The sky had dimmed to a dusty blue when Anakin and Obi-Wan returned home. They hung up their cloaks and put their lightsabers on their belts just for the reminder that they were no longer in Cody's possession. Padmé came to the entryway to greet them.

"Where have you been?" she asked, looking up at the two of them.

Anakin detached the lightsaber from his belt and held it out to show her. "We had to get these back," he said.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan warned.

She doesn't have to know everything, Anakin thought to him. Obi-Wan looked distressed, but he nodded.

Padmé's mouth fell open for a moment and then she responded, "But Ani, you always said this weapon was your life. What kind of trouble are you in? Who had them?" She reached up and caressed his face in little worried strokes.

Anakin gave her a small smile and said, "Everything's okay now. We aren't in trouble."

"Really?" Padmé doubted. "I had a job interview today. I kept hearing about Grievous over and over."

"I didn't know you had an interview," Anakin said praisingly, "What kind of job was it for?"

She crossed her arms. "It was for the secretary position at the police station. Not exactly what I want, but this town is so small, there's nothing else available. Now Ani, would you answer my question?"

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Someone dumped his remains on Father's bed."

Padmé gasped. Obi-Wan put a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes.

"So Deputy Rex came over and got rid of him," Anakin continued, "And then Father and I thought it would be best if we got our lightsabers back from the Sheriff. He was keeping them safe after finding them when he searched the house. So everything's okay now. Don't worry, Padmé."

Padmé leaned into him and Anakin hugged her. He looked at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan wasn't so anxious looking now. "Padmé, did you eat something yet? I can make fried nuna legs for dinner."

"Sounds wonderful," she replied. He left them to get started. Padmé said to Anakin quietly, "If this job works out, I'm going to get an apartment, and I want you to live with me. It's not safe to stay here when dead bodies keep cropping up."

"Padmé—" he tried to protest.

"Say you'll live with me, Ani," she insisted, "Obi-Wan is crazy if he doesn't realize how bad things are."

Anakin's expression turned stormy. "I'll think about it," he said.

Padmé nodded acceptingly. The warmth from her small form seemed to seep through Anakin's clothes and he frowned. He knew where he was going to stay, but he didn't want to be apart from Padmé, either. He released her and walked towards the kitchen to see if he could help.

After dinner, Anakin tried to catch up on the schoolwork he'd missed. The sun went down and caused all the lights in the house to glow an eerie yellow. Anakin looked over at Obi-Wan, who was reading in the chair closest to the piano. He saw Obi-Wan close his eyes and then open them widely, blinking a few times afterwards.

"Father," Anakin said, "We could share my bed tonight, if you want."

Obi-Wan started to say something before it turned into a yawn. Suddenly he remembered the visceral, graphic nature of his dreams and changed his mind. "I can sleep on the couch," he said, "Your bed is smaller than mine and I don't want to disturb your sleep."

Anakin all but rolled his eyes. "You know I'm never disturbed by having you next to me. I'm sure we can both fit."

Obi-Wan put his book down and moved to sit by Anakin. "I'm sorry, Anakin," he began, "It's just after the day I've had, I think I need to sleep alone tonight."

Anakin thought about Cody. "Okay," he conceded.

Obi-Wan drew him near and pressed a kiss to his hair. Anakin breathed him in and said goodnight.

Obi-Wan made a makeshift bed out of the couch, a blanket, and two throw pillows. Anakin slipped under the covers of his bed and tried not to be too angry at the world.

The next morning, Anakin's neck felt stiff and sore. He thought a shower might help. He threw the covers off himself and padded out of bed to the bathroom. The door opened easily and Anakin discovered Obi-Wan had beat him to it.

Anakin squeaked. Obi-Wan stopped toweling himself off and looked towards the sound. "Anakin!"

Anakin spun around and closed the door, the image of Obi-Wan naked and dripping still glistening behind his eyes.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan called, "Come here."

His heart was beating like hummingbird wings. He covered his eyes with his hand and fumbled for the bathroom door handle. "I didn't see anything!" Anakin announced. He heard Obi-Wan sort of chuckle and then his hand was being taken away from his face. Obi-Wan was wearing his white cotton robe. It was plastered to his skin in places where he hadn't finished drying and was crisscrossed very loosely over his chest.

