Chapter 2 – Understanding

Author's Note: Y'all, this is practically 60k of very self-indulgent content where the sole goal is making Anakin and Obi-Wan talk. Just so no one expects anything else. Lol. Also, as a result, that means their relationship is the primary focus/conflict here. :')

If you like that, then enjoy this next chapter! :D

~ Amina Gila

Anakin's mind is in a turmoil, the bright and innocent presence of his young counterpart buzzing in the back of his head. He followed Obi-Wan's orders and went to the medbay to rest there – where he could be given an IV – but he couldn't actually get any real sleep. He and Ahsoka had shown their guests to a cabin, and he doubts that they'll be leaving. It's… strange, surreal even to see any version of Obi-Wan like this, and if he's being honest with himself, it hurts as well.

How could someone like Obi-Wan have Fallen? It doesn't make sense. Ever since Mortis, Anakin has feared the Dark Side, feared what he could become if he gives in to it. Had one of their visitors been a Sith version of himself, he would not have been surprised, but Obi-Wan? He needs answers. He needs to know what happened. Custos didn't seem willing to tell anyone anything, but would he react differently to an older version of the child he's currently caring for? Anakin doesn't know, but he thinks it's worth a try.

Sneaking out of the medbay is easier than sometimes, and it's a technique which Anakin has mastered over the past few months. Once he's clear, he immediately hurries to the cabin where their guests are staying, hoping that Ahsoka or Rex won't spot him while he's on the way. They're nowhere to be seen, thankfully, so he arrives there within minutes and knocks on the door. Now, hopefully he'll be allowed inside.

For a few seconds there's silence, but finally, the door slides open. Custos is standing there, eyes narrowed. His posture relaxes imperceptibly when he sees Anakin standing there. "I wanted to talk to you," Anakin says awkwardly, resting his right hand on the doorframe, "If you don't mind?" He doesn't want them to feel as if they're being pressured.

Custos stands there for a moment before stepping back and letting him inside. The child is sitting on the bunk, knees pulled up to his chest, a forlorn and lost look on his face. It hurts to see. It hurts even more to feel the sadness that he's carrying within him. Whatever happened has left scars on both of them, not just Custos.

Anakin leans against the door, crossing his arms and feeling as if he's very much intruding on their privacy. "What… happened to both of you?" he questions.

Custos smiles mirthlessly as he sits down next to the child, instinctively wrapping his arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer. It makes jealousy and resentment burn hot and fierce within Anakin to see it. It's not fair. He's – all he's wanted is for Obi-Wan to – to treat him like that, like a parent would a child, to show that he cares. And this Sith version of his former master is doing just that without even having to be asked.

"The Sith happened," Custos admits with a heavy sigh. He suddenly looks so worn out, and for a moment, Anakin sees a flash of exhaustion, fear, and insecurity on his face before it's gone, smoothed out behind the mask he's wearing. He rubs his fingers soothingly on the child's back, a seemingly unconscious gesture. It takes all of Anakin's willpower to meet the Sith's eyes instead of staring at him, at them. "On Naboo, after Maul killed… my master, I killed him. I first drew on the Dark Side then. I – I thought it was over, but…" He pauses, looking away. "Plagueis came," he continues, voice barely audible now. He says the name with something akin to trepidation.

"He took us, and we met his apprentice, Sidious." Custos utters that name with no small amount of loathing, and his eyes bleed gold. Anakin can't suppress the shiver the runs through him at the sight. This man looks much like Obi-Wan – though he's definitely far younger – and it's unnerving to see the yellow marking him as a Sith… as if Anakin could even ignore the darkness staining his oh-so-familiar Force signature. "I Fell. I fought them. The Force happened, and here we are." He gestures at the room.

Anakin licks his lips, staring down at the floor down. "Why?" he forces himself to ask because he has to know. "Why are you telling me? Why not anyone else?"

"I know you, a version of you anyways," Custos replies, a fond smile ghosting across his lips. When Anakin looks up, Custos' eyes are blue gray again. "I know what kind of heart you have, and I know you would never do something to willfully put us in danger."

