Hello!

My finals are finally over! Now, I still have a week of holidays before the term starts, and I hope to get some writing done in this short time.

Thank you so much for reading, and for your wonderful feedback! I hope that the rest of the story will live up your expectations!

Chapter Four

The Only One He Ever Loved

The red sun had nearly hidden behind the horizon when Obi-Wan ran up the stairs of Coruscanti opera. It was a quiet evening, and a soft breeze toyed gently with his hair as he pushed himself past crowds of dressed up people. They have come here to enjoy the performance, but he was here to protect his brother…and himself.

His heart racing so madly that he was afraid it would jump from his ribcage, Obi-Wan rushed through the tremendous, pompously decorated halls. He had to be calm…he was glad to see the Chancellor…Palpatine was his best friend. Strengthening his mental shields, Obi-Wan entered the Chancellor's box. It was bathed in a ghostly violet light, which accentuated the inhuman pallor of Palpatine's face.

"You wanted to see me, Chancellor," Obi-Wan said evenly, kneeling before the Sith's chair. Dark eyes gleamed at him, but Palpatine's face was indecipherable.

"Yes, Anakin!" Palpatine said, smiling warmly. "Come closer…what is this smell?"

Obi-Wan felt himself blushing. "Erm…I was just-" he stuttered, thinking about his destroying a building midst the foul-smelling garbage.

Palpatine laughed. It was a deep, barking laughter that had nothing in common with the Emperor's cackling. "Oh, no need for explanations, my boy," he said, still chuckling. "Am I correct to assume that your adventurous side has shown itself again?"

"Erm…" Obi-Wan said, feigning an uncomfortable smile. After all, it wasn't uncommon for Anakin to go to a night stroll into a Coruscanti underworld, or start a garbage race. Or, maybe, his habits have changed in the past three years, given that now he had other, more exciting things to do.

"You strive for adventures never ceases to amaze me, Anakin," Palpatine said, his kind wrinkled face illuminated by an eerie violet light.

'Of course, it doesn't,' Obi-Wan thought darkly. 'You'd be the one to know perfectly after what kind of adventure Anakin would be only in few weeks…'

"-and I think that I have good news for you," Palpatine continued, smiling slyly, his dark eyes lingering on Obi-Wan's blue ones.

"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asked dazedly, a slight tremor shading his voice.

"General Grievous has been located. He's hiding in the Utapau system," Palpatine said, his soft voice sounding silkily against the eerie howls of the Squid Lake ballet.

"That's wonderful," Obi-Wan said, stretching his lips into a grin. "At last, we'll be able to catch that monster and end the war." 'And then we'll catch the monster that's sitting next to me'.

"I would worry about the collective wisdom of the Council if they didn't select you for this assignment," Palpatine said blissfully, his unnaturally dark eyes boring deep into Obi-Wan's blue ones. They were full of sympathy and mute pride. "You are their best choice."

Obi-Wan inclined his head timidly. "Thank you, Chancellor," he said softly. This monster knew exactly what Anakin needed to hear…His words boosted his former Padawan's confidence, whereas Obi-Wan rarely said something that would raise Anakin's pride. Maybe, he should have. Maybe, Anakin wouldn't have spoken so much with the Sith if Obi-Wan had told him more often how proud he was of him…

Palpatine barked a kind laugh. "Sit down," he said gently, pointing to the seat currently vacated by one of his aides. "Leave us," he ordered harshly, the icy tone of his voice sending chills down Obi-Wan's spine. It was unnerving how differently Palpatine behaved in front of Anakin than he did with everyone else…

"I see that something is troubling you, my boy," Palpatine said gently, looking intently at him. Obi-Wan pretended not to notice the Sith's piercing stare as he gazed absent-mindedly at the show. The actors performed a complicated dance, and Obi-Wan wondered dumbly how they could leap so high without the Force.

"I…" Obi-Wan began slowly, still pretending to be interested in the ballet. "I don't know what to think anymore."

He glanced surreptitiously at Palpatine, expecting the monster to wear an insidious, triumphant expression, but only the kind face of an aged man looked back at him. "Is it the Council?" the Sith asked sympathetically, smiling slightly. His eyes shone with deep compassion, the violet illumination accentuating his wrinkles, making him look wise and serene.

