Star Wars Lore Episode XCV - The Life of Quinlan Vos

http://quinlanvos100.blogspot.com/2017/06/star-wars-lore-episode-xcv-life-of.html 

The End R End of the team of Kenobi and Skywalker.

Title: The End
Author helgaleena helgaleenas@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Archive/Distribution: yes submitted to Ob-Ani, Sith_chicks, Order66, ForceHaven
Category Slash POV angst non-con
Spoilers: ROTS

Summary: Vader's POV just before the duel on Mustafar. End of the team of Kenobi and Skywalker.
Warnings: dialogue differs from movie a bit, but I am trying to stay canon

Disclaimer: Lucas is the god of Star Wars and owns everything. I am nothing.
 Authors Notes-- contains my theory of Obi-Ani-Padme-Qui. Written for the Order 66 Challenge at livejournal.com


"Though General Grievous has been stopped, an indication of Kenobi's triumph, I am certain that your former master will not escape from Order Sixty-six." Sidious was smirking, enjoying the distress that his apprentice was struggling not to display.

No-- he can't be dead-- I would have felt it!
" I would have felt it..." He hadn't realized he was saying it aloud.

"Would you, young Lord Vader? Are you certain?" The being to which he had sworn allegiance, whom once he had thought of as a friend, was leering at him knowingly. He could have heard every thought in his head, effortlessly and without compunction. Sidious...even as his words reached his ear, the apprentice felt certainty deserting him, frightened off by the will forces of the Sith. But Vader refused to give in.

 I knew it, I knew the mission to Utapau would be dangerous for him without me. I knew they should have let me go with him... But the Jedi Order stood between him and his loves no longer. And no matter what, he was sure Obi-Wan still lived. He would heed the summons being broadcast by the Temple beacons. And when his presence was near enough, his beloved would be there, waiting. He would not die like the rest. He will return safely to me, thought the former Anakin Skywalker. That is my will, and so it will happen.

Pity about the younglings. But they gave their lives in the cause of peace and order. The Force will accept them readily. School's out, kids.

"You think you need him, do you?"

Palpatine was still invading his head. He was getting used to the sensation, oddly enough. Suddenly, a wave of pure pleasure began to corruscate up and down his body, even as he stood there in the Supreme Chancellor's office. It circled his genitals like invisible hands, massaged his mouth and throat, rocked his hips, made him gasp before he realized what was happening. Palpatine chuckled.

Vader whirled to face his superior, breathing hard. "Get out," he snarled.

"No, apprentice, not until I am ready to leave." And the young Darth found himself racked with sharp spasms of ecstasy, blood rushing to his head and groin, till finally he fell to his knees, crying out in orgasm and in humiliation. He raised himself slowly, feeling soiled, clothes sticking to his crotch, to see his new master chortling and fondling himself.

"Shall I do it again?" he said, licking his pasty lips.

Vader didn't answer. He simply diverted all his mental resources to personal shielding. He felt the presence of Palpatine--no, not his old friend, but this new reality, this Sidious!-- receding, gradually like a scummy ebb tide on a water planet, from the fixtures of his mind. He felt great hatred. He fed it into the shields.

He would kill this Sidious. Soon. Never again, he vowed...

"I am departing for Mustafar to carry out your orders-- Master." He straightened his robes, bowed, and withdrew. Sidious was still chuckling, still groping at himself, as the doors closed.

He changed clothes completely and used the fresher, scrubbing until he felt somewhat cleaner, before stopping to see Padme. She would be worried at the smoke rising from the occupied Temple complex. Their children might be adversely affected by their mother's anxieties. For his family's sake, he would set her mind at ease as much as he could.

Later, on Mustafar, the command center was littered with the corpses of the war-mongering Separatist leadership. Young Vader left the stink of mingling bodily substances behind, to stare from the balcony upon a molten river, to be buffeted by the heated air currents generated by the cooling of liquid metals.

He couldn't leave yet. Sidious was coming. Sharply he curbed his imagination of what uses his master might make of the corpses. Purely ceremonially, of course.

