disjointed echoes of his mind. "Sith kriffing hells, you are stubborn."
"Why painkiller? What happened?"
He reached out but Obi-Wan flinched away. "No. No. You can't see."
Anakin kneeled in front of him and took his shoulder, hard, and his worry and concern flooded through him to the rocky facade of Obi-Wan's shields, dropping down into that primal sea where thoughts and memories had no hold in the shifting tides of emotional and physical truths.
His stomach. Internal bleeding, or there was when it happened.
Someone beat him.
"Maul," he hissed, almost too late to pull his Force presence back before the hatred that lashed out landed in Obi-Wan's soul. "He was here? He did this to you?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan said, trying to sit up on the bench with limited success. Anakin watched his thought process, watched Obi-Wan scramble to find words and put them together in the way that he wanted.
"Don't lie to me. Tell me all of it."
Obi-Wan fell back and laughed at this, a long and breathless wheeze stopped only when he clutched at his stomach, and then the smile faded into a grimace. "He found out about you, and us training. I told him I'm doing it to trick you into thinking we're friends." Rolling onto his side to face him, Obi-Wan's hand slid to dangle limply over the side as he attempted to gesture with it. "He doesn't know why we're training. So he can't know where we're training. So I told you to come here instead when you got back. We'll have to be more careful when we go down there from now on."
I cannot be angry. I have to stay calm. I have to stay calm somehow. "Is he planetside right now?"
Obi-Wan's reserves drained from the last explanation, he had only a few short words left to give. "No. He left. I think."
"Who healed this? Or tried?" Anakin moved to sit next to him and put his other hand along Obi-Wan's stomach, cautious and trying to be as gentle as he could given the rage boiling inside him. He tried to center himself and started to gather the Force inside himself into as soothing of a flow as he could manage, reminding himself that anger would only dilute whatever healing he could do for him.
"I tried to. I'm afraid I'm not very good at it. You're still in your cloak, you know. Heathen."
"Quiet. Hold still." Anakin closed his eyes, fingers spreading along the smooth fabric of Obi-Wan's shirt, and the first touches of healing sank down, searching out the wound.
Obi-Wan held his breath as the subtle wave of heat pooled in the worst spots of drug-stained agony, letting it out again as Anakin pushed against him a little more with his mind. This was different than the last time he'd healed him: for Anakin was no calm beauty to it, no growing sense of peace between them. There was only the bare need to make sure Obi-Wan was ok and that he would be ok.
They sat together wordlessly as Anakin worked, grateful he'd had such an easy week with the diplomats as more of his own strength slipped away to fill in the gaps of Obi-Wan's body, the black holes where the roots of his pain and the worst damage lived.
When the Force had mostly achieved balance again between them, the tide settling out between their spirits and the most dangerous of Obi-Wan's unseen injuries healed, Anakin withdrew his hand and studied Obi-Wan. "You look like third hell."
"Still better than you," he grinned absently, lost in the beautiful sensation of no longer hurting so badly paired with the drugs, and the sarcasm proof he was still there under all of it.
"No more of that trash."
"Fine," he murmured, suddenly drowsy.
Anakin frowned down at him, blue eyes intent on his. "When was the last time you slept? Really slept?"
"Ah… the night before we trained?"
"Come on." Anakin slid his arm around Obi-Wan's waist and helped him up to walk to what he guessed was his room, no sexual tension at all in the motion as they pressed against each other. For the moment Obi-Wan was a wounded comrade, no different than any of the clones Anakin fought and bled with on the more dangerous missions Ahsoka wasn't allowed on.
Down at the end of the doors leading into the back half of the apartment, Obi-Wan's room was a simple one, with a bed large enough for two, another floor-to-ceiling window making up the back wall the headboard sat against. Anakin threw back the covers and delicately lowered Obi-Wan into the sheets, Obi-Wan's hands reluctantly sliding free from Anakin's shoulders to fall limply to the bed. "What, no shower first?"
"You can do that yourself," Anakin chuckled, pulling the blankets up around him. "Sleep. I'll clean this place up."
"Training…"
"Can wait a few days until you're better. You rest. I'll take care of you."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but Anakin watched the desire to do so melt away as the need for rest overtook him, the feeling of being warm and without pain and safe too strong to resist for long.
He sat down at the foot of the bed, watching Obi-Wan's eyes flutter shut and the rise and fall of his chest slow until he was asleep deeply enough he didn't feel Anakin get up from the bed and go to dim the window's opacity down to a flat white setting.
Taking quiet steps to the door, Anakin turned off the lights and shut it behind him. He returned to the living area, sitting down and resting his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands and allowing the hundred frantic thoughts scratching away at him to return to his attention.
Maul knows. He came here. He was right here in this same room, probably on the same night I was.
What if he comes back?
That frightened Anakin. It was one thing to imagine a grand, sweeping duel in some abandoned ruin somewhere in the Outer Rim or even down in the gritty levels he and Obi-Wan were training in, but the fact the monster had been here, sky-side, in a room Anakin had felt safe in rattled him more than he wanted to admit.
At least we can train every day now that I'll be planetside. Whenever the Temple doesn't need me for anything.
He looked up, back toward the bedroom where Obi-Wan lay sleeping peacefully, one last doubt pressing in on him. Do I really believe this is the first Maul has heard of me from Obi-Wan?
Admit it. This pretty much confirms what you suspected. Maul wants Obi-Wan to turn you to their side. When he found out Obi-Wan was training you instead, he punished him for it. Obi-Wan's supposed to be seducing you, not training you. Or something like that.
