Thanks for reviews.

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Part One

Anakin Skywalker awoke to a scream that drove any sleep from his bones and caused him to spring to his feet, his lightsaber flying to his hand. It took a moment before he remembered who the scream belonged to, and more importantly that it wasn't serious. It was funny, after waking up everyday with the scream for the last half year; he still awoke with a need to protect his Master and himself. It was strange, though, to fathom the notion of protecting Obi-Wan Kenobi from himself.

Obi-Wan was worrying him. He woke up every morning at the first trace of light, his piercing cry echoing through the apartment they shared. Once, Anakin had asked the Padawan in the apartment next to theirs if she heard the scream, and, solemnly, the child had said yes, but her Master had told her not to say anything. Smiling, Anakin sent the child on her way and resolved to ask his own Master about the dream.

His mouth was set in a dead line as he sat on the couch telling Anakin he would not discuss the thing that made him cry out so terribly. Disturbed, the Padawan had urged him to see a Mind Healer about it, and Obi-Wan had calmly told him he would see a Healer when the Jedi Temple fell and the Republic died. That ended the discussion before it could even truly begin.

Anakin was still worried. The Council had kept them busy over the last year, and Obi-Wan's troubling sleeping tendencies did not help. Although he was not troubled by the dream that plagued him inside the Temple, there were others that seemed to feed off the dark energy of the one that sent him screaming, leaving little room for rest. Anakin knew this by the fact his Master did not wake up screaming at the twilight and instead whimpered softly during the night. The noises made the apprentice uncomfortable, and he tried to forget them.

He eased back onto the sleep-couch, placing his saber onto the stand next to bed within easy reach. He pulled the covers up around him, tiredness spreading once again throughout his limbs. Obi-Wan would all ready be getting prepared for the long day ahead. He was never able to sleep after the nightmares; instead he dressed, ate the first meal, and usually went for a walk in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. When the dreams had first plagued his Master, Anakin had tried his hardest to follow Obi-Wan in his walks and his rigid schedule of waking up at the crack of dawn; but it had become next to impossible. He couldn't handle his Master's sleeplessness.

He heard Obi-Wan give a cry and swear, then fast muttering. Despite himself, Anakin grinned.

Obi-Wan always ran into the door.

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His dreams were calling him to the sea.

Obi-Wan Kenobi tossed a pebble across the lake as he walked down the cobblestone path of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, pausing to watch it skip merrily until finally sinking. The soft trinket of noise was the only sound in the vacant and chilly room. He tugged the cloak around him tighter as he sat down on a bench.

He was fed up with it all. He was sick of the dreams and seeing the concerned look on his apprentice's face whenever they met for the first time of the day. He didn't like the disquiet that graced Anakin's features when he saw the deep bags under his Master's eyes and the way Obi-Wan's eyes often drifted shut at meal times, only to be forced open a second later. He didn't want Anakin's concern and certainly not his pity.

If only the dreams would just stop, it wouldn't be like this at all. . .

Sometimes he wondered if the dream was a premonition. Some Jedi were known to receive them and were valued for the gift, but Obi-Wan wasn't one of those. He was glad for that; his one dream was giving him enough trouble and he wasn't even sure if it was in fact a glimpse into the future.

He wanted rest more than anything. The fatigue was starting to catch up to him. Some weeks, when his fear of the dream escalated to a scaling amount, he let himself pass the days without sleep. He meditated often during the weeks he went without sleep, and that helped immensely, but nothing could beat human nature. He had to sleep every five days or so, and when he did that his will wasn't strong him enough for him to stop his sleeping, even with the dream.

Oh, how he wanted to sleep with dreamless nights. He was sick of being tired all the time, and the worst thing he was he knew his fatigue was self-imposing.

A Jedi is not to fear. . .

Obi-Wan would never admit it to anyone, and certainly not Anakin, but he feared the dream with everything in his being. He hated the feeling of helplessness and the voice that sang through his ears. What if it was a premonition? What would happen then? It was frustrating beyond any belief. The worst thing was that it involved Anakin. He would never live with himself if anything happened to Anakin because of his mistake and his dream.

