Reposted 11-8-05: Thank you, Vee017, for critiquing my work and pointing out the flaws that I overlooked. I went back over it, and after reading it with the new perspective your review gave me, I found that there was a lot to fix. Hopefully this chapter is now better, and makes a little more sense. I only hope that I haven't screwed it up more…gah, now that's a frustrating prospect. Well, look on the bright side, now the chapter's longer!
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. That right belongs to George Lucas. It should be noted that some things are borrowed from Greg Bear and Jude Watson, both who write EU (Extended Universe) Star Wars books.
Writer's Block: Silence: The Dark Side of a Hero by Follow the Untrue. A Zelda fic that is rated M and involves yaoi between Dark Link/Link. Follow the Untrue's writing is superb. I love her choice of words, and she's very descriptive. Not to mention that even though the overall tone of the story is dark, there are some parts that are so funny that I can't help but laugh out loud.
The last chapter was a bit hard for me to write. I knew what I wanted the characters to do, but I had to go about a specific way of them doing it…it had to be realistic, yet they still needed to be in character. I didn't want anyone to hate Carra and Tarren. They are, after all, just two children, and they didn't understand the graveness of the matter. I hope I portrayed that. And now, we'll see the consequences of their foolishness…
Wow, thank you everyone for the encouraging reviews! I'm glad that you're enjoying our little journey so far. Please, if you find any grammar or spelling errors, or finds holes in my plot, tell me. I'll try to fix them to the best of my extent, if it's possible.
Page Amount: 8
Word Count: 6,183
Written 8-3-05
Listening to: frou frou "it's good to be in love"
Written by Ice Dragon3
Jedi Genocide
Chapter Thirteen: Gold Ring
Obi-Wan was embarrassed when he found out that he had fallen asleep. Anakin asked him to watch the kids, and what did he do? He fell asleep. It was just that the cartoons Leia and Luke watched were boring to him, and he had been tired from waking up early on his only day off…
He realized that the twins weren't on the couch anymore. The plasma screen was turned off, and he didn't hear them anywhere near. "Leia…Luke…?" he called out uncertainly. Were they just trying to scare him? They'd been known to, without telling him that he was included, play hide-and-seek with him as the seeker—they got a laugh out of that. When he didn't get a response, he trudged up to the greenhouse. They spent most of their time there, so it was the most logical place to start his search.
He found them playing with Kye, the effervescent veractyl chirping happily as she play-pounced them and licked their cheeks. When Leia and Luke had discovered Kye's new residence in their greenhouse, they had been ecstatic. They loved playing with her, and she with them. Leia gave a giggling shriek when Kye's rough tongue hit the ticklish spot right under her ears.
Obi-Wan walked towards the trio, and saw with some surprise that Anakin was there also—making it a quartet. He was sitting on a rock off to the side, watching the others without becoming involved in their games. Noticing that Obi-Wan was looking at him, he waved him over and explained, "I told the twins to let you get some sleep, so I took them up here to play."
"I thought you had some business to do…?" Obi-Wan sat on the rock by Anakin.
"I did," Anakin said with a faint smile. "You slept for a while… I was able to get everything ready while you were out like a light. I must say, is this what happens every time I ask you to watch the kids? You sleep on the couch?" He shook his head in mock disappointment. "I expected more from you."
"…" Obi-Wan couldn't deny the fact, mortifying as it was, so he said nothing.
Anakin noted Obi-Wan's glum face and said, "Oh, come now, Obi. I was only joking. There's always Threepio to watch out for them; I only wanted you to be aware that I was going so that you wouldn't be surprised when you woke up and found yourself alone with the kids. Besides, there are more important things to talk about and do this day." There was an easy smile on his lips and in his eyes.
"Like what?" Obi-Wan asked.
"It's your birthday," Anakin said, shocked. "How can you keep forgetting that?"
"You know that I don't celebrate birthdays," Obi-Wan countered. "I never did when you were my Padawan, and I still don't."