"My trust in them has been … shaken," Obi-Wan said, his stomach filling with something incredibly heavy and slimy as he spoke. But have the actions of the Council always been wise? He had never liked their decision to make Anakin spy on Palpatine anyway.

Palpatine drew a deep breath and glanced away, pursuing his lips. "They asked you to spy on me, didn't they?" His voice sounded weary and gloomy.

A heavy silence pervaded the box. Only the drawn-out moans of the ballet resounded in the loge. Palpatine was a perfect shell for Sidious – a father figure Anakin had needed badly. Someone older and wiser than Anakin, someone who could guide him through the harshness of life beyond the Temple. Something that Obi-Wan couldn't have done. Something that Obi-Wan never tried to do.

"I don't know what to say," Obi-Wan said at last, lowering his head. Palpatine had been an excellent actor. If he hadn't known that the feeble man in front of him was the ultimate evil, he'd have never discovered his real identity. There was no trace of darkness in his aura, no hint at his extraordinary abilities; only a monotonous, grey glow of a non-Force-sensitive person.

"I don't blame them," the Chancellor said slowly, apparently oblivious to Obi-Wan's musings. "They did what they thought was right. They did what they thought was for the best."

"But it can't be right," Obi-Wan muttered sincerely. "Spying on friends can never be right." Anakin's face, twisted by pain and numb anger, swam again before his eyes. Spying on friends was wrong…as well as slaughtering the whole Order just to save one woman…as well as sneaking on that woman's ship to kill the man they both loved beyond anything…

Memories of Anakin's hatred-filled, piercing scream resounding in his ears once more, Obi-Wan turned to the Chancellor. Palpatine sighed wearily and shook his head, his thin lips feigning a rueful smile. "Anakin, you're still very young," he began softly, the warmth of his dark eyes disarming Obi-Wan.

"There are many things in this world your mind fails to understand yet. But all who gain power are afraid to lose it. Even the Jedi."

That was true, Obi-Wan knew it. He'd never had so much power like he did now, in the body of the Chosen One. As much as Obi-Wan wished to wake up in his own body, a part of him knew that he'd miss the feeling of raw power surging through his veins. He'd miss the beauty of the world, and the feeling of belonging to something greater than he could comprehend…And a tiny part of Obi-Wan, the part that wanted to believe Palpatine's sweet, consoling words, didn't want to part with Anakin's body…

"The Jedi use their power for the good," Obi-Wan contradicted weakly. "But power can be misused if it is in the hands of an evil person."

Palpatine's dark eyes scrutinised him, and Obi-Wan dimly sensed a ray of dark energy boring at him. "Good and evil depend on point of view, Anakin," the Sith said, his voice as soft as whisper of the wind in the forest.

"There is no point of view on good and evil," Obi-Wan said uncertainly, glancing over at Palpatine. "Sith are evil."

But are the Jedi good? Was it good to dismember someone and leave him burn to death, defenseless? Was it good to sneak on someone's ship without their knowledge? Was it good to battle against someone who could still have been saved?

Everything that stood against Jedi Code was evil. Wanting the power over the galaxy was evil. Slaughtering all friends and even children was evil. Then love was also evil.

Palpatine's eyes glinted oddly. "The Sith and Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power," he said slowly, entwining his long fingers. "But the Sith aren't afraid of the Dark Side of the Force. That's why they are more powerful."

It was hot, and Obi-Wan could feel perspiration forming on his face. "The Dark Side consumes the person until there is nothing left," he said firmly, but his voice trembled treacherously. He could see his own perplexed reflection in Palpatine's gleaming eyes.

"So does the Light Side," Palpatine contradicted softly, turning to watch the show. Glancing at the Sith's well-defined profile, Obi-Wan searched himself for the answer to this statement. Passion, romantic love and attachment were forbidden virtues for the Jedi. But after his trip into Anakin's memories, memories that were full of love and devotion, Obi-Wan had felt strangely…void. The warmth of his mother's embrace…Padmé's loving touch…primitive feelings of unborn Luke and Leia…there was so much beauty in Anakin's world that he had never known, and a large part of him envied his brother for knowing something he could never have. Was it right to deprive beings of these beautiful things? Did being a Jedi mean losing a part of humanity?

