#anakin is gone

[weixuldo]

Allow me// ch 5

Vader x Reader

a/n: so just to keep u guys in the loop- my main priorities are Allow me and enigma- i have more written for enigma currently, but that doesn’t mean that one matters more than the other- i hope you enjoy and i have a lot planned for future chapters!!

The Sith has a proposition

warnings: Cannon typical violence, cursing, anxiety

_____________________

An odd sensation tickled your face and around your ears, slowly waking you from your sleep; it wasn’t a bad feeling, but it was definitely new.

You yawned and rubbed your eyes, you should probably get up because Vader could be entering any minu-

“Did you sleep well, miss L/N?” an all too familiar voice spoke. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood up and you jumped before slowly turning your face to look at the person to whom the deep voice belonged.

Just across from you, he sat in the large chair;  his body angled slightly to the left and his posture much more relaxed than you had ever seen him. 

You were in his domain, you were scared, and he knew it.

As you sat up you felt something fall off of your shoulders; a blanket? 

You didn’t remember having one of those? 

“My lord, I-I did not fetch this blanket, I do not want you to suspect that I rummaged around in your personal offi-”

“I thought nothing of the sort, Officer. That “blanket”- is my cape. You seemed cold when I walked in earlier.”

His cape? Why in the galaxy would he give it to you?

“May I speak freely sir?” you asked.

“You may.”

“I guess I'm just kind of…lost? Why did you call me here? Have I done something wrong?” you listed off your questions that came to mind.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. Slowly, he lifted himself off of his chair and crossed the floor towards where you were still sitting. Your heartbeat quickened at his movement, but once he reached you, he placed a calming hand on your shoulder. 

“Officer y/n, You have nothing to fear. I simply wanted to have a conversation with you that was not called upon on grounds of work.” he spoke very matter-of-factly. 

You nodded and allowed yourself to relax just a bit. 

“First of all I wanted to personally thank you for the work on my private sector… I am pleased you have kept what I asked between you and me” he said as he walked to look out of the large window on the other side of the room. 

“You truly are gifted, Officer” 

A warm blush began to appear on your cheeks; Darth Vader was complimenting you. 

“I cannot thank you enough for your kind words, My Lord” you thanked him graciously. 

“I have an offer for you” He said, turning to face you. 

“Sir?” you curiously asked. 

“If it would interest you, I would like to hire you as my personal mechanic- you would only work on my machines rather than all empire grade machines.”

You were stunned, out of all propositions, you never would have guessed that!

You were just a hard worker, not necessarily one of the best- Why would he want you when he could have anyone else in the galaxy?

“My Lord, Are you sure?” you timidly asked. 

“I am. And in this scenario you would answer to me instead of some chauvinistic and vile excuse for a general.” he said, anger bubbling under his words. 

“Excuse my temper, I just mean to relay that taking this position would give you opportunities that other positions would not allow. You may feel free to decline the offer, there will be no repercussions”.

You were skeptical, but you also knew you couldn’t really deny him, no matter what he said. 

“I will take the Job” you proclaimed.

Vader placed his hands on his belt, “Are you sure, officer?”.

“Positive.”

His large arms crossed across his chest as he nodded, “Then it is done. I will send a guard to deliver your new equipment, I shall see you tomorrow morning”.

Before he could leave and before you could stop yourself, you called for him, “Wait! Sir!”.

He turned expectantly. 

“May I ask… why me? There are hundreds of better mechanics out there?”.

Of course Vader knew he could have any mechanic he wanted, he could get the best of the best,  but that wasn’t the point. He chose a mechanic that made him happy, one that he looked forward to seeing, he chose one that he truly wanted.

“I believe your capabilities hold an advantage over many of your colleagues,” he stated. 

The excitement found its way to your core and soon you were excited in a different way; though you would have to take care of that feeling at another time, preferably when you were not in the presence of a Sith lord.

Maker please don’t let him sense it…

“Plus, I find you alluring” he added, before heading out of the room before you could process what just happened. 

After he left a pair of troopers dawning black suits came to accompany you to your room where they delivered your new tools. Vader had spared no expense when obtaining your instruments. They were of the highest grade metals and all were much more high functioning than the communal tool from your old department. 

