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

Make Every Last Moment Last

• Summary: Anakin dreads the end of the war. Padmé is his wife, but Obi-Wan is his mate. He shouldn't have either, and he can't keep them both forever.

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Anakin traces the curve of Padmé’s silhouette with a longing, chaste gaze. She’s finally asleep, nestled comfortably in her soft bed and at peace now that her husband is safe in their home and not risking his life on some distant planet. Her downy mattress and cool silk sheets were once a place where Anakin could have drifted off nearly as soundly beside her, if not with ease then at least secure in knowing that no harm could come to either of them.

There isn’t much of her that he can make out in the darkness of the room. Lit only by the faint lights that filter in through the security shutters, the details of the woman he loves are muted. He can’t see the beauty marks he knows better than any map, and her dark tresses blend into the pillow. Her lovely brown eyes are closed, but that’s for the better.

He doesn’t want her to see him now. Anakin can’t bear to see the disappointment marring her beautiful face as he prepares himself to slip away without saying goodbye.

He leans over and leaves a lingering kiss on her gravid belly. It’s still so foreign. A few hours haven’t been enough to get used to the drastic changes to her body and to their future. She can still hide her pregnancy in public with her cleverly tailored dresses for now, but here, there’s nothing to hide. There’s no reason for all those layers in the privacy of her own home.

Because this is her home, not theirs. Her room, her bed, her sheets. None of it belongs to him. Perhaps at one point he belonged here, but not anymore.

When the war began and their marriage was still new, their love still something fragile that might be lost at a moment’s notice, Anakin did convince himself that he belonged here rather than in his own bed at the Temple, or out there among the stars. He dreamed of the life they could live when it was all over, of the home they could build together, but he no longer dreams of childish things.

An apology lies on the tip of his tongue. Anakin swallows it back. As much as he misses what once was, what could have been, what must be once more, he’ll only say it when he means it. Even if Padmé isn’t awake to hear, he can’t bear yet another hollow lie.

Leaving is hard, but staying would be even harder. What should be a joyous reunion after months apart has been soured by his own discontent. He’s not yet ready for silk sheets and floral perfume. Anakin is a stranger in his own wife’s bed, and he misses all that he can’t have.

The wind tossing through his hair, the stars above his head. The durasteel cloister of the Resolute, and the company of his men at all hours of the day. The mud and blood caking under his fingernails after hours of trudging across a battlefield through unceasing waves and waves of Battle Droids, the smell of blaster fire and smoke hanging so heavy in the air that he can't chart the path of the system's sun in the sky to know how long he's been on his feet for, and above all the assurance that no matter what, someone always has his back even when home is just a distant memory.

He won’t be sent back out again for some time. Much as he longs for it, his heart aches instead for peace and comfort. What he desires most of all is some breathing room, to get away from everything and have a chance to think without the ordinary pressures weighing on his mind at every moment.

The future will be here before he knows it, and Anakin needs to get himself together so he can be a good husband again. So he can learn to be a good father.

But he won’t be either of those things tonight. Tonight, there’s only one thing he can be.

Anakin dresses with hasty movements in the dim light. He follows the trail of clothes strewn across the floor and wraps his plain tunics all in place through muscle memory alone. His boots go on only after he steps out onto the private landing pad on her balcony.