Sun Kissed

Chapter 15

Beta'd by: Estora

>>>

It was the worst idea he ever had.

It was inexcusable, stupid, and could have been entirely avoidable. Yet here he was, sitting alone, while Anakin screamed.

He could have prevented this.

Prevented all of this.

He wouldn’t be suffering as he was now. It was agony. Torture. It was all his fault and for the Cosmic sake of the Force if Anakin jumps off that ledge one more time and screams like he’s being murdered I just might kill him.

“Oh, Force.” Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands and groaned miserably as Anakin took another running jump off the rocky outcropping, plunging straight into the ocean, all the while screaming like an idiot.

Teaching him to swim was decidedly a mistake.

He didn’t know what possessed him.

Oh, wait. No. He did know.

Mi’aka and her ideas.

“He needs more training Obi-Wan,” she’d said. “All AgriCorps workers have some level of combat training and self-defence from their Initiate days. Anakin doesn’t.”

So learn Anakin did. Mi’aka and Obi-Wan took him through the paces, and yet again his learning curve surprised them. It wasn’t just his prowess in the Force that he picked up on quickly; he was just as adept a student in hand-to-hand combat as well.

He picked up swimming just as quickly. Obi-Wan expected the nervousness, Anakin was from a desert planet and the ocean was vast, but swimming was something Anakin soon learned to enjoy. He found it exhilarating once he stopped inadvertently trying to drown himself.

Obi-Wan was glad for the smile it put on Anakin’s face, but by the stars: Mi’aka and her ideas.

“He could try swimming. You’re right by the ocean; it’s too good an opportunity to miss.”

One mention of swimming and Anakin had been asking what it was, leading Mi’aka to launch into an exposition about the form of exercise and how many benefits there were to it. Obi-Wan would have been happy with a run or a jaunty skip - nothing to teach there, no half naked young man Obi-Wan was trying to avoid thinking of in certain inappropriate ways.

Force, just teaching Anakin to swim had been…trying. He had anticipated Anakin barely clothed, but he hadn’t anticipated the amount of time Anakin’s bare skin would be pressed to his. Hadn’t anticipated how warm he was.

Obi-Wan shook his head and picked up his sunscreen. He needed a distraction, he decided, but there was no such luck: Anakin’s laughter echoed from the bay, causing Obi-Wan to instinctively glance up.

Why did I teach him? Obi-Wan lamented as he rubbed his eyes wearily. Nearly every day for the past two weeks Anakin had dragged him out to the water. It was tiring, torturous, and that wasn’t even mentioning the sorts of creatures in the water that could eat him…

Loud splashing broke him out of his paranoid reverie as Anakin waded out of the water, soaking wet, and fell down next to Obi-Wan. Panting and leaning back on his arms, Anakin was giving Obi-Wan much mental fodder that would likely haunt his dreams. He busied himself with his sunscreen.

“Why do you always put that goop on?”

“It’s so I don’t get a sun burn, Anakin. You should put some on too.”

“I never do.”

No, no he didn’t. Because Anakin somehow never burned. Obi-Wan assumed it was a perk of living on a desert planet, and it was inherently frustrating. Obi-Wan himself didn’t just burn - oh no, his fair skin blistered, peeled, and turned an ungodly shade of red. As if that weren’t enough, he always found himself extremely dehydrated after a bad burn as well.

He couldn’t imagine ever living on a world such like the one Anakin came from. The heat and twin suns would likely take an incredible toll on him, aging him faster, drying him out like parchment.

Anakin, on the other hand, glowed. His skin looked healthier, golden. He looked…stunning.

“Something’s going to eat you!” He blurted, trying to refocus. “Out there. Attracted by your noise.”

And they would, he justified. As pretty as Anakin was, he was also loud. Force, there was nothing about the boy that was quiet. Most of the time, he admittedly found it amusing, like the way Anakin would question him and debate everything. It was exasperating at times, but more often than not it was a mental challenge he hadn’t had in decades. And when Anakin said something that was completely outlandish and downright ridiculous complete with that pout -

Refocus, Kenobi.

Ocean. Noise. Dangers. Eaten.

There had to be dangerous things in the oceans here. He knew, because he read about them. And if he gets himself eaten by sharks then what will you look at. Obi-Wan blinked. Lecture at. Talk to.

He had to remind Anakin. Again.

“You might get eaten.”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan oddly for a minute before his face split into a wide grin. He laughed openly and carefree, obviously over-enjoying the incredulous look on Obi-Wan’s face.

“I’m not going to get eaten, Obi-Wan,” he said, grinning.

“There are things-“

“That we’ve gone over.”

“-in that ocean-“

“Yes, Obi-Wan.”

“-that could seriously harm you. Poisonous stinging things, and things with big teeth, and-“

“Yes, Obi-Wan.”