Tracks of tears were drying in the furnace-like breeze. If only it were Obi-wan he was meeting here. Then this whole infernal scene would be completely insignificant. They would be too busy congratulating each other on being alive, with peace before them. But no, there was still Sidious in their way. Hatred flared his nostrils---

I'm going to kill him. Right here, and pile his disgusting remains with all the others. But not before I cut off his dick and stuff it down his throat. He knows I want to. The only reason he's still coming is because he thinks I won't do it yet. Little does he know. I don't value his lure of eternal life now. Not eternal life as a sex-toy to him.

I'll wipe him out like the infestation he is, then rule for as long as it takes, then go with Qui-gon...

In this strange moment of decision, he truly longed to communicate with Qui-gon Jinn, feel his deceased Master's reassurance. I will do it, Master, he tried to send to that spirit. I will bring balance. But it was so much harder without Obi-wan.

His Force-assisted senses informed him of the arrival of a small ship at the classified landing area. It was the wrong ship, though. He sensed no vacuum of darkness pulling at him, the essence of Sidious. Instead he felt love, and sorrow, and -- Padme!!

With the shock of this development, the sense of his deceased mentor seemed to fly completely away, to be replaced by her questing thoughts of him. She was fine, just terribly agitated. He hurried forward, to shield her from the sight of the command center and its contents. She might not appreciate how he'd--- redecorated.

"Anakin--"

"Padme, what are you doing here?" He drank in the sight of her, even when she was in a panic. She rushed down the ramp to him, and he raised her hands to his lips to kiss them.

"Oh, Anakin, Obi-wan has been telling me terrible things about you-- he said you killed the children in the Temple---"

Obi-wan? He was all right! --but wrong to tell her these things, though, in her condition.

"Do you really believe that?" He smiled at her, his sunlight. Nothing mattered except that she cared for him, was trying to protect him. The details would resolve themselves later.

"He's going to try to kill you, Ani!" Now that he really couldn't believe. He snorted dismissively, still smiling. Whoever had told her that was going to pay for causing her such fear.

"It's true." An all-too familiar voice echoed from the companionway of the vessel. Padme whirled around, shocked at the sound, then whirled again to face her husband.

"You--" The word came from Vader's throat like a reptilian hiss.

Their eyes met, blue and green bleached yellow in the deep reds of Mustafar's atmosphere. Obi-wan. My love. How can you mean that?

Oh, yes, he meant it. And he had come from Coruscant. He had followed the summons to the Temple, survived to see the carnage, without any explanations from his partner. And he had come to his own conclusions.

And then he poured poison into my poor wife's ears! How dare he! How could he! And made her bring him here---

Suddenly the whole world turned inside out. The green of Obi's eyes was red. Up was down. Black was white. Friend was foe, love was death--- and the red haze in his vision was the perfect solution to it all....

"You-- brought-- him-- here--"

Padme's throat was swelling shut, as he Force-pushed her, inch by inch, away from him. Her punishment would come later, after she lost consciousness, after he dealt with Obi-wan. Her wild, beautiful brown eyes at last began to glaze over, and he eased her gently to the pavement.

Obi-wan had rushed forward as if to prevent his dealing with Padme, but had wisely refrained from coming between husband and wife. But he looked appalled. Hypocrite. He's here to kill me, after all.

"She's fine, she's alive," he assured the traitorous, beloved meddler. Fury was eating him up, so he channeled it into personal invulnerability. Unless he could talk sense into Obi-wan, he might need that. But sense, could he remember what that was?

Obi-wan was shielding his own throat from a similar choke, which was only prudent, considering the huddled example of the unconscious Padme before them.

"Padme is innocent in this." Yes, right, whatever you say, former boss.

"Why should I believe you?" he spat.
The hatred was boiling out of him now, the surrounding Force-currents prickling with it. A tiny segment of him, ever on guard, reminded him not to shoot Force-lightning from his hand, or he might fry the circuitry.

"Let her go, Anakin." Obi-wan was circling, trying to draw him farther from his wife, his children, thinking he would endanger them-- ridiculous slander to think that. Further rage flared.

"You will not take her from me!!" He began to pace back and forth, layering the swirls of Force into a wall between her and Obi-wan. With every stride, grief tainted his rage.

We were a team. We shared everything, even her love. How could you do this, key to my heart? How did you upend all my plans for us into this red furnace of betrayal? But Obi-wan was keeping his mind closed. He had to yell.

