Chapter Text
Obi-Wan moved first.
The green blade of Qui-Gon’s lightsaber hummed through the cockpit, slicing the dim light into jagged shadows.
In an instant, Anakin drew his own lightsaber. He kept the dagger in his off hand, gripped tightly, not for attack, not yet, but as a reminder, a tether.
Obi-Wan’s amber eyes narrowed. There was no hesitation in his movements, no trace of the patience Anakin had known. Every swing was calculated, precise, lethal, and yet… Anakin saw openings. Weak points he could exploit without striking to kill.
Even if he would hate himself later for doing so.
The next clash sent sparks flying, green against blue. Anakin rolled back, the air whistling as Obi-Wan’s blade cut inches from his side.
Obi-Wan pressed forward relentlessly, testing him.
Ahsoka ignited her own green blades then, stepping into the fray.
She moved fast, faster than most Jedi would dare in such tight quarters, her shorter blade flashing low while the other struck high. Her precision forced Obi-Wan to shift, to adjust!; and for a split second, he gave ground.
Anakin saw it. Took it.
He drove forward, blade crashing down in a heavy arc meant to pin, not kill.
For a moment, the three of them were locked in motion, two against one, but then Obi-Wan changed.
He broke the rhythm.
Not by retreating, but by twisting.
His blade snapped into a reverse grip, his stance collapsing inward before exploding outward in a sudden, vicious counter. The movement was sharp, unorthodox, nothing like the flowing defense of Soresu.
It was aggressive. Predatory.
Anakin’s stomach dropped.
Obi-Wan’s saber whipped toward Ahsoka in a brutal backhand strike. She yelped with the impact, ducking under the follow-up.
Anakin circled, trying to flank.
The twisted jedi master lunged once more.
Ahsoka crossed both sabers to block, and dropped to one knee as the blow drove her down.
“Too slow,” Obi-Wan said coldly.
Anakin surged forward with a shout, intercepting the next strike before it could fall. Their blades collided, but Obi-Wan didn’t hold.
He slid along Anakin’s guard, too fast, and drove his elbow into Anakin’s shoulder before kicking his legs out from under him.
Anakin hit the deck hard, breath knocked from his lungs.
Ahsoka didn’t hesitate.
She spun low, both blades scissoring toward Obi-Wan’s legs, precise and controlled, meant to disable.
Obi-Wan leapt.
The Force surged violently around him as he flipped over her and midair he thrust out his hand.
Ahsoka choked.
Her blades flickered as invisible pressure crushed her throat. Her feet left the ground, body jerking as she clawed at the unseen grip.
“Ahsoka!” Anakin roared.
Something inside him snapped.
The Force answered, hot, furious.
He didn’t push.
He ripped Obi-Wan out of the air.
The grip shattered as Obi-Wan was slammed sideways into the cockpit floor, hard enough to dent the plating.
Ahsoka collapsed, coughing, dragging in air.
Anakin was already moving.
“Snap out of it!” he shouted, voice shaking with anger.
Obi-Wan rolled to his feet… and smiled.
It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t kind.
It was… Satisfied.
“Good,” he said softly. “There it is.”
Anakin faltered. Just for a heartbeat.
Obi-Wan came at him again.
But now the fight had changed completely.
Gone was the structure, the discipline. Obi-Wan’s movements fractured into something unpredictable, feints that led nowhere, strikes from impossible angles, pauses that baited reaction before exploding into sudden violence.
He wasn’t conserving energy anymore.
He was pressuring them. Forcing mistakes. Feeding on imbalance.
Ahsoka rose again beside Anakin, breathing hard but steady.
This time, they didn’t hold back.
Ahsoka darted in first, a blur of green, her dual blades striking in rapid succession, high, low, forcing Obi-Wan to defend on multiple fronts at once.
Anakin followed a half-beat later, heavier strikes crashing in from the side, each one meant to overwhelm, to break through.
For a moment, they had him.
Anakin tightened his grip on his saber, pressing against his master’s defence.
It was then that he found himself face to face with him.
Desperately he searched Obi-Wan’s expression, his gaze drawn again and again to those unnatural amber eyes, looking for something, anything, that might still be left of the man who had trained him, who had fought beside him for half his life.
And for the briefest instant-
Something flickered.
The amber wavered, and a trace of the calm blue he remembered broke through, faint but undeniable.
You know what must be done.
Obi-Wan leaned closer, their blades locked, his voice low and almost gentle, carrying only the faintest edge of the dark side’s venom. “If you truly want to stop this,” he murmured, letting just enough of himself bleed through, “you already know where to strike.”
The amber returned fully, burning like molten metal, swallowing the blue completely, but the seed of his message remained, planted deep within Anakin’s mind.
His eyes flicked downward for the briefest instant, drawn not to Obi-Wan’s amber gaze but to the subtle shift in his stance, the way his weight settled slightly more on one leg, the faint hitch in his movement that shouldn’t have been there, unnoticed to anyone else but painfully obvious to him.
