Chapter Three
Obi-Wan had never been so glad for the end of the day. Calemot's seventy-hour rotation meant that, even after several months on-planet to adjust, he was thoroughly exhausted between one sunrise and the next. As the meetings progressed, more tasks rather than fewer came his way, absorbing his time like a sponge absorbing water, so that he was often up just as much during the night as the day. For the last fortnight he had been functioning with three 20-hour shifts each day interspersed by too-short naps. He felt the accumulating fatigue in his bones, and had taken "not much longer, not much longer" as a mantra, to be repeated whenever he felt exhaustion plaguing him.
His latest meeting with Calemot's president had included the heads of a large number of industries and corporations. They had finalised a large-scale economic redistribution – alternative tax schemes, trade agreements, and so forth – and the satisfactory, punctual conclusion was a cause for celebration. Obi-Wan had been invited out for drinks by each party, but politely declined, knowing that he wouldn't last more than an hour. All he wanted was to eat dinner, have a shower and take a well-earned rest.
The chauffeured return to the hotel at which he and Anakin were staying seemed to take an age. Obi-Wan meditated as best he could while the driver negotiated late-night traffic, which despite being thin was dangerous because many of the drivers, and most of the passengers, were hopped up on any number of possibly-legal substances. Young adults congregated outside sixtieth-floor nightclubs, stimulated by the hour and the carnival atmosphere, yelling over the loud music spilling out into the city atmosphere.
Several, for no apparent reason, leant against the barriers and called out to Obi-Wan's aircar as it cruised past. Obi-Wan noticed that one of them bore a striking resemblance to Anakin, and was in the act of forming a stern mental reprimand to send his apprentice when he caught himself.
The driver ignored the catcallers, instead addressing Obi-Wan. "Hey mister, you're from Coruscant, right?"
Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open and surfaced from his light trance. "Yes, that's right."
"I heard it's illegal to have nightclub entrances above the ground floor there, cos they had so many people staggering out blind drunk and falling off the edge." He sounded as though he had thoroughly cleaned up his language for his diplomat passenger.
Obi-Wan had to search his memory – he hadn't been to a club in several years. "In some areas that's the case," he said at length. "I know there were a number of incidents some years ago where that happened. The families of the victims sued the council. They received compensation, and the council pushed through some new building regulations."
"Yeah, they tried that here, too," the driver said. "Didn't work – instead they just got 'em to put in something so that all those places had force fields around their docking stations. Stops the kids from getting to the edge so's they can't fall off."
"That makes sense," Obi-Wan murmured. Despite his best efforts, his eyes were beginning to close of their own accord. He decided he could go without dinner if it meant he would get to bed ten minutes earlier. The endless parade of meetings was taking its toll on his energy levels. He wasn't fond of politics or politicians in the first place – a pity, then, that he appeared to have a considerable flair for diplomacy, which kept him in those circles far too much for his liking. Sometimes it was an absolute chore to be so dutiful.
"Here we are," said the driver, startling Obi-Wan awake. He hadn't spoken loudly or suddenly – what had startled Obi-Wan was that he'd fallen asleep at all. A Jedi should know better.
"I'm as bad as Anakin," he muttered to himself. Aloud he thanked the driver courteously, receiving a cheerful disclaimer (and the very clear thought that the wages for chauffeuring important diplomats were thanks enough), and got out of the aircar.
The cold air of the hotel's hundredth-floor docking station did nothing to soothe Obi-Wan's fatigue, merely pointing out in clearer detail how stiff and tired his joints were and how musty his thought processes. He doubted he had the energy or concentration to cook anything for dinner – the siren call of mattress and blankets was waxing.
When he entered the suite to find Anakin in the middle of preparing his favourite meal, he simply stood and stared for a moment. The capacity for movement seemed to have deserted him; the limit of his abilities was to send a singularly devout prayer of thanks into the Force.
"Good evening, Master," said Anakin nonchalantly. He seemed unaware of the divinity his actions bestowed upon him.
"Anakin, you're an angel," Obi-Wan said.
"Now really, Master, is that the best you can do?" Anakin teased. "I was using that line when I was a kid." He grinned at Obi-Wan.
"Yes, but you actually believed it would work," he pointed out. He didn't quite have the energy to make it a retort as such, his resources being focused on lowering himself into a chair at the kitchen table, but he trusted Anakin would recognise the mood.
"I was ten years old," his padawan said indignantly. "It was years ago!"
"And still the pinnacle of your verbal achievements." Somehow he felt less tired, and less overwhelmed by everything, now that he was with Anakin.
"Fine. If that's the way you're going to be, you can make this meal yourself," Anakin declared, threatening Obi-Wan with a wooden spoon.
"Padawan…"
"Why should I go to all the trouble of making your favourite recipe if you don't appreciate it?"
"I do appreciate it," Obi-Wan said firmly. "I appreciate everything you do. I simply choose whether or not to show it, that's all." He summoned a smirk for his apprentice.