"How could you do this, Obi-wan? The way you made me feel---" Yes, you made me, grew me this way, used my love for you, pushed my buttons, jerked my heart around--- " I would do anything for you, dammit! Anything! I am even kissing Sith ass for you---"

That brought up some disgusting memories. Grimacing, he continued to pace. Obi-wan merely shut his eyes, hands at his sides.

"I have brought peace to the galaxy, do you realize that? Once I'm done with Sidious you could rule at my side! Do you hear me?"

Obi-wan was as still as an ivory statue in the flickering red light. His face was blank and empty of both joy and sorrow. Slowly, he opened his eyes, shook his head--no. No. And his green light-sabre ignited. It had been in his hand all along.

Darth Vader's eyes filled with tears. The next moment they evaporated in the maelstrom of his rage, and he rushed forward with is own sabre set to clash with that of the man he had loved.

So, Obi didn't care if he lived or died, now. To him, there was only the Force. And if it was going to take the murder of this duplicitous lover to bring down Sidious, Vader would do that, too. He would still have Padme. He would still have his children.

And, in some other place, Padme and Qui-gon held each other and cried.


END
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 http://www.angelfire.com/theforce/obi-ani/fiction/theend.html

Late Night Feeding Obi-Ani AU R

this is an Obi- Ani AU slashfic where Padme died but Ani didn't turn. He and Obi are raising the twins.

   The prequel, of sorts, is In Between Changes, here-- http://www.livejournal.com/community/starwars_slash/21361.html 


Title:      Late Night Feeding
Series:   post ROTS
Author    helgaleena   helgaleenas@yahoo.com
Rating:   R
Archive/Distribution:   yes.
Category   Slash  POV  AU
Spoilers:   possible explanation of Leia's memories of mother
Summary:  Obi-wan and Anakin try to make up for Padme's loss to the twins
Warnings:  in this AU, Ani has not turned, and Padme is dead
Disclaimer:  Lucas is the god of Star Wars and owns everything. I am nothing.
Authors Notes-- contains my theory of Obi-Ani-Padme-Qui.  Relies heavily on my fic Dreams Come True, but stands alone.



It's the middle of the night.  But when Anakin smiles, the sun is out.  I cannot believe the blessing of it, sometimes.  And I think that caring for our Luke and Leia has given him the greatest percentage of smiles in the entire history of the team of Kenobi and Skywalker.  We are glad about this assignment.  He's smiling now, through his tears.

There was no physical reason for Padme to die, and yet she did. Somehow she and Darth Sidious exited this world at nearly the same time.  Mace Windu prevailed over the Sith formerly known as Palpatine, and Ani came to my rescue on Utapau, just as the twins decided to enter life, and their mother left it.

The Senate has to do without its valiant Nubian leader of the loyal opposition.  The Imperial Party has to do without its Nubian would-be Emperor, as well.  The Republic is, frankly, a disintegrating mess, being carved up by bickering Moffs and trade cartels.  More importantly to us, these two beautiful beings have to do without their mother.  They have two fathers instead, at least until they are old enough for the creche.

The Force is strong in them, these children of prophecy, so Jedi they will be.  Twin Jedi are rare, and precious for their innate bond.  Ani and I may even be fortunate enough to train them as padawans, or at least assist.

But at four in the morning, the past looms more heavily over us than the future.  Two men wielding two formula bottles are simply not the same, for us or for them.

I have Luke this time.  It's incredibly soothing to have an infant gazing up at you, absorbing comfort flesh to flesh as he drinks, imperiously informing you that this is your proper station in life, to see to him.  What's more, he has his father's beautiful eyes. Luke is rewarding me for my attentions, every moment.

Like his father, he's fond of my hairy chest.  Luke is being a very good baby tonight.  One wetting, from which he doesn't chill because I am holding him so closely, and his little blue searchlights drift shut; his mouth gradually releases the nipple.  I set him in his crib, summon the nurse droid to change him, and he sleeps through the whole business.

I cross to where Anakin is nursing Leia.  Big waves of joy and loss are rolling from him, flooding our bond.  We've been through this a dozen times now.  If Luke has his father's eyes, Leia has her mother's.  It's impossible not to think of Padme around her little girl.  That's why we always take turns with the twins' feeding.  We both know exactly what they are missing.  If one of us attempted to feed the two of them, we'd be overwhelmed, especially my dear widower.

