And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.
Matthew 16:18
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His life was complete. This was something that Anakin knew and understood, the same way he sensed the fear and desperation of those trying to leave this revolting machine. The Force was calling him, telling him that his time had come at last. These last twenty years had been a time of constant pain, both mental and physical, only worsened by an ever expanding hatred of all things to do with the Light, to do with the Republic, to do with love. It was a terrible existence to have lived, and it would be pitiable, Anakin believed, if not for the atrocities he had committed in the throes of his pain.
It was those memories, and his recent transition back into the Light, that gave him acceptance of his impending death.
There is no Death. Only the Force.
Speaking of his newfound Light, the impetus of his transformation was kneeling in front of him. The boy—for he was a boy, no matter his skill and wisdom—was looking at Anakin earnestly, eager to listen and speak with him, eager to be near him. Anakin could not determine this from the Force—Yoda and Obi-Wan had not had time to fully train Luke, but they had obviously taken the time to ensure that the boy's shields were well formed and practically instinctive—but he did not need it when Luke's thoughts were so clearly displayed on his face.
He had said his good-byes. There was nothing more important than telling Luke that he was loved—that he had always been loved, even when he should not have been capable of the emotion—and that the same was true for Leia.
He gazed at his son now. Those bright blue eyes, so like Anakin's own once, before his were burned and blurred and shot through with the red that matched his other scars, filled with emotion. Anakin saw desperation and fear, but helplessness was prevalent. Anakin was not worried. Such emotions had buried lesser Jedi in the Dark, but Luke was would not Fall. He was sure of it. Anakin knew that his son would soon come to terms with his death with the help of time and by seeking refuge in the Force.
It was time.
Truly, Anakin could think of no better way for his life to end, than dying in the arms of his greatest joy, and his savior. He did not deserve such a person. One who believed in his Light even when it was buried in the Dark. He doubted he had ever deserved such faith. But Luke believed and that had been enough to save him.
He felt the Force reaching for him. Anakin could feel it weaving into his very being in a way that it never had before. Anakin was not afraid. It was his time. But looking at Luke, he knew that one more thing must be expressed between them, and without hesitation, Anakin lowered his shields, letting all of his love and gratitude wash against the shores of Luke's mind, where they gently ebbed until Luke lowered his shields in kind.
As Anakin embraced the Force, allowing it to draw him in, he felt Luke's response—one of love, sorrow at his passing, and complete, irrational acceptance.
As the Force flowed around him, Anakin passed in silent joy and boundless love.
Time passed.
Anakin wasn't sure how much, but he eventually became aware of it when he became aware of himself and realized that he had identity. Finally, he found that he was lying on his back, on a surface unlike any he had ever felt before. Out of habit more than anything, Anakin began to reach out with the Force in order to get his bearings.
And as soon as he did, he jumped.
The Force felt different. It was still the same as he remembered from the days of his Knighthood, but it was stronger, and deeper, on a level that he had never believed possible. It was not Dark, thankfully. Anakin did not know what he would have done if the afterlife was tainted with the Dark.
For that was what this was, he realized—the afterlife. He was dead.
There is no Death. Only the Force.
Obviously, Anakin thought dryly, the philosophers of the Jedi Order had gotten a few things wrong. All souls were supposed to be cycled into the Force, Death taking only that which made one an individual. The soul, the life itself, was absorbed into the Force. Or, so Jedi philosophy said. Obviously, there were some flaws in that particular line of thinking.
Realizing that if he had identity, and if he knew himself, he would probably be in a Place and that it would probably be a good thing to get up off the floor.
So Anakin opened his eyes and rolled up to his feet.
Around him, the world was made of light.
Truly, it looked as if everything around him was made of light. Nothing had form or substance, and instead his surroundings looked like holodecks children sometimes played with—the ones whose image changed depending on the angle it was seen from. The difference here was that the Place kept changing, never staying the same. Nothing was definite, nothing was solid. All was made of light. And it was peaceful. Anakin's soul, for so long tormented, felt a deep sense of contentment in this place. Even the ethereal music weaving through the air added to the deep sense of wholeness Anakin felt.
Wait...he could hear.
Looking down, Anakin saw something he hadn't in twenty years.
His body.
His lungs (did he need them in his afterlife?) worked on their own. The deep, crackling noise of the respirator mask was absent. His right hand...it was flesh.
He had flesh.
Quickly, Anakin inspected himself. Near as he could tell, he was once again twenty three, just before he had fallen, with the bonus of having all four limbs instead of three.
The last time he had been whole.
The Force, it seemed, was merciful. Anakin wasn't sure he could handle eternity as a strange mix of man and machine, always reminded of his sins with every breath he breathed.
Just then, the light surroundings formed something more solid. Something with shape and form.
He studied it, but soon that became unnecessary, as the figure who walked toward him was as recognizable to him as Tantooine's twin suns.
Anakin fell to his knees.
There, waiting patiently with a slight smirk on his face, was his old teacher.
"Master Kenobi," he croaked.
For a few blessed moments, he had been so preoccupied with his new situation that he had forgotten his sins, had forgotten the horror brought by his actions. Now, they came back, full force. He had caused his master—his friend and brother—to live twenty years of exile, and his saber had cauterized the blood of his jugular as it separated his head from his shoulders. Anakin had destroyed everything that Obi-Wan held dear. He deserved whatever this man wanted to do to him.
