"I'm sorry to have left you today, Master."

It was night now, the vivid primrose of the sun buried beneath the plumbeous, sooty shades of black. Lights from a nearby menagerie of advertisements glared harshly through the un-tinted windows in stripes of ruddy purple, teal, and bright scarlet, stretching across the dusky room like demonic, stained fingers. Anakin's thin figure was silhouetted against the glare of one, bathing him in a halo of reddish light as he turned to observe his charge slumping heavily against the swell of his overstuffed linens.

He gave no reaction.

His eyes were glassy and unfocused, the color of smalt. They could barely be seen for the unkempt mop of caramel hair tousled ever which-a-way on his head, and the umber roots were saturated with sweat. His pink lips were chapped, his neck was too willowy, and his normally nicely rounded cheekbones stood out far more starkly than they should.

At first glance, he most certainly looked dead, and the thought chilled Anakin as he slowly moved to sit on the bed. Sudden movements frightened Obi-Wan nowadays, and he had to take extra care to move with precision when in his Master's proximity. A failure to do this usually resulted in a trembling, recoiling man that he was firmly convinced he didn't know, and that…that was most unnerving of all.

His Master wouldn't talk to him. He wouldn't respond to him. Look at him. Today had been the first time in two weeks that he had actually spoken his ex-Padawan's name, but that was only after trying to pull away from Anakin's unintentionally firm grip. When Anakin had tried to apologize, to soothe him, those damnably blank eyes had only blinked blearily for a few counts before drifting shut again, the man apparently only comforted by the hasty deduction of that particular discomfort. "An'kin, hurts…" he had whispered over and over before falling gradually back into unconsciousness. "Hurts."

He rarely spoke anymore…the pleas for reassurance, the screams and unbridled sobs of the initial days after his rescue slipping away to someplace inside his heart where no one but himself was permitted to go. When Anakin asked him questions, the man merely looked away in silence. The rare times when slumber eluded him, he would only stare out the windows at the steady traffic or gaze unseeingly at the few old holos adorning his monotonous walls, refusing to engage in any conversation.

Anakin sighed, preparing to stand up and abscond the room. His Master was now staring at the coverlet, eyes tracing the paths of the seams. Anakin knew better than to expect a reply.

"It's…It's okay, An'kin. I didn't mind it so much."

Anakin jumped in shock, head snapping quickly around again to meet Obi-Wan's gaze. The man opposite of him gasped, startled. His hands reflexively clenched the sheets and he gave a long exhalation, reticently watching his apprentice as if expecting to be struck.

Anakin sighed again, mentally berating himself. Turning back his attentions, he reached for Obi-Wan's hand cautiously, clasping the skeletal fingers in his own. They curled almost impulsively around his palm. "What, Master?" he asked quietly, almost unsure that he had heard anything at all.

Obi-Wan gazed back at him, remaining diffident. "I said its okay." he whispered.

He's speaking!Anakin thought in a blissful astonishment. "No, no it's not, Master. And I promise I won't do it again. It was wrong to abandon you here when I knew you needed me."

Obi-Wan shrugged, starting to relax, the smallest of cheerless smiles etched on his face. "M' sure you have more…more important things. Knight now, after all."

Anakin blinked. There suddenly was a sad, knowing sort of look in his eyes. Surely he didn't suspect…? Anakin hadn't been too obvious, had he? He shook his head. "No, Obi-Wan. Nothing is more important to me than your health right now. Remember that."

To this his Master said nothing, pearl-gray eyes turning back to his window. Anakin wondered a bit forlornly if Obi-Wan was trying to dismiss him again.

"Master?"

Obi-Wan turned back to him, tilting his head. A few tiny bands of sweat twisted slowly down ashen temples. "Yes?"

"Do you want me to help you clean up before you sleep again?" It was one of the more objectionable jobs that taking care of his Master entailed, but he didn't mind too much if it meant Obi-Wan would get well faster. "I have to change your dressings, anyway…and your hair probably needs a good washing, by the looks of it."