Because Padme had been lactating before she died.  And she let us taste-- both of us.  We have shared what belongs by rights to these children, but which they will never know--- essence of Padme.  The Force doesn't explain such seeming injustices to beings.  But it makes possible daily miracles, such as what happens next.

My beloved's face is doing that thing it did when he had his vision of the spirit of Shmi, his mother.  Both cheeks are slick with falling tears, his ridiculously long lashes all spiked, yet he has on his horizon-wide grin.  My heart skips a beat, then pumps extra blood into my arms, that are reaching out to him and his obviously puzzled baby daughter.

I enfold them both.  "Shield, Anakin; you're confusing the baby."  Indeed, she's stopped nursing, though her hunger is not abated.  She sees and feels sorrow mixed with her father's love of her.

Meeting my eyes instead of Leia's, Anakin recalls his center, and his shields go up.  Leia, reassured, begins to feed again.

"I can't look at her, Obi-wan. Not right now.  Distract me."

For Force sake, he's the one distracting me!  I'll gladly feast my eyes and hands upon the look and feel of naked Anakin in the middle of the night!  I'd like to lick up those tears, to start with,  then get his ear into my mouth and--- never mind, Leia comes first.

We just maintain eye contact, unless the casual lick of his lips drives me to plant a gentle kiss upon that lusciousness, now and then.  I'm trying my best not to interrupt what he's doing for Leia. My stroking up and down his spine is merely meant to comfort.

Slowly but surely Leia is satisfied, and drifts into slumber.  I kiss my Anakin again, reward for a job well done.  Now that we have no witness, we can express ourselves more freely.

"Just let me set her down--"

"Right here is fine love; she didn't wet."  And Leia is settled into a nest of bedding that smells of us.

I am on my knees before my Anakin.  He breathes in deeply, held in the loose circle of my arms, and tries to explain himself, blinking away his eyes' abating wetness.

"I swear, Obi-wan, she was right behind me. Looking over my shoulder." His mouth trembles.  We know of whom he speaks-- Padme, our beloved ghost.

"Yes, she does that sometimes."  The hand idly stroking my chest hair is stilled.

"Force!  --to you, too?"

"Oh, yes; but I wasn't her husband, you know.  It doesn't affect me so deeply, love."

"Obi---"  those large, delicately built hands, one real and one plast, go around my neck--  "just hold me."    So  I do.  I pull him hard against me, down onto my bent knees, onto my lap, his hips covering mine.

And I hold.  I bury my face in him. I drown in the smell of him. His sighs are evolving into rapid breathing of another kind.

Then I bury my fingers in him.  His muscles pulse around them, and he moans in agreement.  I stop his mouth up with kisses, drinking deep of his sweetness. He's got such a delicious tongue, and it's in me now, where I can really savor it.

Later, I bury my entire self in him.  Anakin is still, one gasping intake of breath all he needs to relax around me.  This is perfection, and we know it.  Weeping moisture comes from him, and I rub it gently into the head of his organ, push it back flat against his own smooth belly.  And then, as he trembles, I begin to move.

It doesn't take long for us to come together, my toes digging into the carpeting, Anakin's legs thrashing the air behind me until he slumps forward, smiling again, for one last lick of  the saltiness of my brow.  I put us back onto the bed, glued together by his fragrant semen.  We need to rest.



.................................................................



This is the kind of miracle we could use every day.  We are back with Qui-gon, our deceased master, and Padme, our deceased mother, upon the plane of dreams.

Bodily intimacy is different here. We are within one another like a set of nesting dolls, that toy familiar as a nick-nack in many cultures.  This time, Qui-gon appears to be peeking out of our hearts, rather than part of the landscape.  And Padme is the layer closest around us.  I can taste the honey of her milk again, the perfume of her vanished flesh.  It causes me to hug Anakin that much tighter to me.

As if we could be any closer and still have two heads!  It really is hard to tell, this time, which limb is whose.

But someone else is here, too. I can hardly believe it-- in the midst of us all are the tiny brown eyes of Leia-- she is looking up at radiant dream-Padme.

