Part 3: Regrouping and Parting
With every step he took, he felt like he was dragging the mass of the galaxy tied to his ankles. Obi-wan pulled himself up the hillside on his way back to the platform, where Padme's ship waited patiently for his or Anakin's return. No matter how hard he forced himself to clear his thoughts from the sight of his former Padawan's burning body; he just couldn't make the horrifying image go away. It would haunt him forever, in his dreams, in his every memory of Anakin, every time he looked at Padme or her child, the image will just return as clear as the moment it happened, not five minutes before. Nothing he told himself could make him think what he had done was best. How could leaving his brother to die consumed by fire be all he could have done? There must have been a way to save him.
As fast as the dread and exhaustion he was dragging would allow him, Obi-wan reached the crossway from the Control Center to the landing platform where the duel had begun. Artoo had been waiting for either him or Anakin to return by the crossway. Once he saw Obi-wan coming, the astro-droid chirped with curiosity at what had happened, but Obi-wan walked past Artoo and toward Padme's ship. Then Threepio came down the ramp.
"Master Kenobi! We have Miss Padme on board. Please, please hurry. We should leave this dreadful place," said the protocol droid, moving aside so Obi-wan could climb up first.
He paced his way down the soul hallway in the Skiff and entered the medical room, where Padme laid unmoving on one of the beds. Careful not to wake her, he walked over to her side and leaned over her sleeping face. Her features were serene and peaceful, so peaceful Obi-wan wished she didn't ever have to leave the serenity of her dreams. That she wouldn't have to watch as her world cave in around her. As long as she remained asleep, she wouldn't have to face this horrifying reality. She would be safe in her dreams, safe from the pain that would soon devour her once she woke up.
But Obi-wan knew Padme had to wake up and face what's what. She couldn't sleep forever. He moved closer and tenderly laid down his hand on her shoulder. She stirred and her eyes opened to see his gentle face.
"Obi-Wan… Is Anakin all right?" she asked in a weak whisper.
The Jedi Master felt like her words had ripped through his ribcage like a lance, but didn't allow this feeling to show on his face. What could he say to her? Such a simple question he could have heard every day in his life, fifty more years of Jedi training couldn't have prepared him to answer it now. What could he Sith-hell say to her? He could just answer her question in three simple words, "Anakin is dead". Three simple words he never, ever in his worst nightmares had thought he would have to say to anyone. No, he didn't want to say them. Not to Padme, not to Anakin's wife, not to anybody. He shouldn't have to say them. He couldn't say them.
As all this ripped through his mind, Obi-wan managed to keep his face from twisting and a full posture. At least, he hoped he had. If Padme had been able to see anything in his face, her eyes did not stay open long enough for him to see. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand and she drop back into unconsciousness, away from reality again. He watched her for a few long seconds, sleeping as if nothing had happened, but he finally decided they had to do as Threepio said and leave this dreadful place. With one final look at Padme, Obi-wan left the medical room, leaving Artoo to watch over her.
He moved up the hallway to the cockpit and sat on the co-pilot's seat, thankful that Threepio could fly the ship. He didn't think he should pilot a vessel in the state he felt he was in. Instead he looked down as the Naboo Skiff streaked away from the platform. The collection complex was falling apart. Now that the shield was down there was nothing to protect the structures as the fire ate them away. If this wasn't as close to Hell as any living being could get, then Obi-wan didn't know what could be. It had to be in this fiery inferno that he left the most important person in his life to die and lay eternally. It had to be nowhere else but Hell on the galaxy. But why?
Did one day of evil damn Anakin despite twenty years of goodness? Didn't light prevail over dark? Why couldn't it for Anakin? It should have. There must have been a way to bring his back. Why couldn't he find it? How could he have failed his Padawan so completely, twice?
