Twenty-Five
Sorrow lasts through the night.
JOY WILL COME!
To be one with light is a virtue of generous cleansing, only ever acquired by the few immersed in their own heart's beating. The shaking of an unsteady human can temporarily feel frozen in a world of shooting stars and passing ships. The deep emptiness that comes with knowledge is filled with a view of future and sunlight and rest. All that matters can be inhaled as the lights wind touches its lover's lips. Nothing is held back and nothing is held in. Wings erupt from their cozy hiding places and halos of gold shoot out from beneath the dark cloaks that hide shiny blue eyes.
One. Two. Three. Even the numbers feel lighter as they mount on top. As the seconds pass through the thin hourglass of the human throat. Breathe, love. Let the healing touch you.
The hands that touch his face are soft and delicate, like rose petals. They caress him like he's worth knowing, worth loving, and the very scent feels foreign. Small fingers dance across battered skin and the older one's closed eyes feel as light as closed windows and for a moment he breathes in the tickle of laughter that desperately climbs inside of him for a place to exist.
The strings of gold he once discovered seem to touch his skin like the wind. His soul breathes from within and the gold is before his eyes and he touches the sensation of falling free. The ribbons cling around his wrists as he suspends over a glassy sea and an image of a young and strong man looks back at him reflecting. The man smiles, touching two children on the top of the head and then looks down at the gold in his hand and then he throws it away. He breathes out. The falling stops. The sea disappears.
Anakin watches teardrops drip down his own eyes and it feels like romance.
His skin feels like fire that burns like golden suns and invincibility seems to surround his focus. The fire doesn't provoke him with pain or torture but rather as an aid to a weak bloodstream and pumping heart. The blood climbs through him feeling like light and his chest collapses into himself. It felt good. Better than good.
I am the fire, he soon sees, and his pulse quickens and he smiles. His eyes fall open and he sees blue.
"Better?" he hears but he can't speak. He can't move. A weight replaces his wings and he nearly screamed. But the light hadn't left. He was awake now. He had forever to see the rest.
Better, he breathes back.
I will help you. I will be with you. I will not let you fall into the weight of darkness once more. I will not let your soul die.
Anakin looked up at his son, understanding for once that his son was not an ordinary child. His words were not truly his own, but the lights. He was only a bit under three years-old but his heart sang with knowledge.
Am I living? He asked, putting his gloved hands in front of him. He was terrified to remove them but he knew he wouldn't rest until he did.
More, Luke answered.
Flesh hands came alive before Anakin and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Clear, clean, true, real, alive, breathing, flawless...flesh. Oh, and it was reality.
He felt the need to laugh, but he bit down and removed his boots. His discovery made him fill up with ice beginning to melt. Freedom.
He looks forward to see Luke, holding a small mirror in his hand. He hands it to his father. His father stares at it in shock.
Why such shock?
I'm real.
You were always real, you only lost yourself.
"I can't believe it."
Obi Wan steps into the room, feeling delighted to see his friend. Healed.
"Anakin, you look well."
In a fog, Anakin nodded. "I do."
Do I really?
The light laughed harmonically
"I'm afraid it's time to go."
Anakin bit down on his lip understanding fully.
He stood up, glancing at Luke who stayed silent. "Luke," he whispered, loving the way his name sounded when he said it. Loving the way he didn't feel weak with his words.
The child smiled, hugging his father's real and living ankles.
"I love you," Anakin whispered, touching the boy's cheek.
Luke nodded, placing his hand on Anakin's shoulder. "Love you too."
Anakin spent his time at home sprawled out in bed, taking in the simplicity of rest. His new body was strong and capable of much but he was emotionally drained from the thousands of feelings that beat down on him to the rhythm of his heart. He simply sank into the cot that Obi Wan had set up for him, letting the sound of the wind sing him to sleep.
When he woke up the next day, he found that nothing had been a dream. He was whole and flesh. He sat up in understanding, knowing that there was a change inwardly too. He wasn't filled with joy. He wasn't wired with energy. He wasn't unable to stop smiling. In fact, he had to push the smile forth. But what could anyone expect? He still needed to heal. He still needed to work at it. He still needed to overcome many things.
One of which was the Empire that hung over top of him that he had a hand in creating. But he couldn't handle that right now. Obi Wan wasn't telling him to destroy that mess. He encouraged it but he agreed that Anakin needed to grow in strength first. Anakin wasn't sure he could resist Palpatine. Neither was Obi Wan.
It would be okay if they took it slow. They weren't oblivious to the Empire's evil. Both agreed that it couldn't continue. But what really could they do? The thought of stepping anywhere near it nearly split Anakin in two.
"Take a deep breath."