"Yes…but still…" Anakin shook his head ruefully and stated, "I guess from having Leia and Luke I've come to appreciate how special birthdays are. We have a small party for them every year; they open gifts and blow out candles, and we have fun. Now it just feels…"—his eyes wandered directionless as he searched for the right word—"wrong not to celebrate."
"Fine, then," Obi-Wan said reluctantly. "We can celebrate me getting older so that you can have your excuse to eat cake. But I don't want anything big; just buy a cake for the kids, put a candle on it—one, mind you, I don't want to see the real number—and let them enjoy themselves for me."
"I'm doing better than just that." Anakin laughed at Obi-Wan's surprised look. "I've got us permission to go someplace special. Not to mention, I got you a gift…" Anakin reached into his black tunic and, with the flourish of a magician pulling a white rabbit out of a black top hat, pulled out a small, innocent-looking white box. "Open it," he said encouragingly.
Obi-Wan hesitated for a second, before slowly opening the box. Inside laid a ring on a necklace. Obi-Wan lifted the gold ring and chain, letting the sunlight hit it. It was polished to such a gloss that it looked like liquid metal. "…Thank you…" he said awkwardly. He didn't want a gift, much less an expensive one. Gifts felt like obligations.
"I like the continuality of a ring; it never ends or begins. It symbolizes unity. I know this ring's design is kind of simple," Anakin said worriedly, hurriedly, perhaps sensing something was slightly off with Obi-Wan's reaction, "but I thought that something too extravagant would be too much for you. If you don't like it, we can always pick out another one…"
"No, no, this is perfect. You know me too well," Obi-Wan said. Now if only Anakin knew him well enough to understand that he didn't want a gift at all. "Don't worry, it's beautiful. I like simplicity, and this is perfect." The ring was indeed simple, and beautiful because of it; a gold metal band with no engravings or markings on it whatsoever. "Thank you, Anakin."
Anakin beamed. "Put it on," he urged. "I want to see if the chain is the right size."
Obi-Wan unclasped the necklace and wrapped it around his neck. Fitting the end pieces back together, the ring settled level with his heart. He had to control the urge to tuck it into his shirt; that wasn't what Anakin wanted, so that wasn't what he could do. He knew that if he did what Anakin wanted, someday Anakin would trust him enough to give him access to important information. He wanted Anakin to trust and confide in him; that was the short-term goal of the mission, and crucial to obtaining the long-term objective.
"It fits just right," Anakin said lovingly. "I knew that I had all the right measurements, but there was still that worry… I want everything to be perfect." Anakin abruptly stopped the conversation. Instead of continuing on, he turned to the children and told them, "Daddy and Obi are going to go out now, so wish Obi a good birthday before he leaves."
"Happy birthday!" they said with enthusiasm, faces still flushed and rosy red from playing with Kye. The veractyl chirped something that nearly mimicked their tone exactly.
"Now, let's get going," Anakin said as he got up.
Obi-Wan got up as well, asking, "Where are we going?"
"That would be ruining the surprise. You, more than anyone, should understand the necessity of secrecy. Telling you now would just dull the surprise and joy later on. We don't have an exact schedule to keep, but I want us to get there as soon as possible."
Anakin reached out his hand, as if to clasp Obi-Wan's, but when Obi-Wan's fingers flinched he stopped. Anakin's hand froze for a second, caught in the open, a deer blinded by the headlights of an oncoming roaring truck and helpless to escape the inevitable destruction of metal and tearing flesh—. Then it retreated, folding itself into the black robe. Smiling, Anakin said, "Let's get going." There was no emotion in his eyes, and that said more than anything of the intensity of his wounds.
Carra shrieked and got up from the pile of cubes: Jedi Holocrons, Tarren—no that thing—had called them. She ran out of the room as Tarren watched her go disinterestedly, lips twisted up in scorn. He absently played with the Sith Holocron in his hands, dancing it across his fingers.
He sighed and said with a little regret, "Pity. Why did I have to get possession of the male body? That girl would have made a much better host…if only she hadn't been surrounded be those damn cubes…" He glared at them, a disgusted sneer on his face. Picking them all up, he violently shoved them back into the storage closet and locked it. "Can't have anyone else finding these," he said lightly. He then locked the storage closet holding the Sith Holocrons. "And it wouldn't do to have other Sith spirits interfering."
