Archive of Our Own

The stars, fractured

Tatooine sand was scorching - rough under his skin. Red, like an endless lava river ready to devour him, burned by the binary suns, setting low on the horizon - making the far mountains tremble with shadows. The suffocating warmt had engulfed him, Anakin had tried to escape, struggling only to find himself falling deeper and deeper, until he felt sand down his throat. And the sand became cold steel. It was in his lungs, around his mouth, everywhere. He couldn’t move, crushed by the weight of something that was keeping him still. And by the weight of the Force, that was closing in all around him, choking and squeezing until Anakin was only a small thing between her grasp. The terrible desert warmt was now a freezing valley. It was colder than anything else he had ever felt - even Ilum, even space wasn’t as cold — and the cold was grabbing his legs and his arms, leaving him powerless and alone. Anakin, for the first time in years, felt an emotion he was unfamiliar with: absolute terror. He was going to die.

And then Anakin opened his mouth and took a breath, and felt oxygen fill his lungs - surrounding him there was no steel, no crushing Force, but only the familiar darkness of his cot. He blinked, focussing on the shape of the ceiling, following the curves of the metal beams like they were an astral map pointing the way home. Still surrounded by filaments of fear, the Jedi lifted a hand, only to find it grasping the sheets - wet with his sweat. Anakin exhaled, and breath by breath, he felt reality returning, driving away the dream. 

The Force, too, was quieting down. No more wanting to drown him, but more similar to the sea right after a storm: the waves were still dirty with foam, and he could feel the strong currents under the surface, but no more frightening. Slowly, Anakin let the Force cradle him. With no barriers protecting his mind, with his shields torn to shreds by the nightmare, it was easier to let himself slip - to become one with the Force. Trusting her and letting go, instead of resisting as he usually did. The tidal waves were receding, and in that liminal space hidden between dream and wake, Anakin felt his body touch the shore. Water was still touching his calves, but it was gentle - and the sun wasn’t the colour of blood, nor scorching like the desert.

He blinked his eyes open once again, and finally he knew where he was: lying down in his bed, inside his quarters at the Temple. From the window, even if he had dimmed the transparisteel, the kind light of dawn was coming through - and he could catch glimpses of Curuscant neon signs that never turned off.

Finally free, the Jedi turned under the sheets, covering his head to inhale the comforting scent of clean cloth. An ulterior confirmation that reality was there, touchable, between his fingers. His mattress though, was wet like he fell asleep inside a fountain, and the waking hour was fast approaching. Sighing, Anakin raised his head, and like every morning, he began his chant: You’re in the Jedi Temple. Obi-Wan is on Utapau. Ashoka has left the Order. And then, suffocating a wave of rage at the mere thought, Anakin grabbed the sheets with enough strength to rip the cloth- Padmé is dead.

It was this last knowledge that kept him from thinking lucidly, and what had convinced the Council to keep him basically bound to his quarters. Anakin swallowed down bile, mechanically threw away the sheets and got up.

Like every morning he opened the shade-screen over the windows and forced himself to meditate until the sun rised properly. Standing rimrod straight, with legs slightly open and firmly planted on the mat - suppressing the stabbing pain of the memory of a morning, not dissimilar than this, on Naboo – the Jedi fell again in the comforting grasp of the Force. The more time he spent meditating, the more he was able to returnt to the sea, and the more he understood about the nature of the Force. Endless, calm and stormy at the same time. All-powerful, but gentle. Capable of making one float upon her waves, or drag one down to the hidden depths without letting them go. He had also understood her absolute nature. That one couldn’t fight against the tide, and what returned to her was lost forever. 

Long gone were now, forgotten in a corner of his mind, the days when he believed he could have enough power to fight her. Arrogant, on his part, was even merely thinking about opposing her will. Palpatine’s words now sounded empty and false.

“... He could even keep the ones he cared about… from dying.”

The hope that story had given him was long dead, together with the memory of Padmé. Again, rage swelled inside - clawing its way out of his soul, screaming to devour - to destroy— he could listen to it, he could rage and rage and rage, he could grab his lightsaber and make the Temple into a tomb. But the rage was scorching and tasted like metal, and he breathed to make it go away, until his whole soul was numb.

Padmé died in the Senate. An attack. I was returning from the Outer Rim. Even had I been here, I couldn’t have saved her.

He had desperately searched the Force when he had felt - even millions of klicks away - Padmé’s presence slip away from his mind. Pain had won him, and had not been for R2, landing the small airship safely when Anakin had been writhing on the floor in agony, he could’ve died, too. It was Mace Windu, Master Mace Windu, that told him once he awoke. And he was the one that took him to Yoda when Darkness threatened to take him, and Anakin wanted nothing more than to rush to Palpatine and ask: why? Two standard months had passed since then. Fourteen standard weeks. Seventy standard days. One-thousand six-hundred and eighty standard hours.

Anakin was tired.

Yoda, even if he felt the strength - and the truth - about the bond between them, had tried to teach Anakin how to let go of his grief. It had not worked.

Every day, every hour, Anakin fell into the rage and despair more and more, letting his emotions free to run and consume him until nothing was left but a lifeless husk. A body, to dispose of. The Council forbade him from leaving the Temple. And then— then Anakin had lost control during one of his meditations.

Yoda had invited him, together with a group of Younglings, and in the middle of the exercise Anakin had thought: what would’ve happened if Padmé was still here? Would they have children? A family? His thoughts became even more obscure and dangerous, making him lose his sense of reality. Drowning in the fantasy, he turned against the other bright spots in the room — enemies, enemies, enem— Yoda managed to stop him before he could slash his weapon through a young twi’lek committing an act he would’ve regretted until he died. It wasn’t the Youngling’s fault if he had lost everything. Even if he killed the whole planet, nothing could bring Padmé back, nor the infinite possibilities of their shared future.