Startled, Obi-Wan reached up and ran a hand through the afore- mentioned locks. He crinkled his nose at the sticky film of moisture. Nightmares and fever sweats had apparently conspired against him.

Anakin smiled. "See? We can't have you looking like that. It surely won't attract the ladies."

Obi-Wan grunted indignantly, turning a faintly amused eye on his former Padawan. " I don't think I'm able to do that much anyways, Anakin."

Anakin grinned broadly, reveling. If only it was for a moment, the Master he knew best was back. "Oh, Master, such an attitude! I'm sure if you'd let them, females of all species would-"

"Anakin."

"Yes, Master?" Anakin asked pleasantly.

"Don't. Just don't start."

He sighed playfully. "Well, alright, Master. If it pleases you. Now then…" He helped Obi-Wan sit up, groaning internally at the radiating heat he felt lingering on his former Master's body, seeping through his baggy white sleep clothes. "Oh, dear…we need to get you cooled. Master Luminara is going to kill me. " Making a one-man executive decision, he shoved his arms under the crook of the skeletal man's knees and around his shoulders.

"Ow." Obi-Wan clenched his teeth forcefully as he was abruptly lifted and cradled to Anakin's broad chest. "Ani, what…?"

"Sssh, Master. It's fine."

Anakin made his way to the 'fresher with purpose, flicking on the light and hot water with a flippant hand. Obi-Wan jolted involuntarily at the sudden clamor, but Anakin patted his arm in reassurance, testing the balancing temperature before neatly rolling up his sleeves.

The bath was going far faster than expected, as Obi-Wan hadn't tried to put up a fight again. It had been nearly an epic struggle to get him to allow Anakin to remove his clothes and old bandages, and once that had been done, he had refused to actually get into the tub, holding a thin taupe towel around his bony hips and scowling, insisting that he could bathe himself, thank you very much, and it would do Anakin well to leave him to his privacy.

Anakin, however, had not been impressed, and after a good twenty minutes or more of bickering, the ex-Padawan had ultimately lost his patience, boldly picking the ailing man up by his waist and dumping him unceremoniously into the bubbly water. Obi-Wan was now fumingly irate, but he seemed to have calmed a fraction when Anakin untiringly ignored his grumbles of "What did I do to deserve…", and "Raised him better" and "Stuck with him,of all people!" He had even begun to drowse when Anakin started pouring hot water down his thin, nicked back and over his hair- the heat and caress relaxing and soothing him.

"Hey, wake up, Master."

His Master inhaled sharply, lifting his head from his bent knees and wrapped arms- a position he had stubbornly insisted on retaining in order to "protect" his modesty.

"Anakin?" he rasped, wincing as Anakin scrubbed his scalp, scratching against the cuts and sores littering it. He squinted blearily at the identical bright lavender bottles standing in tandem on the edge of the bath; each one festooned with the words "Fresh n' Juicy Summer Fruit-A Delicious Burst of Muja in Every Dollop!"

"Almost done."

Obi-Wan paused, hissing as suds of the nauseatingly scented cleanser slipped into his eyes. "Why did you get four of the same shampoo, Anakin?"

"What?" Anakin's eyes rose confusedly and followed the line of Obi-Wan's watery-eyed gaze. "Oh. That wasn't me, Master, that was the Temple commissary. They've had a shortage of shampoo variety, and that was the only… aroma…. left. However, it's quite foul, if you haven't noticed, and they were practically flinging them at me. Had to get rid of them, I guess. I hadn't realized that I'd been shampoo- jipped until I used it." He sloshed some water thoughtfully into Obi-Wan's face, clearing the soap. Obi-Wan sputtered.

"Oh…is that where you were today? Grocery shopping?" he asked thickly, rubbing his face roughly with his forearm.

Anakin halted momentarily, heat flushing the back of his neck, and an image of a lovely, nymph –like face trickled across his mind.

"Yes. Yes it was, Master."