Obi-wan covered his face with his hand and felt his shoulders shaking. He forced himself to regain posture, to keep the control he felt he was loosing despite his effort. Shame fell upon him, shame for forcing control into himself when it was so plain his soul was breaking. Shame for failing, failing everything in his life; from his Padawan and brother, to his Order and family, his Master and father, and his Galaxy and home. Control felt like a mock, a mock from the universe at his failures. His whole life was based in control, but the only one here was a protocol droid that probably wouldn't even understand what was happening. Finding nothing to stop him, Obi-wan covered his face with his other hand and released the sob that had choked him since he saw the recording at the Temple.
Anakin…
Rage…
Fire…
They both coursed through what was left of his body like venom. They forced his heart to beat, prompted his blood to flow, and filled his scorching lungs with air. They tied his mind to his body, leaving no space for anything but more rage. Rage could extinguish the fire by starting another. It was everything that kept him alive now. There was no hope, no fear, no thought, no reason, just Rage, unending, unlimited Rage.
Darth Vader stretched out his mechanical arm, the only arm he had left, and reached up the back. Desperate to move out of the lava river's reach, he gripped the black sand between his fingers and pulled with all the strength he had left. He had no sense of how long he'd been moving up, or how far he'd gotten himself. The time felt like ages, eternities over eternities, but the distance felt like half a fingertip. His body was destroyed, rendered useless by the fire, but he reached up the bank again and pulled.
"Stop… just—let go," a faint voice pleaded in his head. It was weak, breaking like his body, but it crawled up from its resting place and sounded again, "It's…over…Let—go."
The dark lord shunned the voice and stretched out his arm again, pulling his weight another meager distance. Another meager distance, followed by another and then another. White cold fire raged, no longer fear for death was immediate, the rage of betrayal which countless times had destroyed him, rage that bordered on madness now. Images of death flashed through his mind, a vaunted and marred vision of every event, distorted faces of once considered friends and Padme's cries flashed wildly, he wanted to burn it all. He wanted to purge everything. He wanted to crush the life out of Kenobi–
"Let go!"
To tear that voice apart! He would live so he could do so. He swore on Everything he had ever had, everything he had ever thought, his rage would not die until Kenobi and Skywalker were torn from existence, until he felt their pain ten fold over his.
Rage…
Fire…
He would see to their demise! He swore again, and again. They would pay for their betrayal! But first he had to save his life. It disgusted him that to live he had to save Anakin's life as well. The Dark Lord reached up again and pulled on the burning sand. His vision was distorted, making all he could see no more than blurs and shadows. But that wouldn't make safety any more unreachable for him than it already was. His metallic hand grasped the dark earth again and made one more heave.
I refuse to be ignored or unheard. I clung to Vader's mind, attempting to be as heavy a burden as I can muster. My persistence doesn't appear to be doing as much effect as his. Vader reaches up again and pulls on our weight, taking us one more distance to survival, as meager as that distance is. I cry out, roar, and yell. I do everything I can think of to pull my captor back down, but I'm just a splinter to him. I am nothing against the dark lord's supremacy over my body. I'm just here, as nothing, just a forgotten emotion of a past life.
If we survive; if Vader survives…there is nothing left I can do. This was my last chance. After what I did, Vader will never let me influence our body again. He would suppress me to the depth of his conscious, secluded from the outside, maybe never to see light again. The Sith would be free to rule the galaxy. Vader would seek out Obi-wan, and Padme, and my baby. Oh, Force, my sweet little baby. What kind of life will he or she lead? One governed by darkness and evil? Surrounded by hatred and fear?
If Vader lives, then his extermination of my life would be complete. What else could he ever take away from me? Already I lost more than I thought I had. My friends are gone, my body is no longer mine to control, my Master, my father, thinks I'm dead, as does my Padme, my darling Angel.
If my life is all I have left, and if it's all I have to sacrifice to destroy Darth Vader, then it is nothing as well.
"Let go!" I cry, and I feel his iron grip fall over me.
"Silence!" he finally speaks, but says no more.
I struggle against his restrain. I push back with all my might, but he is powered by his rage. He's too strong, even now. I' m slammed against the back of my prison, and pinned to the edge. I'm powerless, but he slams me down again.
"I am sickened with you, Skywalker!" he roars, pain more distinct than anger in his voice. "I will teach you the true meaning of pain!"
