Author's Note: I'm terrible at writing whump, but hey, I tried. :) This weird... Anakin just being dark to cover his pain/depression and Obi-Wan being kinda depressed is weird for me to write, lol. It turned out to be a lot more chaotic relationship angst than I expected but... hopefully everyone likes it more than me, because I don't much like how it turned out except the end. I think Anakin stole the whole thing, but whatever. xD It's my first time writing post-Wrong-Jedi arc with Obi-Wan, though. :P
~ Rivana Rita
PS. This is a gift for LazarusII on ao3 for the Obi-Wan Gen Exchange. :)
~ Amina Gila
In the aftermath of Ahsoka leaving the Order, Obi-Wan and Anakin struggle to cope. It isn't easy for either of them. And when Obi-Wan is injured on a mission, Anakin has to help him. They only have each other now.
The air is thick with smoke, shots ringing out repeatedly. It's just the usual battle – they were chasing after Dooku, only to fall into what Obi-Wan highly suspects is some sort of trap. What else is new?
Obi-Wan casts a sideways look at Anakin again, as he presses forwards through the droids, itching to get moving. Obi-Wan feels an echo of what Anakin does – it's normal, too, only he's far more concerned with this going downhill than he is with them losing Dooku again. Obi-Wan loses sight of his former padawan again, only briefly, as he goes to cover for Cody and Rex.
It's the usual Separatist tactics, and they're being swamped by battle droids and destroyers – those are the most dangerous. The clones already dealt with the tanks. It's only a matter of destroying the rest before they're overwhelmed.
Obi-Wan sees the danger first – sees it through the trees of the darkening landscape. Anakin is about to be surrounded by destroyer droids, and for a fleeting moment, Obi-Wan thinks he'll see Ahsoka come in, jump down, lightsabers blazing, except she doesn't – and he has a split second to remember she's not with us anymore, before he takes off running. For a fleeting moment, he remembers the weight of Qui-Gon's and Satine's bodies in his arms and no. He is not doing that again. Losing Anakin would mean... losing everything. Because Anakin is everything to him; he has been since the moment Obi-Wan truly accepted his role as his master, all those years ago.
Anakin sees them, of course; he always does, somehow, but he moves a fraction of a second too slow, and a shot strikes his right arm. He steps back, hissing. Obi-Wan can hear it over the battle, he always can. His arm starts sparking, and it must've been damaged enough to malfunction because he drops his lightsaber. He's mid-pulling it back to his left hand with the Force when Obi-Wan arrives. The destroyer droids are already taking aim and Obi-Wan bodily shoves Anakin out of the way.
He should have thought about using his lightsaber, he realizes a millisecond too late, because they avoid most of the blaster shots, except one. It burns deeply across his left arm and side.
"You're an idiot," Anakin half-grunts, half-growls. "You don't use your body as a shield. I could have taken that."
"What manners you have," Obi-Wan grouses. He's thrown off-balance and Anakin moves in front of them, blocking blaster bolts with his still-ignited lightsaber, already in his left hand. Obi-Wan takes his own in his right hand, standing unsteadily. He can't afford to rest until the droids are down, even if the burning pain shooting through him makes it very difficult to focus on anything.
He misses Ahsoka. For however aggravating it was when she and Anakin constantly argued, constantly fought over who took down more droids, the silence and sheer deadness of it grates on him. It feels so lifeless now.
But the droids in front of him give him focus.
One of the clones – Obi-Wan thinks it may have been Rex, but he didn't see – throws an explosive at the destroyer droids, which takes out a center one, making a larger opening. The best way of fighting destroyers is typically none. Retreating is far easier and more efficient than anything else, but it's not currently possible.
Anakin being Anakin just charges them, and it's harder for them to fire at him when he's in motion, but it's also more dangerous. But between Anakin being Anakin, Cody shooting tree branches down on the droids, and Rex sneaking up behind them while the Jedi keep them occupied, they finish making it through.
It's not a moment too soon, except they've been delayed long enough that Dooku is already gone. Obi-Wan expected as much, but that doesn't stop his disappointment. They're always missing Dooku, and there's no hope for the war to be over until they defeat him.
