Hold Fast

Chapter VIII: The Slave

[BEFORE]

The boy's eyes were open, staring at nothing. Whatever peace death had given him could not be seen on his young face; etched upon it was still the horror and the fear, and beneath it lingered a child's genuine surprise. Even faced with a swarm of clones and the Chosen One-turned-Betrayer, the boy had not thought to die. His short life had been spent training for duty, for service, for defence – for that very moment in fact – and he still had not been able to fathom that he could be torn apart by monsters.

Anakin did comprehend. He saw. Whatever good there was in Anakin – the dazzling light that was his mother's gentle smile, Padmé's ringing laugh, Obi-Wan's warm touch, real and true – was dimming and diminishing. The last moments of a dying star. The dark was too strong, the blackness of space too vast. It slithered inside him like sticky tar, squeezing through every crack and gap, suffocating and colonizing. It was Palpatine's smug smirk, Appo's blank obedience, the evil that festered in the hearts of men.

It was Anakin.

The darkness was met by dark. Like attracted like, and it greedily, gleefully, recognized one of its own. The beast inside Anakin, the one that lurked in the deepest, dirtiest part of him, the one he had feared – had always known – was the real him, roared in gratification, in victory. It wanted to destroy. It wanted to burn. It wanted to be free. It wanted.

And Anakin was torn apart.

The dark crowed with delight, when Anakin raised his lightsaber and swung the blade; the light shuddered in agony, howled in distress as his weapon struck and cut. The Temple guards' shocked dismay roused cold satisfaction, but also deep despair. The frantic cries, soon drowned under heavy blaster fire, rang in the cavernous hall, forming both the chorus of a dark chant and the echoes of an anguished lament.

The dark was strong, it was surging it was possessing it was power it was promises of freedom salvation future and everything and all. And yet –

The light held on. It ripped at Anakin's flesh, it sank its terrible claws in him, refusing to let go. With every hit of Anakin's saber, it wailed louder, it burned him with shame and horror. With every kill, the light pierced him with such dreadful agony Anakin felt out of his mind, mad with hurt.

Every strike was a strike against the light, every cut was a cut to his own body, and with every kill Anakin killed himself, over and over, tore himself apart, destroyed anything there ever had been worth loving in him. He had to. He had to. He had to – it was a mindless mantra, repeated and repeated until it meant nothing. Why did he have to?

His mind shied away from the details, cast a red sheen over his sight, wielded his limbs like the parts of a machine. Anakin met the blades of the Jedi, he struck them down, he threw their resisting bodies against the stone, shattering their bones. He registered how the children fell down, hit with blaster bolts. He let the clones hunt those hiding, those running.

It was only after – after it was finished, when the bodies lay motionless on the floor, when the smoke curled around the cooling flesh – that he realized he was weeping silently, eyes gritty and half-blind from tears. He found himself standing over the boy. The Padawan had fought well, had killed the clones trying to take him down and then he had rushed Anakin, so afraid and so determined and so betrayed. And Anakin had cut him down. He had killed a boy.

I don't want this, his mind whispered, exhausted and beaten and already turning against itself. Please, I don't want any of this.

You have to, you have to, you have to, he said you have to –

The boy's eyes were open, clouded over with the cloak of death. Staring at nothing now. Anakin had done that.

"Lord Vader?" Appo's cold, steady voice – every clone's voice – came from his left side. Anakin did not turn to look at him. "Lord Sidious is waiting for your report." The slight hum of the holoprojector was louder than any shout.

Anakin squeezed the hilt of his lightsaber so hard he was in danger of breaking the casing. Then he dropped down on one knee to hear what his Master bade him do next.

-o-

[NOW]

Disorientated and disappointed, Obi-Wan struggled to his feet, afraid that the piercing white of the transition through time had blinded him. For there was only darkness, pitch black and absolute, all around him, pressing into him. Obi-Wan swayed and raised his arm, reaching for Anakin.

