Anakin awoke to the sensation of hands in his hair and fond irritation in the Force.
"Anakin."
He shied away from the shred of consciousness threatening to break in on him, absolutely certain that it was not, in any possible galaxy, time to get up yet.
"Anakin." It was his master's scratchy morning voice, too slow and warm to be really awake yet either. "Can you move? I'm hot."
Yeah, maybe Obi-Wan was hot because he took all the covers again. Anakin turned his face into Obi-Wan's neck and made a noise of displeasure. Something was digging uncomfortably into his hip — had he somehow forgotten to take off his clothes last night? Anakin's head throbbed, a dull, all-encompassing ache that made it seem like the whole world was pressing down on him, and his eyes felt hot and swollen. He wasn't sure he could open them if he tried.
He hadn't gotten drunk, had he?
"Fifteen more minutes," Anakin groaned.
"Anakin," said Obi-Wan, and a burst of pressure as distinct as the sound of his name spiraled through the bond. Usually, Obi-Wan would tug on his padawan braid too right about now, but he didn't. Unfortunately, that didn't work so well with Ahsoka, since her beads weren't actually attached to her head.
His padawan braid?
Anakin was suddenly, absolutely awake.
He flipped over and sat bolt upright in a move that left him disoriented, blinking clouded and tender eyes in the dim light. The room was gray and featureless, except for some medical monitors and his boots neatly lined up by the door. The clinic. Centares. Amnesia. Why was he in Obi-Wan's bed? How long had he slept? Turning onto his knees, Anakin found Obi-Wan squinting up at him in bleary confusion.
Rubbing at his own eyes, Obi-Wan asked, "Did you have a nightmare?"
"Huh?"
"Can't think of any other reason you would invade my room."
Obi-Wan pushed up on his elbows, expression trying for a mock-irritated pinch, but too sleepy to totally pull it off. His hair fell in a messy screen over his forehead and his eyes were the brightest thing in the room. Anakin's mouth opened, but he had already forgotten how to speak.
"Are you—?" Obi-Wan sat up, pushing the blankets away, but then paused.
He was looking at Anakin, frown growing steadily, but Anakin felt most of his focus on reaching out in the Force. Instead of trying to push past Anakin's purposefully expanded Force presence, he was reaching for Anakin. Head tilted slightly, Obi-Wan stared at his face as if he were waiting for a grainy holo to finally resolve itself and become clear.
When the Force didn't yield the answers he needed, Obi-Wan reached out and very carefully took Anakin's head between his hands. All the air left Anakin's lungs in a rush and he was suspended in time, frozen and breathless, while Obi-Wan studied him. He traced the lines of Anakin's face with his fingers, running a thumb down the long scar bisecting Anakin's right eyebrow. He touched Anakin's hair, darker and wavier now that it was grown out. His earnest focus never wavered, and Anakin blinked hard, feeling his eyes start to sting.
"Oh," said Obi-Wan sadly, fingers going to the lock of hair behind Anakin's right ear, where his padawan braid had been. "I wanted to cut this."
I wanted that too, Anakin would have said, but he couldn't because he was crying.
Hot tears burned his eyes, and Obi-Wan's hands fell to his shoulders, pulling him in. Obi-Wan held him tight and safe, the way he had countless times before when Anakin was young, the way Anakin had held him just hours ago. Hiding his face against Obi-Wan's hair, Anakin let himself break into pieces.
Day after day precariously stacked on month after month of hard-fought discipline and self-control all came crashing down in a torrent. Relief so sharp that it hurt lodged in Anakin's chest and choked him with sobs. He cried for every day he'd missed Obi-Wan, and for how much he loved him. He cried for everyone he still missed and the failures he regretted — his mother, the men lost on Umbara.
Anakin cried because he couldn't help it.
