Obi-wan stood reverently before the funeral pyre as Jerot's body was placed with care atop it. Only two rotations had passed since the poor boy had been murdered in cold blood, without a single thought of restraint. Every grueling hour of those two days had felt nearly unreal, though the same trend had carried out ever since he and Anakin had landed on Kraysiss Two, which was now just over one standard month ago.

Obi-wan tried not to think of all the things that had happened, all of the ways both he and Anakin had changed. There were certain turning points along the way, things that could not be taken back or undone. Between those moments were times that felt nearly menial, but now Obi-wan saw clearly that in those moments, they had only been in the eye of the storm- the dreadful wretched storm that Zaann Qualturus had composed himself. But that was a name Obi-wan was more than willing to forget, if he could manage it.

He didn't suspect that he would be able to do such a thing any time soon. Admittedly he did have more pressing things that occupied most of his mental space, the fore of all having to do with his Padawan. Anakin still hung dangerously near death's edge, nestled in the Temple of Eedit's healing halls. There was nothing more that could be done for him on Coruscant that the healers couldn't do on Devaron, and the Council had thought it best for Obi-wan to stay put during the short investigation into the two sudden and shocking deaths.

As much as Obi-wan wanted to be rid of the place along with its terrible reminders, he was obediently acquiescent to the wishes of the Council. He might have protested it, but Obi-wan had lost the will to fight anything that wasn't of absolute necessity. With Anakin on the brink he felt detrimentally numb, especially in the wake of knowing the horrors that the boy had lived through back on Kraysiss Two- by his own hand even. Obi-wan felt sick every time he thought of it.

If it weren't for Anakin's continued reliance on him, he might have consigned himself to a slow death alone in some far corner of the galaxy. Perhaps dehydration out in a scorched wasteland, or starvation on an icy mountain top. He would find a place where he could serve his penance, not that his wrongs could ever be righted by the act. But if Anakin were to lose his battle against the Sith virus that ravaged his body, the one that he infected the boy with himself, Obi-wan would do just that. Find some place where he could suffer, where he could pay for his sins as much as they could ever be paid for.

But he knew they would never be paid for. They never could be. Some things were just irreversible, unspeakable, terrible beyond compare- all in equal measure. And he had done one of those things. If Obi-wan were any less numb, he would have been able to hate himself more for it.

Maybe the worst part was how he knew Anakin didn't blame him for it. He had seen it in his eyes. Anakin thought the world of him, even after what he had done. Obi-wan didn't deserve him. Truly, he didn't. He only hoped the force wouldn't take him away because of his own loathsome unworthiness. Obi-wan choked back a sob that ached in his throat as he thought of his Anakin lying on the pyre, consumed by flames.

His Anakin. Still, after everything, he couldn't give up that possessive claim. Anakin was his, because Obi-wan belonged to him, too. He had given over his life to train him, and had fallen for him in every sense along the way. Because he loved him so much, his own wrongdoing carved even deeper into his soul, the guilt seeping down into his core like black ink that would never be washed away.

Locked in thought, Obi-wan found himself impervious to the crowd that slowly trickled into the ritual chamber around him. Mace and Yoda stood at either side of him as the pyre was set alight, the body of that poor boy being finally sent to rest.

Obi-wan felt a stir of many conflicting things inside of himself as the small crowd watched over Jerot's burning body, wishing well upon the poor soul whose life had been cut woefully short.

Obi-wan was thankful. If it hadn't been for Jerot's boldness, his sacrifice, Anakin would surely have been killed. For that, he would forever be indebted to the boy. It was another thing he could never repay, never make right. Jerot should never have had to make such a sacrifice. He should have never been put under the hand of such an abusive Master.

An invisible hand gripped his heart tightly, wrenching in his chest. Anakin hadn't seemed to fare much better. The one he called Master had hurt him, too. He had hurt him in one of the most insidious, wicked and self-serving ways that one could hurt another living being. Obi-wan would have sawed off his right arm, sold his soul, done anything in his power to make the boy whole again. But of course, nothing could be done. Nothing could be sold or bargained with to change a single thing. Anakin would still be broken, and he would still be stained by his sins and transgressions.

