Uncharted

Chapter 18: Coruscant, part II

Author's note: Please note that there is a little explicit scene in this chapter. If you want to skip it, it begins from: "There was no time to ponder Anakin's revelation..." and ends with: "He could not promise tomorrow..."

Anakin was standing in the Great Hall. He was empty and hollow like a carved-up heart. The chamber was full of silent shadows; he avoided looking more closely at the dark shapes laying on the floor, their limbs askew, their disorderly and undignified state so at odds with the venerable solemnity of the great space.

Footsteps echoing in a rhythm of a march, he strode through the deserted Temple, its watchful walls following his every move with familiar reproach. Everything he had ever done, everything he was – every lie, every kill, every love – was inscribed on its surface for all to know.

These are the deeds of the Chosen One. Son without a Mother. Knight without a Padawan. Husband without a Wife. Brother without a Brother. Father without Children. Man without a Love.

Guarding the secrets of the Jedi, the statues loomed above Anakin as he entered the Tower of First Knowledge. Yoda, Dooku, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and the unknown young man stared at Anakin with their unseeing stony gazes; the sixth statue was faceless, its features smashed to pieces. Without a second glance, he left the long-dead Jedi behind, glad to be rid of their suffocating silence.

As always, the large double doors stood open, waiting for him. In the middle of the room, the holocron floated above the pedestal, slowly turning round and round. Its cold white light mocked and beckoned; a promise of absolution, a threat of failure.

Inside the blinding light was time: infinite and fleeting, turning and twisting, the End and the Beginning. In a dark and dirty hovel, a slave was giving birth to a fatherless child. Jedi died and died and died again. A young man shook the hand of a boy, smiling. With wrathful glee, the order was given. Millions of planets, millions of wars. Marriage vows on a sunny veranda, slaughtered children. Chaos and death and birth. Clash of blades, red on blue, green on red, blue on blue. A man racing across a rockface, and falling and falling, whole universe crying. The water so cold, so dark. A confession of love. Flames. Fire and suffering.

A black stone, a promise. Always.

He reached forward, hands trembling.

"Anakin." The familiar voice was only a hoarse whisper, but it made him pivot around, throat scraped raw from silent screams.

His Master was standing behind him, looking like a drowned man. Face leached of all colour, eyes sunken and mouth twisted in naked fear, in deep grief, in unfettered horror.

"I need more time," Anakin beseeched him, heart writhing from the pain of the coming parting, mouth bitter from the taste of ash. "Don't go."

Obi-Wan shook his head. He looked right into Anakin, into the very deep, where every desperate need and festering ache, every dark deed and dead thing lived. "This will not happen. Anakin, this cannot happen."

But it already had.

-o-

The first light of the coming dawn peeked through the hastily closed blinds, delicate and pale, no match yet for the pervasive dimness of the room. The sparsely furnished space seemed almost formless, grey and black shapes merging seamlessly with darkness. Startling out of sleep, Obi-Wan was momentarily confused, even after he quickly realized there was no danger. He knew his room by heart, and there was nothing out of place; however, there was something new.

Someone was sleeping next to him. Anakin.

His Padawan was laying on his stomach, head turned away. Anakin's left arm was pressed against Obi-Wan's side, fingers curling around his hip possessively.

The last Obi-Wan remembered, they had been face to face, trading soft, languorous kisses. They had been too tired to do much else despite the frenzied way they had found their way into Obi-Wan's bed, hurriedly stripping to their underwear, heady and excited with surging desire. He had set out on exploring every mark and scar on Anakin's skin, wanting to trace the dips and crests of his lovely body, smooth the knob of bones. He had gotten as far as Anakin's collarbone; Obi-Wan remembered kissing it thoroughly, looking forward to making his way downwards. His Padawan had been as eager to touch – Obi-Wan's skin still tingled with the memory of his curious, ardent caresses.

However, the long day – the long war – had gotten the best of them, both equally exhausted to muster enough energy to take things any further; the heat between them had simmered down into a pleasant warmth, and that had been good too. Obi-Wan had quickly fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep in his love's arms, Anakin following him only a heartbeat later.

His Padawan was still asleep, but the peaceful rest had turned into one of his all too frequent nightmares. Anakin did not flail nor even twitch, his limbs were motionless like he had been petrified. What had no doubt woken Obi-Wan, was the despair and abject misery that flooded Anakin's side of the bond, his distress keenly present in the Force around them, tugging relentlessly at Obi-Wan's mind.

Or perhaps it had been the small, agonized whimper that escaped Anakin's lips, the wordless sound somehow resembling a desperate plea.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan murmured, voice quiet although there wasn't anyone else but his former Padawan to hear him. Perhaps it was because of the hour – dim and hushed, slowly it emerged from the visions of desire and terror towards hard, mundane reality.

