The lights started to flicker and the vibrations intensified. There was the sound of smashing, as fragile apparatus fell from high places.
Obi-Wan still knelt, the cold of the floor beginning to seep into his knees. It was frigid here. The only point of warmth was the charred chest, which was still cooling.
Escape was still viable. There was still time. Medical centres were not designed with a single door for exit and entry, so there was another way out. The Force would be of assistance. It was pointing already, nudging him to follow alongside the spitting computer terminals to his left, and continue on until he came to a medicine dispenser.
Obi-Wan stood, hands braced on the corpse for leverage. Only to let out a small gasp when the pressure he exerted left indents. The torso now carried two small handprints. Obi-Wan stared at the pitifully small impressions and reflected on the nature of existence. When all was said and done, and a life spent all that remained was the physical, and what a fragile thing it was. The flesh was waxy and unfixed, his body little more than slow roasted meat.
However, it was the size of the prints more than the horror of what had happened that was so affecting. Just one more reminder of his vulnerability. What could these hands achieve now?
Experimentally, Obi-Wan flexed them, holding them out for inspection. He didn't flinch at the flaked skin that coated the palms. The dead skin would rub off eventually. No, what worried him was the size. Would he even be able to grasp his lightsaber now?
Obi-Wan badly wanted to close his eyes then. Nose and ears, too. In fact, there was the need to cut off all senses. The desire to cut out his heart was strongest of all. For surely such a malfunctioning organ needed to be disposed of quickly? Just as one would replace a faulty part in a machine. The thing was burdensome and heavy – holding him down. And leaving him unable to move or act independently of his mind, which was crying. The Force was not helping either, rebuffing all attempts to release his spiralling negative emotions. The grief and sorrow returned each time, with no lessening of the burden. It was providing an exit, though. Take it, Kenobi.
He was just about to do that, when the Force warned of danger. Obi-Wan ducked, as a filing cabinet zoomed over his head at great speed. The gesture was unnecessary; however, as the metal obstacle easily cleared his head, which meant Darth Vader didn't want to take his head off just yet. Just a warning then. How nice!
Obi-Wan's heart felt too small in his chest, like it was about to burst clear from his body. Adrenalin was spiking, urging him to do something other than stand, in contrast to his mind which cautioned against any rash action. Obi-Wan settled for the middle ground, and gracefully got down on his knees. The effort to make himself smaller bringing with it a small measure of relief that just had to be the clone's doing. Obi-Wan didn't have time to pursue that thought with the realisation that his new height put him almost level with his dead corpse again. Sith, should have thought of that beforehand. Still, nothing to be done about it now. He wouldn't look too composed if he got right up again. It was better all round if he didn't broadcast his discomfort so freely.
This would be so much easier to accomplish if the miscalculation wasn't already causing him problems because his eyes were now torn between the new threat emerging from the debris directly opposite, and the irresistible siren call that was his original body. Don't be foolish, Kenobi. Focus on what is important.
Darth Vader's cloak dramatically flared around the tall man's ankles as he stalked towards his target, moving detritus from his path with nothing more than his mind. What was left of the medical apparatus twisting into unnatural forms, to match the battle droids that were now close to being buried by the drifts of trash that were accumulating to either side of the Sith. It was as if to suggest that such inferior materials, were unworthy of touching one so great. The arrogance of the Sith suited Anakin. As soon as Obi-Wan thought it, he wished he hadn't. But unlike words, the thought could not be taken back. His mind was filled with too many dark corners already.
Obi-Wan kept his eyes trained on the dark figure. Neck incrementally tilting further back as the Sith drew closer. His neck was going to be sore for days to come. Still, at least it was still attached to his head. That's it, he coaxed himself. Tally up the positives, anything to get through this encounter without breaking down entirely.
Darth Vader displaced the recycled air with new currents brought in from outside. Sadly, the fresh air did nothing to counteract the stench of rotting bodies and burnt flesh. If anything the smell of death seemed to sharpen at Vader's entry, as if in favourable reaction to his dark presence, one foul air complementing another. Or maybe it was just the results of an overactive imagination?
