The Darkness of Desire

Darkness of Desire

Disclaimer: This is a non-profit story, and I own none of the characters.
Author – Courtier
Rating – N-17 for situations of sexuality and slash
Summary – A coming of age story chronicling the relationship between Anakin Skywalker and his master, Obi-wan Kenobi; a story of passion, empathy, and confliction.

This story continues two years following the previous chapter. . .

Chapter XIII – Tortured Confession


One thing was certain. Anakin Skywalker and his master, Obi-wan Kenobi, were certainly in a spot of bother. The eighteen year old apprentice ducked as a blaster bolt fired dangerously past his ear. He could feel its sizzling heat nearly singeing his skin. Lifting his saber defensively before him, he deflected more oncoming shots. Beside him, he could hear his master doing the same. Amidst the constant zaps of the blaster shots and buzzing lightsabers, Anakin heard his master speak exasperatedly,

“I highly doubt our lives will last much longer if we continue to remain here!”

Anakin deflected yet another blast and turned to his master. Obi-wan winced as a stray bolt grazed his arm.

“I suggest we run,” the elder stated. Slightly and swiftly nodding in agreement, Anakin turned and fled down the corridor on his master’s heels.

He could hear the heavy footsteps of their assailants rushing after them, every now and again firing blasts. Anakin used the force to attempt to evade any random strikes and hoped Obi-wan was doing the same.

They rounded a tight corner, and Obi-wan stumbled, nearly falling to his knees. Acting quickly, Anakin let out his arm to steady his master, and the two were running side by side once more. The white hallway that stretched in front of them seemed blurred and overlong. Their chances of survival were shortening with each passing breath.

If we don’t find somewhere to hide soon, we’ll be shot!, Anakin thought, nearly stumbling himself. The force was becoming harder to hold on to. Any second, their pursuers would round the last corner and shoot them.

Of a sudden, Anakin felt his comrade grasp his shoulder and tear him forcefully towards the side of the hall, into a small alcove.

“In here!” he heard Obi-wan hiss. The two Jedi scrambled into an overhead shaft, using the force to dislodge its metal covering. Once hidden inside the air duct, they paused, barely daring to breathe. Looking down into the hallway below them, they saw a troop of smugglers (their assailants) run past, unaware of their hiding place.

“Should we -” Anakin started, yet was cut short.

“Quiet! There could be more of them.”

Both knights crouched awkwardly in the ventilation duct, panting slightly from exertion. Anakin bit his lip and roved his eyes along the short view they had of the hall below. Suddenly, he felt a slight sort of pressure around his upper arm. Looking downward, he noticed that his master’s hand was still firmly gripping him just below the shoulder. He could feel the warmth from the elder Jedi’s hand through his tunic’s cloth. The fingers squeezed slightly, tightening their grasp, and the padawan clenched his jaw. He moved his eyes upward to his mentor. Obi-wan was warily watching the corridor below them, his bejeweled eyes darting forward and back quickly. It seemed as though he was unaware he was still grasping his apprentice’s arm firmly.

“Obi-wan, my arm. . . .” Anakin muttered feebly.

“Anakin, silence. We don’t want our whereabouts known.”

“But, you – my arm. . . .let go of my arm. . . .”

He shrugged his arm free of his master’s hand. Obi-wan stared back at Anakin, looking puzzled.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” Anakin protested. “My arm’s just sore, is all.”

Shaking his head confusedly, Obi-wan returned his eyes down to the view of the hall below them. Shifting his weight off of his knees so that he might crouch better in the rather tight air duct, Anakin looked round them. There was no way out but the way they had come.

How do we keep getting ourselves into these situations?

Sighing to himself, he looked back towards Obi-wan. His eyes were drawn quickly towards the elder Jedi’s upper arm. A crimson flush had flowered beneath the cloth of his cloak.

“Obi-wan, you’re shot!” he whispered urgently.

Obi-wan dazedly followed Anakin’s gaze, and studied his wound with a bemused expression.

“It’s just a scratch,” he spoke dismissively.

Silence followed. A faint alarm could be heard echoing in the corridors above them. Absentmindedly, Anakin began to click his teeth together, as he often did in moments of dullness. The moments slipped by, neither companion speaking until Obi-wan finally muttered quietly,

“Alright, I believe it’s safe now. We’ll let ourselves down silently, part ways, and meet one another back at the ship. If we travel separately, it will be simpler to evade capture.”

Anakin nodded in agreement.

“Very well, Master.”

“Good luck,” Obi-wan smiled to him before slipping down into the corridor below. After waiting a few moments, Anakin dropped down as well, making his way stealthily back towards their ship.

