Anakin's mind was reeling, his heart breaking all over again. It was stupid to let Obi-wan in, after everything. He couldn't possibly expect the man to understand him. Obi-wan was so deep in his world of self loathing and blame he would never see things any differently. Anakin knew that.

His eyes burned with tears as he sat in the pilot's chair, numb. He wasn't worth the effort. That was why he left to begin with, it seemed. It didn't matter what Obi-wan felt, Anakin would always be a liability in his eyes. Someone to be protected, someone who wasn't worth their own weight in salt.

Useless. Coward. Victim.

That was what Obi-wan thought of him. A sorry Padawan, incapable of doing anything right. Powerless. Anakin hated that feeling. He had felt that way too many times to ever accept it ever again. He refused to be so void of agency. But what had he reduced himself to, practically begging Obi-wan to stay with him? It made his insides cringe to think about.

He hated the fact that he let himself stoop so low, that he had put on such a display of weakness. He was better than that. It was Obi-wan that made him weak. He should never have tried to explain anything to him. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve another second of his time. Anakin wasted enough time already, pining after Obi-wan's acceptance. He didn't need it. He knew he certainly was never going to get it. And that was just fine. It had to be fine.

He could have anyone he wanted. He was a Jedi General in the Army of the Republic, powerful, fearsome, and not at a loss for looks, either. He didn't need Obi-wan to see him for who he was. He didn't need him at all, Anakin told himself. He willed himself to believe it. He had to believe it.

With his heart still stinging, his pride still crumpled and tattered, he did believe it. He had gone over two years without Obi-wan, and really it was for the better. He was strong, now. He wasn't some snot nosed, battered Padawan, helpless, in need of rescue. Not even if Obi-wan saw him that way. It didn't matter. Obi-wan didn't matter, Anakin thought, brooding as he stared out the viewport.

His aura was filled with a certain kind of anger, black but twisted with vehemence and willful disdain. Anakin felt it surge through him, making him tremble. He wanted to feel something, violence, pleasure, emptiness. Distraction. Anything to take his mind away from the agony of his senseless heart as it wrenched and ached in his chest.

He felt the compulsion as a desperate urge, singing in his veins. His jaw clenched and his body was taut, he felt like he might snap at any moment. His heart raced and he wanted to run, wanted to feel, want to be anywhere but trapped on a ship in the middle of space with the one person who had the power to hurt him like no one else could.

Because he let himself get hurt again. He knew better than to let himself become so willingly vulnerable. The guilt Obi-wan felt tore through him, flaying at his nerves, becoming unbearable. His heart screamed again, his stomach turned to knots. He chastised himself for feeling any of it. It was his fault. He put himself in the position to be rejected again.

Because he was worse than nothing to Obi-wan. He was the face of a past the man would rather forget.

Anakin felt more tears fall down his face. He wanted to scream, to lash out, to break something. Instead he stayed still, reigning himself in, as difficult as it was. Tholme taught him how to observe himself from a distance. It was a useful skill. He saw inside himself, a black raging sea. He saw the turbulent waves, the broken sky, the bleeding heart. He breathed in and out, watching it pass by. Feeling the grief anew run through him, cycling like tides in the ocean.

He spent the remainder of their journey like that, waiting for the moment the ship would jolt out of hyperspace. Waiting for the moment he could do something. Obi-wan would go off to the temple, make his report to the council. Anakin would be free to go and do as he pleased. And he very much intended on doing just that.

He didn't care who tried his com, who tried to summon him. Anakin would not be available. He might not be for the next several days. And he didn't care what hell he might catch for it, who might lecture him, what penalty he might face. They were in the middle of a war, and he was one of the Republic's top Generals. There were only so many things they could do to him. And he decided he'd had enough. Stars help anyone who might try to get in his way.

….

Obi-wan's body ached with fatigue, ready to be dismissed so he could get some rest. Not that he would be able to sleep, but at least he could lie down. With Ahsoka in the healing halls keeping Merrith company he would have the entire flat to himself. It would be nice to be alone, uninterrupted. He needed the space to decompress. The back of his mind buzzed with too many things as he forced himself to be present, giving his methodical report to the Council, as was practice for all missions.

He could see Master Windu's expression pressed thin, tedious thought written on his features as the implications Obi-wan's report weighed out in the man's mind. Master Yoda sat beside him, a blueish flickering holo carving out an image to mark his presence.

"I understand your reasons for believing this is related to the Kraysiss virus, but It's not wise to jump to conclusions," Mace said, an air of wishful thinking taking hold instead of the usual tenacity.

"I know what I saw." Obi-wan stated firmly. "And I know what I felt."

"Regretful it is, more information you were not able to retrieve." Yoda's voice crackled through the holo projection.

