Hey everyone, I haven't died! Still here and writing. School year is coming to a close so I'll be scarce studying and all that, but no worries. I suspect I'll have new stories up for you guys soon!

~QueenYoda

"Laughter heals all wounds, even if for a second,"

-Anonymous.

"So your mission on Dantooine went well?" The question was commonplace, and had been asked before, by various people. The answer though was sure to be different, seeing as how this was Obi-wan Kenobi that sat before him. The name and rank of a person usually did nothing to impress Anakin.

He was a general in the Clone Wars after all. He was the Hero with No Fear, the Chosen One, A Knight in the Jedi Order. Titles, ranks, names, all of it meant little in the long run, in the real war.

Then again, Anakin just had an natural abhorrence for authority in general. Perhaps that was why he was considered 'dangerous' to the Council. He preferred the deprogram means of life, rather than the strict traditions of the Jedi Code.

All the same, with the man across from him, titles, rank and name meant little not only because Anakin's own titles were lengthy and grand-sounding, but because there was only one that he truly felt complimented Obi-wan. Master. Or, that was what he used to think. That was the sole thing that used to matter. Before.

Before Grievous, before Dooku, before saving the Chancellor, and overall before they had gotten to Dex's, which for now acted as temporary sanctuary from unpleasant memories. Anakin Skywalker's answer would have been the same vague, emotionless "it went well," then a quick change of subject that he gave everyone nowadays except for a certain Senator of the Republic.

In truth, the instinctive words had popped into Anakin's mouth when he stopped himself, instead cocking his head. His eyes casually followed a passing couple as they swayed to a nearby table. The fact that there were two Jedi inside of the small diner did nothing to halt their stride.

It was rather common that he or Obi-wan were up here, after all. And this late at night, the area was near to full anyway. No one had time to notice two quiet men in the corner in all the hustle. Each and every one of the seats around were nearly taken, due to Dex's characteristic 'half-off burger night". It was the one reason they were there as well. Force knew neither of them had any money.

Droid servers wheeled around counters, in between people, expertly carrying their metal trays full of steaming food to the appropriate tables before whirring away. The sound Of Dex's cheerful bellowing in the back, the click and clack of utensils, and the steady murmur of people conversing was a nice lull to the harsh sounds of war.

Anakin let his mind wander for a split second, instead putting him and Padme into the place of that couple, so carefree with no thoughts of war or duty or sacrifice. Joyously, audaciously flamboyant in their love…

Then he remembered that he was in front of a very observant and intuitive man, and quickly went back to subject. Politely, Obi-wan followed along with the ruse. "Not as well as it could have, I'm afraid," he admitted, taking a sip of his…What was he drinking, anyway? He wasn't sure, Obi-wan had ordered it before he arrived, which had been a mere moments before. They had a rather secluded spot in Dex's diner.

Their usual. Beneath a lazy, relaxed orange bulb which shone equal light on the small table, where they remained inconspicuous but the other diners were in clear sight. Jedi could never afford to not be on guard, even when just 'stopping in' as his master had put it.

"Then again, I'm sure you know this," Obi-wan was on the High Council after all. He had probably had a hand in sending Anakin on the blasted mission which had ended with no essential results.

A hint of bitterness stirred in his heart at the thought. I should be on that council, he thought, but buried the thought, as he buried most things nowadays. He stuffed it into the compact wall that he had built around his heart, the shelter of stone and hardened emotions until there was no emotion.

There damn sure wasn't peace, but the alternative was… Painful.

To his surprise, Obi-wan gave an indulgent half-shrug. "No, actually," Simple conversation seemed to be the theme of the night. The night after they had saved the Chancellor, and thus the Republic from death and chaos.

"I haven't been engaged in the Council meetings lately. I've been hunting for Ter-Suann," he explained. Anakin nodded at the familiar name, his skin crawling. Ter-Suann, The now infamous Separatist general known for wiping out entire towns in a blaze of flames, a murderer and sadistic barve in his own right.

For a moment, Anakin's mind flashed back to one of the deserted campsites that the Separatist had left in his wake… His skin was suddenly cold. He rubbed his metal arm inconspicuously.

"About time someone went after the sleemo. I was wondering when the council would get on that,"- here a hint of censure- "So how'd it go? Did you find the sick puppy?" he asked, taking another sip of his drink.

To a normal person, this cavalier fashion they adopted while talking about a mass murderer was a sign of either serious mental issues or serious indifference to all things good or bad. Anakin would have agreed with those people, with the full malice of a Jedi who had seen more than his fair share of death and had been forced to play the part of murderer himself. Obi-wan leaned back. Nothing in his posture revealed any anxiety or intention to move, but Anakin saw the coiled muscles in his shoulders, the too feigned casualness of his movements.

War had taught them rigorous lessons, hard lessons, lessons many men would be sickened to learn. The older man's own azure eyes did not meet Anakin's, but traveled to follow the droid waitress with little interest. "Oh, I found him," Obi-wan agreed slowly, finally dragging his eyes back to Anakin's.

They held for a minute, as if judging something, then quickly darted away again. Anakin felt intensely as if there were some game being played here, not exactly hostile, or even uncomfortable. It was a playful game, reminiscent of calmer, more peaceful times when he had been an apprentice to the man across from him. Sort of like "can you guess what I'm thinking?"

Why they decided to play it now was beyond him, but it was better than the alternative, which was remain as tense and wary around each other as they had been a few months back. The time away had done them both some good, had restored some semblance of…Civility to their relationship, if not blunt intimacy.

But that stuff was for the novelists, anyway, he assuaged himself without much success. In war, between brothers, the greatest intimacy was in what wasn't said, and so, he and his brother said nothing while talking about everything. Anakin sighed internally. He remembered a time when such closeness had existed between them.

