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Chapter 35
Anakin opened his eyes to find a warm and familiar world of white. Beautiful and powerful, the Force.
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan approached with a most perplexed look on his face. He searched the strange world and then Anakin.
"Master!" Anakin ran the short distance between them and grabbed Obi-Wan's arm. He blinked in surprise at his own hand. He wore the body of his adult self—his child self had passed.
Anakin was no longer a slave.
"Now I have to tolerate both of you at the same time?" said yet another voice, and both whirled towards the source. Qui-Gon stood with his hands folded in his enormous sleeves, a gentle smile on his face, a light in his eyes.
"Qui-Gon!" Anakin and Obi-Wan said in harmony. Together, they said, "Am I dead?"
Qui-Gon's smile fell, and he glared at them.
"Is a 'Hello, Qui-Gon, good to see you' too much to ask? Why must you always assume you are dead?"
"Because you're dead," Anakin and Obi-Wan said.
Qui-Gon harrumphed at them and crossed his arms over his chest.
"No, really," Anakin said as he looked all around. "Are we dead?"
This time, Qui-Gon's face did not shift in mock displeasure. Rather, his brow furrowed and his eyes darkened even in that bright and beautiful place.
"Obi-Wan will be well after some rest," he said, and then his voice dropped a significant note. "Your heart, on the other hand, has stopped. They are having difficulty restarting it."
Oh. Anakin blinked. He ran the words through his head again. He was dying. It didn't quite connect, not really. He was dead. Oh.
Obi-Wan glanced back and forth between Anakin and Qui-Gon, all lightheartedness and pleasure gone and replaced by stunned horror.
"That can't be right," he said, and he took hold of Anakin's arm. His eyes went to Qui-Gon with the nearest look to pleading Anakin had ever seen on his face. "There must be something we can do?"
Qui-Gon shook his head.
"It's all right, Master." Anakin managed a smile. It was easier than he expected. "I'm not afraid of dying."
As if to test his resolve, the light and airy world around them cracked. A spear of pain stabbed through Anakin's head and deep into the core of his being. Jolts of pain like Force lightning pulsed through him, and he gave up a great shudder. Obi-Wan's grip on his arm tightened. His Master glanced at Qui-Gon for confirmation—that this was it. That Anakin was dying.
Qui-Gon answered with a solemn look and silence.
"Oh, Anakin…" Obi-Wan barely made a sound.
"It's okay," Anakin insisted. "This is how it was meant to be, remember? I defeat Sidious, and then I die. I served my purpose."
"You are not something that serves its purpose and then gets discarded." Obi-Wan's tone went hard and sharp, but the grief in his eyes betrayed him.
"Apparently, I am." Anakin smiled despite the stinging realization that, to the Force, he was always just a tool. A means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.
The light cracked further, and Anakin hunched forward as another wave of pain struck. He didn't recall death feeling quite like this. He'd abused the Force so much that perhaps it punished him.
"No." Obi-Wan shook his head, and Anakin wasn't sure what he was refuting. His former Master glanced at Qui-Gon again, as if expecting a different reaction this time, but Qui-Gon's expression didn't change. Obi-Wan took each of Anakin's arms, gripping him tightly. "Anakin, you remember what you must do? Do you remember how to…?"
How to preserve his consciousness within the Force after death. Anakin understood.
"Master, if he needs help, will you—" Obi-Wan maintained his grip on Anakin but looked to Qui-Gon.
"I will help him if he needs it." Qui-Gon offered a slight nod.
The world gave up a great shudder. Anakin shivered and stood only by Obi-Wan's support.
"Oh," Obi-Wan said, and he looked Anakin over. Even in that place, even in the safety and warmth of the Force, tears sprang to his eyes. He tried to speak several times, mouth moving, but nothing came out. At last, he produced another, "Oh, Anakin."
"It won't be too long before you join me, Master, don't worry," Anakin said with a smile that he had to force onto his lips. The pain made it hard to bear, but he did so anyway. "You're so old now, already one foot in the grave…"
Despite his tears, Obi-Wan smiled. Without another word, he wrapped Anakin in his arms and held him tight. Even as the world twisted and the lights crumbled, even as Anakin shook from pain that squeezed his muscles and bones, Obi-Wan did not let go.
"We won," Anakin muttered into Obi-Wan's shoulder. He couldn't lift his head. He didn't want to, anyway. "We defeated Sidious. The rest is up to you. You'll have to… I mean… will you try to help the Order and the Republic?"
Will you try to make sure this future is different, is what Anakin wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out right.
"I will," Obi-Wan said.
"And you won't forget the clone troopers, right? I promised, and I…"
"I'll do what I can."
"Padmé, Luke, and Leia… will you look after them? Padmé will need some help with them, and the twins… they need an eccentric Uncle Obi-Wan…" Anakin smiled at the thought.
"You know I will."
Darkness overwhelmed the light. Pain muddled Anakin's thoughts, and tears ran down his face. He didn't mind dying. It was rightly deserved, and the galaxy was meant to go on without him. But even though he would be with Qui-Gon, an utter sense of loneliness gripped him. It was worse than the pain that seized him head to toe.
"I am proud of you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, and he smoothed Anakin's hair at the back of his head. Chased some of the ache away. "I am proud of what you have accomplished and proud of the choices you have made. I am proud of the man you have become." He pushed Anakin back, barely, and met eyes with him. Obi-Wan managed a painful smile. "And I am proud to be your Master and your friend."
Anakin tried to smile, but it hurt. He grimaced instead and leaned forward. His forehead pressed against Obi-Wan's forehead. Obi-Wan clasped his head in both hands and held him there, and then he pulled Anakin's head down, placed a kiss upon his brow, and wrapped him tight again in his arms. Anakin held him and laid his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder. He couldn't lift it anymore.