You felt like a little kid opening presents on their birthday; honestly this was the nicest thing you had ever received from someone. 

_________________________________

It was definitely an adjustment to see a set of troopers at your door to escort you to Vader’s private wing each morning, but you had gotten used to it over the weeks. In the beginning you were alarmed- knowing your track record with the armored men.- but then you realized: you were now personally employed by Darth Vader, not just the empire. 

No one would dare fuck with you now… and you kind of loved it. 

Today wasn’t unlike the previous days; you arrived at the place that had mechanics that needed to be inspected, fixed them, then went on to the next until your shift was over.

Mainly, you were working on the medical equipment with an occasional upgrade on his meditation chamber. Not hard stuff.

You couldn’t complain; the work was easy, the pay was good, and you basically got a seal of invincibility because, for some reason, the Sith Lord was fond of you.

But as the time went by, you found yourself becoming bored with the monotony of your life- When he first proposed this position to you back on the day he killed your former boss, you were excited; working under such a powerful figure had to mean your assignments would be more high stakes and challenging, right? 

Also, a big reason you had been excited to start the job was because you assumed being Vader’s personal mechanic would mean that you would see and spend more time with the illusive man. But you really hadn’t spent much time around him.

The large metal doors slid open with a gust of air and the man you had been waiting to see stormed in. He seemed upset and stormed past you so fast that you barely had time to scramble out of the way. 

Ok, maybe today wasn’t the best time to try and become acquaintances with him.

He walked to the far end of the room and let out a frustrated noise; his anger was palpable as you felt the machines shake with his mood; all of his focus was enveloped by his emotion, whatever that may be. 

Glass vials, smaller equipment, and even some medical droids were flung against the wall as Vader began to furiously force everything away from him 

Should you leave? Or would he be angry that you were not finished with your job?

You decided to stand and announce your agenda.

“I-I can leave if you nee-” 

He turned faster than you had ever seen him, but his body language relaxed when he saw that it was you and not some other worker. 

“Ahh, officer. I wasn’t aware you were in here. My apologies” he said, heading for the door. 

Why was he leaving? This was his wing after all, if anyone should be leaving, it should be you.

“Wait!” you called. 

He halted and turned back towards you.

“These are your chambers, I should leave so you can be alone” you said, gathering your things.

You headed towards the door when a heavy hand rested on your shoulder making butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

“No, It’s alright. You can stay” He said; his helmet downcast.

Before you could protest he butted in, “And I’ll stay too”. 

You offered him a small smile and went back to the machine you were working on, though you couldn’t help but feel excited by his presence.

Though you needed to be cautious because now that he had calmed down a little, his senses were more on top of things– you didn’t want him to sense the feelings that you didn’t even have sorted out for yourself. 

As you sat on the floor in the middle of all of your tools, Vader seated himself by the table he had just flung. Obviously something was plaguing him and it seemed that a part of him needed to talk.

You took a breath and said “My Lord”.

He turned his head towards you, “Yes, y/n?”.

No title? No formalities?

“Umm, I just wanted to say that… Well, I mean– I-if you ever need to talk or anything at all, I’d be more than happy to listen.

His shoulders seemed to relax, “Pay my plight’s no heed y/n, they most likely wouldn’t peak your interest”. 

“But you interest me” 

Oops. 

You definitely did NOT want to say that out loud. 

“Oh? And what exactly do you mean by that?” he said, voice filled with amusement.

“I-I just mean that you are such a powerful individual and you carry yourself so well” you back tracked.

He let out a low chuckle. 

Darth Vader laughs? Like actually laughs?

You felt an odd sense of pride swell in your stomach that you got the stoic man to chuckle. 

“I hear what you are trying to say, officer” he said, walking over to you.

“Would you like to take a break and talk with me for a moment? Nothing formal, don’t worry” he offered. 

Your heart skipped a beat; this is what you had been hoping for- one on one time with Vader. Suddenly you felt like you were back in school and giddy over your crush asking you to have lunch together. 

But this was real life, he was just being a good boss...right?

“Of course”.

