Omg! Is it an update? Yes indeedy, I do believe it is. (grins) I hope you enjoy it.

Hyypchick, this chapter is for you! Thank you so much for finding those books for me, I really do appreciate it.

Thanks go as always to my wonderful beta Temple Mistress, without whom this chapter would not exist. Loves to my twinny!

Personal messages at the end of the chapter -- yes, I actually wrote them this time! Thank you again for reading and reviewing! Just so you know, chapters 8 (this one) and 9 (coming soon)are part one and two of the same night. But 8 was 12 pages, and 9 was 16pgs before editing... so it would have been too long to post in one installment. Ergo... cliffie. I'm sorry. (innocent smile).

XtP


VIII – Anakin is 25 years old.

It was Solstice Night in the Jedi Temple. Every room was decked out for the holidays, with sparkling lights and garlands and greenery wrapped around every column. Younglings and Padawans made decorations for their Masters and friends, or cavorted in the snow on the Temple's balconies and roof.

His room was bare this year, as it had been the year before, and the year before that. He didn't feel the need to buy decorations or put up festive lights. It wasn't a very festive time of year for him. Not any more. He didn't even bother buying a pinear tree. He hadn't done so for the past three years, not since….

Anakin's mind shied away skittishly from the memory. Even thinking about what he had almost done – who he had almost become – on that Solstice Night made Anakin's stomach lurch, the room spin violently, and his head throb. It hurt, pulling back from the edge of the Dark Side.

He had touched it for that one night, had let its cruel siren song whisper through his mind and heart. He had almost lost himself within it, allowing Vader to dominate him. The idea that he had done so willingly nauseated Anakin completely. In a way, he was glad for the pain of the memory; it was a constant reminder and warning. He would never lose himself in the darkness again.

Anakin knew that he would never fully be rid of it any more, now that it had marked him as its own. He wanted to blame Palpatine, wanted to say that he had been deceived, had been coerced into becoming a Sith apprentice against his will. But Anakin no longer had the strength to make that lie convincing. It had been a matter of choice. He had chosen to turn away from the light, and he would have to live with that decision.

He just hadn't expected it to be so hard.

Every day was a struggle, to wake, to move. To walk through the Temple hallways past the young Padawans and venerable old Masters, their light casting the darkness in his soul into sharp contrast. For weeks afterwards, Anakin had refused to leave his rooms at all, feeling as though he had been tainted; as though anything he touched would be irreparably darkened by the stain on his soul.

Eventually he stopped leaving his rooms, wanting to retreat into himself. He couldn't take the sidelong looks, the naked curiosity in the eyes of the other Jedi in the Temple. He hated the way conversations stopped as soon as he approached, and resumed with increased vehemence in his wake.

Very few people in the Temple knew what had really happened on that Solstice Night. The Council, of course, and Healer Master Luminara along with her Padawan, Barriss – anyone who had been directly involved in the whole sordid ordeal. Obi-Wan knew, and Quinlan Vos.

For the rest of the Jedi, there was nothing more than rumour and speculation. There were the mistaken notions that Anakin had somehow saved the Temple and the Jedi from destruction, fed by younglings who regarded him with wide-eyed hero worship. Then there were the older Knights and Masters, who knew that there was something more sinister in Anakin's role: nothing less would have broken up the famous team of Skywalker-Kenobi.

Anakin didn't know if it was worse trying to associate with those who knew nothing of his brush with the Dark Side, and who constantly angled for details, or those who knew too much. The ones who grew stiff and formal when speaking to Anakin, instinctively guarding themselves against him.

Anakin had stopped going to the infirmary even before his wounds had fully healed, preferring to endure the physical pain than face the contempt of his Healer. He and Barriss had never gotten along, but now she was even colder and more abrupt with him. Anakin knew that she would never forgive him for turning to the darkness. Why should she? He hadn't even managed to forgive himself.

He had never been close with any members of the Council; their opinion of him seemed to range between indifference and outright hostility. In that respect, nothing had changed. They continued to ignore him, and Anakin continued to avoid them whenever possible.

Obi-Wan was determined to act as though Anakin had never existed.

Quinlan had been the only one able to help him, having suffered the same experience, and to a greater degree. Quinlan had been deceived by the Sith as well, and had fallen from the Light. Anakin knew that much, but was ignorant of the details of Quinlan's brush with the Dark Side. Like his own experience, it was something known by very few Jedi.

