Chapter 34 - A Conversation Long Overdue

DISCLAIMER: We do not own Star Wars or any of the characters in it, though we wish we did. xD

Author's Note: For all you Marvel fans out there, I started releasing a Marvel fanfic last Thursday, and I'll be starting another this week. Also, be sure to check out the stories written by Kit-Kat-of-Midgard. She's an amazing author who definitely deserves your favorites! :D

~ Amina Gila

"Can I talk to you?" Obi-Wan questions gently as he stands in Anakin's bedroom doorway. Late afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, giving the room a golden glow.

Does he have a choice? "Sure," Anakin replies with a half-hearted shrug. He shifts against the couch, eyes half-closed. After finishing the meeting with Dooku, he'd come straight here, closing himself in his room. It's peaceful and quiet, giving him a chance to collect his thoughts.

Obi-Wan sits down at the other end of the couch, regarding Anakin with a scrutiny that makes him slightly uncomfortable, not that it's unusual. His brother seems to have a way of seeing right through him, unlike everyone else. "You could have told me. About Padme, I mean." When Obi-Wan finally speaks, there's nothing accusing in his tone. Instead, it seems almost resigned.

Anakin doesn't look at him, his eyes aimlessly roaming across the scenery outside. "I know," he agrees, because he does know. He should have – would have – if Palpatine hadn't carefully kept twisting doubts into his mind. But he can't blame it on someone else. In the end, it was his decision to keep their marriage a secret.

"So, why didn't you tell me?" He's simply curious, and maybe a little hurt. Anakin winces at the barely noticeable undertone of pain he picks up. He didn't mean to upset Obi-Wan by keeping it a secret, yet, undeniably, he did.

Anakin knows that he needs to answer honestly, so he gives himself a few minutes to think about it. Obi-Wan doesn't press him for a reply. He just waits, letting Anakin take his time. So, why? Why did he not say anything? Did he think that his brother wouldn't approve? That certainty contributed to his decision. And why? Because Obi-Wan is a perfect Jedi, isn't he?

"I – I thought you'd be disappointed," he finally admits, "That you wouldn't understand."

The silence drags on, forcing Anakin to shift uncomfortably. Obi-Wan's expression is thoughtful when he finally answers, "It's true. I wasn't happy when I realized you had a relationship, but I understood. I can – do – understand what it's like to care for someone. Do you really think you're the only one to have feelings for another?"

Oh. Oh. Is Obi-Wan really saying what Anakin thinks he is? Did he really have feelings for someone once? Curiosity blooms inside him, but Anakin can't bring himself to actually ask. It's not the kind of thing he would ask his brother. A memory worms its way into his mind. Obi-Wan and Satine. The way they acted. Oh yes. The Force tells him he's right. His former master cared – cares – for the Mandalorian duchess, but he didn't marry her. He – he didn't even seem to have considered it.

And now, Anakin remembers when they were protecting Satine, how he'd gently probed to see if he could trust his master with his secret about Padme. He'd been disappointed – left thinking that he couldn't because Obi-Wan would inform the Council. It was his duty.

"I wouldn't have told anyone," Obi-Wan continues, almost as though reading Anakin's mind, "I didn't tell my suspicions. I don't think I'm the only one." He pauses, glancing over at Anakin. "I think some other Council members have their suspicions. Master Yoda for sure."

That floors him. He can understand Obi-Wan keeping it a secret – thinkable though it may be – but he can't imagine the same going for any other Jedi Master, least of all Yoda. But perhaps Yoda did know. It probably doesn't matter anymore. He's already been expelled from the Order.

"Alright," he mumbles at last, unsure what else to say. He feels compelled to tell Obi-Wan about the rest of his concerns. "I wouldn't have thought you'd have feelings for someone, Master," he smirks, "You're too much of a perfect Jedi." He's said it, and from the startled look on Obi-Wan's face, which disappears as quickly as it appears, Anakin knows he didn't expect that admission.

"Perfect Jedi?" repeats Obi-Wan, a note of incredulity in his voice, "Anakin, I'm not a perfect Jedi."

"Seems that way," Anakin mutters, unable to look at him.

He feels more than hears Obi-Wan sigh. "First of all, I'm altogether too prone to attachments. So was Qui-Gon. It was a trait we both shared, and – I think – a reason he never tried to break me of it. And second," he adds, a wry smile on his face, "Before I became a Padawan, I often had a hard time controlling my temper."

Anakin looks at him incredulously, "Seriously?"