Vader's presence was beginning to do what the slaughter had not, because Obi-Wan was beginning to feel nauseous at the concentrated hatred the man projected. Though he sensed it wasn't completely directed at him. Was that a good or bad thing? It was a good thing surely...? Not if it leads to confusion and mental manipulation. There were too many greys in this situation. The Sith deal in absolutes, yet Anakin was breaking all the rules of engagement, leaving Obi-Wan adrift in a sea of uncertainty as a consequence.
Vader didn't stop until his feet touched the medical carrier. It was just possible for Obi-Wan to see his face at this close distance, though it hurt his neck terribly. Obi-Wan decided he just wouldn't bother, because looking down was easier on more than just his physical tissues. Yellow was such an ugly colour on Anakin. He played around with voicing the thought, if only to get a reaction, but such flippancy would likely be detrimental. Added to which was the fact that the thought was incredibly painful for all its seeming levity. The last thing he needed was to broadcast pain to the enemy.
"What were you thinking?" Vader demanded harshly, with all of his will behind the command to force Obi-Wan to answer truthfully.
"I should think that was obvious," he responded with derision. "Or has the Dark Side clouded your intelligence too?"
It was a good slight. One worthy of a Jedi. If slightly ruined by being delivered at Vader's mid-section. This was something Vader seemed to realise if his reaction was any indication.
Obi-Wan started at the hand that ruffled his hair. The Force had given no warning, and he suddenly knew why. There was no warning because there was nothing to be warned against. The touch was light, playful and non threatening. The Force was obviously mistaken because Obi-Wan felt scalped at the affectionate gesture. Violence would be more appropriate and a lot less unwelcome. Violence he could manage, or even diffuse. How to respond to this? It would certainly be terrible to give in to the tears that suddenly threatened.
"You don't know how cute you are," Vader informed him with genuine warmth, flesh hand still combing through the strawberry blond strands. Obi-Wan sensed no deception, which filled him with disquiet.
The temptation to glance up could no longer be resisted so Obi-Wan obeyed the impulse. The face mirrored the voice. If Obi-Wan didn't know better he would swear this was well... Anakin. A small part of him wished he didn't know better, because the memories that had returned brought nothing but emotional agony.
"Who are you?" he choked out, because this person was certainly not Anakin, but nor was it the bloodthirsty Sith either. His voice sounded small and pathetic to his ears.
The hand stopped moving and Obi-Wan tensed expecting violence even though the Force communicated the same light intentions. Really, though, it was not like the Force could be trusted at this point. Go on your instincts, Kenobi.
"I'm going to be your father, Obi-Wan."
There was a sudden lack of oxygen, and for a terrible second Obi-Wan believed he was being force choked. It was all he could do not to grope at his throat, knowing the uselessness of that reaction after his lightsaber battle with Count Dooku.
Breathe, Kenobi. Breathe! Recognise that this is a mental battle, despite the physical manifestation and get yourself under control. You are responsible for this. The mind and body are connected. You know this. Accept the horror of that promise involving fathers, or if you cannot at least make inroads into relaxing your chest enough to allow the smooth passage of air into your lungs.
With further shock he realised that Darth Vader was kneeling opposite him and was commanding him to do the same thing. Only his commands carried greater influence. It was enough to force his lungs to start working again, and Obi-Wan drew in panicked breaths, chest heaving, and the tears that much closer to surfacing.
What was even more shocking was the complete lack of control over his emotions. It seemed he really was a child in areas that mattered. Tears? Obi-Wan could count on the one hand how many times he had cried in his life. And he wished things to stay that way. He would fight to keep it so, even if he was forced to play dirty.
It was therefore imperative that he circumnavigate any further breakdowns by fair means or foul. Even if that meant goading a Sith. A Sith that was currently looking at him with concern. Not for much longer, if he had anything to say about it. And he planned to say plenty.
He opened his mouth to say something scathing but Vader beat him to it with a finger held to his blood encrusted bottom lip, as if sensing the suicidal gambit. The problem being that Vader now had to provide a topic, for the stall to succeed.
Obi-Wan watched Vader's gaze dart around for inspiration. The finger was still held in place and the hand still rested atop his head, a strangely suffocating weight given that the actual pressure was feather light.
"It's amazing what the Kaminoans are able to do, isn't it?" Vader finally settled on saying, gaze back on Obi-Wan. "My master is simply dying to have them on the payroll," he continued conversationally, before removing the inhibiting finger.
Check and mate. "Payroll? Is that what they're calling slavery in the new Empire?"
