There and Back Again
Chapter 1
The Whill of the Force
Millennia before the Rise of the Empire..
"...and in the time of greatest despair, there shall come a saviour. And he shall be known as, the Son of the Suns."
The stone circular room shook violently, small pieces of rock falling from the high ceiling and littering the polished floor below. The occupants of the room glanced at each other warily, before looking to their leader, the man who had just spoken.
"What does this mean, Altair?" asked a tall, stately looking woman, with jet black hair and sparkling green eyes.
The man who had spoken, looked to his peers. He too, bore emerald green eyes and midnight black hair, his face littered with wrinkles, yet he seemed timeless.
"Our last prophet reported this," he started, glancing at the quiet young man to his left, "It speaks of our saviour."
Picking up the scroll, Altair stood before his council, and air of importance radiating from him.
"We must protect this Chosen One."
"Has he even been born?" asked a quiet female voice, a girl cloaked in midnight blue who sat to the left of Altair. Altair shook his head slowly.
"I do not believe so. We.. we must take the vow."
Collective murmurs rang through the small room, the six occupants glancing worriedly from one to another.
"The time of the Whills is ending, we must save what is left, the greatest of us all," Altair continued, "We must take the vow of longevity, through this, we can achieve immortality, like my father," Altair paused for a moment, glancing at his fellows.
"We will remain hidden, for many a Millennia. The Journal will be passed on to only the wisest, to our brethren, the Jedi. Their time is coming, the Jedi will replace the Whills as protectors of the Galaxy, we must be there when we are needed most."
The people in the room all nodded simultaneously. The room shook again, the sound of war raging above them.
"Anira, my child," Altair called the girl in the midnight blue cloak over to him, as the rest of the occupants filed out of the room.
"Yes father?" Anira replied quietly. Altair placed his hands on her shoulders, smiling warmly.
"You will be hidden further than us all. You will not wake, until the last day of peace reaches us," Altair paused, searching his daughters eyes, "The day... the beginning of the final fall, that is when you will be needed."
Anira nodded silently, knowing whatever her father had in store for her, it was meant to be. She quickly left the room, leaving Altair alone with his thoughts. A small tear escaped his eyes as he watched her leave. Something told him, he had just sent his beloved daughter to her death.
**
The Journal of the Whills – 3:128
I write not like before, this is not a recording, but it is my thoughts.
My father has spoken, and the Whills will live on, unknowing to the Galaxy, the torch is passed to the Jedi.
I will disappear now. I shall return when the Dark One arises. He is not what you think, please, take heed.
**
There she is, my angel. She is so...beautiful. In fact, beautiful is an understatement. There are no words. My angel. My life, my light...and now she is gone.
Anakin slowly opened his eyes, squinting as they adjusted to the bright light hovering above him.
Wait...I can see?
He could make out distant whispers, and the hazy forms of several short, thin beings. He groaned, and closed his eyes, as memories began to flood his mind, taunting him, destroying him.
'But there is still hope.'
Why did they keep saying that... why did he keep saying that? What hope was there? His angel was gone; she was the only hope he had. She was gone.
He felt long, dexterous fingers moving lightly over his body. The pain was gone, replaced by a dull ache coursing through his veins.
He opened his eyes again, desperately trying to focus his vision, to find out what the hell was going on. He should be dead, or dying at least.
As his focus began to return, he frowned at the beings hovering above him. Short, thin creatures, with white, featureless faces and small, beady black eyes. They made no noise as they worked, so where had the whispers come from?
Anakin gingerly turned his head, and noticed two other beings standing just inside the doorway. One, a tall, hairy beast; a wookie, the other, a small, dark haired boy, no more than nine or ten years old.
I dont even want to know what is going on here...
He closed his eyes again, and slowly drifted back into unconsciousness.
**
His eyes flickered open again, and this time, he could see perfectly. He glanced around the room. Small, white, sterile looking. A medical room no doubt, he'd become quite used to those during the war. The dull ache had lessened now, thankfully, however he felt that if he moved it would return quickly. He raised his hands, and gingerly ran them through his hair.
Wait...hands...hair!
Anakin shot up, ignoring the returning ache, his head turning wildly from left, to right. He glanced down. A smooth, defined torso, his skin a golden bronze. His arms were intact, the muscles honed from years of training as a Jedi bulging. He threw back the covers, only to discover a pair of perfectly unharmed legs.