To be honest, Anakin didn't want to know what had happened to Quinlan. It was enough to know that they had both suffered; neither one wanted to revisit painful memories. They never talked about Dark Side, by an unspoken accord. But there wasn't the tension between them that Anakin felt with everyone else, a result of their similar experiences. There was no judgement in his eyes when he spoke to Anakin as a result, no contempt or pity. That was unusual enough that Anakin had let down his rigid barriers, and had gained a friend who he trusted implicitly. A friend who was determined not to let Anakin retreat from Temple life.

Quinlan had brought meals to Anakin's room every day, had forcibly dragged the lethargic Jedi Knight out of bed and pushed him into the 'fresher every morning. He had threatened and argued and forced Anakin out of his rooms day after day.

And he had had the grace not to call Anakin an idiot when, every day, he would hear the same whispered plea:

"Is he coming to see me?"

There was no need to ask who 'he' was. And there was no need for an answer. Quinlan would just watch Anakin silently for a moment after the desperate question had been choked out. Then he would sigh quietly, and encourage Anakin to eat his breakfast.

Obi-Wan wouldn't come to see Anakin. He didn't want to have anything to do with Anakin any more.

That was the worst memory of that night, the one that still woke Anakin from his sleep, making him sob and clutch blindly at his pillow. The memory of Obi-Wan's eyes. How they had faded from piercing blue, filled with excitement and joy and love… to dull grey. Hurt, bewildered, betrayed.

They hadn't spoken since. Anakin had tried at first of course, because everything he had felt, everything he had suffered since dragging himself back into the Light, would have been bearable if he had Obi-Wan at his side. He knew the nightmares that made him wake screaming every night would fade at the touch of Obi-Wan's hand, the strength of those arms holding him. The sibilant echoes of Palpatine's words in his mind would fade if he heard Obi-Wan's voice, low and elegant, whispering soothing words in his ear.

The dragon was gone from his heart, he had beaten it when he had broken through the cold façade of Vader. But the fear was still there, the fear of being left alone forever. It was tempered now by resignation. His solitude was self-inflicted, and completely deserved, in Anakin's mind.

All the same, Anakin wanted to feel safe again, something that had been denied to him for the past three years. Neither Sith nor Jedi, he was something in between, some combination of the two that belonged… nowhere. To no one. Anakin didn't know how to get back to who he had been before, but with the gaping hole left in his heart from Obi-Wan's indifference, he didn't know how to heal and move on either. Obi-Wan was the only one who had ever known who Anakin was, the only one Anakin had ever trusted enough to let into his mind and spirit.

But more than anything else, he wanted to repair the shattered bond between himself and Obi-Wan. Not for his own sake, but to erase that sad, haunted look in his former Master's eyes. Anakin knew he didn't deserve to be at peace: not now, not ever. But once again he had managed to injure Obi-Wan, and this time it wasn't from failing to guard his Master's back. It had been he who had inflicted the wound, and that hurt far more than the claws of the Dark Side that still tore at his soul.

It was unforgivable.

And this time Master Luminara could not do anything to help heal the man that Anakin loved.

So he had approached Obi-Wan at every opportunity that presented itself. He had gone out of his way to match his predictable former Master's schedule, anxious for a moment to explain, to make Obi-Wan understand. To take that terrible, blank look out of Obi-Wan's eyes and somehow bridge the rift between them.

But he had been ignored at every turn. Obi-Wan's eyes would glide over him as though he were less substantial than a Force-ghost.

And Anakin had stopped trying.

He had started requesting more missions instead, despite the urgings of the Council that he take a Padawan Learner. Anakin suspected it was the meddlesome troll who had suggested it initially, as though a youngling could somehow heal his soul. Only Yoda would trust Anakin to train a Padawan now; he knew that none of the other Council members would want him near the promising younglings.

In this case, Anakin knew that the other Jedi Masters were right. He would never train a child; he wouldn't risk infecting a young mind with the poison in his soul. Besides, it would bind him too closely to the Temple. And now that Obi-Wan had been promoted to the rank of Master and awarded a seat on the Council, the farther away Anakin could get from the Temple, the better.

It helped him to forget.

He could forget the anguish that had torn at his heart when Obi-Wan had been brought back to the Temple on an anti-grav stretcher the night that Palpatine had been killed. His skin had been so pale, his lips tinged with blue. Anakin had dashed from his rooms to the Entrance Hall, had tried to reach his fallen Master and touch his hand, but had been pushed back by a stern Master Fisto.

