Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

By the time he got on deck, Anakin had pretty well decided that talking to Ryn would be a bad idea, for all the reasons he had thought of before: namely, that he was hard-pressed to remember a time lately when he'd talked to Ryn and not made things worse. Maybe the story about circumcision and the ylfe, but even then, that had been mostly Ryn talking, not him.

So listen, Idiot.

He glanced at Ryn, hanging high up in the rigging for no discernible reason.

Okay. Here goes.

He managed to climb the rigging himself all right –– something of an accomplishment, considering his lack of experience –– and settled himself beside her by way of imitation.

"So," he said, not even bothering to try and hide his awkwardness.

Ryn cast him a wary look. "Yes?"

There wasn't really any good way to say it. "You –– you said it was awful."

Ryn nodded miserably, not looking at him. "I know. I had no right ... Anakin, you have no idea how sorry I am."

Anakin wanted to grab her and shake her until she started making sense. "I, uh, well, I'm sorry too," he offered cautiously. I'm sorry you didn't like it.

"Anakin, none of it was your fault." Ryn did finally look at him then, and he saw that her eyes were red from crying, but they were also anxious with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" Anakin said, wondering what galaxy she was living in where teenage boys didn't like sex. "Yeah, I'm fine. I mean, if you're fine."

"Yeah," Ryn said. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"So, we're ... good, then?"

"I guess so."

They spent a few seconds looking everywhere but at each other.

"Anyway," Anakin said finally, breaking the tense silence, "The main thing is that we can, uh, still work together." That sounded inane. "I mean, it doesn't have to, you know, change anything."

"Sure," said Ryn.

She had never sounded more skeptical, but Anakin didn't have any better ideas, so he cleared his throat and came out with "Okay!" in what he hoped was a decisive tone.

"Okay," Ryn echoed mournfully.

Because more sex would be bad.

I think.

Maybe.

"So," he said again. "Do you, uh, want to get down from here?"

Ryn hitched her shoulders. "Okay."

"Yeah," said Anakin. "That would probably be good."

They climbed down the ropes without speaking. All things considered, Anakin figured that was the best they could do.

The conclusion that he was buried alive somewhere beyond the Outer Rim had altered Obi-Wan's estimateion of his chances for escape, but it had done nothing to help him guess a more specific location, and probing Granta Omega with conversation gambits was proving to be a useless gesture.

The Force still proved elusive. He could feel its presence, but ... he could not grasp it.

And Omega was still goading him at irregular intervals.

Come on, Anakin. Any time now.

Ryn found Anakin standing in the bows with his hands clasped behind his back, a stance she found endlessly attractive without knowing why.

Behave yourself, she told her thudding heart.

She was used to waiting out Anakin's meditations; he knew she was there, and he would acknowledge her when he was ready. In this case it wasn't long before he spoke: "What is it?"

"We've sighted land," Ryn answered.

"I heard."

"Hallan thinks it's Ennysrhun."

"I hope he's right."

Ryn fought back a growl of frustration. Talking to Anakin wasn't supposed to be this hard. "I'm thinking maybe we should offer him a place in the war-band."

Anakin gave up on his meditation and turned to face her. "He's already said he's not interested."

"I know what he says." Ryn shrugged helplessly. "But he feels ... I don't know. Adrift, maybe."

"You can't take care of the whole galaxy, Ryn."

She couldn't help but grin. "That's the droid calling the robot a machine."

Anakin stared at her blankly. "Huh?"

"Sorry. Just an old saying. It means you're in no position to talk, Master Fix-It."

Anakin's mouth tightened. "I haven't been fixing much of anything lately."

"Well, unless you count Fjornel's biodome. But I guess that's only important to, you know, everyone who lives there."

Anakin grinned at her exasperation, but there was a tiredness behind his eyes she wasn't used to seeing there.

She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him in comfort and said, "What?"

Anakin gave a frustrated little sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's Obi-Wan," he admitted quietly. "I can't feel him, not really. I mean, I think he's there, but I can't tell where he is or how he's feeling, or ... you know what I mean?" Ryn shook her head wordlessly and he signed again. "That's okay," he muttered. "I don't, either."

Ryn grimaced in sympathy. "Maybe he's just really far away?"

Anakin shrugged. "I don't know. I've never sensed anything like it. And ... he's very faint." He swallowed. "What if he's hurt?"

"Then we'll come for him as fast as we can," Ryn answered. "Which is what we're doing now."

Anakin exhaled sharply. "I want to do more."

"I know," Ryn said. "You always do." That didn't seem to satisfy him any more than it did Ryn, so she leaned forward a little and said, "We will find him, Anakin. We won't stop until we do."

Anakin's shoulders slumped. "It's just taking a long time," he said wearily. "They could be anywhere by now."

That was true, but ... "We'll get better information once we reach Raith Uithne," she offered. "Maybe the Rangers have found him already. And if not, we may learn something when we catch Stevan Ardel. He won't stand fast under questioning, I'm sure of it."