"The Jedi are selfless," Obi-Wan said gloomily, feeling even more confused. "They can let go of things for the greater good. They only care about the others."

Palpatine smiled aggravatingly. "You have been trained to believe so. Why, then, were you assigned to spy on me? Why don't the Jedi care about you?"

Obi-Wan had no answer for it. "Because this is the will of the Force," he said barely audible, lowering his head.

A slight chuckle resounded next to him, and he looked up. Palpatine was watching him sympathetically, yet a malicious smile hid at the corners of his lips. "What if the Force were wrong?"

Again, Obi-Wan kept silent. His head ached horribly, and he felt as weary as he had felt in his hut, midst the vast ocean of endless sands.

"What if the Force were wrong, and you were given the chance to correct its mistake? What would you do?"

His heart racing madly, Obi-Wan felt a rush of hot blood streaming to his face. "What do you mean?" he asked in a hushed voice, clenching his flesh hand into a fist to stop it from shaking.

Shadows obscured Palpatine's ghostly pale face, and his eyes gleamed no more. "Death," a voice came from the shadows.

Obi-Wan stared at him, perplexed, his thoughts racing madly. "I don't understand."

"Did you ever hear about the tragedy of Darth Plagueis 'the wise'?"

Obi-Wan shook his head no, a nauseating feeling of foreboding spreading up in him. A mournful howling of the ballet continued brushing his hearing, resembling the moaning of the wind on Tatooine.

The shadows smiled. "I thought not. It is a Sith legend."

"What does it tell?" Obi-Wan asked hoarsely, clenching his armchair.

"Darth Plagueis was a Dark Lord of the Sith, so powerful and so wise he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians to create life ... He had such a knowledge of the dark side that he could even keep the ones he cared about from dying."

"He could actually save people from death?" Obi-Wan asked, mesmerised by the tale against his will. Anakin, why did you listen to this legend? Why couldn't you look past this lie?

Palpatine leaned forward, the shadows lessening their grip on him. "The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural," he said slowly, a ghost of ominous smile on his features that didn't look so kind anymore.

"What happened to him?"

"He became so powerful . . . the only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew, then his apprentice killed him in his sleep."

'Three guesses at the identity of the apprentice.'

A ruthless smile passed over Palpatine's face, his eyes flashing brightly. Obi-Wan didn't like the way the Sith Lord was looking at him. Something was wrong…

"And how did you learn the Sith legend, Chancellor?" Obi-Wan asked cautiously, unable to stop himself. "How do you know something that even the Jedi don't?"

Palpatine smiled triumphantly, looking more like the Emperor as ever. If evil had a face that was it. "Search your feelings, Anakin. You have the answer."

Obi-Wan stared numbly at Palpatine, immobilized by horror. He knows, a thought flashed through him like a bolt of lightning.

"I have to go," he managed to choke out. "Padmé is waiting for me."

He didn't remember how his legs carried him from the box, Palpatine's penetrating eyes not leaving him. An icy feeling of cold paralysing him, he ran again through the pompous hallway, to his speeder.

Anakin…He needed to talk to Anakin…

Anakin had to know…

He had to know that Obi-Wan failed him again.

-----
He was lying on a cold, metallic operational table. His entire body was burning with an excruciating pain as if he were on fire. Hot, blazing pain tingled at his limbs so strongly he wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

He opened his eyes, and the room based in eerie, red light appeared before his sight. Where were the bright, sparkling colours of the world? They were gone – there was only red; a monotonous, dull, taunting, malicious red.

He could still feel the hungry tongues of flames licking at his body; the revolting stench of burning flesh still lingered in his nostrils. He felt cold. He shivered, the frigid prison of his suit cutting roughly into his incarcerated, burned flesh, but there was no source of warmth in the world that would make him feel warm again.

A horribly drawled mechanic hiss reached his hearing. It was the sound of breathing…someone was breathing next to him. Another hiss reverberated in the crimson room, and his chest exploded in pain. Unbidden sense of panic spread in him…something was wrong…Feeling a great urge to leap off the table, to run away from this horrible room, he constricted his muscles to jump off, just as he always did, but his body didn't obey him. The sound of mechanical breathing came quickened, as though that person was scared, and his lungs erupted in fireworks of pain.

