Two Halfs of One Warrior • Obikin/Vaderwan One-Shots

Hand In Unlovable Hand

• Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi thinks he's slowly but surely redeeming Darth Vader. The Jedi think differently, but how can he possibly entrust the Jedi with the care and keeping of Anakin Skywalker after they'd failed so erroneously before when they'd sent the child back to his mother only for Darth Sidious to kidnap him from beneath their very noses?

Meanwhile Darth Vader, who will go by Anakin if it's Obi-Wan Kenobi's voice sounding out the syllables of that long-dead name, thinks he is slowly but surely dragging the warmest Light he's ever known down to the Dark. He'll never be cold again, not if he can slowly convince Obi-Wan to shift his allegiance from the Republic and the Jedi...to him.

Vader may be right.

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Obi-Wan hadn't known exactly who he'd been opening the door of his quarters to, not when he'd left his room and threw on a pair of outer robes to answer the rapid knocking. But it's Quin. It's his friend. He gestures for him to sit down at the small, efficient table before setting about in the kitchen unit, intent on making two mugs of tea. That's simply what one does for a guest.

And, well. It's Quin. It's tea. He knows how his friend likes his tea, which brew he prefers. Sith's hell, even which mug. It's Quin.

When he sets the mug in front of the other man, the Jedi Knight across from him doesn't say anything for several long moments, choosing instead to recline in his seat at the table, stretch out and get comfortable before he begins any sort of conversation at all.

This, too, is normal. It is, after all, Quin.

But Quinlan has that look in his eyes, as if he's about to say something that he knows Obi-Wan won't like. He wets his lips twice before he opens mouth.

And most damning of all, his eyes flicker past Obi-Wan. Past the living room. Down the hall to where Anakin sleeps at this very moment. In his most vulnerable state.

Quinlan shifts slightly, and Obi-Wan shifts slightly with him because now his friend looks less like a Jedi visiting a friend, and more like a Jedi facing a Sith.

Carefully, he puts down his cup of tea and laces his fingers together in his lap. He can already feel a seed of anger blooming inside of him. Since Anakin has re-entered his life and the Temple, he's found that deep, swirling rage is harder to give to the Force. Easier to feel at a moment's notice.

Like almost all the differences in his life now, this can be put on Anakin through no fault of the boy's own.

After all, Obi-Wan thinks to himself, it is much easier to feel this sort of fury at the galaxy's injustices when living with someone who has suffered most all of the most grievous kinds. Every day, he bears solitary witness to how it affects him still. Perhaps it always will. The very thought is gut-wrenching.

"Just say it, Quinlan." Obi-Wan says.

Vos clears his throat. "Where is...your charge?"

"My charge," he repeats, unimpressed. "You know his name."

"I know both of his names," Quinlan fires back. "Does he prefer Anakin or Vader?"

The anger inside of him grows larger at the mention of Vader. As if Anakin would ever prefer the name Sidious gave to him. As if he had chosen it for himself.

As if the Jedi had played no part in the birth of Vader.

"Anakin is asleep," is all Obi-Wan says.

Quinlan makes a show of peering down the hallway of Obi-Wan's quarters to the two closed bedroom doors. "In whose bed?"