Brotherhood
Something was terribly wrong with Anakin, but Obi-Wan could not bring himself to speak of it.
Yet still that vague sense of unease began to trickle in, little by little. Perhaps it all had started when he had killed Dooku, certainly after they had returned to Coruscant. When Anakin looked through him, beyond him. He was distant, sullen and preoccupied. All that fire, that furious, concentrated intensity had turned inwards. The hair curled damply around his face, his blue eyes wide and dark, too heightened, too fevered. But if he was dreaming again, he gave no word of it. Obi-Wan sensed it, though, in the Force. It gathered around the dark lines and curves of Anakin like whispering shadows, clouds of ambivalence portending -
Portending what?
He knew there was something terribly vital they were all missing. But the Force no longer provided the answers it once did; whenever he tried to find that connection, he felt his mind sliding against walls like glass, the knowledge slipping away from him like smoke falling through his bare hands. But that absence in itself told him all that he needed to know.
Something was wrong. Something was coming. It was bigger than all of them.
He feared more than he ever had. He tried to hold those monsters at bay, tell himself that to surrender to those fears would lead him down a dark path, but still they crept in, whispering to him through the long nights and longer days. Things that had happened, things that were yet to come. Glassy waves of rolling heat, furnaces and blasted sands, the horizon ringed by fire. Endless hordes swarming over cracked earth and ships exploding with bursts of searing light in the galactic skies. He saw the blood of men he had killed, he saw walls of flame that could consume planets. And perhaps worst of all, he saw Anakin as the boy he once was, young and bright and eager. Then later as he left his Padawan status behind him, lazy, long-limbed and arrogant, and still brilliant as he had ever been.
And then the war came.
In some ways, it had been easier. Amidst the confusion of scorched metal and clouds and fire, there were commands to be followed, duties to be carried out. Not this bewilderment of hushed silence in Coruscant's echoing halls. And always this strange sense of falling, falling out of reality.
The war had both changed and not changed Anakin. That restlessness and energy in the days of peace had gained a focus that meant he never failed a mission, but it also awakened that uneasy rawness, the sense of wild power that made him believe he was invincible. That led him to kill Count Dooku, something that now filled Obi-Wan with nameless dread. Anakin killed as he did everything - with passion. It was too furious, too personal. That is not how we are supposed to do these things, he had tried to say afterwards, but Anakin had merely laughed, clapped him on the shoulder and said you're just jealous I got there first, Master. And the Holonet had proclaimed him a war hero.
Obi-Wan wondered if that was where this sense of wrongness came from. That Anakin craved the action he had found in the war (though in his heart, Obi-Wan knew it was something more), the ability to throw himself into battle. Now he just seemed to drag himself around in boredom, a solitary shadow restlessly pacing the vast and darkening corridors. Or he would disappear for hours on end and Obi-Wan knew that he was with the Chancellor. Anakin would return from those visits more volatile and agitated than ever, yet he never spoke of what passed between them in the secluded office.
It was that which worried him most of all.
He could never imagine a time when he did not know Anakin. They had been together for years, brothers bound by blood and duty and war. He knew everything about him; his ambitions, his annoyances, his fears, his love for Senator Amidala that neither of them ever spoke of. But now Anakin kept his distance and shielded his innermost thoughts and wouldn't tell him why. Obi-Wan watched him closely, tried to see what had changed, but for the first time since he had known him, Anakin remained secretive and elusive. Without that bond of loyalty and trust, Obi-Wan did not know himself. Did not know how they could survive this war. And for himself, he could not live without that lack, that missing half.
He wanted the Anakin he knew back. He wanted the gifted pilot, the rebellious Padawan, the reckless youth, the skilled warrior.
But most of all, Obi-Wan realised, he wanted his friend.
"Anakin, wait -"
The Jedi pushed ahead with swift, angry strides, the colour high in his cheeks. Obi-Wan hurried in his wake, boots thudding soundlessly on the long crimson carpet, his reflection rippling as he passed the blurred glass. The weather echoed his sombre mood. Rain pounded against the high windows, streaming down the circular panes in threads of quicksilver. Coruscant was lost in sea of cloud and mist, nebulous Speeder lights passing in rare, blinding flashes. The last few days had been like this, long and grey, gloomy and ambivalent. The clouds hung low and threatening, swathing the crystalline towers and shrouding the entire planet in this obscurity.
"Anakin."
Finally, the Jedi turned to face him. His gloved hands had clenched into fists. Beneath the voluminous cloak, his tall figure trembled with too much energy, as though unable to contain the emotion that shuddered through him. Obi-Wan felt the vibrations of disturbed air through the Force, an electric, potent charge.
"They can't do this -"
Obi-Wan raised a hand to quiet him. They couldn't talk about this here. It was too close to the Council Chambers, too close to possible unfriendly ears.
Anakin, unrelenting, scuffed a leather boot against the stone, eyes flashing with passion. "Those Masters - I have more power than any of them -"
"More power, and less judgement. A place on the Council so young - it is unheard of."
The younger Jedi took a step forward. Close like this, he was several inches taller than Obi-Wan, though it had not always been so. Pain tugged at the Master's heart just by thinking of it.
"After everything I have done in this war - I've earned that place, Master."
And there it was. His arrogance, always his arrogance. Always striving and seeking and overreaching himself. Obi-Wan looked at him, at the burning blue eyes, the feverishly flushed cheeks, the stubborn set of his mouth. Power radiated from him in invisible waves. Yet there was still something boyish about him for all that, something that told Obi-Wan that Anakin was not nearly ready for what might be coming. In truth, he was desperately unsuited to the political intricacies and the manipulative finesse required for such an assignment, and once again, Obi-Wan bitterly cursed the Council for placing him in this situation. Hands fisted in the rough-spun fabric of his brown robes with a gesture of uncharacteristic tension.
