Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.

Writer's Block: Cutting by StarryGazer. It's a Getbackers fic that's rated M and has implied yaoi. I really like this. Akabane is a pretty dark and twisted character, and StarryGazer captures that beautifully. I love her choice of words. And then what she writes…you really get a good look at the inner workings of Akabane. There's a lot of psychological depth to this fic, and I find it morbidly fascinating.

Most of you could see that something was off about the ending of Chapter Thirteen… I realized that perhaps I was a little too subtle in the first version, so when I reposted it I made things (symptoms, you could almost call them) a little more blatant. Not that I'm going to outright tell you, of course. Where's the fun in that? ;) However, if you're still a little clueless, then look back a couple chapters and see if anything strikes a nerve.

The reviews were great, and I thank you for them. Honesty is good, so if you see something you don't like, please tell me. And if it's something that seems a little off to me too, I'll try to fix it. Of course, I also love hearing about what you like. Being told both sides gives me a feel of what I should keep doing, and what I need to improve on. And, if you would be so kind, could you also tell me what you think happened at the end of Chapter Thirteen? I want to see if you guys understand what happened to Obi-Wan, or if I need to bury a few more clues around my story. Some of you, from your reviews, all ready know what's going on, and I commend you for the sharp thinking.

Page Amount: 5

Word Count: 4,037

Started 8-3-05 and finished 8-4-05

Listening to: Evanescence: Fallen & silence (CD player ran out of batteries, and I'm too lazy to get more right now)

Written by Ice Dragon3

Jedi Genocide

Chapter Fourteen: Mourning

"Morning, love," Anakin said as he kissed Obi-Wan's forehead. Obi-Wan mumbled a response and tried to burrow farther into the covers. "All right, I'll give you a couple more minutes. But you're going to need to get up soon. Mondays wait for no one. So if you want breakfast before we head over to the Temple, you're going to have to get ready fast. I'll be back in a bit to properly wake you up." Anakin left quietly, a soft, joyful laugh following him out.

Obi-Wan snuggled back into the bed, trying to return to sleep. But then something clicked in his mind and jolted him awake. Yesterday. He tried to force himself to remember all the details, but all he could recall were blurred images and Anakin's hypnotic voice.

'I went temporarily insane,' Obi-Wan decided, 'due to the death of Tarren and Skraith.'

That thought brought more fresh wounds to his notice.

And instantly he knew that all that—all yesterday—had not been a nightmare conjured up by his mind. It had been a…surreal reality. Even now he felt disturbingly detached from the truth, and he knew intellectually that that was mentally unhealthy, but his emotions were too drained for him to care much. Besides, it made everything hurt less, like taking painkillers to numb the throbbing of a stubbed toe.

But, like with painkillers, it was not a question of if the pain was still there or not; it was a question of how well the pain was being blocked from the central nervous system. And Obi-Wan could not entirely isolate himself from the hurt.

His Padawans were dead…both killed by lightsaber wounds to the torso. He couldn't stop berating himself—he should have foreseen these events, found out a way to stop them. Any warning the Force had been trying to give him had been forgotten in his worry of the present. He had been so focused on finding information on the Empire that he had forgotten that his true mission was to protect the Jedi. It didn't mattered if he brought down the Empire, as long as the Jedi survived. Just as he had told Tarren—it hurt just thinking of his name—so long ago, it was the difference between attacking the enemy and shielding the innocent.

He had placed his need to redeem himself before the health of the Jedi as a whole. And he'd done it without thought, not even pausing to wonder if he was doing something wrong.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have overlooked so many little, obvious signs?

What hurt the most was that he wasn't the one to pay for his mistakes, but Tarren and Skraith.

He struggled to remember everything from yesterday, but at some point his mind just hit a blank wall. Things became hazy, incoherent. And though he felt terrible for thinking it, a small voice inside him admitted that he didn't mind because he didn't want to remember.

All he could extract from his mind were feelings. He felt regret, shame, and a spark of guilty pleasure. He quickly shoved the last emotion down, smothering it and praying that it died quietly. He was able to disperse the regret and shame to the Force, but the gratification clung to him tenaciously no matter how desperately he tried to rid himself of it. It was slick oil on his skin, burrowing into his pores, and he was trying to wash it off with water. Oil and water never mixed.