He had grieved for so long, Obi-Wan's loss one of the biggest wounds on his heart. He had tried as hard as he could to live with the pain, to heal the way he knew he should, to treasure his memories of Obi-Wan but to not injure himself over and over by trying to hold on to what was already gone. All this, and now Obi-Wan was here, alive and well and touching his face like he was something precious—
Anakin re-lived everything, as if Jabiim had been days ago instead of years. Piercing joy mixed with every one of his old emotions and ripped him open. It was too much, far too much to hold, and so Anakin didn't try. He let it blaze through him like a solar flare, scorching him raw, and then fading away. For a long time he could only shake in Obi-Wan's arms, overwhelmed.
When the painful convulsions had mostly subsided, giving way to soft gasps, Obi-Wan murmured, "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Anakin rasped. He hated this — he always felt worse, afterward, like he had to build himself back up from shattered fragments. He dropped his head to rest on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I'm good."
"I don't— Jabiim? You were alone, I didn't— But you're safe." Obi-Wan wrapped a hand around the back of Anakin's neck, and then stroked down over the shape of Anakin's shoulders, like he had to confirm this for himself.
"Yeah," said Anakin, closing his eyes.
He could feel his master's uncertainty, as Obi-Wan tried to make sense of his chaotic mess of memories. Scrubbing at his face, he pulled himself back up into a sitting position. Anakin's head pounded even worse now, what had started as a blunt throb blossoming into the kind of vicious headache that felt like it was trying to split his skull. His face was red and moisture-streaked, eyes puffy and painful.
Crying was awesome.
Anakin rubbed his sleeve across his face, drying it and then continuing to scrape his skin with the thick fabric until Obi-Wan caught his arm.
"You're making it worse."
Clearing his throat, Anakin allowed Obi-Wan to gentle both his hands, pushing waves of warm calm at him over the bond. It was much fainter than he remembered, Obi-Wan having to grapple hard for even that much control over the Force, and Anakin gave him a tiny grin. "I'm okay, Master. Really."
"You're different. Something is wrong... What happened, Anakin?"
"You remember Jabiim," Anakin said, half a question.
Slowly, Obi-Wan nodded once.
"And after?"
"No."
The answer came too fast. Anakin hesitated, but Obi-Wan's mind was completely open to him, and he had felt the unthinking, whiplash reaction behind the response. The implant wasn't controlling him anymore, so this strange catch was worrying. "What do you remember?"
Obi-Wan's expression had hinted at a barely-there frown since he'd fully awakened and, as he considered the question, it deepened. "I remember being... lost."
"Lost?"
"I couldn't find the way back," said Obi-Wan, like that made things any clearer. "I missed you."
Those words lodged in Anakin's chest like shrapnel, and the swell of tangled emotion made him want to hide his face again. As much as it threatened Anakin's already-taxed composure to hear Obi-Wan say that, it was also a sign that he still wasn't firing on all cylinders. He wouldn't be talking like that unless he was still very much out of it.
"I missed you too, Master. A lot." Anakin's voice caught, and he cleared his throat again. He didn't want to push Obi-Wan — he had only really been himself for a few minutes, after all — but he felt he had to. If something was still very wrong, better to know immediately. "Do you remember at all when you were captured?"
Tension tightened around Obi-Wan's eyes, and he lifted a hand to his chin. It wasn't his normal thoughtful mannerism. After a second, Anakin realized that Obi-Wan was digging his thumb into the raised scars under his jaw.
"I— survived. I needed to survive."
"Why?"
"You were alone," said Obi-Wan, looking at him. The strained line of his frown did not ease. "She told me you were dead. But you're safe— You're a Jedi Knight. Aren't you?"
Swallowing, Anakin nodded.
"Was I lost for so many years?"
"A year and a half."
"You didn't need me after all," Obi-Wan said. His half-smile made Anakin's heart drop.
"You're wrong, Master. I always need you."
"No, it's— I'm glad. I was worried, but. Look at you."
Anakin didn't know what Obi-Wan meant by that, partially because Obi-Wan's swirling thoughts were equally unsure on the subject. Concerned, Anakin asked softly, "Hey, are you okay?"
