Chapter Two

Illusions and Shadows

She was warm – so very warm, and safe, and loved.
She didn't want to open her eyes for fear that it was only a dream.
But she felt the taunt muscles under her palm, and heard the low, steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her ear, and her eyelids slowly lifted.
The room was bathed in hazy light, a pale ivory compared to the golden beams that often accompanied the sunrise. She watched her hand slowly rise and fall with his every breath, and was comforted by the weight of his head resting atop hers.
The desire to fall back asleep was strong, but Padmé wanted to stay awake and savor his presence. His sure, solid strength filled her with peace – an emotion that had fled since the incident at
the Jedi Temple.
She quickly banished the memory from her thoughts, and resolutely laid her cheek on his bare chest. Anakin was here, now, with her – and that was enough.
His breathing changed subtly; anyone else would not have noticed, but after sharing a bed for four years, Padmé was as in tune to his physical nuances as she was to her own body.
She snuggled against him as Anakin traced his callused fingers along her arms and back.

"Good morning," he murmured into her hair, his voice a little hoarse from sleep.
The recollection of that strange man who had bid her farewell evaporated, and Padmé felt deep within her soul that her Ani had come back to her. The overwhelming relief rising inside consumed all other feelings, and a trickle of moisture leaked out of the corner of her eye to puddle on his skin.
"Padmé?"
She sniffled quietly, but it was too late to hide her tears – Anakin surely sensed her unruly emotions. "Hey…" Anakin pushed himself upright, keeping Padmé locked in his arms as she wiped hurriedly at her eyes. "What is it?" he asked gently.
She shook her head incessantly, averting her gaze as her shoulders shook slightly with suppressed feelings. Anakin tenderly cupped her cheek and turned her face toward his, the tracks of tears glistening on her cheeks. But the smile she gave him was positively radiant. "What is it?" he asked again.

She answered in the barest whisper, "I love you so much."
He crushed her in his embrace, yet still mindful of her swollen belly as he held her close. Padmé wrapped her arms tight around his neck, like she never wanted to let go again. Anakin felt a brief flicker of amusement. Had she been worried that he wouldn't come back? He had promised, after all.
And he would be forever grateful for whatever reason had stopped her from searching him out on Mustafar.
She could never see that part of him. Ever.
He dropped a kiss on her forehead, and his attention was immediately drawn to the shifting movements inside her belly. "Good morning to you, too," he said cheerily, and leaned down to kiss the fabric over her abdomen. Padmé smoothed his hair, and his senses suddenly tingled – like something dangerous was lurking just out of sight. But her cool fingers framed his face and guided him to her lips, and all other thought faded away.
As they kissed, Anakin grasped Padmé's braid and pulled off the tie. With deft and skilled fingers he loosened her hair and it cascaded in thick ringlets all around her shoulders and down her back.
She pulled back slightly with a grin. "You never could leave my hair alone."
He smirked broadly, threading his long fingers through the curls. "I like it too much." As if he needed to prove the truth of that remark, he buried his face into her neck, inhaling the familiar fragrance. Padmé chuckled low in her throat, and he pressed his lips on her pulse point, smiling with satisfaction when she shivered in delight. He straightened, and drew her up until they were sitting across from each other on the bed. "Now," he began in a brusque, authoritative tone, yet his eyes twinkled mischievously, "how are you feeling?"

She stared at him for a moment, puzzled by the question. Anakin purposefully let his gaze drift down to her belly, and her entire countenance lit up, sending ripples of pleased surprise into the Force, which he understood.
Since his nightmares, he had not been particularly enthusiastic about the baby.
Things were different now.
"Well," Padmé said thoughtfully, "I've been a little more tired, but the med droids assure me that it's normal at this stage in the pregnancy."
He nodded encouragingly, smoothing his thumbs over her knuckles. "Anything else? Aches, pains, weird food cravings?"
She laughed. "This is the strangest conversation I have ever had with you." But he felt her contentment, at the normalcy of a mother-to-be talking to her husband about all the nuances of carrying a baby. "The smell of hoi broth makes me nauseous," she volunteered, wrinkling her adorable nose.
Anakin snorted in amusement, "Hoi broth makes everyone nauseous."
Padmé took his hands and pressed them against the bulge, blinking her dark eyes seriously. "Ani…there's something that I need to tell you."

