Anakin slept for thirteen hours.

When the first trickles of awareness began to drip through him, he registered a tender soreness in the cheek he had pressed against the pillow. Shifting, he cracked his eyes open and had a sideways view of the cabin, dimly outlined in the light from his comm's new-message flashes. Lifting his wrist to check the time, Anakin winced. If you didn't count being unconscious, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept that long. It was morning, but long past the hour at which he would have normally been up.

He moved to sit, finding Obi-Wan still sound asleep beside him, lying on his stomach with one hand tucked under his head. His master wasn't usually a deep sleeper, so Anakin only dipped slightly into the bond to check on him. He showed no signs of stirring, breathing slow and even.

Satisfied that there were no signs of any nightmares, Anakin pulled back and watched Obi-Wan's quiet face for a minute.

Obi-Wan, having nightmares? Of course, given what had happened to him, it made sense— anyone would have nightmares, really— but Obi-Wan? As far as Anakin knew, nightmares had never been something that troubled him before. It just seemed so unnatural. After all, Anakin was the one whose mind ran wild. Obi-Wan was always at peace, the balanced one.

Never in all the times Obi-Wan had counseled a pre-teen Anakin about his frequent night terrors, had he ever mentioned having his own experience with nightmares. Later, when Anakin was older and refusing to talk about his dreams, Obi-Wan had never stopped bothering him on the topic — but he had never once tried to appeal to Anakin by sharing that he had a similar struggle. Wouldn't that have been an obvious thing to do? Why would he have kept that from Anakin? If Anakin hadn't felt so alone, so judged, been so sure the constant dreams were just another sign of his failure as a Jedi... perhaps he would have been more open with Obi-Wan about them.

Perhaps his mother could have been saved.

Flinching away from that thought, Anakin racked his brain and couldn't remember a single time where he'd sensed or suspected Obi-Wan of having a nightmare. He had known Obi-Wan to have insomniac tendencies, sometimes not sleeping at all, especially if he was troubled. But no dreams that Anakin had been aware of, and generally Anakin had been very tuned in to his master's presence.

Perhaps this was the first time? It wasn't impossible, since he'd undergone severe trauma and, to his newly-freed brain, that trauma would still be very recent.

That had to be it, Anakin told himself. Still, he caught on the memory of Obi-Wan's terror, deeply disturbed by it in a way that seemed disproportionate. People had nightmares all the time, after all, and most of them meant nothing. Only, Anakin had felt — had thought he felt — the brush of that thick, liquid darkness. He had known it all his life, a constant companion, though most of the time he could ignore its whisper and the way it tried to coil around his heart. Always, it was there when things were at their worst, promising safety and power, offering a way out.

He had taken that way out on Tatooine, and it had shielded him from the pain of his mother's death — for a few hours. The refuge offered by the darkness had faded away with his rage, and in the end Anakin had only felt more broken. With Master Windu, he had talked about walking in the penumbra of the Dark Side, so he knew that he wasn't the only Jedi to have heard its enticing call. Obi-Wan, though, had never touched the darkness — Anakin was certain of that. He had seen Obi-Wan's blazing inner light himself just yesterday. He couldn't possibly know what it was like to be tempted by the easy liberation of hatred, or its intoxicating power.

Anakin contemplated his master's sleeping form, and worried. The wrinkle between Obi-Wan's eyebrows always faded away when he slept, one of the rare times he could be caught without even a slight frown. His tranquil expression and clean-shaven face combined to make him seem almost unbearably young. Anakin's chest ached with a tight, wistful pain, and he didn't quite understand why.

The darkness was not to be feared, Master Windu said. Rather, it was fear that gave the darkness its power. How could this apply to Obi-Wan, who was always under control? Obi-Wan, who often doubted himself, but was never afraid.

It couldn't. So, what had he sensed?

He didn't know. There was nothing he could do about it, anyway. It was something he should probably meditate on later, but indulging in anxiety wouldn't help anything, and might wake Obi-Wan. Later.

For now, he needed to get up and start finally paying some attention to his responsibilities. Wincing to feel the twinge in his face, Anakin prodded his cheek experimentally with three fingers. Not too bad. It felt hot and was a little swollen, but a bacta patch would probably have it mended in an hour or so. Something else to put on the list.

The messages Anakin's comm wanted him to view so badly were just routine time/route updates from the ship's command center, and one from Ahsoka several hours ago letting him know she was up and that she'd be on the bridge. He flicked past them and found the list he had started last night. It said:

Debrief Ahsoka

Report report report

BALL BEARING!

Study campaign

Twilight?

Apolgoize

Phase III

F

This... made somewhat less sense than Anakin remembered it making when he was writing it.

He was pretty sure he knew what he had been trying to say with each entry, but, in hindsight, Neo had been right about the necessity of sleep.