"Yes." That answer was a reflex too. Obi-Wan tilted his head, frowning so that his eyes narrowed almost to closing, and then qualified it. "This room isn't Force-inhibited, is it? I can't seem to sense much."
"No, it's a normal room. You can feel me, right?"
"That's all I can feel," said Obi-Wan, and Anakin grinned a little at his aggrieved tone.
"Yeah, you don't have much shielding, so I'm muffling everything for you."
Looking at him askance, Obi-Wan said, "Can you stop?"
"It won't feel good," Anakin warned, but Obi-Wan only raised both eyebrows, an expression that advised Anakin not to make him repeat himself.
With a sigh, Anakin did as requested. He pulled back in the Force, no longer filling all the space around them with his aggressively projected presence. They were still connected by the bond, but now that Anakin's signature was out of the way, Obi-Wan's mind was open to every single other energy in the area. Anakin would have to actively reach out to know that the patient in the next room was upset and worried, and the movement of people in the hallways beyond the door was just a background hum to him.
Without shields, every nearby living impulse was an assault.
A sharp, pained exhale, and Obi-Wan collapsed in on himself. His arms wrapped over his chest and he curled, head toward his knees, as if he could escape if he just made himself small enough. In an instant, Anakin had poured himself into the Force, overpowering the area around the bed in an expanding rush, like a parachute deploying. One good thing about being so strong in the Force — he had presence to spare.
Obi-Wan stayed for a moment with his forehead bowed to his knees, and then made a frustrated noise. When he straightened back up it was very gingerly, wincing and pressing a hand to his head. "Ouch."
"I told you," observed Anakin. "Perhaps if you had listened to me, you wouldn't have to learn things the hard way."
The admonition was a familiar one, something Anakin had heard from his master countless times over the years, and Obi-Wan was unimpressed. "Yes, thank you, Padawan. I'll be sure to consult your extraordinary wisdom in the future."
"If only I could believe that," Anakin said, continuing to imitate the tone of a weary master.
Anakin didn't get the full smile he was hoping for, but Obi-Wan couldn't quite hide the wry humor in his eyes. Quickly, though, dismay crowded it out. "Am I meant to be trapped at your side for the rest of my life, then?"
"Not for the rest of your life." Generously, Anakin ignored the word trapped. "I'm sure you'll be able to put up some shields even before the healers get to you. You just need to meditate."
"I don't... know if that's possible at the moment," said Obi-Wan.
"Maybe not alone, but I can help you, Master."
The expression Obi-Wan aimed at him was so politely incredulous that Anakin laughed out loud. He acted like Anakin had claimed he no longer enjoyed flying, or he wanted to re-train as a Jedi Archivist or something.
"I can," he insisted. "What, you don't think I can meditate?"
"Meditating alone is quite different from guiding another's meditation."
A diplomatic answer, but Obi-Wan's skepticism was fair. As a padawan, Anakin had avoided meditation with impressive diligence. Obi-Wan had been lucky to trap him into joint meditation once a week, when most Jedi meditated multiple times per day.
Lifting his chin in challenge, Anakin settled into a cross-legged position and offered his hands to Obi-Wan. "Okay, watch this."
For a moment, Obi-Wan just looked at him and waited, eyebrows raised. If he thought Anakin would back down, though, he was mistaken. "I suppose it can hardly make things worse," he said at last, which, even with his reluctant tone, was a revealing assessment of how bad he was actually feeling. Rearranging himself to mirror Anakin's posture, so that their knees barely touched, he fit his palms to Anakin's. "Impress me."
Anakin had already closed his eyes. "Quiet, Master. We're meditating."
Obi-Wan huffed softly and might have said something else, but Anakin fully opened their bond and all speech quickly became redundant.