Obi-Wan's good-humored expression left as he observed Anakin. He said, "Would you mind telling me what happened?"

Anakin looked at himself in the mirror then. He had two dark bruises, each underneath his jaw where Maul's thumbs had been. Anakin cursed himself for getting caught. He turned to Obi-Wan and asked, "You remember Maul and Savage Opress?"

Obi-Wan nodded, still looking at the bruises.

"Maul tried to kill me. Or just scare me, I don't know. I didn't want to worry you."

Obi-Wan placed one hand at the back of Anakin's neck as he ran his thumb over the apple of his throat. "Your voice?" he asked.

"Yeah." Anakin tipped his head back a little.

Obi-Wan moved his thumb back over the bruises, one at a time. Anakin's brows pinched together. "You should have told me," Obi-Wan admonished. "This kind of injury is more serious than it might appear."

"It is?"

"Yes," he said, now massaging Anakin's neck, "Is this the only time it's happened?"

"Yes," Anakin answered, but now he was the one who was worried. "Can you heal me?"

Obi-Wan's silent anger turned to woe. "I don't know how," he confessed.

"What if I teach you?" Anakin offered.

The surprise was distinct on Obi-Wan's face. "You know how?" he questioned.

"Sort of," Anakin replied sheepishly. He positioned himself on the edge of the toilet seat cover and had Obi-Wan kneel in front of him. "Put your hands around my neck," he said, "But don't actually touch me."

Obi-Wan made a U with his hands.

Anakin took a deep breath. "Now try to picture time reversing."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and imagined Anakin's bruises fading, his vocal cords undisturbed. He heard Anakin's breath hitch. Obi-Wan wasn't touching him, but Anakin felt pressure where Maul's hands had been, not nearly as painful as Maul had made it, but still, Anakin couldn't breathe.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and saw the bruises had turned yellowish-purple. He kept his hands where they were and continued picturing veins and muscle and cartilage, all contributing to the perfect curves of Anakin's neck—

Anakin's eyelashes fluttered.

"Stay with me, Anakin. Breathe," Obi-Wan said, "We're almost done."

Anakin sucked in a shallow breath and opened his eyes, the sight of Obi-Wan in his near-transparent robe greeting him once again. He whimpered.

Obi-Wan concentrated for a few seconds more. He pulled his hands away slowly and stood swiftly as Anakin went limp. Obi-Wan caught him by his arm and the back of his neck before he could fall off the toilet.

Faintly, Anakin thought they could have been in a holovid if the setting were different. He gazed up at Obi-Wan. "That felt... good," he said dazedly.

Obi-Wan shook his head, saying, "You're lightheaded."

"Really good," Anakin clarified.

Obi-Wan looked like he did when Anakin walked in on him. He cleared his throat. "Well, I did heal those nasty bruises. That must feel better. Can you stand?"

"Of course," Anakin replied, but he was wobbly when he tried to. Obi-Wan put an arm around him and guided him to his bedroom.

"Lie down for just a little while, okay?" Obi-Wan said, letting go of him once they were next to Anakin's bed. "I'll make you a nice breakfast."

Anakin sighed and stretched out on his bed. Obi-Wan turned to go downstairs.

"Father," Anakin called.

He turned around. "Yes?"

"Sorry about earlier," he said.

The color returned to Obi-Wan's cheeks.

"You don't need to be embarrassed," Anakin told him, "You still look like a Jedi."

Obi-Wan ducked his head and muttered a thank you as he left the room. Anakin just smiled.

After breakfast, Anakin asked Obi-Wan if Elan could come over later.

"Have you tidied up your room?" he inquired, but the glimmer in his eyes said he already knew. Anakin cleaned his room and then asked again.

"As long as you're ready for dinner by six," Obi-Wan answered, smiling at the way Anakin lit up. The boy pulled out his phone and called Elan right away. Elan's jagged voice greeted him on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Anakin."

"Hello, Anakin," he said leisurely.

Anakin grinned at the rumble of his name. "Are you doing anything right now?" he asked.

"Nothing important," Elan answered.

"Can you come over?"

Elan was at Anakin's doorstep within eleven minutes. They went up to Anakin's bedroom.