Obi-wan, in all of his darkness, took a moment to give silent thanks to the boy that had given his life to save Anakin's, along with a heartfelt apology- one of the deepest meaning and gravest regret. Obi-wan couldn't forget the words he had said to him, the most empty promise he had ever made.

Help us and I'll make sure he never hurts you again.

In a way, it hadn't been a false promise. Zaann would never be able to touch Jerot again from beyond the grave. And if there was indeed an afterlife as some cultures took stock in believing, Obi-wan was sure Zaann and Jerot were destined for two very different places. No, Jerot would never be hurt again. And Obi-wan was nearly certain that he would never feel, dream or think again, either.

And Obi-wan was thankful, and shamefully remorseful all the same. It shouldn't have happened. None of it should ever have happened. If Obi-wan had just been more careful, if he had set the ship down to repair the com array, or made just one different choice among the many that had led up to being bound in a ship's cargo hold at the mercy of that mad man, Jerot might still be alive.

But that was another point of no return, a thing that could not be taken back or reversed. Like agreeing for Anakin to come with him to Kraysiss Two, among many other awful turning points that had long since come and gone. Obi-wan hoped their future would hold more forgiving circumstances, but knew better than to put too much hope in the prospect.

When that Sith had run his own Master through, Obi-wan had understood that as another point of no return. He wondered if turning points in most people's lives were usually shrouded in such grim circumstances. Jinn had been the only other person that he had ever really loved, and even still, nothing could ever compare to how he loved Anakin. When he had lost Qui-gon, Anakin had been put in his path. It had been painful, but he had been able to make peace with it over the years. If he lost Anakin, nothing would be able to console him or keep him going. No amount of time would heal the wound in his soul.

If he were forced to watch his Anakin burn, he would climb atop the flames and burn with him. It would be less painful than to watch him turn to ashes. Obi-wan felt his eyes brim with tears as he watched the orange glow of the flames lick up the sides of the pyre, the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh taking to the air. He begged the force to have mercy on Anakin's precious soul, to save him from the brink of death. Did he have the right to beg such a thing when he was the one responsible for putting him there to start? Obi-wan didn't think so, but he begged and prayed all the same. He had to be spared, didn't he?

Anakin was so full of life and potential. Even as he had risen to action against Zaann, Obi-wan had never sensed such power in him ever before. Something had awoken inside of him. Obi-wan only wished that he would be allowed to come into his power, to grow into the shoes that had been set before him. Anakin would be the greatest Jedi that ever lived, and a benevolent one at that. An angel from a myth, one that would live on into the ends of time.

"I am truly sorry, Obi-wan. You must know the Council had no idea about any sinister threat here on Devaron. Had we known, we would have sent someone else instead. We truly intended for your time here to be peaceful. We wanted you both to get a chance to heal." Mace said sullenly, breaking Obi-wan's meditation of heartache and sorrow.

Obi-wan had no words to give. Of course he knew none of it had been deliberate. But he was broken inside all the same, and angry.

"Shocking, the footage from Zaann's office was. Bold he was for not covering his tracks. Feared nothing, he did." Master Yoda said solemnly.

Upon investigating into Zaann's abuse, it came as a shock to everyone involved to see the tapes from his office completely untampered with and intact. Obi-wan declined the invitation to watch them for himself. He didn't need any more fuel for the hate he felt inside himself.

Because he wasn't just angry at Zaann. He was angry at Yoda for his direction in every step of the way, always placing Anakin in the path of terrible danger. It didn't matter that it hadn't been intentional, it nearly made it worse. The Council was truly so locked on their own agenda that they didn't think about the big picture and the risks involved.

"An apology I owe you, Obi-wan." Yoda said quietly, none of them taking their eyes from the flame that blazed on against the darkness. "To see things clearly, I failed. Regretful I am that look deeper I did not. A grave error, it was."

Obi-wan swallowed hard, a few stray tears escaping him. "The Council wishes for you to take as much time as you need. No missions. Wherever you need to go, you go. Whatever you feel you need to do, you do it." Mace said in earnest. "And whatever you need, just let me know."

Obi-wan nodded, lowering his eyes from the flames. "I… appreciate that, Master Windu."

"I suspect you'll want to stay by young Skywalker's side until he recovers. And he will recover." Mace said with conviction. Though the healers hadn't shared that same sentiment, and however they had tried to paint it less grim than it truly was, not a single one had expressed much hope at all.