"If you like," Vader said with a nonchalant shrug that belied the slight shift in the man's demeanour, the definite sense of encroaching darkness. Score one to Kenobi.
"You look pale, Obi-Wan, like you've seen a ghost, but then of course, you have found yourself."
A chuckle, deep and warm and completely at odds with the maelstrom quickly gathering. It was unfortunate for Vader that he turned nasty when other life-forms failed to fall in with his views, because that particular weakness was going to be exploited by one who knew his shortcomings. Obi-Wan was going to try his hardest to that end, even if the same tactic left him equally exposed. For already the mention of his dead body was forcing his gaze to return to the terrible truth that he was still no closer to accepting, a large measure of his crippling bewilderment also returning. There was a price for everything. Hopefully he could pay the toll without losing.
"I'm sure I look quite different, all things considered," Obi-Wan said dryly, determined to win this despite the loss of focus that staring down at his dead body engendered. He felt like he was reading a script in relying on old patterns of interaction, because new patterns had yet to be established. How did one address a Sith Lord? How did one behave in the face of a stranger that used to be a dear close comrade? A man who knew you intimately. One that now had you at a disadvantage.
"Yes," Vader agreed with the same pleasant tone, as if sensing Obi-Wan's weakening resolve.
"How?" Obi-Wan breathed.
"Oh I don't know," Vader said, sounding bored. "Something to do with consciousness displacement. I let the scientists take care of it."
Try harder, Kenobi. "And did you take care of them afterwards? I sense no one living."
"I did what I had to."
Ah. There was the first real spark of anger, separating itself from the seething mass that roiled just beneath the surface. An errant strand that died just as quickly as it was born – to be replaced by that same contrived lightness. Though the hand that rested in his hair was no longer there. What to make of it? Obi-Wan tried to remain focused on his immediate goal, but Vader's contradictory behaviour was raising all kinds of questions. Was this a period of transition? Had the darkness yet to take a true hold of the man's soul? Or was he just an old man grasping at straws?
"Of course you did," Obi-Wan returned with false understanding, nodding his head and putting aside his death wish for the moment. "What is this really about, Darth Vader?" It hurt to use the title, but he knew it would hurt more to use what came before it.
"Family."
Obi-Wan sighed, eyes still fixed on the blank stretch of blistered skin that was his dead body. There was the growing desire to look at Vader again, to verify whether the honesty detected was genuine but sight was the one sense he was capable of sparing. Especially now that the moisture that had been steadily collecting in his eyes had overflowed both banks, making scrutiny of the corpse impossible. All that could now be discerned was a blur of reddish brown. This was infinitely preferable to yellowish blue. Keep your eyes down, Kenobi. Do not hurt yourself, unnecessarily.
Darth Vader had other ideas. He gripped Obi-Wan's chin and forced his face upwards, until his head was tilted high enough for his eyes to be level with that of his enemy.
"Don't cry, Obi-Wan," Vader said softly, his mood abruptly switching to one of concern again, though the darkness didn't die completely. No, never that. The darkness was an immutable part of Anakin now.
Obi-Wan didn't trust himself to speak. The wet cheeks were humiliation enough. He didn't want to add a cracked voice to the list. Besides which he was too tired to argue Vader's twisted view of what constituted a family, and that was even before factoring in their shared history. Especially when that one word was infused with so much importance, as if his very will was behind it. Obi-Wan feared that was all too true. He also feared what it would mean for his future.
With a tremendous effort Obi-Wan stopped the tears mid flow, forcing back the incomprehension that was proving so meddlesome. That troublesome feeling would be dealt with later. Hopefully when the Force was more co-operative. Though he wouldn't hold his breath on that score.
The action was immediately rewarded by the removal of the hand holding his head in place. Vader was still too close for comfort though.
The time for talking was nearly over. But first...
"You did a good job of keeping your clothes clean."
At the anticipated look of puzzlement, Obi-Wan swept the room with an outstretched hand to encompass the slaughtered life-forms, unceremoniously pushed to the sidelines. The gesture wasn't as expansive as intended but it was the best he could manage with a shortened arm. Shame really, as he knew the old Anakin had an appreciation for grand gestures. One thing that was unlikely to have changed with the man's fall to darkness. If anything it was a predilection that was likely to have increased given the fact that Sith were known for their love of drama.
