Disclaimer: I forgot this for Chapter 1! Of course, SW and its characters belong to George Lucas & Company, and any other authors who have creations in the SW universe. I just play with them and put them back when I'm done. Not making any money, either!
A/N: It is so awesome to know there are many Obi-Wan/Anakin devotees out there! I'm not alone! Thanks for the reviews--I'm having a lot of fun writing these two and their tortured inability to take the next step. But not for long! Stay with me--they'll get together. Please continue to review--it is most helpful. Hope you like Anakin's thoughts--read on!
Dedication: Xtine, you rock my Jedi-Lovin' world!Chapter 2: Sunrise
Troubled, he woke early.
Quietly rising from the bed, his bare feet padded out the door to the common area they still shared. He wasn't here. Of course not.
The sun was a golden globe of fire just beginning its rise over the countless towers of Coruscant's skyline. Streams of sunlight played on the plain walls of the room, filling it with a warm glow, shadows long and distorted by the angle of the light.
Anakin knew where his master would be.
As he dressed, Anakin's troubled thoughts returned to last evening's lightsabre practice. Obi-Wan had been there watching him, had said nothing, and shielded himself from Anakin. Mostly.
Anakin had been so frustrated lately, with the Council, with Padme, even with his former Master. His exercise last night had blissfully allowed him to release most of that tension into the Force. That is, until he realized Obi-Wan was there.
Why had Obi-Wan been watching him? More criticism? Even though he was a renowned negotiator, Obi-Wan was not a man of many words; his actions spoke volumes. Anakin shook his head. He wouldn't do this. Not anymore. He was a Knight now, and he no longer needed to please Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Then why did he want to, need to, so desperately?
Frowning with frustration, he left their quarters, intensely focused on finding the older Jedi. He didn't care if he was being petulant. Obi-Wan had no right anymore, and Anakin wanted to know why he had been spying on him.
He went to the one place Obi-Wan would be at such an hour. After all, the dawn had always been his favorite time of day.
The Gardens, Anakin knew, had been Obi-Wan's favorite place in the Temple since he was a youngling. It was where Anakin had found him meditating, many times, following his return from his ordeal with Asajj Ventress. The air was moist and thick, full with life, with the Force, and was utterly soothing—to most, anyway.
Anakin stalked through the gate, attitude and ego flowing off of him in waves, ready to confront Obi-Wan on his insulting and secretive conduct.
The sight in front of him made Anakin nearly gasp out loud in surprise and abruptly halted him in his spot, his black cloak swishing forward to curl around his legs.
In the center of the garden was quite possibly the most captivating sight he had ever seen, even beyond the first time he laid eyes on Padme and proclaimed her an angel. He was frozen in place, unable to move, even breathe.
He couldn't help but watch.
Muscles rippled and stretched as sinewy arms stretched overhead, strong legs moving in their own cadence across the green, dewy grass. The figure before him was the embodiment of balance, fluidity, and form, moving in such a natural, graceful way that he seemed to have a shadowy dance partner.
Loose black pants slid effortlessly up and down on a leg that kicked out forward, only to land softly, like a whisper, in the grass. A loose-fitting tank, already darkened with sweat, clung to a chiseled chest and well-defined abdomen, as the body they belonged to twisted to perform a series of blocks and strikes.
Anakin followed the movements up, up across the strong shoulders and lean neck. His master's face was quiet and serene, in contrast to the movements of his body. Eyes closed, mouth slightly open, Obi-Wan worked through his katas, arms and legs slicing into the air in a complex series of maneuvers designed to enhance timing, style, and awareness. Some performed katas simply for exercise, but Obi-Wan used them as a form of meditation, a way to relieve stress and commune with the Force.
Anakin stood uncommonly still, watching, barely daring to breathe, afraid he would be noticed. And the mesmerizing vision before him would vanish.
Golden sunlight intensified the copper of his master's hair, tousled and slightly damp on his forehead. Force, but did he love Obi-Wan's hair. When Anakin was younger, he used to sneak up behind his master and ruffle his hands through the long, silky tresses, such a contrast to his bristly padawan cut. He had been furious the day Obi-Wan came home with it cut. He still longed to run his fingers through it, but now that was no longer his right; he was no longer a Padawan. Reflexively, Anakin slowly ran his hand through his own long hair, as the breeze in the Gardens caught not only his curls, but the longer locks of his master's.
Anakin relaxed, crossing his arms over his chest, hugging his cloak close. He watched, and he learned. He always did.
Although his master considered himself old, Anakin hated it when he said it. Obi-Wan was in prime form, every muscle finely tuned, every movement as light and graceful as a Twi'lek dancer, and a boyish grin and wit that was ageless, in spite of that beard Anakin had begged him to get rid of. Obi-Wan's body was a temple, one that Anakin wanted to worship for the rest of his life.
And love, for the rest of his life, even after they both became one with the Force.
He loved Obi-Wan, for as long as he could remember, and for just as long, he ached knowing that Obi-Wan would never love him. Other than his mother, Obi-Wan had been the only constant in his life. He quickly became a father to Anakin, then a brother, then a friend. Now he was the man who held half of Anakin's heart, and Obi-Wan didn't even know it. Would never know it.
But it didn't matter, really. Obi-Wan was a Jedi Master, and he loved and honored the Jedi Code above all. He would always think of Anakin as a son, a padawan. It was this knowledge that drove Anakin to Padme's bed. They were close, they were lovers, but Anakin didn't really love her, at least not like the burning, white-hot love he felt radiating from every fiber of his being when he thought of Obi-Wan. Jedi were not supposed to have attachments, but his bond with his master had saved both their lives more times than he cared to count. If he couldn't have his master as his lover, his soul mate, he would have him as his brother and best friend. He would watch over Obi-Wan and keep him safe. It was Anakin's reason for being a Jedi, for pushing himself still so hard in his training. Like last night.
Thoughts of last night brought Anakin back to why he came here in the first place. His anger had been released, and Anakin didn't even realize when or how. Watching his master in his seemingly effortless exercise was a balm on Anakin's fragile, tortured soul. He had lingered too long, he had to go, before he was noticed.
More quietly than he arrived, he gazed one last time at his master, nearly through with the last kata form, and turned to go, breeze blowing his hair into his eyes, snapping his cloak behind him.
Anakin, please don't go. he heard through their bond.