Of course they had said all the right things. They said that anything was possible, and that it was too soon to say. The truth was, Anakin was in too dire condition to say if he would pull through for sure, and everyone was afraid to say just how surprising it was that he hadn't died already. Though Obi-wan could feel the shock in the healers tasked with his care. They didn't try to hide it.

Obi-wan wondered what they would think of him if they knew the truth about how Anakin fell so ill to begin with. Suggesting he stay right by his side would be the exact opposite of the Council's agenda if they knew what he had done to him- how he had hurt him. But that was one dark secret that he would never disclose.

Obi-wan just nodded slowly, his eyes rising back to the pyre that now burned white hot at its core. Jerot's form was all but gone from sight, his silhouette just barely visible inside the mass of flames.

That night Obi-wan went back to the healing halls within Eedit just has he had the two nights prior. He sat awake at Anakin's bedside, begging the force to have mercy until he fell asleep. The next morning he ordered a shuttle to take both of them back home to Coruscant. Being given agency to do whatever, go wherever, upon Council decree, was useful that way.

Feeling some reprieve of normalcy at home in the temple, Obi-wan forced himself up to walk the halls during the day. It would hardly be seen as normal Master-Padawan attachment if Obi-wan never left his side at all. And even though he didn't eat, Obi-wan wandered the mess hall. He would even dish himself up a helping of whatever they were serving that day, poke and prod the meal with a fork until it went cold, then dispose of it. People would start to worry if he wasn't seen eating. It was bad enough that he had noticeably slimmed down. Really, he was mostly skin and bone.

The truth was he had hardly eaten a bite since Anakin had been ill. He just couldn't bring himself to eat. His mind was too heavy with regret and things that made his stomach want to reject anything it might have held.

One week after they returned to Coruscant, Obi-wan sequestered himself off in one of the temple meditation chambers. It was one that he knew well. The floor was covered in a rich plush indigo rug with potted plants adorning the walls in a variety of green shades. The ceiling had been made to look like skylights open to an empty blue expanse with the occasional passing bird overhead. A small bubbling fountain perched itself on the far wall, made of river rock in various shades and textures.

This had been the first meditation chamber his own Master had ever shown him. He and Qui-gon had sat here together for countless hours, practicing meditation in its various forms. For a moment as Obi-wan unlaced his boots and stood with his toes curled into the plush carpet, he thought he might have been able to smell his late Master's subtle cologne. It was fleeting- a memento of simpler times.

Now as he settled down into the typical meditative pose, he set out to find some measure of healing for himself. With Anakin progressing in his own rehabilitation and no longer considered in critical condition, it was clear that he was indeed going to make a complete recovery. That meant Anakin, sooner or later, would wake up from his coma. When he did he was going to need his Master more than ever.

And it frightened him. He didn't know what he could say to him. There was no way to express with words how horrified he was for his actions. Obi-wan knew Anakin would feel the weight of it in his heart. He was prepared to let the boy feel every ounce of his dark regret, just for the sake of being known and understood.

And Obi-wan also knew that Anakin would welcome him with open arms and endless forgiveness. It only made him feel worse. But Anakin was his Padawan. He would have to figure it out- figure himself out. It wouldn't do to have Anakin see him so desolate, both physically and spiritually.

Obi-wan was determined to get himself right. He had even forced a small meal into his hollowed out belly that morning, knowing Anakin wouldn't be able to see him so emaciated. Even if he hadn't looked like death walking, their first encounter was going to be difficult. Along with proper nourishment, he knew he needed to meditate to find himself again. To find the Master that Anakin so badly needed.

As he sank into the force, it felt strange. It had been the first time he had meditated since their capture. The only time he had communed with the force since then was to beg for Anakin's life. Now as he tried to find his center, he was forced to wade through dark and unpleasant memories that clung to his mind like black tar. After all, processing all the awful things that had happened wasn't going to be a pleasant task.

The worst of all had been remembering with gruesome detail how Anakin had felt beneath him, frightened and trembling. How he had cried and begged him to stop, and had even fought against him for a bit before giving up.

