Written for Angstober Days 3: Flashbacks and 9: Scream.


"Your father's lightsaber," Obi-Wan said proudly, squashing down his own guilt and memories. He need not burden Luke with a past that was as dead as the wielder of this blade. "The weapon of a Jedi Knight."

Luke radiated curiosity, almost shaking with excitement—as he had been this entire conversation—as he took the hilt with reverent hands. It was regrettable that Owen's hard-line stance on not discussing anything about the past had led to Luke's pure-hearted idolisation of the mysterious, adventurous father he'd never met. Obi-Wan almost felt a twinge of guilt for the lie he had told Owen—perhaps it would not have come to this, if so—but there was nothing for it.

They had deserved to know Anakin as he was for most of his life: brave, foolhardy, and undeniably, unabashedly good. Luke deserved that as well. The truth would erase that joy from his face. One day he would have to face the lies he had told, and Luke would have to confront the truth. But that day would not be today.

Luke took the hilt in one hand with an instinctively adequate stance and lit it, gazing with wide-eyed wonder at the beam of blue light. Obi-Wan watched fondly as confusion and apprehension flickered across his brow. Anakin… Anakin had looked the same, when—

He cut that off, closing his eyes against the resemblance. "Your father wanted you to have this, when you were old enough"—would have, at least—"but your uncle wouldn't allow it. He was too worried you'd follow old Obi-Wan on some damned fool, idealistic crusade."

What had he done wrong? The thought crept in unbidden, as it always did. The past that haunted him was made of stubborn ghosts, unburied in desert sand. No one died easily, but they hardly died at all.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes with a jerk, before he could picture… anything else. Mustafar, perhaps. The security holo of the younglings. Anakin was gone. Luke was here, and—

Luke was here, and he was staring into the blue light of the blade in horror.

"Luke?" Obi-Wan asked, instantly stepping forwards. The blade was wobbling dangerously—Luke could lose a hand if he wasn't careful—and Obi-Wan tried to manoeuvre around his grip to remove it from his hands but Luke clung tight. "Luke, what—"

Luke screamed.

"Luke!" Obi-Wan finally managed to hit the ignition button, and the blade vanished, but Luke kept staring into the space where it had been, screaming. His hands were white knuckled on the hilt. "What—"

When Obi-Wan's hand grasped Luke's wrist, he saw it.

Younglings screamed as loud and wrenching as Luke did, over and over, as the blue blade cut through them like butter. They fell in swathes, crying, and Obi-Wan—Luke—Anakin kept marching.

A woman screamed like Luke did, clasping her hands around her neck as the scream choked off into whimpers. She dropped to the ground, hard, and Obi-Wan—Luke—Anakin, chest heaving, kept choking.

And then it was Anakin screaming, and Obi-Wan wanted to weep. Another bright blade sliced through him, around him, and sent him tumbling to the ground to burn while his own saber lay ensconced in volcanic ash and sand, metres from his last, prosthetic hand. The fire ate up his torso, neck, face, and he screamed as he burned, and Obi-Wan screamed back.

But Obi-Wan picked up his fallen lightsaber and walked away. And Obi-Wan—Luke—Anakin kept burning.

Obi-Wan released Luke's wrist and backed off, both his ears and throat hoarse. Luke had tears streaming down his face. He didn't dare touch him again, but Obi-Wan had to break the spell somehow; he seized the Force, and the saber flew out of his grip, rattling against the wall farther down in the hut.

Luke turned to him, chest heaving, expression distraught and furious. For a moment, it was too familiar. For a moment, Obi-Wan expected his eyes to glint gold.

"What was that, Ben?" he asked, voice strained. Trusting to the last. But not for much longer.

Obi-Wan had known he would have to confront this, someday. But he hadn't expected Luke to be adept at psychometry.

He hadn't expected that day to be today.