Obi-wan watched Anakin as he lay on the sleeper across from him, cradled deep in the arms of what could nearly be considered a drug induced coma, punctuated by brief periods of disoriented wakefulness. His ribs were painted with inky black and plum hues, the soft porcelain of his skin sliced through with red gashes. It made Obi-wan aware of the trembling rage that coiled inside him still, and the sick horror that married with it churning uneasily in his belly.

But for all the damage that had been wrought upon it, his skin was perfect. It was because Anakin was perfect. The truth of it cut down to his core. Because when set against the beautiful man that lay before him, he was helpless.

Violence flashed behind his eyes again that Obi-wan worked diligently to put out of mind. It was hard not to feel helpless to that as well, but in a surrender that was much less beautiful. Still he kept the practice just as he had for the last several hours, ever since his world became fractured beyond repair. It was mostly alright if he didn't close his eyes. Right now that wasn't too difficult because he didn't want to close his eyes. Why would he?

He didn't care if he was exhausted- because he certainly was- what mattered was Anakin. And right now the man lay only inches away from him, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that was soothingly hypnotic. Nothing else mattered when he was this close.

Obi-wan didn't want to take his eyes off him. He didn't want to move, lest he ruin the still frame of life that he knew would be tragically fleeting regardless. There were just too many things that waited for them on the other side of this moment. And right then there was a simplicity that was uniquely rare. It came in the steady pulls of breath and the slight stirring as Anakin shifted under the covers. It came in the preparation of tea just to let it cool on the bedside table, its gentle aroma swirling in a halo of steam atop it. Obi-wan didn't want to think about the pressing issues that lie in wait, insidiously and ever patiently lurking around the bend.

He didn't want to think about the violence and blood, the complications that evening interjected into both of their lives. He wanted it all to go away, even if just for a few more minutes. He felt like a Padawan again, begging his Master to let him just have five more minutes of blissful sleep before a day of hard training began. Only, reality wasn't so benevolent as his old Master had tended to be.

Obi-wan gently stirred on the sleeper, knowing he was well in need of a shower. His clothes were thoroughly soiled with not only blood, but now tea stains as well from Anakin's confused attack on the tea tray. He couldn't help the foreboding feeling that sunk into his bones, that if he got up, the moment would slip away from him altogether. That both of them would get lost in a torrent of proceeding events and he would never find this space ever again. That Anakin would be completely lost to him.

Even still, the gnawing fear soon began to pale in comparison to the overwhelming urge to wash off. Obi-wan always did prize cleanliness and order, and he would be lying to himself if he dared to believe the filth wasn't contributing to his growing sense of anxiety. Eventually he was able to pry himself up and force himself over to the fresher.

He made quick work of showering while obsessively scrubbing at all the hidden blood and grime in his hair, on his skin, under his nails. Once he was out getting into clean clothes did provide a measure of comfort, even if only the most superficial. Still it did little to quiet the panic that knotted in his chest, that pulled tighter every moment Anakin was out of his sight.

And with each moment, the images of violence became even harder to stave off. It wasn't just horror invoking. Though in a way it was in the most real sense- in the way that horror was nothing but a conglomeration of so many things, too many to feel all at once. It was so, so much more than the simple fear the word suggested.

But there was fear. He remembered it flooding his veins with shaky adrenaline, making his lungs desperate and thirsty for air while the tips of his fingers went numb. That was when it first hit him- the overwhelming rush of helplessness and terror. The stomach sick feeling that gnawed inside as he wondered if he would reach his beloved too late, and what too late would entail. The not knowing made everything so much worse.

Every second of searching felt like a lifetime. The tortured moments where he could feel Anakin breaking the surface of that drug induced haze just to be pulled back under were almost impossible to endure, panic threatening to overtake him every time. He struggled to pull himself together. There was no other option. Every time he felt Anakin's consciousness flicker through to him Obi-wan zeroed in closer. In actuality, it took Obi-wan very little time to find him.

