Anakin Skywalker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
darkforcerising) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tramitem_log2020-03-20 08:06 pm
darkforcerising) wrote in tramitem_log2020-03-20 08:06 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Anakin and Obi-Wan
What: Dealing with new memories
When: Various times this past week and coming weekend.
Where: Ice rink, a bar
Rating/Warnings: Some swearing
Texts sent to Obi-Wan, evening
>> what r u doing?
>> like rn?
>> :)
***
>> On my way to the rink.
>> like rn.
>> :)
***
>> is ur job something u do for fun, too?
***
>> Not working tonight, playing. Do you want to come?
***
>> how?
>> i have 1 arm
***
>> But both legs.
>> Your balance will be off, but you can do this
***
>> [...]
>> u want me to put knives on my feet and take a chance on a notoriously skick surface?
>> y?
***
.
>> I’ll get you a wrist brace and I’m sure your butt can handle being fallen on.
>> Have a little faith and meet me at Aviator. I promise it will be fun.
***
>> [...]
>> i’m thinking no
>> but i’m highly susceptible to suggestion
>> and i’m bored
>> so i’ll be there
>> but if this isn’t fun, you owe me.
***
>> I’ll meet you in the locker room so I can help you with your skates.
***
Anakin ordered an Uber and given the hour it didn’t take him long to get to Aviator’s. Not for the first time, he thought this was a ridiculous idea. He’d never been skating before in his life, and his first attempts would be after losing an arm.
Well, he was here, backpack in hand. At the rink.
He went in and found the locker room and Obi-Wan was waiting for him.
“Okay, but if I die…” Anakin said, but then was defeated when he couldn’t come up with a consequence to fit the poor decision-making here. “Well, not much will happen, I’ll just be dead I guess... What do I do first?”
***
He was there, waiting on Anakin in his usual black slacks and a bright purple button down shirt with the sleeves cuffed back to midforearm - already in skates, but with blade guards on. “First, you tell me what size shoe you wear so I can get you a pair of skates.”
***
“Um, size eleven,” Anakin said. “Can I use any locker for my backpack?”
***
“Yep. Just toss it in any open one. No one else is going to be coming in here this late. I’ll be right back. “
It took him a literal two minutes to disappear out a second, back door in the locker room and come back with a pair of size 11 black skates, laces conveniently pre-loosened so at least this part would be easy.
***
Anakin picked a locker and put his backpack in one, but he also had a combination lock with him that he used because he didn’t trust people at all and if he lost his meds he’d be screwed for a month. And he wouldn’t risk losing his job because he was off his meds.
He didn’t explain that though, he just sat on a bench and took off his shoes.
“So start telling me what I need to know.”
***
He took long enough to grab a neoprene wrist brace out of his own locker on his way past. If he’d thought about Anakin carrying meds around with him, he would have suggested the lock; it just hadn’t occurred to him and maybe the pizza encounter was an aberration.
He set the skates beside Anakin to pull on, intending to do the lacing for him when he was done; if Anakin could get his regular shoes on, he could get into the skates.
“Fall backward not forward, get up by kneeling on one knee, hand on the other and stand straight up as you push up. Don’t try to hang onto the wall hard, or you’ll push your feet back and end up smacking your chin on it; physics applies, but this isn’t rocket science.” He might be kind of a brat.
***
Anakin listened, didn’t touch the skates until Obi-Wan was done explaining.
“First question,” he said, now picking up a skate. “How do I put these on?” Because no, the shoes with knives on them were not intuitive. And his shoes didn’t nearly have the height and lace density these things had.
***
“I.” He started and stopped and looked legitimately pained. “I am going to sound like I am being a smart-ass,” he apologized in advance, “but they should be loosened up enough that you’re able to grab the tab at the back and step down into them, even with the ankle support.” Though he did pick up one of them and to make things easier ripped out the first several inches of lacing. “The blade guards and rubberized flooring should give you good push back.”
***
Anakin looked pained back because this was the worst part about doing new things… or rather things he’d never thought about how to do one handed with his non dominant hand before: no one else had thought about it either. And then he had to point it out and then no one was comfortable.
He was painfully aware of his limitations and that they would always come up.
“From here on out just pretend I have only one hand for all your explanations,” Anakin said with practiced lightheartedness.
He took the more-loosened skate and put it on the ground, hoping the weight of it would anchor it so it wouldn’t be too unwieldy.
It wasn’t as bad as he was hoping but it wasn’t the smooth movement it might have been if he’d had another hand to hold the tongue. One skate one, he did the next. And way too many minutes later he started slowly pushing the laces through the grommets.
“I’m gonna guess these need to be tighter that this?” Because his shoes weren’t lace tightly at all, for the reason that it wasn’t worth the effort to work that hard at it… but he didn’t usually have to play sports in his shoes. So he was sure that difference mattered.
***
He could have taken over, and maybe it would have been kinder to have done so but at the same time it was somewhat infantilizing and also? Some part of him that came close to being an occupational therapist and might side-step that direction at the first real injury he suffered, knew Anakin could and that, well, letting him was probably the ultimately kindest thing. It had nothing to do with having more than one arm, either - for this, even without the prosthetic it’s what he probably would have done.
He crouched down in front of Anakin as soon as he looked up and indicated a willingness for help, though, and started lacing them - and, yeah, lacing them tightly.
“Last bit of advice before we go out there: Point your toes inward to stop.”
***
“For the record,” Anakin said. “None of this sounds natural. I’m pretty sure humans didn’t evolve to play on ice. I’m feeling a very primal, lizard-brain response to what I’m about to do.”
Which was rich coming from the guy who liked to jump out of planes for thrills. But falling at terminal velocity was easier than balancing on knives on ice.
But he held his hand out to Obi-Wan for help standing up.
***
“The only things humans evolved to do that’s fun is have sex,” he said, just a little bit dryly, “and I feel like I missed the opportunity to make you look at ice skating blades, but I promise you this isn’t going to be terrible. Four year olds play and have fun with it and you’re a lot more capable than any kid who only recently learned not to poop their pants.”
He pulled Anakin up, carefully. “Got your balance?
***
Anakin gave him a flat stare. “You just said a lot, none of which inspires confidence.”
The part about being compared to toddlers who pooped their pants was probably the most… Well it was a remark that didn’t land well.
“If we stay here just like this, I’m perfectly balanced.”
***
“Okay.” He picked up the wrist brace and held it out to Anakin so he could shove his left hand in there. “Then let’s go have a good time.” That one is gentle because he can’t tell what is actual fear and what is… sarcasm and more minor nerves.
***
This was… difficult for Anakin. It was not only the challenge of trying something new, something new on top of now not having two hands to do it, but also doing it with someone he barely knew and trusted, who through no fault of his own didn’t understand what this was like for Anakin. And that was hard to explain to people you were close to, much less a stranger. Anakin knew, he had group therapy sessions with other vets who’d lost limbs and had talked about experiencing this exact frustration with family, friends, and strangers. He never would have understood it had he not lost his arm, so he also knew Ovi-Wan was well intentioned and trying. This constant cycle of surge of emotion, assessment, readjustment, reapproach, repeat was necessary- necessary, exhausting and always had a limit, either on his own patience or on others. It was just a matter of when.
Deep breath.
“Okay, lead me to my fall.”
***
He wasn’t likely to hit his limit on patience. His limit on confidence was another matter entirely. He could fall, fall hard, get back up and try again. He was pretty good at that, actually, when it came to falls both metaphorical and literal.
The limit on his capacity for that was still ...less than his patience as a whole. Either way, he wasn’t there yet - quiet, but in a thoughtful and careful way rather than a shut down one.
He led the way out of the locker room and then to the judging box where he paused to take off his blade guards, waited (and helped as necessary) Anakin do the same. Then he skated backward through the gate and onto the ice. “Grab the wall and try to keep your weight straight down.”
***
Anakin eyed the ice, still skeptical. But after Obi-Wan had stepped out, he stepped up to the entrance and, holding the wall with his left hand, took that first step out.
And he didn’t fall.
But he was still there on the wall, just standing.
He was pretty sure he was going to fall at any moment.
“Okay, now what?”
***
“March.” He demonstrated what he meant, the way he would have with a younger kid, minus the little kid voice. Basically just short, high, steps on the ice. No push, at least not yet. Just because he couldn’t gauge a lot about Anakin, but there was definitely not a lot of confidence there.
***
Confidence on ice? Absolutely not, that was correct. But he had his own elements he excelled at - like rocket science.
He tried the marching thing, and it felt extremely unnatural in every way. But he tightened his grip on the wall and gave it his best, unskilled go at it.
“Was this all so you could get me out here to look foolish?” He asked dryly, wobbly marching slowly forward.
***
“No. It was because I wanted to spend some time with you and you asked where I was going and what I was doing and I thought there was a decent chance of you having a not terrible time.” His tone was mild, and utterly without defensiveness, but it was also a little dryly depreciating. “Though you’re welcome to make me look foolish in retribution?”
