When Anakin Skywalker came back to life, he knew it was only to die a second time. Many did wonder if the first time had been on the banks near a river or lava, where his humanity had burned away together with his body, or if Anakin had never really left Tatooine.
Some were convinced that Darth Vader had always been part of him from the start, thinking that such evil could not be taught, one had to be born with. The truth, however, was much different.
Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight of the Republic, had always played a game of tug and war with himself that he had ultimately lost in the Chancellor's office all those years ago, dying so quietly nobody else had noticed it. Anakin knew that back then he had been on the verge of insanity: he hadn't slept in over a week, hadn't eaten in Force-knew how long, the darkness inside him threatening to swallow him whole.
So much so that it had only been a matter of days before his consciousness disappeared in that black, oily sea of nothingness. Everything he had been, a Jedi Knight, gone in a puff of black smoke. He had been in such agony, for so long, that finally letting go had been the only way to put a stop to the pain that had been slowly devouring his body and mind over the course of the years.
And the thing that, thinking about it now, made it all worse? Made him realize what a fool he had been, blinded by pain, unable to see through the deception of the Dark Side? In his last moments, he hadn't asked for his wife, the mother of his unborn child. No, he had been screaming for Obi-Wan, because deep down he had always known that he was the only person who could have saved him. Who had been so far away that Anakin's desperation hadn't reached him, no matter how loud Anakin had called for his former Master.
He had been so stupid back then, too full of pride and weak to see. As a matter of fact, the truth had been obvious to everyone but him, because he had already convinced himself that he had been the only one harbouring illicit feelings for his best friends.
Not that it was entirely his fault, to be perfectly honest. It was not the Jedi way to love like Anakin did, with every single fibre of his being, and Padmé had offered him a way to do exactly that. To even contemplate the idea that someone like Obi-Wan could have possibly felt the same way had been out of the question for so many years.
Now, two decades later, Anakin wished he could travel back in time and smack some sense into his younger self before his hatred and fear ruined everything good he had ever had. Starting with his beloved wife. Padmé, he thought, had been the first stranger who hadn't looked at him with contempt or pity, seeing the small boy he really was: one eager to get away from a backwater planet and find a way to make his mother's life better.
She had seen him as more than just a helpless slave, and that had been enough for him to bind his heart to hers forever.
For a dark second, he almost wished he had listened to Obi-Wan and Yoda from the beginning, when they had warned him of the disaster their lives could eventually become. But then, if he had, he wouldn't have Luke. Nor Leia. Or maybe he would if the Force thought that making a father out of him was all it was needed to keep him walking the way of the Light. Nobody would ever know and wasting what little time he had left wondering about ifs and maybes wouldn't do anybody any good. It wouldn't save his life, and of that Anakin had no doubt. All he knew was that his children had contributed to making the galaxy a better place and they were a testament that, once upon a time, Anakin Skywalker had been hopelessly in love with Padmé Naberrie, former Queen of Naboo and Senator of the Republic.
Thinking back to those first years spent hiding their relationship he now saw how Palpatine's influence had already started corrupting the good in him, planting the seeds of doubt, hate and anger that would give Vader ultimate power over him. During those last, fateful hours, that monster had fed him so many lies that, for a bit, he himself became convinced that what they were doing was right.
And so he had done it, he had killed her. Vader had succeeded in making him so angry with Obi-Wan - so jealous for hell-knows what reason - that everything had become a race between the two of them.
Obi-Wan. The only one who had always stood up for him, defended his reckless actions in front of the entire Jedi Council more times than one could count. Just because he had loved him as he had never loved anyone else, without ever being ashamed of it. Because Obi-Wan had always trusted him with his life. It had only taken him two decades to realize it.
Even worse, Anakin had had the nerve of taking him for granted, on all those occasions. He had always relied on his Master's devotion to him like it was some sort of backup plan, some safety net that no matter how hard he fell, it would always be there to catch him.
What hurt the most was that it had indeed been like that. Even when Vader had killed him on the Death Star, Obi-Wan had looked fondly at the black mask, because he knew that somewhere inside that armour the man once known as Anakin Skywalker was still alive, and one day he would come out screaming.
Once again, he had been right about him.
