#in an attempt to avoid yet another red and blue anakin set it's red and cyan this time 😅

[hayden-christensen]

STAR WARS WEEK 2024 DAY 1: THE CHOSEN ONE - FAVOURITE CHARACTER ▸ ANAKIN SKYWALKER/DARTH VADER

There’s always a price to be paid.

[professorkenobi]

midnight visitor

read the previous part here and the next part here!

Obi-Wan couldn’t sleep.

He tried to tell himself it was the intermittent claps of thunder, or the rattling hail on the roof, that was keeping him awake long after he’d turned the light off.

But really, his mind was on the boy.

He rolled over again, blinking into the dark. 

Was Anakin safe?

He’d claimed he had a place to go, and Obi-Wan hoped that he’d been telling the truth and not simply placating him. The thought of Anakin hunkered down in someone else’s flooded backyard, bracing himself against the whips of freezing rain...

Clink-clink-clink-CLUNK

Was that… a knock?

He held his breath and strained to listen. Clunk-clunk. Yes, interspersed with the wind and rain and hail was the barely-perceptible sound of raps at his door.

He threw off the sheets and pulled on a sweater and slippers just as fast. 

By the time he made it down the stairs the knocks had grown weaker, trailing off, but there was no denying someone was knocking at his front door in the middle of a storm.

He wrenched the door open and gasped at the sight before him.

It was Anakin, like he knew it would be. Water-logged and shivering, with smears of something dark mixing in with the sheen of moisture on his face.

“Can I…?”

Obi-Wan beckoned him in before he even had the words out. He couldn’t stand another second of watching Anakin shake, caved in on himself in a paltry attempt to shield from the rain. “Come in. Please.”

Anakin stepped inside and Obi-Wan shut the door behind him, muffling the howl of the wind. 

“I’m sorry about your floor—”

“Don’t be.” He didn’t give a damn about the rug, not with Anakin standing in his foyer, shivering and out of breath with what looked to be blood on his face and the gleam of terror in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I’m…”

Anakin jumped at the growl of a car speeding past, loud and obnoxious enough that it must have been missing a muffler. His ears twitched and swiveled, following the noise until it faded into the distance. 

“Anakin?”

“I’m—” Anakin looked him up and down and his eyes widened in horror. “I’m so sorry, you were in bed, I shouldn’t have—” 

“Nonsense, it’s perfectly alright. Come on in, you can leave your shoes by the door.” 

Obi-Wan winced at his own authoritative tone. The last thing he wanted was to frighten Anakin yet again, drive him back into the storm. But his guest only nodded dully, kicking off ratty sneakers and staring down at the slowly growing wet spot on the rug. 

“The kitchen is this way. Let’s get you warmed up and we can figure out what else I can do for you.” 

Anakin allowed himself to be led through the house, seemingly having no trouble moving through the dark. 

In the kitchen, Obi-Wan flipped on the overheads, blinking owlishly in the bright light. 

“Have a seat.” He indicated the island. “I’ll go get you some towels and— ...oh, my.” 

It was more than a little blood on Anakin’s face. The rain must have washed away most of it, or he’d surely be absolutely covered. A long, clean gash marred his features, bisecting the right eyebrow and continuing down an oversharp cheekbone. Even as Obi-Wan watched, more blood oozed from it in slow pulses, shocking crimson dripping down Anakin’s chin to seep into the sodden fabric of his hoodie. 

His visitor caught his stare and frowned. “What?” 

“Your,” Obi-Wan gestured helplessly. “Your face.” 

“What about it?” Anakin brought a hand absently to his cheek and stared down at his reddened fingers. “Oh. I’m bleeding.” 

“Bleeding? You’re practically carved open! Forget towels, I need to take you to the hospital!” 

“No!” Anakin blurted out. “No hospital.” 

Obi-Wan froze, having already rushed to pick up his car keys. The boy’s eyes were wide and panicked, his pupils mere pinpricks under the bright lights.

He shut his eyes for a moment, then did his best to pitch his response low and soothing. “Is insurance a problem? Because I’ll happily take care of whatever—” 

“It’s not that.” Anakin shook his head. “I mean, well, it is, but it’s not just... I just can’t, okay?” 

“But—” 

“Please.” 

Maybe it was the look in Anakin’s eyes, perhaps the desperate edge to his voice— something, whatever it was, made all of Obi-Wan’s arguments die in his throat. 

“Alright.” He set the keys down, instead reaching for the roll of paper towels and tearing off enough for a thick wad. “Use these to catch the worst of it and I’ll...” What would he do? “I suppose I’ll do what I can to take care of you here.” 

Anakin mutely accepted the bundle and pressed it to his face. That would have to be assurance enough that he’d keep a few moments without Obi-Wan’s supervision.

“I need to get a few things. Just— just stay there, alright?” 

He rushed upstairs, turning on every light as he went. Somehow he doubted he’d be getting much sleep tonight. 

Part of him expected Anakin to slip away again the moment his back was turned. But when he re-entered the kitchen, armed with a first aid kit and a heaping armful of towels, his visitor was exactly where he’d left him. 

He made a pitiful sight, gaze downcast and ears drooping. He’d taken Obi-Wan’s instructions so literally that he hadn’t even bothered to sit down. His tail brushed lifelessly against the tile floor.

Obi-Wan pulled out a stool and covered it with a towel. “Come here and I’ll take a look. Please.” 

Anakin sat down with a wince and a hand pressed to his side. Wide eyes darted to Obi-Wan warily as he did, as though he was bracing for a reprimand. 

As soon as Anakin was settled, Obi-Wan unfolded another towel and draped it over his shoulders. He knew Anakin must still be cold to the bone and a towel would do little to warm him up, but it was better than nothing while Obi-Wan saw to the more pressing issue of his eye.

“Thanks.” Anakin clutched the ends of the towel closed with his free hand and tentatively offered up the freshly bloodied wad of paper towels with the other. “Um, here.”