***
“You’re lucky I don’t naturally think about getting back at people…” Not a lie, it hadn’t occurred to Anakin to require recompense.
Was this fun? Not exactly. But he held back his opinion, he’d only been doing this for, what, five minutes? He’d give Obi-Wan a little more time to convince him.
“Okay, am I just suppose to do this for so many laps and then you’ll give me a different exercise?”
***
He hadn’t been sure if Anakin was going to just want out, but since he was looking for more - Obi-Wan gave it to him. “No, I think you can move on now, but you’re going to need to let go of the wall. Step and glide.” He was still breaking it down a lot and adding a demonstration. Step, glide, feet together, step, glide, feet together.
***
Anakin was easily persuaded to try things, and he sometimes gave up quickly. But every situation was different, given the right conditions, he’d stick with something new but difficult longer.
He wasn’t sure if he was giving ice skating a chance or Obi-Wan a chance.
He watched Obi-Wan’s demonstration and tried to think through the mechanics of the actions.
He took a deep breath and tried.
But all he really managed to do was step and feet together. Which meant he didn’t get very far very fast.
“I’m doing something wrong.”
***
There might not be much difference between the two - Obi-Wan and Ice Skating - just yet. There wasn’t all that much of him, in their interactions. It was part of why he’d invited Anakin, though he still wasn’t sure if that was a mistake.
He was going to try, though. Anakin certainly was.
He’d try anyway. He wouldn’t stop Anakin from vanishing, but he wasn’t going to go anywhere himself.
“Not really. You’re just cautious, I think.” Over thinking. Push slightly outward and shift your weight onto the leg you’re stepping onto.”
***
Anakin watched Obi-Wan again, again trying to work out the movement. It was difficult when the stakes were falling on his face. Sure, four year olds did this, but they didn’t have six feet to fall and almost two hundred pounds to catch with their hands. Oh, and they usually had two hands. One of their hands didn’t cost more than a down payment on a house. Of course he was cautious.
He tried what Obi-Wan instructed. Push and shift. Push and shift.
He got the movement for maybe five… were they strides? when something caught, Anakin didn’t know what, and he fell forward. He cringed as his hands hit the ice, jolting up his arm, his non-existent arm somehow hurting in that weird way it did because his brain imagined it.
***
When Anakin fell Obi-Wan seriously revisited - again - the wisdom of this. Hell, he considered (though not seriously) the question of whether or not Anakin might be better off if he just let Anakin ‘win’ that bet. Then again, with the absolute disaster this entire thing felt like already, there might not be any need for him to.
If Anakin was smart, at this point, Anakin would run for his life.
He said nothing, just skated over and offered Anakin his hand to help him up.
***
Anakin took a breath through gritted teeth, letting that jarring pain wash over him. He’d be taking pain killers tonight, but that’s what they were for and it had been months since he reached for them regularly.
This wasn’t a bad idea in theory. And he didn’t blame Obi-Wan for his fall. His therapists all wanted him to reach a level of mobility that was closer to what he used to have before he lost his arm than it would be without the prosthetic. There was just a lot that people did with their arms they didn’t even realize, that he did now realize now that he was missing one.
He could try again, or he could quit. Either way he was going to have to get up.
Another deep breath and he pushed himself back so he could get his legs under him, a knee on the ice. Obi-Wan was going to have to help more than he might usually help, there was only so much weight Anakin could push off with his prosthetic. But he assumed Obi-Wan would expect that.
He reached up with his left hand to grab Obi-Wan’s hand.
And everything changed.
Their surroundings were no longer an ice rink, though it was clearly some kind of athletics training room.
Anakin was sprawled out in a surface much like a gym mat, and he’d taken a tumble. He was reaching up to take Obi-Wan’s hand with one of his own- he had two hands again. . . or, he’d always had those two hands. In fact, he didn’t even realize it, because all his knowledge and memories about Earth and New York City washed away, and he was a twelve year old boy, dressed in a Jedi Padawan’s outfit. And none of that felt wrong.
“Again,” he said, he was eager more than he was disappointed by failing to land the move. “I’ll get it this time, Master.”
***
He was prepared to take all of Anakin’s weight to help him get up if it came to that. His front skate, the one closest to Anakin, was turned at a right angle to the direction of force, meaning it would not be sliding out from him; he was pretty well braced.
It turned out what he was braced for - pulling Anakin up - wasn’t what he needed to worry about. He wrapped his fingers around Anakin’s hand, and the mid-twenties young man was replaced by a much younger boy that he held an awful lot of complex emotion for.
He felt himself smile, albeit tiredly, as he hauled the boy back up to his feet. “You will get it this time or you will learn. Patience, Padwan.”
He didn’t fall on Anakin, in the rink. He just fell backward and onto his ass.
***
Anakin fell backwards when the memory receded, though the impact was only on his left arm this time and didn’t hurt as much.
“What just happened?” he asked.
This memory was just as strong and complex as the first one he’d received, even if it was just a few seconds long. He could even still feel the emotions lingering.
***
Falling straight back from the position he’d been in wasn’t the most comfortable thing he’d experienced, but he had had much worse. It didn’t regally even register, though he straightened his leg out.
“I don’t know.”
He did, of course, know it was a memory, but he hadn’t understood the first one. He didn’t understand why he was so proud of that kid, or delighted by his eagerness or -
“I think I was teaching you some sort of… martial art?” Not quite, but as near as he could get.
***
Martial arts? Yes, that felt right, like it was the activity that had been the reason for his tumble onto the mats.
“Wait,” Anakin asked. “Did we see the same thing again?”
He was fighting the urge to scoot back and away from Obi-Wan, not because of anything Obi-Wan had done, but he felt like his emotions had been hijacked. That had come with his first memory, too. But the feelings in that first memory were less complicated. This time… whoa, okay, he actually felt legitimate admiration and… some level of devotion for Obi-Wan.
And while Obi-Wan was so far a good person, those feelings were more than a bit too much for a person he barely knew.
***
He shook his head slightly, not in negation or denial but in simple helpless disbelief.
“It sounds as though we may have.” He got back onto one knee and then stood up and - “...I’m afraid to touch you again,” he admitted, trying for self-depreciating but sounding mostly shaken.
***
“I called you… Master?” Anakin said, also wallowing in disbelief. “And you called me a… Padawan. What is that?”
***
“I’ve no idea what a Padwan is, but given that you were calling me Master and I was teaching you some sort of martial art and was incredibly proud of you, I will hope that it means student. Do you want me to tell you how to get up instead of risking more contact?” Priorities. Not leaving Anakin on the ice was an important one.
***
Anakin kept getting lost in thoughts about the memory.
This proved there was something between them - maybe. (He hadn’t fully ruled out that the Bureau was messing with their heads.) But if these memories were really past lives, he and Obi-Wan shared a connection.
‘Ya,” he said, distracted.
“... Did… did your memory come with some strong feelings?” He wanted to know if he wasn’t imagining it.
***
“Get up on your right knee. Put your hands on top of your knee and push straight down as you stand.” Anakin getting distracted didn’t bother him, at all. Just up off the ice. It wasn’t warm and soft, and therefore was a bad place to lounge.
“The memory did come with strong emotions. Mostly pride.” A pause. “And love.” Familial, almost paternal love.
***
Anakin didn’t blame Obi-Wan for not helping, but it would have been easier for him to stand if he had someone helping him.
Okay, talk about the memory would have to wait.
He needed help.
“I get you don’t want to touch me again, but I’m going to need help getting up.”
He shifted so he was on his knee and held out his hand again.
***
“I don’t have a problem with touching you, except uncertainty that you were willing to be touched.” Okay, yes, he was wary about another flash of memory, but that wasn’t quite the same thing.
He took Anakin’s hand, braced appropriately for their size difference and pulled him up.
***
Once on his knife-strapped feet again, Anakin said, “I think I’m done trying to ice skate for now. Just help me get to the wall,” he figured that was the fastest way without burdening Obi-Wan. “And I’ll get back to the door thingy and locker room.”
***
He managed to avoid saying ‘you don’t say?’ on done with skating. It was a pretty near miss, though, because he was - still - pretty rattled. It wasn’t Anakin’s fault, at all, but he was just - There was no part of this that had gone ‘according to plan’ or even much shy of a worst case reasonable scenario.
They were at least pretty close to the wall so he was able to put his hands on Anakin’s left upper arm and just drag him to the wall.
“I’m going to… burn off some stress. I’ll meet you back there, if you want to talk, and I’ll leave you alone if you don’t.”
***
Anakin’s instinct was to run. Get out of there as quickly as possible. Torpedo this budding relationship before it made him emotionally connected, because if you didn’t feel anything for anyone, then it didn’t hurt when they disappeared from your life.