I guess proximity to our intimacy has brought her along with us.  I wonder if she'll recall this later in life, as reality or as dream.  Who cares, really...Thank the Force for whatever this might be.  We are one here, and a cocoon around her and Luke.  The twin-bond twinkles between her and her sleeping brother like diamonds.



...........................................................



Reluctantly I feel Anakin stirring under me, and shift to let him rise.

"Ugh-- don't you want to rinse off?"

"No,  I like the smell of you on me, love."  I smile lazily as he picks up Leia and replaces her in her crib, never waking her.  The empty bedclothes are easily untangled by a Force-touch, to cover myself in Anakin's absence.  I hear the fresher begin to run in the next chamber.

I smell the bed-clothes;  hmm, they are getting a little bit rank, actually.   Perhaps clean sheets are in order, to welcome my love's clean self back to bed.  I rise, wrapping the dirty ones around me.

After that, perhaps I'll join him in the fresher; I need to make sure he's smiling.



END
_____________________________________________
originally posted June 2005  here
the rest of my obi-ani slash through here--
http://www.livejournal.com/users/hlglne

In Between Changes Obi-Ani AU

Title: In Between Changes
Series: post ROTS, AU
Author helgaleena helgaleenas@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Archive/Distribution: yes submitted to Obi-Ani, Sith_chicks, ForceHaven, Like My Father Before Me
Category Slash AU
Spoilers: no
Summary: Obi-wan and Anakin grapple with parenthood
Warnings: In this AU, Anakin has not turned and Padme has died. Disclaimer: Lucas is the god of Star Wars and owns everything. I am nothing.
Authors Notes-- contains my theory of Obi-Ani-Padme-Qui.



"Damn-- Leia's got a chill off her wet nappy again."

Anakin sighed, and pulled himself out of his partner's sleepy embrace. "I have got to get that nurse droid programmed better. The hydrosensor didn't set off the correct alarms... Nurse, change Leia."

"Understood." The nurse droid's flexible arms and rolling torso approached the crib, where a whimpering Leia broadcast her distress to her exceptionally attuned parents. Anakin stood by, letting his daughter's tiny fist wrap around his finger, as the droid attended to her discomfort. Then he eased her back into the slumber of a rapidly growing infant.

Obi-wan had witnessed this whole incident from the comfort of the bed. He lay with his ruddy brown hair and beard pillowed upon one arm, the striking pattern of his chest hairs arrowing downwards, to be interrupted by the veil of the bedclothes. He smiled at the young father, standing naked and unself-conscious in the half-light of Coruscant's night, his golden skin a tantalizing contrast to the flanking metallic droid. They were lucky that both twins weren't discomfited this time; when Luke joined his sister in distress, it was as if a dozen children cried. Neither of them could withstand that misery for long.

At least the disturbance was giving him a chance to appreciate the view of Anakin's lithe body, as he bent to the control console of the now quiescent nurse droid. It was a damn fine ass that squatted before him now, with those long lean thighs bent to brush the heels of those elegant, flexed feet.

"The circuit to the hydrosensor is completely off-line. I'm going to have to deal with it in the morning." Anakin brushed back the long loose locks from his forehead in frustration.

"I have something else for you to deal with," said Obi-wan.

Anakin swiveled onto one knee, his piercing eyes archly returning his partner's gaze, full lips curving in humor. "Why, I wonder what that could be..."

Still on his knees, he bent over Obi-wan, his even features lowering to shadow the brightness of his lover's bearded countenance. Teasingly he rubbed his stubbled cheek over the expectant mouth, then snaked out his tongue to ring the places he'd irritated. With a growl, Obi-wan darted to capture the younger man's mouth with his own, pulling them together tightly.

An answering embrace from Anakin pulled Obi to the very edge of the bed, raising him onto one hip. He ran his metal hand up and down Obi's spine, relishing the shivers this caused.

Reflexively Obi's legs curled up; then he rose to sitting position upon the edge of the bed, never breaking the kiss with which he was sucking up the nectar of Anakin's mouth. Anakin had begun to moan softly at the fervor Obi-wan was displaying for this task. Obi-wan punctuated what he was doing to remark,

"Hush, don't wake them again."

"You started this!" chuckled Anakin, placing himself snugly between Obi's knees. But he did lower the volume of his outbursts considerably. Obi-wan began to press forward against the heated, muscular torso of his beloved, rubbing his sex against its firm warmth.