Obi-wan felt a cold pang of nausea grip him. Because in spite of everything, how Anakin tensed and screamed when he had forcibly pressed inside of him, Obi-wan had made the decision to keep hurting him. When he came to, he should have stopped. He never would have thought it to be so easy to give in instead.

It was awful how his body had the capacity to feel pleasure from hurting his own Padawan. It made him sick. Obi-wan could try to blame it all on Sith influence, but it was him that kept on long after he had regained control over himself. How Anakin's body reacted to the change in pace didn't justify his indiscretion. It only served to confuse the poor boy further while giving a convenient excuse to use in the moment, to forgo guilt in lieu of pleasure.

But that moment had long since passed and now all he felt was a mountain of regret. Sure, going forward he would have full capacity over his senses. There would be no Sith relics or artifacts pushing dark suggestions onto his mind. But he still held very strong feelings and desires for Anakin. Even more dangerous was the fact that Anakin felt similarly towards him, in spite of how he had used him. Or worse- maybe he felt that way because of the trauma.

Obi-wan shuddered as his stomach lurched, threatening to expel the meager breakfast he had managed to force down. He breathed, steadying himself. Anakin had a lot of healing to do. If his feelings for his Master were truly borne from such darkness, they would fade and change, wouldn't they? Regardless, they couldn't be acted on. So long as Anakin was his Padawan, he would never allow such things to transpire. No matter how much either of them wanted something more.

Obi-wan held onto that resolve as he dove deeper into meditation, releasing as much of his heartache and pain as he could. The entire rotation passed by and he felt he made little progress. There were just too many things to sort through to tackle all in one day. Though a small step was more than none at all. And what was a journey if not a series of small steps, one after the other?

Obi-wan willed himself to stay positive. By the time Anakin came to, he needed to be in the right mindset to receive him properly. He wasn't going to pay his penance on some mountain top or empty wasteland. He was going to do it by digging himself out of the dark mess he had landed himself in, struggling through to make peace with everything he could, for Anakin's sake. Anakin had been through hell and back. Obi-wan would need to be there for him the best he knew how.

After night had long past fallen Obi-wan traversed the temple, which was scant for beings aside from the nocturnal variants that quietly went along with their business. Just as silently Obi-wan took his place at Anakin's side as he had every night since the boy had fallen comatose.

Obi-wan wheeled the spare med sleeper to press up against Anakin's and curled atop its unforgiving surface, pressing his body up against the railing and slipping his arm through to rest on his Padawan's shoulder. Looking out in the dim light that streamed in from the hall outside, Obi-wan studied Anakin's vacant expression with a dim ache in his chest.

The ashen tone to his skin had subsided, and the worst of the dark lines that had carved through had lightened significantly, though they still held the trace reminder of the illness that he carried- the virus that he had given him, himself. Obi-wan almost wanted to tell the Council everything, all of his misgivings and terrible sins just to purge his soul of their weight. He knew they would never understand. It wouldn't matter.

But he knew he could never do such a thing. They would take Anakin away from him if he did. Anakin needed him, so that would be unacceptable. He would bear the shame in silence.

Before drifting off to sleep, instead of begging for his Padawan's life, Obi-wan this time thanked the force for Anakin's recovery. He thanked the force for showing mercy, and he vowed that he would never again place anything above Anakin's wellbeing.

….

Obi-wan awoke with a sheen of sweat on his brow, his stomach in knots. He pulled back his arm that had crossed through to Anakin's sleeper, feeling his palm cold and damp. He still felt the rush of a nightmare in his veins making his breathing come in short labored huffs.

Most of it had dissolved upon waking, but a gnawing fear pulled at him still. He wanted to put it aside but wasn't willing to face it again just yet, like he feared he would if he tried to go to sleep again. Because he knew that Jedi didn't have bad dreams, only visions. And he knew the things that he had seen and forgotten, he didn't want to remember. The light nausea churning in his stomach told him that.

He was so awfully tired of the endless barrage. He wanted a stretch of time, perhaps a month or two where he could train his Padawan in peace. No danger, no death, no trauma. They deserved it, didn't they? Obi-wan looked over towards the sleeping boy across from him, still rapt deep in the tranquility of his coma.

Yes, Anakin deserved peace. As far as what Obi-wan deserved, he knew he already had far more than he could ever ask for. He only prayed that it wouldn't be taken from him. That Anakin wouldn't be taken from him.