His brows rose expectantly, appearing only mildly interested, but his heart clenched with tension. Little whispers of fear flitted around his mind, conjuring all kinds of horrible images of his beloved wife plotting with Sidious' "troublemakers" in the Senate, and that perhaps there had been something more in her conversation with Obi-Wan…
No, he thought firmly, I was inside her mind. I would have felt it.
Anakin withdrew from his dark speculations as Padmé's heightened emotions sent unpleasant nettles of anxiety into the Force. He flashed her a gentle smile, tenderly rubbing his palms over her stomach. "Tell me," he murmured.
"It's about the baby," Padmé said quietly, her hands twisting together nervously, and she looked away almost fearfully.
She was definitely not helping his nerves.
"The baby? Why? Is something wrong with her?" Anakin asked worriedly, his tone increasing in volume as he stared down at her belly with concern.
"No, Ani! No, everything's fine, it's just that…" she trailed off, her lips thinning to a straight line, deep in thought. Then she sighed in defeat and looked up at his anxious expression sadly. "I don't know how to tell you. I'm afraid –"
Afraid? That would not do at all.
Anakin reached up and framed her face between his hands, gazing deep into her eyes intently. "You don't have to be afraid of anything, Padmé, do you understand? Nothing bad is going to happen
to us. I promise."
She smiled at him weakly. "Do you still think I'm going to die?"

An icy spike of dread lodged in his chest, and for one heart-stopping second he thought she was about to tell him that something was wrong with her…then he caught her meaning. His hands slowly fell, and he watched her with uncertain blue eyes.
"You're afraid of what I'll think."
Padmé nodded morosely.
Did she think he was a coward?
A surge of anger burned in his veins, and his brow lowered.
But he felt a flicker of anticipation from his wife, the briefest sense of expectancy that instantly cooled the onslaught of his temper. Whatever it was that she was concealing…she wanted to tell him.
Anakin felt Padmé's inquiring gaze, and shame flooded him as he thought how he had come so close to accusing her of thinking him weak. He looked over at her with a lost little boy's expression, and she brushed his hair from his forehead.
I don't deserve you, he lamented silently. He said, "Tell me, please. Don't be afraid."
She grasped his flesh hand in hers and placed it on her stomach, asking softly, "Do you remember when we talked about the baby being a boy or a girl?"
He cocked an eyebrow teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. "Did you go and ruin the surprise?"
"Well…yes, and no."
Padmé's eyes shone, and she sparkled in the Force as she leaned close and whispered excitedly, "We're having one of each."

Anakin consciously reminded himself to breathe.
"What?" he choked out.
She touched his cheek, grinning brightly. "Twins, Ani. We're having twins."
Anakin stared unseeingly over his wife's shoulder, lost in a myriad of contradicting emotions - joy, shock, amazement, and profound feeling of inferiority.
He was not ready to be a father, and now there were two?
Why didn't I know?
Then he remembered his nightmarish vision in hyperspace, and the image of Padmé on Naboo, cradling two small bundles of white. He felt Padmé's fingertips caress his cheek, and his blue eyes swung slowly to her face. She was watching him with the same timidly expectant expression she had worn after she had told him that she was pregnant, and he knew that he had gotten his wish.
He could finally show her how happy he was for them.
An incandescent grin beamed from Anakin's lips, and he let out a series of joyous shouts that surely woke up the entire complex as he bounced on the bed with each whoop.
Padmé shrieked in surprise when he scooped her into his arms like a child and spun around, holding her securely against his chest while he laughed gleefully. She threw her arms around his neck, feeling her own happiness bubble up in giggles, and her head fell back in carefree abandon as the room around them became a hazy blur.