Anakin had never been fond of meditation. It made him feel isolated and cold. The Jedi had always judged a student who couldn't focus and Anakin was exactly that student. He felt the constant need to walk around and stretch out. Sitting completely still and focus on...whatever a Jedi is supposed to focus on was completely foreign to Anakin, even though he was ahead of his class in everything else.
"Okay."
Now Obi Wan was going about a different approach. The suggestive approach. There were no rules. No requirements. It was more relaxing then meditating. Obi Wan would suggest some instructions to Anakin, and so Anakin would listen. Then he would try his best, pace a bit, lay down in the sand, think about everything and nothing, eat, interrupt Obi Wan with random topics and speak with the light. Speaking with the light was the closest he was going to get. Perhaps it was better.
"A Jedi is not prideful, but you have to speak life into yourself."
"So, I simply have to be positive."
"Yes. Our emotions come from our thoughts, Anakin. Not just what we say out loud. You don't have to glorify yourself but you can't consider yourself to be nothing either."
"So, you're saying that I don't have to say that I'm amazing, but I have to at least believe that I'm not awful."
"I suppose that's good logic. It is a good start anyway."
Anakin let his eyes fall shut, doing his best to focus on the light. He constantly felt like he was being ripped in half from within. He constantly felt the need to pull it apart against the possibility of infinite pain.
"I'm not a good person, Obi Wan," he said, determining that he was going to be stubborn. "I don't even know if I can say that I'm not awful. Sometimes I think I am awful."
"Well I don't think you're awful."
"You're nice, Obi Wan. But how can I be a father to Luke or Leia if I don't even think I'm worthy to be near them?"
"Why don't you think you're worthy? They love and accept you, Anakin."
"I tried to kill them, remember?"
Obi Wan sighed. "I know. Anakin, you're going to have to live with that fact for the rest of your life. You can't forget about it. That isn't possible."
Anakin squinted, placing his hand over his face to block the suns. "I want to go inside," he said, ignoring Obi Wan.
"Alright."
Things had changed, but that didn't mean things were ideal. Anakin was still insecure. He was still afraid. He was still sick inside his head. But progress was being made. Day and after day and after day. Night after night after night.
Hidden amongst all the insanity of himself, he breathed heavily as they entered the room. It felt marvelous to breathe in real air and touch with his real hands and be able to look in the mirror without feeling sick. At least not when it came to his physical needs. At least now he was a human being.
But what of the depression? What of the deep seeded remorse? What of the fever of the dark side that waits for him to open his heart for even a second?
"I'm so scared sometimes," he said out loud, swallowing. "I know I'm getting better but I feel like I'll never be the same."
Obi Wan sat across from him at the table, folding his hands. "You probably won't, Anakin. We were never aiming for perfection."
"But…" Anakin's hands were like claws on the table. Everything felt wrong. "I'm supposed to feel better, right? My injuries are cured. I'm beginning to trust again. I've renounced the darkness but...sometimes those things aren't true. Not really. I mean, sometimes I'm filled with anxiety because I wonder if I shouldn't trust you. I wonder if you'll just turn on me in the end. And the good part of me knows that's far from the truth, but this dark part of me says that you have evil intent and that I haven't renounced the darkness fully. A part of me wants to lash out in anger and I still feel it, Obi Wan. I'm filled with the light yet I still feel the urge to kill. I still feel this urge to burn something to the ground and I'm petrified. Even now, I'm terrified that you'll judge me for all of this. Another part of me wants to grab that knife of the counter and stab you before you hurt me first. But then my reason kicks in and I know that you won't hurt me. That you do care. I'm so lost, Obi Wan. How can I have so much light but still feel this way? I'm not resisting? Am I? If I am, help me stop!"
Before Anakin could say another word, Obi Wan reached out to him, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. At first Anakin flinched, positive Obi Wan was about to hurt him. But slowly, he released the fear and fell onto his knees, still holding onto Obi Wan.
"How many times must I do this?" Anakin asked, as tears fell from his eyes. "I feel like such a wreck...why do I cry so much?"
"It's okay," Obi Wan told him.
"I'm serious. Something's wrong with me."
"Shh…" Obi Wan chided, holding his brother closer.
"There is nothing wrong with you. Not at all."
Lyrics are from Sorrow by Flyleaf.
If I had a real explanation as to why I haven't updated, I would give it, but I honestly don't. The most I have is that I've improved a lot as a writer since writing this over a year ago and I find this story to be cringy and VERY wordy. However, I will post it anyway since I know what it's like when I'm reading a story and it just ENDS. I won't do that to you. I will complete this. I'm going to try to update every few days so I can just get it posted. I only need to write two more chapters in addition to what I have, so it shouldn't be too hard.
In other news, I have a Sherlock story in the process taking place after The Final Problem and an Avengers story taking place after Infinity War which focuses specifically on the Soul Stone. Please look for them!
As always, I appreciate your reviews.
Jenna