What in the name of all that is good...?
"Hello!" he called.
As if on cue, two of the thin humanoids entered the room, carrying data pads and various utensils. Anakin shrank back into his pillow, suddenly afraid.
"What's going on!?" he demanded. The humanoids, Kallidahin workers he recognised from his many galactic travels, seemed to glance at him, and then turned back to their examination of his newly repaired injuries.
"Answer me!" he roared, noting the rawness of his voice. The Kallidahin's continued to ignore him.
"They're mute," sounded a voice from the doorway. Anakin glanced up, and saw a tall, balding man, dressed in a white lab coat.
"What's going on?" Anakin repeated, his voice shaking slightly.
"I am Doctor Wyn, you're very lucky to be alive young man," continued the doctor, offering a warm smile as he entered the room.
"I..don't understand...what.." Anakin's head spun, trying to make sense of what was happening.
"You've been out cold for about six month's son, we weren't sure if you'd make it," explained Wyn, moving closer to Anakin, and checking his vitals.
"But, you seem to be in excellent health, the surgery was a complete success," announced Wyn with a smile.
"S..surgery...six months...what," Anakin felt dizzy, and leaned back against the pillow. Wyn looked at Anakin with a sympathetic air.
"Six months ago, a young boy and a wookiee brought you in. You'd suffered ninety percent burns to your body, and lost both your legs and your left arm. The internal injuries were far more severe. Your lungs, heart, vocal cords, vision...they were all damaged. We feared they were irreparable, until young Han suggested cloning," explained Wyn with a small smile. Anakin inhaled sharply.
"I...Im a clone!?" he breathed, his stomach rolling. Wyn's eyes widened and he shook his head quickly.
"Goodness no...no of course not, I would never condone such an inhumane action, no. We cloned the organs and body parts you needed from what was left of the undamaged tissue, speeding up the growth process and finally replacing them. It took the best part of around five months to do so, but it worked extremely well, as you can see," smiled Wyn. Anakin nodded slowly.
"Who is Han?" he asked quietly. Wyn smiled, and then left the room. He returned a few moments later, with the young boy, and the wookiee.
"This is Han Solo, and his friend and guardian, Chewbacca," introduced Wyn. Anakin smiled at the young boy, who returned the smile confidently.
"How..how did you?'
'We saw your ship," started Han, "Chewie here said it was a Jedi starfighter, he said something was wrong, so we...uhh...decided to...help."
Chewie roared happily in agreement. Anakin glanced at the doctor, who nodded.
"I...thank you...but...I'd like to be alone right now," responded Anakin quietly. Wyn nodded, and ushered Han and Chewbacca out of the room. Anakin took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.
What the Sith was going on here? The last he remembered, he was slowly but surely burning to death. Anakin squeezed his eyes, as flashing images began to bombard his mind. He remembered crawling, dragging himself away from the searing heat that threatened to consume him. He remembered the suffocating darkness beginning to take hold again. Then he remembered the light. The blinding, white light. That light, it felt so familiar, so comforting. Was it the Force? Was this the Forces way of forgiving him...of giving him a second chance?
No. This was his punishment. He was beginning to understand now. It was so obvious. He was to live out the remainder of his days with the mind numbing guilt of what he had done, what he had caused. Death would be the easy way; he would welcome death with open arms. No. This was his punishment. He'd killed so many, and now, he was condemned to live his life alone, without his angel, knowing he had killed her and their unborn child.
There was no hope after all.
This is it. This is his life now. Whole in body, but battered and broken in soul. And he deserved it, he deserved it all. He deserved to live out the remainder of his days in pain and suffering. And so he would.
As Anakin drifted off into sleep, his thoughts drifted to all those he held dear. His mother, so cruelly taken from him. His brother, and master, Obi Wan, the man who had believed in him no matter what. His child, who would never know the joys of life. And his angel...his angel who he himself had killed in his blindness to see what was really good in the galaxy. His beautiful, delicate ray of light, his one and only love. He was to live his life without them all. He didn't dare to complain, or protest.
He deserved it all.
A/N: Thank you for the reviews of the previous chapter, I'm very glad you all seemed to like the opening to the story. As I don't have room to add to the summary, I will explain that this is an AU story set right after the events of ROTS, and thank you to Freedom Tide for making me aware of the confusion, I hope this clears things up. Please, enjoy.
WalkerOfSky.