Obi-Wan entered the Jedi Temple via the public entrance. His entire body was in agony – with physical pain, with exhaustion, with grief beyond comprehension – but he staggered up the steps with the last of his worldly strength, and with the Force swirling around him. A crowd of Coruscanti citizens had gathered in a silent vigil at the base of the stone steps behind him, reverent, watching their Hero and saviour slowly ascend the steps to the Jedi's sacred home.
In his arms, Anakin's breath hitched, but when Obi-Wan looked into the young man's face his blue eyes were oddly clear and seemingly at peace. His Padawan – always his Padawan, deep down, for the rest of all time – was in pain. He could feel it blazing through their bond, which had blown open in a burst of radiant stardust at Anakin's triumphant defeat of the Emperor. But it was the look of calm acceptance in Anakin's eyes that tore at Obi-Wan's chest; this coming home would be different.
He paused his slow ascension, boots scuffing gracelessly, and leaned down to press his ashen forehead to Anakin's. The Force caressed them, tender fingers brushing at their faces. Obi-Wan's heart might burst. He reached out, and with the last of his strength, blanketed Anakin with the Force that was with them so willingly, shielding him from the physical pain. The younger man's iron grip on Obi-Wan's tunic relaxed but never left the blackened folds. His fingers remained, curled close to his old Master's heart. Obi-Wan choked. Distantly, he felt another, stronger Force Presence join with his own, melding seamlessly with his mind to give strength, and his legs felt a little less like tissue paper.
His heart throbbed with renewed anguish; his grief was inexplicable.
At the top of the stairs, he turned back towards the Coruscanti skyline. The sun was starting to set, and the city was bathed in a rare dusty orange light. Blinking lights that could be stars glittered across the atmosphere. It reminded him of another, far-distant planet where twin suns would sink below the horizon…
He looked down at the man in his arms and felt his heart break.
"Let's go home."
But deep down, he knew that he was home, but Anakin was not.
The Temple's front doors were open. Obi-Wan had never seen them open like this, exposing the Jedi to the planet beyond. The red light of the setting sun pooled around his feet and glinted off the tiled floor as he stumbled across the threshold. The Force was so thick now, it was almost palpable. Obi-Wan had never felt it like this before. He was breathless with the weight of the moment, and the overwhelming sense of destiny. The Force carried them now, swirling with peace and regret and pain and acceptance and fate. Anakin's fingers on Obi-Wan's chest burned, like the twin suns he was born under, and the Force danced around them.
He made it halfway into the foyer before his body utterly failed him and his legs gave out. The Force caught him as he fell, and he landed on his knees as gracefully as his broken body would allow. But his arms never faltered; Anakin remained cradled there, cushioned by the Force. Tears sprung in Obi-Wan's eyes stinging, as his heart shattered with renewed grief and howling pain, and he realised the Time that they could not escape was near.
Anakin was still and silent in his arms, but Obi-Wan could feel him drinking in the Force, drawing comfort and tranquillity from it in a way that he never had before. He was calm and buoyant in its soothing waters, so unlike he had ever been in life. Instead of wielding it like a weapon, an unlimited power to be bent to his will, Anakin was truly immersed in the Force, in pure harmony with it. The Force communed back willingly. It was awesome and reaffirmed what was already undeniable. Anakin really was the Chosen One, and the Force was calling him home now.
Ashes to ashes.
Stardust to stardust.
Gentle hands were on his shoulders; they pulled his face towards them. Familiar wisps of long chestnut hair streaked with silver, there was the prickle of a mustache. He melted at the physical contact with the man he had known for almost a lifetime. In his arms, Anakin breathed a sigh, a ghost of a smile on his lips, and sunk deeper into the peace of the Force.
