A/N: This story will include 3 chapters— 2 are complete, but the last will depend on the feedback I get. So will chapter 2, but let it be known, it IS finished. I wasn't sure about the genre on this baby, but I got pretty close I suppose. I wrote both of the two chapters as separate stories. I just fixed them up a smidge so they fit… at least I think they do!! If they don't, there's the reason why. I got the inspiration for this first chapter through a short story called "The Sniper". Irrelevant… OH WELL! ;) But I also wanted sexy Anakin to kick some ass… just a bit, just a bit. Mmmm… Hayden… Ooo! Steaminess in chapter 2! WOOHOO!
ANYway… Hope it's good!
DISCLAIMER: I OBVIOUSLY don't own Star Wars. This disclaimer pertains to this chapter and those that will follow.
One Way
The long night had finally begun to fade into the twilight of morning. The smoldering rocky edges of high cliff-sides and deep, dusty trenches lay enveloped in a cold mist of breezy, silent winds of passing rain showers. The light was dim, coming only from the distant sun below the horizon— everything seemed eerily dead. But here and there throughout the huge trench, encircled by the hardened brown soil of Berchest, machine blasters and shock rifles broke the silence of early morning. At times it was distant, considering the diameter of the trench, and other times it was too close for comfort. The spasmodic fires were always startling.
Lying low on the hard ground and leaned up against a piece of airship fuselage debris, Anakin fingered his comlink while keeping mindfully focused to his senses and the Force. He was mainly concerned on what lied behind him. One thing was for sure— he knew better than to risk a brief second peering around his protective shield for curiosity's sake, and remained huddled low in the dust for the sake of his life rather than curiosity.
His device had suffered some damage under his intense movements and dives amongst the war-torn pit. As he inspected it, he stared into the face of a dead Clone Trooper's helmet. Wherever he looked, he got a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. Many corpses were scattered all over the trench, but most had only died while trying to enter the underground base to safety. That, Anakin reflected in subtle despair, was where hell lay— the wide open dust field behind him that was only several meters to the entrance.
He attempted to work the device. "Hello?" He squeezed it, forcing himself not to scream. Where was that damn soldier who had been given strict orders to cover him? "Lieutenant, do you read? This is Commander Anakin Skywalker in need of assistance and enemy casualties… Hello? Anybody?" He listened for a response, and got nothing but disturbed static. A tiny spark flew from the comlink, causing him to flinch. Furiously throwing the broken device in front of him, he punched at the ground and settled his head back against the ship debris. "What am I doing here?" he muttered to himself in frustration.
In a small group, he and a few Clone Troopers had safely ventured across the dusty plains to the retreat pit. A surprise ambush of masked snipers and gunmen had finished off their group nicely in a matter of seconds, leaving him with only two fellow Republicans. Just before Anakin had discovered a good place to take shelter from the surprise enemy attack, one more was down, and his "loyal" lieutenant had vanished without word.
He crawled low along the edge of fuselage scrap, and briefly peered around the edge as far as his left eye would see around.
In a quick parsec, a streak of red light rushed past his head. Cursing aloud and returning to his safe spot behind the scrap, he breathed harder at his near deadly situation. His feelings had told him the dangers of it. Of course, he hardly paid attention to them, which he had been numerously told was completely dimwitted.
"Commander?"
Anakin glanced to his left where the calling voice had come from. It came from behind. "Lieutenant?" Indeed, it was him. "What happened? And where have you been?"
"The sniper's are active, Sir. I couldn't." There was a pause, no doubt for cautious reasons. "I was unsure if you were alive, until they shot and I heard you curse."
"Of course I'm alive. Why wouldn't I be?" he shot back bitterly— arrogantly—, but this time in a loud whisper. "Where are they located?"
"Two behind the large ridge facing north, one on the north-west side, and one more over…" There was a perplexed halt. "There was a sniper just in the eye's view over to the—"
A pained and horrified groan sounded from behind, and there was no other word from his informer.
"Lieutenant!" As his feelings informed him, danger lurked near, and right away, came leaping around the corner.
Anakin's lightsaber ignited to life, and the rifleman's shot was deflected back to him. With a sickening hiss, the blast scorched a hole directly between the Berchest native's squinty eyes, and he fell with his rifle plummeting just a mere foot from where Anakin perched. His weapon was already deactivated.
Finally he gave into his diminished tolerance. Kneeling as much as his height would allow, he threw off his soiled black robe, tossing it into a furious heap on the ground as dust and ash billowed up from the heavy material. He quickly snatched the blaster rifle with is right hand, and fingered the handle in an adjusting hold.
