Pairing: Anakin/Obi-Wan (and a little Dooku/Obi-Wan)
Disclaimer: This story is not affiliated with Lucasfilm Ltd., which owns Star Wars and its franchise.
Warnings: Some Non-Con, Violence, Character Death
Notes: Written for Dormida in the Jedi Santa gift exchange. Luthe helped supply the much needed plotbunny ovum for my plotbunny sperm. The differences in Anakin and Obi-Wan's characterizations are based off of the canon-divergent life paths they have in this AU. If you care for further explanations on characterization, detailed notes will be posted at the end of the story.
Thanks To: Luthe and Ldymusyc for their excellent beta reading.

And Obi-Wan Kenobi knows, too, that to have lived his life without being Master to Anakin Skywalker would have left him a different man. A lesser man.
- Excerpt from Chapter One of the novelization of Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover

...

Anakin Skywalker wiped the sweat off his brow with the dusty sleeve of his tunic, watching a sandstorm brew off in the distance. He could feel something coming with the storm, something that disturbed a sense he didn't have a name for.

The afternoon heat of Tatooine was particularly unbearable that day. The moisture converters weren't finding anything to convert, and Anakin knew it wasn't because their systems were faulty - he'd just finished checking them. Summers were always hard on the Lars homestead, and Anakin wondered whether he should try to hire himself out as a mechanic for extra money. Cliegg Lars would need all the help he could get, and Anakin still felt a debt of honor to him. It wasn't just that Cliegg was his stepfather - there were few men who would have bought a middle-aged woman and her young son as slaves and then subsequently freed them with no motivation beyond love.

The wind began to pick up, and the sand stirred around the Lars homestead. Anakin watched the sandstorm approaching, imagining what it might be like to stand in the middle of such a powerful force of nature.

A strange-looking ship flew over the sandstorm, a solar sail folding in as it passed over the Lars homestead. The sense of something Anakin had felt went with it, and Anakin watched it recede into the horizon. He got a strange tingle down his spine.

"Anakin!"

Anakin turned to see his stepbrother, Owen, bending over to catch his breath. He looked up at Anakin, his round face red from exertion. "Anakin, your mom is worried about you. Why are you still out here? Storm's coming."

"Just wanted to make sure everything was working properly. I'm coming in now." Anakin clapped Owen on the back, and the two of them headed inside the homestead.

The sandstorm continued to lash its way across the desert.

...

Cliegg frowned at Anakin over the dinner table, and he and Shmi exchanged glances. Waning sunlight spilled in through the open door, and Anakin could see all the sand that had spilled over the farm's sunken courtyard during the sandstorm. He and Owen would be quite busy cleaning that up after dinner.

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea, Anakin," said Cliegg, sounding uncertain. He treated Anakin just as though he was his son, but there was always a sort of hesitance in his voice when he tried to give Anakin fatherly advice. There'd been too many fights during Anakin's adolescence for that, too much jealousy from Anakin for all the attention Shmi showered on Cliegg.

"I know you need me around here, Cliegg -" He'd never been able to stomach the idea of calling him "Father", and Cliegg had never asked. "- but I think you'll need the extra money more. Anything I don't need to survive, I'll send back here."

"But Annie, that means you'll be moving out," said Shmi, looking concerned. The past ten years with Cliegg had been kind to her, and she'd hardly aged at all.

Anakin would miss her greatly, but he knew it was time to leave. He could feel it, deep inside. He was a man now, and he needed to find his own way in the galaxy, to be something more than what he was. Owen was already engaged to Beru Whitesun and prepared to take over the farm. It was Anakin who had his head in the clouds, who dreamed of returning to the pod races one day in hopes of winning enough money to leave Tatooine and explore the stars. The HoloNet said that war was spreading throughout the galaxy. Maybe he could even become a mechanic or a pilot and finally find some adventure and excitement.

"I'm a grown man, Mom," he answered quietly. Shmi stared down at her plate, then suddenly got up. She grabbed a broom and walked out to the courtyard as Threepio shuffled by. She started sweeping the sand into easy piles for Anakin and Owen to vacuum up, ignoring Threepio as he wandered off, complaining about sand in his joints.

Anakin followed her after a few minutes. She ignored him, too, until he grabbed her arm as she swept. When she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes. He pulled her into his arms, still amazed that he was tall enough to rest his chin on her head. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Annie," she said, her voice muffled. "You're meant for greater things than this, I know. But no mother is going to be happy to see her son leave, even if she is proud of him. I'll miss you."

Anakin smiled, stroking her hair. It felt as coarse as his own, but she was starting to turn gray in places. "I'll miss you, too, Mom." He didn't lie. When Tusken Raiders had tried to take her last month, his heart had felt like a vise had gripped it. The thought of what might have happened had he not been up early and saw the attack still made him sick to his stomach. He had shot the Tusken Raiders dead with such speed and precision that Cliegg had told him that he had to be the finest sharpshooter on all Tatooine.

"You'll take care of yourself?" she asked.

"As long as you promise not to go out on your own anymore when it's still dark."

Shmi clutched his arms, and he could feel her smile against his chest. "Oh, Annie. I promise."