Grimly, Obi-wan lie there for the remainder of the night, his eyes wide open, pressed against the darkness. But that night turned to day, and then into night again. After a long day of meditation as he had done the day before along with another meal forced down to finish it out, Obi-wan retreated back to Anakin's med room to lie at his side.

This time he begged the force to show him mercy, to let his sleep be void of any visions and allow him to rest. He amended the plea with another note of thanks for Anakin's continued recovery.

Then he closed his eyes gingerly, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He reached out across to Anakin's sleeper, tangling his hand around the boy's arm. The simple contact usually helped console him enough to fall asleep, quieting the heartache that he felt loudly at most times. Obi-wan found that especially as he subjected himself to the long grueling days of meditation, he was even more mentally and emotionally fatigued.

Not long after he fell asleep, Obi-wan found himself plunged into the heart of another vision. Another nightmare. He cried out as he shot up from his sleeper in a cold sweat, his hands trembling. He knew there had been more to the vision than he could recall. Somehow a portion of it fell through his grasp as he woke. But what he did remember made him feel terribly ill.

Anakin was in danger. There had been the sick sound of violence on flesh, and the unmistakable sound of Anakin crying out in pain.

Obi-wan didn't know when or how, but someone was going to hurt him. His heart dropped and his stomach clenched, threatening to reject its contents. Obi-wan's heart slammed in his chest, feeling like it might explode. One thought played over and over in his exhausted mind.

This can't be happening

That night he didn't go back to sleep. Obi-wan got up and took a cold shower, grooming himself meticulously before he went to walk the halls, waiting for Mace to awake. It would be childish to go to him in the middle of the night like a scared youngling. He would wait instead.

Finally when Master Windu made his appearance, Obi-wan was quick on his heels.

"Master Windu, might I have a word in private?" Obi-wan said, doing little to hide his distress. The cold shower had helped him look a tad bit less worn than he felt, but still he looked far from the collected, thoughtful man that he usually presented himself as.

"Of course Master Kenobi," Mace said with a look of slight worry as he guided Obi-wan into one of his conference chambers.

Before Mace could even open his mouth to ask what the matter was, Obi-wan ran him over with hastened breathless words. "I'm having visions. I know Anakin is going to be hurt, maybe even kidnapped." Obi-wan said, well aware of how emotional he was coming across and not caring.

Mace stood there, silent for a moment, surveying Obi-wan with even more concern. He took a breath before speaking, taking a seat as well and motioning for Obi-wan to do the same. Anxiously, Obi-wan did.

He pursed his lips pensively before speaking. "Obi-wan," he began, trying to navigate the topic as tactfully as possible. "Visions… are just possible outcomes. Often times they are symbolic. They can move us to think and feel very resolutely, but visions are just that- visions."

Until they aren't any more and something terrible has happened. Until you find yourself…

Obi-wan stopped himself dead in his tracks of mental and emotional destabilization. Becoming totally unhinged before a Council member was the last thing he needed to do. Besides, his rational mind knew what Mace was saying to be true. But at the same time he knew that visions could be very literal. He had experienced that himself, in the most dreadful of ways. But he couldn't tell Mace that. He couldn't tell Mace much of anything that would lead to him understanding, not without exposing what was meant to stay hidden.

Obi-wan swallowed his panic. He tried to remember what Qui-gon had learned. That the changes that visions cause in a person often times lead to their culmination to begin with. His Master had experienced that, along with their symbolic nature. He wanted that to be the case so badly. Something inside himself told him otherwise.

"I know you've been under a lot of stress lately. It's not entirely impossible that this is just a manifestation of that." Mace said as kindly as he could.

"I don't think kidnapping is too much of a stretch. Not if what Zaann said was true. If Anakin is a… a key of sorts… there could be many people who know that. People with the means and connections to get ahold of him." Obi-wan said insistently.

"Nothing can be done about people cooking up schemes like that, however depraved they are." Mace said lightly.

"But I have to protect him." Obi-wan said suddenly, knowing it was a slip up the moment the words left his lips. It showed his attachment- or his over attachment, rather. Mace's eyes grew slightly hardened towards the statement.

