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Lightning cuts through the air like a hundred spears wreathed in white light, and someone is screaming.
It's him. The scream is his own. The sound is shredding his throat, and the lightning is tearing into everything else. He has never felt anything like this. It's not only the lightning but what it's made from and what lies beyond it; beneath the blinding brightness is a darkness too deep to fathom. A grasping, greedy power that latches onto him with hooked claws as if to say finally, finally, I have waited so long for this.
Or perhaps those are words he hears aloud. He cannot tell. His mind has been overridden by pain. He's not aware of breath or sight or sound; he knows he's terrified but he can't remember why.
The darkness is spreading. No - it's been here all along. It's only revealed itself now, cast aside a veneer of light and exposed a rot that has burrowed down into the very heart of everything they are. It skitters in electric flashes over his skin, branches over him and digs roots into his veins. It is everywhere. Festering darkness cloaked in a mockery of light, and he is coming apart.
He thinks he might be dying.
He cannot - not now - not when they are so close, when he is needed, when there is so much he must do. But it's not his choice. The darkness is in his chest, his head, creeping in shadows across his vision. Even the lightning begins to feel far away.
And then - nothing.
A nothing so complete that he genuinely thinks, for a moment, that it is indeed the finality of death.
But it is not nothing. The Force remains, and there is something there that is not darkness.
That's when he remembers his name.
Obi-Wan drifts, for a moment, in a place where nothing reaches him. No pain, no sensation at all. It is a heartbeat of time in which his mind frantically tries to shield itself, reaching for shelter and healing that are simply not there to be had.
Because then he jolts, awareness slamming back into him, and his lungs spasm like they want to keep screaming but don't have the air.
Everything hurts. The lightning's gone but it's like he can still feel it under his skin - like it's left burns behind on the inside. He's trembling. The floor is hard and cold beneath him. He's lying down, though he has no memory of falling. Someone is shouting, and hands land on his shoulders. He flinches, and the grip loosens. That alone is enough for him to know who is holding him, to know he doesn't need to fight.
Which is just as well, because he doesn't think he can move.
"Cody," he says, or tries to say, but he barely even hears his own voice.
But Cody hears him. He always does.
"Obi-Wan," he breathes, and there's something awful in his voice.
He thinks we're going to die here.
He might yet be right.
They're alone. Mace came with them, but he's unconscious in the wreckage of the corridor; not dead, Obi-Wan can sense him still, or could before the lightning drove everything else out. They brought no others with them, leaving them to defend the Temple, or with the younglings they sent into hiding away from Coruscant. Numbers wouldn't best Palpatine, nor would they have been able to enter the Senate unchallenged and unseen as their strike force had. Three Jedi and a clone, representatives of two peoples Palpatine saw as nothing but tools or obstacles. Cody had insisted he would be a witness, recording everything and transmitting the footage back to the Temple even as it happened in case they didn't make it back - but more than that, in their hurried planning, he had looked at Obi-Wan and it had been clear, in that moment, that he would not be left behind.
Obi-Wan understood. Three years they had fought together, he and Cody; fourteen, now, since he first took Anakin on as his apprentice. He couldn't have stayed behind either.
But they are weary and hurt, all of them, and Palpatine has seemed nothing but frustrated since the battle began - until Obi-Wan got between him and Anakin yet again, and that frustration boiled over in an expression of hatred like he'd never seen before, and the lightning struck.
He's never felt anything that dark.
And yet as clarity returns to his vision, Obi-Wan realises what's saved him.
The onslaught hasn't stopped after all. It's being blocked from him. A figure stands in front of him, tall and robed and bearing a lightsaber that blazes blue as it absorbs the crackling lightning.
And beyond the perception of sight, Anakin has unleashed himself in the Force.
It has happened before. Or - it would have happened. Two nights ago they shared a vision, he and Anakin, of the life that would have been. If Obi-Wan had gone to Utapau. If Anakin had believed Palpatine. If they'd not mounted a defence of the Jedi Temple that wages on even now, though General Grievious' body lies still smoking on the Temple steps. If Anakin had let jealous love and fear lead him into horrors beyond words.
What Anakin burned with in that world was a fathomless darkness.