***

a/n: sorry this one was kinda short :/// the next one ramps up a bit- while i’m writing this i’m realizing this is lowkey turning into a slow burn and i do sooo many of those, so imma speed things up heheh

taglist: @vadersassistant @sxoulohvn @khaleesihavilliard @kashasenpai @darling-murdock @beautifulbearpolice @salvatoresister1 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @blueninjablade3 @jujuba096 @missmannequin @jellydodger @mirastark @wyvernthekriger @duckyhowls s @monada43 @lauriidoesstuff @vienettacream @ray-rook @itswhatever06 @ilovenielperry

[valentynes-day-of-reckoning]

anakin is gone.. ☺️😍😍🤭💕🫶

i am what remains.. 😒🥀⛓️🖤🖤💔

[im-yotsu]

Child of the force

Commission info

[heyclickadee]

Okay, this headline is killing me.

Of course they knew. It was the worst kept secret in the order. The council talked about it during their caf breaks, I’m sure. They just let Anakin think he’d fooled them. Mace and Yoda probably had a running bet on how long it would take Anakin to realize that they knew. Most of the 501st knew. Everyone knew. Why is this a headline. I’m dying. This has killed me. Send necromancers. I’m dead and posting this from beyond the grave.

[netherworm]

The Chosen One Loses A Bet

[incorrectskywalkers]

Obi-Wan, sighing: Force give me patience.

Ahsoka: I thought it was "Force give me strength"?

Obi-Wan: For most people. But you see, if the Force didn't give me the amount of patience I require, everyone on this ship would be dead.

Anakin (aka "Everyone"):

[jewishcissiekj]

Local Prequels girlie thinks about Anidala for more than two seconds and proceeds to eat drywall

[is-that-sand-in-my-waffles]

Obi-Wan, to any and every Sith in his vicinity:

[dcrescendo7]

This is what happened, right?

[comebackali]

32 yr old babygirl getting rescued by the teen object of his affections 💕💕💕

[rochenn]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like). 

Many thanks to @charmwasjess for the tag, I've never gotten tagged in this challange before :DD

For writing, here's a little piece of Gone With the Light from yesterday! Girlie is going through it uh oh

“You cannot stay here.”

Asajj had been expecting something like this from the very moment a strange ship had followed her from space into Dathomir’s atmosphere. Surveying the wreckage later had revealed the body of an old colleague of hers—a bounty hunter whose name she could not recall. Someone on Dooku's list of favorite fetch-dogs. She curled her arms around her midsection.

“Mother…”

And here's a wip shot of that bending AU I've been thinking a whole lot about. Avatar!Anakin would be a fucking handful

(this is going to be hell to color :'D)

No pressure tags: @prahacat @bolithesenate @catboydogma @kote-wan @alwayskote @battlekilt @ddeck @razzbberry @ivvmell @lualuadraw @phi-guy

[meteor752]

AU where after a mission, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka all decide to go out to a bar for a night and enjoy themselves

But when they wake up the next morning, hungover, they discover that they all fell to the dark side while drunk

[redshoes-blues]

Qimir’s eyebrow raise when he says “I did wear a mask” fuck me

[unspuncreature]

obi-wan should’ve been at the club!!!!!

[znerac]

Original Post

Obi-wan has had enough

Do not repost without credit‼️

[tennessoui]

18) waking up with amnesia au pretty please! I was delighted with how many of the prompts you've already done, it was a really fun bingo!

Best friends sibling = band au

knocking on the wrong door = actually name of the fic

Nanny/single parent au = Nannykin

Etc etc etc!

hello hello this was sent january 10!! hope you still want some waking up with amnesia au! this just demonstrates how long i can hold onto a prompt i have every intention of completing

(from this prompt list) (& this is the waking up with amnesia au prompt fill i did a few years ago when i first reblogged that prompt list!)

(3.5k)

(warnings: angst but not incredibly sad. more like. here there lies some future manipulation/mind fuckery because of angst established in this ficlet but not resolved in this ficlet but would be in the future)

(also warning: vader)

It is somehow both the hardest and easiest part of the day, every time. 