Now that he thought about it, he didn't even remember what point he supposedly was trying to prove all those years ago, but death was giving him clarity and made him realize that Mustafar had been nothing more than a big, deadly, childish tantrum. Anakin Skywalker could have snapped out of his delusion; he could have made the choice of saving the entire galaxy. But Darth Vader hadn't been able to, because he could not see beyond the sea of anger that surrounded him, and it would take Anakin a long time to understand how to free himself from the trap of the dark side, the cruelty of the Sith.
Now, the faded memories of Obi-Wan's light touches were so painful that Anakin wanted to slip back into nothingness again, go back to that half-life that had been the past twenty-three years of his existence, only to realize he was finally alone. There was nobody else.
Darth Vader was gone and saving Luke had been Anakin's final act of defiance. Sacrificing himself for his son had meant the end of the nightmare that had plagued the galaxy for over two decades.
Had he been in control of his lungs, he would have stopped breathing. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was the only one behind the steering wheel of the mortal machine that their - his - body had become. The fear he felt was his own, so different from the anger-fuelled one that had been poisoning the very air they had been breathing until just a few hours ago. It felt like shaking off one last layer of drowsiness, his mind clearer than ever before.
If he thought about it, it now seemed like such a simple choice to make, one little loophole that had allowed him to destroy the Sith with a single blow. In fact, one had to shake their creed to the core, break that chain of betrayal and resentment that had been passed down from each master to their apprentice. In short, selflessness was something the dark side never understood, and it was all it took to bring the whole system crashing down.
Vader's ruin had been years in the making and, had he been less focused on wreaking havoc in the galaxy, he might have even noticed it. He had tried, many times, to extinguish the flame that was Anakin's heart without ever succeeding, thinking that killing people with their own hands and making him watch would have ended up breaking him. But could Vader hurt him more than he already had? Stealing his body, free will and humanity hadn't been enough?
He never understood one fundamental thing about Anakin: that even if Vader used him as a vessel of destruction, he didn't care. He was too tired to care.
For those two decades, Anakin had raged and screamed in silence, reaching multiple times through the Force to try and crush the shadow who had destroyed him, one piece at a time. The only problem was that he had been far less than he once was, and Palpatine had cunningly made sure that he would never succeed in getting free. He had given them a cage that doubled as a weapon, the pain it inflicted the perfect fuel to use Vader as a living menace. They were more than half machine and when reaching out to the Force, Anakin always felt like a painter gone blind, a composer gone deaf: he could almost remember where his power was, the strength that had once flown through his limbs, but what he could now use was barely its faded memory.
That is how it had felt to be the ghost of Anakin Skywalker, at least until Boba Fett had brought Vader the name of the damned pilot who had succeeded in blowing up that horrible metal monster which he had despised since the moment its construction was initiated.
Skywalker. Luke Skywalker.
Hearing that name had felt like being consumed by scorching heat for the second time (or was it the third? He had lost count of how many times Vader had caught fire over the years). Still, that had been a different kind of pain to share with the monster, because it had unlocked something whose existence Anakin had almost forgotten.
Hope.
In the following years, Vader had become obsessed with finding him, and not knowing how else to communicate with him, he had tried - foolishly, Anakin thought - to bring him to the dark side and make him his apprentice, underestimating just how much a life lived without knowing the truth about his family had shaped him.
That boy embodied, without even realizing it, everything the Jedi Order should have been. He was brave, fearless, and so inherently good that nobody could have ever turned him but, most importantly, he fought for those he loved without making it a weakness. He was the living proof that Anakin Skywalker hadn't been doomed from the beginning, but the Jedi Order and their own close-mindedness were.
Love gave people power, that much was true, but what the Jedi had always failed to understand was how it also gave them purpose. Fighting in the name of the galaxy for peace and freedom was indeed a great and noble cause, but sometimes living beings needed something to keep them grounded and protecting a loved one is an easier concept to wrap one's mind around. Fight for your own family, save those of the ones who can't do it themselves.
It was that simple. Emotions and attachments made you weak only if you allowed them to overpower you, which was the reason why he had fallen in the first place. With his background, Anakin knew that he should have never been a Jedi to begin with. Or he could have been, had the Jedi Order made any kind of effort to understand him.
Unfortunately, it had never been in their nature. Their discipline worked wonders with those who were found before they could remember the horrors of an unjust galaxy, but with people like him? Who knew the truth and would never forget it? Most were doomed to fail.