Before being able to step together into the Force, Anakin had to bring himself and Obi-Wan into sync. Sometimes it hadn't been easy for Obi-Wan to do when he was guiding them; he had often ridden out quite a few storms before Anakin's teenage mind would settle down enough to join him in shared thought. For Anakin, though, it was almost effortless. Obi-Wan's presence was completely unguarded, and he was already essentially holding him in the palm of his hand. All he did was lean into the bond, and Obi-Wan responded instinctively.
Beginning with a simple centering exercise, Anakin concentrated on their hands — the way they fit together, and the dry warmth he could feel from his master's skin. The lightsaber calluses at the base of each of Obi-Wan's fingers were rough against the heel of Anakin's hand, and as he focused, Anakin could feel the rhythm of Obi-Wan's pulse. Gradually, following the flow of Anakin's thoughts, Obi-Wan's focus merged with his and their breaths slowed and synchronized, hearts beating in time. They shared awareness and impulse between them without barrier, losing track of which sensation belonged to whom, everything just a small part of the same, burning whole.
This was the reason why, even in their most conflict-filled years, Anakin had never consistently turned down joint meditation. While the actual meditation part could be unpleasant and sometimes devastating, the joint part was hard to resist. Sharing this with Obi-Wan felt like heady bliss, being seen and known and accepted, and Anakin could have happily lost himself here forever.
It was the way Obi-Wan waited, surrendered and trusting, that reminded him he had a job to do.
Most meditation was about opening up, entering a state of emptiness and peace, and waiting for the Force to fill you. Obi-Wan, though, was already too open. This was going to be different.
Anakin pulled his presence back from the Force, shielding Obi-Wan less, and then focused inward. Instinctively, he sank down through memories and thoughts, filtering away his own and reaching for Obi-Wan's. Hazy, new impressions from today came readily to Anakin's call — the confusion of awakening, wonder and distressed dissonance as Obi-Wan seemed to remember seeing his restless, golden-haired padawan yesterday, but today saw a Jedi Knight sitting across from him.
When he tried to push past these, Obi-Wan fought.
He did not break from their meditation, but instead tried to take control himself and redirect Anakin. It didn't work, obviously, but Anakin could hardly go sifting through Obi-Wan's mind against his will. He stopped, and widened their awareness a little to the Force again, which soothed Obi-Wan. This was what he wanted — that vacant peace, leaving himself behind to become merely a vessel.
Anakin thought he might finally understand something about why his master relied so heavily on emptiness meditation. Digging like this was painful. Dozens of similar sessions in the last year, either alone or with Master Windu, meant that Anakin was intimately acquainted with the way looking at yourself felt like being skinned alive. He hadn't expected Obi-Wan to have the same problem, but undoubtedly the implant's interference had disturbed the equilibrium of what otherwise would have been a well-ordered mind.
He pushed again, Obi-Wan resisted again, and Anakin tried to apply that soft and unwavering pressure his master had often used on him when he was trying to twist away from the purpose of meditation. He wouldn't yield, but he wouldn't go any further until Obi-Wan was ready to go with him.
It took a long, long time.
Anakin had never truly mastered patience, but, for Obi-Wan, he waited. He saw his own frustration, his itching desire to fix the problem, named them, and let them pass by like dried leaves carried away in the wind. He didn't wonder when Obi-Wan would be ready or count the minutes — Anakin just existed, living through each moment as its own individual eternity, and waited. He was ready when Obi-Wan unfolded just a little, offering him a hidden snatch of memory like a gift.
Dripping water, and the near-silent whirr of massive machinery. "Might as well take my tongue, too," said a distinct clone voice, full of gravel and defiance. Darkness pressed in from every side, the Force itself becoming an enemy. A bitter laugh, the music of the sound twisted by its creeping malice. "Very well. It's clear you are useless to me. Perhaps you will serve in another way. Are you watching, Kenobi?" He was watching. He could do nothing but watch, as Ventress smiled and cut out the clone commander's tongue.
