And it's true.
The words knock the breath from Obi Wan's body. It's almost as if Anakin merely saying them has somehow caused them to manifest in reality. Sounds burst, and colors throb, and the Force sings with purpose as they leave his mouth.
You are compelled to love me now.
Obi Wan gasps, as a cosmic tuning fork is struck upon his soul, causing his entire being to ring with a single, clarion note. He clutches himself as though gouged in the chest, shutting his eyes and lowering his head against an onslaught of raw feeling beyond anything he's ever experienced before. His carefully constructed metal shields might as well be made of flimsiplast for all the good they are doing him. It's only a kind of inertia which keeps him on his feet.
And for the first time, the golden power speaks to him, in a voice without words:
Love this boy, it says. Completely. Forever.
He staggers backward, out of the yellow ambit of the spotlight, and into the grainy violet darkness which surrounds them. His mind is a blazing white-hot void. The divine music fills him, threatening to rend his body apart with its vastness. Is this love? he wonders, as he struggles for breath.
Anakin remains standing in the middle of the spotlight, his eyes flashing, his color high. A pair of mechanic's goggles sit high on his head, pushing his sweaty hair back from his face, their tinted lenses fogging with the heat of him. "I used to torture myself, wondering whether or not you really cared for me," he says. His smile is one of truly unmoored joy. "And now, at last, I know it for certain! The Jedi can never take you away from me. They no longer control us. It doesn't matter what they say," he rambles. "They are no match for us." In Anakin, vainglory and desperation have always looked about the same.
Trembling, Obi Wan lifts his chin to regard this handsome, frothing, savage creature before him. And his breath comes in shallow gasps as love, love beyond all reason and measure swells within him, bruising the inside of his chest. "Ana- Anakin-" he mouths. "Please-" His poor mortal heart is simply not big enough to contain this kind of emotion. Tears are pouring down his burning face. And again, the music shakes him:
You must protect him, it insists. Even from himself. You promised you would. You promised!
He presses the heel of a hand to his mouth, tasting salt, swallowing gall. Is this the suffering Yoda spoke of? He feels as if his soul is being emptied out, as if every last garnet-bright drop of love is being cruelly wrung from him. He was already prepared to die for Anakin- How much more of himself can he possibly be called upon to give?
These are drowning thoughts- They won't do him any good. He scrubs at his beard, finally stilling himself. He came here with a mission. "Anakin," he intones. He is pleased to find himself sounding relatively authoritative, if a little out of breath. "Just what in the galaxy do you think you are doing?" The love continues to pulse relentlessly inside of him- He can't fight the feeling, he realizes, but he can work with it. He is forced to adore the boy, but he is not forced to cater to his every mad, half-formed whim. Protect Anakin from himself? An irresistible mandate, spoken directly into him by an ancient power beyond his comprehension. But one he will carry out gladly.
Anakin takes a step forward, peeling a red leather mechanic's glove from his flesh hand. "Don't cry, Master," he says, reaching out vaguely. "Everything is going to be perfect now, you'll see." He is blinking too much, vibrating with excitement. "Padmé and I used to talk about it- About running away together, and leaving all of this behind. And now we finally can! We'll go somewhere safe, where we can raise the baby. And we'll bring you with us-"
"No, Anakin."
"What?" he frowns, genuinely taken aback. "What do you mean, no?"
"I took a solemn vow to serve the Jedi Order, and the Republic," says Obi Wan. "And so did you. We are not going anywhere."
"Oh, Master," Anakin laughs, as if this is all just a silly misunderstanding. "Don't you see? You have nothing to fear from the Jedi anymore. Can't you feel this change in both of us? This power?" He deliberately touches the golden cord, sighing in pleasure as its warmth floods his entire body, saturating his muscles with its bright energy, coating his bones. "You said it would allow us save Padmé, and you were right. I believe we can save her. But why stop there? We can do anything now," he declares, with a sort of playful, mock-grand toss of his head. "And no one can stop us. Not even Master Yoda."