He kneeled prostrate before the older Jedi, forehead touching the light surface at his Master's feet.
"Anakin," Obi-Wan started, familiar voice gentle, "Rise my friend. You have long been my equal, and there is no need for either of us to kneel."
Anakin gulped at the kind words. How was it that those he loved seemed to forgive so easily? Why did no one hate him as he hated himself?
"Master I...I don't-"
"It's alright, my friend. It is alright."
But Anakin was filled with remorse and despair. Forgiveness could not be as easy as that. Not for him. Not after the atrocities he had committed. "Master I'm sorry. How could I have betrayed you and your teachings as I did? I killed so many—acted in the Dark. I'm so sorry—master I will spend eternity making it up to you. I—I—" And Anakin could not speak around the sobs that racked him and the tears that flowed down his cheeks. What could he say? Obi-Wan's appearance had unhinged him in a way that Luke's presence had not. To him, Obi-Wan represented all that he could have had, and all that he could have accomplished. The sight of him filled his very being with a desperate remorse, and an endless despair.
"Peace, Anakin, for that is what this place is. It is Peace, and you are part of it. Let it fill you, and soothe your ragged soul."
The gentle command, combined with the ceaseless remorse and the nearly forgotten years of training and listening and learning, resulted in Anakin's complete obedience. Without hesitation, Anakin reached for the Force, and this time the intensity of the experience soothed him rather than overwhelmed him. It was just as Obi-Wan had said. The Force filled him, swirling inside him and washing away the sharp emotions that had reduced him to little more than a heap. He was not at Peace yet—there was far too much to make up for—but he was in control of himself again. And the Force continued to swirl within him. He felt suddenly embarrassed. Was he so weak and sad that the mere sight of his Mentor relieved him of his senses? That was no credit to Obi-Wan's training. He felt ashamed.
Oddly enough it was this that calmed him most. Once again, Obi-Wan was the one with wisdom and experience. He, Anakin, was again the unruly apprentice in need of a good scolding. It was something familiar, and that was comforting. Slowly, he raised his head and looked into his friend and Master's eyes.
Obi-Wan's blue-green eyes met his gaze calmly, and Anakin looked for traces of any hatred or judgement in the other man's eyes. He found none, and quickly realized that it had been ridiculous to expect otherwise. Hatred and anger was the was the way of the Sith and Obi-Wan was far too much a Jedi to act otherwise. Instead, Anakin saw what he thought was joy, and maybe even fraternal love, in the teacher's eyes.
The Force told him that this was the truth.
"Have you calmed, my friend?"
Friend.
His master still called him friend.
"Yes, Master."
Obi-Wan smiled, the expression making his white beard twitch. "Then stand, Anakin, and learn."
And so Anakin did.
Anakin looked at his original teacher, wondering what he should say. Now that he was in control of himself again, his earlier pleas for forgiveness seemed inadequate. Somehow, he needed to show Obi-Wan that he had learned, and that he remembered the Jedi way. That he renounced the Sith, the Dark, that he loved again, that he had been saved. He wanted to prove his remorse and his loyalty to the Light. But what action could he take that would prove it?
As if sensing Anakin's frustration and uncertainty—which he probably did, as Anakin had yet to replace his shields—the master reached out and placed a hand on Anakin's shoulder. The younger man trembled.
He did not deserve this. He didn't deserve the comfort and support of this friend. Most of all, he didn't deserve the forgiveness that washed through his mind, carried by the Force. He did not deserve it. He did not deserve any of it.
"Who are you, Anakin, to decide who deserves forgiveness and who does not? You must let those who've been wronged forgive your sins, and trust me when I say I forgive yours." Obi-Wan gave Anakin's shoulder a tight squeeze.
And Anakin could not speak again.
He was so...grateful. Grateful for his son, who saved him, grateful for the Force, which gave him hope, and grateful for his teacher, who forgave him.
He let the Force wash through him, hoping that it would calm him. It did, but he was again hit with a surge of gratitude, in which he thanked his old master for his wisdom.
It was the first time Anakin could remember feeling that way about Obi-Wan's tendency to lecture and dispense wisdom. From the moment Anakin had met him, Obi-Wan had possessed the ability to make him feel very small, or even child-like at times. It had often caused friction between them. Anakin had hated feeling of inferiority it caused, and Obi-Wan hadn't understood why it was such a problem for him.
Now, though, Anakin welcomed it. He was so, so tired of standing on his own, of relying only on himself. For a moment, he did not care if it was childish, and if he did not deserve it. He moved to his old friend and buried his face in his shoulder.
At first Obi-Wan stiffened, and Anakin knew why. It was not common for Jedi to touch in such a manner, and was especially uncommon for two grown men to do so. It had been incredibly difficult for Anakin, at the age of nine, to get used to the lack of a physical relationship between Jedi. He was always a very tactile person, and it was something he struggled with throughout his life, excepting the time he spent with Padme. But right now he felt like a child, and he simply didn't care if it was appropriate or not, so he hugged his master and friend and father and brother, hoping he knew the depths of his sorrow, hoping he knew exactly what he meant to Anakin. And because his shields were trashed, and Obi-Wan had always been able to read him so well anyway, he was unsurprised when his master eventually returned the gesture.