"Really?" Anakin grinned, and turned the heat down on the stove. He returned the spoon to its rightful place and began stirring slowly. "So when we were going through the marsh on Degobar and I pushed you into the water to camouflage your scent, you were grateful that I'd made sure the pterodactyl wouldn't sniff you out?"
Obi-Wan steadfastly refused to be embarrassed by the reminder of an incident entirely too smelly and unpleasant for his taste. "Absolutely. You were looking out for my best interests – what's not to appreciate?"
"Oh." Anakin seemed disappointed by the lack of reaction.
"…After all, it's so rare for you to get it completely right that we have to take our victories where we can get them." At no point had he agreed not to respond in kind, even if the jibe hadn't had its intended effect.
"Master, I'm hurt by your cruel accusation!" Anakin pouted, acknowledging the hit. "My fragile self-confidence is crushed. I'll surely fall into a bottomless pit of depression."
"Your ego," Obi-Wan corrected, "is infinitely sturdier than that. You, after all, are the one who believed they could take down an Agathean condor with a stick and a length of vine after it stole his lightsaber."
Anakin went red, and fumbled the plate he was putting on the table in front of Obi-Wan. "I got it eventually," he mumbled.
"Yes, after I passed you my lightsaber," Obi-Wan qualified as he began to eat. "You never give up, never surrender no matter what the odds. It's a quality I admire in you."
The serious compliment seemed to take Anakin by surprise. "Thanks, master," he stammered, glowing with delight. Obi-Wan sensed the praise was having a more positive effect on his padawan than many battle-won accolades – it didn't demand anything from him, didn't reward violence or carry the expectation of more and better in future. It was just one soul speaking to another; for that moment it didn't matter that he was Jedi or soldier – he was himself, and that was enough.
Obi-Wan looked at his plate when Anakin's softly adoring and grateful expression started resonating in his own heart. He poked his food around with a fork, shovelled a portion into his mouth and chewed.
When something occurred to him, he seized on it. "I didn't know you could cook this, Anakin. It's a difficult dish to make."
His apprentice seemed a bit surprised by the sudden change of topic, but rallied quickly. "I taught myself from a cookbook. All the meetings were getting you down, so when I was done with my surveys each day I hunted up some recipes and practiced. This one's the closest I could find to how you said Qui-Gon used to make it," he added.
"It's almost identical," Obi-Wan said. He was pleasantly stunned that Anakin had made such an effort – and remembered such thoughtful details – for him. "Thankyou very much, Anakin, it's wonderful. And it tastes perfect," he made sure to add, taking an extra large mouthful as demonstration.
"Good," said Anakin. Evidently satisfied, he slid into the seat opposite Obi-Wan.
Throughout the meal they engaged in small talk. Anakin restrained his usual enthused, demanding style of conversation in deference to Obi-Wan's tiredness, and the result was pleasant and relaxed. It refreshed Obi-Wan so he decided he did, after all, have the energy to take a shower before going to bed. When he finished the meal Anakin took his plate and cutlery.
"You go freshen up and get some sleep," he directed. "I'll take care of the dishes."
"You cooked, it's only fair that I should clean up," Obi-Wan insisted, although a large part of him had cheered at Anakin's offer. "We share the chores, remember?"
"This is my treat," Anakin said stubbornly. "Go away!"
"Anakin!"
"Sorry, Master. Go away, please?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "Fine. But only because you were so polite about it." He hesitated for a moment, eyes on Anakin as he put the dishes in the rinser. Then, on impulse, he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Thankyou," he said, and retreated to the bathroom.
Why in the Force's name did I do that? he demanded of himself as he shucked off his clothes. What in the world possessed me? It was a foolish thing to do, and completely insensitive to Anakin. There was no reason – it wasn't just because I'm tired and less in control of myself. And I wasn't just feeling romantic, remembering the last time Qui-Gon and I ate that together. No … it's something else…
The water burst on his shoulders, steaming hot and drumming with pressure. Obi-Wan plunged his face under the spray; he felt dead nerves come alive and stiff muscles relax instantly. Blood surged through his body, loosening joints, oxygenating limbs, and opening pores.
His mind, however, wasn't as clear.
The last time I felt this good was after my last spar with Anakin, he thought vaguely. It's like I always come alive when I'm with him – he makes me feel more acutely, he brings out my inner, immediate self. I suppose … I suppose you could say he makes me honest.
The sound of the water seemed to fade away for a moment as Obi-Wan focused on the revelation he felt unfolding within him. Honesty – that was what had happened. He kissed Anakin because he wanted to, it was as simple as that. All the factors of the moment – exhaustion dulling his mind, nostalgic recollections, Anakin's perfect gesture – had combined to sweep aside all considerations, negate every reason why not, and all that remained was the fact that Obi-Wan Kenobi was in love with Anakin Skywalker.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered, and already the way he said his padawan's name sounded different to him, "that's it. That's all there is. I love you – I can't help it or ignore it – and it destroys everything."
