Anakin emerged from the lavatory toweling his damp hair, feeling marginally better, the warm water having calmed him somewhat.

He stopped when he saw the empty couch.

"Master?" Relief mingled with apprehension, his tone unsure. "Master, where are you?"

Obi-Wan paced the length of his room, hands fisted in his hair, eyes sealed.

"I give up master I give up you got me I can't find you so just come out now okay?" He muttered in a nearly unintelligible string. His chest was painfully tight. "okay? I've checked everywhere you're really good better than Bant even and I said I give up!"

The silence rang in the Knight's ears, buzzed in his head, reminding him sharply that Qui-Gon wasn't answering.

Obi-Wan was seething, face going a shade paler. He's hiding from me!!! "I GIVE UP!"

The scream rattled glass…

And jolted Anakin's teeth. Wide-eyed, heart a thundering vessel, the apprentice ran down the corridor into his Master's quarters.

He expected to find Obi-Wan red-faced, fuming.

But he found the man sitting on the edge of his bed holding his head in his hands. Ginger hair spilled to conceal moist eyes. His body trembled.

Anakin could easily see the gooseflesh risen on Obi-Wan's bare flesh.

He swallowed, one heel tipped, as if frozen in mid-movement. "Master?" He prodded gently.

The mournful figure gave no indication he had heard.

Uncomfortably, he took a step. "Master…why did you…" He heaved an embarrassed sigh. "Master, are you alright?"

Obi-Wan tore his glassy gaze from the ground, lifting to meet his Padawan's dark, worried eyes. "Of course I am." He replied, in a clean, clipped tone loyal to the maelstrom swirling inside.

Anakin surged forward another few steps. "Then why were you yelling like that?"

Confusion, true bewilderment, clouded the handsome visage. "What are you talking about?"

"But…" Anakin sat beside him, studying his mentor keenly. "You just yelled 'I give up'. Really loud."

Obi-Wan stared at him a moment before shaking his head. "Padawan, I'm sorry. I don't understand."

The boy bit down on his lip to stifle a frustrated cry. How can he not remember?! "You cut your hand last night." He took the injured palm and fingers, showing him the countless lacerations and drops of lingering burgundy.

"I know this, Anakin." Obi-Wan said curtly. He pulled away, wincing at the faint pain.

Anakin flushed. "You cut your hand, then you acted like you didn't know why the glass was in shatters and your hand was covered in blood. You just looked off into space." When he saw not a flicker of recognition, he continued. "Then you acted like everything was fine, " Like you're doing now, "And you fell asleep on the sofa. You slept for so long a-and I couldn't wake you, even when I shook you and---"

A touch fell to his shoulder, warm and secure. "Settle down. You're overreacting."

Anakin wanted badly to slap the tranquility off Obi-Wan's face. How can he sit there and pretend nothing happened? "I don't think I am." He countered in a cool, rebellious tone.

Ice crawled and hardened over his Master's face. The sign that he'd gone too far, pushed too close to the edge.

Then Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes with the heel of his unmarred hand.

Anakin hated when he did that. That single action transformed him from a stern teacher to a young, tired man, softening his features. He felt the anger drain from him slowly.

Before Obi-Wan could reprimand him, Anakin spoke. "I'm sorry, Master. You're right."

From the weary lines deepened in the older Jedi's countenance, the boy guessed his forfeit mattered little. "Just…get cleaned up. We have training."

Anakin forced himself not to remind the Master he had showered a mere five minutes before, made himself believe Obi-Wan didn't notice the strong scent of soap and cologne.

"Yes, Master." He submitted quietly, taking a last unhappy look at him before retreating.

Obi-Wan quelled a yawn. He was exhausted, even after hours of sleep

And his head hurt.

No time no matter. A well-trained voice in his mind chimed.

He had spent many years schooling it to soothe his uncertainties, to stifle anything that would interfere with his focus on Anakin.

Obi-Wan listened to the words now, as he lifted himself from the bed and met another day.

Sweat clung to their bodies, glistening on their skin and adhering thin inner layers of tunic to them.

Anakin wiped at his slick, heated face. The apprentice followed his Master through the Temple halls, wondering without much surprise why the elder did not speak a word of greeting to friends and acquaintances he passed.

They weren't moving particularly fast. Obi-Wan's legs, neither short nor particularly long, were almost idle in their slow gait.

The pair had sparred for…was it hours?…before Obi-Wan signaled the end, powering down his saber abruptly and heading wordlessly for the exit.

Anakin had caught his breath, replacing his own weapon in his belt before taking a few quick bounds to catch up. Obi-Wan hadn't acknowledge his existence, in the familiar spot just behind and to the side of him. He looked single-minded; cerulean eyes moist and focused, hands curled to loose fists.

