Chapter Text
The war waited for no one.
There was no time for grief, no room for rest. Even in their shattered state, the Republic demanded its generals back. And so, the order came.
Anakin had heard it before, that hollow command, the one that rang through their bones with all the force of a death sentence, urging them onward into the abyss. But this time, it felt different. This time, as he stood in the council chamber, the weight of the galaxy pressing down on his shoulders, Anakin couldn’t shake the suffocating feeling that they were not just fighting the Separatists. They were fighting something far worse, their own inevitable destruction.
Beside him, Obi-Wan stood unmoving, his back rigid as though the burden of the world was strapped across his spine. His mask was stone, betraying nothing.
Anakin could feel it, the heaviness in the air between them, the unspoken truth that Obi-Wan was not ready. His leg was still a mess, the sharp, persistent pain gnawing at him like a hungry beast, but that was not what worried Anakin. It was the other scars, the ones that had taken root in Obi-Wan’s soul, festering in silence.
The departure of Satine and Korkie, the weight of war. Obi-Wan had been shattered long before this mission. The last remnants of his spirit had broken when Satine had left Coruscant together with his son, his last piece of light ripped away. Now, all that was left was a hollow echo of the man Anakin had once known.
It wasn’t just physical pain anymore. His mind, his heart, and his soul… it was as if Obi-Wan was already gone, even though his body still walked beside him.
The briefest of glances passed between them, but it was cold, devoid of the camaraderie that once defined their bond. Anakin knew this war was taking ist toll on Obi-Wan, but it was more than just the physical. It was the weight of decisions, of promises broken, of lives lost. There was no coming back from that.
The door to the council chamber shut behind them, and as they stepped into the hallway, Anakin slowed his pace, letting Obi-Wan keep up. He wanted to reach out, to offer a word, a hand. But every time he tried, it felt like he was pushing against a wall, and all he could hear was the echo of his own desperation.
Obi-Wan wasn’t here. Not really.
As they walked, Anakin could hear Obi-Wan’s uneven footfalls, the rhythmic thump of his limp. His friend was falling apart, but even in his brokenness, Obi-Wan refused to admit it. Where words used to be his sharpest weapon, silence now reigned. He walked ahead, eyes locked straight, never once sparing Anakin a glance.
Anakin clenched his jaw, heart pounding, his hands itching to reach out and pull Obi-Wan back, to make him feel something again.
“Obi-Wan, wait, please,” Anakin’s voice broke through the silence. He didn’t want to sound desperate, but he couldn’t stop it. His breath was shallow, betraying him.
But Obi-Wan didn’t stop. His limp was slow but steady, his posture stiff, every step a defiance of everything they had once been.
Anakin’s hand shot out, resting on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.
The older man stiffened under his touch, his entire frame locked in resistance. For a moment, Anakin thought he might shake him off, but then Obi-Wan came to a halt, though his eyes remained distant, fixed on nothing.
There was a coldness in the air between them now, heavier than before. It hung like a fog, suffocating the space between them. And for the first time, Anakin felt the ache of something he couldn’t name. Fear.
Fear that Obi-Wan was slipping away, that no matter how much Anakin tried, no matter how much he fought, Obi-Wan was already lost.
I will never be enough for him, will I?
The thought kept ghosting through his mind and everytime he tried to catch it, to lock it away, it slipped through his fingers.
“You’re not alright,” Anakin muttered, his voice thick with frustration, but laced with something deeper, darker, a raw, gnawing fear.
Obi-Wan’s gaze finally flicked over to him, his eyes hollow, void of the warmth that used to shine from within. It was as if he was staring through Anakin, as if he no longer recognized him.
“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice low and tight, the words dry, like they had been dragged out from the depths of a soul long abandoned.
Anakin’s heart twisted. That wasn’t Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had always been the one to tell him the truth, even when it hurt. But now… now it was as though his friend had buried the truth beneath layers of indifference.
A wall of silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant hum of the temple. Anakin stood there, feeling the gulf grow wider with every passing second.
"Master,“ Anakin’s voice trembled, too soft for the anger he was holding back. "Don’t shut me out. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but please.“
Obi-Wan’s lips pressed into a thin line. "And what do you want me to say, Anakin?“ His words were a whisper, but they hit like a blow to the chest. "That I failed? That I lost everything I cared about? That I can’t even be there for my own son?“
There it was, the truth, raw and jagged, spilling out of him like poison. The guilt, the shame, the weight of his choices.
„You didn’t fail, Obi-Wan.“ Anakin’s voice cracked, but he fought to keep it steady. „You never failed anyone.“
You still have us, he wanted to say but chose not to.
Obi-Wan’s eyes closed, as though the very mention of failure cut deeper than anything physical. His breath came in ragged, controlled bursts.
“I…,” for a second it seemed like he wanted to finally acknowledge his pain, but as soon as the wall had started crumbling, Obi-Wan reinforced it again. “We have a mission to prepare for, Anakin. You should brief Ahsoka…. And get some rest, who knows how long we’ll be gone.”
With that the man continued on, leaving Anakin behind.
He stood in the hallway long after Obi-Wan had disappeared into the shadows of the temple. The silence clung to him like a second skin, and no matter how hard he tried to shake it, the weight of Obi-Wan’s words wouldn’t let him go.
He hadn’t seen his former Master break like that before, not truly. The cracks had always been there, quiet and restrained. But now? Now they were bleeding into the open. And Anakin didn’t know how to stop the bleeding.
He drew in a slow breath and turned toward the training halls.
