Where It's War

War was glorious.

That's what Obi-Wan thought when he was a youngling. The good and the bad, the Jedi and the Sith, the light and the dark, would clash in an adrenaline-filled rush. Space would light up with explosions as bright as stars as fighters would maneuver in a three hundred sixty degree dogfight. Lightsaber against lightsaber would crash against each other, sparks flying everywhere, acrobatic Form IV flips, Force-assisted pushes and leaps, a Jedi against an army - and the Jedi would always win.

He remembered the games he would play with Garen and Bant and Reeft; imagining that one was so-and-so famous Jedi Master, the other was such-and-such nefarious evildoer. Practice wands would bang against each other until the winner won the battle and subsequently win the war. The winner would be carried in the Force by the others, a pretend parade of course, in keeping with the victory. And when they had their fill of war and victory they would go hunting for snacks, giggling and laughing and reliving their adventures orally.

Over time, his naivete was slowly worn down. During his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon, he had been to many a planet on the brink of war. His enthusiasm was quickly evaporated as he learned - or perhaps relearned - that battle often meant death. As a youngling it was all too abstract - numbers charted on two columns. It was Medila/Daan that showed him in eloquent tragedy that attached to the numbers were names; attached to those names were beings; and attached to those beings were lives, lives with hopes and dreams and family and desperate wishes that the fighting would stop. The perception of war - no, the perception of battle had changed after that.

It stopped being a game.

Obi-Wan had learned that battle was something one approached with dread. One avoided it at all costs because it just wasn't worth the price. The ultimate proof of this had been on the planet of Naboo. It had taken Padme months to assess the totals in damages, but the highest price paid had been in life; and to Obi-Wan the most precious of lives: Qui-Gon Jinn. It was why he always pushed for negotiation and mediation - he knew better than anyone what battle actually meant.

Or so he thought.

The rain had soaked him through as soon as he had stepped outside. It pelted him, hundreds of tiny assaults upon his person, pounding into his hair and face and clothes, forming squads and companies and legions and armies that marched down his face in miniature rivers. Clones were doing things behind him, communication chatter in their uniform helmets that was drowned out by the rain and the ringing in his ears.

Now, now, after a scant two months, Obi-Wan felt he new knew what war was.

It was horror.

It was spending days formulating a plan because your dear friend Quinlan Vos was able to give you intelligence of the Separatists assault on Kamino, the planet being the source of the clone army now under your command. It was informing your clones of the assault and being disturbed that none of them, none of them, expressed even the faintest hint of concern or worry for their home planet. It was realizing those days planning being wasted because nothing went according to plan. It was your Padawan flying circles around everyone and howling in adrenaline so loud across the commlink you almost didn't notice the three bogeys on your tail. It was a disorienting assault on your senses: vertigo from all the barrel rolls and banks and dives to either shake off tails or line one up in your sights to fire, explosion after explosion shaking your still unfamiliar fighter and slowly reducing the function of your ears, smoke filling your nostrils and lungs and terrifying you that you had taken a hit only to realize it was the fighter next to you that had blown up to little pieces and was falling through the atmosphere towards the violent seas. It was realizing it was all for naught as the Separatist commander slips through the entire conglomerate of chaos and manages to land on Tipoca City, the dull empty thud in your chest as the knowledge of a few well places explosives will sink the entire city and the war will be over because those abstract numbers will come back to haunt you. It was the overpowering relief that stasis clones had been activated and that, ultimately, the battle had been won.

Obi-Wan remembered the youngling games, the victory parades with Bant and Garen and Reeft. Victory... there was no elation with it now. There was no time for it. After landing there were a hundred things to do: securing defenses with Master Shaak Ti, assessing how many clones were lost - offering condolences to clones that expressed they didn't need it, and of course the math of running the army.

It was one thing his history classes never taught him - the mechanics of keeping the war machine running. There was travel time between one fight and the next, ordering food and finding time to distribute it and eat it, keeping weapons fully stocked and the costs of repairing them. The math of it was actually frightening. A B1 Battle Droid was manufactured in just under a day; the higher functioning commander droids in a little over a week. A clone needed ten years. Life was precious to begin with, but every life counted against an army that could replenish its losses or even double it in round about two days was horrifying.

Thinking like that made Obi-Wan sick to his stomach, and failing the Room of a Thousand Fountains, he'd retreated outside for the rain.

It hadn't helped.

There was no reprieve from war. It was moving from one crisis to the next. It was spending all waking moments planning, maintaining, organizing, redirecting, deploying, or worst of all fighting. Even sleep offered no reprieve, Obi-Wan was allowed precious little of it for all the work he had to do, and when he did he dreamt of duties he did awake.