"Master, where are we going?" He ventured to ask, when the silence had finally threatened to strangle him.

Obi-Wan didn't spare a heartbeat to glance at his puzzled Padawan. "Midday meal."

The answer was blunt and devoid of any human inflection. Anakin nearly stopped when he heard the cold emitting from his usually warm, kind teacher. "Don't you want to stop and…clean up?"

"He'd like that, wouldn't he?"

This time there was definite nuances to the voice. An unmistakable flair of suspicion and anger. Anakin's jaw set. He was tired, incredibly fed up, with staring at the back of Obi-Wan's head. And what was he talking about? WHO was he talking about?

Heat thrumming in him, Skwyalker gripped his Master's shoulder, perhaps just slightly hinting at his superior size. "Master!"

Obi-Wan only craned his neck to look up at him. "Anakin, I want to get to the dining hall."

Anakin sighed, air released sharply from his nostrils. "Master, who were you talking about just now?" He licked his lips as he summoned the courage to couple with his irritation. Red rose in a flush on his cheeks. "What's wrong with you?!"

Obi-Wan blinked. And did little less.

"What's wrong with you?!!" He demanded again, not caring when curious Jedi's eyes wandered to them.

"I'm hungry." Obi-Wan replied, sounding very young and…tired.

Anakin swallowed with a loud, thick click. What did you say to that? How could you argue with such a response? Everyone will think I'm insane. "Okay." He caved lamely.

His Master stared at him, eyes glazed, still and fevered.

Then he turned back and continued walking.

Anakin felt helpless to follow.

The Temple Meal Hall was bustling when the two Jedi entered. Chatter filled the spanning space, as did differing aromas from the vast types of cuisine served.

Moisture flooded Anakin's mouth as his stomach rumbled. He looked over at Obi-Wan, whose eyes seemed everywhere but the food lines. "I'm going to get something." He muttered, not particularly caring if his Master objected or wanted to accompany him.

But, as he walked away, he found himself wishing Obi-Wan would rush up to do just that.

He made it to the end, behind a Twi'lek, and forced himself to focus on her slim, teal neck than his infuriating mentor. His thoughts, however, could not so easily be distracted.

Something's wrong with him. And he doesn't want to tell me.

A piercing pain met his heart at the musing. He never wants to tell me anything anymore.

When a hand rested on his shoulder, Anakin jumped, a small cry escaping his lips as he wheeled around.

Bant, the gentle, salmon colored healer who doubled as Obi-Wan's dearest childhood friend, scrunched up her small face. In a pale hospital smock, the young alien regarded him with confusion. "Anakin? Why so tense?"

He felt, yet again, the burn of embarrassment on his face. He brought his hand up to rub the back of his head. "I'm sorry, Master Eerin. My mind was…elsewhere."

She smiled softly at that, a strange reaction to his admission.

"Sometimes you sound exactly like your Master." The Mon Calmarian commented with a charming smirk. "I wonder if he intends that."

Anakin grinned back, though the expression wasn't completely legitimate. "I don't think so."

"Ah well…" Her gaze broke from his, searching the Hall with glittering light eyes. "I thought I sensed him here…" She returned to the apprentice and shrugged. "But his aura seems a little--muddled lately. Have you noticed that?"

Her tone wasn't grave, but not the same lilting spark it usually was. Anakin was so relieved he didn't move with the shifting line. "You've noticed that too?" He asked.

Bant nodded, pulling at the cloud of loose cellophane smock. "I was dining with him about a week ago, and he didn't act, well, normal. He barely looked me in the eye."

The growing number of famished Jedi behind them interrupted the conversation. Anakin and Bant hurried forward to retrieve heated trays. As they journeyed the rows, the young Jedi placed a few extra dishes on his. Obi-Wan was never a very zealous eater, but this complete lack of appetite disconcerted Skywalker.

He works himself to exhaustion. He has to be hungry…..He said he was…

"Do you want to eat with us?" Anakin invited, pivoting through the crowds with the small Healer.

Bant balanced her tray long enough to give him a friendly punch. "Of course. I'd never reject an offer from my two favorite people."

He smiled. "Thanks."

They found Obi-Wan seated at a rarely used table, tucked into a corner, an area usually reserved for punished initiates. His shoulder was pressed to the wall, his knees touching to his chest with his arms encircling them.

As the two approached, his eyes flickered up to meet their faces.

Bant beamed and slid in beside him. "Hey, Obi."

His smile was lifeless. "Hello."

Anakin watched the stiff, unnatural exchange, his heart thudding so fast his head was growing light. Blinking, he shoved the apprehension away and placed the small dishes in front of his Master. "Here, I got you some stuff."

Obi-Wan looked at the apprentice, as if he didn't comprehend.

Anakin indicated the food with a nudge of his head. "Your favorites."

