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The first time it happens, Anakin Skywalker is eleven with no understanding of the panic rising up within him and no ability to discern the ragged edges where reality is fraying into horrific nightmares.
He'd done his morning meditations, just like Obi-Wan and he normally did every day. Obi-Wan was in some sort of meeting and had told Anakin to go ahead and begin the day without him, and Anakin had followed that order. Forcing his restless mind to meditate had never come easily, but today--
It was like a dream. No, more like a nightmare. Reality had given way to something new and so horrifically wrong, charged by the Force--
Obi-Wan, lifeless at his feet--overwhelming darkness--a sick feeling of triumph tinged with horror--a heavy weight, nearly physical, dragging him down--
And as soon as it had begun, it was over, leaving Anakin on his hands and knees in the apartment he shared with Obi-Wan, nauseous and panicking.
Was it real? How could it not be? He had tasted the air, sick, recycled, nothing like the Jedi temple and--
He had to do something.
Tentatively, he reaches in the Force for Obi-Wan--a tiny, hesitant gesture. Even though they had been training, master and padawan, for almost a year now, there is still a certain distance between them, at least in the Force. Sometimes, when Obi-Wan is close and distracted, he can catch glimpses of insight into the man, but most of the time, unless they're deliberately training, there isn't that sense of openness.
The Jedi temple is so full of life, and opening himself to the Force--it's like drinking the universe, and Anakin still hasn't figured out how to fine-tune those senses.
Or, a darker part of him whispers, something's happened to him.
Logically, Anakin knows that Obi-Wan should be fine. This is Coruscant, not Tatooine. Nothing is going to happen here.
Right?
For a moment, his resolve wavers, but he shakes it off in a heartbeat. If Obi-Wan is fine, he'll apologize. And if he's not...then Anakin has to help.
He takes off running.
He reaches out with his senses, just like Obi-Wan taught him in meditation, and again, his senses are bombarded with all the life around him. It's overwhelming, and his head is already pounding from the overload, but it doesn't matter, because somewhere in this temple--
There.
Obi-Wan.
He presses further, harder--
There. Obi-Wan.
Panicking.
Danger.
A lifetime of terror rushes back to him at once. Another slave who had decided to run away, a friend, Zip, Anakin had tried to stop him, ran after him, stopped at the edge of the zone they were to stay in, screamed for him to come back, for his mother, for anyone to help--
He'd felt it, the pain Zip had felt in those last moments, and it had ripped through him, just like this, echoing in the Force--
No. He wouldn't lose Obi-Wan. He wouldn't lose anyone ever again.
######
Ever the diplomat, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, tries to take this with grace.
He has killed a Sith, held his dying master in his arms, taken on a padawan when he had no idea what he was doing to begin with. He has mastered lightsaber forms, he has passed his trials to become a knight, he is a fully grown adult--
"Kenobi, if you could just sit still, this entire process would be far less painful."
"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan apologizes for about the fifteenth time that day.
Master Luminara Unduli looks, as she always does when this time comes, not impressed. The other healers had sworn off dealing with him when this time came, and somehow, Obi-Wan had become Luminara's problem.
Obi-Wan can't tell if Master Unduli always looks angry, or if that look is reserved for him.
He doesn't know why he has such a panic reaction to needles. It makes absolutely no sense. He knows it doesn't make sense. He still doesn't understand it.
"You could always mind trick me into not panicking, I suppose," he offers, and this glare from Luminara is certainly not ambivalent. He sighs and offers his arm again.
Vaccination regimens are rigorous as a Jedi, possibly more so than for the average citizen. Because of the vast amount of planets they travel to, they have to be far more cognizant of this than even senators. Strength in the Force keeps the Jedi healthier than most, but they're only living creatures, capable of succumbing to illness or, worse, carrying it to more vulnerable populations.
Obi-Wan closes his eyes and tries to find his peace in spite of the irrational panic within him. He flinches for the two boosters he's due to receive and manages to hold still for Luminara to stick him. The blood she collects will be checked to ensure his health, and then sent to a place that needs donations of his type, and Obi-Wan tries to breathe slowly during the process.
And then his panic strangely compounds, but not from within.