Then a shocking realisation came upon him like the blade of the one he loved as a father: it was his breathing…he was hearing his own breathing…

Anakin woke up, gasping for air. Still dizzy from his nightmare, he sat up, taking the surroundings in. A soft breeze of wind stroked his face, and Padmé's apartment bathed in twilight swam into his sight. The sounds of breathing that resounded in his ears were that of a human – not a machine, and the hot, agonising pain was gone. Yet, echoes of it still lingered, and Anakin doubted that they'd ever pass.

'It was a dream. It was only a dream.'

His breathing still ragged, Anakin ran his hand over his face, harsh beard tingling at his palm. Why did he keep dreaming about that man? He had the strangest feeling as though he was somehow connected to him. Who was he? What had happened to him that he was forced to be forever imprisoned in that terrible suit?

Anakin swung his legs over and sat up, resting his face in his hands. It was quiet, the muffled noises of traffic outside echoing softly at the edge of his hearing. That man was so bitter, so sad, yet so full of … hatred.

Was it a warning from the Force? Or was that man another person that needed help? Anakin let out a strangled sigh, pressing his closed eyelids so tightly that green circles danced before his eyes. Padmé would die in childbirth, and he still hadn't figured out how he could save her...How was he supposed to save two people – his wife and a stranger when he was incarcerated in his Master's body? How could he help the man from his dream at all? He was so full of bitterness and hatred…Was it possible that anyone could save him?

"Ani?" Padmé's voice came from behind.

He turned around and saw her entering the apartment, clad in a Senatorial robe, her magnificent hair styled into a rigorous bundle.

"I thought you were supposed to be at the Temple," she said with a slight smile, lowering herself next to him and giving him a brief kiss; too brief for his taste.

"I am, but Obi-Wan doesn't," Anakin retorted, stretching his lips into a grin. He leaned back and massaged his temples, the horrible sound of mechanical breathing from his dream still echoing in his head.

"Ruining Master Kenobi's reputation of a perfect Jedi, aren't you?" Padmé asked, amused, gently pulling his hands away.

Anakin merely grumbled. His head ached horribly, so did his back. Obi-Wan wasn't that old yet…Did his former Master always feel as though he had just crawled from under the crashed Separatist flagship? No wonder he was so grumpy.

"Ani, are you alright?" Padmé asked anxiously, squeezing his hand.

"My back hurts," Anakin muttered stiffly, trying to take a more comfortable position.

Padmé seized his shoulders and made him lie on his stomach. She started massaging his back, and Anakin moaned in relief, especially as her fingers closed at a particularly painful knot.

"My poor, old husband," she said softly, though he could have sworn to hear notes of amusement in her voice.

"Does it feel good to be the younger one, Padmé?" Anakin asked casually, the icy hold of the vision slowly lessening its grip from Padmé's gentle touch. That man had no one who could have touched him that way…he had no body left…

She snorted. "It's a good exercise for me," she said lightly, her hands slipping from under his robes, his bare skin tingling as though charged with electricity from her touch. "I guess I'll have to do it more often in twenty years, Knight Skywalker."

"No, you won't have to!" Anakin retorted in indignation, raising his head from the pillow. "I'll never be such a broken heap of old bones like Obi-Wan."

Padmé smacked him on the head, chuckling. "One would hope that being in Obi-Wan's body would lessen your arrogance," she said casually, her fingers pressing a tightened muscle on his lower back, and Anakin groaned involuntarily.

"And now you sounded like a little girl, Hero With No Fear," she whispered, leaning down, her hot breath tickling Anakin's ear.

"Did not!" Anakin protested, scandalised. Padmé giggled.

"Women," Anakin muttered, shifting his head. "You don't understand anything…How am I supposed to live with both you and my daughter?"

"It's a son," Padmé said firmly, massaging his shoulder blades. "And I'm the one who should be worried about living with two Skywalker men."

"Our child is a girl," Anakin repeated stubbornly, ignoring the sounds of protest that came from Padmé. "But if you want a boy, we'll make one. I should get my body back first, though."