>>> 

Anakin continued his faithful litany of ‘Yes, Obi-Wan’ as the man went over exactly what type of species could be plotting his tragic demise. In Anakin’s opinion – and Mi’aka’s as well – Obi-Wan sometimes got just a little bit paranoid. Beginning a week ago, Obi-Wan developed a penchant for making him think maybe, just maybe, the fish of Bandomeer were forming underwater gangs and roughing up unsuspecting swimmers.

Upon relaying this to Mi’aka, she had laughed and told him the biggest fish that came into the bay Obi-Wan’s house overlooked were maybe just over a foot and a half long and completely harmless.

“-and the way you scream when you jump off that ledge, it sounds like you’re dying, and further more-“

“Yes, Obi-Wan.”

Anakin found himself hard pressed not to smile. Obi-Wan was lecturing, he must pay attention. Or not. Mostly not. He usually missed everything Obi-Wan told him when he got like this. But it wasn’t Anakin’s fault, and it wasn’t like Obi-Wan was boring either; it was just that Anakin had other things to focus on. Other important things to focus on.

Like Obi-Wan’s voice. Whether he was teaching Anakin something that Anakin himself found interesting, or now when it was going in through one ear and out the other…the content didn’t matter, only the way Obi-Wan sounded. Anakin liked his voice. He found something quite soothing about the way he spoke, the crisp tenor was unlike any Anakin had heard before.

 “Your accent’s different from the others.” He remembered telling Obi-Wan.

“It’s a Coruscanti accent.”

“Were you born there?”

“No, I wasn’t. I was three when I came to the Temple, but the Creche Master that raised me was a native of Coruscant and I sort of picked it up from her.”

Anakin had briefly entertained sending her a thank you note.

He wiped a hand over his mouth to hide his brief smile from Obi-Wan. He wasn’t ready for him to throw his hands up in complete exasperation and stop talking just yet. Obi-Wan was a quiet man, but the more time Anakin spent with him the more he got Obi-Wan to talk. He didn’t care if it was a lecture about the dangers of sea life, his messiness, or the second fire he managed to start in the kitchen.

The lectures amused Anakin to no end, and it gave him the chance to do what was quickly becoming his favourite thing: Obi-Watching. And today he was going to focus on a particularly amusing discovery.

Obi-Wan had freckles.

Lots of them.

They became quite prominent after a few hours in the sunlight.

And the most grin-worthy moment of all? Discovering that Obi-Wan hated them. Loathed their very existence and was none-too-pleased-thank-you when Anakin had laughed at him. It was so completely out of character for everything Anakin thought he knew about Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Just when I think I have you figured out, you do something that surprises me.

But as much as Obi-Wan hated his freckles, Anakin lov-liked. Liked them.

Blink and respond. “Yes, Obi-Wan.”

They were amusing. And made him smile every time he got Obi-Wan out of the house to swim with him.

The embarrassment of not knowing what he was doing had been quickly dismissed every time Obi-Wan’s bare skin touched his. There may have been a time or two that Anakin had purposely pretended to be worse off when he was, just to get an arm around Obi-Wan, or, if he was extremely lucky, to have Obi-Wan’s chest pressed to his.

It was during one of those lucky times when he noticed all the spots dotted on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Who knew that blurting out his discovery would send Obi-Wan into a tirade about freckles, fair skin, ginger hair, and the lethality of the sun?

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. Obi-Wan had just looked so… affronted while he’d bemoaned his freckled fate. How could he not have laughed?

He probably shouldn’t have made a show about counting the freckles, but the exasperated huff and the way Obi-Wan rolled his eyes had been completely worth it.

He liked that Obi-Wan had freckles. They highlighted his nose and cheeks, spotted along his arms, dusted his shoulders and upper back. Obi-freckles were cute. It was all he could think of, really. As such, he of course missed whatever Obi-Wan was saying.

“Anakin, are you even listening to me?”

Yep, thought Anakin, Obi-Wan is definitely adorable when he’s frustrated.

“Sorry.” He managed to give Obi-Wan a cheeky smile.

He imagined it looked obnoxiously unrepentant. Suppressing a chuckle, he watched as Obi-Wan eyed him suspiciously and continued with his sunscreen.

Anakin blinked. “Why are you putting all that goop on again?”

“Had you been listening to me you would already know that.”

“Is it because of your ‘delicate constitution’?”

Obi-Wan’s glare was welcomed.

“I need it so I don’t burn. Just because you are a genetic anomaly-“

 “I’m from a desert planet.”

“-who doesn’t have even the decency to get a bit reddened-“

“Tatooine has two suns.”

“-with the amount of time you spend out here-“

“Now who isn’t listening?”

His mouth quirked up into a half smile as Obi-Wan continued on about Anakin’s complete inability to get a ‘sun burn’, whatever that was anyway.

While Obi-Wan distracted himself with his ranting, Anakin took the chance to watch him slide his hands over his chest and arms. He knew what that skin felt like, but their contact was always much too brief.