Obi-Wan understood immediately the strength of his feelings, and it was him that managed to grab the pieces, putting them back together one by one. Teaching how to meditate, and guiding him like he was a Padawan once again. Telling him: “Don’t hide the truth only because pain leads to the Dark Side. Hiding it, it will drag you into the darkness. Try and understand it, see the truth for what it is, and accept it. Only then you’ll see things with clarity. Clarity leads to serenity, this is the Jedi way.”

Since then, Anakin, every time he felt reality slipping away, meditated. And repeated, chanted, every single truth.

I’m on Coruscant. I’m in the Temple. Padmé is dead.

He felt well enough that morning that he dressed and approached the mess hall, calmer than he ever was since— the Day. A single sparkle of hope was shining through the fog, telling him that maybe, maybe the worst was finally over. He bowed to the Masters sitting all around, and even waved his hand in the direction of a group of small Padawans - which were looking at him hiding their faces, not trusting him one bit. The accident during meditation had made its rounds around the Temple, and anyone unfamiliar with him, or not strong enough to eventually stop him, avoided him like the plague. Anakin couldn’t fault them.

But today — today it was good. It felt different, better. The Jedi Knight relaxed on the bench and for the first time in two months, ate tasting the food he chose.

In the afternoon, something unexpected happened.

Mace Windu moved through the corridors pointedly ignoring the admiring glances of the youngest members of their Order, walking straight to Skywalker’s quarters in a billow of robes. Anakin felt him approach, and opened the door before the Master could knock.

He looked better than Mace could recall him being - but grief was still written all around his face. It was in his eyebags, and the redness around his irises. He looked tired, worn. Older than his age. In another time, Mace would’ve kicked him out of the Temple for having broken the Code in so many ways. Not only because of the attachment - expressly forbidden. But for his closeness to the Dark Side. Everyone with eyes - or even without - could see it. Anakin had not yet fallen, but he would, soon. Every day brought him closer to the edge. The only way to keep everyone safe was to keep Anakin here, inside the Temple, surrounded by the Light and by Jedi ready to draw their weapons and strike him down. And the war - always the war. Even like this, Anakin was a General, and his troops listened to him even from far away.

Windu was brief.

“Canchellor Palpatine wants to see you, alone. He asked for you as soon as you could be ready. We don’t know what he wants, but I want to remind you, Knight Skywalker, that he can’t be ignored. He could give us precious knowledge of the war.”

Anakin became pensive, the Force swirling around him, then he nodded.

Windu breathed a sigh of relief. Palpatine, and his connection to Anakin, were the only lead they had to stop this Sith-damned war, or to uncover the Sith Lord that was behind every attack. Anakin had refused to see the man for two months, and their lead was growing cold. Now, finally, they had a chance to take some steps forward.

Anakin stepped into Palpatine’s office, cloaked in his dark robe with the hood down his face and arms crossed over his chest. A terrible feeling was knotting his stomach, all around him the Force wasn’t peaceful at all - but instead, it was growing agitated by the second, the tide rising until it enveloped his thighs. The Jedi didn’t know what Palpatine could possibly want from him, but surely it was nothing good.

The Darkness was thick like Bantha butter. He could see it - a wall all around his mind, stopping him from seeing what lay beyond. She was draped over the Canchellor’s shoulders, like a cloak. He knew Palpatine wasn’t Force sensitive at all, and he looked completely unaware of the swirling dark, but — it was so strong, strong enough that even the most incapable of Wookies would surely feel something. He wasn’t liking how at ease Palpatine looked. Even a rock would try and escape the dark. No one should feel so relaxed, surrounded by the Dark Side.

Anakin forced his feet to step into the office, even if walkin in that mixture of rage of pain was as strenuous as running in the middle of Tatooine’s desert, and waited for the old man to speak.

“My young Anakin, it’s a pleasure to see you after so much time! Of course, I tried to call you before, but I suppose… pain must have bound you to your quarters. It’s understandable, really, my boy. Even better, I should say it’s admirable… The Jedi, as you well know, have the tendency to… separate themselves from their emotions, letting them go in the Force. For you, to feel something so intense must’ve been torture. I hope the Council treated you well.”

Anakin took a step forward, feeling understood by Palpatine. He was still keeping his eyes on the Dark, but he couldn’t ignore the effect those words had on him. Yoda had tried, in any way he knew, to force him and let go of his grief. Grief Anakin wasn’t ready to abandon.

It’s all I have left of her.

Palpatine was smiling, sad but understanding, walking around his desk to stand in front of him.

“I wanted to give you my most sincere condolences. I know how close you were to Senator Amidala… The fact that you managed to resist the Dark Side for so long is a demonstration of your strength. Better Jedi than you would’ve fallen for way less.”

Anakin took another step forward, and the Darkness around the Canchellor swirled with amused satisfaction. If Anakin wasn’t so sure Palpatine was completely ignorant of the Force, he would say that was the man’s true Force signature, revealing more than he would like of himself.

“Thank you, Chancellor.” he answered, even if with tight lips. Palpatine grabbed his shoulder.

“If only there was someone around as wise as Darth Plagueis, he could’ve easily saved Padmé.”

Anakin felt an electric shock run across his back, all his senses screamed to get away - like he was standing in front of a terrible predator. He wasn’t sure if the reason was what Palpatine had said, bringing up the Sith’s legend once again - or because, as he said that, the Force had swirled with so many emotions the tide had risen up and was now touching his chest. Pride, suffering, a pleasure so visceral regarding death - so strong Anakin wanted to be sick. Palpatine was being cradled by the Darkness, and Anakin was blinking like mad, trying to assure himself it was still day out. For a moment, he had seen the old man cloaked in a dark robe, and Coruscant covered by endless night…

“Sadly, that wasn’t the case,” continued the Chancellor, “A true, terrible pity… Tell me, my boy. The Jedi gave you the report of her death?”

Anakin shook his head.

“As alway, the Council tries to hide the truth. It’s not the first time it happened, and it won’t be the last, but surely this is the most terrible. Can you imagine a reason the Masters would want to keep the truth hidden?”

