Succumbing to the residual pain in his chest and the wonderful feeling of his body bursting with life and light, Anakin fell asleep, his eyes once more falling shut. There wasn't a single doubt in his mind that this was the right thing to do. He didn't dream that night, but that was good. He needed the rest. At one point in the early dawn, he woke up to find Obi-Wan leaned over the edge of the table, his hand resting atop Anakin's chest, right where they'd removed the panel. No scar remained even though it still ached just a little.

Obi-Wan's touch soothed the ache. Anakin didn't mind it. Not at all.

The next time he woke up, Tatooine's twin suns stood high and he was laid out not on the kitchen table, but instead on his cot. The brown cloak that had previously hidden his nethers were now thrown across his entire body like a warm blanket. It smelled like Coruscant roses and sand. It made Anakin smile.

The world seemed intensely bright, but with his eyes healed and retinas restored, it wasn't in a bad way. Simply bright in the way that Tatooine always seemed to be.

The air was filled with the smell of sand and flowers. Compared to how vivid the word was from beneath his mask, what with every stimulus being enhanced to inhuman levels, everything felt strangely muted. But not in a bad way. Somehow, it felt better. Natural. Like he'd been in the middle of busy air traffic all his life and was suddenly dropped in the jungles of Haruun Kal. A good kind of quiet.

He was so absorbed in the marvel of his human senses that he didn't even notice how Obi-Wan's bright flame of a presence was missing.

That was because it was almost unnoticeable. Days earlier, him being gone would prompt his own icy-cold presence to take hold, to claw through the room and ravage the living Force with claws of durasteel.

Now, no such thing happened. The warmth outside was matched with a similar warmth inside Anakin. A pulse of warm living Force beat out of his chest, harmonizing with the air, bringing it all to a melodic hum.

After some time Anakin didn't notice passing, Obi-Wan returned. With the mask removed, Anakin was able to move his head with newfound mobility, looking at Obi-Wan as though he were a completely different man. Obi-Wan, in turn, looked at him with poignant warmth. Just stepping inside and meeting each other's eyes was enough to bring a smile to the face of his old master.

Obi-Wan strode casually through the room and placed a parcel atop Anakin's chest. It was about the size of a folded Jedi robe, and for a moment, he wondered if that might be what it was. Such thoughts were dispelled when Kenobi picked it up and unfolded a typical set of Tatooine-clothing. A sand-coloured pair of pants and a matching shirt. It might have been useful, had Anakin had limbs to fill the sleeves and pants with.

Obi-Wan must have been psychic because he spoke as if he'd heard his brother's thoughts. "Although you can't wear it at the moment, soon… Soon, you might be able to."

Anakin was somehow able to muster an incredulous look on his stiff face. "What, you'll regrow my limbs next?"

"Turning my students into salamanders is not a habit of mine," Obi-Wan said. But then that sly grin of his overtook his grim expression. "Unless, you believe sorcery to be a part of my skillset."

"I wasn't aware the Jedi were users of-," Anakin started, but at the mention of Jedi, he had to turn away. Letting his body and mind fill with the Force was one thing. Healing his broken body was one thing. Regaining himself was one thing. But the Jedi… He did not like to think about them. There was so much confusion in him, so many knotted up questions and uncertainties. It was all confusing, and the only thing he could do to keep his mind off of it was to try and focus on the here and now.

Obi-Wan watched him sympathetically. Before Anakin could say something - anything, he was suddenly lifted off of his cot, one arm beneath his back and another just beneath his rump.

Like a child, he was carried from his cot and to the kitchen to be plopped down on a kitchen chair like a sack of ruby fruits. Obi-Wan didn't speak a word, but going by the position of the suns, Anakin could tell that it was probably lunchtime.

Within seconds of Obi-Wan preparing things, a bowl of steaming womp rat stew and a spoon was sat down in front of Anakin. Just the look of it made Anakin drool, even though he knew that it used to be far from his favourite childhood dish. No, that would have been bantha filet, as expensive as it had been. Especially for a pair of slaves.

This was still appetizing though.

Obi-Wan sat down at the other end of the table and began to eat.

A wave of Anakin's arm-stump made Obi-Wan realize his folly. "I'm not feeding you."

Anakin shook his bald head. "You don't need to. All you need to do is give me my arm and I can eat on my own."

Obi-Wan seemed apprehensive about the suggestion. "It was hardly in prime condition."

"I can fix it," Anakin assured him.

Obi-Wan sighed and stood up, leaving the room. In most debates, Anakin wouldn't stand a chance against his far more proficient master. At times, however, Obi-Wan would be kind enough to relent anyway, if only to make Anakin happy. Now was such an instance, and within only a minute of loud rummaging, Kenobi returned with a half-mangled prosthetic arm in tow.

Anakin happily accepted it, making it float through the air and dock to his arm with only a few modifications needed. But when he tried to move his hand, he found that the pinky wouldn't work. Not because he hadn't fixed it enough or anything, no, it seemed more that a part was simply missing, without any burns or melted areas surrounding it.

He turned to look at his former master.

Obi-Wan brought a spoonful of stew to his lips. "We all have to make do in times of need-,"

"You sold parts of my arm?" Anakin asked incredulously. "Is this any way to treat a guest or have you finally lost all your marbles fully?"

Obi-Wan gave off the impression that he wished he'd never saved Anakin from that crash. "Why was I to assume you'd ever need it again? You hardly gave the impression of being open to change."

"That was then. Now is now," Anakin replied, clenching and unclenching his only working arm.

Obi-Wan regarded him for a moment. "I'm still not sure what to make of it, Darth. Or is it Anakin now?" No answer came from Anakin. He wasn't sure what to say at all. So, in an attempt to avoid it fully, he took a sip, wetting his lips on the stew that held more flavour than he had tasted in years. "I'll take that to mean you'd rather be called Anakin."