It is easy to let his feet turn in the direction they beg to go during all his waking seconds. It is easy to allow them to lead the way. It feels as if a great and crushing weight has been lifted from his shoulders the moment that he sees the pillars standing sentry at the entrance of the Halls of Healing. It is so easy to give into his body’s desire to allow it to find its other half.

It is almost harder to stay away, to pretend to be the respectful and poised Jedi master he masquerades as during those long moments of the day that he is not by Anakin’s side.

But what is infinitely harder than journeying there or keeping his distance is arriving. Is what waits for him within the Halls.

“How is he today?” he asks the moment he sees a healer—it does not matter which one these days. They must all know him by now, know the series of questions he demands answers to.

This time, the man he finds is healer Ramak, at least, one of the primary specialists on Anakin’s case. Rarely can Obi-Wan corner him. Ramak is incredibly busy both within the Temple and outside of it. He has numerous priorities. 

Obi-Wan really only has one priority. Often this puts them at odds. 

“Ah,” Ramak says, adjusting his robes. “Master Kenobi, hello.”

“Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan says. And then, “How is he today?” In case Ramak has missed his question.

“He is much the same, Master Kenobi,” Ramak replies. “As he was yesterday.”

Obi-Wan swallows. The words get stuck in his throat for a moment and he has to force them up past his teeth. “What does…what has he remembered?”

Healer Ramak’s face slides from reluctantly indulgent to pitying. It would grate against Obi-Wan’s rather impressive sense of pride if he did not already know exactly how pitiful he is. 

“Memories are not stored within the mind chronologically, Master Kenobi,” Ramak says carefully. Obi-Wan has heard this before. Obi-Wan could recite this speech. 

Obi-Wan listens to it silently anyway. Perhaps this time, Ramak will find the correct combination of words to explain his loss to him in terms he can understand. “Uncovering them again is not simply a matter of starting from the beginning of his life and moving forwards. We cannot simply recover and present him with all of his memories from age nine, from age thirteen, to now.”

Obi-Wan can feel a muscle tick in his jaw and he crosses his arms. Another healer crosses behind him, jostles him in their hurry to get to another patient. Differing priorities. 

But Obi-Wan only has one.

“It is like…” Ramak trails off, thinking. “Picture the rain. What do you think of?” It is much too transparent, what Obi-Wan thinks of when he thinks of the rain. He thinks of Anakin as a youngling. The ashes of Qui-Gon’s body had not fully cooled before the skies of Naboo had broken open in a torrential downpour, and the boy, padawan braid that was both his and Obi-Wan’s newly weighing on his shoulder, had escaped from the palace in Theed, ran outside with arms raised up in wonder.

“When you think of rain, you do not recall your memories chronologically,” Ramak says kindly, as if he understands where Obi-Wan’s mind has gone. “That is to say, you do not immediately think of the first time you experienced it. Our minds store memories based on their significance to us, the meanings they hold for us, which makes mind-healing to this degree incredibly difficult. Not to mention, not only was Knight Skywalker stripped of his memories, tortured, and indoctrinated, he was held for several months. Long enough for new neural pathways to form, new connotations and memories to take the place of the ones he lost.”

“Master, please,” Obi-Wan says. When he holds up his hand to forestall the other man’s words, it is shaking slightly. “Please just tell me.”

Will he recognize me? 

Will he hate me?

Will another day go by where he does not know me?

“He has a long way to go yet,” Ramak says finally, lifting his hand to stroke over his beard. “His time as Vader left scars—”

“His time captured,” Obi-Wan interrupts. “He was a hostage.” Ramak looks at him. Anakin, kidnapped by the sith, without his memories, trained to be deadly and taught to Fall, was more than a hostage. They both know that. Everyone in the galaxy knows the dangers that Darth Vader represented to the Republic.

Very few know that Darth Vader was Anakin Skywalker. It had been a terrible surprise. It had been the sweetest sort of relief too, to find him at all.

“Yes,” Ramak finally allows. “His time as a hostage left innumerable scars, Obi-Wan. Even after he regains all his memories, he will have a long journey ahead of him.”

“How is he?” Obi-Wan repeats, even though it is rather rude to cut the healer off. “How is he today?”