It is what he believed he was doomed to become even after the vision warned them of what was to come, and despite everything they've done since. Protecting the clones, Padmé, the Jedi. The younglings.
But now -
Now he is something Obi-Wan has not seen before.
Nothing, neither light nor dark - or both at once, depending on your point of view. A supernova cracking apart the oblivion of empty space, yet also a black hole absorbing all light. Wavering, perhaps, somewhere in between.
Obi-Wan cannot breathe.
This is it. One way or another, after everything they've fought for, it comes to this.
A single moment. One choice. To fall - or rise.
The lightning crackles to a halt. The hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders spasm, and in a moment of instinct he finds that he has the strength to move his arm; he clutches Cody's hand, a silent plea to stay. He knows Cody was about to reach for his blaster, but pausing his assault does not mean Palpatine is vulnerable. Blaster shots will not stop him, and the attempt would almost certainly cost Cody his life.
No, Palpatine is not distracted enough to be vulnerable - and yet a look comes over his face that Obi-Wan has never seen there before.
Doubt.
Not even the failure of Order 66 nor the news that the Separatist siege of the Temple was falling apart had caused his steady confidence to slip. But this - this was something Palpatine had not allowed for.
"No," Anakin snarls. There's something wounded in him, deep within, as though he was the one who'd been struck. As though every hurt to Obi-Wan was a hurt to him. "You will not hurt him. Not again. I won't let you."
"Anakin," Palpatine says, and the paternal croon he's always favoured with Anakin has always been unsettling but it's sickly now, its heartlessness finally laid bare. "Do not let the Jedi deceive you. Your master has betrayed me - has betrayed you. You must see, my dear boy, this is your one chance to be truly free. I can give you everything you deserve. Only I can save your family."
Darkness. Light. Darkness -
Images flicker through Obi-Wan's mind, then, entirely unbidden. They are the impression of feelings that aren't his own but rather Anakin's, felt so desperately and deeply that they burst into life in that space in the Force they both share. Flashes of memory, both of the past and of the future that would have been.
First - Obi-Wan, somewhere in the Temple, so content and at ease that it must be a memory from before the war, and he's smiling at Anakin as he pulls his friend into an embrace.
Then - Padmé laughing in a field of grass and wildflowers, so free, so loved. There is a desperation and a fear to that love, but still, it is an adoration without end, and there is beauty in it.
Next, not memory but unlived future - Leia, on the landing platform of the palace in Alderaan, teasing Obi-Wan and laughing for all she's worth.
And Luke, on a moisture farm on Tattooine, sitting on the dome atop his home with goggles over his eyes, grinning to himself as he pretends to fly.
There is hatred in Anakin's thoughts too. Hatred for Palpatine, for his lies and manipulations, for everything he's done and all he means to do. But not only that. Deep in Anakin, now, is a terrible hatred for himself - for his fall, for standing at Palpatine's side, for a decade of crimes Obi-Wan can barely let himself think about. No matter that Anakin hasn't done any of it yet - no matter that they have already changed things, that they are changing them even now. Anakin is terrified of himself, and in that fear lies the path to the very thing he is afraid of. Darkness only knows how to lead to darkness.
Anakin is burning, and there is no telling yet how much the fire will destroy.
His hesitation seems to have given Palpatine strength. He advances a step. He's smiling, even as he raises a hand again. Cody swears and lifts his blaster in desperate defence.
He never has to fire it.
"My family," Anakin echoes. His voice trembles. "The only people my family need saving from are us."
And with that, he darts forward, leaping high to bring his saber crashing down towards the Lord of the Sith.
Palpatine meets it with his own blade, a moment of genuine shock melting away into uncontrollable rage. They fight in a blur of colour and movement, one leaping away as the other advances, then charging back in for the next attack.
Obi-Wan forces his arms under him. They shake like he is a newborn deer trying to stand, but still he pushes, drawing on the Force for strength. And he has more than that; Cody helps, steadying and supporting him. For a moment one hand settles on his chest and he can feel the part of Cody that wants to hold him there, that wishes that was a choice he could make. But the hand moves again and passes him his fallen lightsaber, and Obi-Wan feels a burst of affection in his chest that feels like warmth and spring and light breaking through winter cloud.
