When one dies it is an assured fact that they become one with the Force. This is what we were all taught at the Temple as younglings.
It does not mean one is ripped from their time and that one resumes corporeal form. I do not understand what is happening around me as I blearily open my eyes.
The shrill of the klaxon cuts the air, and I grimace from the mounting headache. I see stormtroopers and other uniformed personnel rush past me, going to and fro.
I immediately tense, hand creeping towards my saber.
I scan the flood of white armor and amend my initial observation. These were clones. I sense no hostility from them. The floor beneath me shudders something awful and I sway, almost stumbling into the nearest wall.
I do not understand what is going on. The Force flows through me, but my right arm feels... hindered. I look down at my tunic, at my arms. Turning my hands palm-side up, I don't recognize the gauntlet design.
These belonged to... Anakin.
My heart jumps up into my throat and my stomach drops into my boots. With a trembling hand, I rub my jaw and my fingers skim over smooth skin.
I'm a fifty-seven year old trapped in the body of a young man, and I'm not just saying this to get attention!
The worst of my fears is confirmed as a familiar Togruta speeds towards me, grounding to a halt. "Master - "
Whatever else she proceeds to say, I ignore it. I'm not your master, young one. I suddenly feel very far away.
To summarise:
I died.
I got sent back in time.
I somehow - somehow - became my former Padawan.
...Is this a joke?
Reincarnation?
At an utter loss for words, I must seem like a baffled youngling.
Or maybe this is a chance to right the wrongs that occured before?
But did I really have to end up as Anakin?
Ahsoka gives me a look. "Master, are you okay? You look like you've been dragged through seven of the nine hells."
I glance around. We're in a hanger. Starfighters are being deployed, soldiers are shouting instructions to each other.
"What's going on, Ahsoka?" I ask, clutching my foreheard. She arches an eyemarking at me. I meet her expression with one of my own.
"The Seppies are attacking us just after we exited hyperspace. You ordered all squadrons to deploy." She turns to dash to her fighter. "Come on, Master. I bet I'll beat you this time," she adds with a cheeky grin.
I blink. "This isn't a game, Padawan," I snap. "Remember that." Talking in Anakin's voice will definitely take getting used to. I stroke my chin thoughtfully. I'll also have to talk like Anakin. That's going to be a pain to recall how.
She pauses and glances back at me. She falters. "Of course, Master." The reply's subdued.
"...Get out there and do some damage, Ahsoka," I tell her. Sounds like something Anakin would say. "Just keep an eye out for the troopers, too."
"Aren't you coming? Show off some of that ace piloting?"
I barely supress a shudder. Fighter-piloting? Shortly after I got slammed into the new here and now? I haven't piloted a ship in twenty years. I flash Ahsoka a horrified look. The words spill from my mouth before I can stop them. "Are you daft? I need to be up on the bridge." She is very bemused, judging by the jiggling waves that make up part of her Force signature.
"Just go!" Ahsoka takes off in the direction of her fighter and hops into it. I turn around as she blasts off into space to engage the Separatists.
The bridge is a cacaphony of field reports and comm calls as I stride in. Troops man their terminals. The holotable fizzes every so often.
Admiral Yularen isn't expecting Anakin Skywalker. He has his arms folded behind his back, issuing commands and fixating his gaze on the CIS vessels ahead of us.
I am clueless as to the specifics of the battle. I stop beside the naval officer. "Situation report, Admiral," I demand.
He whirls his head round to face me. "General Skywalker? I thought you decided to lead the attack squadrons."
"Changed my mind." I cross my arms. "Ahsoka's got a handle on things. Your report?"
The admiral stands to attention, back ram-rod straight, and spouts out damage percentages and casualty counts thus far. I let it all wash over me. I'm back in the Clone War.
Not as the famed Negotiator, however.
My younger self is out there somewhere. Meeting him will be quite the experience, I expect.
It'll give 'talking to yourself' a whole new meaning. The developing train of thought is derailed by the trembling of the Republic Star Destroyer.
I look out to my right and the sight fills me with dread, my stomach heavy as lead. An attack cruiser is drowning in a sea of flames. It drops out of formation, the behemoth of a ship breaking apart into countless fragments.
Another shudder. Everybody sway, and then scramble to regain balance.
"They've increased all forward firepower! The ship is being torn apart!" shouts one of the clone officers. Not only that, the Separatist frigates are nearing our cruisers.
I comm Ahsoka. "What's the situation, Padawan?" I ask. I feel a twinge of... something painful. My heart pangs. I haven't called anyone that in a long time, I just realise.