Someone was breathing raggedly nearby, the harsh sound cutting sharply through the dark.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan took a hesitant step forward, outstretched hand seeking – bracing for contact. Another step, and suddenly his sight got better, the blackness turning to grey shadows, to streaks of muted light. He was not blind then. But still the pervasive feel of the dark remained, enclosing everything in a cold and suffocating embrace.

From the corner of his eye Obi-Wan noticed a vague, slumped shape, and as he turned towards it, it morphed into a familiar figure. Anakin knelt on the floor, head bowed. Tangled hair covered half of his face, while the darkness hid the rest; Obi-Wan could not see his expression.

"Anakin?" Alarmed, Obi-Wan strode across the small space to his former Padawan's side, taking only a cursory notice of their new surroundings. The room – an antechamber? – was devoid of any furniture, the pricks of light from the wall panels revealing the shapes of the unlit space. More important than the where and the when of this new time was Anakin' silence, his immobility, his refusal to meet Obi-Wan's eyes. Had he been hurt in the transition? Had their failure to kill Palpatine broken what remained of his spirit?

"What is it?" Obi-Wan murmured helplessly, not knowing what he could – or should – do, his hand hovering uselessly above Anakin's bent head. Before, he would have laid his fingers upon those messy curls without hesitation, he would have stroked the vulnerable nape of Anakin's neck without shame. Now something held him back, something that strongly resembled fear. He did not know what or who he was afraid of.

"I had to," Anakin muttered brokenly in between uneven breaths. "I thought I had to." He kept his eyes lowered, and Obi-Wan realized he was not in fact motionless; his body shook, the barely visible shudders running beneath Anakin's skin like electricity.

"What do you mean?" The dark pushed even closer, greedy and gloating, making the hairs on the back of Obi-Wan's neck rise, quickening the beat of his heart, urging him to flee or fight. The wrongness was suddenly distinct and Obi-Wan became aware that it was not coming from Anakin – it was the place they were in. The space around them emanated foulness and malice, a pervasive and perverse darkness that felt horribly personal.

Obi-Wan fought to get his own erratic breathing under control, trying to suppress the shivers racking his frame. "Anakin," he rasped, "it's this place." He forced himself to press his hand on Anakin's shoulder; instead of tearing them apart, the touch brought instant relief. Obi-Wan was not alone.

Anakin lifted his head and looked up; for a moment, as their gazes met, Obi-Wan thought he saw tears in the red-rimmed eyes. Then Anakin stood up, and Obi-Wan's hand slid from his shoulder, falling limply away.

"Where are we?" Anakin's voice was hoarse as he spun around, taking in what little there was to see in the gloomy room.

"I don't know. Somewhere –" But no words could convey what the place truly was. Unquestionably, it was dangerous, saturated with the dark side of the Force. It felt both ancient and new, vast and small, sprawling and contained. Obi-Wan had never been there, and yet there was something familiar there, the threads of a half-forgotten memory or a suppressed nightmare.

They stood in silence for a moment, reluctant to venture outside the small chamber physically or mentally. However, they could hardly stay put, when they knew nothing about the time and the place they were in. Just as Obi-Wan took a deep breath, ready to explore their surroundings through the Force, he sensed Anakin do the same. The motion second nature by now, Obi-Wan extended his consciousness further, seeking knowledge of what lay beyond the little room. It seemed to take an age, but in truth lasted merely a few seconds.

Thoroughly repulsed, Obi-Wan withdrew from the task, rubbing at his throbbing temple. Anakin was watching him, clearly also finished with his own effort. He looked like he had enjoyed it as much as Obi-Wan had.

"There are people here." Anakin's lips settled into a severe line, his frustration evident as he brushed a few errant strands of hair impatiently from his face. "But I don't – I can't get a clear read on them or this place, it's…"

"Muddled," Obi-Wan added, knowing exactly what Anakin meant. The dark muffled and covered the individual minds, hid any distinct personality or motive in uniformity, in the stifling, overwhelming darkness. Knowing there was nothing for it but to take the risk, Obi-Wan moved to one of the doors. He was fairly certain that the space it led to was unoccupied.

