"Where," Obi-Wan croaks, tasting blood on the back of his tongue.

"The Halls of Healing, Master Kenobi. You're going to be quite alright."

Obi-Wan is groggy and propped up against a half-inclined medcenter bed. He was barely awake when they'd extubated him, but he still feels the raw ache in his throat from gagging on the tube as it was slid out. Afterwards he hadn't stopped retching until a healer's hand over his chest had relaxed his spasming muscles.

Talking is painful, so Obi-Wan is frugal with his words. "Anakin?"

"Just fine as well. He's been loitering around as much as they'll let him, worried about you."

Obi-Wan nods wearily. He takes a moment while the healer is prepping his arm for a blood draw, just to rest his eyes.

Time passes in not in hours, but in a jumble of bleary moments. The next time Obi-Wan opens his eyes he is in a different room, and the lights are fuzzy-bright. Unfamiliar hands tilt his head forward and strap something over his face. The sensation sends a jolt of fear through his entire body, but he's too weak to struggle against the several hands that hold him down.

Anakin. Anakin's face swims in his field of vision, Anakin's fingers comb through his hair, Anakin's whispers tease at the corners of his awareness.

"Shh, you're going to be asleep while they dip you, okay? Shh, Master, it's alright, it'll be over by the time you wake up."

Obi-Wan locks eyes with his grown padawan as he discovers he can breathe the damp, tangy air blowing through the mask. His distress dissipates as he starts to inhale the anesthetic.

"I'll be right here. Go to sleep."

Obi-Wan is lifted into a sitting position while being divested of both hospital robe and bandages. He imagines he feels the first touch of bacta on his toes before the world is swallowed up by darkness.

Obi-Wan awakens with the scent of bacta tickling his nose and some sort of commotion going on outside his door.

"—Just ask Master Che if you won't believe me!"

"Master Che is off duty, you'll have to come back when—"

"I need to see him now, please." Anakin snaps, rudely pushing his way through the door. His face lights up when he sees Obi-Wan awake. Obi-Wan's first thought is that he looks strong again. Clean-shaven and at least somewhat rested, Anakin is a far cry from the haggard figure that was the only constant in Obi-Wan's fever-warped memories of Rion.

"Force, it's nice to see you without so many tubes, Master," Anakin remarks, coming to sit beside the bed.

Now that Anakin is closer Obi-Wan can see the creases of worry around his eyes. Surely things haven't been that bad? Come to think of it though, everything after fighting the bounty hunters is a muddled blur.

"Anakin how…long…"

"Twelve days since we got home."

Obi-Wan chokes. "No,"

Anakin nods solemnly.

The gravity of the situation is starting to dawn on Obi-Wan. He remembers that he had been wounded of course, but Anakin is looking at him like he's a ghost. Jedi do not fear joining the Force, but realizing how close he'd come is sobering.

"What happened?"

Anakin explains as best he can, and Obi-Wan struggles to follow along. When he gets to the end, he asks, "…Can I see?" and gestures to where Obi-Wan was wounded. Obi-Wan obligingly shrugs one shoulder out of his flimsy hospital robe, baring the upper part of his chest.

A pockmark on Obi-Wan's side from the fluid drain and the neat surgical incision along one rib are shiny and bacta-pink, they should fade away in a matter of days. But Obi-Wan will carry the lumpy, discolored blemish just below his collarbone for the rest of his life. It is not his first nor will it be the last, but this scar in particular will always be a reminder. Anakin reaches out and gingerly traces his fingers across it.

"I was afraid." he suddenly confesses.

"Afraid?"

"I-I panicked. When you were so sick, and we were alone…I wasn't in control. I didn't know what I would do if..."

There is hope for him yet, but your loss would break him. Obi-Wan shakes his head. "You would've done whatever you had to," he rasps. "Whatever it took to survive."

"No," Anakin insists. "Without you—I couldn't—I can't—"

"You can," Obi-Wan barks, straining his tender vocal cords but ignoring the pain. He needs Anakin to understand. It's irresponsible, it's dangerous to carry on this way.

"Try to see it from my point of view, Master. Would you really be so calm if it were me who'd almost died?"

"Anakin,"

"Would you?" Anakin demands, convinced that he's made his point. Then his face falls. "Would you?"