Leave the door open, Obi-Wan thought from downstairs.

Anakin shut it a little forcefully. Elan didn't seem to notice as he arranged himself on Anakin's bed, grinning widely when Anakin turned around and saw his supposedly-seductive pose. "You must have missed me to call so soon," he teased.

Anakin felt heat creep into his ears. He tried to reply coolly, "Well, we were interrupted."

Elan laughed. He put his hands behind his head as he relaxed, then patted the space beside him as Anakin lingered by the door. Anakin came over and lied down on his side next to Elan. Elan mirrored the position and supported himself on his elbow. They looked at each other for a while without saying anything.

"You have pretty eyes," Anakin said softly.

Elan tried to hide his smile. "I bet you say that to every brown-eyed boy."

"No," Anakin insisted, "I mean it."

Elan moved closer and rubbed his nose against Anakin's. Anakin felt warm in his chest and in his cheeks, a sort of lightness that sent his nerves away. He lied on his back and started memorizing the lines of Elan's face again, as if he planned to draw him. He reached up and hooked a finger under the black band around Elan's neck. "Why do you wear this?" he asked.

Elan tried to keep a serious face. He said, "It attracts a certain type of person."

"Such as?"

"A person who likes to..." He stopped and demonstrated by putting a hand around his own neck.

Anakin seemed confused for a second, then his eyes widened. "That's a thing?"

"Yep," Elan replied, barely holding it together, "The likelihood that you, a boyfriend of mine, has this thing is very high."

Anakin looked like his world had been turned upside down. Elan laughed so hard he fell off the bed. Anakin snatched up a pillow and started smacking Elan's shaking form with it.

"Hey!" Elan said between pillow attacks, "You asked! I just—told you—the truth—agh!"

Anakin gathered all the blankets and pillows and threw them on Elan before sliding off the bed himself and landing on the pile. Elan struggled out from underneath him and promptly took his revenge by tickling any part of Anakin not guarded by two or more layers of fabric. Anakin burst into laughter. He tried hard not to kick Elan involuntarily, but the other boy was enjoying torturing him so much that Anakin decided to seize the opportunity when he saw it. He threw his arms around Elan and pulled him down against his chest, using Elan's resulting breathlessness as a chance to roll over and pin Elan's hands above his head. Their cheeks were pink and their hair stuck up oddly from the static of Anakin's bed linens. Anakin grinned triumphantly. Elan looked up at him longingly.

Anakin released him gradually, first letting go of his hands, then sitting to the side of him and finding something else for his eyes to focus on.

"Anakin?"

He looked back at Elan, wanting him and not wanting to reveal his inexperience, angry that Obi-Wan was in the house and yet wanting his help in something as complicated as this. His eyes burned with determination as he asked, "Have you ever had sex?"

"Yeah," Elan said, brows furrowing as he sat up, "Have you?"

Anakin was quiet for second and then he shook his head. Elan moved a little closer, wearing a serious expression. He reached for Anakin's hand and held it warmly. Anakin met his eyes again.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to," Elan told him, "I like you for you." Anakin smiled then. He continued, "Even though I clearly have the hottest boyfriend in town."

Anakin laughed. "I bet you say that to all the average-looking boys."

Elan did his best Anakin-impression, declaring, "I mean it!"

Anakin scoffed before kissing him, this time getting the chance to run his hands along Elan's body, first tugging at the band around his neck, pulling him close, then on down his chest. He was wearing a gray cotton t-shirt, not his usual button-down. It was soft under Anakin's fingertips, in contrast with Elan's grainy black jeans, and Anakin gave Elan's thigh a good squeeze before burying his fingers in Elan's hair, causing little white sparks of static to go off here and there, while Elan treated his mouth like flower petals, wet with dew and tongue, making everything alright, no, perfect—

There was a knock on the door. "Anakin?" came Obi-Wan's concerned voice.

Anakin groaned, nearly causing Elan to do the same before he got a hold on where they were and whose voice had managed to interrupt them from a seemingly far off planet.

"What is it?" Anakin called back. Elan put his head on Anakin's shoulder to hide his giggle. Anakin made a funny face when he was annoyed.

There was a slight pause, and then Obi-Wan replied, "I was wondering if either of you wanted something to eat."