He had felt it again, on that thrice cursed Separatist flag ship when they had rescued the Chancellor together. He had felt that same connection of old when they had crashed the ship, gone before Grievous, more than just comrades, more than just Jedi…He had felt it, that unifying, blossoming bond reopen with renewed vigor. Perhaps that was the real reason they had met at Dex's, without spoken accord, without conscious intention. Maye Obi-wan wanted to feel that connection again too.

Right now, all I feel is tired, tight and like the bond is dead. As he had been feeling for months. If Obi-wan felt the tenor of his thoughts, he didn't show. "I didn't manage to keep him, though, before he was re-captured by a certain Hondo Onaka," Anakin's brows shot up. Surprise flooded the Force.

"Hondo boarded your ship?" His voice rose high in his incredulousness. "You let a pirate board your ship?" Because they both knew that the only kriffing way that a low-down, unorganized, unprofessional trio like Hondo's band of merry pirates was getting on Obi-wan's ship was if he let him. A small, dry smile that showed genuine amusement flickered on Obi-wan's face and in the Force.

"Yes, well…It wasn't exactly my idea," he admitted. "Then whose was it?" Anakin asked, intrigued by the small smile. He had not seen such amusement from Obi-wan in…What seemed like forever.

Added to that was the fact that a dangerous murderer was on the loose, and the only way that Obi-wan would find the situation of his escape funny instead of humiliating and disgraceful was if it had been really really, downright Hutt hilarious.

"I don't suppose you could lay ownership for the catastrophe on any one person. I suppose one could blame me," his mouth twitched and Obi-wan emptied his cup with a final swig. "The council certainly will," he stated. Anakin snorted, unsympathetic. "Bout time they gave someone else besides me lip about something," he said. "Oh, I assure you," Obi-wan remarked dryly, giving him a long-suffering look.

"That I get enough lip just about you. I imagine that will be half the upcoming conversation. All the same…Dex!" Anakin turned, grinning to see the large amphibian waddle up to their table, his throat gaggling with small noises of sucking gooiness. Anakin had long grown accustomed to the sound, and was no longer disgusted by it, even when Dex hitched his pants up with one greasy hand.

"Why, if it ain't my two favorite Jedi!" The man bellowed happily. The word Jedi drew a few curious glances their way, but Dex's behind perfectly shielded both of them from prying eyes, and Anakin doubted anyone would dare to get anywhere near that gaping hole in order just to see some famous Jedi.

"And here I thought I was your favorite," Obi-wan deadpanned. "You can't possibly believe you'd ever match this sort of awesome status, master," Anakin teased with self-satisfaction. Obi-wan sent him another shadowed glance. "One can dream," he supposed. Anakin couldn't help but smile a brittle smile as he turned back to Dex. Beady eyes stared at them merrily.

"Two jokesters, you! Say, I heard a certain team just saved the Chancellor yesterday and crashed a ship in the middle of an airfield? Is it true?" He asked. Anakin shrugged, glancing at Ob-wan.

He saw the tiniest sparkle before his former master waved a dismissive hand. "Your sources are faulty, Dex. Anakin saved the Chancellor. I acted as distraction and helpful insult for the good General's wit," he assured him. Anakin's heart warmed at the rare praise.

He raised his cup in a salute. "Ah master, don't be modest. You showed Dooku good and straight,"

He saw Obi-wan's face soften. "Thank you, Anakin…"

"How to be unconscious the right way. You didn't even drool on my shoulder this time," Obi-wan's words trailed off as Dex broke into uproarious laughter. Anakin gave Obi-wan a teasing grin, and downed his own drink. Obi-wan returned the smile with a dry look.

"Laugh if you will," he told Dex histrionically, as the other man wiped tears from his eyes. "Had Anakin allowed me to finish, I also would have added that he crashed the ship-it wasn't even half a ship, Dex, the poor man can't even fly half a ship prudently-into the airfield," he finished.

"Hey!" Anakin squawked, delighted that Obi-wan was teasing back, delighted that they could still tease at all. He leaned forward. "That wasn't my fault!" he defended himself. Obi-wan was unimpressed by his feigned outrage.

"Well, contrary to your beliefs, Anakin, it certainly wasn't the ships fault. I suppose we can place blame on that droid of yours. After all, he does have…" Anakin held up a warning finger. "Don't you start with me!" he growled. Obi-wan stared back, innocently. Shared amusement bubbled in the force, a golden thread of what was once a strong bond appeared from darkness.

"Did I say anything? I said nothing," he said. Dex was thoroughly confused. "What does he have?" He asked. "A couple thousand loose wires," Obi-wan put in before Anakin could defend his droid friend's unsullied honor.

"Artoo is a good droid!" Anakin informed Dex, crossing his arms as he shot a poisonous look over at the smug Negotiator. "Artoo is a good threat to public safety, as we saw yesterday. He needs to be reassembled into something less like you, and then maybe he'll be presentable," Dex shook his head, staring at them with befuddlement. Anakin had ceased to notice he was there, although.

He placed his palms on the table, staring intently into the face so familiar, and yet so unacquainted. He had hated this face for months, ever since Ahsoka left, he had resented him since he was voted unto the council, had grieved for him during Jabiim, had loved and despised so intensely that the two had blurred together. After Ahsoka left, though, his heart had broken, and the pieces had screamed accusations at that face, had blamed it.

Then those shards had finally glued together, in the wrong place, shoved into disarray, mashed into compact, severe concrete around his heart, impervious to defeat, to assault by any shine of love or brightness.