Ramak hesitates for a moment and then another, and his Force signature tenses as if at war with itself. “He requested to see you,” he finally says. “We’re not sure that’s a good idea.”

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat. The Jedi saved Anakin Skywalker from the Sith five weeks ago, and though Obi-Wan has spent each of those days trekking from his quarters to the Halls of Healing and back, accousting various healers and Council members alike, desperate for any information they can give him…he has not yet been able to sit beside Anakin. He has not been allowed to talk with him at all.

It is for the best. That is what he’s been told and that is what he must believe. It is for the best. Anakin does not remember him. He remembers the word master—he does not remember that he used to say the same word with respect. With affection. He does not remember Obi-Wan at all.

He remembers his master, Sidious. He remembers his master on Tatooine. He does not—Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why he cannot remember him. 

Anakin has never once asked to see him. 

“I want to see him,” Obi-Wan says immediately, turning towards the wing where they are keeping Anakin. 

“Master Kenobi, it is not a good idea,” Ramak says, but it does not matter what they think is a good idea. It is what Anakin wants and it has been so long since Obi-Wan has been something Anakin wants.

Something of what he’s feeling must flash across his face, because the healer sighs and rubs at his forehead as if he finds the whole ordeal incredibly trying. 

“I will not hurt him,” Obi-Wan says quickly, and Ramak shakes his head, dropping his arms to his sides. 

“That is not the concern, Master,” he replies, but his shoulders have slumped. His forehead is wrinkled, but his Force signature has relaxed. He has given in. Obi-Wan has won. “I—”

But Obi-Wan has won. And so he has already stepped away, intent now on seeing his padawan. He leaves the healer behind where he stands, pushing through the doors of the wing and finally—finally to Anakin’s room.

He’d been so volatile at first, when he was still Vader. The Jedi rescuing him probably felt more like being captured. Without his memories of the Order, of the Temple, of Obi-Wan, he’d Fallen so quickly as far as anyone knows. Sidious had taken him and twisted him and when he was found again, he’d fully believed in the Sith doctrine. He’d killed two Jedi before he was subdued.

So when he’d been brought into the Temple, into the Halls of Healing, they’d outfitted him with Force suppression cuffs. Given him his own room in order to protect the other patients.

Obi-Wan knows he still wears the Force bracelets and collar, but there’s knowing and then there’s seeing.

The seeing part takes his breath away. It looks so wrong, Anakin, his Anakin, wearing the cuffs and the collar. 

Anakin, his Anakin, with yellow eyes watching him intently from the moment he enters the room.

“Anakin,” he murmurs, a reflex. The sounds are punched out of him.

He is thinner. His hair is greasy. There are dark shadows under his eyes. The skin around the collar is red, rubbed raw. He looks a thousand times older. Guant and hollowed out as if the captivity and the Darkness has leached away all of his youthful energy.

“Master,” Anakin says reproachfully. And it sounds—it sounds so much like him, like Obi-Wan’s Anakin, that he has the rather ridiculous urge to cry. Master, master.

“How are you feeling?” Obi-Wan asks, though it is a useless sort of question. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands. What to do with his tongue. He suddenly cannot remember the last time he asked Anakin how he was feeling. It was never a phrase that was part of their lexicon—for so many years, they shared a training bond. Obi-Wan was able to ascertain his padawan’s emotions with a gentle Force touch across the planes of his mind. More often than not, he was telling Anakin to search his own feelings. He was not asking him to interpret them for Obi-Wan’s sake.

Now though, their bond is severed and Anakin does not recognize him as anything more than another Jedi, another man who he once called master, and Obi-Wan stands across the room from him and does not recognize him either, save for all the ways that he does.

“Surely they have been giving you updates,” Anakin murmurs. “I know you have visited every day.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says because he will not lie to Anakin. He doesn’t think he remembers how. It has been—so long. Since he has last seen him. It is all he can do to stay standing now. To keep a respectable distance between them. To not fall to his knees. To not stumble forward and take Anakin’s hand in his own.

“What have they told you?” Anakin asks, and he tilts his head slightly. His golden eyes are as disconcerting as they are beautiful. They’re his. They’re his eyes, set in his face, and Obi-Wan has missed that face for so long. For months. He’d thought he’d never see it again, and he is just now realizing that he has no defenses left against Anakin. None at all. The boy could ask him for anything and he would fight to the death to give it to him.