The knowledge that his son could rebuild the Order from scratch and prevent other people from suffering his same terrible fate, had planted a seed of hope in the heart he and Vader shared. One that would eventually bloom into Anakin Skywalker trading his life for the future of the Jedi, and the entire galaxy.
Now, he felt the nether of Force calling him, tugging at his tired body. He wanted to let go and slip into oblivion, letting himself become part of that infinite flow of energy that bound the universe together. Had he had any tears left to cry he would have, for his exhaustion was so profound that even keeping his eyes open was painful, excruciatingly so. Also, his life support system was failing. He couldn't feel his legs, which were trailing behind him while Luke half-dragged him along the corridor, and his sight was deteriorating rapidly, the continuous flux of messages that were shown on his lenses only worsening it.
He could feel Luke's anxiety and fear reverberating in the Force around them, his urgency in getting them out of there. "Please hang in there a little longer, we're almost to the hangar bay. I can get you to safety," the boy said between a strained intake of air and the other, his small frame shaking under the weight of his father's limp body.
If only that was true.
One rather conspicuous part of him found it mesmerizing that, after all the other one had said and done, all the pain he had inflicted upon him and his friends, Luke still chose to forgive him. Anakin knew Vader did not deserve it, not in the slightest. And neither did he, for death was the only mercy a monster like him was entitled to. Still, being able to feel that the boy cared about his fate filled him with a mixture of emotions he had almost forgotten the existence of. It made him feel warm, in a surprisingly pleasant way.
Is there really any good left in me, even after all these years?
He turned his head to the left and for a second saw something in his son's eyes, the same flame everyone had seen burning in his own during the Clone Wars. It was their signature persistence and reluctance to leave anyone behind, no matter what or how dire the situation. He had been reprimanded so many times because of it, by so many different people, and had never truly understood why, but now he did - the Rebellion's greatest asset was putting his own life at risk to save that of the war criminal he should have left behind to die alone on the bridge near the reactor shaft. Because, trapped under layers of black durasteel, metal and fabric, was just another human being: his father.
They rounded a corner and with great effort Anakin lifted his head, seeing a Lambda-class shuttle waiting for them at the end of the hangar bay, its boarding ramp extended on the floor. He wasn't sure how, but they had almost made it, and not one of the stormtroopers had attempted to prevent them from escaping. They were too busy finding their own way out of that death trap.
For a second he almost believed that his story could have a different ending, but he knew better. He could sense it, and perhaps Luke too, that the end was near.
It was only then that his legs gave out completely. He couldn't help but fall helplessly on the floor taking Luke down with him, who in turn didn't waste time and got up immediately, grabbed his arms and started dragging him towards the ramp with surprising speed. The back of his helmet bumped against something and then, suddenly, his son fell on his knees in front of him. He was exhausted, trembling, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.
Anakin could hear the ragged sound of his own breathing and the expression painted on Luke's face confirmed that, on some level, he too knew it was almost over. Just a matter of minutes before the pitiful creature in front of him met his ultimate demise. What worried him was that the boy was clearly in denial, fighting against that knowledge, and was still somewhat convinced that by boarding that shuttle he could have had his father back.
As if dying here or in orbit makes any difference.
As gently as possible, Luke reached out with his right hand and hauled him upright by the shoulder, supporting his back with his other arm. They were close enough that Anakin could see the first cracks in his son's composure, a few tears escaping their dam.
"Luke," he said faintly. "Help me take this mask off."
The boy's eyes widened slightly in confusion. "But...you'll die."
He was right, and there was no point in denying it, so he just told him the truth. "Nothing can stop that now," he paused, made a quick decision, and went on. "Just for once, let me look at you with my own eyes."
Luke probably didn't understand how much that simple gesture meant for someone like him, someone that for twenty-three years had looked at the world through a couple of lenses always filled with tactical information and life-support data. For one last time, he wanted to look at his son without any hindrance and allow him to remember him like the human he had once been, not the faceless machine he had become.
The boy looked a bit discouraged but complied anyway, starting to remove the back of the helmet with unsteady hands. It came off with a gentle hiss of pressurized air and then it was the turn of the faceplate, the last barrier between the past and the present.
The faint light of the hangar bay was blinding for his scorched eyes, which needed more than just a few seconds to adjust. Luke looked at his ruined face and like many others before him, his features were distorted by pity and confusion, as if unable to comprehend what had happened to him. But there was something else, a soft curve of his mouth as their gazes met, a gentle spark of recognition in the hum of his Force signature as he stretched it towards him.