"Master, they've formed a blockade, but we can break through! I just need more time!" I hear laserfire and the zooming of starfighters over the comm channel.
"What about your squadron?"
"I haven't checked. Zeta squadron, come in." Dead silence. "Zeta, do you read me? Respond." I already know what happened. I lower my head into my hands.
Ahsoka's panicking.
Yularen contacts the rest of the Republic fliers. "Shadow Squadron? Blue? Gold?"
Pilots from those units check in. All teams have sustained brutal losses.
"Ahsoka, you have to get back to the Resolute."
"We can't just retreat. We can't let the Seppies win, Master!"
"Tell all teams to return aboard. We're leaving," I command the admiral. He nods stoically as he gives the order.
"That means you as well, Padawan."
But Ahsoka's stubborn. She spits arguments back at me, and I'm about to put my foot down when more frigates drop out of hyperspace behind us.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Those aren't Republic ships.
A trooper reports that the Resolute's shields are vapourized.
After that, that's when it happens.
Ahsoka's fighter is hit, and the only thing I hear is static. Panic grips me in a vice. I do my best to release all my worry, all my fear into the Force.
I draw on it, and reach for the right threads. My eyes widen. She is still alive, but unconscious.
The next status update to come through states the hyperdrive has been too severely damaged.
"Everyone to the escape pods! Double-time, move it!"
We are surrounded from every side. Flying out the hanger isn't an option. I tear from the bridge, barreling down the various corridors. The matter of Ahsoka's safety is still a concern. I bring the comlink on my gauntlet within kissing distance and instruct any nearby pilots to tow the Jedi Commander's fighter back to the cruiser.
The same cruiser that's currently being blown to bits and has its personnel fleeing it.
Ben, you are so clever. I shake off the self-criticism. There'll be time for it later.
Being young again does have its advantages, I find. I haven't run so fast in a very long while. However I've also forgotten how to be a General. I felt utterly useless up on the bridge.
I skid to a stop as I see burning orange being etched into the wall in a circular motion. We're being boarded. Troopers have their blasters trained on the disturbance.
"Go, I'll deal with this," I assure once I sense who's on the other side of the hull. A faint signature, with almost as little Force residue as a droid.
Fitting, for the general of the droid army.
Grevious stomps through the hole in the wall, flanked and followed by B1 units. "Anakin Skywalker," he coughs. "I will enjoy adding your lightsaber to my collection."
He ignites his stolen sabers, and I ignite mine. Well, Anakin's. It never felt right in my hand. Too unbalanced. Too uneven. Now I must wield it as though it were my own. I adopt the Soresu opening stance, saber level with my nose, free arm outstretched.
Our blades clash as he presses the offensive, and I dance and skirt around his slashes and swings. It's not my intention to properly duel the general, only to distract him while the Resolution empties out. I discover I cannot keep up with Grevious.
My previous opponent was a shell of Anakin, masked, caped, and dressed to the nines in synthleather. We were both slow, and parrying each other's strikes like younglings. It showed how much I've lost my touch.
The cyborg forces me back, each attack more and more aggressive. He bears down on me, eyes locking onto mine. Sparks flit past our faces.
I jump back, and emerald and green blurs swing in a wide arc. I yell in pain as the blades score my torso, just under my collarbones. I grit my teeth and tighten my hold on Anakin's lightsaber.
"Die, Jedi scum!" Grevious rasps, going in for the kill. I block his attack, struggling against his towering form. He kicks out my left knee - and oh, that smarts.
I mark the end of the duel by smashing Grevious into a wall with a thrust of my palm, and then I race for the escape pods. If there are any left.
The Force is with me today, as there's one lonely pod left. I climb inside it, and jettison myself from the crumbling cruiser.
Adrift in space, debris floating past me like jagged clouds, I am alone. I feel weak from the injury streaked across my chest.
Imagine my surprise when R2 shows up in a Delta-7B interceptor. Its bleeps crackle through my comlink. It is relieved to see me relatively well.
The trouble is getting from the pod to the cockpit, with the expanse of space between them. I just have to time it right.
"Alright, Artoo. Open the cockpit for me. When I'm inside, shut it and pump it full of oxygen."
Jedi can hold their breath for a short period, depending on the species and how skilled one is. The astromech positions the interceptor as close as possible to the pod without bumping into it. I suck in a huge gulp of air, blast the hatch open with the Force, and step onto the left wing.
The chill of space envelopes me until I am in the confines of the starfighter and the transparisteel seals shut with a hiss.
