Your angst prompt fics are breaking my heart in the best ways :) 12 if you're interested?
OH MAN OH MAN (12 is “Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”). I went through three ideas with this one, but they weren’t so much angst as just really screwed up and dark. And also one involved a pairing I’ve not written, though it wasn’t really.... a relationship. Anyway, I decided that brutal darkness probably wasn’t the right fit for an angst meme fill, and went with sadness instead! Obikin, with a hopeful ending!
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“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?” Anakin asked, following Obi-Wan into the room where he was supposed to prepare for this invasion - ritual, the locals said - and scowling. Obi-Wan flashed him a look over his shoulder, chiding.
“I’m not sure that’s the best attitude to take to our new friends,” Obi-Wan said, as the doors shut behind them, leaving them in a cool, dim space. “After all, they’re only going to--”
“Look into your head,” Anakin snapped, prowling past a cistern - there was a rag over the edge of it - and lifting the gauzy robes that, apparently, they intended for Obi-Wan to put on. It looked mostly translucent, but then, the Icharians were very into openness and sharing, weren’t they? “Dig around inside your thoughts.”
Anakin shuddered, keeping his face turned away from Obi-Wan. When the Icharians had first floated the idea, he’d been horrified, and the feeling hadn’t really gone away. The thought of someone else scouring his thoughts was -- a nightmare.
He’d refused outright, probably too quickly, if the look Obi-Wan had shot him was anything to go by.
And Obi-Wan, a breath later, had agreed.
“It’s the only way they’re going to trust us enough to help us find the downed shuttle,” Obi-Wan said, reasonable in the face of an unreasonable request. Anakin frowned, reaching the end of the room and turning - pacing - in time to watch Obi-Wan pull off his outer tunic. “The lost Senators are counting on us, Anakin.”
“I know that.” Anakin looked away; he no longer remembered exactly when watching Obi-Wan undress had started feeling illicit, but it had been long enough that he was used to the heat it brought to his skin, the tang of shame in the back of his throat.
It was one of the many, many reasons he’d refused the Icharians a look inside his head. No one could ever be allowed to know the things he wanted. He cleared his throat. “I just think that what they’re asking to do to you is…” He flexed his fingers in and out. “It’s just wrong, that’s all.”
Obi-Wan sighed, stepping over to the cistern, naked save for a brief stretch of fabric around his hips, and Anakin had intended not to look - he always intended not to look - but he couldn’t help cutting his eyes to the side. Stealing glances. “It really isn’t,” Obi-Wan said. “It’s just--”
“Their way,” Anakin said, heaving a sigh. “I know.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and blew out a breath. “Fine. Here. Give me that. I’m supposed to help.” That had been, after all, part of the instructions. In fact, one of the Icharians was supposed to be helping, but they’d managed to keep them out of the room with the promise that Anakin would assist.
“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, expression distracted, “that’s alright, I can--”
“Don’t start arguing now,” Anakin said, plucking the rag from his hands and frowning at the expanse of his back, the line of his spine, freckles scattered here and there, all the way down. He swallowed, immensely relieved that no one could see his thoughts at that moment, and dragged the rag down.
Obi-Wan shivered, but, then, it was cool in the room.
#
Obi-Wan got cleaned up. He pulled on the gauzy robe, the lines of his body visible right through it. He took a breath and didn’t protest when the Icharians showed up to escort him into a large chamber.
Anakin was growing to very much dislike hiveminds. He knew, logically, that they were no worse than any other people. But he couldn’t help the way they made him nervous, especially when they were shuffling Obi-Wan away from him, closer to the center of the room.
Anakin scowled and threaded his way over to Ahsoka, standing beside Cody and looking ill-at-ease. “Are we really doing this?” she asked, quietly, as the Icharians coaxed Obi-Wan to kneel. They were a tall people, with huge, unblinking eyes. They clicked, constantly, as they moved around, little noises in their throats, though they spoke galactic standard well enough.
“Seems we are,” Anakin said, with a suppressed shudder. Obi-Wan seemed calm enough, as one of the Icharians stepped up behind him, three fingered hands cupping the back of his head.
They hadn’t received much information about what was going to happen. Just that the Icharians would - as a whole, Anakin supposed - peer into Obi-Wan to determine what type of people they were.
Apparently, the Icharians had gone through some… unpleasant interactions with outsiders. The ritual was the defensive mechanism they’d developed, to find out who they could or could not trust.
Anakin frowned. If they ended up doing anything untoward to Obi-Wan, they were going to end up dealing with another unpleasant interaction. He shifted, uncomfortable, as the room fell abruptly silent. In the middle of the space, Obi-Wan went stiff, chin jerking up as his eyes rolled back.
“Master?” Ahsoka asked, quietly. Cody’s hand had come to rest on his blaster. Anakin took some comfort in knowing that no one else liked this, anymore than he did.
“I think it’s normal,” Anakin said, though he was damned if he had any idea at all. Certainly the little gasping sounds that echoed from the Icharians made the hair stand up on his neck, but nothing seemed to be… going wildly wrong. He almost relaxed.
And then the Icharian touching Obi-Wan made a sound, startled and loud. Hurt. The others echoed it, and Anakin flexed his fingers in and out, his stomach getting hard and tight. He had a bad feeling about being trapped in a room with all of these people. The feeling only got worse when he looked back at Obi-Wan, and found tears streaming from his open, unseeing eyes.
