Author's Note: we are slowly making our way out of the angst towards resolution.
Anakin had spent most of that first day and the next aimlessly wandering, cloaked and face down turned, doing his best to hide from the awful truth, but gradually as his anger and disappointment muted and faded into something he could examine, he realized he had overreacted.
Obi-Wan had lied to him, he knew without a doubt. The only reason Obi-Wan would lie to him had to be because the Jedi didn't trust him. The reality of that truth still burned within him.
But the master and padawan had been through too much together for him to doubt that there was at least a seed of affection for him within Obi-Wan's heart. Strangely, it had been Chancellor Palpatine's own words that had made him re-examine his anger. He had seen love built on pillars of deception as well as towers of truth, and both had been love, in their own ways.
The affection may have co-existed with the resentment, especially in the first years, but Obi-Wan had never offered open affection to his padawan. He had shown kindness and consideration; his guidance had been tendered with a stern but fair hand. If he had never claimed affection, the lack of it could not truly be deception, for Obi-Wan had never hid behind protestations of the same.
But hadn't he sent affection through the bond, there on Skore? I love you, Anakin had sent, and I love you, too, Obi-Wan had replied. His master must have been lying, then, too – but he had been in too much pain and in no condition to lie.
If he hadn't lied, he had told the truth, and the bond was not a tool of deception but of truth revealed.
What had Yoda said, seemingly so many years ago? The truth of Obi-Wan's feelings was displayed in his actions, not in his words. The truth of that had rung within his heart for the first time, beyond all doubt. His instincts told him so.
But he had lied to his padawan! If trust was not there, could the same be true for affection or its lack? Were they sheltered behind walls made of rare words of praise and approving eyes, a shell of deceit covering empty emotion buried within soft words and gentle smiles?
Anakin was sorely confused by now, and the truths he held to were slipping between his fingers as the sands of Tatooine until he no longer knew if the first truths, or the revisions, or those that followed that were true.
He had wandered, and wondered, too long.
There was only one place he could go for truth. The place he should have gone to first.
His wife.
"Oh, Miss Padme, I am so glad to see you home! Master Anakin is quite distraught and I fear he is wearing a pattern in your flooring as he paces – he is mumbling some rather less than pleasant words about Master Kenobi." Rather disapprovingly, Padme's protocol droid, Threepio, made a droid's snort of offended gentility. Really, he thought Jedi weren't given to such language, and to address such utter rubbish about that quite well mannered Jedi master was – well, really rather rude.
Padme barely heard her protocol droid babbling something about how the young Jedi had arrived, all upset and muttering angrily some time before. As soon as she heard "Anakin" and "upset" Padme ignored the droid and rushed inside to find her husband, leaving the droid talking to empty air.
"Oh, my," Threepio finished off as Padme rushed past him, aghast at his mistress's lack of courtesy. Master Anakin was having a most unfortunate affect on Miss Padme's own manners. "Oh, dear, oh, dear – I see that you have already seen this. Oh, my…yes, yes, I think I shall quite leave the two of you alone to sort this out.
"Anakin! What are you doing here now? Is something the matter?" Anakin was restlessly pacing in the great room as she entered, and the sight both startled and frightened her.
"Obi-Wan doesn't trust me," he burst out, whirling to face her with eyes aflame with hurt and anger.
"Don't be silly," Padme exclaimed, stopping dead in her tracks and staring at her husband in utter shock. "Where ever did you come up with that foolish idea? You're the one who told me, no matter how much he irritated you, you at least had a master who cared enough to get frustrated with you. Whatever has happened to make you now doubt that?"
Anakin's mouth was set in an obstinate line that Padme knew well. "I know very well when someone lies to me. Padme, he - he's blind, has been since he was hurt, and everyone knew but me!"
"Blind? Obi-Wan? Oh, my poor Obi-Wan. How's he dealing with it?"
"I wouldn't know - he refused to let me know, to help him. All this time, he's kept quiet, kept it hidden because he didn't trust me with the truth. Padme, he lied to me because he doesn't trust me, never has. He didn't trust me enough to tell me; he's never wanted me, never, only I never knew that until now."
The young Jedi's eyes blazed and he clenched his hands at his side as he turned away to hide his pain from his wife.
"Oh, Anakin," Padme put a hand over her mouth in astonishment, before rushing over to envelope her husband in a tight hug; he only pulled away and started pacing. "Anakin, love, there has to be some other reason he didn't tell you - didn't he say anything?"
"He said he wanted me to know when - when I could see he was functioning okay; when he didn't need me!"
"That sounds like the Obi-Wan I know," she giggled, then hurriedly stifled her amusement. Her husband was anything but amused, and despite years as Obi-Wan's padawan, hadn't apparently learned as much about his master as his padawan's wife had. She quickly crossed to him and wrapped her arms around his back to hug him close.
Stroking the back of his neck, she whispered against his ear. "Isn't he just the most self-sacrificing noble Jedi you've ever met, love?" He stiffened against her, as she knew he would. She continued to stroke his neck.