"Now," he said in his real voice, whose sound he had almost forgotten. "Go, my son, leave me."
Luke shook his head slowly, dismissing what he probably thought was a stupid idea. "No! You're coming with me, I'm not leaving you here. I've got to save you."
Anakin lifted his left hand, using what was left of his strength, and cupped his son's cheek. He couldn't feel his skin, nor the warmth it radiated, but it didn't stop him from sweeping his thumb under Luke's eyes to brush away the single tear making its way down his face. The boy leaned into it and looked down at his father with those big blue eyes he had inherited from him, still full of that childhood innocence that made him shine as bright as a star in the Force.
More tears started to flow and he could sense the pleading in Luke's soul, fierce and devastating. The nether called him louder and louder, but Anakin asked for a couple more seconds to say the proper goodbye. "You already have, Luke," he replied, trying to stretch his burned lips into a thin smile. "You were right, you were right about me."
It's time.
"Tell your sister, you were right. You were right."
And with that, he pushed all of himself in one last ripple through the Force, hugging his boy the only way he could. He closed his eyes and let go, falling into the gentle darkness of infinity. The last thing he heard was Luke's almost desperate cry.
"Father? I won't leave you!" and a quiet, unspoken, Please, don't leave me.
And he wouldn't, because one last voice sounded in the dark before everything disappeared. Surprisingly, it was Yoda's, reminding him of what he had been told a long time ago, for completely different reasons.
"Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them, do not. Miss them, do not."
The rest of the sentence didn't matter because Anakin realized that death was not the end, not for him. Instead, he had the vague sensation that a new life was just about to begin.
At last, he was free.
When he opened his eyes, Anakin felt like he was drowning. The strange thing about that was that it wasn't because he couldn't breathe, exactly, but the opposite: he was no longer used to the feeling of his lungs being able to fill to their maximum capacity.
He wasn't used to being that alive.
He fell to his knees, unable to process what was happening. Where was he? Was he dead? Had the past twenty years been just a bad dream? Unlikely, because he distinctly remembered dying, and Luke's voice calling his name.
Luke. Leia. Thinking about his children made his heart constrict painfully. Maybe it was a good thing that he had finally died, at least now he wouldn't be the cause of their suffering anymore. Or would he? Wincing, he saw his son's face again. Maybe Leia would rejoice, learning that her torturer had finally died. And she would be absolutely entitled to do so. But Luke? Oh, he had tried his best to bring him back to safety, only to be left alone again.
Feeling his eyes starting to sting, Anakin lifted a hand to dry his tears. Crying was his speciality, always had been. Then, his brain caught up with him. He froze mid-motion.
His hands. He was kneeling on the ground and, splayed wide on a dusty surface, Anakin didn't see one of the black gloves that he had grown accustomed to hating with every single fibre of his being. He saw his left hand. His flesh hand. The other one, hanging mid-air, was a familiar black and gold.
Disbelieving, Anakin brought them up to his face and felt, for the first time in what seemed like forever, the familiar edges and curves of his cheekbones and his chin, the soft skin of his face. Even his scar was there.
Yeah, he was definitely dead, and from what he could feel he didn't look a day over twenty-two.
With a shiver, he dismissed the mental image of his old, wretched body, whose memory made him reflexively clench his fists. He could have kept on pretending that it wasn't him, but the other one, the poor being who had been lured to the dark side thanks to false promises and clever lies.
It would have been the easy way out, pretending that his past and his present were two different people. For certain aspects, they were, but coming to terms with the consequences of his actions was the only way he could own up to his mistakes. He owed that to the galaxy.
Still, death didn't seem fair. A soul as stained as his was, was it allowed to ever find peace? If it wasn't, then why did he feel so good?
Anakin tried to remember a time when he had felt as light as he did now but found nothing. His whole life had been filled with pain, disguised as many things: first slavery, then being separated from his mother. It had come disguised as people being afraid of him for no particular reason other than his being different.
Pain, suffering and then more. Nonetheless, most of his memories seemed also to be bathed in golden light, so bright it made the darkness that permeated them look way less threatening.