The concrete that was melting way with each joke, each tickling reminder of what joy had once been. He assumed this had been Obi-wan's plan all along. He knew Anakin would never turn away from a taunt, even a harmless teasing one, the challenge and opportunity was too alluring, too ripe…

"You're a good threat to public sanity, master," he hissed, though through the Force, in that tiny thread he raged don't make me laugh! Don't you dare make this wall fall! just as he also begged make it go away. Take me away, back into joy, into the light.

"You know what this fool said when we finally crash-landed, Dex? "Another happy landing!" The poor Chancellor thought we were idiots," Anakin accused. Obi-wan pointedly leaned back and set one knee over the other, studying his reflection in the shine of his boots.

Obi-wan's bright eyes held nothing but seriousness in them. Sometimes the most important of conversations were held within jokes, in the casual interchange of two men who knew each other far too well…

"Was I the cause of that, my old apprentice? In truth, I thought it was because you had informed General Grievous that he was 'shorter than you expected,'" Dex snorted. "How tall is the fellow?" He inquired curiously, moving aside a little so that the recipients at the table next to him could lean over and peer at the two Jedi currently trying to out-do one another.

Anakin was too engrossed with the wit-match between him and Obi-wan that he failed to notice the subtle quieting of the entire diner. "Five inches taller than Anakin," came the sure answer. Anakin wondered if Obi-wan had measured, then came up with the wise answer that he just did not want to know what Obi-wan did in his spare time or at night when Anakin was asleep.

"Which thus means he's ten inches taller than Obi-wan," Anakin assured Dex. Obi-wan stiffened, eyes narrowing. The Force whiplashed with challenge. Anakin accepted it easily enough. Whatever the drink was that Obi-wan been ordered for him felt warm and heavy in his stomach. The air seemed lighter, brighter…The universe seemed…Good. It always did when Obi-wan teased him. That's why Anakin hated him at this moment, more than anything, more than kriffing anyone.

"Are you calling me short?" Obi-wan demanded. Anakin didn't hesitate to shed truth upon the matter. "Of course not master…"

"Good…"

"I'm calling you not tall," this gained a few amused chuckles from the growing audience. They were surrounded by about eight curious civilians now. Anakin shrugged. "The truth hurts," he reminded his old mentor. "Do you see how he treats me Dex?" Obi-wan lamented to their friend. Dex chuckled. "He needs a good whupping, Obi-wan," he snickered, shaking his head.

"Agreed. And we are also agreed that tomorrow your story will be that you saw nothing when Anakin mysteriously goes missing. I know nothing," Obi-wan assured him ahead of time. Anakin crossed his arms. The thread was growing, stretching, illuminating. It was painful. "You'd never touch a hair on my head, and you know it, master…"

"And yet you claim that I would drool on your shoulder…"

"Besides, where would you put my body?" Anakin went on, choosing to ignore the last statement. His façade of calm and indifference was failing. The Force was taut with his need not to laugh, not to give in, not to let the months of hardening his heart and strengthening the walls around his soul fall with a single laugh…

Obi-wan seemed determined to break through the walls despite his opinion on the matter. "Who says I would kill you? Perhaps I merely mean to lock you in a closet," he harrumphed, as if affronted that Anakin could ever assume he'd actually waste time on killing him when there were closets available.

"A closet?" Anakin demanded. "Yes. Not to worry, though, I would leave you a cracker and a juice box," Obi-wan promised, since he was such a compassionate being. Don't do this, don't make me laugh.

"What in all the blazes would I do with a cracker and a juice box?" Anakin replied. Obi-wan cocked a brow at him. I have to do this, and I will. "Why, the juice box would eventually serve as a toilet, really," the newly assembled crowd of twenty chuckled. Obi-wan waited for it to die down, without taking his eyes from Anakin's, without messing with the golden thread.

"I would suggest that you drink the juice first, unless you like concoctions of that sort…And the cracker would serve quite nicely as either toilet paper or food, whichever need arises first," the wall nearly crumbled.

Anakin felt tears sting at his eyes, but he showed no indication. Joy…He had not felt real joy, laughter, the innocent tug of real amusement for so long. This is what the golden thread had been made out of, he realized.

Joy. Odd, since the relationship between Obi-wan and he had been started with the death of someone they both loved. They had begun in flaming grief, and yet the chord tied between them was one of joy. "You're a cruel man," and a blasted barve. I'm supposed to hate you.

"Like you said, the truth hurts," You weren't made to hate. "Besides, you started it. You called me short," you barve. I don't want this! The golden thread shimmered briefly with fury, but that fury died beneath gentleness shown on the other side. Yes…I know… But we both need it. "You said my droid had a loose wire," don't push your own weakness on me!

"Technically I said he had a couple thousand loose wires," the crowd roared with laughter, Dex threw his head back to laugh at their small contest of wills. They continued to stare each other down. My weakness is you.

Anakin's eyes wavered. His heart rebelled behind barricaded walls. The golden thread poured sunlight in, melting the ice of concrete, finally shining luminance on all the dark pockets within easy reach… And he felt it doing something, tweaking something back into place in Obi-wan's heart as well. He hadn't been lying. Anakin was not the only one whose wall he was breaking.

Anakin supposed that Obi-wan had decided that he just didn't like walls anymore.

"Then technically I called you not tall," a small smirk as another piece that had been broken fell from its place. It hadn't belonged there anyway. The truth of Dooku's death floated in with the light.

Anakin had killed him, and not only that, had murdered him out of revenge. He had hated Obi-wan, and if the golden thread had not existed during the mission to save the Chancellor, very well would have left him to the buzz droids before it ever began.

The truth of it stung. Please, please… My heart will wither and die from shame he pleaded a last time. And since they were in war, shame was all around, was in everything, was in the truth. Because the truth was that he had reason to be ashamed. And that was what he had barricaded himself from, that guilt and despair and shame. But the Jedi before him denied any such thing.

