Anakin had been too concerned to sleep well that night. Usually an argument with his master sharpened the Jedi's voice and pulled a slight crease between his eyebrows, subtle signs he had gone long without noticing, the already straight posture stiffening to an impossible degree. Obi-Wan didn't slouch or sprawl: never in public, and in private only when utterly relaxed. He met challenges with strength, never weakness.

Until last night. His master had displayed weakness – an utter and complete weariness that he had not bothered to hide.

The healers had told Anakin that broken bones could develop blood clots; that they could dissolve on their own or suddenly move into the brain and cause massive damage or death. From what Bant had said, the danger period was past, but illness did not keep to a schedule.

Obi-Wan's shielding had held, though it was weak and tattered and the padawan had seen and felt enough that he didn't think this was the explanation. It was something else, some concern and anxiety that he wouldn't share with his padawan. It could be pain, infection, a relapse – the only way to allay his fears was to pad to the doorway of his master's room and check on him.

Yet Obi-Wan slept peacefully enough, and the Force was not disturbed around him. Anakin began to relax, and when the third visit to his master's room had startled him with a mumbled, "go back to bed, Anakin, your anxiety is misplaced, I'm fine," he had relaxed even more. Obi-Wan had sounded sleepy, but amused.

Only the very fact that he couldn't understand why his master had been so quick to forgive him, so suddenly willing to accept his padawan's strength, preyed on his mind until the only way to relieve it was to call the healer's ward.

The duty healer seemed almost amused at the worried padawan, but agreed that it did no harm to reschedule Obi-Wan's appointment to that day and assure themselves that no harm had befallen the healing Jedi, that the day shift duty healer would make the arrangements.

The healers were all too aware that Obi-Wan Kenobi was as likely to admit, let alone show, weakness without good cause. Bant had told Anakin, as they sat in silent vigil over Obi-Wan in Skore Med Center that the Jedi's chart was coded: WOCIC, Worthy of Concern if Complains, meaning it had to be serious if the Jedi confessed such to the healers.

It was worth calling in him early.

Relieved at their reassurances that normal sleep meant the Jedi was not in imminent danger, he went for a leisurely morning meal in the dining hall before heading to the training salles for his training sessions. He would prefer to keep an eye on his master, but weak or not, Obi-Wan would be displeased if his padawan failed to keep his schedule.

Between several intense sessions, Anakin took a break and comm'd his master to ask how he was. From the momentary silence, Anakin could imagine his master's eyebrow arched in surprise, heard a chuckle in response.

"Awake and alert despite a fretful padawan who had to be told to go back to bed in the middle of the night to let his master get some sleep. I'm fine, Padawan, I told you I was weary."

"You were exhausted!" Anakin accused.

With a rueful sigh, Obi-Wan conceded the point. "Having one's own words thrown back at one is not easy. Perhaps I am getting too old to argue with you, Padawan. Speaking of which," he paused meaningfully, and Anakin winced, "our conversation will have to be postponed until later today. The healers have rescheduled my appointment and I'll be gone by the time you whip the masters – who's training you today? Oh - I'll be gone by the time the 'Chosen One's' rear has been whipped."

Anakin protested against that assessment of his skills and Obi-Wan just laughed. "I've been told to expect a comprehensive exam and tests that will take most of the day – if I pass with flying colors as I expect, since the main requirement is a heart that beats and lungs that breathe – they will release me to light duty and stop their infernal poking and prodding."

"Does that mean I get to stop looking after you?"

The warmth in his master's voice surprised him. "Indeed not. We will always look after each other, Padawan. For better or worse, we're a team. Now try to whittle down that group of twenty who can take you with one hand to eighteen. I have faith in you."

After that morning's conversation, Anakin had been cheerful. Regardless of what "conversation" Obi-Wan wanted to have with him, his master sounded well – almost better than well. Perhaps a brush with his own mortality, Jedi or not, had loosened him up and brought out an unsuspected inner warmth.

Not unsuspected, just long hidden, for thinking back, Anakin knew it had always been there underneath the reserved exterior. He had seen it easily displayed always, with Bant, Master Yoda, old friends. When Obi-Wan had introduced him to Dex Jettster, café owner and old friend, he had been wide-eyed to see his master enthusiastically accept and return the huge Basalik's hug as if hugging was his standard greeting.