Anakin unconsciously licked his lower lip.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s tone had changed.

“Hmm?” Anakin snapped himself out of his appraisal.

“Just be careful.”

Anakin swallowed. The soft tone and the gentle way Obi-Wan was looking at him made his heart beat faster. No one had ever made him feel like this before.

“You told me this part was safe for swimming,” he managed.

“Theoretically safe.”

“Wouldn’t I sense something? Through the Force?”

“Possibly…Probably,” Obi-Wan amended. With Anakin’s midi-chlorians as high as they were it would be almost impossible for him not to feel the Force’s warning shout at him.

“You worry too much.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Always.”

>>> 

Folding another shirt and putting it aside, Shmi Skywalker sighed. Maybe she’d take a different blouse this time. Maybe it would bring good luck if she changed something. It was always the same. The same bag, the same clothes, the same familiar route back to the planet she had unwillingly left behind so many years ago.

Every year Shmi made her return to Tatooine to search for the son she lost.

She’d even calculated the date. Every year, on the day they were separated, she went back. Perhaps it was in vain, an old woman’s folly – but still she had hope. A fool’s hope as it was, but it was still something to hold onto.

The trail had gone completely cold, not that there was a good one to begin with. Many auctions kept no records of slave transactions. All were considered final sale. It also wasn’t unheard of for a slave to be sold to one master only to be sold to another a few short minutes or hours later if the deal was good enough.

By the Goddess Ani, please be safe, she thought. It was her most desperate prayer; it had been for years.

Losing Anakin had been the worst moment of her life. It left her gutted, frantic. It was the first time she’d ever fought back. She never got to say good-bye, never got to say ‘I will find you, Ani’. She wasn’t expecting the hands that reached for her, the slavers who threw her son to the ground, disappearing between other slaves. They had taken her half way up the stairs before the shock wore off and she started struggling. Refusing to move, scratching, hitting, kicking, doing anything she could to get back to her son. She didn’t even feel it when they hit her. Didn’t feel it as they dragged her up the steps and showcased her. She was drowning in grief.

Having Anakin ripped from her arms was like losing a piece of her soul.

She often tried to comfort herself by hoping that the piece she left behind had stayed with Anakin - that even though they were parted, he knew how much she loved him, how much she longed to see him again.

She sat down next to her open bag on the bed.

After she’d been sold, she and four other slaves had been led to a hangar. The realization had taken a while to sink in, but once it did the devastation and the hopelessness of the situation had been too much. She became numb. Just shut down completely as they were loaded onto the ship and Tatooine disappeared among the stars. She wasn’t even going to be on the same planet as her son. Kilometres wouldn’t separate them – light years would.

She’d never known such despair or heartache. So lost in her pain, she lost track of how much time had passed. The jumps in and out of hyperspace hardly registered. She barely notice when their ship came under fire.

A misjudgement on the part of her new masters cost them greatly, and it gave Shmi her unexpected freedom.

She found out later that her new owners had decided to attack a ship that was leaking anti-protons. What they hadn’t counted on was confronting a crew of trained military officers. They’d been arrested for attempted murder, thievery, Spice and Human trafficking. The lawlessness of the Outer Rim no longer applied as they had come into Mid Rim space. Into Republic space.

They were freed.

Landing on the Officers’ home world had been crushing and bittersweet. She had her freedom, but not her son. Had they been sold together she would have had the joy of seeing his face light up in wonder at the greenery and splendor of Naboo. The Queen herself greeted them, gave them food and lodging. It had been too much. Everything was too much, too fast, the stress, the despair, the heartbreak. Shmi had broken down then, inconsolable as she sobbed out her pain. She managed to get her story out somehow, and the realization that she now had the freedom - that she could go back one day to try and find Anakin - left her breathless.

But she hadn’t expected to be back on Tatooine so soon. She had expected to settle and to work, to gather the funds to make the trip back.

She hadn’t counted on Queen Amidala’s kindness or compassion. Shmi always thought that the biggest problem in the universe was that no one helped each other. But there on a world of colour and water, she found aid.

Within the week she returned to Tatooine with an armed escort. She knew with every minute, every hour that she wasn’t searching the chances of finding Anakin grew less and less. The week she spent waiting for the Queen to find the opportunity and resources to send her had been spent with a returned sense of hope and pleading to the galaxy.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

The auctioneers had moved on and the traders gone to find new supply. No one around the small, now abandoned auction quarters had any information. The traders moved around so much, different all the time. The beings who came for the auctions got what they came for and that was the end of it. The arenas weren’t places that beings usually stayed at for long periods.

And while she hadn’t found Anakin, she did find his old protocol droid. She’d been able to barter for C-3PO’s return from the Jawas, getting him for less than asking price. He’d apparently been bought and returned often due to his inability to be silent, his voice box unable to be removed due to her son’s work. It wasn’t Anakin himself, but it still felt like she found a small piece of him. She’d been able to fix up the droid’s circuits and finish his plating in gold.