Opening the closet to the right, he started to rummage through more lightsabers—lightsabers of a much darker nature, having been saturated with blood and hate. "What, they don't have mine here?" He scowled. "Did they not consider me much of a threat? How pathetic… But I will make sure they regret their mistake; the name Yuthura Ban will be feared once again." He finally picked up a double-bladed lightsaber that had the nametag 'Bastila Shan.'
Activating the blades, Tarren said with satisfaction, "Finally, a female's double-bladed red lightsaber. And here I was beginning to think that these Jedi-bastards were actually sexist." He sneered as he locked the door. "Now, where did that little Jedi chickling run off to? I'm anxious to see if they are as weak-willed as ever…" He bared his teeth in a predatory grin.
Suddenly, he stopped. His eyes grew more distant as the malevolent spirit possessing him accessed his memories. "Hmm…most interesting… So the Jedi have been hunted down. Finally. I knew the Sith would reign again. But there is still one known Jedi alive…well, that settles it. The younglings will have to wait then. I have a more satisfying enemy to kill." Tarren stretched out his awareness of the Force, searching for the Force signature of this 'Obi-Wan.' He couldn't find it; growling with frustration, Bastila Shan brutally forced her own powers into his body, making it take in more Force power than it could handle.
Even though the body was left gasping on the threshold of death, his heart tightening in pain, she found her target. "Pathetic boy," he said disdainfully, drawing in ragged, painful breaths.
He was about to walk out of the room when he noticed the lightsaber on the shelf. He stared at the lightsaber in his hand and then said angrily, "I hate the thought of using a man's blade—and a Jedi's no less—but deception is always the best course of action." He deactivated the red lightsaber and switched it with the green one. Clutching the blade tightly, he placed the Sith Holocron in his pocket by the keys as he headed towards the hanger bay. He—or more specifically she, the monster possessing his body—was in a decidedly good mood, and felt lively enough to even whistle an eerie tune in minor.
"Ragoon-6?" Obi-Wan said, amazed and happy at the same time. The untainted beauty of the world caught his breath every time he saw it. The glorious globe of blue and green was growing larger in the window every second as they neared their destination.
Anakin steered the spacecraft, landing it down gently in a meadow. "Brings back some not-so-good memories, eh?"
"Tell me about it. The last time we came here bounty hunters tried to kill us. So much for the idea of a simple training mission."
"I always wanted to come back here with you. But we never found time, and then…" He shrugged. "Well, we're here now, and that's all that matters." He was happy that his surprise had gone over so well with Obi-Wan—he wanted this to be special. "I remembered how fondly you spoke of this place, so I got the permission required by the Senate to come here." Anakin opened the door and said gentlemanly, "After you."
Obi-Wan exited the ship and stumbled into a world of colors so vivid and pure that they glowed from within. Clear blue skies and green grass harmoniously weaved together a tapestry of glorious life. Moving jewels fluttered across the sky on graceful wings. "Force—what a beauty." He laughed. "For a second I forgot how to breathe."
Healthy trees grew straight and strong, their leaves shining a rich green in the warm sunlight. A mild breeze drifted southward, making the trees' branches wave at them in greeting. Come…sit under our arms, and we shall shelter you, they seemed to say.
Anakin stepped down the ramp also. "I take it that's a good thing."
"Yes, it is." Obi-Wan smiled freely for the first time in Anakin's presence. This was genuine, absolute happiness. Nature made him feel that way, and with so much of it here… How could he not feel relaxed? It was as if he had left all his troubles far away, on Coruscant where they couldn't bother him. The constant wind rustled the leaves of the trees, creating a gentle white noise that lulled his ears with its pleasant-sounding melody.
Perhaps sensing Obi-Wan unrestrained exhilaration, Anakin laughed and grinned hugely. Raising his arms, he said magnificently, "This is my birthday present to you—the world. But only for a day," Anakin joked, "because by tomorrow my exclusive visiting rights will be null and void."