Meditating with Ahsoka, Anakin had worked very hard to learn the skill of simply accepting whatever she showed him without judgment or reaction. Without this practice, Anakin would have lost his grip on their focus immediately, kicked back into reality by his horrified, visceral reaction. As it was, he took the hit hard and let it flow through him, feeling all of it and refusing to look away.
It was what Obi-Wan needed.
More images followed, each one scorched with more suffering than the last, until they were coming too thick and fast to absorb. Each one was a test, tempting Anakin to catch on it with outrage, anger, and the overpowering need to ease his master's pain. His concentration bent with every wave, but did not break. He was a river. He was the Force. This wasn't about him.
Drifting deeper, below the molten agony, everything was a painful, disordered tangle. In places there were gaping holes, things missing from where they should be, and everywhere else chaos reigned. Unsnarling it was beyond anything Anakin could ever hope to achieve. He let it pass by and dug even further, seeking the center of Obi-Wan's light — the part of Obi-Wan that was Obi-Wan, even when he remembered nothing at all.
Here, again, Obi-Wan pulled back, clearly knowing exactly what Anakin was doing. He only shied away tentatively, a pleading tug, and when Anakin would not be dissuaded, he gave in. With Obi-Wan's grudging help, the confusion dimmed somewhat, and Anakin found what he was looking for. He had expected a glow, warm and radiant, the way he had always experienced his master's touch in the Force.
Instead, he found an inferno.
Obi-Wan blazed with a searing, white light that shocked Anakin with its violence. Leaping fire burned fierce, singing silently of determination and devotion, purpose and power. It was Obi-Wan who drew back first. Anakin held his ground, awed.
When Obi-Wan pulled at him one more time, Anakin stayed, but he let Obi-Wan go. He couldn't rebuild any of what had been scattered — that would be work for Obi-Wan, and for the healing passage of time — but he could maintain this center, and give Obi-Wan a stable foundation to begin upon. Guidance was a feat of empathy and of strength, but most of all of restraint. Anakin provided structure, his path from surface to depth serving as a road map, his steady presence an anchor. From here on, the meditation was Obi-Wan's.
Now most of all, Anakin needed to maintain concentrated emptiness. He was a conduit for the careful Force work that Obi-Wan didn't yet have the control to manage, nothing more. All around him, Obi-Wan sifted through his memories, pulling associated things back together and drawing new connections in a complex web Anakin couldn't begin to understand. Some familiar snatches caught at the edges of Anakin's notice — Qui-Gon's voice saying he is capable, a burst of Anakin's own laughter — but most spun by in a rushing blur, Anakin holding firm at the center.
He didn't stray too close to Obi-Wan's burning core, but he didn't shy away the way Obi-Wan had, either. Anakin would have liked to have basked in the light here, luxuriate in the way it felt so dangerously cleansing, like it would either purify him or destroy him — but he didn't. That would have brought him back into himself, and broken their immersive focus.
I am a river. I am the Force.
Obi-Wan's sudden touch was unexpected, and the surprise knocked a few levels of concentration out of Anakin. He almost lost a few more to dismay, before realizing that Obi-Wan was drawing him away, back towards the waking world. They rose together, slow and even, like boats floating on a windless lake, content to let the barely-there current steer their course. Obi-Wan's mind was still by no means in perfect order, but no mind ever was, and there was now at least a structure to what they passed as they drifted upward. That was good. It would help, for now, Anakin hoped.
That hope pouring over him like a splash of cold water, Anakin found himself. His own mind, his own body, the thoughts and feelings he had temporarily separated from now one by one falling back into place. He could feel the stiffness in his muscles from sitting so long, and Obi-Wan's hands still in his. Across from him, Obi-Wan felt more self-contained, more solid in the Force. Anakin didn't particularly feel like doing it, but he siphoned himself back over the bond, knowing Obi-Wan could never test the steadiness of his autonomy with Anakin sitting in his head.
Opening his eyes, Anakin looked straight into Obi-Wan's clouded ones. Suddenly alarmed, he took in the tear-tracks that lined Obi-Wan's face and the crystalline damp on his eyelashes.