They did not speak for some time, each one either taking or giving comfort to the other. Slowly, Anakin calmed, the shaking and trembling ceased, and simultaneously they released each other.
"I'm sorry master, for all the pain I've caused you."
Obi-Wan smiled. "All is forgiven, Anakin."
Anakin looked down. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."
The two enjoyed the silence for a moment, reveling in their resurrected friendship, before Obi-Wan moved back.
"Now, my friend, don't you want to know where you are?"
Anakin nodded, faintly embarrassed that his emotions had gotten in the way of his curiosity, but the rather negative emotion didn't have the same hold on him that it might have otherwise. Instead, he was content to learn from his teacher, happy to have a guide once more.
"You are in a sort of...antechamber. Here you will cleanse yourself of all regrets and earthly trials. You remember how master Yoda always said that we were luminous beings, rather than the crude matter we perceived?" At Anakin's nod, he continued, "With the Force, we could glimpse our true visage during life, and now that we are within it, we shall slowly come to understand it. Does this make sense?"
Anakin blinked. "I...I don't understand…
He trailed off as Obi-Wan began to laugh.
"You always did prefer action to tedious theory, didn't you, Anakin?"
The man in question smiled sheepishly, for the first time in twenty years. "I suppose old habits die hard, Master.
Obi-Wan smirked, "Quite. Well, let me show you then. What is your greatest regret?"
Anakin stiffened, looking at his master in surprise.
He idly wondered what Obi-Wan was expecting him to reveal. Did his master want him to say that he regretted marrying Padme, that he regretted his children's existence? Because if that was the case, his master would be disappointed. He did not blame others for his Fall—not anymore. His decision to court the Dark, to allow temptation to seduce him, was his alone to bear.
"I regret my Fall, Master. I regret choosing Dark over Light."
Obi-Wan smiled. "A wise thing to regret, Anakin."
Anakin blinked again, not having expected the praise. Before he could speak, Obi-Wan continued.
"You see, this place is one where problems are resolved, where regrets are purged from the soul. You regret your Fall, and so you shall be absolved of guilt."
But Anakin was already shaking his head. "Master, I sincerely doubt a day will come when I do not fell regret over my time in the Dark, or my decision to court it."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "Do you doubt the power of the Force?"
"Never," he answered immediately.
"Then allow me to explain. Within this room, we have identity, and we have form. This place is formed at the center of all Light, and all Dark. Here, we see Balance."
Anakin's eyes widened in shock. "But we would be able to feel the Dark! I feel nothing but Light." And it was true. Only Light swirled around them, all soft eddies and wild rhythm and beautiful color and perfection. There was no trace of Dark here.
"Anakin, there is always a point of Darkness in the center of Light. It is small, almost invisible, and it exists in perfect harmony with the Light around it."
That made very little sense to him. Anakin, who had lived in both sides for an equal amount of time, he could see no harmony between the two. They were opposing forces. How could they exist in harmony?
Probably noticing his confusion, Obi-Wan continued. "In the Jedi Temple, you were taught that Dark and Light were the only sides of the force. But unbeknownst to us, there exists a third part: Balance, which feeds on both, and exists within the confines of both the Dark and Light, combining them, and forcing them to coexist."
Anakin frowned. As Obi-Wan had pointed out, Anakin had never been a fan of the theoretical side of training. He had much preferred lessons involving sabers. But this he thought he understood.
"So…Balance exists both within and outside of Light and Dark?"
Obi-Wan nodded. "Precisely."
Obi-Wan walked toward the barrier of the Place, and Anakin followed, questions forming on his lips. Finally, one came to mind. "Master, I don't understand what this has to do with regrets."
The teacher turned to him and pursed his lips.
"Tell me, Anakin," he started, "Do you wish to be rid of your regrets?"
Did he...oh Force.
On the one hand, ridding himself of regret was tempting, because to regret nothing would mean forgetting everything, or at least all of that which he regretted, and he wished he could forget. He did not want to remember the atrocities he had committed while Dark. He didn't want to remember what it felt like to be too late to save his mother. He didn't want to remember the Dark, and its lure of power. He didn't want it. Any of it.
But those regrets changed him, made him grow. He had once been susceptible to the Dark, to the temptation it held. Now, knowing what he did, and existing in the Light, he knew he was strong enough to resist, had temptation existed in this realm, which Anakin knew instinctively it did not. His regrets, the result of them, now strengthened his position in the Light. And he did not want to forget that.
Again, he wondered what Obi-Wan would make of his response before he gave it.
"I don't want to forget."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "You're making assumptions again, Anakin. Who said anything about forgetting?"
Anakin looked at his master, confused. "How can I live, knowing what I did before, and not regret?"
Once again, Obi-Wan met Anakin's gaze, and he felt a wave of sympathy against his mind. Anakin flinched from it, again feeling that such sympathy was undeserved, and this time reacting to it. Earlier, he had been too emotionally unstable to resurrect his shields. Now, he tried to at least form a semblance of a barrier around his mind, and realized that it was impossible. He could grasp the Force easily, but it did not hold around his mind the way it was intended. Instead it spilled from him and clung in tiny remnants to his form.