And fear gave way, falling out from beneath him. What came next was difficult to identify, and at the same time, not at all. It was simple, really, if he was being honest. It was raw and true and so achingly familiar- an old friend he had forgotten. But how could he ever forget?

He was greeted by it at the sight of Anakin, bloodied and battered, curled up on himself, blinking out of consciousness during the reprieve from violence while his abuser used the fresher. Instantly he felt the trembling in his limbs smooth out, replacing his panicked state with sharp focus.

Obi-wan was surprised at all the things that presented to him, little dark ideas and ways he wanted to harm the one who dared to touch his Anakin. It was vengeance in its most basic form. It filled him with untamable rage that couldn't be reasoned or bargained with. It had one demand, one price. Of course that price was weighed in suffering, blood and death.

Those were the only things that would appease the monster that consumed him, that soothed him, explaining the justice it exacted as Obi-wan's hands sliced and carved through flesh. He felt the hot slick under his palms spill over as he labored studiously, a red puddle amassing beneath them both. The man writhed and cried under his delicate work, his ashy lips begging and pleading between whimpers and screams. This was the real monster, the dark voice inside him whispered. There had to be justice for beasts like him.

No string of pleas could take back the things that were unleashed onto his precious Anakin. He had cut down others before this one, others that thought it a good idea to hurt his beautiful angel. The possessive claim to the boy was a base thing- animal in the most genuine sense of the word. As was the gratification that swelled inside of him- the carnal thrill he found in the twisted pursuit of keeping someone alive long enough to make them suffer as much as possible. As Obi-wan thought of it now, he felt it to be nauseatingly heinous. But then, in those moments when he wielded that knife, it had been glorious.

On Kraysiss when he laid waste to the Sith one by one, there had been a dire necessity to his actions. The fact that those actions were imbued with such raw darkness and hatred, products of attachment run amuck, was secondary. He had the Sith virus to blame, the cursed ground on which they stood, swallowing them up. This time he had no such excuse, no Sith scapegoat to pin his transgressions on.

And it was somewhat troublesome that he couldn't entirely disavow what he had done. But then again he wasn't a Jedi, only an imposter. He'd known this for years, it wasn't anything new. The only novelty here was his ability to surprise himself with his own actions. Horror, still, was the best descriptor when it came to his own self reflection. Perhaps more so for the fact that he was mostly unapologetic.

Obi-wan went back to the bedroom quietly, tip-toeing to not wake Anakin as he climbed back onto the sleeper, freshly showered and clothed. Being that the only clean clothes were Anakin's, they were several shades too dark for his taste and also slightly large, but he couldn't find it in himself to even silently complain. He gladly resumed his station at Anakin's side, reclining against the headboard, watching the boy as he slept.

With a pull of dread Obi-wan turned to look at his bedside table, seeing the bounty puck and holotape staring back at him malevolently. Another surge of anger washed over him with the throes of helplessness taking hold right after. He was angry because he was powerless. There was no trying to believe otherwise. Any attempt to do so was foolish and would be to Anakin's detriment. That was unacceptable.

Obi-wan wondered how Anakin would take to the idea- leaving the Order behind, the entire Republic behind- and starting somewhere new. He was somewhat shocked he would even entertain the idea. To even suggest it inside himself felt selfish. On the other hand he would be a fool to ignore the fact that everything was different now.

He reached over, taking the puck in hand. He felt his stomach complain against it as he pressed the small holo button seeing the face of his beloved flicker to life, stern and battle wrought. A list of gut wrenching forcible acts in sick detail glowed back at him in transparent red lettering. Equally shocking were the prices paid for each, adding up to an obscene sum of credits that narrowed down the list of possible benefactors greatly, but still not enough. The holotape that sat innocuously on the table beside him bore witness to all- Anakin's harrowing subjugation as well as Obi-wan's unforgivable acts of bloodlust and wickedness.

