Work Text:
Anakin is sixteen years old. He’s been confined to the temple again while his Master gets to go on a diplomatic mission (which probably won’t be diplomatic for long—it never is). Thanks to Master Windu (who really didn’t need his speeder at that time anyway), he was stuck doing meditations with Yoda in the mornings, helping younglings with their katas during the day, and listening to Mace Windu lecture at him in the evenings. In short, it was pure torture.
Anakin had suffered through four monotonous days of it. Without Obi-Wan there, everything was boring. There was no one to complain at, no one to spar with (unless he wanted to ask one of the other masters which wasn’t going to happen), and none of that witty humor that Anakin had grown to appreciate. On top of that, all the other padawans he might have been able to pass time with were out with their own masters on their own mission where he should also be.
On the fifth day, Anakin woke with a distinctly Bad Feeling. He went to the temple cafeteria but only ended up pushing food around on his plate, appetite non-existent, his stomach twisted in knots. There was something wrong, he could feel it. He mulled over the feeling, wondering what exactly could be wrong. He absently reached for the bond he and Obi-Wan shared through the force, a habit that brought him comfort. The bond was dulled from the distance between them but still there, a faint warmth in the back of his mind. He could sense nothing wrong—at least, Obi-Wan was alive and probably uninjured. It was difficult to be sure of even the uninjured part due to the distance but Anakin was positive that he would know if his Master had been gravely harmed.
And yet, he was suddenly sure that the feeling of wrongness was in relation to Obi-Wan. Something was going to happen, something bad. He could feel it in his gut, in the Force.
He told Yoda of the feeling of wrongness during his meditation session, sitting across from him on a meditation mat, spilling his thoughts at a simple look from Yoda before the Master even had to ask if something was on his mind.
“Hmm,” Yoda said, after listening to Anakins words. “Dwell on these feelings, you must not.”
“But what use are my feelings if I don’t listen to them?” Anakin asked.
“Mysterious, the force is,” Yoda said. “Something that may not happen, it could be. Something that may happen, it could also be. Set in stone, the future is not. Forever changing, it is, hm.”
“But, couldn’t you tell Master Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked before he could stop himself. He suddenly felt very young, telling his mother that there was monster hiding in the closet and nothing that she said could make him believe otherwise. What did he expect Yoda to do, tell Obi-Wan that his padawan had a Bad Feeling?
Yoda stayed silent for a moment and Anakin wondered if the Master heard his thoughts. His face burned.
“Let events occur as they must, it is often best to do.” Yoda finally said. “By trying to change things, make things worse, you could.”
Anakin wanted to argue that he wasn’t trying to change anything, that he was just trying to warn. But, he stayed silent and followed Yoda into meditation, trying to calm his thoughts and still his mind. It didn’t work, but it was worth a try.
On the ninth day he was sure something was wrong. He should’ve felt somewhat happy, because Windu had stopped lecturing him three days ago, and Yoda said he could continue his morning meditation alone two days ago. But Obi-Wan was still gone. It was supposed to be a simple diplomatic mission—go represent the Jedi and the Republic, make friends—and it wasn’t supposed to last more than six days, seven at the most, yet here he was nine days later. The council hadn’t heard from Obi-Wan either. He’d heard Yoda and Windu talking in one of the halls. Windu had given Anakin a Look when he’d been noticed eavesdropping and Anakin had pretended he hadn’t heard a thing, raising his eyebrows at Windu, leaving the hall with a great weight in his lungs.
On the thirteenth day there is still nothing. Anakin is sick. He hasn’t eaten in at least two days, and hasn’t helped the younglings for three. He feels for the bond and the warmth is so faint he isn’t sure he can actually feel anything at all. He doesn’t know what it means. All he knows is that the bond has never felt so tenuous. He’s nearly out of his mind with worry.
On the fifteenth day, Master Windu finds him holed up in the apartment he and Obi-Wan shares.
“Get up,” Windu says to Anakins pitiful form curled up in Obi-Wan’s bed.
Anakin doesn’t argue. He gets up and follows Master Windu in a daze, out of the apartment, winding through the temple until they’re in the training rooms. Is Windu really going to force Anakin to help the younglings? Anakin is about to say something, to argue, when his hand reaches out and catches something from midair. He blinks and looks down at his hand, now holding a training saber.