It's only a few seconds, but walking in space felt like millenia. Clutching my upper arms, I shiver.
"Takes us home." I then tack on, "To Coruscant."
His response makes me roll my eyes. The snark on this little fellow! I should have him wiped and reprogrammed.
We fly off, abandoning evidence of a disasterous space battle. We enter hyperspace, and an eerie uniform glow embraces us.
Seeing the Temple again brings back a flood of memories. I endeavour to not shed tears as I march up the steps and then weave through the hallways and corridors.
It's teeming with life. Seething.
It... it is simply wonderful.
No dead bodies strewn about. No clones on the premises.
Just Jedi. Younglings, Padawans, Knights, Masters.
Alas, the moment of joy passes when I face the Council to report my recent failure.
I should be happy to see them, alive and well.
Yet I am not.
Did Anakin always feel doubted and loathed by us? These are the things I feel, answering their questions and gauging their reactions. I keep my hands behind my back, trying to wear a blank expression that gives away nothing. They must not know what's happened to Anakin Skywalker. That I - unintentionally - have taken his place.
Anakin never liked the Council. Especially not after Ahsoka walked away from the Order and after the Rako Hardeen incident. I think that's when I began to lose his trust. I wounded him deeply by staging my death and allowing him to grieve falsely. Maybe it was before that, when his mother died. I didn't take his visions seriously, and look how that turned out.
I'm lost in an ocean of rumination. Naturally, I paid a visit to the Healers beforehand. It wouldn't do to arrive at a Council meeting with lightsaber burns on my person. Vokara Che was as harsh as ever. Besides that, I got to see Ahsoka. She has some burns, and some bruises, the worst of which are on her head-tails, and a concussion. She'll heal, of course.
It was a reminder of my failure to protect her. My heart sank. I was fond of Ahsoka - and still am, seeing as she's still with us. The grandpadawan has become the padawan, and now she will learn from me.
The idea makes me worried and uncomfortable.
I failed Anakin.
Am I going to fail Ahsoka too?
"Skywalker, that is all. You're excused," Master Windu's voice slashes through my thoughts.
"Thank you, Masters." I bow and take my leave.
I trudge to the quarters which I share with my younger self as of today. I scowl at the mess. Anakin loved to tinker with his droids. In sollitude, I don't need to be the Hero with No Fear. So I clear away the junk, make myself a pot of tea, and settle down to meditate.
I release everything to the Force. The confusion, the anxiety, the uncertainty. All of it flows out of me and the Force takes it from me. I'm absolved of my burden. I retain my joy, my relief.
I will take absolute adavantage of the opportunity before me. Things will not happen the way they did. The Order will remain strong.
That means overthrowing Palpatine. The Jedi cannot continue to blindly serve the Senate. The Chancellor, my lips curl in disgust, shan't be in power for much longer.
The Clone Army is a cause for concern. They turned on the Jedi, gunned us down. An order was issued. Order 66. I sift through my recollections, neatly and carefully organised.
How to stop it? Even the loyalest of troops betrayed us. A bitter taste wells up in my mouth. Cody. The 212th.
A swish of the door. Footfalls. My ginger counterpart is home.
"There you are. You're not tinkering with droids. And you made tea. And you're actually meditating. Which explains the first part." He takes a sip from one of the cups on the kitchenette. "This is the kind I like."
"...I had to have picked up on something after being your Padawan for so long." I regard him. He's feigning an air of nonchalance, mask of the Negotiator firmly in place. If I know myself - which I do - I'd say he is troubled by something, but doing his best to hide it.
The shared quarters is thick with tension. Finally, I can't take it any longer. "Spit it out, old man. What's eating at you?"
"Old?" He huffs indignantly. "Hardly old."
"Well-seasoned, then?"
"Anakin." There it is. What I used to do. Pretend to be exasperated but actually think fondly of Anakin.
I once did. Until he was seduced by the Dark Side. Until he fell.
"You gonna tell me, or are you going to just do that thing?"
"What thing?"
"The one where you pretend nothing's wrong."
He hesitates. "I can't sense you anymore. Our old training bond... it's been severed." The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I'm not Anakin. With him out of the picture, the bond had to follow.
That leaves another question hanging in the air. What happened to everything that makes up Anakin Skywalker? Is he where I was, during the Empire's reign? Has he been washed away, gone forever?
I do not know.
"Perhaps it was the will of the Force," I muse.
He contemplates, elbow cupped, eyes cast downwards, beard given tender attention. I wish I still had one. It's like being a Padawan all over again!
"I've been asked to pass on a message to you."
"From whom? What do they have to say?"