Shmi picked up a shirt lying beside her. Blue. I’ll take blue this time.

Setting it into her bag, she couldn’t believe how much time had passed. She’d spent four years on Naboo, making a living fixing the palace’s ships, and working on Threepio in her spare time. Padmé became a dear friend whose friendship had stopped her from losing her mind. Shmi had thought about going back to Tatooine permanently to continue her search daily.

“Shmi, you’re free now. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being forced back into slavery. It’s dangerous to be by yourself in Outer Rim space. You need to be safe. If you’re ever going to find your son, you need to be safe. Be smart about this. Please.”

Padmé had been right. Had Shmi gone back to Tatooine she might not have survived long enough to find Anakin. And if he’d been sold to one of the rougher sectors there was little chance of retrieving him by herself. As a slave she could only be touched or disciplined by her master. As a free woman there was more risk involved. She had resources on Naboo that she never would have had on Tatooine. There was also the disheartening possibility that Anakin had been sent off-world like she had been.

She watched the gulls fly past her window.

Anakin would have loved this world too.

She’d met Senator Organa through Padmé and when Padmé herself became a Senator, Shmi went with her to Coruscant. It was there that Shmi became closer with the Organa family. When she heard about Queen Breha’s most recent miscarriage, she felt in her heart that she should be on Alderaan. Though they lost their children in different ways, Shmi understood the pain of that loss all too well.

Now though, the Organas had finally found their joy in their beautiful young Princess.

Oh, Anakin, she thought. My heart tells me you’re alive.

She had to find him. She had hope, but it had been so long that the chances of ever seeing him again were almost nonexistent.

Ten years. Ten long years. Even if she passed him somewhere, would she recognize him? A month and a half ago she had lit a candle on a small pastry she made that would have marked her son’s twenty-second birthday. He wouldn’t be a child anymore, but a man.

“Shmi?” A dark head poked in through her open door. “Are you ready to go?”

Shmi smiled at her step-son. “Almost.”

Owen was a good boy, and she loved him. But he couldn’t fill the void in her heart. But being able to love him and his father had been cathartic. Cliegg Lars was a good man, they’d met on one of her voyages back to Tatooine, and he eventually followed her back to Alderaan out of love.

He was usually the one to come with her on her annual journey, but a broken leg prevented him from making this trip with his wife.

Shmi longed for Anakin but her duties to Breha and Cliegg were tangible. People she could be there for and not let down like she let down her son. She would always search for Anakin -  would always think of him, miss him, and love him - but time passed regardless, and she needed to stay sane. Letting grief consume her would have destroyed her.

Shmi and Owen would spend two weeks on Tatooine searching, trying to unravel something that no one else on the desert planet cared about.

And more cause for hope, though I’m not sure how much.

Master Jinn had promised her he would keep an ear open for any word of her son during his travels. Maybe the Jedi would be able to find what was lost so long ago.

Closing her travel bag, she lifted the strap over her shoulder and paused.

“Shmi?”

“Do you know what I’m most afraid of?” she said. Owen’s hand was warm on her shoulder as he waited for her to continue. “I fear that I won’t recognize him. He’ll have grown so much. What if I pass by him without notice?”

 “He’ll know you,” said Owen confidently.

She looked up at him, searching.

“He won’t let you pass him by.”

Shmi smiled and squeezed his hand.

<<< 

Mace Windu’s footsteps echoed through the cavernous halls of the Jedi Temple. The setting sun filtered through the many windows, surrounding him, providing a sense of serenity and calm. The Council had ended its session an hour ago, but Mace felt the need to walk. Masters Vos and Secura had returned to Coruscant after too many weeks of dead ends. Any leads pointing towards the Sith ended with them being no further than they had been before. The trail was cold.

Asajj Ventress, or Darth Vadius, as she was calling herself now, had gone completely underground. She was good, Mace had to give her that. But the Jedi would be better. It was only a matter of time before they found her. The sooner the better, though. If the Master Sith was indeed dead, then they needed to find Ventress before she took an apprentice. The Sith had come close to destroying the Republic once, and they weren’t going to have the chance to do it again on Mace’s watch.

 It was unfortunate that General Grievous hadn’t been able to be taken alive; he could have provided at least some information about the movements of the Sith.

He could feel the darkness starting to swell once again within the Force.

“Good evening, Mace.”

He turned and resisted a deep sigh as Qui-Gon came up behind him.

“Shouldn’t you be back with the Chancellor by now?”

“Zett’s with him. He’s a capable boy.”

“Qui-Gon.” His voice held a warning.

“I’m heading back now Mace. You can even walk me to the hangar.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t go back immediately after you gave the Council your report?”

“I had some things to pick up for Zett. It seems we forgot some of his coursework. He can meditate and run through katas only so many times. He needs to stimulate his mind, and what we had brought he’s finished already.”

“It took you long enough to gather these lessons.”