He could forget seeing his Master suspended in a bacta tank, the only noises in the room the mechanical whirring and bleeping of machines monitoring the Jedi's vitals, and the sound of Anakin's breathing. Obi-Wan had looked so weak, so helpless in there, so far away. Anakin had hated being in the infirmary as a result; hated seeing what Palpatine had done to the man he loved. He hated the knowledge that it was at least partly his fault.

But as long as his Master was injured and unconscious, Anakin could stay close by his side. And desperate to stay as close to Obi-Wan as he possibly could, he would endure the guilt and pain that seeing Obi-Wan battered and broken gave him.

So he pretended, made believe that they had just come back from a mission together. Anakin knew that if he closed his eyes, he would feel again the warmth of Obi-Wan's skin, the sound of his heartbeat like muted thunder, the taste of his lips…. He knew that those simple, intense moments of sensation that he had so long taken for granted would be denied to him ever after.

And yet, he had always come back day after day, neither sleeping nor eating, until Barriss had finally thrown him out. She knew that Anakin would be unwelcome once Obi-Wan awoke, just as he knew it himself.

Anakin could forget the solemn look on Obi-Wan's face as he was honoured by the Jedi Grandmasters as the only Knight in living memory to have killed not one, but two Sith Lords. How magnificent Obi-Wan had looked in that moment, clad entirely in white, his eyes glowing in the sunlight that slanted into the Temple. A vision of the Force, as brilliant as the stars. Anakin hadn't been able to watch him for long – like staring at the sun, the sight of Obi-Wan would burn him, blind him.

Anakin could even forget the sad, sad smile that had curved his Master's lips for the briefest of instants when, on the day he had been elevated to the Council, Yoda had fondly said that Master Qui-Gon would have been proud of his apprentice.

Of course, Master Jinn would have been proud of Obi-Wan; he was brave, strong, serene… complete. Everything that Anakin was not. Anakin knew that Qui-Gon would have been severely disappointed, had he lived to see his youngest apprentice fall into twilight.

But what he wanted to forget the most, what he ran from, what he tried to escape with every dangerous mission that he undertook, was the day that he had sat on the Council in Master Vos' place. The day that he had seen Obi-Wan smile fully again.

A smile that had been directed at his new Padawan.

The girl was quiet, strong with the Force, with big dark eyes that had seemed to take everything in at once. And Obi-Wan had smiled fondly at her and ruffled her hair absently, his eyes a warm blue. And Anakin had instantly hated her. He hated her for being able to heal Obi-Wan's heart when Anakin was completely shut out. That she could be so close to the man he loved more than anything, when Anakin had been completely cut out of Obi-Wan's life. Ignored, denied, and forgotten, Anakin was utterly erased from Obi-Wan's mind, from his heart, from his life.

Anakin hated the girl for that, for taking Obi-Wan from him. And he despised her all the more for the knowledge that she hadn't done anything. She hadn't made Obi-Wan leave him; Anakin had done that well enough on his own. He knew exactly where the fault lay, and it wasn't with an innocent young girl

He wondered sometimes if that was how Obi-Wan had felt on first being confronted with Anakin: this odd mix of jealousy, anger, and disdain, coupled with the guilty knowledge that the emotions were completely irrational. If it was, then Anakin marvelled at the fact that Obi-Wan had ever managed to be so much as civil to him.

It didn't help that the little brat seemed absolutely fascinated by him. Anakin knew that he had a reputation among the Padawans – the combination of his black attire, dark past, and his propensity for the most dangerous missions made him somewhat of an icon among the younglings. It made Anakin sigh.

Once he would have found being idolized a very appealing prospect. He would have regaled his following with exaggerated tales of battles and dangers, escapes and rescues. He would have shown off for them, entertained them; revelling in their regard as though it could soothe the inadequacies he felt when faced with his Master's cool, measuring gaze.

Now, everything had changed. He wasn't proud of his exploits; he didn't take on impossible tasks to show off. He just wanted to forget his lonely existence back in the Temple. When once he would have boasted of his scars and dangerous missions, now he only pitied the younglings all the hardships they had ahead.

It would have been nice to be hero-worshipped amongst the younglings, as he had once been an ardent fan of the young Knight Kenobi. It would have given them one more thing in common. Ironic that such fame should come to him now that he wanted nothing more than to be left the hell alone.