"Remember that time he jumped in front of a blaster bolt aimed at your back, even though he knew by doing so he left himself open? You didn't even know he was hurt until he almost collapsed…he told you he didn't want you to get distracted since the odds were so bad against both of you, remember, Ani?"
At least Anakin was listening to her; he hadn't relaxed, but he hadn't stiffened further or pulled away.
"Remember that time you took a knife in your shoulder," her voice was soft, and her fingers traced down his neck and along his shoulder to rub the long-healed spot.
"You thought Obi-Wan would send you back behind the lines, and you were afraid he would try to fight on alone, so you lied to him and said it was only a graze? When he found out, later, it was far more serious, he chewed you out royally and you told him you had done it for his own good? Seems to me that both of you have a tendency to hide the truth from each other when you think the truth is going to hurt."
She felt Anakin stir beneath her arms, and she slid her arms down his chest and laid her head against the curve of his neck and shoulder. "You two lie to each other because you two care about each other, and you're both too stubborn to just admit it. Just have to be the good Jedi who don't display emotion to other Jedi, try to be self-sufficient and never admit you need the other's help - think what the other one of you doesn't know can't hurt him, right?"
I wanted you to know…when it would hurt you less…when you could see that I could still function... Sometimes, sometimes even Jedi have to admit when they need help... this isn't easy for me, but I need to talk with you... I need you…. There are things I'm struggling with…and… help me….
His master had tried to reach out to him, admit he needed his padawan's help, and Anakin had turned him away, thrown words back at him, told him to deal with his own problems himself - even after his master tried to open up; even tried to help his padawan with his own problems.
"By the Force, Padme!" he exploded, and shook his head in sudden realization. Padme had a way of seeing into the heart of things that he often missed and making him see them, too.
"You always know what to say, don't he?" he said reluctantly, and turned around to wrap her in his arms. His eyes softened, and he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her as she slid her arms around his neck.
"I am a Senator," she reminded him between kisses. Breathless, she pushed herself back before Anakin's kisses got too passionate; already she could feel an awakening of his need to be with her, his hands slipping suggestively down and resting where only her husband's hands were allowed, his lips nibbling at her ear. She pushed him away before she weakened under his touch; already she was arching her back in pleasure at feeling his body pressed against hers.
Her husband was hurting inside and she needed to help him see that his hurt, while real, was based on his master's misplaced wish to protect him. This issue between master and padawan needed to be dealt with, before the two of them could give themselves up to being husband and wife.
"No, Ani, later, not now – not when you're hurting like this," she said, placing a finger on his lips as he protested, waited for his reluctant nod as he released her. "You have to stop faulting him for not being the man you think he should be and start seeing him as the man he really is – your master and your friend."
She sat down on the couch and extended a hand to him. She couldn't bear to see her husband this distraught
"Just because he's a Jedi, and a wise man, doesn't mean Obi-Wan always knows the right thing to say to you, or when, or how. Your master's not perfect, Anakin, he's still a man, and he makes mistakes. As do you, but you seem to feel he's letting you down by not being perfect. You resent him for not being perfect and you resent him when he's right as well as when he's wrong. The poor man just can't earn your respect."
"What about him respecting me?" he protested, hurt at her words, yet recognizing at least some truth in them. "It'd be nice if he said that I did something right, once in a while, instead of always sighing at me or saying in that stupidly gentle and ever so sarcastic way of his, 'Anakin,' or even that lifted eyebrow expression of his? Do you know how maddening that is?"
"Oh, Anakin," Padme sighed with a knowing smile. "Have you ever told him how that irritates you?"
Anakin was silent. "Well, yes. I believe so…no…I just snap something stupid right back at him. Aren't we mature!" For the first time in several days, Anakin laughed.
Padme was right, Anakin realized. Just as Yoda had said words that had opened his eyes to Obi-Wan's heart, Padme reminded him of the truth that his hurt couldn't deny. No matter what hurtful words or secrets divided them, their bond was strong enough to hold their relationship together.
Even his friend Palpatine couldn't see that deep into their hearts, into what bound them together; obviously the Chancellor's ability to read people was incomplete without the Force guiding him to the less obvious and deeper truths.
"I do respect him,' he protested. "I just hate it when he's…oh Force, you're right. I hate it when he lets me down by not being perfect, I hate it when he's right, and I really hate it when he's wrong - and I don't know why he irritates me so much. He's my master and my friend and I do care for him."
"Are you going to forgive him, Anakin?"
"You aren't giving me a choice, are you?" His voice was rueful.
"He loves you, Anakin. He wouldn't knowingly hurt you. I can see that, why can't you?" She gave him a little shake as she leaned back in his arms.
"Stubborn, I guess," he smiled at her and kissed her. "I guess I was rather hard on him, but, Padme, you have no idea how bad I felt knowing everyone else knew – everyone but me. Force, Padme! I accused him of not trusting me – of not wanting me!"
The pain in his heart this time was self-inflicted as he began to realize the harm his hurt and anger had done to them both. He had lashed out at his master in reaction to his pain; his master had caused him that pain in a misguided attempt to protect him.