"Obi-Wan." Anakin's anxious voice arrested Obi-Wan's hand before he could press the door's control switch. Uncertainty, dread and turmoil were trickling through Anakin's shields, bleeding like blood from an open, persistent wound, a slash of red against black.

Obi-Wan waited, but Anakin did not say anything else. Silence stretched between them once more. Obi-Wan wondered if they would have been in the mess they now were in, had they learned to speak to each other with something other than aborted words and half-sentences.

Not willing to give in to his own hesitation, Obi-Wan opened the door. The space that spread out before him was as empty as the antechamber, designed with the same angular, harsh lines. But it was much bigger, a tall cavernous hall that was cleaved in half by a metallic walkway, reddish light spilling in from an enormous viewport on one side.

Obi-Wan stepped onto the walkway, on each side of him a drop of thirty meters or more into the bowels of monstrous machinery. Halfway through the room, the bridge widened and formed a perfect circle, a platform from where one had a clear view of the planet outside, of the red lava that ran across the blackened plane under ash-grey sky. Obi-Wan was cold, yet the hall glowed with red-black-hot, with the inextinguishable embers of some hellish fire.

"Mustafar," Anakin sighed, not sounding terribly surprised. He had followed Obi-Wan onto the walkway and now stood next to him on the platform, gazing out of the viewport. "After the…Temple…he wanted me to come here and wipe out the Separatist leaders."

Was that the reason the holocron had brought them to that place? Was the Separatist Council there right at that very moment? The penetrating dark certainly suggested it. Before Obi-Wan could ponder that question further, he was unceremoniously proven to be utterly wrong.

At the other end of the walkway, a door swished open. Something – a machine, a man, a monster – filled the doorway, a hulking form in black armour and cape, head entirely covered by a helmet with a grotesque mask. The dark surged around him possessively, a perfect storm of hate and pain.

The Sith – and he was a Sith, there was no doubt about it – took a step forward, his loud mechanical breathing the only sound in the hall until the hiss of an igniting lightsaber. Obi-Wan was surprised to see it was his own blue blade that cut through the shadows. He could not remember when he had last drawn his weapon without realizing, answering a threat quite without a conscious decision to do so.

"Lord Vader?" Only now Obi-Wan noticed the human male that stood behind the Sith, some kind of officer judging by his black uniform. The man sounded apprehensive, more afraid of his lord than of the sudden mysterious appearance of the Jedi.

"You," Anakin gasped from somewhere behind Obi-Wan, his sharp anguish pricking at Obi-Wan's mind. With a sudden terrible rush of remembrance, Obi-Wan recognized the name. Vader. Palpatine had called Anakin Vader in that horrible security recording Obi-Wan had watched.

Vader – no, future-Anakin – ignited his lightsaber, the red blade reflected in the empty, black eye sockets of the mask. "Out!" He bellowed to the cowering man behind him. "Secure the fortress and see to it that none can leave or enter." And then the door whooshed closed, leaving the Sith alone with Obi-Wan and Anakin.

"This is a Jedi trick," Vader said as he took another step forward, approaching them carefully despite all of his malice. "A desperate attempt by a feeble man to act his vengeance, to prove that he is once again relevant, that he isn't utterly lost, that his fallen Order isn't broken, dead."

"No," Obi-Wan exhaled, "this is the Force." He had thought he had already seen everything possible in the past and in the future, but the sight of the hate-filled Sith left his mind reeling. Even after witnessing the carnage of the Temple, it was hard to fathom that…thing could be his former Padawan.

Vader took another long stride forward, voice full of contempt and rage. "You are a fool to come here of all places – you may have brought me low here, cut my limbs and watched me burn, but since then this place has been mine. I own the dark here, I sought it and made it mine. There is no victory for you here old man."

The words were incomprehensible. It seemed impossible that Obi-Wan could have ever done that which Vader accused him of.

"You stupid druk," Anakin suddenly hissed, stepping partly in front of Obi-Wan. He looked livid. "You own nothing."

The air was thick with heavy tension, with imminent threat. Obi-Wan knew they were strategically in a very difficult position, the walkway limiting their movements. They could only retreat back to the way they had come, and that route would surely soon be blocked by Vader's troops. If they didn't move soon, they would be trapped.

