Author's Note: This chapter combines the best aspects from chapters 4 and 5 in the original version, plus some hints about Anakin and Obi-Wan's future (and yes, I intend to write their entire story if I get the chance). This is the first time they've been alone together since chapter 1, so be prepared for lots of flirting and angst. Don't forget to favourite, alert and review if you're enjoying the story :)

Chapter 4: On Dantooine

From the bridge of the Star Destroyer, its commander watched the Millenium Falcon out-manoeuvre three pursuing TIE fighters. Leia must have been at its helm. Even at the tender age of three, she could snatch shuura slices from her brother's plate the instant his attention was diverted. Instead of punishing her dishonesty, Obi-Wan, intent on indoctrinating the children, had sniggered and praised her "Jedi reflexes".

Luke was with her. The empty darkness that separated father and son was no match for the Force and the bond they had established decades ago.

He would commune with the young man first, allowing Leia to focus on piloting. The fighters were under strict orders to disable the Falcon, not destroy it, but there still was the risk of a collision with the Star Destroyer's port side.

Luke. His silent desperation echoed through the Force.

Father, the boy , he did remember. Obi-Wan could not have hidden the truth completely. He must have wondered how he had acquired his ferocity and duelling talent. Certainly not from the pathetic liar who had given him the name Kenobi. But it was of no importance — he and his sister would have new names soon.

Son, come with me. He did not need him to comply. The Imperial boarding party would bring the Rebels to him regardless, but a surrender would spare them unnecessary pain.

Luke did not respond. Was he distracted by the agony of losing of his hand? Or the constant swerving of the junkpile Leia's expert flying had turned into a ship? Or was Obi-Wan reaching from beyond the grave, forever determined to tear them asunder? It was possible. Qui-Gon Jinn had taught both his former students to transcend death, though that ability remained available to only one of them. The other had far greater powers.

Luke, it is your destiny. The sooner you accept it the mightier you can become.

Once more, there was no reply.

"Alert all commands. Ready for the tractor beam," said Admiral Piet from the opposite end of the bridge.

In moments, the Luke and Leia would be theirs. The Falcon's hyperdrive was indeed deactivated or it would have already entered lightspeed. For once his allies had not failed him. Then again, the Rebels had R2-D2 in their possession.

The Falcon vanished in a flash of light. It had been unwise to gift the modified astromech to an unstable adolescent. At least he now had the criminal frozen in carbonite.

He averted his gaze from the viewport, but a flicker made him glance back. Had Luke urged his sister to return to Bespin's orbit, so they could reunite with their true father? No, it was only the gleam of a distant star.

With a sweep of his cloak, he turned to stalk along the bridge's walkway, his synthetic hands clasped together behind him – a gestured Obi-Wan had hated. Despite having committed no error, the bridge crew regarded their leader in terror as he passed above them. Frightened gazes usually delighted him, for they ensured complete obedience, but this was no ordinary occasion. On this day, he had hoped to inspire a different feeling.

He had come so close to procuring what Obi-Wan had robbed from him before leaving their Coruscant apartment forever. Yet the Sith Lord had failed, because his children no longer cared for him. They loved a traitor instead.

But they were not to blame. He himself had fallen victim to Obi-Wan's charisma. The Jedi's patience and ability to erode resistance had made him dangerous enemy. Even now, the tactics he had used to seduce his Padawan were unclear, though a certain holographic recording might have the answer.

In a shimmering corner of an otherwise dark cave, Anakin placed the blue mephite crystal on its mount and fastened the emission end of his new lightsabre around it. He quivered as he ignited the weapon. Beside him, Obi-Wan held his own glowing blade.

They'd scavenged the ruins of the Dantooine's Jedi Enclave for parts and used them to construct the sabres, which both featured sleek designs and ridged black hand grips.

Anakin had added an emitter shroud to his, yet the hilt wound up being a tad shorter than his master's. Not that he minded. "Do you like it?" he asked. He spoke softly, for his throat was still raw from the death stick.

"You copied my activator," said Obi-Wan.

