I apologise for the long wait!I have been struck by a particularly cruel DWB for this story, and couldn't battle it due to the ever intensifying RL. I hope to update sooner next time, but again, I can't promise…
My most sincere apologies again!
I'm posting the un-betaed chapter because I couldn't make you wait any longer… I'll edit this post with the corrected version as soon as my marvellous beta proof-reads it. My apologies for my baaaaad grammar…
Thank you so very much for reading, and I hope you enjoy this short intervention:
A few days after Darth Vader was born, the Dark Lord and Obi-Wan have been sent into the past. They switched bodies. Anakin has no memories of his fall to the Dark Side, but Obi-Wan remembers everything.
They decide to pretend being each other.
Even though Anakin doesn't remember his past, the glimpses of it haunt him in his dreams and visions.
As Obi-Wan goes to meet Palpatine, the Sith Lord sees his true identity—their ruse is broken.
Crestfallen and confused, Obi-Wan tells Anakin about the truth about his so-called-friend, but Anakin doesn't believe him.
Obi-Wan meets Yoda, and the green Master tells him that he knows about the switch…
Chapter Six
The Confrontation
Obi-Wan froze. "How- "
Master Yoda stared at him closely. "Sense a soft tremor in the Force, I did. A person's Force signature even and smooth is. But yours and young Skywalker's ripped and jagged appeared to be, as though something force itself into your body did."
Chuckling grimly, Obi-Wan rubbed the bridge of his nose with his left hand. "And I thought we disguised ourselves well. Does the entire Jedi Council know about the ruse?" Somehow, it wouldn't surprise him if they did.
Master Yoda shook his head. "Mask yourself well, you and young Skywalker did. The only one who the truth knows, am I."
Obi-Wan peered from under his fingers. "No, you aren't."
A short silence hung in the hall. Obi-Wan wondered idly whether he had ever seen Master Yoda surprised—the Jedi Master had always looked calm and serene. His green eyes were perhaps a tiny bit rounder than they usually were.
Master Yoda clutched his stick tighter. "Go somewhere else we probably should."
Water sparkled merrily in the Room of Thousand Fountains, whispering quietly in its own, unknown tongue. Everything was peaceful, not knowing about the coming massacre—hills of dead bodies, red water, clouds of smoke… Obi-Wan balled his mechanical hand into a tight fist.
"The Supreme Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord," he said shortly, lowering himself onto the edge of one of the fountains.
Master Yoda's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sure about this, are you?"
Obi-Wan smiled ruefully. "I am."
Yoda slumped wearily on his stick. "Fear this, I did," he said quietly, his voice nearly a whisper. "Tell me everything, you should."
Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan started with his tale. He spoke about Anakin's vision, about his turn to the Dark Side and about the ferocious duel they'd had on Mustafar. He mentioned his seclusion on Tatooine and what became of Anakin after Mustafar. Master Yoda's eyes flickered with compassion. It was hard speaking about it, but Obi-Wan tried to remain impassive, describing those events as though it hadn't happen to him and it was someone else's life he was retelling. Slowly, he came to the most impossible part of his tale—a violent shift in the Force and the morning he woke up in Anakin's body before everything had started falling apart.
"But Anakin doesn't remember anything that happened to him," Obi-Wan concluded bitterly. "He could repeat the same mistakes again, and then the switch would have been for nothing."
Master Yoda closed his eyes tightly. "A disturbing story you told me, Master Kenobi. So, a Dark Path young Skywalker had chosen."
"He didn't choose anything yet," Obi-Wan contradicted coolly. His back was becoming wet from the water.
"Always in motion, future is. Not follow his former footsteps, Anakin may. However, be on guard we must—become Darth Vader again, he can."
Obi-Wan clenched the edge of the fountain with his artificial hand. "What should I do, Master?" Anakin's voice sounded incredibly childish to his ears.
"Change the course of events, you must," Yoda said wistfully. "But be ware of the possible future, you must be." His light green eyes bored into Anakin's blue ones. "Very unstable, young Skywalker is."
Obi-Wan grasped the fountain's edge tighter. A few stones broke apart from it and fell to the floor. Obi-Wan picked them up.
"I must kill Palpatine," he said evenly, pulverising the stones with his mechanical hand.
Yoda cast him a concerned glance. "Too weak for Sidious, you are."
Obi-Wan stretched his face into a cold, mirthless smile. "I am in the Chosen One's body. I'm stronger than Master Kenobi."
Yoda stared at him long and intense. "May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi," he said at last. Glancing at Obi-Wan for one last time, he walked away, leaning on his gimmer stick heavily, looking as though his nine hundred standard years had finally managed to defeat him.
