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If someone had asked him what his life was, he would have answered without a doubt. One single word would have left his lips. One word to summarize the twisted path his life was. One word to say it all.
“Anakin.”
A single name that carried a million unsaid words, a million unspoken promises. A single name to represent his very own galaxy, the center of his universe. A single name he said a billion times, in every way possible. A single name that carried his heart. A single name for him.
Things had not been simple right from the start. Obi-wan had long been incapable of understanding why Fate had put them on the same path. Even when his Master claimed Anakin was the Chosen-one, he just couldn’t see it. Why make them both walk together? It took him years to stop asking himself what kind of twisted game the Force was playing to always bring them back together.
They’ve walked miles and miles side by side. As Padawan and Master, between yelling and ununderstanding, between headaches and small apologizes; they kept going in the same direction, dragging the other along the way. Many believed their duo could only blow up right in the middle of the sky, making the Order lose two valuable Jedi. They proved them all wrong and, soon enough, laughs could be heard when they shared spaces. If only it could have lasted.
The Clone War blew up and threw them both in separate ways. Sitting on one of the High Council’s seats, Obi-wan could only remain silent as he watched Anakin make his way as a newly named knight. He thought it might be the end, that he had done his part, that it was all over. He had long admitted he was only a drop in Anakin’s path, just another name to help him reach his destiny. This said, he found it just as hard to look at his former Padawan going on without him.
Fate played tricky games and, even when everything seemed to set them apart, they found their way back to each other.
“Where there is Kenobi, you will always find Skywalker not far behind.”
Obi-wan always hated this statement: as if Anakin was following him; as if he wasn’t the one running after the young Jedi; as if he wasn’t the drop in the other’s life. Yet, it was true. Wherever he was, Anakin was… and wherever Anakin was, he was. Even with Ahsoka by their side, the unique dynamic they shared didn’t change.
Sure it was making a lot of people unhappy. Many times, unpossible questions were asked to him. Each time he brushed them away, silencing the complaints and worries with a shrug of his shoulders. Each time he pretended it was only a coincidence, that they were imagining things. Obi-wan knew better than to lie to the High Council, but the truth was his and only: he was following Anakin, unable to let go of him; unable to forget the brightness of his smiles, the blue of his eyes, the song of his laughs; unable to live without the sun the young Jedi was by his side.
These words never left the border of his mind. Not even when they were burning his throat, not even when it seemed like the Force itself was trying to take them out of him, he kept them locked inside a box in his head. He just couldn’t do this, not to him, not to Anakin. So he kept them all, being content with whatever the young Jedi gave him.
Even to him, these words didn’t reveal their true meaning. Not until this mission, one year into the war.
It should have been nothing. It should have been easy.
“Like taking clams from a Gungan,” Anakin had said.
The 501st had been sent to destroy a Separatists’ outpost on a moon. From the little they had, it was poorly guarded, not even containing any information that could help them win the war. The real issue came to its position, too close to Coruscant for the Republic’s liking.
Obi-wan had long learnt that, when Anakin was involved, nothing was easy. Though this time, he would have rather not have a reminder of this. He would have rather never faced Jesse’s hologram announcing to the High Council that his General, Commander, Captain and twenty clones accompanying them had disappeared during the mission, nor that the entire legion had suffered a great loss. He would have rather never felt his heart sink that slowly, his stomach flipping over and over again until he almost threw up on Master Windu’s shoes.
Jesse’s words still echoed in his mind: their information was wrong, the outpost was probably one of the most heavily guarded ones they’ve seen, with about a thousand droids waiting for them. The whole thing was a trap and Anakin had run right into it. No one knew what had happened to them; no one knew where they were; no one knew if they were still alive.
Jesse had almost begged the Council to allow the remaining Clones to stay longer to look for them, but the number of dead and wounded was playing against them: the 501st received the order to pack everything up and jump to the closest Medical Station. This would take them two days and it was the only window Jesse had.
Obi-wan could still feel his heart speeding up when he thought about that meeting, the fear he had felt still clear in his body.
He tried his best to not let it appear in front of any other Master, well-knowing he would be incapable of answering their questions. He wanted to yell at them, beg them to give the order to wait: he refused to abandon Anakin. No matter how much he wanted to speak up, he remained silent, taking upon himself to not break down in front of them.
During the time Anakin was his Padawan, the thought had several times crossed his mind: what would happen if the young Jedi was to die? What if he couldn’t protect him? What if he failed? What if he lost him, as he had lost his Master? Obi-wan had never been brave enough to look for an answer, always pushing these questions away, refusing to imagine what the Temple would look like without Anakin jumping next to him. Even when all they shared were headaches and yellings, he couldn’t see himself without the young Jedi.
