By the end of his first class Obi-wan had successfully immersed himself in his work to the point where he no longer felt himself obsessively pulling back to thoughts of Anakin and all the worries that followed. He felt surprised that he actually enjoyed teaching. He had seemingly endless patience to give to his students, who all seemed to be oddly well behaved for their ages. It was a welcome change to Anakin's rebel spirit that often had tested the bonds between them over the course of their relationship.
Even more trying was the fact that patience had never been an innate quality for Obi-wan, though he had fostered it over time with the diligence that was expected of a Jedi Master. It was a necessity with Anakin in his care. Though for all of his personal growth in the area, he had never given a moments notice for how much it had improved over time.
A small smile formed on his lips as he let himself feel a small rise of pride bloom in his chest. He wouldn't allow himself to become overinflated, but some recognition was warranted. He could only imagine what his late Master would have said if he could have seen it with his own eyes. However, the moment was short lived. Only a few seconds later his awareness was forcibly pulled back to Anakin.
There was something imminent lingering darkly, pulling at him from across their bond. A vague sense of distressed pulsed through him with ambiguity that could only be matched by the sheer volume of emotion that was being pushed onto him. It sent a dull ache tearing through his chest, and a surge of adrenaline that coursed uncomfortably through his veins.
Obi-wan let out an unsteady sigh of dread. He wanted to believe that trouble hadn't found Anakin again, or that Anakin hadn't sought it out as he so often seemed to do. Though, Obi-wan knew better than to let himself get swept up by that unlikely fantasy. Regardless of what the truth of it was, there would be nothing he could do about it for the moment.
Obi-wan pried his mind from their bond to tend to his class. He couldn't let himself get overwhelmed by Anakin's fickle emotions- neither of them would be made better for it. His own urge to rush to the boy's side and fix all of his problems were irrelevant. His wants were secondary and essentially, they didn't matter. That's what it meant to be a Master.
Perhaps even worse, his wants seemed to be directly contrary to what was best for Anakin, and he didn't think they were going to fade any time soon. He would need to learn how to live with it, like walking with a pebble in the sole of his boot. Eventually he would adapt, learn how to tune it out. With time it might get easier but it wasn't going away.
And he didn't want it to go away. He didn't want to feel any differently. He loved him, and to take that love away would be like stealing the oxygen from his lungs. Even if it would remain silent and hidden until the end of time, he didn't think he could live without it. He didn't think he could live without Anakin. It went against all common sense and logic, and most certainly the Jedi Code.
He didn't care about any of that, either. The realization shocked him to his core. Still, he pushed it out of mind, wrenching his focus to the moment. He willed those uncomfortable realizations out of his awareness, just below the surface. He needed to be available for his students, not lost in his own personal dilemmas.
Another student, another question. Obi-wan utilized every scrap of skill he possessed to keep himself focused. With the constant loud feed of dark emotions that shouted at him from across their bond, mixed with his own feelings, it was quite a task. Though eventually the torrent subsided. Obi-wan gave a heaving sigh of relief as he was able to lower his mental shields back down to their normal resting state.
The moment of distress had only lasted a short while, but it had been exhausting enough all the same. But it was over now, and he should have been able to focus. Somehow that became impossible altogether. Because instead of feeling at peace in the absence of Anakin's imposed emotions, Obi-wan was left alone with his own anxious foreboding. He couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that something had gone terribly awry. It gnawed at him relentlessly until he felt sick.
It was unfair to his students, to himself, even to Anakin to let himself get so wrapped up in such a triviality, so he told himself. It didn't feel true at all, no matter how his mind tried to reason with the irrational nature of his emotions.
It didn't help that not even five minutes later, a wave of anguish cascaded over him through their bond. This time was even greater than the last in every sense. So many shades of suffering, anger, confusion all swirled together in a crimson haze. Then like ice in his veins, he felt the shock of terror strike through him. His palms slicked with sweat as his stomach dropped.
Obi-wan's gaze fell to the door, feeling the burning need to find Anakin that very instant. Something was wrong- terribly wrong. Even his cold calculating logic began to agree with his fervid emotions, and that seemed to scare him the most- validating what seemed to be wild outlandish fears.
His feet itched to bolt for the door as his mind filled with horrendous images. Sith beasts and sickly beings snarled at him from behind his eyes, taunting him, putting hands on his beloved. What made it all so much worse was the palpable darkness that surrounded Anakin. He could feel the shadow of it sinking gnarled roots deep into his core, even from such a distance.
And then it was gone again as if nothing had ever been amiss. Obi-wan wanted to feel relieved, but had much difficulty feeling anything but a deeper worry that penetrated his mind at every level. He needed to talk to Anakin and find out what was going on. He couldn't shake the memory of suffering and terror that had flooded his senses only moments before. It seared into his mind like a scar, tearing at his heart, playing on his own fears.
Obi-wan breathed out a silent curse. If only he didn't have five more classes to teach before he would get a chance to see if Anakin was alright. It seemed like an impossibly long amount of time to endure such hellish uncertainty.
Though as time passed, he began to feel slightly more at ease. His fears had never fully left him of course, but their urgency began to fade. He began to wonder again just how skewed his perception had become in light of his feelings. Surely in the Jedi Temple there would be no place for monsters, not the kind that he feared. There had to have been some sort of misunderstanding. Perhaps Anakin was still working through the trauma of their last mission. Whatever it was, he was going to need his Master at his fullest capacity. That meant putting his feelings aside and trying to be the best Master he knew how to be.
Right now, that meant accepting the high probability that his perceptions were more than likely skewed and overly amplified. Obi-wan forced himself to accept that as truth for the time being, it was the only way he could remain sane.
And it worked. He was able to push it out of his awareness and focus on the students who needed him. By the end of the day Obi-wan nearly began to feel at ease. But all gains were lost when Zaann walked in as the last of his students trailed out. He could sense trouble like a storm on the horizon. It had always been that way with Anakin, but the steaks never seemed higher, and his Padawan never so fragile.
An anxious pit formed in Obi-wan's stomach that he willfully ignored as he glanced over to Master Qualturus who strode in sure footed, hubris abounding. Zaann became more cumbersome to endure with each meeting, and this encounter was no exception. Obi-wan felt his patience waning out of existence as he wanted nothing more than to leave and tend to his Padawan.
Obi-wan suppressed an aggravated sigh as he finished stowing away the last of the practice sabers, blinds and remotes into the storage closet. "How can I be of service, Master Qualturus?"