The sun was slowly rising over Coruscant, and the first cool morning breeze stroke gently Obi-Wan's cheek as he walked to the Senate building. The sky was pale blue—a colour so pure that it seemed unnatural, with no single cloud covering it. His golden blonde hair was a gauzed curtain before his eyes as he entered the building.
The interior seemed very dark and dead after the glorious morning, the tremendous pillars hovering over him, as if threatening to squash him. Shadows loomed in the corners, and the dark red carpet was everywhere as far as the eye could see.
Red, the colour of the Sith, the colour of passion, the colour of blood.
Obi-Wan didn't notice as his legs carried him to Palpatine's office, neither did he notice Palpatine's secretary Sly Moore smile at him and motion him inside. He caught a glimpse of his own blue eyes staring back at him dazedly before the mirror-like door slid apart, and he entered the Chancellor's office.
Palpatine was a dark streak against the golden morning outside of the large window. Darkness was nearly palpable in the bright room, floating like oil in the rays of the false sun, oozing across the thick carpet. This room was its lair, its home, and the core of it contemplated the yet peaceful city only a few feet apart from Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan cleared his throat; the sound came to him as if from underwater. "Chancellor."
Very slowly, Palpatine turned around. His dark eyes gleamed faintly, a smile barely touching his thin lips. "Master Kenobi. How can I help you?"
The deafening sound of Obi-Wan's heartbeat reverberated on the room.
"I-"he began, but then closed his mouth. His legs seemed to melt into the carpet and the darkness stretched its prickly hands to him, immobilising him further. Palpatine waited patiently, his cold smile triumphant and malicious on his unnaturally pale face.
Seconds trudged one after another, and Obi-Wan still hadn't moved, hadn't said anything… His mind was blank. What could he do, what could he say to save his brother? To save Padmé? To save himself?
He couldn't fail them again…
Palpatine took a step closer, tightly wrapped in a cloak of shadows. "I can help you, Master Kenobi," he said quietly. His face was the kind face of an old man, his eyes warm and forgiving. "I can feel your fear, your confusion. So much responsibility has been placed upon your shoulders. It's no wonder that it's breaking you, it could break anyone."
Darkness crawled up Obi-Wan's legs, twisting around his torso, swirling around his mechanical arm. His breath escaped his lips in a strained gasp, the pulse of blood behind his ears deafening him.
Palpatine approached him slowly, cautiously, his compassionate eyes never leaving his face. "The helplessness, the confusion… I can feel them swirling in you. The burden is hard, and there is no one who can help you, no one who understands you."
The Sith Lord was already within an arm's length from Obi-Wan. A bead of sweat trickled with agonising slowness down Obi-Wan's cheek.
Palpatine's eyes—kind and soft—bored deep into Obi-Wan's blue ones. Wisps of shadows curled behind the Sith's back, screaming mutely and extending their intangible arms towards Obi-Wan.
"Not even he knows. He doesn't understand you. He blames you for everything." Palpatine was already so close that Obi-Wan could see his own reflection mirroring in Chancellor's dark eyes—the one of a very young and dazed man with widened blue eyes. "You and I—we can convince Anakin of your rightness, and he will be your friend again. Your friendship will be even stronger… And the power that surges within this body won't leave you when you return to your own."
The sweet echo of Palpatine's words swirling in his foggy head, Obi-Wan watched the Sith reach over for his arm. "Just join me," Palpatine whispered. His spidery fingers touched Obi-Wan's flesh hand.
Palpatine's touch was icy cold. It was a sickening, suffocating coldness, seething with evil. Obi-Wan shuddered involuntarily… and that shudder broke him from his trance.
He could think again clearly; he could see deception and deceit dancing in the puddles of darkness around him. He knew what he came here for.
A very slight smile graced his youthful features, his mechanical arm balled into a fist.
"Never," he said firmly.
Palaptine's eyes narrowed. "So be it," he said slowly. The shadows behind his back darkened, plunging forward to attack.
A sizzling turquoise blade pierced the thick air, and the crimson one countered it.
The shadows dancing in mad joy around the Jedi and the Sith battling each other.
Life, dept, friendship—everything seemed to have lost its meaning. Anakin streaked through the halls of the Senate building like a wraith, not noticing the blurry faces of confused people staring in disbelief after the always composed and serene Master Kenobi running wildly.
Palpatine—his mentor, his only friend, his uncle—was the Sith Lord! It was impossible… but could Obi-Wan lie to him? Why would Obi-Wan lie to him?