There is no death. "Since we're going on about technicalities, I believe you have just earned yourself a shoe closet. With pink heels as your future companions. Hopefully, you won't crash land them," And with that the wall was suddenly splintering, Anakin's heartbroken beneath the weight of the rock Obi-wan had just hurled at it, using the golden thread as transport.

He wanted to curl in on himself from pain, clutch at his chest, but the unadulterated, pure joy and light felt too good for that. The Golden thread, its newly strung existence, sparked with the fiery excitement of fireworks, setting his heart ablaze with delightful warmth that started to suck the broken pieces back towards their rightful place.

Thenceforth, instead of crying out in pain, he did the opposite, he admitted full defeat and laughed. Anakin Skywalker laughed uproariously, unapologetically, without constraint for the first time since Ahsoka had left the Temple.

He laughed until his aides ached, until he was purple in the face and tears leaked from his eyes. And Dex's diner, settled around them, laughed as well, though for a very different reason.

And at that moment, the worries of war fell away, along with the concerns of the universe and the broken shards of heart that were under scrutiny again. Laughter healed the wound, even if only for a second. The only person not laughing was Obi-wan, who sat back in his chair and smiled softly.

His eyes glowed, not with exhaustion, but a radiant joy and his very signature in the galaxy laughed. The Force glowed with a golden thread between them all.

Later:

"You can pass out from laughter, master, I hope you realize this," Anakin peevishly informed his old mentor as Obi-wan used the Force to drag over another chair. The rickety device groaned cantankerously beneath the jostling, protesting with its old bones. Anakin's chair wasn't so much better, but at least less loud.

"Oh, I do. You were close to it, dare I say," he sure as hells had been. Anakin had laughed for so long, so hard, that at last Obi-wan had dragged him from the diner, still gasping for breath and into the city before anyone could assume him a madman. All the while the Force itself had laughed between them. The Golden thread pulsing too, painful as a thundering heartbeat during battle.

After what seemed an eternity, the screeching of Obi-wan's chosen chair halted, right next to Anakin's. He felt rather than saw obi-wan plop down into the seat. A profligate nudge of the Force sent the woven seat to rocking back and forth, lazily. Anakin rocked too, arms resting candidly on the armrests of the ancient one. His fingers ran along the individual filaments, electronic nerves tingling. They didn't make chairs like this anymore, made out of hard fibers instead of hard metals.

Anakin gazed up at the countless satellites littering the sky. He couldn't tell a star from a satellite, and wasn't sure if all of the dots he saw up there weren't satellites. The air was warm with exhaust fumes. A long trail of golden air-cars and scooters flew below them in a steady wave of molten machinery.

The sounds of people were far below. Anakin felt a bit of wind stir his hair. "Where are we, anyway? You never told me," It was apparent from their height-and the fact that there was actual wind up here- that they were on the roof of some building, but what it was Anakin had no clue. In truth he did not remember much about the journey here, a disgraceful lack of attention for a Jedi Knight.

"On top of the National Courthouse, of course. Behind us you can see the Temple, and the Senate building," two very different entities, yet so close to one another that it was uncannily mocking…

The Golden thread wove another line into its depths, without either of their consents. "Why did you drag me up here again?" Then, as another thing occurred to him. "How did you drag me up here?" He demanded. Obi-wan gave a light shrug, eyes trained on the sky with solemn respect.

"Its the tallest building this side of Courascant. Master Qui-gon always said that the stars can make all problems feel insignificant," for a minute, the content smile on his face wavered, and his eyes darkened again. Then the look vanished behind tightly perfected control and the mask of calm was back in place. Anakin sighed and let his heels rock him back and forth, back and forth…

Then he laughed, softly, clutching at his aching ribs because they still hurt. "Betcha we gave Dex some much needed publicity. That place was starting to look run-down," he chuckled hoarsely. Obi-wan glanced at him, eyes twinkling. "True enough. Speaking of which, not tall?" He went back to their original subject.

"Ah, master, it is okay to be the size of a luggage droid, at your age…OW!" Anakin laughed as Obi-wan gave him a firm whack upside the head with his Lightsaber, snickering. "You, my vicious young companion," Obi-wan informed him, waving his saber at Anakin threateningly. "Are pushing the limits of my patience," he warned. Anakin rubbed the back of his head as his laughter turned into a groan.

"Oh, come on,.. Don't. My sides feel as if they are on fire. I noticed you weren't laughing much," he griped. "Your sense of humor is dull compared to mine," Anakin had nothing to say to that. It wasn't that he had any less humor than Obi-wan, just not the witty silver-tongue to be able to pull off the affect of making everyone in the near vicinity pee their pants.

"Yeah, yeah…You know we're going to be on the holo-news by daybreak, right?" he continued, as a thin trail of smoke from a ship left a murky shooting star right in their line of sight. "I'm prepared for the humiliation," it was a small price to pay was what the rest of what he had been about to say was.

They were silent another moment, one feeling tentatively at the shards the laughter had broken from their original faulty places and the other pushing away the grief such shattered pieces brought back to mind. The truth hurt.

At length, though, there was something that Anakin had to say, if only to distract them from the present moment, which carried too much pain for either of them to bear long while alone in their own thoughts.

He sighed wholeheartedly, and turned to look at his old mentor. "This was a good mission," he didn't have to specify what. Saving the Chancellor had been more of a disaster situation gone right than a mission, but in Jedi life there was hardly a distinctive difference.

"I wish we would have caught Grievous but yes, it was. You brought The Republic one step closer to peace yesterday, Anakin. You should be proud," should he be? Anakin huffed. Obi-wan had been out cold when he had murdered Dooku, did not know the full story of what had happened. He hadn't asked. No one ever did ask for the details of a murder, it was a private, painful moment not to be shared.