His muscles hurt with a deep, trembling ache like he's caught in a bout of terrible illness. Even his bones seem to hurt. His heart is pounding a too-fast beat. His energy is beyond spent.
He can't win this fight, but he doesn't need to.
They are as one in battle, he and Anakin. Perhaps the problem is that they never before quite understood each other so well in peace as they do in war, but they do now. Maybe the gift the Force gave them with that vision was twofold. A chance to save the galaxy - and a chance to save themselves.
He manages to stand. Cody squeezes his hand and lets him go.
Anakin, even as his blade cuts and blocks and the opponents dart around one another, catches Obi-Wan's eye.
They see it in each other in that moment. Love. Love they can cling to like the last handhold out of oblivion.
Anakin feints, pretending to stumble. Lets himself be forced back by Palpatine's onslaught. He cries out, falling to one knee, and allows Palpatine to see his attention get caught by movement behind Palpatine's back.
Palpatine takes the bait. He pivots round even as Obi-Wan darts forward as if to deliver an unexpected attack, and it takes all Obi-Wan's speed to raise his saber in time to meet Palpatine's blade. He's ready for it - but he's not prepared for the terrible strength Palpatine puts behind the blow. It feels like the full weight of the Dark Side is pressing into him, and Palpatine's face is alight again with a genuine, fathomless hatred.
Shit. He can't hold this.
His arms buckle.
Anakin -
Palpatine actually senses it. Obi-Wan can never forget that afterwards, that single moment of heart-stopping fear. Palpatine starts to turn back, releasing one hand from his lightsaber to reach behind him. Towards Anakin.
But whatever he intends to do, he never achieves it.
A dazzling blue light cuts through his chest.
Anakin's saber burns hilt-deep into his back.
Fury, pain, disbelief, a dawning realisation - Palpatine's face goes slack with shock. There is still, impossibly, strength in him; with one wave of his hand Obi-Wan goes flying backwards, slamming back into the floor. Blaster bolts fire, but all rebound before they get near Palpatine; dazed, Obi-Wan looks round desperately, but Cody's flung himself at the ground and the bolts smoulder in the wall behind him.
With another wave, Palpatine sends Anakin flying too - but his anger is his undoing. Because Anakin, stronger than Palpatine ever knew, does not let go of his lightsaber.
The blade slices sideways through Palpatine's chest. He screams, an ear-splitting sound of fury and pain, and lightning crackles across his skin.
Obi-Wan realises what's going to happen a moment before it does, and that moment seems to last a lifetime.
Cody flings himself over Obi-Wan. It's brave and noble as Cody has always been, braver than the galaxy ever deserved, and it will kill him. Obi-Wan is spent, his strength and power lost, and yet he tries anyway. Because Cody and Anakin are here and Obi-Wan would give his life to protect them. He lifts a hand, trying to focus enough to summon protection from the Force, but he has nothing left to fight with.
A shield comes anyway.
Anakin crashes to his knees in front of them, both hands raised.
And Palpatine explodes.
The lightning surging across his body narrows to a single crackling, blinding point in his chest where the lightsaber first struck, and then it vanishes. Sound itself seems to falter - and in the next instant, Palpatine is gone. His body tears apart and darkness pours out. It's like space itself rips asunder, leaving behind a darkness so complete that it sucks in light. The entire room is darker than night. There is a crackling, tearing noise so loud that it rips through Obi-Wan's head.
A heartbeat of ragged, desperate breathing.
And then light.
It's startling, but not only on his eyes. The Force, too, brightens like clouds have cleared from a stormy sky. The shock of it almost sends him back to the ground even as he struggles to sit up.
Palpatine's office has been obliterated. The window is gone, and great cracks have split the walls. His desk is dust, the artefacts along the wall in pieces.
Of Palpatine himself there is no sign but for a scorch mark that covers half the floor, and ash scattering in the wind.
Anakin lowers his hands. The three of them are sitting in an undisturbed circle, the only part of the room protected from the onslaught.
Palpatine is gone.
It's over. It's -
Is it over?