"My Padawans." Qui-Gon's voice was rough, deeper than usual, and heavy with emotion. In another lifetime, Obi-Wan may have wondered at those things, at the hidden secrets in his old Master's voice, but this moment was for Anakin. Their Chosen One, who was dying. He who had bravely and unflinchingly followed the destiny that had always awaited him. He who had sacrificed the bright star of his life for the Republic, for the Jedi, for the galaxy, for peace, for democracy,
For Balance…for the Force…
Obi-Wan supposed – he hoped – that one day it would all make sense, a final puzzle piece fitting seamlessly into place, but for now it all felt so wrong. As a Jedi, it was his duty to say that it was worth it. But as a man, and as a human being, it was unfathomable when it all boiled down to it being Anakin. His Anakin. His Padawan. His Partner. His Brother.
Qui-Gon's arms were around them as they huddled in the dying light. The Force eddied and swirled around them, soft fingers seeping warmth into their pores. Obi-Wan choked a sob, salty tears spilling fresh and hot and thick onto the charred and ripped remains of Anakin's tunic. He let them fall, not caring who saw or who knew the weight of his love, too immersed in this private moment of grief. For Anakin, who deserved this much from him, right here at the end of all things.
Anakin's hand was shaky as he reached up with blood-encrusted fingers to touch the droplets as they rolled down Obi-Wan's cheek.
"No…tears." His voice was a whisper, but it still carried weight. The remaining shards of Obi-Wan's heart shattered.
"It is done, as…it was…always meant…to be." The hand dropped, suddenly bereft of worldly strength. Obi-Wan caught it with his free hand and cradled it above his heart. Qui-Gon's fingers were in Anakin's hair.
"No…tears," he repeated, eyes flicking to Qui-Gon, then back to Obi-Wan. Their bond pulsed, golden tendrils gleaming, and Obi-Wan felt Anakin's stillness and love and light. In the weight of this moment, the mortal fears that had so haunted him in life were extinguished. He was pure, and Obi-Wan knew he was truly at peace. Fear was for the living, not the dead.
That didn't make it hurt any less.
He pressed his lips to Anakin's forehead, feeling the Force washing gently around them and through them, flooding their bond. He opened himself to Anakin, baring his immense love, adoration, gratitude, and pride…his emotion for his beyond words. He hoped it would be enough.
Anakin's voice was ragged now. "It will always…be enough…Master."
Smaller hands joined their own clasped and trembling fingers, and Obi-Wan looked up into the impossibly bright eyes of a young Togruta. They glistened with grief. His heart swelled.
Anakin turned his face to his Padawan – always his Padawan, no matter what – and smiled softly, leaning into her touch on his cheek. Then he looked back past Obi-Wan to the silent Jedi Master behind him. The maverick who had led him onto this path all those years ago on a dusty far-flung planet, who was here to guide him off it all these years later, with the setting of the sun at its very end. Anakin's eyes flicked back to Obi-Wan, his Force Signature reaching out to Ahsoka.
His was strong. His voice was tender. "Look after them for me." The Force surged at his words.
And they all promised, with voices constricted by pain and grief, but with honour and solemnity. This, they would do willingly, and with promise until the end of Time. In the Force, a golden thread formed at their pledge.
Time…stopped then, and the world stilled.
The Force was waiting. It's Will would be heard.
Anakin turned his eyes skyward. His fingers twitched in Obi-Wan's
"Time to go…home."
One last breath. The Force was a vessel, a starship.
I'll be the first to see them all.
As his eyes closed for the last time, Obi-Wan caught one last glimpse across their dying bond, of a flash of chocolate hair, the smell of rose petals and green meadows, and of soft lips…and knew that Anakin had gone home.
He squeezed his eyes closed against the pain that was unbearable, the aching despair that he thought might kill him, as their bond snuffed out and his last connection to Anakin was lost. He pulled Anakin's body close - only a shell now, but still warm - felt Ahsoka's hands in his, Qui-Gon's face in his hair.
The Force around them was stardust now, flecks of gold languishing in the dying light as the sun finally dipped below the horizon.
It eddied and swirled.
Ebbed and flowed…
…ebbed and flowed…
And somewhere beyond them, with the rising of the sun, two babies cried.