Anakin deleted the last random "F" and replaced it with "get bacta patch for face." Something else he should probably do before starting to tackle the rest of the day was shower, and change clothes. His boots were in his cabin, but everything else he'd forgotten to take off. He was probably going to have permanent indentations in his waist after sleeping on his utility belt so many times.

When he considered getting up, though, what had become the most common thought in his head over the last several days resurfaced once again. He didn't want to leave Obi-Wan. Who knew when he would wake up — Anakin didn't want him to find himself alone in a strange place, with no idea where anyone was. He should at least leave him a message, like Ahsoka had done for him, but Obi-Wan didn't have a comm.

After a moment's thought, the solution was obvious. Carefully, Anakin stood up and walked back to his own cabin, grabbing his datapad, and then returning. Still, Obi-Wan slept. The movement, and the light, and the hiss of the door didn't even seem to intrude upon his consciousness at all. Anakin was used to his own wakefulness triggering his master's, but he was able to write a note on the datapad and leave it beside Obi-Wan without disturbing him.

He hoped that was a good thing. Obi-Wan was getting needed rest, right?

That was what Anakin tried to believe as he returned to his cabin again, this time to take a quick sonic shower and change into a fresh set of tunics. He let the bond lie mostly dormant, reminding himself that he would definitely sense it if something was wrong, as he had last night. From there, he turned his thoughts to focus on his duties at hand.

As a padawan, when Obi-Wan had warned him not to center on his anxieties, he had pictured trying to repel them, like he could push them down and lock them in a box in the basement of his mind. That had never worked. Anxieties were resilient, and would always return. Instead, Anakin had discovered that not centering on his anxieties meant actively centering on something else — usually the present moment, and whatever his immediate task was. That was part of why working on his mechanical projects had always been so centering.

It was something he should have figured out a long time ago. Amazing, what you could learn when you were actually trying to learn, instead of fighting it tooth and nail.

The first task Anakin had set for himself was number three, the helpfully-labeled "BALL BEARING!" A glimmer of an idea had come to him just before they had launched for the asteroid comm stations; he and Ahsoka had somehow fallen into talking about the padawan oath, and he had had a thought...

For his plan, though, he needed a specific part, of a specific size, and searching through everything on his desk and in the drawers yielded nothing useful.

He ended up having to go down to maintenance on one of the lower decks. The people down here and the people on the bridge usually had only one overlap, and that was Anakin. His presence was familiar to the droids and technicians, and he was greeted and left alone to rummage through everything.

There were drawers for all the spare, unused parts, but even then it wasn't easy to find what he was looking for. He wanted a small bearing and, since the overwhelming majority of maintenance dealt with bigger machines like ships and walkers, most of the ones he dug through were finger-ring size at the smallest. Finally, buried at the bottom, he found a couple that might work. Picking out three, Anakin held them on his palm and surveyed them critically.

One was a washer, so he dropped that one back in. Of the other two, one was a disc-shaped ball bearing, and the other was a metal ball that had no doubt come from a roller bearing of some kind. The bearing would be a unique shape, but... the ball was shinier, Anakin decided.

He tossed the bearing and took the metal ball, looking for an unoccupied workstation. The whole maintenance division was suspended in the same uneasy downtime as the rest of the ship, so finding one was pretty easy. While he waited for the molecular torch to fire up, Anakin commed Ahsoka to meet him in one of the war rooms in half an hour, and Rex to join them a little later.

Then, he got to work.

Dialing the molecular torch to a one-millimeter beam, he bored a hole through the center of the silver ball. That done, he contracted the beam further and sliced laterally, until he had freed a thin strip of metal and could pull it from the ball using the Force.

Anakin tested it several times, sliding the metal strip in and out until he was sure his plan worked. It did.

On his way back to the upper decks, he stopped by the medbay to take care of number eight, "get bacta patch for face." He probably would have forgotten about that one, except his cheek had started to swell a little more, and he didn't want to end up with one eye half-squinted shut. The small conference room where he'd asked Ahsoka and Rex to join him was located near the base of the starboard bridge tower, surrounded by several other war rooms, briefing rooms, and comm rooms. The one he'd picked was meant for smaller, high-ranking conferences — he might even attend the Council's strategy meeting from here later today.

Anakin eyed the central holotable and the chairs set against the walls, and sat on the floor instead. Crossing his legs, he set the tiny metal ball on his knee and ripped open the packaging of the bacta patch. He peeled the membrane off one side and applied it to his face, covering the bruised ridge of his cheekbone.

Ahsoka would be here in a few minutes. Anakin picked up the ball and held it up, watching it glint in the light. It did look like a bead. Picturing it swinging near the top of Ahsoka's chain of padawan beads was a satisfying feeling.

There were probably a thousand padawan beads a master could award his student, with colors signifying all kinds of different achievements. Neither he nor Ahsoka had ever really been sticklers for tradition, though — they both tended to mark accomplishments by results on the battlefield or the training floor, and by increased responsibility — so Ahsoka only had two. Obi-Wan had never been one to give out beads frequently either. When Anakin had enviously pointed out padawans wearing their entire braid encrusted in beads, his master had said, I'm not giving you a bead for making your bed this morning, Anakin.