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


“No, there didn’t seem to be any Separatist leaders present, though there was an abundance of smugglers.”

Aboard the Exodus, Anakin sat in the captain’s seat, watching as his master spoke to a small holographic Master Windu at the end of the cockpit.

“You’re certain?” Master Windu’s voice crackled.

“Quite certain,” Obi-wan promptly replied.

“Very well then. We await your return, Master Kenobi. End transmission.” The light blue image of the council member wavered slightly and flickered before finally fading away.

Anakin looked on as Obi-wan briefly smiled to him from across the room after deactivating the holo generator. His heart suddenly thumped forcefully against his chest and he turned away, facing the piloting controls before him.

“I – I’m sorry I blew our cover earlier. I didn’t mean to,” he spoke haltingly.

“Oh that’s alright,” he heard his master reply from behind him. “They would have realized we were Jedi eventually. No harm was done.” In the corner of his eye, Anakin saw Obi-wan set himself into the co-pilot’s seat beside him. Grasping the controls in front of him, he focused on maneuvering their ship into its proper course.

“How is your arm?” he asked after a few moments of quiet.

“Better than it was.”

More silence. Anakin shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Would you like me to take over?” he heard his master ask.

“No – no I’m fine. If you’re tired, you can take a few hour’s sleep. I can handle the ship.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine.”

Would you just leave already?

“Very well. Wake me upon our return.”

Keeping his eyes focused on the view of space before him, Anakin heard his master leave his seat and head for the sleeping chambers toward the rear of the ship. Heaving a relieved sigh, he eased his back against his seat and relaxed his fingers on the control panel. The constriction of anxiety that had tightened in his chest began to alleviate.

I can’t continue to live like this. . . .

Of late, Anakin Skywalker was not happy. Not happy at all. In fact, he couldn’t recall ever feeling so utterly wretched in his entire life, not even when he was bound as a slave. He closed his eyes briefly and relished in the peaceful tranquility that now filled the cockpit.

It’s getting harder to hide. He’ll soon know. . .

He opened his eyes and bit his lip. Uncontrollably, memories of the day sprang to his mind. The warm hand grasping his arm, the affectionate smiles, the warm and wonderful guidance. . . .It was all poison. And it stung bitterly.

Years ago, Anakin had realized he harbored an attraction for his mentor. Shortly afterwards, he’d convinced himself it had merely been the raging lust of a growing boy stirring inside him. What else could it be? However, the desire did not diminish as the years passed him; it grew stronger. Any kind of touch or recognition from Obi-wan fluttered and twisted his heart. At times, it seemed almost painful.

Anakin had once been a very open young man. Whatever flew through his mind would immediately be told to Obi-wan. Times had changed as emotions grew, however. A gulf had driven itself between the apprentice and his master; not by any argument or difference, but by love. A love that was wrong and that would never be returned.

The years seemed to bring only pain and conflict to Anakin Skywalker. At eighteen, his future of knighthood loomed before him as well. It was something he’d wanted since childhood.

And yet a Jedi shall not know love! How then, may I fulfill my fate if what consumes me endlessly is love?

He leaned forward now, resting his forehead against his hands.

I’m so tired. . . .tired of love. . . .of pressure. . . .tired of feeling tired.

The acid truth that he’d come to know was that desire meant certain corruption to a Jedi. Desire meant longing, distraction, torture, and despair for a knight.

A harsh surge of frustration jolted through Anakin’s mind just then, causing a dull ache to throb behind his eyes. He pushed himself from the control panel and stood upright, clenching and flexing his fists unthinkingly. At the moment, he didn’t feel like sitting in one place. He wanted to move; to walk and sort his thoughts. The Exodus, however, was a small transport, and hardly provided the room to do so.

Steadying himself with a hand against the wall, he walked the length of the small cockpit after initiating autopilot. He paused at its entrance and let his forehead rest lightly against the door’s frame.

I thought I was stronger than this. . . .

He lifted is eyes and caught a view of the small bunkroom adjoined to the cockpit. Raising his head and furrowing his eyes, he noticed the bunk was unoccupied. He’s still awake?

Anakin took a few tentative steps until he stood directly in front of the bunkroom, so that the entire view of the chamber was visible to him. Obi-wan was standing in the far side of the room, gazing quietly out of the small porthole window overlooking space. He must be in meditation. . . Anakin knew he should return to the captain’s seat, yet his feet weren’t moving. He felt much too weary to move at the moment. For the present, merely gazing upon his master seemed restful enough.

I wonder what he sees when he meditates. . . .