And it was in that precise moment that the axis of whatever planet he was on shifted by a few degrees, or so it seemed. He had of course noticed that there was some nondescript vegetation around him, whose outline went out of focus whenever he moved his eyes, that the earth under his knees didn't stain and it seemed to change every time he looked away.
But Anakin had been so lost in his train of thoughts that the gentle hum of the Force that surrounded him had gone unnoticed for a while. There was so much life around him, and he was able to sense it all, but couldn't grasp the meaning behind any of it.
Stretching out in the Force for the first time, he almost sobbed aloud. It didn't shut him out anymore, welcoming him back. Finally, he could sense life again. He could sense death, love, pain, wonder and the ever-changing nature of the universe. He could sense the galaxy itself and all of the life forms that inhabited it, and it was such a perfect balance that his brain wasn't able to process it.
Is this what it means to be one with the Force?
It took Anakin a full five minutes to realize that there was something else in close proximity to him of which he could make perfect sense. His breath caught in his throat and for a moment the Force froze around him.
He sprang up and turned so fast that he made himself dizzy.
"Took you long enough."
A couple of metres from him stood a young man, reddish hair neatly arranged around his kind eyes, a slight smile on his bearded face.
"Obi-Wan?" whispered Anakin, frozen in place. Everything else seemed to disappear, and then their eyes met. He didn't even register moving, let alone running, but somehow he found himself wrapped in Obi-Wan's embrace. His arms were so warm, Anakin couldn't care less about the wretched sound that made its way up his throat.
When was the last time someone had hugged him like that?
"I am so sorry, Obi-Wan."
"I know dear one, I know," said Obi-Wan, stroking his blond hair. He had missed Anakin so much that being physically able to wrap his arms around him was making him tear up quite a bit. Good thing that his former Padawan couldn't see his face at that moment.
"Is it really over? I'm not just imagining this, right?"
The pain in his voice made him hug Anakin tighter. He couldn't even begin to imagine what waking up after that must have felt like.
"It's real, Anakin. I'm not going anywhere."
As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a wave of emotions radiate off Anakin's body and explode around them in the Force-equivalent of a million different colours. Among them, Obi-Wan could clearly see that relief prevailed. Anakin had no reason to shield himself anymore and was taking some time to unleash half a lifetime's worth of anguish, worry, joy and sadness.
Tentatively, Obi-Wan reached out to him, to see if their bond was still there. He expected to find it in pieces, shredded, but as soon as he found it and gave it a shy tug, the Force answered with a roar that left them both breathless. It was like nothing had changed.
Just like that, they were once again two parts of the same being: their frantic heartbeats were synchronized, their thoughts joined together in a private dance. Still, Obi-Wan noticed something different about it, and not something inconspicuous either.
He unwrapped himself from their hug, cupped Anakin's face with his hands and looked at him, straight in the eye. His face was streaked with warm tears but he looked happy, more than ever before, and in the Force he shone as bright as a supernova.
"Anakin?" he asked and melted when he saw him lean into his touch with a fondness he had only displayed towards Padmé.
He saw Anakin close his eyes for a moment, before reaching out to him through the Force. Their old training bond seemed to catch fire with the intensity of what Anakin was trying to convey. For a long time they just stood there, looking at each other. There wasn't anything else to say and they didn't need to speak, so they just joined their souls together, getting used to feeling the other's presence in that new, marvellous way.
Obi-Wan kept his eyes on Anakin's face and couldn't help but fall in love with him once again. In the many years he had spent alone on that dusty, sad planet, he had dreamt of Anakin many times. Alone with the ghosts from his past, he had taken comfort in imagining a version of the golden man in front of him that had never had the chance to exist. A man who had never suffered like Anakin had, whose eyes weren't clouded with the darkness he had seen in the other's eyes so many times.
Anakin had always been good at pretending to be happy. Too bad that Obi-Wan happened to be the one person he had never fooled: he had always been able to see through the infinite barriers that Anakin had erected around his heart during his short, troubled life.
Every time a new one had appeared, Obi-Wan had tried to work his way around it. Even back then he had known that, if he didn't at least try to breach the walls that his best friend built to let some oxygen in, Anakin's flame would go out. Unfortunately, it did, eventually. Mistakes had been made, which had caused them to grow apart. Slowly, but irrevocably.