"Do I need a reason to come and see how your first day of teaching went?" Zaann said with empty cheer. Obi-wan allayed the quippish sarcastic remark he might have given to someone who knew him better. Then again, someone who knew him better wouldn't have subjected him to such patronizing conversation to begin with.
Still, he didn't want to be rude. Obi-wan took a brief moment to think up some response to dismiss himself without being impolite as he turned to face the man. Before he could conjure a single thought, Obi-wan's eyes were immediately and inexplicably pulled to a saber holstered to the back of the man's belt. The make of the weapon was unmistakably that of Anakin's saber.
Fearful anger surged through his veins like acid as his palms dampened, his jaw tightening reflexively. Such a visceral reaction to the sight brought on a slight curiosity, but only in passing. His focus became stone along with his demeanor towards the man in front of him as all inclination to be cordal ceased to exist instantaneously.
"Why do you have Anakin's lightsaber?" Obi-wan demanded.
"So observant." Zann chuckled with a single raised brow, almost seeming surprised as he pulled Anakin's saber into his hands thoughtfully.
Obi-wan felt himself dangerously near the brink of snapping. He had no tolerance for being treated or spoken to like an imbecile.
Obi-wan looked on at him, still waiting for an answer. "Actually, that's exactly what I came here to discuss. I just hate to lead on with bad news." Zaann said, dredging his words with false apology.
"Bad news?" Obi-wan said back expectantly, his already grim mood souring at an exponential rate.
"Yes. I'm afraid Anakin acted quite unacceptably in his combat class today. He hurt one of his classmates." Zaann stated in a matter of fact tone.
Obi-wan could feel his shoulders stiffen in response to the man's insufferable grating voice. "Hurt how?" Obi-wan asked sharply, his glare just as intolerant.
Qualturus donned an expression of deep sorrow before he continued. Obi-wan was beginning to notice how the man changed emotions out like one might change clothes. It was a quality often utilized by corrupt, self serving politicians, and not often by Jedi Masters- at least not towards their own. "I'm afraid he nicked someone's neck during a combat exercise. He put on quite a show of aggression before the actual incident." Zaann said, his features pulling into a frown.
Obi-wan couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Nicked someone's neck?" He exclaimed incredulously. "Acted out, in combat class. Isn't that the purpose of it?" He went on, near to indignation.
"Now, Master Kenobi," Zaann warned, changing out masks yet again. "Surely you can see the seriousness of the issue. Another student was harmed."
"I don't contest that, Master Qualturus. I just don't see this as a reason to confiscate his lightsaber." Obi-wan said in a brisk critique. "It seems like a gross overreaction to an incident that may have very well been by accident to start."
Zaann's expression hardened, his lips pulling into a thin line of disapproval. "Yes. Well, this seems very characteristic of the special treatment Anakin is used to receiving on Coruscant. Here, I refuse to treat Anakin any different from any other Padawan in the temple." Zaann said, smearing his words haughtily.
"Special treatment?"
"Yes. It clearly hasn't done him any favors." Zaann took a pause, softening his expression. "I didn't want to have to tell you this either," he said, leaning in closer as if to keep what he was about to say from being overheard.
"Anakin was called into my office after the incident, and I'm afraid things turned rather violent." Zaann said in a quiet voice.
Obi-wan's mind reeled, searching Zaann's words. The anger, terror, surely there had to be some sort of explanation. "How so?" Obi-wan asked, trying to rein in his emotions that began to fester under his skin.
"He didn't like what I had to say, so he threw a chair across my office." Zaann said with a slight laugh. "Rather juvenile, I'd say." He added, studying Obi-wan's expression carefully.
"Anakin would never do something like that without being seriously threatened or provoked." Obi-wan declared instantly, realizing he trusted the man standing before him very little, if at all.
Everything Obi-wan had felt didn't reconcile with what Qualturus was saying. Something had happened, and it was something that Zaann was never going to admit to. Suddenly Obi-wan felt his vision narrow, looking across at the Jedi Master as his natural enemy. Perhaps it was wrong to feel such things towards other Jedi. He knew it was. He simply couldn't help it.
"Obi-wan," Zaann chided, "you are too close to the situation to see it clearly for what it is." Qualturus reached out and put a hand on Obi-wan's shoulder, looking into his eyes with mock sincerity. "I know what a great deal you have invested into that boy. I understand what an important charge he is for you. It's painful to see so much hard work be squandered."
Obi-wan shrugged Zaann's hand off his shoulder with a sneer of disgust. "Anakin is anything but a lost cause." Obi-wan spat back loudly, nearly snarling. He couldn't believe his ears.
"Not every force sensitive is destined for knighthood." Zaann countered in a soft voice that became sharp as knives against Obi-wan's nerves.
"And you think yourself the expert on that do you?" Obi-wan shouted, not caring who might have heard. Immediately he reached through the force, ripping Anakin's saber from Qualturus's hands and holstering it at his side. "You should know I'm beginning to value your opinions very little." He said low, glowering viciously into Zaann's empty violet eyes.
The Zabrak let loose a hearty laugh. "My dear friend, please calm yourself. I'm starting to see where Anakin gets his temperament from!" He said, losing himself to another bout of laughter.
Obi-wan took a menacing step towards the man, just barely restraining himself enough to keep from striking him. He took a breath, lowering his stare as he forced his anger in check. Allowing himself to act out or become overly emotional wasn't going to help the situation, no matter how much he disliked the man.
Without another word or an attempted justification for his leave Obi-wan left the classroom, leaving Zaann alone to yet another bout of sardonic laughter that echoed off the stone walls of the hall as he walked briskly towards the apartment wing.
Obi-wan was still lost in disbelief that Zaann would dare speak such a thing to him, or even think it to begin with. Obi-wan couldn't imagine calling any Padawan a lost cause. The fact that Zaann had said as much about Anakin only made him that much more furious.
He needed to find Anakin and talk to him. Obi-wan reached out, sensing with dread that Anakin was nowhere near the temple. He felt a sinking in his stomach as he wished he would be wrong just this once. He searched the apartment to no avail. Anakin's room was tossed up, his clothes strewn carelessly on the floor and his drawers disheveled. Wherever he was, he had left in a hurry.
Obi-wan prodded their bond yet again, sensing a significant distance. He could barely feel him on the other end. On Coruscant it wasn't uncommon for Anakin to sneak out of the temple. Obi-wan had detested it, but as time passed he learned that he needed to accept it. Padawans needed a measure of freedom, after all they were hardly prisoners of the order. Though such extracurricular excursions without supervision weren't expressly permitted. In fact they were very much against the rules. But all the same, they needed the room to explore. Especially Anakin.