Ahsoka didn't need to wear a colored marker to know that she was skilled or experienced. Those were facts, true regardless of any kind of ceremony. This was different, though. This bead would be a sign of something only Anakin could give.

When Ahsoka arrived, Anakin sensed her before she came into the room. She clearly had done the same, since she walked through the door already talking a mile a minute. "So, I think I've figured some routes through to the Core, Master, but I'm not sure whether it would be better to take the Perlimian the whole way, or cut off on the Vaathkree Trade Corridor just to avoid—"

"Hang on a minute, Snips," said Anakin.

"Didn't you want to make sure I picked a good route?" Ahsoka frowned down at him. "I thought that's why you asked me to be here before Rex."

"I can look at your route if you want me to, but I'm not worried about it."

"Oh. Then what?"

Anakin hesitated, looking at her open, expectant face and feeling suddenly abashed. What if he was making a big deal out of nothing? He would have wished for something like this, but what if she didn't feel the same way? It had seemed like such a good idea, but what if his makeshift bead seemed silly or insulting to her? Pressing the tiny bit of metal between his fingertips, he wondered if he should just make something else up. Maybe he could say he had asked her here to talk about the route.

"Have a seat, Ahsoka."

"Okay," she said. "Uh, do I have to sit on the floor?"

"Yes."

With a half-shoulder shrug, Ahsoka folded herself down easily into a cross-legged position opposite Anakin. "Is this about Master Kenobi?"

Anakin frowned. "...No. Should it be?"

"No, it was just my best guess," she said. "I mean, lately everything is about him."

Upon reflection, Anakin decided that this was a pretty fair assessment. "No, it's not about Obi-Wan."

Considering, Ahsoka asked, "Is it about you running into a door?"

"What?"

She tapped her own cheek and then pointed at him. "What happened to your face?"

"Oh, that. I got punched."

"Did you deserve it?" asked Ahsoka.

"No," said Anakin. "It was an accident."

"I thought you went to bed after you left the bridge yesterday."

"I did."

"So someone punched you, accidentally, this morning?" She had her eyebrow markings raised and head slightly cocked, like a tolerant creche master listening to a youngling's poor attempt at lying.

"No— Sort of— Look, this is not what we're here to talk about."

Ahsoka threw up her hands, then dropped them to rest on her knees. "I'm listening, Master," she said patiently, as if she hadn't been the one completely derailing the whole conversation.

Sighing, Anakin rolled the metal ball into the curve of his palm. Slowly, he said, "I've tried to be a good master to you, Ahsoka. Even though we didn't get to choose each other—"

"You're the only master I would ever want," said Ahsoka dismissively, as if any other option wasn't even worth the time to think about.

Anakin had to smile. Was she never going to let him finish a thought?

"And, despite your exceptional talent for interrupting, there's no one else I would rather have as my padawan. You are brave and compassionate and wiser than your years, Ahsoka. I'm fortunate to have you as my apprentice." He felt her presence flicker in the Force as she looked at him, startled. Reaching out toward her, Anakin opened his hand to reveal the silver ball. "I was thinking... maybe we should do this right."

She took the bit of metal in two fingers and frowned. "What is it?"

"A bead," he explained, trying not to be nervous. "For the one you're missing."

"Oh." Ahsoka's eyes widened. She turned the ball to see the reflection change, and her free hand thoughtfully pulled at the string of silka beads that hung behind her right lek.

The gray-green diamond-shaped beads that made up her strand were made to be clipped on and off the cord, so that they could be replaced with colored ones. At the bottom of the string was a red bead, marking her as a senior padawan. The only other colored bead Ahsoka had was one of pure white: the Mourning Bead, given to a padawan after they first take the life of another sentient being with the mindfulness and selflessness of a Jedi.

Normally, a black bead would be near the very top of every padawan braid. Even if there were no other beads at all, the Choosing Bead was bestowed during the apprenticeship ceremony, raising an initiate to a padawan, and signifying the oath sworn between padawan and master. Anakin and Ahsoka's partnership had been born in fire on Christophsis and, skipping the ceremony, they had skipped everything that came with it.

"Did you make this?" asked Ahsoka. She hadn't stopped looking at it.

"Yes. If you'd rather have a real Choosing Bead, I can get you one next time I return to the Temple," Anakin offered. "I just thought— since it might be a long time before then—"

"No. I like this one," said Ahsoka firmly. "It's unique. Like us."

Chest tight, Anakin gave her a crooked smile. Ahsoka held the bead out to him, eyes bright and lively ribbons of ever-changing emotion dancing in the Force around her.

"Will you put it on for me, Master?"

Anakin cleared his throat. "Of course."