Misunderstandings and a life spent keeping his feelings out of reach had contributed to killing the man he had loved more than anything else in the galaxy. In one way or another, Obi-Wan always had: he had loved him and then his memory. Against everybody's better judgement, he hadn't been able to hate him even after asking Yoda to show him the recordings of the massacre inside the Jedi Temple.
Hate was easy, and it led down a path he had sworn he would never take. Regret, instead? It had been a much better punishment. Because, while he was away on Utapau, something had spoiled the Anakin Skywalker he had loved, and he hadn't been there to help him. He hadn't seen it coming.
Anakin had always been a being of light, regardless of what the Jedi Council thought, and the thing that talked with Anakin's soft voice and had tried to push him down in the river of lava had been surrounded by cold darkness only.
So, he had spent his exile looking after the son of his best friend, the other half of his heart, because he owed him that much. It wasn't nearly enough, but it was a way to apologize to Anakin for having failed him so completely.
Looking at him now, he remembered the last time they had really seen each other. On that platform, he had touched Anakin's arm without even realizing it and the boy had looked up, eyes distant and worried, before saying goodbye to him. He remembered sending a wave of affection in his direction, hoping to soothe him, and promising that he would be back soon.
At the time Anakin had barely acknowledged it, lighting up the Force with a brief spark of relief and nothing more. Now, he felt loved back with the same intensity, if not more.
A soft kiss the boy left on his palm was all it took for Obi-Wan to bring him closer, bridging any distance left between them. Apparently, Anakin had been waiting for him to make the first move because Obi-Wan immediately felt him wrap his arms around his waist.
Then, Anakin exhaled softly and their lips collided.
The Force seemed to explode around them, with an intensity Obi-Wan had never witnessed before. If there was one thing he was now absolutely sure of, was that the two of them had always belonged together. And, from that day on, they always would be together.
Obi-Wan's lips were soft against his, so different from Padmé's. Everything felt different, not better exactly, more like he was finally complete. As if it shouldn't have been either him or her, but both. He didn't love one more than the other (what he felt couldn't be measured), but he could clearly see where the two distinct forms of love overlapped and where they differed.
Obi-Wan's decision to try and deepen the kiss distracted him from that line of thought and Anakin let him, because he had finally understood what it was all supposed to feel like. He was almost thirty years too late, but better late than never, right?
He moved his left hand and intertwined his fingers in Obi-Wan's hair, using his hold on it to tilt his head up a bit. Then, Anakin brought it down and used it to explore the curves of Obi-Wan's neck, his broad and strong shoulders, running it down to his torso and his waist, where at last Anakin stopped.
"So, this is what it was always supposed to feel like, right?"
Obi-wan, misty-eyed, looked up at him and tilted his head to the left, a smile on his lips. "What? The Force?"
So they both had sensed the surge in the Force. But no, Anakin wasn't referring to that.
"Love."
"There's no right answer for that, my love. For me, it has always been like this,"
Anakin smiled broadly and bent down to leave the softest kiss on Obi-Wan's forehead. Holding him tight, he marvelled at his inability to let go of him.
"Deep down I think I knew you did, it just took me twenty years to understand it."
Obi-Wan didn't dare move but reached down to take Anakin's left hand with his own. He caressed his knuckles and proceeded to intertwine their fingers together, then lifted them close to his face to kiss them. Anakin's heart skipped a beat at the sight.
"I missed you so much. All the years I spent trapped within that body, the only thing that kept this part of me alive were all the memories I had of you. Of us," said Anakin, rubbing his face back and forth on Obi-Wan's soft hair. It felt so good to be that close to him. "You always brought out the best of me and it took me too long to realize it. When I did, it was already too late."
He just needed him, so bad.
"All that matters is that you're here now," Obi-Wan replied, a gentle smile curving his lips. Anakin looked down at the man he loved more than life itself and was filled with such tremendous joy his body felt too small to contain it.
A brief but intense humming interrupted them abruptly. Anakin's head snapped up and his gaze hardened. Someone else had appeared and was looking at them disapprovingly.
"Time to go, it is," said Master Yoda, eyeing them with suspicion. Not that the two of them wrapped together like that left much up to interpretation. Also, just because Luke had grown up to be forgiving, that didn't mean that Anakin was to follow him down that path. He felt no sympathy for the old Master and had not forgotten how hostile he had always been towards him.
He shifted positions and quickly moved in front of Obi-Wan, shielding him with his body.