Anakin was about to answer "no" but Elan stopped him. "You're hungry?" Anakin asked.

"Yeah." Elan helped Anakin to his feet as he said, "I might actually like your dad." Anakin opened the door to his room and tried to get a read on Obi-Wan without staring. He looked a little hurt, if Anakin wasn't projecting his own feelings onto him.

"Father," Anakin said tentatively, "Elan is hungry." Elan raised his eyebrows, antennapalps waving as if he'd missed part of the conversation.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Obi-Wan returned. Anakin's jaw clenched. "Let's go downstairs," Obi-Wan said, gesturing for them to follow. "I've got tarsh maxers and pizza and soda..." He was halfway down the stairs when Elan took Anakin's hand and said, "Okay, now I know I like him."

Anakin rolled his eyes. "He just wants to get you out of my bedroom."

They started down the stairs. "I'm lucky he let me in his house," countered Elan.

"Why?"

"Because, Anakin. I'm... People don't... Let's just drop it, okay?" He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at Anakin.

Anakin blinked. "Okay," he said. He stepped closer. "I like you, you know that?"

Elan looked away.

"It doesn't matter what other people think of you. I know you have a good heart. And so does my father."

Elan took a deep breath and met Anakin's eyes with his own teary ones. Anakin pulled him into a hug, the scent of candy smoke tickling his nose. Quietly, Obi-Wan came over and asked if everything was alright. Elan let go of Anakin suddenly and hugged Obi-Wan, whose mouth fell open in surprise, his arms held out away from Elan as the boy clung to him. Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin, who nodded, his face almost stern. Obi-Wan put one arm around Elan then, and the other hand rested in his fluffy hair as he whispered how everything would be okay, that Elan was welcome there anytime, that he had the both of them to call if he needed something. Elan wiped his eyes eventually, and laughed awkwardly, announcing, "I'm not usually like this."

"Don't worry about it," Anakin said.

"I should go."

"Stay," Obi-Wan said, "Eat something with us. We can't finish it all by ourselves."

Elan glanced between the two of them and smiled sheepishly. "Alright, you got me. I'll stay."

Anakin kissed Elan's cheek on his way to the kitchen, expression still a little grim, but nevertheless grateful for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan's new mattress arrived as he and Anakin were getting ready for dinner. Padmé came home just as Elan left, a bagful of groceries in each hand. She started cooking the elements of their dinner that would take the longest, and Obi-Wan would take over when he was ready so Padmé could change into one of her favorite dresses.

Obi-Wan smoothed fresh sheets over his mattress, using the same care he took with each motel room. First a white sheet, then another, a new comforter, and a worn blanket that Shmi had made for him. He fluffed a few pillows, and when he was satisfied with their arrangement he went to his wardrobe to pick something to wear. He had several sets of his everyday beige robes, only a few finer robes, and some clothes he just couldn't part with that belonged to his late wives. He shrugged off his tunics and undershirt just before his bedroom door swung open. He turned, and almost wasn't surprised at the sight he was met with.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, exasperated, "You should really start knocking."

Anakin waltzed in and ran his fingers along the bedspread, commenting, "I think you'll sleep better tonight."

"I hope so," he replied, glancing at Anakin glancing at him. Obi-Wan pulled a black undershirt over his head hastily. He drew more black robes out of the wardrobe and laid them out on the bed, layer by layer.

"Aren't you going to change your pants?" Anakin prompted.

Obi-Wan looked down at his tan pants and agreed, somewhat agitatedly, "Yes. Turn around."

For a second, Obi-Wan thought he saw Anakin smirk. Then he did as he was told, and Obi-Wan kicked off his pants and tugged on the darker ones. Anakin turned back around and identified the inner tunic, slid it off its hanger, and approached Obi-Wan with it in his hands. Obi-Wan smiled slightly and held out his arms. Anakin helped him into it, brushing out any creases he found. He retrieved the overtunic as he said, "I think Elan likes you."

Obi-Wan crossed the inner tunic over his chest. "You mean…?"

"He likes you," Anakin repeated, bringing the overtunic to his shoulders.

"No," Obi-Wan said, "No, no. Elan just learned he could trust me. That's all the hug meant."

