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Notes: ROTS AU.

REV042175: Your in luck as far as wanting to see a little more about Anakin and Obi-Wan's attachment: this chapter addresses it pretty heavily.

SpiritedEstel: I felt the same way in the movies too. I know that by the time the two met on Mustafar, Anakin was already consumed with the dark side, but I was pretty disturbed by the fact that he was all set to just kill Obi-Wan. I mean, over ten years with the guy and he betrayed him that easily.

ThoseWereTheDays: I'm so glad someone caught the reference about Anakin's anger making Dooku uneasy. That was a pretty key point for Dooku's character, and I was worried I was a bit to subtle about it.

Anakinpadmekenobi: Oh, Dooku knew he'd be back. He counted on it, as Obi-Wan explains in this chapter.

ObiBettina7: Oh, Obi-Wan understands. But, you're right—it doesn't mean he's happy about it. But, somehow, he always manages to forgive his slightly wayward former padawan.

charliebrown1234: So true. I love references to Jabiim for exactly the same reason.

pronker: I enjoy that idea of Dooku as Dracula. I enjoy it a lot. :)

Mo Angel: Toward the start of the chapter it explains that they let Anakin go. Dooku knew he'd come back and wanted Anakin to lead him to the plans.

Anakin is a mess.

He hasn't spoken yet, and Obi-Wan hasn't pushed, but the way he sits limply in his chair beside Obi-Wan's bed is a clear indication that something is very wrong. Anakin is never passive. Even in defeat, he's always all raw energy and a desire for a second chance. When he's not—when he's not, Obi-Wan worries, because if Anakin isn't trying to change things, then on some level he usually thinks he deserves what he's gotten. It's subtle self-blame, but there, and the longer it lingers, the more destructive it can be.

"How much does Dooku know?" Obi-Wan asks finally, eyes fixed firmly on the ceiling of the healer's ward. The time he spent here during the war made him hate these ceilings, but it's better than watching Anakin's reaction. He should—should try to glean whatever clues he can—but he can't quite find the motivation to try. He'd like to think he's just trying to spare Anakin the uncomfortably, but he's fully aware that if he really examined his motives he'd find that's not entirely the case.

"About half," Anakin mumbles. "I deleted the other half before he… interfered."

If Dooku caught Anakin deleting files, Obi-Wan can't begin to imagine how Anakin is physically in as good a shape as he's in. Likewise, he can't fathom why Dooku would let them stay together: even if the door is locked—Anakin tried to open it when he was first left here—it's still an unexplained reprieve. Truthfully, it makes no sense: prisoners who stay together stay stronger. It's easier to break down a man who's alone. Why would Dooku give them this advantage?

The only possible explanation Obi-Wan can think of is that Dooku already has what he wants... and Obi-Wan doesn't want to consider that.

"That still leaves one half that he has."

Anakin mutters something that is no doubt uncomplimentary under his breath.

"It wasn't your fault that you got caught, you know. He knew I'd give you the information—he anticipated that you'd come back to wipe those files."

"It was still a risk to let me go. I might have run."

Privately, Obi-Wan can't help but think that it wasn't much of a risk at all. Anakin Skywalker isn't known for cowardice or a proclivity toward deserting his comrades—exactly the opposite, especially if the person in question is someone he has a personal connection with. Dooku was intelligent enough to use that knowledge: to capitalize on the fact that Anakin will fight to save those he cares for, even at a cost that Obi-Wan doesn't like to consider.

Of course, he won't tell Anakin any of that. There is a time and a place to address Anakin's faults, and now is not it.

"A plan with a large payoff almost always has risks," he says instead, rolling his head to its side on the scratchy material of the pillow as he finally glances over at Anakin.

Anakin looks tired. He wears his weariness well, and to someone who wasn't quite so familiar with his mannerisms, it might not be obvious. Obi-Wan, of course, isn't that someone. He sees the signs of Anakin's fatigue in the slight droop of his shoulders; in the way his eyelids are just a little further closed than usual; and even just in the simple fact that he's chosen to sit rather than stand or pace. The Anakin Skywalker he's used to always has to be moving. He never sits still for very long.

"He set us up," Anakin mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose as he looks away, off toward a point on the far wall.

"Yes. I'm aware," Obi-Wan answers wryly. "What I'm not aware of is how he managed to stop the files from deleting if you'd already begun doing so. He didn't have the code."