And to be honest, he had experienced it himself when young; when sick or frustrated, his master had always been there with a warm blanket to warm his chilled bones, or a joke to break the mood.

He remembered his first bout of homesickness: crying on his bed and trying to stifle his sobs as he thought a Jedi was supposed to do. Obi-Wan had come to sit by his side, saying nothing until the flood of tears abated. It had not been long after the new knight and padawan had returned to the Temple.

"Do you want to talk about it, Anakin?" The new knight still couldn't bring himself to call Anakin, "padawan." The word tripped over his tongue; his heart still thought the title his and the master one who was so recently one with the Force.

He had only shook his head and cried harder. He felt a gentle hand descend on his back, rest there a bit uncertainly.

"I'm…I'm sorry, Master Obi-Wan," he had mumbled into his pillow. "A Jedi doesn't cry or show emotion."

The hand on his back stopped its gently rubbing, and he had been afraid he had disappointed his new master. He didn't want anyone but Qui-Gon as his master, but was learning to accept this young man who tried so hard. "Don't leave me, too, Master Obi-Wan." He had again burst into tears, and felt Obi-Wan hesitantly pull him into his arms.

"I won't leave you, Pa…padawan," the words had finally come. "It's okay…you're not supposed to let emotion control you, but as Qui-Gon often said…" The young Jedi's words had trailed off, and Anakin snuck a peek. Obi-Wan's eyes were half shut as if against terrible grief, and an escaping tear sparkled on a lash. "Qui-Gon said emotions were okay as long as you didn't let them control you, but you controlled them. He would tell you it's okay to cry in private, if you then let it go. So cry, my padawan, let it out and let it go."

He had turned then, and clung to Obi-Wan, burying his head in his shoulder as the young man's arms had come around him to hold him close. And as he cried, he felt Obi-Wan's own tears, and knew that both of them were finding comfort in each other.

Yet as the years went on, Obi-Wan began to avoid displaying his feelings as a means of controlling them, growing a shell as he grew a beard, and Anakin had come to think to think that his master was cold and unfeeling. And only now was he relearning what he had known, so many years ago.

That had been in the morning, when his concern for his master's health was anxious and fear battled anxiety; before the truth was revealed and the veil of deception slit by an innocent word.

While he waited for the healers to release his master, Anakin occupied his afternoon battling remotes, fighting newfound doubts and frustrations. He had dispatched them all, but he was not happy with how long it took to accomplish, or the painful shocks he had received. He rubbed his backside. He had let himself be distracted, thinking of his midday visit with the Chancellor.

Palpatine had shown even more signs of the strain he was under. The war was not going well; the Republic had just lost an important battle.

The Chancellor had not seemed to notice when Anakin had walked in. He had looked up, surprised, and rubbed bloodshot eyes. "Anakin? Oh, yes, young man, I'd forgotten you were coming. Come, sit."

Anakin knew Palpatine was tired when the man made no move to get up and greet him. His responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders this day; a burden the man bore willingly, but it was taking a toll on the man who had devoted his life to public service.

"I can come back, Chancellor," he said gently.

"No, no, sit my boy," Palpatine said. "I need a break from all this – distasteful news. We were unable to break the Separatists hold on – well, no matter, it's a tragic loss. As they all are, of course. If only…."

Anakin had sat; all quiet sympathy. Each loss was a stab to the Chancellor's noble heart. The man gave so much – how much longer would he be able to bear the burden?

"If only…?" he murmured softly.

The Chancellor looked at him and winced. "I'm sorry, my boy, I know you're needed here. But if you had been there – the Republic so needs you. Your master, too, of course. If I just had twenty more of you, Jedi so skilled and dedicated. Your abilities are so much greater than your colleagues. You're a one man army, our most potent weapon sitting idle – oh, I know my boy, I know your duty is here. It is unfortunate that Master Kenobi did not follow his own battle plan and ended up so injured. His foolish charge took two of our greatest assets out of the fight for our very survival."

"You know what happened?" Anakin was surprised.

"Oh, yes, I have seen the reports, and to go charging off so – well, carelessly. He could have been killed; almost was except for your quick thinking. The Republic, as always, is in your debt. It is too bad your Order does not recognize what I do – what an asset you are. Why they don't have you leading the entire war effort I do not know – they don't even see their way clear to acknowledging your power. I don't know why they doubt your abilities when it is so clear to my eyes, indeed, the very Republic you serve so valiantly."