He wasn't like all the other Padawans- he hadn't grown up in isolation behind the walls of the Jedi temple. He was connected to life outside. It set him apart from the other Padawans in many ways that made it difficult to make and maintain friendships with his peers. The time he spent outside in the lower levels was a much needed respite to the stresses of being an outcast of the order. And at least for the most part, Obi-wan knew the general whereabouts of his Padawan at home. He knew Anakin could handle himself, knew he was smart enough to stay out of the wrong kinds of trouble. And for however occasional it had been, when Anakin did manage to find the wrong kinds of trouble, Obi-wan had always been there to come to his rescue. A rescue served up with a healthy portion of reprimands, of course.
But here Obi-wan hadn't the first clue of where to look, or what Anakin would even want to do on Devaron. He imagined him out on the streets, sulking. Working out whatever there was to be worked out. Anakin always did his best thinking while in action. Maybe he was meditating someplace, sorting himself out. Obi-wan hoped it was the case but knew better than to put too much stock into the prospect. Especially in light of the anger and fear that he still had yet to put a reason to. With Zaann's blatant omission of crucial information to make it all worse, Obi-wan felt more out of touch with his Padawan than he was comfortable with, and it was making him restless.
It wouldn't do to go out and search for him. Eventually, Anakin would have to come back home. When he did, Obi-wan would be waiting for him, ready to give him the support he would undoubtedly need. Grabbing a pillow and a throw blanket, Obi-wan settled down onto the sofa in the main living space. He willed himself to stay awake into the early morning hours, and not noticing as he fell into a deep sleep.
….
Anakin stood tortured in the view of his own reflection as he examined himself.
He couldn't stand it.
He couldn't stand himself.
It was his eyes and how they betrayed the fear in his heart. His eyes that looked back at him with that glassy stare that refused to forget the storm that raged inside. The braid that hung over his shoulder that he didn't deserve- ephemeral reminder of the Master who had never chosen him how other Padawans had been chosen- wanted.
Wanted was one thing he had never been. No, he had been endured instead.
And it was all too much. There was too much inside of him and it was all to loud, screaming for his attention all at once creating a terrible chorus of heartache and pain that felt like all the seven hells combined, all burning under his skin. His skin, that felt warm and flush, but cold all at the same time.
It was the sensation of terror's wake that buzzed on the ends of his nerves as he willed himself to breathe and calm down, for however much relief it provided him. He could hear the words of his Master coach him through deep breaths, as he had so many times before. But Anakin couldn't think of his Master without remembering how burdensome he was to the man. Obi-wan deserved a Padwan he wanted. Someone far better and more obedient that Anakin ever could be.
Obi-wan had helped him through the most difficult times, and Anakin had only ever returned him with thanklessness and selfishness. Amidst the guilt lie his deeply confused emotions, crossed and mixed with doubt. But he willed himself to try to breathe anyways, even if his heart ached relentlessly in his chest.
Shakily, Anakin pulled in another deep breath, his ribs expanding slightly more this time as his shoulders lowered back down to their normal state. He took another slow breath, this time feeling a sharp pain flash through his side causing a staggered hitch in his breathing.
Slowly and carefully so as not to aggravate the site, Anakin pulled off his tunic, wincing as his arms rose up overhead to pull it off. Immediately he could see the source of his pain. Dark twin mottled patches of skin presented on his right side where Qualturus had sent the chair slamming into his ribs. Instantly Anakin knew they were fractured, having multiple instances of broken bones to compare his current injury to.
Anakin peeled his gaze away from the mirror and walked to the fresher, scrounging up a med kit and the pain inhibitors within. Finding the hypo he needed, he ripped off the orange cap and jammed the sharp end of the syringe against his thigh, hissing through clenched teeth at the uncomfortable feeling of the viscous fluid being forcibly injected into his tissues.
As a Jedi such medicines were commonplace. During his younger years in slavery it was rare to ever recieve pain blockers for any reason. He had endured many injuries and broken bones during those times without any kind of relief other than the sleep that would often be shallow and broken due to the pain. As much as he disliked using them, he had to admit they served a purpose. The sharp stabbing pain in his side slowly melted away into a dull ache that was much more manageable. Sure he could have used the force to meditate his way through the pain, but there was no need to be so occupied. Especially when he was tired. And he was tired. Suddenly, that fatigue escalated into total exhaustion.
Anakin sauntered into his quarters and collapsed onto the sleeper. He only woke up as a hand shook at his shoulder. The unexpected jostle pulled him to consciousness, his eyes flying open to see Jerot standing over him. Anakin scrambled to sit up, propping himself up on his palms.
"What are you doing here?" Anakin asked irritably, wiping the sleep grit from his eyes.
"It's already after dark, your Master will be here any minute!" Jerot said urgently. His eyes flickered over the dark bruising on Anakin's torso then back to his face without a change in expression. He must have understood the circumstance behind it. Anakin was thankful he didn't mention it, but only for a split second before he looked up, noticing the dark twilight that had fallen outside his small port window.
"Well don't just sit there, get dressed! You're going to make us late!" Jerot said impatiently as he began rummaging through Anakin's dresser drawers hastily, pulling out civilian garments and throwing them at him.
"Late for what?" Anakin asked fruitlessly as he quickly tore the remnants of his Padawan uniform off and jumped into the fresh set of clothes Jerot had tossed at him. He felt thankful that the pain blocker was still in full effect, allowing him to ignore the otherwise breathtaking pain that would have plagued him.
"What's all this about anyways?" Anakin complained as he followed Jerot out into the apartment wing hall and down towards the side turbolift that would bring them to the first level exit.
"You'll see." Jerot said with a sly smile. "You won't regret it, I promise. If anything you might find it… therapeutic." He laughed.
"Well I don't like surprises." Anakin said in a flat tone as the turbolift descended quickly. His comment went ignored as they made their way through the exit. Jerot then guided them to trek down a dark dusty road that carved through the forest, presumably emptying out into the major city, or next to one.
Nearly an hour had passed by the time they came to a larger paved road with a small lean-to structure off to the side. Beneath it were a few benches and a small fresher. Anakin immediately recognised it as a transit station, albeit a much smaller one than he had been used to.
"The next bus should be by any moment." Jerot said, squinting at a route schedule that hung on the side of the station.