Darkness claimed them besides the faintest flicker of light behind Qui-Gon. It seemed so far away. Anakin couldn't breathe.
"It hurts," he whispered, and Obi-Wan tightened his grip. Anakin managed to lift his head, and he found Qui-Gon quietly watching over them.
The corners of Qui-Gon's lips curled, noticeable even underneath his beard, and his eyes shone with a soft light.
Anakin frowned, and then Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan lurched away from him. Taken by darkness. His body jerked one way and then another. Briefly, he felt like he was falling, and then his back slammed hard against something smooth and deathly cold. Lights swam over him from a dozen different directions.
Shapes like humanoid bodies moved against the lights.
"We've got him!" someone said, distorted and muted. Far away. "He's back!"
"Anakin, can you hear me?" A familiar voice that warmed Anakin's heart. He fought towards it. Strained his ears and eyes, trying to make sense of the world around him. "Ani?"
The fuzzy world crystallized and took shape. Padmé loomed over Anakin along with Master Che and Coric. Several other medics, Jedi healers, and a medical droid lurked in the background. Bright lights glared down from the silver ceiling.
Definitely not dead.
See? Qui-Gon's voice echoed at the back of his mind, still and quiet, yet full of a twisted sort of cheeky pleasure. This is what happens when you make assumptions. I didn't say anything, now did I?
Oh. That wasn't very amusing at all.
A mask covered Anakin's mouth and nose, and several machines beeped near his head. He turned towards the sound, but movement across the room captured his attention.
"Please lie still! You are in no condition to move—"
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan swung his legs over an exam table and staggered across the room. He must have torn out an essential wire, because a machine beeped at him angrily. Obi-Wan slammed into Anakin's table in his haste. He stood at Padmé's side and leaned over Anakin. "Anakin, are you all right?"
As if Anakin had any idea. In his own state of bewildered confusion, Anakin blinked several times and tried to see Coric clearly.
"Coric," he said, and he tugged the mask away from his face so he could be heard. "Am I all right?"
Coric and Master Che had been discussing something nearby, and both turned to face him. Master Che regarded him with great displeasure, but Coric wore the most terrifying expression Anakin had ever seen on a clone trooper's face. Anakin's heart literally skipped a beat, and the machine near him made an unpleasant sound.
"I think I speak on behalf of everyone in the 501st, General," Coric said. "You are all right, but if you ever do that to us again, I will personally go to great lengths to resuscitate you and then kill you myself."
"Oh," Anakin said, and he pulled up what he could only imagine was a rather dopey smile. "Thanks, Coric."
Coric rolled his eyes and went back to his work.
Obi-Wan looked Anakin over and smiled, but his eyes shone with tears.
"You're a mess."
"His heart stopped," Padmé said. She wiped tears from her own eyes.
"I know," Obi-Wan said, and that earned him frowns from many people.
Anakin put the mask back on his nose and mouth because air escaped him otherwise. He caught a glimpse of red and raised his hand. Blood covered his arm and hand. He struggled to turn his head. Naked from the waist up, he had several patches stuck to his chest and attached to wires. They connected to a machine that sent jolts to restart a heart. For once, electricity had done Anakin good. Over the patches and over his skin, down his pants, even to his boots, blood covered him.
Despite the blood, Padmé took his flesh hand and brought it to her face. Tears continued to run down her cheeks.
"I thought I had lost you. I don't ever want to lose you again." She drew his hand to her lips and kissed his palm first and then the back of his hand. "I love you, Anakin."
Only warmth and love shone in her eyes. No blame or judgment. Nothing Anakin had expected or deserved. And now, he thought it was okay. Everything could be different this time, because one small choice, one divergence in the course of the future, could change everything. This time, he chose a different path. This time, he was different.
He squeezed her hand lightly and smiled.
"I love you, too," he said, but it sounded painfully awkward under the mask, even to his own ears.
She smiled in a terribly twisted, broken sort of way, something between laughing and weeping, and she kissed his hand again before leaning over him and embracing him as best she could with a mask, equipment, and wires all around him. He raised his arms to hold her and comfort her, and he pulled something. One of the machines screamed and, judging by how everyone jumped, declared him dead.
"Enough," Master Che said, and she waved her hands towards the door. "Everyone, leave."
Coric and the medical droid repeated her orders.
"I love you," Padmé said again, and she kissed Anakin's forehead. As she stepped back, prepared to leave, she asked, "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Mostly everyone had left, and Master Che turned her attention on Padmé to shoo her out the door. Padmé held Anakin's hand as she rounded the table.
"When I get cleaned up… I'd like to hold our babies," Anakin said, and the thought of it warmed his heart and filled him with such happiness that it didn't feel right for him to experience it.
Their babies. Luke and Leia. Him and Padmé. A family.
Padmé laughed, but more tears fell as Master Che waved her out the door.
"I think that can be arranged." Padmé wiped her eyes as she went.
The door slid shut behind her. Master Che offered Anakin a stern glance before returning to other duties. Coric, on the other hand, shot Anakin the bone-chilling look again.
"Sleep. You are to be dead to the galaxy for a week—no, a month."
"Yes, sir," Anakin said. He gave a two-fingered salute from his forehead, but he must have pulled another cord. A machine beeped.
Coric grumbled, fixed everything, and went back to his business. A couple other Jedi healers remained, along with a med droid.
And Obi-Wan. He had returned to his table across the room and sat on the edge of it. He simply watched Anakin, his expression soft, his eyes full of warmth. When Anakin made eye contact, Obi-Wan smiled.
"Qui-Gon's not very funny," Anakin said, rather pathetically. His voice came out raspy and weak. Frail.
"No, he's not." Obi-Wan chuckled and shook his head.