She flipped her strand of beads over her lek and moved closer, so that their knees touched. Using his durasteel hand to hold the strand steady, Anakin carefully unclipped one of the gray ones near the top and set it onto the floor. He took the silver ball from Ahsoka's open palm and fit it to the now-empty space, the cord sliding easily into the channel he had cut. It was too far up on the string for Ahsoka to be able to watch what he was doing, so she watched his face instead. Anakin took the little strip of metal next, pressing it into the channel and sealing it off, so that the bead wouldn't come loose again. A slight touch of the Force, and he had crushed the metal of the ball and the strip together so that neither could slip free.

It was slightly larger than the others, but only slightly, and when Anakin sat back, the silver orb hung like any other bead.

He nodded once, satisfied, and then said, "I will guide."

Ahsoka sat up straight, sucking in a quick breath. Her fingers flew up to touch the polished surface of the brand-new bead. "I will seek," she blurted.

"I will protect."

Sitting on the floor of an empty conference room, Anakin had the privilege of seeing his headstrong padawan visibly uncertain. She twisted next to him in the Force, and he opened his side of their bond. Eyes still searching his face, Ahsoka quietly said, "I will strive."

"I will serve."

"I will serve," she repeated.

Anakin smiled at her, strumming the bond until she thinned her own shields and allowed herself to flow beside him. As the Force fused their focus and sensations into a single experience of the moment, they spoke together to finish the oath.

"Master, padawan, the Force. All are one."

Ahsoka was still watching him, her pointed face tilted up and her thoughts full of questions. Hopefully, she didn't expect Anakin to ask of her the oath that the Council required from new padawans as well, because he truly and honestly could not remember it. Something about respecting all life? Maybe also defending the Republic? It had been so long ago, he wasn't sure how they could really require Jedi to keep all that memorized.

Perhaps it was usually repeated during the knighting ceremony? Then you would at least get a refresher. Anakin himself had been knighted by Master Ki-Adi on a Star Destroyer leaving Praesitlyn, and there hadn't been much of a ceremony that time either.

When Ahsoka flung her arms around his neck, it stunned him. Anakin froze for a long moment before hugging her back. She was all sharp bones and wiry muscles, and she always felt so small next to him. Anakin was used to thinking of her as a partner, a fellow warrior, an extension of himself. She was so capable and confident that sometimes he forgot to remember that some of her self-assurance was an act, and that she was sixteen years old.

"Thanks, Master," she said, muffled, into his shoulder, and then pulled back.

Anakin pulled once on her beads before smoothing them back into place. "You got it, Padawan. You know I'm really proud of you, right?"

"Stop." Ahsoka's hands covered her face, and the striped markings of her lekku flared vibrant with embarrassment.

"All right, if you insist." Anakin grinned. "What should we talk about instead? Hmm... oh, wait. I've got an idea. How about the asteroid assault? For some reason, we still haven't debriefed from that."

Groaning, Ahsoka dropped her hands.

"Actually, no, never mind. You can go back to telling me how awesome I am."

"You are extremely awesome. Except for this one little, tiny, insignificant, very minor detail that I like to call 'disobeying my direct orders.'"

"I didn't disobey—"

"What do you think Commander Wolffe would call it if he gave an order and one of his officers started arguing with him over the comm?" asked Anakin reasonably.

There was only one answer to that, and it was insubordination. Ahsoka sighed.

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. It's just, you've been so weird lately, and what you said made no sense. There's no way I could have known you were planning on holding back the explosion with the Force."

Strictly speaking, Anakin hadn't planned that, exactly. "That's why in the field, you don't understand—"

"—I obey," Ahsoka finished, nodding. This was an old lesson, one they hadn't had to revisit in a long time.

She didn't need an extended lecture, which was good, because those were hardly Anakin's area of expertise. Brief reminders, however, he could do.

"There's always going to be things I'm in a position to be aware of that you're not. Remember Felucia?"

"Of course," said Ahsoka. "I know, Master. It won't happen again."

"I know you think it's part of your job to second-guess and look out for me—" When she eyed him with sheepish surprise, Anakin had to laugh. "Hey, I was a padawan once too, right? And I do rely on you to challenge me in ways that the men can't. But when I give an order in the field, it's not time for discussion or debate."

The door hissed. Rex walked in, and was greeted immediately with a disconcerting amount of relief. "Rex," said Ahsoka brightly, sitting straighter. She eyed Anakin, knowing that, while he didn't mind giving her a dressing-down in front of an audience if necessary, he often preferred to correct in private. Rex didn't miss the change of energy, and paused.

"Sir?"

"Join us, Rex. We've been having a nice talk about Felucia," Anakin told him.

"Ah," said Rex. "Glad I missed it."

"If you have anything to add on the subject, feel free to chime in."

Tilting her head, Ahsoka looked up at him wryly. Sometimes Rex was an audience, but just as often he was part of the lecture. Today the chips hadn't fallen in her favor. "Lay it on me, Rex."