He only wanted the attention of one person, after all….

Anakin had tried, of course. Tried to find someone else who would fill in the vast chasm in his heart, the painful sense of emptiness that Obi-Wan had left behind.

There had been one night, on one mission. Some Force-forsaken planet on the farthest reaches of the galaxy, where he had been sent by the Council. It had been a hellish mission. He had been captured, beaten, and tortured before managing to escape to rendezvous with his contact on the planet. Then the rebels he was supposed to protect, had tried to protect for five weeks, had been betrayed and murdered by one of their own... by the very contact that Anakin had lead to them. The families were slaughtered, the city destroyed by an air strike that no one had anticipated.

The only survivor of the attack, Anakin had been stranded for two weeks in the rubble of a former hospital, with little food and no shelter. Two weeks in the pounding, incessant rain, as the imperial army marched on the city, killing everyone in their path. Two weeks of waiting to die, knowing the blood of the slaughtered rebel fighters was on his hands.

Two weeks, until the Jedi Council had sent someone to pull him out.

Anakin opened his eyes slowly, hearing the sound of the ship's engines dying down, and the repulsors firing as it came in to land. He had half-expected it to be one of the empress' Imperial star-fighters, coming to take him away. He had experienced firsthand the kind of tortures he could expect in her dungeons…and she had been gentle with him the first time, trying to discover the location of the rebel base. There was no reason for her to be so tender anymore. The memory made Anakin ignite his lightsabre and stagger to his feet. He would die before he allowed himself to be captured again, and he would take as many of her soldiers with him as he could. It didn't matter anyways. Nothing mattered. He had failed this mission, had managed to destroy the cause he was supposed to protect. Even day after day of endless fucking rain hadn't managed to wash the bloodstains from his soul. His own death would be a fitting end to a miserable mission. He would die a Jedi Knight, if nothing else. There was nothing left at the Temple for him anyways.

But then the markings on the ship registered with his tired brain; the distinctive design of a Republic cruiser.

A Jedi ship.

Anakin sagged with relief, stumbling forwards across the uneven ground as the ramp descended, because Obi-Wan had found him again. Obi-Wan was here and he would sweep his exhausted younger partner into his arms and kiss away the past eight weeks of hell that Anakin had endured….

But it wasn't Obi-Wan's worried face that greeted him. Of course it wasn't; he and Obi-Wan hadn't been partners for almost three years now.

"I should have known I would have to pull your ass out of this one."

Anakin forced a smile as Quinlan clapped him on the shoulder and helped him onto the ship. He was weak and shaky from the exertions of the mission – starvation, torture, pitched battle, all in the endless rain.

The rain reminded him unpleasantly of Jabiim; Obi-Wan hadn't been there with him on that mission either. Anakin could still remember the numbing horror that had suffused his heart on seeing the AT-AT walker, where Obi-Wan was, explode in a ball of flame and scraps of twisted metal.

But he had been able to cling to irrational hope, no matter how faint, that he would see his Master again. Against the counselling of all other Jedi, he had insisted that Obi-Wan was alive. He could just feel it.

It was bitterly ironic; Anakin had been happier when Obi-Wan had been presumed dead, because of his own belief that everything would be all right. Now, knowing that his Master was alive, Anakin felt as though a knife was being twisted in his heart. Because Obi-Wan was alive and well, and wanted nothing to do with Anakin at all.

Anakin wasn't sure why he did it, why he suddenly turned and pulled Quinlan close against him, sweeping his hands up the older Jedi's back. He didn't know why he pressed his lips desperately against Quinlan's, what it was that made him need to taste, to touch and be touched. He didn't want to be alone any more, he didn't want to hurt, didn't want to have to think any longer.

But when Quinlan shoved him back roughly against the wall, tongue forcing entry into Anakin's mouth, grinding his hips against Anakin's, it was like something finally broke inside of him. He started to cry, even as his hands rose to tangle in Quinlan's hair, as their kiss deepened in intensity and passion.

It was Quinlan who broke it off, placing his hands flat on Anakin's shoulders and pulling back.

"N-no…" Anakin whimpered, leaning forward again, but Quinlan held him off easily. His dark eyes were kind, but Anakin thought he could hear a melancholy tinge of regret in the Jedi Master's low voice.

"I'm not him, Anakin. No matter how much you may want me to be. I'm. Not. Him."