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan set them on the counter and went about pulling out his supplies. The last time he’d had to fix up a cut like this had been a rather embarrassing incident with his gardening shears—but that didn’t come close to the deep gash on Anakin’s face. 

He appraised it carefully. The blood was finally starting to clot, drying in patches on his skin, but the cut was still a vicious red, angry and raw.

He’d barely started to wipe at the dried blood with a wet cotton round when Anakin flinched away, hissing at him. 

Obi-Wan blinked. “I’m—”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Anakin snapped, then screwed his eyes shut, his lips a white line of tension. When he opened them again, his voice was slightly softer. “Just… sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan murmured, bringing his hand back up more slowly. “Let’s try again.”

Anakin didn’t pull back this time, and offered no protest but a tiny whimper at the sting of disinfectant in the wound. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, the contrast making the deep blue of the irises seem even more striking. 

Obi-Wan busied himself gathering more supplies before his patient could catch him staring.

He did his best to close the wound with what he had. Without stitches it would surely scar, but this would have to be enough. Murmured reassurances fell from his lips all the while, for whose benefit he wasn’t sure. 

He taped a final piece of gauze over Anakin’s eyebrow and pulled back. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, I’m fine—”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he repeated, more firmly this time. 

Anakin still wouldn’t look at him directly. “Um, my hands. It’s nothing though.” 

“Let me see.” 

He took one of Anakin’s hands between his own. The palm was scraped near-bloody, smeared with dirt and flecks of gravel. As he cleaned the scratches, his eyes caught on those sharp nails, the same nails that had peeled a clementine so efficiently all those days ago. 

Some residue was caught beneath their points. Obi-Wan wiped at it, and it came away flaky and rust-red. 

Blood. Someone else’s, surely.

He couldn’t stifle the sharp intake of breath. Anakin flinched, again, going tense all over.

Always so afraid...  

Something flared hot and furious in Obi-Wan’s chest. He reached out without thinking, cupping Anakin’s face with both hands this time. Anakin’s eyes went wide with alarm but he didn’t pull away. The boy stayed still, except for a slight tremble in his jaw that Obi-Wan could feel under his palms. 

“Anakin.” He wiped his thumb as gently as he could over the bandage, but he couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. “Did someone do this to you?”

Anakin’s ears flattened to his skull in response, brushing Obi-Wan’s fingers. It took him a second too long to answer. “No. It was an accident.”

Tell me, he wanted to say. How can I protect you if I don’t know what’s going on? But after seconds stretched on in silence, Obi-Wan reluctantly dropped his hands. 

For a fleeting moment, he thought he felt Anakin leaning forward to chase his touch. Then he blinked, and the boy was leaning away and avoiding his eyes as usual. 

He must have imagined it.

Unanswered questions hung heavy in the air between them as Obi-Wan quietly cleaned the rest of the scrapes. By the time he’d finished, Anakin had begun shivering again beneath his towel.

“If you’d like, you could use my shower to clean up and get warm.” He frowned at the gauze he’d just so carefully taped down. “Or maybe I should draw you a bath. We want to keep that bandage dry.”

Surprise flashed across Anakin’s face, but then he nodded, his ears even perking up at the prospect. “Yeah. A bath sounds nice.”

[kyberphilosopher]

Hᴀɴᴅs

[Fluff Version] 

With the loss of Anakin’s hand, someone has to help him out until he gets a replacement.

Word Count: 2201

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The hand is the most frequently symbolized part of the human body. ... According to Aristotle, the hand is the "tool of tools." In general it is strength, power and protection. However, it can just as easily mean generosity, hospitality and stability; ‘lend a hand’.”

Anakin was the most powerful Jedi ever. There was no use in hiding it or sugarcoating it- every body in the Jedi Order completely understood this concept. 

Anakin Skywalker was young, talented, and capable of many things. To anyone’s standards, he was charming and handsome. He always managed to find a way out of the most unpredictable and outrageous situations, even with all odds stacked against him. You could personally vouch for the latter. You had been at the battle of Geonosis, after all. 

But something changed after that day. Once Anakin had lost his right hand from the forearm down, his confidence was shaken. He was going to get a mechanical one to replace what he had lost, but it would never be the same. It would never be organic or real, or able to get past security customs. 

You and Anakin were never especially close or anything. A polite ‘hello’ here and there, light smiles, and warm energy was really all that was between the two of you. Despite this, you could easily sense the despair that loomed in the young man’s heart. He had missed the feeling of a tingling palm and numb fingers and picking at his nails. It was damaging his pride to be without something so unimpressive, and to have lost it in such a foolish way. To Anakin Skywalker, losing a hand meant losing his strength, his dignity, and his power. 

And since it would take a few days to have the mechanical hand for him ready and running, it only made matters worse. Now, he had begun to feel embarrassed. The young man now walked the halls of the temple with his cloak sleeves draping over his wrists in an attempt to hide the one that was absent. His head hung low to avoid eye contact, and his padawan braid seemed to have much more weight than before. 

While Obi-Wan surely would’ve done something if not for the oncoming war which demanded his attention, nobody else made an attempt to comfort the boy. You couldn’t explain why it made you feel so unhappy. Maybe it was because Anakin’s eyes seemed to lack the spark of charisma that they once had, or that you could see when he would go to reach for something and be confused when no fingers would stretch out. 

“What are you looking at?” Anakin asked. Looking up from the text he was studying, he met your eyes with his full lips slightly upturned. 

“Nothing,” you responded quickly. In truth, you had been too caught up in your thoughts to even realize that your orbs were glued to him. Despite looking back down to your book, your focus on the Skywalker did not waver. 

You peeked back up at the young man curiously. For a single second, his blue eyes glimmered and a grin fell over his face. “Okay,” he said, shaking his head charmingly. Then he went back to studying something too. 

                                     ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

The next day, you showed kindness in the form of impulse. 