Obi-Wan jerks violently and even Luminara, with her endless patience and stoicism, makes an agitated sound, but it barely even registers to Obi-Wan, because this maelstrom of fear and panic is no longer his, but his padawan's. Obi-Wan takes down all his walls and reaches for Anakin, trying to find him, the source of his panic, what--he's close, but--
He knows better than to stand up so quickly after his needless panic and after having his blood drawn, but something is wrong with his padawan and--
Stars cloud his vision as the world spins around him.
######
Anakin dashes past the padawan manning the desk at the Halls of Healing, even as she protests, and rushes straight for his master.
He flings open the door as Master Unduli is forcing Obi-Wan to sit back down, tying a tourniquet around his arm and somehow managing to keep a blank face as she looks between Anakin and his master, her clear sense of not impressed a little cold in the Force around them.
"Can I be of assistance, Skywalker?" Luminara asks, her voice clipped and short.
The panic eases a little at seeing that Obi-Wan is fine, but the confusion doesn't.
"I--was just looking for Obi-Wan," Anakin stammers, sure of the fact that he's in trouble now.
"Telling your padawan when his master has places to be might be beneficial in the future, Kenobi," Luminara says, a hint of a smile on her lips.
Anakin winces for the inevitable rebuke that's coming. Obi-Wan did tell him he had an appointment. But Obi-Wan simply gives Luminara a sheepish smile as she sweeps out, heels clicking on the tile beneath her.
Now alone, Obi-Wan turns to Anakin, and he holds his breath--he reaches towards him, and Anakin instinctively flinches--
"What's wrong?" Obi-Wan blinks, drawing his hand back and then horror registers on his face. Other than Shmi, most adults reaching for his padawan have likely not done so in kindness. "Anakin--"
"I'm sorry," Anakin whispers, and now he does squinch his eyes closed. "I should have waited, but I just--"
He stops as Obi-Wan puts a hand on his shoulder, hesitates for a fraction of a second, and then pulls him into a hug.
Anakin doesn't even know why he's crying at first, but then the dream comes back to him in a horrific rush. He clenches his fists in the folds of Obi-Wan's tunic and buries his face in the man's shoulder and sobs, the entire morning of adrenaline and panic all hitting him at once with the force of the worst sandstorms Tatooine has, and he keeps waiting for Obi-Wan to admonish him. There is no emotion, there is peace, but the sentiment feels laughable in the wake of his nightmare. Obi-Wan, however, says nothing, and just holds him. Anakin can feel him reaching through their bond, trying to understand, and in a panic, Anakin throws up every wall he's ever thought of, too ashamed for Obi-Wan to see the horrors he's seen unfiltered.
Obi-Wan doesn't react, but just waits, ever the patient one, for Anakin's sobs to subside. Only when they stop does he pull away from his padawan, one steady hand on his shoulder as he wipes the tears from Anakin's face with the sleeve of his robe.
"Why don't we go meditate?" he offers. Anakin knows it isn't an option, but Obi-Wan's voice is gentle, and he takes heart in that and the comforting weight of Obi-Wan's hand on his shoulder as they walk not to the cold meditation chambers that Anakin secretly hate, but back to their shared apartment.
Obi-Wan pulls out the thin blankets they usually kneel on when they meditate from here and sits them down facing each other as they take their positions. Anakin waits for the confrontation, but it doesn't seem to be coming. Obi-Wan simply closes his eyes and waits.
The waiting is more than Anakin can handle. He's never been particularly patient, and in this moment, after this morning, it's too much.
"I was meditating this morning, like you told me to," he blurts out, and Obi-Wan opens his eyes. "And...something happened."
"Go on," Obi-Wan nods, and Anakin takes a deep breath, trying to stop the tears that have been so close to the surface since his outburst at the Halls of Healing.
"It seemed so real, Obi-Wan, and I was standing over you and you were--you were--" Anakin gulps back the tears threatening to drown him, the air that seems to be choking him. "Dead."
"Anakin--"
"And I was happy about it," he says, feeling like he needs to throw up, to somehow expel that horrible thought from inside of him. "I don't want you to die, Obi-Wan! Why would I see that? What was that?"
"Sometimes, the Force shows us visions. Echoes of possibilities," Obi-Wan says, choosing his words carefully. "But that doesn't mean they'll come true."
