Chapter Text
Obi-Wan curled himself into a ball in his shared quarters. He pressed his face into his knees, struggling to keep the sobs from wracking his frame, the tears from spilling over. He was eighteen – far too old for such betrayals of emotion, far too old to make such obvious, such blatant mistakes. Mistakes that went against everything the Order stood for, everything Obi-Wan had sworn himself to.
He took a deep breath and curled into a tighter ball. He should meditate and release these feelings into the Force. He should be able to steel himself, should be able to prevent such attraction from destroying his connection to the Order, to the Force.
He couldn’t help it as the tears fell. His master had hardly said a word to him since the incident – since he declared his love to Satine and vowed to leave the order for her. Before she – a duchess, not even a Jedi – reminded him that they both had other duties, other commitments than to each other. Where she kissed him, and smiled at him sadly, and told him “Obi-Wan, there is so much more to our lives than this.”
He had left her heartbroken and grief stricken. He barely noticed through his hardly concealed tears when he physically met his master, when his chin collided with his collarbone, and Anakin finally unshrouded himself from the Force to face his padawan.
It was clear through their training bond that Anakin had seen, that he knew – and that, more than anything, was the final nail in Obi-Wan’s coffin. That not only had Satine denied him, but that the Jedi would too, now. That as soon as they returned to Coruscant, Anakin would throw him to the Council and he would be exiled, or demoted – neither of which would hurt as much as the disappointment on the faces of the Jedi masters he revered so.
As the weight of it crushed him, Obi-Wan just curled in on himself tighter. He didn’t want to be hated, he didn’t want to be rejected. He didn’t want his master – one of the only people who he ever knew truly believed in him – to look at him like a monster for such blatant and severe disregard of their way of life. He didn’t want to lose Anakin on top of all of this. So he sobbed, and he waited, until he heard the fateful click of the door that separated his quarters from his master’s.
He couldn’t even raise his head when his master entered, deciding instead to remain insolent and curled into his ball. He couldn’t decide what would be worse – crying in front of Anakin, or childishly covering himself in hopes that it will diminish the sense of sorrow and woe that no doubt bloomed even though his shields, soaking into their bond like poison.
Anakin did not shield himself from his padawan’s perceptions, and moved slowly towards the bed, sitting at the end of it gently. When Obi-Wan chanced a look up from his knees, Anakin’s back was to him, his robotic hand mussing through his curls. Obi-Wan felt his stomach twist – his master couldn’t even look at him, could he? He tried to suppress the new wave of sobs, but they wracked him, and he had to curl up again.
Anakin sighed, pressed his face into his hands.
“My padawan, please. Please stop crying.”
In his distress, that only made Obi-Wan cry more. He couldn’t even do this one thing right for his master – could not control even this method of passion, in order to draw in peace and serenity.
He heard Anakin sigh, and then – what was that? He lifted his head, and through his tear-streaked gaze, he could only see his own master slumped over, head in his hands. His shoulders rose and fell far too violently for typical breathing, and when Obi-Wan, too shocked to sob, waited a moment, he could hear a soft sob emanate from his master’s own form.
“M-Master?” Obi-Wan asked, his own sobs still shaking him, but his attention now diverted to his master’s form. What was this? Was Anakin sick? Was he retching with how disgusted he was with his padawan?
When Anakin raised his head, it was none of these things. His eyes glistened like Obi-Wan’s own, and the track of a tear trailed along his scar. Obi-Wan froze in shock, unsure what to do.
“I told you to stop crying, Obi-Wan, and now look at me,” Anakin managed a watery laugh as he gestured to all of him, wiping away his own tears. He shook his head and motioned for Obi-Wan to draw closer, and out of habit, he did. For just that one moment, Obi-Wan was far too confused to remember that his master likely hated him, or wanted him expelled. He fell into the familiar routine of sitting next to his master, hip to hip, and Anakin tilted his head up.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes as Anakin wiped away his padawan’s tears, his hands still shaking from his own bout of crying.
“You’re a mess, my padawan. Come on, now, if you don’t stop crying, I won’t stop, and then we’ll never get anywhere.”
A strange laugh bubbled out of Obi-Wan then, at the familiarity of the words, of the actions. He even leaned into his master’s touch for a brief second, cherishing what might be his last positive interact with the man he revered more than anyone else.
“Why are you crying, master?” Obi-Wan asked before he could stop himself. To him, his master was perfect. A little headstrong, sure, and definitely reckless. But he had never seen him cry like this, never seen him so disappointed. If there was a way – any way – that Obi-Wan could right himself in his master’s eyes, he would.
“I just came from the council,” Anakin started, as he tried to steady his own breathing. “Regarding our recent mission.”
Obi-Wan’s blood ran cold. “About my failure.”
“Obi-Wan-“
“Master, I am so, so, sorry, I know what I did was horrible-“
“Obi-Wan!”
Obi-Wan looked up, then, startled by his master’s intensity. Once he did, Anakin bracketed his face with his palms, forcing Obi-Wan to look into his fierce blue eyes. And they weren’t full of anger, or hatred – just intensity and determination.
“Listen to me, my padawan. Just, for once, calm your desire to debate and reason, and listen to what I have to say.”
Obi-Wan, startled and confused, nodded his head, and Anakin’s hands fell away, clutching at his master’s knees as Anakin clearly struggled to put together the words he wanted to use.