But his trek back to the locker room wasn’t a quick glide across the ice, more of a slow shuffle. And it forced him to think about the memory and his feelings about it, the feelings he got from it. And the realization he had no one to talk to about these things but Obi-Wan.
So Obi-Wan would find him in the locker room. Partly because of his own realization and partly because with one hand and all those laces, he hadn’t managed to get a single skate off yet.
He looked up from tugging on the laces when Obi-Wan came in.
***
He didn’t show off, at all. He also didn’t hover Anakin while he made his way back to the gate to get off the ice. He did, however, skate while Anakin was out there, though nothing more impressive than ground covering, speed building, crossovers, that flipped from backward to forward and back again.
Once Anakin was off the ice and only then did he add other elements - like spins and jumps - because his stated goal was accurate. He was burning off stress through exertion, and calming himself with an activity he truly loved.
He still wasn’t out there without Anakin for long at all. Five minutes was a stretch. Three or four was more likely.
He walked in, completely unsure if he was going to find Anakin or not - because in cases of desperation just cutting the laces would have served - but smiled very slightly when he saw him.
“You might want to rethink that retribution thing.” He knelt down in front of Anakin and tugged the laces on the first skate open and then started pulling laces out of the gromets.
***
“I don’t want to hurt or humiliate you,” Anakin said, accepting help. He was always accepting help. He wanted just one thing in his life again where he didn’t have to accept someone’s help for something so trivial.
“I go through that every day. Why are you so insistent I do that to you?”
***
He finished the first skate’s laces as Anakin asked the question and then paused and looked up at Anakin with a … hurt and somewhat bewildered expression. He shook his head minutely because he just didn’t have an answer for either the question or the statement that preceded it.
Especially not the two of them combined, though of the two the first bothered him more. It also frustrated him and he had no idea why.
Then he looked down and started on the second skate.
“This entire thing was a disaster from the start, though the memory was a hell of a note to end on. Next time let’s just stick to chess in the park, coffee, or better yet: whatever you pick.”
...He wanted to cry (and not for himself), actually, though that was not, likely ever, going to happen.
***
“Look…” Anakin started, but then stopped, not sure where he was going with it.
“I’m sorry.” Though he didn’t know what for.
He felt like he was picking up words to shove into the space between them, trying to see which ones fit. But nothing did.
“I don’t drink coffee,” he said. “But I’ll let you get me rootbeer, if you really want to make it to me.”
***
Of course Anakin didn’t drink coffee. If he had it would have meant that any impulse, even for the safest and most cliche option, with this this kid hadn’t been the wrong one.
...kid? Anakin was maybe 5 years younger than him. For right now though, yeah, kid.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, with a slight smile. He resumed unlacing Anakin’s skates. “Maybe tomorrow evening or this weekend.”
***
“Saturday night works,” Anakin said, reaching for his shoes and putting them on. He had therapy, mental and physical the next few days after work, but he didn’t explain that. Whatever was going on between the two of them, this shared memories thing, it didn’t mean they were close enough in this life for him to drop bombs like ‘I see a therapist to help me with my messed up head.’
He got up and retrieved his back pack and coat, putting them both on.
“Thanks,” he said, acknowledging Obi-Wan’s help. “You know, even though...” even though the evening had gone weird.
***
They didn’t know one another well enough for a lot of things, and the memories they shared seem to make that worse rather than better, at least on his end. It made him less likely to share, because there was already false intimacy there and never mind the complicated mix of emotions carrying over from those memories - namely love and pride, but also a deep feeling on inadequacy.
“Sure,” he said, quietly.
Once Anakin was gone he grabbed his MP3 player, put in earbuds and started blasting music - the angry kind with a heavy, driving beat - and went back out onto the ice. Once he got out there, he didn’t just push himself physically, but mentally, too, with the kind of stuff where he either got his mind fully in the game, or slam into ice.
He wasn’t really reckless about it; he used proper technique, he upped the difficulty of what he was doing pretty gradually. He still fell - and fell hard - more than a couple of times, but he ultimately got there. By the time he left the rink he was aching, soaked with sweat, and entire muscle groups felt like jelly.
But he felt like his mind belonged to him again.
That pattern held the rest of the week. A day with teaching little kid classes, afternoon and evening coaching, and then he’d hit the ice himself and work until he couldn’t see straight. Then he went home, showered, and fell into bed and sleep that usually involved dreams of those memory snippets, and the associated emotions..
He did have reason to be training - exhibition skate in the not too distant future - but he was mostly using as a coping mechanism and honestly? It may not have been therapy, but there were less healthy means of coping and it worked.
Saturday was pretty similar. He got up, he taught, he coached, he skated - except he cut it off a bit earlier, showered and changed into clean clothes and went to meet Anakin for that rootbeer. He had zero confidence about the whole thing, but it didn’t really show at least. He quirked a slight smile and simply said, “Hello.” Once he spotted Anakin.
***
Anakin was a creature of habit out of necessity. Sure, he was highly susceptible to suggestion, but he worked at keeping the same schedule as much as possible. It was part of coping with ADHD.
He got up, took his meds, ran, showered, worked, and if he had therapy, he went to therapy, otherwise, he went to the park to play chess with anyone who would play with him. He had regulars by now. Then he’d go home, do his homework exercises for his hands, take his meds, go to sleep. Repeat.
He didn’t see Obi-Wan the rest of the week, which was probably for the best because the memories hit him hard whenever he slept, despite the drugs he took to regulate his sleep. He saw new details every time he slept: his hair in his second memory was in the same style Obi-Wan’s was in the first memory, but in the second memory Obi-Wan’s hair was different; there were similarities with their clothes... well, at least Anakin’s changed. He woke remembering the feel of the course, simple, obviously poor quality fabric of the outfit in the first memory compared to the second outfit - which wasn’t extravagant by any measure, but was definitely of higher quality.
He told his therapist sparse details, treated the memories as just dreams and even then didn’t give much. He wanted perspective about emotions spurred from dreams - even if she ultimately couldn’t help him exactly the way he needed, talking about the weird mental phenomenon of emotions sparked by actions in dreams helped him think about his new memories from a different angle.
With new perspective, it was easier to show up for rootbeer. He’d picked the bar, they knew him there.
It actually took the bartender grabbing his attention to notice Obi-Wan, Anakin had both air pods in.
“Sorry. Nikki, two rootbeers.”
And he nodded to a booth in the back. He looked more at ease than the night at the rink.
***
Maybe, just maybe, someday they’d both actually be at ease in the same space at the same time, again. Meanwhile, well… there was something to be said for keeping a smile on your face even when you’re falling. Artistic points, or something.
He nodded to show he heard and headed toward the booth in back with Anakin and slid into the seat along one side, and promptly turned slightly sideways so he could tuck one leg under himself.
He didn’t trust himself with anything even remotely personal, so he stayed quiet until they had drinks. “Nothing else odd for you?”
***
“You mean, any new memories?” Anakin asked.
He shook his head and took his drink.
“I dream in great detail about the ones we have all the time which... is supposed to be impossible.”
***
“So have I, though I’m not entirely convinced that the additional detail is part of the memory as opposed to my mind filling in what it perceives to be as gaps,” he admitted.
He took a drink from his bottle and - well, not really his preferred drink but it wasn’t bad. It was also something to do with his hands.
“Things like … sensation, I suppose. More sensory input?”
***
Anakin wasn’t supposed to be able to remember his dreams, his meds were supposed to prevent it. That, in and of itself, told him these were something more than ‘just dreams’. He didn’t remember the dreams that were just random dreams.
“Well, you have someone right here to check that assumption against.”
***
“Yes,” he agreed. “I do.” He doesn’t really want to. It seems strangely revealing in spite of the memory being shared with Anakin . So much of it was about emotion and whether it was himself or Anakin he didn’t trust (it was himself), the end result was the same.
Some of it wasn’t about emotion, at least. “The clothing felt and looked like something I’d expect a monk to wear, but the room felt… almost luxurious for all the simplicity. There is also the pure stupidity of the hair-cuts.” The last was trying to lighten it up a bit. Or, rather keep it light.
***
“I noticed that about the room, too,” Anakin said, while also noticing the items Obi-Wan chose to highlight were tangible things, not sensations. The lightheartedness, Anakin laughed softly at the rib against their hair. But he put two and two together, Obi-Wan was deflecting and evading where he could. Enough group therapy sessions, and Anakin knew what both looked like, what they felt like because he used them, too.
All the signs told him to back up.
So he did.
“I don’t have the best memory of my world history courses in college,” what was more impersonal than dry, boring history? “But, I don’t think there was ever a time in Earth history when there were white warrior monks who had modern materials for their training rooms.”
***
“Neither do I, which would make sense given if it was modern we would surely not have had enough time to have lived and died, be reborn and live again.” Not that he necessarily believes in reincarnation, but there was a time issue.