He left early the next morning while she was still sleeping.

...

Anchorhead was as dusty and hot as ever. Anakin had had no luck in finding a job. Everyone who would need a mechanic already had one. He stopped by one of the holoboards, wiping the sweat off his face with his sleeve. There was a bit of shade there, and Anakin hoped he might find something posted for Mos Eisley. If he didn't find work soon, he'd have to return to the Lars homestead empty-handed. All the money Cliegg loaned him would be wasted.

A bright-eyed girl stood by the holoboard as well. She was carrying a basket full of fruit, and Anakin recognized her as one of Beru's friends. "They say he's some sort of noble. And maybe even a Separatist!" she said suddenly, looking up from the board to stare at Anakin. He vaguely remembered Beru introducing them, obviously in hopes he might court the girl, but he still couldn't recall her name.

Anakin also had no clue what she was talking about; he remembered she had a strange tendency to burst out with non sequiturs during conversation. "Who?" he asked politely.

She pointed to one of the notices from a man requesting laborers at a private manse outside of Mos Eisley. "Him. All his guards call him 'my Lord'. Malchim, he goes by."

Anakin read the request, noticing Malchim was asking for mechanics. "Why would a Separatist come to Tatooine?"

"Who would look for him here?"

She had a point. Anakin shrugged, pressing the screen to get more info. "I don't care if he's a Sith Lord. He's paying good money - and offering room and board."

The girl stared at him. "He keeps slaves, you know."

Anakin stopped cold, feeling a familiar prickling sensation on his face. It was no secret that he had been a slave as a child or that he hated slavery. He glanced at the holoboard, but found no other options. Of course, he could always have tried out as a dancer at Jabba's palace, but had a feeling he was a bit under-qualified for the job.

"Still want to work for Malchim?" The girl was practically bouncing with curiosity, her gaze fixed on Anakin as if he were nothing but a holoplayer meant for her amusement. Anakin remembered why he had excused himself from their first meeting as soon as possible.

He copied the location of Malchim's manse into his datapad before turning to her. "As a matter of fact, I do."

She gaped at him as he walked away.

...

Anakin suspected Lord Malchim had some sort of arrangement with the Hutts when he arrived at the large manse the next afternoon. There were Gamorrean guards stationed at every exit. Only Jabba the Hutt used Gamorreans to Anakin's knowledge. The amount of sentries and armed guards around the place would only be allowed if one of the Hutts gave the owner permission.

The manse itself was elegant, if blocky in design. Huge squared-off pillars lined the front porch, and the rectangular doors were large enough to admit a small rancor. The Gamorrean who had led him onto the property opened the front door and gestured him inside, grunting in Huttese that he should go to the room at the end of the hallway. To Anakin's surprise, the Gamorrean did not follow him in and instead closed the doors behind him with a rather final thud.

The inside of the manse was cooler than anything Anakin was used to. He shivered, pulling his cloak around him as he looked around. The lighting was very poor and kept flickering in places - the thin, slitted windows gave more light than anything, as limited as it was. The vaulted ceiling and the large, empty hallway made Anakin feel quite small. The manse itself was made of dark stone, and other than being polished to shining perfection, it had no other decoration. There was no noise, and no one else around. Anakin had never been in a tomb, but he couldn't help but make the comparison.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the gloom, Anakin saw the large set of doors at the end of the hallway. He walked towards it; his soft-soled boots did not echo on the stone floor as he thought they might. He got a strong sense of presence the further he went down the hall - three presences to be exact. Two behind the doors he was heading towards, and one down a smaller hallway to the left. Anakin always had the uncanny ability to sense others, but these three people he sensed felt stronger than most people - far stronger.

Anakin took a deep breath when he reached the tall doors. They slid open with a soft rush of air just as he lifted his hand to knock. The room inside was much like the hallway, but even colder and darker. "Come in," said a male voice. It was a cultured voice, deep and rich with a Core accent.

Anakin did as the man ordered, though a part of him wanted to turn tail and run. Anakin took another moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkened room before making out two people. The man who had spoken sat at the end of a long, polished black table, resting easily in a high-backed chair. He was dressed like a noble, that was for certain. Beside him stood a bald woman, wearing a black dress and a fierce scowl. Anakin could feel the presence of the man who spoke as though he was one of the Tatooine suns. The woman's presence was not as strong, but still impressive.

"You are the mechanic, Anakin Skywalker?"

Anakin nodded. "Yes... my Lord," he said awkwardly, glancing at the woman. She was looking at Anakin as though considering if he should be fried or baked for dinner.

The man smiled. He was old, but there was nothing slow or weak about the way he stood up. He looked like a sleek old predator, capable of ripping Anakin's throat out should he get too close. "I am Malchim. This is my associate, Asajj Ventress." He glanced at the woman, who only crossed her arms over her chest by way of greeting.

Anakin bowed to both of them. Ventress did not acknowledge it, but Malchim inclined his head. Anakin noticed the metallic hilts of what looked like Jedi lightsabers hanging off their belts. He felt a cold drop in his stomach. What were these people?