“I stopped by the library on my way. Madame Nu was kind enough to find Zett some extra reading materials. I think he might be ready for more advanced work. That, and I feel our time protecting the Chancellor will be very long and very uneventful. Not that I would want my Padawan duelling a Sith should I ever fall. Particularly one such as Vadius. And here I mistakenly thought Darth Maul had been well trained.”

“Indeed.”

“Has there been anything new about her whereabouts?”

“Nothing,” Mace confirmed. “Quinlan and Aayla are doing the best they can but I think we need to put more teams on it. Now that the Clones aren’t in need of as many Generals we should have more Jedi to spare. Master Mundi and Master Dooku have already volunteered.”

Qui-Gon smiled. “Well my old Master has already defeated one Sith. Has he asked the Council why he wasn’t sent in the first place?”

“Of course he has.”

“And?”

“And I told him if he wanted to make all the decisions himself of who went where and why then he could just take a thrice Sith damned Council seat already.”

“I imagine he shot you down again.”

“Not exactly,” said Mace wryly. “He told us that when a seat vacated he would. As we were desperately in need of his wisdom and counsel.”

“His words?”

“His words.”

Mace shook his head as Qui-Gon laughed and they came up to the Temple’s hangar.

“It will work out, Mace. We’ll find her one way or the other. Some clue will make itself known.”

“Mmm.” He looked steadily at Qui-Gon. “You are certain that nothing unusual happened on Alderaan.”

“I gave my full report. Nothing strange, no tre…well, I wouldn’t call it a tremor, more a feeling…” Qui-Gon trailed off in thought.

“Qui-Gon.” Mace released his feelings to the Force. So help Qui-Gon if there was something important he missed that could lead them to Ventress.

“Well I wouldn’t call it unusual, per se,” he started. “Just a feeling I had about one of the Queen’s handmaids. It has nothing to do with the war Mace, don’t give me that look.”

“What happened.”

“The Force drew me to her.”

“Oh, not this again…” Qui-Gon and his pathetic lifeforms.

“She was hurting, Mace. I couldn’t ignore it,” he said. “She lost her son many years ago, so I promised I would keep an eye out for him. And before you say anything, it felt important at the time that I promise her this.”

“If I ask why, you’re only going to tell me the Force willed it, aren’t you?”

“You know me well. And after my duties to the Chancellor are complete, if there are any missions to the Outer Rim I’d like to request one.”

“You want to look for this woman’s son.”

“When I’m finished, whatever mission the Council assigns, a brief stop on Tatooine couldn’t hurt.”

A quick twitch of his left eyebrow was the only thing that would have given Mace Windu away if one looked hard enough. Luckily Qui-Gon’s attention was briefly taken away from him by a fighter engine starting up.

“What was this handmaid’s name?”

Qui-Gon looked up and thought for a minute. “I believe it was Shmi. Shmi Skywalker.”

Skywalker. The boy’s lost mother.

 “Anyway, I felt like I should mention it. Do you have any idea why?”

Mace shook his head. “None.”

The entire Council had sworn to it. Any and all knowledge of Anakin Skywalker would remain in secret. In order to protect and prevent the boy from falling into the wrong hands, the Council was determined to bury their discovery entirely. Ventress could be looking for an apprentice. They wouldn’t risk it.

And there was another thing Mace himself wasn’t willing to risk. He knew of Qui-Gon’s penchant for the old prophecies. Too interested, some might say. The last thing they needed was Qui-Gon flying off on a crusade and claiming the boy to be the fabled Chosen One.

The boy was too old, too fearful, and much too powerful.

The prophecy was a Jedi prophecy; as such it made sense that the Chosen One would be a Jedi himself. The Skywalker boy may have an unprecedented midi-chlorian count but it was highly unlikely that he would be the one to bring about the end of the Sith and restore balance to the Force.

The Force was balancing itself enough as it was. And they were on the verge of catching the last Sith without any Chosen One at all.

“Is there anything I should know, Mace?” questioned Qui-Gon, a thoughtful look on his face.

For the first time in his life, Mace Windu was glad his old friend kept refusing a seat on the Jedi Council every time it was offered.

>>> 

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

The pathetic sounds coming from Obi-Wan were both endearing and worrisome. It wasn’t entirely Anakin’s fault, he considered a bit guiltily. Sure, he probably should have let Obi-Wan finish putting on his sunscreen before grabbing him and shoving him into the water so they could swim together… but Obi-Wan totally forgot to go back and finish putting it on anyway. So the blame was shared.

But still, he couldn’t believe how red Obi-Wan’s back and shoulders were.

 “So…that’s a sun burn.”

“Yes, Anakin. Yes it is.”