You saw Anakin in the library. His dark cloak was hanging off his shoulders loosely, his head back while he looked up at something. It wasn’t out of his reach by any means, but the way his right shoulder was positioned told you the whole story. 

The man had forgotten about his predicament yet again, and went to reach for a text with his right hand. 

You quickened your pace, drawing nearer and nearer to him. You hadn’t even really considered the meaning behind what you were about to do. It didn’t seem like such a big deal, but it was. Both you and Anakin would come to realize that. 

“Here, let me get that for you,” you said. Standing on your tip-toes, your finger tips scraped against the book the man had gone to reach for. You were not nearly as tall as Anakin, but you managed to pull the text out from the bottom. Then you held it out for him with both hands. 

Anakin’s eyes looked like stars. He could remember very few times when someone had shown him such a kindness, especially from someone he didn’t really know. Now, he found himself studying your eyes with his head dipped lightly, like a silent prayer that this wasn’t just a part of his imagination. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. His good hand reached up and took the text from your palms, and then sandwiched it between his forearm and his chest. 

“No problem,” you told him sincerely. 

You felt very close to him in that minute. Like you could feel his energy radiating off of him, and Anakin had suddenly become a magnet. Still, you pulled yourself away and proceeded to your table in the next section of the library, unaware that Anakin had his eyes trained on your back. 

There were two more occasions that you helped the one handed man. 

                                     ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

The second time was a few days after the first, this time in the training rooms. 

Anakin had always been right handed, but now he couldn’t say that anymore. He only had one hand to ‘be’. It was exceptionally difficult and frustrating to deal with, and every time the man would drop his staff, a fit of anguish and shame would bubble inside his stomach. He would swallow in an attempt to keep it down, but it was ever-growing and unending. Anakin truly could not wait for his robotic arm to be ready for him so that this cycle could end. 

The wooden staff clattered to the floor clumsily. His sweaty palm felt red from clutching it so hard, even though it hadn’t ended up mattering. He almost wanted to reach his right arm to his forehead in an attempt to wipe away the perspiration, but that wouldn’t have mattered either. 

Anakin’s heart sunk to his stomach. He had done this to himself. Perhaps this was why Obi-Wan had not seen him in a while- he was ashamed of what his padawan had done. The thought made Anakin feel even more sick. His brows furrowed together in discomfort and a swirl of emotions. 

The sound of a door closing pulled him out of his thoughts. Light briefly entered and left the room, and a form came through the way. 

“Anakin...” you said softly. Standing still in your place, you observed the scene. The training staff Anakin had been working with was on the ground, and his left hand was balled into a tight and angry fist. When he turned to face you, he was heaving with exhaustion and anguish alike. Had he thrown the staff down in his anger? Had it fallen from his one good hand?

“If you’re going to make fun of me I’d advise you to leave,” said Anakin, his breathing heavy. He hadn’t meant to say that to you, but sometimes he just got so clouded with frustration and his own thoughts that he couldn’t stop his words from falling out like poison. Obi-Wan could testify to that. 

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” you promised. Taking a few careful steps forward, you watched his jaw click. Anakin’s blue eyes fell back to the floor.

“Every time I try to use my hand, it fails me!” Anakin confessed angrily. “It’s supposed to serve me, and I can’t even control it! It’s all my fault.”

Your eyebrows knit themselves together. “It’s not your fault. Count Dooku was the one who did it.”

“But I’m the one who went after him!” Anakin snapped. “It was all my fault!”

Anakin’s breathing had become more rapid than before. You could feel his anger rising inside of him like a giant bubble, threatening to boil over and explode inside of him. It should’ve scared you, but you understood completely. It’s difficult to push emotions away, whether you’re a Jedi or not. 

“Here,” you tell him. Another act of kindness without thinking about it. 

You take the wooden pole from the ground and place it back in Anakin’s awaiting hand. He’s too tired to fight with you about it, instead looking around the room, silently seething. You come around behind the man, pressing your chest against his back. With your right hand, you grip the other side of the staff. Your fingers against Anakin’s, your breasts pressed up against him in a non sexual way- it was incredibly intimate. No- not intimate. This was loving, caring, a kind of love that would’ve been hard to define. 

Looking down at the staff, Anakin could pretend that he had both his hands now. One of them was yours of course, but from this view, it looked like his own. Only smaller and daintier and not as calloused. 

“Hold it steady,” you instructed softly. You pushed your arm forward slowly, the Skywalker following your lead. The jab that ensued was clean, and did not result in anything falling to the floor. “Got it?”

“I think so,” Anakin replied. His voice sounded so much calmer now. 

With a faint smile, you let your hand go. Anakin stabbed the pole forward with his left hand again viciously. When it didn’t clamber out of his sweaty palm, his confidence grew too much. Like Icarus, he was flying too close to the sun and would crash into the ocean waves below. The next thrust he gave, the stick slipped from his hand clumsily, and his fingers weren’t coordinated enough to catch it. 

The bubble of anger was growing again. 

“It’s okay,” you soothed immediately. “Here, let’s try again.”

                                     ◇─◇──◇─────◇──◇─◇

The third time was the time that stood out to Anakin the most out of the three, and that truly meant something. 

Outside the Jedi temple, Anakin could see the sun setting on the horizon. The skyscrapers of the city created shadows against the orange sky. Above, the only visible shades were those of rose pinks and lemon yellows. Beyond that, the night sky was fading into dark plums with little white freckles- stars he wanted to visit. 

He’d be marrying Padme and losing his padawan braid soon. Things would be looking up. So why did he now feel so lost? Was it the prospect of the war in the next few years? Was it the differing weights in his shoulders? The frustration that Master Windu tended to force upon him? Whatever it was, he was filled with something somber and heavy. 

You were the one who lifted that weight for him. 

“How did I know I’d find you here?” 

Anakin didn’t have to turn around to identify you. 

