Come Undone

Chapter 12

                  "Is she resting alright?" Obi-wan asked, trying to keep his tone conversational.

                   Anakin sighed. Once again,  as soon as the topic turned to Padmé, his whole being seemed to soften.

                   "She  was asleep almost before her head hit the pillow," he said quietly. "I have told her time and time again that she needs to slow down, to let others do some of the work but she insists on pushing herself… she won't allow anything to come between herself and her damnable causes…"

                    "Not unlike a certain young man who's company she keeps…Someday she will have to choose…" Obi-wan chastised him gently but Anakin only grunted in response. If the remark bothered him, he did not show it.

                    The two men made their way to the gymnasium where Anakin, taking a key from his pocket, opened a hidden repository and removed two 'cold bladed' training sabers. Unlike regular Light sabers, the cold bladed sabers could not cut anything but they still could inflict  serious injury however. Obi-wan remembered seeing; as well as being,  a youngling that was sent to the infirmary with broken bones caused by a well placed blow from one of those ostensible 'training' weapons.

                   Still, he stripped down to his trousers and bare footed and shirtless, he took the proffered piece. Anakin turned his back to Obi-wan, placing a protective glove over his right arm. The synthi-skin was almost humanly realistic, but could be easily and severely damaged in such a bout and despite his well placed connections, it would be more trouble than it would be worth to have it replaced. As he paused to take a drink of water, Obi-wan suddenly became aware of the horrendous amount of recently healed scarring on Anakin's back. His consciousness flitted briefly over the light (and very recent) human scratches and settled on the deep seated wounds that covered him like an illustrated history of suffering. Obi-wan had not been at Salliche, the last major battle that Anakin had been involved in, but he had heard enough. The revised history that had turned a tactical disaster into a martyrdom for the dead and the Republic. The horror stories of almost all of the survivors, the few that there were. Anakin had been one of five… no, three.  Two had died of their wounds afterwards… and he never spoke of the incident or the aftermath to Obi-wan or any of the Jedi healers that he knew of. In the brief moment that they were visible, the scars, the wounds spoke volumes.

                         Anakin, seeming to sense Obi-wan's gaze, only shrugged and took up his own weapon.

                        "Are you ready then?" the question was innocuous, but his gaze had become stony. Obi-wan who had quickly regained his composure by confining his reaction to a slight paling, nodded in agreement. The two men bowed and took their stance, Obi-wan in a classic form three defensive stance and Anakin, ever the aggressor, the powerful form four.

                          Anakin jumped forward and swung his weapon at Obi-wan's knees, attempting to knock him to the ground. Obi-wan countered with a thrust and parry that caught Anakin off guard and quickly disarmed him, he fell back, growling angrily.

                         "Yield!" he cried and reluctantly, Anakin nodded his assent. They started again, thrust, dodge, slash, neither man willing to give up a single quarter even though they both were tiring. Anakin seemed to be running on raw fury and Obi-wan realized that he would have to put an end to this soon. He was about to throw down his saber when suddenly, the voice that had tempted him before; in what seemed to have been an age ago, came again, cool and enticing.

                'The whelp has defied you, again and again... made a fool of you! Now, teach the pup a lesson he'll not soon forget...'

                He wanted to give into the voice… its words smacked of the truth after all… "Now! Now was the time and place!  Show him WHO really is the Master…"

                 For a moment he DID surrender to it's siren's call. His attacks became more aggressive and he forced Anakin back towards the wall. Furious,  Anakin redoubled his efforts just as Obi-wan broke free of the spell and his attack became defense.

                "Anakin! Anakin STOP!" he cried blocking the increasingly fierce attacks but to no avail. At last, when his opponent began what might well have been a killing blow with a Jung Ma, Obi-wan threw himself down to his knees, and casting his saber aside, he took the traditional position of unconditional surrender.

                   "YEILD!" Anakin shouted, his eyes blazing, his saber held over his head the rage coming off of him in waves. Obi-wan was taken aback, he was in the classic supplicated position of defeat, what more could he want?

                     "YEILD!" Anakin shouted again, his voice nearly a shriek. "NOW!"

                     Force what was wrong with the man? Did he need to conquer his former Master so utterly? What by all that was holy had possessed him? And that voice…

                     "Yield… I yield Anakin…" he said at last, watching the anger, and the raw hatred… slowly fade from the young man's eyes.

                      "Yes… of course." Anakin said at last offering his had to Obi-wan. No apology, no explanation. Nothing. It was more than a little troubling. And the voice…. He would talk to the masters about it tomorrow. About many things…

                       "You will excuse me Obi-wan," Anakin said suddenly, with out preamble. "It is late and Padmé… I'm sure you understand…" he began to get dressed as if nothing untoward had happened yet quickly threw his shirt on and put the Training Sabers away.

Obi-wan discreetly had agreed, and once again bidding the young man good night, he took his leave.

                     "The dark side grows stronger each day Obi-wan…" Master Yoda's words plagued him as he returned to the temple, he suddenly wondered if perhaps Anakin had also heard the voice…

                      Anakin crept back into their flat, at first wanting to immerse himself in the shower and try to wash away the feelings of dread that darkened his soul. He had wanted to kill Obi-wan tonight! He had been furious with him…

                      "She will have to Choose…"

                       The memory of the vision assaulted him… when he had looked into the abyss, and something had looked back…

                      "Choose, or they will choose for you…"

                     Whom could he talk to about such nightmarish visions? Who would understand, who would listen? Not the Jedi Council, that was for sure. Even Obi-wan, for all of his proposed understanding had reacted in horror at the few marks left over from his acts of love with Padmé… Saintly Obi-wan Kenobi, unable to accept the most basic of human expression of love…

                     He stood there shivering, the fear threatening to over take him. Suddenly, he wanted, no, he needed to be with Padmé. If she woke up, she would complain about his crawling into bed in this state but it would be a small price to pay. To be with her was to be in grace, in safety. As quietly as he could, he got undressed and carefully crawled into bed next to her and wrapped his arm around her. To his surprise, instead of chastising him, she snuggled herself closer up against his body and slipped his lower leg in between her own.

                      "You alright?" she asked, her voice muddy with sleep. "Cold… you're shaking…"

                       "Better… now…" he murmured softly, nuzzling her hair, and it was true. He felt the anguish and the pain run out in a torrent as once again she snuggled still closer.

                        "Good…" she mumbled softly, and he realized that she was already falling back to sleep. To his surprise, he found himself quickly following.

                          But to whom could he turn? Not Padmé, he'd never burden her… The answer came to him suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue. Palpatine. Of course… never judging but always willing to listen and sometimes offering very valuable input, the Chancellor would be the perfect person to talk to… He knew that he could contact the Chancellor tonight, the man often kept late hours, but for now… for now he was content just to lay next to his beloved wife. She was safe, and warm, and his. Anakin sighed contentedly, and his last conscious thought was that her hair smelled of wild flowers….