I even told him I no longer cared…I could see how that hurt him deeply, perhaps – perhaps that was the deepest wound of all. And it wouldn't hurt him, if he didn't care, too. My poor master….
"Shhh, Anakin," Padme laid a finger on his lips. "He'll forgive you. He's probably already forgotten all about it, or more likely, blaming himself."
The hurt and pain he'd seen in Obi-Wan's eyes; the outstretched hand pleading for understanding…he felt terrible remembering how he had left his mentor. And trying to sever the bond…the pain he'd inflicted on them both…his tone was very sober as he shook his head in sudden realization and horrible guilt.
"Padme, I tried to break our bond – I hurt him, Padme, I really hurt him." The memory brought him to his feet, to bow his head as full realization crashed in on him of just how badly he had reacted, of all that he had done or might have done in his anger. The young Jedi was ashamed of his lack of control, the words he had flung at his mentor. Even worse, he was suddenly scared.
Terrified, even.
Would he have raised more than his hand to his master in anger, had his rage been inflamed by hate rather than hurt? Was it possible that Obi-Wan could again have been sprawled in blood at his feet, only this time at his hands rather than saved by them?
He isn't even fully recovered yet! What if I truly harmed him by trying to break the bond and he is now in the Healer's Ward recovering? Can he even now be lying, pale and still once more, suffering, only this time at my own hands?
"It's okay, Anakin, it's okay," Padme whispered, running her fingers through his hair, suddenly scared for the blood had drained from her husband's face to leave him pale and distressed. "He's a most forgiving man; how many times has he forgiven you over the years?"
Anakin sat, buried his face in his hands, tried not to panic. Trying to control his emotions, for now he understood all the cautions he had dismissed about not letting emotion control him. For the first time, his words were quiet and filled with despair.
"No, I don't think he'll forgive this…Padme, I don't think I can forgive myself."
"What if Anakin doesn't forgive me?" Obi-Wan asked, sighing as he leaned his head against his hand, absently rubbing his cheek. "He's been gone for several days now and no one has seen him. We have to resolve this, one way or the other, before he jeopardizes his future."
Garen exchanged a look with Bant. Obi-Wan barely ate, picking at the meals they fixed for him or meals they persuaded him to eat in the Temple food hall. The hollows in his cheeks deepened and the Jedi moved listlessly. He wasn't sleeping well; the circles under his eyes grew more and more pronounced.
"What do you mean by that?" Garen asked, half afraid he knew what Obi-Wan was going to say.
"If he chooses not to remain my padawan, he needs another master until he's ready for his Trials," the Jedi said, surprised he had to point it out, his voice hollow. "There's precedent for that, you know, usually following the death of a master, but no reason it can't work in this situation."
"You need to stop being so bloody practical about all this," Bant said, surprising even herself with her vehemence. "Fight to get him back, Obi."
"I don't know where he is, or where to even look," he replied, trying to sound reasonable when he felt anything but. "Okay, stop protesting. Look you two, we can't go on without trust. You know that. And don't start in comparing Qui-Gon and I with Anakin and I – trust can only be rebuilt if both parties wish to try. By his continued absence it's apparent Anakin has no wish to do so."
"You stubborn Jedi," Bant said warmly. "I wish you'd be just as stubborn about trying to eat and getting stronger. If you don't, you'll end up in the Healers Ward again, I mean it. You're not looking at all well and you're only making yourself ill."
"No more than I deserve," he mumbled, sotto voce. Obi-Wan heard his own words and nearly snorted at them, for that wasn't a comment a Jedi would make, let alone a Jedi master. On the other hand, he didn't feel like releasing his emotions into the Force, either. Not as long as his padawan was – somewhere – hurting and in pain from emotional wounds inflicted on him by his own master.
Growling in frustration, Obi-Wan shoveled in a mouthful of food, swallowed it and muttered, "Does that make you happier?"
"Only if you eat the rest of it," Bant said, using a severe tone on him. "Stop growling at us. Go find Anakin and growl at him until he starts to listen."
"Listen? That boy has never wanted to listen to me," he protested. It was true – Anakin had long ago decided that he already knew all that he needed to know, causing both of them a great deal of frustration. Anakin was powerful, with good instincts, but he had never learned to think through a situation or explore alternative paths.
Obi-Wan's biggest challenge had been trying to get Anakin to work on his weaknesses, while Anakin fought to expand his strengths.
"Have you asked Master Yoda or another master to try to reach him on his comlink?" Garen asked. "Maybe he's just ignoring you."
How could he admit that his worries were fueled by more than his padawan's absence or ignoring comm calls? Careful inquiry on his part had revealed that Anakin had neither visited Padme or the Chancellor.
"I was hoping to keep the Council, uninformed of this, shall we say," Obi-Wan said reluctantly. "It may reflect badly on us both and I have no wish to jeopardize his future."
Qui-Gon had nearly not accepted him back at thirteen; had all but spurned him at twenty-five in favor of another, and now his padawan mistrusted him.
All in all, it was a dismal track record for a Jedi. Some role model, indeed.