“I come here often,” he says. If he had another five fingers, all ten of them would be twiddling together. “I enjoy being alone.”

You look him up and down. Even turned away from you, he seemed so much more solid than anyone else. You couldn’t explain why. “I have something for you.” Taking a step forward, you run a thumb against the black box in your hands. 

Anakin turned around to look at you. You knew you had gotten his attention- who didn’t love presents? But against the setting sun of Coruscant and the religious steps of the temple, it seemed Anakin was the one you had stolen your gaze. Everything about the image in front of you was inexplicably perfect, and you found that you were filled with some type of feeling that you should not have.

“Can I see it?” the man asked. For the first time in a while, he smiled ever so slightly, but this time he meant it. 

One of your hands reached around and lifted the lid of the box up. You took a few slow steps forward so that Anakin could see inside. Your head dipped slightly, curious to see his reaction. 

Anakin was at a loss for words. Inside, fitted snug and secure, was a silver skeleton. Not an entire skeleton, of course, but a wrist and hand. The sun glinted off of it stunningly. Everything about it was perfect and unique. Even if Anakin wanted to cover it somehow, gloves would easily fit over it. 

“What do you think?” you ask curiously. 

“It’s amazing,” he said. His eyes ran over the mechanism greedily. “Will it work as well as a real one?”

“I’m sure there will be a learning period,” you answered honestly. “I’m sure you’ll get used to it though.”

Anakin looked up at you, charismatic smirk finally appearing on his features. “So how does it feel to hold my hand?” he wondered aloud. The comment made something stir in you, and although it was risky, it was also short lived. Anakin frowned and lowered his eyes sadly. “The monstrous one I mean.”

“I like it,” you told him. “I like your hands. The both of them.”

Anakin met your orbs then. You locked into a soft but intimate stare. 

You couldn’t say how long you stood there. You didn’t even know if you could define what was happening. All you know is that the both of you stood on the steps of the temple, the sun setting behind your forms as the box stayed open between your fingers, containing Anakin’s new and beautiful hand. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo​ @anakinswhore​

I hope this satisfies your need for fluff, even though you can see plenty of angst if you squint

Credit to my friend S for the prompt, she is amazing.

[padfootagain]

Stranded (II)

Part 2 : Lifetimes

Here's part 2 for my first Obi-Wan fic! Hope you like it! Do you want me to do a part three? Then tell me :D If I have enough people wanting me to write more, I'll make one last part.

Gif not mine

Word Count: 3671

Night had fallen on Hoth, and with it, the temperatures. The drop was starting to seriously worry you. You had a vest on, and a pair of leather boots and trousers, but your clothes were hardly warm enough to protect you from such cold. Your teeth were chattering, you had wrapped your arms around your legs in an attempt to keep as much heat as you could, but it was far from enough to keep you warm. By now, you could barely feel your hands and feet as you forced your fingers and toes to move.

Once again, for what seemed to be the hundredth time, really, you passed your fingers before Obi-Wan’s lips to check if he was still breathing. But you felt the burning warmth against your fingers, and you heaved a relieved sigh.

For how long had you been stuck in that cave, you have no clue. You quickly gave up trying to keep a count on the flying minutes. And as the light from outside was entirely blocked by the fallen rocks, you couldn’t use the sun as a marker either. Only the change of temperature made you guess that it was night-time now, but you couldn’t be sure of anything.

"It’s getting colder, isn’t it?"

Obi-Wan’s voice made you jump, bringing you back to reality. You slowly nodded.

"It must be night," you told him. "I just hope it won’t get any colder."

He sat up, his movements slow, but he shook his head when you tried to argue against it.

"I feel better," he explained, although you weren't sure if he meant his words or was simply trying to reassure you.

He reached for your hands, and winced at how cold they were.

"You're so cold…"

He moved closer to you, until he could wrap his brown Jedi cloak around your two frames. He moved an arm around your shoulders, and you leaned into his embrace without any resistance. You couldn't help it… the way you noticed how easy it was for you to fit in his arms…

If only he weren't a Jedi, and you weren't a Senator. If only there wasn't a war raging on. If only you had met in different lives… Or perhaps you had. And perhaps you had shared one or a million happy lifetimes together, but this time, it was a destiny apart that was set for you.

You couldn't help but smile at your own silliness. What could even make you think that he felt the same?

He wrapped his hands around yours again, protecting you from the cold. His fingers were still stained with the red traces of dry blood, but you ignored that detail, just like he did. Slowly, softly, delicately, his thumbs brushed against your knuckles, and the touch made your heart shake. You let your eyes close.

You wanted to remember this. This… this was the closest you would be to him, you guessed so at least. And you wanted to take this memory with you when you both escaped this cave.

The way his calloused hands brushed against yours, the warmth of his frame passing through you, his arm holding you against him, the rhythm of his chest rising and falling with each breath he took and let out, the warm air that left his parted lips only to brush against your hair…

If only this could last forever.

You both remained motionless but for Obi-Wan's brushing fingers for a long while. Your breaths through the frozen air drew crazy patterns before your faces. The plants all around you were still the only source of light, lighting up the passage just enough for you to see the opposite wall.

And the temperature continued its fall…

"You're shaking," Obi-Wan let out in a breath, and his remark finally made you realize your own movements.

"I'm… I'm still so… so cold," you stuttered through chattering teeth.

He tightened his hold on you, but he was shaking as well. His strengths were waning more and more every second that flew by, he felt dizzy. He was losing focus all over again. And he knew you could feel it in the way he held you. He didn't mind though.

No news from Anakin for now. And although Obi-Wan didn't doubt for a second that his friend would find him, the question that remained was: would he found the two of you in time, or would the cold have killed you by then?

Obi-Wan kept on looking for a plan, a way out, some trick to warm you up, but there was no idea crossing his mind. None that would work at least. He was too weak to fight any droids. He was probably even too weak to move these stones away from the entrance… Would your chances of survival be higher in the wreckage than here? He wasn't sure…

He looked at your trembling lips that were slowly turning bluish. He tried to figure out in which direction his instincts were guiding his path. But as he rested his eyes upon you once more, it was pretty clear that he would have done anything to keep you safe.