No Force-induced trance could put him to ease during the day when the sun glared its rays. He had never been able to sleep during the daytime hours; it was next to impossible for him. He didn't like naps; the day was too short for that. The darkness was the time to sleep, yet now he couldn't even manage that in the cool comfort of darkness.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan returned to his feet and continued his walk through the room, his weary eyes seeking the calming scene of the waterfall.

He stayed in the room until the first yawning initiate came stumbling down the walkway. The child, upon seeking the young Master, immediately straightened himself and nodded to Obi-Wan, hastily drawing out a greeting. "Hello, Master Kenobi."

"Hello," Obi-Wan replied curtly, watching the student hurry away. A momentous sigh shuddered through Obi-Wan's body, and he followed the boy out of the room and into the corridor. Students and Knights were just starting to file down the stairwell towards the mess hall. He joined their ranks, checking his timekeeper. He was due to meet Anakin for the first meal in half an hour.

After receiving his food, he found himself a table tucked into a corner and seated himself, scanning the thong of students and Knights for his apprentice. Anakin was anything but an early riser, but he was good about time. Mostly.

"Can I join you?" someone asked from behind him. He turned slightly and saw his friend Bant Eerin out of his peripheral vision. He wanted to turn away from her worried look and never see it again, but she would not let him leave for training without talking with him. He nodded and she sat across from him.

"And how are you?" he asked, sipping at his drink, still scanning the hall for his apprentice.

"I was going to ask you," Bant replied, crossing her fingers in front of her face. She rested her chin on them and stared across the table with large, silver eyes. "Where's your apprentice?"

"He's supposed to meet me here soon," he responded, setting the cup down. His meal was quickly losing its warmth, but he didn't care. He wasn't particularly hunger.

"Well, that's nice," she said, raising her voice a little to be heard over the din that most people associated with the mess hall. She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Obi-Wan, you look awful."

He let out a harsh laugh. They went through this act whenever they ate together, or whenever she saw him for that matter. "Well, thanks. Not that I haven't heard, of course." He ran his hands through his hair. "Nice of you to notice, though, I was beginning to wonder if maybe you had stopped caring."

She reached out and punched him lightly in the arm. "It's no trouble, Master Kenobi."

He smirked at her. "That's right. I am a Master."

"Oh, label me stunned."

He spotted Anakin entering the room with a child wrapped in his arms. Obi-Wan was about to get up and head over when the crèche Master came gliding down the aisle, flanked by a dozen children in a line. He watched Anakin handing the child over, smiling at the gentleness in his apprentice's eyes and the way the child latched onto him. Children loved Anakin, no doubt of it.

The apprentice caught Obi-Wan's eyes and winked. He headed towards the eating line.

"Ah, Padawan Skywalker enters," Bant remarked, having watched the entire scene.

"Has anyone ever told you how funny you are, Knight Eerin?"

"Oh yes, the children I torture in the crèche," she replied, smiling merrily, "all the time. The little one your Padawan was carrying particularly likes the way I lead them to the infirmary every month for their check-up."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Anakin ambled over, his tray piled high with fruit and other morning goodies. He pulled a chair over with his foot. "'Morning, Master, Knight Eerin," he said, setting the tray down with a clank. He immediately drained his glass and bit into his muja fruit hungrily. The boy always ate as though he had been starved for a week.

"Good morning, Anakin," Obi-Wan told him, watching his apprentice finish the fruit and pick up his fork. "I see you're hungry so I won't bother asking you why you had the child."

"You know, Master," Anakin said with his mouth full, "a sour attitude like that doesn't help anyone."

"Right," Obi-Wan said, grinning.

Bant blew out her breath. "You know, Anakin, you can call me Bant."

"Yes, Bant," Anakin said in a way that showed he would never call her that again because she told him every time they crossed paths. He paused and swallowed slowly. "The poor kid was lost, Master, so I decided to bring her to the crèche Master or Knight Eerin. She was crying."