“No… They know what bond we shared, so it can’t be this.”

The Chancellor nodded, his grasp over his shoulder tightened. Every word he spoke, he spoke using his most sugared voice, making the Darkness swirl and swirl, glittering in a deep black. “Perhaps they feared what you would do… But we can’t fault them. They always feared your power, and… If you were to know the truth, then no one would be able to stop you, my boy. Fear prevented them from being honest, they chose to hide the truth from you, making you live a lie. Everything was done in the name of their egotism.”

“What… what did they hide?” Now the Darkness, ever more heavy, was cloaking them both. Anakin, trembling and unsure, wasn’t able to escape her grasp. It was comforting, the cold static of the Dark. Better than the chaotic light that always made him feel so much. At least now, Anakin could delude himself into feeling nothing.

“Oh my dear boy, Padmé was pregnant.”

Obi-Wan raised his ‘saber in the exact moment Cody closed his comm. The Clone grabbed his blaster, pointing it straight at the Jedi Master without hesitation. On another occasion, Obi-Wan would’ve deflected the shot with a swift movement. But his arm stopped mid-air, and the most absolute Darkness took over his mind, tearing him apart from the inside. The pain was so all-encompassing he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It can’t come from the Bond! It can’t come from Anakin! The pain is too much for a single man to bear.

Cody’s shot hit him square in the chest, but Obi-Wan didn’t even feel it. He fell to the ground, grabbing his head, and screamed.

Anakin has fallen.

Mace Windu shot from his seat in the Council Chamber, looking at Yoda, and the short Master nodded.

“I, too, felt that, I have. From young Skywalker it came, not safe, he is.”

Windu grabbed his lightsaber, feeling way better carrying the weight of his weapon in his palm.

“Let’s go see the Chancellor. He’s there. Let’s find out what happened.”

Anakin was kneeling on the red rug of the Chancellor’s office, screaming with all the voice he had. Both hands were tangled in his hair, pulling with enough strength he was sure he would rip the flesh from the skull. He was drowning in the most dark depths, and he couldn’t get out - everywhere he looked, he saw infinite sadness, and rage. Rage so intense and rich, it was lighting up every fibre of his being, bending it to its will. The Force wasn’t a safe place in which to hide anymore, but an imposing Master that was trying to shred his shields aparts to corrupt it - to command it. In that deep and dark well, Anakin saw clearly the shape of Palpatine standing like an obsidian statue of old. He felt the weight of a Sith Lord.

“Feel the pain, Skywalker. Embrace it! Feel the Dark Side growing inside of you.”

Anakin felt tears roll down his cheeks, even if he hadn’t noticed he started crying, shaking his head.

“No! I don’t want to fall!”

It would’ve been easy, letting go. Close his eyes and stop resisting, stop thinking, stop feeling. Leaving his body in the hands of the Dark Side. But Anakin — he couldn’t let go.

“Pain and rage are part of you. Accept them, and join me in the Dark Side!”

Anakin punched the floor, durasteel against black marble, and the violence was enough to make him take a breath - to say: “No, I need— to find… Obi-Wan. I need Obi-Wan.”

Palpatine knleed in front of him, threading his fingers between his curls, tight and painful, to force his face up, to look him in the eyes. The Force was bright with satisfaction, as Anakin was forced to comply.

“Obi-Wan’s dead. Order 66 has begun, my apprentice. He’s not your Master anymore.”

“It’s not true…”

“Search your bond, apprentice. Find the truth for yourself.”

Anakin closed his eyes, searching desperately around his mind for the golden thread that bound him and Obi-Wan together in the Force. He found a dimly-lit, quickly vanishing golden ribbon, so small it was finer than a single hair. He followed it, hurling his whole mind at it, in the hope of finding the calming and reassuring presence of Obi-Wan. He was always there, always. But not this time. He found only a terrible silence, and a void so big, he couldn’t understand. Obi-Wan was gone.

Mace Windu threw open the doors of the Supreme Chancellor’s office. Yoda, by his side, together with Kit Fisto, Kolar and Tiin. Moving like a single mind, the Jedi ignited their ‘sabers, the buzzing of plasma filling the otherwise silent room. Palpatine was standing facing Anakin Skywalker, looking older than Windu remembered. Anakin, kneeling down, looked like he would crumble away at the first touch, like a sand statue. Nothing came from the young Knight, if a terrible cold seeping into his Force signature.

Then, Anakin spoke: “Obi-Wan’s dead.” and again: “Palpatine is the Sith Lord.”

Mace Windu would’ve liked to be surprised, but he had felt the Darkness behind the door. That had only been a confirmation, if an unexpected one. He feared Skywalker would’ve joined the man, protecting him, instead of selling him out.

“And you’re my new apprentice. Rise now, Darth-”

Anakin shot up, standing, yes - but jumping away from the man, his lightsaber now ignited and pointed at the Chancellor.

“I’m not your apprentice!”

“There’s nothing left for you if not by my side! You belong to the Dark Side. The Jedi will have you killed!”

“Maybe I won’t be a Jedi anymore, but I won’t be a Sith either! I’ll never be your slave.”

Anakin extinguished his ‘saber and ran behind the five Masters. Palpatine threw himself to them, to follow him, but Windu thrusted all his Force towards him - and the duel began.

Anakin wasn’t sure how long he had been running. All around he only saw shadows, halfway lost between light and dark. In that infinite dusk, he jumped over Clones - blasters in hand, ready to take the Temple. He cut through them, his rage guiding his ‘saber as they turned their weapons on him, until behind him only a trail of corpses remained. R2 was waiting for him beside the ship, and began beeping as soon as Anakin stepped over the last steps.

“Tell everybody! Tell them the Clones are killing the Jedi, the Temple must be protected and everyone is to run away. They have to kill every Clone they see. Quick, Artoo!” 

That would be the last thing he would do for the Order. Then he jumped inside his ETA-2, waiting for R2 to follow. There only was a place he could go now - only a planet that could help him put the pieces of his mind back together. To hide, to never hurt anybody else. And to die, if he wanted to.