There was nothing to protect you from the cold in that cave. Nothing could make the situation better in here. He couldn't sense any droids or lifeforms beyond the wall. It seemed pretty safe to go out again. He would probably lose his last strengths in moving these stones away, but he might succeed. And if you stayed, this cave might turn into your tomb…

It was worth a try.

He lifted his hand towards the stones and tried to focus as much as he could, but managed only to make the rocks tremble at his first attempt, none of them moved.

You looked up at him with eyes full of questions.

"What are you doing?"

"You might have more chances if you stay in the ship for the night. You can find blankets and other supplies to keep you warm there."

"Can you walk back to the ship?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it matters!"

"It's the middle of the night. After that trick of ours, the droids will probably not be sending another wave before sunrise, they will suffer from the cold too. You can find a better shelter in the ship. You won't need my protection for the night. And anyway, you're taking my lightsaber with you. You seem to be good at wielding it."

"I'm not going anywhere without you."

"You won't be needing me, but you need to get better protection from the cold."

"Of course, I need you."

"My mission is to make sure that you reach Coruscant alive, and I intend to complete my mission. Now, just do as I say, please."

You moved away from his arms, the air coming between the two of you right where the other was a second before making you both shiver.

"I am not leaving you here."

"You must."

"I won't do it."

"Look… Senator Y/LN, you have to trust me on this."

"Of course, I trust you, General. That's not the point!"

You had started to raise your voice, and he followed your lead without even noticing, until it was too late and he couldn't go back in time to erase the anger in his voice.

"Then get out of here. It's too cold, we won't make it through the night!"

"I won't leave you behind! We either both go or we both stay!"

He heaved a sigh. A sadder expression formed on his features, but a calmer one as well. When he spoke again, his tone was once more soft, almost delicate.

"I can't stand, Y/N. You have to go to the ship and find a place to take cover."

"What if I come back here with blankets?"

"It will be too cold in the open, you won't be able to make the journey back."

"How can you know that?"

"I know. I just do."

"Well then, it's settled. I'm staying here."

"Have you not listened to a single word I've just said?"

"You're the one who doesn't seem to understand my decision, here, Kenobi!"

"You must save yourself!"

You shook you head, but didn't reply as he opened his mouth to speak again. You waited for him to break the silence around you again, but he didn't. Not right away. Instead, you heard the roaring wind from outside echoing through the cave.

His expression changed so quickly in just a few seconds. First, he was worried, almost afraid. Then he was sad. And finally, he was wearing this stern mask again.

"Your work at the Senate is vital to the Republic. You must do whatever it takes to survive through the night."

His tone was cold now. Blank. Did he really mean it? Was it everything you were to him then? A Senator? Not even a friend? You had known each other for years, and now… of course, you had never acted on your feelings, and of course you didn't see each other on a regular basis but you thought… you thought you were at least a friend to him.

He fled your gaze, bringing his blue eyes down to stare at the dusty ground. He couldn't lie to you while looking at your eyes. It was the only way to make you believe that he meant all these words of his. If he put distance between you and him, then perhaps you would listen to his plea and save yourself.

But seconds flew away and you remained silently staring at him. And after a while, he couldn't avoid your glance anymore. He forced his expression to remain blank as he looked up again.

He could see he had failed though. He could read it in your eyes. You did doubt him now, but your will to stay had not faltered. This stubborn glim was still alit in your eyes.

"You don't mean that," you shook your head, your voice both defying and fragile, almost breaking and yet passionate.

He heaved yet another sigh, and as he stared into your eyes, he knew there was no need for lies. If he was to convince you, it had to be through honesty instead.

"Y/N, you have to take your chance. For me. For many years now, we have been friends… and you have always trusted me. Trust me again, just one last time."

"But that's the thing, Obi. I can't let it be the last time."

There were tears shining in your eyes before you could control yourself. You sucked in a shaky breath. The mere thought that this could be the last time you saw him…

"The Force is with me," he gave you a sad smile. "Y/N, please���"

Slowly, his fingers rose to brush your cheek. The gasp you made… you were certain he heard it, but actually, he was too distracted by his own pounding heart to notice.

Your skin against his… he had dreamt about such a simple gesture. He had dreamt about it being allowed. He had wished for it to happen. He had wished for the knowledge of how it would feel to brush his thumb across your cheekbone. Such a tiny, simple gesture, and yet, it had accompanied his dreams for years now.

It might have been his last chance to know how it felt. So, for once, he stopped worrying about the Jedi way. He stopped worrying about protocol. He stopped worrying about right and wrong and allowed and forbidden. Instead, he worried only about what his heart had desired for years, but that he had always refused for himself.

It was such a simple, innocent gesture, after all. Just a tiny touch. A caress. It barely felt like a breeze. He was dying, it seemed like a good last will…

"You have to save yourself. For me. Please, live for me."

A tear rolled down your cheek, and when he made a movement to move his hand away, you took it in your own, guiding his fingers back to your cheek, until his palm was set on your jaw and he was cupping your face.

"I could never live with myself if I left you here, Obi-Wan," you shook your head. "How could I live knowing that the prize to pay was your life? I can't do it. It's my life, and it should be my choice. And my choice is to stay with you. Obi-Wan, you… I…"

Your voice broke, and he brushed the tear away from your cheek.

Before he could react, you had buried your face in his shoulder, and were holding on his shirt as if your life depended on it.

"I can't leave you."

"You must…"

But you shook your head, your tears falling by now and wetting his beige shirt.

"I love you too much to let you die."

A whisper. Barely a breath. Just a sound he could have missed but by some miracle, he didn't. Just a few words, but how meaningful they were…

Was he right though? Was it all real? Or was he losing sight of the line between reality and illusions because of his wound?