Obi-Wan laid down on the grass and closed his eyes. Smiling, he said contentedly and a bit childishly, "The sun feels nice."
Anakin sat down on the ground right by Obi-Wan, so near they almost touched—but didn't. His shadow fell on Obi-Wan's face. "Hey," Obi-Wan protested, "I didn't say that to you for you to block my light. Move over."
Anakin obeyed the playful command, scooting back until his long shadow fell on the grass above Obi-Wan's head instead. "Sorry for darkening your mood," he said, struggling to keep his face straight and wondering if Obi-Wan would pick up on what he was saying.
"Thank you for that enlightening statement," was the counter-pun. "I feel much brighter now."
"So it was only a passing rain-cloud, then."
"You're more like a cumulus cloud."
"I am not like a cumulus cloud!" Anakin exclaimed. "…What exactly is a cumulus cloud?"
"A big soft puffball."
"This is outrageous; it's like the kettle calling the pot black."
"I don't see any pots," came the random remark.
Anakin laughed, admitting defeat. "I can't win a battle of words with you. It's just too much for my poor mind to take." He watched Obi-Wan face light up in a smile. Obi-Wan's green eyes were still closed, but if they were open Anakin knew they'd be smiling too, and this idea brought him great joy. "But if anyone asks you, I only let you win because it's your birthday."
"Then should I let you win every other day, since it'd be your un-birthday?"
"Where did that come from?" Anakin asked, both puzzled and amused by the odd notion.
"From one of the many Disney movies your children have forced me to watch with them. 'Alice and Wonderland,' I believe name was. Very odd movie…almost disturbing…although I did like the Cheshire Cat."
"Why?"
"He could disappear at will." Obi-Wan let the sun wash over him, loving the feeling. The grass was warm and soft, the wind gentle and cooling, and he was completely surrounded by nature; it was the best birthday gift possible. This is what he needed, not rings and physical possessions. The sun warmed his metal legs through his thin pants, and for once in his life the prosthetic legs felt comfortable and just there—not a burden, but finally an accepted part of his body. They felt warm, almost human.
"You can be like the Cheshire Cat if you want, if only for a day. It's like we don't exist; we've completely disappeared from the universe… It's just you and me." Anakin laid down and closed his eyes also, liking the idea of 'just you and me.' "You're right, it's a nice feeling." Obi-Wan hummed in agreement.
They laid in silence for a while, before Anakin said spontaneously, "I've kept it, you know."
"Kept what?" Obi-Wan asked lazily.
"The Force-sensitive river stone you gave me on my thirteenth birthday." Anakin smiled. "See? You do celebrate birthdays…just not as many and not your own."
At the mention of the stone, Obi-Wan felt a pang of longing. The stone always reminded him of Qui-Gon—his mentor and friend had given it to him, and he in turn had given it to Anakin. He still missed Qui-Gon at times, especially when he was in need of guidance; times like these. "I'm amazed that you've kept it for so long, but maybe I shouldn't be…it was my favorite possession also."
"That's why it means so much to me. I keep it close to my heart, always; even now I have it with me." He patted a hidden pocket in his tunic and said, "That little black stone reminds me of you; its sturdiness, its empathy with the Force, its simplicity. It's warmed my hands on many cold nights."
"I remember it having that amazing ability," Obi-Wan said. "It kept my hands from getting frostbite a couple of times, on those extra cold planets that we always seemed to get missions on."
Anakin opened his eyes, looking crossly at a cloud passing over them; he knew that the 'we' did not include him. When they had been Master and Padawan, they had always seemed to get missions with sand—grimy, scratchy, ugly sand.
'Just you and me' never seemed to last long.
"Darrien! Darrien! It's horrible; there were pyramids, and Tarren, he's—!" Carra busted into Darrien's personal room, where he and Skraith were sitting silently, in the middle of a very heated staring contest. She hunched over, breathless. Straightening, she yelled out, "We used the keys, and—and—he's been possessed!"
At the word 'keys,' Skraith jumped off the bed and hurried away, a wild look in his four eyes.
