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In the rough, warm sands of the desert mountains, Anakin sat in silence. His eyes closed, it was as though by the force he could sense every last stone, every hint of movement by some desert slug, every pitiful breeze that managed to gain enough traction to tousle the otherwise barren, unmoving landscape. It filled him with a silent, barely tolerable disdain.
He hated the desert. He always had. It brought to him memories filled with pain, with degradation, and with suffering. His mother pushed to her knees before a leering slave trader, hands clutching fistfuls of dead, hopeless sand- his own body thrown back into a canyon wall, a figure twice his size ransacking his pockets for any loose change or pieces of scrap worth tearing from his person, before kicking him in the leg and sending him to the ground- it was considered a mercy that his leg hadn’t been broken.
Mercy. A voice, his but strained, vicious, resentful sneered. No mercy has ever been found here.
He feels his rage so distinctly- it pumps hot, red blood through his heart, pricks at the back of his neck, tightens the hinges of his jaw until his teeth feel as though they will give way from the pressure. He inhales, and the air he breathes is heady and poisonous, taints his blood and makes it toxic, makes his temples ache and his back stiffen. He blows out air through his nostrils heavily and forcefully, as though he were a panting bull rancor. The feeling is terrible and wonderful, as though he is giving in to every base desire, every part of him that wants to tear himself apart.
The dark side does not open its arms to him- it consumes him, flesh and all.
Resist. A voice urges, haughty but caring, the voice of a father, the voice of a mentor. Anakin cannot help but listen.
Resist, Anakin. Remember.
As though on command, thoughts drenched in shadow are tossed away, forgotten- but not lost.
Instead, images- brief, but welcome flit behind Anakin Skywalker’s shadowy lids.
Dark curls in braids woven with stars, a hand that embraces his own lovingly- devotedly, a voice that promises to never let go. The eyes of someone he remembers, someone he loves- a small hand that reaches to him for comfort, for reassurance in the dark where there are no storms, only nightmares, only more darkness. A voice asks him to be held, it murmurs quietly and asks for stories with a voice that yearns for hope- the hand that embodies this voice holds onto his own in a steel-like grip, begs never to be let go.
The hands of these people grab onto Anakin, pull him away from the dark and into the light…
Within moments Anakin is gasping, eyes flying open as he heaves forward- bile rising to his throat as he sputters, as though he was pulled from the deep trenches of the sea. He takes breath after breath, longing for air, even the dry, unforgivingly blistering heat of the desert. The air is even thinner in the mountains and Anakin barely manages to take in enough air to stable himself. When he does, his head aches, and he yearns for home.
Anakin remains sitting for a moment, wiping the spit from his chin and wiping traces of sand away from his cheeks after having leant his face so close to the desert floor. His eyes narrow over the desert view, endless miles of sand and vague, hazy shapes of white mountains on the horizon, made hazier by the heat waves that make the air move and shimmer under the light of the late afternoon sun. He feels an ache so distinct he can barely withhold the groan that just escapes his crackled, parted lips.
He yearns for that hand within his own again, yearns for the cool, sweet breeze that once was like a balm upon his soul, made the heat and the pain and the fear seem miles away, like some distant dream.
Now she was the dream. Scattered like dust at just the lightest touch. He never dared to reach a hand out to her again.
Anakin pulled his bag up and around his shoulders, across his firm, muscled back that stretched the width of an Endor tree. He felt the burden of his past heavier than he felt his bag than he felt any work that he hoisted upon himself. This was a nearly inescapable burden.
Carefully, deftly, he climbed down the treacherous slopes of the mountain, avoided poisonous creatures, made quick work of his climb and of his walk back to where he had hidden his cruiser. The old sand trap barely glinted the silver finish that it was, he wondered at how it still even worked as he climbed in and set off.
As he jetted across the desert, Anakin was aware of the time of the day, how the suns were beginning to set, how he was expected at home.
He sped across the sand, the arid heat whipping around his face, pulling back his long, tangled hair, sent flicks of sand past his cheeks. The dual suns were glowing a fiery, molten red, their orange beams hitting his eyes and making him squint against their fierce rays. Anakin closed his eyes tiredly, he wanted nothing else than to rest.
