"Kneel, Padawan!"

"But Master—"

"Kneel, I said!"

I rarely heard *that* tone in my Master's voice. I was frantically searching my mind, cataloguing my most recent offenses, attempting to figure out what exactly I had done to warrant *that* tone when his hand fell on my shoulder with so much pressure that I could not resist.

I sank obediently to my knees at his feet. But that wasn't enough. The pressure continued. Without another thought, I prostrated myself, to lie flat on my stomach, my outstretched fingertips barely able to reach the toes of my Master's boots.

I knew he was glaring at me despite the fact that I was not making eye contact with him. I couldn't. My face was pressed into the carpet, the rough fibers tickling my nose until I was certain I would sneeze. "M-master?"

"Silence! Did I say you could speak?"

I shuddered at the sound of the stern rebuke. Never had I been treated with such a lack of consideration for my feelings. *Never*. And I still had no idea what I had done.

I waited…and waited…

Then I felt something finally. But it was not something I expected.

His hands carded restlessly through my hair, and I sighed, almost inaudibly. His touch, as gentle as it was, stirred things inside me that would be better left alone. This couldn't happen. He was my Master. I was his most loyal follower, but I had no right to follow where he was leading now.

What did I do?

What did I do to deserve such treatment? For this was not punishment. It was *reward*.

I turned my head to the side, all the better to drag reluctant breath into my lungs, and his hand tenderly stroked my braid.

I tried again. In vain. "Master…"

"Ssh…" he whispered, hushing me as one would a child. But I was no child. Not anymore. But the protest that came instinctively to my lips was caressed away by loving fingers.

"Obi-Wan…" I murmured into his palm, each syllable a kiss.

"Anakin…" I could almost hear the shake of the head that accompanied my name. "Why do you defy me at every turn?"

I wanted to say, I don't. But that would have been a lie. And no matter how hard it was for me to embrace the Jedi philosophy with all that I am…I couldn't bring myself to lie. Not to him. Not to the one who possessed my heart. Not to the one who forced me to hold my love in abeyance, where it might go unexpressed forever.

I raised my face slowly to meet his eyes for the first time since he had ordered my obeisance. "Master…I would do anything for you."

"I know," he said softly, and I wondered if I had disappointed him yet again.

As if he heard what I was thinking, he said, "You don't have to be me, Anakin. I don't expect that. No one does."

"I do," I declared fiercely, daring him to look away from what I knew had to be in my eyes now.

"No, Padawan."

"Yes, Master," I whispered, no longer sure which unspoken question either of us was answering. "We are all of us shaped by the ones we love."

"Yes," Obi-Wan whispered with a slight nod of his head that made his shoulder-length hair glint red in the remaining light of day. "But what makes you think I want that for you?"

"I won't make the same mistake you did, Master." Obi-Wan's eyes widened, though their depths remained a cool, unreadable gray.

Encouraged, even heartened by the fact that he did nothing to stem the tide of words that spilled out of me, I continued, "I know you loved Qui-Gon-"

"Of course I did," he snapped. "He was my Master." Obi-Wan turned away slowly, as if the movement was achingly painful.

"You *loved* him," I repeated. "But you never told him."

He sighed. "It wouldn't have mattered," he admitted reluctantly. "He was a renegade, but he was ever a man of duty, my Master," he said sadly.

Silence fell over both of us. I wanted to reassure him that Qui-Gon had indeed loved Obi-Wan the way my Master loved him. But jealousy kept my mouth shut. Fool that I was. Had I not just said that I would do anything for my Master? I agonized over what to say, but the moment passed.

"Do you want to be a Jedi Knight?"

"Yes!" I cried out. At last a question that I could answer without hesitation.

"Then you must put away this-"

My eyes flew like startled birds to his face. "If you say childish obsession, I will strike you, Master," I growled insubordinately.

He gasped, but I feared his reaction was more distress than surprise. "There is still so much anger in you, Ani."

"Don't call me that! I could almost fool myself that you are fond of me."

"I am." Again there were hands restlessly stroking and playing with my hair, tugging on my braid with something that could have been affection, but wasn't.

"No. You were right, Master," I said quietly. "I am *not* you. I could never be satisfied with keeping these feelings to myself." The way you did, I chided wordlessly.

"You must fight them, Anakin. You are Jedi."

"If that is so, then why do you torment me with these touches that you will not let me return?"

"Because I am Jedi, too."

I felt tears spring into my eyes, and I tried to hide my face, but he persisted in holding onto me, cupping my chin, tilting my head up until I couldn't help but meet his gaze. "Master…"

"Anakin…you already know what I cannot tell you."

I closed my eyes and rubbed my cheek against his hand. I felt his saber-calloused fingers caress my face one more time before they released me.

I opened my eyes and saw the serene expression for what it really was, heard the stern tone, too, for what that really was.

And I did know.

But oh, how my lips ached to say it, just once. "Please, Master-"

"No," he said softly.

"But why?" I asked, my whispered words clearly finding a resonance in him.

"We are Jedi."

End