The Force is in flux in the air around them, bucking up, riled, in a way Obi-Wan usually interprets as danger. But the Force could be screaming a death knell and Obi-Wan, in this moment, would only be able to hear a sweet cry of wild joy.

Anakin, this is Anakin. This is his Anakin and he is here. Back—partially. Back, incompletely. But back. Obi-Wan…he’d stopped hoping he’d ever get him back.

Instead of answering his question, he presses the backs of his fingers against his mouth to try and stop their shaking. Every day he has walked here, accosted the healers, demanded to know the latest. And he has never once realized how incredibly difficult it would be to lay eyes on Anakin. How incredibly difficult it would be to maintain his composure, to hold himself in. 

Anakin’s eyes glow gold, but Obi-Wan’s eyes are that of a starving man. All he can see is honey.

“Come here, master,” Anakin says, reproachful. “Did you not miss me?”

The words move him forward where his own feet could not. “Of course I did, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers. Hoarse, too hoarse. Too trembling and old, but it has been so many months. He had thought him lost forever. Dead and gone and one with the Force, and for the first time in his life, that had given him no comfort.

Anakin holds out his mechno hand, palm up, fingers slightly crooked. He’d built them that way on purpose, Obi-Wan remembers. At fourteen, he’d broken his index and middle finger in a duel, bones shattering under the blow of another padawan’s sabor. A lucky hit, an unlucky outcome. Though they’d healed near perfect due to bacta, they’d always remained slightly bent out of place. When he lost his arm to Dooku five years later, he’d fiddled with the replacement until the mech digits tilted the same familiar direction.

Obi-Wan stares at them, caught up in the tide of the memory.

Had Vader ever looked down at his mechno hand and wondered about the imperfection? Had he thought to fix it once he had the time? Had he spared a thought for the black spots in his memory, the cavernous gaps in his past?

His fingers fall to rest against the sensors of the mech tips. They’re sensitive enough that he can see Anakin shiver at the touch. 

“Did you not miss me, master?” Anakin asks again, and his hand closes around Obi-Wan’s tightly, pulling him forward another few steps.

Obi-Wan nods, then shakes his head. Yes, he missed him. No, missing—missing is not a vast enough word. 

“You asked for me,” he hears himself say. “Do you—what do you….”

Do you remember me?

You must. You call me master. And you want me close.

But they pulled the memories of the word master from your mind days ago, and you hated me then. You did not want me near you. What has changed? What have you remembered?

“I wonder if they would treat any patient like this,” Anakin says. He uses his hold on Obi-Wan to pull him even closer, til his thighs brush the edge of the bed. “If it is the war that makes me special, if it’s my own power. Or if it’s you.”

Obi-Wan tenses. Him? He doesn’t—

“They’ve tried everything they can think of to trigger my memories of you, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Anakin says. When Obi-Wan tries to move back, take a step away, find the air in the room to breathe, Anakin tightens his hold and pulls him forward until the only option is to either topple over onto his padawan’s chest or sit on the bed at his hip.

He sits.

“They debated for many days, you know,” Anakin says. His mech thumb begins to sweep over the inside of Obi-Wan’s wrist. “If they should trigger the connections my mind has made to the word master. It’s a weighted word for Anakin Skywalker. Surely you know that.”

“I do,” Obi-Wan says carefully. When he tries to breathe, he can only do so shallowly as if his entire chest has shrunk to half its capacity.

“He was enslaved before he was a padawan,” Anakin explains as though Obi-Wan has not spoken at all. Maybe he hasn’t. For the past several months he has not been able to speak to Anakin aloud, could only talk with him in his mind—could never hear a reply. Perhaps he has forgotten how. “They were worried that after ten years studying under you, after two years fighting side by side with you, my strongest connotations to the word master would still be to slavery.”

Anakin ducks his head slightly, tilts it to the side to give Obi-Wan a small, private grin, as if the healers’ concerns are so unfounded that they are amusing. As if the concept that something could outweigh Obi-Wan’s importance to Anakin is so foreign and preposterous that it’s funny.