But suddenly there was a crazy hope alit in his heart. He should have felt guilty for it. The Jedi in him should have pushed the feeling away. But who was he to push away love forever? At the end of the day, he was but a human, flawed and incomplete, and if you were his weakness, then what a beautiful weakness he had…

He wrapped his arms around you at last, holding you against him, closing his eyes, memorizing this moment. He wanted to be able to remember this feeling… even if it was just to remember it as he drew his last breath. Actually, it made the perfect last thought. The weight of your body leaning against his, your warmth spreading across his chest and arms, your breath warming his shoulder, the softness of your hair…

He couldn't help but notice how perfectly he fitted into your embrace.

He took a deep breath, tightening his hold on you a little. His head was spinning all of a sudden. How much time did he have left before he would fall to unconsciousness again? He had to say it… he had longed to say it for so long.

He pressed his lips to your ear, his beard tickling you in a way that made your heart beat even more frantically.

"But I love you too much to let you die too."

You pulled away suddenly, just enough to be able to look at his eyes. Searching for an answer, you stared right into his soul. Was it true? Had you heard him right? Was it all real, or just your mind playing tricks on you in this desperate hour?

But you read the answer in his gentle smile, in the fondness on his features as he looked back at you, at the soft glimmer in his eyes that told you he found you the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He did mean it. He meant it, every word of it…

You ran your hand through his beard and up his jawline, across his cheek and up to let your fingers disappear in his hair that partly fell before his eyes. He melted under your touch.

"It's my life," you shook your head, and there was such determination in your eyes, the battle to change your mind was definitely lost. "I am the one to choose how to use it. And I would rather die tonight by your side than have to live a hundred more years without you."

You noticed the gasp he took, and how hard it was for him to breathe. He seemed to think for a moment, but eventually, a smile formed on his face.

"You really are the most stubborn woman I have ever met, you know?"

You both let out a chuckle, before you finally bent to this urge of yours. How many times had you stopped yourself right at this moment, backed away and pretended like the connection had never happened? You had lost count long ago. You would not try to count any longer. You were ready to bring back that count to zero.

You cupped his cheek and crushed your lips to his. And at first you didn't think he would kiss you back, and you were almost okay with it. He was a Jedi, after all.

But then, his hands moved to hold your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, and when he did kiss you as well, you were certain to have found heaven.

 ---------------------------------------------------------------

 Anakin checked the radar in his hand again. The wreckage was close…

In the sky, the sun was slowly rising with the dawn, painting the heavens with golden shades. The cold was vivid, biting at his cheeks. The wind was deafening. It was such an unhospitable planet…

"Master! There!"

He turned towards his Padawan, and followed the direction she was pointing at. Indeed, he could guess the shape of a stranded ship under the snow.

"Come on, Snips!" he urged Ahsoka as he started to run towards the wreckage.

It had taken longer than he had planned for him to find Obi-Wan's crashing site. The snow made it difficult to spot the signs.

He had not encountered any droids on his way to the ship, and he wondered if they had given up on you and his former master. He hoped so, at least…

But most of all, he hoped he wouldn't be too late.

He and Ahsoka explored the carcass of the ship, but there was not much left. Distorted and melted metal. Cut and burnt wires. Traces of flames and pieces of your droid. Only broken things and traces of a violent end. The smell of ashes still lingered in the cockpit.

The young Togruta found the signs of medical supplies being taken away as well, and Anakin soon found the traces of blood Obi-Wan had left in his wake. They followed the traces out of the ship but snow had covered the rest of the tracks. He cursed under his breath, reaching for the commlink on his wrist.

"Obi-Wan, can you hear me? We're at the ship, where are you?"

But he was met with only silence.

"Obi-Wan!"

Again, no voice answered, only the roaring wind.

"Didn't Master Kenobi speak of a cave?" Ahsoka thought out loud. "And if he was wounded, they couldn't have gone far."

"You're right, Snips. Let's move on. Keep your eyes open."

They advanced through the snow, looking across the white and dark surface of the cliffs in search of a cave or any kind of crevasse. The wind didn't carry snow, but it was icy temperature was enough to make it difficult for the two Jedi to keep their eyes open. Anakin felt like it was cutting his cheeks open. The strength of the raging squalls was impending their movements, coupled to the thick layer of snow that sometimes was up to their knees, it was greatly slowing their pace.

It lasted for only a few minutes, but to both of them, it felt like an eternity. Until finally, Anakin spotted the entrance of the cave. And somehow, he knew Obi-Wan was inside.

"There!" he cried at Ahsoka as he ran towards the dark hole in the cliff.

As he stepped inside sliding a little over the icy ground, he took in the sight of the battle that had been raging on, before noticing the fallen stones that seemed to block the way…

He didn't think and merely rushed to the rocks, starting to dig.

"Snips! Help me out!"

But Ahsoka was already by his side, pushing the stones and the debris of droids away as well. And eventually, they broke through.

You were both sitting against the wall, your arms around each other and Obi-Wan's cloak wrapped around your frames. You seemed both unconscious.

"Obi-Wan!" Anakin called, hurrying by the Jedi's side and softly shaking him. "Obi-Wan!"

A few seconds passed, and for a moment, Anakin thought of the worst. That was it. He was too late. Once again, he was too late to save someone he loved…

But Obi-Wan's eyes finally flickered and opened, and Anakin and Ahsoka couldn't refrain a relieved sigh.

"Anakin…"

His voice was hoarse, low, barely audible, and yet it was such a comforting sound.

"Anakin, how come you're always late?"

They all let out a chuckle.

"That's because you always invite me at the last minute."

You stirred in Obi-Wan's arms, and finally opened your eyes as well. As you realized that rescue had arrived, you finally moved away from him, and Ahsoka helped you to your feet and then to walk while Anakin was taking care of Obi-Wan.