Mortis.

*

Standing in front of the majesty of the Force, all Anakin could do was observe and meditate, seeking himself in the chaos of fragments whirling around him. Somewhere, R2 was watching the scene. Anakin - kneeling in the middle of the Father’s palace. Now that the world was free from the three beings, the Force was flowing - more freely than anywhere else in the galaxy, letting the world heal, no more shackled by the constant cycle of creation and destruction. Now, everything was clear. 

The fallen Jedi was here to find answers, leaving time and space and everything he knew behind, just to knit his wounds back together. He didn’t know how long it took, how many hours he spent meditating, or how many he spent sleeping, or watching the flow of time - the passing seasons, months and years going by, growing older with him. Mortis had welcomed him, giving him the quiet he needed. And the Force had once again turned to the calm tide he loved to dive into. He had forced himself to forget - and relearn everything about her from scratch. With a curiosity he never had, without the obligations of the Code weighing heavy upon his mind. No more afraid of the Dark.

Balanced, perfectly, in the middle - Anakin had pushed the pieces together. He grieved Padmé and the children that had never seen life - grieved for everyone that lost loved ones during the war. For mothers, fathers and lovers. For the Jedi. And lastly, for Obi-Wan. And even if now he could think about them without feeling broken, he inesorably kept searching for their presence. Seeking the bond, the golden thread in his mind that never dimmed, but now lead to the void. He grasped it in sleep, when nightmares became too intense for him to bear. And tugged at it in wake, when enduring the loneliness one hour more made him yearn for death. More than once he asked himself - why am I still alive? 

In the quick reflections he sometimes glimpsed of himself, when he washed himself, or ate beside a window, Anakin found yellow eyes, unfamiliar and grotesque - watching him back. What have I become? He tried igniting his ‘saber, one afternoon. It was the same blue he remembered, the same colour of Obi-Wan’s.

He never tried again, leaving it dead, strapped at his belt like a reminder of an age long gone. Harmless. Useless.

But the Force… The Force was growing. Every day he felt it closer and more present, until Anakin felt capable of commanding it in unthinkable ways. He could, flicking his wrist, push trees down to grab their fruits - and he could, snapping his fingers, make rain fall from the clouds. Moving entire mountains like it was nothing.

For the first time in too many years to count, he felt alive.

Like he had been at eleven, running throught the desert to seek the adrenaline spike that seeing the future in his dreams gave him.

One night, after a long storm that made the trees look like glass, white as bone - and the earth pungent with a far-away smell - the Force pushed back. 

Whirling like mad around Anakin, it led him to the terrace. One time, in the middle of that same arena, he had dominated two deities to save his friends.

Ashoka, Obi-Wan.

Now, the Force was screaming at him, trying to make him see. A patina between the rain, an impalpable curtain.

It began with fragmented dreams. Bare rocks and a canyon’s walls, and someone crumpled like a ball on the ground. Moonlight, so familiar it hurt.

He was standing, in his black cloak. Watching over the horizon of a planet he didn’t know. Dunes and high hills crowned by sparse bushes. Long, white roads brushed by the wind in a cloud of dust. In the desolation - two figures, moving. One, tiny and thin, a child that was being led by hand. Another, a cloaked man, with hunched shoulders and a tired face.

Anakin squinted his eyes, to try and focus on their shapes even in the blinding light of midday, feeling like a child in the desert, searching for the shapes of something that wasn’t slavery. Now, glaring at the two beings, he knew - he felt it, in his heart. One of them was Obi-Wan.

The vision changed again, bringing him on the edge of a night just fallen. It was the same planet as before, but hours had passed, and everything glided under his feet as he was flying in the Force. He felt something pull on his bond, and the Force grabbed him tighter.

What am I looking at? Asked Anakin.

The Force didn’t answer, but he understood all the same. In the infinite space, that was a glimpse of another reality. One where things had gone differently. One in which, perhaps, there still was something left for him.

Then, among the small houses, a shadow crept. One that made his head ache, and his tongue taste metal.

That’s me, in this world.

He watched, helpless, as Obi-Wan - older and tired - ran and fell under the power of a Sith Lord. He watched them fight, and in the end, he saw Obi-Wan lose.

Did it happen like this? When the Clones killed him… was he wearing the same resignation? Was he ready to let go, or did he fight until the very end? 

Then Darth Vader grabbed Obi-Wan into the fire, and Anakin felt the edges of anger rise up in his mind. The familiar tingle of hate in the tips of his fingers.

I won’t watch him die!

He pushed with all his power against the curtain, escaping the hold that reality had on him, pushing and pushing and pushing— 

Why show me this if I can’t help him?! He screamed.

Blow by blow, the curtain grew thin— and then it broke. Anakin stood on the sandy earth, his cloak billowing in the wind. Fire and flames, licking at his silhouette, opened when he raised his hands - pushing them to die. Obi-Wan was unconscious, his head lolling - but Vader, on the other side, took a step forward.

“How can you be here? Nothing but a ghost of the past.” his metallic voice breathed. Anakin felt no fear. He grabbed Obi-Wan, to pull him to safety. He was so light, so thin - in the years they spent away from eachother. Anakin had become stronger, but Obi-Wan was worn to the bone. Frail in a way he never was before. He would never leave him again.

“Because the Force let me do something right for once. I’ll come for you, Darth.”

With a raging scream, the Sith threw his ‘saber - red and bloody, over the wall of fire still keeping them apart. Anakin stopped it mid-air. It wasn’t the right time for them to fight, he knew Obi-Wan was in desperate need of urgent care, and he couldn’t leave him, not even for a single moment. If he did — he couldn’t escape the fear at the thought of losing him again. And if he did— there wouldn’t be a galaxy, a universe that would be safe from his rage. From the hill at his back, a woman rolled down. She had an unknown face, and she was eyeing him in a way Anakin couldn’t place. But she also looked ready to help, so Anakin, with two fingers, called the flames back from the ashes and turned his back on the Sith, now engulfed by his own trap. He never let go of Obi-Wan.