His smile knocks into Obi-Wan’s chest like a punch to the solar plexus.

“But they decided to risk it,” Anakin says. His voice is light as a feather. Airy and unconcerned. “Perhaps they should have started with smaller things. A light saber. A braid. A pear. A planet. But they wanted to re-establish my firmest conneciton to the Light as quickly as possible. And they thought that was you.”

Obi-Wan holds his breath, eyes leaping from their connected hands to the yellow of Anakin’s eyes. He has still fallen. He has not been healed. He is still—he is still—

“So they gave me back my masters,” Anakin pitches his voice low. “All of them, though I suppose I remember Sidious well enough. But they gave me back the Toydarian. And they gave me you.”

“They said you did not want to see me,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Why, Anakin, if you remember, why would you—”

“Because I hate you,” his padawan says as if it’s the easiest thing in the galaxy. “Because they could give me back Master Kenobi, but wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, it was not in your title. He hated your title.”

Obi-Wan flinches back so violently that his forearm slips from Anakin’s grasp. Before he can move from the bed completely though, his padawan’s hand lashes out and curls around the fabric of his tunics. 

“No,” Obi-Wan says because he must deny this—he cannot stand to hear it and not deny it. No, Anakin—there was love there, in the way he pronounced the word master. The way he looked at Obi-Wan: admiration shining in his eyes when he was younger, cooling off over the years into acceptance and affection. They had their arguments. They had their—misunderstandings, but Anakin did not resent him for his role in his life as his old teacher. His master. “You’re wrong.”

“He hated it more than he hated his actual slave master,” Anakin murmurs. Lightly, airily. As if his words are not landing devastating blows on all of Obi-Wan’s softest spots. “Do you know why?” “I don’t believe you,” Obi-Wan whispers because he doesn’t because he can’t. Because he’d have known. Because this is Anakin, this is his Anakin, but there are still cavernous dark spots and gaps in his mind. This is not entirely his Anakin. He is still missing things. Thousands upon thousands of memories and moments and learned contexts and—

“I think you know why,” Anakin says as if he has not spoken. Funny, as Obi-Wan had thought he was screaming.

“I assure you I do not,” he snaps, spitting the words out as quickly as he can so that his voice cannot break between the syllables.

“Because Anakin Skywalker believed til the day he died that if you had not been his master, you would have allowed him to kiss you. To take you. To be taken by you. Don’t you remember, Master Kenobi?” Obi-Wan tears himself away from the bed, from the boy in it. Just a boy. Not a man. Not when he was seventeen and drunk for the first time, slinging his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and pressing his face into his chest, whining and begging and pleading—and not when he was eighteen either, bold and staring at Obi-Wan's lips, not when he was nineteen, on the verge of his Knighting ceremony and demanding to be given into.

Just a boy, just his boy. But never—never anything else. 

“Like I said,” Anakin but not Anakin murmurs. Anakin, but Vader too. “Wherever Anakin Skywalker kept his love for you, they have not yet been able to find it in my mind. I can only assume he loved you at all.”

Obi-Wan flicks his eyes over the familiar face, the beloved face. The stranger’s face. If it were anyone else sitting before him, he’d have a retort already on his tongue. He’d have raised his shields, gone on the offensive. There are few people left in the galaxy that can land a blow on him, and many have tried.

But this is not anyone. This is Anakin. This is his Anakin and this is something for which he has no defenses prepared.

“How ashamed did you make him feel for loving you, master?” Vader asks, tilting his head in cruel curiosity. “That he compressed all of it into something so small that a whole Temple of healers have been unable to find it?”

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan snaps and this time he does not get the words off his tongue quick enough. His voice breaks in the middle of the demand, ribs cracking and parting to reveal the heart of him. “Not if—” not if you do not know what it means for him. For me. For us.

“Why not?” Vader says, and he raises his flesh hand to tuck a piece of greasy hair behind his head before allowing his fingers to fall to rest against his collarbone, ghosting against the Force suppression collar around his neck as if it’s a diamond encrusted necklace. “After all, am I not wearing your chains, master?”