"Should I not have?" He'd hoped the familiar component would remind him to imitate his master's gentle spirit.

"No, I'm honoured. After how I acted before we left Coruscant, I worried you'd never let me guide you again, especially if it meant being alone with me."

"We're not alone. Artoo's with us." The droid chirped in acknowledgement. Padme had left him in Anakin's care and he'd allowed her to adopt C3PO in exchange. He'd felt a twinge in his stomach as their Nubian yacht took off without him, but he was too dangerous to marry anyone right now. His master would have to fix him first.

Obi-Wan gave a hearty laugh. "Have you programmed it to probe me if I get too close?"

"He won't harm you," said Anakin. He'd ordered his friend to shock his gloveless mechanical hand if he made to strike an unarmed Obi-Wan. The droid was to increase the voltage until the aggression ceased, even if it killed the aggressor.

"Indeed, if you'd wanted to protect yourself, you'd have kept the sabres I gave you."

Before leaving Geonosis, Anakin had buried the weapons in the sand to show respect for the Jedi who'd once wielded them.

"Is it possible you no longer fear my interest?" asked Obi-Wan.

"Why would I? You're not the first to want me, Master." Though attraction meant more coming from a man sworn to deny attachments. "And you won't try anything. I don't need a lightsabre to crush you."

"No, but since you have one now and your trials are less than two weeks away, you should practise using it."

"With your help, I assume?" Anakin removed his robe to reveal a form-fitting, sleeveless undertunic, better suited for fighting in the warm cave.

"Certainly," said Obi-Wan, his gaze drifting downward as he cast aside his own cloak. It seemed his Padawan's arrogance was only a concern when other organic beings were around.

They faced each other, sabres at the ready. Anakin gripped his with both hands, his metal fingers drumming on its casing.

He was itching for a duel, but his master insisted he work on his defensive techniques first. Despite his feelings, Obi-Wan didn't go easy on him. If anything, he pushed Anakin harder, making him repeat the most effective blocks and dodges until he'd perfected them. "You're doing well for a maimed Padawan," he said, "but not well enough."

Anakin raised his blade to guard his right shoulder. Obi-Wan swept at his hip. His Padawan titled his sabre to parry the strike, forcing his mechanical wrist to rotate beyond its specified limits. He gasped with pain as his master slipped past him, switching off his plasma beam before it torched his student's thigh.

"You seem tired," said Obi-Wan, "Do you want a break?"

It was a challenge rather than a question. "No, but I've done enough defending for one day," said Anakin, transferring his weapon to his left hand. He sliced through a thin stalagmite that was roughly his height. Using the Force, he rotated its pointy tip and threw it towards his master.

Obi-Wan caught the makeshift projectile before it reached him. "Not bad for a partly mechanical being," he said. "Your aim is accurate enough, but your attacks need more power. Be mindful of the Force. Your connection to it can compensate for your injury."

Anakin sighed. He knew how to get more power, but Obi-Wan was meant to dissuade him from that path, not feed him the standard Jedi platitudes. He slashed the stalagmite to pieces, intending to hurl the sharp chunks at his master. R2 wouldn't protect him when he held his lightsabre.

But Obi-Wan wasn't at fault. He didn't know how intensely his Padawan was tempted or how far he'd gone. He'd have to tell him soon.

With a flick of Anakin's artificial hand, he sent the stalagmite fragments at Obi-Wan, but halted them in mid-air before they reached him. The fortunate Jedi applauded as they clattered to the ground. "Much better," he said. "We can duel now, if you like."

His Padawan nodded, then gave his master a brief bow. They circled each other in a cross stance, their every synchronised step echoing through the tranquil cave.

Anakin leapt at Obi-Wan, beginning the match. The rapid rhythm of clashing sabres drew him into the present, allowing him to briefly forget what he'd done and what he needed to do. He didn't hold back, yet his master beat him five times in a row. Dooku had done more damage than he'd realised. One day, he'd make the traitor pay.

Their sixth round ended with Obi-Wan sliding behind Anakin and pressing his blade to the back of his neck. "Ready to give up?" he whispered in his ear. The sabre's heat singed his Padawan's braid.