But at that moment, he wished he could have told Obi-wan. If Anakin didn't know that the truth of it would horrify the old peace-keeper, would cause Obi-wan to look at him with disgust, he might have spewed the entire story right there.

He had murdered in anger, in rage, in revenge…. Anakin's mechanical arm flexed. It wasn't right, but neither is war. Yet by war we have saved lives, by murder I've brought us nearer to peace, he told himself, and pushed away the niggling call of the light back to reasonable thought.

Obi-wan said he had reason to be proud. Far be it from him to contradict his master. "Like I said before, it was all due to your teachings, master," granted, at the time he had said it because he had loathed the idea of being bombarded by the media and by senators, for Force sakes…

But that was beyond the point. It was still true. Obi-wan Kenobi was a modest man, though. He smiled in Anakin's direction, eyes twinkling. "Ah, no. You won't put the blame for this on me, my old apprentice. You were the valiant hero today…Even the council agreed that you out-classed me. Yoda hasn't let me live it down," he said. Anakin didn't care what Yoda, or the council said, but Obi-wan did. That was why he belonged at the side of the Jedi, in the Temple, where Anakin's home rested in another direction, to the Senate…

"Well, I'm not going to argue with you about it," a pause in which the scales of their truce were weighed in importance. "Obi-wan… You needed this, just as much as I did," it wasn't a question. Obi-wan glanced at him emotionlessly, the eye contact holding a full second before they both went back to looking at the stars. "Yes," simple as that. Anakin did not ask why Obi-wan had built a wall, or even what the wall had been built of. His had been anger, pain, shame…

But he didn't want to tell Obi-wan that, so he wouldn't ask Obi-wan to tell him either. Anakin reached over, and lightly touched the gauntleted arm next to his. "I've missed your company, my master," he whispered, as confession. Obi-wan stiffened for a moment at the admittance of emotion…But then he sighed, wholeheartedly, and patted Anakin's hand.

"It hasn't been the same without you at my side, either. I almost wished you were my apprentice again so that you'd be obliged to follow me everywhere," a spark of amusement when those memories snapped into place. The good old days. The atmosphere loosened enough for another light confession.

"I have wished I was your apprentice again…Sometimes I feel so young," so vulnerable, so pathetic, and only the sure foundation of Obi-wan's presence had always fought that influence, that insecurity.

With anyone else, the confession would have confused them. Anakin never showed those feelings of vulnerability to anyone…He was the Hero With No fear, the handsome crusader, the Chosen One of Jedi Prophecy. He felt no fear, no anger, no grief.

But Obi-wan knew better than that. "You are young," Obi-wan sighed ruefully, and patted Anakin's hand again. It had not left its spot. "In reality, anyway. But you have always been wise beyond your time, older in spirit than your years. Besides, there was nothing more for me to teach you that I was not still learning myself," and so they had started to learn together. "Still, you can be a comfort at times…" he trailed off, unwilling to dig deeper.

Obi-wan glanced at him with a shimmer of teasing. "Well if you find my lectures so comforting, I have a few more to try out on a suitable audience," he replied. "And at other times you're just a barve," Obi-wan laughed softly.

Anakin smiled and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the back of the chair. "It's what friends are for," Obi-wan assured him. The word friend rung pleasantly in the air. A hover-vehicle screeched a loud stop below. The Force tangled with the fast drunkenness of the driver.

Ah. The universe.

The Golden chord hitched a minute, tumbled briefly over some hidden obstacle before it was smoothed out again. Anakin assumed that it was Obi-wan's turn to confess something. "Anakin?" But, as was his wont, the Negotiator couldn't just say whatever was on his mind, no, he had to skirt around the bush.

"Hmm?" Anakin would play along this one time. "On Grievous's ship, the Chancellor wanted to leave me, didn't he?" Once more Anakin was astonished by Obi-wan's perceptiveness.

It was true that the Chancellor wasn't particularly fond of Obi-wan, for reasons Anakin had never wanted to go into. And Obi-wan rarely liked any politician, so the proceedings between the two were not the best, but to already know…?

For a minute Anakin was going to lie. After all, Chancellor Palpatine was his friend, and had been like a father figure to him since he was nine, he knew the older man meant well …He had merely been a frightened man, unused to being treated so crudely…Anakin had sensed it, and yet…

"Yes," Obi-wan was not surprised nor offended. Quite the opposite. "Why didn't you?" the older man blurted, his rocking chair suddenly croaking to a halt. Obi-wan sat up, staring into Anakin's face intently, as if searching for some answer that he knew not even the question too.

Anakin stopped too, shocked. "You were still alive," he pointed out confusedly. Obi-wan's gaze did not falter, though the Golden thread between them tightened with expectant…Something. Denial? Pleading? "You know perfectly well that the mission was more important than my life, that I would have given my life for the mission," Obi-wan leaned closer eyes ablaze.

"You risked everything to save me. Why?" Anakin stared Obi-wan in the face a minute, trying to deduce just why they were having this conversation when it hit him. Obi-wan really didn't know why, and characteristic of a man who understood more than he knew, whose perceptiveness usually served him well enough to have no unanswerable questions, that scared him. It frightened him that he didn't know Anakin's angle, the agenda, or even if there was one.

They had been in war for too long. Once, the answer would have been obvious.

He smiled, sardonically. "You're my best friend," and there had never been a more simple statement of truth. Still, it only further confused the man. Obi-wan's eyes darted over his face, testing the sincerity in Anakin's eyes.

It occurred to Anakin that Obi-wan had never been given reason to believe that anyone could consider his one life more important than the greater good, than the Republic, than the galaxy.