"Do you have any experience with electrical work?" asked Malchim, gesturing towards the flickering light fixtures on the ceiling. "This building is old, and the wiring has been giving us some trouble. I've had to reroute a few generators to one of the rooms for, ah, personal reasons, and it seems to have tapped out the electric in the rest of the building."

Anakin nodded. "I can do electric work. And robotics. If it has wires, gears, or electrons, I can fix it. I can even build you something, if you want." He shut his mouth, silently cursing himself for sounding so eager for the job. He'd run out of money at breakfast, and he couldn't face the shame of returning back to the Lars's with no job and no money.

"How good are you, young Skywalker? The last electrician I hired wasn't up to my standards, and I'd hate for you to suffer his same fate." Malchim gestured to a corner, and Anakin noticed the crumpled body of a Rodian lying there. He shuddered.

"I'm very good, sir." Anakin managed to keep the tremble out of his voice.

"If you can fix the electricity in this building, I'd be pleased to make you part of my staff. Everyone needs a good mechanic. I can pay you ten thousand credits for the electrical work, and two thousand every month, with bonuses for any large projects I assign you. You'll have room, board, and transportation provided to you. Is that enough?"

Anakin almost fainted at the amount of credits that Malchim was offering him. "Yes, sir," he said in a weak voice.

"I'll show you our problem, then. Follow me."

Anakin followed Malchim out of the room, relieved to escape the intense gaze of Ventress. Malchim led him down one of the side hallways Anakin had passed, heading straight for that other something - it was stronger than Ventress's presence, almost as strong at Malchim's.

"What is that you did for a living before coming here?" asked Malchim. He strode through the hall in brisk, wide steps, making Anakin double his pace to keep up.

"I worked on my stepfather's moisture farm."

Malchim gave him a curious glance as they reached a door guarded by a large Gamorrean. He stepped aside, and the door slid open. Malchim motioned Anakin to follow him inside.

The room looked to be some sort of modified ballroom and was as dark as the rest of the manse, lit only by the sunlight spilling in through a single slitted window. A large bed rested on a stone platform against the wall. Anakin heard a soft humming sound and noticed thin, glowing tubes surrounding a polished silver panel. A chain hung from it, and Anakin followed it with his gaze, noticing a man lying on the bed - the source of the third strong presence. Metal clinked against metal, and the man sat up. He wore a slave collar around his neck.

"Obi-Wan," said Malchim, his smile feral. "Did you sleep well last night?" There was something odd about the way he said "sleep" that made Anakin's skin crawl.

"Never better," said Obi-Wan. His voice was melodic and light, but there was a durasteel edge to his tone. He moved so the sunlight spilled over him, and Anakin sucked in his breath.

Obi-Wan was beautiful. His face was full of boyish good looks not hindered by his sparse beard. His light brown hair was healthier than any Anakin had seen, and his skin too smooth and pale to be a Tatooine native. The bed sheets had slipped so low that when Anakin's gaze wandered down from the man's flat belly to his hips, Anakin realized he could see a tuft of pubic hair peeking out.

Anakin snapped his gaze back up to the man's face the moment he felt his pants grow tight. Obi-Wan noticed his attention and tilted an eyebrow, his blue-gray eyes narrowing slightly. Anakin felt hot under his gaze.

"Who is this?" asked Obi-Wan.

Malchim's smile was cold now. "A mechanic who claims to be able to fix the electrical wiring. I brought him here to show him the source of the problem."

"Wonderful. Did you bring me a container for my joy as well?"

"Sadly, no." Malchim turned to Anakin and drew his attention to another silver panel on the other side of the room from Obi-Wan. "When we set up the dampening field for Obi-Wan, this panel blew, and took out most of the power throughout the building. The tricky part is that I can't turn off the power, otherwise Obi-Wan might regret what I have to do to him. You'll have to fix the panel live. Hopefully, fixing it will restore power throughout the building."

Anakin suddenly realized why Malchim was offering so much money. These energy panels had to be linked directly to the main generator, and with one blown, the whole building was suffering. Working on such a powerful system when live could cost Anakin his life if he made even the slightest mistake. "I'll need tools. And grounding gloves," said Anakin.

Malchim nodded and snapped his fingers at one of the Gamorrean guards. "Fetch the toolkit the Rodian was using," he ordered. The Gamorrean grunted in response and then waddled off.

Malchim turned back to Anakin expectantly, crossing his arms. Taking the hint, Anakin moved over to the dead panel, bending down to inspect it. He cast a glance over at Obi-Wan, who was now lying on his bed with his head propped up by a hand. He watched Anakin with a bored expression.

"Maybe I'll get lucky, and this one will blow the entire system," said Obi-Wan after a moment.

"That would be a pity," said Malchim. "If you tried anything right now, I would be forced to point out that not only are you unarmed, but considerably out of your league."

"Why don't we put your theory of superiority to the test the old-fashioned way?"

"I think not. I'd truly hate to kill you, Obi-Wan. We were only just starting to get along."