"Black is a forgiving colour."
"I think they would beg to differ."
"Funny you should mention beg, 'cause they did a lot of begging beforehand." The delivery was crude and callous, amusement evident in those expressive eyes.
Obi-Wan shut out sight. He couldn't bear to hear this poison, much less see it. This was just too much. Where was the selfless boy he knew? Where was the compassionate man he grew into? Where was Anakin? Was he just as dead as these corpses? Master Yoda believed it. Yet...Sith Lords didn't make a habit of seeking reconciliation with Jedi Masters. It just wasn't done. Sith and Jedi – eternally pitted against one another for millennia. Was Anakin just going to change all that? Was his arrogance really that excessive?
Inexplicably, his arms ached to reach out to Anakin. Shake him. Displace the Dark Side through the simple action of gripping his biceps and then...what? The child in him argued that it would be enough. Hold him. Hug him. Love him. Scream even. Ball up your fists and knock some sense into your wayward brother.
Where did I go wrong? Why do you hate me so much? Forgive me, Anakin. I was blind to what was happening. I failed you and I am sorry. Wait, he had said much of this already, and it had done nothing to help either party.
The last thought. The one most pressing and insistent. Please wake me from this nightmare. Maudlin, Kenobi. Snap out of it.
The next words failed to do that. "Are you going to make me beg before you are done?" he asked, careful to keep his voice steady, when he was anything but with all the things unsaid and dead upon his tongue.
"Why so upset, Obi-Wan? They're with the Force now. I'm sure they're very happy," Vader finished with a tight smile, the bitterness evident in his tone and force presence.
It was a bitterness that sounded dangerous. One that hinted at so much more than what was currently being discussed. Why was that? Was he missing something? "And the manner of execution? You have not answered my question."
"I don't have to tell you anything!" Vader responded, violently standing. Waves of dark energy washing over Obi-Wan and making him light headed.
"Is that how it is going to be?" Obi-Wan whispered to the man's knees, incapable of anything greater. The chill that had invaded his knees earlier was beginning its campaign again and he felt cold once more. Cold and small. A state that was compounded by Vader's intentions to keep him in the dark for his own pleasure. Well, he wasn't going to further his enjoyment any more than he could help it. Words had achieved little that was positive. It was time for action. A pre-emptive strike would hopefully secure escape from the Sith a second time. Force willing, with no distractions this time around.
Don't fail me now, he entreated before stretching out his hand. Even before the power flowed through him, instinct told him he'd overestimated his abilities. At best this body was mediocre at channelling because the cells were just too young and unused. An assessment that was proved correct when the target moved mere inches before stopping, leather boots squeaking on the blood stained floor.
It was not the wind wave Obi-Wan had hoped for. That's what you get for having to rely on a clone body. The body of a clone child at that. He'd seen better conduits on the J-Type 327 Nubian after the blockade attack took out most of the royal ship's auxiliary systems. Still, it was heartening to see that much of his memory was returning. See good in bad. Stay positive.
Obi-Wan stood, surprised when his knees gave no protest at the movement. Ah yes, of course he had his new younger body to thank for that. Nice to see a benefit at last.
Vader laughed. "Pitiful, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan was sure he had a clever remark to that, but he was too busy spinning on his heel, in preparation for a quick sprint. Pithy comebacks were last on the agenda. He didn't get far, before strong arms hoisted him up into the air and swung him around. Obi-Wan froze in Vader's arms, taken completely by surprise at the gesture.
"Let me down," he ordered loudly, hating how high his voice sounded, but more concerned for his dignity. There was only the two of them, but that was one person too many. He was the senior one here. And the only one to be granted the title of master. Such a blatant disregard of rank was disrespectful and irritating. Furthermore, it couldn't be allowed to continue. It was far too dangerous to consent to the reversed relationship that Vader was pushing for. Anakin Skywalker was no responsible Jedi Knight, firmly ensconced on the side of Light. He was not even an upstanding and wise adult capable of nurturing a youngling into adulthood. He was a Sith Lord, and a dangerously unbalanced one at that.
"That is no way to talk to a parent," Vader scolded firmly, shaking him a little.
"I'll be sure to remember that when I see him or her. I rather think the chances of that are slim, though, don't you? I never knew my parents, and the likelihood of meeting my progenitors is highly improbable given the time difference."