He winced slightly as he squeezed more Bacta salve out of the tube and carefully smoothed it on Obi-Wan’s blistered skin. He’d never seen anything like it before. Tatooine had two suns and Anakin’s skin had never blistered under them. No one he knew blistered like Obi-Wan did. It amazed him how different their skin was. How fair Obi-Wan’s was. His freckles stood out even more on the reddened skin. And try as Anakin did, and reminding himself that Obi-Wan was in some pain, he still couldn’t help but enjoy being able to touch Obi-Wan like this. The man couldn’t reach his own back comfortably, so that left Anakin free reign to soothe every burnt part of him he could reach. It was a double-edged sword, though. On one hand, his hands got to map out almost every inch of Obi-Wan’s back and feel the muscles play beneath his hands; on the other hand, he wished he got to do it in any situation besides the one he found himself in.

“Ow. Right, well, I think you got all of it, didn’t you?”

“I think so,” he said slowly, eyes lingering on Obi-Wan’s exposed back. “When are you going to be okay?”

“It will be relatively healed by morning, though one more application might be necessary. It’s not the highest concentration of Bacta available.”

“I think from now on you put that sun goop on before we leave the house.”

He didn’t have to see Obi-Wan to know he was rolling his eyes. Anakin knew he was only partially to blame for the burns, always asking Obi-Wan why he wore it on every occasion, and getting him in the water this time before it was fully on. He understood why now. And he’d make sure he was the one barring the door next time so Obi-Wan would put it on inside. It was the first time he saw Obi-Wan physically hurt – and he hated it.

“Is there anything else I should know? About things that can hurt you?”

“Directly? Um, well, there is Hoi-broth. I’m quite allergic to it, though the chances of coming across it on Bandomeer are quite slim.”

“Never heard of it,” said Anakin. Though he was quite relieved that it wasn’t anywhere around them in abundance.

“It’s an Aqualish dish originally from Ando, I-“

“Ando Prime?”

“Different planet, though they’re both in the same system.”

“There was podracing on Ando Prime.” Anakin smiled. “I heard the Ando Overland is huge! Only second to the Boonta Eve Classic. I heard racers talk about other ones too. The Vinta Harvest Classic and the Aleen Classic. It would have been amazing to race all four.”

“When was the last time you raced?”

Anakin’s sigh was filled with longing as he put the salve on the bedside table and laid down next to Obi-Wan on his stomach, turning his head to meet the other man’s eyes.

“I was eleven. Built the pod I raced from the scraps in Watto’s shop when I was nine,” he explained. “He didn’t know I built it, and I knew telling him would get me at least a beating but…but I just wanted to race so badly that it was worth it.”

He could still remember the feeling. The rush it always gave him, the way his skin vibrated and his pulse pounded as he narrowly avoided crashing inside the canyons. The Boonta Eve Classic was the one thing he looked forward to every year.

“I lost the race when I was nine. One of the steering arms broke and I spun out. I was so close, though. Watto bet against me so he made a small fortune after Sebulba won. My punishment for building the pod behind his back wasn’t even that bad after I accidentally made him so much money. My pod was still in good enough shape that he entered me the following two years. Lost them both. Didn’t even make it to the finish line.”

“Not many do,” said Obi-Wan quietly. “You’re lucky you have your life.”

“I think you and my mom would have gotten along great.” He smiled as he said it, but the smile quickly waned. “Do you…do you think they’ll even look for her? The Yoda-troll said something like the will of the Force find her you will also I can’t speak properly.”

Obi-Wan pressed his face into his pillow and shook his head.

“He creeps me out, you know that. But since he was the only Jedi really there for you…maybe I can learn to not be so creeped out one day,” Anakin conceded. “I’ll give him that.”

“It’s something, I suppose.” Obi-Wan turned his head back to Anakin. “As for if they’ll look for her, I don’t know. The Republic has been at war for the past three years and the Jedi are spread incredibly thin.”

“Some Off-worlders used to talk about it. It’s all pretty vague, though.”

“It’s nearly over now anyway.”

Anakin nodded, eyes lowering. “Do you-do you think my mom could be alive?”

“When you listen to the Force, what does it tell you?”

“How-“

“Close your eyes.”

He did so and waited for Obi-Wan to speak again.

“Find that place in you that can feel all the things in this room. That part of you that reaches out and inside. Listen to it. When you think of your mother, when you concentrate on her, what feeling do you get? Do you feel she’s in danger Anakin? Do you feel her pain?”

“No.” He opened his eyes. “I don’t know what I feel, honestly. But I worry sometimes. I miss her.”

“Those are your own emotions, not the Force.”

“I know.”

He looked away as his eyes started to sting. Obi-Wan’s warm hand on his shoulder startled him out of his burgeoning world of hurt.

“Is there any way to find her?”

“None. The records aren’t kept and it’s been so long…” he trailed off.

“Trust in the Force, Anakin. I know you only discovered it recently-“

“The Force didn’t make you a Jedi.”

He regretted it the instant he said it. He didn’t mean it to come out the way it sounded. Anakin braced himself for the sad, pained look that usually found its way into Obi-Wan’s eyes - but it didn’t come.