Vader looked at his younger self, his hatred swelling with thick fear. "Whatever visions you conjure up Kenobi, they cannot touch me."

"Want to bet?" Anakin spat and lightning-quick ignited his blade, rushing to meet Vader.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan cried out, suddenly uncommonly afraid.

"You karking idiot! You had everything! And now you have nothing – you are nothing! You are a monster!" Anakin screamed, his blue blade clashing with Vader's red. The Sith howled like a wounded beast, surprised that the phantom turned out to be flesh and blood.

"Traitor! Murderer!" Anakin struck again and again, slashing his blade against Vader's with a frenzied, blind rage. He managed to drive the Sith a few steps backwards, but Obi-Wan could see all too clearly the upper hand was only temporary. Anakin's fighting was not near enough his best; he was all mindless anger and disgust, his movements furious and careless.

Obi-Wan dashed to help him, although he knew his options were limited. There was no room for Obi-Wan to manoeuvre, to move against Vader simultaneously with Anakin. The risk of accidentally wounding Anakin was too great, particularly when they were so out of sync. Their bond closed, Obi-Wan was unable to sense his former apprentice's movements, and even anticipating them was difficult because of Anakin's reckless, unpredictable moves.

Anakin swore incoherently, his weapon's arc too wide; Vader countered it with a vicious slash of his blade, at the same time smashing his fist brutally against the side of Anakin's head. Obi-Wan directed a Force push towards Vader, just as the Sith attempted to plunge his lightsaber into Anakin's unprotected side, and both combatants stumbled; Anakin fell to his knees, while Vader skidded backwards.

Obi-Wan's whole arm shook as his saber met Vader's, his soul trembling under the gaze of the man in the abhorrent mask. Vader's hate was suffocating and terrible, infinitely worse than what Obi-Wan had ever felt from Anakin. He was also impossibly strong; Obi-Wan was thrown back with a dark rush of power, managing just barely to keep himself from being flung down upon the deadly machinery.

Despite the sharp twinge from hitting the metallic walkway, Obi-Wan hastened to clamber up, keeping a tight hold on his lightsaber. Moving back into a defensive position, the sight that met him arrested his breath, jolted his heart into a painful beat. Vader had lifted Anakin with the Force and was keeping Obi-Wan's former Padawan suspended in the air, savagely choking him. The red blade was alarmingly close to Anakin's chest.

"Stop!" The shout was out of his mouth before Obi-Wan had even thought of it. Anakin's arms were hanging limply by his sides, his weapon laying under his swaying feet. Terror clawed at Obi-Wan's rational mind, slowly eroding his composure.

"I hate you," Vader proclaimed with a deep and terrible conviction; Obi-Wan was certain the words were meant for them both. Vader was an exposed nerve of endless pain, a mass of rage, a scream of loss – completely a slave of the dark. Seeing it, Obi-Wan had only pity and regret in his heart for the Sith. For Vader, everything was too late. But it was not yet too late for Anakin.

"I know," Obi-Wan said calmly. "I'm so sorry. I failed you, Anakin."

"Anakin is dead!" Vader screeched in a mindless fury, his old Master's words shattering his concentration – taking advantage of the Sith's unbalance, Obi-Wan acted in the blink of an eye, and with all of his skill and will, he pushed Vader's ignited lightsaber towards the black-armoured chest. Vader bellowed in surprise and pain as the blade burned him, and Anakin was dropped onto the walkway in an unconscious heap. Obi-Wan was already rushing forward, another Force push throwing Vader aside and finally, off the bridge.

Frantically, Obi-Wan heaved Anakin to his feet, swinging his heavy body across Obi-Wan's back. Vader had managed to stop his fall and was clinging to the ledge with only one hand. Obi-Wan had no desire to stay and see how quickly the Sith would get himself back up to the walkway, so he called Anakin's lightsaber to his hand even as he was already loping towards the nearest exit.

Vader's scream of rage followed him out the door.