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

Tilted

• Summary: Waking up after Mortis in a female body, Anakin hides in his room, struggling to come to terms with the change. Obi-Wan comes to check on him and reassure him, and ultimately proves to him that his body, whatever its sex, is a good one, because it's his.

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Anakin knew that he was hiding.

He was aware that it was probably a cowardly and immature response to recent events, and that he was supposed to accept what had happened with the fortitude, patience, and resolve of a Jedi. Obi-Wan wouldn’t be hiding in his tiny cabin if this had happened to him. Obi-Wan would be on the bridge, meeting with the Council and commanding the fleet.

Anakin felt his lower lip attempting to pout, and so pursed his lips to prevent it. This sort of thing would never happen to Obi-Wan anyway. The Force had it in for Anakin, he was sure of it. Why did it make him one way, and then change him without warning?

He would never have expected this outcome from the stupid kriffing distress call. He hadn’t expected to be pulled into some weird Force nexus, and tested by absurdly powerful beings. He remembered that he’d defeated the Son, and then the life energy of the dying Father had flooded into him. He remembered the overwhelming agony of it—his body felt ripped apart and transformed into something else, his experience of time condensed and then snapped.

His memories after that point were fuzzy. He’d woken up in the shuttle with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, Captain Rex’s voice on the radio proving no time had passed, but with one crucial change.

Anakin burrowed deeper under the blankets he’d piled up on his narrow bed, wanting to hide and disappear so badly. His body was different, wrong, not his. He was a man, but now—

There was a knock on his door, and Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s concerned Force signature. He didn’t want to let him in. He didn’t want to see anyone, ever again. He didn’t want anyone to see him.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, voice muffled by the door. A caring brush of his mental energy stroked against Anakin’s mind, like gentle fingertips running down his spine, and it made him shudder. “Let me in, please.”

Anakin resisted for a moment, but knew he couldn’t resist forever. He didn’t budge from under his blanket as he waved his fingers to slide the door open. No more metal fingers, his right hand had been restored to its original state, but at what cost?

Obi-Wan walked in and sighed at the sight of Anakin hiding under the blankets, the door sliding closed behind him. There was a faint dragging sound as Obi-Wan pulled out the desk chair and sat down. Anakin could feel his curiosity in the Force and he scowled, unwilling to talk.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan prompted gently after a long silence. “Are you feeling all right?”

Anakin laughed, and then cringed—it just sounded wrong. His voice was different than before, unfamiliar and too high. “Obviously not.”

There was a pause, and Anakin could feel Obi-Wan’s intense scrutiny in the Force. “Do you feel sick or hurt? Do you need to go to the med—”

“I’m fine.” Anakin cut him off, swallowing and forcing himself to speak in his feminine voice. “I don’t feel sick. Nothing hurts.”

Obi-Wan sighed again, and Anakin felt him tap the side of the bed with his foot. “Anakin, may I see you, please?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m worried about you.”

Anakin scowled again, and then gave up with hiding. He reluctantly pushed the blankets off, sitting up and squinting slightly in the light, blushing as he met Obi-Wan’s intense blue eyes. He raised a hand helplessly, gesturing toward himself and waving it up and down. “See? I’ve got…”