He had been fighting for barely six weeks.

Already he was sick of it.

Someone stood at his shoulder, joining him in his misery perhaps, because Obi-Wan could feel worry and concern waffing off the other body in quiet waves.

"You look as bad as I feel, Master," Anakin said. His tone was light but his countenance spoke otherwise. He was easy to read in some ways. He felt things so deeply and powerfully that even through shielding they would bleed through. It was the source of the feelings that were always hard to determine - Anakin was mercurial if nothing else, swinging from one extreme to the next at something as innocuous as a word or look.

Obi-Wan took a breath. "Your thoughts betray you," he said, turning away from the rain to face his tall Padawan. "You're troubled."

Anakin pouted as if angry that he'd been caught; but the look disappeared with a nervous glance to his boots and a dip of his head. "Perhaps a little," he admitted quietly under the sound of the rain.

Nodding, Obi-Wan took a drenched hand and patted Anakin's arm - he was too tall now to pat his shoulder. "Then let us see what we can do to alleviate it."

They walked across the platform and back inside.

The inner walls of the city were pristine white and curved. Clones and Kaminoans bustled back and forth, assessing damage and totals and repairs so that they could get back to work - the real work - of growing an army. The business seemed to still Anakin's tongue; he glanced around several times before lowering his head, trying to shut out the intruders to a private conversation.

It was one of the many "similar differences" between them, as Obi-Wan liked to call them. The Jedi Knight was very reserved of himself, putting up the most polite and closed off of faces to everyone. But when he gave of himself, he gave everything that he was - often to the point of self-negligence, as Bant and others would often point out. There were few he let in. Anakin by contrast let everyone in. He let the galaxy know what he was feeling because he wore his emotions on his sleeve and saw no reason at all that such a thing was at the very least imprudent. Having said that, however, there was always one tiny corner of himself that no one saw, even those he considered close. They were both private people but in different ways. When Obi-Wan had finally realized that he allowed the Padawan his private corner. It was never completely comfortable with him, his bond with Qui-Gon had always been completely open, but he remembered his master explaining that Dooku often kept parts of his mind to himself; and so the Jedi knew that bonds were as varied as the people that shared them.

The thought that Dooku fell to the dark side was firmly kept at bay.

The voluptuous Jedi Aayla Secura saw the two for them walking down the hall and slowed to greet them. Obi-Wan's hand had moved from Anakin's arm to his back, and the taut muscles could be felt even through the soaked robes. He decided to make the conversation quick.

"You are both excellent pilots," Aayla said by way of greeting. "You are already so familiar with your fighters."

"Yes, well," Obi-Wan said lightly, "hardly familiar enough that I can classify myself as comfortable."

Even in his anxiety Anakin understood a cue when he heard it. "I doubt that could ever happen. Master," he added with fake respect.

The Twi'lek smiled warmly, understanding it was an in-joke. "Where are you going now?" she asked.

"Some place quiet to meditate," Obi-Wan said smoothly. "Especially after that particularly impertinent comment." He smiled.

"I understand," Aayla said warmly. "I am going to speak with Master Ti. I'll call you if we need you."

"Very good," Obi-Wan said, nudging his Padawan and their walk began again, leaving a trail of puddles behind them. When they arrived at their tiny quarters Obi-Wan immediately took off his cloak and robe, unbuckling his belt and laying them all on a sleep-cot. The boots came next and when he upturned them an impressive stream of water appeared. His frown produced a cursory chuckle from Anakin, but the privacy of their tiny room brought with it the return of his anxiety. He was pacing about the room.

Now out from the worst of the wetness, Obi-Wan ran a hand through his sopping hair, shaking it out slightly before planting his feet on the floor and waiting.

Passionate as Anakin was there were often times he felt things so deeply that his body could not contain the energy of it. Negative emotions were often subjected to pacing, his feet swinging him back and forth like a pendulum. Sometimes this was coupled with ranting or wild gesticulations; others, like now, were utterly silent. It was when he was silent that Obi-Wan would worry, because it meant that the articulate young man couldn't find the words to express his feelings. Obi-Wan's answer to this phenomenon was to plant his feet and wait. He became something of the tether to Anakin's pendulum, the center of rotation of the young man's period. Time made the pacing distance smaller and smaller, until at last Anakin, too, planted his feet and faced his master.

"Master," Anakin asked, his head down, as if afraid of Obi-Wan's reaction. "Have you... I never heard you mention... Master," he looked up, his eyes pleading, "Do you have dreams?"