"Skraith—!" Darrien called out commandingly, trying to go after his friend, but Carra stopped him by clutching the front of his tunic. As Carra babbled on, he glared over at the door with an expression that clearly said why did you leave me here with her?
"You know about the keys, Darrien, don't you? You knew that he had them—you told me about Obi-Wan and him talking—you have to know how to help! You've got to save him, you just got to! There wasn't something right with those closets—we unlocked something evil—"
Darrien attempted to calm her, all the while trying to extract the exact truth from her gibberish with his carefully worded questions.
"We didn't mean to—I would never open something so—it wasn't intentional—you believe me, don't you? You know that I wouldn't deliberately open something evil. It was an accident!"
Darrien smiled at her, patting her back soothingly. "Don't worry. I know that."
Skraith raced down the hallways, his lean legs stretching out as far as they could. He had to get there fast, he might already be too late—he arrived to an empty maintenance room. He scowled at the locked storage closets, rattling each one to no avail. He pounded his fist angrily on one, and the sound echoed—laughed—back hollowly as if mocking him. He whipped his head around, scanning the room for anything he could use as leverage to tear the doors of their hinges. It was then that he saw the lightsaber handle on the shelf. He grabbed it hurriedly and raced towards the hangers.
Plans were all ready forming in his head. He could use a ship. They practically piloted themselves, if coordinates were entered—or if the ship latched onto a signal and followed that. Tracking devices were mandatory in all Jedi ships; they had been ever since the Empire came into power. It was just another leash the Sith scum were putting on the Jedi, and it made Skraith sick—made him angry.
"I'll find him," he muttered to himself. Determination steeled his eyes and made his steps quick. "I'll get the keysss, and end thisss onccce and for all."
"Obi-Wan!" a pleased voice called out, smashing through Obi-Wan's pleasant daydreaming as if it were a window, leaving behind only fragments and shards of translucent substance. He sat up, startled, and saw Tarren standing just a little ways off, a peculiar expression on his face. "I didn't know that he'd be here," Tarren finally said, his voice nowhere near as joyful as before. He inspected Anakin with a curious gleam in his eyes. "I didn't sense him."
"What? How did you find me, Tarren?" Obi-Wan asked, confused. Something was oddly wrong, and the fact was slowly nibbling away at the edge of his conscious—but he couldn't place his finger on what it was.
"I used one of the Jedi ships—but that's not important!" Tarren said hurriedly to Obi-Wan, although his eyes remained fixed on Anakin. "What is is that the Bothan tricked me into giving her the keys, and she opened the doors! She's gone mad, and I came to get you before she hurt herself or someone else!"
"Carra's done what?" Obi-Wan cried out, springing to his feet instantly. Feeling worry twist his stomach into a noose, he said, "We have to return to the Temple this instant. Come, Tarren." He reached out to put a hand on Tarren's shoulder, intent on guiding the boy toward Anakin's ship and fixing this fiasco.
Tarren gave him an angelic grin, his hand shifting nearly imperceptibly beneath his cloak.
But Tarren's triumphant face froze, the lightsaber that had sprung to his hands falling onto the grassy ground with a dull thud. A red lightsaber blade protruded from his stomach, sizzling angrily in its hunger to devour more flesh. He slid off it, falling face first—thuddump—into the grass before Obi-Wan's feet. Obi-Wan gave a cry of dismay and knelt by Tarren's prone form. Checking his jugular, he felt no pulse.
Tarren was dead.
He drew his hand away, and noted faintly that it was shaking. He tried to stop it with the other hand, but that one too had the same problem. He didn't see why they would be acting this way. There was no reason. He'd seen death before—years ago—and it'd never affected him like this before—don't think of the first time, don't think of the first time—and he didn't see why it should affect him like this now—how many of those dead had been children, children he'd sworn to watch and protect, and somehow came to love?
When he heard another blade hiss on, his head jerked up. His head felt too big and his neck too thin—if he weren't careful, the precariously balanced thing would fall off. Skraith stood in front of him, two ends of a duel-bladed lightsaber shadowing his face with a garish red light. His ruby scales shone blood red in that light, as if his scales were bleeding for his crimes because Tarren's scorched body could not. His eyes were unreadable green orbs of murky swamp water.