A flash of understanding hit him. Obi-Wan’s knee. The injury he had sustained weeks ago, never fully healed before they had even boarded the ship. The leg bore the weight of every strike and parry, trembling beneath the strain of the fight.
Time seemed to slow. Every fiber of Anakin’s being screamed at him not to, warning him that crossing this line would mark something that could never be undone.
And yet… the Force whispered with precision, guiding his foot, telling him the opening was there, that the blow could be decisive, if he had the strength to follow through.
Anakin inhaled sharply, jaw tight, and drove his foot forward in a controlled, precise kick. It struck Obi-Wan’s injured knee with a sharp crack that echoed through the cockpit.
Obi-Wan’s body gave way immediately, the leg buckling beneath him. He stumbled, face contracting into a grimace of pain as he crashed to the floor. A scream tore from his throat, half in pain, half in something else, something unspoken that passed silently between them.
For a heartbeat, Anakin froze, the Force humming around him, telling him he could strike again, that he could finish this.
Anakin’s chest heaved with each breath, the cold weight of what he had just done settling heavily on his shoulders. His foot remained where it had struck, Obi-Wan sprawled on the floor, the man’s chest spasming with each breath he took.
Then, from behind him, came a soft, shocked breath.
Ahsoka’s voice cracked the silence. “Anakin…”
Her words weren’t filled with anger. No, there was something worse. He could feel her gaze burning into him, but he didn’t turn to look at her.
He couldn’t.
He had done what needed to be done.
A slow clap echoed through the cockpit from the shadows. “Beautifully done, Chosen One,” the Son drawled, voice dripping with mockery, “And here I thought you’d disappoint me.”
Anakin forced himself to turn away from Obi-Wan.
The Son had been quietly observing their fight, his presence pulsing like a predator circling its prey.
“Tell me… did that feel like victory?” he purred, his voice laced with venom. “You’ve taken down your already injured master. How noble.”
Anakin’s fist clenched tight around the hilt of his lightsaber, fury flaring inside him like wildfire. Without a word, he surged forward, blade raised to strike.
But the Son was faster, a flash of movement and he was already sidestepping Anakin’s attack with impossible speed. The strike cut through the air, missing its target by mere inches, and Anakin barely managed to regain his stance before the Son was already moving again, easily evading another strike.
The Son’s laugh echoed through the cockpit, mocking Anakin’s every move.
“You think you can defeat me?” His voice was a low, guttural growl, full of disdain.
Anakin’s chest tightened with rage as the Son continued to dance out of reach.
That’s enough.
With a scream of fury, Anakin reached out, and the Son’s body was wrenched backward, pinned to the far wall with crushing force.
The Son gasped, his hands grasping at the invisible grip of the Force that held him against the wall.
Anakin growled through clenched teeth. He moved forward, dagger in hand, prepared to strike, to drive the blade into the Son’s chest, to end this nightmare once and for all.
But then, just as he was about to bring it down-
Obi-Wan.
The Son grinned, his hands still bound by Anakin’s power, and with terrifying ease, he pulled Obi-Wan forward in a cloud of red mist, across the distance between them.
The moment slowed in Anakin’s mind.
Obi-Wan’s body collided with the dagger’s path.
The blade sunk in deep, right through his master‘s chest.
Anakin’s breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat, trapped there as if even his body refused to accept what had happened. His hand remained clenched around the hilt, fingers locked, unable to let go.
Obi-Wan swayed.
Their eyes met.
Not amber. Blue.
Clear, steady, and achingly present.
For a fleeting second, it was as though nothing else existed, not the Son, not Mortis, not the war, not the weight of everything pressing down upon them. Just that gaze, so familiar it hurt.
There was no accusation in it.
No anger.
Only a quiet understanding that cut deeper than any blade.
Obi-Wan’s lips parted, but whatever he might have said never came. Instead, his hand lifted weakly, resting for the briefest instant against Anakin’s wrist, grounding him in a way nothing else could.
Then the strength left him.
The light in his eyes dimmed, not extinguished, but slipping somewhere beyond reach as his weight gave out and he collapsed.
The dagger tore free as Anakin staggered back.
Silence followed.
Anakin stared at Obi-Wan’s motionless form.
“No…” The word came out hollow, barely more than breath.
Behind him, Ahsoka took a step forward, her voice unsteady. “Master-”
The Force answered before he did.
The air grew dense. The strange light of Mortis dimmed, shadows lengthening and stretching unnaturally across the broken ground.
Anakin did not move.
“You finally see what you are,” the Son’s voice came, softer than before, threaded with something like satisfaction. “At last.”
Anakin did not look at him. His gaze remained fixed on Obi-Wan.
“Such power,” the Son continued, circling slowly, his presence weaving through the thickening air like a shadow given thought. “But this… this was always within you.”
Monster.
The pressure increased.
Ahsoka took another step forward, her grip tightening on her sabers, though she did not ignite them.
“Anakin,” she said again, more firmly now. “Look at me.”
Slowly, his head turned.
There was no fury in his expression. No wild, uncontrolled rage.
That was what made it worse.