Anakin is quiet – oddly so – when he returns to Obi-Wan's side. "How bad is it?" he asks. They've both been through worse, far worse, and they won't pretend they haven't, though it's always easier not to think about it. Seeing Anakin in pain is always hard, and Obi-Wan has no doubt the reverse is just as true.
"It's just a surface wound," he says. The one downside about blaster shots is that they always hurt far worse than they ought to. They're laser burns and they burn. It's like fire – hot and searing and throbbing, and now's no different. They don't bleed at first, but burns are burns, so they always start eventually, unless they're put in bacta first. Keeping them still will help slow it down, but it won't stop it. And even if it's not deep, the pain is always enough to take his breath away.
"Better than it could be," Anakin says, after a brief pause, shifting like he's not sure how to talk. "But we still lost Dooku." He's upset, and one thing Obi-Wan has seen so vividly over the years is that Anakin never takes well to failure. It's one thing so rare to the 501st, and even if they didn't fail the mission, they still failed the part that mattered most. Anakin will see it as a personal failure the way he always does, and even after almost thirteen years of dealing with it, Obi-Wan has no idea what to do.
"There will be another time," Obi-Wan replies instead.
Whatever it is with pain, it saps energy, especially when it's constant and doesn't fade quickly.
Cody approaches first. Obi-Wan can feel his concern, though he doesn't ask. "Get us the location of the remaining Separatist forces here," Obi-Wan commands before carefully sitting down under one of the trees. Anakin hovers right nearby the entire time. The glove he wears over his right arm covers the mechanism beneath, but Obi-Wan can still see the occasional sparks in the area where it was penetrated.
It is not a thing which Obi-Wan is ever fond of thinking of. If Anakin hadn't rushed headlong into battle, fighting Dooku the first time, he'd still be... whole. Anakin would never see it as Obi-Wan's fault, but perhaps it would be easier if he did. It's not a topic Obi-Wan ever has had any idea how to address. He finds it simpler not to.
Anakin sits down nearby, expression blank, but Obi-Wan knows he's upset. Likely for multiple reasons.
Obi-Wan reaches into the Force, letting himself feel his former-padawan's presence. It's the fastest way of letting himself focus.
Every time he feels the Force, the first thing he feels is Anakin. Anakin is everywhere, encompasses every part of his life for almost thirteen years. He has since the moment they met. They're balance. Obi-Wan never realized how much until Cato Neimoidia. Everything there, on that planet, centered on an if Anakin were here, and he knew from then on there was no being separate from one another.
He could never have it any other way.
Anakin's right hand, on second look, is malfunctioning badly. His fingers are flexing randomly, and Obi-Wan's not sure if it's of his own accord. "Do you need help with that?" he asks, anyway, even if he knows full well Anakin would die before asking for help. Or maybe he genuinely believes he doesn't need any – it's hard to say.
"You are an absolute idiot, Master," Anakin retorts sharply. He is very rarely this short-tempered, even in battle.
"Are you alright, Anakin?" Obi-Wan asks. He can't help the concern burning inside him. Fearing for Anakin will not change him, but it doesn't stop his worry. It never has. It hadn't stopped him from fearing for Anakin years ago, when Anakin was going to leave the Order himself. He has never been able to understand what, exactly, it is he feels towards the boy.
In the end, it doesn't really matter.
"You really are an idiot, Master," Anakin repeats with every bit of his irritation shown clearly on his face. He's always so easy to read. "You are the one who's actually injured. I'll be fine. I always am."
Obi-Wan had thought the same about Qui-Gon, once. It was always wrong. "I will be as well," he points out.
"We don't exactly have a portable bacta tank on the battlefield," Anakin replies, struggling to one-handedly pull off his glove. Focusing on him is so much easier, even if it's hard to stay in the here and now. "We'll have to get you back to the cruiser, that's all." Which they would all be perfectly fine with, if it didn't mean abandoning their current position, and while Obi-Wan thinks the battle is won, that's no guarantee.
"Let me help you with that," Obi-Wan says, because even if he's also down one hand they can still do this better together. It's just how it is.
Anakin makes a sound of acknowledgement before moving closer, sitting a couple feet away. Obi-Wan reaches out with his right hand to help pull off Anakin's glove. The tightness makes it as difficult as the fact that moving himself is hard. If Ahsoka were here, she'd be doing this, and she'd patch up Obi-Wan's injuries herself, grumbling about how Anakin can't do it himself because he broke his arm again.