Yes, refusing to see things as they were was not an option. Willful ignorance would only lead to more inexcusable suffering on Anakin's behalf, or worse. Obi-wan wanted for everything to return to normal, whatever that really was. He wanted mostly for all of these new revelations to go away, along with whatever dark things preceded them. With all of that being impossible, he found himself left with few options.

Going to the council for help was not an option. Their involvement would inevitably lead to exposing the puck, which would spur the hunt for the holo mentioned in it's long list of stipulations. Sharing the holo would land him in jail, helpless to aid Anakin against any future attacks or designs. He knew counting on the Council to defend Anakin was a foolish thing to hope for. Besides, however impossible it might be to achieve, Obi-wan hoped to avoid Anakin realizing the full scope of the web he was caught within. The only option was to stay as involved as possible to keep Anakin out of danger. Being that he was a General in a large scale war effort, it felt like an impossible task.

Anakin stirred again and Obi-wan quickly disengaged the still holo and slid the puck along with the holotape into a drawer in his table, out of sight. He could tell by the sound that Anakin was on the edge of another spell of consciousness, perhaps permanently this time, he hoped. It was already well into the afternoon, almost dinner time. If he hadn't nearly slept off all the remainder of whatever drug he had been given Obi-wan was going to start to worry. As if he wasn't already.

"Master," Anakin said through squinted, blinking eyes. A disoriented slip, easily admissible. Still Obi-wan's heart fluttered, hearing Anakin's sleepy voice rasp out the old title.

Somehow he felt himself rendered speechless. It seemed so odd after being separated by so much time, how they still fell together so naturally. As if those two years never happened- some sort of purgatorial nightmare.

Anakin's eyes, tired yet wide and unblinking now, stared up at Obi-wan. One of them was half-bloodshot, the start of a bruise showing through the skin of his cheekbone. Shame crested in his jewel eyes, heavy and aching, anger skipping across the surface of its shining expanse. A world, in those eyes, tumultuous and violent, as blissful as it was dark and brooding. If there was a word for him- volatile. In all the most infuriating and wonderful ways.

A swell of possessive ownership stirred inside of him again. It was getting stronger, harder to check. If that monster's blood was an oath of his dedication, some unholy baptism to prove his loyalty, he made his vow. Anakin was his life now, as if it hadn't always been that way. Only before there had been more distance between his devotion and his selfish, avaricious need. Now all of those things seemed to be indistinguishable from each other.

And for one single, fleeting moment, Obi-wan realized just how far from the code he was beginning to fall. Far enough to the point that he knew he didn't care anymore. The thought in its entirety was conceitedly casual with the passing thought of oh well and the conviction that he wouldn't trade this for anything. Not to save an entire world from burning, or the entire galaxy for that matter. Inside himself he felt the Jedi he was aghast at the man he had become, trying desperately to figure out how he came to this. The passivity and underwhelming realization was odd, yet befitting of the stillness in the air and the warmth of the sleeper beneath him.

"I still can't… It won't respond-" Anakin said, some measure of anguish in his eyes, breaking Obi-wan from his internal deliberations.

"The force?" Obi-wan offered.

"Yeah." Anakin answered begrudgingly. Obi-wan hummed and nodded with understanding.

"Are you hungry?" He asked.

Anakin shook his head, pained. "No, I couldn't eat even if I was." He moved to try to sit up, flinching and clutching at his side before halting the effort. "Everything hurts."

Obi-wan got up from the sleeper, striding over to the fresher and rummaging in the extensively stocked med kit for one of the many narc-hypos. Only in passing did Obi-wan wonder why Anakin took a sudden interest in having one of the best stocked med kits he had seen outside of the healing halls. The man had never been bothered with pragmatics before.

Returning with a pain blocker in hand Obi-wan sat beside Anakin. "May I?" Obi-wan asked. With a grimace and a nod Anakin shifted the waistband of his sleep pants down to expose his hip. Obi-wan made quick work of administering the hypo, discarding the empty syringe afterwards.

"Better?" Obi-wan asked, settling down on his side of the sleeper yet again.