Something was wrong, oh so very wrong here…
He needed the truth. He needed it for Padmé, for their unborn child, for Obi-Wan… None of the people he loved could be safe until he had dug to the core of the mystery. He, the Hero With No Fear, the Chosen One.
Yet as he run towards the Chancellor's office, he didn't feel as one of the mightiest warriors in the Galaxy, he didn't feel strong. He was just a small, shivering boy who didn't know who he was.
The edge of his consciousness cursing the natural slowness of Obi-Wan's old body, Anakin burst through the door, ignoring the secretary's calls to stop, and into the Chancellor's office.
What he saw there was like a kick to his stomach, drawing his breath away.
Obi-Wan and Palpatine were entwined in a ferocious duel.
Palpatine's usually kind eyes were two yellow gleams on his unnaturally pale face. The blade that pierced the air only inches away from Obi-Wan's skin was crimson. But… it couldn't be! It must have been only a trick of light…
Obi-Wan's face was as hard as stone; his always warm blue eyes a cold, frozen substance behind the wild tendrils of golden hair.
The floor rushed to Anakin with breathtaking speed, and he felt first his knees, then his arms collide with it. His breath coming in strange gulps from deep within his suddenly frozen chest, he watched the two opponents strike at each other, parry and attack, move across the room so quickly that they seemed blurry shadows caught in a sizzling red-blue cage.
"Anakin, help me!" Palpatine cried desperately, panting from exhaustion. His eyes weren't yellow anymore. But… how did he find out about the switch?
"No, Anakin, don't listen to him!" Obi-Wan barked, kicking Palpatine square into his chest. Did his own voice always have this… odd edge to it when he cried? Anakin had never noticed, he hadn't known…
Palpatine's frail form staggered a few steps and he fell. The creases on his face were accentuated by the harsh rays of sun, making him look even more old and delicate.
"Anakin," he gasped.
Why did Palpatine have red lightsabre?
Why would Obi-Wan battle Palpatine?
Palpatine couldn't be the Sith Lord the entire Order was searching for…
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan called, staggering backwards from the powerful Force-push from Palpatine.
The old man rose to his feet, and the duel continued, even more ferocious than before. Both opponents called for his help, and Anakin was still undecided.
Suddenly, a white, blinding light exploded in his head. Pain lashed through him—excruciating, unbearable agony as his mind was attacked with images, visions.
Pelting rain slanting onto the red carpet through the broken window, damping the cut off man's hand still gripping the violet blade… The feeling of nausea like he had never experienced before churning his stomach… 'You shall be called Darth Vader'—the words were thrown into the winnowing wind and carried away, into the dark city.
The screams of hundreds dying Jedi deafening him through the Force… Blood everywhere… A child's innocent eyes widening in surprise as the blue blade struck him down…
Hundreds volcanoes disgorging lava, the heat, rivers of fire…
A searing pain slashing through his limbs, tongues of flames licking at the remains of his body… An unbearable stench of burning flesh… Obi-Wan shouting some indistinct, meaningless words at him, his face contorted into a grimace of pain… Sheer, unadulterated hatred boiling in his broken body…
Coldness, emptiness, despair… The claustrophobic feeling from the black suit…
And then there was nothing—and there would always be nothing more than nothing….
Anakin's haunted cry pierced the air, returning him into the present. Wild shakes rippling through his body, he stood up on wobbling legs as awareness began to seep through his veins.
Those images he saw were his memories… Memories from the past that didn't exist anymore.
The man in the black suit he kept dreaming about was him… It was his future, or it would be.
He would kill Padmé in the surreal, horrible nightmare of the future…
Palpatine was the Sith Lord, he had twisted and manipulated him for years.
But Obi-Wan would cripple him, he would leave him dying, he would take his weapon from him. He wouldn't try to save him because he had never loved him.
Yet Obi-Wan would be doing the right thing because Anakin would become a monster, a child murderer, Palpatine's right hand.
Still, Obi-Wan would abandon him, and Palpatine would save his life—but it would be a miserable imitation of life.
Bitter resentment at his former Master burning his throat, Anakin watched the duel, undecided.
Memories and feelings, love and hatred swirled on the inside of his head, making him dizzy. The choice he had to make now would decide his path and the future of those close to him—the burden of responsibility crashed Anakin's shoulders stronger than any physical weight would.
Who should he help? The man who had left him for a terrible and humiliating death, showing no mercy, or the man who would enslave him for the rest of his life?
Making up his mind, Anakin ignited his weapon and rushed to help his friend—the only friend he had ever had.
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