Anakin had never seen his master cry. Ever.
It was paralyzing. Obi-Wan freed one of his hands and pressed it to his cheek, covering half his face and squeezing his eyes shut again. For a moment he just breathed, the same calming rhythm he had unconsciously used during the implant removal. Anakin didn't know what to do.
Already, panicked fears were beginning to pile up in the back of his mind. It hadn't worked. His guiding had probably been all wrong. What if he had hurt Obi-Wan even more? He shouldn't have been so cocky. He should have known he wouldn't be good enough. Now he had ruined everything, and Obi-Wan would blame him—
Obi-Wan reached for Anakin, framing his face in his hands one more time and then drawing him in to gently press their foreheads together. "Thank you," he murmured, eyes still closed.
The shaky breath Anakin released felt like it pulled half his heart out with it. His voice trembled a little when he asked, "Are you all right?"
"I am," said Obi-Wan. "That's enough."
Anakin did not want to cry again, so he tried to think about practical things. Not the way one of Obi-Wan's hands found his again and squeezed tightly. Not the things he had seen in Obi-Wan's memories. Not the devastating lean of Obi-Wan's forehead against his own, a gesture of deep affection given as easily as if they had done this a hundred times before. No. Practical things.
"Do you— Do you think you can shield at all, Master?"
They were so close, Anakin could feel Obi-Wan's look of concentration. With difficulty, a thin barrier rose between them in the Force. Anakin could still sense most of Obi-Wan's feelings when he tried, but it was something. More than he had been able to do before.
"I can probably do more. Later," said Obi-Wan, pulling back slightly into his own space. "Not now."
"Yeah." Anakin could sense his master's fatigue, not to mention his own. He didn't know how long they had slept, but it sure hadn't been long enough. When Obi-Wan asked for his hand back, Anakin released it with reluctance. "How do you feel about the possibility of traveling?"
"I would like to do it with a shirt on," said Obi-Wan dryly, using the blanket to scrub his face. "And perhaps a shower first, if possible."
"Of course. But — the Force? I'll be with you anyway, it's just..."
Would Obi-Wan be able to hold his rudimentary shields for hours or even days? If not, Anakin was prepared to pick up the slack.
"I'll be fine."
As he moved to slide off the bed, Anakin regarded Obi-Wan with suspicion. That sounded like the most dubious of cut-and-dried answers. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and pointedly shielded their bond, just to show that he could.
"Fine, be like that," said Anakin, narrowing his eyes. It would become clear eventually whether Obi-Wan could sustain the effort or not. He could wait. "Let's see if anyone is still around. Who even knows what time it is."
Reaching out in the Force, he was surprised to find Ahsoka relatively nearby. Tugging on their bond rhythmically, he called her and went to grab his boots. Anakin tossed his comm onto the bed and let it scroll through the holodisplay of new updates as he pulled his boots on, Obi-Wan watching keenly. It looked like they had slept for about five hours — it was now late afternoon, almost evening. Departure had been delayed, obviously. That was about the only helpful information his feed had to offer.
He also had one single message from Master Windu that just said "?" but that didn't exactly qualify as helpful.
"I've missed so much," said Obi-Wan.
"You didn't follow the war at all when you didn't have your memories?"
Obi-Wan considered this, thumb again pressing at the scars under his chin. "I don't think I was interested."
"Makes sense."
"Does it?"
"Sure," said Anakin. "The chip would have steered you away from thinking about anything related to the Jedi."
Obi-Wan's eyes rested on Anakin, but his thoughtful frown revealed that his mind was elsewhere. It was a familiar pensive contemplation, not the troubled, questioning expression Anakin had seen several times in the last two days. That, Anakin hoped, was gone for good. Smiling, Anakin picked up his comm and clipped it onto his wrist gauntlet.
"I think many of my recollections are still unreliable," Obi-Wan concluded, turning to sit on the edge of the bed.