Immediately, he knows he's touched on something Anakin doesn't want to discuss. It's nothing verbal—Anakin wouldn't give himself away that easily—but the manner is which he stiffens, as though he's just barely checking the impulse to steel himself against a physical blow, is evidence enough. It's not that he thinks Obi-Wan will really hit him, but after nine years of slavery, that reaction was so ingrained in him that he never quite dropped it, and Obi-Wan hadn't had the heart to force him to relieve the memories that would undoubtedly come to the surface if he'd mentioned Anakin's tendency to flinch.

"Does it matter?"

Oh, Anakin, he thinks, sighing inwardly, surely you can do better than that. An answer like that—well, Anakin must not be trying very hard to think up an excuse. He does that sometimes, when he's just desperate to avoid a topic: he's so averse to whatever the subject is that he won't even address it long enough to consider a valid reason not to talk about it. He simply attempts to avoid it altogether and hope the problem will vanish.

Obi-Wan knows the tactic well: these are the sort of answers he gets when he brings up the subject of a certain Senator that he suspects Anakin knows a bit more intimately than he should.

"Did you give him the code, Anakin?"

"No."

He didn't hesitate in giving his answer. That's good. Hesitation would mean a lie.

It requires effort for Obi-Wan to check the slight hiss of pain he would like to make when he pushes himself up in bed. His leg is sore, to the point that when he moves, it feels as though tiny needles are shifting under his skin. Dooku wasn't lying about having hit a muscle: this is a wound that, even with the best care that can be offered, will take a few days to heal.

Ideally, he'd like to lie back in bed and give himself the time he needs to heal, but there are more important things at hand, and he simply won't address Anakin while flat on his back. It wouldn't do to have Anakin think that his full attention isn't on the matter at hand and, more specifically, on Anakin himself. Anakin is good at brushing aside issues to begin with—Obi-Wan doesn't need to make it any easier for him

"Did you stop the deletion yourself?" he asks, compromising and pushing himself halfway into a sitting position, using the pillows behind him.

This time there's hesitation. More importantly, Anakin flinches slightly again—more like a small twitch, really. Obi-Wan's found what he's looking for… and that also means he's about to encounter Anakin's temper.

His former padawan never was very good at staying calm when he's feeling vulnerable.

"Why, Anakin?"

The exhaustion Obi-Wan previously saw vanishes in the face of questioning, and Anakin heaves himself to his feet, crossing the room with quick strides until he reaches the only window in the room, which is opposite Obi-Wan and the door. Like a small child trying to hide even when he knows he's been found, he stays facing the window, back to Obi-Wan. Even from the bed, Obi-Wan can see how tense he is: how he holds his shoulders as far back as they'll go, while standing up almost unnaturally straight.

"Anakin," he says again, this time more forcefully.

Still no answer. He's hardly even moving. Obi-Wan has to wonder if he's even breathing.

"Anakin, I won't ask again—"

"Then don't bother to ask this time!" Anakin snaps, finally spinning on his heal to face Obi-Wan. His arm flies to the side in a tangible burst of anger, as though he can push Obi-Wan's question away.

"All right," Obi-Wan says with a forced calm, because he's long since learned that fighting Anakin's emotion with his own is only likely to escalate a situation. "I won't ask, then. Tell me why you stopped deleting those files."

Anakin's fists clench. "You're not my master anymore. You can't make me do anything."

"No, but I am your commanding officer."

He doesn't quite expect the small, nasty smile that worms its way onto Anakin's face. There's no humor in it, but only heaps of ill will… oddly, Obi-Wan doesn't think it's all entirely directed at him. In fact, he suspects that Anakin is directing most of it at himself.

Obi-Wan is only the one blessed enough to be faced with it.

He resists the urge to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. By this point, he could teach a seminar on how it feels to handle Anakin's misdirected anger.

"The Republic has been destroyed, Master! You can't command anything."

Now would be the point that, if the door were unlocked, Anakin would storm out, probably slamming it. He's always been good at flashy exits… good at making anything flashy, really. Only, Anakin can't leave right now. He has to stay and face this.

As bad as the situation is, Obi-Wan is almost grateful for that.

"You say you don't have to listen to me, yet you still call me master."

Apparently, that hadn't occurred to Anakin: at the very least, he's shocked enough to look as though he's been slapped. That… wasn't quite the reaction Obi-Wan expected, but it is effective.

Then, Anakin looks away.

This time, Obi-Wan does give in and pinches the bridge of his nose. Anakin's not watching anyway.