He looked up in confusion, this new dilemma leaving him feeling uncomfortably exposed, even in front of Obi-Wan, who probably knew him better than anyone except maybe Padmé. Forming shields around his mind was something he had been able to do since he was ten. It was galling that he could no longer separate himself from the rest of the world.
Realizing that Obi-Wan was still looking at him, and was seemingly aware of Anakin's plight, Anakin beseeched him for the wisdom his master always offered.
"Master...?"
Obi-Wan held up his hand, "All will be explained in time." Anakin realized that Obi-Wan was waiting for him to accept this before he continued, and so Anakin forced his questions back, willing himself into patience.
Obi-Wan nodded in approval. "Now, in answer to your previous question, you have already stated that you trust the Force implicitly. What would you say if I told you that all of your trials were the will of the Force?"
Anakin actually took a step back as he reeled in shock. That thought, the one that stated that Padmé was to die by will of the Force, that his child would die with her, was one of the deciding factors in his Fall.
"How could all I have done be the will of the Force, Master, if even Balance inclines toward Light?"
Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "Ah, so you figured that out. It seems improbable, doesn't it?"
Anakin took a deep breath before answering. "More like impossible."
Obi-Wan sighed. "In some ways, yes. It is. In others, sense is eventually seen." the teacher laid the tips of his finger on the wall of Light. It shimmered, and then grew darker. Anakin could sense, however, that it was not Dark. In the Force, the spot was just as Light as Obi-Wan. Slowly, it grew until it was taller than Anakin, and just as wide. Inside, figures moved, and Anakin understood.
"It's a window," He said. Obi-Wan nodded.
"Into the universe we've left behind."
The image, which up until now had been hazy and indecipherable, snapped into razor sharp clarity.
The scenery was one he recognized—the forests of Endor. It was obviously the little moon's night, and the inhabitants were obviously celebrating. The little Ewoks danced and ran around their oversized bonfire, eating and dancing, the Force shimmering with their joy and relief.
And in the midst of all this, a rather rag-tag group of humans and robots joined the festivities. A man and woman were dancing slowly, some others re-enacted what looked to be a battle of epic proportions, and still others talked quietly, relief mixed with melancholy. Far out of the way, another man, surprisingly young and clothed in black from head to toe, and with a shock of blonde hair and familiar electric blue eyes...
"Luke..." Anakin whispered, the sight of his son surprising him.
Luke was standing before a pyre, torch in hand. For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at the carefully arranged pile of wood, before stepping forward and using the torch to light it.
Immediately, flames engulfed the wood, and the deceased who lay there became apparent.
His son was giving him a Jedi funeral.
"You see, Anakin, it's all about him."
Anakin blinked and tore his eyes from the image of his son. "What?"
Obi-Wan sighed, "Do you remember that prophecy? The one that stated you were to bring Balance to the Force?"
Anakin nodded. It had bolstered his ego on the many occasions when Obi-Wan had proved to be right and he otherwise would have learned humility. And it was why Palpatine had been so drawn to him in the first place.
"Well," Obi-Wan said, gesturing to the image of Luke. "You did."
Anakin glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. "Master?"
Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, a contemplative light to his eyes. Finally, he spoke. "Some people, the ones most centric to the Force's higher plan, are Named through prophecy or by the Force. Some names are easy to decipher, as yours is. Others," he said this while gesturing to himself. "Are more difficult."
Anakin frowned, his impatience growing. "I don't understand. What does this have to do with Luke?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "This is very complicated. I'm not entirely sure how to explain it correctly. You see, as I've told you, the purpose of this Place is to purge you of regret, so that you may join the Force and still retain identity. For some, their regrets are so great, and so much a part of them that they lose themselves. Most Jedi retain most of their identity, some individuality. Yoda, for example, is much the same as he was when we knew him. This is because Jedi are trained from birth to let go of regret and follow the will of the Force.
"I'm telling you all of this because it is all connected to your regret, and how it is purged from you. Your fate, Anakin, was cast by the Force." Obi-Wan paused before continuing, as if in preparation. "It took me the longest time to accept it, but the destruction of the Jedi Order and the Rise of the Empire was actually the will of the Force."
Anakin looked at his mentor in shock. He knew Obi-Wan well; once he might have said he knew him better than anyone else still breathing. And he knew, without a doubt that Obi-Wan's two greatest loves were his fellows in the Order, and the Force. To accept that one had destroyed the other on purpose must have been an extremely trying test of faith in the Force, for the older man.
Obi-Wan noticed his surprise and gave him a dry smile. "I went through this as well, Anakin. It is not an easy experience, by any means, but the result is joyous." The man turned back to the image of Luke, who continued to watch the fire burn. "You see, Anakin, the Order, no matter how devoted to the Force we were, had become corrupt. And I don't think it takes a genius to discern that the Senate was corrupt as well. Palpatine was the chancellor, after all, and that's only the beginning of it. Without even the Jedi available to maintain the integrity of the Republic government, it was only a matter of time before it all fell to pieces."
Anakin shook his head, "I know the Senate was corrupt, but the Order? Where do you get that idea?"
Obi-Wan flinched a little. "Anakin...Palpatine managed to get you on the Council with almost no opposition, even though it was obvious that you were to act as a spy. We became the generals in a war using clones so loyal they turned on us after an order to kill from Palpatine. Instead of remaining separate from the government and politics of the Republic, as we were meant to, we became the strong-arms of the Senate. Many of the Separatists and Neutral planets were very much correct when they said that we had ceased to be peace-keepers. Oh, we justified our actions, but we were not acting as the Jedi were intended to act, and we ignored it. If that is not corruption, Anakin, I don't know what is."