That… okay, it makes sense, but he feels a bit overwhelmed by that admission. This stranger, this Sith, this man who doesn't even know him is willing to trust him with his life and the life of the child in his care, because he says that he can see him, can see the good person he is. Anakin doesn't know how to respond to that admission, so he simply says nothing. The silence is companionable, not awkward in the least, which is almost weird in and of itself.

"What about you?" Custos' expression is intent, curious. "What happened in your reality that led you on such a different path?"

Anakin has no reservations with answering those questions. "I think the difference was on Naboo," he tells them, uncrossing his arms as he becomes more comfortable being in their presences. "Maul was the only Sith there, and Obi-Wan killed him. The Council agreed to let him train me, so he did. I was Knighted a little over a year ago, right after the beginning of the Clone Wars."

"What's that?" the child frowns.

"It's a galactic civil war essentially, between the Republic and the Confederacy of Independent Systems which broke away some years ago," Anakin explains. "I don't understand all the politics. You'd have to ask Obi-Wan or…" He pauses, a smile quirking at his lips. "Senator Padme Amidala."

The boy perks up. "Padme? You're still friends?"

"You could say that," Anakin replies dryly, wondering how they'd react if he told them the truth. He doesn't exactly want to. He doesn't want to tell anyone, even if there are times when he desperately craves the ability to share his burdens. He has no one. He's long since come to accept that.

"What happened to your arm?" Custos inquires. He's so much like Obi-Wan that it… almost hurts to see. He's clearly younger and less experienced, but he carries a pain in his eyes which Anakin's former master does not.

He looks down at the limb, unsurprised at the question. He should have known that it was coming, because he's wearing his normal Jedi robes and not armor, meaning only his prosthetic is gloved. "I lost it to Dooku," Anakin states flatly.

His counterpart lets out a squeak of… is that surprise? "Dad! I thought Dooku was nice!"

Anakin flinches at the title, and for a moment, it literally feels as if someone has twisted a knife into his chest. How long – how long has he yearned to be able to claim his master that way? He never had a father, though he'd always wished he would. Qui-Gon could have taken that role, except he died. Anakin cared for him deeply, of course, but they hadn't known one another nearly long enough. And then, there was Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, who was – and is – the best person Anakin has ever known. Obi-Wan, who Anakin would do absolutely anything for. Obi-Wan, who is his everything. He fits the role of father perfectly, and it might have been – be – wrong, but Anakin still loves him; he would still label him as such.

He doesn't hear what Custos tells his – his son over the sudden chaos in his mind. He's been completely thrown off balance, and he never thought it could hurt so much to hear someone calling another their parent. Of course, they aren't just anyone. They're another version of Anakin and Obi-Wan, a version of them who fell into the hands of the Sith and are even closer for it. There's nothing he wouldn't give to have a fraction of that intent focus and fierce protectiveness on him.

It was always a dream, an illusion, a fantasy. Something which would forever be beyond his grasp, because Obi-Wan is a Jedi, a good Jedi unlike him. Except… he was wrong apparently since there's no rebuke or criticism for the casual use of the title. It's not beyond his reach then, and it never was. It was simply a choice, Obi-Wan's choice, not to let them get close the way Anakin has craved for years and years.

He slides down the door to the floor, shaking, unable to continue standing in the face of the crippling pain consuming him. He remains distantly aware of his audience, checking himself so that he doesn't let slip too much. If only he had a warning, it wouldn't have shaken him so much to hear. Closing his eyes, Anakin tries to focus on his breathing, counting carefully in an effort to dissociate and distance himself from the pain.

A hand touches his shoulder gently, and he instinctively jerks back from it, opening his eyes and turning to see Custos crouched close by, expression worried. "Anakin, what's wrong?" He sounds so sincere, so – so concerned, and it's not fair. It's not fair, because Obi-Wan never treats him like that. They're distant, more so now than they have been in the past, and Anakin hates it, but there's nothing he can do about it. He can't go confessing his deepest desires to his former master, knowing he'll be rejected and reprimanded. It's not something he could handle. It would break him entirely.

Why did it take Obi-Wan becoming a Sith for him to change how he behaves? The irrational jealousy and resentment towards his younger counterpart glow even stronger. He wants to answer, wants to tell this Sith how he really feels. He's tired of always keeping it bottled inside of him, struggling to maintain a durasteel grip on his emotions lest he snap entirely.