Really, it's a complete mystery to Obi-Wan how Anakin can go from furious to wounded in a few short seconds. The scope of the boy's emotions never fails to amaze—and confuse—him. Truthfully, Anakin confuses him. In many ways, Obi-Wan understands Anakin better than Anakin understands himself, but in so many situations—in situations like these—that knowledge is purely academic. He knows how Anakin will react, what he'll do, how he'll do it… but he doesn't know why he does it. He doesn't feel things like Anakin does—he only knows Anakin well enough to know that Anakin is feeling them.

And, in situations like these, Anakin's hurt—even if Anakin shouldn't be so emotional—always seems to make him relent.

"Anakin," he says quietly after a moment of awkward silence. His tone has dropped—is gentler—and more coaxing than before. Anakin has always responded to affection better than harsh words, and while Obi-Wan was never incredibly good at showing affection, he knows just how effective it is.

And, more importantly, though he doesn't quite want to admit it to himself, he no more desires to reprimand Anakin than Anakin has a desire to be reprimanded.

At the change in tone, Anakin's shoulders sink, and he crosses his arms, looking away. He seems smaller like that, and Obi-Wan is once again struck by the idea that Anakin is trying to hide. How strange that would seem to the population at large. To them, Anakin is the "Hero With No Fear," but in moments like these, the falsity of that is obvious.

In so many ways, Anakin is still a boy, as desperate for reassurance and affirmation as he was when Obi-Wan first met him.

"I'm sorry," Anakin whispers, still not looking up.

In most other situations, Obi-Wan might let the conversation go at that. It's what he's done the few times he's attempted to raise the topic of Padme, only to be met with stony silence and a lack of answers. It's what he did when Anakin came back from Tatooine, after the death of his mother. There's more to that story than Anakin is telling, but Obi-Wan has not pushed. Those are things he hopes Anakin will come to him about when he's ready.

This event is another matter entirely.

Whatever Anakin has done, it has quite possibly ended any hope for saving the Republic. That is not something Obi-Wan can let him hide... no matter how much he might like to.

"Why did you stop the deletion, Anakin?"

Anakin still won't look at him, and he's clutching his arms to his chest so tightly that his knuckles are turning white where he's gripping his elbows. To anyone else, it would look as though he's simply angry and trying to hold it in, but Obi-Wan can see it as the gesture of insecurity that it is.

He just sighs. "Come here."

Surprisingly, Anakin does. His movement is slow—the way he nearly scuffs his feet over the floor might be humorous in another situation—but he finally makes his way to the bed where Obi-Wan is lying.

"Sit down."

It's worth the burn he feels in his leg to push himself all the way into a sitting position, in order that, when Anakin settles on the edge of the bed, they're at nearly equal height. He wants to be on equal terms for this. He needs to be.

"You're correct in saying that I can't order you to tell me anything," Obi-Wan tells him after a pause, during which Anakin sits stonily on the bed, eyes downcast and fingers clutched together in his lap. "But, Anakin, we both know that I'm going to find out what happened—if not from you, then probably from Dooku. Would you rather I got the story from him?"

Still no answer, and, Force, he's let Anakin get away with not answering his questions for too long. Anakin is too good at this now--he's done a disservice in letting things go simply because he hoped Anakin would come to him voluntarily. As a master, he should have pushed more, rather than making it easy for Anakin to hide things. It wouldn't have been an invasion of privacy like he'd worried it would be. It would simply have been his job as the main authoritative figure in Anakin's life.

It would have been because he cared, just as much as his desire not to cause Anakin pain by prying was because he cared.

He cared enough to do either, but he simply picked the easier option, and now he's paying for it. Like it or not, he's enabled Anakin to learn how to hide and deceive.

That's not a pleasant thought.

"I would like for you to tell me. But if you don't, I will be forced to request the information from less… pleasant sources."

Anakin scowls. "He… made threats."

"Many people threaten you, Anakin, nearly every day. This is a war. That's what happens."

"No, not… me."

"Someone else?"

It's no secret that Anakin is… fond of Padme Amidala, but it's a bit hard for Obi-Wan to believe that Dooku could make a credible threat against her. If she's smart, she'd have fled by now—and Padme is smart. Dooku wouldn't have been able to find her to use for leverage. He likely wouldn't even really know to do so—Anakin's feelings aren't that well know… or so Obi-Wan hopes. Still, he can't imagine anyone else that Anakin would do something so foolish for.