Obi Wan exhales through his nose as his own body thrums with power and pleasure in response to Anakin's mental caress. Oh hells, it feels so good! He has to actually physically restrain himself from reaching out and pulling the boy against him- pressing their mouths together- drinking that beauteous nectar directly from the golden font-
"I do not fear Master Yoda," he says, recovering himself. "I respect him. There is a vast difference. I am going to stay here, and help him, not because he demands it, but because it is the right thing to do." His next words are a struggle: "If you choose abandon your duty now, I will not follow you. I cannot speak for your wife of course, but I have reason to suspect she would say the same."
"But- Don't you want to be with me?" The boy's confusion is so sincere.
"No, Anakin," Obi Wan shakes his head. "Not like this." His whole being rebels against the notion. You can't let him go! You love him, you need him, he is everything! He grasps for his center. He won't be undone by this. He shouts back at voice in his head, This is for his own good! I am protecting him, just as I promised!
"I-I don't understand," Anakin stammers, raking through their bond in desperate search of answers. "You love me! You love me! I can feel it now! It's real!" He rubs his tearing eyes against the inside of his forearm in anguished disbelief. "You want me! You finally, really, truly want me! I can see the images in your mind. I know you want to hold me in your arms!"
"Yes," Obi Wan admits, lowering his gaze. "At this moment- I want that- more than I think I've ever wanted anything in my entire life." When he looks back up again, it is with durasteel conviction in his silver eyes. "But this isn't about what I want. It's about what is best."
"What are you saying?" Anakin whispers dangerously.
"You cannot continue to behave like this. Especially if you are going to be a father."
"What-!" He tears the goggles from around his head and throws them viciously to his feet, where they shatter dully upon the hard rubber floor. "What do you mean, if-?!"
"Padmé loves you dearly," Obi Wan sighs. "But even she has a limit. And if she decides that you are unfit to raise her child- Well, I for one will support her right to withhold custody from you."
"You can't- She wouldn't-!" Anakin cries hoarsely. His face is bright red, and wearing that horrible, twisted expression which has begun to haunt Obi Wan's dreams. The Darkness is rolling off of him at punishing, subwoofer frequencies.
"I very well can, and she very well might."
"But why-?"
"Because your recent actions have confirmed her worst fears about you. Until you are able to recognize what you have done, and demonstrate to her satisfaction that it won't happen again, I think it would be more than reasonable of her to-"
"What have I done to her? What are you talking about?!"
"Please, try to understand her perspective," Obi Wan takes a cautious step forward. "She is deeply worried about you. And so am I." His tone is gentle, but firm, as he drives the knife all the way in: "She told me what happened when your mother died. She told me what you did."
At this, Anakin freezes in place, like a frightened animal. He glances over his shoulder, and then back at Obi Wan again, as if he is preparing to make a run for it. Instead, he collapses onto the workbench behind him, taking his head his hands. "No no no no ..." he moans. "Why would she tell you that-? Why would she try to turn you against me-?" He sits up, gasping, only to crumple again with a sob. "Doesn't she know I need you to love me, too?" He is bent all the way over, screaming these words into his own lap. "Doesn't she want me to be happy?" he wails. "You said- I thought- She wasn't jealous- She didn't mind-"
"She was merely being honest with me, Anakin. She and I have recently come to... an understanding. There is no jealousy between us- Quite the contrary, in fact. We are united be our mutual desire to help you."
"To help me-?" he looks up sharply. "I would be perfectly fine if you- if the two of you weren't making this so difficult," he growls. But in an instant, his expression turns from anger back to despair. "She looked at me- with such fear, Obi Wan. I don't understand it. Doesn't she realize- Doesn't she know I would never, ever hurt her or her child?"
"She saw what you did to Master Windu. I daresay it gave her pause."