“No, it didn’t. But it brought me to you. Had I been a Jedi we likely would never have met.” Obi-Wan smiled. “I…I consider you a good friend Anakin.”

Anakin smiled shyly. “We’ll be the best.”

So they were definitely friends then. Yes, Anakin could work with that. I think I want more Obi-Wan, but I’ll work you up to that.

“She really would like you, though. All worrying about me and all.”

“What are friends for?”

Soft laughter echoed through the small room.

>>> 

Lying in his own bed, Anakin stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Every now and then he’d look out his window and not for the first time, wished Bandomeer had a moon. Tatooine had three, though depending on the time of year it could seem like there were only two. The third of Tatooine’s moons had a strange orbit that would take it far from the planet. He missed the way the moons lit up the night and made things appear different. Anakin wondered at times what Obi-Wan would look like under the moonlight.

Anakin wondered if he’d look like an Angel, with his pale skin and ever changing eyes. It was quite difficult, he felt, to be able to tell just what colour Obi-Wan’s eyes truly were. He couldn’t decide if they were blue or green, but even then he swore they sometimes appeared grey.

Anakin sighed as he closed his eyes, trying to picture it.

They’re on a balcony somewhere, the waves hitting the rocks in the bay below them, the moon gleaming down and bathing Obi-Wan in its gentle light, the silver beams all around him making him look almost ethereal. His eyes welcome him and he smiles at Anakin with that soft smile Anakin always tries to bring out in Obi-Wan.

He’s not wearing much. He can see Obi-Wan’s bare chest clearly.

Anakin pressed his hand to his shoulder and trailed it slowly across his collar bone, across his chest. He paused for a minute, feeling his own skin. His chest was so different from Obi-Wan’s; smooth skin was such a contrast to the roughness of Obi-Wan’s chest hair. He could still remember how it felt against him in the water. Chest to chest, hip to hip. The way his hair had tickled. Obi-Wan pulls him close, his hands, his warm hands move up Anakin’s chest. Touching, caressing, feeling every muscle.

Obi-Wan affected him, had so for a while now, and he only felt it growing stronger.

It was enough to finally realize that he felt desire. The feelings that came with thinking about Obi-Wan aroused him. Made him actually want. Made him wonder just what it would be like to be with someone he chose. Freely and willingly.

His fingers brushed his left nipple.

What would it be like to kiss Obi-Wan?

In his mind he did so, pressed their lips together, a real kiss, not rushed or hurried, not an afterthought or an insult. Obi-Wan would kiss him like he meant it, like Anakin wanted him too. His mouth would be soft, or maybe a little dry. Obi-Wan’s mouth trailing down his neck, kissing, even licking. His mouth closes on Anakin’s nipple as Anakin runs his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. He wants to see it messy, out of place.

Like when it dried wet. He remembered Obi-Wan coming out of the water today, hair everywhere, having to comb through with his fingers and slick it back. Water trailed down his body. Anakin could still feel the way his blood heated. He felt the pangs so much these days.

Kicking off the covers, he shoved his sleep shorts down. He was more than ready to try this again. Running a hand over his stomach and downward, he cupped himself and slid a hand up his shaft. Adjusting his grip, he tried to figure out what felt better.

Slow and tight, hard and quick, he relearned his own body as he tried to figure it out.

Stroking lazily, he twisted near the head, stroked down and squeezed at the base. He moaned softly, hips arching. He liked that.

Obi-Wan’s hands trail over his chest and hips, mouth pressing wet, open kisses down his stomach. His tongue swirls around Anakin’s naval and further down to his –

Anakin started and broke off in frustration. His body shivering in revolt. Damn it, damn it not with this again.

It was where he got stuck. Always.

Whenever he started to think of Obi-Wan doing something purely sexual, whenever he thought of himself doing it to Obi-Wan – he lost it. Lost the mood, the rhythm, everything came to a halt. He hated it. Hated that his own body rejected against him, over something he actually wanted for once. He hated that when he thought about Obi-Wan going down on him that it felt like he was using him - that his mind threw images of his own past at him. And when he imagined himself taking Obi-Wan into his own mouth, Obi-Wan had a habit of disappearing, replaced by others.

Anakin huffed with disgust.

It was over. The past. Done and finished. He had a new life now. A new path to follow. One that didn’t include him on his back or knees for strangers.

There was only Obi-Wan in his life now. Obi-Wan and his kindness, his generosity, his freckles, and lectures, his dry sense of humour, his smile, his eyes…

Why couldn’t he do this? Anakin sighed, glaring at his cock. Instead of stroking again he just cupped himself and ran his thumb under the head. He could do this. There had to be some way to do this. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the light pressure of his hand, petting himself slowly. He started soft then switched the pressure a bit a harder, thrusting up minutely, rubbing himself into his palm.

Closing his eyes, Anakin tilted his head back, continuing his ministrations.