As he waited to decide whether to make a move or wait, he examined his mechanical arm, glistening in what little light there was. That could be a problem, he reflected. Useless piece of…
He observed the silence that bathed him and his surroundings.
Stupid fellows. Did they know they were dealing with a Jedi? What were they trying to do? Fool him?
He couldn't help but snicker knowingly.
No doubt, they enemy wanted him out. But surely they already learned what pathetic sacrifice they had just made. Now they were beckoning him out. He could feel them, even with their great distance apart. They were angry. But he was angrier. There was definitely a ranging difference as to the heights of rage a mindless alien rebel group could accomplish as in comparison to Anakin Skywalker.
At a time like now, he reflected in amusement with himself, his rage would do some good. It was amazing how much stronger it made him feel. He felt invincible as his fury led him on when he fought.
He eyed the blaster, and realized he had never used one in his life. It was his only option— his lightsaber couldn't be wielded quickly enough to deflect the numerous, much stronger rifle shots that blasted from places he wasn't yet aware of.
Force, was he tired of waiting. He needed some leisurely fun…
Reaching through a closer observation of the weapon with the Force, the blaster proved to be almost completely out of ammo. Three shots, maybe two, were all he had left.
He shook his head, thinking beyond thoughts of uncertainty. No way. He was going home. He would kill every one of the disgustingly pathetic aliens if he had to… If there was one thing he didn't do, it was surrender.
Anakin closed his eyes and concentrated hard. He felt their strong presence all around him. Weakness. A tinge of fear, anxiety.
He followed these thoughts, and was directed to a secluded rock crevice in the cliff, high above the ground but nearest to ground level.
Excitement welled up inside of him.
You first.
With astonishing precision and speed, Anakin reached around the debris, guided by his mind, and fired a blast of crimson light to a high place in the cliff side. Alarm rang out almost instantly, and guns went off in all directions. Anakin chided as he veered behind the debris for cover.
Why hadn't he ever tried one of these things before? The impact of the rifle in his hand was glorious, powerful. The vibration of heat had surged through his artificial limb and sent a shiver of thrill up his spine. Incredible…
One or two shots left— it didn't matter. He was having fun, and he wanted more.
He concentrated again. They were easier to find than before, since havoc broke out the instant he hit his intended target. He found two of them, but there were still three or four of them still masked in darkness, hiding, waiting…
Hauling his right arm over the top of the fuselage, he shot at a place nearest to the ground, and another between the surface of the pit and ground level. His accuracy was brilliant.
He pulled away at the last minute, missing a blast to the shoulder. But that didn't stop him from bursting out with laughter. He was actually starting to pity the poor unknowing souls.
Something caught his attention and stopped him in the middle of his gleeful moment. Three individuals were emerging from the door to the base…
Reaching through the force he identified the three Jedi— Kit Fisto, Pablo-Jill, and of course his Master, Obi-Wan. They were searching for him with the Force also.
Behind the fuselage, he sent.
Enemy casualties? Obi-Wan replied almost instantly.
He searched his surroundings once more to be sure. Three. All armed with heavy machinery.
Wait for us. We're coming out—
"No!" he shouted. He cursed at himself for the risky outburst. I can take the risk.
There was silent hesitation from all three of the Jedi Masters.
I can, Master.
We have you covered.
No need. With a cocky smirk, Anakin tossed the empty rifle and ignited his lightsaber, emerging from the debris, his robe slung over his shoulder. Blasts of light shot from two different directions, indicating that two riflemen had grouped together in one spot. Even better, he thought to himself.
He deflected all of the shots easily, but the trick now was to hit the targets. It took all the best maneuvering skills he knew, but his movements were swift and strong, and in moments, two were down. The last of the three was shooting aimlessly now, cowering at the same time he was trying to be a good soldier. Any good fighter knew the two didn't mix— but then, these were tribal fighters. Even with sophisticated machinery, they were poor excuses for warriors.
Deactivating his weapon, Anakin threw his hand out in front of him. From it emerged a powerful Force blast that sent the enemy tumbling backwards, his heavy rifle crushing him.
Anakin returned his lightsaber to his utility belt, striding casually to the bunker's entrance. He shot his Master a knowing smile.
"See? Everything was under control."
Obi-Wan frowned. "Then I won't ask how you got in this mess in the first place."
