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“Anakin, you need to get some rest.” Obi-Wan’s voice startled Anakin from where he’s been poring over star charts and databases.
“Can’t sleep,” he said shortly, “Won’t until I find her.”
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighed. It was a familiar sound that made Anakin want to curl up small and hide away from the world. Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder and Anakin stiffened. “You haven’t slept in two days. You can’t keep going like this forever,” his old master’s voice was low, concerned.
“I don’t deserve to rest,” Anakin snapped, turning to glare darkly, “It’s my fault Ahsoka’s gone and I won’t abandon her.”
“And I’m not asking you to,” Obi-Wan said, still infuriatingly calm.
“Do you even care?” Anakin spat out. “Or is caring beneath a Jedi as perfect as yourself?”
Obi-Wan recoiled slightly, looking hurt, hand slipping off of Anakin’s shoulder. “Of course I care, Anakin. She’s my Grandpadawan as much as she’s your Padawan and I care for her very much.” Anakin had no response for this, so turned back to studying maps instead. “But,” Obi-Wan continued, “I also care for you. And, right now, there’s nothing I can do to help Ahsoka, but I can help you.”
Anakin bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the tears threatening to overcome him. He must have looked bad, indeed, if his master was admitting to any amount of care for him. “You’re going soft, old man,” he said hoarsely, flipping through star systems without really seeing them.
“You always do seem to have that effect on me,” Obi-Wan sighed, acting very put upon. Anakin’s head shot up to stare incredulously at his old master. He must be hallucinating now, he thought vaguely. “No need to look so shocked,” Obi-Wan said, cracking a smile for the first time.
“You’re right,” Anakin said flatly, “I must need sleep; I think I’m hallucinating.” Obi-Wan’s small smile fell away entirely at this response and, this time, when he put a hand on the small of Anakin’s back, Anakin didn’t resist. “Come, padawan mine, you can continue your search after you rest for a few hours.”
Anakin allowed himself to be steered through the temple, trying to ignore the sympathetic glances from the few Jedi they passed. News of a missing padawan traveled fast through the temple and Anakin could only imagine what the other Jedi thought of him. He certainly knew what he would think of someone who could manage to lose their padawan. His main goal for the past year had been to keep Ahsoka safe and as relatively happy as she can be, during a war. In one fell swoop he’d utterly failed in both respects.
“I’m sorry,” Anakin croaked aloud. He felt like he’s swallowed gravel. He stumbled when they stopped in front of a door; Obi-Wan’s door, he recognized vaguely, not the apartments he shared with Ahsoka. Ahsoka.
“Whatever for?” Obi-Wan asked calmly, punching his password into the keypad.
Anakin grits his teeth furiously. “Stop pretending,” he snarled, spinning around to face Obi-Wan. He heard the door slide open behind him. “Stop pretending like you’re not disappointed in me.”
“Why should I be disappointed in you, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, still so, infuriatingly calm. He took a step forward and Anakin stumbled backwards into the room.
“Don’t play games with me,” Anakin demanded, his eyes darting wildly from Obi-Wan’s face to the door closing behind him, as he followed Anakin into the room. He suddenly, ridiculously, felt trapped. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Anakin, I do not blame you for Ahsoka’s disappearance.” Obi-Wan reached out to place a hand on Anakin’s arm, but Anakin yanked it out of reach with something close to a growl.
“Why?” Anakin demanded desperately, “Why don’t you blame me?”
“Do you want me to be angry with you, padawan?” Obi-Wan asked exasperatedly, though there was a touch of concern in his eyes.
“I’m not a padawan,” Anakin fumed, taking a few more steps back- away from Obi-Wan’s too-calm expression. Obi-Wan didn’t say a word, just raised his eyebrows in a way that Anakin knew meant he was waiting for an answer. No, of course he didn’t want Obi-Wan to be mad at him, but he should be. Somehow, the obvious answer stuck to the roof of his mouth, as he tried to speak. He clenched his mechno hand in silent fury and worked his jaw, as he tried to force the words out. “You should be,” was all he could get out, petulant and quiet.
“Why?” Obi-Wan pressed, throwing Anakin’s own question back in his face. Anakin flinched, stumbling backwards until his back was pressed against a wall.