Anakin seemed to have a grimace etched into his features as he placed a tabard on Obi-Wan's shoulder, letting it drape across the front and back of him.

"Anakin, look at me," Obi-Wan insisted. Anakin did. "I would never betray that trust." Anakin's expression softened. Obi-Wan continued, "It's quite clear to me that you care about each other. Don't let jealousy ruin that."

Anakin was quiet as he positioned the other tabard on Obi-Wan's shoulder. He held everything in place as Obi-Wan fastened his belt and took a look at himself in the tall mirror by the wardrobe. He asked, "What do you think?"

Anakin finally smiled and answered, "You should wear that more often. How do I look?"

Obi-Wan tapped his finger on his chin as if he had to think about it. Anakin was wearing a dark vest with gold embroidery and a lighter colored long-sleeved shirt underneath. His pants were the usual black ones, and he had an auburn scarf peeking out from under the vest.

"Perfect," Obi-Wan decided, and with a grin he added, "We match."

Obi-Wan went to the kitchen to finish off the cooking and sent Padmé upstairs. She rushed down the hall to her room and picked a dress that would hang away from her body, giving her the silhouette of a queen chess piece. Anakin knocked on her door and she welcomed him in before handing him a hairbrush. He gathered all the stray locks of her hair and started brushing it gently, marveling at its softness. Padmé stopped fiddling with the cuffs at the ends of her sleeves and took a breath, smiling at Anakin through her vanity mirror. He was determined not to pull out a single strand.

"I'm sorry I've been away so much," Padmé said.

Anakin ran the brush in one long stroke from her forehead to the end of her hair's length. "I noticed," he replied, "What have you been doing?"

"Looking for a job. And spending time with Rush."

"Is it serious?" Anakin asked, beginning another brushstroke.

Padmé bit her lip as she thought about it. "I don't know," she decided. "It's important to find out what he's like with other people. Secluded dates are fun, of course, but…"

"I'm listening."

"I just wonder, sometimes, if he's showing me the real him."

Anakin tried to keep his expression neutral and offer some normal, un-paranoid advice. "But you like him?"

She smiled. "Yes. Thank you, Ani." She took the brush from him and set it on the table, then moved to retrieve something from her dresser. "What do you think?" she asked, holding up a sparkling gold headdress.

He joked, "You're going to cover up your beautiful hair after all the work I did?"

"I am. Now go set the table before he gets here."

"Okay, mom." Padmé rolled her eyes. Anakin set the table just before there was a knock on the front door.

An impatient rap followed. Padmé answered the door before anyone else could.

"Padmé," he purred. Anakin watched with suspicion as Mr. Clovis wrapped his arms around Padmé, an uneasy feeling gathering in his stomach.

"Rush," Padmé said, smiling as she broke their embrace, "You've met my brother Anakin."

Clovis looked at him with the remnants of a leer as he dragged his eyes off Padmé. "Ah, yes—My star student. How are you feeling today?"

"Fine," he answered through gritted teeth. Padmé wondered if something else had happened that Anakin didn't tell her about. Anakin glared at Clovis a second more, hoping it would be enough to get him to keep his mouth shut.

Obi-Wan came to greet Clovis and Anakin put on a pleasant expression.

"And here's my father," introduced Padmé.

"We met once before," Clovis told her, as he shook hands with Obi-Wan. Padmé began to worry that any peace in the house was already falling apart.

"Yes," replied Obi-Wan, "We have." And he looked at Anakin, recalling how Clovis overstepped his boundaries.

They sat down to eat in the dining room, Padmé across from Clovis, Obi-Wan next to Padmé, forcing Anakin to sit by Clovis. Obi-Wan poured drinks for everyone. Dinner was served. The others talked and talked about work, politics, town gossip, lulling Anakin into boredom. He twirled his fork around on one tine, elbows on the table, palm supporting his head.

There was a sudden pressure on his knee. He looked and stood up so fast his chair fell over. Clovis' hand—

Clovis asked, "Is everything alright, Anakin?" His facade of concern was impeccable.

Anakin felt them all staring at him. "I, uhh," he shifted uncomfortably, "I just remembered something, is all." He picked up the chair. "It's not important."