His eyes were distant, unfocused, as if he were looking through her rather than at her, caught between something he could not reconcile and something he could not escape.
Anakin’s knees buckled, and he fell to the floor of the cockpit, chest heaving, fingers clenching as if he could clutch the pieces of what had just happened and hold them together. The dagger slipped from his fingers, clattering across the metal, before dissolving in a flash of light.
He pressed his hands into his hair, fingers digging in sharply. A scream tore from his throat, shattering the sir around them.
The Force answered. The cockpit shook violently, panels snapping free, lights exploding, metal twisting and bending. The walls shivered, then cracked. Sparks arced through the air like lightning.
Anakin’s scream grew, a sound that carried across the planet, and the Force bent to his will.
Blue eyes haunted him, burning into the center of his mind, a ghost of Obi-Wan’s calm presence now replaced by silence.
Ahsoka cried out, but she could not reach him, could not anchor him. The power radiating from him was too great.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended. The Force recoiled. The debris collapsed. The walls straightened. The air stilled. Anakin slumped forward, chest heaving, sweat and tears mingling on his face, trembling hands resting on the floor. Around him, the shuttle was still.
Obi-Wans body had disappeared.
Ahsoka knelt beside him, hands hovering near him. The Force still hummed faintly in the background, a whisper of what he had just unleashed.
For the first time, the Son’s smile faltered and something akin to fear took its place.
Anakin’s voice cracked as he spoke. "Balance…,“ he croaked, fingers clawing at his knees, "They said I would bring balance.“ He finally looked up, to meet the Son’s gaze. “You wanted to see what I am,” he said, voice heavy. “Now you do. And I will not fail… not again.”
His hand lifted, and with it the Force obeyed.
“You… you think you can stop me?” Anakin’s voice was low, controlled, but every syllable vibrated with rage and grief. “I’ve done what needed to be done. Now we leave.”
The Son’s laughter choked, twisted into disbelief. “You dare-?”
Anakin didn’t wait. He tightened his hold, and the Son slammed down the ramp with a grunt, scrabbling futilely against Anakin’s unyielding strength.
A ripple in the Force signaled the arrival of others.
“Anakin Skywalker,” the Father’s voice rolled across the fractured landscape, calm but iron-edged. “You do not understand. You cannot leave. You have been chosen, your destiny is not your own. You are to be the next guardian… the protector of balance, for them.”
Anakin’s head lifted, blue eyes burning into the Father’s. “Destiny?” His voice dripped with contempt and fury. “My destiny was decided the moment you let them, let him, manipulate everything. I’ve fulfilled what I needed to fulfill. And now, I leave. No one tells me otherwise.”
The Daughter stepped forward, her gaze flicking between Anakin and the Son, unsure and frightened. She spoke softly, voice trembling: “Skywalker… please… you don’t have to do this. There’s still a way…”
Anakin’s gaze snapped to her, ice in his tone. “No. There’s nothing left to still do. I’ve made my choice.”
The Father’s presence pressed harder, the ground trembling beneath his will. “You cannot leave. The balance of Mortis depends on you. You are the next guardian. You are bound to this place, to them, to us!”
Anakin stepped forward.
“And what of choice?” Anakin’s voice was a whisper, cold and sharp. “What of freedom? You speak of guardianship and balance, but I have been nothing but a tool in your game.”
The Father’s eyes narrowed, the Force thrumming with intensity. “You are reckless. You will undo everything!”
Anakin’s grip tightened for a fraction, just enough to let the Son squeal in frustration, gesturing to the ship. “Then I undo it my way. Now, everyone gets out alive, or not at all. The choice is mine.”
He finally released his grip on the Son, letting him collapse against the ground.
Anakin didn’t look back.
He turned and strode up the ramp, each step deliberate. “Come, Ahsoka,” he said, his voice steady. “It’s time to leave.”
Ahsoka hesitated only a fraction before following, her presence close behind him as they entered the shuttle.
Anakin slid into the pilot’s seat without another word, hands already moving over the controls. The motions were precise, automatic, something to focus on, something that didn’t feel.
The engines hummed to life beneath them, low and steady. The shuttle lifted, rising from the fractured surface of Mortis as though nothing had happened.
Silence filled the cockpit.
Anakin guided them upward through the strange, shifting atmosphere, his expression unreadable, eyes fixed ahead. He could feel Ahsoka watching him, the weight of her questions pressing against his back.
He couldn’t answer them.
Mortis fell away beneath them, its impossible landscape shrinking into the distance as they broke through into open space.
For a single, fragile moment, there was nothing.
But then, a flash of blinding light.
A white flash swallowed the shuttle.
Anakin’s hands tightened on the controls… and then there was nothing.
He came to on the deck of the ship, breath coming fast, body slick with sweat. The familiar confines of the cockpit surrounded him, untouched, undamaged.
Ahsoka was behind him, pushing herself upright, disoriented but alive.
Beside him…
Obi-Wan.
Uninjured. Alive.
His eyes met Anakin’s.
Blue.
But filled with something new.
Something that hadn’t been there before.