Of a sudden, Obi-wan turned abruptly and met his eyes. A quick shiver of panic overtook Anakin. He felt as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Forgive me, Obi-wan. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation,” he muttered quickly and backed himself away from the room.

“No, no what is it?” Obi-wan lifted a hand to beckon him closer. “If there’s something you need to tell me, you don’t have to lurk in the doorway!” The elder Jedi half laughed then, attempting to bring humor into the situation. The attempt, however, was wasted on Anakin. He only felt more embarrassed.

Keeping his eyes lowered, he shuffled awkwardly into the room to stand before his master. No words came to him. Only humility.

“Well?” his mentor’s voice prompted quietly in front of him.

What can I possibly tell him? If I tell him the truth, he’d shun me. If I lie, he’ll know I am lying. . .

So Anakin Skywalker said nothing, slipping farther into self confliction and frustration. Finally, he shook his head.

“Nothing,” he mumbled and turned to leave the room. What he didn’t expect was to see Obi-wan crossing swiftly in front of him, blocking the doorway.

“It’s not nothing,” the elder Jedi stated firmly. “You look as if you’re drowning. For the sake of sanity, just tell me the truth.” His voice was kind and calm; patient.

Anakin did not reply. It would be so easy to allow his feelings to erupt and drain the poisonous thoughts of desire from his mind. With a desperate longing, he recalled the days of youth when he could lean his head into his master’s shoulder and divulge his worries.

“I’m not blind, Anakin,” Obi-wan continued. “I’ve known you for nine years, and you believe that I can’t tell when something is amiss? Do you think so lowly of me?”

With a grudging effort, Anakin slowly met his master’s eyes. Think lowly of you? How could I? You are the embodiment of perfection. . . . He cursed under his breath and dug his nails into his palms. A burst of self loathing quickened his heart as the lower part of his vision clouded with unshed tears. He could see Obi-wan’s brow crease in sudden concern.

Anakin lowered his head once more, concealing his moist eyes. And then he felt his master’s hand tenderly grasp his chin and lightly lift his head upwards so that their eyes met.

“Tell me,” the elder Jedi spoke softly. It had been a command, yet also a gentle request.

It was then that Anakin’s resolve finally fell.

“Obi-wan. . . . .I can’t be a Jedi.” His breath shuddered out of him and he looked away. “I just can’t. I’m not strong enough. . . .”

“What madness is this?” Obi-wan asked confusedly.

“I’ve tried. For two years I’ve tried. But I – ” his voice cracked and he turned away. As he approached the small cot, he sank onto its edge, resting his head in his hands wearily. He sniffed loudly, and let his hands fall from his face. “I’m just not as strong as you. I’ve seen what it’s done to you. You’re still haunted by it.” His voice began to waver and his words blended with one another. “I won’t be able to endure it. . . .” He cursed once more; an action that would usually warrant a reprimand from his master, yet Obi-wan either did not hear him or decided to let it pass.

“Endure what, Anakin?” his master asked when he did not continue.

Now. Now he shall know that I know. . . .

“I know, Obi-wan,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know you loved him.”

The sentence hung in the air. Obi-wan’s expression of confusion and concern shifted into shock. It was entirely clear that he knew whom Anakin was referring to. The elder Jedi opened his mouth to speak and faltered. Many times he attempted to find words, but to no avail.

“I do not judge you,” Anakin assured him quickly. “Believe me when I say that.”

Obi-wan’s expression of utter alarm did not dissipate however. He only seemed more stunned.

“How – how do you – when. . . .?” he stammered, his hands gesturing questioningly.

“I entered your thoughts once. And I saw you with him. You were –,” he stopped. Obi-wan had held up a hand to silence him. Feeling a pull of sympathy, Anakin watched as his master began to pace forward and back. The force was bubbling around him in a fury of thought. Finally, the elder knight halted and turned to him once more.

“Anakin, I assure you that my feelings for my former master were merely – ,”

It was Anakin’s turn to silence his mentor.

“I already told you, I do not think less of you. If I did, I would be nothing but a hypocrite.”

Obi-wan’s beautiful eyes narrowed again.

“What do you mean?”

Anakin took a deep breath. I can’t believe I’m actually going to tell him. This could potentially lead my life into ruin. . .

“Because, I feel the same. . . .” he confessed.

His master took a quick intake of air.

“You loved Qui-gon?”

Anakin could not help but release an exasperated sigh. He does not see it. Sadly and tiredly, he shook his head.

“No. . . .You. I love . . . . .you, Obi-wan.”


For those of you that absolutely loathe cliffhangers (like I do), don’t worry. The next chapter is already uploaded for you to read. :)