With yet another groan, Anakin let his mouth trail caresses down the hairs of Obi's chest, discovering and worshipping a nipple, fingers toying with the other, coaxing an answering groan from Obi-wan. Anakin's smooth back was kneaded invigoratingly by his enthusiastic hands, as the younger man's kisses roamed ever lower.

At last Ani's mouth reached its intended destination, and engulfed his lover's rosy organ. Obi-wan had great difficulty keeping silent himself, now, as Anakin's knowing tongue was texturizing every bump and groove of the shaft, while a constant suction teased the head.

//Give it to me, lover; feed me// he heard through the Force, a communication which completely unmanned him. And so he came. "Ohmygods," he whispered.

Anakin smirked to himself as he milked up the delicious flavor of Obi-wan. What a consummate Jedi master, always in charge of himself whatever the circumstance. Yet he was trembling all over now, like a leaf about to fall. He let Anakin push him backward, and ease his own member into his waiting mouth.

Anakin's eyes rolled up into his head at the sensations caused by his former master's mouth upon him. He supported himself upon his arms over the face of his beloved, as Obi's tongue began leisurely to stroke him, as his beard batted gently against his balls.

Obi-wan pressed the golden ass of Anakin closer to his fortunate face. He knew it wouldn't be long until he was on the receiving end of things. The spicy, hormonal scent of Anakin surrounded him like precipitation from the dark cloud of his hovering body. He helped himself to handfuls of that beloved ass. The head of that long cock was banging him into the bed right between the ears. It was marvelous. Saliva sprang out and rolled down his throat, showing the way for what was to come.

Anakin was trying to delay, to fully enjoy what Obi's talented lips were doing to him, but all too soon he was bucking wildly into that throat, grunting out his pleasure as quietly as he could before the inevitable fountaining into his appreciative beloved. His arms shook as he labored not to collapse and smother those green eyes gazing up so provocatively, as the moustached mouth surrounded him to clean him out completely, and the strong fingers dug into his behind so deeply. With a final twitch to either side, Obi-wan tickled his inner thighs with his matchless chest hairs, and he was thoroughly undone.

"Aaaah," he hissed, and fell down like a ceiling onto Obi-wan. His lover gently slid him downwards, through the slickness of their combined sweat, until his feet touched the floor again. And there they rested.



........................................

......



Qui-gon and Padme rested, too.

The four corners of their quadruplicity rested, foursquare, upon the plane of dreams. Life and death were just passing seasons here. In the center of them, two precious blossoms of light unfolded, for the good of the galaxy. These lucky childern had four parents, two in life.

......................................................



"Damn, it's Luke this time." A shrill whine was piercing the night, but Anakin couldn't be bothered to raise his head from the furred chest upon which he lay. It was Obi-wan's turn.

Obi croaked out the command. "Nurse, change Luke."

"Understood." And as the nurse rolled to its task, the two fathers settled in to catch what sleep they could.



END
_________________________________________

the story continues in Late Night Feeding

Title: Healing Series: Star Wars Clone Wars Rating: PG-13 Warning: slash content

Title: Healing

 Series: Star Wars Clone Wars

 Author:  helgaleena

 helgaleenas@yahoo.com 

Rating: PG-13 

Warning: slash content 

Archive/Distribution: yes. Category Slash H/C

 Spoilers: Dark Horse Star Wars Clone Wars vol. 2

 Summary: Obi-wan nearly killed on a mission, needs help from Anakin to recover fully 

Disclaimer: Lucas is the god of Star Wars and owns everything. I am nothing.

 Authors Notes-- this fic was inspired by the lovely daojinshi that Blue_Hobbit shared on livejournal.com. Not reading Japanese was a big help. 

 Obi-wan had been looking so frail since he returned from the mission to obtain the antidote to the plague released by Durge upon the Gungan colonies. Anakin emerged from the fresher, to find that he had fallen asleep waiting for his turn. The lashes of deep red-brown had drifted in perfect crescents onto the cheeks that once were so full and smooth, but now were hollowed and abraded. Yes, the small beard was now neatly trimmed, finer in proportion to the new gauntness of his master's face. That must have been all he had energy for.