Anakin shook his head roughly, trying to push back the ache that permeated his body, the bone-deep weariness coupled with over-bearing despair. Obi-Wan would never come back to him. That was what Quinlan had been trying to tell him for the past three years.

He had never been able to accept it before. But Obi-Wan wouldn't have let anyone else rescue Anakin if he still cared. If there was still a chance.

It really was over.

Anakin took a deep breath, coming back to the present moment with a rush of shame at the memory of his clumsy attempt at seduction. Quinlan had pulled him back into his arms and just hugged him. Even though Anakin was soaked through, covered with mud, and was bleeding from a dozen different wounds, even though Anakin had just made a complete ass out of himself, Quinlan had held him until he stopped crying. Then the Kiffar Jedi had laughed fondly, ruffled Anakin's hair as though he were a Padawan again, and pushed Anakin towards the 'fresher.

Anakin remembered standing in the tiled stall, head downcast, numbly watching the water-diluted mud and blood swirling around the drain. Too exhausted mentally and physically to support his weight, he had slowly slipped to the floor, hugging his knees tightly against his chest. There were no tears; he had cried himself out in Quinlan's arms. But there was still the aching, empty sensation of utter failure, the knowledge that he should have been the one to die, not the rebels he had been assigned to protect. But the fervent wish that his life could have been taken instead wasn't motivated by altruism: Anakin wished he had died because he no longer cared about living.

And that made him even more of a failure as a Jedi.

That had been his last mission. He had been grounded in the Temple for nearly three weeks, forced by the Council to see a 'soul healer'. He didn't need a fucking soul healer. He needed a word, a look, a something from Obi-Wan. Because without it, he was dying by slow, painful degrees, the shattered pieces of his heart pounded into dust as he battered at the cold wall of Obi-Wan's indifference.

He longed for a blaster bolt to reunite him with the Force. It would be a swifter end, a nobler end. And it would be infinitely less painful.

Not that he could tell the Council that.

Now his every step seemed to be dogged by Obi-Wan's Padawan, Anakin's replacement. His Master's new protégé. She was there when Anakin practised in the training rooms, sitting sombrely in one corner, knees drawn up against her chest. She was there in the classes he was obliged to teach to this next generation of Jedi Knights – everything from politics (making no secret of his distaste for that topic, much to his pupils' delight), to the tactics of space battles, fighter against fighter. She was there in the dining hall, her eyes dark as she caught his gaze for a moment across the room, and she was there in the Temple gardens as he meditated in the evenings.

But she never spoke to him, only observed in silence. Privately, Anakin wondered what manner of horror stories Obi-Wan had told the girl about his former apprentice that would warrant such attention. He worried about this apparent fascination with him: if Obi-Wan knew, or if the topic of his former Padawan was completely forbidden.

Either way, it made him feel even more paranoid than he had when rumours had been flying through the Temple three years ago. It wasn't enough that Obi-Wan ignored him utterly, but now his protégé had to scrutinize him as though he were a display in some kriffing museum? It irritated him, which made it very hard to be objective in the classes he was obliged to teach. He graded her more harshly than he should have: a fact that he wasn't proud of, but didn't repent.

The girl was smart, incredibly well versed in politics and negotiation for a 14 year old – she certainly knew more than Anakin did on the subject. In a way, she reminded him of Jamilla Amidala, from what he could remember of that Nubian princess. She had only been 14 as well, the last time Anakin had seen her. They had the same air about them, the same mannerisms.

Anakin remembered with a faint scowl that Obi-Wan and Jamilla had gotten on remarkably well. No wonder this… this Padawan Naberrie was such a perfect pupil for his former Master. She was quiet and thoughtful and down-to-earth… and although she was capable in combat, it was clear that her preference lay in negotiating. Diplomacy over aggression. Anakin often thought with a mental sneer that the kid would have been better off as a Senator than as Jedi.

Anakin sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands. He still wasn't used to this new room that he'd been assigned. He spent more time across the galaxy than home at the Temple nowadays, after all. Anakin supposed he couldn't even consider this miserable little room as "home". He didn't even spend enough time in the small set of apartments for his Force signature to become imprinted on the walls. If he never came back, this room would be unrecognizable from a hundred other empty apartments in the Temple. He didn't even have any personal possessions to set out on the bland, standardized furniture, nothing to identify the room as his.