"It's not impossible to learn to control your temper – and emotions, in general." That's as close to an admission as Obi-Wan will go.

This whole conversation is beginning to feel surreal. Obi-Wan has emotions? Who knew? Well, Anakin knew he had them, but he's always been so controlled, that anything less than emotionless is disturbing. If something affects Obi-Wan enough for him to lose control of himself, then it must be serious.

Anakin is simply content to sit there silently, considering Obi-Wan's words, but his brother clearly isn't done. He shifts, turning slightly to face Anakin, his expression suddenly serious. "Did you really kill everyone in that camp of Tusken Raiders?"

The question takes Anakin off guard and sends an icy rush of dread through him. No. He does not want to talk about this. Talking about Padme, that he can do. This, he cannot. But Obi-Wan is waiting for an answer, and he won't accept Anakin's refusal to discuss it.

"You can tell me anything," Obi-Wan's voice is firm and steady, "I'm not leaving you."

Maybe that's why he finally loses control – when Obi-Wan shows he can remain serene, even if Anakin is clearly losing his calm. "They deserved it!" he explodes, clenching his fists and standing up, stalking to the window. "They killed and tortured my mother!" And it feels so good to finally say that aloud. "She died in my arms, Obi-Wan."

From Obi-Wan's expression, it's clear he didn't know – at least he didn't realize the details of her death. He wouldn't have. Anakin never told him. For a moment, he doesn't reply. "I'm sorry, Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice is quiet as he rises, taking a few steps towards his brother. "I know I never asked you what happened, but I thought you'd tell me when you were ready to talk about it. It's not easy to lose a parent."

Anakin holds back a retort. He can't say Obi-Wan doesn't understand when he obviously does. He remembers Qui-Gon died in Obi-Wan's arms. Maybe he doesn't understand exactly how Anakin feels, but he knows enough to help.

"You never said you were waiting for me to come to you," Anakin points out accusingly, "All I wanted was for you to say that you cared. You never did." And this is perhaps one of the things that's hurt him worst. All those years, he had hoped that Obi-Wan cared about him as much as Anakin loved him, but he never said that he did. Not once.

"Until now," Obi-Wan adds, gently reminding him of their conversations several days earlier.

"True," Anakin agrees grudgingly, before glaring at Obi-Wan, "But that doesn't change the past."

"I can see it upset you," Obi-Wan concedes, stepping forward until he's right in front of Anakin, "But we can't change the past. It wasn't until recently that I realized the Jedi are wrong about how they view emotions."

And he's right again. Anakin really doesn't have a reason to be angry with him, but he can't hold back the resentment. He clenches his jaw, looking away from his brother. He can't explain why he's so upset. He's not even sure himself. For many minutes they stand there, Obi-Wan letting his proximity soothe Anakin's inner turmoil.

"Do you feel guilt over killing them, Anakin?" There's something in Obi-Wan's voice that makes Anakin uncomfortable. Perhaps it's the seriousness of his tone which is quietly hinting that Anakin really should be able to answer affirmatively.

He doesn't want to feel guilty. If he does, then he's admitting that what he did was wrong, and he doesn't want to face the consequences of that. He – he can't let himself bear the responsibility of murdering a tribe of beings, whether they deserved it or not. Maybe he will someday, but just not right now.

He doesn't answer the question, remaining silent as he observes the gardens below. "Anakin," urges Obi-Wan, "Do you?" And he's clearly not planning to give up, which means Anakin will have to give him a reply. An honest one. Obi-Wan will know if he's lying.

"Sometimes," Anakin says at last, glancing sideways at Obi-Wan, "Sometimes." Is it his imagination, or does some unnoticed tension really fade from his former master's body? He seemed relieved.

"It's not bad if you feel guilty," Obi-Wan murmurs, understanding lacing his tone, "Just because you feel guilty, doesn't mean they didn't deserve it, but you killed them out of anger, and that's a cause for concern." He doesn't quite sound accusing or disappointed, though Anakin is sure he feels the latter emotion. Why wouldn't he?

"You're not… upset?" Anakin ventures cautiously.

"I won't lie," Obi-Wan answers flatly, "I'm not happy, but I can understand where you're coming from and why you did it."

It puts his mind at ease, giving him a vague sense of calm to know that he's not alone in this. Maybe – maybe they can talk about this later when Anakin's feeling up to it. It would help, but for now, Anakin is simply content to stand next to Obi-Wan as the sun slips ever nearer the horizon.