Not that it happens very frequently.
But there is no use thinking about the 'what-if's' because Ahsoka is gone. She's not coming back, and Obi-Wan can and will accept that, even if it's hard. It's hard to remember she's gone, but more than that, it's hard to see how Anakin is now. He's more closed off, darker. It reminds him of how he was after the Festival of Light – distant and dimmed to the point it constantly worried him. Anakin is never dim. He is occasionally depressed, but those are far and few between, and this is something greater than that. Getting through it will not be easy.
Ahsoka had chosen to leave, and Obi-Wan can accept that. She was still too young and untrained to fully understand how important her responsibilities are. Her absence is more of a fact to Obi-Wan. He doesn't know how Anakin is dealing.
Back in present, they finish working Anakin's glove off. Only now that it's off can Obi-Wan see the damaged area. He suspects it'll take more than a simple rewiring to continue working properly, even if it'll be enough
He loathes how tense their bond is. It's as though they don't know how to talk to one another, and it's not as though anything changed.
Anakin flexes his hand again. The transmitting signals must've been shot, because they're jerking instead of normally moving in sync. "There's not a lot I can do here," he says, "I'll go find Kix." He tosses his glove to the side and stands up, disappearing just as quickly.
Now that Anakin, and all of his fire and warmth are gone, spaced out even briefly, Obi-Wan is abruptly reminded of the burning pain in his arm and side. It's not as though he hasn't had worse, but it's...
It's not as if pain is ever comfortable.
The strained silence between them lingers, even while Anakin is momentarily gone. They've grown apart since the war broke out, and the more time it takes, the more time they spend apart, the more Obi-Wan realizes that Anakin is all that matters. It truthfully scares him, because it's so, so close to interfering with his duties. There has never been a time it was... dangerous, but it might. Someday.
There have been times, fleeting moments, really, in which he envies the closeness Anakin shared with Ahsoka. Their bond was so much simpler than his own with Anakin. The trust, the openness, the visible closeness is something Obi-Wan wishes he could share.
Except, apparently, despite the importance of it, it wasn't enough to keep her in the Order with her master. Seeing how much it hurts Anakin is what makes it so difficult.
Ahsoka left the Order, and everyone she used to know has been left to pick up the pieces.
It reminds him painfully of when Anakin nearly left. He'd been twelve, and it was ten years ago, but Obi-Wan remembers with glaring clarity. It's different with Ahsoka. She wasn't important to the galaxy, the Force, and the Jedi the same way Anakin was. Obi-Wan would have had to leave as well, and he would have regretted it.
Even if staying with Anakin is all he ever wanted. Anakin may have been a promise, and he is... still, in many ways, but he's so much more.
Sometimes, Obi-Wan wishes there was a way for him to express it. He doesn't really know what 'it' is, most of the time. They're equals now, which means they're... brothers of sorts. Obi-Wan remembers his own brother from another lifetime – in faint flashes and images, nothing more, and he wonders if he hadn't become a Jedi, if he would've seen him the same way he does Anakin now. Somehow, he can't quite imagine it.
Because in truth, he and Anakin are not a bond formed by blood.
Years ago, Anakin had called Obi-Wan his father. He hasn't forgotten, but there is no word to which their relationship can be simplified. They're far too complex. And it's not as if Obi-Wan has had that type of family. It means a lot to him, that Anakin would see him the same way he did his own mother. But even so, it's not something Obi-Wan can understand, and simply not speaking of it is... easier. He doesn't fully want to try voicing how much Anakin means to him. It would only encourage their attachment.
"The boy, he your son?" Obi-Wan remembers someone had once asked – he no longer remembers the name, but he remembers the mission with glaring clarity. "Kid idolizes you."
It was Qui-Gon who tied them together, and Obi-Wan can see it so clearly, that if not for how he and Anakin met, they would never have formed the bond they now share.
Obi-Wan can't imagine that – Anakin has always been more important to him than anyone. Something about the boy just draws people to him. Perhaps it's his overwhelming presence, the way it burns so consumingly in the Force.
He dares not think of what would happen if he lost it.