"The Chancellor is your friend also," Obi-wan pointed out. "And the leader of the Galactic Republic, may I add," a bit of vexation crept into Obi-wan's tone, frustration that he could not, for the life of him, figure out why Anakin had no left him for dead. "You should have left me," he accused, as if Anakin were still a youngling.

Anakin shrugged, enjoying his master's childish ignorance immensely. There were many things the Code could not teach, that serenity could not touch. "Yeah, well," he sank back into his seat and returned to gazing at the stars. Obi-wan was glaring daggers at him. "Well, what?" He pushed.

Anakin chuckled. "Well, I guess you're just my weakness," he supposed. Obi-wan fell silent, because that, Anakin knew he could understand. At length, after several minutes of staring at him with amazement, Obi-wan sighed and leaned back. "We're public menaces," he groaned. Anakin laughed again, and poked Obi-wan in the ribs. "Would you have it any other way?" he asked.

"No," Obi-wan admitted, with a playful shove at his hand. "I don't suppose we could change it if we wanted, anyhow. The Force has cursed me with you," he dramatically proclaimed. "Don't make me come over there," was the unheeded intimidation. "Fine," A pause, in which the golden thread vibrated with held in joy.

"You're a public menace, I'm just cursed," that was it. Without warning, Anakin was on his feet in a second, but Obi-wan was not a renowned swordsman for nothing. With a flexibility that belied any such thing as waning age, Obi-wan had back flipped over his chair before Anakin could grab him. "I'm afraid you'll have to be a just a bit faster than that, Master Skywalker," the older man chuckled as he stood, ready for an attack. Anakin grinned and advanced, feeling his muscles tighten in expectation of a good wrestling match.

The wrestling match never came, although, for at that second the door that led out to the roof behind them slid open, and in the doorway stood a young woman, a scarce two years older than Ahsoka had been.

Her large lips were colored a very vibrant red, and cat-like brown eyes scanned the deck, obviously looking for something. The elaborate-(and utterly ridiculous if Anakin wanted to be honest with himself)-way her hair was arranged on her head made her look utterly comical.

"Blast," Obi-wan muttered beneath his breath, quickly straightening up. Anakin glanced behind him. Who was this person? She evidently knew Obi-wan. "Oh, master Kenobi!" She chirped, in a high-pitched, very girlish voice as she waved exuberantly. She pushed past Anakin rudely, barley sparing him a second glance on her way over to Obi-wan. Obi-wan was at once the Negotiator.

"Madame Marian," he said, with feigned delight. Anakin took a step back, watching the spectacle play out before him. The Golden thread between them pulsed with his lively amusement and Obi-wan's descending dread.

"What are you…?" He was abruptly interrupted by Madame Marian, who grabbed his face between her hands and gave him a rather long and thorough kiss. Anakin looked away, not sure whether to vomit or laugh. Obi-wan's own opinion echoed in the force. "Madame!" he grabbed her shoulders and quite forcibly extracted her from him.

Before he could scold her however, the woman went on. "Oh, Master Kenobi! I'm so happy to have found you! What are you doing up here, by the way? It's so cold, burr!" She proved this untrue statement with a wracking shiver that Anakin believed had little to do with cold and more to do with that she was looking at Obi-wan's muscular frame hungrily. He hid his smile behind one hand, choking back laughter. Obi-wan sent him a venomous glance.

"Yes, well…" But the good Madame had more pressing things on her mind than Obi-wan's pretty words. "Oh, never matter! Aren't the stars beautiful tonight? They're simply charming, so romantic," here Obi-wan's flare of alarm in the Force almost made Anakin double over. He gripped his sides, which were aching again.

"I wanted to apologize for my interference with that Suann person, murderer, whoever he was. I had no idea villains could be so handsome! I didn't mean to let him out of his prison cell," Obi-wan cocked a brow in obvious disbelief. "You unlocked it," he pointed out dryly. The woman blushed.
"Yes, well…I didn't mean too, but he was very charismatic, you understand. And he was a real man, my father has never let me near a real man before," Anakin couldn't contain a snort. I can see why, he projected through the Force, and was surprised when Obi-wan's alarm had become morbid sadness.

"His eyes were every blue. I love blue eyes," Anakin had an idea that Obi-wan wished his eyes were any color but blue at that moment. A flash of grief, one of those disfigured wall pieces, echoed through the golden bond. A thread snapped. Anakin cringed.

Whatever, or whoever this woman was…. She brought more pain than she knew. The Madame was fluttering long lashes in Obi-wan's direction flirtatiously. "All the same, I am so very sorry for my interference…I do hope you'll forgive me," then she brightened. "Or, I could attempt to make it up to you some other way," she purred, puffing her ample breasts into greater proportion. The already too low neckline bulged.

Obi-wan was looking decidedly green. Anakin decided that it was time he intervened. Acting on instinct, because Anakin Skywalker was not known for thinking before he did, he expertly slipped behind Obi-wan.

Without giving Obi-wan time to react, because Obi-wan Kenobi was known for punching people who invaded his carefully constructed personal space, Anakin had settled directly behind him, positioned their bodies very close together, close enough to smell the clean soap that Obi-wan used for his hair, and wrapped an arm around his master's waist.

He rested his chin on Obi-wan's shoulder, and eyed the woman suspiciously. Obi-wan stiffened under his hands, and Anakin had the feeling that had he been anyone else he would have suddenly found himself lacking a head.

"What are you doing?" Obi-wan hissed at him irately, struggling in his arms. Anakin's grip tightened, forcing him to be still. Tenth time I'm saving you, master, he thought back placidly. "Who's this, sweetie?" Anakin then asked nicely. Obi-wan's barely restrained outrage was immediate.

The woman didn't notice. Her eyes grew wide with shock, then larger still with hurt and challenge. "Sweetie?" she nearly screeched. Her face had puffed into a crimson red, eyes ablaze with jealousy. Obi-wan's outrage melted beneath surprise, then a faint suggestion of amusement.