"The girl, Merrith, when she is well enough I'm sure her testimony will provide important details." Obi-wan suggested. The girl had been sent to the healing halls upon their arrival to Coruscant. Being inconsolable otherwise, Ahsoka accompanied her.

"The healer in charge of her care did report she is not infected with whatever wiped out Koda station. She seemed quite healthy in spite of being somewhat malnourished." Mace said, an edge of irritability in his voice, pressing fingers to his temples.

Obi-wan sensed his regret, that it would have been easier if the girl had been infected. Then they would have something tangible to work with. But it was far from within the code to allow such thoughts, or to even acknowledge having them.

"We can send a probe to retrieve a sample from the site. I'm sure the separatists couldn't have cleaned it all up. And even if they have, there might be things they missed." Obi-wan suggested.

"We have a probe en-route as we speak." Mace answered.

"Masters, if I may," Obi-wan started, looking pointedly between Mace and Master Yoda. He had only given mostly facts up to this point, not the whole of his own opinion.

"I think it's doubtful that the Sith had any direct hand in this. What I'm afraid of is that the Separatists could have gotten their hands on the virus from Kraysiss, and changed it. That would explain Merrith's mother's account of what happened before the station fell."

Before the station fell. Before hell descended on them in living color with screeching broken mouths and tendinous jagged claws, one of them falsely wearing his own face. He left out those details for fear of making himself sound crazy. He didn't want to answer any extra questions, or worse, be sent to the mind healers for an evaluation. Besides, he couldn't decide if he really was losing touch with reality, or if the virus did hold a telepathic quality.

"It is possible. But how could they have known about the virus?" Mace asked, his strong brow pinched with concern.

"Any number of ways." Obi-wan returned, keeping his own thoughts on that matter hidden, too. If he made it seem too personal they might discount all of his input on the matter entirely. However valid a point it was, bringing up Zaann's probable involvement would only take from his credibility. And being that the man was dead now, it seemed pointless to breathe life into the claim.

"Know about Kraysiss we did not, until told we were. Foolish it would be to assume exclusive to us, that knowledge was." Yoda said.

"I suppose at this point, the how doesn't really matter." Mace said, his eyes calculating. "There's not much we can do other than wait and see what the probe comes up with."

"Keep you informed, we will."

Turning to leave the chamber with a nod, Obi-wan led himself through the grand doors out into the hall, making his way towards the healing halls. He would need to check up on Merrith, see how the girl was faring.

What would happen to her had yet to be determined, but he knew they were at least attempting to track down some of her family who might be able to take her in. Not being force sensitive meant she had no future among Jedi. He imagined it would be a terribly difficult transition, especially after everything she had been through.

Obi-wan sighed heavily. It felt like he was constantly surrounded by tragedy, a helpless bystander. Sensing Anakin seething with pain and anger felt like that.

Their departure from the ship was curt. Anakin made quite an effective effort to part ways as soon as possible, practically itching to get away. Obi-wan saw the restlessness in his spirit, he could feel the chasm in his chest still as loud as ever.

Obi-wan's stomach ached, knowing there was nothing he could do to make things better, other than stay out of the way.

….

The moment the small cargo hauler touched down on the hangar floor, Anakin made his way to the back of the craft. His feet had been faster than the landing gear, as the ramp and doors were still working open to allow for an exit. His shoulders tensed as he heard footsteps fall behind him.

Silently Obi-wan and the two young girls stood there, waiting while the doors creaked open and the ramp descended. Anakin didn't bother to look behind him. He didn't want to see the forlorn sadness on the man's face. He didn't think he could handle it if he did. He was still seething, reeling with anger. He had given too much, tried too hard, just to be stung again. This time it was almost worse because he willingly gave in, after knowing better.

And he did know better. Finally the doors whined open all the way and Anakin rushed down the ramp and out to the other end of the hangar floor. Quickly choosing the closest speeder bike he jumped on and kicked it to life, careening out into the Coruscanti skies.

Getting to his apartment wouldn't take long. He could feel his core still wrought with anger as the wind whipped against his face, drying his tears as they leaked out, ripping wildy through his curls. He bit his lips, furious with himself, cursing himself for his fragility. His stupidity.

He wanted to tear the memory of Obi-wan out of his flesh like the parasite it was. He wanted to forget everything about him. The way he tasted, how he felt against him. He hated wanting him, and the helplessness he felt for knowing they would never be.

The comlink on his wrist chirped. It was the Council. They were no doubt calling in for his report. They expected him to come like an obedient housebroken tooka, rushing at their beck and call. Anakin sneered, silencing and ignoring the link. The wrath he felt only magnified that much more as he mulled over the Council's abuse of him. Mission after mission, even being robbed of his own leave time. He didn't care if it was incredibly selfish- and he knew it was- he was taking his own leave, without the Council's go ahead.