“The council told me that I should reprimand you – that I should transfer you to the agricorps, of all places – even though you’re all but fully trained.” Anakin scrubbed a hand along his face as Obi-Wan felt dread settle into his stomach. The council really did want him gone – wanted to take him off active duty, away from the life he had always desired.
“I told them I wouldn’t.”
Obi-Wan faced his master with a look of bewilderment and wonder. Anakin still looked old and weathered as he combed through his hair, and he looked up at Obi-Wan from where he was hunched over on his bed.
“I think it’s time I told you, my young padawan. Something I should have told you long ago – maybe if I had, I wouldn’t have failed you so.”
“Failed me? Master, it was I who broke the code, it had nothing to do with-“
“I was once married.”
Silence fell. Obi-Wan blinked up at his master in wonder, as Anakin clutched at his knees.
“M-married?” As if Obi-Wan had heard him incorrectly. He expected Anakin to look at him like he was insane, instead, his master simply nodded.
“Yes, my young Obi-Wan. Married. When I was only a year older than you are now, I married a senator. I loved her. We wanted to be together, wanted to start a family – “
Anakin cut himself off, as this was clearly painful for him. He tugged at his curls, and Obi-Wan instinctively scooted closer, to offer his master what little comfort he could from this old wound. But still, Obi-Wan’s mind reeled – his master, his master had been married? He had been betraying the Jedi Code to such an extent from when he was no older than Obi-Wan was now?
“We wanted so much, Obi-Wan. But she was a senator, and I was a Jedi. And when she became pregnant, I refused to leave the Order. She was fully prepared to give up everything – all of her ambitions, all of her duties as a senator – to care for our children. But I – I couldn’t. The Order needed me, and I –“
Anakin looked at Obi-Wan as if he was guilty, and Obi-Wan’s breath caught.
“You had me,” He replied, in recognition. Anakin had barely been knighted himself when the Jedi had thrust young Obi-Wan upon him. Anakin nodded, and Obi-Wan felt his shoulders sag.
“We divorced soon after. She told the media that one of her fellow dignitaries from her home planet was the father. I still see them every now and then, my children.” Anakin smiled sadly. “But they don’t know who I am. And I promised her they never would.”
Obi-Wan stared at his master, open-mouthed.
“You-you-“
“You think you’ve broken the Code, my dear Obi-Wan?” Anakin grinned at him, half wry, half sad. “I have shattered it into a million pieces, and the council is none the wiser. I would be a hypocrite to send you away. You’ve only failed because you were taught by a broken man.”
“No!” Obi-Wan yelled, and it even startled Anakin. Obi-Wan was indignant, frowning at his master, hands balled into tight fists. “You are not broken, master. You have taught me so much – you have taught me more than I ever wished to learn. Without you, I-“
Obi-Wan choked off another wave of emotion. He needed Anakin to know this.
“You have been the only beacon of hope for me. For years, the Order has worried over me. That I was too emotional, that I loved too deeply – that I was not strong enough to be a Jedi.” Obi-Wan tightened his fists further. “But you chose me. You showed me that the Code was not as rigid as I thought it was. That it was alright to be invested in my fellow Jedi – that I could follow my heart and the Force that I felt there.” Obi-Wan clutches the robes over his chest. “And after all I have done – after I vowed to leave the Order, to leave you – you still accepted me back with open arms. You forgave me after I betrayed you.”
Obi-Wan was crying again, and instead of keeping a respectful distance, this time Anakin gathered him to his chest, pulled Obi-Wan tight so that his face pressed to the crook of his master’s neck, and he could wrap his arms around the taller man tightly.
“You never betrayed me, my padawan. You were in love. And love makes you –“ Anakin seemed to choke on his own words, his own emotions. “Love makes you forget what is real. What is the truth of the world. When I loved my Pa-my senator, I forgot who we were. I forgot what choices I would have to make. I thought that the world would revolve around me, that I could have everything I desired. But she knew I couldn’t. She knew that loving a Jedi, and raising children – that this was no life to live. That I would be unable to love her the way she deserved, and she was right.”
“And Satine knew the same. She knew that she was too devoted to her job. She knew that while you were willing to give up everything for her, that she couldn’t do the same. And she was more mature than I ever could have been in her situation.” Anakin smiled sadly against his padawan’s hair, and Obi-Wan just hugged him tighter.
“I am so, so sorry, master-“ Obi-Wan pleaded again, seeking comfort in his master’s embrace. He couldn’t remember the last time they had hugged like this. Maybe it was after a near-death experience after a battle – he couldn’t remember. But the safety that radiated through their bond, and the comfort, was something Obi-Wan simply couldn’t get enough of.
“Stop apologizing, Obi-Wan,” Anakin laughed. “Didn’t I just tell you that I made the same mistake as you? There’s no need for you to apologize to me.”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “Still, I want to. I worried you – I put you through trouble with the council.”
“If anything, my young padawan, you should apologize for getting caught.”
Obi-Wan laughed, bright but still full of tears, clinging to his master. This wasn’t the first time his master had berated him for being too truthful when it came to the Code and the council, so the jab was comforting, familiar – welcome.
Anakin chuckled himself, brushing his calloused hand over Obi-Wan’s short hair, making the younger man shiver when he brushed against the nape of his neck. “Oh, my padawan. You have so much to learn.”