Anakin was silent for a moment, recognizing the gravity of the words, and what they meant. If even those devoted to the Light could become corrupt, what hope was there for everyone else?
"Do not misunderstand, Anakin, most Jedi were well and truly entrenched in the Light. I do not regret fighting for the Republic, as I am sure it was the will of the Force. I do not regret the battles I fought in, or the Separatist colonies I found and either destroyed or conquered. It was the will of the Force. I was sure then, and I am sure now. The corruption lay in the position the Order placed itself in. Jedi were never meant to be subject to the Senate. They were supposed to be the watchful eye of the Republic, never subject to the whims of politics and ever increasing demands of the public. They were always meant as peace-keepers, their power only to be wielded by the Force. In its final days, the Order disgraced itself by allowing their power to be used for transient purposes, and for allowing the corruption in the senate to grow to monstrous proportions."
Anakin waited for his mentor to continue, but realized that Obi-Wan had lapsed into thoughtful silence. Recognizing how difficult it must be for Obi-Wan to speak about this, he let the silence linger until he simply couldn't hold the questions in anymore.
"If the Force's goal was to rid the Universe of corrupt governing bodies, why didn't it stop the corruption from happening?" It seemed like a good solution to Anakin. After all, if the Force had a will, then it must have some kind of intended result. A plan. It must have known in the past what could or would transpire in the future. Why had it waited until it was too late to save a long standing system? Until it was too late to save thousands of people?
"Why does the Force do anything, Anakin? I could never be so arrogant as to think I could comprehend the reasons for all its actions. However, if I had to hazard a guess, I would say that the Force probably tried to prevent it by giving the universe opportunities to better itself, up until the time you were born. Quite obviously, if that was the case, it didn't work. You see, Anakin," Obi-Wan raised his hand to prevent his once and present disciple from voicing his question, "Though everything is driven by the Force, and though the Force's will always comes to pass, all sentient beings have free will, and that makes us manipulable by things other than the Force. I believe we passed by our opportunities, or were denied them by others. Eventually, the corruption reached the point of no return, and thus you were born, Anakin."
The man in question glared at his feet with his jaw clenched, wrestling with his disgust. The very idea that he was born for the sole purpose of destroying the Jedi Order and the Republic was galling. Had he been doomed to the Dark from the start? Was everything that happened really not his own fault, but the fault of the Force? Padmé...was her death planned? What about his torture of Leia and that captain she loved? Oh, what had he done? Why had he ever served such a cruel master as the Force if this was all it wanted from him? Why had he ever existed anyway, if only to cause pain?
"Anakin stop!" Obi-Wan commanded. Anakin looked to his friend, suddenly aware of what he was doing. Once again, he was spinning into a cycle of self-pity and despair. It wasn't that they weren't valid questions, or even that his feelings were not justified it was the arrogance behind these thoughts, the fact that he was, once again running straight toward the path of the Dark. Had he learned nothing?
"I'm sorry, Master. I just..."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "It's alright, Anakin. In answer to your questions, no. Your purpose in life was not to simply cause pain and suffering to your loved ones, or anyone else for that matter. You were meant for a calling higher than no other, something that would alter the course of the Universe so significantly that history would forever remember. You were meant to bring Balance to the Force, and restore integrity to all life, and you did. It just wasn't in a way anyone was expecting."
Anakin looked at Obi-Wan a little desperately. "You mean by killing Palpatine."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, that wasn't your purpose, though it is a result of it. You see, by creating you, the Force created a fool-proof plan that would ensure a new age, and ensured that the universe would be born again." Here, Obi-Wan pointed to the window, which was still focused on Luke and the funeral pyre.
Anakin followed his teacher's gaze to rest on the visual of Luke.
"Through my son?"
"Through both your children. After all, what calling is higher than parenthood?"
Anakin's heart swelled, and love for his children threatened to crush him. Of course he had been a father. Nothing in life had ever been more important to him than the survival of his child, except Padmé, whom he loved just as fiercely. Nothing else had even come close.
And that's when he realized what Obi-Wan had been saying all along. His purpose in life had was fatherhood, yes, but it existed as a double edged blade. The love he had for his family pushed him to do things he normally never would have done. Like seek power, and turn to Palpatine rather than his former master. And if that was true, wasn't the world better off without—
Obi-Wan interjected into his thoughts. "No, Anakin. Everything you did was a result of the fact that you wanted to protect your family. Don't you see? Your actions—from the destruction of the Order to destroying the Emperor—were the will of the Force. You cleared the way for your children to rebuild the universe, to unite the galaxies once more. I'm not condoning your actions, or your abuse of the Force. I'm not even saying that it's necessarily what should have happened, what the Force intended for you, or the manner you should have handled things. I'm simply saying that even the Dark side must follow the will of the Force." Here, Obi-Wan smirked. "After all, it is part of the Force."
Anakin shook his head, confused. "But Dark and Light have always acted against each other. It's in their nature."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "No. They do not."
