Chapter Text
The Chancellor was alive, the Senate was in a celebratory mood. By all accounts, this was a happy day. A good day.
Anakin Skywalker didn't share the sentiment.
He didn't speak a word during the entirety of their trip back to the Temple. He could sense Ahsoka's discomfort, but he didn't trust himself to engage in any form of casual conversation right then. His chest was simmering to a boil and he didn't want to risk snapping with her around to overhear.
Obi-Wan, to his credit, hadn't been stupid enough to attempt conversation. As good a talker as he might have been, Anakin doubted there was anything to be said that would fix this.
Flicking the switch of their quarters, Anakin led them inside, throwing his cloak over the back of the nearest chair. He watched Obi-Wan as he did it, waiting for the usual beleaguered sigh and reminder to keep the living space clean. In truth, it was a bait. He'd been hanging it up religiously since the funeral. He'd made it a point every night, even when he stayed with Padmé. The living space was to remain pristine.
Obi-Wan's eyes tracked the motion, but he didn't even flinch to speak. Anakin's blood spiked in fury as his chance to snap disappeared right in front of him.
"Are you hungry?" Ahsoka asked Anakin softly. "I can heat up some stew from yesterday."
"I'm alright, Snips, thanks," Anakin tore his eyes from Obi-Wan to stare down at her. Her huge blue eyes wavered uncomfortably in the same way they had when he found her cradling the dead body of her Grandmaster.
Not so dead now.
Sixteen years old, suffering a grief that wasn't even real. If only the same could be said of the trauma it would surely instill in her. He'd already spent several nights consoling her when she woke up screaming, insisting that her hands were covered in Obi-Wan's blood.
And he'd done that. He'd put them through that. He'd made that choice. And Anakin was going to make sure the consequences of that decision hurt him as much as the loss had hurt them.
"Are you hungry Master Kenobi?" Ahsoka asked him, her voice audibly strained, and yet she wore a gentle smile. Whether it was real or fake, Anakin didn't know, but he didn't believe Obi-Wan deserved it either way.
Obi-Wan turned to her in a momentary daze, almost surprised that she had bothered to spare him a single word. He seemed lost for a time in the smile she offered him, his throat bobbing as he deliberated.
"No, no," Obi-Wan shook his head, his words passing like sandpaper. He cleared his throat swiftly, coughing into his hand. "I'm alright, Ahsoka. Thank you, I appreciate the offer."
And perhaps it was just the sound of his voice, but Anakin suddenly couldn't even stand to share the same air as him. How could he let Ahsoka even speak to Obi-Wan after what he did to her? To all of them? Was he just supposed to let her pretend like it was all alright now that Obi-Wan was back? Act like he hadn't held her while she sobbed?
No. He wouldn't force her to endure that, not when she suffered through enough for this war.
"Go to your room, Ahsoka," Anakin ordered, leaving no room for argument. "I'll bring you some stew in a bit."
Ahsoka's eyes darted between the two men standing between her. Obi-Wan seemed to understand what Anakin truly meant with his request as he straightened himself in preparation for the unleashing he awaited.
"Master I'm not hungry," Ahsoka told him weakly.
"Now," Anakin warned, doing his best to rid his tone of any harshness. She wasn't the target of his ire, he wouldn't turn her into collateral.
Ahsoka shrunk, her plea vanishing on her lips. She turned without another word and headed towards her room. Anakin listened in closely, waiting until her door swooshed shut before he even dared opening his mouth.
Finally alone with his former Master, Anakin allowed for a few painful moments of bated silence. He wanted to watch as Obi-Wan squirmed under the judgement of what he'd done.
"Are you happy with yourself?" He asked, surprisingly calm in his delivery.
"Anakin-"
"Are you happy with yourself?" Anakin repeated, far harsher now. "We had a funeral for you, did you know that?"
"I heard, yes," Obi-Wan nodded, his eyes heavy with a sadness that made him look far older than his years.
Anakin was in no mood to offer him even an ounce of pity.
"You were more popular than I expected," Anakin laughed bitterly. "Some Senators even attended. Senator Amidala. I think I saw Senator Organa. Your girlfriend was there too."
Anakin waited for the usual objection to the term, but Obi-Wan was at least smart enough to understand it wasn't the time to argue semantics. It wasn't a playful tease anymore, the term was a punishment.
"Yeah, I watched her cry as they lowered you into the ground," Anakin scoffed. "Or what we thought was you anyway. Tell me was that really your body, or did you use some kind of dummy?"
Obi-Wan didn't speak, understanding the rhetorical nature of the jab. For a man so smart, it angered Anakin all the more that Obi-Wan agreed to go through with such a plan in the first place.
"So that was a great experience," Anakin tightened his jaw. "Really one for the books there. You know what else really topped my week? Watching Ahsoka stutter her way through a Council meeting because she couldn't concentrate on anything other than your empty fucking chair."
Obi-Wan looked down to the floor at that, avoiding Anakin's harsh gaze. He wasn't about to let him away with it that easily.
"You wanna look at the ground now?" Anakin bit out. "You wanna be a coward, fine. Feel free to inspect it while you're at it. I had a toothbrush to it the last few nights when I was making sure everything was perfectly clean for you. Figured I might as well do something while I waited for Ahsoka to wake up with another nightmare. It's not like I was gonna get much sleep anyways."
Obi-Wan's shoulder's deflated at that, and Anakin's body seemed magnetised towards him. Every bone in his body urged to go to his old Master and hold him and cry with him. Not so long ago, he didn't believe he'd ever get the chance again. Now he was right in front of him, broken and pathetic, but alive and breathing.
Somehow that wasn't enough to make up for it.
"I'm sorry, Anakin," Obi-Wan lifted his eyes from the ground and found Anakin's own. "I don't know what else to say-"
"Don't say anything," Anakin held up a hand to silence him. "Don't even say sorry. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear anything from you."
"Anakin please," Obi-Wan frowned. "You have to understand that the Chancellor's life was in danger."
"The Chancellor's life was in danger so you get to lie to me and Ahsoka now?" Anakin snapped at him. "Explain that one for me, Obi-Wan."
"It had to be believable," Obi-Wan insisted, and even he flinched at the implications of his words.
Anakin took a step back, momentarily stunned by the admittance. He would've preferred a lie at that point.
"In that case, I'm glad you liked the show," Anakin laughed bitterly. "I hope our pain made for a great alibi."
In the dim and terrible lighting of the Temple quarters, Anakin couldn't quite make out if those were tears in Obi-Wan's eyes. He hoped they were. He wanted to watch him sob. He wanted to console him. He wanted to punch him. And he wanted to hug him. And he wanted to be hugged by him. He wanted him to hurt, and he wanted to be the one to alleviate that hurt.
He needed sleep.
"Goodnight Obi-Wan," Anakin offered him no trace of warmth in his voice. He didn't even look back at him once when he left the room.
He didn't know if he truly did wish Obi-Wan a good night of rest. He didn't honestly think so. He wanted him to suffer a sleepless night. And he also wanted to be nine years old again, climbing into Obi-Wan's bed because he wasn't used to sleeping alone without his mother around to sing him a song.
Obi-Wan hadn't sung for him in years.