 Anakin looked down upon his beloved, so serene in sleep, yet seeming as worn as an over-used metal blade. The capable hands were neatly folded over his chest, the clean gi seeming much too large. One did not put on weight during a bacta suspension, which is where he had been for the last two days. He felt as if he towered over this shrunken Obi-wan like a giant. 

 Despite its thinness, that face appeared petal-smooth from the caress of the bacta. Anakin knelt over the back of the couch, reached out to see if it was as smooth as it looked. How large his hands had become--from thumb to little finger, his one hand covered Obi-wan's smooth brow from temple to temple, without even splaying it. He ghosted thumb and fingertip into the auburn hair at those spots. It was flat and limp from the bacta, but still so silky. He bent lower, to hear the soft breathing, until his padawan braid fell upon his master's shoulder. 

Obi-wan had nearly died on this mission, to save the lives of millions of beings at risk from the plague. The other five Jedi masters in the team had not returned. And now here he lay, in their own quarters again, with half his physical presence pared away, yet still beautiful.

 And doubly precious to me, he thought. If only I can become the Jedi he is. For all my ability, I know my dedication to the service of other beings falls far short of his. Look at how much he has given this time.

 It was sweet to see the touch of the living Force renewing his master as he slept. Anakin decided to aid it as much as he could. He circled the couch in order to kneel by Obi-wan's side, again placing his flesh hand over the sleeping brow, resisting the urge to stroke his hair, letting the Force direct the flow from his vitality to Obi-wan's. His palm heated up as the heightened molecular activity replenished their bond. He thought Obi-wan's respiration quickened, as if he were inhaling the healing currents.

 Even emaciated, Obi's face was a symphony of angled planes. His soft exhalations tickled upon Anakin's heated fingers. He found himself slipping his free hand around behind Obi's head, to cradle him between two healing hands. It seemed only natural to bend still closer, just to appreciate the brush of each eyelash upon the jutting cheekbones--

 And then he was undone, as Obi-wan nestled his face into the hand's warmth. The unconscious gesture of affection spurred him into returning it. He slipped the pillowing arm farther, so that Obi's face approached his, and kissed those slightly parted lips. 

 That flavor; he had thought he might never taste it again. He was instantly drunk with it. It took an incredible amount of self posession just to stay perfectly still upon those dreaming lips, not to plunge into them with his tongue, not to suck them ravenously in, but just to mingle breaths with his beloved and to touch-meld their mouths into one.

 And eventually, Obi-wan began to kiss back. Still asleep and dreaming, his hand reached up to grasp Ani's wrist, holding the hand in place upon his master's face. He felt like the most fortunate of beings when Obi's mouth opened to his tongue; his breaths were os rapid nowthat he felt as if he were running to meet Obi-wan. Still, he did not disturb the sleeping tranquility by ravishing that mouth, much as he desired it. He merely traced the curve of those lips, smoothed the silky hairs surrounding them, as if he were licking at a sweet. For this was very sweet... 

When had he grown so large? His one arm seemed long enough to wrap around Obi-wan twice! His synth hand gathered up the sleeping treasure of him and could rest upon his chest afterward. When had his sturdy master turned so insubstantial? Anakin gathered him still closer, his toes poking out of his bath sandals to brace against the carpeting. He was all ready to deepen the kiss-- 

--when Obi's eyes fluttered open, and the clinging hand flew away to push at Anakin's chest with surprising forcefulness. A jolt of shock, mind to mind, as his master woke abruptly, unaware of his own body's collusion in the situation moments earlier. A gasp.

 "Anakin, what are you doing?" Adrenaline was coursing through Obi-wan now, as he jerked himself upright. But any annoyance was stilled by the look of innocent hurt in his padawan's eyes. Through the confusion of sudden waking he gradually sensed the benign intentions of Anakin. 

 "I was giving you healing, Master. And you looked so beautiful." That winsome grin usually got a chuckle out of Obi-wan, but not this time. He did not even answer, simply began to rise to go to the fresher. Anakin reached out swiftly, gripping the wrist that had so lately gripped his.

 "Please, Master. What is it?"

 "Not now, Anakin. Let me go." But as Obi-wan rose, so did Anakin, still gripping his arm. He was considerably more than six feet tall now, and his padawan braid had a long way to fall to reach his chest. His hand though delicately formed, was engulfing Obi's wrist. 