"Trying to avoid it might very well cause it to happen. Your own Master learned that the hard way." Mace said in a slightly less gentle admonition.

Obi-wan lowered his gaze. "I know." He said. It was the proper Jedi response, and the one Mace would be looking for.

Mace reached out, putting a consoling hand over Obi-wan's. "I know that things have been difficult. You and Anakin have been through more than most. But you have to be mindful of your trauma. You can't let it determine your actions."

Obi-wan heaved a sigh. Mace was right. No matter how much Obi-wan's core disagreed. "You're right. I'm sorry." Obi-wan said quietly.

Meditation was the answer. He could look past it if he tried hard enough. If he could put his fear of losing Anakin aside, maybe he could avoid the vision coming to fruition altogether. But he didn't think he would ever not be afraid of losing Anakin. Not after everything. That would mean setting aside attachments, digging up the cord that had sunk deeply into his heart, that seemed to keep him alive when he had no other purpose.

Perhaps in meditation he would find the answer to that, too. He could at least try. And he would try.

"No need to be sorry," Mace assured him. "I'm here if you ever need to talk. If you keep on having the visions, see me again. We can work through it together."

"I appreciate that." Obi-wan said, nodding with a fake smile that passed very well for the real thing.

Because if there was one thing Obi-wan was absolutely certain of, it was that he would not be speaking to Mace about any future visions. Not now, not ever again. He already saw that it had been a grievous error to reach out to him at all. No one would understand. And the only one who would, was locked in a coma and had no business counseling him on such matters to begin with. It wouldn't be right to burden Anakin with such things.

Obi-wan politely withdrew from Mace's chamber and retreated to the mess hall, forcing himself to shovel down another meal that his stomach hadn't wanted. After that he dragged himself to the meditation chamber that reminded him of Qui-gon Jinn and began another day of hard work cleansing himself of the darkness that had lodged within him during their travails, desperately trying to find a point of clarity.

And after a few hours of hard work, he seemed to achieve it. His heart understood that there wasn't much to be done about the visions he was having. He needed to be confident in both his and Anakin's ability to defend themselves. And together, they were quite a match to go up against. Obi-wan was sure that had even multiplied five fold at least since Anakin had slain Zaann. Something had awoken inside of him, and it was incredibly powerful. In all of his years of practice, it was more than Obi-wan had ever amounted to.

Yes, they were formidable opponents. If Obi-wan couldn't get his perspective in check, he ran the risk of pushing the ambiguous events in question to materialize. It wasn't easy, but he would discipline himself, get his thoughts in line. Confidence in himself and his Padawan would serve as a substitute for checking his attachment this time. Both had the effect of putting the threat out of mind, mostly.

Obi-wan returned to Anakin that night and began the ritual of pushing the med tables together, climbing under the stiff covers and reaching out through the rail bars for some small contact with the boy. Obi-wan closed his eyes, relishing the presence of Anakin beside him. However ill and recovering he was, he was alive. He was alive and with him. Now, that meant more to him that it ever had.

Without asking or thanking the force for anything, Obi-wan fell asleep. When he awoke, there were tears in his eyes- tears of relief. The whole night had come and gone with no nightmarish visions to wake him. Perhaps Mace was right, it was just a matter of steering clear of them, not giving the fear power over himself to take ahold of his actions. It seemed to be working.

Another week passed. Obi-wan grew stronger each day. He wasn't at the same peak of health he had been before Kraysiss Two. He had been weakened by three weeks in the healing halls himself, along with the malnourishment he had subjected himself to for several weeks after that. All the same, he was beginning to fill out his figure to the point that people no longer looked at him twice to see if he were some ghoul or indeed a living breathing being. The hollow of his belly and cheeks began to return to their usual state. His cheekbones and the edges of ribs were still more pronounced than he would have liked, but he was well on the mend.

And not a single vision had broken through to him. Anakin was looking better and better with each passing day. And, in spite of the grave condition he had come to him in, the healers gave generous projections that he would perhaps spend less time in recovery than Obi-wan had after his bout of the virus. They said that Anakin would, without a doubt, be awake sometime within the week.

The thought stirred anxiety through Obi-wan upon hearing the good news. The next several days Obi-wan only left Anakin's side to eat, use the fresher, and bathe. He did small meditations at his bedside and ran through some exercise meditations to return some of his strength to him, but he was afraid for Anakin to wake up and not find his Master at his side.