Anakin stands. Walks to the place where Palpatine died. Obi-Wan cannot see his face. He cannot read him in the Force.
(Palpatine is dead. Palpatine is dead-)
He is still holding his lightsaber.
Obi-Wan feels like he is still caught in the lightning. He cannot breathe.
Please. Please.
Don't fall. Not now.
Anakin's killed Palpatine. He's destroyed the Sith Lord.
But Darth Vader longed to kill Palpatine too. Loathed and envied him as much as he needed him. This victory alone does not secure him in the Light. Not even if he has done it out of love not hatred, because it was love that made him fall in another world.
Anakin turns back. Terror seizes Obi-Wan by the throat. Not fear of Anakin - but fear for him.
But his eyes are blue.
He's crying.
He drops to the ground in front of Obi-Wan and holds out his lightsaber. Hilt first, not lit.
"Take it," he says, and his voice is ragged. "Please."
And Obi-Wan sees in that moment that Anakin knows, too, how close he has come to falling. That he is terrified of what he might have done, what he might have become.
But he didn't do it. He didn't fall, and the Sith Lord is gone. It's over.
Shadows coil around Anakin, whispering, but he's not listening. He's burning, still, but the fire is not consuming him.
"Please," Anakin says, wrecked, and Obi-Wan cannot deny him. He takes the saber. Perhaps because he can see the wisdom in Anakin's plea; perhaps because he wants to stem that devastation.
"Oh, Anakin," he says, and he reaches out to cup the back of Anakin's head. "My brother. Well done."
He tugs Anakin forward until their foreheads bump together, a little too hard - his hands still feel strange and clumsy - but he doesn't care. And from the way Anakin presses closer, hands tangling in Obi-Wan's robes, he doesn't either.
"I thought - I wanted - I almost," Anakin gasps, almost nonsensical except Obi-Wan understands him as he has never understood him before.
"You didn't," he says. "You've saved us all."
"Still - need saving. From me."
"We'll help you, Anakin. Of course we will. But you won't hurt us."
"You don't know that. You saw what I was."
"Yes. And I see who you are now."
There is a clatter behind him. He pulls away from Anakin just enough to turn, held in place by Anakin's tightening grip on his robes.
Cody's removed his helmet. He looks sweaty and stunned, but unhurt. Alive. Safe.
"I've stopped the recording," he says quietly. "Footage went through. Rex has passed on a message from Ahsoka," he adds, and Anakin manages to relinquish his grasp on Obi-Wan enough to look over. "She wants to know why that took us so damn long."
And Anakin... there, at what might have been the end of everything and instead is the beginning of more than Obi-Wan can guess at, Anakin starts to laugh.
It's a wet, heartbreaking kind of sound, more broken than whole, and yet it's the most beautiful thing in the world.
Obi-Wan laughs too, breathless and disbelieving, and Cody catches his eye and smiles.
The Sith are gone. Strange as his lungs still feel, when Obi-Wan draws breath now, he feels like he can breathe deeper than he has in years. Shadows in his mind he had grown used to so slowly that he wasn't even aware of them are gone, and fresh strength courses through him.
They need to help Mace, rescue him from the rubble and get the Senate evacuated in case the explosion's done more damage than they can see. They need to get back to the Temple and ensure the Separatist siege is over. They need - they need so many things, and Obi-Wan is so very tired, but first...
He draws Anakin back in again, hugging him as tight and as close as he can. And for all the darkness that wants to gain a foothold in him, what Obi-Wan feels in Anakin more than anything then is relief - that Padmé is safe, that his children have a chance to grow up in peace, and that Obi-Wan is still here to hold him, to love him. That Anakin kept him safe.
There once was a world where a boy who dreamt of flight and freedom grew up to turn his own dreams to ash and burn them with the bodies of his people, on the pyre of the Republic he once fought to defend. He sacrificed the world for a woman who would never have wanted to be saved for the price he paid.
Yet now that world is gone. In its place they have this: a galaxy set free because Anakin Skywalker had the power to save someone he loved, and did it in the Light.
Obi-Wan holds his brother close, opens himself to the Force, and cries tears of joy for what he finds there.