"Well, then, its okay that you're late," he said, glancing towards Bant. She narrowed her eyes, nodding at his untouched food. Making a sound in his mouth, he picked up his own fruit and tore off a bit with his mouth, chewing slowly. She reached out and touched his arm, glaring at him. He took another bite.

"So, Master," Anakin said, done with the pile on his place. Bant looked mildly surprised. "What are we doing today?"

Bant jumped in. "Anakin, tell your Master I want him to see a Mind Healer."

Obi-Wan's grin vanished. Uncertain, Anakin looked from his Master to Bant. Jaded cerulean clashed with cobalt silver ones. The apprentice wanted nothing more than to slink away and hide from the storm that was forming in the distance between the two sets of eyes. Why had Bant pushed him in the middle of it? He glared at her.

"I'm not discussing this again," Obi-Wan said, his voice taunt.

"Well, my dear, you're going to have to sooner or later," she replied testily. "This nightmare business is serious whether you want to admit it or not." She met Anakin's pale glare. "Am I right, Padawan Skywalker?"

He wanted to say no, but to do so would be lie. One of Obi-Wan's gravest lessons was that he should never lie. Nevertheless… "What do you mean?"

"Doesn't he wake up everyday screaming? Half the Temple can hear him!"

"I would prefer that you discuss this matter with me and not my Padawan, Bant!" Obi-Wan snapped angrily. He turned to Anakin with furious eyes. "Padawan, please go to the sparring room. I'll meet you there in ten minutes."

"Yes, Master," Anakin said, grateful for the chance to leave. He scrambled up, nodding to Bant.

"Don't do that again," Obi-Wan said, his eyes smoldering.

"Do what? Ask your Padawan the truth?"

"Not that, Bant! I don't want you to ever do that again. Do not question me in front of my Padawan and never put him in that position again. Do you understand?"

"Obi-Wan-"

"Do you understand?"

"No," she growled. "I don't. I was asking him for the truth and you're jumping on me for that."

"I'm jumping on you because you asked an inappropriate question of my apprentice. As his Master, I'm asking you to not do that again. Can you at least understand that?"

After a moment, she said, "yes." They stared at each other for a long moment, Obi-Wan's hand gripping the edge of the table. Around them, the hall went on as if nothing had gone wrong. He heard laughing and the clang of silverware and chairs. Plates chimed from the kitchen. Tersely, she said, "I told you what I think. Don't you want to know why these dreams are happening?"

"And I'm choosing not to act on what you think," he replied. "Of course I want to know why I keep having them! What do you think I do in my free time, sit around and do nothing?

"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it."

"I have a training exercise with my Padawan so I'll see you later, Knight Eerin." Standing swiftly, he picked up his bag from underneath the table and fled from the mess hall, feeling Bant's stare the entire way.

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Part Two

"But I can't do it!" Anakin cried angrily, throwing his lightsaber to the ground.

Obi-Wan's migraine grew worst with the thud of the lightsaber striking the mat. Anakin's fury at himself screamed rage through their training bond, causing the pain to dampen even more. The class of six year olds who were supposed to be practicing lightsaber moves were beginning to watch them. Their class instructor glanced at Obi-Wan before gently chastising them.

"Anakin," he said softly. "This is a difficult kata. It's all right that you can't do it immediately."

"But you can do it, Master!"

At that, the young Knight had to smile. "Anakin, I have about thirteen years of experience over you. It's fathomable that I'm able to do it. It would be insulting if I couldn't."

Anakin squatted on the mat, lightsaber in his hand. Sweat was slowly descending down the arch of his chin, and he impatiently burned it away with the back of his hand. His pale eyes shot daggers into the wall, and Obi-Wan noticed that there was a muscle twitching in his right cheek. "It's insulting to me that I can't!"

Obi-Wan bent down next to his apprentice. "As I said, this is an extremely difficult kata. You're not expected to get it in the first day, or even in the first week, Padawan. You're trying too hard. Relax. Trust in the Force; let it guide you. Don't think."

His face still wrenched in the agony of defeat, Anakin stood, his lightsaber clutched to his chest. "I'm sorry, Master."