Nothing aside from the one holograph that Anakin kept face down on the small bedside table. It was a holo of the famous Jedi Team Kenobi-Skywalker, taken after some mission or another. He was grinning cheerfully at the camera, in sharp contrast to Obi-Wan's bemused half-smile. Anakin's arm was thrown casually over the older Jedi's shoulder, forcing his reluctant partner to stay still so that the reporter could take the picture. They had been a team, had been more than partners, more than brothers, once upon a time.

No more.

Anakin kept the holograph face-down because it still pained him to remember the past. There was no emotion quite like regret, and he regretted so much. The picture only reminded him of everything he had lost. But he couldn't bring himself to discard it, or to even shut it away in a drawer to safely forget.

No, this place, these rooms would never really belong to him, because even the Temple had ceased to be home. Home was a comforting warmth, a place to feel safe and secure and loved. Home, to Anakin, was a person, rather than a place.

It had been a long time since he'd been home.

A chime on his door made Anakin glance up in consternation. Shooting a quick glance at the chrono mounted on his wall, he frowned slightly. It was early yet, too early for Quinlan to have decided that what Anakin really needed was to go out and get drunk. That usually didn't happen until 2100 by the chrono – Quinlan was becoming predictable.

The fact that he always knew Anakin would be in his room indicated that Anakin was also getting stuck in a routine.

Without rising, Anakin waved one hand irritably, allowing the door to slide open as he went back to considering his data pad. His political theory students had submitted their reports earlier in the week, and he still hadn't gotten around to grading them.

Obi-Wan had always procrastinated on marking assignments as well, Anakin remembered with a melancholy smile. He had inherited his Master's distaste for giving out homework, when life experience would teach far more than books….

"Master Skywalker, sir…?"

The voice, young and female, made Anakin start in surprise, jumping up from his small couch. He quickly schooled his face into impassivity, trying to hide his distaste of the young Padawan who hesitated in the doorway.

Padawan Naberrie. Anakin stifled a groan. This was not what he needed tonight. Solstice Night traditionally involved getting piss-drunk with Quinlan to forget Obi-Wan; Anakin didn't need the memory of all he had lost rubbed in his face by this girl, his replacement.

"I haven't finished marking the papers yet, Padawan, so there's no use asking me what grade you've received," he snapped irritably, standing awkwardly by the couch. He didn't want this girl invading his privacy, trying to worm her way into his life. He didn't want to like her; he didn't want to be liked. Sith knew he just wanted to be left in peace. Not that that was likely to happen anymore, between Quinlan's insistences that Anakin should get out and have fun, to this Padawan ghosting his footsteps, to Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi haunting his thoughts day and night.

"No… no Master Skywalker, I wasn't…."

"Then what do you want?" Anakin cringed inwardly at his tone. It was hard not to take out his anger on the girl, but really she had never done anything to him. Aside from replacing Anakin in Obi-Wan's heart, but that wasn't exactly her fault. Anakin knew full well whose fault it was.

"I… I saw you sparring with Master Vos yesterday evening, and… and I've been having some trouble with the third form of the eighth kata, and I was wondering… if you weren't busy….?"

"That's your Master's affair, not mine." Anakin replied blandly, turning away and sifting idly through the stack of data pads on the small table, acting as though he was busy.

"He's in a Council Meeting."

Anakin raised one eyebrow in faint surprise. Why in the Sith was Obi-Wan attending to Council duties tonight of all nights? He never worked on the Solstice; no Master who had a Padawan or a partner ever did. When he and Anakin had been together, Obi-Wan had never missed a single holiday, so….

Oh.

Anakin felt a wave of remorse as he turned back to the girl, seeing the way her shoulders hunched slightly, the way she toed the carpet and stared firmly down at the ground as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. He realized that this probably wasn't the first time that Obi-Wan had made work for himself on the Solstice, to try to block out the memories of his last Padawan… and what that Padawan had become on this night four years ago. Whether this girl knew what had happened between Anakin and her Master or not, she had certainly suffered as a result of that night.

Anakin started to say something, hesitated, and sighed in frustration. Why should he care if he hurt her feelings? She was a child; she would get over it. He owed nothing to this girl, nor to her Master, so she could kindly get the hell out of his life and stop bothering him.

Anakin opened his mouth to tell her as much, dimly aware that he would sound like a petulant youngling, when Padawan Naberrie abruptly straightened. Squaring her shoulders, she tilted her chin up imperiously to look Anakin right in the eye.