“Come with me, we have to run!”

They left the site, running over the sand dunes until they found a hidden tunnel. The woman kept guiding him, rushing him and looking over her back - fearing the dark shadow of the Sith following them. Obi-Wan was still unconscious, lying in the strong hold of Anakin’s arms.

And he— he still couldn’t believe he was carrying the now unfamiliar weight of his Master.

After years spent grieving his death, being able to touch him was an experience still too absurd for him to comprehend. So he ignored it, focusing only on the rhythmic thumps of their boots in the tunnel.

One thing at a time. In some way, you have traveled through the Force, and you managed to reach this… dimension. Now you’re here and… Oh, no! Artoo! I’ve left him alone!

But the Force was quiet, almost suggesting him—

They suddenly walked into a hidden hangar. A pilot in an orange suit was waiting for them with a perplexed face, and at his side was a child - the same one he saw before, trying to escape the pilot to run after them.

In the hangar there were two ships. One, unknown. And the other one, most surely known since it was his ETA-2, with R2 waiting for him in the droid cockpit. The droid booped happily when he saw Anakin, and then he beeped again, distressed this time, and confused at the sight of Obi-Wan.

“I’m gonna explain later Artoo.” he answered, rushing his Master in the bigger ship, where he seated him and strapped the security belt over his limp body. This, at least, was something he had done before during the Clone Wars. Many times. The child was looking at him.

“Will he be alright?”

Anakin barely looked at her, pushing two fingers against his Master’s head.

“Yeah, he just needs a good bath in bacta, but he’ll be alright. It’s not as bad as it looks.” or, as bad as they would’ve been if Anakin hadn’t been there. The pilot stepped into the cabin then, together with the woman, and started the ship’s engines. From a cabinet, the woman had taken some bacta patches and began cutting Obi-Wan’s robe to press them against the worst of the wounds. Anakin stepped aside.

“I don’t know who you are, but you saved him. Where are you from? I’ve never seen you before.”

For some reason, Anakin felt that using his true name would be a very unwise decision, given that he was a Sith Lord and all that in this universe, so he bit down his lips and answered: “Name’s Ani. It was just pure luck I managed to find you in time… But I’m glad it worked. And you? Who are you?”

“Tala.”

Before she could explain more, the pilot called them to attention.

“We have to take off now.”

Anakin stepped down the ship, but before turning away, he asked: “Where are we going? I’m following you.”

“Final destination is Aldeeran! But we can’t go there directly, we’ll go to Dantooine.”

Anakin climbed in his ETA-2, and hoped with all his being that in this universe, the planets were still in the same place, because he only had the coordinates present in R2 memory to work with.

*

Dantooine was, luckily, exactly where he left it.

They landed somewhere away from civilization, near a safehouse - or so Tala said - belonging to the partisans. Whatever that was. They hid their ships and made hastily use of the safehouse - a barn, surrounded by desolate hills and some trees. Obi-Wan looked better: the surface’s wounds healed nicely, but inside, deep down inside, something was still bleeding. Afflicted by an invisible sickness that kept him from waking up. He had fallen into a healing coma, that much Anakin knew, but it was taking too long. For five standard days, the Master didn’t wake. And for five standard days, Anakin remained in silence, suffering terrible visions of his death, even in this reality. It would be ironic for the Force to take him from his universe - where he had made peace with his ghosts - only to drop him into an even worse one: one in which he would see his Master die with his own eyes. An image, he knew, he would never be able to shake from his eyelids, no matter what the future would bring.

Anakin didn’t know a single thing about this world, or about the Empire Tala kept mentioning - even he managed to get an idea. Clearly, here Anakin had fallen, and was in the service of Palpatine, since everybody knew him like Darth Vader, and not Anakin Skywalker. And he wasn’t just lost in the Dark Side, but corrupted to the point of turning his blade and his hatred towards Obi-Wan. Anakin didn’t know what happened here, but he was sure that, when he woke up, Obi-Wan wouldn’t be so happy to see him.

And so, after the seventh day, he started to wander from the safehouse, preferring staying away from everyone until sunset. A few times, Tala left to bring him food, sitting beside him to keep him updated. A few times, he caught Leia - that was the child’s name - spying him with curious eyes.

“Why do you leave?” asked Leia one morning, surprising him before he could escape just as dawn settled. Anakin hid his eyes under the shadow of the hood, and knelt to be at her height. The child reminded him strongly of Padmé, and that was a road he wasn’t ready to go down to, not yet.

“Because Obi-Wan wound’t be happy to see me here.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story. Maybe one day he’ll tell you.”

Leia thought about it for a few seconds, then shyly asked: “But when he wakes… What do we tell him?”

Anakin lifted his real hand to caress her soft hair, and she let herself be petted.

“Tell him my name is Ani, that I’m from Tatooine. That if he wants to see me, I’ll be on the hill. Unarmed.”

Anakin spent more time away from that day onwards. Meditating, discovering how the Force worked in that new universe. He asked for explanations more than once, but he never received an answer.

It was the small things that made his throat close off and his heart ache. Tala coming back from the city with some supplies and a small package of tea. Water wasn’t clean enough to drink straight from the faucet, and it needed to be boiled. But drinking hot water was frankly disgusting, so the best way they found around that was putting herbs inside. Anakin observed the quality of the leaves, and without wanting to, blurted: “Obi-Wan likes green tea better.”

Or when Tala brough back new clothes, and was ready to pick a black robe for Obi-Wan before Anakin could stop her and exchange the dark cloth for a brown one.

“He doesn’t wear black.”

In everyone’s eyes he was but a stranger, even if he seemed to know Obi-Wan better than them all.

During sunset, on the ninth day, while Anakin was meditating standing straight over the hill’s edge - he felt something awakening in a corner of his mind. The golden thread trembled, and a presence, feeble but there, appeared on the other side. He tried to keep his tears inside, forcing his mind back into the meditation, giving his feelings to the Force.