Anakin's face washed over with relief as his body relaxed, no longer feeling every ache and stab from his numerous injuries. "Yes, thank you." Anakin breathed.

For a moment a look of still peace graced him, and Obi-wan felt his heart smile for it. Of course there was the nagging heartache for his wounds, for what had befallen him, but Obi-wan was careful to not treat him like a victim. Anakin had been very clear about his feelings the night before, and Obi-wan was hurt that the man ever had the impression that he thought he was weak. It couldn't have been more opposite.

Anakin was always strong, from the very beginning. Fearless even when he was afraid. Obi-wan remembered the sight fresh as ever, the image immortalized in the theater of his mind. The sure footed way Anakin stalked towards Zaann, holding him in his grip through the force in a way that dwarfed even Obi-wan's long practiced skill. The moment he drew his saber through the man's heart, ending him, just because he could. Of course there was the spirit of revenge that ever mingled with what Obi-wan knew to be a skewed sense of justice, not that he was bothered by it. Even the council judged him leniently on the manner of Zaann's death.

But no, Anakin was not weak. He was so intoxicatingly powerful, just to sense the scope of his raw potential left Obi-wan without words. Anakin was anything but weak. The only reason he fell victim to that bounty hunter the night before was because he wasn't thinking straight. Anakin hadn't been thinking at all. He was furious, seething. His head wasn't in the right place and it made him easy prey.

Ultimately it was Obi-wan's fault. He left things in a bad way between them. He could understand it now. Anakin didn't want to feel like he needed Obi-wan's protection. Of course that wasn't going to change the obligation Obi-wan felt towards him, especially not in light of current events. But that sense of duty was not the same thing as seeing the man as weak. Though naturally he didn't expect Anakin to understand that.

"Do you feel hungry, now?" Obi-wan asked.

"No." Anakin answered, almost obstinately.

"You need to at least drink something. I'll go brew up some more tea." Obi-wan replied, moving up from the sleeper.

Anakin's hand moved quickly to grab his arm, pulling him to stay. Helplessly stopped in his tracks Obi-wan obliged and settled in under the cover, lying on his side to face Anakin. Another flash of sickening violence played in the back of his mind, haunting him. Obi-wan found himself grateful for the fact that Anakin was still severed from the force. He didn't want him to catch even the slightest glimpse of the thing that was seared damningly on the backs of his lids.

So far it appeared that Anakin had no recollection of the night and it's turn of events. Of course his own injuries would lead to assumption, but Obi-wan was sure if Anakin remembered something, anything, he would have shown it. Whether he wanted to or not.

Obi-wan reached out, brushing stray curls out of Anakin's eyes, no hesitation in the action. No second guessing of if he ought to make such a show of affection. It was a rather liberating sensation, to even touch Anakin without the overwhelming guilt crushing him in the very next second. Because he wasn't the source of danger to Anakin, not any more. Now the man was set up against something darker and far more sinister than the things Obi-wan had ever been capable of.

It was not lost on him that whoever posted the bounty on Anakin, bolstered by an incredible sum of credits, was not only rich but powerful to match. Anakin's face was not an unfamiliar one on the holonet, especially when associated with victory and other Republic propaganda campaigns. Catching his demise on holotape could be a powerful tool, either wielded in secret as blackmail, or openly to degrade the moral of the public. Doing such would erode the already waning civilian support of the war, which would in turn erode the funds that paid for the unending bloodshed. The more Obi-wan mulled it over, the more he disliked how logical it all seemed.

The thought brought a roiling swell of anger with it, drowning out all parts of him except the darkness that called for more blood as payment. Anakin wasn't a pawn in some grand galactic game of dejarik, and he was more than the cursed blood that surged through his veins. Anakin was his, and somehow that was the only thing that mattered.

At least there was the consolation that whoever posted that bounty would go unsatisfied. No one was getting to Anakin though him. The evidence of what had happened, the puck and tape to testify, would remain silent in his care, indefinitely. Obi-wan thought to destroy them, and he still reserved the right to do so. He wasn't entirely sure why he hadn't already. Mostly time constraints and preoccupation, he supposed.

