Fading

Chapter 8 - Sandstorms

Author's Note: Enjoy the actual genuine conversations. :)

WARNING: None, unless excessive snuggling counts :D

~ Amina Gila

Anakin stirs from his half-asleep state at the first inkling of danger in the Force. He hasn't felt this comfortable in a very long time. The all-consuming depression that has been crushing him isn't gone, but it's... a little better.

But no, he really, really doesn't want to move. Obi-Wan's arm is wrapped almost protectively, possessively, around him, and he can feel the long-buried affection from his former master. All he's wanted to see for so long and thought he never would again.

Anakin knew something was wrong with his master, but he would never have guessed time travel. Obi-Wan lived ten years without him – it's no wonder he acts so differently sometimes. And he saw a future where Anakin finished Operation Knightfall at the Temple.

He really doesn't want to think about that, what Obi-Wan must've seen when he went back there. Guilt is already clawing at him, and the knowledge that he would've done so much worse is... It's no wonder Obi-Wan's been acting the way he was. It still hurts – for as much as he can really see that he deserved it now, because of how close he came to doing exactly what happened last time – and there's still a part of him that's afraid he's going to lose... this. Maybe especially because he doesn't deserve to have it.

For a moment, Anakin remembers the brief flashes he'd picked up on from Obi-Wan's nightmare, clearly of something in the future. Flames and screaming and an armored (presumably) cyborg... Anakin really does not think he wants to know what happened on Mustafar. Why Obi-Wan actually believed him dead. What did he do? Nothing he didn't deserve, but...

The feeling of danger nags at him again, Anakin shifts, lifting his head to scan their surroundings. The wind is starting to pick up, and he instantly knows what that means.

Obi-Wan stirs, hand moving up to lightly brush through his curls. Something tightens and warms in him at once. He's been unusually touchy since they finally started talking, and it's... weird.

"Master," Anakin calls quietly, reluctantly pushing himself up, disentangling them.

"What?" He sounds decidedly grumpy at being disturbed.

"Sandstorm. We should go back inside before it hits."

"How can you tell? I have lived on Tatooine for twice the length as you, but I still cannot figure out how you always knew."

"Perhaps you're getting less Force attuned in your old age," he can't help quipping.

Obi-Wan throws him a dirty look. "I am not old, Anakin. Your family needs to stop calling me that."

"Sorry," Anakin replies, grinning. "It's not my fault only me and my children are capable of seeing your true age."

Obi-Wan huffs. "Why did I ever want you back?"

That does sting, but he knows his master doesn't mean it seriously. "Who else would keep your life interesting?"

"That is the truth," Obi-Wan grouses. "But I do not need quite this much chaos."

"You know, you're not too mature for your age." Anakin chokes back a laugh at the disgruntled look on Obi-Wan's face. He could swear if there was a pillow around his master would probably have thrown it at him. "Come on, go inside. What do you do about sandstorms, anyway, Master? Hope it doesn't blow away all your possessions? Or do you have some way of blocking off the entrance? What if a womp rat came inside and tried to eat you?"