"I know you don't like me, Master Skywalker," the young girl said calmly, sounding much more mature than her fourteen years as she tilted her head to one side to study him. "I know you were Master Obi-Wan's last Padawan, and that I can never live up to your reputation. He-He doesn't say that, of course, but I can tell that I'm a disappointment to him in a lot of things." She bowed her head slightly as she spoke, but her words weren't bitter, merely resigned. Somehow that was worse. Anakin felt his hands clench into fists; he knew what it was like to feel unable to live up to one who had come before. Hadn't he always felt that way about Qui-Gon?

The young Padawan, not noticing his agitation, continued in the same soft voice. "So… I don't know why you hate me… if it's because of me, or because of my Master, but I was hoping I could make amends somehow –"

'I know that you never wanted me. I know that you resent me. But I just thought that for one day this year, you could at least act like you cared…'

Anakin gaped silently at her, hearing the echo of his own words to Obi-Wan eleven years ago – Force, had it really been that long? Had he ever been as young as this girl who was staring at him so intensely?

"Padawan Naberrie, I…" no, that wasn't right. Searching his memory desperately, Anakin took a deep breath and started again. "Padmé. Come in," he gestured absently, setting the data pads aside. "If I move this table, there ought to be enough room in here to run through the eighth kata. Then we won't be disturbing the younglings celebrating in the training rooms."

Her face burst into a wide smile, and she rushed over to move the chair out of the way and help push the couch back to clear a large enough space for the two of them. As she passed, Anakin put a hand on her shoulder, stopping the girl momentarily.

"I don't hate you, Padmé," he said quietly. I did. And I know you know that as well and I'm sorry. Anakin smiled tentatively, hoping that she would understand his unspoken apology.

She shot him a grin over her shoulder, tossed her head so that her braid flipped back over her shoulder, and settling into the meditative initial stance of the eighth kata. With a rueful smile, wondering how he had gotten himself into this, Anakin walked over to join her.

Time passed in a blur of activity; Anakin watching her run through the form again and again, correcting her stance here, changing the angle of her attack there, going through the kata together side by side until she was as fluid in the motions as he was.

Anakin realized suddenly that he was smiling, that he was – for the first time in far too many years – actually enjoying himself. Was this what it was like, having a Padawan? Even without a training bond connecting them, Anakin could feel an echo of her movements in his body as they ran through the kata in tandem, could sense her emotions – frustration, determination, happiness – as though they were his own. And his own feelings were just as complex and new: the odd warmth that enveloped his heart, the thrill of pride that ran through him as she painstakingly corrected her errors and mastered each new challenge. The comforting smile and encouraging hand on her shoulder when a mistake was made, and then the elation when the difficulty was overcome. Was that what having a Padawan was supposed to be like? Had Obi-Wan felt this way when training Anakin?

The chime on the door caught them both by surprise. Anakin glanced over at the chrono, shocked to see that they had been working for over three hours. It wouldn't be Quinlan at the door. Even though the time had long come and gone for the Knight to make his usual nightly visit, Quinlan never bothered to ring the chime. He always just came striding right in, confident that Anakin wouldn't be doing anything more interesting than what Master Vos had up his sleeve.

Anakin motioned for Padmé to continue practising the form, laughing at the mock-exhausted face she pulled as he palmed the opening mechanism, turned as the door whooshed open….

And found himself face-to-face with Obi-Wan.

-----

You tell me you don't love me over a cup of coffee
And I just have to look away
A million miles between us
Planets crashing to dust
I just let it fade away

I'm walking empty streets hoping we might meet
I see your car parked on the road
The light on at your window
I know for sure that you're home
But I just have to pass on by

So no of course we can't be friends
Not while I'm still this obsessed
I guess I always knew the score
This is how our story ends

I smoke your brand of cigarettes
And pray that you might give me a call
I lie around in bed all day just staring at the walls
Hanging round bars at night wishing I had never been born
And give myself to anyone who wants to take me home

So no of course we can't be friends
Not while I still feel like this
I guess I always knew the score
This is where our story ends

You left behind some clothes
My belly summersaults when I pick them off the floor
My friends all say they're worried
I'm looking far too skinny
I've stopped returning all their calls

And no of course we can't be friends
Not while I'm still so obsessed
I want to ask where I went wrong
But don't say anything at all

It took a cup of coffee
To prove that you don't love me.

("Cup of Coffee", Garbage)


Review Replies!

Queen Cria - Thank you for the review, but come on! Don't sell yourself short, all right? I hope that you liked the chapter!