Padmé smiled at Clovis as if in apology. Obi-Wan continued to study Anakin as he sat down. Something wasn't right. The boy sat stiffly. Obi-Wan could sense he was on edge. What was it?

Anakin waited but nothing happened. He was beginning to think he imagined it, and that was upsetting. Maybe Clovis really was concerned when, pressure again. Anakin refused to look. Instead he glanced at Clovis. His teacher side-eyed him as he talked, lips twisting in one corner at just the right word. His hand crept further up Anakin's leg. Anakin tensed. He glared at the plate in front of him as the gleam of a fork caught his eye. Padmé and Obi-Wan seemed to be enraptured by Clovis' storytelling. Anakin snuck the fork under the table as Clovis' fingers curled around his inner thigh, then—

"Ahh!" Clovis shrieked. Anakin yanked the fork out of his hand as swiftly as he'd stabbed him. The others jumped out of their seats as Clovis clutched his bleeding hand.

"What is it? What happened?" cried Padmé.

"Something bit me," he growled. Padmé led him to the sink in the kitchen. The water felt like a slap across the back of his hand. "Dirty rat!" cursed Clovis, scowling at Anakin over his shoulder.

Obi-Wan was starting to put it together. Anakin kept his distance and frowned as Padmé fretted over her boyfriend's wounds, using a kitchen towel as a bandage. How could he tell her so that she'd believe him? Clovis was already fabricating more lies.

"Honestly, Obi-Wan, why haven't you called an exterminator?"

The picture became disturbingly clear with a little push into Anakin's mind. Obi-Wan strode up to Clovis, and Anakin grabbed Padmé's arm to pull her away from the two.

Obi-Wan was menacing in a way Anakin had never seen before. The room ached in anticipation. Obi-Wan chose his words carefully. "Truly, I would call," he said as he took Clovis' injured hand in his, "if you weren't..." Obi-Wan began to squeeze, "the only..." scarlet stains bloomed throughout the white towel, "vermin here!"

Clovis sputtered, pain creasing his face fiercely. "Padmé, do something!"

"Obi-Wan—"

"Get. Out," Obi-Wan spat, face so close to Clovis' that he craned away, scared. Obi-Wan grabbed a fistful of his clothes and flung Clovis to the floor. Anakin watched, stunned, as his teacher scrambled to the front door. Obi-Wan waved a hand and slammed it behind him.

Padmé looked to be near tears. "Why did you do that?" she said faintly, then rushed at her father as if to strike him. Obi-Wan caught her before she could. "Why?"

Obi-Wan spoke to her in hushed tones while trying to assess Anakin's condition. He was stock-still. Padmé leaned into Obi-Wan's embrace, somehow feeling guilty for the debacle. "Ani," she called, but he backed away as she reached for him. He just felt wrong. Overwhelmed. Embarrassed, even. Like he was still being touched. Padmé said his name again as Anakin headed for the stairs. A bath seemed like a good idea.

Padmé shuddered as she let out a breath. Obi-Wan held her shoulders. "Get some rest, sweetheart," he murmured, "I'll talk to him."

He went upstairs and knocked on the bathroom door. "Anakin?" He heard the bath water running. "Let me see that you're alright," he said gently.

Anakin hesitated, but opened the door, covered in only a towel around his hips. He was quiet as he sat on the edge of the tub. Obi-Wan regarded him and was relieved to see only tan skin. No more evidence of mistreatment from his classmates—or teachers. His shoulders had broadened, but were slumped. Obi-Wan turned off the water and sat beside him, contemplating how to get past the destructive emotions that stuck like caramel in his teeth.

"You are stunning, Anakin," he began.

Anakin lifted his eyes off the tile and blinked at Obi-Wan. "What?"

Obi-Wan was happy to tell him again, and look into his young blue eyes. "You are stunning."

Anakin felt some color returning to his cheeks. He so often thought the same of his father.

"But that is no excuse, for anyone," continued Obi-Wan, careful not to let his temper slip again. "It's not your fault, you must understand."

He nodded, and held a smile for a split second, but that was all he could manage.

"Anakin." His name sounded lonely on Obi-Wan's lips. "You can tell me anything," he assured.

Anakin held himself, his body growing cold, and voice becoming frustrated, "I didn't know how."

