This was a prompt I received on Tumblr. Enjoy!
Struck down. Struck down right in front of him. The last call, the battle cry, the final clash. And then, Sai Cha.
His padawan, his brother, was dead. And all he could do was stare.
Stare at the fawn-coloured hair that always was a tangled mess.
Stare at the sapphire eyes that held the brightest light.
Stare at the sabre hilt that represented ten thousand years of prophecy come to life.
Stare at the gloved hand that taught a million lessons in one single moment.
High above the skies of Coruscant, the Chosen One took his last breath.
Did the galaxy feel it? Do they know? Will all the stars and all the planets dim? Will the galaxy be darker now?
You are gone and it's all my fault.
A familiar hum grew steadily before it was pounding in Obi-Wan's ears. He whipped around, raising his blade just centimetres before he would have wound up like his padawan, in two pieces on the floor. The ginger-haired Jedi's arms shook as the exertion of holding back Dooku's attack took its toll.
Shut away your grief, Obi-Wan. Hide it away like you did on Naboo. The battlefield is no place for mourning.
And that is what he did. That's what he always did. He locked it up in a gilded box, a box with a million locks, to be shut away from the world.
He was not the perfect Jedi because he had no emotion. He was not even close to the perfect Jedi. He has emotion. Stars above, does he have emotion. But instead of letting it control him, he puts it away. Keep your thoughts on the here and now, that's what Master Qui-Gon always said. Grief in the box, shields solid and tight, defence mechanism in play. Master Qui-Gon used to always laugh about Obi-Wan's defence mechanism. In the temple training halls, he was called the Sass Master, the not-quite master of the blade, but definitely the master of attitude.
"Dooku, so nice to see you again. It's a regular family reunion." He quipped over the screaming of blade on blade.
Dooku smirked, a twisted grin and eyes afire. "Such a shame it's going to end in more bloodshed. It really was enjoyable to see you."
They exchanged blows back and forth for minutes. Each time, the sabres clashing in a great cacophony. The pair moving so swiftly, the colours blurred. However to the duelists, the red crystal of Dooku's blade cast dark and haunted shadows. And those shadows, they played tricks on Obi-Wan's already tempestuous mind. Every so often, the face would change. It would change from the pale and long, to the red and black. The face of man who haunted Obi-Wan's life. It isn't real, he is gone. He is not here. Dooku is here, not Maul. Dooku.
Kenobi stumbled, his grip faltering on his sabre and the activator button shutting off.
"Obviously, all your training hasn't done much. You're just as sloppy with your sabre as ever. I cannot believe they let you train the Chosen One. Maybe he would have survived if someone else had."
Obi-Wan's eyes could never hide his emotions. They read like playing cards; and right now, they blazed a wildfire. Igniting his blade and rushing towards the other man, he shoved Dooku backwards long enough to dive under the older Jedi's arm and strike a burn to his side. Obi-Wan hear, rather than saw, the Sith lord hiss in pain. The man spun around swinging his crimson sabre with malicious intent. Kenobi, his features as cold and emotionless as stone, easily flipped up and over Dooku to face the Sith's back.
The wisp of a dream caught him as he landed. A wisp of a dream with a man with chestnut hair and kind eyes.
… That's it Obi-Wan. Strike the back, blade against the neck. Subdue, don't slaughter…
Obi-Wan struck, slicing his blade up Dooku's back, just enough to burn, not dismember. As the older man fell to his knees, the curved hilt of his blade fell from his hand. But before it could hit the steel deck plating it was pulled into a different hand. The hand of Obi-Wan Kenobi.
A blur of colour, blue and red.
A half of minute of near silence, the only noise the steady hum of sabres and panting breaths.
"Do it. Kill him." The Chancellor urged, silently watching in wicked delight until this moment.
"No! I will not be manipulated like you manipulated him!" Obi-Wan screamed as his eyes flashed to the still corpse of his best friend. "You controlled him! You controlled him under false pretense. He thought you were helping him! He looked to you as a father figure when he needed one! And you used him! He trusted you! Dooku will face trial and you will resign from your position." Kenobi spat, the Force crackling about him. He turned to Dooku, his normally-blue eyes, steel daggers forged in the fires of grief. "You, stand up and turn around."
The Grandmaster-turned-Sith Lord compiled, his weapon displaced and his energy depleted. Obi-Wan snapped binders around the man's wrists and pulled the Force close about him. One hand tight around the handcuffs and the other on the controls for the Chancellor's restrains, he released the leader of the Galactic Republic from his captivity.
"Thank you, young man. You are a credit to the Jedi." Palpatine spoke, his voice dripping with false gratitude. But the young man in question was too focused on the body of his padawan to notice. His thoughts were of other things, darker things.
Anakin, you will never get a proper funeral. You deserve to be burned on the pyre, mourned like a true Jedi, and remembered as a brave hero. Instead you will be burned here, in a ship you never flew, with people who don't know you, forgotten except simply as a casualty of war.
Behind him, a small flick of the head between the Sith and the Chancellor signaled something far worse. The next thing the ginger-haired Jedi knew was a drilling pain in the back of his head and the familiar weight of a sabre hilt on his belt missing. He turned around just in time to see Dooku snap the binders around his wrists and Palpatine raise a fist.
The last thing Obi-Wan thought as he was dragged away, unconsciousness slowly slipping into his eyes,
Oh, my brother, you didn't deserve this.