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They won’t let him have his lightsaber.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, given — well, given everything. They won’t let him near anything else he could use to harm himself, either — even his medication is limited, but he feels bereft without the lightsaber.
He doesn’t complain. It’s not as if he has cause to use it these days, ever under the watchful eyes of his loved ones.
And he can’t complain about that, either. It is because they love him, or so they say. That’s difficult to wrap his head around these days, though he knows that it had once been easy to believe —
A firm but gentle tap to his cheek draws him from the start of his spiral, and Obi-Wan blinks wearily up at Bail.
“There you are,” Bail says lightly, and though Obi-Wan notices the faint strain to the words, the care that Bail takes to maintain that lightness, he doesn’t comment. “We’ll be landing in a couple hours. Anakin, ah, Anakin wanted me to ask if you wanted to take a nap before we arrive.”
Yes, because he’s becoming more and more dependent on Anakin’s presence to be able to sleep well, and his former padawan knows it. The question is more of an offer to let Obi-Wan come lie down with him for those few hours.
As much as he hates himself for requiring such measures, Obi-Wan is immeasurably grateful for this kindness. He never sleeps better than he does in these instances, whatever that says about him.
And he is tired, in that way he so often is these days, fatigue dragging at his bones.
“Yes.” He sighs, accepting the hand Bail offers to draw him up. “I will. Thank you.”
When he enters the little sleeping area the two of them have been sharing, Anakin glances up. “Hey Master,” he says, and holds out an arm. Obi-Wan goes to him at once and settles down close to his side, breathing a low sigh. It feels good. It feels safe.
When had this become so normal? When had Anakin become the caretaker?
He knows when.
He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.
“You want to take a little nap?” His former padawan’s voice rumbles beneath his ear, flesh hand beginning to rub circles on his back. “Bail says it’ll only be a few more hours. Enough time for you to get some rest. I know you didn’t sleep well last night.”
Obi-Wan rarely sleeps well at night these days, but he hasn’t fallen so low as to start crawling in bed with Anakin at night to resolve the issue. Not that his habit of falling asleep on him during the day is all that much better.
But he doesn’t have the energy for self-recrimination. His eyelids have already grown rather heavy, the hand at his back a soothing weight. He nods against Anakin’s shoulder. “You don’t have to stay if you’d rather do something else,” he says, because he always does, but he’s already turning in a little closer, making himself comfortable.
He always tells Anakin he can leave, but Anakin never takes him up on it.
“I’ll stay,” comes Anakin’s response, and there is no surprise there. Obi-Wan allows his eyelids to fall shut. Anakin emanates warmth safety comfort , projecting it into the force, wrapping him in it.
Between one breath and the next, Obi-Wan is asleep.
—
When Anakin had asked him to bring the two of them back to Alderaan with him, Bail had been pleasantly surprised.
Surprised, for some reason, that the Council had approved Anakin’s request to take Obi-Wan from the temple, but hopeful. Alderaan is a beautiful planet, though he may be a bit biased in that regard, and he truly hopes that the change of scenery, the fresh air here, will do something toward helping his friend gain his strength back. Perhaps a break from Coruscant is something Obi-Wan needs.
When he checks in on them, about half an hour after Obi-Wan had gone to lie down, he finds the Jedi master snoring into Anakin’s shoulder. The younger man sits with head tipped back against the wall and eyes closed, but he rouses at once when Bail enters.
“Hey,” he mutters, rubbing at his face wearily, though he can’t have been out more than a few minutes. Bail can’t help the pang of pity. Anakin is so young yet, and he has so much on his shoulders.
“I brought you this,” he says in lieu of voicing his thoughts, and holds out a bottle of wine. “I thought you could use a drink. It’s been a long few weeks for you.”
Anakin hesitates a moment, glancing down to his sleeping Master. Bail thinks he’ll refuse, but then he abruptly accepts the bottle, heaves a long sigh, and takes a deep pull from it.
“Do you think Alderaan will help him?” he asks, and his voice is smaller than Bail has ever heard it. He sounds his age, Bail reflects with a little pang. The hero with no fear is nowhere to be found.
Cautiously, feeling as though he is treading on egg shells, he takes a seat beside them. “I think,” he says slowly, “that remaining on Coruscant wasn’t helping him, and that it’s time to try something new. I hope Alderaan will help him, but I can’t promise that. What I can promise is that Breha and I will do anything we can for both of you.”
Anakin takes another long drink, and then another. Bail hasn’t got the heart to tell him to slow down. Obi-Wan isn’t the only one hurting, and sometimes — sometimes one just needs a drink.
“I’m trying so hard all the time,” he whispers. “I’m afraid that it won’t be enough. I can’t lose him.”
“We won’t let it come to that.”
It’s a promise he knows he should not make, may not be able to keep — but what else is he to say in the face of such distress?
Anakin drinks more. The wine has already brought a flush to his face.
“I’m afraid I’ll fall,” he says, softer still, and hiccups. “And that there won’t be anyone to stop me this time.”
Bail is in far, far over his head. The silence stretches on before he finds words, broken only by Obi-Wan’s quiet snores and the occasional clink of the bottle.
“I’m not a Force user, Anakin,” Bail says at last. “I don’t know much about the light side or the dark side, but I … I can tell you want to be in the light. You want to be here for Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka, and everyone you care about. Right?”
Anakin nods. Bail thinks he catches the glint of tears in his eyes, and sets a tentative hand on the younger man’s knee.
“Then I think for now, that’s what matters. It’s enough that you’re trying.” The words feel inadequate, but he doesn’t dare suggest that Anakin take his concerns to the Council. He had heard enough before about Anakin’s turbulent relationship with them, and now doesn’t seem the time to press him about it. That is a task better suited for Padmé, or Obi-Wan, should he ever find himself feeling up to it again.
“You’re afraid you’re going to lose Obi-Wan.” Bail’s voice is gentle. He watches Anakin drink more, noting how much of the bottle is already gone. “There are any number of people around you who would do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen — but even if you did, you won’t be alone. Those same people will still be here.”
He pauses. Anakin doesn’t look at him, doesn’t speak, but Bail thinks that his posture has relaxed slightly. Deciding to give Anakin a moment to pull himself together, he reaches out and takes the bottle of wine, more than half empty, from unresisting fingers. Bail is fairly sure he’s gotten Anakin drunk, but maybe that isn’t a bad thing just now.
He stands and goes to busy himself for a few minutes, buying Anakin time, but when he returns, the younger Jedi is asleep too, arm slung across his master’s back, mouth hanging open.
Bail sighs and crosses to a cupboard against the wall, retrieving a neatly folded blanket. As he spreads it carefully across the two of them, Anakin half - stirs.
“Go back to sleep,” he whispers, stilling, and to his surprise, Anakin does just that, breathing out a soft snore as he settles beneath the blanket. Bail smiles a little, squeezes his knee, and departs.
He hopes that Alderaan will be a good place for both of them to heal.