Chapter 18 - Long Overdue - Rewritten

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Anakin has just finished cleaning up from his short sparring session when Dooku comms him, telling him to come back. Apparently, the Count now believes it would be a good idea for Anakin and Obi-Wan to try and talk out their problems. Sounds enjoyable. On his way to the room where Obi-Wan is being held, Anakin snags a couple bottles of Alderaanian wine. If they really have to talk, at they won't have to do so while entirely sober. He also brings Artoo along for moral support.

By the time he arrives, Obi-Wan is no longer chained down to the bed. He's freely moving around, standing near the couch with his arms crossed. Dooku is waiting next to the door, hands clasped behind his back. He doesn't comment on Artoo or the wine, for which Anakin is grateful; he's not interested in trying to justify himself.

"I sincerely hope that you two will be able to sort out your differences, or at least put them aside enough so that you can work together as flawlessly as you have in the past," Dooku states simply, eyes flickering between the two.

Anakin feels oddly numb at the moment, resigned in the face of the unavoidable conversation. Obi-Wan probes at him through the Force, but he doesn't respond, not even to acknowledge that he felt it. Their bond is still shielded heavily, so Anakin doubts that his former master is really able to pick up anything of how he's feeling.

"If you cannot talk, and even if you can, I would suggest seeing a mind healer," Dooku adds. "I know it would likely help you significant." There's no question as to whom the second sentence is addressed.

Anakin twitches, frowning. "I don't need a mind healer. There's nothing wrong with me," he argues defensively.

"Of course not," Dooku replies, and thankfully, he doesn't sound as if he's placating him. He actually seems genuine. "You're reacting in a way which is perfectly normal given your situation and traumas."

That... isn't a whole lot better, but Anakin decides not to argue, instead sitting down on one end of the couch and deliberately putting the bottles on the small table in front of him. Artoo rolls over next to him, beeping once as he settles down to be supportive. Anakin gave him a serious lecture about not shocking or otherwise hurting Obi-Wan during their conversation, before bringing him here. Given Artoo's propensity to be overprotective, he figured it would be needed.

Dooku opens the door, pausing when he's halfway through. "If you two cannot sort out whatever is between you, I will be needing a therapist when this is all over. I do not fancy remaining a middleman." His tone is dry – a touch of humor in it – as he leaves, the door closing behind him, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone.

There's a long, awkward pause before Obi-Wan moves – somewhat stiffly – to sit at the other end of the couch. Anakin hates the way the silence is so strained. "Do you want that?" he asks gesturing to the bottle nearer Obi-Wan, picking up the one closer to him. He's glad that he opened them already. For normal people, one bottle would be more than enough, but they're both trained Force sensitives, not to mention that most drugs, alcohol included, don't work on Anakin for long. He'll need a significant amount of alcohol in him to actually become somewhat intoxicated, at least enough for this conversation.

"Might as well," his former master sighs, lifting the bottle.

Anakin opens his and takes a swig, shivering slightly as he swallows. He doesn't drink often – only has a few times, actually – but he knows from when he has that it'll take some time for the effects to actually set in. "So, Dooku wants us to talk," he states flatly, studying the glass of the bottle in his hands. He doesn't want to talk, if only because he's finally trapped his emotions in a place where they can't hurt him, where he can't feel them.

"Yes, he does," Obi-Wan agrees. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

Anakin considers for a moment, glancing at Artoo, the astromech's presence lending him courage. Still, he would prefer to move on and disregard the past, even if it means that he'll never be able to trust his former master again. "Not in particular."

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