Anakin Skywalker was disgusted with the galaxy, to say the least. How dare it be sunny and warm outside when it should be frigid and raining? How dare the people of Coruscant, and of the galaxy in general, go on about their day, smiling at friends, and indulging the thoughts of spending the evening with their family, as though a horrendous tragedy hadn't just occurred? How dare the younglings, safe and warm in the crèche, go on laughing and playing as thought the world wasn't crumbling in on itself?

Because it was.

The world that Anakin had known for so many years had been shattered. Shattered by an explosion that rocked that small city on Jabiim and had so audaciously taken the life of one of the greatest masters of the Jedi Order. Anakin's master and closest friend.

The young knight sad with his back against the wall in the common room of the apartment that he shared—had shared—with Obi-Wan and his head in his hands. The tinting on the windows was darkened, just as they had left it when they had left for yet another round of missions. Anakin hadn't had the strength to go much further then the front door of the apartment so he had left the tinting as it was, allowing his tattered form to slump against the unforgiving wall, sliding down its length onto the floor where he now abided. He was now thankful for the gloom that the room was cast in, fearing that the sun would help the nausea, building from his stomach up, to act on its threats of emptying his stomach of it's almost nonexistent contents. No he didn't want to see the sun. He didn't want to mocked by its warm yellow radiance.

In all honestly all he wanted to do was cry. But no tears would come. They stung his eyelids but refused to come to the surface. His body felt numb and so did his mind. A simple phrase replaying in his mind like a broken recorder.

He's dead and he's never coming back. He's dead and he's never coming back. He's dead. He's dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

Anakin tried to scream but all that came out was a horse whimper. It was hard to breath now. A steel ring had wound itself around his chest and was now constricting him.

He had been so numb during the return to Coruscant, during the council meeting. So shocked that the loss almost didn't register in his mind. He kept thinking it was a nightmare from which he would wake up any moment. Yes he would wake up and find that Obi-Wan wasn't gone from him forever but was, in fact, sleeping soundly and safely only a few feet away from him, curled up in his bedroll. But denial only works for so long. Denial can only last for those first moments when shock is still the supreme ruler of a beings consciousness. Then everything shatters in a torrent of pain.

Anakin lifted his head from his arms and gazed around the room with wide eyes, taking in everything in it. So plain and so standard. Except…

There was that datapad Obi-Wan had been reading before they left. And there was the remote control which they sometimes fought over when both wanted to watch the holovision but desired different channels. And there was that bag of snacks that somehow didn't get thrown way after he had eaten it in a burst of midnight apatite at which Obi-Wan could only shake his head.

But even more painful then all these small reminders of the life he would never again know were the Force signatures imprinted in these quarters. The two presences, intertwined together in complex patterns, that made the place feel like home. His Force signature intricately intertwined with Obi-Wan's a symbol of their partnership, friendship, and the strong bond they shared.

The young knight lifted himself gingerly to his feat and stocked toward the bedrooms. He palmed the door of Obi-Wan's room open and stepped inside. His heart clenched at the sight of the room that had for so many months been his haven when he was a little boy, haunted by nightmares of Qui-Gon's death and guilt over leaving his mother. He stepped into the room allowing the door to hiss softly shut behind him. He moved toward the bed and, feeling his knees buckle, collapsed on it, exhaustion and grief taking over him. He clung to Obi-Wan's pillow, his mind wavering between unconsciousness and reality. Not sleep, though. He could pass out from over stress to his nervous system but there would be no sleep. He feared sleep as well, afraid that Obi-Wan would haunt his dreams. And yet did it matter? The only thing his mind could stay on WAS Obi-Wan.

Anakin had only one wish. He wished it had been him to die. Rather that then this…this pain and loneliness and… But no! Padme. His wife needed him. He needed her too. But he couldn't face her at the moment. He simply wasn't able to hold himself together.

So he wished for something else. He hoped that his best friend's passing had been painless and speedy. He couldn't bare to think otherwise. But the picture of Obi-Wan lying wounded and in terrible pain of the muddy ground with no one there to give him comfort and ease his suffering wouldn't leave his mind and it tore mercilessly at his heart. He clung to the pillow in his arms as though it was a life line and buried his face into its soft embrace. The tears won over finally and he let them flow, burning paths down his cheeks and sliding off his chin.

Why wasn't he there for Obi-Wan? Why had he failed his master? Why wasn't he strong enough to save him? Why didn't the Force show him what was to happen so that he could fly to the rescue? Why was he so damn pathetic?

"I'm sorry, Master. I love you. But I couldn't save you!" It was a pained whisper…and the last thought in his mind before the darkness of unconsciousness claimed him.

A/N: I was thinking of expanding on this...prety much continuing it but I'll let you guys decide. Do you want more? So tell me what you think. All comments are loved. I don't really mind concrit as long as you're polite :) Thank!