A Moment of Transcendence
The Force has gone still.
In the endless current, there is but one focus.
All are watching, all are waiting, consciousness turned outward to witness this moment.
The galaxy continues to turn unawares, battles continue rage over territory, wealth, power and freedom, but the real war has little to do with Rebellion or Empire. It is a war that has been raging for several millennia, reaching back to the birth of the Jedi Order itself, when beings first came to discover the Force.
A shatterpoint, as Mace Windu would call it.
The moment when everything changes, when everything hangs in the balance.
Darkness has seeped into the galaxy, thick and smothering, but this is not a recent event. A lifetime ago, it hardened, turning into immovable stone that could not be rolled aside, but the darkness has always been there, from the start.
It has grown steadily over time, gaining strength and power.
And when it reached its apex, when the crescendo hit, there was no one to stand against it.
Those who should have been able to undertake the task were incapable, weakened by decades of living in the sun's harsh glare, no longer able to see clearly nor to connect with the deepest currents of the Force the way their predecessors had.
The darkness washed over the galaxy, poisoning the brightest star, and all despaired.
Hope was a phantom thing, something long abandoned just as it had abandoned those who could no longer see it, even as it lingered just beyond their fingertips.
Night has been so long, that most have forgotten what morning was like.
But the sun is beginning to stir behind the black veil, the faintest pinprick of light showing in the dark.
I dare not breathe, lest I disturb the tableau unfolding before my eyes.
How could it be, that I did not see this? Eighteen years, I dreamt of you, called for you unconsciously in the dark watches of night, but I could not sense even a flicker of you within the ruins of the man you once were. You struck me down, as I'd long foreseen that you would, and I did not fault you for that, because only you would have the right to claim my life, only ever you.
Even after death, I watched from afar, and I told your son there was no hope.
That Anakin Skywalker was dead.
But there you are, I can see your face for the first time in ages, for the first time in your children's lifetime, even as it's still hidden behind the mask that forever shut you away from the galaxy.
You were there all along, weren't you?
Buried beneath the thick ash and stone, the hardened magma, trapped in the dark without air or light or companion, drifting towards the beyond but never granted the release of death. You made your own prison, Anakin, but you did not lay the foundation alone, I laid more than one stone myself, and over the years those around you added onto them.
Was this the will of the Force all along? Was it fated that things would happen the way they did, or was it the follies of the living that corrupted the flow?
Regardless, the Force's will has found a way.
You are beginning to awaken now, at long last.
It began as a stirring, faint and subtle, so much so that I did not see it occurring as early as your first encounter with your son on Bespin.
Now that stirring is a ripple.
You lay gasping on the floor, injured and weakened, numb with shock, as your son stands over you, chest heaving and lightsaber clenched in his fist, so close to delivering the fatal blow, his body practically trembling under the weight of the rage and anger coursing through him.
Luke was overcome with fear for his sister, and that fear filled him with a passionate, destructive fury that you once knew all too well.
Did you recognize it, as he savagely beat you back and to the floor?
As you lay at his feet, broken and beaten in ways that Luke alone cannot claim responsibility for, I see a flicker of realization within you. The numb shock, the slow dawning, the cold churning in the pit of your stomach.
For just a moment, he is you.
And you, my young Padawan, now find yourself in my place.
Son turned against father, and father forced to make an unbearable choice.
But Luke is not you, Anakin, and you are not me, and after a moment the mirage falls away. This is not Mufustar, this is not a confrontation between Jedi Master and Sith Lord, brothers both betrayed and betrayer.
Luke stands tall, unafraid and at peace with the choice he made.
He is a Jedi, he pronounces, in one last measure of quiet defiance, like his father before him.
Does the meaning of those words, and the unconditional love, acceptance and forgiveness behind them, penetrate the thick haze pressing in around you? Your son, whom we charged with your destruction, has chosen to love you instead.
And for that, Palpatine will kill him.
Stunned, dazed, you crawl to the monster's side, desperate to regain your balance and, like a starving animal, turning to the only source you could find.
Palpatine is a creature of hate, one who thrives in places full of malice and betrayal, who feeds off of the bitter angers and resentments that simmer in the air. He sought to break Luke, to shackle the boy to him as he did with you all those years ago, but now he realizes that he has failed.
Luke is undoubtedly your son, stronger than anyone could dare to dream, and just as stubborn.
For all his strength and quiet wisdom, Luke is still just a boy, though, still that naive young man I plucked up from the sands of Tatooine, and though he knew death was upon him, he could not have guessed at the pain in store for him.
Like molten fire, you described it after our confrontation with Dooku on Geonosis.
Molten fire roaring through your veins, ripping through your flesh, searing your bones and shredding every nerve ending in its path.
As I watch Luke writhe on the floor, I marvel once more that you rose up after such torture to save my life that day, that you were able to find the strength to engage Dooku, even come close to outmaneuvering him once or twice, when your body was surely trying to shut itself down.
The smell of burning flesh fills the air, and within your armor you flinch.
Awareness begins to return, foggy and only half-lucid after so long subdued in the shadows, trickling into your consciousness like water spilling over rocks.
Slowly, Anakin Skywalker begins to open his eyes.