"But how can that even be a possibility?" Anakin bites his lip. "I was so worried, and when I felt for you, I thought you were in danger--"
Obi-Wan laughs, and Anakin frowns defensively before realizing that Obi-Wan isn't laughing at Anakin, but at something else.
"I have nervous panic reactions to needles. Always have. No idea why. I wasn't in danger, although I can see how you might have read my anxiety as such."
"But, still, Obi-Wan, the vision--"
"The possibilities for the future are endless, Anakin," Obi-Wan says, kindness in his eyes that Anakin figures he must have learned from Qui-Gon Jinn. "If we live in constant fear of the future, then we never truly live."
Anakin nods, but he still isn't convinced.
And as he and Obi-Wan slip into comfortable silence, Anakin makes certain that his meditations go no deeper than surface level, where everything in his mind is safely under his control.
########
Over the next few weeks, Obi-Wan watches his padawan slowly break down.
At first, he assumes perhaps the constant rings under his eyes are the symptoms of a physical ailment, and as much as he hates the Halls of Healing, he accompanies his padawan for a check-up, where the healers pronounce that Anakin is in tip-top shape.
There's a certain level of frustration that comes from his inability to help the kid. When he was so early into his training with Master Qui-Gon, it had felt like the man could read his mind at every turn. While Obi-Wan had eventually gotten better at suppressing his emotions, even at the end, Qui-Gon's intuition was remarkably on point.
So why can't Obi-Wan do the same for his padawan?
Perhaps, some dark voice within him says, the Force had chosen Qui-Gon to be Anakin's master, and it was Obi-Wan who should have died that day--
Obi-Wan shakes his head violently, as if the thought will somehow fall out. He doesn't have time for this. Something is wrong with his padawan, and it's up to him to figure it out. The Council, though a source of great wisdom in most matters, has made it clear they don't support his training of Anakin. He'll find no help there.
Anakin hasn't been sleeping properly since his nightmare. No amount of prodding from Obi-Wan will get Anakin to talk about this. As a result, Obi-Wan has also been awake worrying, and walls or not, the reverberating echoes of anxiety between them can't be helping.
So, after a particularly demanding workout of lightsaber forms, Obi-Wan decides to try a different tactic.
"We're leaving the Temple?" Anakin asks, and for the first time in weeks, Obi-Wan watches his eyes light up. "And not for a mission?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan smiles, glad to see a spark of his padawan back again.
"What's the catch?" Anakin crosses his arms.
"Maybe I'm just hungry," Obi-Wan shrugs, and Anakin stares at him for a moment before the two head out.
Obi-Wan could hail a speeder, but instead, he and Anakin walk, mainly so Anakin can take in all the sights. There's a certain fondness he feels in watching Anakin drink in his surroundings, wide-eyed and still impressed by so much.
For the first time, Obi-Wan wonders about the father he doesn't remember, and if this--this pride, this concern, this warmth--was how the man had felt about Obi-Wan in the inaccessible years of his pre-Jedi life.
#####
Anakin has never seen this side of Coruscant before.
He has, of course, explored every accessible inch of the Jedi temple, especially the hangar where the Jedi starfighters are kept. He and Obi-Wan have been to certain areas of the city, like the Senate building, sometimes on tasks and other times just exploring. But this is...a little new, a little unexpected.
This side of the city reminds him a little more of Tatooine. No sand, no heat, but there's a certain hardness to the people on the streets, and Anakin suddenly understands why they have their lightsabers concealed, hoods up and cloaks drawn.
He's a little nervous at why they'd be here, though, and glances up to Obi-Wan for direction--
"Just a little further," Obi-Wan murmurs, but it does little to soothe Anakin's fears. His master hesitates for only a moment before wrapping an arm around Anakin's shoulder, firm and secure, and breathing feels a little easier.
"Here," Obi-Wan grins, guiding Anakin into a place that Anakin realizes he's been smelling for at least half the block now.
"What is this place?" Anakin sniffs the air again. It's food, but it's unlike anything he's smelled before.
"Obi-Wan!"
The alien that greets his master is huge, not like a Wookie or anything but somehow just as imposing, multiple arms but a jovial smile.
"Dex," Obi-Wan grins. The booths at the diner are completely full, as are most of the seats at the bar. The ones left look like they're probably designed for beings much bigger than humans. Obi-Wan lifts Anakin up to help him grab a seat before hopping up on his with the easy grace that all the Jedi seem to have. Even Obi-Wan's feet don't touch the ground.