"It's understandable to be angry at yourself," Obi-Wan admonished. "Don't think anything of it. Now, face me. Clear your mind. Feel the Force. Trust me, Anakin, you have to trust me." Anakin suddenly looked very guilty, and Obi-Wan had to look away, too. How could he ask Anakin to trust him when Obi-Wan had not let allowed himself to trust Anakin?

Obi-Wan struck out first, freeing his mind to the Force and letting it guide his motions. Anakin twisted violently, ducking away from the lightsaber and reaching it out to strike his Master in the back. Obi-Wan was barely able to twirl around in time to block the blow. He backed away, shutting off his lightsaber and looking to his apprentice angrily. "Did you forget the sequence of moves?"

Anakin appeared aghast. "Oh, Master, I'm sorry! It's just . . . it's so hard! I can't do it! You have to do this and then this and then curve around! This is harder than any of the katas I've had to do before! Did the Masters just teach me wrong?"

"Anakin, stop," Obi-Wan said in a whisper, his migraine attacking once again. "Katas are supposed to be difficult at first."

"But the other ones weren't!"

"Not everything in life is simple, my Padawan. It's reassuring that you have to work to get this kata down. They're not meant to be easy and weren't made just for you to pass. They teach discipline and trust in a Master-Padawan team, and trust in the Force. These are the reasons we try and teach you the kata." He saw Anakin's stricken look and added, "And they also come in handy with fights."

It broke the tension and Anakin laughed, slapping his knee. The sound was painful to Obi-Wan's ears, and the lights seemed harsher. "We've had enough for the day. You're free for the rest of the day."

Anakin's face perked up. "Thanks, Master. What are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "I'm going back to the room. I'm tired."

"Oh." Anakin turned to leave, hesitated, and then spun around. "Master . . . don't worry. I'm sure Knight Eerin was wrong about the Mind Healer. You can't just talk your nightmares away. Dreams pass in time."

Obi-Wan was surprised at the wisdom in Padawan's words, and a slow smile spread on his face. He would have preferred Anakin not mention it, but he wouldn't let Anakin go thinking the words had no effect on him. "Thank you, Padawan. I'll remember that."

Anakin grinned playfully. "Yeah, well. . . One day you're going to use the words on me, I know that."

"What goes around comes around, right?"

"Right." Anakin turned merrily and strode through the room and out the door, throwing a wink back at his Master as he exited the training room, nearly crashing into a group of the nine-year-old initiates wandering in for their lesson. He watched Anakin apologize and then shoot away. Their instructor shot Obi-Wan a pained look and he shrugged, turning away and exiting out another door.

He immediately made for his apartment, taking the turbo-lift with another Knight who greeted him enthusiastically, causing his head to pound even more. He watched Coruscant through the lift's windows, mildly interested in what looked like a speeder accident. He saw yelling citizens and a smoking vehicle. The other Knight made disgusted sound in his throat and exited on the next floor, probably racing to see what the accident was about and try to help.

The pale blue sky was distasteful to eyes. After dreaming of such sea-blue water, anything other than the richest shade of blue was unworthy in his eyes. There was nothing more beautiful and more deadly than the ocean. He shivered as he thought of it, pulling his cloak in tightly around him. He was always so cold; he could almost feel the icy water pushing him under the waves, sliding down his body. . .

He exited on his floor and entered his apartment, basking in the stillness of it and feeling of home that spread throughout his body. He went to the sink and splashed water on his face, combing his wet fingers through his hair. He damped a towel with it and went to his sleep-couch, laying the towel on his forehead.

He wanted to sleep so badly. He couldn't close his eyes, though. He didn't want the dream, not on such a turbulent day. . . and what if Anakin came home, saw his Master sleeping when he should be doing something. . . anything. . . he couldn't let Anakin see him being lazy; that boy was one who saw his Master's actions and thought it was the way he should behave. . .

He closed his eyes and slept.

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"Come."

He would never follow the voice. It would lead him to the darkness and to a place he would never be able to leave. He wanted to groan, but doing so would send a stream of water in his mouth he couldn't afford to have. He forced himself through the surface, sucking in air violently, his lungs aching at the sudden release.