And he appreciated the backing off. Quite a lot for the time being, actually.
“I suppose that raises other questions entirely.”
***
For Anakin… he found he was disappointed, somehow. He’d think about it later and work with what Obi-Wan gave him.
“What questions does it raise for you?”
***
He may well be more disappointed if Obi-Wan fucked things up again. “If this isn’t something that’s possible within the constraints of time, never mind existing within earth history - it raises the question of where these memories are happening. Whether they’re real or fabricated, though…. Have you spoken to any of the others about what they’ve remembered?”
***
“I’ve spoken to most of them,” Anakin said. “One kid saw a tree. Another said she was just in the company of people she didn’t know. Another said he was speaking in a language he didn’t know that wasn’t anything people speak today. The old British guy… huh, never got what he remembered.” Was there anyone Anakin didn’t go bother?
***
“Yes. And the tree was floating if we spoke to the same person which would be another impossibility as we understand reality now.” Which meant - He didn’t know what. Something, probably. “I’m becoming increasingly convinced that these memories are created, but at the same time that seems an awful lot of work and...detail. “ Detail and continuity.
***
These memories being an experiment done to them was a possible explanation. It being one of the least personal explanations, the one with no more connection between them than there was with the other people getting memories, was not lost on Anakin. And again, he felt... it wasn’t positive, but he swallowed his growing disappointment with rootbeer and trying to find comfort in the possibility of finding an explanation.
He’d told Obi-Wan he held him to no expectations. And finding he suddenly had them, Anakin chastised himself for letting that happen.
He stepped back further. He went with the explanation.
“I don’t like the idea of us being lab rats, but given current politics, can’t say I wouldn’t believe our government would try to develop this technology and weaponize false memories.”
***
“Neither would I, but I have to admit I have a hard time believing they’d be competent enough to be this thorough.” He still didn’t want to talk about the emotional component and he knew that was going to leave a gap in their explanations and speculation, but at the same time-
Anakin had already mentioned emotion. So had he. They knew they were there.
He...tried to risk a little, with that. Tried. “I miss the kid from the memories, which seems… complex given what the memories are.” Easily weaponized, though.
***
Anakin wasn’t sure what Obi-Wan wanted from him there. It was a change without an explanation, and he didn’t want to assume anything. He figured the best approach was to stay the course he’d set. Detachment. Or at least feigned detachment, his emotions were his own to manage.
“That’s very complex, but…” he picked at the label on his bottle. “If these are false memories, I guess it’s just like a dream where you and a friend get into a fight and you wake up still mad at the friend.”
***
He wasn’t disappointed by that, though he was still frustrated with himself by how deeply he cared and how badly he had messed up. “As reasonable as anything else here is. I wonder if there’s more memory buried in your minds that just hasn’t emerged and that’s what’s providing all the context.”
***
“I don’t even know. I just know however they are implanted, they bypass Benzos- I mean, I haven’t tried a large dose, but to work on our synopses like that… an actual computer chip, or something. I mean, there were all those people with Mr. Martin, doing things to everyone around me when the first memory hit...”
***
He startles and looks sincerely, really, concerned - and maybe mildly alarmed - at mention of Benzos. That reaction is not helped by knowledge that these dreams bypassed them. “That’s the thing that worries me most. That and the veiled threat. What do they expect us to not do and how much damage is being caused by people who might see something?”
***
Anakin couldn’t help from smiling because being told ‘don’t get into trouble’ was not a new warning for him.
“That’s par for the course for me… But…” an idea struck him. “I sort of regularly get MRIs, for the study,” he pointed at his prosthetic. “They’d see if something was implanted. I could ask at my next MRI.”
***
It had been a while since anyone had felt the need to warn him to be good - barring the occasional coach but that was a very different kind of not getting into trouble. Either way -
He frowned faintly and his concern didn’t evaporate, but he was more thoughtful than distressed now, at least. “Can you ask without it sounding… alarming to them? If so, that’s a fantastic idea.”
***
Anakin shrugged. “I’ve been casually annoying thus far in the study. What’s another annoying question. There are other reasons why there might be metal in my head.”
***
He was not getting less concerned about Anakin and he had no idea what to do about any of it - the emotion, that was . “It’s worth a check. Will you let me know what you find out?” Hey, it was medical, it wasn’t like he had any right to know.
***
“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t willing to share the results,” Anakin said, incredulous. “That would be rude. I’m annoying, not rude.”
***
“I appreciate that you’re willing to share. You’re right; you aren’t rude.” A pause. “You’re also wrong. You have yet to annoy me.” Well, that was one way to crack through a bit of reserve.
***
“Just because I haven’t annoyed you doesn’t mean I’m not annoying. I’ve been trying to behave. I try even my therapists’ patiences.”
***
“Okay, but when I like you repeatedly calling yourself annoying makes me think you just want me to find you aggravating and go away.” Which was maybe not the healthiest read, but-
***
“You asked how I was going to ask about my MRI scans, I gave you an answer,” Anakin pointed out.
***
“But you also used it as a general description? Annoying, not rude? It’s not the first time you’ve expected me to get fed up and leave, either.” Which was - Why was he doing this? And why did this feel more right than the polite prequel?
***
“Now you’re putting words in my mouth, I didn’t say it expecting you to get up and leave. I was just telling you I wouldn’t keep back my test results.” Anakin was finding this an odd argument.
***
He narrowed his eyes at Anakin in a disbelieving way and was tempted to show him earlier text discussions, but decided it wasn’t that important and almost laughed with relief. “All right, then. I’ll look forward to finding out if we’ve all been microchipped, then.”
***
And Anakin would say that that was an entirely separate conversation. And one he still stood by. He was not going to hold onto any expectations. It was just better for him that way.
“You’re welcome… Should we tell the others?”
***
It was a general description of himself and set of expectations onto itself, but Obi-Wan wasn’t up to that level of discussion. “Entirely up to you. It’s your medical test.” And comfort with the others.
***
Anakin shrugged. “I’ve already waved confidentiality to be part of the study. Someone is going to publish a paper on these results and innovators in robotic prosthetics will all have access to the information... Holding back info from the people suffering the same thing we are seems unfair.”
***
“Then tell them.” He wasn’t going to disagree that it was unfair - it might well have been - but again: it wasn’t his information to make decisions about. “Though we might need to think about ways of communicating that aren’t… quite so overtly monitored.” He wasn’t sure if they could get to private, truly, but he was also not sure he wasn’t paranoid as hell.
***
“I can text the adults.” Anakin didn’t get any of the younger kids’ information.
“Maybe we can figure out a way to talk at the support groups.”
***
“What kind of talking are you thinking?” He was not in any way inclined toward this kind of thing. He was an ice skater.
He had some adult contact information. Even if he had the younger kids’, contacting them would have been… awkward. At best.
***
And Anakin was an engineer. He didn’t really know what he was doing besides deal with what life was throwing at him one bad pitch at a time. But they both played chess. Anakin was good at the fast maneuvers, Obi-Wan was good at the long detailed plans.
“Just somehow use the meetings as a way to connect with new people that show up dealing with these false memories, and tell them that we connect outside of the Bureau’s notice.”
***
“We have a relatively good start with the number of people you’ve managed to introduce yourself to,” he said, thoughtfully. “I think our best bet for the rest may be to arrange an alternate meeting so we can gather contact information and speak more freely. We could even use one of the official meetings to spread the word, since it’s easy to be quick, quiet, and get information to people we don’t have other contact information for without arousing suspicion if we’re careful.”
Fine. He played chess. He wasn’t terrible at strategy.
***
“And you found us a place to meet,” Anakin pointed out, so it was all coming together.
He looked down at this rootbeer. And decided to try to get a bit more personal. There was just something there - the emotions from the memories he couldn’t shake. And it didn’t hurt to just ask.
“Are you doing okay,” he asked. “With all of this?”
***
What: Dealing with new memories
When: Various times this past week and coming weekend.
Where: Ice rink, a bar
Rating/Warnings: Some swearing
Texts sent to Obi-Wan, evening
>> what r u doing?
>> like rn?
>> :)
***
>> On my way to the rink.
>> like rn.
>> :)
***
>> is ur job something u do for fun, too?
***
>> Not working tonight, playing. Do you want to come?
***
>> how?
>> i have 1 arm
***
>> But both legs.
>> Your balance will be off, but you can do this
***
>> [...]
>> u want me to put knives on my feet and take a chance on a notoriously skick surface?
>> y?
***
.
>> I’ll get you a wrist brace and I’m sure your butt can handle being fallen on.
>> Have a little faith and meet me at Aviator. I promise it will be fun.
***
>> [...]
>> i’m thinking no
>> but i’m highly susceptible to suggestion
>> and i’m bored
>> so i’ll be there
>> but if this isn’t fun, you owe me.
***
>> I’ll meet you in the locker room so I can help you with your skates.