Padmé laughed, her fingers continuing to massage his back mercilessly. "You have a knot here," she said anxiously, pressing on the spot so strongly that he yelped in pain again. "I'll bring some oils. Take off your shirt."

Take off his shirt! There was no way he would let Padmé see a half-naked Obi-Wan. It was bad enough that he'd seen the whole of his former Master, and Anakin preferred not to think that it was true vice-versa.

"NO!" he exclaimed in panic, wrestling himself from her touch and sitting up. "I'm not taking my shirt in front of you!"

Padmé watched him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "That's very unusual of you to say, Ani," she said, amused, the corners of her mouth twitching in smile.

"It's not funny," Anakin said grudgingly, straightening his robes and demonstratively moving away from Padmé.

"Why do all men run away from me?" Padmé asked in a mock frustration, curling her lips into a loveable shape. A loose curl escaped her hair dress, lying seductively on her forehead.

"Sweetheart, believe me, you'd be the one who'd be running away from me now if I were in my own body," Anakin said, sighing slightly. It would be so easy to undo her hair from that hairstyle… he had got pretty good at it over three years of marriage. But the many buttons on the Senatorial robes still drove him into frustration, so he usually used the Force to open them. He'd never tell Padmé about it, though – she would say that he was cheating.

Padmé moved closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, taking her sweet scent in. During the many months he'd been away, only the moments like this one kept driving him to raise a hand, to make a strike, or to breathe. He was a Jedi, a protector of the innocent and one of the keepers of peace. Besides, he was the Chosen One and the famous Hero with No Fear – the icon of balance in the chaotic galaxy. But these grand titles meant nothing to him. These titles described another person. Deep inside, he was only a little Ani from Tatooine – a little boy who was incredibly talented at fixing things. He was only a curious boy who wanted to see all the wonders of the world. He was only a naïve boy who once thought to be strong enough to free all the slaves. He was only a lost, shivering from cold little boy who didn't have his place in the life.

Where did he belong? What was he chosen for? Was he chosen to save other people, people unknown to him? Or was he chosen to live a quiet, peaceful life with his wife and his child? It was impossible to save all the people – many didn't even want to be saved. They continued to dwell in their illusionary worlds simply because they were too frightened to leave their cozy shells. But it wasn't impossible to save those he loved…those he couldn't live without. It was impossible to repeat the same mistake twice. It had to be impossible…

"Ani, why did Obi-Wan and you switch bodies?" Padmé asked quietly, breaking his train of thought.

Anakin took his time. "I don't know," he replied honestly, stroking her shoulders absent-mindedly. She was so warm… Anakin wondered how he could have existed so long without her petite body wrapped in his arms.

"There is always a reason," he said slowly. "Or maybe, the Force just got bored." He chuckled. "As long as Obi-Wan has to make dirty Council's assignments, I really don't mind."

"Aren't you worried that Obi-Wan might tell the Council about us?"

Anakin pondered for a moment. Obi-Wan was a Jedi by the book, but he trusted him with his life. Anakin was sure that Obi-Wan had always suspected that there was more to his and Padmé relationship that met the eye, yet his former Master had never shared his suspicions with anyone, and Anakin was deeply grateful for it. Although, this could have been explained by the fact that Obi-Wan hadn't been sure in his assumptions, he'd gotten his proof this morning, and now nothing prevented him from confessing the truth to the Council.

In his mind's eye, he pictured clearly Obi-Wan standing before the entire Council, looking dignified and serene as he always did. What would he say to them?

Masters, today I woke up next to Anakin's wife, in Anakin's body. They have been married for three years. What's more, Padmé is pregnant with Anakin's child – she told me it when she tried to kiss me.

Anakin chuckled reluctantly, aware of Padmé's worried glance. It sounded strange to his ears, but he was sure that Obi-Wan would find a more elegant way to express the situation.

But he wouldn't do it.

Obi-Wan was not only his former Master, he was also his brother. How many times did he stand up for Anakin before the Council? Obi-Wan cared for him in his own way, and Anakin had to be blind not to see it. Obi-Wan wouldn't let him down.