Obi-Wan knew immediately - at least in part - what this was about.

"Did you have another dream of your mother?" he asked.

Anakin's entire face crumpled, and Obi-Wan felt a flare of pain along the bond. "Master... please. Just answer the question."

Obi-Wan took a moment to consider, eyeing his apprentice.

"Yes and no," he answered honestly.

"Master..." but the Jedi Knight held up a hand.

"Let me explain, Anakin," he said. When his Padawan stilled, he continued. "What you are asking isn't about dreams but about visions sent by the Unifying Force. I do not think there is a single Jedi - even those like Master Qui-Gon who are strongly aligned with the Living Force - who have not had a vision of some sort. Master Qui-Gon spoke of dreams. He took little stock in them but I've come to believe that they were visions. To answer your literal question: no, I do not have dreams like that. Perhaps because I am so aligned with the Unifying Force that the premonitions I receive come in a different form."

"And what form is that?" Anakin asked slowly, his mind assimilating the information.

Obi-Wan raised and eyebrow and offered a wry grin. "I'm certain you've picked up on - more than once - my references to 'bad feelings'."

Anakin snorted at first, but his eyes widened as he fully realized what Obi-Wan was saying. His mouth formed a small, "Oh."

As the silence of Anakin's thoughts filled the room, Obi-Wan tried to answer the mystery of what had caused the young man's anxiety. Apparently not his mother; he had not spoken of those dreams for some time. He'd assumed that the dreams were past but perhaps not. He quietly accessed the bond to glean a hint, but Anakin was such a jumbled array of feelings that he could only classify the state of mind as pain.

Wanting to help, Obi-Wan asked, "What did you see in your dream?"

The mercurial Padawan suddenly engulfed Obi-Wan in a sopping hug, his newly grafted arm clutching awkwardly to the Knight's damp clothes. Though several centimeters taller, Anakin tried to burrow his face into his master's collarbone as he did as a child, and Obi-Wan could feel the young man shudder in sobs.

Startled, Obi-Wan just stood there awkwardly. Slowly, he remembered the correct response for Anakin in these situations and he broke his arms free just enough to return the hug.

"Anakin," he said softly after a time. Over the years he had learned the hard way to wait it out; when Anakin's emotions overpowered him like this no amount of noise Obi-Wan made could break through. He was a storm, like the driving rain and low thunder outside. In some ways, Obi-Wan envied Anakin's ability to show so much emotion, to be free to smile or stare or frown at whatever caught his attention. But it was at times like this he wished above all else that Anakin could control himself, to let go of the emotion so that clarity could be retained so a solution could be found. "Anakin," he whispered again, pulling away slightly - just slightly, enough to see his flushed and tear-stained face. Any further would trigger the Padawan to cling to him, and Obi-Wan knew himself well enough to know that he would allow it instead of denounce it as attachment. Instead, he avoided the trigger, avoided the choice he knew was wrong for a Jedi but right for Anakin. He avoided it because he doesn't want to think the two were separate.

"Do you want to meditate?" he asked slowly. "It may help you calm down, and then we can talk." It was an avoidance of the issue, he had yet to learn what his Padawan dreamed, but he wanted to alleviate that horribly pained look of his Padawan's face.

Even that he knew was wrong, but he couldn't quite stop it.

Anakin nodded, his damp braid swinging slightly, and soon the two were kneeling together, closing their eyes and breathing.

They still stumbled, they'd only been meditating like this for two months, but they were learning, and in their need it was perhaps the quickest they'd managed to sink into the Force together. Obi-Wan took them through the color meditation, one of Anakin's favorites, and then through the recently discovered sound meditation that Anakin had found. The Force was warm, soothing, and Obi-Wan channeled the reassuring feelings through the bond to smooth his Padawan's wrinkled presence. He could sense Anakin trying to accept it, but the warm waves washed over him, unable to settle into him.

Obi-Wan sent a questioning pulse, wondering what more he could do.

Anakin's raw power in the Force was undeniable to anyone. His midi-chlorian count was light years above anyone else's, and he had a connection to the Force few could comprehend. Over and over Obi-Wan would watch his Padawan perform remarkable feats - impossible even for Jedi standards - because of the power swirling around him. His sheer creativity was a factor, too. Anakin was always determined to do things his own way and more often than naught that meant daring last minute exploits that would make even Qui-Gon Jinn sit up and take notice.

So it should not have come as a surprise that Anakin did the impossible.

Again.