Qui-Gon always spoke of remaining in the here and now, and Obi-Wan has always struggled with it. In the here and now, they're on yet another failed mission. The battle was won, but they failed their primary objective of capturing Dooku. How much longer will he evade them? They've tried everything.
Obi-Wan senses Anakin's return, his presence still dimmed with exhaustion and depression. Obi-Wan wants to tell himself that if they were elsewhere, not on a battlefield, they might talk about it. He just doesn't know how to broach the topic. He can't tell if Anakin wants to talk about it. Anakin is very unpredictable sometimes. Even if Obi-Wan understands how he acts, he doesn't know why, which limits it in many ways.
But they are here and now, in the midst of a battlefield, and they have no time or ability to divide their focus to something so mundane, even if it's important to Obi-Wan.
"I still cannot believe you did that," Anakin declares flatly as he approaches.
Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. Leave it to Anakin to hold onto this forever. "You should have known better than charging destroyer droids alone."
He bristles instantly, at the slight insinuation he might not have been able to handle it. Anakin is always like that, and Obi-Wan has never been able to understand the boy's constant need to prove himself. It's like an obsession. "Clearly, I wasn't alone. And I brought some bacta patches for you, old man. Kix is otherwise occupied, so that leaves us."
It's normal, and Obi-Wan doesn't mind. It's always been how it is. Anakin has saved his life more times than he can count, not that he'd ever admit it aloud. They get to work, and it gives him something else to focus on again, even if the moving it takes stings. Bacta does as well, but it's more of an odd tingly sensation until the wounds heal.
Anakin is hiding it well, but Obi-Wan can see it in how he moves: he's angry. "Anakin," he says finally, unable to stop himself, "Are you angry at me for saving you?"
"I didn't need 'saving'," Anakin replies sharply, not looking up. He's pointedly avoiding Obi-Wan's gaze.
Two can play that game. "Really," he replies, "You would have been hit at least twice if I hadn't arrived."
"I was going to move," Anakin snaps. It feels like a lie in the Force. Why is he denying this so much?
"No, you weren't."
"Do you want to gloat about this, Obi-Wan?" he asks, moving back. Anakin looks up finally, his curls hanging messily into his face. He looks... tired, worn. As if he hasn't slept in a long while. His expression is one of anger, but it's there solely to hide the pain which Obi-Wan has come to realize is normal with Anakin.
"I'm not gloating, Anakin. I don't understand what it is you're upset about." It's always been... mutual. They look out for each other. Obi-Wan saw years ago the depth of Anakin's abilities, but no one is perfect. He's long since become accustomed to seeing Anakin's shortcomings, but even then, it's nearly impossible to contain him in any shape or form.
Anakin turns away sharply. Obi-Wan watches him still, uncertain. It is... embarrassing to admit that he needed help, but he has never reacted the same way Anakin does to these things. "I already know you don't trust me," he says, sullenly. "You don't need to repeatedly remind me."
"I don't see a connection."
Anakin scoffs. "Of course not. But that doesn't matter. We need to get moving."
"There is nothing left here for us to do," Obi-Wan objects. "Anakin, are you alright?"
"What is this about?" he asks, straightening. He only does this when he's uncomfortable.
It's a simple courtesy to be grateful when someone asks of your wellbeing, but apparently, he doesn't understand that. "It is 'about' how you are clearly upset and denying it."
Anakin inhales sharply before standing. For a moment, Obi-Wan thinks he's going to walk off entirely. "I have a right to be," he snaps. "The Council took my padawan from me. You knew she was innocent. You didn't try to help me when it would have made a difference."
Dealing with Anakin when he's upset is never easy, and Obi-Wan can be grateful it rarely happens. "You know we had no choice, Anakin." He regrets it too, dearly, but there was no other way. They couldn't act against the Senate in such a manner, not in wartime.
Anakin turns away, pacing a short distance. "No choice," he repeats. He's staring off into the horizon, speaking with no small amount of bitterness.
"The Senate demanded her be handed over. The Council could not refuse."