***
Anakin ordered an Uber and given the hour it didn’t take him long to get to Aviator’s. Not for the first time, he thought this was a ridiculous idea. He’d never been skating before in his life, and his first attempts would be after losing an arm.
Well, he was here, backpack in hand. At the rink.
He went in and found the locker room and Obi-Wan was waiting for him.
“Okay, but if I die…” Anakin said, but then was defeated when he couldn’t come up with a consequence to fit the poor decision-making here. “Well, not much will happen, I’ll just be dead I guess... What do I do first?”
***
He was there, waiting on Anakin in his usual black slacks and a bright purple button down shirt with the sleeves cuffed back to midforearm - already in skates, but with blade guards on. “First, you tell me what size shoe you wear so I can get you a pair of skates.”
***
“Um, size eleven,” Anakin said. “Can I use any locker for my backpack?”
***
“Yep. Just toss it in any open one. No one else is going to be coming in here this late. I’ll be right back. “
It took him a literal two minutes to disappear out a second, back door in the locker room and come back with a pair of size 11 black skates, laces conveniently pre-loosened so at least this part would be easy.
***
Anakin picked a locker and put his backpack in one, but he also had a combination lock with him that he used because he didn’t trust people at all and if he lost his meds he’d be screwed for a month. And he wouldn’t risk losing his job because he was off his meds.
He didn’t explain that though, he just sat on a bench and took off his shoes.
“So start telling me what I need to know.”
***
He took long enough to grab a neoprene wrist brace out of his own locker on his way past. If he’d thought about Anakin carrying meds around with him, he would have suggested the lock; it just hadn’t occurred to him and maybe the pizza encounter was an aberration.
He set the skates beside Anakin to pull on, intending to do the lacing for him when he was done; if Anakin could get his regular shoes on, he could get into the skates.
“Fall backward not forward, get up by kneeling on one knee, hand on the other and stand straight up as you push up. Don’t try to hang onto the wall hard, or you’ll push your feet back and end up smacking your chin on it; physics applies, but this isn’t rocket science.” He might be kind of a brat.
***
Anakin listened, didn’t touch the skates until Obi-Wan was done explaining.
“First question,” he said, now picking up a skate. “How do I put these on?” Because no, the shoes with knives on them were not intuitive. And his shoes didn’t nearly have the height and lace density these things had.
***
“I.” He started and stopped and looked legitimately pained. “I am going to sound like I am being a smart-ass,” he apologized in advance, “but they should be loosened up enough that you’re able to grab the tab at the back and step down into them, even with the ankle support.” Though he did pick up one of them and to make things easier ripped out the first several inches of lacing. “The blade guards and rubberized flooring should give you good push back.”
***
Anakin looked pained back because this was the worst part about doing new things… or rather things he’d never thought about how to do one handed with his non dominant hand before: no one else had thought about it either. And then he had to point it out and then no one was comfortable.
He was painfully aware of his limitations and that they would always come up.
“From here on out just pretend I have only one hand for all your explanations,” Anakin said with practiced lightheartedness.
He took the more-loosened skate and put it on the ground, hoping the weight of it would anchor it so it wouldn’t be too unwieldy.
It wasn’t as bad as he was hoping but it wasn’t the smooth movement it might have been if he’d had another hand to hold the tongue. One skate one, he did the next. And way too many minutes later he started slowly pushing the laces through the grommets.
“I’m gonna guess these need to be tighter that this?” Because his shoes weren’t lace tightly at all, for the reason that it wasn’t worth the effort to work that hard at it… but he didn’t usually have to play sports in his shoes. So he was sure that difference mattered.
***
He could have taken over, and maybe it would have been kinder to have done so but at the same time it was somewhat infantilizing and also? Some part of him that came close to being an occupational therapist and might side-step that direction at the first real injury he suffered, knew Anakin could and that, well, letting him was probably the ultimately kindest thing. It had nothing to do with having more than one arm, either - for this, even without the prosthetic it’s what he probably would have done.
He crouched down in front of Anakin as soon as he looked up and indicated a willingness for help, though, and started lacing them - and, yeah, lacing them tightly.
“Last bit of advice before we go out there: Point your toes inward to stop.”
***
“For the record,” Anakin said. “None of this sounds natural. I’m pretty sure humans didn’t evolve to play on ice. I’m feeling a very primal, lizard-brain response to what I’m about to do.”
Which was rich coming from the guy who liked to jump out of planes for thrills. But falling at terminal velocity was easier than balancing on knives on ice.
But he held his hand out to Obi-Wan for help standing up.
***
“The only things humans evolved to do that’s fun is have sex,” he said, just a little bit dryly, “and I feel like I missed the opportunity to make you look at ice skating blades, but I promise you this isn’t going to be terrible. Four year olds play and have fun with it and you’re a lot more capable than any kid who only recently learned not to poop their pants.”
He pulled Anakin up, carefully. “Got your balance?
***
Anakin gave him a flat stare. “You just said a lot, none of which inspires confidence.”
The part about being compared to toddlers who pooped their pants was probably the most… Well it was a remark that didn’t land well.
“If we stay here just like this, I’m perfectly balanced.”
***
“Okay.” He picked up the wrist brace and held it out to Anakin so he could shove his left hand in there. “Then let’s go have a good time.” That one is gentle because he can’t tell what is actual fear and what is… sarcasm and more minor nerves.
***
This was… difficult for Anakin. It was not only the challenge of trying something new, something new on top of now not having two hands to do it, but also doing it with someone he barely knew and trusted, who through no fault of his own didn’t understand what this was like for Anakin. And that was hard to explain to people you were close to, much less a stranger. Anakin knew, he had group therapy sessions with other vets who’d lost limbs and had talked about experiencing this exact frustration with family, friends, and strangers. He never would have understood it had he not lost his arm, so he also knew Ovi-Wan was well intentioned and trying. This constant cycle of surge of emotion, assessment, readjustment, reapproach, repeat was necessary- necessary, exhausting and always had a limit, either on his own patience or on others. It was just a matter of when.
Deep breath.
“Okay, lead me to my fall.”
***
He wasn’t likely to hit his limit on patience. His limit on confidence was another matter entirely. He could fall, fall hard, get back up and try again. He was pretty good at that, actually, when it came to falls both metaphorical and literal.
The limit on his capacity for that was still ...less than his patience as a whole. Either way, he wasn’t there yet - quiet, but in a thoughtful and careful way rather than a shut down one.
He led the way out of the locker room and then to the judging box where he paused to take off his blade guards, waited (and helped as necessary) Anakin do the same. Then he skated backward through the gate and onto the ice. “Grab the wall and try to keep your weight straight down.”
***
Anakin eyed the ice, still skeptical. But after Obi-Wan had stepped out, he stepped up to the entrance and, holding the wall with his left hand, took that first step out.
And he didn’t fall.
But he was still there on the wall, just standing.
He was pretty sure he was going to fall at any moment.
“Okay, now what?”
***
“March.” He demonstrated what he meant, the way he would have with a younger kid, minus the little kid voice. Basically just short, high, steps on the ice. No push, at least not yet. Just because he couldn’t gauge a lot about Anakin, but there was definitely not a lot of confidence there.
***
Confidence on ice? Absolutely not, that was correct. But he had his own elements he excelled at - like rocket science.
He tried the marching thing, and it felt extremely unnatural in every way. But he tightened his grip on the wall and gave it his best, unskilled go at it.
“Was this all so you could get me out here to look foolish?” He asked dryly, wobbly marching slowly forward.
***
“No. It was because I wanted to spend some time with you and you asked where I was going and what I was doing and I thought there was a decent chance of you having a not terrible time.” His tone was mild, and utterly without defensiveness, but it was also a little dryly depreciating. “Though you’re welcome to make me look foolish in retribution?”
***
“You’re lucky I don’t naturally think about getting back at people…” Not a lie, it hadn’t occurred to Anakin to require recompense.
Was this fun? Not exactly. But he held back his opinion, he’d only been doing this for, what, five minutes? He’d give Obi-Wan a little more time to convince him.
“Okay, am I just suppose to do this for so many laps and then you’ll give me a different exercise?”
***
He hadn’t been sure if Anakin was going to just want out, but since he was looking for more - Obi-Wan gave it to him. “No, I think you can move on now, but you’re going to need to let go of the wall. Step and glide.” He was still breaking it down a lot and adding a demonstration. Step, glide, feet together, step, glide, feet together.
***
Anakin was easily persuaded to try things, and he sometimes gave up quickly. But every situation was different, given the right conditions, he’d stick with something new but difficult longer.
He wasn’t sure if he was giving ice skating a chance or Obi-Wan a chance.
He watched Obi-Wan’s demonstration and tried to think through the mechanics of the actions.
He took a deep breath and tried.
But all he really managed to do was step and feet together. Which meant he didn’t get very far very fast.
“I’m doing something wrong.”