He was in the shower a long, long time.
Obi-Wan's resolution to pretend the kiss hadn't happened was tested sorely the next morning at breakfast. Anakin was watching every move he made, without even trying to be subtle about it. It was most disconcerting.
He noticed his padawan's scrutiny the second he entered the kitchen – hard not to when he was looking just as intently himself – and his first reaction was mild surprise that Anakin had evidently given up pretending he wasn't incessantly staring at him. He was now displaying the same level of discretion in his observation as Jabba the Hutt at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
And he was doing it deliberately to goad a response, Obi-Wan could tell. Anakin could never leave well enough alone or tell when to drop a subject – not, Obi-Wan had to admit, that he didn't have a perfect right to an explanation. But just because his apprentice was in the right didn't mean he had to like it.
So, telling himself that he was practicing Jedi passivity and knowing he was deluding himself, Obi-Wan called on all his training to ignore Anakin Skywalker.
This was a difficult task. When he chose to be, Anakin was the most intrusive, infuriating and provocative person Obi-Wan had ever met. If he wanted someone to pay attention to him he would hammer away at their silence with outrageous statements and inflammatory questions, impose on their personal space, and generally make a nuisance of himself. He'd learnt how to get under Obi-Wan's skin long ago, and now his master could no longer ignore his padawan than reverse a planet's rotation.
What made it even worse this particular morning was that Anakin wasn't saying a word, wasn't getting in his way. He was just sitting, and staring, until Obi-Wan feared he'd have a nervous breakdown.
Luckily, he had a whole series of top-priority diplomatic meetings to retreat to – for once, he was grateful for the endless round of political quibbles and posturing of Calemot's federal re-shuffle. Anakin's presence was required on a building site on the far side of the island on which the government was based, so the two would be separated for half a local day at least. When Anakin's silent, intense stares grew difficult to beat, Obi-Wan reminded himself of their imminent parting. It helped.
It also made him sad.
It was a testament to the strength of his affection for the boy, Obi-Wan mused as he ate his breakfast, that he could be in an emotionally explosive and perilous situation and still want to be in Anakin's company. Beyond all consequences, beyond all complications and distress, Obi-Wan was happiest when they were together.
Now there was just the small matter of these emotions betraying everything he'd dedicated his life to. If he and Anakin weren't Jedi they would be in one another's arms in a heartbeat – if. The Jedi Order was Obi-Wan's first love, and would remain so for as long as he lived and quite likely even afterward.
It just would have been nice if this devotion didn't automatically exclude his second love.
He distracted himself with these thoughts as he cleared the table, trying to brush off the almost scorching attention he sensed from Anakin and utterly failing. He was constantly aware of it, feeling like he might stop in the middle of everything and spontaneously combust. At the very least, he wanted to yell at the top of his lungs. Anakin's scrutiny made him hyper-conscious and uncomfortable in his own skin. He also felt naked, and that was appalling.
He realised that he was lingering at the door of their hotel suite. A million thoughts were crowding in his head, his mouth twitching as it begged to say something, anything. It took large amounts of his rapidly-vanishing self-control not to hurl himself at Anakin and simultaneously punch him and kiss the life out of him, if only to stop that supremely unsettling scrutiny.
"I'll see you sometime this afternoon," he said at length. His voice sounded somewhere between rasping and husky, and mortally embarrassed him.
"Yeah, see you then," said Anakin.
Obi-Wan felt severely, irrationally annoyed. How dare he sound so casual and unconcerned while making Obi-Wan so uncomfortable! It was the height of rudeness.
"I'll probably be back by the fortieth hour," he said considerately, frantically ignoring Anakin's laser-sharp visual examination of him. Get out the door get out the door get out the—"Is there anything in particular you'd like to have for dinner?"
"No, thanks." Flippant shit-stirring son of a—
"All right then. Bye, Anakin," said Obi-Wan, with difficulty, and turned to leave.
"Bye, Master. Love you."
Obi-Wan was halfway out the door when Anakin lazily tossed a couple of word-grenades at him, and staggered as though the explosion had been literal as well as metaphorical. He wrenched the door open, causing the sliding mechanism to groan in protest, and threw himself back into the hall, ready to storm the kitchen.
Anakin wasn't in sight. And while logically Obi-Wan knew he'd only gone to his bedroom or the bathroom and wasn't out of reach, the sight of the empty room hit him square in the chest and he felt utterly crushed and alone.
Blasted kid, he thought dazedly. Dropping a bombshell like that and not even waiting around to endure the fallout—
—Oh. Right.
Point taken.
Obi-Wan made sure to close the door firmly behind him as he left for the meeting. It wasn't that he was worried for Anakin's safety – the boy could look after himself, and had proved it on numerous occasions. But it had become apparent that Anakin could potentially be far more dangerous than Obi-Wan had suspected.
