Chapter Text
Anakin Skywalker felt the force slip away, vanishing like water into the parched sand, leaving her body cold and lifeless as her presence dissolved among the sands of Tatooine. The fragile strings that held together Padawan Anakin Skywalker snapped as he cradled her body to his chest. Gone was the bright-eyed padawan, full of hope for the future and all that remained was broken and scared little Ani. Little Ani who missed his mother dearly as he departed Tatooine with Qui-Gon Jinn, little Ani who missed his mother’s hugs, little Ani who missed his mother’s stories. Little Ani begged the force, any gods, any power beyond himself, to give her back.
But the Force offered only silence. No divine favor turned his way. The current he had trusted all his life flowed on, deaf to his anguish, as pain and indignation consumed him. The force was silent as he set his mother back down and turned on his light saber. The force was silent as he cleared the settlement of any other lifeform with his saber. The strings that once suspended dutiful Padawan Anakin Skywalker had felt like iron chains — and now, at last, they lay broken at his feet. He felt unshackled from his Jedi vows, freed from the suffocating strictures that barred him from seeing his mother, and foremost he was free from the crushing mantle of being the Chosen One.
Anakin stood amidst the aftermath, exhausted, but there was no remorse, no guilt. Only a hollow, echoing emptiness that would become his new existence. He powered down his saber and strode past the carnage he wrought, no longer able to bring himself to care. The sands would take it all - his rage, his brokenness, the carnage, - like offerings placed upon an alter. It would swallow everything that he gave, taking and taking until only sand remained.
Anakin made his way back to the hovel where his mother’s body laid. The woman who loved him unconditionally would never smile at him again. Would never hold him to sleep as she told him stories, would never guide his small hands through tangled wires, would never– Anakin would never see his mother again. He would bury his mother amongst the sand, and along with his mother, he would bury little Ani. The child who still missed his mother, would join his mother once more beneath the suns of Tatooine. Anakin would bury them both in the sands in the morning, but for just a little longer, just until the first sunrise, he would be little Ani one last time.
The tears blinded him as he sank to his knees before his mother. Anakin felt the sobs over take him as he lost himself to the emotions that overwhelmed him. He was so lost in his anger that he initially missed the person standing next to him. Anakin grabbed for his lightsaber, planning to finish off the intruder. However, his hand paused as the stranger lifted the veil upon their head and spoke.
“Hello, Anakin Skywalker.”
—
During the battle of Geonosis, Obi-Wan had been certain that he would die, or rather, there were multiple times during the day when death should have claimed him. It had been one shit show after another and now Anakin was in medical, minus one arm and suspended in a bacta tank. By all rights, Obi-Wan should be furious at Anakin, at the sheer stupidity of his padawan. Sith’s hell, Anakin had brought an active senator with him to rescue Obi-Wan . The dressing down that Anakin was to receive upon waking up would be one to remember, Obi-Wan was going to make sure of it. Yet, beneath the veneer of irritation, a fragile ember of pride smolder. Anakin had defied the impossible, yet again.
Obi-Wan exhaled slowly, forcing his shoulders to loosen as his gaze lingered on the younger man’s form floating serenely in the healing fluid. He had just recently been pulled from his own, Dooku had left him with his own scars to remember Geonosis by. He’d been cleared to leave the Halls of Healing, though Vokara Che had sternly ordered light duty and endless physical therapy until further notice. Not that Obi-Wan believed the galaxy would wait for his recovery. The Republic Senate stood poised on the precipice of war, and every Jedi had been recalled to Coruscant.
The council was currently convening and trying to understand Dooku’s ominous meanings along with the sheer number of clone troopers that had suddenly become part of the Jedi's assets. The chancellor had also put in a request to meet with the Jedi council to go over the roles the Jedi would play in this upcoming war.
War.
Sith’s hell, the Jedi were going to war.
So much for being peacekeepers.