He was distracted by voices, far away. When he turned, he saw Obi-Wan limping out of the safehouse with Tala in tow, trying to stop him, probably telling him to rest. But Obi-Wan was as stubborn as a kriffing Wookie, and kept walking, limping, to the crest of the hill, until only a few meters kept them apart. Anakin, hood down, waited.

“You!” his Master called, voice full with grief.

“Mast-”

“Don’t you dare use that word! You… What– are you doing here, Vader?”

He spat the last word with such rage Anakin took a step back, fearing his Master could fall. Tala’s eyes widened in shock, but she stood still, even if she placed her hand on the blaster.

“I’m not him.”

“What are you? An hallucination? A ghost?!”

Anakin didn’t know what would be worse - being an hallucination, something fake and unreal, or being real but never having the forgiveness of his Master. He bit his tongue, not knowing what to say, and instead he touched their bond in his mind. He tugged at it, barely, basking in the warm light that was coming from the Jedi - even if the light was not as bright as it was before, and was becoming grey like his hair. Obi-Wan blinked, shocked.

“How can you do that?”

“Our bond was never cut.”

“It was! After Mustafar…”

It was now Anakin’s turn to be surprised, and he whispered: “Mustafar?”

The two of them stood for what felt like hours. Obi-Wan, even if still limping, hadn’t stepped down even a single millimiter.

“How can you be here? I remember you on Mapuzo, but you were…”

“Darth Vader?”

They looked at eachother, studying the other until Anakin raised both hands to tug away the hood, making it fall over his shoulders.

“I’m not him, I’m Anakin Skywalker.”

“But you have his eyes.”

Anakin wished to be able to see his reflection then - to be able to erase the touch of the Dark Side from his irises. Maybe, in the future, he would be capable enough to - if he was strong enough to leave that road forever. But he wasn’t, not yet. He still used his emotions to manipulate the Force, and he still carried the eyes of a Sith.

“It’s the only thing that reminds me of my mistakes, Obi-Wan. Master. They don’t define me.”

“Is this a vision? A— a punishment?” Obi-Wan asked the sky, the Force, turning on the spot in hope of an answer. But as always, the Force answered only with silence. “Is this my personal version of hell?”

Anakin wanted to say: no, it’s mine. 

His Master turned to him once again, looking so tired he looked ready to crumble and vanish. Anakin knelt, letting his body go on the grassy field, and bowed his head.

“Forgive me, for not being able to find you before… You’re dead , to me. In my reality, Obi-Wan was killed by his Clone, Cody, following Order 66. I didn’t know— I didn’t know I could find you again, or I would have, much sooner. I would’ve done so immediately.”

“Cody has… what are you even saying? Your reality?” 

Incapable of explaining with words years upon years of a life he barely remembered, Anakin forced their bond wide open, and pushed inside all his feelings. He tried to send only threads of them, and not the whole bundle, as to not overpower Obi-Wan, but he couldn’t keep the man from understanding the void he carried inside - to see him for what he truly was: a sea of feelings so complex, so tangled, that even with the Force they couldn’t be pried from the chaotic knots they formed. Among all others, though. Anakin took great care in sending him his honesty. His love. His joy in finding Obi-Wan. All feelings that belonged to the Light Side of the Force. All feelings a Sith could never feel again.

Obi-Wan had fallen in his same position, Master and Padawan, mirroring eachother. He grasped the tunic’s edge with his fingers, taking a deep breath.

“Don’t cry, Master.”

“Anakin.”

How many years had passed since he spoke that name out loud?

How many years had passed from the last time he had heard his name called out loud?

Anakin stood, and keeping their bond open, he got closer to Obi-Wan. He offered his hand, and the Jedi took it, rising on his feet. He was still limping, but he seemed to be ignoring the pain completely. Anakin snaked both arms around his middle, and hugged him tight, diving his nose in a smell he never believed he could find again.

“I found you.”

When they returned to the safehouse, both Anakin and Obi-Wan were smiling. Uncertain, small smalls, made by muscles that had forgotten how to perform such acts - made by men that hadn’t had reasons to smile in years. Anakin helped his Master walk, keeping him upright everytime his knee gave in, and fed their bond with a constant stream of light and peace, using the Force to heal him faster. If he couldn’t help him physically, he could, at least, do so with the Force. And how beautiful it was, to bask in Obi-Wan’s light, growing brighter and brighter as the man felt his body remember - his mind healing what had been broken. All around them, the Force was singing, shining like a golden halo. Leia had watched them, while the pilot was eating from a bowl. Tala wasn’t convinced yet, but ignored them to sit at the table.

“Master, have you eaten?!” Anakin pushed him over the chair, fretting over him like not even a single day had passed.

“Not yet, Anakin. Do you…”

“Leave it to me.”

“There’s…”

“I know!”

Their conversations went all along that way. Barely spoken out loud, while everything danced in their minds for the other to feel through the bond. It had never been so open as then, making them almost think with the same mind.

Anakin made him a warm dinner, like he often did during the war, using some spices to make it more tasty in a way he knew the old man liked, and even made him a cup of tea - green, he had secretly obtained it the day before, stealing some credits from a pocket using the Force. Then he sat at his side, smiling at the Force still shining golden.

Tala broke the peace.

“Can we finally know who the kriff you are? I’ve let you be all mysterious because you saved our skins on Mapuzo, but we’ve earned an explanation now.”

Leia sat more straight on the chair.

“Anakin…” began Obi-Wan, feeling the chaos coming from the bond, but Anakin stopped him.

“It’s okay, it’s only fair to tell them the truth.”

So he told them just that.

He came from a different dimension, and the Force brought him here. He was a Jedi, and he fell. In his reality he brought back balance giving Palpatine to the Council, and that in this reality, he had apparently chosen to fall into the abyss and be reborn as Darth Vader. Everyone listened to his story without interruptions, even Obi-Wan - even if he had already glimpsed everything from his mind. It felt right to say it.