"And then what?" Anakin asked, annoyed yet intrigued at the same time.
"And then we go into the city." Jerot answered enthusiastically right as a twin set of bright headlights began to round the edge of the road. The low groan of the transit repulsor lifts droned on as the bus came closer. Jerot tucked his braid beneath his poncho and motioned for Anakin to do the same. With a look of skepticism, Anakin followed suit.
The hulking brick shaped transport stopped at the station, the rusted door folding away to let the two wayward passengers aboard. The vessel was mostly empty, save for a few scattered Devaronians towards the front of the bus, all of whom seemed to be completely indifferent to their presence. It was better that way, Anakin thought. Better to be invisible than to be noticed for the wrong reasons.
Just before they made their way to the back of the bus, the transport began to rock to and fro as it took off again, barreling down the empty corridor at a moderate speed. Anakin sat down beside a window, looking out at the blur of darkened greens and browns all cast into a smear, barely visibly by the light of the bus as it passed through the desne forest. Jerot sat beside him.
"Do you ever sneak out on Coruscant?" Jerot asked, no telling expectations in his voice.
"Well, yeah," Anakin replied, only a touch reluctant.
"Really?" Jerot remarked with raised brows.
"Everyone does, sometimes." Anakin explained.
"I wouldn't have thought so." Jerot said with mild surprise. "You didn't seem too willing to come along. I basically had to drag you out of the temple." He chuckled.
"I've already gotten myself into enough trouble as it is. I just want to lay low till I get back home." Anakin answered grimly, his mood turning darker as he thought of what the consequences of his late night excursion might be if he were caught. What Zaann might have to say, or what he might do, made Anakin's stomach churn.
"My Master gave you a hard time, didn't he?" Jerot asked, his words light but their meaning heavy.
"I guess you could say that." Anakin replied curtly. "He's… unpredictable."
"Yeah, he can be that way." Jerot said with a casual sigh. Anakin looked over at him in confusion.
"What is he going to do if he finds out you snuck out of the temple?" Anakin asked, sensing he was more afraid of the man than his own Padawan.
"He won't find out. I know how to work around my Master. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Not many students last long under Master Qualturus." Jerot answered with a touch of sorrow.
"What do you mean?"
"If he doesn't think you're serious enough of a student, he will find someone else. He can be a tough teacher, but it's only because he wants you to reach your potential. He went through four different Padawans in one month before I came along." Jerot answered with an edge of pride.
"And how long have you been with him?" Anakin asked.
"Just over three years." Jerot replied. Anakin's eyes widened with surprise. Jerot seemed to be amused by it. "Like I said, If I didn't know how to work around him, I wouldn't be here. You just have to know how to act and when to fall in line."
"Doesn't it get to you?" Anakin asked, baffled. He couldn't imagine ever being under a Master so cruel and indifferent. Obi-wan had always been kind and genuine, even when he was stern. That kindness made his strict reprimands so much harsher and difficult to stomach at times. All Anakin ever wanted was to make him proud. He had boundless respect for him. A man like Qualturus, he didn't think he could ever respect.
"Yeah it does." Jerot said, his eyes dimming only for a moment. "But there are plenty of ways to work out frustration," he added with a sly smile. "You'll see."
"What do you mean?" Anakin asked.
"Trust me, you won't be disappointed." Jerot insisted. "Here's our stop." He said as the bus began to slow, coming to a grinding halt outside of a larger transit station. A few more beings filed on while Anakin and Jerot made their exit out the back hatch of the bus.
Amidst their small exchange, Anakin hadn't noticed the change in scenery. The tall trees were now replaced with endlessly tall buildings with long, dark, cavernous alleyways in between them. Jerot began to walk down the street with purpose in his step. Anakin followed after him closely.
"What do you sneak out for when you're at home?" Jerot asked lightheartedly.
"Sometimes for parts for my projects, or to race. Sometimes just to be in a place where no one knows who I am, where I can just be no one." Anakin answered back more solemnly than intended.
"Sounds lonely." Jerot said, looking back at him over his shoulder.
"I guess." Anakin remarked dourly. "What about you? What do you get out for?" He asked in a lighter tone.
"For excitement, a change of pace. An outlet. For some people it's different kinds of spice. But that doesn't really appeal to me." Jerot said, taking a turn down an even darker alley.
Anakin followed. "What do you in the city?" He asked, eyeing the long dark corridor with suspicion. Suddenly, he felt naked without his saber holstered at his side.
"You're about to find out." Jerot replied, turning to knock at a large durasteel door carved into the brick work of the building to their right. A small slider revealed an orange set of eyes looking back at them.
"Password?" A rough voice asked. The muted roar of a crowd could be heard from within, but just barely.
"Gateway." Jerot said seamlessly.
The slider shut and the door creaked back on its hinges. "Welcome back." The voice said as the two of them walked through. "You know the rules. Bets are placed at the back counter as well as the sign up list." Jerot nodded, walking through the dark stone entryway as the metal door closed behind them. A meter or so beyond them stood another door.
Anakin could feel the wave of energy rush over him the very instant the other door opened, allowing them inside the inner chamber. The smell of too many bodies stuffed into a small space filled his nostrils with its putrid tang. The roar of the crowd, something much larger than the sum of its parts, cried and chanted in a pulsating chaotic harmony that made it nearly impossible to hear himself think.
And that was the point. As they descended down the spiral staircase that led to the bottom of the pit, Anakin could see it had been originally designed as a production floor. Only now instead of machines and product, a mess of beings crowded the base of the pit. Two bipedal figures inside a ring of chain link mesh, one Mirialan and one Devaronian he could see as he came closer, fought against each other. Their movements were swift and graceful and violent all the same. They moved in a series of holds and evasive maneuvers, wrestling against one another in a way that seemed almost too intimate to view so publicly.
At the center of the ring, glistening above the fighters in blue translucent print were the bets and payouts of the match, along with some numbers that seemed to be associated with a score of sorts.
Anakin feasted on the sight of it, drank in the energy of the crowd. He could feel the suspense and desperation, the violence thick in the air, dancing on his skin. It was overwhelming, all consuming, more powerful than any spice he could ever dream of. And everyone was cheering for it, craving it.
He followed Jerot down into the base of the pit unquestioningly, immersing himself inside the noise and chaos. Somehow it felt like coming home.
Jerot led the way to the back counter where a Dug paced to and fro atop the counter, taking credits and making lists. "Making a bet or signing up?" He asked in a gruff weathered voice.