Obi-Wan craved the numbing comfort of a good drink, but he would have to settle for meditation. Perhaps now that all the Jedi were being recalled, Quinlan would be amenable to one last night of indulgence and bad decisions before they were sent off to war. Obi-Wan made a slight change to his route and decided to make a pit stop in the Room of a Thousand Fountains for the much needed meditation.
—
The journey to the Room of a Thousand Fountains took longer than Obi-Wan would be comfortable admitting. He was grateful that the younglings had been relocated to a safer and more secure location in the temple, giving him reprieve from having anyone see him in his disheveled state. By the time he found himself pleasantly settled by a particularly bigger fountain, one that Anakin had been so fond of when he first came to the temple, exhaustion tugged at every step.
Somedays Obi-Wan longed to return to those simpler days, when Anakin’s wonder was ignited by the simple marvels of water cascading in arcs. When Obi-Wan’s days were consumed by chasing after his impetuous Padawan and dragging him to his lessons on time. Now, everything was about to irrevocably change, and the ache in his muscle mirrored the ache in his heart.
Perhaps coming here had been a bad decision, but he needed to meditate, and Obi-Wan could not bring himself to meditate in his shared room with Anakin. He had not been able to meditate in their shared space for a few years now. Anakin’s presence in the force was so full of light and all consuming, and it saturated every corner of Obi-Wan’s being. It was… a distraction that refused to allow Obi-Wan to do anything but look at it. Master Qui-Gon had endeavored to teach Obi-Wan to peer within himself through meditation, to deepen his connection to the Force. Master Qui-Gon had always been better at connecting to the force, he had made meditation seem effortless, a grace Obi-Wan had always struggled to emulate. Before Anakin, Obi-Wan used his meditation time to center himself, find a moment of calm before returning to his lessons, his duties, and his vow to the Jedi code.
After Anakin, meditation was a battlefield, a contest of wills with himself as he resisted surrendering to the comforting blaze of Anakin’s force presence. More than once, Obi-Wan had found himself surrendering to the light as it radiated from his padawan, using it as a crutch to stave off his own darkness, and letting Anakin’s light burn away all the tendrils of darkness that threaten to bloom from within Obi-Wan.
He found himself currently slipping into the warm presence of Anakin through their bond, feeling himself settling against Anakin’s own mind. The automatic embrace that was Anakin settled in Obi-Wan’s own mind. A silent comfort that Obi-Wan had grown used to, no, in his own mind he could admit to himself that Obi-Wan had grown attached to this bond. An attachment he both cherished and worshiped. He could admit that he looked forward to the warmth and comfort that it brought him.
Obi-Wan did not know how long he stayed like this, content and warm, side by side with Anakin, but he knew how it ended.
Obi-Wan clutched his hand over his chest, the fabric of his clothes pressing against his heart, as though he could hold the pain in. His other hand gripped the grass beneath him, ground himself, though nothing could steady the inferno that had risen within him. His breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps as a searing pain shot through the bond and he was forced to retreat from Anakin’s embrace.
The bright, golden bond between began to shift, its hue flickering and warping into an intense blue. An intense supernova of heat began surging though the bond-consuming, pulling, twisting-before he felt it shattered with a final, violent snap.
The warmth was gone, the embrace that had always felt like a constant was suddenly and painfully absent.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes as he gasped in agony, he had survived having a bond forcibly broken before, but this… this was nothing like losing Master Qui-Gon. It did not separate slowly and fade like it did with his master, unraveling slowly like threads coming undone. The pain had been momentary before becoming a dull ache, a fading warmth that pulled at him, but this-this felt like taking a light saber through the heart. A deep wound- unbearable, raw, and irrevocable. The plasma burned and cauterized the bond, leaving Obi-Wan drifting in the force. He couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening, no chance to prepare, and by the time he realized what was happening, it was already over.
In the sudden silence, Obi-Wan reached desperately into the force, trying to find something, anything- Anakin. But it was as if the force itself had abandoned him, cast him adrift upon merciless tides. Within the vast emptiness, Obi-Wan could feel nothing, not even himself.
Then, cold metal pressed against his forehead.
“Who the kriff are you?”