As they entered the base as a quartet, Anakin continued to protest defiantly. "We were ambushed, Master. Most of the Troopers died in the first attack, then one more—"
"And the Lieutenant?"
"He ran!" He adjusted his sleeves. "… Then they got him, too."
Pablo-Jill nodded his head. He wisely sensed another dispute and chose to break it up prior to a dangerous feud. "That is fine. All of the Troopers fought honorably. As did you, Skywalker."
Anakin smiled. "Thank you, Master."
"You could have been hurt, trying to take on the snipers on your own!" Obi-Wan scolded. "Even killed. And I'd be responsible."
"I was waiting for that," Anakin mumbled. He stared straight ahead as he walked. "Why can't you at least admit I did a good job? Because I did. Better than you could have done."
Obi-Wan stopped in mid-step. The expression on his face was one that Anakin hadn't seen in awhile, and with that, he knew he'd pushed it pretty far. It was no longer a scolding one, but one of hatred. Anakin wondered if it was simply frustration— a full month of killing and risking being killed drained a person.
And he wondered if he was actually hoping that's what it was, and not hatred.
"You should gather your spare belongings," Kit Fisto interjected before either of the men could retort. "Now."
Nodding, Anakin looked the glaring Jedi up and down before striding down the weak, artificially lit corridor. As he disappeared around the corner, Obi-Wan still stared after him. Finally, when his Padawan's very presence was too far to be reached, he threw his hands to his face, ready to claw at his own flesh and literally welcome the rushing blood.
"You keep faith in him," Pablo-Jill reminded him softly but urgently, placing a reassuring hand on his colleague's shoulder.
"He's facing difficult times, too," Kit Fisto added.
Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes before looking into the dingy halls ahead. His pressure had been so intense that he was seeing black spots. "Somehow… it isn't me I'm so concerned about anymore. My tolerance isn't a danger—but his…"
He left it at that.
The engines of the Republican gunship blared in the faint light of morning, roaring vigorously and displaying massive power with its monstrous, deafening sound alone.
Anakin slung what little possessions he had over his shoulder, all in which were contained within a simple bad of thick, brown, foreign material. That, alone, was already showing some wear-and-tear, bearing small holes and even a few patches Anakin had sewn on himself. Inside, all he had was a soiled pile of numerously worn-out sets of clothing.
His sweeping robe and loose attire blew from the ship's propeller's force, and he felt invigorated by the very feeling of it. His sixth-sense, the queasy feeling of the Force communing with him, alerted him of a nearby presence as he was walking to his transportation.
Obi-Wan, dressed in his basic beige tunic, stopped at his heals from a brisk run.
"What are you doing here?" Anakin shouted over the engine's roar.
"Where are you leaving to?"
Anakin hesitated, grudgingly. "Coruscant. Listen, you said I was permitted—"
"I have said, and done, a lot of things in my lifetime." His tone was dangerously calm. "Call it regret."
Anakin shook his head, and turned his back to his Master, starting towards the ship. Obi-Wan's hand came upon his arm, forcing him to look back.
"I'm willing to congratulate you on your successful mission. But it isn't finished yet. You're not to leave the Temple when you arrive, I will be following close by."
Anakin pursed his lips, and looked into the sky. "Isn't that a bit contradictory…"
"Well you don't excel in everything you do," Obi-Wan continued flatly, still shouting over the noise.
"No! See, that's where you're wrong." He lifted a finger to his chest. "I don't fail— I never fail!" Despite the obstructive noise around them, his voice had been an obvious scream. "I am not going to let you bring me down to your level. I don't even need you."
The words had cut at Obi-Wan hard. He never imagined they could possibly hurt so bad. "And what are you going to do in Coruscant? 'Rendezvous' with the Senator?"
With that bitter, sarcastic smile Obi-Wan loathed so much, his Padawan nodded slowly but deliberately. "You bet." He turned to leave.
"She doesn't need you, Anakin! Wake up."
It took all the ignorance Anakin had welled up within him to aboard the ship without a reply. The Jedi had followed close behind, and was standing next to the ship. By this time, the two Jedi Knights that had accompanied Obi-Wan earlier were running out behind him, slowing as they sensed the tension. Anakin nodded to them respectfully, and then paid the same respect to his Master.
"It's untrue, Obi-Wan." He spat these words with a hateful hiss. The gunship rose from the ground, and though his last words were an almost inaudible shout, Obi-Wan heard the words clearer than he would have wanted. "If you'll pardon my absence Masters, my wife is waiting for me."