The walk back to their ship should have been rather quick, but both Obi-Wan and you were too exhausted to move fast.

But eventually, you reached the starship, and you both lied down on two benches separated by barely a meter.

"We'll soon be out of here, hang on," Ahsoka reassured you, before following her Master and R2 inside the cockpit to take off.

Obi-Wan and you looked at each other for the first time since you had lost consciousness together the previous night.

And slowly, he reached for your hand.

And slowly, you reached for his.

Was this story forbidden? Undoubtedly. Were your duties incompatible? Society seemed to think so. Was it a good idea to go against institutions and rules to be together? Wisdom would have you answering that it wasn't.

But did you love him? With all your heart. And did he love you? With all his might. And you didn't want this life to be one of these lives where you and him couldn't love each other.

Maybe for once, it could be enough. At least, for this moment...

********************************

Taglist : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @yana-versio @madamrogers

[pandora15]

Whumptober Day 6 Prompt: Dragged Away

(tw torture, blood, death)

“Anakin.”

Anakin groaned, shifting slightly to cover his ears.  He was too tired to wake up this early; why didn’t Obi-Wan get that?  Obi-Wan would always wake him up at the crack of dawn, despite the number of times Anakin had told him that he was not a morning person.

A quiet sigh, then: “Anakin, get up.  We need to get out of here.”

Get out of here?

Anakin’s eyes snapped open to see Obi-Wan sitting next to him.  There was an ugly-looking bruise on Obi-Wan’s cheekbone, and his wrists were cuffed together by what appeared to be one of those nasty Force-suppression cuffs.

That was when Anakin realized he couldn’t really move his wrists either.  He looked down at them, seeing the exact same set of cuffs binding them together.  He then reached for the Force, and immediately realized that he couldn’t exactly do it.

Well, he could, but it just seemed too far away, like a fading memory.

“What happened?” Anakin asked, voice rasping in his throat.  He sat up and looked around, noting that they were both in a cell of some sort.  The room itself was rather plain—it was just the four dark grey walls and the door.

“The mercenaries caught up to us, remember?” Obi-Wan asked dryly, moving back and tugging experimentally at his own cuffs.  

Anakin nodded slowly, remembering the group of mercenaries that had suddenly attacked them in the middle of their mission.  They had managed to escape, but the mercenaries pursued them across Felucia, forcing them to turn away from their mission and focus on survival.

Obviously, they didn’t stay ahead of them for long.

Obi-Wan stood up and walked over to one of the walls, placing a hand onto it.

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Part of him wished he could be more helpful.  This mission was only his second one as a Padawan, and the Council said it was supposed to be a simple escort mission.

Of course, the Council didn’t know that they would be pursued and then captured by a rather powerful group of mercenaries, which made the mission a lot more complicated than it was originally.

“Trying to see if the cell has any weaknesses,” Obi-Wan murmured, placing an ear to the wall.  “We must get out of here.  I suspect that they would like to interrogate us, and I would much rather avoid that situation.”

Interrogate?

Anakin blinked, then he realized exactly what Obi-Wan was saying.  His blood went cold as panic flooded into his system.

Even when cut off from the Force, Obi-Wan seemed to sense his anxiety, turning away from the wall to glance back at him.  “I assume that they won’t do anything to you, but in any case, we need to leave as soon as possible.”

Anakin swallowed.  “Agreed,” he said, slowly pulling himself to his feet.

Over the next few minutes, Obi-Wan showed him how to search the cell for weaknesses, but neither of them seemed to find anything at all.  Eventually, Anakin sat down again, and Obi-Wan followed suit, silently resting his cuffed hands on his knees and closing his eyes.

Then, the door slid open.

The mercenary who entered was the large Trandoshan who Anakin remembered encountering early on in the mission.  It was clear that he was the leader of the group, the one in charge.

Completely ignoring Anakin, the Trandoshan turned towards Obi-Wan, whose eyes were still closed, as though in meditation.

“Jedi,” the mercenary grunted.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and smiled pleasantly at the Trandoshan, as though they were somewhere in the safety of Coruscant’s upper levels, chatting about the weather or something equally meaningless.

“Hello there,” he greeted.  “I don’t suppose you have come here to let us out, have you?”

With a quiet hiss, the door slid open again, and a Rodian walked in.  With a nod towards the Trandoshan, the Rodian walked towards Anakin.

Anakin shrank away, but the Rodian easily grabbed him by the wrists and wrapped a chain around his cuffs, attaching it firmly to the wall right next to him.  As the Rodian pulled away, Anakin tugged at the chains experimentally, immediately noting that he couldn’t move from his position at all.

The Rodian smiled cruelly before leaving the room once again, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan alone with the Trandoshan.

Of course, that made Anakin realize that something really bad was about to happen.  His stomach turned into knots, and he pulled harder at his wrists, trying to break the cuffs or the chains or something.

It didn’t work.

The Trandoshan let out a cold laugh before bringing his clawed right foot up and swinging it harshly across Obi-Wan’s face.  Obi-Wan fell onto his side with a hoarse grunt, but he immediately began to pull himself back up, wiping the back of his cuffed hands across his face.

“Master!” Anakin shouted, too stunned to move.  He continued stretching his hands forward, but the chains prevented him from moving any closer than he already was.

Before Obi-Wan could even fully sit up, the Trandoshan lifted his right foot again and stomped it directly onto Obi-Wan’s middle.

A terrible cracking sound echoed through the cell, and Obi-Wan fell onto his back with a choked gasp.  He went completely limp under the Trandoshan’s weight, breaths harsh and uneven.  His head lolled towards Anakin, eyes glassy and unfocused.

The Trandoshan shifted slightly, increasing the pressure of his foot as sharp, clawed nails gouged into Obi-Wan’s stomach.  Obi-Wan’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, even as blood began to stain the cloth around the claws stabbed into his middle.