***
There might not be much difference between the two - Obi-Wan and Ice Skating - just yet. There wasn’t all that much of him, in their interactions. It was part of why he’d invited Anakin, though he still wasn’t sure if that was a mistake.
He was going to try, though. Anakin certainly was.
He’d try anyway. He wouldn’t stop Anakin from vanishing, but he wasn’t going to go anywhere himself.
“Not really. You’re just cautious, I think.” Over thinking. Push slightly outward and shift your weight onto the leg you’re stepping onto.”
***
Anakin watched Obi-Wan again, again trying to work out the movement. It was difficult when the stakes were falling on his face. Sure, four year olds did this, but they didn’t have six feet to fall and almost two hundred pounds to catch with their hands. Oh, and they usually had two hands. One of their hands didn’t cost more than a down payment on a house. Of course he was cautious.
He tried what Obi-Wan instructed. Push and shift. Push and shift.
He got the movement for maybe five… were they strides? when something caught, Anakin didn’t know what, and he fell forward. He cringed as his hands hit the ice, jolting up his arm, his non-existent arm somehow hurting in that weird way it did because his brain imagined it.
***
When Anakin fell Obi-Wan seriously revisited - again - the wisdom of this. Hell, he considered (though not seriously) the question of whether or not Anakin might be better off if he just let Anakin ‘win’ that bet. Then again, with the absolute disaster this entire thing felt like already, there might not be any need for him to.
If Anakin was smart, at this point, Anakin would run for his life.
He said nothing, just skated over and offered Anakin his hand to help him up.
***
Anakin took a breath through gritted teeth, letting that jarring pain wash over him. He’d be taking pain killers tonight, but that’s what they were for and it had been months since he reached for them regularly.
This wasn’t a bad idea in theory. And he didn’t blame Obi-Wan for his fall. His therapists all wanted him to reach a level of mobility that was closer to what he used to have before he lost his arm than it would be without the prosthetic. There was just a lot that people did with their arms they didn’t even realize, that he did now realize now that he was missing one.
He could try again, or he could quit. Either way he was going to have to get up.
Another deep breath and he pushed himself back so he could get his legs under him, a knee on the ice. Obi-Wan was going to have to help more than he might usually help, there was only so much weight Anakin could push off with his prosthetic. But he assumed Obi-Wan would expect that.
He reached up with his left hand to grab Obi-Wan’s hand.
And everything changed.
Their surroundings were no longer an ice rink, though it was clearly some kind of athletics training room.
Anakin was sprawled out in a surface much like a gym mat, and he’d taken a tumble. He was reaching up to take Obi-Wan’s hand with one of his own- he had two hands again. . . or, he’d always had those two hands. In fact, he didn’t even realize it, because all his knowledge and memories about Earth and New York City washed away, and he was a twelve year old boy, dressed in a Jedi Padawan’s outfit. And none of that felt wrong.
“Again,” he said, he was eager more than he was disappointed by failing to land the move. “I’ll get it this time, Master.”
***
He was prepared to take all of Anakin’s weight to help him get up if it came to that. His front skate, the one closest to Anakin, was turned at a right angle to the direction of force, meaning it would not be sliding out from him; he was pretty well braced.
It turned out what he was braced for - pulling Anakin up - wasn’t what he needed to worry about. He wrapped his fingers around Anakin’s hand, and the mid-twenties young man was replaced by a much younger boy that he held an awful lot of complex emotion for.
He felt himself smile, albeit tiredly, as he hauled the boy back up to his feet. “You will get it this time or you will learn. Patience, Padwan.”
He didn’t fall on Anakin, in the rink. He just fell backward and onto his ass.
***
Anakin fell backwards when the memory receded, though the impact was only on his left arm this time and didn’t hurt as much.
“What just happened?” he asked.
This memory was just as strong and complex as the first one he’d received, even if it was just a few seconds long. He could even still feel the emotions lingering.
***
Falling straight back from the position he’d been in wasn’t the most comfortable thing he’d experienced, but he had had much worse. It didn’t regally even register, though he straightened his leg out.
“I don’t know.”
He did, of course, know it was a memory, but he hadn’t understood the first one. He didn’t understand why he was so proud of that kid, or delighted by his eagerness or -
“I think I was teaching you some sort of… martial art?” Not quite, but as near as he could get.
***
Martial arts? Yes, that felt right, like it was the activity that had been the reason for his tumble onto the mats.
“Wait,” Anakin asked. “Did we see the same thing again?”
He was fighting the urge to scoot back and away from Obi-Wan, not because of anything Obi-Wan had done, but he felt like his emotions had been hijacked. That had come with his first memory, too. But the feelings in that first memory were less complicated. This time… whoa, okay, he actually felt legitimate admiration and… some level of devotion for Obi-Wan.
And while Obi-Wan was so far a good person, those feelings were more than a bit too much for a person he barely knew.
***
He shook his head slightly, not in negation or denial but in simple helpless disbelief.
“It sounds as though we may have.” He got back onto one knee and then stood up and - “...I’m afraid to touch you again,” he admitted, trying for self-depreciating but sounding mostly shaken.
***
“I called you… Master?” Anakin said, also wallowing in disbelief. “And you called me a… Padawan. What is that?”
***
“I’ve no idea what a Padwan is, but given that you were calling me Master and I was teaching you some sort of martial art and was incredibly proud of you, I will hope that it means student. Do you want me to tell you how to get up instead of risking more contact?” Priorities. Not leaving Anakin on the ice was an important one.
***
Anakin kept getting lost in thoughts about the memory.
This proved there was something between them - maybe. (He hadn’t fully ruled out that the Bureau was messing with their heads.) But if these memories were really past lives, he and Obi-Wan shared a connection.
‘Ya,” he said, distracted.
“... Did… did your memory come with some strong feelings?” He wanted to know if he wasn’t imagining it.
***
“Get up on your right knee. Put your hands on top of your knee and push straight down as you stand.” Anakin getting distracted didn’t bother him, at all. Just up off the ice. It wasn’t warm and soft, and therefore was a bad place to lounge.
“The memory did come with strong emotions. Mostly pride.” A pause. “And love.” Familial, almost paternal love.
***
Anakin didn’t blame Obi-Wan for not helping, but it would have been easier for him to stand if he had someone helping him.
Okay, talk about the memory would have to wait.
He needed help.
“I get you don’t want to touch me again, but I’m going to need help getting up.”
He shifted so he was on his knee and held out his hand again.
***
“I don’t have a problem with touching you, except uncertainty that you were willing to be touched.” Okay, yes, he was wary about another flash of memory, but that wasn’t quite the same thing.
He took Anakin’s hand, braced appropriately for their size difference and pulled him up.
***
Once on his knife-strapped feet again, Anakin said, “I think I’m done trying to ice skate for now. Just help me get to the wall,” he figured that was the fastest way without burdening Obi-Wan. “And I’ll get back to the door thingy and locker room.”
***
He managed to avoid saying ‘you don’t say?’ on done with skating. It was a pretty near miss, though, because he was - still - pretty rattled. It wasn’t Anakin’s fault, at all, but he was just - There was no part of this that had gone ‘according to plan’ or even much shy of a worst case reasonable scenario.
They were at least pretty close to the wall so he was able to put his hands on Anakin’s left upper arm and just drag him to the wall.
“I’m going to… burn off some stress. I’ll meet you back there, if you want to talk, and I’ll leave you alone if you don’t.”
***
Anakin’s instinct was to run. Get out of there as quickly as possible. Torpedo this budding relationship before it made him emotionally connected, because if you didn’t feel anything for anyone, then it didn’t hurt when they disappeared from your life.
But his trek back to the locker room wasn’t a quick glide across the ice, more of a slow shuffle. And it forced him to think about the memory and his feelings about it, the feelings he got from it. And the realization he had no one to talk to about these things but Obi-Wan.
So Obi-Wan would find him in the locker room. Partly because of his own realization and partly because with one hand and all those laces, he hadn’t managed to get a single skate off yet.
He looked up from tugging on the laces when Obi-Wan came in.
***
He didn’t show off, at all. He also didn’t hover Anakin while he made his way back to the gate to get off the ice. He did, however, skate while Anakin was out there, though nothing more impressive than ground covering, speed building, crossovers, that flipped from backward to forward and back again.
Once Anakin was off the ice and only then did he add other elements - like spins and jumps - because his stated goal was accurate. He was burning off stress through exertion, and calming himself with an activity he truly loved.
He still wasn’t out there without Anakin for long at all. Five minutes was a stretch. Three or four was more likely.
He walked in, completely unsure if he was going to find Anakin or not - because in cases of desperation just cutting the laces would have served - but smiled very slightly when he saw him.
“You might want to rethink that retribution thing.” He knelt down in front of Anakin and tugged the laces on the first skate open and then started pulling laces out of the gromets.