He looks up to see Master Windu across from him, also holding a training saber. Windu arches an eyebrow, minutely nods his head in place of a bow, and ignites the saber. Anakin blinks once before igniting his own saber, instinctively falling into Djem So while Windu takes his signature stance of Vaapad. They circle eachother for a moment. Anakin is cautious, not quite sure what Master Windu is intending, not quite sure if he cares with his black emotions swirling in his chest. Windu watches him back, eyes dark and impassive.
It’s Windu that makes the first move, saber clashing into Anakin’s quick block before sweeping away from him in a sweeping back-step. Anakin follows, saber at the ready, on the offensive, feeling like something in his chest shattered with that one strike.
Anakin lays blow after blow against Windu, who effortlessly blocks every hit with a satisfying clash of sabers. All the worry, the panic that has been swirling in Anakin’s gut is brought to the fore. Anger and frustration powers his saber, and he grunts with the force of his hits. Somewhere along the line, Anakin forgot about Djem So and simply savagely attacks with no technique to speak of.
Anakin has no idea how long the session lasts. It could have been minutes or days. In the end, he’s heaving breaths and his clothes are damp from sweat. His body is wrung out and he’s shaking. The training saber powers down and drops from his hand. He watches it roll across the floor. His breath catches and he falls to his knees, numb. He instinctively reaches for the bond that has always brought him comfort in the past but now isn’t sure even exists anymore. He feels tears slip down his face and watches them drip to the floor.
Anakin doesn’t look up when Master Windu crosses the room and stands in from of him. A strong hand grips his right shoulder and Anakin does look up then. Windu is crouched in front of him, face blank. His eyes are not as hard as they usually are when they look at Anakin.
“We have not heard from Obi-Wan,” Windu says. “Eventually…”
Anakin knows what he doesn’t say. Eventually he will be presumed dead.
Windu suddenly looks very tired. He studies Anakin’s face for a long moment before rising.
“There is the Force.” Windu says, quoting the Jedi code. Anakin looks back down at the floor. He doesn’t want to think about the code. He doesn’t want to think about the Force.
“You haven’t been eating,” Windu continues. “Eat dinner in the cafeteria. You will be back to helping the younglings tomorrow.”
Windu leaves Anakin in the training rooms. Anakin manages to make it to the cafeteria before it shuts down for the night.
On the night of the nineteenth day Anakin jerks awake. Obi-Wan’s room is dark around him, familiar now, having spent the past six nights sleeping there. He stares at the ceiling, wondering why he woke so suddenly. Out of a habit so ingrained he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, he reaches for the bond and nearly flinches, preparing for the emptiness he has felt for the past week but—
The bond is alive. Bright and warm, like a star, there.
He sits, mind spinning, not able to think.
The door to Obi-Wan’s room slides open.
“Anakin?” Comes his voice. Rough, tired, confused. Anakin looks up. Through the darkness he can only see a dark silhouette barely distinguishable from the surrounding darkness. Anakin doesn’t move, doesn’t breath, thinks he may simply be dreaming.
Obi-Wan steps into the room, further, further, suddenly he is right next to the bed, right next to Anakin.
“Obi-Wan?” He finally asks, voice sleep roughened. He reaches out, and his hand buries into the torn Jedi robes. Solid and real. “Master?” His eyes are warm suddenly, moisture gathering, falling. His eyes rake across his Master’s concerned face and he grips the robes and pulls until Obi-Wan is kneeling on the bed and Anakin’s face is buried in his shoulder, breathing in the smell of him, the smell that had left the sheets days ago. Obi-Wan’s beard drags against his right cheek, undeniable. His mind reaches out to the bond and is met by the familiar presence of Obi-Wan, who reaches back towards him through the bond, comforting.
In the end, they are tangled together in the bed. Obi-Wan is still in his robes but doesn’t seem to care. Anakin still has his face buried in Obi-Wan’s shoulder, tears dried up now, left hand gripping the front of his Master’s robes, right settled against his neck, just breathing, just feeling the warmth of the bond, strong now. Anakin falls asleep to the feel of Obi-Wan’s fingers in his hair, clutching the bond close. He thinks he hears Obi-Wan sigh his name before he nods off.