Well that certainly didn't make sense. After everything they had gone through and suffered, how could Obi-Wan say they were not opposites? "Master?"
"The nature of the Dark is to act in search of power. The nature of Light is to act in search of selflessness. One does not necessarily cancel out the other."
"That…makes very little sense, Master."
Obi-Wan smirked again and gestured to Luke. "Your son embodies it. He trained to become stronger, not out of a desire to hurt others or for something as meaningless as the control and subservience of others, but rather in the pursuit of proving himself worthy of being your son—worthy of being a Jedi—and of course, in order to protect his friends. That was selflessness, and the pursuit of power, all rolled into one."
Anakin stared at his son's silhouette, the edges of his frame glowing softly against the flames of the pyre. "I don't think I was ever capable of such a thing."
Obi-Wan chuckled. "Not many of us were. Qui-Gon probably was, although he might have been a bit too proud. Yoda, with all his experience, might have achieved something akin to it. The truth is, Anakin, Luke is the only one I met alive who is consistently capable of combining both the Light and the Dark, without being possessed by either." Now his old master frowned. "Looking back, I should have realized it during that first conversation I had with him, about you. He pursued power then, not for himself, but for you, and eventually for others. At the time I merely thought he was just a child, looking to connect with a father he'd never known. I was right, but it was deeper than that. Qui-Gon certainly gave me an earful about it when I got here."
Anakin managed a smirk at his master's expense. "So Luke is Balance."
Obi-Wan nodded. "Luke is Balance."
"What about Leia? What about her?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "I don't know, honestly. The force chose Luke to be Balance. If I had to hazard a guess at why, I would say it was his temperament. He certainly didn't get it from you, but then I don't remember Padme being all that mild-mannered either."
Anakin smiled when he remembered his wife. Her fury was nowhere near as black as his, but she definitely had a temper, and though she didn't exactly hold grudges, she didn't forgive most people too easily. He was really the one glaring exception, and in some ways he wished she hadn't been so willing to look past his faults.
Obi-Wan made another vague gesture. "I'd say it probably comes from Beru's parenting. Luke and Owen never saw eye-to-eye, even when Luke was a child. He had dreams bigger than the farm, and Owen had never wanted anything more. Beru encouraged Luke's dreams, and he was very close to her."
Anakin fought the urge to roll his eyes at his brother-in-law. Owen had been decent enough to feed and clothe Luke, and tried to raise him as his own, which was more than Anakin could say for himself. Just because the man hadn't been the perfect father-figure for Luke didn't mean he deserved any scorn from Anakin.
"Can you really learn such a thing?" Anakin asked, because then he was even guiltier than before.
"I think so, if one works exceptionally hard at it. In Luke's case, I personally believe it to be a natural personality trait."
Anakin frowned at him. "But you just said—"
"Only so much a person learns," A new, familiar voice croaked. "Plays its part, nature does."
Anakin turned. "Master Yoda! I'm sorry, so sorry—"
The old Master waved his three-fingered hand, as if Anakin's remonstrations were insignificant. Perhaps they were. "Hush. Not important. Past is past. Look to the future, we do." The old troll gestured with his gimmer stick, apparently a feature in his afterlife, toward the image of Anakin's son, now standing in front of a dying pyre, tears shiny against his cheeks.
"Gifted, the boy is. In ways overlooked."
Anakin frowned at him, knowing the old master was right, and yet sensing he didn't understand the true implications yet.
"Gifted, the other is as well. But in this way, she is not. Powerful, yes, but corruptible." Yoda gave him a measured stare, and Anakin knew this statement was not meant to hurt from the gentle tone. "Similar to her father, she is."
Anakin wasn't sure whether to hang his head in shame or feel some measure of pride in his daughter's likeness to him. He felt a bit of both.
"Don't misunderstand, Anakin, Leia is unlikely to turn toward the Dark," Obi-Wan chimed in. "It is, after all, hard to go astray when you have someone beside you so firmly grounded in the Light."
"But isn't Luke supposed to be both? Balance?"
Obi-Wan smirked, "As it turns out, Balance has its own kind of Light."
Anakin sensed Obi-Wan would have continued had Yoda not cut him off. "Show you, we will, Skywalker. See for yourself, you must."
Anakin nodded. He wanted to understand, to know about his children.
"Step through the window then, Anakin. We'll follow."
Anakin did as he was told, and immediately the fantastical room of light fell away, dissolved into the dark forest of Endor. He was assaulted with a tingling sensation. He felt as if he wasn't substantive, as if he had no form—as if the barest thought was holding him together. He looked down at his hands, and realized this might be entirely true. His entire body was transparent. There was a rock poking through his heel, and a branch through his shoulder. He didn't feel them, and they didn't seem affected by him. Oddly, there was no panic in him, despite the strange circumstances. He'd already died—what was losing this form as well?
"Master?" He inquired vaguely for an explanation. He'd never heard of something like this before.
"Qui-Gon discovered it before he died, or don't you remember seeing him on that strange planet we visited with Ahsoka(1)? Or with the Raiders? He managed to communicate the technique to us after his death, and we used it to kind of force you into it. I used it to talk to Luke after my death."
Anakin shook his head in some wonder. It was things like this that made it hard to doubt the Force. It was incredible, always. "You did say you'd become more powerful than I could possibly imagine. It gives me great pleasure to say you were right. Probably for the first and last time, Master."
