Interlude
Recollections
It had been a beautiful day. The sun had been shining, the cliff had been just the good height, and he had felt at peace for the very first time in weeks.
The decision had not been an easy one to take, but he had felt it was for the best. Others could go on without him. Life would go on without him. He would not let himself fall.
Then Obi-Wan had come. His friend and he had talked and laughed, and suddendly it was all over. Obi-Wan had guessed. He had attacked, lost his temper, and Anakin had known he could not let Obi-Wan take the way he had himself taken.
They had fought, and it had been hard. One of them had wanted to kill the other; the latter had not wanted his master to kill in anger. Though they had both wanted to fight the dark, both had come to use it in the end.
And Darkness had won.
Both of them had died that day, somehow. Both of them had lost hope and innocence. But it was not too late for one of them.
The fight had been strong, and psychologically more painful than anything they had ever known. Losing a parent was hard. Witnessing your brother lose his soul was even worse. Especially when they had both felt at fault.
Anakin had not wanted to hurt his master, but he had. Only he had hurt Obi-Wan in his soul. And years later, he had killed him. A sweet revenge, he had thought at the time. Now he saw it more as an unforgivable mistake.
That day on Naboo, Anakin Skywalker had died. He had not killed himself the way he had wanted to, because Obi-Wan had been there and he had wanted to spend some time with his friend. Obi-Wan had almost fallen, but unlike Anakin, he had been strong enough to come back to the Light.
Falling to the Dark Side had been his choice more than his destiny. He saw it now. He had wanted to decide what to do with his life, he had wanted to choose the way he would help the Galaxy to get better. It had been a conscious choice, not one made out of despair. The final fall had been his. Fate was an artificial concept.
He had chosen to use Darkness even when Obi-Wan had been using Light. He had chosen revenge over forgiveness, others' deaths over his own. He had no choice but to face the consequences.
Feeling guilty was just the first step.
Redemption was still out of reach.
Hoping was not an option.
Then what was left ?
You have to live.
But I need help!
You will get help in time. Keep your heart open. Light has never left you.
TBC…
Those of you who haven't read the A/N might want to read the second paragraph; it explains what exactly is going on here.
PS: Skippygum, if you ever open that fic, then know that I am not at all who you may think I am. 'S not me, really! Or, erm, maybe it's me, but, err, I'm under the influence of ze Chemise Verte (de la mort qui tue). Tu parles à qui que ce soit IRL de cette fic, et ses pouvoirs psycho-tueurs vont s'abattre sur toi. Capice ? Booon… regard mauvais