There was only one reasonable, valid explanation for all this. It was a dream, a horrible, nasty, gruesome dream—a nightmare. A nightmare where children murdered children—his family killing one another—and he'd wake up eventually. If he breathed shallowly…in out in out…and didn't do anything, it'd play itself out and then go away. He felt like a helpless, irrational child again—afraid of the dark, but more afraid of getting out of bed to turn on the light.
"Massster Kenobi," he hissed. He bowed to Obi-Wan, but made no motion to deactivate his lightsaber.
Obi-Wan didn't even look at him, eyes drifting towards Tarren before shifting quickly away to land elsewhere entirely. On the sky, a bird flittering by, a tree branch swaying. They didn't exist, not really. Talking to them would only make it more real, and he was trying to wake up.
"I am sssorry for having intruded upon you, but thisss fool"—he spat the word out disdainfully—"wasss trying to kill you. He wasss posssesssed by a Sssith Holocron." Skraith's eyes searched the ground urgently. "I mussst find it. It cannot remain here unprotected… That infant wasss unsssuited for the job you gave him. I had sssuch a hard time keeping a watch on thossse three foolsss…but essspecccially him." He snarled, his tongue flicking out with hatred. "He would have dessstroyed the Jedi Temple with his treachery."
His four eyes lighted on the small black pyramid, which rested by the set of keys. "There they are…" He said eagerly as he reached out a clawed hand to grab them. But a blue lightsaber blocked his path, and he was unable to seize the two objects. He hissed out a curse in his native tongue, tightening his hold on his lightsaber as he withdrew his slightly stinging hand.
"Stay back," Anakin said calmly, holding his lightsaber threateningly. "How do I know that I can trust you? You could have been the one with the Sith Holocron, and only pinned the blame on Tarren to deceive us—a Sith would operate that way. I know so."
"You bassstard!" Skraith cried out, his voice full of red rage and black hate. "I'm trying to sssave the Temple! It'sss you who'sss been dessstroying everything! You are a Sssith; you are the lowessst ssscum. You're a demon. A monssster! If you become a threat to the Temple, I won't hesssitate to kill you."
"That doesn't sound very Jedi-like; your choice of lightsaber doesn't convince me of your 'good intentions' either."
"I do my duty. I protect my Massster and my home. What happensss to me in the procccesss doesss not matter."
"If you try to grab that Sith Holocron again, I won't show any mercy." Anakin held his lightsaber firmly in confident hands.
Obi-Wan stared at Anakin's lightsaber. It was the same one that Anakin had used to cut off his legs at Mustafar, but something was different with the hilt… 'He added onto it,' Obi-Wan thought with surprise. He'd never heard of someone modifying a lightsaber; normally, they just created a whole new one. But then again, dreams didn't have to be rational—in fact, were dreams ever rational? Did they ever truly make sense—surely this one didn't.
"I am not afraid of you," Skraith boldly declared. He clutched his lightsaber fiercely, his sharp talons scrabbling against the metal surface and making a scrapping, screeching sound. But his hands told that maybe, just maybe…what he said was not all true.
"You should be afraid of dying," Anakin said grimly.
"Death isss a fear I have conquered!" Skraith roared as he charged Anakin. Anakin easily blocked his strike. Skraith fought with a viciousness and intensity that was unrivaled, but all his raw emotions could not compare to Anakin's refined fighting skills. Although Skraith had shown promise of being a great Jedi fighter, he was no match for Anakin's years of experience and stronger connection to the Force. He lost the battle before it began. Anakin ended the fight quickly by slicing off Skraith's hand with a fluid, decisive flick of his wrist.
Obi-Wan couldn't bear to watch. Even if this was a dream, he couldn't bear to see his younglings being murdered. He let his eyes wander to the side, trying not to see the movements in the corner of his eyes. If he ignored it, it would go away.