"We're not going anywhere, Master Yoda," he said, coolly. The old Master did not look impressed and, as per usual, shifted his focus to Obi-Wan, who sighed and put one hand on Anakin's small back, which made him shiver pleasantly.
"Don't worry, I'm not leaving you again," he paused and Anakin relaxed slightly. Then, Obi-Wan met his eyes. "He just means that we ought to go, Luke's waiting for you."
At that, Anakin turned around to face him, looking utterly confused. "What do you mean? I'm dead. There's no way he can be waiting for me, anywhere, isn't that the whole concept behind death or I'm missing something?"
Obi-Wan laughed and put a hand on his shoulder, which then slid down his arm, which only seemed to make Yoda even more annoyed than he already was. "You'll see."
And indeed he did see. Somehow, the Force teleported them to the moon of Endor, where thousands of Ewoks seemed to be having a party in somebody's honour. The music was loud and joyful, food was passed around and the whole mood was so overly contagious that Anakin smiled, too.
"What's all of this for?" he asked, gesturing with one hand towards the little creatures jumping around. A brief wave of Yoda's exasperation washed over him, replaced almost immediately with the more intense amusement which was radiating from Obi-Wan, standing to his left.
"This was organized because the galaxy, thanks to your children, is finally at peace," Obi-Wan interjected before Yoda could come up with one of his witty remarks.
"Your funeral, missed you have," said the old Master, probably hoping to annoy in some way. Too bad Anakin was too happy to pay attention to him and had started looking for a familiar mop of blonde hair and the cascade of brown he was sure followed it.
"I've been to one too many, skipping my own can be forgiven."
He saw Obi-Wan lift a hand and try to hide the smile on his face, as if they couldn't sense how much he was enjoying their bickering.
One eternity to make fun of him? He better be ready.
And then Anakin saw him, walking towards the opening in the trees where they were standing, his head down. Luke.
"Are you ready?" Obi-Wan asked him, brushing his hand against his flesh one. He had changed appearance and now looked like the old hermit from Tatooine, which did take him a little aback.
"Do I...do I have to change too?" he asked, downright terrified. He had no intention of showing himself to his son looking like Vader.
"That is entirely up to you. He will understand who you are, no matter what you look like," Obi-Wan reassured him before taking one step forward. Now that he paid attention to it, Anakin noticed that reality seemed to be shimmering. Obi-Wan, surrounded by blue light, looked at him over his shoulder and urged him to pass through the veil to appear in the real world.
Anakin took a deep breath and followed him, just as Luke finally decided to look up. A wave of emotions washed over him and had the calming presence of Obi-Wan not been there, Anakin would have started crying.
His son smiled brightly at him, his grief soon forgotten: his father had listened to his prayer and hadn't left him, and never would again. Soon after that, his daughter appeared and slung an arm over Luke's shoulders, who turned away to look down at her with fondness in his eyes. Leia looked so much like her mother that it almost hurt.
Anakin knew that Padmé would have been so proud of her. Just like he was, of them both.
He watched them go away and retracted back into the Force, a sudden weight on his chest. Bitterly, he thought about how his whole existence had caused them nothing but suffering. As if he had spoken the words aloud, two strong arms immediately appeared from behind him, circling his waist and his chest. Obi-Wan's head came to rest on his right shoulder, his neatly trimmed red beard tickling his skin.
Feeling safe, Anakin let go and cried it all out.
"I want to thank you."
"What for, my dear?" Obi-Wan asked, tightening his gentle grip around Anakin's trembling frame.
"For giving my children a chance at a life of love and freedom. You brought them to safety before Sidious found them," he replied, sniffling. "Not that I would have been able to raise them anyway."
"Nonsense. I can assure you that you would have been a great father to them, trust me. Nobody loves like you do."
Anakin nodded absent-mindedly and leaned back against the other man's body, hanging onto him with his mechno-arm. He was pretty sure that if he let go, he would fall to the ground, his legs unable to sustain the weight of his body.
"I love you," he said, and the fact that it slipped out without him even noticing just meant it was true. If there was something Anakin Skywalker was unable to do, it was lie about the true nature of his feelings.
Obi-Wan kissed the side of his head and stretched out with the Force, wrapping them both in a warm embrace while they stood there, watching the galaxy celebrate the end of tyranny and the beginning of what everyone hoped would be a long period of peace.
"I know, I love you too."