It is nonsense to talk of "days" in space, but at the end of each period so-marked he stood on the bridge of the Super Star Destroyer Executor and gazed into the endless void, stretching himself fishing-wire thin across the galaxy, casting out a psychic line in vain, before finally closing himself off again, and turning away dejected from the viewport with a swish of his cape. Each time, his chagrin and disbelief at having to start his search all over again were fresh.

It was almost a full standard year after Bespin when, for the first time, his increasingly desperate calls were answered.

Luke...?

The presence was fearful and hesitant, but fired by reckless curiosity, and moved by pity, it had finally responded to his pain. It nudged him, ever so circumspectly, making no promises, and he grasped madly for it, causing it to retreat in terror. He cried out in frustration, heedless of the terrified officers who surrounded him in the physical plane. To glimpse his quarry, only to lose track of it a moment later!

Luke-!

After a brief eternity, the presence reappeared. It brushed against him, almost defiant in its softness, offering him something he had forgotten how to name. A dare, in the form of caress.

And trembling, he returned it. This was so much more than anyone had shared with him in so long! It jazzed him like a hit of spice, set him instantly aching with hunger for more. The presence ignited with surprised joy, reaching eagerly back across the infinite expanse of space. He didn't know it yet, but by revealing this secret, wounded part of himself, he had inadvertently shown the young man at the other end of the galaxy-spanning connection that there was something left in him worth saving.

It would take two more standard years, and a surreptitious meeting on a landing platform on Forest Moon of Endor, before Darth Vader would come to understand the turning point this brief touch had represented.

Obi Wan stands, noting a complete lack of pain or stiffness, and takes his first steps in the body Anakin has given him. With numb fingers, he peels back many-layered robes to find a smooth, solid, flawless chest. This is not an entirely accurate recreation of the youthful form he once inhabited, but rather some idealized version, drawn from Anakin's memories- or more likely Anakin's fantasies- of him. Perfectly healthy, totally unblemished, perhaps slightly thicker with muscle than he ever actually was- He looks up, lips parted in astonishment, and begins to back away in fear.

"Master," Anakin mews, taking unsteadily to his own feet. "Where are you going? Please, come back-" He staggers forward, grasping Obi Wan hungrily about the shoulders, and crashing heavily into him. Their renewed bodies press sweetly against each other, rubbing the soft, gray fabric between them, and they shudder and sigh, both so unused to this, having both been so alone for so long. Obi Wan's heart races in mixed terror and pleasure, as his new form surrenders to Anakin's heated caresses. Like everything else in this dream-realm, he is ruled by Anakin's imagination. His body is Anakin's plaything; as responsive as the former-Sith wills it to be.

"I promise I won't hurt you," Anakin mouths against the creamy flesh of Obi Wan's throat. "Not anymore..." But his bruising, durasteel grip belies his cloud-soft voice.

"Listen to me," Obi Wan struggles. "I am trying to help you-"

"You are helping me, Master," Anakin murmurs, kissing ardently at the other man's furred jaw. "You said you were sorry-" he moans, nuzzling their faces against each other, "for failing me. And now, you can make up for it- by giving me- what I have always needed from you."

"You misunderstand, Anakin."

"How so?" he demands, his voice rising in agitation. "I thought you were offering to stay with me- To be with me-" His eyes darken with sudden, panic-fueled fury. "You have always done this! You have always withheld yourself from me! Ever since I was a boy- I couldn't bear it then, and I can't bear it now!" His grip on Obi Wan's shoulders is tightening to the point of violence. He tilts his head back, staring up into the soaring, violet-black empyrean, forced to look back down again as his knees grow weak beneath him. To be trapped here, alone, forever! Alone forever.

"I would have done anything for your approval, your affection- But you always turned away from me-"

"Anakin, please-"

He closes his eyes against the view of trees in the distance, their dark, twisted shapes torturing his vision. The cold wind punishes him unceasingly. Obi Wan's body is the only source of warmth in this entire abyssal dimension. What's more, his master is the only possible source of solace, of comfort, of pleasure. His hands seize fist-fulls of Obi Wan's cloak, trembling with a rabid, terrifying desperation.

"You are all I have now, Master! If you won't give me your love, then I will have nothing! I will be nothing!"

The familiar, bearded face creases ruthfully. Though restored to the full efflorescence of youth and beauty, it has lost none of its gentle wisdom. "I want to give you my love and more, Anakin."

"More?" he chokes. "What more could there be?" His azure eyes are lit with fear and wonder.

"I want to free you," says Obi Wan, pulling away from the smothering embrace. He takes both of Anakin's hands, and holds his gaze, mournfully imploring. "The only thing I long for more than to transcend into the Netherworld, to finally be at peace... is to bring you, my dearest friend, with me. But since you have banished yourself here, I cannot."

Anakin frowns, uncomprehending. "Banished myself? I've done no such thing."

"Oh, but you have," Obi Wan sighs. "It is your refusal to let go of the darkness which keeps you here. If only you could see..."

Vader tears his hands away in sudden indignation. "Do not speak to me in riddles, Jedi!" he growls. "What is this place, really?"

"A prison of your own construction."

He casts his gaze about the dark, foreboding, frigid landscape, frustrated and scared. "But there is a way out. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes."

"And-" His sculpted features quiver, as if he is on the verge of tears. "And you will help me, Master? You won't- You won't leave me here?"

"If it is what you truly want, I will never, ever leave you," says Obi Wan, in a tender tone he has rarely ever favored his apprentice with in the past. "I will do everything in my power to help you." His silvergreen gaze lifts soberly. "But take heed, Anakin: Only you can confront the darkness within yourself. Only you can resolve the conflict which ravages your soul. Only you can choose to finally be healed."

Anakin moans, pressing a hand to his mouth in anguish. "Yes," he whimpers. "I want to-" He sways on his feet. "I want to see Master Qui Gon again. I want to tell him how sorry I am. I-" His voice breaks, already halfway to weeping. The howling wind swallows his words, but his meaning is clear. "I want to come home," he mouths.

"And so you shall, my padawan." Obi Wan smiles, and this time it finally reaches his eyes.