He was forced under again.

No! No, no, no!

He was losing the fight. The will to live was seeping from his bones and hollowing him, leaving nothing but an empty void. He could feel his life-Force starting to slowly drain; he was giving himself over to the call that beckoned him. When he opened his eyes, he didn't see water; pure light rained down through his vision. It was so lovely and fresh, sending a coarse breath of air through his painfully watered lungs. . .

No, Obi-Wan, no!

Oh, how his bones wanted to stop fighting. The pain was growing to an almost unbearable pressure. He kicked his legs, but the waves were too turbulent and sent him flipping over. He cried out, water rushing towards his lungs. Why should he even bother? There was no use in fighting; he would lose in the end. . .

Obi-Wan Kenobi, you will not give up! I refuse to see you die today. You never give up, Obi-Wan, never. Don't start today.

Why didn't the voice in his head just shut up and let him be?

Anakin, Obi-Wan, remember Anakin!

Anakin? His Padawan. . .

Don't, Obi-Wan, please!

Darkness began to taint the edges of his mind. He couldn't feel any part of his body. His lungs were ready to burst; the pain had reached an area beyond pain. He felt so hollow, so spent. To die would be a haven to the feelings that engulfed him. Death was looking so sweet . . . so sweet. . .

No!

The darkness took him, and when the light flashed his eyes, he screamed in agony.

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"Master!" Anakin cried out when he heard the scream. He flicked the light off, but Obi-Wan continued to scream in earnest, as if someone was trying to steal his soul. Anakin turned the light back on and ran into the room, jumping onto his Master's sleep-couch. Obi-Wan was thrashing in the sheet violently, fists and feet flying.

"Obi-Wan!" he shouted, hoping to awake his fighting Master. He gripped the older man by the shoulders and began to shake him, barely able to avoid the fist that Obi-Wan threw his way. Ducking, he continued to pound on his Master's shoulders. The night was just beginning to loll around, and he wanted to kick himself for waking up his Master when he was had been sleeping somewhat peacefully.

Abruptly, Obi-Wan stopped screaming. His kicks and punches died soon afterwards. Uncertain, Anakin pulled back from his Master, hands at ready in case Obi-Wan began to fight again. His Master was breathing deeply in fast pants, his eyes suddenly wide open and sweat beginning to trail down his face. Anakin suddenly had a strong urge to slap his Master, but he resisted.

"Master?" he asked uncertainly.

A pause and then, "get out."

"What?"

"I said get out. Anakin, leave!"

"But-"

"Leave, Anakin!"

"Master, I-"

"I said get out!"

Hesitantly, the Padawan made for the door, his eyes on the Master at all times, in case he changed his mind. His words stung Anakin, but he forced them away. His Master wanted to deal with the nightmare alone; he always had. It wasn't anything that Obi-Wan ordered him out. He was fine; they were fine. But what if he had hurt his Master in turning on the light? Obi-Wan always awoke at the first trace of dawn.

"GET OUT, Anakin!"

The Padawan fled the room, leaving Obi-Wan tangled in his sheets. He covered his face with his hands, wincing when he felt the clamminess they carried. His fingers found the back of his head and pulled gently on his long strands of hair. He was shaking uncontrollably; shivering despite the warmness of the apartment. He rolled on his side, resting his head on the cool surface of the desk directly next to the sleep-couch.

Take a deep breath; just breathe. It wasn't real, it wasn't real.

This dream was so real; so much more alive than the other ones. He could feel the tendrils of the dream hovering over him like a dark cloud. It seemed so thick around his head he could feel it like a crown resting on his temple. On cue, his head began to beat behind his eyes, and he tried to sink into the pillow, adoring the softness of it.

How could it feel so real, and the others feel so . . . insignificant compared to this one, even as he woke up screaming from those, too? How could this one be different and shake him so badly, when the others had been plaguing him for the last half year?

Because it's going to happen, because it's going to happen.

He stopped shaking; the pants subdued to slight breaths; his shivers died. For a long time he lay in his bed, thinking.

Because it's going to happen. . .

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