He crossed his arms. "I'm sure the general was thorough."

"Yes, he was—"

"So, the only thing I'm gonna point out is that when you're leading a mission, Commander, you're leading. If I have to step in, I will — but it's disruptive. It's not good for you, or me, or the men."

So make sure I don't need to, was the unsaid rebuke.

"Yeah," said Ahsoka, chagrined. "Got it."

"You know I've always got your back, sir."

"I know."

She gave Rex a little grin, and he smiled at her before turning to Anakin. When his eyebrows lifted, his question was clear. Did Anakin want to hear the talking-to Rex had ready for him as well?

Anakin, in fact, did not. They had already been over what he had done wrong. No need to go through it again. "Have a seat, Rex," he said.

"If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather stand. I think that position would be a little difficult in armor."

Anakin narrowed his eyes. Clone armor was made to give them full range of motion on the battlefield, so why should it get in the way of sitting down? "...Fine," he said at length, standing up himself instead. Ahsoka scrambled to her feet after him. "I'm officially back on duty, so you can head out," he told her. "We're still doing lunch, though, right?"

Rex nodded. "Yes, sir. D block mess is next on the list."

"D block it is. I'll see you then."

"You'll see me now, too," said Ahsoka. "Or aren't you two going to talk about the campaign in preparation for this afternoon's meeting?"

"We are, but there's no need for you to be here for that, since you won't be part of the campaign. And I'm sure you have a lot to do elsewhere."

"Actually, you know, my schedule is super-duper empty. I might as well stay. It'll be a valuable opportunity to learn, don't you think, Master?"

"So you've already inspected the Twilight?"

"Well," said Ahsoka, elongating the word reluctantly, "not yet. I was a little busy last night and this morning running a Star Destroyer."

"Since your schedule is so conveniently empty, I think now is a perfect chance to get to that."

Ahsoka wasn't quite able to keep the wheedling tone out of her voice. "I can do it later. It won't take that long, and there's a whole day before we leave."

"You can do it now," Anakin disagreed. "Later, though, I can look over your route if you still want me to."

She sighed. "No, the route is fine."

"Good. Then I'll see you at lunch."

Ahsoka didn't skimp on the grumbling, but she went, and Anakin could sense that it was mostly for show. The quiet sincerity of the earlier moment still clung to them both, and Ahsoka painted her discontent over a much deeper pool of peaceful joy. Her new silver bead flashed with reflected light as Ahsoka left the room, and Anakin smiled.

Since losing his mother and Obi-Wan, Anakin had tried not to leave true things unsaid, but he wasn't always the best at seeing outside himself. Following up on that stray conversation from before the asteroid mission had turned out to be a good move.

Once she was gone, Rex crossed his arms over his chest. "So. What happened to your face?"

"Huh? Nothing. It's just a bruise."

"Fall out of bed?" he guessed.

"No," said Anakin. "Yesterday I saw they added some updates to the first leg of the campaign. Something on the Koros Trunk Line, right?"

Rex nodded, expression shifting away from the vague amusement with which he had contemplated Anakin's bandaged cheek. Moving to the holotable, he activated it. "That's the biggest change they made to the version we last worked on. Instead of waiting for us to make it to the Inner Core, they're moving the Fifth down from Coruscant to strike Kaikielius in the first wave."

"With the Sixth and Seventh to support?"

Normally, the First Sector Army would be defending Coruscant directly, but for the assault they would be reinforcing Master Windu's other sector army in Sector Two. The Fifth Sector Army had been assigned the defense of the Inner Core in their place, but if they were now attacking Kaikielius... When Rex pulled up a holomap, the shift of troops was obvious.

Kaikielius wasn't just part of the first wave — it was the opening gambit. The Fifth Sector Army was probably already exchanging fire with the Separatist fleet.

Hooking his thumbs in his belt, Anakin winced. "They sure don't ask for much, do they?"

"Hardly anything," said Rex. He was looking at the map with a sort of resigned displeasure, like an instructor forced to report a misbehaving padawan to his master.

The strategy itself was sound. Assaulting Kaikielius first would focus Separatist attention there, so they would already be committed when the main Eastern strikes began. Tied down, they could be cut off and destroyed. Only problem was, it put a massive strain on Anakin's force, which was already going to bear most of the dynamic load of the campaign.

Taking a breath to speak, Anakin just shrugged and used the air to blow out his cheeks instead. He wished the Council would have consulted him before making the change, but it was already done at this point. For a moment, he and Rex stood silently, considering the map in perfect agreement. The little colored dots and glowing troop movement arrows looked cheerful, almost like a youngling's scribbled art, but they would define the shape of the next few months for everyone onboard the Resolute.

"Focus on Cartao for now, I guess," said Anakin, tilting his head at Rex.

"Yes, sir. That one, at least, shouldn't be too hard of a nut to crack."