"You didn't tell me we were set to have guests," Obi-wan did not agree with this plan. Get off me! He growled in the Force. Shut up and act as if you like me…

I don't!

Oh, calm down. Its not as if I've never touched you before. We were in this exact same position aboard Greivous's ship yesterday! Anakin's possessive grip did not lessen. "I would have brought out three chairs," he stated. Then, to the Madame, he inquired with utmost decorum "You don't happen to have handcuffs on you, would you darling?" Obi-wan's chest spasmed, though if it was a laugh or rebuke Anakin would find out later.

"I do, actually," she replied, and with utmost slowness, holding Obi-wan's eyes, reached into her bosom for them. With a victorious grin, she had found the…Pink and fluffy objects and dangled them up for them to see. Obi-wan's face turned such a deep shade of red that he could have been a vegetable. Well, wasn't expecting that, Anakin thought, wracking his mind for further questions.

"Pantyhose?" he wasn't sure if anyone still called them that anymore except for Padme. Apparently the woman knew what he was talking about. She recoiled in shock and a bit of confusion.
"What can you two do with…Those?" She asked, as if she didn't well use the blasted things every day. "Well, there's this new technique that the Hutts in the Outer rim use…"

I am never speaking to you again, Obi-wan internally groaned. "The tangle muscle theory?" The Madame wondered, perking up with interest. Kriff. She knows about it. "How do you know about it?" Obi-wan demanded in a harsh whisper. "No, honey, the…Er…slime-mold muscle hold. Yeah. That. It requires a very flexible team," he smiled sweetly.

"Oh! I've heard of that! It was in this week's newest addition in the…" Anakin really didn't want to know why these made up names were in any sort of informational source.

"Yes, yes. So, would you be a dear and leave us the handcuffs?" he interrupted. "No! I know where I can get you some though. If you'll save me some of the action," here a lecherous smile and wink at Anakin. His skin crawled. "Get the handcuffs and it's a deal," Anakin said, snapping a hand over Obi-wan's mouth, which had flown open to protest.

"Oh, goodie!" The Madame squealed. "I'll be back in a flash! Don't start without me!" And with that said, the young woman turned on her heel and sped back into the building, leaving the two men on the roof once more.

Anakin exhaled a sigh of relief. "Wow, that was close, huh master?" He said, relieved. Obi-wan was as stiff as a board. "I'll give you five seconds to unhand me before I amputate your other arm," was the irate response. Anakin didn't need telling twice.

Within two seconds he had put space between them again. "Hey! Don't you look at me like that!" he said, putting his hands up defensively. "At least she's gone!" he pointed out. "Gone to get handcuffs, Anakin! And what in the bloomin' blazes are you planning on doing to me with handcuffs?" Obi-wan exploded.

"I'm not actually going to do anything with you! That's disgusting!"

"And how may I ask do you know about Hutt reproduction techniques?"

"Master, I know you feel the need to be proper, but the rest of us call it…"

"You be quiet! I know the name for it!"

"And I grew up on Tatooine, remember? I know my Hutts,"

"What? Did they have public demonstrations?"

"Well, they certainly didn't take time to find a room. And anyway, you thought it was funny,"

"What was?"

"My act,"

"Your act has me on the verge of violating my blasted oath!"

"You're just trying not to laugh."

"Nothing about that was funny! It was against every tenet, every nuance, every stricture of the Code!"

"Oh yeah, that thing. How's it go again?"

"You know good and well how it goes! And stop smiling at me!"

"What I want to know is why she had handcuffs already,"

"I want to know why you know what pantyhose are!"

"Hey, I grew up on Tatooine, I'm not all that innocent. I knew about all that stuff early on,"

"Anakin!"

"What? You should grateful!"

"For what? Your invasion of my private space?"

"No! That I got rid of Madame Marian before she broke out the hoose-togglers!"

"The what?"

"Hoose-togglers!"

"What in all the hells are hoose-togglers?"
Anakin sighed and placed a sympathetic hand on Obi-wan's shoulder, eyes lipid with compassion. "Master, I think there are some gaps in your education about this subject," he told him softly. Obi-wan's wide, enraged eyes suddenly dropped. The indignant, ready to explode bomb that was his Force signature suddenly timed out.

Anakin grinned when Obi-wan finally sank to the ground, laughing harder than even he had moments before. "Hunduli maka joshisaza," Obi-wan cursed when Anakin sat cross-legged next to him, listening to him laugh and waiting for it to fade.

"I told you you were just trying not to laugh," he boasted, the effect of which was to make Obi-wan laugh harder and nod. "Why…In the universe… Did she…Already have…Handcuffs?" He gasped. Anakin's bottom lip quivered as he tried to shrug nonchalantly.

He failed at the task, and burst into laughter as well. .After an extended amount of time that left Obi-wan crying and Anakin clutching his sides on his back, the laughter faded into gasps for breath. "You are the most roguish, inappropriate man I have ever met in my life!" Obi-wan gasped out accusingly. Anakin sat up on an elbow and smiled down at his friend, still wiping tears. "And you love me for it," he finished. Obi-wan could only nod.

"Ah, ah, my sides…" He gasped, hugging said body area. "Now you know how I feel. I think I broke a rib," Anakin agreed. "The slime mold muscle hold?" Obi-wan inquired, as he cocked a brow at Anakin curiously.

Anakin snickered. "Yeah, wanna try it out?" He queried.. Obi-wan groaned miserably. "Oh stop, I beg you…My lungs will burst," he begged, throwing an arm over his eyes despairingly. Anakin tittered. "It's the only thing I could think of on such short notice, okay? I was surprised to find that it was a real thing. By the way, not that she didn't freak me out too, but why the strong reaction?" He wondered. Obi-wan was used to women fawning over him.