Obi-Wan smiled sedately, and affectionately. "I'm glad you think so."
Yoda interjected again, well-used to their incessant banter. "Pay attention to young Skywalker, we must. Prove our point, he will."
Anakin meekly obeyed the old master. Yoda was by far his favorite member of the old council, and the one that scared him most. "What am I looking for, exactly?"
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Anakin, I know you were too entrenched in the Dark to really see, but have you ever looked at Luke? I mean really looked? You'll see what we mean."
Anakin frowned, but did as his master said. Opening himself to the Force was, for several moments, entirely overwhelming. It was different than he was used to. He felt less like he was reaching for the Force than that the Force was reaching for him. He could sense the presence of every rock, tree, blade of grass, all pulsing with life and order and gentle growth. He felt the presence of the happy little Ewoks, rejoicing at their freedom and singing the praises of his children and their friends, their minds gloriously bright with life and energy and kindness, and yet somewhat tinged with grief, for their missing numbers. The various members of the rebellion were much the same—their presence in the Force was like a rippling wave of exaltation and sadness, joy and grief, but mostly just celebration and relief for the end. There would be a number of messes to clean up after this, but they seemed happy to just relish their victory. They pulsed, beacons of emotion in the forest of indifferently growing life.
He felt Leia individually, her force-presence strong and bright. Bold like she was, all passion wrapped in determination and pride. She was vibrant, bleeding energy into the world around her, absolutely vivid with Light. The Force moved through her and about her like music, a part of it as much as breathing was a part of her. She was powerful—dangerously so. Easily one of the most powerful he'd ever met. As powerful as him.
She was beautiful, and at her center he could sense that she was like Padme—kind, an honest politician, and ultimately felt the blows of others as if they were her own. She cared too much, maybe, about the people who depended on her. And in the Force he could feel her emotional link to others. The bond between her and her lover, Han, whom he'd also tortured, was one of her most important. He could sense the painful bonds between herself and her people, and especially her adopted parents, whom he'd killed. And he could sense the deep, unbreakable bond between her and her brother, whom she'd always loved, since before birth…
He looked at Luke in the Force, and knew that if he were alive, he would have fallen to his knees in sheer awe.
Luke was more than a beacon, more than a light in the dark. He was the focal point, the thing which all things hinged around. He was a savior and a deliverer and a guide. The Force seemed to follow him, rather than the other way around. He watched the Force eddy and swirl around him, caressing him almost like a lover. In the half-light, where Luke stood in front of dying embers, all Anakin could see was the sheer vibrancy of Luke's presence. He was Light, he was Light…
And yet, it was not the same kind of Light as Leia possessed. Hers was a result of conscious decisions to avoid the Dark, to hold on to the Light. Luke was something else entirely.
Luke was…Light in its purest form. There were no potential shadows clinging to him, no cracks where Darkness might seep in. His soul was pure, pure, pure, utterly incapable of a Fall. He couldn't be human, he was more like the angel he'd always claimed Padme was.
Force, the Light. It made his soul feel impure just looking at it. That such a thing could be possible—it made him joyful and tearful at the same time. How could such a thing exist, so brilliant that it nearly blinded him, so pure that everything else must be unclean?
And then there was the power. Oh, the power. He'd known, of course, that Luke was more powerful than him. That he was more powerful than Palpatine. And like Palpatine, he'd believed that was what made him dangerous. He'd been wrong of course, but if they'd understood exactly how much more powerful Luke was, Anakin doubted Palpatine would have tried to recruit him. Instead he would have just killed him outright. No wonder the Force bowed to Luke. It was like he had his own gravity—like he was a star the Force revolved around.
Force, how could one person hold this much goodness. How could he be incorruptible?
He released his hold on the Force, or at least disengaged. He tried to blink away what his senses were telling him now, about his son, and succeeded enough to know what Obi-Wan was saying.
"Do you understand now, Anakin? He's Balance. Both the Dark and the Light inhabit him."
Anakin gave his master a look. "Master, I didn't sense any Darkness in him. He's the purest soul I've ever seen."
Yoda nodded and tapped his gimmer stick on the ground. "Both Dark and Light, he has. Neither, prominence has. Discovered Balance, young Skywalker has. Embodies it, he does."
Obi-Wan stepped in. "Luke has faced the Dark, and briefly let it take him, before using Light to conquer it." Apparently seeing that Anakin still didn't get it, he continued. "His love for you, Anakin, prevented him from being consumed by rage, and Falling. Love, Anakin. That's the key the Jedi were missing, that they believed was an impediment, even a danger, when, in fact, it's the key to the Force. Love conquers the Dark and the Light. "
Anakin frowned in thought. When he turned on Palpatine, he'd done so out of love for his son, an utterly selfless act. But when he turned to Palpatine…hadn't he also done so out of love?
Anakin grimaced to himself. Looking back…he'd allowed his love and affection for Padme to turn into possessiveness, and that's what eventually turned him. Real love, like the kind he felt for Luke and Leia, that he now felt for Padme, that could never become something so ugly as Vader. Not that he didn't love his wife—he did, more than life and almost anything else—but by allowing her to become a possession, he'd doomed them all. He could have loved her selflessly. Instead he'd betrayed her and himself, and ultimately their marriage.