He allowed the force to guide him as his eyes remained gently closed, almost peacefully as he raced against the sun. He had brief flickers, memories of pod-racing as a child, his first time piloting a real flighter, his cruises through the towering skyscrapers of Coruscant. These memories were pleasant, calming.
He landed and parked his cruiser by the fence of the farm, chaining it up so as to make sure Sand people wouldn’t steal it in the night. If they didn’t have the sense not to go after something of his, which they didn’t.
He walked up slowly, quietly to the front door, hoping to have a few moments more to collect himself before…
Too late.
The rustling of the door was as audible as the muffled voices behind it.
A small smile graced his usually torn, dour expression. The door finally was managed open with teamwork and a strong command to move it by a small but forceful voice.
In a second Anakin had both his children up and resting in his arms, their chattering voices and yearning eyes pulling him from his internal world of push and pull with the dark side into the warmth and light of life- his life, for better or for worse.
He carried his children through the door and settled in his chair in the corner of their living quarters, the warm glow of lights inlaid within the walls welcoming him as much as his children and the promise of rest- well, as much as he could get. He sat both children down on either side of him and began to unlace his boots, for a moment not realizing that Leia had in the meantime managed to grab his belt and bag and hang it on the hooks beside the door- standing on her tip toes to reach, while Luke began to unlace Anakin’s other boot with clumsy fingers, his devotion to the task overcoming his fledgling fine motor skills.
Better, Anakin thought to himself as he struggled to keep the strong surge of emotion he suddenly felt from showing on his face. There was a wetness to his eyes though that he could not stop but he could at least keep in check.
He helped Luke with the last bit of lacing and set his boots aside before quickly pulling him up for a quick hug, the small boy's hands clasping either side of his neck and his duckling-soft blond hair brushing against his cheek. Now he was truly struggling not to cry.
Suddenly there was a sharp tug on his shirt sleeve, he looked up to see a petulant Leia looking both jealous and deserving. He gave a huff of laughter and reached out for her to sit on his lap, simultaneously pulling Luke gently away from his neck to allow for both children to sit on his knees. He gave Leia a kiss on the forehead, her brown curls reminding him so much of her’s that it made his chest ache.
“Has your Aunt Beru finished with dinner yet?” He asked, reminded suddenly of his hunger. He hadn’t eaten since midday and the sun was now set.
Leia shook her head, her face incredulous. “She said she would be done by the time you got home, but last I checked she was just putting bantha in the cooker.”
“When was last you checked?”
“Ten minutes ago,” she said matter of factly.
Anakin sighed and shut his eyes tiredly. Figures.
Within a moment he set both children down on their feet and began to make his way towards the kitchen.
“Dad! Ben said he wanted to talk to you when you got home,” Luke said suddenly, as though just remembering.
Anakin turned, meanwhile, Leia said haughtily,
“No way, Ben would have told me if he wanted to talk to dad and he didn’t say anything to me.”
“Ben tells me stuff! He tells me lots of things,” Luke said, although his argument was rather limp.
Leia looked unconvinced. Regardless, Anakin doubted Luke would make up something like this and he suspected that he knew what Obi- or Ben wanted to talk to him about.
“Let me know when dinner is ready, okay?” He asked both children, both nodding dutifully before he pulled on another pair of boots and walked out the door.
Anakin crossed the twenty or so paces to one of the huts nearby the farm, there was no glow of fire within it yet when he closed his eyes he could still feel his presence, which told him that Obi-wan was likely somewhere nearby, waiting for him. He moved towards the pull of another force user, Tatooine’s trio of moons full in the sky and casting a bright blue glow over the cooling desert, the heat now sinking into the dirt to warm the thousands of life forms clinging to the warmth and safety below ground. Sometimes, he wished he could be one of them- sometimes, the very touch of sand or dirt made him feel like he was being buried by the desert. Perhaps he deserved to be.