"That's kind of to be expected, Master. I don't think there's anything more we can do about it at the moment. Probably the healers will have more to say."
"Oh, without a doubt."
Sensing activity at the door behind him, Anakin turned. It was unmistakably Ahsoka's distinct presence, and she hesitated, silhouetted on the threshold as harsh, white light spilled in behind her.
"Knock knock?"
"Hey, Snips." Anakin shielded his eyes. "Force, that's bright."
She stepped inside, the door shielding them from the painful light when it closed behind her. "So, you're back in the land of the living? I checked on you after you woke up, but you were… busy," said Ahsoka, sneaking a look at Obi-Wan, who gazed back at her with calm interest, and then quickly glancing away. "Are you feeling better?"
"I'm still half dead, but that's better than all dead. Don't ever take a stim shot, Snips."
Ahsoka gave him a crooked grin. "Don't worry, Master. I always watch what you do and then do the opposite."
"Ha ha." Anakin was far too aware of how true that wasn't. He leaned against the bed, knocking Obi-Wan's knee and then gesturing at Ahsoka proudly. "Master, this is my mouthy padawan, Ahsoka Tano. Ahsoka, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."
The Force rang with the echoes of Obi-Wan's shock. Eyes wide, he turned to Anakin. "You said I was only lost for a year and a half."
"Yeah."
"The Council allowed you to take a padawan? Anakin, you are twenty-one years old."
"Believe me," Anakin said, "I know."
Speechless, Obi-Wan looked back to Ahsoka. She smiled hopefully and bowed. "It's an honor to meet you, Master Kenobi."
"Likewise, I'm sure. Any padawan of Anakin's must be a truly remarkable Jedi," said Obi-Wan, nonplussed. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Perhaps I should just give up on understanding anything for the time being."
Anakin laughed. "You'll get the hang of it. Is Master Plo here, Ahsoka? I saw we've been delayed, but that's all. Was there some kind of an issue with the clinic?"
Taking a deep breath, Ahsoka put her hands on her hips. "Yeah... you kind of threatened to frame them for treason and shut them down. They weren't happy."
Obi-Wan pressed his thumb between his eyebrows even harder.
"I did?"
"Yeah. It wasn't good. Doctor Roh tipped off the media about us being here — out of self-preservation, he said — so all the holocams came down from the Rotunda and besieged the clinic. Master Plo went back to HQ to try to draw them off, but there are still a bunch outside waiting for a glimpse of Anakin Skywalker." She pitched her voice higher when she said his name, wiggling her fingers theatrically.
"Fantastic. I guess they'll get some great action footage of us leaving, then."
"And the doctors want to talk to Master Kenobi. Master Plo got them to agree to leave you alone until you woke up and I've been keeping them away, but as soon as they know you're up they're going to be forcing their way in here."
"Oh, Anakin," sighed Obi-Wan. "How did you manage to make enemies so fast?"
"I don't know! I was perfectly reasonable."
Ahsoka caught Obi-Wan's eye, and they both made the same doubtful expression. Somehow, until that very second, Anakin had overlooked the obvious fact that they would gang up on him. In an instant, his inevitable future flashed before his eyes.
"Well, I suppose I ought to speak to them." Obi-Wan dropped to his feet. "I might remember having some extra clothes stashed around here somewhere..."
"I can go look for them if you want. But I also had the larty that picked up Master Plo bring some things over of Anakin's, if you'd rather," offered Ahsoka.
Obi-Wan looked Anakin up and down, raising an eyebrow. "Black?"
"Actually, this is charcoal gray." He had been thinking about going black on his next req order to the quartermaster, though.
"That would be appreciated, thank you, Padawan Tano," Obi-Wan said, and Ahsoka flashed him a quick thumbs up before leaving to grab what she'd brought.
"My stuff is going to be too big for you, Master."
"Not that big."
"Way too big," Anakin disagreed.