"She was my responsibility." It hurts to see him speak of it. Ten years ago, Obi-Wan remembers himself feeling the same. Yoda had told him he's not responsible for Anakin's choice, but it still felt like he was. Anakin's impatience has always been there, but Obi-Wan hadn't known him long enough. So much of their beginning years were spent working around each other, trying to learn how to know each other and adjust to their new lives. (It was similar for Anakin and Ahsoka as well. Perhaps that's why they formed such a similar bond – one of such deep closeness, closeness that Obi-Wan craves for now.)
"You can't take responsibility for Ahsoka's decision, Anakin." Obi-Wan himself was twenty-eight when he dealt with this, and Anakin is a full six years younger. He never would have dreamed of his own padawan experiencing anything remotely similar, even if the essences are entirely different – because Anakin leaving the Order would have far more dire consequences. He has only ever wanted to protect Anakin, but nothing he's done has been enough for that.
"She was my padawan. If there was a failing, it's mine."
"If there is a problem, it is with me. The failure is mine."
"He doesn't think so. Kid idolizes you. You can see it."
"She made the decision. She chose to leave."
"She should never have had to make that choice."
Obi-Wan has no idea how to tell Anakin otherwise. Sometimes, he is so difficult to talk to. "No," he agrees, "But she did, and that was of no fault of yours."
Anakin doesn't respond verbally, but Obi-Wan knows he's not listening. He doesn't believe him.
That's perfectly normal, too.
"How would you feel," Anakin replies at last, "If I left the Order? What would you have done?"
Obi-Wan stills. He knows the answer, at least when Anakin was a padawan, but it's not something he's thought about since. It hasn't been important. "That's a completely different situation, Anakin," he says instead. He doesn't want to admit he would have had to leave as well. He doesn't want to risk encouraging their... attachment.
"It's the same," he argues, "I was once your padawan, just like Ahsoka was mine."
He wishes he knew what to say. Anakin fears loss as well; it's another thing they both share. Anakin had slept beside him for much of the first year after they met. It's not something either of them speak of, but it had been grounding for both of them – a reminder that neither of them are going anywhere.
"Ahsoka had a duty as a Jedi," Obi-Wan replies, "You do as well, but yours is far more significant than hers could ever be." Anakin is their hope for a future, and Obi-Wan has faith in that. Qui-Gon did, and he will hold onto it as well.
"How do I know she's safe?" he asks quieter. He crosses his arms, looking down, the distinct vulnerability which he so often bears becoming even more vivid.
It's one of the many reasons a Jedi would never leave the Order. They know no life outside. They have nowhere to go, and they don't know exactly how life outside it operates. There is no reason to. Their lives are devoted to serving others, and it's selfish for them to leave them when they have the ability not to. "She chose to leave," Obi-Wan points out again, gently, "What happens to her now is not in your control."
"But it's still my concern."
She might not have left, if you had tried to help her, a voice in the back of his mind whispers traitorously. Obi-Wan opts to ignore it, though he can't help thinking it's true. Anakin hadn't spoken to him since the trial until this mission. Obi-Wan doesn't think he's spoken to anyone, save the clones. "You need to let her go," he says instead. It's the truth, one he knows Anakin will not want to hear, but wanting her back won't change time. The years he spent wishing his master were still alive changed nothing, either.
"You expect me to pretend she didn't mean anything?" Anakin asks, bitterly.
"My master meant a lot to me," he retorts, "But I let him go."
"Ahsoka's still alive." His tumultuous emotions are pouring into the Force, and Obi-Wan finds he'd rather deal with the flaming fire his padawan is in the Force burning with rage than something so stilled and dormant, as a fire running out of strength and dwindling to nothing. He would much prefer trying to soothe it than rekindle it. "Anything could happen to her."
"You trained her well."
"There are always greater threats out there. What if Maul comes for her?"
"One thing your padawan has always been good at is throwing people off her trail," Obi-Wan replies. The late... fiasco is a prime example of that. Obi-Wan only wishes he'd done something differently. He wishes she'd used it for something other than against the Order, but he wishes just as much he had done something to help Anakin himself. He believed that the Republic would look into the evidence – or rather the glaring lack thereof – but he was wrong. He didn't realize it until too late, and the only evidence he had in Ahsoka's favor at first was Anakin's faith. "And Maul is after me, not you."
"Yeah," Anakin agrees. He sinks back onto the ground, glancing over at Obi-Wan again. He seems... uncomfortable. Upset, still.