"Anakin, I know you care for Padme, but—"

That's all it takes to send Anakin spiraling right back off into whatever place of anger he's taken up a part time residence in. "It wasn't Padme!" he shouts, yanking backwards.

Obi-Wan lunges out and catches the sleeve of Anakin's shirt before he can get off the bed, and though he winces when the movement jars his leg, he clenches his fingers tightly against the rough fabric and holds on. For a moment, Anakin keeps the tension, but Obi-Wan doesn't let go. He simply stares Anakin straight in the eye, watching his tumultuous emotions roll like the sea during a storm.

"Sit." The word comes out low and serious, and he knows there's no room for negotiation in his eyes. This is an order. Anakin can choose to disobey it, but Obi-Wan almost never speaks to Anakin this way, at least not anymore, now that he's not his master, and, even then, this tone was reserved for situations of maximum gravity. When Anakin was young, this tone meant he'd done something very wrong—something that Obi-Wan wasn't letting slide.

Obi-Wan knows as soon as the words leave his mouth—as soon as he sees the muted shock in Anakin's eyes—that Anakin will do as he wants.

Anakin sinks back down onto the bed.

"Now then," Obi-Wan begins again, letting go of Anakin's shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles his grip produced. "Who was it?"

Anakin looks up at him, his gaze far off, almost hazy. There's pain there, but more prominently confusion… and guilt. "It was you," he says simply, almost too easily for all the trouble Obi-Wan had to go through to get that confession. "It was you."

Then, the implications of that admittance hit. Muted shock is never pretty, certainly never nice when Anakin looks as though he can't believe he admitted that—can't believe he felt so strongly at all.

Anakin's tongue darts out to wet his lips as he looks away and then back to Obi-Wan, shaking his head slowly, an action so full of guilt. That hurts. It does, because Obi-Wan knows he was never the master to teach Anakin about having no attachments. Is this his fault?

"He—Master, he said he was going to torture you again, and after Ventress—you weren't yourself—and I didn't want that again—I just didn't—I couldn't take having you like that—I didn't—you couldn't—I'm s-sorry—" Once he stops talking he can't seem to stop. The words spill from his mouth in a nearly imperceptible jumble, and Obi-Wan can't think of anything else to do besides grab Anakin and pull him down next to him on the bed.

It's a sign of just how shaken Anakin is that he lets Obi-Wan pull him in against him. It's not that he's averse to affection—he seems to crave it, actually, even more since Obi-Wan is sparing with it—but it's simply that he's never so obvious. Sometimes, during the war, on days when the fighting was particularly bloody or when something had shaken him, he'd slip into Obi-Wan's bed and curl up next to him, both at the Jedi Temple or in the field… but they'd never talk about it in the morning. And this—Obi-Wan never held him like this, not since Anakin became a teenager. If they share a bed, it's just the comfort of being near someone—of Anakin needing to know that someone he trusts is lying next to him. It's also, Obi-Wan suspects, a throwback to the times when Anakin was younger and Obi-Wan could still chase away his nightmares.

"Oh, Anakin," he just sighs, wrapping an arm around him and letting Anakin lie pressed against his side. He used to fit much better. When Obi-Wan first took him as a padawan, Anakin had been able to fit snuggly in his arms… not that he spent much time holding him. He was never quite comfortable showing emotion so obviously. Still, occasionally, when Anakin needed him after a nightmare or a particularly disturbing mission, he was there, probably more often than he's letting himself remember.

"Last time when Ventress—" Anakin mutters, face pressed against Obi-Wan's chest.

"I know," he agrees simply. As Anakin loops an arm over him, he presses his cheek to the boy's hair, holding tightly. He has such thin hair, soft, and different from Obi-Wan's thicker strands. No one would ever mistake Anakin for his son physically… but anyone who saw the way he's holding him now might assume a familial connection anyway.

Anakin finally relaxes.

"You shouldn't have given in."

Anakin doesn't move. "I know."

He does. He really probably does, but just as much as he knows, Obi-Wan is aware he doesn't care. Anakin would make the same decision again. For the people he loves, he will always make decisions like these… and that's dangerous.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't love like this.

But Obi-Wan can't criticize. They're not so different: Anakin will save the people he loves, or die trying; Obi-Wan will do what duty requires of him, and then let the consequences kill him after.

Either way, they both love to the point that it can destroy them.

One of them has just learned how to do it without destroying everyone else.