"Signing up. Put my friend here on que." Jerot said with a wild smile.
It took Anakin a moment to pull back enough from the haze of the room, to hear what Jerot had just said. "Hey I never agreed to this." Anakin protested, yanking back on Jerot's upper arm forcefully. "I'm not fighting." He shouted over the crowd.
Without bothering to give any verbal retort, Jerot only looked down at the hold on him with a smirk, and then looked back up into his eyes thoroughly amused.
"What's he go by?" The Dug asked.
Jerot looked back at him again, studying him with narrowed thoughtful eyes for a brief moment before he turned back to the Dug. "Max." He decided, shaking his arm free from Anakin's grip.
"Alright I'll put him in the drawing." The Dug said, moving quickly to attend the next patron.
Jerot moved to the outer edge of the pit where there was slightly more space to stand without brushing elbows with others. Anakin followed him, the energy of the room only adding to his exasperation.
"Max? That's the best you could come up with?" Anakin shouted, not even hearing his own voice past the roar of the crowd.
"You look like a Max. Sort of." Jerot laughed. "Besides it's not like you can use your real name." He said, rolling his eyes.
"I never agreed to this. I'm not doing it." Anakin shot back, crossing his arms angrily. Something about being put in a fight without his consent reminded him too much of being a slave.
Jerot looked back at him seriously, all humor bled from his features as he took Anakin by the shoulders. "You need this. More importantly, you want this." He said, his steel grey eyes boring through him. Anakin shuddered.
"I could feel the mess inside you the moment I met you. Look at me and tell me you don't want this." Jerot challenged.
Suddenly Anakin felt helplessly naked. Was he really so transparent? His chest tickled as his stomach dropped, feeling flayed bare. Because Jerot was right. He wanted, needed to have an outlet. There was just too much inside of him, all muddling him up. His thoughts, his emotions, He couldn't make sense of any of them. He wanted to feel something, anything.
Jerot could see Anakin softening to the idea and smiled encouragingly. "You'll love it. You think just standing here is a rush? Wait till you get in the ring."
Anakin didn't have the strength to say no. The mind numbing senselessness was everywhere, creeping into his skin like a drug he didn't know how to resist. He could smell it, feel it. It was strangely addictive, blotting out all of his problems. He could feel it turning his pain and anguish into fuel. It was something like what had happened in combat class, but so much more. The sheer intensity of it made his hands tremble with raw anticipation and excitement.
"You've done this before?" Anakin asked, looking for reassurance.
"Hundreds of times. With Master Qualturus, it keeps me sane." Jerot answered. "And I have a feeling you have a lot more to work out than one run in with my Master." Jerot added with interested eyes.
Anakin felt a spark of sensation flare through his chest as he gave in fully. "What are the rules?"
Jerot smiled, clapping a hand around his shoulder as he pushed their way to the center ring through the dense crowd. "Tonight's game is blackout. No punches, kicks or swings. You'll get immediately thrown out for that. Only holds are allowed. The objective is to choke your opponent until they blackout, hence the name of the game."
Anakin listened vaguely as he watched the scene unfold. The Mirialan had the Devaronian beneath him, wrapping his hands firmly around the others neck while the Devaronian struggled against his grip. Eventually the Devaronian's body went limp. The very instant he did, the Mirialan released him and stood with arms overhead, basking in the deafening roar of the crowd. Some cheered, others cursed as they had lost their bets. Quickly a medic dashed out into the ring as the Devaronian began to cough back to consciousness, waving a small scanner over his weakened frame.
"The que is at random, so you might not even get pulled. But the pool of fighters tonight is relatively small so you'll probably get called up eventually." Jerot shouted in his ear hopefully.
"Force sensitives aren't allowed to play so it's important you don't use the force at all. You'll get permanently banned if you do. You might not care, but they'll revoke my pass since I brought you, so don't even think about it." Jerot said strictly.
Anakin nodded. The thought of going up against someone without the force to aid him brought another surge of excitement rushing over him with nausea following closely after. He had never really gone up against someone without it. Sure he had been outmatched by means of force ability, he thought with dread as the image of Qualturus flashed behind his eyelids. When the Sith had used his Master's body against him, he hadn't dared to deal any maiming or wounding blow. He hadn't reached out to defend himself, even to his own detriment.
With a shudder he brushed the thought aside, although the sickness it stirred in him remained. "How many times have you won?" Anakin asked, watching the losing contestant vacate the ring while the winner waited for another fighter to be chosen.
"All times but one." Jerot said with an obvious edge of pride in his voice. "It's not really that difficult to beat a bunch of civilians who aren't combat trained like Jedi are, so it's a little rigged in our favor. It's still fun though." Jerot said, benign hubris not escaping him.
The blue shimmering holo stole Anakin's eyes as the que shuffled through names of contestants. The crowd quieted as they waited for the next fighter to be pulled, their eyes glued to the hypnotic dancing script.
"Alright!" Jerot cheered, clapping a hand on Anakin's shoulder as the name 'Max' shone brightly above them. "Go get em'! I'll put a bet on your name and we'll have some credits to spare!"
The subsequent rush of adrenaline that coursed through Anakin's veins seemed to dull his senses. The tips of his fingers tingled as the black of his eyes pulled tight into small pinpricks of charcoal ink set within small ocean blue discs. He was aware of his chest rising and falling, but couldn't really feel himself breathe.
Carried by the current of the crowd, Anakin made his way to the mouth of the cage and away from Jerot who clung to the outer wall of fencing with excitement and anticipation. Stepping inside, the cagemaster locked the gate behind him. The Mirialan stood opposite him in the seemingly increasingly shrinking ring, arms crossed, an ugly sneer of dominance plastered with creases into his dark olive skin. The being was significantly bulkier than Anakin, with a fully muscled chest that spanned at least five more inches than his own and similar gains against him in height.
Anakin stood in an unassuming stance, neither showing strength or weakness. The Mirialan snarled a string of words at him. If Anakin had any doubt, the reaction of the crowd told him it was an insult with aim to intimidate. People gasped and hushed one another, waiting for Anakin's reaction, one they would continue to wait in vain for as Anakin stood solidly planted, no menace or change to his expression.
A moment passed, the Mirialan turning his grimace into haughty laughter. Another bout of words left his lips, drawing the crowd into roaring laughter with him. Anakin still stood motionless opposite the man, still as stone. He could feel the flux of the crowd, the outrage, confusion, amusement. Tired of trying to goad him into action, the Mirialan ran at Anakin, his head lowered and arms outreached to catch him at waist level.
