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“Master.”
Obi-Wan jolted a little at hearing the familiar voice from behind him.
“Anakin?” he wondered. “Well, what a surprise.”
There was a smile in Anakin’s voice as he replied, “A good surprise, I hope.”
Turning around, Obi-Wan was greeted with a friendly, albeit slightly lined face, and blue eyes he knew all too well. Vaguely, he noted that his former padawan had finally fixed his posture - Anakin always tended to slump quite a bit.
“A visit from a friend is always a good surprise.”
The two shook hands, one flesh, and one leather-covered durasteel.
“And how is Padmé?” Obi-Wan asked, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
Anakin sighed. “Busy as ever with the re-election campaign, of course. The work of the Senate leaves time for no one, not even our children.” A beat of silence, as Anakin fidgeted with his leather glove. He bowed his head a little, and the atmosphere turned solemn.
“Master, we can’t thank you enough for watching over him while we’re away.” he said quietly.
Obi-Wan blinked in confusion, before realising who Anakin was talking about. “I…yes, of course.”
Anakin looked round, adding, “Where is he, anyways? I’d love to see him.”
Tension filled the air.
“He’s…he’s safe.” came the murmur.
Frowning, Anakin said, “Well, I should hope so…but where is he?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, his heart pounding. He could feel a cold sweat break out from beneath his collar.
“I don’t kn- I’m not supposed to…” he trailed off, his usually calm and smooth voice faltering under Anakin’s suddenly golden gaze.
“‘Not supposed to’?? Not supposed to what? Tell me where my own son is?” Anakin snapped, the warmth that had been radiating from his presence suddenly gone.
Letting out a shaky breath, Obi-Wan said, “This…this isn’t right…”
“I agree. It isn’t right to keep a father from his child.”
Anakin took menacing steps forward, just as Obi-Wan started to back away. “So, I’ll ask you again. Where. Is. He?”
A painfully tight durasteel grip latched onto Obi-Wan’s wrist, a far cry from the gentle handshake from earlier.
“Anakin-”
“ Where is he? ” he hissed.
As Obi-Wan continued to refuse to answer, Anakin’s face morphed into a twisted version of itself, the smirk too large to be friendly, too cold to be inviting.
“I see…you wish to keep him hidden from me. Is that it?”
Flames began to rise behind Anakin’s towering frame.
“You wish to… protect him?”
The flames began to lick at his stony face, his curly blond hair sizzling in the orange fire.
Hold on, where did the fire come from? Why were they back on Mustafar? God, Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to erase that wretched day from his memory - it had imprinted into his amygdala like the heat of that horrible lava had burned on his skin. All he wanted was to forget, or otherwise, to go back and fix everything he had possibly done wrong to save Anakin, to keep him from falling-
“You CANNOT save him, Obi-Wan. You will fail him.”
His voice echoed, turning into a horrible rasp, filled with hatred, piercing Obi-Wan’s ears as he stared in horror at the abomination his former padawan had turned into.
“ You will fail him…JUST AS YOU FAILED ME…”
By this point, Anakin’s face was unrecognisable, charred down to the bone, his robes tattered and ablaze and sticking to his body. Unintelligible, pained screams that vaguely resembled words poured out of his disfigured mouth as the eyes of the Sith drilled into Obi-Wan’s broken soul, cursing his existence, his failures, his weakness. His jaw was shrivelled and horribly skull-like as his cheeks withered away, and the durasteel hand that gripped Obi-Wan’s wrist was hot, so unbearably hot.
Yes…he was back on Mustafar, his poor, fallen padawan with sickly yellow eyes screaming those words: I hate you .
Oh, the regret, the pain, the remorse, at seeing Anakin, his lively, passionate brother, now claw desperately at the searing hot bank of a river of molten rock, to no avail, as he continued to slip ever closer to that deadly orange lava. Those terrible cries that had ripped from his scorched throat as the fire slowly engulfed his writhing, thrashing body - or, what was left of it.
No. Obi-Wan couldn’t be here. He couldn’t do this, not again.
Reaching out a desperate hand, he called upon the Force.
He could feel his lightsaber flying towards him, and as he pressed the button…
He awoke with a yell, cold sweat covering his torso and sticking to his coarse sheets.
Blue light, he thought, blinking his damp hair out of his eyes, where was it coming from ?
Shaky breaths and the buzz of a weapon long-unused filled the cave.
His lightsaber was in his hand, activated and ready to attack a monster that was but a figment of his imagination.
A figment of his imagination? Or the reason he was now in exile, on Tatooine?
And as that thought passed through his head, Obi-Wan wept silently.