It was logical, as perfect and sound as the saber at his hip, but it didn't sit right. Maybe he was supposed to seduce me in the beginning. Maybe that was Maul's plan. But Obi-Wan wants me. He cares about me. I've felt it. Whatever Maul's plan was, it's started going sideways, and he's starting to suspect it.
Maybe I've started pulling Obi-Wan toward the Light too much for his liking. Guilt tugged at Anakin at the idea the beating Obi-Wan had taken could have been his fault, but hope as well. That would mean there is a chance for him. A way out of all of this.
Unless Maul shows up here again.
Anakin realized with no small amount of irony that the Sith Lord wouldn't actually do that. Think about it. He won't come. He's letting Obi-Wan do his job, right? As long as you're here, he's doing his job attempting to seduce you. He's safe.
I don't want him to get hurt again. Too many what-ifs and worries coursed through him, restless energy circling inside him and he stood, finally shrugging his cloak off to pile on the bench behind him, and began picking up the remains of the droids. He recognized the distinctive handiwork of a Force rage, their crumpled motors and bent arms familiar to him from far too many incidents of his own.
It took an hour to clean away all of the debris of the room, the work soothing as he sorted and trashed and swept, less exciting than sparring in the training salons but physical work nonetheless. He had time to make a plan.
He would sleep here with Obi-Wan a couple of days until he was better. The injuries Maul had given Obi-Wan were healing up and his own efforts had sped them along their way, but he'd seen that sort of trauma before in more than one of his clones, if from different sources, and knew Obi-Wan would need help for at least another day or two. The Temple would contact him if they needed him: Knights didn't need permission to leave Temple grounds. So that only left his Padawan.
Anakin commed in and left a message for Ahsoka, who was probably asleep herself, saying that he'd be scarce for a couple of days taking care of some things all of their missions hadn't left time for. The slicing problem briefly passed through his mind, but Anakin had always done better dealing with all his attention focused on one issue at a time, and he pushed it to the back of his mind for now.
It wasn't any easier to lie to her about this than the first time he'd done it, but Anakin's resolve was even stronger this time around. Things are getting complicated, Snips. I want you safe and out of the way. Completely out of the way.
It was late evening before Obi-Wan stirred, the faintest curious touch ghosting across Anakin's mind as he flipped through the holo news on a screen that came down from the ceiling. The Jedi recall was a hot topic, it seemed, which was likely exactly what the Council was counting on.
"We die in your damn war all the time and the only time you really talk about us is when we say we might leave it," Anakin muttered, clicking it off and going back to the far bedroom.
Leaving the lights off, he leaned in the doorway, silhouetted by the soft glow of the hall. "Hey. You awake?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan said, voice rough. He was sitting up, slumped against the headboard, sheets gathered around him in bundles of fabric. "Water, please."
"Sure." Anakin brought him a glass and sat next to him as he offered it, watching him drink some of it and taking it back when he was done to put it on the table next to the bed. "How do you feel?"
"Weak, but better."
"Hungry?"
"A little."
"I ordered in some mild food a couple of hours ago, soups and breads and things. At least, I think I did it right. It showed up and no one asked me for credits. Anyway, I'll get you some."
Obi-Wan nodded, unmoving, watching Anakin in the near dark of the room with a puzzled, tired expression. "Why are you still here?"
"Because no one should suffer alone," he replied, squeezing Obi-Wan's arm before leaving to prepare him a plate.
When he came back a few minutes later he found Obi-Wan's hands pressed to his face and as Anakin turned the lights up brighter his fingertips came away wet. "Thank you," he murmured, taking the plate without looking up and jaw clenched.
"Go slow. Sometimes healing makes people nauseous, from the Force shifting around, I guess?" Anakin leaned against the wall, giving Obi-Wan and the uncertain tremble in his aura space. "We'll see how well this stays down, and if it does and breakfast does tomorrow you can have that shower you asked for. "
"Bucket of cold water over my head?" he asked dryly, speaking to the food on his plate as he took a careful bite.
"Bucket of warm water. Only the finest," Anakin said with a grin, and was happy to see Obi-Wan finally glance up at him with the tiniest smile in return.
"Thank you," he said, and Anakin sensed the warm, grateful pressure of the Force against his mind. Another quick touch, like that of a frightened animal or wary stranger and so different from the mental hugs Ahsoka usually piled on him, but one all the same.
"You're welcome. I'm going to take the other bedroom, so if you need me just reach out like you did a minute ago when I was out there, all right?"
"You're staying?"
"Until you're better, yeah. Long story, but no more missions for a while." He shrugged, gaze shifting away to the night sky. "Want me to bring you anything? Want to go back out to watch some holos or read or something?"
Obi-Wan could only shake his head back and forth, and Anakin pretended not to see him scrub at his eyes as he walked over to the window. "Want this turned back?"
"Yes, please." The bright, beautiful galaxy that was Coruscant at night ghosted back into view, and Anakin leaned against the wall, watching it as Obi-Wan ate.
The growing spark of fondness Anakin felt for him left a hazy, bright mark in his heart as lovely as what spread outside, and Anakin had a sudden flashback to the galaxy he'd seen from the floor of the Separatist ship at the beginning of all of this strangeness, lost in his own waves of pain and delirium. The first time we met and you spoke to me, before I ever knew who you were, I felt this same way. Like I was coming home when I heard your voice.
It has to be the Force. We have to match, somehow.
He studied Obi-Wan, who had set aside the plate and leaned back against the bed, rolling his head to look up at him with those faint gold eyes made gentle with sleep as he faded away again. I know you're better than me, somehow, when it comes to fighting. But I swear I will find a way to protect you.
You don't deserve any of this.
I don't know how you ended up here with those eyes and that leash Maul is holding, but there has to be some way to get you out of it.
