Fic: White Rabbits (Star Wars, 28/?)

[butterfly]

Title: White Rabbits
Chapter: 28/?
Author: Diana Michelle (butterfly)
Warnings: Spoilers for Revenge of the Sith.
Pairings: Anakin/Obi-Wan; Leia/Han.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Anakin wants more than he has.
Disclaimer: Not Lucas, don't own a thing, not making any money.
Chapter Index

Chapter Twenty-Eight -- Alchemy

Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin noticed Obi-Wan thanking their guide, but most of Anakin’s attention was focused on the room itself.

 

It was a long room with one window running across the length of the far wall, revealing a glimpse of the city just outside. The walls were white and the furniture unremarkable – an uncomfortable-looking pale grey couch took up the near right side of the room, a bleached mahkowood table sitting in front of it. Two small beds lay beyond the couch, placed crosswise against the wall, a small metallic nightstand separating them. The blankets were light beige and the beds themselves looked firm, with no give. The other wall was adorned only with a plain set of drawers inset into the wall. All in all, very utilitarian. Not what Anakin himself would have given out to guests, but it matched the rest of the building.

 

They certainly didn’t seem to prize comfort or color in this new Republic. And Anakin was beginning to wonder if he’d ever see anything that made this future seem at all desirable. Everything so far just made him think that everyone would be better off if he and Obi-Wan could manage to fix things.

 

They just needed to figure out how to do that.

 

Anakin moved into the room, walking over to the windows and glancing outside. The lights of the city were bright, the traffic heavy and distracting. Anakin reached out and twisted the shade on the window down, blocking out the light.

 

He heard the soft click of the room door shutting, and the room flooded with light as Obi-Wan activated the overhead. Anakin closed his eyes against the brightness, reaching out with his senses.

 

There were two security recorders covering the room. With a light touch of the Force, Anakin switched them off, while tying a knot into the alarm system to keep it from triggering. They’d notice his interference, probably sooner rather than later, but if the Republic wanted to watch, they could have the decency to ask first.

 

As an afterthought, Anakin tied a mental alarm of his own into the door of the room, locking it and keying it to react if anyone tried to open the door.

 

Then Anakin turned around, opening his eyes as he smiled at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was already watching Anakin, a considering look on his face. Anakin felt a tiny pang of guilt when he noticed just how tired Obi-Wan looked, but he pushed it away. Obi-Wan could rest all he wanted after they’d had a chance to talk.

 

“I just want to clarify something,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan tilted his chin up, the line between his eyes deepening, radiating concern and calm, though Anakin could almost feel the edges of another emotion underneath those. “About what happened back on that ship.”

 

“Oh, do you mean the ill-advised attempt to distract me from thinking about your relationship with Padmé?” Obi-Wan asked. Anakin’s left hand tightened into a fist involuntarily, but he refused to let Obi-Wan’s words get under his skin.

 

“That wasn’t what it was,” Anakin said. He pulled off his cloak and tossed it on the nearest bed. The warm glow of his victory over Luke was fading, rapidly being replaced by an uncontrollable frustration at Obi-Wan, who seemed to be missing the point on purpose. “What I have with Padmé has nothing to do with the Order, and nothing to do with you.”

 

“Then why are we talking about it at all?” Obi-Wan asked, wrapping his arms around his chest, left over right. Anakin pressed his lips together for a moment, turning and dropping down onto the bed, and then carefully and slowly started unbuckling the straps around the top of his left boot.

 

“Because we have to,” Anakin said, not letting himself look at Obi-Wan. “Or maybe… maybe because I want to.”

 

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice holding the slightest edge of strain. “We never needed to talk about it before.”

 

“Maybe we did,” Anakin said, undoing the last buckle and then slipping both the boot and sock underneath off, tossing them in the corner by the bed and starting on the right one. “Maybe we’ve always needed to, but neither of us wanted to because…what I have with Padmé, it changes things.”

 

“It doesn’t need to,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan, still standing near the door, watching Anakin with that exhausted look in his eyes. “Anakin, I don’t-that is, I’m not planning on telling the Council.”