It was really, actually, completely unlike him to outright ignore orders, or even a call from the Council. He didn't think he had, not even once before now. He knew adherence during wartime was important. He knew that his involvement could be the difference between victory and defeat. Taking a day off meant the Republic would inevitably suffer. And on most days, that was just fine. He wanted the distraction. He wanted to feel needed. It gave him purpose.

But this was not most days, and he couldn't find it in himself to care. His heart was freshly ripped and torn, numb to everything other than the vague ache that wrenched inside his chest. The usual distraction of being completely absorbed by war plans, battles and strategies was not going to work this time. Besides, he couldn't go before the council like this. He didn't know how to reign himself in. He had just barely maintained control over himself during the journey from Koda station. They wouldn't let him out of the temple like this even if he begged them. He wasn't okay. Even he knew that.

But eventually he would be. He just needed to work it out of his system, and then he could go back to the charade that was his life. But right now he couldn't. He knew something inside of himself snapped. There was no use fighting it.

Finally making it to his apartment he landed the speeder bike quickly with a metallic thud against the landing pad. The less than smooth landing was jarring, but effective. Quickly he dashed for the front door, marching inside. In spite of not stepping foot inside for over a month, it was sparkling clean, not a trace of dust on the counters or tables with all the pillows on the loungers freshly plumped. The Chancellor had Anakin's apartment maintained just as he did all the other guest apartments he possessed.

Briskly storming through Anakin made his way to his chamber, peeling his robes off of himself and throwing them in the hamper. They weren't necessarily dirty but they did have traces of Obi-wan's lingering presence that he was more than ready to forget.

Showering quickly he walked back out of the fresher, toweling off and rummaging through his scant wardrobe for something suitable to wear. Finally settling on an ensemble featuring a black ripped tank he jumped into his clothes and strode out into the living space, shaking his hands through his drenched curls, encouraging them to dry faster.

It wouldn't be right to start the night on empty, he decided, strolling over to the liquor cabinet and opening it's delicate hinged doors, brushing the tips of his fingers over the expensive crystal decanters that housed a variety of different alcohols. It had been a while since he let himself really have a night off. He didn't partake often, and he didn't have much of a taste for it. But he would be a fool to deny the- at times useful- effect it had on him, and even more of a fool if he tried to tell himself he didn't need something to take the edge off.

He poured a small shot, not sure of what it was. It smelled potent enough to do the job and that would be enough. Quickly he tossed it back, feeling the warmth spread in his chest as a bitterness crept on the back of his tongue making his lip curl. Already he felt it dull the ache in his chest while simultaneously stoking the rage in his belly.

And it had no specific direction, no purpose other than to exist. It was blind and hungry, and in want of a distraction. He could feel it like a storm around him, loud without apology. Everything that had ever hurt him fueled that dark rage, he still felt it as a tremor in his core, but even that began to still with resolve as the drink crept through his veins.

Feeling ready, Anakin headed to the door, stopping in his tracks as he saw Padme approaching. Walking through the door without knocking she let herself in. She never did knock anyways. Anakin had her put on the biometrics so that she could come and go as she pleased.

"Anakin," She said, looking him up and down. It was an extreme change in attire from his usual Jedi robes, but it was part of the ritual. He always dressed up before he went out hunting.

"Where are you going?" Padme asked, slightly worried. She knew him well. Even without being force sensitive she was able to sense he was upset. But right now, even a stranger would be able to tell from a mile away that he wasn't alright.

"Out." Anakin replied, not rudely but not friendly either. He should have been happier to see her, and he was, but his mind was distracted.

"Out?" Padme replied, her eyes shifting to the open liquor cabinet and back to him.

"Out." He answered back, his heart slamming in his chest. She was making him stop, making him think. He knew she was about to unleash a barrage of questions on him and was going to want answers, and Padme was so difficult when she was demanding, which she could be quite often. But he didn't have the capacity to give any of that right now. He needed something very, very specific, and he wasn't even sure what that entailed at the moment.

"Anakin, what happened?" She asked softly, her delicate brows pinching with concern as she put a hand on his shoulder that he instinctively recoiled from.

He shook his head violently, frustrated, on the verge of tears that he would not allow himself to give in to. "Nothing." He blurted irritably.

"I heard you were sent to rescue Obi-wan." Padme said open endedly, getting straight to the point.

"So what?" Anakin bit back.

"It's clearly affecting you. Unless there's something else you want to tell me." Padme said expectantly with a stern edge.

"There's nothing to talk about. I'm just going out." Anakin said, frustrated. He was angry because the only one he had to be angry at was himself. It was stupid for him to hold out hope that Obi-wan would want anything to do with him. But here he was, at the whims of his own self designed demise. How could he sit down and explain to her how stupid he had been?