The red lightsaber deactivated, and both hand and handle arced across the sky, landing some yards away. The dismembered hand still gripped the lightsaber tightly, sharp nails digging in and piercing the metal—Skraith's final act with the hand, an instinct born of absolute pain, before the searing separation of nerves. It was as if the claw was unwilling to relinquish its hold, valiantly struggling to finish a battle it could not.
"You've lost," Anakin said coldly, his lightsaber aimed at Skraith's heart.
Skraith said nothing, his head tilted up proudly. He was prouder and stronger than his eleven years, and older. He knew there would be no mercy for him, and he would ask for none. Instead, his eyes narrowed as his fingers gave a twitch. The lightsaber underneath Tarren's cooling fingers slid across the grass into his left claw, a hand he had never used in battle before. He activated the blade and raised the green bar awkwardly, a purposeful look in his eyes as he performed his last, desperate attempt—
Anakin blocked the green blade with his blue one, locking their lightsabers together. He flipped a switch on the other end of his long handle.
A beam of red shot out of the other end of the lightsaber, surprising and stabbing Skraith through the chest.
Skraith slumped to his knees, and the only thing holding him up was the lightsaber buried in his chest. He tried to speak to Obi-Wan—who was plucking agitatedly at the hem of his shirt—with his deteriorating voice, "Massster…Obi-Wan…watch out…for…" Coughs overwhelmed him, and he couldn't finish the sentence. His insides were burning up, his lungs becoming charred masses that melted into each other, and a thin trickle of smoke drifted lazily out of his gapping, coughing mouth. The light in his eyes grew dim and died, and the soul departed after a final, painful rasp that rattled his whole body.
Anakin pulled the red blade of his lightsaber out of Skraith, letting the body crumple to the ground.
The opposite blades, red and blue, clashed harshly with each other, illuminating him in both a cold and warm glow, a good and bad light.
Obi-Wan stared down at the two bodies on the ground, fingers still listlessly destroying the fabric. They were dead. His younglings. It was a dream. He watched one murder the other, and then witnessed Anakin slaughter the remaining one. It had to be. He had sworn to protect them, and he had failed… He had failed…
Was it really a dream? Could he feel this much pain in a dream, feel this much hurt and not wake up screaming?
But he had no time to think, no time to find an answer he might not like. Anakin, with his quick movements and talking and touches, would not allow him to think, and he didn't know if he was grateful or angry or sad. Talking Anakin was asking him, "Are you okay? Don't look at me with those glazed eyes—you don't look like yourself when you do, and that gets me worried." He held Obi-Wan tighter.
"I'm…fine…" Obi-Wan said distantly. Of course he would be, once this dream ended. A little voice in the back of his mind screamed that he was in shock, disbelief; that there was no dream to wake up from—he smothered it, suffocating it until it stopped writhing and died. He didn't try to struggle out of Anakin's grasp.
"Let's go someplace else," Anakin suggested soothingly, leading Obi-Wan away by the shoulders. He stopped Obi-Wan once they came to a different meadow, one death had not tainted. "I'll be right back, Obi, I just need to see something…" Obi-Wan nodded mutely. Why care what happened?
Anakin went back to the meadow and crouched by Skraith's body. Pulling the lightsaber out of his frozen grip—the one still attached to his body—he studied it for a moment. "This has to be the one…that he had," he snarled at the weapon. This had to be Qui-Gon's weapon, the green blade the tall man had once wielded. He remembered the handle, even though he'd only seen it once when he had been nine. Letting it roll out of his hands and onto the ground, he stabbed it down the middle with his red blade. Metal liquefied and scorched the ground, grass shriveling up into twisted black stalks.
"Now there's no evidence of his existence," he said, satisfaction coating his voice. He also ran the Sith Holocron through with his blade. It shattered, and obsidian shards dug into the dead grass. It was as if the earth had opened a gruesome mouth, these black, crooked teeth sticking up sharply with a hunger to devour its two children and digest their bodies—the slow process of decomposing the flesh and completing the cycle of birth and death. He left the broken bodies and machines to the ravenous earth, hurrying back to Obi-Wan.
They did not matter anymore, and Obi-Wan did. Time and nature would dispose of the bodies, and soil and grass would bury what remained.