"Doesn't matter," says Obi-Wan. Both he and Anakin put their lives in jeopardy on a regular basis. Luck or fate or the Force brought them home from Rion, but Anakin needs to be prepared for the day when that won't be the case. "You can't let," he coughs. "attachment disrupt your balance."

"Oh." Anakin's mouth hangs open slightly.

Obi-Wan doesn't comprehend why Anakin looks so utterly crestfallen. "You may think you need to cling to your attachments, but you don't give yourself enough credit," he says consolingly. "You're stronger than you know, Padawan."

But the mood in the room has shifted. "Is he allowed to have some water?" Anakin asks the TB droid shortly. Then to Obi-Wan, "I'll be right back."

Obi-Wan watches him leave. Something is troubling Anakin, something bigger than whatever Obi-Wan said wrong. It's something that he has been catching glimpses of here and there for some time now.

When Anakin returns with water, he doesn't look angry, just dejected. He puts the cup in Obi-Wan's trembling hand and guides it to his lips.

"Thank you," says Obi-Wan. "Now, what was that all about?"

Anakin shakes his head with a scowl. "M'sorry. You didn't need me dumping all my problems into your lap as soon as you woke up. Just…maybe another day."

Obi-Wan nods, wondering if Anakin is angry with him. Whatever the matter is, perhaps it would be best discussed in a more private setting. Maybe another day, indeed.

"Now touch each of your fingers to your thumb for me," Che instructs. "…now the other hand,"

Obi-Wan finds to his confusion that the simple task requires more concentration with his left hand. His fingers tremble, slow to obey his commands. Che had been right, there was some nerve damage to his left side. She'd reassured him that none of this would be permanent.

"I'm surprised Skywalker hasn't been in to pester you this morning."

"I think I upset him yesterday." Obi-Wan sighs. "Master, I'd like to be taken off these painkillers. 'Can't think straight. You know I know how to manage pain with meditation."

"Very well," Che concedes.

"How is Anakin handling this—truly?" Obi-Wan asks, sincerity deepening his voice

"Better now," Che says as she takes out a stethoscope and guides him to lean forward so she has access to his back. "He was tearing himself to shreds when things looked uncertain for you. When we finally got a dose of Somaprin into him, it knocked him out for 18 hours. He claims he's been sleeping normally since, which I suspect is not entirely true, but he's coping."

"He told me he had another panic attack," says Obi-Wan.

"While you were off-world?" she asks, frowning. Obi-Wan nods. "That's his first in some time, isn't it?"

"As far as I know." The last one Obi-Wan witnessed was about three years ago, but Anakin may have hidden others since. It's an unsettling thought, but probable.

"He should see a mind-healer, Obi-Wan," sighs Master Che. They've had this conversation before.

"I agree, but he won't." Anakin's previous experience with the Jedi mind-healers has proven that, like the rest of the Order, they have little idea what to do with him. His emotional struggles are as unique as his troubled upbringing.

"His physical injuries are entirely healed, but kindly keep that information away from the High Council." Che warns. "I want him on medical leave for another two weeks."

"I'm glad to hear it." Obi-Wan does not doubt that Anakin needs the time. They share half a smile. For 13 years they have been allies, working together to keep Anakin in one piece. It's a relief to Obi-Wan that there's still another set of eyes looking out for the boy Not really a boy, though, is he?

"And you, my friend, won't be seeing another mission briefing for at least six months," Che announces briskly.

"I suppose I can live with that," Obi-Wan groans good-naturedly. "So long as there's no more bacta."

"Mind you don't overdo and tear something open, and there won't be."

"I shall have to be a model patient then," he smiles. He is still picking congealed bacta out from under his fingernails and the corners of his eyes, and suspects he will be doing so for weeks. It's horrid stuff, but unfortunately it's damn useful.

"You've never been a model patient in your life, Kenobi. No need to start now," Che shoots back.

The next few weeks are a filled with challenges, and as predicted, Obi-Wan's patience with being in the Halls quickly wears thin. It never fails to surprise the younger healers, who only know Master Kenobi as the mild-mannered councilor, but those who have dealt with him before pay no mind to his griping. One morning he is downright rude to a padawan because he's frustrated and wants to go home. More true to character, he later tries to sneak out of bed, dragging an IV pole down the corridor on a quest to find and apologize to her.