Realization dawned dully in his gaze. Once beautiful blue eyes were tainted with ash, it seemed, so that they were gray as they studied the plates.

Bant had been staring at her friend, but forced herself to take a bite, pink cheeks full.

The ballooned mouth had always spurred a reaction from the Knight, either a grunt of feigned disgust or delightful giggle.

Now he appeared not to notice at all. He was looking around the Hall, teeth clamped down on his lips.

Bant sighed at Anakin, who offered a pathetic smile in return.

A few minutes later, they were scraping nearly clean plates. Anakin peered at Obi-Wan's untouched meal as he gulped down the remnants of his potato and egg concoction.

"Master, why don't you eat something?"

Obi-Wan's head snapped up, the clattering din of the crowd almost consuming the quiet, cultured voice. "Why don't you realize your place?"

Bant came close to choking on the thick juice she was drinking. She quickly smacked the glass down and dabbed a napkin at her lips. Obi-Wan could be stern, if the situation warranted, but he never snapped at his young charge. "Obi-Wan!"

The gasp didn't startle him. He looked over at her, a single bead of sweat snaking down his temple. "What?" He asked crisply.

She fought to keep her jaw from dropping. "Obi, what's the matter with you? You won't eat, you barely talk and now this?"

Why doesn't she mind her own business doesn't she know that I'm looking for someone? Doesn't she know that Master could be hiding in here and I could lose him just because they won't shut their mouths?!

Bant looked exasperated. "Obi, answer me!"

Anakin watched her with fear concealed in his eyes. Bant was the most soft-spoken Jedi in the Temple. It took a lot for her to even raise her sweet, tremulous voice.

The sweat had doubled; Obi-Wan's face was shining and his hair was a ginger wilt around his eyes. "I'm not hungry." He told her.

Anakin shook his head. "You said you were, Master! Right before, when we were in the hallway!"

He's lying. Look at him! He's lying right to my face I knew he would he would do anything to hurt me he's lying and Master will think I've gone crazy but I'm not crazy its Anakin he just hates me and he'll do anything to keep me from him…

Obi-Wan wasn't aware that he was trembling, glaring openly at his apprentice.

Bant laid her hand on his forehead, then moved to stroke his arm. "It's okay, Obi." She murmured against his ear. "I'm just going to take you home. I think you're tired."

The Knight shook his head. "I'm not. I just wish…I just wish he would know that I give up."

Anakin gaped at him. "Master! Master, what are you saying?"

Bant turned to the Padawan. "Don't listen to him, Anakin." She implored him gently. "He needs rest."

Obi-Wan shivered despite the obvious heat of his body. Bant wrapped an arm around him and stood, bringing him up beside her. "C'mon Obi."

He tried to wrench from her hold. "I said I give up!" He shouted. There maybe he'll hear me this time and then he'll stop hiding from me oh I want to find him…oh I give up I give up I give up… "I give up!"

"Shh." Bant rubbed his back, ignoring the confused stares of other Jedi. She walked him briskly from the Hall, leaving Anakin at the secluded table, his stomach churning.

He was still muttering as they walked down the corridor, eyes both fire and glittering moistly, fixed on the distance.

Bant's heart swelled with compassion and dawning fear. "Obi-Wan, what's the matter?" But she felt foolish instantly afterwards. As if he would tell me. To try to ease him, she trailed her fingers down his damp, cream sleeve.

He wrenched his arm away with a sharp curse.

Bant stopped, pulling him when he would have stormed forward. "Obi-Wan, WHAT IS GOING ON?"

He was looking beyond the small Mon Calamarian, lips pressed together determinedly, deepening the cleft of his chin. Wouldn't she like to know…wouldn't she like to drag me away to the healers and hook me up to machines and drug me and make me forget…but I can't forget… Tears trickled down his sweat-coated cheek. I can't forget him.

Bant shook her head with an incredulous balk. "Obi, answer me!"

He was motionless, save the quiver of misery in his eyes.

She grabbed both his hands and entwined them in hers. "Please Obi." The healer said gently. Her face was painted softly in the light.

But Obi-Wan knew it was a twisting lie. He tore his gaze from the background. There was unmistakable anger and fierce irritation heating in him. "What's wrong with me?" He mocked. "YOU are what's wrong with me! You and Anakin and everyone else in this DAMNED TEMPLE!"

Bant winced despite her attempts at strength. Who is this? Where is my sweet Obi-Wan? "Obi…" She began, voice reduced to a sorrowful, concerned half-whisper. "Your friends, your own Padawan are--"

"Against me." He spat.

"No. We have done nothing to hurt you. We are always here to help you." She dared stroke his temple lightly, fingers along the golden, warm skin. "To love you."

And then he launched himself into her arms with a ragged sob, arms coming tight around her slight body, head pressed to her silken hair.