 

Anakin dropped his eyes back to his boot, carefully unfastening the buckles. The floor was cold and hard, unyielding under his left foot. Obi-Wan sighed softly, coming farther into the room.

 

“So, you see, it doesn’t have to change anything,” Obi-Wan said, sitting on edge of the other bed. “We can accept it and continue on, just the same as before.”

 

Anakin tugged off his right boot and sock, and tossed them over to join the others. He pushed further back on the bed, pulling his legs up. The narrow bed was softer than it had looked, the blanket plush under his bare feet. He picked his cloak up off of the bed and tossed it into the corner near his boots.

 

“I think that would be for the best,” Obi-Wan said. Anakin noticed that Obi-Wan’s calm was slipping, just a little, and there was a hint of frustration pulsing into the Force. “Don’t you agree?”

 

“No,” Anakin said, unclipping his lightsaber from his belt and leaning back to place it onto the nightstand. He stayed there, leaning back onto the bed, propping himself up by his elbows. From this vantage point, he could see the back of Obi-Wan’s head, the curve of his ear, and the very edge of his face. “I don’t.”

 

“Why not?” Obi-Wan said, his shoulders slouching forward the slightest bit.

 

“Because I don’t want things to stay the same,” Anakin said. Obi-Wan’s back tensed slightly and Anakin felt the sudden, intense urge to run his hand over Obi-Wan’s skin, to massage the tension out until Obi-Wan relaxed under his touch. “I want more.”

 

“What exactly do you mean?” Obi-Wan asked, but Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s uncertainty. There was no real confusion there, merely indecision.

 

“I want you to look at me,” Anakin said, reaching down and releasing the catch on his belt, slipping off the belt and the sash underneath, his tabard and tunics sliding out of place “No, I want you to see me.”

 

“I’m not sure I understand the distinction,” Obi-Wan said, carefully. Anakin dropped the belt and sash off the side of the bed, watching as Obi-Wan winced at the soft sound they made as they hit the floor.

 

“Don’t you?” Anakin asked, pushing his fear down to a cold, dark part of his mind. Finally, Obi-Wan glanced over at him, a sidelong look that spoke of banked heat. Obi-Wan was still trying to be calm, Anakin could feel that, but underneath, desire was starting to burn.

 

Obi-Wan had already shown that he would allow Anakin’s touch, allow Anakin to steal a kiss. If he just managed to convince Obi-Wan that this was nothing like a distraction, nothing like a poison, but instead the next natural step in their relationship, then Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to back away again.

 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his gaze seemingly trapped by the bared skin that was showing between the pieces of Anakin’s tunic. Anakin shifted back, leaning the back of his head against the wall, resting his shoulders on the pillow, letting the fabric fall further apart, reveling in the surge of longing that flooded into Obi-Wan. As he’d learnt in his relationship with Padmé, that feeling was a fire that only one thing could truly quench.

 

Anakin licked his lips, then let out a breathy little sigh, carefully peeking out from under his eyelashes to see Obi-Wan’s reaction. Obi-Wan’s lips were pressed together, a thin line that spoke of impatience, but he hadn't turned away.

 

“Anakin, didn’t you want to talk?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice lower and rougher than usual. He seemed to realize it, and cleared his throat, as though Anakin would believe that that had been the problem. “You aren’t talking.”

 

“Ah, I was just… getting comfortable,” Anakin said, lingering over each word. He slid his left hand onto his stomach, shivering even at his own touch, pushing the fabric out of the way, completely baring his chest and stomach. “Where were we?”

 

“You-you were ignoring me, like you normally do,” Obi-Wan said, voice tight with frustration. Anakin grinned lazily, lightly skimming his hand across his own skin.

 

“Oh, no, Master, I’ve been listening to every word,” Anakin said, slipping just the tip of a finger under the top of his pants. Anakin’s hips bucked slightly, and Obi-Wan’s gaze flickered between Anakin’s face and his hand. Anakin’s breath caught in his throat for a moment at the look in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

 

Anakin bit down on his lower lip so he could keep quiet, and let the moment play out. Something in the room was shifting, and Anakin relaxed slightly, his hand falling back down to the bed as he allowed himself to touch the Force as fully as possible – it was easier here, somehow. He’d been noticing that for a while, but it never felt as clear as it did right now. Something was about to happen.