"Nothing," he finally says, shaking his head. "I'm fine." It's so obviously a lie, especially when his voice isn't entirely steady. If Obi-Wan was here, he'd probably launch into a spiel about emotions and attachments depending on how much of Anakin's feelings he was able to pick up and interpret. Right now, his shielding feels like it's shot.

Custos sighs, sounding a bit frustrated, the darkness of his Force signature reaching out and curling around Anakin, trying to soothe him. The knife slowly digs in deeper. "I know you're not fine," the Sith states simply, touching Anakin's shoulder again. When Anakin makes no move to pull away, the hand slips lower down his back and Custos settles down next to him, close enough that they're touching.

Anakin looks at him, meeting his blue gray eyes almost without meaning to, seeing the sadness in them, before he turns away. The child is still sitting on the edge of the bunk, but he seems to be about two seconds from scurrying over and fussing over Anakin as well. "You have your own Anakin. You don't need to worry about me." He tries, he really does, to hide the emotion he's feeling, but he still knows that there was far too much bitterness in his words. No version of Obi-Wan would miss something like that.

Maybe coming here was a mistake. He should probably leave, go back to his own quarters before someone finds him here and pitches a fit. He should –

"Ani can feel your pain," Custos says quietly. "It's real. It matters to him, and it matters to me as well." His tone is still caring, gentle, but Anakin can pick up the nuances well enough to know that the gears are turning in his head. He probably won't be able to put anything together though, at least not accurately.

"It doesn't matter," Anakin repeats nonsensically, desperately hoping that they'll drop it. He keeps his eyes focused on the floor, willing himself to forget how much he's hurting, how jarring it was to hear Ani call Custos "Dad." Is it selfish for him to want more, to yearn for a deeper emotional connection than the one he already has?

"Anakin." He doesn't turn, doesn't look at the man sitting next to him. He doesn't think he even can. Custos cups his cheek, turning his head so he's looking at him. Anakin doesn't know what Custos sees in his expression; he wishes he did. "How did your master treat you?"

No. A tendril of icy dread shoots through him. He doesn't want Custos – or anyone – to know. The hand on his face is warm, familiar yet different, and he instinctively leans into the touch despite himself. Wanting it is a weakness, but then again, he's always been weak, hasn't he?

Understanding dawns in the blue gray eyes staring at him, eyes which seem to be piercing through to his very soul. "He was distant," Custos realizes. "He's never been there for you emotionally, has he?" He would know, wouldn't he. He would know what he would have probably been like as a Jedi when he knows what took him over the edge into the Dark Side.

Anakin can't answer, unable to believe that he's really having this conversation with someone, closing his eyes against an onslaught of tears, breathing shallowly so he doesn't break down here and now. If he starts falling apart, he may never stop.

"He doesn't know what he's missing." Custos is speaking barely above a whisper, his hand dropping from Anakin's face as he slips an arm around his shoulders, pulling Anakin against him. He doesn't resist, all too willing to press himself against this other version of his former master as he entwines their Force signatures together, desperately soaking up the freely offered comfort. Anakin can't help but think that Custos' words apply to both him and Obi-Wan, because he never knew what things could have been like until now.

"You can tell me how you're feeling," the Sith Lord continues, tightening his arms around Anakin, seemingly trying to shelter him from the entire world around him. "You can tell me anything. Don't keep it locked inside of you. It will only hurt you in the end."

"I don't know if I can," Anakin whispers, face pressed against Custos' shoulder. His control cracks further, and he gives in more, slipping his arms around the other and clinging to him. He never thought he'd get this chance… except this isn't his Obi-Wan anyways. It will help, but it won't heal him.

He hears movement, and the next thing he knows, Ani is hugging him too. Anakin knows somehow that he has no intention of ever letting go if he has a choice. He can feel Anakin's turmoil, and if Anakin wasn't so emotional, he'd be able to sense the child's emotions as well. "Dad's right," Ani says softly. "You can't hold onto it forever."

"We're here," Custos promises, and Anakin senses him and Ani communicating in silence, either through the Force or simply from being so in sync. "It's alright."

And Anakin breaks.

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