Without any warning Obi-Wan was suddenly surrounded in darkness - in space, he realized slowly. The upper atmosphere of Kamino. The new delta fighters were everywhere, and he was in the cockpit of one. Everything was spinning left and right and up and down, he was nauseated even in meditation, and then of their own volition his senses became hyper aware of one red and white fighter - his own. And then it exploded from stray fire of one of the Separatist ships.

There was a rush of agony, of loss, of everything breaking around him, his world shattering. And it did, the vision splintering into pieces to reveal Anakin on his knees in front of a grave in a desert.

I dreamed you died.

Anakin looked up from the grave, and there was a woman in his arms.

It's happened before. I was too late last time...

Obi-Wan suddenly understood exactly where he was and why Anakin had stopped dreaming of his mother.

"Oh, Anakin." His eyes snapped open and the jarring end of the meditation left him with a heavy surrealism. His head swam for a moment but he shook it off to grab his Padawan into a fierce hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm so, so sorry."

Anakin leaned into the embrace, clutching once more at Obi-Wan's damp tunic. They would both need to change soon.

Obi-Wan didn't even know where to start. He had always wondered why Anakin had ended up on Tatooine, and when he asked during their too-brief recovery after their injuries the Padawan never gave a completely straight answer. Obi-Wan could only hope that he would talk when he was ready. Now he wished he had pressed, for he realized that for two months Anakin had been dealing with this alone.

There were also the visions and what Anakin had been hinting. Obi-Wan was suddenly rocked with the idea that Anakin might have the ability to have true dreams, not just abstract jumbles of the future, not just snippets of dialogue or emotion, but an unabridged explanation of what was to happen. He had no idea how to deal with it, what to say to it, what to think of it.

"Focus on the now," his master would say. Obi-Wan took a deep breath; he had to be strong for Anakin's sake.

"Tell me what happened," he said softly, pulling slightly away.

Anakin nodded, sniffling and rubbing his temples. The abrupt end of the meditation left them both with headaches; Obi-Wan still couldn't shake the surrealism that was surrounding him. There wasn't much to say, Anakin's dreams had been happening several times before they had even started protecting Senator Amidala from assassination attempts, but apparently the frequency and sense of urgency had increased during their time spent on Naboo. Padme was understanding and encouraging, and so they had set off to Tatooine to find Shmi Skywalker.

"Cliegg," Anakin said in broken tones, still overcome with tears, "He said she'd been gone for a month. Just about as long as I'd been dreaming..." Anakin had gone off to find her, following the bond he shared with her. And found her. Just in time for her to die in his arms.

"Anakin, I'm so sorry," Obi-Wan said. If he had realized... What would he have done? Dreams were dangerous for Jedi, a signpost or a metaphor - or worse - the impetus for the very dream to come true. What would he have told Anakin if he had known that it was a vision and not a dream?

His Padawan started rocking slightly, nervous energy again displaying itself. "It doesn't matter," he muttered without feeling. "She's dead, and I won't ever be able to fix it. I can't fix what I've done. I can't fix it..." He rubbed his arms, chilled in the wet clothes.

Obi-Wan took another breath. "We cannot change the past," he said slowly, "we can only focus on the present. We cannot spend our time on 'what ifs,' it will only hurt us in the end. You shouldn't blame yourself, it was the will of the Force."

"Will of the Force? Will of the Force?" Anakin was suddenly on his feet, and anger pulsed through the room, even through the surrealism. "So it was the will of the Force that wanted her to die? That wanted her to die in my arms? That I was too late? That I-" And suddenly his words cut off, but Obi-Wan felt something along the bond, a picture that shook him deeply.

Bloody sand. Bloody bodies.

"Anakin," he said, fighting to keep the horror out of his voice. The surrealism, the half sense of meditation was gone, but he could not unsee that image. "What did you do?"

He saw the eyes widen, and suddenly he wasn't looking at his twenty year old Padawan, he was looking at his ten year old Padawan who had just been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"Nothing!" he shouted in instant denial.

"Anakin." Obi-Wan had to press, he had to confirm that what he just saw really was along the bond, really did happen and wasn't some surreal after-effect of coming out of meditation so fast; it was pure rationale, but Obi-Wan wanted to believe that rationale badly enough, wanted to not believe what his mind his telling him, and he had to force the issue.

"It doesn't matter," Anakin said, spinning on his heel to put his back to his master. Now he was a twelve-year-old hiding from the punishment he knew he was about to get.

Obi-Wan climbed to his feet, to his full height. Even now, he was tempted to let the matter drop, to wait until Anakin was ready to talk, but if what he thought was true - and he was horrified to feel that it was true - then he, they, had to deal with it now rather than later.