Every now and again his Master let grief or approval through the Force, and Anakin accepted the feelings without hesitation, drinking everything the man chose to give him. At the end of the story, Obi-Wan took his hand, and squeezing it, he asked: “Padmé?”

“She died shortly after the attempted kidnapping of Palpatine, when I killed Dooku. While I was traveling in the Outer Rim.”

When everyone went to sleep - Tala, still not completely convinced had decided to sleep in the same room as Leia - Anakin sat outside the safehouse, looking at the sky. He knew each and every system, he had fought and risked his life almost on every single one of them. But here, everything was new. Different, but the same. And under Vader’s tyranny.

Obi-Wan sat beside him, pressing a second cup of tea into his hands, and they quietly spoke until dawn. Their bond grew stronger, returning almost at its original strength. And they discovered eachother, piece by piece. Obi-Wan stopped fearing Anakin, and Anakin found that slipping into the light side of the Force was more easy than breathing. In the morning, when he saw himself in the mirror, his eyes were blue.

*

The trip to Alderaan took another three days. R2 was happy to meet Obi-Wan again, and the droid had spent a handful of minutes asking questions that only he and Anakin could understand. Leia, instead, had finally shed her bashfulness, revealing herself for how she truly was: an independent and happy child, with a sharp tongue, capable of speaking to them all without hesitation. The first thing she said to him, the morning before the departure, had been: “I like your blue eyes.”

Obi-Wan had watched the exchange with a strange expression, and while Anakin fixed her braids over her head - like he often did to Padmé - his presence in the Force had shimmered with so much sadness and hope that Anakin had almost cried right then and there.

“What the kriff, Master?” he asked as soon as Leia was gone, running to the ship. Obi-Wan hadn’t answered, but he got closer and patted Anakin’s hair in return.

Since Anakin’s ship wasn’t made for two people, he couldn’t travel with his Master, but just like they did before - he was content enough to catch up via comm every time they left hyperspace to change route, avoiding Imperial space. that, and of course, feeling his presence in the Force, which was still shining and growing bright. It was like, the both of them, were getting more from the bond than they ever expected to.

Every time, before falling asleep in the cockpit, Anakin searched for Obi-Wan’s signature, and surrounded himself in it before closing his eyes. The nightmares were getting better.

They were expecting an Imperial blockade, or even the entire fleet awaiting for them. But when Alderaan appeared in front of them, free of star destroyers - Anakin scrunched his nose in worry. Obi-Wan was comming him.

“This thing stinks, Anakin.”

“I was thinking the same, Master. An ambush?”

“Most likely. They know Leia is from this planet, since they kidnapped her from under Bail’s nose…” even without being in the same place, Anakin could picture him stroking his beard, pensive. “They are awaiting our arrival. But they’re not orbiting around the planet, which means-”

“They are on the planet. So, a trap.”

“If they have half a brain, Vader will be there, waiting.”

“No doubt. So, what do we do when there’s a trap?”

Anakin felt the smile creep over his lips: “Spring it!”

They had no other choice than go and fight, anyway. They couldn’t go back and keep Leia hidden forever, and the Empire could still use her family as bait, hurting them or worse.

“Then we go. All ready?”

Anakin had never been on Alderaan. He knew it was the home of the Organas, and once upon a time Padmé had wished to visit. But since her death, Anakin had lost every contact he had with Bail, and the idea of visiting without her had tasted like ashes in his mouth. Now, years had passed, but the wound had barely healed. It was still a beautiful planet: the modern architecture reminded him of Coruscant, but it was surrounded by green, like Naboo - or Kashyyyk. Anakin wasn’t used to trees. He was a child of the desert, and seeing so much nature always surprised him.

His Master patted him on the shoulder, bringing him back to reality, before grabbing his lightsaber. Anakin hadn’t done the same, but he cracked his fingers, feeling the Force tingle. He was ready.

The road toward the palace was empty and quiet, too inviting to a group of fugitives. It was rather obvious they were waiting for them, and decided to let them come from the main door.

Shrugging, they went.

Once inside, in the main hall, they stopped - face to face to a whole trooper’s platoon, all dressed in the white armor just as the Clones had been, and everyone was holding a blaster. Bail Organa and his wife, Breha, and what Anakin imagined being their nephews and siblings, were kept still - blaster to the head. In the middle, Darth Vader had ignited his ‘saber. Red as all the blood he had spilled. His mechanical breathing gave Anakin the chills. There was his answer. What would’ve happened if he followed Palpatine? If he gave in to despair? A metal being and sick flesh, kept alive by a machine. A half - an existence broken and twisted, living only because the Dark Side kept him from slipping into the Force. Obi-Wan had told him what had happened here, how he had become Vader, how Padmé had died and he - left alone, thought dead in the flames. How Vader was the tangible proof of Obi-Wan’s sins.

Anakin would’ve died rather than becoming like this - and this awareness gave him strength. feeding the Force around him while it coursed through him, the tide rising. Not light, nor dark. Anakin took a step forward.

“Let them go.”

He commanded. Vader laughed, or at least he imagined he did, given the breaths coming from his respirator - and lifted the red blade. Anakin raised both hands, and without hesitation, closed both fists. As soon as his fingers had curled, all thirty stormtroopers began to choke, floating thirty centimeters in the air, letting the blasters fall down to instead grab at their throats to escape the invisible hands crushing their tracheas. Anakin kept his hold steady, feeling the Force with a power he never felt. Just like on Mortis, he could control everything. He could feel everything. The life, the breaths, the flesh of each and every one of those men. He could feel the weight of what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop. He had to protect, he had to save, he had to do it. Using that absolute power for his friends, and not against them. As life began to vanish in the room, Vader marched forward, his shadow darkening.

“Strong in the Dark Side. You’re like me, Anakin Skywalker .”