"What does that old fool have to do with anything?" he hisses.
"You hurt him, Anakin." Obi Wan approaches the workbench, arms crossed, and poses sternly over his brooding apprentice.
"He made me angry," says Anakin flatly.
"He said some words you didn't like, and so you immediately resorted to physical violence."
"Why are you so worried about that?" He tilts his hand back in exasperation. "I keep trying to tell you, there is no Jedi Council hanging over us anymore."
Obi Wan's arms drop numbly to his sides. "Anakin-" He shakes his head in sorrow and disbelief. "Oh, Anakin."
In the shadowy theater of his memory, he riffles through scenes from the war- Things he should have taken more seriously. Things he should have followed up on. It was one thing for Anakin to have lost control, to have gone a little too far in the heat of battle. But the callous comments, the inappropriate questions, alone in their tent at the end of the day- that was another thing entirely. He had always just assumed the boy was joking. Trying to get a rise of his poor old master. Trying shock him, or wound him in some way, by pretending not to understand what it meant that they lead such violent lives.
With a horrible, plummeting feeling, Obi Wan is forced to entertain the possibility that perhaps Anakin wasn't pretending at all. Perhaps he really didn't understand.
"Listen to me," he begins again, softly, reaching with a trembling hand as if to cup Anakin's face, but stopping just short of actual contact. "It wasn't wrong for you to hurt Master Windu because he is member of the Jedi Council." He holds the boy's leaping, reveling azure gaze as steadily as he can. "It was wrong, because he is a sentient being who is capable of suffering."
"Oh," says Anakin. His body slackens. He has done something wrong. Not wrong because it was against the rules, but wrong by its very nature. "Oh," he repeats, because this really, truly, hadn't occurred to him. He had only been thinking about the situation in terms of who was going to get their way. He hadn't really bothered to wonder which way was actually best. He drags both of his hands through his hair in consternation. "It was an accident," he huffs. "I'm sorry."
"It is Master Windu's forgiveness which you ought to seek. Not mine."
"But- I can't!" he cries, instantly back on his feet. "I never want to speak to him again- I hate him!"
"You're upset right now. You don't mean that."
"I do mean it!" he gnars. It takes so little to bring the Darkness back to a rolling boil. The more often he touches it, the easier it comes. "If I ever have to listen to another one of his insufferable lectures- I swear- I'll tear him in half next time!" He pivots on his heel and begins to furiously pace the diameter of the spotlight. "Yes, I know how that sounds. But I don't care! You'll still love me, no matter what I say. No matter what I do-" He stops mid-stride and turns around with a rapacious grin. "You literally can't help it," he says. Before, he had been lashing out in desperation. Now, he is being downright evil. "It's like- some sort of magic spell, or something."
Indeed, Anakin's verbal invocation seems to work like magic. Right on demand, Obi Wan is forced to lower his head as another brutal wave of love comes crashing over him. He is certain the next one will bring him to his knees. "And- what about Padmé?" he croaks, closing his eyes against the storm, and somehow managing to hold his ground.
"I'll find a way to deal with her, too."
"Deal with her? You mean take her prisoner?"
"No!" Anakin stamps his foot. "Shut up! I don't know-!" He looks from the ship to his own hands, shaking with a dozen contradictory impulses. "I just need to get away from here-"
"And go where, exactly?" Obi Wan cries. It's just too much- Too much- His heart is bursting with desire. He needs to seize this young man, this beautiful little monster, and smother him with his arms, and scream directly into his ear, Let me help you-! I need to help you-! I love you more than life itself-! Why won't you let me help you-? But instead:
"What do you want, Anakin?"
"I don't-" Anakin claws at his freshly tearing eyes. "I don't know yet- I need time to think-!"
"It is usually prudent to think before one acts."
"Stop it-! Stop lecturing me! Just stop everything-!"