Obi-Wan can fully understand his concerns – they may have fought together for years on the battlefield, but in some ways, that's different. They trust each other, but it's... not the same knowing they may never see each other again. Obi-Wan let go of his own master, even if he still misses him, but a padawan is different. More importantly, it's Anakin who is so very different.
And Obi-Wan fears that Maul will come after Anakin next, though he knows the Sith would never stand a chance against Anakin.
As Jedi, fear for others must be turned into unquestioned trust, or it will serve solely as a distraction, though from time to time, he finds himself fearing, anyway. For Anakin, at least. Always for Anakin.
Master Yoda had said it from the beginning, that Anakin will struggle more to let her go than to accept her. Obi-Wan knew that, and now that it's happening, he doesn't know how to deal with it.
He suspects Maul will return eventually, though there is no further assistance the Jedi can give on Mandalore. Obi-Wan left after Satine died and thinking about her sends another stab of grief shooting through him. He's lost so much in the past few months. Even after the Festival of Light, Anakin changed. Obi-Wan has noticed it; he's more withdrawn and quieter, though he's trying to act normal. That's worse now. Sometimes, he fears how much 'worse' it can get.
The only person he has left now is Anakin, the only person he can't ever imagine living without.
Sometimes, he can't shake the feeling that something will happen. The war has taken a darker turn after Mortis, and Obi-Wan still isn't sure how real that was. He saw Qui-Gon there. Ahsoka died and came back to life, somehow, not to mention being possessed by a Force-being, and Anakin Fell – presumably under the same circumstances as Ahsoka. He doesn't know. Doesn't want to.
Next to him, Anakin turns over his still-sparking arm to inspect it again.
It's no good, but he's probably trying to distract himself.
Obi-Wan pointedly resists the urge to move, knowing it'll only jar his injuries more, but he doesn't want to just sit here either. "She'll be alright, Anakin," he says at last.
"I know." Anakin glances up at him, an unreadable expression on his face, though pain is the strongest.
He needs more, and Obi-Wan wants to give more, but he doesn't know how. (He wants an assurance that Anakin won't leave or disappear like so many others.) Rex and Cody still haven't returned from their sweep of the area. It shouldn't be much longer, but he's alone with Anakin now. His side is still throbbing, though it's not enough to stop him from leaning forwards enough to lay his hand on Anakin's knee.
"We must refocus our efforts on the war now."
When Anakin looks at him again, there's the faintest sheen of tears in his eyes. "Why didn't you help her?"
He asked himself the same question about Satine, every time he thinks of her and of his own master. He should have killed Maul when he had the chance. And when he thinks of Ahsoka again, of her light and cheerfulness and the countless missions they fought together, he wonders the same thing. Obi-Wan may not have been her master, but he could have been, and he accepted the possibility of having to train her, no matter how unlikely it was. He knew Anakin would never refuse an implied order of such a nature. He twists rules but doesn't outright defy them.
"I thought the Republic would give her a fair trial," he explains, "And I objected to their decision, but the majority... conceded the Senate's request."
"You're the one who constantly complains about how politicians aren't to be trusted. What if I hadn't gotten there on time? What if she was declared guilty before I arrived?"
Obi-Wan has no idea. He never thought about it, because he didn't need to. "You did get there, and she survived. That's what counts." It'll have to be an answer enough, because Obi-Wan doesn't know. If he was fully convinced of Ahsoka's innocence – he wasn't completely certain, if he's being honest. He never wanted to believe anyone could Fall, but Dooku and Krell had, and they were both Jedi Masters. Who was to say a mere padawan couldn't have lost their way in the chaos of war? – he might have taken action against the decision and tried to save her, but that could have put many more lives at risk, and one life is not worth a thousand.
Not even Ahsoka.
He doesn't have the heart to tell Anakin so, though.
He nods slightly, finally moving closer so they're sitting right next to each other. (If Ahsoka were here, she'd be sitting right next to Anakin. They'd be arguing about something unbearably stupid, and Obi-Wan has never been able to understand how they can turn something so serious into a game.)
The hardest part about war is never the fight; it's about the aftermath.
And it's never easy to move of from those gone.