Obi-wan wanted to be there, just like Anakin had when he had awoken from his coma. He wanted Anakin to know without a doubt that he would be there for him always. That night Obi-wan fell asleep with nervous excitement in his belly. Things could finally go back to the way they were, mostly. Anakin would be his typical quippish self and Obi-wan could be the Master who ragged on him with loving chastisement. Obi-wan longed for that more than anything else.

Then on one fateful night not soon after, the visions returned. This time there was no forgetting, no ambiguous fear to bite at him after the fact. There was only sure and terrible horror when Obi-wan saw with dreadful clarity, the source of Anakin's pain.

He could see Anakin lying prone, his clothes tattered, his skin littered with scratches and bruises. A hand pulled through his hair that had grown out slightly, taking on its natural curl. That hand took a fist full of those golden locks and pulled hard. Anakin gave a weak cry for the pain. Another hand grabbed the flesh of his hip and pulled him to his knees, probably leaving marks on top of the ones that already mottled his skin. Anakin was bare from the waist down. He whimpered quietly as two slicked fingers probed inside of him roughly.

He heard a voice, his own voice, coo with sick pleasure. "Good boy."

Anakin gave an acquiescent moan as Obi-wan added a third finger, working him open further. He could feel his cock pulse and ache to fill him. It made him sick to his stomach.

Rather violently, Obi-wan felt himself press his hard wanting cock against the boy's slick, worked hole. A hand wrapped around his shoulders possessively and another one wrapped around the base of his own girth as he forced his way inside. Anakin gasped and whimpered. Obi-wan pressed a hand over his lips, silencing him.

"Shhh," Obi-wan breathed. A small moan hummed against the hand held over Anakin's mouth as he probed at the spot that made the boy's knees weak.

"That's right," Obi-wan whispered, continuing to prod him gently for a few more moments before he pressed deeper inside him, earning a strangled whimper from the boy that began to quiver slightly beneath him.

Obi-wan's eyes flew open as he came to with a cry that was followed by unrestrained sobs, leaving him hyperventilating and short of breath. His body shook as his stomach twisted. It couldn't be real, he didn't understand how he could hurt Anakin again, after everything. It left him terrified of himself, of the things that he could do. Obi-wan curled up on the med sleeper as far away from Anakin as he could lie without falling onto the ground. He lay there, silently weeping for hours, in total dismay.

Anakin, his Anakin. He didn't deserve him. And as the force had shown him, he would only hurt him again and again if given the chance. Obi-wan didn't understand it, it made his heart crumble and his body shake. His attachment was a cancer that would eat them both alive, turn them into something else if left unchecked long enough.

Obi-wan had vowed to protect Anakin at any cost. He never imagined that the cost would be so high.

….

Obi-wan stood before the council, still thoroughly shaken by the vision that had tormented him the night before. His eyes wore heavy bags, and it was clear that he had been crying from the blotchy red patches all over his face. Obi-wan didn't care. This had to be done, and it had to be done now before he lost the will. It was the only way, he had become sure of that over the last several hours of frantic bargaining and begging with himself and the force.

The chamber stood silent as eyes fell to him. With his gaze fixed on a far distant point on the Coruscanti horizon, Obi-wan drew a deep breath before he spoke. This was another point of no return, he knew. It was something that couldn't be taken back. He had to hold to his resolve, for Anakin's sake. It was better than the alternative.

"I take the Barash Vow." Obi-wan declared, his voice resolute though everything else about him spoke of hesitation and reluctance.

Obi-wan could feel the air in the room grow tense and uneasy. He didn't dare look any of them in the eye for fear they would see the hideous monster that lurked inside of him, waiting for a moment of weakness to lash out. Waiting for its chance to hurt Anakin.

"If that is what you wish, we have no power to stop you." Mace said sadly. "Nor is it right for any of us to try and persuade you otherwise."

"May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi. Should you ever chose to renounce, the Order would be more than glad to have you back." Master Plo said with some measure of sadness.

Without another word, Obi-wan turned to leave. He would be leaving everything that ever mattered behind. And it hurt terribly, but he knew it was for the best.