A bunch of years later, sitting in the Jedi High Council’s room, the thought of losing him was unbearable. It was even worse when Jesse’s hologram disappeared and they moved to another topic. He just couldn’t do it: care about another problem when Anakin was missing, probably dead on some foreign moon, and would never come back to him.
His ears were buzzing when he walked out of the room, about what felt like a thousand years later. His feet dragged him back to his chambers as his heart sank deeper and deeper. He stared at his ceiling for the whole night, and all the nights after.
They heard back from the 501st only four days later: Jesse had decided to defy the Council’s order, claiming that he knew they were still alive somewhere. To say that the High Council wasn’t happy was an euphemism, but they calmed down when the trooper announced he had found them: they were wounded, but alive. It wasn't yet enough to bring relief to Obi-wan, but it was better than nothing.
The 501st returned a week later, after a stop by a Medical Station, ready to face consequences that never came -the High Council deciding to close its eyes toward Jesse’s insubordination, knowing better than to punish a man for his faith in his General.
Obi-wan had run into the corridors like he had never before when he heard the news. Master Plo Koon was the one who casually mentioned to him the return of the legion and it had been hard to not raise any suspicion, to not start running the second the words reached his ears. He still remembered how his heart jumped inside his chest, begging him to forget everything and reach the hangar as fast as possible; to reach Anakin as fast as possible.
He found Ahsoka first and his guts twisted as he noticed the bandages on her arms and how she seemed to walk with pain. Her bright smile brough comfort in his veins and he didn’t resist squeezing her unharmed left shoulder, telling her how glad he was to see her again.
“My Master is just behind, with Rex.”
For a second, all relief left his body. His heart dropped with fear: had he been too obvious? Had his misplaced concern appeared on his face? What was she going to say? But Ahsoka only saw in whatever bound her Master and his former one a deep friendship, based on mutual respect. She laughed in front of him, taking away all his fears.
Obi-wan left her to look for her Master, trying as best as possible to keep his steps steady and controlled. His heart was jumping below his rib cage as he finally noticed this shape he knew by heart. With each step he made in his direction, he felt like he was falling, floating toward him. His heartbeat was deafening him, making him feel dizzy. It all stopped when Anakin turned to face him, one of his bright smiles painted on his face.
In the end, he was just a man. Against everything he had ever learnt and tried to pass onto his Padawan, Obi-wan took the two biggest strides of his life and wrapped his arms around Anakin with force, making him take one step back. For the very first time, he held him close to him and begged him.
“Please, please… Don’t ever do this to me again.”
For answer, the young Jedi closed his arms around him and nodded in his neck. Relief flooded in Obi-wan’s veins, finally bringing peace inside his muscles and bones, inside every fiber of his being. Maybe for the first time, he found a place where he felt truly safe, where he wanted to come back over and over again. He had found his home between Anakin’s arms and the words finally made sense to him.
All these unsaid thoughts, all these secrets he owned, all these images, all these dreams finally appeared clearly in front of his eyes. So clear that he almost spilled the last words that made him who he was.
“I love you.”
Unlike what most people believed, Jedi could love even romantically. When he was only a youngling, Obi-wan had learnt that being in love wasn’t an issue. What the Order forbade and did its best to fight was attachment. They were taught not to suppress their emotion as it could be believed, but to not be devoured by them, to not be enslaved by them.
With time passing by, Jedi growing up and others falling down, the vision of the Order slightly changed. When he became a Padawan, the view on love was different: if it wasn’t forbidden, the Council looked unfavorably on romantic relationships. With months running, what was first something unadvised, became forbidden. If it was impossible to forbid love to beings meant to be compassionate, the Council refused to hear about romantic relationships, let alone between two members of the Order. Not everyone agreed with this, but the High Council’s voice was law in the Temple.
Pressed against Anakin’s body, his arms wrapped around him, Obi-wan realized he wasn’t the perfect Jedi he tried to be. It wasn’t the first time he came to that conclusion, but, engulfed in the young Jedi heat, he could only think that, if he had been able to let go of Satine, he would not even try to let go of Anakin: what was the point of trying to do something he couldn’t success; something that would only leave him broken on the side?
Their hug lasted for too long, until Captain Rex was forced to clear his throat to call for his General’s attention. Many in the hangar had seen them and stopped for a second or two, wondering why. Everyone in the Temple and around the Jedi knew the unbreakable friendship uniting the two Jedi. Yet, it was the very first time their common affection was displayed for all to see, in a way slightly more straightforward than their usual banters.
Unlike what was claimed all over the Holonet, Obi-wan wasn’t the brave man people thought he was. After this unusual hug, he had left with barely another word, running from the young Jedi as much as he was running from his own feelings that were blowing up at his face. Because he was a greater coward than what people gave him credit for, he never managed to build the courage to talk about this with Anakin.