Jedi Temple – Training Wing
Ahsoka was exactly where he expected her to be, inside one of the smaller sparring rooms, running through a tight, fast kata with her twin sabers. Her movements were fluid, sharp, precise. Focused.
Too focused.
She was trying to push something out of her mind. Anakin recognized it instantly. It was the same way he trained when the galaxy felt like it was running away from him.
He waited until she finished the sequence before stepping inside.
“Your footwork’s tighter,” he offered, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall.
Ahsoka blinked and straightened, spinning both sabers off before giving him a look.
“You’re late,” she said, though the smirk on her face didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Something came up,” Anakin replied, stepping forward. “We’ve been assigned a mission.”
Her expression shifted, instantly more alert. “What kind of mission?”
“A Jedi distress signal came in. Outer Rim - uncharted sector. The signal’s old, fragmented. No clear identification, but the Council wants us to investigate.”
Ahsoka frowned. “They think there are survivors?”
“They don’t know,” he said. “But someone sent it. And they used an old Republic clearance code. Pre-clone wars. Council thinks it could be a Jedi who went missing.”
“Could be a trap,” Ahsoka muttered.
“I’m sure it is,” Anakin said, almost bitterly. “But we’re going anyway.”
She nodded, no questions asked. That was what he always appreciated about Ahsoka, her loyalty wasn’t blind, but it was steady.
Still, she studied his face for a long second. “You’re not telling me everything.”
He hesitated. Then, with a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair.
“It’s Obi-Wan,” he said, voice low. “He’s not… well.”
Ahsoka's brows drew together. “Physically or-?”
“Both,” Anakin said. “He’s- he’s hollow, Ahsoka. I don’t think he’s even really here anymore. He says he’s fine, but it’s like talking to a shadow. I don’t know how he’s going to handle this mission.”
Ahsoka lowered her eyes. “It’s Satine and Korkie, isn’t it?”
He gave a tight nod.
“Do you know if they have spoken at all after… you know?”
At that, Anakin had to shake his head. He had caught Obi-Wan staring at his commlink when the man thought no one was watching, but he had never seen him actually making the call.
Sighing, he started pacing. “I can’t imagine how he must feel…,” a sharp pain gnawed at his heart, “I think- I think he feels bad for what he is.” His voice cracked involuntarily. “… for what he chose.”
Ahsoka stared at him, not quite understanding.
“… A jedi,” Anakin eventually forced out.
His padawan’s eyes went wide. “You really think that Satine would hold that against him?”
Anakin huffed. “I don’t know anything, Ahsoka. But I think it’s obvious how much she hates violence and war.”
He averted his gaze. “And now we’re throwing him back into battle like none of it matters.”
Silence hung between them for a moment.
“I’ll watch his back,” she said quietly. “Even if he won’t ask for it.”
Anakin offered a faint smile. “Thanks, Snips.”
Onboard the Twilight
The hyperspace journey was silent, the hum of the engines almost soothing, yet a quiet tension hung thick in the air. Anakin sat at the front of the ship, his hands gripped tightly to the controls as his thoughts turned inward. The worst part was that he was beginning to feel like he had no one left to turn to, not really. Obi-Wan was fading, Padmé was a safe harbor but too far removed from the frontlines, and Ahsoka, though steadfast, was still learning to carry the burden of war.
But this mission… something about it didn’t sit right with him.
His mind wandered back to the fleeting exchange he had with Padmé. “You’re not alone,” she had said.
The words felt like a promise, but also like a lie.
Suddenly, a strange pull tugged at his consciousness. It wasn’t a disturbance in the Force, not exactly. It felt… deeper. A twisting sensation in the pit of his stomach, like they weren’t just traveling through space, they were being pulled somewhere.
Anakin turned toward his companions, Obi-Wan in the co-pilot seat and Ahsoka behind them.
“I feel…” he spoke out loud hesitating, not quite sure how to put it. “It’s like the Force is pulling us somewhere. Something’s wrong. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
Ahsoka’s eyes narrowed. She hadn’t sensed anything unusual at first, but now that he mentioned it, she could feel the strange, almost suffocating pull too.
Obi-Wan looked up from his seat, his expression unreadable but his eyes flickering with the same unease Anakin had felt. “You’re not imagining it, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly. “I’ve felt it as well. It’s as though… the Force itself is guiding us.”
Anakin’s gaze flicked to Obi-Wan, searching his face for any sign of the old reassurance he once relied on. But the older Jedi said nothing more, his face once again slipping into the mask of calm detachment.
Minutes later, the ship shuddered violently as if something massive had just collided with them. The alarms blared, red lights flashing as the ship lurched uncontrollably. Anakin instinctively gripped the controls harder, trying to stabilize their course, but it was no use. The pull was too strong.
“Brace for impact!” Anakin shouted, his hands flying across the control panel.
Ahsoka gripped her seat, eyes wide. “What’s happening, Master?”
“We’ve been pulled into something, some kind of gravitational anomaly.” His voice was tight, fighting the panic threatening to rise in his chest.
The ship broke through the turbulence, emerging into an eerie stillness.
Outside, nothing looked familiar. The stars had disappeared, replaced by an endless swirl of mist and shadow. The very space itself felt… wrong. The dimensions of reality seemed to bend and warp in unpredictable ways.
Anakin’s heart hammered in his chest as he looked at Obi-Wan. “Where are we?”
Obi-Wan didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed in concentration as the Force pulsed around them, carrying a single name in its wake.
Mortis.