The Chancellor was right. With his connection to the Force, he was the strongest Jedi in the Order, perhaps the most powerful, and he should be a knight – perhaps even a master with his power. The only reason he wasn't was that the Jedi Council refused to give him a chance to prove himself by taking the trials, and Anakin didn't think his master was pleading his case, either.

The Council debated his emotional control, his wisdom, his lack of caution when they should recognize his abilities. They were in a war, and they seemed to think they were in some kind of vacuum, or perhaps they were just trapped in the past.

"They hold you back for the pettiest of reasons, don't they? I wonder when your council stopped listening to the Force, and started listening to themselves instead? Or is it that they fear your power? Those who wield power are afraid of sharing it and thus losing it."

"That's not true, Chancellor!" Anakin disagreed automatically, though he often wondered himself if they did, indeed, fear him. They certainly had been reluctant to train him.

"Ah, well, I hope your Force guides them true. So much is at stake. One wonders just why your Master Kenobi does not stand up for you, but then, he does hold you back, doesn't he? I thought the Jedi admired ability and talent, but it seems they are not immune to jealousy, either. So, son, just how is your master doing now, really?"

Kindly eyes replaced the weary ones.

"You just saw him, sir." Anakin's surprise was obvious.

"Oh, physically he appeared reasonably healthy, but I sensed something was not right with him. I am quite adept at reading human body language, as well as a few other sentient species – comes in handy as a politician. I wondered if, well, he has some physical disability or weakness he hasn't told you about." The Chancellor turned a bland face to the young man, eyes gently inquiring.

"No, he would have told me. He would never lie to me. My master has never told an untruth in his entire life." Anakin was quite certain of that.

"For a Jedi, 'never' is quite an absolute word and I understand that Jedi do not deal in absolutes. Your Master Yoda seemed quite solicitous of your master; as I was leaving I

heard him ask if he had told you yet, so you see why I…" he shrugged and lifted a hand in a casual wave.

"Told me what?"

"I do not know, young man. I thought as his padawan, you knew…"

Anakin only stared, almost frantic with worry. The duty healer hadn't seemed concerned, more amused than anything. Still, they were giving his master a pretty comprehensive exam today. Was Obi-Wan not getting better? He had seemed drained of life last evening, rubbing his head, speaking of forgiveness…like he was preparing himself for – for - .

"He's getting better, he is – he's not dying!" he stammered. "He would let me know."

The Chancellor hastened a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezed. "Dying, my boy? I hardly think so. No, I sensed something being hidden from you, something they might not trust you with. Perhaps, perhaps they were discussing allowing you to finally take your trials and show your worthiness to be a knight."

Anakin shook his head. "Obi-Wan would have told me at night meal. He would not hold that back – he knows how much I want to prove myself."

"Prove yourself?" There was genuine horror in the man's voice. "After all you have done for them? For the Republic? Well, now. Then they are less wise than I thought."

Anakin merely shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"Ah, well. So, do tell me about your master's fight to regain his health. I understand you saved his life, and he has been recuperating fast, much faster than I would have expected for a man with his injuries."

"When I return, he should know if he is to be allowed to return to light duty, and I do not doubt it," Anakin said proudly. "He has been really pushing hard to get well, constantly exercising to the point of exhaustion. He doesn't even look like the same man that came back to the Temple so recently. Every day when I return from my, uh – he's let me have a break from everything – you should see some of the places I've been."

Palpatine smiled and leaned back in his chair. "That is wonderful news, Anakin. So your master hasn't needed you at his side? Or has Master Kenobi again shut you out, refusing to admit he needs you? Is he as blind as the rest of Jedi – not recognizing how they need you?"

"He wanted me to relax," Anakin protested. He fought off the feeling that perhaps it was true that his master didn't need him. Obi-Wan had said he did, but still, it was words. The Chancellor made him feel needed; his master never did until last night, and only spoke of need within the last few days.

"He said I had worried for far too long, and I deserved some time off. I did, too. Chancellor – it's tough, fighting all the time, even for me. I admit I get excited by battle, but the constant toil, the dying – there are so many times I just wish it would end. I know now how hard Obi-Wan fights not to get discouraged, how he struggles to remain compassionate amidst everything – it's hard to fight without an end in sight."