"The Chancellor would like to meet you in his office. To discuss your recent mission."
Ah. That. I'll have to step into the rancor pit sooner than later. I wear a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "Well, we can't keep the head of democracy waiting."
I try to keep myself from choking the man where he stands, but the urge is just so - there. It doesn't go away. It persists. I ease myself into the Force, blanketing my spiritual essence in its soothing energies.
I can't blow my cover in front of the Sith Lord.
"Anakin, come in, come in. Sit down, my friend." The Chancellor sits with his fingers steepled. "You must be tired after that battle."
"It didn't go too well."
"So I've heard. But it's not your fault, my boy. I'm sure you did everything you could. This war... it takes its toil, Anakin. It takes its toil."
Yes, because you orchestrated the entire Clone War. Because you still are orchestrating galactic turmoil. "Was there anything you wanted from me, Chancellor?"
"Just to chat." Somehow I doubt that very much. The creature before me makes my skin crawl. How could I have ever let Anakin near this monster?
"How's the Jedi Council been treating you?" It sounds like a trick question. Anakin would probably explode into a tirade about how unjust the Council was, how they didn't trust him, how they prevented him from being great.
I reply sullenly, "Same as always."
"I won't profess to understand Jedi dogma, but surely they must see what I see."
His grandfatherly behaviour sickens me. I don't stick around for long. He asks how Senator Amidala is. We briefly discuss the political situation in the Senate, and I get a refresher on the state of affairs in this era.
Afterwards I check up on Ahsoka. She is upset. I suppose she expects me to give out, to blame her for the defeat.
I do nothing of the sort. Instead I say, "Don't be hard on yourself, Padawan."
"But how can't I be? I - those men, Drummer, Weaver, Skovak, they trusted me. And I didn't - I - "
I smile sadly at Ahsoka. Reciting a platitude seems terribly inappropriate, especially after all I have been through. "It doesn't get any easier, but over time, you learn to bear the pain. It's..." I think of all my brothers and sisters of the Force who died in and because of an utterly pointless conflict that spanned - spans (time travel makes things confusing) - from the Core to the Outer Rim. Of how I lived on Tatooine as a hermit, mourning the end of the Jedi.
Was I the last to go? The final Jedi to be struck down by a shadow of my brother?
Swallowing thickly, I croak, "Don't dwell on your failures. Focus on your duty, your duty as a Jedi." I speak from the heart. I spent twenty years watching over Luke. The obligation to protect Anakin's son was what kept me together. It prevented me from losing my way during my exile.
It occurs to me. I haven't been a proper Jedi for - two decades, in fact.
And isn't that a heavy thought.
"It helps you keep going. Trust me. I know."
Ahsoka's eyes meet mine, and I see clarity shine in them. "Thank you, Master."
Obi-Wan and I are assigned an escort mission.
To bring the Duchess of Mandalore safely to Coruscant.
Being with Satine stirs up old memories I'd thought were buried deep during the years on Tatooine.
Dear Satine won't recognise me, and I'm fine with that. I walk with her to her quarters. She's annoyed by my presence, I can feel it.
It might have something to do with Anakin's face.
"Very bold of you, Duchess, to take such a position during these dark times. Bold, but admirable." A smile ghosts over my lips.
"I will do what I must for the sake of my people, Knight Skywalker."
"You're right, about a lot of things. About the Jedi."
The statement has the desired effect, grabbing her attention.
"We're peacekeepers, not generals. The war's changing us, and not in a way that'll lead to anything good, I fear."
"You believe the Jedi shouldn't be involved in the war?" Her tone shows that interest has been piqued.
"Not in the manner we currently are."
"And yet you're revered by the Republic, Knight Skywalker. The Hero with No Fear." Satine flicks a stern look at me.
I snort softly. Not you too, Satine. Don't buy into that propaganda. "Everyone has fears, Duchess. Even Jedi. We're not above fear, or any other emotions. We're not infallible."
"Why're you telling me this?"
"Outsiders don't understand the Jedi. Not really. I was hoping that by gaining insight, you wouldn't just view the Jedi as these holier-than-thou sentients."
Satine smiles at Anakin Skywalker genuinely for the first time. "An image that's been upheld for thousands of years."
I give a shrug.
Subsequently I expose Tal Merrick and the clones destroy the assassin droids smuggled onboard. Obi-Wan is surprised. "How'd you know there was a plot to remove the Duchess?"
I tap a temple with a smirk. "Precognition. I had a vision."
"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"
"Would you have believed me?" He looks away.
Silence.
It's the answer to his question.