"So…by first mastering the Light, then conquering the Dark with love, that's what creates this…this…I don't even know if we can call it Light."
Obi-Wan smiled. "Yes, but it's even more than that. Luke looked Darkness full in the face, saw its evil and its temptation, and instead of being repulsed by it—by you—he forgave it, and you." He thought a note of pride entered Obi-Wan's voice here. "And then he became something entirely new."
"Where the Order went wrong, this is," Yoda added, "The Dark we avoided, confront we did not."
"We preached against ignorance while living in it ourselves," Obi-Wan agreed. Then he smiled. "Luke will not make the same mistake."
And then Anakin saw what Obi-Wan must have seen, the Force granting him foresight. Luke would build a dynasty of Light, an Order with love as its guiding principle, and it would span millennia. Leia would rebuild the Republic into something good and wholesome, free of the political limitations that crippled it before, and entirely run in the interests of the people it served. The galaxy would rebuild, until the Empire was nothing but a painful memory, and the New Republic a glorious, shining beacon of Justice. It was everything he'd ever wanted to build, and so much more.
It would be an era of Light, but not a Light that any of them had ever imagined.
It brought tears to his eyes.
Luke turned then, the pyre finally burned down, his melted body armor making a mess of the forest floor. His eyes were bright, but he'd never looked so strong, or so content. He smiled at the three of them, but didn't say anything, and Anakin struggled to contain his pride, and his joy at the things to come.
Leia and Han came up behind him, and dragged him back to the party. Neither noticed the three figures off to the side, who stood as sentinels in the forest, watching titans walk away.
The scene faded, and Anakin wiped at the tears on his cheeks—tears of joy, tears of utter joy, that he had not destroyed his son and daughter, that he'd been saved by them again.
"Master?" He inquired shakily, "You said something about shedding guilt?"
Obi-Wan smiled, and Anakin felt his exaltation and love mirror his own, "I did. Are you ready, then, Anakin?"
The formerly broken man nodded, and for the first time in so, so long, he became whole once more.
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Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
1 Corinthians 13:4-8
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(1) This is a reference to an episode in the animated "Clone Wars" series. It's got very strange, boxy animation, but I'm very impressed with it. There's an episode where Obi-Wan, Anakin and Ahsoka Tano, Anakin's padawan, crash land on this planet, and some really interesting things happen that have massive implications about the series and the way this whole thing works. It's my favorite episode. Actually, I like it better than movies 2 and 3 combined. And it was a major factor in writing this.
Alright. Alright, so this is a thing. I should be working on other things, but instead I got this thing and yeah, that happened.
This is actually the first thing I've published in a while. It was mostly written about a year ago, but I started working on it at 2:30 AM this morning completely unintentionally, and then I just had to finish it, so...guess who didn't sleep last night? Why is it that I can only write at times bats are awake? Why is this a thing? I'm not supposed to be nocturnal but life is forcing my hand. Anyway.
This isn't the type of thing I usually do. For one thing, it's not much in the way of a plot. It's mostly just my musings on how the Force actually works in the Star Wars universe. It's also got a big dose of my personal beliefs concerning God and the way He works in our lives, disguised as the workings of the Force. I started writing this after viewing the episode described above, and my head started to explode with all the implications. What really inspired this, however, is Luke.
See, I've had this long-held belief that when the prophecy says the Chosen One (Anakin) will bring Balance to the Force, it's actually referring to Luke, and to a lesser extent, Leia. Luke and Leia were brought into this world by an act of love, and as such they have a relationship to it that Anakin just doesn't, having had a what essentially amounts to a virgin birth. If Balance is as I've described it in this fic, then it requires a total understanding of love to achieve. Also, I want to make it clear that the reason Anakin sees Luke as more powerful than Leia in this fic is because he found Balance. Not because of any naturally higher midichlorian count. He's an unreliable narrator that way. In my head cannon, Luke and Leia have equal Force potential, but their personalities make them better in specific arenas. For Leia that's politics, and for Luke that's being a Jedi. I think in the EU material Leia is eventually trained as a Jedi, but honestly I can't picture her as such. She's just so well-suited for politics. But anyway, no one else seemed to see it that way, so I figured I'd put the theory out there to see what people thought.
One other thing about Luke: he's basically a perfect character. After RotJ, he's got very few major faults. Normally, I dislike this in a character (to give you a bit of reference, Tony Stark is my favorite avenger. Steve is something like number three or four, I don't know, I don't have a list, you can't prove anything), but the difference with Luke is that he faced his darkness and won. I love that. And I love that he won because he found it in himself to pity a man who hurt him and those he cared about, and in return that man was reminded of his own humanity, his own capacity to love, and saved him. That's beautiful. And it's why Luke is impossible to corrupt.
Actually, let me amend that. It is always possible to corrupt people, but in Luke's case, he faced his worst demons and beat them. So I can't really see a situation where he lets the Dark win in the future. He'll be tried, certainly, but not beaten.
So now that I've bored you all to death with my rambling, I'm gonna thank you all for reading. I really liked writing this, and I'm glad I get to publish it. If you feel like reviewing, please do. I love reading them and I would happily chat with you about anything. If you don't feel like reviewing, thanks for reading anyway! I'm so honored you spent your precious time on this fic.
Peace out guys and gals.