What Anakin lacked in stature, he made up for in speed and agility. Nearly at the last moment Anakin dodged skillfully and turned to grab the Mirialan from behind, one arm around the man's neck and another trapping an arm behind his back.
Without enough purchase to throw the Mirialan to the ground or make him budge at all, the man walked back to press Anakin up against the edge of the cage. The Mirialan put his full body weight against him, making it difficult for Anakin's ribs to expand under the pressure.
Without sufficient oxygen eventually Anakin lost his hold on the man, his muscles not able to maintain their strength. The Mirialan fell against him hard, slamming Anakin painfully against the duracrete floor of the ring that was just barely padded by a few rubber mats. The shock reverberated through Anakin's body but he kept steady. The Mirialan automatically angled for Anakin's throat, but anticipating the move moments before it happened he crossed his arms, making an effective hold on his neck impossible.
He could feel the weight and strength of his opponent bearing down on him in contrast to the energy of the room that pulsed like electricity through his veins. It made him feel alive in ways he didn't know how to explain. The full contact was viscerally pleasing, and somehow even calming. He felt like it was a new kind of meditation he had yet to discover, and he only knew enough to know he needed more.
Anakin wrapped one leg around his attacker's leg and quickly moved to grapple around the man's shoulder before he thrust a hip against the man's torso, throwing him off balance and putting the Mirialan on his back. His opponent was lumbering and quite slow, while Anakin was smaller and much quicker. Before the man could counter or defend himself, Anakin zeroed in on the soft flesh under the man's jaw, placing pressure on the man's artery with deadly precision.
Seconds went by like minutes as Anakin had his opponent pinned down to the stone cold floor. He could see the animosity and rage dance behind the Mirialan's dimming glare. The crowd screamed and cried out as the man's body writhed and strained against his own. Anakin could feel him becoming weak with hypoxia under his grip.
He was winning, and it was far too easy. He should have felt powerful, instead he felt nauseous. His palms dampened with sweat and he began to feel sick. Without thinking Anakin lightened the pressure on the man's neck, allowing him to gain the advantage, putting Anakin on his back with hands around his neck.
Gasping against the pressure on his windpipe, Anakin wrapped his hands around the man's wrists. Where raw strength was concerned, Anakin had no chance against him without the force. He had let the man gain the tactical advantage without reason, and now there was no taking it back.
The feel of a body pressing down on his, hands gripping tightly around his neck, even the dull ache in his broken ribs as his body took the full weight of another. There was a serenity within it, a calm center. This was the meditative place he had discovered. He was powerless, surrendered, completely at the mercy of another. Somehow he found it was what he had wanted all along.
He closed his eyes, allowing the warm darkness to ebb into his body. Someone waited for him there, someone who would want him and have him, who would make him feel like no one else ever could. It was bliss in its truest form.
Just before the dark took Anakin over completely, the man released his hold on him and scrambled away. The crowd's roar became chaotic, screams and cries punctuating the air sharply with their shrill notes. Anakin could hear it all just barely over the sound of his own coughing and gasping, his ears ringing from all the noise.
Anakin squinted against the bright lights, seeing everyone in a panicked rush. The cause he had yet to determine by the time Jerot was in the cage beside him, helping pick him up off the floor.
Jerot pulled on his arm forcibly, guiding him into the frenzied crowd. "What's going on?" Anakin yelled, his throat rasping painfully.
"We need to get out of here!" Jerot yelled above the crowd. "Follow me!"
Anakin followed him unquestioningly yet again. He began to understand well enough what was going on as they ran for the lower exit. A brigade of law enforcers lined the passageway while another team stormed through the street entrance. A few stragglers were managing to get past the lines but not many. Wide angled stun guns swept through the crowd, catching tens of being at a time in its incapacitating ray field.
Utilizing their well learned skill of foresight, Anakin and Jerot were able to dodge the blasts without much effort as they ran towards the line of officers, bounding over them in one swift leap and running as fast as they could down the dank and musty passageway of the lower exit.
Anakin didn't need to look back to sense the small detachment of officers that had broken off to apprehend them. Thankfully they were far enough ahead of them that stun guns would no longer be effective. Not knowing his way through the labyrinth of underground passageways as well as he sensed Jerot did, Anakin followed him closely through the twists and turns. Still, he could see the beams of light that indicated the officers chasing them weren't too far behind.
Finally around one bend was a maintenance lift. Jerot leapt onto the scaffold and keyed the lift on. It shuddered to life reluctantly, taking longer than expected. Anakin could hear the patter of the officer's just around the bend, the beams of light becoming stronger and more focused as they came too close for comfort.
"Hey, stop right there!" One officer commanded while the other aimed a stun rifle right at them.
With a sweeping motion and a pull of force, Jerot reached out and pulled the stun gun out of the officer's grip, overloading the capacitor. A high pitched whine trilled before the gun exploded in a hot white blast of energy, completely destroying the weapon.
"They're Jedi!" Another officer cried out in bewilderment. Jerot laughed as he reached out again, twisting tendrils of force around each weapon the officers held, sending them into overload simultaneously with a rich chorus of shrill whirring and verbal outrage.
Understanding what he had done, the officers all threw their blasters as far away from themselves as possible just moments before they detonated. FInally, albeit not soon enough, the scaffold pressed up into the maintenance shaft, out of view and reach of the disgruntled officers below.
Taking a moment to catch his breath, feeling leaching back into his senses, Anakin became outraged. "What in the seven hells was that about?!" He exclaimed.
"You aren't so naive to think that was legal, are you?" Jerot laughed. "It's not the first time it's gotten busted up, and it won't be the last. It will pop up in another corner of the city just as quickly as they tear this one down."
"Obviously," Anakin said, irritated. "I just wanted to keep a low profile until I get back home. I'm not trying to get myself into any more trouble, but you had to show off in front of those officers and now they're going to report it to the temple. And when they do, we'll both be dead!" Anakin shouted, trembling as he thought of it.
"They won't be able to prove it was us. Besides," Jerot said, transitioning his tone of voice to become gently accusing. "What you did back there didn't exactly scream low profile either."
"You're the one who dragged me out here," Anakin shot back defensively.
"You came of your own volition, because you were curious." Jerot told him assuredly. "Besides, you know that's not what I mean."
"How far up does this maintenance shaft go? We've been here forever." Anakin said, trying to change the topic. Jerot might not have been able to see the bright red that rose up over his cheeks in the near-pitch black of the lift, but that didn't make Anakin feel better one bit.