"Why don't you come over? I'll make us some drinks and we can chat like old times." Padme said, hopeful.

"No, Padme, I just need to go, okay? There's nothing to talk about." Anakin answered, walking past her, towards the door.

"I thought you said you were taking a break?" Padme said, on the edge of being critical but not quite.

"I changed my mind." Anakin said firmly. "Last time I checked I was allowed to do that."

"Can you blame me for being worried about you?" Padme asked, her frustration and hurt showing beneath. "At least let me go out with you."

"No." Anakin said cooly. His wrist com chirped again as the Council tried in vain to contact him. It would be at least one standard rotation before he would even entertain the idea of picking up.

Padme looked at his com as he silenced it, with wide eyes. "That's the Council! You're just going to ignore them? Anakin that's reckless!"

"Did you just come over here to lecture me?" Anakin shot back.

"I came over to check on you." Padme said, crossing her arms.

"Well here I am. You can go home now. I'll be fine." Anakin said, a harsh edge to his voice. He sighed, seeing the hurt on her face. Just because he was in a tailspin didn't mean it was fair to take it out on her.

"Look, I need to get away. I'll come over tomorrow night, and I'll tell you everything. I just can't right now." Anakin said honestly, his voice cracking as he pulled his defenses up a little more.

Padme glared at him, but sighed in defeat. "Alright. But call me if you need anything. I mean it." She said irritably.

Anakin nodded, heading out the door and jumping on the speeder bike before she could get another word in. His com trilled again before he turned it off completely. He was done being distracted for the evening. Done being distracted by the Council, at least. As for other distractions, he was fair game.

….

Merrith was well, and Ahsoka was more than happy keeping her company in the healing halls overnight.

"What's going to happen to her, Master?" Ahsoka asked him, her voice hushed low with the youngling sleeping soundly beside her.

"It's too soon to know." Obi-wan replied, feeling Ahsoka's sadness creep in on him.

"I wish she could stay here, with us." She answered. The girl had taken quite a liking to her, pressed in against her side, using her torso as a pillow.

Obi-wan felt the same nagging sadness for her, too, and he knew the likelihood of finding any extended family was slim to none, let alone family who could actually care for her. It had gone unspoken between them, but both of them knew that Koda station was home for that girl. Merrith's mother more than likely worked the back rooms in that lounge, making just enough to feed and clothe both of them.

It wasn't technically slavery, but it wasn't much better. The only true difference was that there would be no one to hunt you down if you decided to leave. Refusing clients wouldn't get you beaten, it would take food off the table instead. There were so many thin gray lines in the galaxy, lines that bordered the terrible, differentiating them from the despicable. Not that it mattered so much to draw lines and put such things in boxes. They were all awful.

"We'll find a good place for her. I promise." Obi-wan said, gut wrenching because he knew he didn't have the authority to back up that claim. The reality was that the galaxy was a dangerous place for a girl like her, orphaned and alone. She was especially vulnerable to being sold into slavery. Twi'lek's were highly trafficable to begin with, let alone one with no adult family to protect her. Maybe no family at all.

Ahsoka only looked back at him sadly. Or maybe it was just a reflection of his own tattered internal state.

"What's wrong Master?" Ahsoka asked, so quick to jump on his stray emotions.

He sighed. The real answer? Nothing. Everything. "It's just been… an interesting day." He said, his thoughts drifting to Anakin and how spectacularly he failed. Again.

"Yeah." Ahsoka said, not buying the ambiguity act, but choosing to not comment on it. Obi-wan was grateful for her discretion.

"Well, I'm going to go and get some sleep." He said, lying. "Are you sure you're alright staying down here with Merrith?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ahsoka asked, a smile breaking.

Obi-wan smiled back. It was more the truth that Merrith wouldn't be alright to stay down there without her. "Let me know if anything happens. I'm a light sleeper." Obi-wan said, heading out the door.

"Yes Master." She said dutifully.

"Ahsoka?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be getting yourself into trouble. You need to set an example for her." He said softly, a smile on his face, more teasing than not.

"Me? Trouble? Who do you think I am?" Ahsoka jabbed back, the predatorial Togrutan teeth in her smile shining, luminescent in the low light.

He turned without comment and strode down the hall, to the corridor beyond. The entire place was lit dimly, being that it was almost midnight. There was a certain ambiance to the place, almost entirely vacated aside from one healer that milled at the back of the hall, making rounds.

And then something crashed through him, breaking the peaceful stillness, nearly bringing him to his knees. His heart slammed in his chest as he felt the donning of a heavy panic cascade over him, knocking the air from his lungs. There were no words, only the icy sharp clawing of raw desperation, begging, pleading, tearing across into his consciousness from the neglected bond that sat deep inside his mind.

And then, nothing.