Bant held him, ignoring the tears coursing down her own face. "I love you." She murmured, cupping his bowed head.

He gulped, breath shaking and small cries jerking from his mouth. His sun-kissed mane and beard glistened wetly. "Then why won't you tell me where he is?" He asked meekly.

"WHY?!"

Bant's shoulders quaked. "Who?"

Mouth compressing, Obi-Wan threw out his palm, sending his confused and utterly frightened friend flying into the wall.

Anakin jogged down the corridor, rounding a corner with a smooth, graceful slide.

"Bant!" He saw the small healer crumpled on the ground and raced to her side.

Bant lifted her head, blinking. "Ani…" She croaked.

His eyes were wide and he suddenly looked very much his young age. "What---"

"He's ill. I--I sensed it." He helped her to her feet, one hand lingering to steady her. She touched lightly on her temple, where a pale blue bruise was already forming in a tiny splotch. Her round face was flushed a darker shade of pink than the rest of her skin. "Something deep." Her tongue ran over soft rose lips. "Something…old."

Anakin nodded, pitching his worried gaze toward their quarters' direction. His hands went to border tense flanks. "Did he hurt you?" He had to know, though he dreaded the answer, as evident in the somber husk of his voice.

Bant looked at him compassionately, running her hand down his arm as any mother would. "No." She lied, but only on a minute level. The ache of her shoulder was so minor there was no need to mention it to him. He was already upset enough. "He startled me. That's all."

Anakin heaved a sigh, partially relieved. "I have to go find him."

Before he could move, she stopped him with the wrapping of slim fingers around his wrist. "Ani."

He turned to her.

There was slight hesitation, as her mind's eye traveled to the desperation of Obi-Wan's face. "He--" She paused long enough to push a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and to gather her bearings. "He said he needed to find someone. I think---I think he was convinced we, the entire Temple, were trying to keep him from this person."

Anakin's high forehead crinkled. "Who could he be looking for?"

Bant shrugged. "I don't know. But he's intent on locating…whoever this is."

The Padawan rubbed his face wearily. "He's been acting so odd lately. He shattered a mug in his hand and didn't even notice, didn't even try to pull the pieces from his hand and I--" He gulped. "I didn't do anything about it. I didn't tell anyone."

Bant shook her head. "You've told me. And now we know there's something definitely wrong with Obi-Wan…You haven't failed him."

Anakin smiled, albeit weakly and without spirit. Then he started down the hallway, waiting until he turned the curve to break into a sprint.

Obi-Wan wiped at his eyes. He stormed through the gleaming corridors and vestibules, steps fumbling when the pain would resurface and throb in his skull.

Now you've done it oh now you've really done it someone probably saw you oh yes and now they're going to tell someone and you'll never find him. She was a problem yes and she needed to be stopped but no what a stupid foolish way to go about it. Stupid stupid stupid.

Obi-Wan winced, grabbing at his head. I couldn't help it I needed her to go away she was trying to keep me from him like everyone else like…Anakin and I couldn't let her…

Finally, he stumbled into the apartment, walking past the dead lighting fixtures and closing himself in the lavatory.

He slumped against the sink. He stared glassy-eyed into the mirror, nails digging into the flesh of his forearms.

His focus raked over his reflection. Obi-Wan took in the thin spread of ginger beard, the thick hair that brushed against his neck, evolved from his regulation Padawan spikes…

His breath caught. A hand drifted to drive through the nest of light colored strands.

An image stood out in his mind, sharp and vivid and damning of his apparent idiocy.

…The mission had been long. Months spent on a barren world where winter reigned throughout the year, and when the two Jedi entered their shared transport room,, they gratefully shed their well-worn cloaks.

Qui-Gon, once he was peeled of his cumbersome outer tunics and obnoxious goulashes, collapsed on the wide bed.

Obi-Wan sniffled, nose pinched and red from the cold he had carried for the majority of the assignment. "I must admit, I'm glad to be leaving this place, Master."

The graying Jedi watched his apprentice recline on his own bed and smiled. "So I take it you've missed the controlled climate of Coruscant."

A dry, lilting laugh. "Now, I didn't say that."

Qui-Gon sat up stiffly. The young man was lying in the barest layer of cream tunic, leggings loose and feet naked. "Do you know what I've missed during these never-ending negotiations?"

"What?"

He reached out to ruffle the auburn hair, grown out from the close-cropped apprentice style over the course of their mediating tasks. It still felt soft and clean, but took away perhaps a shred of his innocence. "I miss your terrible Padawan haircut."

Obi-Wan giggled, rolling onto his stomach. "Why? I still have my braid." convoluted

"True." Qui-Gon's midnight blue eyes shined. "But I can barely recognize you."….

Obi-Wan's mouth pursed before twisting into a smile. That's it.