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Screams. Nothing but screams. Obi-Wan could barely move as he listened to them. They were the screams of the dying, the screams of those in terror, screams of pain, and loss, and darkness.
His vision swirled in front of him whilst aboard Padmé’s ship, and it was as if he wasn’t there anymore. Everything in his body felt wrong . It hurt, and nausea swished in his stomach, leaving him weak, and shaky.
He felt too hot. He felt too cold. His clammy skin was beading with sweat.
There was the white of the escape pod he hid in all around him, but it meant virtually nothing.
The Force was screaming.
Master Aayla Secura was blasted down, over and over again, just to make sure she was dead, a violence that was impossible to stomach.
Master Ki Adi Mundi had managed to deflect some of the shots from the clone troopers, but there had been too many.
Master Plo Koon. Shot down.
Mace Windu. Dead.
Kit Fisto. Dead.
So many. So many.
All those younglings…
Dead. Gone.
His heart was in his throat as he sensed Ahsoka being fired upon by Captain Rex. It was much too like when Cody had ordered Obi-Wan’s death.
Why?
He knew it was the Sith Lord, but it was too much to bear. The screams through the Force left him on his knees, one hand holding onto the seat to try and remain from falling face-first into the floor.
Screams, screams, screams.
The Republic had fallen.
The Sith had won. And Anakin. Obi-Wan felt his screams too; his pain, his fear, his anger. He was hurting, but there was nothing to be done. He had added to those screams. He had aided in all of this, and as the screaming around him turned to a high-pitched wail, more more death and pain becoming rife throughout the galaxy, Obi-Wan knew that there was nothing to be done for his friend, his brother.
All was surely over.
A deeper scream sounded through the Force, piercing Obi-Wan, and for a moment, he feared it, and for a moment, he craved it. The possibility of his death lived within the very Force, and oh, wouldn’t it be splendid to just let go?
But he couldn’t. He had a Code, and oaths, and there was so much he believed in.
Yet it was as if the whole galaxy was dying, all the suffering coming together in one final shriek. Obi-Wan couldn’t stop it. He was nothing against such darkness. The Sith had already won. But he could save Padmé, and do what he could to protect those who remained. He could fight, as he had done these last years. And he would fight, and he would fight, and he would fight.
The screams didn’t end, yet he was able to pick himself back up. He pushed his sweaty hair back from his face, and took deep breaths. But he couldn’t block it out, couldn’t block out any of the pain that pierced him again and again. So he breathed with it, until, perhaps, his breaths joined that shrill, keening, never-ending sound of suffering.
The Jedi had fallen, yet, there was still one last thing for Obi-Wan to do.
Anakin, I’m sorry.
Anakin’s screams joined all the rest, and Obi-Wan didn’t know if they were from the past, present, or future. There was just pain.
I loved you.