I can see him over me. He holds me down so I can't move. Of course I struggle, but what's the use of any resistance now? He neutralizes me without difficulty, and plasters me on the bottom of our mind with an insuperable hold. There's nothing I can do but stare up at his dark silhouette, tears starting to form on the edges of my eyes. I'm afraid. I'm horrified, and I hate myself because of it. Wasn't I prepared to die for his destruction just a moment ago? Am I more afraid of him than of death itself? How could he have that much power over me? Sulfuric yellow orbs stare back at mine with hate, and the grip around my neck begins to tighten.
"No…" I moan, choking on my own words.
He growls, releasing a wave of fury behind his voice. I hear myself whimpering in horror. How could I let him see my fear of him like this? How could I give him that pleasure? I try to push him back, but he's too heavy over me. I find I can't even move. I don't know if he can kill me like this, but I feel my life escaping from my grip all the same. I don't care for my life. All I have wanted since he conquered my body was to die. Now I will. Freedom awaits me in the Light, and I reach for it.
It is not Vader's choke that's killing me. It's the wounds Obi-wan inflicted on our body. It's the fire that ate away our flesh. It's the oxygen that He can't get anymore. He's dying as well. We're both dying. He knows this as well, but his hold around my throat only worsens.
He screams again, this time in desperation. He can't safe himself any longer. "You will die!"
I smile. His hold over me begins to weaken and eventually disappears, but I don't move from my where he left me. "WE will die," I correct him.
He hasn't stopped screaming. Our mechanical arm finally gives out on him, and we slide back down a small distance. My hope for a quick death went unheard. But as long as it comes I'll be at peace. Even if Vader was the only one to die, how could I live with everything he made me do? How could I face life with so much blood in my palms? How could I ever face Padme again, or Obi-wan after all the pain I caused them? How could I hold my baby when I killed dozens of other babies in the Temple? No, I rather die than face my life as it is. So I welcome the blackness that calls to me. It promises me peace, and that's more than I could ask for now.
Vader's metallic fingers refused to move. His last arm was dead. His only hope of reaching safety was gone. He lusted to reach back into his mind and tare Skywalker into crumbs of pieces, but that feat was beyond his strength too. He couldn't even cry out. There was darkness falling over him, cold, empty darkness. It clawed at him like sharp hooks, trying to get a hold of him. He tried to pull away, but they got sharper, and colder.
More darkness zoomed over from above; this one was warm and intoxicating. It beaconed to him, and he was compelled to cry out for it. He knew this darkness. He knew this warm and powerful touch. It was Palpatine, his Master. He had come for him.
Immediately Vader cried out for the Sith Master, to let him know his location. Then a shadow crawled over the Mustafar earth and moved over him.
The Imperial shuttle flew overhead and made its way to the landing platforms at the top of the embankment. Vader couldn't see, but he felt. A platoon of clone troopers descended from craft's ramp, followed by Darth Sidious.
The newly proclaimed Emperor walked by the embankment, following his apprentice's beacon. He feared the condition in which he would find Lord Vader. Not for his life but the usefulness he might have lost. If the duel with Kenobi had rendered his apprentice handicapped, or useless for that matter, then his utility would be diminished just as much.
Vader cried out for him again. Palpatine turned and saw what was left of him at the bottom of the bank.
"There he is. He's still alive," said the Dark Lord to the troopers accompanying him. Turning to the soldier he said with urgency, "Get a medical capsule, immediately."
"Yes sir. Right away" replied the clone obediently, and walked away to do what he was ordered.
Anakin was unconscious, unaware of Sidious' arrival, much to Vader's relief. He watched his Master descend the embankment towards him, genuine concern on his features. With what strength he had left, he pushed himself over on his back, and then the Emperor reached his side. The numbing effect of his Master's presence soothed Vader, allowing him to close his burning eyes, while Sidious placed his hand over his face. The Master of the Galaxy would look after him. Nothing could hurt him now, not even death.
He would live. He would triumph over death.