Anakin tried to pretend he wasn't listening as he carefully removed the silver panel from the wall, but he suspected Malchim thought so little of him that he didn't care what Anakin overheard. Anakin didn't entirely understand their conversation, but it was clear Obi-Wan was being held against his will. As beautiful as he was, Anakin thought he had to be some sort of pleasure slave. Granted, Anakin had never seen a male pleasure slave who was allowed to grow a beard, but perhaps Malchim liked the feel of it. Thoughts of Malchim running his hands over Obi-Wan made Anakin's gut twist into hard knots, so he pushed the image away while he tried to figure out the meaning of the glowing wires and tubing inside the panel.

When Gamorrean returned with the toolkit, Anakin got to work with Malchim's hard gaze on his back the entire time. He focused on the inside of the panel and on not electrocuting himself. He soon forgot all about Obi-Wan and Malchim, hardly even noticing the time as it passed. Avoiding danger came with surprising ease, but Anakin quickly realized there was only so much he could do. The system Malchim had wired to the power generators was draining the entire power supply. Anakin reworked some of the wiring as best he could so it would flow more directly, but the problem was simply that there wasn't enough power.

He straightened up when he was done, pleased to note the lights had come on in Obi-Wan's room, though they were dim. Malchim was sitting in a chair, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"You're going to need another small generator," Anakin told him. "Maybe two. Whatever you have running off the system is draining it so that no matter what I do, I can't bring it up to full power."

Malchim steepled his fingers under his chin, regarding Anakin silently for a moment. "Can you install the generators while the system is live?"

Anakin swallowed. His mind already whirled with ways to divert power in places while installing the generators, but it would be one of the hardest things he'd ever done - not to mention dangerous. It hadn't been as hard as he thought to rewire while the system was live, but installing generators was an entirely different species of difficult.

"Maybe."

Malchim smiled, a feral expression that made Anakin nervous. "Are you bartering with me, young Skywalker?"

Anakin shrugged. It hadn't been his intention, but if Malchim wanted him to install generators into a live system, it would cost him more.

"I'll pay you another ten thousand," said Malchim.

The casual offers of large sums of money were starting to make Anakin dizzy. "Deliverable to my family even if I die?"

"I'll have a contract drawn up."

Anakin nodded and then pointed at the silver panel Obi-Wan was chained to. "I will need a look at that, to see how it's connected. I won't disrupt anything, but I will need to make sure the connections are solid and won't blow up when I install the new generators."

Malchim studied him for a moment, then pulled out the lightsaber hanging off his belt. He held it in his hand, glancing at Obi-Wan, who sat up again, looking at Anakin with interest. "Do what you must, but have care with what you choose to do, young Skywalker."

The implied threat was clear, even to Anakin. "Understood."

"Have at it."

Anakin studied Obi-Wan as he walked to the other silver panel. Obi-Wan's body tensed, the muscles in his arms flexing dangerously. Anakin removed the panel and moved even closer to Obi-Wan's bed as he did so, keeping the connection to the chain strong. Malchim shifted as Anakin worked, gently tapping his unlit lightsaber against his thigh.

It wasn't Malchim that distracted Anakin, though. He was close enough to Obi-Wan that he could smell him now, a musky male scent mingled with another scent Anakin recognized after a moment. It made him remember a time he and Owen had been to a brothel in Mos Eisley, and he'd stumbled across a room filled with men. He'd been incredibly curious and stayed in the room for most of the night. He couldn't remember the faces of any of the men he'd fucked but he remembered the smell of what he'd done all over his body. Obi-Wan smelled like that.

Anakin almost slipped and dropped the panel, but he regained control quickly, sucking in his breath. He tried to force thoughts of Obi-Wan and sex out of his mind, leaning closer to the panel to study the wiring. It was almost exactly the same as the other panel, but was in perfect working order. The only difference was that the energy was being redirected through a strange power converter Anakin had never seen before. Its connections led to the chain around Obi-Wan's neck.

Anakin gently lowered the panel to the floor, feeling Malchim tense with every movement he made. Anakin ignored both him and Obi-Wan, reaching in to redirect the wires. As he cleared the pathways, he felt a sense of danger - but not from the power coursing at his fingertips. Anakin ducked without thinking. He heard a loud clank of metal and saw Obi-Wan's chain slam into the wall, passing over his head with only centimeters to spare.

Anakin quickly backed away from the panel, smelling ozone as a sharp thrum filled the room. When Anakin turned around to see what happened, Malchim was holding Obi-Wan back with one arm, his red lightsaber inches from Obi-Wan's face. Obi-Wan struggled for a moment and then went still, breathing heavily. He was completely naked; his sheet had been left discarded on the bed.

Despite his confusion and anger over what was happening, Anakin couldn't help but admire Obi-Wan's nude form.

"Now, now, Obi-Wan," said Malchim. "That was hardly civilized behavior. The young man is only trying to fix our power, and there you were, trying to choke him with your own chain. And what for? So you could escape and face me again? Do you want to die so badly?"

Anakin's heart dropped into his stomach. Obi-Wan was still staring at Anakin, anger written across his features. Anakin didn't think the anger was directed at him, but there was power behind his glare. Anakin glared back.

"I'm a Jedi Knight, not a slave. I was only doing what I had to do," spat Obi-Wan.