Just as Anakin complained, they surfaced on the rooftop of a building. The two of them walked out to the edge, seeing the rush of lights and police speeders down below, gathered at the base of the building across and down the street where the arena had been. Anakin could barely see the commotion from so high up. When he looked further out in the distance, he could see the twinkling lights of the uptown buildings on the other side of town that towered over the smaller, shabbier high rises of the downtown area.
While Anakin willfully focused his gaze outward, he could feel Jerot's eyes burning into his skull. "You went out there and lost on purpose. You wanted to lose. It's a good thing the fight got busted up when it did, or else I would have been out a lot of credits." Jerot added with a touch of humor.
"You don't know what you're talking about." Anakin sneered.
"I do. The more time I spend with you, the more you start to make sense." Jerot said, a touch enlightened, and too convicted for Anakin's liking.
Anakin looked over at Jerot with a sour expression and blanched as he saw the clear understanding in his eyes. "You don't want to work out your frustration, it's not that simple. I think you just want to feel something. Because you're full of things you can't understand. You want it all to go away, even if only temporarily."
"You act like I'm some sort of puzzle for you to solve. The truth is you still don't know the first thing about me." Said, a shade of desperation coloring his voice. He wished he could have been more convincing. He could tell by the devilish shine in the boy's eyes and the trace smile on his lips, that Jerot wasn't believing a word of it.
"Don't you though?" Jerot asked wistfully.
"Don't I what?" Anakin bit back irritably.
Jerot came a step closer, placing a gentle finger under Anakin's chin. "Don't you just want to feel something other than whatever it is that's tearing you apart inside?"
Anakin felt his heart drop as his breath caught in his throat. Jerot smiled as he leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. "There are other ways to feel something." He said, kissing Anakin's neck just below his jaw, gently sucking on his flesh.
Anakin closed his eyes, feeling his skin prickle as a shiver ran up his spine, all the thoughts bleeding from his mind. His body wanted to be touched and held, his soul ached for it so badly. Almost as much as his heart wanted answers to the things of which he remained most painfully uncertain.
Jerot was right about him, detrimentally right. He did just want to feel something, to forget everything that had happened, to stop the gnawing ache he felt when he thought of his Master. The burning anger mixed with helplessness and confusion that was unavoidably attached to all of it.
Anakin felt him lean in closer, the gravity of shared desire pooling between them. Jerot pulled away from his neck for a breath before Anakin met him fervently, feeling the intoxicating sensation of another mouth on his own. He loved the way it felt, warm swollen lips pressed against his own, a hot demanding tongue pressing inside, dominating him.
He tasted like flesh. Anakin could smell as he breathed in deep through his nostrils, the slight floral scent of Jerot's skin. It contrasted the domineering way he kissed him, the way he put a hand around his neck, the fist that pulled in his hair firmly yet gently at the same time.
Somehow in his mind he found himself comparing it to the rich musk of his Master with slight disappointment. His heart ached for that blissful meditative emptiness that had filled him before, wondering if he might find it again if he have himself over to the hands of another. The thought of it excited him, sending a thrill through his belly.
Anakin could sense Jerot asking for permission through energy that danced in the air between them, feeling out a number of things, consent among them. Anakin opened himself to him enough to accept. Sensing his agreeance Jerot pulled away, a lust drunk expression filling his eyes as he shoved him firmly against the brick barrier behind them, quickly and clumsily undoing the closure on Anakin's trousers with youthful excitement.
Finally managing to loosen Anakin's pants enough, Jerot knelt as he yanked them down past Anakin's knees, his undergarments coming down with them. Anakin felt himself blush fiercely when his erection bobbed as his clothes fell past, revealing his fully hardened, weeping girth. Still kneeling, Jerot took him in hand firmly as he gazed up at him shamelessly.
Anakin couldn't help but let out a gasp as he felt a hand on him. Only his Master had ever touched him that way. Except it hadn't been his Master-
Anakin's train of thought derailed as Jerot dragged his tongue over his tip slowly, drenching him generously before he took him in his mouth, suckling him eagerly. Jerot's wide gray eyes stared up at him lewdly as Anakin's breath faltered. This was something that no one had ever done to him before. Lips locked around his shaft, sucking and pumping, tongue dancing around his tip skillfully. The low vibration of a moan from Jerot's throat added to the sensation that was already totally overwhelming.
Anakin threw his head back, feeling the pleasurable warmth pooling between his thighs grow brighter, making his knees weak. Perhaps sensing he was too close to climax for his liking, Jerot pulled back from him and put hands on Anakin to turn him to face the stone barrier.
Anakin gasped from the unexpected sensation as he felt Jerot fuck him with his mouth, a small trail of saliva already beginning to run down the inside of his thigh. He could feel the tremor of excitement in Jerot's hands as he spread him apart, clinging to his hips. Anakin couldn't keep the soft sighs from his lips as he gazed out over the cityscape in a sex lulled haze, his eyes mirrors to the mind numbing pleasure that hummed throughout his body.
Satisfied that he was wet enough, Jerot stood behind him and unfastened his own trousers. Pulling himself out he quickly wet himself, stroking his own cock against Anakin's slicked ass. Feeling the heat of a significantly large cock against him, Anakin turned around to see for himself, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Jerot's manhood, hot and throbbing as he continued to stroke himself.
Amused, Jerot took Anakin's cock in hand, stroking them both in his strong grip as Anakin let out another startled gasp. Jerot smiled. "Surprised?"
Anakin stood speechless, pressing up against the wall as Jerot continued to work him relentlessly. Anakin could feel the pulse of Jerot's cock against his own as he came dangerously close, too close. He couldn't speak, he could barely breathe as he ached with nearly sated pleasure.
Jerot leaned in close, his breath falling hot on Anakin's lips. "Do you still want me to-"
"Yes." Anakin said, opening his eyes wide to convey his need, his desire.
His desperation.
He needed someone's hands to hold him, someone inside of him like he needed oxygen. He wanted to feel a sort of violence on his skin, he didn't know why. He wanted to feel needed, to be wanted. He wanted to reach that place of peace and serenity that transcended everything else he had ever known. A place where sensation was the only thing that existed.
Jerot let go of him and took Anakin by the shoulders, turning him around to face the brick barrier again, this time more aggressively than he had the last time. With hand on his shoulder to steady him, Jerot placed himself firmly against Anakin's ass and pressed inside of him with gentle steady pressure.
