InsaneJournal

Who: Big Anakin and Obi-Wan
What: Repairing fresh and old wounds? Who knows
When: Saturday evening
Where: The roof
Rating/Warnings: TBD – low to start, will update if necessary
Status: In progress/Closed


Anakin had been having such a lovely day with Padmé. They’d had an enjoyable picnic far from the castle, far from prying eyes. Just the two of them, save for one text message at a most inopportune time for which Anakin’s phone had suffered dearly. And then they’d returned to the castle and the dank pit of emotional despair the place had sunk waist deep into as of late. It seemed to have grown worse still in the expanse of one half day while Anakin had been out. It felt like his starfighter was being ripped apart at the seams from two forces pulling in opposite directions.

Anakin was perceptive. He knew almost the moment Obi-Wan had texted him back that first time from where this new source of sorrow and pique flowed, if he didn’t quite know the details.

Then Obi-Wan had stopped texting him back altogether. Which wasn’t a good sign.

After prying some rather important details from his younger self, Anakin went in search of his former master. Having a better grasp of the situation was certainly helpful. And, his duty to his master, former though he was, had been set by the wayside for too long. Obi-Wan was going to talk to him, they were going to discuss things that had been left unsaid, and more.

For the first time in weeks Anakin delved into the Force for that signature that was Obi-Wan’s. It opened old wounds, that sensation, part of the reason he’d stopped in the first place. They had not healed, they stung as if fresh. Losing someone close to him felt like that, always raw. Pushing the hurt aside he focused on where Obi-Wan was and followed that beacon.

He opened the door of the tower and was met by life, almost. The approaching night was being heralded by a comfortable breeze that brought with it the scent of pine, the lake, and the end of summer. On the ramparts sat Obi-Wan with the holocron placed before him. It was on, and the transparent, three-dimensional likeness of Master Qui-Gon was chatting away with Obi-Wan as if he were a real, breathing, foot tall Jedi Master. Anakin swallowed back that remorse threatening to seize his throat and walked forward.

“Forgive the intrusion, but we need to talk, Master,” he said to announce himself as he approached. Anakin was already finding it hard to do this, but he wasn't the Hero With No Fear without justification. “We’ve left things unresolved for long enough and they are, for lack of a better phrase, hitting rotating blades much in the same manner bantha poodoo might.” He might have received a Temple education, the finest the galaxy had to offer, but sometimes a good Tatooinan curse summed things up better than any eloquent turn of phrase.