Author: EsotericCrimson
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. Unfortunately.
Summary: Taking a life is never easy. It's unbearable when it's the life of the one you love. Slash.
A/N: This just sort of… happened. I wrote it entirely this afternoon/evening – it was something that just came to me, and I felt compelled to write. It blossomed from an idea that I had been mulling over for some time, but never figured I'd actually sit down and write out; yet today brought both opportunity and drive, and here it is. Two parts, this being the first; from Obi-Wan's point of view. The second part is from Anakin's. Please review :D
-Esoteric Crimson
Part I: Suffer
"And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave."
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, A Psalm of Life
Were it not for you, I would never have known true agony.
I watch you, beautiful even in anger; even in hate. I never denied the darkness in you, yet I never attempted to eradicate it. It intrigued me, it aroused me. I found it to be exquisite, not because darkness itself is appealing, but because it was a part of you.
You pace backwards, forwards, backwards again – eyes searching in vain for an answer in the rising smoke that permeates the air; in the stars above that you cannot discern, yet you know from instinct are watching you from afar. Even their omnipotent gaze does not phase you in your rage.
I approach you; I beg you without words to accept the advance for what it is; a plea for you to return to me, the most frantic desire of my broken heart; the only request of a desperate man: for my Anakin to return to me.
I want to hold you, to feel you pressed against me, if only one more time; if only for an instant. Yet I know you too well. You are blinded by your wrath – it consumes you. I cannot speak to the lover within you, I am unable to touch the radiant soul beneath the pool of loathing – you are drowning, Anakin. The only thing I can do is to take your hand and resurface with you at my side.
I plunge headlong into the darkness, intent upon saving you from yourself.
I fight you; only halfheartedly. I block, I parry – I move in a distinctly defensive manner. I fight the urge to run towards you. I want to touch you, to embrace you; to whisper softly in your ear as I clutch you to me, and assure you that you are not alone, and that whatever it is you have done, whatever it is that you considered doing, and whatever lead you to those actions and those thoughts, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters, Anakin. Nothing but you, and the fact that no matter what, I still love you. I will always love you.
I try to reason with you. I do my best to force you to see that what you are doing only causes more pain. I cannot bear to see you in pain, Anakin – I never have been able to. Not when it is in my power to prevent it.
I leap, praying that now, you will see that this path leads to naught. It is not too late. Give up this power struggle, this madness. Return to the Light – return to me. Was what we shared not enough? How could you ask for anything more? I would have given you the galaxy – the universe – if you had but asked.
I swing, and my heart shudders in my chest as I realize what I have done. I realize that I am the cause for your suffering now – the torment I seem to have inflicted emotionally upon you for so many years manifests itself ruthlessly in a physical form as your limbs tumble to the ground, detached from your body.
Your voice is rough and hateful as the scathing words escape your lips. No… you don't mean them… you can't mean them…
I am finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.
I gasp, and as the flames envelop your body, they in turn engulf my own being, burning from the inside, outward. Here, the scars shall never reveal themselves, and the wounds shall never heal. Solace is meaningless, and peace shall forever remain elusive from this moment on.
You writhe, I tremble. You scream, I whimper. With every passing moment, I wish to run towards you, to relieve you from this misery. And yet, I am unable to move – guilt and fear have mingled with remorse and a sense of loss deeper than has ever been known, and they have solidified to cement my feet to the torrid stone beneath them. I cannot approach you. I cannot think. I cannot move. I cannot speak. I cannot eradicate your words from my mind, where they will haunt me for a lifetime, and perhaps beyond.
You hate me. I hate me. How inappropriately ironic.
I cannot live without you, Anakin. Life without you cannot be deemed a life at all. Yet, I think it a cruelty far easier to endure than the cold accusation of your words; the loveless eyes you use to glare at me; eyes that are no longer your own. And it is then that I realize:
Anakin Skywalker is truly dead.
I mourn. Oh, my love, how I mourn.
Yet it was I who truly perished on that fiery rock; it was my soul scorched in the river of flame that flowed through the chasm before us – that flowed through your veins, and thus flowed in mine.
Don't you see? I surrendered myself to you entirely; when your heart died, mine was shattered forever.
My eyes darken strangely, and I know that whatever good remains within me will be forfeited on this very spot, and shall remain here, on this forsaken planet, never to be retrieved again.
Obi-Wan Kenobi died beside his beloved as they both slipped into darkness. I joined you on the riverbank, never feeling the heat from the lava flow. I turn towards you, but you do not respond to my presence. Tears run down my face in countless rivulets, unchecked, and unnoticed. They mean everything, and nothing.
Forgive me, my Anakin. Forgive me.
I sigh in relief as I fade away, and caress your marred face with a tenderness I'd never employed before in touching you. We will become one with the Force, my love – together.
My soulless body turned back once more, walking dejectedly away; driven, as always, by an unfading sense of duty. Yet we both know it is useless. I will not die here, and I will not live on.
I will exist. Hollow, unfeeling, until my stubborn physical shell succumbs to the same doom suffered by the spirit it once housed. A spirit once bright and full of vigor, now black and wreathed in shadow.
Spare me this torture, Anakin – I beg of you. If ever you loved me, please… spare me.
Then again, it is no more than I deserve.
I suffer.