Rating: K+.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to George Lucas – if I owned it, I would be far too busy getting various authors to write Anakin/Tahiri to bother with fanfiction.
Notes: This is for Jess (J.L. Jordan) for our one-year anniversary as friends and fiends. You're fantastic, Jessfi!
Anakin?
Not Anakin.
Obi-Wan Kenobi – Jedi; hero of the galactic Republic; former master of Anakin Skywalker – watched in disbelief as the surveillance footage ran again. The images were obvious – Anakin entering the Jedi Temple; Anakin leading an army of cloned soldiers; Anakin slaughtering the younglings with nothing more and nothing less than a look of impervious superiority on his face.
Anakin?
A blue lightsaber arcing and whirling in moves that Obi-Wan had taught and Anakin had perfected; a fluid fighting style that was as savage as it was elegant. A man shrouded in a dark robe; an almost desperate look on his face. A pupil fallen to the dark side.
A friend fallen.
Anakin?
Obi-Wan frowned as he saw Anakin slice his lightsaber cleanly through the body of a youngling – only three or four years old – and then reached out and turned off the footage with a steady hand. He wasn't shaking. Jedi Masters did not shake. Jedi Masters did not give into their feelings enough to shake.
He would not allow himself to give into his feelings enough to shake. He had given in to weaknesses so many times before – with Anakin; about Anakin; for Anakin. Despite his desire to adhere to the rules and to the guidelines the Council was governed by, when it came to Anakin, everything was – less black and white than it should have been.
He turned to Master Yoda and asked in a soft voice, "Anakin. How could he have done this? What has happened since I've left?" His grey eyes were clear and focused. He was clear and focused. He could feel the Force streaming around him in comfort; he could feel the calm beat of his heart as he waited for Yoda's reply.
Anakin?
Brother. Best friend. Anakin was more than those two things to him. Anakin was more than anything. Anakin was bright and powerful in the Force. Anakin was the chosen one. Anakin would be the greatest Jedi of his generation – of all time – if he didn't get himself killed beforehand.
Anakin used to be all of those things.
Now Anakin was – still bright. Still powerful. Still the chosen one. But burning passionately in his rage; exploding like stars did right before they died. His anger was eating him from the inside out.
Anakin was –
"Fallen, he has." Yoda's reply was concise and to-the-point. There was no emotion in his voice. No regret. No sorrow. No anger. Yoda was as pure in the Force as Anakin was. But where Yoda was calm and patient, Anakin was a maelstrom of barely controlled passion and emotion.
With a shock that he could feel in his bones and veins and everything else that made him flesh and blood – everything that the Force could touch; everything that Anakin had touched – Obi-Wan swept his eyes shut and closed off his emotions. Closed off his feelings. Let go of his bewilderment and betrayal and worry and simply felt the universe work.
Anakin.
Anakin was everywhere. Anakin was – breathing and killing and bringing balance to the force in the only way possible. He was no longer separate from the universe; he was no longer carefully treading where other Jedi would never tread. He was dancing and whirling and letting every single rule he had ever been told go to hell.
Anakin.
"Careful you must be." Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Yoda watching him with a pointed look on his wizened face. There eyes met – his clear and sure and Yoda's the same. They both knew what had to be done. Anakin had to be found – brought back from the Dark Side. Brought back to the Order. Brought back home. "Face him you must."
His eyes went wider and for a moment – only a moment, but in the universe it would be enough for a lifetime worth of doubt and worry – he felt angry. Angry at Yoda for wanting such a thing from him. Angry at himself for thinking that Anakin could be turned. Angry at himself because he desperately wanted to avoid a duel with Anakin.
A Jedi wasn't meant to feel desperation or anything aligned with it. The notion had been drilled and drilled into his head since he was 4 and still a crechling. But sometimes he couldn't help it – couldn't help the need flowing through his veins and the desire that made him dizzy.
That was Anakin's fault. It was always Anakin's fault.
Sometimes Obi-Wan couldn't help but wonder if everything was Anakin's fault. But if it were – it was equally his own fault. Probably moreso. He wasn't the impressionable young padawan – he was the master, the elder, who should have known better about everything. Training. Emotions. Life. The Force.
But what was worse – what would always be worse – is that he did know better. He did. He had. He had known with each touch and each lesson that things were slowly spiraling out of his control. The only thing he hadn't realized was just how out of control things would go.
And now he was the one who had to fix it all. The one who had to make sure Anakin didn't kill anymore. The one who had to break the news to the woman Obi-Wan strongly suspected was Anakin's other lover – and the mother of his child.
Anakin.
With one last thought toward who his best friend could have been – should have been – Obi-Wan sighed. His eyes slipped shut as he reached out for Anakin in the force – grasping at – for? – his former apprentice and lover. He reached and whispered a silent prayer as he did so; pushing the feelings and emotions of every other Jedi and every other person away as he sought the one person that he knew could destroy the entire galaxy.
And there was nothing. Nothing.
Where Anakin should have been – needed to be – there was only a gaping hole and a whirlwind of coldness. Nothing like Anakin could ever be. Even in the darkness and even in the throes of chaos and the dark side, Anakin was pure heat and pure passion. Anakin could never be cold. Anakin would never be cold. Anakin would never –
Anakin.