A Jedi. Anakin's mind spun, and his legs gave out. He sat down on the hard, cold floor, wondering how the Clone Wars had come here, to Tatooine. A Jedi had just tried to kill him.

Malchim threw Obi-Wan onto the bed with more strength than Anakin thought an old man capable. "You're a fool, like the rest of the Jedi," hissed Malchim. "You blindly serve a Republic rife with corruption and evil. Your former Master is dead because of Jedi ignorance on Geonosis, and I chose to spare your life only because it was his dying request. I have given you two options, Obi-Wan. You do not have to be a slave."

"I'd rather be a slave than a traitor," Obi-Wan hissed, looking furious.

"Then a slave you shall remain." Malchim turned to Anakin. "Are you finished, young Skywalker?"

"Y-yes."

Malchim turned his lightsaber off, and the humming in Anakin's ears stopped. "Then replace the panel. Take this as your first lesson of how low the Jedi are willing to sink. He was willing to kill you, an innocent civilian, for a chance at a freedom that would only result in his death."

Anakin swallowed, torn by resentment for anyone having to be enslaved and fear over the fact that he'd almost died. Malchim held out a hand. Anakin stared at it a moment, noticing that despite the spots of age, Malchim held it steady. His fingers were long and slightly crooked, and his nails perfectly manicured. Anakin realized Malchim was offering to help him up, and he grabbed his hand, coming to his feet.

Anakin quickly replaced the panel, making sure it was securely in place before he even looked at Obi-Wan again. Obi-Wan laid on his bed again, staring angrily at the wall. Malchim ushered Anakin out of the room, turning back to speak to Obi-Wan as they left.

"If it is slavery you prefer to joining me as an equal, then it is slavery I will give you." Malchim whirled out of the room and gestured at a servo-droid floating through the hallway. "Find Igis, and tell her to shave Kenobi's face and cut his hair. I want him bathed and groomed properly for the new occupation he chose."

"Yes, Master," chirped the servo-droid in a tinny, child-like voice and floated away.

Malchim spun on him. "You did well in there. I'm hardly a mechanic, but I know enough to understand you managed to do what few other beings could do - work on a live system. You also have amazing reflexes. It was almost as if you felt Obi-Wan's attack before he made it."

Anakin swallowed. "I'm fast. I used to race pods as a child - I'm the only human who could ever do it."

"I am impressed." Malchim inclined his head, his dark eyes glittering as he studied Anakin. "Let us have lunch together, and we'll discuss the terms of your contract."

Anakin nodded, uncomfortable to be the center of Malchim's attention. Malchim motioned for Anakin to fall into step beside him as they walked through the manse.

"You dislike slavery, don't you?"

Anakin swallowed. "It's not for me to say, my Lord."

"You may be honest when you speak to me. I think it is disgusting to place sentient beings in servitude. However, it is sometimes unavoidable. Obi-Wan has chosen to place himself in slavery."

"How can anyone make that choice?" asked Anakin before he could stop himself.

Malchim seemed unperturbed. "I offered him a chance to join me as my apprentice, but he has thus far refused. I spared his life in hopes that he will come to appreciate my ideals. He has potential."

Anakin digested that information before speaking. "You're a Separatist, aren't you?"

"Malchim is merely the name I've chosen for my own protection here. I am Count Dooku." Anakin started, realizing he was walking beside the Separatist leader himself. "Does that bother you, young Skywalker?" asked Dooku after a moment.

Anakin shrugged. "Not really, no. Separatist, Loyalist - it's all the same to me. The war doesn't really matter out here."

"It should matter to you." Dooku paused, leaning towards Anakin, his expression alive with passion. "You saw what Obi-Wan was willing to do just to escape. It should be clear to you that the Jedi and the Republic they serve are corrupt. I may or may not be able to salvage young Obi-Wan, but most of those antiquated fools are lost causes. I will save the Republic from itself. If you succeed in installing the power generators, young Skywalker, I can offer you a job building things that will help me complete my vision."

Anakin felt like Tatooine itself was crashing down around his ears. Dooku was offering him everything he'd ever dreamed of, right then and there. He was offering Anakin the chance to be a hero, to travel the galaxy, to make a difference.

He didn't even consider not accepting the offer.

...

The power generators took two days to arrive. Anakin spent the time in the quarters Dooku gave him, marveling over the luxuries of his new life. His room was spacious and comfortable - though Anakin had to reset the temperature to something a bit warmer once he moved in. Dooku was a distant man, constantly in conference with Ventress, who he described as his "assistant". Anakin suspected Ventress had other purposes, but after he saw her spar against a battle droid with two lightsabers, he decided he didn't want to know about them. She didn't seem to like him much.

A protocol droid summoned Anakin to Obi-Wan's room once the generators were brought in. Dooku was already waiting for him, sitting in the same chair, making it seem like a throne. "Well, my young friend, it all lies in your hands. I'd wish you luck, but -" Dooku's eyes glittered oddly at Anakin. "- I don't think your skills have anything to do with luck."