"Not a chance," said Anakin, his spine tingling.

"Very well then," said Obi-Wan, extinguishing his weapon. "But first, fix your stance." He gripped his Padawan's shoulders and pulled them up to straighten his back, his hands lingering longer than necessary.

How long had Obi-Wan been touching him this way? What fantasies had he indulged when he returned to his quarters? Had he only pretended to spot mistakes in Anakin's form so he'd have an excuse to fondle him? Then again, his master could compete with him, despite being naturally weaker in the Force. Maybe his advice was worth listening to and his desires worth entertaining.

Obi-Wan circled around to face his student. "You're relying on speed and agility," he said. "Learn to think ahead. Save your energy. Then you can keep fighting when youth is no longer on your side."

"But I'll always be younger than you," said Anakin. "Too young to be your husband. We'd get dirty looks if we courted."

Obi-Wan smiled. "So, you've considered it?"

"I promised to." And the death stick had given Anakin the strangest dreams.
"But the public will hear about it and they won't want me marrying a middle-aged man." Not even one with smooth skin, a dashing grin and only the slightest wrinkles under his sparkling blue eyes. "I could be a teenager for all they know."

"Thirty-five isn't middle-aged. And with your braid cut and your hair grown out you won't look like teenager, though if it's dirty looks you wish to avoid, that won't help. Nothing will." Obi-Wan winked.

His Padawan laughed. "Flattery won't save you." He brandished his sabre.

As they sparred, Anakin heeded his master's instructions. He chose his movements with care. His reactions quickened and his strikes became more precise. "Excellent technique," said Obi-Wan, during their nineteenth round. "You might win this time."

Anakin gave a start. His master rarely praised his duelling without reservation.

"Or not." Obi-Wan took advantage of his opponent's distraction to lunge at his unshielded abdomen. "But you're trying for once and you're much better than when we started. Shall we give it one last go?"

Anakin's arms ached, his legs were stiff from standing for hours and his tunic was soaked with sweat, but Obi-Wan's praise was addictive. "Okay," he said, between heaving pants. "One more." He stood tall, his legs shoulder width apart.

As Anakin fought, he became aware of the stalagmite pieces he'd left scattered on the cave floor. With a flurry of strikes, he directed his master towards them until the Jedi tripped over one and fell backwards.

"Well done," said Obi-Wan, his face lit by his Padawan's blade. "I knew you had it in you and I'm impressed by the way you used the environment against me."

"I listened to the Force, like you told me," said Anakin. He could barely move, and the exertion had worsened the pain in his throat, yet he'd never enjoyed a training session more. He tucked away his sabre and collapsed to the ground beside his master.

"I'm glad you persuaded me to come here," said Obi-Wan. "I did consider Dantooine, but feared the Separatists might arrive before I did. We are in their sector. But the risk was worth it to procure two mephite crystals and with you here I'm less likely to get killed."

"I wouldn't be so sure," said Anakin. "I can't fight like I used to." Though he could outfly any Separatist fighter they encountered on the way home.

"You'll get there. Of course, you wouldn't be stuck with an artificial hand if you'd listened to me instead of rushing at Dooku."

"I wouldn't be stuck with a weak hand if you hadn't forced one on me." Obi-Wan hadn't really. By rearranging the hastily placed wires and slotting in extra servos, Anakin could improve his flexibility and grip strength without sacrificing sensitivity. But his master, who didn't appreciate how tweakable machines were, didn't need to know that.

"It beats struggling with a sabre you can't feel and besides your body isn't only built for aggression. I've heard you sigh with pleasure whenever you start up a speeder and its yoke quivers beneath your fingers. I couldn't take that from you. I'd be turning you into a mere weapon."

Anakin gulped. In the Tuskan Raider camp, he had become a weapon, the most brutal weapon in the galaxy. It'd been easier and more exciting than being a Jedi or even a person. How could his naïve master make him deny what he was?

"You're more than that, my dear Padawan." Obi-Wan brushed his organic hand against his student's mechanical one.