***
“I don’t want to hurt or humiliate you,” Anakin said, accepting help. He was always accepting help. He wanted just one thing in his life again where he didn’t have to accept someone’s help for something so trivial.
“I go through that every day. Why are you so insistent I do that to you?”
***
He finished the first skate’s laces as Anakin asked the question and then paused and looked up at Anakin with a … hurt and somewhat bewildered expression. He shook his head minutely because he just didn’t have an answer for either the question or the statement that preceded it.
Especially not the two of them combined, though of the two the first bothered him more. It also frustrated him and he had no idea why.
Then he looked down and started on the second skate.
“This entire thing was a disaster from the start, though the memory was a hell of a note to end on. Next time let’s just stick to chess in the park, coffee, or better yet: whatever you pick.”
...He wanted to cry (and not for himself), actually, though that was not, likely ever, going to happen.
***
“Look…” Anakin started, but then stopped, not sure where he was going with it.
“I’m sorry.” Though he didn’t know what for.
He felt like he was picking up words to shove into the space between them, trying to see which ones fit. But nothing did.
“I don’t drink coffee,” he said. “But I’ll let you get me rootbeer, if you really want to make it to me.”
***
Of course Anakin didn’t drink coffee. If he had it would have meant that any impulse, even for the safest and most cliche option, with this this kid hadn’t been the wrong one.
...kid? Anakin was maybe 5 years younger than him. For right now though, yeah, kid.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said, with a slight smile. He resumed unlacing Anakin’s skates. “Maybe tomorrow evening or this weekend.”
***
“Saturday night works,” Anakin said, reaching for his shoes and putting them on. He had therapy, mental and physical the next few days after work, but he didn’t explain that. Whatever was going on between the two of them, this shared memories thing, it didn’t mean they were close enough in this life for him to drop bombs like ‘I see a therapist to help me with my messed up head.’
He got up and retrieved his back pack and coat, putting them both on.
“Thanks,” he said, acknowledging Obi-Wan’s help. “You know, even though...” even though the evening had gone weird.
***
They didn’t know one another well enough for a lot of things, and the memories they shared seem to make that worse rather than better, at least on his end. It made him less likely to share, because there was already false intimacy there and never mind the complicated mix of emotions carrying over from those memories - namely love and pride, but also a deep feeling on inadequacy.
“Sure,” he said, quietly.
Once Anakin was gone he grabbed his MP3 player, put in earbuds and started blasting music - the angry kind with a heavy, driving beat - and went back out onto the ice. Once he got out there, he didn’t just push himself physically, but mentally, too, with the kind of stuff where he either got his mind fully in the game, or slam into ice.
He wasn’t really reckless about it; he used proper technique, he upped the difficulty of what he was doing pretty gradually. He still fell - and fell hard - more than a couple of times, but he ultimately got there. By the time he left the rink he was aching, soaked with sweat, and entire muscle groups felt like jelly.
But he felt like his mind belonged to him again.
That pattern held the rest of the week. A day with teaching little kid classes, afternoon and evening coaching, and then he’d hit the ice himself and work until he couldn’t see straight. Then he went home, showered, and fell into bed and sleep that usually involved dreams of those memory snippets, and the associated emotions..
He did have reason to be training - exhibition skate in the not too distant future - but he was mostly using as a coping mechanism and honestly? It may not have been therapy, but there were less healthy means of coping and it worked.
Saturday was pretty similar. He got up, he taught, he coached, he skated - except he cut it off a bit earlier, showered and changed into clean clothes and went to meet Anakin for that rootbeer. He had zero confidence about the whole thing, but it didn’t really show at least. He quirked a slight smile and simply said, “Hello.” Once he spotted Anakin.
***
Anakin was a creature of habit out of necessity. Sure, he was highly susceptible to suggestion, but he worked at keeping the same schedule as much as possible. It was part of coping with ADHD.
He got up, took his meds, ran, showered, worked, and if he had therapy, he went to therapy, otherwise, he went to the park to play chess with anyone who would play with him. He had regulars by now. Then he’d go home, do his homework exercises for his hands, take his meds, go to sleep. Repeat.
He didn’t see Obi-Wan the rest of the week, which was probably for the best because the memories hit him hard whenever he slept, despite the drugs he took to regulate his sleep. He saw new details every time he slept: his hair in his second memory was in the same style Obi-Wan’s was in the first memory, but in the second memory Obi-Wan’s hair was different; there were similarities with their clothes... well, at least Anakin’s changed. He woke remembering the feel of the course, simple, obviously poor quality fabric of the outfit in the first memory compared to the second outfit - which wasn’t extravagant by any measure, but was definitely of higher quality.
He told his therapist sparse details, treated the memories as just dreams and even then didn’t give much. He wanted perspective about emotions spurred from dreams - even if she ultimately couldn’t help him exactly the way he needed, talking about the weird mental phenomenon of emotions sparked by actions in dreams helped him think about his new memories from a different angle.
With new perspective, it was easier to show up for rootbeer. He’d picked the bar, they knew him there.
It actually took the bartender grabbing his attention to notice Obi-Wan, Anakin had both air pods in.
“Sorry. Nikki, two rootbeers.”
And he nodded to a booth in the back. He looked more at ease than the night at the rink.
***
Maybe, just maybe, someday they’d both actually be at ease in the same space at the same time, again. Meanwhile, well… there was something to be said for keeping a smile on your face even when you’re falling. Artistic points, or something.
He nodded to show he heard and headed toward the booth in back with Anakin and slid into the seat along one side, and promptly turned slightly sideways so he could tuck one leg under himself.
He didn’t trust himself with anything even remotely personal, so he stayed quiet until they had drinks. “Nothing else odd for you?”
***
“You mean, any new memories?” Anakin asked.
He shook his head and took his drink.
“I dream in great detail about the ones we have all the time which... is supposed to be impossible.”
***
“So have I, though I’m not entirely convinced that the additional detail is part of the memory as opposed to my mind filling in what it perceives to be as gaps,” he admitted.
He took a drink from his bottle and - well, not really his preferred drink but it wasn’t bad. It was also something to do with his hands.
“Things like … sensation, I suppose. More sensory input?”
***
Anakin wasn’t supposed to be able to remember his dreams, his meds were supposed to prevent it. That, in and of itself, told him these were something more than ‘just dreams’. He didn’t remember the dreams that were just random dreams.
“Well, you have someone right here to check that assumption against.”
***
“Yes,” he agreed. “I do.” He doesn’t really want to. It seems strangely revealing in spite of the memory being shared with Anakin . So much of it was about emotion and whether it was himself or Anakin he didn’t trust (it was himself), the end result was the same.
Some of it wasn’t about emotion, at least. “The clothing felt and looked like something I’d expect a monk to wear, but the room felt… almost luxurious for all the simplicity. There is also the pure stupidity of the hair-cuts.” The last was trying to lighten it up a bit. Or, rather keep it light.
***
“I noticed that about the room, too,” Anakin said, while also noticing the items Obi-Wan chose to highlight were tangible things, not sensations. The lightheartedness, Anakin laughed softly at the rib against their hair. But he put two and two together, Obi-Wan was deflecting and evading where he could. Enough group therapy sessions, and Anakin knew what both looked like, what they felt like because he used them, too.
All the signs told him to back up.
So he did.
“I don’t have the best memory of my world history courses in college,” what was more impersonal than dry, boring history? “But, I don’t think there was ever a time in Earth history when there were white warrior monks who had modern materials for their training rooms.”
***
“Neither do I, which would make sense given if it was modern we would surely not have had enough time to have lived and died, be reborn and live again.” Not that he necessarily believes in reincarnation, but there was a time issue.
And he appreciated the backing off. Quite a lot for the time being, actually.
“I suppose that raises other questions entirely.”
***
For Anakin… he found he was disappointed, somehow. He’d think about it later and work with what Obi-Wan gave him.
“What questions does it raise for you?”
***
He may well be more disappointed if Obi-Wan fucked things up again. “If this isn’t something that’s possible within the constraints of time, never mind existing within earth history - it raises the question of where these memories are happening. Whether they’re real or fabricated, though…. Have you spoken to any of the others about what they’ve remembered?”
***
“I’ve spoken to most of them,” Anakin said. “One kid saw a tree. Another said she was just in the company of people she didn’t know. Another said he was speaking in a language he didn’t know that wasn’t anything people speak today. The old British guy… huh, never got what he remembered.” Was there anyone Anakin didn’t go bother?
***
“Yes. And the tree was floating if we spoke to the same person which would be another impossibility as we understand reality now.” Which meant - He didn’t know what. Something, probably. “I’m becoming increasingly convinced that these memories are created, but at the same time that seems an awful lot of work and...detail. “ Detail and continuity.
***
These memories being an experiment done to them was a possible explanation. It being one of the least personal explanations, the one with no more connection between them than there was with the other people getting memories, was not lost on Anakin. And again, he felt... it wasn’t positive, but he swallowed his growing disappointment with rootbeer and trying to find comfort in the possibility of finding an explanation.