Deciding to get up before Anakin could 'properly wake him up,' Obi-Wan dragged himself from the bed. With a groan, he realized that he was in Anakin's room, sleeping in Anakin's bed. 'Great, another thing for me to feel repentant about,' he thought.

Using their connected bathroom to get to his room undetected, Obi-Wan dug out random clothes and put them on. By this time he didn't care what he wore; all the outfits were unique and noticeable one way or another, and there was nothing that Obi-Wan could do to dull them. He disliked them all equally—perhaps he would even go as far as to say that he hated them. Gazing into the mirror he decided that yes, he did hate them. He didn't want to look 'stunning' or 'beautiful' or even 'nice.' He wanted to look like a Jedi.

As if he could communicate to his inner self through the flat reflection glass, Obi-Wan sighed and sternly looked at his equally serious, two-dimensional doppelganger. He began to talk to himself: "Okay, first thing I have to do is correct this situation. Explain that I hadn't been thinking straight at the time due to grief, and apologize to Anakin for my behavior."

Not that Anakin seemed sorry, but apologizing was a nice way to put some formal distance between them. Obi-Wan would appreciate that very much. He had too much to come to terms with to have that weight on his chest also.

He went into the kitchen, but Anakin wasn't there yet. He decided to try the greenhouse, since that seemed like the second most obvious place to find Anakin. He did find Anakin up there, along with C-3PO. He was about to greet them, but some warning in the Force stopped him. Instead, he chose to hide behind one of the many thick-trunked trees. He waited, watching and listening, a living shadow that barely breathed.

"Master Anakin, sir, please, you must understand that I had no part in this! It was against my will!" C-3PO said in a fretful voice. There was a shrill note of panic in it.

"How can you lie to me like that—and even worse, think that I would believe it? I was generous, because you were an old friend, and gave you all day yesterday to tell me the truth. You refused. Now, you must accept the consequences that entails."

"But sir—my programming—they inserted something that wouldn't let me notify you." C-3PO waved a golden hand. "I was helpless to do anything of the situation. I can only speak of it now because you have destroyed that dreadful device."

"While the listening device might have also been wired to your communication system, limiting what you could speak about, for it to have gotten there in the first place you had to have willingly complied!" Anakin snapped angrily. "There's no possible way they could have entered this building and kidnapped you—and then returned you at a much later period—without me knowing. You had to have voluntarily left. Anything suspicious I would have noticed."

"It's not my fault, Master Anakin, they were very persuasive—oh my," C-3PO said worriedly, body twitching like a golden scarab. "Oh my, oh my."

"Who?" Anakin demanded forcefully, taking an intimidating step forward. "Who was persuasive? Who put that device in you?"

"I can't say, sir—the device," C-3PO said faintly.

"The damned device is gone!" Anakin countered sharply. "What you won't tell me is because of you, not some mechanism. How could this have happened?" Anakin gritted his teeth, glaring at C-3PO. "I thought I had created the perfect program, yet you still turned on me!"

"Please, sir, just give me a mind wipe, or scan my memories to detract the details yourself. I cannot help you." Will not was the silent statement.

"Goodbye, Threepio, you were a good droid. The best protocol droid I ever had. I shall miss you," Anakin said coldly with a hint of regret. The faint traces of regret were a miasma in the air, and Anakin knew if he didn't breathe shallowly and carefully, he'd choke on it and die.

"Master Anakin, this is absurd!" C-3PO called out, begging, "I have been your faithful companion since you were nine!"

Anakin ignored his pleas, deaf to everything except his internal pain and the hurt of betrayal. He silently ignited his lightsaber, the red blade snarling like a tiger, and slashed C-3PO into impossibly small pieces. The machine components were left smoking on the floor, piled haphazardly on each other. Burnt metal singed the air, giving it an unpleasant, metallic smell. A long tendril of smoke twirled its way up to the glass roof, hitting it and dispersing in the faint morning light.

Anakin nudged the pile with his foot and it toppled, the pieces skittering and screeching across the floor. He watched the head roll towards him and brush against his feet. He said softly, "I see my mistake now. I gave him too much free will." He gently kicked the head away, and it bounced off to find a home elsewhere. Anakin wrapped around himself a gauze of cruel indifference. It was a material he found comfortable to wear.