 "Let me help you." 

"You cannot." Obi-wan, though his frame might be gaunt, still had the presence that accompanied his mastery. The green eyes gazing up at him were implacable, but Anakin could sense confusion just under the surface. His master's dreams had disturbed him, and he was not willing to discuss it. 

 Like twin fragments of the Tatooine sky, Anakin's eyes sought to brighten his master's mood, and failed. He dropped his arm to his side, and let Obi-wan proceed to the fresher.

 Then he sank down onto the couch himself, holding his head. Come to think of it, one of his hands covered his own face as easily as Obi-wan's. He felt as if he'd made a mistake, but he couldn't tell what it was. The Force around Obi-wan was not stable; it constituted a further wounding that had nothing to do with the physical body. And somehow, he had made it bleed again. 

 Obi-wan tried his best to lose himself in the sensations of the spray pouring down upon his body, the time-tested practice of letting all disturbance and tension flow away with the water, to merge again with the Force. But it was not working. 

 In his mind the images constantly replayed: one of the most beautiful and powerful masters of the era, skewered by Asajj Ventress. She could have healed herself even of that, but instead she sent her remaining life-force to Obi-wan. Because he was the last Jedi standing, the one with the antidote in his pocket. The Force was sometimes cruel that way. 

And how to tell his padawan that when he woke just now, he had thought he was kissing Asajj? the beautiful, vicious, totally evil young woman who was doing all this to be accepted as a Sith. The twisted being who could all too easily have been his Anakin, if Qui-gon had never found him. 

 And then, as he was reaching out to try to untwist that twist, to somehow find forgiveness in himself for the slaughter of millions, to find that he had mistaken Anakin for Asajj--- he raised his helplessly clenching fist to the fresher wall. He knew his padawan was out there, and would hear if he banged the wall. Gods, the Force was being cruel. 

Wash it away, he prayed, as he sank to the fresher floor. Wash me away too, if you must. This emotion I cannot handle. Please take it away quickly. And his tears mingled with the spray, his head on the fresher wall.

 How many times had he said, "Anakin, you'll be the death of me"-? oh, Force, have I made it come true by the repetition? it was a joke, only a joke-- he did not want even form the thought of what sort of Anakin would deliberately kill him, as Asajj wished to. 

 "Force, Force, Force," he heard himself mumble, as the tears fell down the fresher drain. Had he doomed his own padawan, his greatest joy? A part of him realized that this made no sense, yet it was tearing his heart apart just the same. He had to let it go. He had to let even his heart go. And he had to let go his self-control, right now. Audible sobs escaped him. It could not be helped. Of course Anakin would hear, how could he not? They were bonded. Force. Force, Force...

 As for Anakin, the sound of Obi-wan's sobs was all the permission he needed. Stripping off his sleep tunic and pants on the way, he barged into the fresher and gathered up the crumpled form. "Shhh," he managed, before his lips were much too busy showering Obi-wan with kisses.

 The whole picture was entering his mind now, through their bond. Obi-wan had been wrong to hold it back, shocking as it was. He thought I was Asajj?? Fury threatened to take him over, at what she had done to his dear one, and what she had wished to do. No, the only way to rectify anything right now was to stick to what is, not what might have been. 

 He took Obi's weeping face between his hands, raised those lovely eyes to his. "Obi-wan." He put some Force-command into it. And Obi's eyes blinked clear, and he was quiet.

 With all the authority of his long training he spoke, Force-imbuing his words. "You are my Master, and I love you. I--" and he bent his lips to Obi-wan's, "love--" mere millimeters separated them-- "you."

 And then he kissed him with all the passion he had held back earlier, while his beloved still slept. Obi-wan fervently received and returned it, letting truth destroy all doubt. This time, his hand upon the flesh of Anakin's wrist pulled closer, with as much strength as he could muster.

 For the first time, the master allowed his padawan to lift him, and put him to bed in a nest of bath sheets. Like an infant. Like the most precious thing in the universe, to Anakin. 

Eventually the bath sheets were replaced by the long, lean body of Anakin himself. And they rested in the living Force together, becoming whole again.

 End


http://www.livejournal.com/users/hlglne helgaleena-slash  Originally posted June 2005 here