"Lights, sixty-five percent. It's time to stop living in a cave of darkness," Ahsoka announced when she came back, brightening the room considerably and making them both wince. She handed Obi-Wan a neatly folded stack of fabric, using both hands like a properly respectful padawan.
"I feel hungover. I'm never using those shots again," groused Anakin, then promptly forgot all his woes when he saw the astromech droid trundling in at Ahsoka's heels. "Artoo!"
"I figured we might be able to use some help," said Ahsoka. Artoo whistled in approval, spinning his domed head from side to side.
"Ahsoka, I don't care what everyone says, you are the greatest padawan in the entire Jedi Order."
Ahsoka tried to level him with an unimpressed stare, but couldn't suppress the way her mouth quirked. "You know, you could just say thank you."
Obi-Wan had pulled on one of Anakin's dark brown-red undershirts; it was tight on Anakin, so it was only a little loose on Obi-Wan. The undertunic and overtunic were more loose, but they were meant to be voluminous anyway, and the belt cinched them together acceptably. Obi-Wan was still far too thin, but seeing him dressed like a Jedi made Anakin blink and swallow hard. "Now you just need the beard back, Master," he joked, trying to ignore the way his throat had tightened.
"Unfortunately, I don't think you'll be able to lend me that," said Obi-Wan, smiling at him in a very unhelpful way. "Shall we see about this media standoff, then?"
Artoo warbled authoritatively, both Ahsoka and Anakin turning to look at him. "Okay, thanks, buddy. Patch him through," Anakin replied.
A blue hologram image resolved in the air, Artoo projecting it at about waist height, and Master Plo stood before them. "Skywalker," he rumbled, "you're awake. Good. What's the situation there? We are running out of time."
"We just need to negotiate our escape from the clinic, Master Plo. We should be fine here if the fleet needs to deploy. Just leave us some kind of transport we can use to get back to Coruscant."
"I take it that Obi-Wan is able-bodied, then?"
Arms crossed, Obi-Wan stepped into the vision field of the holo next to Anakin. "More or less, Master Plo."
"Obi-Wan, I am pleased to see you alive. The war has taken much from the Jedi Order. I am glad you are not among the fallen."
Obi-Wan inclined his head. "Thank you, Master."
Addressing Anakin again, Master Plo said, "The fleet does need to deploy. The situation in the Prackla Sector is becoming critical. Every hour we delay worsens the situation we will face when we do arrive."
"Then you shouldn't wait around for us."
"I wouldn't, except that you are commanding half my force, Anakin," said Master Plo. It was always a sign of something when he used Anakin's first name, and this time Anakin suspected it was sarcasm. "I will leave a transport to convey Obi-Wan back to the Temple, but your assignment and mine is to retake the planet Cartao from the Separatists."
"I'm going back with Obi-Wan. Once I clear it with Master Windu—"
"Master Windu issued our current orders."
"Yeah, but once I explain about Obi-Wan—"
Master Plo was shaking his head slowly, as if Anakin was just not getting it. "Skywalker, I apprised the Council of this situation hours ago, after you first reported it to me. The orders stand."
"What," said Anakin flatly. "That can't be right. I need to go back with Obi-Wan."
"Anakin—" Obi-Wan began, but Anakin flung a hand up and spoke over him.
"We'll make our way back to the Rotunda with all speed, Master Plo. I'll get back to you on this as soon as possible."
"Yes, do that," said Master Plo.
"Skywalker out."
Artoo cut the transmission, and Anakin hissed in annoyance. What the hell was this about? Was Master Windu messing with him? On his wrist comm, he pulled up Master Windu's message and shot off a reply: ?
When he looked up, he found Obi-Wan and Ahsoka both watching him carefully. In an overly reasonable tone, Obi-Wan said, "I hardly think it's necessary to leave your assignment just to fly home with me, Anakin."
"Don't worry about it," said Anakin, lifting his chin and looking his master in the eye. He wasn't going to abandon Obi-Wan now. Not again. "I'm taking care of it. Looks like we both have something to negotiate."