His eyes taking in the superb sight of the setting sun on Coruscant, he felt bitter. No one could say what would have happened if he had faced his feelings aloud, but he couldn’t help thinking his silence had been the worst decision. He was now meant to live with this regret… and it was consuming him. Every day and night, it was the only thing he could think about. He wanted to hit his head against everywall until the voices in his mind stopped yelling; he wanted to be brave; he wanted to try again; he wanted a second chance.
A soft wind was slowly disturbing his hair, bringing with it a peace. Standing on the Temple’s roof, most of the sounds coming from below him couldn’t reach him. Even the ships high above his head seemed to be more quiet. He was all alone, standing above the endless city, with only the last sun rays to try to warm his heart. The sky was painted with dusk’s palette, bringing a soft fire to the scenery. Yet, it didn’t reach Obi-wan. All warmth had left his body, the stone in his chest colder than Hott’s winters, his bones forever made of ice.
It had happened too fast.
One day, they were fighting above Coruscant. One day, they were finally able to capture Count Dooku. One day, they finally had the chance to end the war. The end of the tunnel was right before their eyes.
Discovering the real identity of the Sith Lord Darth Sidious shaked the Republic to its core. The war they have been waging for three long years was the doing of one and only man. A man at the head of the Republic; at the head of the Separatist; the last Sith Lord still free.
Striking him down had been hard; because he was someone they all knew; because they all had given him their trust; because it seemed impossible they had been this blind; because he seemed unstoppable; because he was powerful. Many lives were lost in the fight even if Dooku’s revelations probably saved the whole Order, but, after showing all the brightness of his training, after proving to all the skeptics he was the Chosen-One, Anakin had ended the Sith’s life; had ended the war.
The dark days of the Clone War were behind them; the fear of the Sith faded; peace was right in front of them.
Fate played a twisted game and it had taken only one last mission for the dream to fall apart for Obi-wan.
It all had happened only a year before.
Even if the death of Palpatine had brought the war to its end, remains of the Separatists still fought in different places of the Galaxy. For what they all thought would be the last -at worst- year of fighting, Jedi and Clones crossed the remaining parsecs to wipe out what was left of this threat as the Republic tried to not fall apart.
For what they expected to be the last time, the 212th and 501th were sent side by side to Geonosis, which was the last Separatists bastion refusing to bend the knee, to abandon the war, to surrender. To be again on this dirty sand wasn’t what either Obi-wan or Anakin wanted, but the end was so near they didn’t even complain. The light was so close to them.
The remaining droids still fighting there formed an army as big as the first time they discovered the place, forcing all of them into a long and exhausting fight. Between blaster shots and lightsabers roars, they all kept in mind that it was the last line, the last ordeal, the last step to climb before reaching the light. More fiercely than ever, they all kept on fighting and fighting for endless hours.
They were on the verge of victory when Obi-wan’s dreams fell apart. He almost touched them with the tip of his fingers when they vanished. It was dusk when Ahsoka’s voice echoed through the battlefield, freezing him to the marrow.
“Master!”
The Force stilled around him, engulfing him in a bubble in which nothing could enter, filled only with the infernal rhythm of his heart. Forgetting about his title, about the men he was leading and supposed to protect, about everything he had ever learnt, he raced toward Ahsoka, begging any God willing to hear him to have mercy. His hopes were crushed when he joined her and saw her broken face bent over a stilled figure.
He hated it, at that moment, how easy for him it was to recognize Anakin’s shape; how he knew his features like the back of his hand; how he could have seen him even in the darkest nights.
For the first time in his life, Obi-wan Kenobi fell to his knees, the weight of his heart crushing him. Coldness made its way into his limbs as he brought his hand to Anakin’s cheek, as he could see the veil already spreading in the sky-like eyes.
“Anakin… please… stay with me, please. I can’t do it without you…”
He had seen the wounds, the blaster shoots that had pierced his chest, that had burned his skin, that had destroyed his organs, but he refused to see the truth. The red around Anakin’s mouth as he tried to spat blood still haunted his nightmares, the quiet sobs of Ahsoka in the background.
They have been so close to the light. They have been so close to the good ending.
The Force played a cursed game, but the pawns were the ones accursed. Obi-wan had learnt this lesson the hard way, after losing over and over again whoever he had cared about.
“I love you.”
The words left him with a violent sob, as a prayer to ask him to stay by his side. There was nothing to pray for, no deity to turn to, no one to call for help, nothing to do, but this truth was unbearable for Obi-wan.
His eyes were filled with water, tears endlessly running on his cheeks when Anakin brought a hand to his face. He only managed to brush the beard with the tip of his left flesh fingers before the limb fell back to the sand to never raise again, a calm smile forever carved on his face.
His words would forever remain unanswered.