Anakin took a step forward, because enough was enough and--
And emotion hit Anakin like a wave, trying to pull him under. It radiated from around the room - from the Icharians, he assumed - not that the source of it mattered very much. It hurt, terribly, digging into him like fangs and claws.
Sadness, grief, loss, a desperation that swam up into his throat and tried to drown him. Beside him, Ahsoka went to one knee. Anakin reached to steady her even as his eyes burned and stung. Cody leaned over at the waist, retching, and still the emotion beat at them, sharp edged as a knife, cold and terrible and--
And the Icharian holding Obi-Wan jerked away from him, curling over as though hurt, the others around the room doing almost exactly the same thing. The emotions snapped off, and Anakin dragged in a wet, choking breath. Some Icharians wept, loudly. Others had collapsed, curling up on the ground, the entire place was full of noise and madness and--and Anakin shoved his way through, pushing Ahsoka towards Cody as he went. He strode towards Obi-Wan, who had fallen forward, hands braced on the ground, breathing hard.
Anakin grabbed his arm and hauled him up to his feet; he was trembling in his skin. “What the kriff is going on?” Anakin demanded, pulling Obi-Wan close; he seemed barely able to stand on his own. “What did they do to us?”
“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said, sounding ragged. “I thought things were going--”
One of the Icharians lurched towards them, arms out, and Anakin swore, trying to push Obi-Wan a step back. “No,” Obi-Wan rasped, “it’s, they’re not trying to hurt me, just--”
And then the Icharian was there, throwing all four arms around Obi-Wan, crushing him closer and making a deep, thrumming noise. The rest of the crowd was converging, pressing closer, pushing Anakin to the side.
He scowled and kept his hold on Obi-Wan’s hand, tightening his grip, staying anchored throughout the entire mad event.
#
“What was that?” Anakin demanded, when they finally were allowed to push free of the claustrophobic huddle. He felt itchy all over, like he couldn’t quite get enough air in his lungs. Obi-Wan looked dazed, his hair a mess, his face still marked with tear tracks.
Obi-Wan shook his head, and said, “Let’s just hope it convinced them we were trustworthy.” He stiffened - Anakin was still holding onto him - when one of the Icharians followed them out of the chamber.
Anakin pulled him half a step back, just in case, but the Icharian was only inclining her head. “We apologize,” she said, clicking a little in the back of her throat. “We were unprepared for your grief.”
Obi-Wan tensed, all over. He said, his voice light, “I’m not sure what--”
“We do not understand how you bear it,” the Icharian continued, shaking her head, drifting forward, hand extended, and Anakin shifted to block her. She glanced at him, but only for a moment. “Such sadness is within you. It… overwhelmed us. We grieve with you, Master Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan said, from behind Anakin’s shoulder, “That is… very kind of you, but I’m--”
“And we will help you find your missing friends,” she continued, turning aside. “We will do nothing to add to the sadness inside of you. Come.”
“Wonderful,” Obi-Wan said, and started forward, tugging against Anakin’s grip. And Anakin wanted to demand to know about this sadness, this grief that apparently Obi-Wan was carrying around inside of him, that had felt deep and crushing as the abyss of space.
He said, “Obi-Wan--”
“Come on, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, without looking back, “the Senators are waiting.”
#
Anakin bit his tongue throughout the rescue mission. He said nothing while they retrieved Senators Organa and Amidala. But he found himself watching Obi-Wan, thinking about the fact that he was, apparently, sad enough to depress an entire people. It ate away at Anakin, consuming his thoughts.
His preoccupation must have been obvious, because when he went to find Obi-Wan in his quarters - the Senators safely tucked into the medbay - Obi-Wan already had the door open. He held out a cup of tea to Anakin without speaking.
Anakin took it, grateful to have something in his hands, and said, all the careful things he’d thought to say fleeing from his mind, “Are you alright?”
Obi-Wan quirked a smile, there and gone, at the floor. He was staring across the room, at the wall. “Of course, Anakin. I know it must have been--”
“You made an entire planet cry,” Anakin interrupted, not mentioning, exactly, what he had felt. He set the tea down because abruptly he needed both hands free, though he couldn’t think what he wanted to do, really. Something, he needed to do something.
Obi-Wan shook his head. “They were merely unfamiliar with the way we process emotion, I’m sure,” he said, lightly. “Such an effect was likely, our two species are so different, they--”
“I felt it, too,” Anakin said, and, oh, what he’d needed to do was reach out and take Obi-Wan’s shoulders, stepping into his line-of-sight, so Obi-Wan had to look at him. “During the ritual. You’re… Obi-Wan.” He swallowed, remembering the exhaustion, the sadness, the sense of impossible pressure. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Obi-Wan barked a little laugh. He turned his face to the side. “What should I have said?” he asked, his shoulders slumping under Anakin’s touch. “My cares are a small concern, faced with…. All of this.”
And he believed it, Anakin realized, the center of his chest aching. Obi-Wan actually thought that it was a dismissable problem, the fact that he felt like he was dying inside. Anakin tightened his grip, and said, the words torn from him, “Not to me.” And it had been some time since he hugged Obi-Wan, but he remembered how, though they fit together somewhat differently, now.
Obi-Wan stiffened against him. He said, “Anakin, you have your own worries, I don’t want you to think that you must--”
“I know exactly what I must do,” Anakin said, feeling Obi-Wan waver and then sink against him, giving in to the embrace. “And right now, we need to talk, Obi-Wan. About everything.”