Anakin didn't understand Dooku's statement, but smiled anyways, turning to the silver panel that covered the drained power system. Two small power generators stood outside of it, waiting for him. A box of tools lay on a nearby table. Anakin got to work, feeling Dooku's eyes on his back. As he popped the silver panel off the wall, he snuck a peek at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan sat on his bed, watching Anakin as well. His hair had been cut, and his face had been shaved - he looked even younger than before and twice as beautiful. He still wore no clothes, and his lower body was covered by his sheets. He narrowed his blue-gray eyes at Anakin, and Anakin looked away, forcing himself to concentrate on his job. He didn't need to be distracted by Obi-Wan when he was trying to install generators, much less into a live system.

The ease with which Anakin performed one of the most difficult forms of installation imaginable almost frightened him. He felt much like he had when he was pod racing - like there was something there telling him when to move and what to do as he moved and connected wires. He wasn't Anakin Skywalker while he worked; he was the wires and the electrons pulsing through them. He was the generator and the hydrospanner he used to install it. He lost all sense of time and reality beyond his task, and when Anakin stood up, he was surprised to find that it was dark outside.

But the lights were on, and they did not flicker.

Anakin smiled as Dooku rose and applauded him. "Well done, young Skywalker. Well done."

Anakin cast a glance at Obi-Wan, who was staring at him as intently before. There was something sharp in his expression. Anakin wondered if he'd been close enough, if Obi-Wan would have tried to kill him again. He looked away as Dooku put a hand on his shoulder.

"This way, my boy. Let's discuss your next project," said Dooku, leading him to the door. "You're going to be a real help to the Separatist movement."

"He's evil," called out Obi-Wan.

Anakin turned to look at Obi-Wan, surprised to find that the other man was looking directly at him. Obi-Wan leaned forward on the bed, his chain clinking as he moved. "He's a Sith Lord. You can't trust him."

"Delusional," said Dooku smoothly, guiding Anakin out of the room. "Completely delusional. Such a pity the Jedi have sunk so far."

Anakin stared into Obi-Wan's steely blue-gray eyes until the door slid shut.

...

The next few weeks passed quickly for Anakin.

He had little time to think about Obi-Wan's words with the amount of work Dooku gave him, but it was the sort of work he enjoyed best. Dooku had him working on designs for starfighters and fixing the damage done to the ship he'd arrived on - it looked as through it had been through a space battle, which Anakin suspected was the case. Though he spent a lot of time in Dooku's company, he asked him few questions; he figured it was none of his business. Dooku was a polite host and always took dinner with Anakin. He genteelly discussed the troubles that plagued the Republic - troubles he planned on solving.

Eventually Anakin's duties cycled into a repetitive schedule, and he grew accustomed to his new life at Dooku's manse. He sent almost all of his money back to Cliegg, keeping only a small portion for himself. Cliegg was overjoyed - he was going to hire people to work the farm for him and began the process of expanding the luxuries around the homestead. Shmi told Anakin that any money left over would be put into savings accounts for both him and Owen. Anakin felt uncomfortable speaking to his family as long as he was in the manse, so he kept his conversations short, though it made him happy to see his mother and Cliegg so proud of him. It was like he could finally pay Cliegg back for freeing Anakin and his mother, giving him a better life - and even putting up with Anakin's early adolescence.

Anakin quickly grew pensive in the manse, wondering exactly how "free" he was. To his surprise, when he strode up to Dooku and demanded standard working hours, Dooku gave it to him. Dooku let him leave whenever he wanted, and Anakin was given access to an old landspeeder just for that purpose. When he checked the speeder for trackers, it was remarkably clean of them. Anakin felt more at ease after that and more comfortable with Dooku. He was a sharp-minded old man, and he treated Anakin fairly. He reminded Anakin of someone, but he couldn't say who or why.

Fixing Dooku's ship was mindless drudge work - satisfying, but mindless. Anakin's thoughts often drifted to Obi-Wan when he had time to himself. He didn't focus on Obi-Wan's words, but rather the man himself. Something about Obi-Wan drew Anakin to him, like a bantha to water. He couldn't say why, not at first - it felt like something out of a dream. He felt sympathy for Obi-Wan's situation, but every time he got angry over it, Anakin remembered Obi-Wan trying to kill him. Then his anger quickly shifted to Obi-Wan. Why was he being so stupid? Dooku was offering him an opportunity of a lifetime as far as Anakin was concerned, but chose slavery over it. It made no sense.

With Obi-Wan as an example of the other Jedi, Anakin could understand Dooku's frustration with them.

...

The more Anakin thought about Obi-Wan, the more he wanted him.

A hot shower after a particularly hard day's work of hauling hyperdrive parts and power couplings around did nothing to remove that desire. Anakin's fingers scrabbled at the tiling of the shower stall, and he bent forward with his eyes closed. Showers were a luxury on Tatooine, but here at Dooku's manse, they were something Anakin could afford to do every day. The hot liquid pouring over his skin made him think of sliding into hot places, sweat dripping off pale skin, and the clink of a metal chain.

Anakin was hard now, his body tingling with pent-up desire. He could have gone to burn off some of the tension at a brothel, but he'd never cared for the uncomfortable feeling that paying people for sex gave him. He supposed he could have found some willing girl at Mos Eisley, but didn't want some random girl. He wanted Obi-Wan.