"I can't do this." Anakin said simply, breaking the stream of his thoughts yet again, confusing him. There was a careful detachment in the man's voice, practiced however fatigued and thin.

"I'm not sure I understand," Obi-wan answered gently, his heart aching, sensing Anakin's distress.

"This." Anakin said, his voice taut. "Pretending-" He murmured, fighting the tears that glossed over his eyes, willing them back. "Pretending that you never left. Like the last two years haven't been hell."

Anakin stared openly into his eyes, desperate, shameless, exhausted. "A part of me wants to believe you'll stay this time. But I know you won't."

For as infuriating as Anakin could be, and how difficult it was for him to put words to his feelings, there were instances such as this. It was the simple, brutal sincerity of a heart speaking its truth, however painful it was to hear. And the truth was Anakin gave up on him. He did a long time ago.

Two years ago, Obi-wan thought that's what he wanted- for Anakin to go on and live his life without him, happy. Safe. Of course even the best intentions didn't spell out success. This was a prime example of such a failing. He left and they both suffered. And Obi-wan knew he would do it all over again. He could never have stayed- not with those wretched visions haunting him with his own would-be transgressions. Why did the right thing have to be so difficult to decipher?

Because nothing was as cut and dry as the Jedi code, of course. And that was the only thing Obi-wan had ever been taught to live by. Governing one's life in shades of gray- rarely was anything so black and white. And even still what some might call black would only be a very deep shade of gray. And what was ever purely white? Everything was subjective.

And what mattered right now was Anakin's understanding of things, the way the world looked from his eyes. Obi-wan didn't have to think hard to understand the monster Anakin must have seen him as. Not for the reasons Obi-wan thought of himself as such, but for entirely different ones.

Obi-wan was the Master that abandoned his Padawan, not a word or note of explanation. He had been distant before that, almost discarded him right after coming back home from Kraysiss because of the complications the mission brought on. Anakin knew Obi-wan was slipping away from him and that there was nothing he could do about it.

Then there was the fact of Anakin's feelings, which were very obvious however Obi-wan tried to ignore them at the time. Anakin was never one to hide his emotions, even if he didn't always have the words to express them. The way he wore them was frustrating at times, especially when he had been under his tutelage and it showed as a mark of poor teaching on his behalf. But such oneness with his own spirit was admirable, even if the Council said otherwise.

Anakin had managed to glue the pieces of himself together relatively well, but Obi-wan's absence broke him. And he didn't know how to make it right, or if he ever could. Right, wrong, light dark, it all seemed to converge in on him. Even the right thing was the wrong move, clearly.

"I don't want you to pretend, Anakin." Obi-wan said in earnest. "And if it seems like I'm trying to just ignore things, it's because I don't know what to say."

Say you'll stay, Obi-wan heard distantly from the edge of his mind as Anakin's aura began to return, the drug's haze starting to clear. It was something he hadn't meant to think so loudly, and Obi-wan let it pass without appearing to have noticed.

"Whether you believe it or not, I'm not leaving. Not this time." Obi-wan said firmly.

"Oh? I've heard that before." Anakin sneered, rolling away from Obi-wan to sit up, putting his feet on the floor. "You lied to me once. I'm not going to let you do it again. I'm not the ignorant Padawan you left behind."

Obi-wan sat up in kind, walking around to Anakin's side of the sleeper, refusing to be dismissed. "I'm sorry about what happened-"

"You're sorry!?" Anakin shouted loudly, standing and pointing an accusing finger at his chest. "You don't get to say sorry. Especially after trying to say it was to protect me."

Obi-wan took a breath, quickly becoming frustrated. He could feel Anakin wanted him to stay, he heard the words fall over to him mistakenly. But there were too many walls built between them. Too many defenses erected to protect the parts of himself that were still too damaged to stand on their own. Obi-wan had a hard time not seeing himself as the architect of it all. He felt guilt weighing heavy inside him again, and the stirring anger that surrounded it.