“Because I failed,” the answer came unbidden, voice a near-whisper. “I failed Ahsoka and I failed in my duties as a master. I’m supposed to be better than that,” his voice cracked and he bowed his head, trying desperately to fight back the tears clinging to his lashes.
“You are angry at yourself,” Obi-Wan said, with the air of one putting two and two together, “And so you wish for me to reflect that anger to make yourself feel justified in it.” Anakin didn’t need to confirm the theory. “I am not angry, Anakin. Nor will I allow myself to be pushed into being so.”
Anakin stared miserably at his master’s boots. “She could be dying,” he said agitatedly, breath picking up with every pause, “or sold into slavery, or being tortured, or all three, or-“
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan cut in, gently commanding, “Breathe.” Anakin felt Obi-Wan reach out through their never-severed training bond and he, despite himself, latched on tightly. Obi-Wan breathed in deeply and their bond reacted in kind, expanding and enveloping them both. When he breathed out, their bond copied once more. After a few rounds of this, Anakin finally began to mimic his old master.
After a long few minutes of breathing, in and out, in and out, Anakin collapsed to the floor in a heap, like a battle droid with its power shut off. Obi-Wan sunk down beside him, knees cracking in protest. On a better day, Anakin would have teased him for it. “What if I never find her?” Anakin whispered wretchedly, finally looking up at Obi-Wan again.
Obi-Wan reached out to take Anakin’s hand in his and, this time, Anakin let him. “We will find her again,” Obi-Wan whispered back, “I promise you.” At Anakin’s despairing look, he continued softly, “Reach into the Force. Do your last moments with her feel like a parting? Do they feel final?”
Anakin closed his eyes, breathing out in concentration, and reached into the Force. He reached back to three days prior, to that last flippant comment he had made to his padawan. “Don’t get cocky,” he had told her teasingly. What a sorry excuse for last words to hang on to, wherever she was now. He probed the memory for any sign, any proof that the Force had separated them for the final time. And there was nothing. No finality, no ominousness, nothing but their usual exasperated fondness for each other.
“No,” he gasped out, eyes flying open, “No, it didn’t feel final.”
Obi-Wan smiled encouragingly, squeezing his hand, “Then take comfort in that, dear one.” Anakin let his head fall back against the wall in exhaustion. “Now, will you try to rest, my old padawan?”
Anakin sighed deeply, feeling all the remaining fight go out of him. “I’ll try,” he agreed, allowing Obi-Wan to help him to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “I’m sorry for being so difficult.”
“Never did I think I would live to see the day that Anakin Skywalker apologizes for being difficult,” Obi-Wan teased.
“Hey,” Anakin pouted, “I’m being genuine, here.”
“And so am I,” Obi-Wan replied dryly.
What with the war and everything that came with it, Obi-Wan hadn’t had time to move apartments since Anakin had been Knighted. It’s almost instinctual for Anakin to find his way to his old bedroom and sit down on his childhood bed, neatly made by somebody in his absence. Obi-Wan lingered behind him, leaning against the doorway. Anakin tugged his boots off and let them fall haphazardly beside his bed.
It was strange to lay down in that bed again, though oddly comforting. It was odd to think that it had been barely over a year since he had been Knighted. It already seemed so, impossibly far away. The war was cracking something in Anakin and the peaceful days of his childhood seemed light years away from his current, harsh reality. At not-quite twenty-one, he felt both much older than he should be and like he’d never truly been able to grow away from that frightened nine year old that had just been taken from the only world he’d ever known.
Tears threatened to prick his eyes again and he closed them in protest. He was nearly asleep, when he felt a hand gently brush his hair out of his face. “Sleep easily, my dearest padawan,” Obi-Wan’s voice filtered fuzzily into Anakin’s ears, a sleep suggestion wrapped up in the words and pushed so sweetly onto Anakin’s heart.
“Love you, master,” he murmured blearily, too far gone to care about propriety.
There’s a stillness in the Force around them, before Obi-Wan responds. “I love you too, dear one. Never doubt that.” And, right then, as Anakin finally allowed himself to fall asleep, he didn’t doubt it for a moment.