Anakin hunched his back over the table, resting his weight on his elbow. "I'm not sure who I am at all anymore."

"Why not?" Obi-Wan asked, as though the answer was obvious.

Anakin sneered. "What is there to gain from being Anakin Skywalker? Do you know how many horrible things I've done? The deaths I've caused? I-," he caught himself for a moment, shaking his head. "I guess, if anyone, you'd know." The last part came out as a mumble.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, I'm quite aware of your… Exploits. "

"The Republic fell because of me," Anakin said. "The Jedi Order was destroyed because of me," he growled. "Because of me," he choked out, " Padmé died. "

"A most unfortunate death," Obi-Wan said, and although the words might have almost seemed mocking, the tone had such a deep, profound sadness to them that any such belief was squashed. "I tried to save her. I truly did. But she-, her grief was immeasurable, Anakin. No Force healing could have saved her."

Anakin seemed almost insulted. A strange reaction to the no doubt jarring words. "That's not true," he finally said. "There was no time for you to save her. She died by my hand. I killed her . In my anger, I-,"

"You did no such thing," Obi-Wan said sternly. "Her death may have come as a consequence to you breaking her heart, but it was not by your hand."

Anakin was floored in a matter of moments. He didn't-? That wasn't possible. It was a lie, it had to be. "Sidious told me-,"

"When has he ever told you the truth about anything?" Obi-Wan asked matter-of-factly. "He lied about the intentions of the Jedi Order. He lied about his love for the Republic. He lied about his care for you."

Anakin seemed to deflate in his chair. "She-, I…" his face was blank, vision growing blurry. "But-, but how did she die ? In my vision-," And all of a sudden, it clicked. Everything fell into place, and when he looked up at Obi-Wan, there was a profound sense of understanding in them, battling a fierce battle with grief and all-consuming fatalism. "She died in childbirth, didn't she?"

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "You knew?"

His former student shook his head, more out of shock and uncertainty than denial. "I-, I had a vision of her death, that she'd die in childbirth, and I… I tried to stop it, Obi-Wan. There was nothing in the archives about stopping a vision from coming true. Yoda wouldn't tell me anything. All I could think to do was that the holocrons might hold something, but-, but only a master could access those, and I-," he choked on his words, sadness and silent fury suddenly fighting for domination within him.

And all Obi-Wan could think of to say was, "Oh, Anakin…" The visage of his old student suddenly felt very small and very feeble. And all too alike how he'd been the last time he'd seen him. "Why wouldn't you confer with me? I would have tried to help you, we could have-,"

"No!" Anakin said defiantly. "You would have told me that visions couldn't be changed, that trying to alter them would only set the future in stone. That the best course of action was to focus on the Force, and meditate, and do anything but try to deal with it. That's what you would have done. Don't try to deny it, I know you too well."

Obi-Wan found himself stumped. Because Anakin was right . Every word he just spoke was true. "Would I have been wrong?" was all he could ask.

Anakin turned away, black regret staining his face. "That's not important. It was like that every time . You never cared - not really. Never did you show me any compassion at all . It was all ' a Jedi should do this, a Jedi should do that ,' and you were always correct , but you were never right !"

He was desperate. So desperate. Years of pent-up frustrations.

Anakin loved Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan loved Anakin, but under the doctrine of the Jedi Order, they could never show it.

When all Anakin had needed were words of solace and caring, Obi-Wan had instead given him lessons on meditation and repressing his feelings.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said. Anakin was still looking away. " Anakin, " now his former student turned to look at him. And what he found in his old master's eyes were not stern words or a Jedi's non-commitment. Only the endless, remorseful compassion of a brother. " I'm sorry, Anakin. I failed you. The whole order did. We could not-, no, we did not give you what you needed. And for that, I'm sorry."

"You're… Sorry?"

"When you were at your lowest, I left you. That was my mistake. I presented you with a lightsaber when I should have given you words of affection," Obi-Wan said softly. Nothing in his expression showed any form of dishonesty. Merely acceptable of his failures. "But everything that happened after that, everything you did," his voice hardened, "that's on you."

Anakin swallowed.

All of a sudden, Obi-Wan had stood up and strode over to stand above him. He felt so much older than he was, and Anakin felt so much younger. Like a Padawan about to be reprimanded by his master.

What he received were not harsh words or an extra hour of training.

A warm hand fell on his exposed shoulder. Obi-Wan smiled down at him; a compassionate, loving smile. "You've got a lifetime to make up for it, Anakin. It's not too late for you, and it never will be, so long as you are willing to continue down this road."

The world grew blurry as Anakin stared up at Obi-Wan. "Huh?" he said in a thin voice. He reached up to touch the edge of his eye with his metal hand and found it damp with tears. "What?" They trailed down the sides of his cheeks like vine snakes, but he couldn't tell why. Before he could make to wipe them off, Obi-Wan's warm hand reached out and cupped Anakin's face in it. His hand was warm, as always. Anakin found himself leaning into it, eyes staring straight ahead. "Why? Why?"

Obi-Wan smiled gently. "Because you're worth saving, Anakin." His smile deepened. "You've always been."

"I-, you," Anakin stammered, but his tongue was too broad, and he couldn't remember how to breathe, and his heart kept beating strangely, and the world was too blurred with tears to make out. All he could see was through the Force, and there, he saw his old master as a beacon of light, and he struggled towards it.

His metal hand clasped on the hem of Obi-Wan's tunic, and without thinking, without knowing what he was really doing, he buried his face there, in the clothes that smelled like sand and Coruscant roses.

There, he cried.