Anakin slapped his palms against the shower stall in frustration before turning the shower cold. He shivered and waited for his arousal to fade. To his frustration, the desire for Obi-Wan remained, even after he had gone flaccid.

Anakin quickly left the shower and dressed. Even if Dooku was willing to share his pleasure slave, Anakin didn't want to take advantage of that. Slavery still left a bad taste in his mouth, even if it was one Obi-Wan chose.

Anakin frowned. Dooku had seemed honest with him, even likeable, but Obi-Wan's words niggled at the back of Anakin's mind. Anakin knew as much about Jedi as any young boy with impossible dreams to become one could know, and the label of Sith Lord was not be one easily bandied about. Anakin still remembered a HoloNet report that Watto had shown him when he was nine, of two Jedi defeating a Sith Lord on some watery planet in the Mid Rim. Anakin still remembered the faces of those Jedi. The younger one had been injured in the fight, but he'd stood beside his Master proudly enough that Anakin had considered him the greater hero.

The face of the young Jedi suddenly materialized in Anakin's mind, matching up to Obi-Wan's freshly shaven face. The past decade had made little change to his appearance.

Anakin flew out of the 'fresher and straight to the computer terminal in his darkened room. Anakin slid into the chair and pulled up the HoloNet's memory banks. It didn't take him long to find information on the Battle of Naboo. Anakin scanned the entry and the holos. He found Obi-Wan in minutes, looking as he had been ten years ago, with a rather ridiculous-looking haircut and bandages wrapped around his arm.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood beside his Master at the time, a tall, leonine man with long brown hair named Qui-Gon Jinn. The holofile said that Jinn and Obi-Wan had faced a Sith Lord in the power generator of Theed, the capital city of the planet Naboo. They'd managed to defeat him, but not before the Sith had injured Obi-Wan's right arm. The long, drawn-out battle with the droid army of the Trade Federation had resulted in the death of Queen Amidala and most of her entourage, but the Jedi had been able to capture the Viceroy and negotiate a peace treaty for the people of Naboo when a pilot named Ric Olié knocked out the Droid Control Ship.

Anakin sat back, considering the information. That Obi-Wan was the same Padawan who had fought beside his Master in battle against a Sith Lord seemed unreal. Jedi, Sith, Separatists, the Republic... all these things were far away to Anakin. They'd never seemed real before, but here they were, in the flesh. Anakin wondered if Dooku really was evil.

Then Anakin wondered what it mattered. Dooku was giving him enough money to ensure he and his family lived quite comfortably for the rest of their lives. Dooku was giving him a chance to be something, to go somewhere. The Jedi were not superbeings - Dooku had proven that by keeping Obi-Wan as a slave. The same Jedi that Anakin had once regarded as a hero had tried to kill him. Who was to say the Jedi were good? Didn't everyone look at their enemy and declare them evil while proclaiming their own righteousness? Didn't every truth come from a certain point of view?

Anakin turned off the HoloNet and stared thoughtfully at the blank computer terminal. With only half a thought to what he was doing, his fingers stretched out over the controls, hacking through Dooku's security systems. It would have been easier with an astromech, but Anakin let that sense of something guide his fingers, allowing him to break through the firewalls and electronic defenses until he was able to access the monitoring system. He brought up the holofeed of Obi-Wan's room and focused the holocamera until he had a good shot of Obi-Wan.

Dooku was there, standing by Obi-Wan's bed. He had one hand around Obi-Wan's neck, fingers digging into his flesh, the other holding a sparking metal prod. Anakin recognized it as a painstick after a moment; it was a tool the crueler masters would use on the more unruly slaves. Dooku wore an expression Anakin hadn't seen before, a rather frightening sneer. Angry red welts stretched across Obi-Wan's torso, thighs, and even his flaccid cock. Dooku ran the painstick down Obi-Wan's smooth cheek, then cast it aside. Another angry red welt appeared on Obi-Wan's face, and his expression twisted in obvious pain. Anakin's stomach twisted at the implications of what Dooku had done to the rest of Obi-Wan, but he turned up the audio before he could think better of it.

"Surely you must tire of this, Obi-Wan. You're not a whore, and I dislike treating you like one."

Obi-Wan glared up at him, looking somewhere between disgusted and angry. "If you dislike it so much, then why don't you stop?"

"If you're going to choose the life of a slave, Obi-Wan, then you'll live that role." Dooku jerked Obi-Wan upwards by his chain, and Anakin could hear Obi-Wan choking. "Qui-Gon would have been disappointed to see you like this."

Obi-Wan swung his arms upwards, and Anakin thought Obi-Wan had hit Dooku until he realized Dooku had moved faster and wrapped Obi-Wan's arms in his own chains. Dooku pressed Obi-Wan face first into the wall, lightning arcing from his fingertips into Obi-Wan for a brief second. If it weren't for Obi-Wan's soft cry of pain and the way his body arched, Anakin would have thought he'd only imagined the sight.