As usual, their analyses of the situation were pretty much complimentary, and they went over the numbers.

Details had to be to hammered out about the planet's weak neutral government, the intel that hinted at the dangerous cloning technology that couldn't be allowed to fall into Separatist hands, and the strategic position they would be in after taking the planet in the context of the greater campaign. Then there were troop assignments, the initial approach, and contingencies to go over. Finally, everything had to be compiled and sent to the bridge to be communicated to the Courageous.

All in all, they were working for over an hour. When finished, Rex and Anakin walked together to the turbolift.

Though both ultimately were headed to the same place, Anakin got out first. "Meet you there, Rex," he said, and detoured to check on Obi-Wan.

So far, he was doing pretty well for having woken up so late. He'd taken care of "debrief Ahsoka" and "study campaign." Anakin was mulling over whether he'd have time to write his report, with the meeting that afternoon, when he palmed open Obi-Wan's door. He didn't know what he'd expected to find — maybe Obi-Wan was still asleep?

He definitely hadn't expected Obi-Wan to be sitting on the bunk, eyes closed, posture straight and relaxed, in the appearance of perfect meditation.

"There's a cultural custom you may want to look into, Anakin," said Obi-Wan, eyes still closed.

"Huh?"

"It's called knocking."

Still standing in the doorway, Anakin blinked a few times before he figured out what Obi-Wan was talking about. "Oh. Sorry." He stepped fully into the room, letting the door slide closed behind him. When he turned, he found Obi-Wan looking at him as if he had said something strange.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan stood, stretching his shoulders absently. "Is something wrong?"

Not wrong, exactly, but different.

A sudden tension had lodged in Anakin's spine, a need to stand tall and rigid. He couldn't pinpoint anything specific, but... something had changed. It was there in the calm surety of Obi-Wan's movements, the clarity in his eyes. The way standing near him made Anakin feel small.

Obi-Wan was fully shielded, he realized.

"The Force is back!"

"I'm fairly sure it never went anywhere. Are you sure you're all right? What happened to your face?"

"Uh, you did," Anakin said, pique sharpened by the strange defensiveness he felt. "You don't remember punching me?"

"Of course I do. I don't remember doing it hard enough to break your cheekbone, though," said Obi-Wan, bemused.

"It's not—" Sighing, Anakin scratched at the bacta patch's seal until he could peel it off his skin. "I just didn't want it to swell. And I was talking about your shields. Those are new."

"Yes, I was able to meditate. My control isn't what it should be, but at least I'm autonomous."

And thoroughly so, it seemed.

Obi-Wan was as opaque in the Force as Anakin ever remembered him being. Even the bond seemed as distant as a faraway star. Had they really kept it like this? Anakin knew they hadn't often waded in it during his apprenticeship as deeply as they had been since Obi-Wan regained his memory, but had it always been so remote?

"That's— good."

"A relief to both of us, I'm sure."

Anakin had thought he'd done a pretty good job protecting Obi-Wan with his presence. But, trapped at your side, he had said. "Did you sleep okay?" Anakin asked, flinging the question like a missile.

"Fine. You?"

"Yeah, after the punching part, obviously."

"I see we're not letting go of that one anytime soon," observed Obi-Wan, and then frowned slightly when Anakin didn't reply.

Anakin knew he was out of step with the conversation — Obi-Wan kept giving him openings to banter back at him, and Anakin had missed every single one. There was just so much, his thoughts flying so fast they were impossible to catch. He felt disoriented, sure that something was out of place but not able to find the problem. He didn't have any balance left over to juggle a repartee. Instead, Anakin just said, "You never told me you had nightmares."

Obi-Wan looked at him for a moment. Automatically, Anakin squared his shoulders.

"I think everyone has them at some point," said Obi-Wan. "Dreams are a normal part of how our minds work. Having a bad one eventually is inevitable." He spoke carefully and clearly, as if he felt someone might try to use his words against him.

"Yeah, but you never told me."

The on-beat response would be something like, I wasn't aware I needed to report every detail of my day. Do you want to know what I had for breakfast too? But this time Obi-Wan was the one who let it pass. His eyebrows rose, and he squinted at Anakin carefully. "Didn't I? We talked about dreams."

"We never talked about dreams."

"Well, not lately," said Obi-Wan, "but earlier? When you were still working out the balance of touching the Force. You were very young. You often dreamed about— your mother. We talked about it, and I told you I sometimes had dreams where I was able to save Qui-Gon."

"You did not," Anakin said, shocked. "That's not a nightmare anyway."

Words were spilling out of his mouth more from reflex than anything else, because the minute he thought about it, he did remember something like that. Some recollections from the beginning of his apprenticeship were crystal-clear, but there were more that had faded to just a vague feeling. He knew he had been so very lost, and he knew he had relied on Obi-Wan for comfort. He remembered that Qui-Gon's memory had weighed heavily on both their hearts.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. "Is it not?"