Anakin is in Obi-Wan's room more often than not, even sleeping there sometimes, but by the time two weeks are up the Council is already clamoring to have him back on active duty. He's reluctant to be sent off-world while his former master is still recovering, but Obi-Wan assures him that it will be okay. There's some lingering tension between them, but neither give voice to it.

Jedi heal faster than normal humanoids, but that's little consolation to Obi-Wan when his legs tremble so much he has to lean on a walking stick just to get to the 'fresher and back, and progress comes so slowly that he doesn't notice it from day to day. But whenever Anakin returns from three or four days abroad, he sees the differences. Obi-Wan gets stronger. And finally, finally, he is ready to manage on his own.

Obi-Wan objects to the suggestion of a hoverchair but he agrees to keep the walking stick (and Anakin, in a rare feat of self-control, limits himself to two Yoda jokes). Anakin is ready to lend a steadying hand if it's needed, but Obi-Wan makes the journey down to the Temple's residential levels without incident. At last, four months after they left for Gavoros, Obi-Wan is standing in that familiar doorway again with moisture welling in his eyes that he will later deny ever existed.

Obi-Wan sinks into a kitchen chair and heaves a contented sigh. He looks around, noticing that none of Anakin's belongings remain. Through the open door of Anakin's room, he can see the bed made up, unslept-in, the shelves empty.

"You've finished moving out, then," Obi-Wan observes.

Anakin glances at his feet. "Yeah. Been sleeping at my place for a couple weeks now. So do you need anything, or—"

"Why don't you stay for a minute? Put the kettle on, if you don't mind."

While the water heats, Obi-Wan indicates that Anakin should sit down. "Tell me what's been bothering you."

"What?"

"We're not in public anymore and there's nobody to overhear, so whatever it is, out with it, Padawan." Obi-Wan encourages.

"It was nothing. It was dumb, I—" Anakin stutters. He'd just been…damn it all, he'd been disappointed when Obi-Wan had implied that he didn't feel attachment to Anakin. Anakin isn't even sure why he'd assumed that would be the case, obviously Obi-Wan has a devotion to the Jedi code that his padawan has never been able to match. Attachments lead a Jedi closer to the Dark – how can Anakin wish that upon his master? Does it make him a rotten friend?

Finally he speaks, addressing the table between them so he doesn't have to make eye contact. "I care about you, Obi-Wan, more than I should. And sometimes I just forget you don't feel things that way, that's all."

"Is that why you were upset?" Obi-Wan sounds a bit insulted. "Because you don't think I care about you?"

"I know you care in the normal way, like masters are supposed to. It's not like you want to see me hurt, but if something did happen to me, you could just…go on. And I can't, Master. Don't tell me that I could have handled it, because I know I couldn't've."

Anakin can't stop himself from wondering - what would Obi-Wan do? Simply release Anakin and everything they had meant to each other into the Force? Would he stand at Anakin's funeral pyre as stoically as he'd stood by Qui-Gon's? And yet, Obi-Wan had grieved for Qui-Gon. He hadn't let anyone see, but Anakin had heard him at night through the shared wall between their sleeping chambers. It's that memory that gives Anakin the courage to glance at Obi-Wan's face. "Don't be angry."

"I'm not," Obi-Wan assures him quietly. He takes a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Anakin, my regard for you is not out of duty as your master, and I'm sorry I ever allowed you to think that. You mean so much more to me. I love you."

"But if—if—"

"Letting go is part of being a Jedi, Anakin. You know this. If I had to let you go, it would be harder than anything I've ever done. It's painful even to imagine. But I would do it to serve the Order that we both pledged our lives to, because that's the right thing to do. I know you don't believe it, but if you had to, I reckon you would do the same."

Anakin tries to swallow the lump of guilt in his throat. Obi-Wan believes in him, not knowing that Anakin was already put to that test. He wasn't there when my mother died, he doesn't know what I did. Anakin doesn't know what would happen if Obi-Wan saw that side of him. "I wouldn't."

"I think you're wrong. You have a few things to learn yet, Anakin, but you're already a better Jedi than I. You don't need my help anymore." Anakin detects a rueful note in the last statement that is unlike Obi-Wan.