Up, down, up and down. His hand trailed a little too far back and his fingers ghosted over his balls. Fingers brushed raised lines. Anakin’s eyes snapped open and his hand flew off himself as if burned.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His heart twisted tightly as his stomach rolled in protest. He didn’t want to remember that. Closing his eyes tightly to get rid of the images starting to play only made it worse.

Aggressive hands pushing at him, teeth biting painfully across his chest. His legs being pushed apart, fingers playing, and nails digging suddenly into the most sensitive part of his body.

The nail imprints Dejiak left embedded in him scarred. The scarring across his lower back was from that same session.

Anakin’s erection waned.

“Fuck.”

He fell back onto the bed and slammed his fist against the sheets.

Dejiak had told him he wanted him marked. That one day Kerr would sell Anakin and he’d be there to collect. When Kerr found out about the marks on his balls, Dejiak had been banned from the brothel for half a month; Kerr had felt it violated his rule on not mutilating slaves, yet the marks on Anakin’s back had barely been glanced at. In some ways though Anakin thought the scars were worth it to be free of the bastard for a small time.

Anakin let out an angry breath. He was now away from Dejiak for good. He could admit it now. He would face it now. And Gods damn it, he wasn’t going to let this ruin the new chance he got on life.

He glared at the ceiling, eyes hardening.

He would not be controlled. By anyone. By anything.

Those days were gone.

He was free.

He was living on a planet fill with former Jedi Initiates.

The Healers of Bandomeer were fully trained Jedi Knights.

He was safe.

He was not a whore.

Fuck you, you kriffing bastard. You’re only a memory, and you are not going to stop me from getting some actual enjoyment out of this for once. NONE OF YOU ARE!

“I’m not a whore,” he stated. Steel laced his voice.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he released it and brought back his image of Obi-Wan. Reaching out through the Force, he felt the small tug and warmth that he’d come to associate with Obi-Wan’s Force signature. He was still beginning to pick them up, and he would continue to progress. He couldn’t feel past Obi-Wan’s shields, but being able to pick out his presence through the Force filled him with such joy, such feeling.

Anakin didn’t think he would take such comfort from it, but he did. Obi-Wan’s Force signature was dulled, foggy with sleep, but still hummed softly around Anakin. The whole house was saturated with Obi-Wan’s presence.

He licked his palm and returned it to his reawakening erection. His left hand grasped his balls and gave them a gentle tug. Heat laced up his spine and pooled hot in his belly. Who knew he could get pleasure from that.

Consider this in spite of you, you son of a bitch.

In his mind’s eye he could see Dejiak melting away. His dark, curled hair straightening and shortening to the ginger he would know anywhere. Dark, possessive eyes turning a mixture of blue and green - soft, welcoming, accepting. Height and width both decreased, and he had to laugh.

Obi-Wan’s shorter than I am.

He could remember the day they met. The too small clothes Obi-Wan had given him to wear. The way he’d taken care of him, treated him. How far he’d been able to come under Obi-Wan’s guidance.

He sighed and stroked himself faster, tightening his grip on every upstroke.

“So…that’s a sun burn.”

“Yes, Anakin. Yes it is.”

“I need it so I don’t burn. Just because you are a genetic anomaly-“

“-and the way you scream when you jump off that ledge, it sounds like you’re dying, and further more-“

“Something’s going to eat you! Out there. Attracted by your noise.”

"If I stopped shaving for a few days altogether I'd have a full on beard."

“…as hard as it is to believe, that's not why you're here… You belong to no one but yourself."

“There was something in you Anakin, and it was bright."

“…our meeting was the will of the Force... It was a complete accident that I was there that day."

"Is it the storm? I've never liked them much myself."

"There's dinner ready, if you're hungry."

“I work for the AgriCorps. It's a branch of the Jedi Order… "

"Bandomeer is located within the Republic. You're not a slave."

"I can sense your emotions.”

"I'm not expecting you to do anything, or…anyone…you're not - I'm not selling you to someone else."

"Force, what have they done to you?"

"My name's Obi-Wan Kenobi."

It was enough. All Obi-Wan was, all Obi-Wan is, all Anakin never knew he wanted. It was enough.

Tightening his hand and thrusting desperately, Anakin threw his head back in ecstasy as he finally – finally - achieved his long sought after release.

Thick ropes of creamy fluid covered his chest and stomach. He wrung the last sputtering drops from his spent cock and let himself collapse onto the bed, breathing hard.

He couldn’t stop the breathless laugh that burst forth from his chest. The laughter continued as he ran a hand through the mess on his chest. His mouth breaking into a large happy grin. He took a deep breath and it turned into a deluge of chuckles. He never wanted to stop laughing.

He did it. He actually, at long last did it.

Under his own power, his own hand, his own want and need and desire, on his own time.

He was in control. After the Gods knew how many years he was finally in control of his own body again.

It felt good. Really good.

And Anakin resolved that he would never lose that control again.