Padme slid her now bare tray on top of the others, smoothing her skirt to remove any crumbs. Lunch had gone as well as could be expected, the varieties of food she had cautiously sampled all fairly edible and substantially filling. Everyone had been agreeable and polite, and she felt it had been one of the most relaxing events she had attended in a long while. The first part of it, anyway. Well, if she excluded the fact that Master Obi-Wan could barely get a thing down without gagging or choking, the poor thing. The other Jedi had only looked politely unfazed and had sustained their conversations among themselves, most likely knowing that their comrade would not take rebuke too well in such a communal place. Passerby congratulated him and bowed their respects regarding his new status, the temporary tattoos on his pale flesh demanding a reverence he did not yet seem aware of. He thanked each one of them courteously and readily; his face kind and almost strained as he juggled that and trying to sip the thin nerf loin stew from a chipped chrome-green mug.

"Is your meal satisfactory, milady?" he had asked her gently, exhaling slowly in relief when Anakin, appallingly indifferent and Jedi-like on the surface, had started sending authoritative warning signals commanding the other Jedi to leave his pitiable ex-Master to his meal and to persist "respecting" him another time. "It's not much, but it's not too dreadful, is it?"

She smiled at him, cutting a small selection of her grilled fish from the rosy pink fillet and popping it into her mouth. "Oh, no! Delicious. This Mon Cal dish is really quite good."

Bant beamed at her from across the table.

Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair, nodding. "I'm glad. Um…would it bother you if I were the one to go with you to the quartermaster after we eat?"

She had looked up at him again, question in her gaze. Why would she need to see the quartermaster? Threepio was bringing her clothes later…

"I don't see a problem with it, Obi-Wan, but…uh, why? I have acceptable garments. Surely I don't need more."

Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable, wincing as he took a slow sip of broth. "The-ahem-the Council sees it fit to outfit you in traditional Jedi garb for most of the trip, milady. You need to blend in with us, make you less of a target in the case of bounty hunters and assassins." He gave an unobtrusive, pained grunt, setting the mug down shakily and folding his hands over his midsection.

Liquid dread shot through her body, and she clenched her fork tightly. How in the name of the Force was she supposed to get out of this one? If she went they would fit her and oh gods, how would she explain the growing baby bump? Panicked thoughts were whirling uncontrollably through her head, and she bit her lip anxiously. Anakin was staring at his plate, and she knew he was quickly formulating some sort of reason to avoid this. "Master…"he abruptly started.

Obi-Wan looked over at him piercingly; his gilded blue eyes and the complicated beauty of his markings suddenly making him seem very fierce. "Yes, Anakin?"

"I think perhaps…." Her husband trailed off, looking directly into his partner's eyes. Obi-Wan looked back, and after a long moment of what seemed to be nothing, they both broke away, Anakin looking extremely shaken and Obi-Wan looking inexplicably sad.

"Never mind, Master." Her husband said firmly, looking down at his boiled tubers.

"That's fine, Anakin."

Padme had stared at her husband in shock, fuming. Some help he was being! What was going to happen when they couldn't find a tunic in her size?

Obi-Wan was looking at her again, and she smiled stiffly. "Oh, I see." she said simply. "Well, suppose that seems logical. No, I don't mind Master Kenobi."

The Master seemed relieved. He took another slow swallow.

"You know," a loud, irritated voice called from down the table. "…shouldn't a fellow female go with her to get clothes? It's only appropriate."

Obi-Wan tilted his head a bit to look at the speaker. "I suppose that would be up to the Senator, Master Tachi. But regardless, I need to pick up new... boots, so for me, it would be no trouble."

Anakin glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow. "Boots?" he mouthed at the Master.

Siri snorted, dabbing her lips daintily. "Well regardless (she made a rather unnerving imitation of Obi-Wan's accent) of that, I think I should go. Does the Senator disagree?"

Padme shook her head in negation. Who kriffing cared, she was going to die anyway.

Stupid Anakin.

Obi-Wan inlined his head once. "Very well."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When she followed the two Masters out of the hall later, her sentiment didn't cease in it's growth.

I know, I know! It's been a long time. Shame on me! I deserve to have mangos or bricks or croquet mallets thrown in my face, seriously! And I'm really sorry about the shortness of the chap. this time. I've already written the next chapter and it's pretty long, so...yup.

Please review!