He was by now pacing, face creased with a frown.

Palpatine stood up and came to his side, laid a hand on his shoulder. "I, too, know what you mean of fighting despair, day after day. If the Senate only allowed me to conduct this war as it should be, I believe I could see an end to it. Then we could all rest. But for now – the Republic needs us. There can be no rest until the Republic is safe, and our own preferences must give way to that."

The Chancellor was right.

Obi-Wan wanted his padawan to enjoy himself while others were fighting and dying. Have a vacation from responsibilities – don't worry about the innocents for whom you fight, the Clones who die for them, the Chancellor who devoted every ounce of his being to saving the Republic.

Here he had been all this time, doing little for his master, nothing for the Republic and this devoted head of the government. How selfish he had been, wanting to spend time with his wife while others died while he played.

How selfish Obi-Wan had been, to keep Anakin near him to do nothing while the galaxy battled around them.

His master didn't care that every day the Republic's greatest war hero Anakin Skywalker was kept from battle was another day that other living beings fought, suffered and died.

The Force wanted him and guided him to help others, to save them. While he idled at his master's wish.

And so Anakin had returned to the Temple to take out his frustration and anger at the remotes. It didn't work; his loss of focus and the constant shocks only fed his emotions. He was bruised and stung, not at all calm and accepting. He would have something to say to his master when they had their conversation later. He burned off the rest of his energy by striding through the hallways with no clear destination in mind.

Perhaps he might intercept his master on his return from the healers and find out the prognosis.

And then he would have a word or two with his master about responsibility, duty, and service.

The older initiates training classes were over, and Anakin threaded his way through the hallways. He barely spared the initiates a glance, though the initiates watched him in a bit of awe. The Hero with No Fear was among them, and his eyes were hard. He and his master were in the Temple; all knew of the nearly disastrous mission on Skore.

Neither had been seen much. Master Kenobi had been brought back half dead, according to rumor, his padawan at his side, though as the Jedi master healed he was often seen walking the Temple accompanied by one or more of his closest friends. No one knew if Master Kenobi would return to the war, or if his injuries would keep him a resident teaching master, and what that would mean for his padawan, no one dared speculate.

"Donal, how's your arm?" Anakin ignored the call that floated across a hall behind him. "That was a nasty burn, sorry I got you during lightsaber practice earlier."

"It'll be okay, J'nelle, I was up at the Healer's Ward getting it treated," Donal replied, waving off the other's concern nonchalantly as they paced together down the hallway. "Master Kenobi was up there, too."

"How's he doing?" J'nelle asked quickly, a concerned look on her face. "I was quite upset when we heard he was almost killed - I've always looked up to him as a kind of role model. I caught just a glimpse of him the other day as he was walking around with Master Garen; he seems to look okay now. They say he looked just awful when they brought him back here. Thank the Force he survived."

"He's looking pretty healthy - almost looks like himself – but still kind of thin and pale, still walking with a limp. I was getting that last burn treated up there when they first brought him in, and he doesn't look the same man – quite frankly, I wasn't all that sure he would recover - but while I was up there I overheard them say his eyesight hasn't come back."

"What do you mean– he's blind?" There was astonishment in her voice. "That's terrible. But he seems to get around so well, now that he's on his feet."

"So it seems," Donal said regretfully, "but, yes, he does seem to have adapted well. I'm not sure if anyone even realizes he can't see; even his own padawan. The healers hardly expected him to recover as fast as he has; he's being put back on light duty already. His request, I believe."

Upon hearing his master's name, Anakin had stopped to listen. He always enjoyed listening to Temple gossip, especially if it concerned him or his master. It pleased him to hear how his master was admired and looked up to, for such respect automatically extended to his padawan. It had helped ease Anakin's entrance into Jedi life years ago, for the knowledge that Obi-Wan Kenobi had both been knighted and had defeated a Sith in combat had been a feat worthy of great respect and admiration.

The fact that the new knight had then taken on as his padawan the unknown boy Anakin Skywalker had given the new boy a certain acceptance from the first.