"Anakin, what did you do?"

"They killed my mother! It was justice!"

Space above, Star's End, sweet Force it was true.

"Don't look at me like that," Anakin growled, shaking a mechanical finger at Obi-Wan. His face was twisted, his handsome features looked alien, ugly. Dark. "Don't look at me like that! They killed my mother! They tortured her! Beat her! They were animals! Savages! They got what they deserved!"

"Do you believe that?" Obi-Wan asked quietly.

"Of course I do!"

"Do you really believe that?" he asked again.

"You weren't there! You didn't see her! You never had parents! You don't understand!"

Something sparked in Obi-Wan, something he thought had been buried for years, something he thought had been released to the Force, but suddenly he stepped forward, into Anakin's personal space. His face was utterly blank, but fire was in his eyes, bright enough that even Anakin, in the emotional storm he was unleashing, stilled at the gaze.

"No, of course I wouldn't understand," Obi-Wan said in perfectly light tones. It was almost conversational, but the biting undertone was too loud to ignore. "To spend years and years with someone, to have them teach you, and raise you, and do what's best for you. To watch them battle, to feel them battle, to race to catch up and save him. To watch the final blow, to watch him be impaled, watch him fall, watch him die. I certainly have never experienced anything like that. I certainly never struck out in anger afterward, wanting his killer to die as he was dying. Certainly didn't want the strength, the power, to pay him back for what he had done to me. Done to my master."

Obi-Wan watched the realization dawn on Anakin's face, his tight jaw slack, his eyes widen.

He wasn't done yet.

"Do you understand?" he demanded. "Do you understand what it feels to see that parental figure spend his last moments, his last words, speaking of someone else? Do you understand how it feels to watch your Padawan make the same mistakes as you did, even after you showed him what it did to you? Do you understand what it feels like to realize your Padawan doesn't even trust you enough to tell you?"

"Master... I..."

"Do you ever look outside your own pain?"

The final question was a whisper, but it might as well have been a punch to the gut for Anakin's flinch against it.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released his anger to the Force. Space, he was tired. And cold. But mostly tired. He shivered, rubbing a hand against his beard and closing his eyes. He could feel the headache exploding. The hand moved to his forehead.

"I'm sorry," he said simply. "I shouldn't have done that."

Still in shock, Anakin made an odd humming noise, shaking his head. What he was denying, Obi-Wan couldn't say. He started to remove the remove the rest of his damp clothing.

"Tomorrow I'll take you through the meditations to help you release those emotions. I know how darkness can stick and cling, and you've had months to let it fester inside you. We'll work on that. Hopefully once things have settled here we can go back to the Temple, and we'll look up information in the Archives on dreams and what Jedi in the past have experienced. In the meantime, if you ever have a dream again I want you to tell me immediately; I don't care what time of night it is. Is that understood?"

Anakin made a noise.

"Anakin, I asked if that was understood."

"Ye-yes, Master," he whispered, utterly subdued. The energy had left him. He glanced up, nothing more than his eyes darting to his master and back. "What... what about the Council?"

"What about them?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Will... will you tell them?"

...

"Given my own history I'm in no place to judge you, Anakin," was all Obi-Wan allowed himself to say, because at that point he had no idea how to answer.

Except he did. He knew he wouldn't say a word. What he didn't know was how he could justify why he wouldn't. That worried him.

It downright scared him.

Author's Notes: Thank you wookiepedia. ^_^ This is a real battle that took place over Kamino just weeks after the start of the Clone Wars. Anakin really did have a vision of his master dying. Of course, that's all we know, is that Anakin had a vision. So we did some expounding on that and can only hope it lines up at least a little with the original source material. Oh, and can you tell? We wrote this drabble back when Yesac was putting up a certain scene in a Dooku-controlled Temple during Finer Shades of Why (good story, go read!) and there was some Heavy Inspiration. We rather enjoyed the initial reflections on war from childhood to adulthood, it came out of nowhere and just flowed out so well. This chapter is rather a favorite of ours as a result.

Again, we start to have more noticeable deviations from canon. We haven't hit the sharp turns that come at the end of the fic by a long shot, but nowhere in canon did Obi-Wan ever know about the sand-slaughter (you could argue the marriage...). It's also worth noting that Anakin may not have out-and-out told him, but he shared enough of his problems that Obi-Wan could figure it out/see it (whistles innocently over their meditation together...). Could that be a hint of what's to come? (more innocent whistles)

Next chapter: Anakin freezes, whines, and complains.