Wait. Had it been—

"I think it was right after we visited that dead system. For some reason, it upset you quite a bit. Unless that, too, never happened?" Obi-Wan's tone wasn't discernibly sarcastic, but he was right and he knew it.

"Uh," said Anakin, brilliantly.

He had told Obi-Wan about the dead star nightmare? Of course he had. Nine years old. He had blurted out everything. So Obi-Wan had known about the dark dreams and the terror that whispered at him when he was alone— He had known the whole time?

Suddenly chilled, Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan already knew everything else too.

That would be a good thing, wouldn't it? Didn't he want to be honest with his master this time?

All things die, Anakin Skywalker.

Eyes wide, Anakin looked at Obi-Wan and felt dread settle deep into his bones at the thought of admitting the truths he had held back for so long. How could Obi-Wan ever see him the same? Everyone made mistakes, but Anakin hadn't just made a minor blunder. He had betrayed the Order, his master, and everything Obi-Wan had ever wanted him to be. Purposefully. Twice.

And he wasn't even sorry about the second time.

The deceit had been dangerous, poisonous to their bond. But was it worth it? At least before, even if his relationship with his master wasn't what he had wished, he still had one.

Could he risk totally forfeiting that? Give Obi-Wan up, after he had just gotten him back?

"Yeah... that was a long time ago," said Anakin slowly. "I didn't even remember that."

"You should try having your brain scrambled. Brings up all sorts of things you thought were gone." Obi-Wan cocked his head. "For instance — whatever you were going to say when you barged in here in the first place."

He was maneuvering away from the conversation, but for once it was a topic Anakin was glad to drop. Whatever had caused his state of mind to overturn and tumble like a boat in a rough sea, he knew that his thoughts were not to be trusted. It was not a time to be trying to make serious emotional decisions. Taking a deep breath, Anakin scrounged for any shred of clarity the Force might offer him.

"Right. I was just coming to see how you were, and if you've eaten? I'm going to eat lunch with Ahsoka and some of the men, so. Do you want to come?"

"I haven't left this room yet, so no, I haven't eaten," said Obi-Wan, which wasn't really an answer.

"You were given medical instructions specifically about that," Anakin pointed out. When Obi-Wan didn't seem convinced, he added thoughtfully, "Since this is a military vessel we don't usually have room service. But I guess I could probably get someone to bring something up, if you'd rather not—"

Cutting him off, Obi-Wan quickly killed that idea. "That's not necessary. I'll come."

Anakin didn't smile, but he wanted to.

Obi-Wan refused to go anywhere without a fresh change of clothes, so Anakin sacrificed another batch of his tunics to the cause. Good thing he usually didn't bother with the full set anyway.

As they walked, his master was... quiet.

It didn't bother Anakin that Obi-Wan didn't have much to say — what got under his skin was the silence in the Force. When they were talking, he could almost ignore it. He had spent all that time on Centares looking forward to having Obi-Wan's Force connection restored, so that he could finally sense him the way he was supposed to be able to... and now Obi-Wan was keeping up these new durasteel shields.

It made Anakin want to lean into the bond, to push and push for that reassurance. He was almost sure that Obi-Wan would let him in, if he did.

That wasn't the wisest thing to do, though.

He and Padme had talked about this, so he knew what he would do if it was her he was feeling insecure and distant from. Instead of getting upset and laying on guilt and probably saying accusing things about her not loving him, he would use one of the pre-prepared responses they had worked on together. Something like, 'Hey, do you have tomorrow night free? I was hoping we could spend some more time together soon.' But he and Padme had promised to love each other for the rest of their lives, so they could say things like that.

Obi-Wan had promised to make him a Jedi Knight, and that was already done. So maybe their relationship was too.

He was being irrational right now, Anakin tried to tell himself. Obi-Wan was his family, and that wasn't just something he had made up on Centares. After all, hadn't Obi-Wan himself said he missed Anakin? Hadn't he trusted him even when he didn't have his memories?

Hadn't he worried about him, even in his nightmare? Just because he was in an altered state of consciousness didn't make it totally untrue.

Right?

"So, where exactly are we going?" asked Obi-Wan, when they had traveled far enough into the ship it was clear they weren't heading for the officers' mess.

"D block mess," Anakin said, which wasn't a real answer. He clenched his fists, and then purposefully forced them to relax.

Stop losing your kriffing mind and act like a sane person, Skywalker.

"We lost a lot of men recently so, now that we've been reinforced, we ended up with whole companies made up of totally new recruits. Most of them are straight from Kamino, with almost no experience. Me and several of the officers and veterans have been joining them in their mess regularly, to raise morale and make sure they know us. D block is the next one up."

Obi-Wan nodded. "That seems wise. You find it makes a difference?"