Anakin, his back turned and down the hallway, froze, and a glazed look of pain and rage contorted his face at the last exchange. A master passed by, and at his look, stopped and searched the Force for clues to the sudden disturbance swirling in the area.

Sensing the unmistakable source, though uncertain of the reason for it, the Jedi comm'd Obi-Wan. With his still fragile health, he thought he should be warned of his padawan's sudden flare of fury.

On a nudge from the Force, the same Jedi comm'd Obi-Wan's friend Garen and suggested he might wish to intercept the young Jedi and calm him down before he inflicted his roiling emotions onto his master.

"By the Force!" Garen surged to his feet and left his conversation hanging in midair as he took off at a run. This was potentially going to be an ugly confrontation; his friend might need someone there to pick up the pieces after.

"I understand," Obi-Wan said calmly at the news, and sat down to await his padawan's arrival, but his thoughts were troubled. He rubbed his cheek and sat with his face cupped in his hands, seeking for calmness within the Force. He had waited too long; the consequences might prove devastating.

Anakin burst through the door; a thundercloud erupting into the space. Seeing Obi-Wan clearly awaiting his arrival, worry lines etching his face and regret written all over his features, did nothing to diminish Anakin's rage.

"You lied to me, Obi-Wan!" the younger Jedi shouted, slamming his hand on a table.

Obi-Wan never flinched, his voice never wavered. He would be the calm one; the rock standing steadily against the swirling currents of rage until the flood of emotion subsided. Anakin was angry; he needed his master's steadiness. Obi-Wan lifted his head from his hands; clenched his hands tightly in his lap and spoke quietly.

"I didn't tell you, no, Anakin, if that's what you mean. I was wrong not to tell you, but I didn't want you to know. Not at first."

"Why not?" The words were hissed, angry and staccato. Anakin glared at his master. "Why didn't you want me to know? I have a right to know. I'm your padawan – doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"I wanted to wait until I knew something definite, to spare you worry, for my eyesight might have returned without you ever knowing and I feared you were too burdened with your own problems. Reasons that seemed valid to me at the time. However, I realized my error in not speaking to you, to share my own worries and fears. I have been trying to speak to you about this over the last several days, and then, well, last night when I did try to talk to you…that didn't go well. This is what I planned to speak to you about today."

"You hid the truth from me – you lied to me!"

"No! I was silent, but I did not lie." The Jedi was rather shocked at the rage behind Anakin's words. He had expected him to be upset, but this angry?

"It's still a lie! Everyone else knows, but not me," Anakin accused. "I'm not good enough to know, or you didn't think I could handle it? Who was at your side all that time – me! Because I cared, that's why. I was so afraid of losing you; I wanted you to live so badly. I would have done anything to save you, to help you through everything but you – you never wanted my help. You have never needed me, have you? Even though I needed you to need me, as I need you, you only turned away from me."

Terribly hurt and angry at being deceived; Anakin spoke words chosen as weapons, to lash and flay like a whip. Obi-Wan needed to know how deeply his master's silence had hurt his padawan.

Yet through it all, his master sat quietly and accepted his padawan's grief and hurt without protest and without apparent pain, letting his padawan's anger batter and bruise him, bend but not break him under its onslaught, until such time as the storm's fury would lessen to leave him, as the trees of Aurolia following its violent storms, to remain still standing.

The depth of Anakin's hurt and betrayal was a shock to his master. Obi-Wan had wanted only to protect his padawan and had never dreamt just how badly Anakin would feel once he found out.

"Anakin, please – just listen, let me explain," Obi-Wan finally whispered, holding up a hand in silent protest, until he could breathe a silent sigh of relief as the firestorm of emotion slowly died back and mutated into an icy slush of cold despair.

"When were you going to tell me, Obi-Wan? When?" Anakin's voice shook. His pain was too much to bear alone, it shrieked and cursed and demanded that he who was responsible needed to share it – know how deeply his master's silence had hurt his padawan. And Obi-Wan opened himself to it, never once flinching.

"My padawan." Obi-Wan spoke softly. He had to make Anakin understand; he had kept silent for his sake. Not to deceive him, but to protect him, and that he had come to see how wrong he was. Pure your motives may be, but harmful they may be also, Yoda had said. Words alone would not reach Anakin. His padawan needed more; he needed everything his master could give him.

There could be no holding back.