Obi-Wan was still as he had left him, dazed and confused. His heart went out to Obi-Wan—he looked so lost and forlorn, so sad. Anakin couldn't stand it. When he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan, he didn't even protest. It was like he had disappeared to someplace within himself that Anakin couldn't follow to. The man was wide-awake and dreaming. "Obi-Wan…are you there?"
"Yes, but I don't want to be. Maybe I'm even not," came the monotonous answer with a mirthless chuckle, which turned into a gasp that was almost a sob. Obi-Wan weakly tried to shrug Anakin's arms off his shoulders; but they were heavy and unmoving. "Please let go of me," he said tiredly, cupping his head in his hands, not even having the energy to cry.
Anakin only hugged him harder and said, "No, I won't. I haven't had contact with you in the slightest way for so long; I've respected your wishes for physical distance. But I can't let this go on any longer. I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I've loved you for so long that I can't think of what I was like before this feeling. And you've always pushed me away. As a Padawan, as a friend…you always pushed me away. But you can't push now." Anakin strengthen his hold, wrapping both his body and mind around Obi-Wan, creating a protective blanket. "I'm holding on too tightly for that. I won't let you."
The Force condensed in the area, and Obi-Wan's head felt painfully large from the pressure increasing in his ears—either his ears or his head had to pop, but one way or another he had to release this build up. His limbs felt like he was swimming in it and his lungs inhaling it. There was just too much of it and it was too dark—and was this Anakin's doing? He couldn't tell. The pressure in his head kept him from thinking much of anything, except how nice it'd be if it were gone.
Obi-Wan, disoriented, said, "But—" He suddenly stopped whatever he was going to say, mouth snapping shut. He closed his eyes and slumped into Anakin, giving up. He felt too confused right now, and thinking hurt.
Anakin kissed his cheek, begging, "Please, Obi, I need this. And you need this." He said this firmly, believing the words he spoke.
"I need this?" Obi-Wan asked skeptically.
"Yes, you do," he said convincingly. "You always try to carry everything on your own shoulders…just let me take some of the burden. Share your life with me; I've been trying to share mine with you for so long. Don't fight this anymore." Anakin kissed him briefly on the lips, and he met no resistance. "This is right. This is something we have to take while we still can."
He kissed Obi-Wan harder, breaking away only to mummer, "Relax." He pushed Obi-Wan down onto the soft, fertile grass, his arms still wrapped around Obi-Wan's unmoving body. "Everything's all right—I'll make sure of that." He smattered his cheek with butterfly kisses until he hit his lips. He whispered, breathing, onto Obi-Wan's lips, "I love you so much. Say that you love me—please, I need to hear that you feel the same way."
Obi-Wan was still in shock; he didn't know what to think or say. But Anakin was forceful, and he couldn't seem to argue. His tongue and mind were too thick for him to do so. The only thing filling his head was Anakin's words. This comfort did feel right; why had he fought Anakin so resiliently before? "I feel the same way." Repeating was so much easier than thinking—not thinking made the buzzing pressure recede, and he couldn't take the compression inside his skull.
"Say it," Anakin insisted. "Say that you love me."
"I love you," Obi-Wan repeated in a dazed voice.
Grinning happily, Anakin kissed him gently before saying, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and then all of eternity. You'll marry me?" He tugged at the ring hanging from Obi-Wan's neck, showing that this was the ring he meant to use, had always planned on using.
"I'll marry you," he agreed.
"I love you, I love you, I love you," Anakin murmured as he kissed down Obi-Wan's jaw line, getting to his neck. His fingers slid urgently under his shirt, ten digits—five warm, five cold—splaying themselves over his body boldly. Settling all his weight on Obi-Wan, Anakin's kisses grew more burning, more passionate. His fingers became more needy, slinking farther and farther down. His body crushed Obi-Wan's.
Obi-Wan remained passive, smiling slightly with a distant look in his eyes. He said in agreement, "You love me, you love me, you love me."
Anakin laughed and Eskimo kissed his nose. "And you love me."
"And I love you," Obi-Wan hummed as he began to feverishly kiss Anakin back.