Anakin opened his hands, and thirty bodies fell to the floor. The Organas, forgotten, had run to the corner, using a table as a shield. Obi-Wan had grabbed Tala and Leia and the pilot in the opposite corner, and was waving his lightsaber to protect them.

“The Dark Side does not control me, Vader. Unlike you.”

Vader raised his hand at the same time Anakin did, and the Force between them clashed, pushing them away from the other - like magnets pressed on the same pole. Anakin was quicker than the monster, and closed his fist - bringing Vader to him and then pushing him to the wall with all his strength, jumping with the Force to fall just a breath away from his mask. He had never been stronger than this.

“You fell! Like me!” Vader had yelled, standing up and plunging his ‘saber to stab Anakin. Anakin barely jumped to the side, and he grabbed the rage that swelled inside him to push him away again, hitting the Sith Lord with a wall of pure strength. His eyes were yellow again, but the Force around him barely moved - the tide was calm and quiet.

“I was able to see beyond Palpatine’s lies, and I pity you. You were a slave, Vader, and you still are. You’ll never be free.”

Vader strook his ‘saber with all his strength, forcing Anakin to stop the blade with the Force if he didn’t want to be cut in half. Every strike by Vader became stronger than the last, moved by fury and pain, feeding the Dark Side in exchange for power. The hatred within himself was so deep, Anakin feared it.

“You know nothing, Skywalker.”

The more Vader marched forward, the more Anakin stepped back. But he hadn’t lost yet, the Force was still with him.

Anakin threw all his power at the Sith, crushing the Force at his neck like he did before with the troopers. He lifted Vader from the ground with such ferocity, the darkness coiled around him, and Anakin felt his own hatred arise to fight against him. He had choked him until the metallic breathing became broken and wheezing, but Vader was strong - he was resisting with all his might, and Anakin was sure he couldn’t win like this. In that moment, the whole palace shook, and in the corner of his eye Anakin saw a huge chunk of the ceiling break off and fall - Vader wanted to bury them all.

Without lifting the hold he had on the Sith, Anakin threw his other hand in the hair, stopping the ceiling from collapsing. The chunks floated, every piece - and there were many - stalled in the air. But he was losing concentration, trying to feel everything all at once, to divide himself to grab each of the pieces - and still keeping the Sith Lord still. Stretching himself over the whole room, Anakin screamed with rage and hate, the Force trembled, every single thing in the room began to float - the air was vibrating. Then he closed his fist and the ceiling became dust, broken under his command. They fell to the floor in a shower of harmless dust - like snow, covering everything. Then he turned that same rage towards Vader, pushing him to the floor, pinned to stay still while Anakin towered over him.

“The Emperor… will be happy… You’re a stronger… Sith…” breathed out Vader, crushed under the weight of the Force.

Anakin gave him a long, pitying look.

“I’m no Sith.”

“But the Force in you… is so dark…”

“Dark, light. The Force is neither good nor bad. The Force is above our concepts of evil. Your Emperor doesn’t know all its secrets, hasn’t taught you everything, if he told you to think in absolutes.”

A sudden wave came from Vader, dark just like the one that once had overwhelmed Anakin in Palpatine’s office. In the darkness, there was such desperation, and a wish so strong he couldn’t ignore.

Vader wanted to die.

In a single moment, he understood all his pain, all his revulsion. He hated himself, he hated everything that existed. His rage - for being a slave, for not being strong enough to free himself, his mother, Padmé. Not stron enough to escape from his new Master, even now. Not strong enough to control life and death, to become a god. Anakin sighed.

“On Mortis, I made peace with my sins. I hope, in the Force, you will too.”

He recalled Vader’s lightsaber, and once he felt the weight in his palm, he ignited it. Then he pushed the plasma inside the circuits keeping the man alive, and watched as Vader died, together with all his pain.

Obi-Wan jumped forward just in time to grab Anakin’s body before it reached the ground. He kept him up, passing an arm around his shoulders.

Oh Anakin.

Vader’s ‘saber fell from his grasp, rolling to the side of the body of who had been his Padawan. Now, nothing was left of him - but Obi-Wan had been lucky, because he still had Anakin. With Tala’s help, they left Anakin on one of the - still mostly intact - armchairs in the room, before watching Leia running to her parents and hugging them, finally safe.

Anakin woke up at sunset. He was in an unknown room, but out the window was a cloak of trees, and he felt at peace. He got up, detangling his legs from the heap of sheets, and noticed Obi-Wan standing outside, just beyond the transparisteel door to the balcony. He looked ten years younger, fatigue leaving his grey eyes. He looked familiar again, he looked like home.

Anakin pushed his head over his, still being taller than his Master.

“What now?”

“I have some obligations on Tatooine, I have to come back. I’ll be wanted, even with Vader dead. Especially with Vader dead. The Organas will leave this system for a while, just to be safe, and we should keep a low profile… There are Inquisitors that want my head, if we’re not counting the Emperor, now that we killed his apprentice.”

Anakin laughed. That felt allright, yes. Not different from any other day during the war. Escaping people that wanted them dead was basically routine at this point. Obi-Wan gave him a glance, and smiled, too.

“Tatooine… must we go there?”

“You don’t have to follow me, Anakin.”

Said Obi-Wan, myrth coloring his voice. He knew, the karking bastard knew- Anakin bumped his head.

“I’m not leaving!”

Without Obi-Wan, Anakin would be nothing. In this world, Palpatine had won, because he turned Anakin against his own Master. He couldn’t leave, he needed his light. He needed his friend. He pushed all his love into the bond, and snarled.

“I hate sand.”

Obi-Wan was smirking, the karking son of a bantha— 

“Well, there’s nothing we can do, I’m afraid. You can always open a shop, fix speeders…”

Anakin rolled his eyes.The Force was laughing at him, he just knew. Pushing him to Tatooine. Like there was something— 

“Kriff. Tatooine is… not so bad, I suppose.”

“What have you done to Anakin?”

They laughed, again, ready for the next adventure.