"I think it's just basic respect. I'm their general. If I expect them to respect and follow me, I should offer that respect back to them. If I have to ask a man to give up his life, I should know what it is I'm asking." The thoughtful way his master was looking at him made him nervous, so Anakin added, "And yeah, they perform better when they trust me. When they know that I value them individually as people, as living beings — not just as tools."

"Of course you do," said Obi-Wan. "You would hardly be a Jedi if you didn't."

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised," Anakin muttered.

"What do you mean?"

Obi-Wan's tone held nothing but mild interest, but his thoughts were tightly shielded and Anakin hesitated to mention Umbara. He still couldn't talk about it like he had processed and resolved it, because he hadn't. Trying to talk to Obi-Wan about confusion and doubts in the past had almost always betrayed him. He couldn't shake the memory of the mingled shame and anger that came from being told exactly what he should be thinking and feeling, instead of what he was.

His master had never failed to make Anakin feel like a stupid child, on and off the mat, and who knew what he would make of the Krell situation? Anakin didn't even understand what he himself felt well enough to try to argue about it.

"Nothing, Master."

Obi-Wan just raised his eyebrows slightly, and looked away.

Anakin sighed. Would he be holding back like this if he were talking to Master Windu? He knew he wouldn't. His connection to Master Windu was new and shallow compared to everything he shared with Obi-Wan, so why was talking to him harder?

After a moment's thought, he realized that the answer was in the question. Obi-Wan meant so much more to him; he was vulnerable to Obi-Wan in a way he wasn't to Master Windu. His opinion, whether praise or disapproval, always struck at the heart of Anakin's being.

He had been afraid of his master, Anakin realized — afraid of his disappointment, of not being good enough. He was still afraid.

He wanted this time to be different, though. How could it be, if he kept doing the same exact things?

"I— well," said Anakin awkwardly, speaking before he could talk himself out of it. "A couple months ago we were trying to reclaim this planet, Umbara, from the Separatists, but the Council had a separate assignment for me, so they sent in someone to sub me for the Umbara assault. Master Pong Krell. Ever hear of him?"

A quick sideways glance found Obi-Wan watching him steadily. "I don't think so."

"Well, I had heard of him. He had a reputation for decisive victories, so I thought, you know, good. That's what we do around here, so he'll probably fit right in. We found out he had fallen to the Dark Side only after he killed hundreds of my men, and at least that many of Master Plo's."

"He was a Sith?"

"No— I don't know. Maybe. What worries me is that he was a Jedi when he was winning battles for us, and even then his clone casualty rates were through the roof! He was treating them like droids, wasting their lives, and no one noticed. I mean, obviously it was a warning sign of his Fall, but— no one noticed. All we cared about were his decisive victories," Anakin said bitterly. "Krell hadn't been waging war like a Jedi for a long time. If we didn't see it, what does that say about the rest of what we're doing? What else are we missing?"

"Darkness has often been hard to see," said Obi-Wan. "It thrives in hiding."

"Exactly. But it's as if— there's so much darkness, you can't tell where it is. Because it's everywhere."

Anakin ducked his head, waiting on edge for Obi-Wan's response, knowing he had expressed himself clumsily, as usual. His master's expression was still thoughtful, but it seemed as if he might never speak. Holding his breath and counting the seconds and counting his steps, Anakin eventually couldn't stand it anymore.

"Go on, Master, let's hear it," he demanded. "I know you want to set me straight."

"Well, Anakin, it's not my responsibility to 'set you straight' on anything, is it?" said Obi-Wan, giving him a crooked smile that was meant to be teasing. "You're not my padawan."

It was true. There was no reason for Anakin to feel like he'd just been gutted.

"That doesn't mean we can't talk," he said, in a tone that almost managed to not sound like begging.

"Of course. That's what we're doing."

"But, I mean, you can have— opinions."

Amused, Obi-Wan put a reassuring hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Relax, Anakin. Your care for your men does you credit, and I'm sure they feel it. I can see the wisdom of fostering trust in the wake of a betrayal like you mentioned, but don't think you have to explain your decisions to me. I don't intend to infringe on your command at all."

"That's— I wasn't—"

Anakin floundered, disarmed by the praise and distracted by the thought that of course Obi-Wan didn't want to advise him. Of course he was relieved to finally be free of that thankless responsibility. He probably wanted some peace, if Anakin would finally stop needing everything from him every two seconds. He had a horrible, sinking conviction that just leaving Obi-Wan alone might be the best thing he could possibly do.

He wasn't sure if he was strong enough to actually pull it off.

Anxiety and a stretched-out type of longing mixed together and left Anakin feeling sick. Things that were routine became suddenly high-stakes and stressful with Obi-Wan watching — but at the same time, he felt incomplete whenever Obi-Wan wasn't in the same room. What was he supposed to do?

"Just go on as if I'm not here," encouraged Obi-Wan.

Sighing, Anakin gave up. There weren't enough words in the whole galaxy to explain to his master how impossible that was.