"What brings you all the way down here?" Dex asks, and Anakin isn't sure which hand to stare at--the one wiping off the counter, the one adjusting his clothing, the ones just hanging--
"The special, of course," Obi-Wan smiles. "My friend here is new to town and hasn't experienced it."
"Two specials, coming right up then. Drinks?"
Obi-Wan pauses and Anakin stares past him to the menu on the wall that he's pretty sure he could read if the lights on the sign were working.
"Milkshakes," Obi-Wan confirms and Dex ambles to the back.
"Milk?" Anakin wrinkles his nose. It's not that he's ungrateful, he swears he isn't, but of all the options--
"Don't you tell anyone at the Temple that I brought you here," Obi-Wan whispers under his breath. "The Council would have a fit if they knew about this."
"Why?" Anakin blinks. It's not like the Temple has issues with them eating. Anakin is, in fact, pretty sure he's had more to eat in the last year than he has in all his other years combined, not counting the fact that the food is usually fresh and healthy.
Obi-Wan doesn't answer, but as Anakin has a sugary-sweet chocolate milkshake and fried potatoes covered in cheese for the first time, he's pretty sure he gets why the cooks who painstakingly prepare such nutritious meals might have a problem with this.
"This is so good," Anakin says through a mouthful of food and then winces, waiting for the ever-familiar reminder not to talk with his mouth full--something that his mom always had to remind him too--
But it doesn't come. Instead, Obi-Wan just smiles, and the nightmare of the morning feels distant, pushed away by the simplicity of the moment.
The smile pulls at his memory, reminds him of...something. Anakin shoves another handful of cheese fries into his mouth, trying to figure it out.
It's only as Obi-Wan is absently wiping a spot of cheese off Anakin's face later with the edge of his sleeve that it hits him.
It's the same smile he'd see on his mom's face sometimes, when she thought Anakin wasn't looking.
The magnitude of it fills him like a twin sunrise.
#####
But all sunrises give way to sunsets and dark nights, and Obi-Wan feels the progress made during the day fade away as nighttime approaches.
This time, at least, Anakin doesn't try to hide it.
"I don't...want it to happen again," he says quietly from the floor. He's completely taken apart the mouse droid that dusts and cleans the floor and is replacing a part in it with something he thinks will work better. Obi-Wan doesn't understand it, but by now, he's come to just trust Anakin on these things.
"It may not," Obi-Wan points out from his spot on the couch, scrolling through the news app on his datapad. It's a large galaxy and he's fascinated by nearly all of it, so reading the news is usually an endeavor that takes awhile. How much he reads depends on the time and how he's feeling, although he always starts with local Coruscanti news and ends with global news from Mandalore. Old habits die hard.
"What if it does?"
Obi-Wan takes one last glance at the political news from Sundari before closing the app and turning his full attention to his padawan.
"Then reach out to me," Obi-Wan says and Anakin finally looks up to meet his eyes. "We'll work through it. Together."
"I don't want to wake you up, to bother--"
"Anakin." Obi-Wan stands, reaches down, pulls Anakin to his feet in front of him, places his hands firmly on the boy's shoulders. In this moment, his entire universe revolves around this boy, and he'll do whatever it takes to prove it. "You are my padawan. I am your teacher." There is so much more to it than this, but Obi-Wan doesn't have the words to describe the complexity. "You're not going to bother me. This--this is why we teach this way. So that there's always someone there for you, you know?"
Anakin's blue eyes are so wide, so earnest and hopeful and full sunshine and promise at these words and Obi-Wan forces down his own dark feelings--remnants of the complicated relationship with his master, of the connection he spent his whole life chasing but never reaching--
"I'm here, okay?" Obi-Wan brings himself back here, to this moment, to the padawan in front of him and not the wounded one within him, and thank the Force Anakin chooses this moment to launch himself at Obi-Wan, who catches him in the hug, using the moment as a reprieve to collect his own emotions, suppress the tears in his own eyes.
"Okay," Anakin says, his voice a little muffled.
For one minuscule moment, the world is complete, wounds are bandage, hope blooms within, and master and padawan, together, simply breathe.