He’d told Obi-Wan he held him to no expectations. And finding he suddenly had them, Anakin chastised himself for letting that happen.
He stepped back further. He went with the explanation.
“I don’t like the idea of us being lab rats, but given current politics, can’t say I wouldn’t believe our government would try to develop this technology and weaponize false memories.”
***
“Neither would I, but I have to admit I have a hard time believing they’d be competent enough to be this thorough.” He still didn’t want to talk about the emotional component and he knew that was going to leave a gap in their explanations and speculation, but at the same time-
Anakin had already mentioned emotion. So had he. They knew they were there.
He...tried to risk a little, with that. Tried. “I miss the kid from the memories, which seems… complex given what the memories are.” Easily weaponized, though.
***
Anakin wasn’t sure what Obi-Wan wanted from him there. It was a change without an explanation, and he didn’t want to assume anything. He figured the best approach was to stay the course he’d set. Detachment. Or at least feigned detachment, his emotions were his own to manage.
“That’s very complex, but…” he picked at the label on his bottle. “If these are false memories, I guess it’s just like a dream where you and a friend get into a fight and you wake up still mad at the friend.”
***
He wasn’t disappointed by that, though he was still frustrated with himself by how deeply he cared and how badly he had messed up. “As reasonable as anything else here is. I wonder if there’s more memory buried in your minds that just hasn’t emerged and that’s what’s providing all the context.”
***
“I don’t even know. I just know however they are implanted, they bypass Benzos- I mean, I haven’t tried a large dose, but to work on our synopses like that… an actual computer chip, or something. I mean, there were all those people with Mr. Martin, doing things to everyone around me when the first memory hit...”
***
He startles and looks sincerely, really, concerned - and maybe mildly alarmed - at mention of Benzos. That reaction is not helped by knowledge that these dreams bypassed them. “That’s the thing that worries me most. That and the veiled threat. What do they expect us to not do and how much damage is being caused by people who might see something?”
***
Anakin couldn’t help from smiling because being told ‘don’t get into trouble’ was not a new warning for him.
“That’s par for the course for me… But…” an idea struck him. “I sort of regularly get MRIs, for the study,” he pointed at his prosthetic. “They’d see if something was implanted. I could ask at my next MRI.”
***
It had been a while since anyone had felt the need to warn him to be good - barring the occasional coach but that was a very different kind of not getting into trouble. Either way -
He frowned faintly and his concern didn’t evaporate, but he was more thoughtful than distressed now, at least. “Can you ask without it sounding… alarming to them? If so, that’s a fantastic idea.”
***
Anakin shrugged. “I’ve been casually annoying thus far in the study. What’s another annoying question. There are other reasons why there might be metal in my head.”
***
He was not getting less concerned about Anakin and he had no idea what to do about any of it - the emotion, that was . “It’s worth a check. Will you let me know what you find out?” Hey, it was medical, it wasn’t like he had any right to know.
***
“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t willing to share the results,” Anakin said, incredulous. “That would be rude. I’m annoying, not rude.”
***
“I appreciate that you’re willing to share. You’re right; you aren’t rude.” A pause. “You’re also wrong. You have yet to annoy me.” Well, that was one way to crack through a bit of reserve.
***
“Just because I haven’t annoyed you doesn’t mean I’m not annoying. I’ve been trying to behave. I try even my therapists’ patiences.”
***
“Okay, but when I like you repeatedly calling yourself annoying makes me think you just want me to find you aggravating and go away.” Which was maybe not the healthiest read, but-
***
“You asked how I was going to ask about my MRI scans, I gave you an answer,” Anakin pointed out.
***
“But you also used it as a general description? Annoying, not rude? It’s not the first time you’ve expected me to get fed up and leave, either.” Which was - Why was he doing this? And why did this feel more right than the polite prequel?
***
“Now you’re putting words in my mouth, I didn’t say it expecting you to get up and leave. I was just telling you I wouldn’t keep back my test results.” Anakin was finding this an odd argument.
***
He narrowed his eyes at Anakin in a disbelieving way and was tempted to show him earlier text discussions, but decided it wasn’t that important and almost laughed with relief. “All right, then. I’ll look forward to finding out if we’ve all been microchipped, then.”
***
And Anakin would say that that was an entirely separate conversation. And one he still stood by. He was not going to hold onto any expectations. It was just better for him that way.
“You’re welcome… Should we tell the others?”
***
It was a general description of himself and set of expectations onto itself, but Obi-Wan wasn’t up to that level of discussion. “Entirely up to you. It’s your medical test.” And comfort with the others.
***
Anakin shrugged. “I’ve already waved confidentiality to be part of the study. Someone is going to publish a paper on these results and innovators in robotic prosthetics will all have access to the information... Holding back info from the people suffering the same thing we are seems unfair.”
***
“Then tell them.” He wasn’t going to disagree that it was unfair - it might well have been - but again: it wasn’t his information to make decisions about. “Though we might need to think about ways of communicating that aren’t… quite so overtly monitored.” He wasn’t sure if they could get to private, truly, but he was also not sure he wasn’t paranoid as hell.
***
“I can text the adults.” Anakin didn’t get any of the younger kids’ information.
“Maybe we can figure out a way to talk at the support groups.”
***
“What kind of talking are you thinking?” He was not in any way inclined toward this kind of thing. He was an ice skater.
He had some adult contact information. Even if he had the younger kids’, contacting them would have been… awkward. At best.
***
And Anakin was an engineer. He didn’t really know what he was doing besides deal with what life was throwing at him one bad pitch at a time. But they both played chess. Anakin was good at the fast maneuvers, Obi-Wan was good at the long detailed plans.
“Just somehow use the meetings as a way to connect with new people that show up dealing with these false memories, and tell them that we connect outside of the Bureau’s notice.”
***
“We have a relatively good start with the number of people you’ve managed to introduce yourself to,” he said, thoughtfully. “I think our best bet for the rest may be to arrange an alternate meeting so we can gather contact information and speak more freely. We could even use one of the official meetings to spread the word, since it’s easy to be quick, quiet, and get information to people we don’t have other contact information for without arousing suspicion if we’re careful.”
Fine. He played chess. He wasn’t terrible at strategy.
***
“And you found us a place to meet,” Anakin pointed out, so it was all coming together.
He looked down at this rootbeer. And decided to try to get a bit more personal. There was just something there - the emotions from the memories he couldn’t shake. And it didn’t hurt to just ask.
“Are you doing okay,” he asked. “With all of this?”
***
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He had some emotional carry over from the memories that were there, too. Some of them were pretty positive feelings - fierce protectiveness and steely determination to be worthy. Some of them weren't - deep seated inadequacy, of feeling responsible but ill equipped and lost, and ... something a lot more painful lingering around the edges - a sense of loss, really - that he didn't have a source for.
At least, he didn't have a source for yet.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm okay with you. I'm starting to be... more afraid of getting answers than of not getting them."
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He stopped himself from saying that he didn't care, because this was the first time in a long time that Anakin had someone in his life. And he didn't want to sound needy.
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"I can barely take care of myself, I don't think I should be allowed to look after a cactus. Do you have a pet?"
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"I have a cat."
That shouldn't make him self-conscious, but here he was.
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Interested rather than mocking for now.
He was about to live up to a stereotype and he knew it, but he also unlocked his phone, pulled up a picture and passed the phone to Anakin.
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Anakin the phone and smiled at the cat picture. "Aw, what their name?"
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He may have problems keeping plants alive.
He sighed, faintly. "Her name's Elsa."
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"I never had pets growing up. I have ADHD and it's a struggle remembering to keep myself fed. I feel like it would be a sad deal for the pet if I was their owner."
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He listens to the rest though and sobers as he does. "That sounds really hard." It also sounded like more of Anakin not liking himself and that broke his heart, but he wasn't going to say anything about that again. "I was mostly just really lonely as a kid. When I finally settled down and was stable with more time I just needed... something."
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Some things were already slotting into place to paint an Obi-Wan shaped picture for Anakin. If he had to guess, based on that statement and previous comments, it sounded like he didn't have a close relationship with his parents. But he seemed like a dedicated and driven individual, and he must have learned that somewhere.
Anakin shrugged, "There are worse things. As bad as the VA can be, and healthcare in the stupid country can be, I still have therapy covered."
Anakin could understand the loneliness. The last year and a half had been brutal to navigate mostly on his own.
"I like how your solution was to get a high maintenance cat. That is some interesting logic there."
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The mention of therapy and the VA was a little harder to brush off as a self-depreciating glib remark about his interior decorating preferences, though. "I'm glad it's covered. I almost managed to do my internship through them, but ended up doing it through a cooperate place." That he hadn't particularly loved, but had gotten the job done.
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"How do you feel about that suggestion?"
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