"You are going to have to get used to it then. The only reason I left was because I was convinced it was the only option to keep you safe!" Obi-wan shouted, perhaps louder than he would have liked. He felt anger rising inside of him, more untamed than he was used to. Sure he had spats with Anakin in the past, but at some point he always managed to rein himself in, to stop himself before he went too far, before he said something that he regretted.

"Being nothing but a liability to you is worse than being nothing!" Anakin shouted back, angry tears in his eyes.

Obligation, not the same at all as liability, Obi-wan thought. But Anakin would never understand. It was love that made him irrational and borderline obsessive. It drove all of Obi-wan's actions. It was the reason he left. It was the reason he wanted to stay, now. Above all, it was the reason Anakin was always at the center of his world, and why it always felt so empty to be apart.

"You are not a liability." Obi-wan insisted.

"Just stop. Don't you get it? I see right through you. I know what you think." Anakin snarled. A strobe of frantic emotions pulsed through Anakin's ever wakening aura, mortified shame the loudest among them.

Obi-wan's heart ached. He understood now quite clearly what Anakin believed he thought about him, about the entire situation that thus far remained unmentioned for sake of it's delicate nature. The irony struck him, how something so violent could be delicate in any respect. Of course where Anakin's emotions were concerned, delicate was not an uncommon thing for them to be. And the truth of it was, Anakin didn't see how Obi-wan could see him as anything other than weak, even if Obi-wan adamantly said otherwise.

"I think this is hardly the time to be having this conversation." Obi-wan said, his tone betraying him. He still felt the trembling inside himself worsen, wanting to sit Anakin down and make him listen, knowing there was no way to ever make him do anything.

"Why? Because I'm right?" Anakin huffed triumphantly.

"Oh, far from it." Obi-wan said smugly, in a way he knew Anakin hated. He couldn't seem to stop himself. The contradictory nature of this whole argument seemed bogus to begin with. For all his ranting Anakin wanted nothing more but for Obi-wan to stay. He just didn't know how to admit it. He didn't know how to be vulnerable. And Obi-wan hated beating around the bush. He tended towards silence or frankness, admittedly with a weakness towards self denial. He knew he shouldn't have indulged Anakin's temper this way but there was no taking it back now.

"Of course. Everything I say and do is always wrong in your eyes. It's a good thing you've found someone to replace me already. May they disappoint you as much as I did." Anakin growled.

"Well it seems in the last two years out of everything you've been able to accomplish, growing up hasn't been among them." Obi-wan spat, losing patience.

"At least i've outgrown you." Anakin snarled.

"Maybe, but not the habit of running off to the lower levels like a Padawan whenever you're in a bad mood." Obi-wan said sharply, more venomous than was warranted. Honestly he knew that entire sentence was a mistake that he badly wanted to take back the moment it left his lips. But of course that was an impossible thing to achieve.

He felt the blow hit Anakin like a punch to the gut, rendering him speechless. Implications hung heavy in the air amidst the silence, as Anakin was left to wonder again, exactly how Obi-wan came upon him that night in the first place.

"Oh force," Obi-wan groaned, seeing Anakin still staggered by his words. "I'm sorry."

And then it hit him again, the image of Anakin battered and bloody, incapacitated atop the overstartched sheets of a cheap motel room. The horror he felt in that moment- the raw gut wrenching grief- visited him again. And this time there was no blood thirsty vicious animal waiting to wreak havoc for the boy's injuries. There was nothing violent inside him at all aside from the quaking sob that tightened in his chest.

He felt it before, transfixed by cleaning the bits of ceramic up off the floor along with all the tea that splashed on them, everywhere. He felt it like a bad dream as he struggled to make sense of it, incoherent and vague. It washed over him in waves. And this one felt like it might take him and never bring him back.

Obi-wan turned and sat on the sleeper, suddenly feeling the exhaustion hit him in full force. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he mumbled into his palms between hushed gasps and sobs.