Feather-light, he touched Anakin's bare upper back, nudging him cautiously through their bond. They both had had too many rough awakenings by the enemy to attempt to shake the other awake – that was a familiar recipe for unnecessary violence and sheepish apologies.

With barely any outward sign, except the way his fingers tightened their hold on Obi-Wan's hip, Anakin snapped awake. The Force quivered with his confused dread, contracted and swelled with a mesh of emotions as Anakin fought to bring his volatile feelings under control. Obi-Wan let him be; they lay silently for a long moment, Obi-Wan keeping his hand pressed gently against Anakin's back, soothing the turbulent Force around them, trying to give him comfort with both physical and mental touch.

"Would you still love me, if I did something terrible again?" Anakin's voice was barely audible, the words blending into darkness.

Obi-Wan frowned, staring at the back of his Padawan's head. Beneath his hand, Anakin's muscles were pulled taut like a bow drawn for the kill. "Why do you ask that?"

"Would you?" Anakin asked, louder now in his persistence. "If I made a mistake, if I disappointed you, if I –" He suddenly stopped, stricken mute by his own desperate fervour.

Obi-Wan swallowed heavily, words stuck on his too-dry throat. He knew the answer to all of those questions of course, because the answer was the same as every time before. Yes, I would. I will.

He rubbed at Anakin's spine, fingertips drawing swirls and loops on his skin. "Anakin…no mistake will stop me from feeling what I feel for you. And if you disappoint me – which you perhaps will, as I undoubtedly will disappoint you – that will not change how I feel about you either."

"But if I did something…horrible." Anakin sounded ill; Obi-Wan wished he could see his former Padawan's face, for Anakin's expressions almost always filled the gaps between his words. He could only guess what had drawn forth the fear of new missteps, of the dark gaining ground again – of Anakin once more feeling uncertain about Obi-Wan's affections.

"You will not," Obi-Wan tried to assure him. "You have come such a long way already, grown so much in these months. You should believe in yourself – as I believe in you." But that did not seem to quieten the anxiousness in Anakin, nor relax his tense muscles. Obi-Wan sighed, shifting closer to his Padawan, so he could press a lingering kiss on the back of his neck. "What brought this on?"

"Just a dream," Anakin confessed, the words bitter.

"What kind of dream?" Obi-Wan asked, not willing to make the same mistake as before. Anakin's nightmares sometimes held seeds of the future, and although prophetic dreams were notoriously hard to predict – they could lead astray as well as act as warning signs – Obi-Wan had learned the hard way not to dismiss them, even if heeding them could bring about equally disastrous results. All he could really do was listen.

"I don't know," Anakin muttered, his tone laced with frustration, the vestiges of his earlier dread still apparent in the tightness of his voice. "It was a jumble of different things – I was…I was in the Holocron vault and something awful had happened…and I think…I think you were gone –" Breath hitching, Anakin's fingers burrowed deeper into Obi-Wan's hip, his grip bordering on painful.

"I'm right here," Obi-Wan reminded him.

Finally, Anakin rolled around, coming to face Obi-Wan. The familiar contours of his face were drawn into solemn lines, his eyes twin pools of dark in the dim room, beseeching and persistent. "Don't go. Promise me, Master. Don't let the Council separate us again."

Obi-Wan's heart ached, wanting nothing so much as to make that vow and keep it. And yet he could not. "You know I cannot promise that. I have to go where I am needed."

"I need you," Anakin whispered, pushing Obi-Wan onto his back. Nose brushing the hollow of Obi-Wan's throat, his lips sought the latest scar on Obi-Wan's chest, courtesy of a lucky droid on Mimban.

"You have me," Obi-Wan breathed against Anakin's messy curls, one palm cupping the back of his head, the other sliding down the bare expanse of his back. "I promise, even when we are apart, you have me." He shivered when Anakin placed kisses everywhere around his rib cage, starting to lick a path downwards.

"I want you." Anakin's voice was gravelly as his lips ghosted over Obi-Wan's stomach, all of Obi-Wan's skin suddenly flushed and tingling, too sensitive. His Padawan's previous desperation had morphed into intense, impetuous passion, all of it directed at Obi-Wan – it made him dazed and flustered and aching, to be at that one, singular moment the focus of Anakin's whole universe.

Enflamed by Anakin's want, by his own want, by the desire consuming their bond, Obi-Wan could only groan, "You have me. You –"

Hands sweeping up and down Obi-Wan's flanks, Anakin shifted downwards, setting his mouth against the junction of abdomen and thigh. Obi-Wan drew unsteady breaths as Anakin nuzzled his groin, the thin fabric of his underwear doing nothing to diminish the heat of his Padawan's mouth.