“I’m afraid our...benefactor has given us different instructions,” the Trandoshan hissed, and he knelt, forcing almost all of his entire body weight onto the one foot as it pressed harder onto Obi-Wan’s middle and the claws dug in even deeper.

Another terrible cracking sound echoed through the cell, and Obi-Wan jerked, letting out another gasp, chest heaving.

Obi-Wan’s head rolled away from Anakin’s direction to look up at the Trandoshan, and he struggled to move, to push the Trandoshan’s weight off of him with his hands, but the Trandoshan didn’t budge, easily slapping away Obi-Wan’s wrists with another cruel laugh.

Then, he brutally slapped Obi-Wan across the face.  Obi-Wan’s face snapped to the side with a grunt, turned away from Anakin.

“Stop!” Anakin shouted, struggling to move forward, to do something.

The Trandoshan looked up at him and smiled, sending a shiver down Anakin’s spine.  

“Sure,” the mercenary replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Still kneeling, the Trandoshan lifted his right foot up off of Obi-Wan’s stomach for a brief second before slamming it roughly onto Obi-Wan’s chest.  A louder cracking sound echoed through the chamber, and the claws gouged into the left side of Obi-Wan’s chest, near his heart.

Anakin watched, horrified, as blood seeped out of the holes in Obi-Wan’s stomach, as Obi-Wan let out a terrible-sounding wheeze, eyes fluttering.

A few moments passed as Obi-Wan continued wheezing, uneven breaths rattling in his chest, more blood flowing out of the wounds in his stomach.

Keeping his right foot firmly in place on Obi-Wan’s chest, the Trandoshan stood up smoothly.  His left foot, resting on the ground next to Obi-Wan, lifted into the air, forcing his entire body weight onto Obi-Wan’s chest.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, and his hands shook before he let out a pained shout, head turning back and forth.  His hands tried to move towards the Trandoshan’s right leg, to topple him over, but it seemed like Obi-Wan’s movements were too weak and uncoordinated to do so.

Horrified, Anakin froze, watching as blood trickled out of the corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth.  Obi-Wan coughed wretchedly, and the Trandoshan wavered, before placing his left foot firmly onto Obi-Wan’s stomach, claws gouging and stabbing another three holes into his stomach.

Obi-Wan let out a full-lunged scream, head falling backwards until the back of his head slammed onto the stone ground underneath him.  Then, he continued trying to shift, but he appeared to be completely frozen in place, unable to move.

Standing directly on top of Obi-Wan’s bloodied chest and stomach, the Trandoshan barked out a laugh as Obi-Wan’s struggles grew weaker and weaker.

Obi-Wan gasped again, head rolling back and forth before he turned towards Anakin.  The bruises on his face from their capture, coupled with a few fresh ones, stood starkly in the cell’s dim light.  His lips, red with blood yet tinted slightly blue, opened slightly before they closed with a pained wheeze.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered, and his hands fell limply to his side as he began to pant, clearly struggling to breathe under the Trandoshan’s crushing weight.

“Stop it!  Please!” Anakin shouted, struggling to reach for the Force, but it danced away from reach.  His stomach twisted at the sight before him.

Obi-Wan’s breaths were weak and uneven as the Trandoshan remained standing on top of him, laughing cruelly.  Obi-Wan’s hands were shaking, trying to push the Trandoshan off of him, but his attempts were futile

The Trandoshan twisted, and the claws stabbed into Obi-Wan’s chest and stomach rotated.  Obi-Wan cried out pitifully, eyes squeezing shut.  Then, the Trandoshan crouched, lifting up his right hand.

The Trandoshan’s hand had three large fingers, each clawed, each one much more sharper and dangerous than the claws on his feet.  He placed the tip of the largest claw protruding from his right hand—the middle claw—directly onto the center of Obi-Wan’s chest, poised to stab downwards.

Anakin thrashed, struggling to break away, to stop all of this from happening.

“No!” he cried out, voice cracking, desperately reaching to the Force.  The Force seemed even further away somehow, despite his struggles.  “No!”

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered, each breath wheezing terribly in his chest.  He blinked up at the Trandoshan, eyes half-lidded.

“Our benefactor insisted that we must kill you,” the Trandoshan hissed, though it seemed like Obi-Wan couldn’t understand him.

“Unfortunate, really.  He said it was all because you killed his apprentice, Kenobi.”

With a single jerking motion, the Trandoshan drove his clawed finger roughly into Obi-Wan’s chest.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, and he let out a soundless gasp.

Anakin screamed, tears running down his face, struggling to break free, to move forward, to reach for the Force, to do something.

Obi-Wan’s head jerked upwards as the finger-claw stabbed into his chest twisted brutally before he fell back with a wet-sounding cough.  Anakin saw blood now dripping out of Obi-Wan’s nose and mouth, sliding down his face to his chin.

“You’ve lost,” the Trandoshan whispered, and he pulled his clawed finger roughly out of Obi-Wan’s chest.

Obi-Wan let out a final wheeze before he went completely limp, head turning towards Anakin.  His eyes were half-open, glazed, fixed onto Anakin’s left arm, and his bloodied nose and mouth were now dripping blood onto the floor next to him.  He didn’t move.

Anakin blinked.  “Master!” he shouted, voice cracking, echoing through the cell’s walls.  He reached forwards again, violently struggling against the chain holding him back.  “Master!”

The Trandoshan turned towards him and laughed before he stepped off of Obi-Wan, the claws on his feet glinting with blood in the dim light.  Anakin waited for Obi-Wan to move, to shift or do something that would tell Anakin that he would be alright.

But Obi-Wan remained still.  He wasn’t even panting or wheezing anymore.  His chest and stomach were still bleeding, especially the large, gruesome wound in the center of his chest, but still, there was no sign of visible movement.

The Trandoshan smiled at Anakin one last time and grabbed Obi-Wan’s left arm, dragging his body away and out of the cell.

(Pandora’s Whumptober 2019 Masterlist)