Obi-Wan got to his feet and limped over to his padawan, pulled him into a hug, though Anakin stiffened against it. As he did, the Jedi dropped the last of his shields and opened the bond wide, accepting his padawan's pain in full and trying to communicate wordlessly even as he spoke; opened himself to all the grief and rage, let it fill him so that it could empty from his padawan, who had not deserved this hurt.

"When? When I had the courage. A lifetime ago, a day ago, the other side of this pain, when Yoda made me realize I needed you to help me face this, that I was wrong, when your master failed you. When we had our disagreement; you thought I wanted you to unburden yourself because I…I didn't know how to ask for your help. I was trying to tell you, then."

At least Anakin hadn't pulled away. He stood, carved as if from stone, another statue to grace the Temple's hallways.

"My first thought was that I wanted you to know, once you had seen that I was okay - that I could still function. Not when I was lying in a bed and far too weak to move, with both of us wondering what kind of life lay ahead for me, or if any at all. When I thought it would hurt you less to not know, so I kept my fears and doubts to myself."

Obi-Wan could see his words weren't reaching his padawan; the emotion clouding the bond was not dissipating or dissolving with his words and the apologies and acceptance of his padawan's pain he tried to send through the bond only swirled in emptiness.

"Then I had decided to speak to you once I knew for sure whether or not I would ever see again. Until then…I took comfort in the fact that you were content again, happy. And then, when I saw how wrong and unfair I was, I tried. I tried, Anakin, several times. I saw the healers today; they are not hopeful, but you have seen now that I can function – I will be okay. I only wanted…I didn't want to worry you unnecessarily. I was thinking of you."

Obi-Wan's voice was very soft, almost pleading for understanding. Anakin pulled away from Obi-Wan's embrace, turning away from the heart laid bare to him should he chose to look within.

"You hurt me more by keeping this a secret from me. You lied to me. You made a conscious decision to lie to me, to deceive me, as if I wasn't important enough to be trusted with your health, though 'the Chosen One,' – your padawan – is good enough to be trusted with your life!"

"Masters aren't supposed to lie to their padawans. Ever. You don't trust me; you've never trusted or wanted me, have you? And now I don't trust you – I'll never trust you again." His voice broke. "I thought you loved me…and I thought – once I loved you. But it was all built on lies, wasn't it?"

Hadn't the Chancellor as much as told him this? The man who told him nothing but the truth was not his master, but his friend. His master saw him only as a weapon, a Jedi to be molded and formed into a being of prophecy, his teaching only to forge the weapon rather than guide the student.

Obi-Wan had so little sense of duty that he put personal needs – his and his padawan's – before the needs of the Republic. He had no right to withhold information from his padawan. By doing so he was endangering the war effort, Palpatine's hard work – and Padme!

Even more hateful words poured out of him in a blazing torrent, a verbal river of lava erupting from a volcano suddenly unplugged. Hot rage surged through him, ripping away reason, taunting him with the years of deception, needing to inflict pain upon the one responsible for his own.

Until, finally, his words succeeded in striking the intended blow. The color drained out of Obi-Wan's face, leaving it pale and strained.

Anakin was all but on the verge of lashing out physically – his hand cocked back ready to deliver a blow to that lying mouth, that mouth that had once whispered comforting words to him, but the same mouth that had betrayed him by its silence. The mouth of a man who wavered on his feet, whose face showed unimaginable pain, yet offered forgiveness for his harsh words – and Anakin could no longer face the man in front of him.

He would not see! He would not allow himself to see a man wounded in more than body, but within his very heart from the look of it. How dare the man look so!

Anakin snarled within his mind. Obi-Wan had - no - right to look like that! Obi-Wan betrayed his padawan – Obi-Wan neither loved nor trusted his padawan. He would leave the man he once called master to face alone the demons he had unleashed onto them both.

The rage that boiled within him was not strong enough to overcome years of Jedi training in control to allow him to lash out physically as he wished, but it had taken command of his voice and thoughts and he allowed it free rein.

"Traitor!" he hissed. "I can never forgive your deception, your lies. I loved you, once, but you've killed it with your betrayal." Anakin turned on his heel and nearly ran from the room as the rage rose within him, consuming reason under its need for expression.

"Anakin, no…!" but Obi-Wan's shocked protests were ignored.