Circling 'round the other side of the hut is where he found Obi-wan sat on the desert floor, his back pin-straight against the side of the hut, just barely touching the wall, his eyes closed but searching and his face passive, serene. How he managed it was a mystery to Anakin.
“Search the stars as much as you want- you’ll only find yourself sorely disappointed. Believe me,” Anakin said, breaking the silence.
The serene expression quickly melted from Obi-wan’s face, replaced by one of mild irritation. His eyes remained closed.
“You may have lost faith, Anakin. But as long as I remain open to the force, it will not withhold itself from me,” he said, all proverbial wisdom.
Anakin scoffed, “I open myself to the force, I find death, destruction, darkness…” he trailed off, overcome by the truth of this statement. He had tried- many times. It was as though he had cast himself in proverbial darkness that day, and now all light was being withheld from him.
Now Obi-wan opened his eyes, his expression sympathetic, although Anakin was not looking at him. “There is equal darkness to match the light- balance… balance is the only way.”
“That was not the way I was taught- not by you, “Anakin was quick to shoot back, his eyes piercing through Obi-wan. Even in the dark, the fierceness of their color, the absorption of their gaze was unparalleled. All he saw in his old apprentice’s eyes was pain.
Familiar guilt, the feeling of responsibility for all the suffering, all the pain fell upon Obi-wan at once and he could not help but look away. He stood his ground though.
“I was taught- just as you were, by an institution which sought peace at any cost, even if that cost was freedom. My mentor tried to teach me another way, an older way, a truthful way- and had he lived, he would have continued to teach me- and perhaps I would have learned in time,” Obi-wan looked back at Anakin, searching for understanding, he found an impassive wall, a stony gaze set in its resolve, he sighed. “We cannot change the past Anakin, we can only learn from it.”
“I’ve learned that men have no business playing with the forces of the universe,” Anakin said with conviction.
“You don’t believe that,” Obi-wan looked Anakin square in the eye, “I feel your presence out there, searching for the truth. Looking for answers beyond our own meager understanding.”
Anakin did not say a word.
“How can light prevail when darkness, again and again, overwhelms it? How can you promise hope to your daughter when every moment of goodness is under threat of looming evil? Ready to strike at any moment?” Obi-wan stood up, his voice compelling and his eyes emboldened by an inner fire.
“Balance,” he spoke, barely above a whisper. “Where light meets dark, where evil is forgiven, where goodness strives… I’ve learned this, Anakin. How this balance is achieved. I want to teach it to you.”
Anakin pulled away immediately, his face molding into a sneer. “I’m done with your teachings. They have brought me nothing but pain.”
Obi-wan was overcome by frustration, “You cannot live in the past Anakin, you cannot let your fear of it control you any longer.”
There was a sudden tremor beneath Obi-wan’s feet and he looked up to see Anakin’s back tensed, his fists clenched, and the ground around his feet beginning to crack and splinter. Dangerously so.
“Anakin!” Obi-wan shouted, his eyes moving from his friend to the farm.
“Anakin! Please- think of the children.”
Within an instant, the tremors stopped, and the earth ceased to split. Obi-wan sighed, looking at Anakin, his posture still strained. He was tired of assuaging Anakin’s anger. He was tired, yes… but his sympathy for Anakin, for the man who stopped when he could have left the world on fire in his wake, that sustained him.
“Your children, Anakin, her children,” he saw Anakin flinch, “They deserve to live in a better world, a better world than the one we left in cinders. It’s all she ever wanted, Anakin. It’s all she hoped for.”
The air between them was deathly still. There was no sign of what would occur next, whether Anakin would move to understand or to strike. Obi-wan waited with bated breath.
The silence was shattered by the sudden cries of two small voices, heralding dinnertime.
Obi-wan saw an immediate release of tension within Anakin. He turned back to Obi-wan, his eyes guarded but thoughtful, considering.
“I’ll hear what you have to say tomorrow, in the evening.”
Obi-wan nodded and watched as Anakin walked back to the farm, his gait purposeful. There was nothing that drove Anakin now more than his children. They were the last pieces of Padme he had left.
They were the last pieces of his goodness, and he clung to them.