Obi-Wan hurried back to the kitchen. The interrogation between C-3PO and Anakin was a secret he had stumbled on, and he would be wise to keep what he saw to himself. He was in no hurry for Anakin to find out that he knew; Anakin's actions could range from sly to irrational in a blink of an eye. Obi-Wan pictured Anakin kicking his severed head away, saying sadly in a cold voice 'If only I hadn't given him so much free will.' He shivered.

At least it gave him something else to think about other than—well, that.

By the time Anakin entered the kitchen Obi-Wan was already sitting in a chair, drawing circles on the table with his pinkie. As Anakin walked by, he briefly laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder and said, "Let me get you some tea. The regular, I presume?" Gone was the cold killer who had hacked C-3PO into bits and kicked the head away, replaced in a matter of seconds by this friendly conversationalist.

"Yes please," Obi-Wan mumbled. It felt as if cobwebs were sticking to him where Anakin's fingers had brushed him.

"Still tired from last night, I take it?" Anakin laughed, a knowing look in his friendly eyes. "I hope you wake up more before we leave. Especially since after lessons I need to go to the Galactic Senate building… I was wondering if you'd mind coming along."

Ears perking up at the mention of a trip to the heart of the Empire, he said casually, "I'm fine with it, as long as it doesn't take too long. You know how political procedures bore me—I swear, it takes them half an hour to decide on what to have for breakfast."

"Well, since this involves you, hopefully you won't be too bored," Anakin said slyly.

Obi-Wan swallowed dryly. "It does?" Had his day of execution come? Was Anakin going to dismember and behead him like he had done C-3PO, shaking his head at the mess and saying 'I should have known'? Obi-Wan realized that despite all the horrible events of yesterday, he still wanted to live—he wasn't ready to die yet.

Anakin laughed. "I know you hate politics, but you don't have to look so frightened," he said soothingly, feeling Obi-Wan's small spurt of panic but assuming incorrectly its cause. "I promise I'll protect you from the dull, long-winded speeches politics are so fond of giving. Personally, I don't like them much myself. Having you there will give me an excuse to cut them short, a normally forbidden act that will get you many enemies if you're not careful."

Obi-Wan chuckled nervously. "Yes…well…wouldn't want any enemies…"

"But to tell you a secret, they're the ones terrified of me." Anakin winked. He set Obi-Wan's tea in front of him and said cheerfully, "There you go, just the way you like it. So, what'll it be for breakfast?"

"Whatever you want," Obi-Wan said, deciding that being agreeable would be in his best interest. It didn't sound like Anakin knew about his spying, but he didn't want to do anything that would make Anakin angry. He realized that he should probably save his talk and apology for later; if he survived the trip to the Senate building, that was. Trying to rationalize last night—well, the portions that he could remember—would only infuriate Anakin. The man hated being explained away.

"Hmmm…I feel in the mood for…omelets. Sound good to you?" When Obi-Wan nodded his head, Anakin bustled around the room getting everything ready. "Ham, cheese, tomatoes, green peppers, mushrooms, and black olives like normal?"

"You read my mind," Obi-Wan joked feebly.

Before he knew it Anakin was turning his chair around and putting his hand on Obi-Wan's forehead. He stared Obi-Wan right in the eyes and said with concern, "Are you feeling all right? You don't seem like your normal self."

Obi-Wan said agitatedly, "Well, it's just…you know…" He blushed, flustered and unsure of what plausible excuse he could use. He was such a wreck right now.

"Oh, I understand now." Anakin laughed and kissed him softly on the lips. "This—us—is nothing to feel uncomfortable or guilty about. Don't think of it as a sudden action, but as a slow building up process that took more than decade to reach its resolution. Maybe that'll make your prudish side go away."

"Maybe," Obi-Wan said noncommittally as he swirled his cup of tea. Doing some quick thinking, Obi-Wan added, "Yes, definitely, you're right." He gave Anakin a small smile, which the other man returned. Obi-Wan felt like a minnow in a piranha's tank, and the carnivorous fish was smiling at him with sharp, sharp teeth.

Anakin returned to making breakfast, and Obi-Wan righted his seat. Sipping his hot drink, he decided that it was better to play along with Anakin. He would 'approve' of this relationship, at least until he could think of a nonviolent, nonfatal alternative. It might actually have some advantages—like this trip to the Senate building. He'd never been given this offer before.

