Absolution
In his last moments of life and first moments of death, learns what it means to live and truly be forgiven.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I had, Obi-Wan would never had gone through so much suffering.
ab⋅so⋅lu⋅tion: (n) a freeing from blame or guilt; release from consequences, obligations, or penalties
Right now, this is how it feels to be Darth Vader. You are tired, for the first time in decades feeling pain as the remnants of Force lightning cause your labored lungs to hitch and gasp. Your eyes see color, rather than red, for the first time since Mustafar; it is fitting, you muse, that the first color you see is the beautiful blue of your son's eyes, the shade yours once were. Your body is wracked with fine tremors as your flesh trembles and your metal limbs spastically and uncontrollably twitch from the residual electricity. You wheeze and labor to force words through cold lips, lips that had once smiled, laughed, and joked. For once, everything you say is completely sincere, no hidden fears, lies, or hatred. You struggle to whisper a condolence to your son, your Luke, a quiet acknowledgement that he was right; Anakin Skywalker lives still, trapped in a metal cage.
In the corner of your eye, you can see a glimpse of ephemeral blue, and you wonder if that is the Force coming to take you away. You can almost make out a face, faces, in that pale blob, but your eyelids are drooping, too heavy to properly see. In that moment, you fully realize that you are dying, and feel fear.
You've always been afraid of death, despising and fearing its seeming determination to wrap itself around all the ones you loved, the people who, you realize, you love still, and betrayed. You are afraid now of death for a wholly different reason; you know all beings rejoin the Force in death, and when you die, you too will merge, joining those you have wronged and murdered. You dread seeing the anger, betrayal, and disappointment in the eyes of the smallest youngling to the oldest masters. Most of all you fear seeing those who had been the most important, the ones who you vividly remembered even after all these years; proud Qui-Gon Jinn, fierce Mace Windu, your kind mother Shmi Skywalker, wise Master Yoda and most of all your calm, kind, and gentle Padme and Obi-Wan.
You are cold, the suit and the chill of space a shock to your Tatooine-bred body and you shiver as that cold is replaced by a different manner of cold. The freezing, murky tendrils of death encroach, seeping cruelly into what's left of your body.
Suddenly, the cold is banished by two arms wrapping around you, and an infinitely light hand on your brow. You wrest your eyes open, and see your Luke, hugging you desperately, bent over your prone body the way Obi-Wan, in the throes of grief, had once bent over the body of Qui-Gon all those lifetimes ago. You look upwards, and meet the ghostly form of your master, your father, your brother and best friend, your Obi-Wan, a gentle smile adorning his lips. Your eyes close, and you know no more.
Except you do. Your eyes open, and there is Obi-Wan. Confusion clouds your mind; you are dead, but have not yet rejoined the Force. Realization comes then, the knowledge that Obi-Wan is supporting you, keeping you sentient and that knowledge brings forth all of Anakin Skywalker's pent up guilt and a string of incoherent apologies. You are unable to look anywhere but into those gentle, patient eyes. A detached voice in your head idly laments that never again will you see those color-changing eyes in their true color, without the electric blue Force aura drowning their hue, yet another thing taken for granted and lost through your rampant stupidity.
Obi-Wan quiets you, smiling, forgiving. Against all odds, you know you have been forgiven as he offers again to teach you the ways of the Force, as he once did to a younger and far more innocent Padawan learner, to become a Force Spirit. You accept.
This is how it feels to be Anakin Skywalker, right now: you feel like a drowning man given breath, a starving man fed. You are forgiven, though you know you deserve it not. In death you truly begin to live again. A small part of you wishes there was yelling and anger to ease your remorse and feelings of unworthiness. The rest of you is swept away by this tide of unconditional love, of redemption, of cleansing. For the first time you can remember, you are not angry or afraid. You are finally free, whole once again. You are at peace.
You smile.
A/N: Hey, this story was two firsts for me: the first time I wrote for Star Wars, and the first time I didn't write in third person :]. Anyways, this was inspired by Estora's absolutely amazing story "From the Ashes". Anyways, thank you for reading, and please review!