Vee017 - Yay! You got it in one! Hence the reason why Obi-Wan is being such an ass in this. And I think that you need to write an Anakin version of that song... and then Paint!Jedi-ify it. That would just be too cool. Someday, will we see Paint!Palpsy? You know how much I love that evil old Sithy Lord. hahahaha. Thanks for the review!

AlchemyDream - SISTER! I love getting reviews from you, you're always so detailed and insightful. I swear, you see things in my stories that I didn't even consider. It makes me feel a lot smarter than I am. Haha. (wink) The Stover reference was deliberate, as I knew that anyone who had read the book would instnatly pick up on where the chapter was headed as a result. And it was too good a metaphor not to recycle. LoL. Dont' worry about taking your time, the review was more than worth the few intervening days. I squeed. Hahah. And I love my new title. "Mistress of Latent Drama" indeed. That's going to be my new MSN name.

Darthlord325 -- Thank you very much for the comment! I am really starting to get into this story... every time I think I've figured out how many chapters it will be, a new bunny crops up in my head. Yes, Obi-Wan should have maybe paid closer attention to his love, but Anakin was very good at shielding from him as well. So they're both at fault, I suppose. I personally feel more for Obi-Wan... it's really hard not being able to delve into his pov on these chapters. Haha... maybe someday I'll write a sequel from his side. LoL.

Phoenix Red Lion -- LOL, yup, you knew that the angst was coming. I'm sorry that it was so much, but I figured if I'm going for the happy ending, then I have to pull out all the stops while I can, you know? And yes, Obi-Wan's heart would have been completely broken by Anakin's betrayal of his trust. you've seen more of his reaction -- or lack thereof -- to Anakin in this chapter... as for forgiveness, well, you'll just have to wait and see! Your insights for Obi-Wan were completely dead on. Which made me dance, because that means that I've done my job! Obi-Wanwas madly in love with Anakin... he really couldn't do all that more. He trusted Anakin with everything... Anakin held back on his fears. Not a balanced relationship. (grins). Which is so fun to write.

XxBandGeeksxX -- Well, here you are! I hope that you liked it! Some more angst for you. LoL.

Lea Nikkaya -- It was sad! (sniffle) And this chapter isnt much better, I'm afriad. But it's an update, which is something. Hope you liked it!

Laurel Tree -- I am a sucker for the angst. In fact...(sniffles) Monchy and co tease about me writing a happy ending being the equivalent in fandom of hell freezing over, lol. I'm glad that you like it, hahah. And homework, schmomework. Who needs it? I wrote this instead of quickly finishing my last Classics paper of the term. Then edited it instead of reading the Count of Monte Cristo like I told my dad. hahahhahahahaahah. Fandomis more important(grin).

Jessica The Fair -- Glad you're liking it. I hope that this was soon enough! I'm afriad the next one will take a little longer.

maddymouse -- You get muchos HEARTS from this Xtine, because it made you cry out loud. I love it. Love hearing that... it's my inner Sith. Thank you very very very much for the comment! And don't worry, my family thinks I'm odd as well.

Shadow Padawan -- Like maddy above, you're getting uberhugs for crying at my story. That makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Perverse, ain't it? (laughs). And yes, tehre will be a happy ending. Eventually. I mean, I have to maintain my rep as Queen of Angst still, you know...

Padfoot Reincarnated -- It is possible. hahaha. Even for me, apparently. But there's still a ways to go, and some stuff they need to work through. Thanks for the review!

PureEvil230 -- You're right, they do deserve it. Even after all the hell they've gone through together, they still are crazy in love. (sighs at the boyos) I figured I owed them a happy ending after killing them off in so many other stories, you know...

Monchy -- Yay! It's your fave so far! I'm glad that you liked it so much! I really enjoyed writing it as well. Vaderkin is so much fun to play with, much like certian other diabolical Sith Lords. I almost cried writing him fighting Obi-Wan though. Lesigh... But GAH and SQUEE! You really know how to stoke my ego. (purrs happily) For me, Obi-Wan was the really tragic figure in this chapter as well. I felt so bad putting him through such hell. And it was really hard not to slip into his side of things, you know? Because mega ouchies and betrayals is right. Anakin broke his little heart. And wait until you find out what he had HAD planned for that Solstice Night, before Anakin went and spoiled it all... (drums fingers a la Monty Burns) Thanks SO much for the review!