"Can I?" Anakin whispered, fingers already holding Obi-Wan's hips, keeping them firmly in place.

Obi-Wan lifted his head and shoulders, straining to distinguish Anakin's face from the shadows. He wanted to see his Padawan – the expression on his face, the look in his eyes – but the dark only gave him the shape of Anakin's head, the sharpness of his profile. He reached through their bond and was met with certainty, with hunger, with reverence. He had no defence against that flood of love-want-need.

"Yes," Obi-Wan rasped, head tipping back. He didn't need to see to feel Anakin's gaze on his throbbing erection. "Have you ever…?"

Anakin's teeth nipped gently at Obi-Wan's hip, tongue then darting to taste the bare skin of his thigh. "Hmm…a few times."

There was no time to ponder Anakin's revelation – all coherent thought fled Obi-Wan's head in a mad rush, when his former Padawan put his mouth over the head of Obi-Wan's cock, sucking lightly through the fabric. Obi-Wan, hardly a novice in bed, found himself trembling like a teenager with their first crush. All because it was Anakin. Anakin, who was easing the waistband of Obi-Wan's underwear down, and curling a fist around his prick, giving it a confident squeeze. Anakin, who murmured appreciatively as he licked a stripe upward the swollen length, making Obi-Wan moan. Anakin, who sealed his lips over the head, and then slid Obi-Wan's cock in his hot mouth.

Obi-Wan's vision whitened, the furious beat of his heart rushing in his ears, and between the inarticulate sounds pulled from him, there were perhaps syllables of a name, a thready chant of Anakin, Dearest, Love –

It was over mortifyingly quickly, but Obi-Wan could hardly muster any embarrassment; he simply felt too lethargic, too good, too happy. Trying to settle his uneven breathing, Obi-Wan slowly opened the eyes he hadn't realized he had closed. Little tendrils of pleasure still lingered, coaxed by Anakin's talented tongue which kept studiously licking Obi-Wan clean.

"Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice came out deep and rough, almost unrecognizable. "Come here."

His Padawan didn't need to be told twice; Anakin surged upward, sliding a leg over Obi-Wan's hip, large frame straddling him. Obi-Wan grasped at Anakin's hair, running his fingers between the damp strands, drawing his Padawan into a ravenous, messy kiss. Only a need for air separated them; Anakin gasped as he rocked forward, his hardness rubbing tantalizingly against Obi-Wan's stomach.

Obi-Wan had grand plans of taking Anakin's cock into his hand, perhaps flipping them around and returning the favour. However, he was momentarily struck dumb by the small moans escaping Anakin's mouth, the way Anakin's head nestled so sweetly against his shoulder as he rutted his prick feverishly against Obi-Wan, and all he could do was hold onto Anakin, draw him closer, kiss his head, keep them both from flying apart –

As Anakin shuddered and panted, stay with me, Obi-Wan could only whisper, I'm right here.

He could not promise tomorrow; he could not even promise that coming day. But he did promise that very moment, when the dawn grew bigger and brighter, slowly turning the shadows, and them together with it, into pure light.

-o-

As it turned out, those early morning hours were all they got to have. As the day started in earnest, their private oasis was breached, others brusquely intruding into their togetherness.

The customary meetings and reports went in the usual way, albeit for once they were blessedly devoid of any bad news from the front. However, after that, the day quickly careened into a direction Obi-Wan, contrary to all the warning signs, still had not expected. Confirming all their misgivings, the Chancellor appointed Anakin as his personal representative to the Jedi Council. From there, it all went rapidly downhill, the Council and Anakin predictably at odds again, the conflict between them more serious, with more far-reaching consequences, than ever before.

Obi-Wan tried to keep the memory of that early morning – of them together – a steady, calm pocket of warmth on the back of his mind, a safe space where to retreat from the worry and hostility of the alarming situation. He fought to let go of the frustration and anger he felt as Palpatine once again exploited his friendship with Anakin to his own advantage, forcing the young man into an untenable position. Helplessly, he watched from his council seat as Anakin railed against imagined slights, despairing that his former Padawan still continued to stubbornly clung to resentment and pride.

And yet – Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel that same resentment as he was forced to do the Council's bidding, tasking Anakin to report on the Chancellor's doings. It was no surprise that when Anakin heard the order to spy on his old friend, he was upset and indignant and hurt; even more so, Obi-Wan knew, because the command came from him.