The confusion and disorientation of emerging from a long, long sleep in the midst of a harsh glare sets in, and you stumble within yourself, lost and not yet understanding where you are or how you came to be here. It has been so very long since you last held firm the control of your own being that you do not quite know what is going on around you.
Is this a dream, or is this hell?
A tiny pinprick of light begins to poke its way through the clouds, experimental and hesitant, testing its wings for the first time in what seems like a millennia.
Luke calls to you.
His life is fading, and in his agony all else is set aside. The conflict, your absence through so many years, the pains you have caused him, all the evil that has been wrought by your hands and in your name, none of it matters now.
In the end, he is just a boy reaching for his father.
"Obi-Wan...?"
How different things might have been, had I only answered your call.
If I had pushed aside the betrayal, the outrage and the despair, and simply climbed down to that black beach to pull you up from the smoldering sand and burning embers.
But I did not answer, instead I turned away and left you to meet your fate.
It would seem that you are a better father than I.
Luke's pleas catch your attention, like a distant whisper carried along by the wind. Though you are weak, disoriented, struggling in the wake of grogginess, something deep within you recognizes that cry, recognizes that your son needs you.
And that is all that matters.
Suddenly that pinprick of light is a sun that can longer be contained, and you are a star going nova, exploding outward from the tomb that imprisons you, slamming into the shroud of darkness in your way and shattering it like flimsiplast.
Oh, Anakin, if only you could hear it.
An endless melody, without definition or sound, but full of hope and warmth and peace, like a majestic waterfall in the distance.
The Force is rejoicing, its chosen son has finally come home to the light.
If tears are possible within the ocean that is the Force, then surely I am weeping.
I can feel your anguish as Palpatine's dark energy is now turned on you, I can feel the systems sustaining your life shutting down, shorting out, I can feel your weakened body threatening to collapse.
But you do not waver from your task, and each stumble only strengthens your determination.
You have to destroy Palpatine, because it is the only way to vanquish the evil within him, to drive out the darkness from the galaxy.
To protect your children.
There is irony there, to be sure, that the Order tried so hard to smother out the torches of love that burned within your heart, only for it to be that very love that now heralds salvation.
With one last surge of strength you don't have, Palpatine is hurled into the abyss and you crumple to the floor.
In an instant, everything changes.
The last of the Sith are now gone, their power but a memory. The Empire will now crumble, without the head the body will decay. And the prophecy has, at long last, come to pass.
Balance has been restored.
But none of this matters to you, if you are even yet aware of any of it.
All that matters now is that Luke is no longer in pain, that Leia will not fall into the hands of the monster who raped your soul.
And as Luke drags you away from the reactor shaft, weak but alive, it seems that is all that could ever matter.
He means to save you, to take you away from the Death Star before it explodes and find medical help to keep you alive, but you know that it is not meant to be.
Your fate was sealed the moment you first laid eyes on your son.
Perhaps the moment you first learned that he existed.
And so you have him remove your mask, the fearsome visage now cumbersome and cracking, so that you can look upon him with your own eyes this one time.
You are both crying.
He because he does not want you to die, because it seems so unfair to lose you just when he's finally found you; you because you can scarcely believe that you helped create such a beautiful child, because you feel unworthy to call this boy yours, to lay claim to him or to his sister.
You try not to think of what you have done to Leia, to your own daughter.
Despite it, your tears burn even hotter.
Do not despair, Anakin, in time she will forgive you and come to accept the man you once were, and have now become again. It will take time, but one day she will come to see that your sacrifice today was not just for Luke, but for her, as well.
And she will love you for it.
Your eyes grow heavy, but you are not afraid.
Instead, your thoughts turn to your beloved wife, wondering if you will be with her again and if she will be as beautiful as she has been in the corner of your mind all these years.
You finally sense the truth of her passing now, as your life slips away.
Knowing that you did not kill her, as Palpatine told you all those years ago, is a beautiful relief, but you do not absolve yourself of her suffering. She died of a broken heart, and that wound was entirely of your making, in your fevered obsession to save her you ended up losing everything.
Will she forgive you, you wonder?
You shouldn't doubt it, my friend, she has been here waiting for you all this time, ever faithful in her belief that you would find your back to the light once more.
The twins were snatched away from her before she'd even gone cold, but you hold no resentment for my actions, only weary gratitude and approval of the homes they were placed in. You do not allow yourself to think on what might have become of them had they been raised at your hand.
They are strong now, and good, and that is all you could have ever asked for.
You know they will be fine, because they have each other.
When one stumbles, the other will always be there to catch them again.
Just like another spectacular team I once knew.
Then, as if you know I am nearby and waiting, you think back on our glory days, before the dark times, when we were Kenobi and Skywalker, the unbreakable duo, the unstoppable partners.
When I come to your side as death takes you, you simply smile.
You knew I would come, because I promised, all those years ago just before our worlds fell apart, to come running the moment you called.
We embrace each other, the past forgiven, and instantly we are both transformed.
I had intended to be here to welcome you home, Anakin.
What I hadn't realized was that bringing you back into the light of the Force, helping you cross over to where you were meant to be, would be my homecoming, as well.
We are both finally at peace, my friend.
Now we can rest.