"I'm not denying your ability. But outbursts such as you demonstrated today - you are merely confirming the Council's decision to withhold granting you the title of Master."
Anakin fell silent, drooping lids veiling the ferocity of his gaze. Defiance and pride struggled in his face. "Then what would you do, Master?"
"Control your emotions. Keep your temper. Listen to the Council and heed their advice. Show patience, obedience and restraint. And above all, stop these thoughts of jealousy and anger that are clouding your judgement. They will lead you down a dangerous road and I will not be here to protect you."
"I don't need -"
"Anakin. I am not telling you this as your former Master, but as a friend giving you advice."
The Jedi didn't answer for some moments, but remained still, his face angled away, stiffened shoulders spread wide beneath his long cloak. Dimly, Obi-Wan could hear the faint drumming of the rain outside, the heavy sheets a veil between the isolated Council Chambers and the rest of Coruscant.
"You're right, Master," Anakin said finally, once more in his habitual undertone. "I'm sorry. Truth be told, you are the only one in the Order who does not treat me like an enemy or under suspicion."
Obi-Wan sighed, already feeling his sharpness softening. "If they treat you with suspicion, it is only because your friendship with the Chancellor has made you so. You have been placed in a difficult position, Anakin, and whether you realise it or not, Chancellor Palpatine has used you as a means of exerting greater influence over the Jedi Council."
"The Chancellor would not do that. He has shown me nothing but kindness and respect. And I don't see why my friendship with him means that I am regarded as a criminal."
"These are dangerous times. Any influential power outside the Jedi is being regarded with suspicion - and that includes your friend Palpatine."
"You speak of looking inwards, Master. Isn't that a trait of the Sith?"
"This is a war, Anakin. Sometimes, we must do undesirable things for the greater good."
A shadow fell across the Jedi's face. He spoke, his tone low and deliberate. "So you would have me lie, and keep secrets, and turn against someone I consider a friend - maybe the Jedi and the Sith are more alike than I realised."
"Anakin, these thoughts are dangerous."
Eyes narrowed. Eyes so blue they looked almost black. In some moods there was no reasoning with him. "I wish to have no part in their political games," he said, a hard note of finality in his voice. "If the Council have issues with the Chancellor, they should bring it up in the Senate."
"Haven't you guessed yet, Anakin?" Obi-Wan ran calloused hands through his fair hair in agitation. "This assignment is about testing your loyalties just as much as it is the Chancellor's."
A reflection, a trick of the light perhaps, but Anakin's eyes seemed to flash gold in the grey obscurity.
"So I was right. They don't trust me."
The Master took a breath, willing himself to speak calmly. "You have given them little reason to. Try to see it from their perspective. You have used your position in the Chancellor's good graces to get yourself onto the Council, you challenged their decision not to grant you the rank of Master and you tried to put yourself forward for this mission to Utapau rather than listening to the wisdom of the Council. You have done little to earn the trust you want them to place in you."
"That is a lie! Everything I have done has been for them - this fighting, this war - I could have left - I could have turned way from the Order years ago. If you knew what -"
"Anakin, listen to me," Obi-Wan urged seriously. "I have spoken on your behalf to the Council. It is a lot they are asking of you, but if you do as they have asked, you will have earned their trust, and more. But in the meantime, tread carefully. Practice your mental exercises. Listen to your instincts. I hate to leave you in this situation, but the Council has requested I leave as soon as possible."
"To Utapau," said Anakin, and his mouth tightened.
"The sooner we find Grievous, the sooner we can put an end to all of this. When Grievous is gone and a measure of stability restored, it will become easier to discover where the Chancellor's loyalties lie."
If it were only so easy. Obi-Wan looked out the window, momentarily blinded by the sheets of cascading rain that were illuminated by the hyper-real gleam of the sprawling galactic lights. He wondered where on Utapau Grievous was hiding. The last tangible enemy left in this war. Neither human, nor alien, nor droid. And worse than any. How many causalities in this war could be laid at Grievous's synthetic hand? Just thinking of it made him want to kill that abomination with an anger he had been trained to let go of.
"I still think you are wrong. The Chancellor is not the problem in this war."
The Master sighed. "I hope for your sake that you are right."
"It's - it's them… the Senate, the politicians -"
"Assume nothing at the moment, Anakin. Watch, and wait. Do as the Council has requested you. Things will be clearer once Grievous is dealt with."
Anakin suddenly looked up pleadingly, ashen-faced, the long scar that bisected his brow standing startlingly dark in contrast. Staring at Obi-Wan through the fall of curling gold hair, he looked so much like the boy of years past that time seemed to have spiralled backwards to the days before the war, before everything had fallen apart. A pause lingered between them, heavy and potent in the dull, thrumming air. Beneath the layers of pride, it was there, unspoken. A plea, a cry for help. "Master… I can't do this without you."
Here then was a decision, a crossroads. If Obi-Wan had known that his decision could have changed the fate of the Galaxy, he might have hesitated. But he didn't. To disobey the orders the Council had given him never even crossed his mind. And so he unconsciously set in motion the events that would tear the world apart.
"I have faith in you, Anakin. You have become a far more powerful Jedi than I - now use what you have been taught." And he smiled, a firm hand grasping the younger Jedi's shoulder in reassurance even as he unknowingly sealed their fates.
"Good luck, my friend."