"It's okay. I'm here with you regardless," Obi-Wan said, smiling kindly.

After a few quiet moments, Obi-Wan thought he might not be successful in easing Anakin's distress. But Anakin muttered, "You can touch me, you know. Just because he did, doesn't mean you..." shouldn't. He stood and walked to the sink, feeling stupid.

Obi-Wan followed and wrapped his arms around Anakin's waist. His skin was cool under Obi-Wan's fingertips. "If it brings you comfort," he said, leaning into Anakin's neck as he watched his reaction in the mirror.

Anakin took a shaky breath and put all his effort into keeping himself steady. His father was so warm, and the picture they made in the reflection—he shivered. Obi-Wan's touch was all he ever wanted.

Obi-Wan kept one arm around Anakin while the other moved up his chest. His hand came to rest over the boy's heart, and he made small circles with his fingers. "Are you alright, here?" he whispered.

"Yes," Anakin answered, but it sounded like a sob.

Obi-Wan kissed his ear for good measure. "I love you, dear one."

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" he asked, not caring how he phrased it.

Obi-Wan hummed against his neck and tangled his fingers in Anakin's lengthening curls. It had become so easy to hold him. "Have your bath first," he decided, and let him go slowly. Anakin watched his father leave as he removed his towel. The slight chance that he might turn around... Anakin climbed into the tub and tried to clear his mind. The door clicked softly behind Obi-Wan.

Clovis bandaged his hand as he scolded himself. He could have been successful, had he just waited. He used his good hand to unscrew the cap on a bottle of painkillers, cursing when he had to use the other one to hold the bottle in place. He was sure he could've kept them all entertained, kept the conversation going throughout dinner, and kept the wine flowing, too. Time would escape them, and Padmé would invite him to stay the night—on the couch, of course—and he would laugh and agree it was too late to drive, and that he was too drunk—when really, it was Padmé and Obi-Wan who were too drunk—and they'd all go to sleep. Then… then he could pay Anakin a visit. No one would wake up or hear a thing. But he had been impatient, and couldn't help himself with Anakin so close. His wounded hand would remind him not to make the same mistake again.

Anakin watched the cloudy water drain out of the bathtub as he dried himself off. He'd used a lot of soap, and scrubbed until his skin was soft. Maybe a little raw where Clovis' hand had been. Anakin squeezed the water out of his hair, and dried it as best he could with the towel, before padding to his room and picking something to wear to bed. He pulled a pair of loose pants out of his dresser, along with boxers and an old t-shirt. Anakin slipped on the boxers and had a thought. He put the pajamas away and opened the door between his room and Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan had his glasses on, sitting up in bed as he read the same book from the night before. He looked at Anakin, and then looked away a little too quickly. Anakin walked around to his side of the bed and said, "Something wrong, Father?"

Obi-Wan put his book down and crossed his arms. "Why, yes. Aren't you going to be cold?"

Anakin slipped under the covers and snuck his arm around Obi-Wan, saying, "I have you to keep me warm."

Obi-Wan sighed and set his book and glasses on the nightstand. He turned off the lamp and shifted so he was under the blankets, letting Anakin rest his head against his chest. "I suppose you do," Obi-Wan said, as his hand went up and down the bare skin of Anakin's back.

Anakin closed his eyes.

He was in the dining room again, sitting in his chair with Clovis beside him. Anakin scanned the room for Obi-Wan and Padmé, but they were nowhere to be seen. He looked at Clovis again. The man smiled. He knew. He knew they were alone.

The fork was in Anakin's white knuckle grip somehow, shining in the too bright light of the chandelier. Clovis' smile flipped in an instant. Anakin's arm moved in a blur of silver to defend himself, but Clovis caught his wrist. Anakin felt fingers constrict around the bones of his wrist, rough and hard and inescapable. Clovis ripped the fork from his hand and suddenly Anakin was on the table, his back against the unforgiving white pine, but the placements were gone—no glistening forks or knives to save himself with. Clovis was on top of him suddenly, and Anakin saw the fork pierce his skin, drawing blood and tearing his clothes as Clovis yanked it out. He drove the fork into his chest again and again. Anakin tried in vain to catch his wrist or his arm or even the fork, now dripping with blood, but Clovis couldn't be stopped. He pinned Anakin's hands above his head and Anakin began to feel the pain in other places.