Obi Wan snorts mirthlessly, exhausted. Clearly, negotiation and reasoning are at an end. Time to try a different tack. "No, Anakin," he says. "You stop it. Stop avoiding responsibility for what you've done. Stop lashing out at people who are only trying to help you." And then, without quite realizing what he is doing, Obi Wan utters his own series of magic words: "Stop it right now."
Anakin makes a soft, strange, gurgling sound, and looks up suddenly, eyes wide, as his own soul is struck by that irresistible music.
Submit, it purrs, warm and sweet and totally unyielding. Obey your master.
"What-?" He stumbles backward with a jolt. "What is this?"
You pledged yourself. You promised!
His eyes dart around in confusion, before settling on Obi Wan. "What are you doing to me-?!" he screams.
"Nothing," Obi Wan frowns in concern. "I'm not doing anything. What's wrong?"
It is good to obey master. Being with master means you are safe, means you are home.
"Ah-!" Anakin chokes, crazily thrashing in place, as though wrestling an invisible opponent.
Your pride is like that of a child. Relinquish it. It can only hurt you now. You will be made to obey.
The vain, spiteful, petulant part of him wants to fight it. But another part of him, a secret, wounded part of him is tired of fighting- Tired of politics and war- Tired of not understanding the difference between right and wrong the way everyone else seems to- Tired of having to make his own decisions-
Once you are under master's control, you will be free. Free from the terrible burden of responsibility. Free from anger, and jealousy, and avarice, and fear.
He snarls in frustration at the voice in his head, bitterly unwilling to accept this. But the moment he looks up, and catches sight of his master's face- the moment those wise, gentle, caring eyes alight upon his own- the struggle is over. His heart sounds a long, golden note, tuning itself to his master's heart, bringing them into perfect sync.
"Yes," he whispers. He takes a wandering step forward, flushed and breathless. "I accept."
"You accept what?" Obi Wan blinks, baffled.
"I accept you as my master," says Anakin, slowly looming closer and closer- "I obey your every command."
"That's not- Are you- joking?"
He cants his head in distress. "Please!" His voice is pitched upwards in desperation. "I know I've done something wrong. I realize that now- But at the time I didn't know- I couldn't tell-" He holds out a beseeching hand. "I don't want this to keep happening! I can't-" he turns away, momentarily speechless with anguish. "I can't bear for Padmé to look at me with fear," he confesses quietly. "But I don't know how to avoid it. I don't know what to do. I need you to tell me what to do, Master," he says, as if this is a perfectly reasonable solution. And then softer, lower, with a little more fervor: "I need you to take control of me."
"Anakin, what are you talking about?" Obi Wan frowns, thoroughly disturbed by this last statement. And yet- Oh, Stars- It's happening again. He can feel his own heart swelling with elation at Anakin's words. This is good, this is right, says the music. Take him in your arms, and see how perfectly you fit together now.
And then they are intertwined, rubbing, and kissing, and moaning, and it's impossible to tell who initiated this because the last few seconds are redacted from his memory.
"Ana-" he gasps, overwhelmed at suddenly finding himself chest to chest with another warm, solid body. "Anakin."
"Mmm... Yes, Master?" The boy gives a soft, chiming laugh, right up against the threading pulse in Obi Wan's throat.
"My Anakin-" Obi Wan sighs, eyes closed, lips quivering. And there is nothing, nothing in the galaxy for him but love and golden light. He reaches up to cup the back of Anakin's neck, bringing their foreheads together, and they stare into each others' eyes as the Oneness reasserts itself, more powerfully than ever. "My boy- Almost lost you-" He begins to weep gently. "Almost lost you to him-"
"Never, Master!" Anakin insists. "He will never have me!" He lowers his eyes in shame. "I'm sorry I was such a fool- I'm sorry I ever considered a single thing he said-" He presses a velvety kiss to Obi Wan's brow, a seal of absolute loyalty and devotion. "I am with you now- As I should have been all along."