Anakin's disappointed gaze, the acute betrayal on his face, was sharper than any blade; no amount of internal rationalization and pragmatism made Obi-Wan ache any less. Mad at himself, he let Anakin go, hoping that when they next met, he would have thought of the right words to say to mend things between them. However, the way the day had been going, he should have known how futile his wish was: the next time he was in the same room with Anakin again, it was in the Council Chamber.

Torn between wanting to finally chase Grievous down and anxious of doing so alone, of leaving Anakin behind, Obi-Wan could only acquiesce to the Council's decision to send him to Utapau, knowing that it would be pointless to advocate for Anakin to be included in the mission. Requesting that Anakin lead the campaign to catch Grievous, the Chancellor had only achieved the very opposite: the Council would not make any concessions to Palpatine voluntarily any time soon. His Padawan's quiet displeasure and annoyance at the outcome seemed to draw all the air from the room, no doubt confirming to the rest of the Council that they had made the correct decision. Obi-Wan however, felt those glowing, perfect early hours of the morning slip even further away from.

But to his relief – and shame – Obi-Wan found out that he had truly underestimated Anakin. His former apprentice did not rush to sulk in his quarters nor did he vanish into Coruscant's lower levels, as he had so many times before in similar circumstances; instead, he chose to accompany Obi-Wan to the shipyards.

Yet, it seemed the right words continued to elude them both, the quiet like an invisible wall between them. It was only in sight of the Vigilance's boarding ramp, their parting suddenly all too near, when the silence was broken. It was again Anakin, who dared to take the first leap.

"You're going to need me on this one, Master." Anakin sounded resigned, the undercurrent of simmering anger having finally left him, his posture and voice subdued.

"Oh, I agree. However, it may turn out just to be a wild bantha chase," Obi-Wan said, lacking the ease he tried to inject into his casual words.

"Master." Anakin came to a sudden halt, looking uncommonly solemn. "I've disappointed you. I haven't been very appreciative of your training. I've been arrogant, and I apologize. I've just been so frustrated with the Council."

The words were a deviation from the old norm, and not just because of their almost formal nature: Obi-Wan listened with growing pleasure and pride as Anakin acknowledged some of the pressure points that had plagued his apprenticeship, and had continued to rear their ugly head sporadically after his knighting too – case in point that very day.

Obi-Wan smiled, the right words finally coming to him. "You are strong and wise Anakin, and I am very proud of you. I have taught you everything I know, and you have become a far greater Jedi than I could ever hope to be."

Clearly pleased, Anakin's gaze darted almost shyly to the ground. The small, sincere smile spreading across his face warmed Obi-Wan to the core.

"But be patient, Anakin," Obi-Wan had to add, hoping his words would be heeded. "It will not be long before the Council makes you a Jedi Master."

Still smiling, Anakin nodded – and just like that the breach Palpatine's and the Council's actions had started to open up between friends, between lovers, between the Master and the Apprentice, was mended. All that remained was to say goodbye.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan began, regretting that he had been a fool to leave their parting words to such a public space – in full view of everyone happening to pass by, they could not chance even a single kiss in that part of the busy shipyards. The best he could do was to take a step closer and lay his hand gently on Anakin's shoulder. "Remember my promise."

Even when we are apart, you have me. However far away, I'm with you.

Anakin's smile dimmed, his expression already shadowed by the weight of longing. "Just come back." He suddenly grinned with feigned mirth, continuing, "Preferably in one piece."

Stay with me. Please.

Obi-Wan drew Anakin into an all-too-fleeting embrace, daring to press a soft kiss to his brow. Afraid he truly could not leave, if he lingered any longer, Obi-Wan let go and started to stride purposefully down the boarding ramp. The sooner he caught Grievous, the quicker he would be back home.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin called after him. "May the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan turned back to look at Anakin, committing that image of his dearest friend – his love – to memory. The bright blue eyes, full of feeling for Obi-Wan; the soft smile, bravely held for Obi-Wan; the love pulsing through their bond for Obi-Wan. As always, it felt incredible that all of it was for him. He could only hope to someday deserve it.

"Goodbye, old friend. May the Force be with you."

Force willing, this goodbye would be the last of its kind. Grievous dealt with, there was a real chance the war could be over soon. With hope, peace. With peace, their future – together.

Author's note: Don't worry! Anakin's and Obi-Wan's story will continue in the next tale in this series. When I started to write Uncharted I always knew I would end it with the Goodbye scene from ROTS. The next story will continue with the events from the ROTS, but this time, things will go a little differently...I have planned the next story out and will start to write it soon, so hopefully I can publish the first chapter next month. Heartfelt thanks to all of you, who have faithfully read this story :)