Breakfast passed quickly, a blur of laughing children and knowing looks and smiles from Anakin. Obi-Wan had to struggle to be as upbeat as everyone else, but he felt that he managed nicely, considering the mental stress and guilt he was under.

As breakfast slowed down, Anakin said, "We better be off, then. Leia, Luke, you two be good now. Artoo-detoo's here to watch you, but since he's an astromech droid it won't be the same as having a protocol droid."

"But where's Threepio?" Leia asked with a pout. "Sure, he's bothersome and annoying most of the time, and never lets us do what we want, but he's our friend!"

"Threepio malfunctioned this morning, honey, and the damage's not repairable," he explained gently. "While trying to water the plants, some of the water got into his torso plate. It short-circuited his entire body, everything from motor skills to communication. He's in such a bad state that even I can't fix him."

"Can we at least say goodbye to him?" Luke asked sadly, tearing little strips from his napkin and squashing them together.

"I'm sorry. I had to throw him away. He was letting out electrical charges; he had become a hazard, and I didn't want you two to be accidentally hurt. It's sad enough to lose him… If you also got hurt… That would be just too much for me to handle." He cut off all their questions with a raised hand. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing more to say."

Obi-Wan got up from the table, saying, "Then we should be going. Bye you two, and try not to frighten Artoo too much. Remember, he's a little droid and can't take too much excitement." This lightened the mood, and when they left it was to Leia and Luke's giggling and plotting.

"I could kiss you for saving that conversation," Anakin declared, and then did just that. He lingered a moment before pulling back. "I was feeling terrible because of what had happened to Threepio in the first place, and then when you add in the twin's reaction… I almost couldn't take it all at once. You saved my skin."

"Just remember that you owe me one," Obi-Wan said with a small grin he didn't feel. Kissing Anakin was just confusing and horrible and good at the same time—and he didn't want to think about it anymore.

As they were flying towards the Jedi Temple, Anakin asked hesitantly, "Do you mind if we…tell them?"

"Tell who what?" was the question-answer.

"Tell the younglings about you and I." At Obi-Wan's horrified look, Anakin specified, "Not about everything. Just that we love each other; that we live together; that we're getting married…those sorts of non-detailed details. I'd rather they learned it from us than someone else."

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably in his seat and remained silent. He quelled the shocked look that threatened to plaster his face. When had he agreed to marriage, of all things? Then he thought back to those fuzzy memories and remembered Anakin's persuasive words, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and then all of eternity. You'll marry me?

And he had said yes, of all things. God—Force—just, just God.

Looking down at his left hand, he saw that his birthday present was currently on his ring finger. He had to have said yes, for it to have gotten there. This certainly made the situation more difficult than he thought…getting out of it might take more effort than a simple 'sorry, but we can't do this.' He knew that Anakin didn't take commitment lightly, and when he did pledge himself to something, he did so seriously. If he thought that Obi-Wan wanted to back down, he wouldn't take the matter very well… Worse case scenario, it could end in bloodshed, even.

"Obi," Anakin said, a touch of impatience and anger hardening his voice because of Obi-Wan's prolonged silence, "I won't hide this relationship just because you feel uncomfortable with it. It's like how I won't hide my right hand; I don't care what others think. I won't do anything embarrassing like kissing you in public"—although there was a wistful note to his voice when he said that, much to Obi-Wan's dismay—"but if I want to hold hands with you, I will."

Seeing Anakin's steely gaze, Obi-Wan thought quickly and decided that the added complication of marriage didn't overtly change his plan. "Of course, Anakin. I just wasn't sure if the younglings were ready for this…they are pretty young, you know. They might not understand, or get the wrong ideas…"

"That's why we have to tell them, so they get the right ones. And I'll say it to you once more: call me Ani. There really is no need for formality between us anymore." The smile he gave to Obi-Wan border-lined that of a sedated, smirking cat.

'He certainly loves this new position of power,' Obi-Wan thought glumly. 'I wish he'd stop hinting at it; it's getting on my nerves.' "Sure thing, Ani; I'll try. But if I forget, you have to give me some leeway… It's hard to break old habits."