He was the Negotiator, the charming crusader after all. He was chased by the opposite sex all the time, Anakin knew. It was not the first time that they had been forced to back each other up in that battlefield either. Obi-wan was silent another moment. Anakin felt a shiver in the Force, a burst of cold that could not be cured by any but Obi-wan himself.

Anakin wished that he could help, but the battle was not his to fight. After a moment, whatever internal wrath that Obi-wan had been against was won. "She was the cousin of Bo-Katan," he finally explained.

"I was escorting her to another planet. TheDuchess had hoped that she would find a suitable bachelor there…But as I was doing that the Council tasked me with finding Ter-Suann… The planet was in the way of where I had to go, so I figured to drop her off on my way back to Courascant for his trial," Obi-wan let out a slow breath.

"It didn't quite happen that way. A small incident including the lice hiding within that head of hers spread to the clones, and so they didn't see Hondo's ship on the radar, so busy were they scratching their heads, until he had already latched unto the ship. I was fighting Hondo in the halls when his men made it to the cell to find her in close embrace with Terr-Suann,"he explained.

Anakin stared at Obi-wan incredulously. "That idiot was in the embrace of a murderer?" he demanded. "And practicing one of those impetuous moves you two were talking about. Hondo was quite impressed with her…Performance. He burst out laughing," a small smile quirked at the sides of Obi-wan's mouth. "It certainly surprised me long enough to get knocked upside the head," he admitted. Anakin shook his head. "Talk about a public menace," he mumbled.

"Yes," Obi-wan agree merely. He chuckled a bit then sat up, gazing at the stars thoughtfully. Anakin had the feeling that there was more that Obi-wan was not telling him.

"Who's Bo-Katan?" He asked hesitantly. Obi-wan's eye flickered to him momentarily, then back at the stars. Slowly, the force contracted, as if trying to fluctuate the ache around its servant from his depths into oblivion.

"She's the new Duchess of Mandalore. Satine's sister," oh. Then there was that. "That woman was Satine's cousin?" Anakin gasped. "She doesn't much look like her, does she?" Obi-wan stated. Anakin could barely deign that with a suitable answer. "Satine was actually hot!" he said, then glanced at Obi-wan apologetically. Satine had been his…Whatever she had been.

But his master merely shrugged. "I agree," he accepted easily enough. Anakin let out a slow breath, unknowing if any words might ease the pain of the person next to him, expecting that it would not. He did not believe that anything might end the pain of one who had lost what Obi-wan had lost…Whatever that had been.

So he remained silent for a long time. At length, he looked up at the stars, tentatively touching the golden thread. It was by no means perfect, nor were the broken pieces of Anakin's heart now that the wall had been knocked down. Later, Anakin was sure he would feel grief, would feel shame and hatred. He would be forced too.

But for now, he only wanted to ask in the joy of laughter.

Hey, he called into the light laden depths of their newly rebuilt camaraderie bond, that telekinetic string that marked them as more than comrades in arms, more than just Jedi…Something like brothers. Can you hear me? The answer was immediate. Always.

Anakin thought to ask if Obi-wan would always hear him, but he was not sure if that was the way it was supposed to be between them. He was not sure if he wanted Obi-wan to always hear him, because whenever he called, he knew that his master would come. To call every single time was an abuse of that loyalty. And that loyalty was the one thing of which Anakin did not want to lose most of all.

"We should get out of here," a laugh burbled past his lips. "Before she gives us lessons on handcuffs," Obi-wan was on his feet in a second. "Let's go," he agreed, already heading for the door. Then, he stopped, and looked back over his shoulder at Anakin. "Let's not go through the door," he stated without doubt. Anakin cocked a brow. "Um…How else are we supposed to get down?" He wondered. Obi-wan laughed. "My friend, we're Jedi…How else do we get down?" He inquired. Anakin had to hand it to him.

Obi-wan did have a point. "Let's jump on three," he agreed, walking to the edge of the roof, past the rickety rocking chairs where they had sat and talked as equals or the first time in so long. Where he had learned to laugh again, at the side of his brother. Anakin stood there now, his shoulder barley touching Obi-wan's but close enough to feel his warmth.

He looked down. The fall was almost a thousand feet. He shrugged. He had jumped from higher heights before. A bit of wind whipped his hair; he glanced at Obi-wan, standing next to him ready to jump.

After tonight, they would have to go back to the way things were. They would have to be Jedi again, in a war, separate but equal, two parts of a whole that should never have been put together.

After tonight, the Golden thread would not be enough to keep them together, the sound of each other's laughter would not heal all their problems.

But for now, it was more than enough, it was everything. Anakin had only one question to ask. "Hey master?" Obi-wan cocked a brow in his direction, a sign of absolute attention. Anakin gripped one hand in his flesh one, and squeezed, feeling very much like a child again.

"When the war is over, can we go to Dex's again?" he wanted a chance to taste that burger, and there was no one else he wanted to eat it with. Obi-wan squeezed his hand back. "Yes, of course Anakin. When its all over, we'll go to Dex's," the Force chimed a sad note, a melancholy testament to the future. Anakin ignored it, instead latching unto the golden thread of past ignored, present cherished. He felt Obi-wan do the same. On three.

The doors behind them slid open, showing Madame Marian waving two more pairs of handcuffs happily. "Whoo! Let's get started, boys!" Anakin met Obi-wan's wide, alarmed eyes at the same time as a singular laugh bubbled from both of them.

"THREE!"

Hand in hand, laughing together, they leapt off the edge, leaving only two rickety old rocking chairs and a very confused woman holding pink and fluffy handcuffs behind. With them, they took the Golden thread.

THE END