"How can you still be so sure of the Jedi, Obi-Wan?" hissed Dooku, leaning against Obi-Wan. He brushed away strands of hair from Obi-Wan's ear as tenderly as a lover before dropping his hand to his belt. "Qui-Gon joined me, only to be murdered by Mace Windu when the Jedi arrived to 'save' him. Qui-Gon realized the futility of the corrupt Republic - it needs to be destroyed."

"That's not true! You're lying! Qui-Gon never joined you, and you murdered him!" Obi-Wan started to struggle, thrashing against Dooku violently. Anakin's stomach clenched as he realized what Dooku was going to do - what he had already done.

Dooku viciously slammed Obi-Wan's head into the wall and then lowered him onto his bed, chaining him face down so he looked as if he were on some sort of perverse display. "It is you who delude yourself with lies, Obi-Wan." Dooku grabbed a bottle of oil off one of the nearby tables and knelt behind Obi-Wan. He worked open his pants. "The harder you fight me," he whispered, "the harder I will fuck you."

Obi-Wan jerked uselessly against his chains as Dooku oiled him. Anakin shuddered in revulsion. The initial shock had finally worn off, and the entire show disgustedAnakin. He backed out of the security monitoring system, trying not to look as Dooku forced himself on Obi-Wan. Anakin restored the firewall settings back to normal, leaving no trace of his hacking behind. He tried not to think about how Obi-Wan had cried out or how Obi-Wan had thrashed in protest, but he found he could think of nothing else.

Anakin turned his face from the blinking monitor screen, surprised as anger and jealousy surged up inside of him. It infuriated him that Dooku was repeatedly raping another man in an effort to break his will. Worse, he realized he envied Dooku the ability to touch Obi-Wan. Anakin wanted Obi-Wan so badly it hurt, and the realization that he was willing to take a slave just to claim that proud, dangerous man as his own frightened him.

Anakin held his head, burying his fingers in his hair. No. He didn't want Obi-Wan to be his slave. He just wanted Obi-Wan to look at him with something other than the cool disdain he'd given Anakin so far. Obi-Wan was important; Anakin knew this somehow. He'd known it since he'd seen Obi-Wan on the HoloNet when he was nine. He'd dreamed of saving him one day and of leaving Tatooine forever.

Anakin told himself it was just a dream. Just a foolish boy's dream. It meant nothing, just like his boyhood dream about Qui-Gon Jinn taking him away to become a Jedi himself meant nothing. It hadn't come to pass, nor had the dream about marrying the beautiful Queen Amidala. When her death was announced, those dreams had stopped, replaced by the ones of Anakin saving Obi-Wan from lightning writhing all over his body. The dreams were hazy, half-formed, and as real and intent as they felt, Anakin couldn't let himself be deluded into believing them as he had as a child.

Anakin walked over to his bed, trying to force away that jealousy that made him want to rush to Obi-Wan's room and rip Dooku's head off with his bare hands. What did Anakin know about anything? He was just a poor farmboy living on the edges of civilization. Dooku had taken him in and given him the job he always dreamed of. In a few weeks, they would leave Tatooine, and Anakin was to go with him. Dooku spoke of things Anakin believed in, things like justice and equality - even ending slavery. The Jedi certainly had not even bothered to do anything like that.

Yet, Dooku was keeping a slave; he was raping him at that very moment. Even if Obi-Wan was as corrupt as the Jedi might be, no man deserved that. Anakin briefly entertained visions of breaking into Obi-Wan's room, shooting Dooku in the back, and freeing Obi-Wan from his bonds. Then he entertained other visions of Dooku turning around and killing him with his glowing red lightsaber and of Obi-Wan choking Anakin with the very chains that Anakin had just freed him from.

Anakin took a pill so he could sleep that night.

...

"I probably won't return for a week. Maybe longer."

Anakin nodded when Dooku told him of his departure, unable to look him in the eye. Every time he tried to focus on Dooku's face or voice, he remembered seeing Dooku rape Obi-Wan through the security monitoring. It repulsed him.

"Continue to work on the design of that starfighter for me - it's quite clever. Lady Ventress shall remain here, but I expect she may be a bit busy, so don't bother her."

Anakin resisted the urge to snort; there was nothing short of life or death circumstances that would drive him to want any interaction with such a formidable woman. "Yes, my Lord," was all he said.

"When I return, we will probably soon leave the planet. I don't like to stay in one place for too long. I foresee Obi-Wan is close to coming to his senses." The wretched smile on Dooku's face sent spikes of jealousy through Anakin's belly. Obi-Wan didn't belong to Dooku, no matter what.

"Yes, my Lord," Anakin managed to repeat, fighting off the urge to break Dooku's jaw.

"Take care then, young Skywalker. I shall see you upon my return."

Anakin stood by the door, leaning against the frame as Dooku walked out to the small landing pad behind the manse. Dooku boarded the Geonosian solarsail he'd arrived in - Anakin had tuned it up himself. Its smooth liftoff and accelerated speed filled Anakin with some pride. He liked this job, and he enjoyed everything it entailed. There was only one set-back.

Anakin's thoughts darkened as they turned back to the Jedi that Dooku had chained to a wall, and Anakin went back inside.

To be concluded in Part Two…