"If you left the Order," Obi-Wan finds himself saying, and he has no idea why he's admitting it, "I would have had to come with you. I wouldn't break my promise to Qui-Gon, and at your age, with your limited knowledge of the Force, it would have been... easy for the Dark Side to find you."
Anakin turns towards him again. "You would have left?" he asks, "For me?"
"The danger of the Sith finding you is far greater than me remaining in the Order, Anakin." The true answer is: I love you and I don't want to be away from you, even until all the stars in the galaxy burn out, I can't ever imagine living without you. But those are words he would never say, of course – he wouldn't know how, even if he wanted to. Voicing how deeply he loves Anakin, how vulnerable it makes him would make it so much more real.
Obi-Wan finds himself resisting the urge to reach out and touch him – he doesn't know how or where or what's considered normal for affection, because Jedi never show it. It distracts from their purpose. He can only look at Anakin, feeling the warmth in his heart that this is the boy he raised, knowing what Anakin has become. He was mature even before becoming a Jedi and was perfectly capable of handling himself even at twelve.
Sometimes, he wonders if this is how parents see their children, but it doesn't really matter. Anakin was created by the Force and his mother is dead. That's not Obi-Wan's role, anyway.
Anakin leans slightly closer, twisting sideways. His intentions are perfectly clear, even if they rarely share any sort of physical contact beyond brief touch. "Thank you," he says, "For everything. You were right, you know. I was impatient. I didn't understand. I tried to teach Ahsoka the same thing, but I... didn't know how to."
"You can't help anyone if you get yourself killed," Obi-Wan replies, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Anakin scoots slightly closer, wrapping his left arm around Obi-Wan. It's the first step in getting him to his feet again – standing alone or at all will be hard – but it's perfectly obvious that right now he just wants to... well. Snuggle.
Fine.
It's fine, as long as the clones don't return, because that would be... awkward. Inappropriate – their relationship with the clones is strictly professional. They trust each other deeply, but some things are simply not done.
Obi-Wan winds his right arm around Anakin's shoulders, and the boy snuggles against his side, somehow managing to look far smaller than he is. When their eyes meet again, for the first time he can clearly see Anakin's fear – he was afraid earlier. That's why he was lashing out.
"Perhaps we are stuck with each other," Obi-Wan tells him. It's a reminder of years ago, shortly after they first met – Obi-Wan remembers that well, too. It was their very first mission together, and Obi-Wan hadn't wanted Anakin to come. His padawan ended up coming anyway, Because Yoda wanted him to, and they had a... another one of their endless misunderstandings. Obi-Wan had said it then as a passing side-comment, and Anakin read too much into it, thinking Obi-Wan meant he didn't want him.
Which he hadn't, but he wasn't ungrateful for having someone to focus on. Having Anakin beside him helped more than he could ever say.
"Then we'll have to keep saving each other, old man." There's a lightness to his voice, and it's real enough that if it's feigned, Obi-Wan can't tell.
"I am not that old," he protests.
"Cody's returning," Anakin says, "We should get up, unless you'd rather sit here."
He would. Obi-Wan moves to get up, anyway; their combined attempts to maneuver to their feet nearly knocking each other over three times in the process.
"If I ever chose a master, I think I would very much prefer one perfectly capable of remaining on his own two feet."
"If I ever chose a padawan," Obi-Wan fires back, "It will be one perfectly capable of keeping his limbs intact." Standing is making him realize how exhausted he is, both from the battle and his injuries. Recovery is always easier when sleeping, which is unfortunately currently impossible. "And I am perfectly capable of walking on my own."
Anakin's annoyance flares into the Force, strangely. He steps back anyway, reluctance obvious, though he hovers right nearby.
"We're in the clear, General," Cody says, approaching through the trees. Rex is right behind him. "No signs of droids in the area."
"Good work," Obi-Wan says. He is standing perfectly alright, thank you, Anakin. His side is still throbbing though, and sleeping sounds very, very appealing. "We best be on our way."
"We failed our primary objective." Rex appears as unhappy about it as Anakin was earlier.
"We lost no one," Anakin replies, "It was still a victory. Dooku's escape was expected."
"Yes, it was," Obi-Wan agrees, "We should go."
And guess what? Anakin never figures it out. :)
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