"I needed your help on that planet."

"No, you didn't."

"I wanted it, then. I was afraid of not knowing what to do."

"Anakin, you did everything just right. You kept us both alive."

Anakin shakes his head, thinking back on all his mistakes, and how he'd given in to panic. "That's because you don't remember…if you'd seen me…"

"I remember feeling about as sick as I've ever been in my life. And I remember that it was…" Obi-Wan wasn't raised to verbalize thoughts like this, and it doesn't come easily. "…It was a great comfort to me, having you nearby. I wasn't afraid when I knew you were there."

This is new information to Anakin. He often compares himself to others, particularly Obi-Wan, when he feels too much or too passionately. He never stops to consider that other Jedi have their emotional vulnerabilities too.

Their teacups are empty, and the room has grown dark with the sunset. Obi-Wan turns on a light.

"Thank you," says Anakin as he stands, without specifying exactly what for. Obi-Wan uses the table to push himself upright as well.

"I think you underestimate yourself, Anakin. But if you're really concerned, perhaps you should talk to someone about it."

"I am not seeing another mind-healer," he says flatly.

"That is not what I was suggesting."

"I'll think about it," says Anakin. Force knows he'll have a lot to think about when he gets home tonight.

Anakin draws out the departure by fussing a bit, making sure the floor is cleared of tripping hazards, straightening up the kitchen counter and lining up all Obi-Wan's medications on it, morning to the left of the sink, evening on the right.

"I am not completely helpless, Padawan," Obi-Wan objects.

"You said you were gonna stop calling me that."

"Maybe the day you remember not to call me 'Master'."

Obi-Wan is right. It will take them both some time to adjust. Anakin glances dolefully towards the door, and Obi-Wan's contented expression darkens somewhat.

"Do you wish I wasn't leaving, Obi-Wan?"

"Well, I certainly don't want you to be a padawan forever. I believe that would constitute a failure on my part as a master."

"But you're still not happy?"

Obi-Wan puts a hand on his shoulder. "Anakin, I'm very happy. I'm proud of you. But I shall miss the way things were, yes."

"But you'll 'let it go' as the Force wills, is that it?" Anakin says with a cheeky grin.

The hand on Anakin's shoulder turns into a playful shove. "Impertinent, as always!"

Anakin pauses thoughtfully. "I think I'm going to miss it too."

Obi-Wan smiles.

"I could stay," Anakin offers. "Just for tonight. I'll have to run upstairs for some sleep clothes and my toothbrush."

Obi-Wan can tell that Anakin feels conflicted about this too. He'd been so eager to get out on his own, until he'd been confronted with the prospect of actually living without Obi-Wan.

And before either Jedi makes a conscious decision to lean in, they wrap their arms around each other, squeezing tightly. Obi-Wan, being significantly shorter, ends up resting his head against Anakin's chest. It's confusing to his Jedi instincts, which balk at the unnecessary physical contact, but it's nice. Anakin, for his part, was not raised with such instincts and feels right at home.

One of the hardest parts about raising a padawan is you seldom know when it's going to be 'the last time'. Obi-Wan can't pinpoint one specific memory as the last time he sat Anakin on his lap or packed him a lunch to take to lessons, but those aspects of their lives had gradually drifted away. And he hadn't known that the night before their departure for Gavoros would be their last in the conjoined quarters as Master and Padawan, but that seems fitting somehow.

"I think you should go, Anakin. Come visit tomorrow. I'll cook breakfast."

"Okay. I'll keep my commlink on."

"I'll be fine."

"I'll…I'll be fine too."

Obi-Wan smiles. "I know you will."

Here we are at last! For those of you who fretted about poor Obi-Wan, here's the happy ending I promised to deliver. I leave it up to you to decide whether you think of this plot as canon-compliant, or whether the insight both Anakin and Obi-Wan have gained on this "camping trip from hell" will change the course of their futures.

To everyone who read or will read, favorite and review: thank you! This fic turned out to be twice as long and at least twice as complex as anything else I've ever written, and I wouldn't have had the courage to write it without all of your support. And I especially have to thank my two beta-readers, Maeve Pendergast and SpencerBrown!