As Anakin slowly began to slip out of our lives, Padme and I found
ourselves drifting together. He seldom told either of us where he was
going, what he was doing -- but we knew. In our hearts, we knew. He was
changing...shifting. The darkness that I had feared in him from the time I
met him was surfacing. In his presence, the air hung heavy with something
ominous, and his eyes were stormy. I knew that he was hurting, and that his
pain had pushed him towards resentment. I tried to help him, truly I did.
But he only pushed me away.
I was afraid. Not only for Anakin's future, but for my own, for I saw in him many of the demons that I knew lurked within myself.
"I'm glad to see you're being diligent about your meditation, Anakin," I said, although we were both well aware that his desire for solitude was not an effort to become more attuned to the Force. "But is there something bothering you? You haven't been quite yourself lately."
There was still a trace of our friendship there, and he spoke kindly to me. "I appreciate your concern, Master, but I'd rather be alone right now."
I respected his request and tried not to pry into his business. But I knew that something was very, very wrong with my apprentice. During our stays at the Temple, he would often disappear, only to return with no explination of where he had been. He was on probation from the order by the Council, and it was my responsibility to get him back in line. I was consumed with worry. Anakin would hardly speak to me, much less listen to me. I sensed something terrible was going to happen.
And it did. I was awoken one night from a restless sleep, tormented by ripples of pain in the Force...interuppted by a frantic knocking at my door. I stumbled out of bed, half dressed in only my trousers, and opened the door to find Padme there, trembling. She collapsed into my arms, sobbing, and after a moment, I led her inside by the hand. She sat on my bed, tears falling fast down her face, rolling down her chin and splashing onto the lap of her soft pink dress. I dried her eyes and held her close to me, thanking the Force that she wasn't hurt, but knowing that something was very wrong. It produced a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, something I was almost a stranger to. It was fear, and I had never felt it so sharply before.
I waited for her to speak. I smoothed her hair repeatedly, almost petting her, finding this level of intimacy strikingly unusual and surprisingly natural. I'd barely touched her before, and now here she was, pressed tightly against my bare chest. It was somehow delicious, being so close to her, and somehow horrible, given the tone of her visit. Her hand was cold on my bare skin, and her nails dug in hard enough to draw blood. I barely noticed.
"He killed them," she said finally.
"Who?" I fought an inner battle to remain calm, knowing that I had to be strong for her.
"Teenagers," she said, an answer that seemed to make little sense, but she continued. "They were outside smoking and we -- we heard them talking. One of them was talking about how he hit his mother. He was bragging about it...he said he called her a dumb bitch and slapped her. Anakin got so angry..." She struggled to continue through her tears. "He told me he was going to make them shut up. He started yelling at them," she said. "You know how he's been since his mom died...oh, Obi-Wan, they were barely younger than him." Her voice broke. "They started making fun of him. They said such awful things. They called him a mama's boy, and then the one said -- he said, 'Why don't you run home to your mama, motherfucker?' Anakin just...exploded. He jumped on the boy and started beating him," she said. "His friends tried to help, but they just couldn't. He's too strong. I couldn't cross the street -- the traffic flow changed, and there were transports everywhere..."
I kissed her forehead. "Shh," I said. "There was nothing you could've done. He would've hurt you, too."
"I yelled for him to stop, but he wouldn't. He was...possessed. I saw him take out his lightsaber," she said, her voice going soft with her own fear. "And I ran."
A terrible anger and fear burned within me, and I knew that things would never be the same again. I held her so tightly I thought I might break her fragile bones, and she cried quietly in my arms until she fell asleep.
I was afraid. Not only for Anakin's future, but for my own, for I saw in him many of the demons that I knew lurked within myself.
"I'm glad to see you're being diligent about your meditation, Anakin," I said, although we were both well aware that his desire for solitude was not an effort to become more attuned to the Force. "But is there something bothering you? You haven't been quite yourself lately."
There was still a trace of our friendship there, and he spoke kindly to me. "I appreciate your concern, Master, but I'd rather be alone right now."
I respected his request and tried not to pry into his business. But I knew that something was very, very wrong with my apprentice. During our stays at the Temple, he would often disappear, only to return with no explination of where he had been. He was on probation from the order by the Council, and it was my responsibility to get him back in line. I was consumed with worry. Anakin would hardly speak to me, much less listen to me. I sensed something terrible was going to happen.
And it did. I was awoken one night from a restless sleep, tormented by ripples of pain in the Force...interuppted by a frantic knocking at my door. I stumbled out of bed, half dressed in only my trousers, and opened the door to find Padme there, trembling. She collapsed into my arms, sobbing, and after a moment, I led her inside by the hand. She sat on my bed, tears falling fast down her face, rolling down her chin and splashing onto the lap of her soft pink dress. I dried her eyes and held her close to me, thanking the Force that she wasn't hurt, but knowing that something was very wrong. It produced a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, something I was almost a stranger to. It was fear, and I had never felt it so sharply before.
I waited for her to speak. I smoothed her hair repeatedly, almost petting her, finding this level of intimacy strikingly unusual and surprisingly natural. I'd barely touched her before, and now here she was, pressed tightly against my bare chest. It was somehow delicious, being so close to her, and somehow horrible, given the tone of her visit. Her hand was cold on my bare skin, and her nails dug in hard enough to draw blood. I barely noticed.
"He killed them," she said finally.
"Who?" I fought an inner battle to remain calm, knowing that I had to be strong for her.
"Teenagers," she said, an answer that seemed to make little sense, but she continued. "They were outside smoking and we -- we heard them talking. One of them was talking about how he hit his mother. He was bragging about it...he said he called her a dumb bitch and slapped her. Anakin got so angry..." She struggled to continue through her tears. "He told me he was going to make them shut up. He started yelling at them," she said. "You know how he's been since his mom died...oh, Obi-Wan, they were barely younger than him." Her voice broke. "They started making fun of him. They said such awful things. They called him a mama's boy, and then the one said -- he said, 'Why don't you run home to your mama, motherfucker?' Anakin just...exploded. He jumped on the boy and started beating him," she said. "His friends tried to help, but they just couldn't. He's too strong. I couldn't cross the street -- the traffic flow changed, and there were transports everywhere..."
I kissed her forehead. "Shh," I said. "There was nothing you could've done. He would've hurt you, too."
"I yelled for him to stop, but he wouldn't. He was...possessed. I saw him take out his lightsaber," she said, her voice going soft with her own fear. "And I ran."
A terrible anger and fear burned within me, and I knew that things would never be the same again. I held her so tightly I thought I might break her fragile bones, and she cried quietly in my arms until she fell asleep.