Anakin woke up to darkness and the feeling of his hands still being held down. His chest heaved as he struggled, but the sensation didn't go away, wasn't imagined, wasn't a remnant of the dream. Anakin tried to scream. The sound came out hoarse and deathly quiet. Someone was calling his name. In the next second, Anakin felt the grip around his wrists leave and he swung his fist in front of him, colliding with something in the darkness. There was a familiar sound of pain. Not Clovis. Soft yellow light filled the room as Obi-Wan managed to turn on the lamp switch. "It's me," he said, almost breathlessly. Anakin couldn't believe it for a moment—couldn't reconcile his dream with the image of Obi-Wan hovering over him. His eyes felt wet and hot and still seemed to burn, though more likely from sweat than blood.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan called again. Had he recognized him, finally?

"Why were you holding me?" Anakin cried, his voice rough. He sat straight up and pressed his back against the headboard, still not trusting his eyes. The coolness of the wood was little solace while his chest felt like it was full of holes. He blinked harshly, holding back tears.

Obi-Wan explained calmly, "You were going to hurt yourself, if you hadn't already. I kept trying to wake you..." A touch of uncertainty in his voice. Obi-Wan examined Anakin's body then, straining his eyes in the dim light to look for signs of red, but he only found a few patches of irritated skin. His gaze drifted back up to Anakin's face to find the boy more upset than he knew. "Oh, Anakin," he said softly, "Did I make it worse?"

Anakin didn't tell him yes. He seemed to already know. "I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said. He shifted so he could sit with his legs crossed, and wipe Anakin's face if he'd let him. He did.

"What did you dream?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin continued to stare at the tangle of sheets around him. He almost hoped he and Obi-Wan had shared the dream so that he wouldn't have to recount it out loud. He met Obi-Wan's worried blue eyes and almost jumped out of his skin.

"I hit you," Anakin realized.

Obi-Wan acted like he hadn't noticed until then. He used the back of his hand to wipe where his lip was bleeding and offered a small smile for Anakin afterward. "You didn't mean to," he said simply.

Anakin frowned, and found himself crawling into Obi-Wan's lap as if he were very young and had only dreamt of a monster under the bed. He placed a light hand on Obi-Wan's cheek and looked in his eyes for a second more before pressing a kiss to the cut on his lip. Obi-Wan froze. Anakin simply pulled away and rested his forehead on Obi-Wan's shoulder, murmuring his apology over and over.

Slowly, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin and relaxed. His skin still felt hot, his whole body alight with feverish dreaming. Obi-Wan wove his fingers through Anakin's damp hair, pulling short locks away from his neck in a way that sent tingles down Anakin's spine. He wondered if Anakin's nightmares tended to be this bad as of late, and he just hadn't noticed. How could he not notice?

Obi-Wan broke the comfortable silence as he promised, "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Correction: he couldn't let anyone hurt Anakin. Even in dreams, the effect was so strong on the both of them—Obi-Wan didn't want to imagine what would happen if Anakin were really hurt, or... He stopped himself. He refused to allow his thoughts a darker turn. Anakin was safe, here in his arms. There he'd stay.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," Anakin replied against his ear.

There was danger in those words, a part of Anakin that Obi-Wan knew he couldn't control. But somehow Obi-Wan was content with the promise anyway. He held Anakin with one arm while the other rearranged the sheets and clicked off the lamp. Then he lied down and drew the comforter over their shoulders before tucking Anakin under his arm and pulling him close against his chest. Anakin shimmied a little, so that the blankets nearly engulfed him and Obi-Wan could rest his chin on the top of his head. Anakin finally felt alright, like they were inseparable. He knew the tricks dreams liked to play on him and was able to ward off the nightmare images that flashed behind his eyelids when he closed them. Sleep came quickly after that. Obi-Wan was still as he stared into the dark. He felt good, mostly—Anakin was a welcome companion in all things, it seemed—but Obi-Wan didn't have words for whatever the missing piece was—just that his lip sort of throbbed where it had split, until Anakin had kissed it. Then it felt… different. That was the best he could do to explain it. Obi-Wan let his eyes drift shut and fell into a dreamless sleep.