Obi-wan felt Anakin sink into the mattress beside him, felt his curls brush up against the side of his neck, leaning his head against him. He sensed the fear in his chest, the ache in his heart, the way his stomach anxiously tied in knots.

"I can't lose you again-" Obi-wan cried. "I know I left, that it was my decision. It still felt like I was losing you."

"I don't want to stay because I think you're weak, or a liability." Obi-wan said, willing himself to look into Anakin's eyes, nearly as tear swollen as his own.

"I want to stay because I love you." Obi-wan choked, the weight of those words falling off of his shoulders as they bloomed in the air around them.

He felt a surge of grief pierce Anakin through. You love me? He whispered silently, the words entering his consciousness hesitantly, as if he were scared of trespassing where he didn't belong.

Obi-wan turned, putting hands on Anakin's shoulders to look the boy square in his face. The truth was something they both knew deep down. Obi-wan's love was obvious, however unspoken it had been.

"Yes." Obi-wan said, gazing into Anakin's uncertain eyes. "I've tried to ignore it before, but I can't. Not anymore."

The truth was he loved Anakin so much, it scared him. He loved the timid blue eyes that bore into his own, searching, so hungry to truly be seen, accepted and wanted. And Obi-wan did love him completely, for everything he was. And it was undeniable that he wanted him.

Obi-wan took hold of the soft golden locks that fell down the side of Anakin's face, a gratifying sense of ownership swelling in his chest as the boy pulled in a soft breath at the contact. He thumbed over the man's lower lip, ripe and warm.

He couldn't expect Anakin to love him back in the same way. The vulnerability it entailed was all surrendering, stripping him down in a way that left him naked beyond just skin. Because the love Obi-wan felt was consuming and ravenous without compromise, far beyond but not excluding the physical. He understood this, and would be content with just accepting his own feelings.

"Master," Anakin whispered, his face angelic with innocence that mirrored his heart, and all the things he had buried there deep inside. It was the too-open too-vulnerable soul he had been born with, that led him to be hurt too many times. He hadn't seen this Ankain for so long, much longer than the two years they had been apart.

"I love you." Anakin said, open and honest.

Obi-wan's heart fluttered, the possessive beast clawing at his chest. He wondered if Anakin understood what it meant, what the gravity of his words implied, though he knew the boy well enough to know that he did. Something new wove between them, fortifying their bond. It was the shared understanding that such a grievous admission betwixt them was a vow in itself. Irrevocable and sacred, binding them both together.

"You must know I will not share you." Obi-wan said seriously, hand still tangled in the boy's hair. "And that I am yours, alone. Completely."

"And I am yours, Master. You don't have to share." Anakin whispered.

Obi-wan took Anakin's lips on his own, moving on his mouth slowly, savoring how he felt, how he tasted. He could feel the boy's haste, the slight quaking in his limbs as his clammy hands gripped the back of Obi-wan's neck, tousling his hair, pulling at the hem of his baggy tunic. There was a well of tension in the man that became an ocean, deep and vast and untamable.

Obi-wan couldn't help but smile against Anakin's lips before he pulled back, brushing the hair from his eyes delicately. Oh how worlds could rise and fall in minutes, he thought.

"Mmaster," Anakin protested, slightly pouting as he chased after Obi-wan's retreating lips. His chest was heaving, his body wanting, his mind racing.

"You're far too injured, Anakin. I won't allow you to injure yourself further." Obi-wan stipulated in a soft, Masterly voice.

However disappointed by his decision, Anakin yielded, a look of gratified subservience in his eyes. "Yes, Master."

"You need to eat, and get some more rest." Obi-wan mandated. "I'm going to prepare a meal while you lie down." Anakin nodded and obeyed, following his Master's orders.

Obi-wan leaned down, pressing another less than chaste kiss onto Anakin's mouth before leaving for the kitchen, a heavenly trill in his chest. For once his claim was no longer purely symbolic, or for his own solace. Now it meant so much more.

My Anakin