 

“This is not who we are,” Obi-Wan said softly, pleadingly. Obi-Wan shifted further onto his bed, turning to more fully face Anakin, his expression troubled and sincere.

 

“It’s who I am,” Anakin said, and he felt the truth of his own words. “I’m not the Jedi I should be, we both know that.”

 

“No, Anakin. That’s not true,” Obi-Wan said, his brow furrowed earnestly. “You’re an exceptional Jedi. I am honored to know you.”

 

“No, I’m not. I’m not a Jedi at all,” Anakin said, meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes. “I did try, Obi-Wan. I tried so hard.”

 

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Obi-Wan said, slipping down to kneel in the small space between the beds, reaching out to take Anakin’s hand into his own. “You have to be willing to just exist, Anakin, to allow yourself to be caught up in the Force.”

 

“I can’t.” Anakin shook his head softly, his fingers curving around Obi-Wan’s hand.

 

“Why not?” Obi-Wan asked.

 

“Because it burns,” Anakin whispered, doing his best to control the sharp flickers already racing through him. “And if I let it loose, it will consume me.”

 

“Let it,” Obi-Wan said, his hand tightening on Anakin’s. “Anakin, you can’t go on like this. You are a Jedi, a very great one. This power was born inside you. However strong it is, you were made to hold it.”

 

Anakin let his eyelids slide closed, shivering as he let the leash on his control slip just a little. He felt warm, far too warm, and Obi-Wan’s hand on his was the only cool thing in the universe. Still, he kept his eyes closed, the Force rushing up against him. This was what Obi-Wan required of him, and... it was what the Force was asking, as well.

And now he could see his mother’s eyes, dark and empty, the scar on her cheek a silent scream of betrayal. He hadn’t been able to save her.

 

Anakin let out a shuddering breath, not letting himself pull back on the leash, allowing the image to remain. All he could see was his mother’s dead gaze, all he could smell was the filth of the Tusken camp, all he could hear were the death cries of the raiders as he slaughtered them, and his mouth tasted of tears and blood.

 

But he could feel Obi-Wan’s hand on his, anchoring him.

 

Slowly, the aching pain of his mother’s death seemed to be overshadowed by something different, something that he couldn’t place.

 

Her words to him rang out in his mind.

 

Now, I am complete.

 

“I don’t understand,” Anakin said, his eyes opening again, meeting Obi-Wan’s calm gaze.

 

“What don’t you understand?” Obi-Wan asked. With a sickening wrench, Anakin remembered that Obi-Wan didn’t know about the Tuskens. Didn’t know that Anakin was a monster already. “Anakin, talk to me.”

 

“I can’t,” Anakin said, sitting up and crossing his legs underneath himself, letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan moved up to sit on the bed, placing his hand on Anakin’s knee. “Don’t make me.”

 

“Anakin, I’m not forcing you into anything,” Obi-Wan said. “I only want to help.”

 

“Because I’m important to the Order?” Anakin asked challengingly. Obi-Wan glanced away, his expression conflicted.

 

“Because you’re important to me,” Obi-Wan said, softly. “You’re my friend.”

 

“Is that what I am?” Anakin asked, reaching his hand out to cover Obi-Wan’s where it lay on Anakin’s leg. “Is that the right word for what we are?”

 

Obi-Wan glanced back at him, thoughtfully and… there, Anakin finally felt the shift that he’d been waiting for. Obi-Wan had made a decision, something important.

 

“No, I don’t suppose that it is,” Obi-Wan said. His gaze dropped to Anakin’s lips, then flicked back up to meet Anakin’s eyes. Obi-Wan moved forward, slow and sure. Anakin closed his eyes, parting his lips slightly.

 

And Obi-Wan was kissing him, soft and certain, his tenderness pressing against Anakin in delicate, light waves.

 

Anakin relaxed into the kiss, the unfamiliar calm of true meditation washing over him. The Force still surged around him, but its fire had been banked, briefly transmuted into something gentler.

 

For this single moment in time, Anakin was at peace.

~end chapter twenty-eight~