Obi-wan felt it to his core, the disappearance of Anakin’s light, the sudden emptiness where his Force signature should have echoed. The void that suddenly grew inside his chest was big enough to swallow the whole Galaxy, but it was carefully pressed inside his body. Even if the sensation was overwhelming, threatening to consume him all, its center was right between his ribs, not even bigger than a fist.
Jedi were taught to always remain in control of their emotions. It didn’t mean they had to suppress them, quit the opposite: they had to feel them, acknowledge them, accept and understand them. What they couldn’t do was to let their emotions rule them. They were allowed to feel the pain, but they had to let it go. It was written nowhere how long grief was supposed to last, how long the sorrow remained in the chests, but Obi-wan knew that even a thousand years would not erase the suffering.
As he held Anakin close to his heart, he felt his soul being torn apart, his heart turning to ashes, his throat breaking as he yelled with a broken voice that gave goosebumps to all troopers around. They all knew better than to stand in his way after he had found the strength to go back on his feet.
Jedi didn’t seek revenge. It was a notion deeply fixed inside the whole training a Jedi would go through. It was carved on each step they could make: revenge was not the Jedi way. Yet, armed with two lightsabers, his life and the one of his everything, Obi-wan ran after his revenge, cutting into pieces every droid that dared appear in front of his eyes. It would have not been for the troopers’ good sense to stay away from him, he would have probably killed them too. With rage burning inside his every cell, he destroyed whatever was left of the Separatists on Geonosis.
This was how the Clone War truly ended: with the death of a hero and the downfall of another one.
Obi-wan couldn’t remember anything from the trip back to Coruscant: one second he was standing on a seemingly endless heap of broken droids; the next one, he was standing in the middle of the Jedi High Council’s room, listening to the other Masters deciding his fate. With despair freezing his bones and his rank of Master ripped from him, he had left the room without a word. He started haunting the Temple, appearing only when the sun was set, never for too long, always silent, always carrying two lightsabers on his belt.
There was a belief that stated time erased all pain. Obi-wan knew it wasn’t true: in one whole year, his pain had not diminished; it was just as strong, just as vivid, just as suffocating.
The wind had increased as he stood on the ledge of the roof, making a mess of his hair. The sun had almost disappeared from the sky, leaving only orange trails behind it.
Obi-wan had long come to terms with the fact he was only a drop in Anakin’s life. He could have not been more wrong. When he looked back at it, it seemed obvious to him how their lives were interconnected, how they were the brightest when they stood side by side, how they had a meaning when they were together.
Anakin had a destiny carved in stone and Obi-wan had helped him achieve it. Sadly, along the way, he forgot he had a destiny too. His own wasn’t filled with honor and cheers; it wasn’t the kind people would still talk about in a hundred years; it would not change the course of the whole Galaxy. His own was more simple and could hold in one name.
“Anakin.”
He was his destiny. The Force, or Fate, or whatever people called it, always brought them back together, but Obi-wan had been blind. Unable to see what was right before his eyes, he had lost the only person he belonged with, the only place he could call a home, the only one he’d always love.
A whole year had just passed. One year since the last fight. One year since the death of the Fearless Hero of the Clone War. One year feeling like a ghost in the place he should feel at home, with the people he should call his family. One year without having him by his side. One year without his stupid pieces of droid scattered on his chambers’ ground. Without his jokes. Without his laughs. Without his bright eyes.
One year without Anakin Skywalker.
Crying wasn’t very Jedi-like, but Obi-wan couldn’t care less. He had managed to go through three hundred and sixty five days without him, without breaking down in the corridors, without throwing himself from the nearest window. With each day passing by, his burden only became heavier and heavier on his shoulders, making it harder and harder to simply live.
He missed him, more than he thought it was possible to miss someone. Not a day had passed without Anakin’s image crossing his mind, haunting his dreams with millions of ‘what if’. He needed him by his side, he needed to see him again.
Standing on top of the Temple’s roof, his burden seemed suddenly lighter. The pressure on his shoulders had slowly vanished with the wind. Only the neverending void between his ribs remained, devouring whatever was left of him, feasting on the remaining pieces of his heart, gnawing on his bones until only the ice was left.
The sun finally disappeared, bringing an end to another endless day without the warmth of Anakin to save Obi-wan. It was the start of another white night, but he already had made up his mind: never again would he stare at his ceiling for hours and hours; never again would he allow himself to cry until he passed out; never again would he let the loneliness choke him.
Jedi were seen as some sort of heroes all across the Galaxy, and this even if a Sith Lord had somehow been pulling their strings for several years. Children were fascinated by stories of their bravery, of their strength, of the mystical powers they seemed to have.
They could levitate objects.
They could trick minds.
They could tame wild beasts.
But there were also many things they couldn’t do.
They couldn’t seek revenge, not even when they’ve suffered terrible loss.
They couldn’t love, not even when they were craving it.
They couldn’t fly, not even when falling from the Temple’s roof.