Anakin took it and held tight, silently begging him not to let go. His master's firm grip almost made him feel human. Maybe touch was important after all.

"But if power matters that much to you," said Obi-Wan, "I'll train you every day until you face the trials. If you can handle it, that is."

"I can," said Anakin, his voice raised. If he could enhance his abilities the way a Jedi was meant to, he'd be less tempted to embrace evil.

"Wonderful. At the rate you're progressing, you'll be ready for the trials in no time. I look forward to seeing what your new hand can do." Obi-Wan intertwined his fingers with his Padawan's, amplifying the soft sensations he'd made possible.

As they lay together, bathed in the yellow, green and blue lights of the surrounding crystals, Anakin found himself envying his master's talent for persuasion. By exploiting his ambition, Obi-Wan had found a way to spend more time with him. Not that his Padawan objected. After twelve more instructive and intense sessions, he'd either be dead or the strongest Jedi who ever lived.

An hour later, Anakin's soreness was wearing off, but his throat kept burning. He massaged it with his natural hand – his master was still holding his synthetic one – but the pain remained. If only he'd resisted Palpatine's offer.

"Are you alright?" asked Obi-Wan. He propped himself onto his elbow and laid his free hand on his Padawan's forehead.

"It's nothing. Just what I deserve for disobeying you," said Anakin, with a forced chuckle, "though I didn't think it'd last this long." He sat up to cough into his fist.

"Death sticks sold in the Outer Rim are cruder and harsher than what one finds in the Core Worlds. You didn't buy yours on Tatooine, did you?"

"No, I got it before we left." It was a hard claim to disprove given how many drug dealers inhabited Coruscant's underworld.

"Then why did you go there?"

Anakin chest tightened. Now was his chance to reveal what he'd done. "You remember those nightmares I had? About my mother. They weren't ordinary dreams. They showed the truth."

Obi-Wan's eye widened. "You mean they were visions? Yoda speaks of them, but no Jedi has had one in centuries."

"No Jedi's as strong in the Force as I am, but I..." Anakin pursed his lips. "...I couldn't save her."

"From what?"

Anakin drew his knees to his chest. "The sand people."

His master shuddered, no doubt recalling the stories his Padawan had told of the Tuskan Raiders' brutality.

"They kidnapped her," said Anakin, biting his lip to stop himself sobbing, "tortured her for a month. She was badly hurt and ..."

"Is she still in danger?"

Anakin shook his head. "She's dead. She died right after I found her and then I …" His eyes watered.

Obi-Wan let his Padawan's hand slide from his grasp as he pushed himself up and faced him. "You what?"

"I … lost control." Anakin couldn't do it. He couldn't shatter the lie his master had fallen for. It'd devastate the poor Jedi, but he had to warn him. "You shouldn't love me, I'm ..." He burst into violent sobs.

Obi-Wan threw his arms around Anakin's waist and drew him close, gripping his back to press their chests together. Their hearts thudded in sync.

"It's okay," his master whispered. "I felt the same way when I lost Qui-Gon."

He hadn't. He'd never give into mindless fury, let alone relished it. He had none to relish. But there was no escaping his eager embrace and Anakin didn't want to. He hugged him back and nuzzled his neck. Tears leaked onto Obi-Wan's earthy tunic. He shouldn't have cried. He should've torn his master's arms off rather than let him hold him. He was deceiving him, inflaming his passion for a monster, but he couldn't stop himself. The lie was far too comforting.

I won't lie, reading my own ending to this chapter makes me a tad teary. I do love torturing Anakin, don't I? Don't worry, he'll feel better in the next chapter I promise :)

I've tried to keep the details of Anakin and Obi-Wan's lightsabres accurate to canon. And yes, Anakin's thoughts about them are definitely meant to be suggestive. If you thought that you haven't got a dirty mind, I do, LOL. But the timing of the lightsabres' creation is likely off, since I've read that Obi-Wan was already a Jedi Master when he created his lightsabre and don't think that could've happened before he returned to Coruscant, but it's a trivial difference.