"I trust him," Anakin said quietly, gazing at the shroud of night falling on the city. The neon lights shone merrily, illuminating Coruscant, and reflecting from the hundreds of speeders that zoomed outside. Everything looked so quiet, so peaceful…It seemed nearly insane that people could drive on the streets as though nothing had happened, as though there were no war, as though he and Obi-Wan weren't trapped in each others' bodies, as though Padmé wasn't close to dying…

Instinctively, he hugged her even tighter in an insane hope that nothing could harm her as long as he held her. Padmé leaned closer to him, and he could feel their child's heartbeat pounding rhythmically in harmony with his own, as though the tiny being was telling him that everything would be alright. And it would be, because its Daddy would make sure that it would.

"I wish it would be over," Padmé said softly, absent-mindedly drawing circles on his chest with her finger. "The war…this madness…" She looked up at him, her chocolate orbs bearing a look of sadness. "I miss your locks," she whispered, running her hand through Obi-Wan's straight, short-chopped hair.

"But you have a beard to toy with instead," Anakin said, seizing her hands and kissing the tips of her fingers.

Padmé smiled. "I like it," she said, her lips stretched into the playful grin that he loved so much. "But I miss everything else about you."

Her words, although innocent and sincere, raised alarms in his head, the sound of a horrible mechanical breathing resounding once again. "Padmé, I'm a Jedi," he said slowly, the words slipping reluctantly from his lips. "What if…what if I were injured in the war, and…and would never-"

'What if I would never look the same again,' he wanted to say, but the words refused to be spoken aloud. It was a simple question, why was it so hard to bring it out? It wouldn't matter to him if Padmé were the one who'd lose her physical beauty – for him, she would always be the most beautiful woman in the world no matter what she looked like in reality. But would she still love him if he…if he became something like the man from his dream? If he lost his good looks due to a fatal injury?

Padmé's eyes flashed oddly. "Ani, do you think that I love you only because you're handsome?" she asked in a hushed whisper. "I would never stop loving you, no matter what you look like."

She looked so fierce, that immediately, Anakin felt a tug of shame. "Padmé-"he began awkwardly, but she cut through him.

"This swap is a perfect trial for our love," Padmé said hotly, her eyes glittering. "It shows that the looks don't matter! I don't care that you look like Obi-Wan, and I wouldn't care less if next time you switched bodies with Representative Binks!"

"Better Binks than Yoda," Anakin muttered, an image himself in Jar Jar's body tripping over his robes flashing in his mind.

Padmé threw him a dirty look. "I'm being serious, Ani," she said reproachfully, but then she broke into an amused grin. "Though, you're right. Yoda would be a bit too…small to-"

Anakin coughed. "So, you'd rather kiss Jar Jar than Yoda?" he asked incredulously, envisioning Master Yoda sitting on Padmé's lap, hitting her on her head with his gimer stick as she attempted to kiss him.

"I'd rather not comment on it, Knight Skywalker," Padmé said, paling slightly, shuddering involuntarily. She pulled him closer. "We were lucky that you switched with Obi-Wan." She smiled seductively. "Besides, I think that Obi-Wan is very handsome."

"Hey, Obi-Wan is not-" Anakin protested, appalled, but Padmé silenced him with a passionate kiss. Their kiss deepening, she pushed him on the couch, the feeling of warmth and happiness washing over Anakin with such intensity that he ignored the pains in his back. This helps better than massage.

Suddenly, a hot feeling of anguish pierced through him, immobilizing him. Someone was torn and confused…someone was suffering. Gently disentangling himself from Padmé, Anakin sat up, his heart racing madly. Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan was in trouble…Obi-Wan needed him.

"What is it, Ani?" Padmé asked anxiously, stroking her shoulder, her big brown eyes sparkling brightly against her rosy cheeks.

"Obi-Wan is in trouble," Anakin panted heavily, pulling himself together. 'Obi-Wan, you've chosen the perfect timing,', he thought grudgingly.

"What happened to him?"

Anakin shook his head. "I don't know," he said vaguely, standing up and straightening his wrinkled robes. Obi-Wan cared so much about his clothing…"But he needs me."

Giving Padmé his briefest kiss ever, Anakin hurried out of the apartment, Obi-Wan's calls for him burning within him like savage flames, much like the untamed feelings of the man from his dream.

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