Anakin couldn't help but let out a small cry, one bourne of pain and surprise, an audible manifestation of the way his stomach turned to stone and his chest closed around his breath. He felt Jerot pause, clearly worried he was hurting him. And it did hurt, but only mildly. Nothing like the gut wrenching pain he had felt when…
Anakin felt Jerot rest his chin on his shoulder in wait, nuzzling up against Anakin's face softly. "Don't stop," Anakin said with labored breath.
"Are you sure?" Jerot asked, a touch of concern to his words.
Anakin nodded his head. "I'm sure."
Jerot began to thrust gently just past the band of taut muscle of his entrance. Anakin could hear the soft sounds of pleasure in Jerot's near inaudible breathless moans as he slowly fucked him. Anakin could feel Jerot's hips tremble with restraint as he tried to be gentle with him. For some reason it made his stomach sick, made his skin crawl.
"Harder," Anakin cried out, gripping the stone wall's edge to steady himself. Jerot thrust deeper in him this time yet still gingerly, holding himself back. It left Anakin feeling empty, broken somehow, like he was missing a piece of himself that he didn't know how to get back.
"Harder," Anakin begged, feeling Jerot slam into him in response. Anakin let out a whimper, one of both pain and pleasure as he felt himself forcibly stretched open to take Jerot fully. He pulled nearly all the way out to slam into him again, a low moan of pleasure sending a tingle of elation through Anakin's chest.
This what what he had wanted. A vice-like grip on his hips, cock violently slamming into him, punctuated by feral moans and grunts. He closed his eyes, feeling drunk on the sensations that mixed and crossed inside him. His cock was hard, pulsing, dripping and aching.
His mind was blissfully empty, sensation flooding every cell of his body. He wanted so much more, more than he knew how to ask for, more than he even knew how to put into words. Then, a hand closed around his throat. Not so much that he couldn't breathe, but firmly enough still. The other hand sunk into the flesh of his hip, cock thrusting even deeper and more erratically inside him.
And there he found it, the calm, peaceful center. He felt pain, pleasure, hands on him, someone inside of him, using him how he wanted to be used. It was an empty void inside himself where nothing existed outside his flesh and his basest desires. The place where he was wanted most, where the one he wanted most would always be. Where everything made sense, because nothing had to make sense outside of the bright warm sensations that lit up his flesh.
He felt silent words form on his lips, given life by the grunts and cries that Jerot fucked out of him.
"Oh- Mm," Anakin moaned as the grip on his throat tightened, his world becoming slightly and deliciously hazed over.
"Do you want me to cum inside you?" Jerot asked, voice taut with restraint and cresting pleasure.
"Yes Master," Anakin said submissively, completely lost in his personal nirvana of pain and pleasure and so many other things he had lost and found all at the same time.
Jerot slammed deep inside him, pulsing and thrusting. His grip on Anakin's throat relented to take hold of his cock, stroking him quick and hard, his other hand pinching at his nipples under his tunic making Anakin squirm. Anakin felt the intoxicating fullness inside of him as his own pleasure heightened, tightening his muscle around Jerot's throbbing cock.
Anakin climaxed, arching his back against Jerot, sending him over the edge as well. Their bodies convulsed against each other, overwhelmed by the bright shock of orgasm.
For several moments after, they stayed leaned up against the brick barrier of the highrise. Anakin suddenly became aware of how weak his legs were. He didn't think he could keep himself upright for much longer. He held onto the brick for stability as Jerot withdrew from him.
It took Anakin a few moments to come back to reality, but when he did, he felt a veil of shame fall over him, a wave of understanding crashing right after it. He pulled up his trousers and fastened them, turning around to see Jerot doing the same, a broad smile on his flushed face.
"I'm sorry," Anakin said, thoroughly mortified.
"For what?" He asked back genuinely.
"I-"
"Called out for your Master when my cock was in your ass?" Jerot laughed.
Anakin turned a few shades of red darker under the casual statement. Quickly Jerot sensed his unease and explained himself further.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." He said kindly. "Just another piece to the mysterious puzzle called Anakin Skywalker." Jerot laughed.
Anakin shied away from the comment, visibly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I'm making fun and I shouldn't be. Honestly, I just wanted to help you feel something, take your mind off things."
"That's all you wanted?" Anakin shot back skeptically, half in jest, half serious.
"That's why I get out too, you know? To just forget about it all, to feel something else. And I've got to say, you are not all you seem to be, Anakin Skywalker." Jerot said with a tone of pleasant surprise.
Anakin looked back at him in question, but didn't say anything more. Jerot seemed to be content with his remark, changing gears as he looked around for a way off the rooftop.
"It's probably time we start heading home if we want to make it to class on time." Jerot said. "And I have a feeling, taking the lift back down would be a bad idea."
Anakin agreed. Finding a smaller building to leap down onto, they were able to bound back to the street below. Since all the bus stations had closed down by the time they were heading back, they had to make the entire journey on foot. Mostly it passed in silence.
But inside Anakin was anything but silence. His mind reeled with the implications of what he had felt. It was the realization that he did love his Master, and he had no idea what to do about it, or if there was anything to be done about it. Sex was just sex, but his heart and mind pulled to Obi-wan when he was at his most base and vulnerable. He was the only one he wanted to feel on his skin, the only one who could make him feel whole.
And somehow it felt even worse than not knowing at all.
"You love him, don't you." Jerot said simply, the trees and creatures of the night serenading around them as they walked through the dense forest.
"Yeah." Anakin said, still somewhat in shock.
"Does he know?" Jerot asked, intrigued.
"I don't know. I don't think so. I didn't even really know, until…" Anakin said, trailing off uncomfortably.
"Oh," Jerot said, understanding the gravity of what remained unsaid. "Wow, that's crazy."
"Yeah." Anakin said in agreeance.
"He's never hurt you, has he?" Jerot asked, for some reason concern filling his voice.
"No, never. He would never hurt me." Anakin said with conviction.
"Good. Master Kenobi seems like a good man." Jerot said, nodding with approval before his voice turned darker. "He's nothing like my Master."
Anakin's stomach churned. No, Obi-wan was nothing like Zaann. Anakin changed the topic. "So do you love someone?" He asked light heartedly.
"I don't know, maybe. But I don't think I could ever be tied to just one person. It seems, restrictive." Jerot said thoughtfully.
"I don't know if love means being tied to just one person." Anakin answered.
"Maybe. I guess it depends on who you love." Jerot answered.
"I guess it does."