Vader tightened his grip, hands painfully digging into his armpits. "Are you finished?"
"Quite."
"Good, 'cause I have a secret to tell you. Father to son," Vader confided, lowering his voice for greater impact, face mere inches from the boy he held captive. "I let you run earlier, Obi-Wan. I let you run though it angered and disappointed me, 'cause I understand the importance of teaching you this lesson early. You cannot escape me so don't even try it."
There is no try. There is only do or do not.
"Oh, I won't." Try that is, because I will escape you eventually. Of that I am certain. "Now let me down."
"Your manners are usually so good too. You know the word to use, don't you?"
Obi-Wan glared. Of all the things... to be talked down to by a former apprentice, as if he were the padawan.
"C'mon, Obi-Wan, a negotiator as skilled as you should have no trouble with that one small word."
Obi-Wan didn't miss the emphasis on the diminutive. "Stop toying with me."
Vader scowled. "I don't have time to indulge your tantrums. We're leaving, Obi-Wan. Whether you choose to leave on your feet or carried by me is up to you."
Tantrums? That was the pot calling the kettle black. There was the temptation to tell Vader that, but he didn't think he'd react favourably to a lecture. He never had in the past, even when on the side of Light. No. Tread carefully. "Please may I be let down?" Obi-Wan said serenely.
"Better," Vader praised warmly, before lowering Obi-Wan to the ground.
"Now hold my hand," Vader commanded coldly, robotic hand held straight out.
The bastard was enjoying this far too much. Obi-Wan folded his arms, and glanced away in open defiance. "I can walk perfectly fine under my own power, thank you."
"Power is something you no longer have. Take my hand or suffer the consequences."
Obi-Wan could sense Vader's irritation and it was doing wonders to lift his mood, because now it was his turn to be amused. He laughed. "You sound ridiculous!"
"I don't make a habit of arguing with children. You will—"
"Nonetheless, you make a habit of murdering them!" Obi-Wan shouted, giving in to his earlier aims of antagonising his opponent.
The robotic hand clenched, black leather creaking in the immediate silence following Obi-Wan's outburst. Though Vader gave no other sign that the strike had hit its mark. Obi-Wan awaited his sentence; shoulders hunched with tension and gaze downcast. There was no way he was going to get off lightly. There was going to be retaliation. It was not going to be the kind one bounced back from either.
"I see what you're trying to do," Vader said at last, voice strained. "I saw through the lies of the Jedi and I see through you, my old master."
"I was not aware the Dark Side granted x-ray vision." The words were playful but the tone was glacial. To match Obi-Wan's expression. Aquamarine eyes staring coldly up at his oppressor in challenge.
"I can see you're tired, Obi-Wan. You should take a nap when we get to the ship. I'll even let you sleep in my lap, how's that?"
Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, cheeks colouring, at Vader's patronising behaviour.
Vader read his mood easily. "What? Don't like the role reversal, I take it?"
"I never..."
"You never what, Master Kenobi? Belittled me? Took me seriously? Showed me up in front of Padmé?"
Obi-Wan blanched at the resurgence of anger. The Senator was clearly a sore spot, the sorest of them all. He desperately wanted to enquire after her safety, too. He hoped she was well, and unharmed in more than just body, but was beginning to fear otherwise. He had verified that she was still breathing upon the platform, but what had happened afterwards?
There were also those earlier words to consider. When speaking of family, no mention had been made of a mother or the baby that was soon due. Why this need for Obi-Wan if he had Padmé and the baby? He used the word need, whole-heartedly too because Anakin needed people. Anakin had always needed people more than was healthy. How had he not recognised this character flaw before now? It was true then. Proximity did blind a person to another's faults. Or am I just excusing myself? This much was certain, Obi-Wan felt his failure, strongly.
"Truth hurts, doesn't it? But it's ok, I forgive you. After all, now I get to pay you back for such excellent instruction."
"So, this is about revenge I take it? I will never turn to the Dark Side."
Vader laughed, eyes beginning to turn yellow with promised violence. "We'll see, Jedi."
Obi-Wan vaguely wondered when the yellow would become a permanent feature, and if mention of Padmé, indirect or otherwise was the catalyst needed to encourage Darth Vader to finish what he started.