"But it's even better making new ones." He sent another smirk over to Obi-Wan. Anakin landed the craft and they got out. He stepped close to Obi-Wan, his hand finding Obi-Wan's and intertwining their fingers.

"…Is this really necessary?" Obi-Wan asked helplessly, tugging his hand slightly. His efforts to dislodge his fingers were done in vain.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this, or how good it feels," Anakin replied happily. "So yes, as a matter of fact, it is necessary." Obi-Wan sighed, but said nothing else about it.

"Master Obi-Wan!" Carra shouted as soon as they entered. "Master Obi-Wan, something horrible has ha—" Her eyes zoomed onto their held hands, and her mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise. It would have been funny if the look weren't directed at him.

Trying to draw attention away from it, Obi-Wan asked her, "Is it about Tarren and Skraith?" This was going to be painful to tell. All ready he was feeling familiar stabs of guilt in his chest.

Carra's focus shot right back to his face, and she said in surprise, "Yes, it is! How did you know? Does this mean that you helped Tarren, and he's all better now? And what does Skraith have to do with this?" There was hope shining in her eyes, and she grasped blindly for a positive ending. "Did he help too?"

"…I do not wish to explain more than once. Let's go to the regular meditation room. I'll clarify everything there."

"Yes, Master Obi-Wan. I'll go ahead and see if they're already there; if not, I'll get them right away," she said eagerly. She raced down the hallway, making a sharp right turn and disappearing from view.

Obi-Wan managed to shake his hand from Anakin's when they got to the meditation room. "Let's not give them more than one shock at a time," he said quietly in response to Anakin's angry glance and stiffening stance. "First we deal with the matter pertaining to Tarren and Skraith. You can tell them whatever you like after that…after you give them some time to come to terms with their friends' deaths, of course." Anakin nodded in grudging agreement, and they entered the room as two separate entities.

"Where is Tarren right now? Is he coming back later?" Carra asked hurriedly. "If he's in a hospital, can we send cards?" Everyone else crowded around also, looking at him with different amounts of hope. Only Darrien remained sitting on his meditation pad; Obi-Wan had a hunch that the older boy already realized the truth, and that was the reason why he kept so silent. Darrien's face was marble, all white and cold and unmoving.

"You all should sit down for this." They plunked down hurriedly on their mats. "I will not give you false hope; what I have to tell you is not good news. Tarren and Skraith are dead, killed by lightsaber wounds. I witnessed this, but was unable to stop it." Obi-Wan had to pause for a moment to recollect his feelings. There was a tightening in his chest that made it hard to breathe, and he was feeling a little lightheaded because of it. "They died on Ragoon-6. These are the facts. Dwelling on theories and speculations will do us no good, so I hope that you will accept what I say as the truth and understand that I can give you nothing else."

"…Dead…?" Carra said in a faint, dazed voice. Her stunned expression evolved into confusion and disbelief. "But how is that possible…? I just saw them yesterday… Tarren was possessed, yes, but he was alive. He was alive." She shook her head, rubbing roughly at a tear that had involuntarily leaked down her cheek. The Bothan hiccupped, scrubbing her face forcefully. Ki'lya patted her shoulder in a comforting manner, a sad look on her blue face also. He thought he heard her whisper softly, 'Shhh, shhh…it's not like it's your fault, Carra; you didn't do anything.'

Everyone looked shocked. They dealt with their grief silently, by themselves. A tear might have leaked here or there, but it was not acknowledged if it did so. The only people not affected by Tarren and Skraith's deaths (or did not show it) were Lilitaa, who was too young to understand; Anakin, who saw death too often to be disturbed anymore; and Darrien.

The only reason Anakin had to be upset was that Obi-Wan was taking it so hard. He put a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, kneading his fingers into tense muscles in an attempt to express his concern and ease Obi-Wan's. The Jedi shrugged it off and whispered apologetically, "Please don't do that—now is not the time to tell them about us. Give them a day or two to mourn." His voice sounded so sad that Anakin couldn't help but comply, and after that he kept to himself. Though more often than not his gaze lingered on Obi-Wan's face, or his body.

Finally, after enduring minutes of oppressive silence, Obi-Wan said to the younglings, "We will meditate, and give these feelings to the Force."

There was no other solace that he could give them because he could find none himself.