Anakin finally set her down carefully on the edge of the bed and fell to his knees before her, taking her hands in his. He was still grinning like a giddy little boy as he said, "Wow."
He looked like he wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't come.
He could only stare at his beautiful angel, the mother of his children with unabashed adoration. And only one phrase came to mind to could possibly hope to express all that he felt. "I love you."
Then he felt that odd tingle again, sending a shiver of urgency down his spine.
Irritated, he thrust the feeling aside while Padmé leaned close and laid a soft kiss on the bridge of his nose. "I love you, too, Ani."
Her gentle sweetness washed away the last vestiges of his grisly memories of Mustafar, and he clambered to his feet, softly tugging on her hands so she followed. Enfolding her in his arms, he gazed deeply into her dark eyes and murmured, "How would you like to go to Naboo?"
She blinked in surprise, and little glimmers of joy glittered in her essence in the Force.
But then her face fell, and she pursed her lips, a clear sign that she was seriously considering an issue, turning it over in her mind.
A flicker of dread cast a dark shadow over Anakin's carefree attitude.
He knew what she was going to ask – and he feared how he would respond.

Padmé stared unseeingly at her stomach, debating her next move.
This morning's events had been absolutely wonderful, but the weight of the galaxy was pressing in on them once more. She had smelled faint traces of smoke and sulfur in her husband's
dark blonde hair.
And there was a strange look in his eyes…almost like a shadow.
Like there was another person living inside those blue orbs, but she only glimpsed it for a second, and then it would vanish.
She recalled the last time he had spoken to her in anger, and she barely suppressed a shiver when the otherness in his voice had caught her off-guard.
"I don't believe that. And you're sounding like a Separatist."
"Don't ask me to do that! Make a motion in the Senate, where that sort of a request belongs."
Her chin firmed as she mentally reminded herself that she had challenged him by asking what was wrong, and he had replied with the standard, "nothing".
Padmé Amidala did not fear a temperamental Jedi Knight, much less her husband.
She feared the unknown.
Anakin was hiding things from her – things about himself – and she could no longer afford to play ignorant. She had questions, and she expected answers.
For the twins' sake.
Anakin's body shifted, and she glanced up. His face was halfway turned toward the door, his profile etched with suspicion. She felt his arms tighten around her.
"Ani, what is it?" she murmured.
He scarcely heard her.

Blood was thundering in his ears, and the edges of his vision were tinged crimson with rage. While Padmé had been lost in her musings, that flicker of urgency had suddenly screamed across Anakin's nerves like acid. He had cast his perception about the apartment, searching for the cause of the danger…and it wailed inside his skull like a warning klaxon.
Obi-Wan.
His arms tightened instinctively around his wife. Obi-Wan would not take her – take them – from him.
He would die first.
His jaw bunched as he struggled to rein in his anger as Padmé's soft voice pulled at his attention. He looked down at her, and her round face was full of worry.
Anakin smiled slightly and said, "Why don't I go get us some breakfast, and then we can talk about planning a trip to Naboo."
She studied him a moment with a scrutiny that almost made him uncomfortable.
Like she was trying to see beyond his skin, beyond his soul, to his very core.
But she returned his grin and replied lightly, "There's a bowl of fruit in the kitchen."
Anakin nearly sighed in relief. "Fruit it is." He then realized that his lightsaber was stowed under the bed, and Padmé would surely ask why he needed to be armed to make a trip to the kitchen.
"I think I'll change into something more comfortable," she tossed over her shoulder as she floated out of his arms and disappeared into her wardrobe.
Anakin stood there a moment in bewilderment, staring after her.
He crept to the bed and palmed his lightsaber, threw on a light robe, and started for the door. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and called, "I'll be back."
Padmé replied teasingly, "Hurry up, we're hungry," and then the room echoed pleasantly as she began to hum a childhood tune from Naboo.
The simple melody soothed his spirit, but Obi-Wan's intrusion jabbed into his solace like a stun prod and he reminded himself that he did all this for them.
So that they all could experience these simple, beautiful moments.

Anakin padded silently out of the room and pulled the door closed.
He looked at the handle and drew his lower lip between his teeth.
If there was a fight, he couldn't risk his Padmé becoming involved.
But she would be so furious…
Their safety is more important, Anakin thought firmly, and with a self-conscious nod, he reached out with the Force and bent the spring in the antique lock. It could not be opened unless the door was physically removed from its hinges.
Not that it mattered.
Obi-Wan would never make it to the hallway.
Anakin knotted the loose robe tightly around his waist, and recovered his boots and gauntlet from the bathroom. The worn brown leather was caked with splotches of gray dust – a souvenir
from Mustafar.
He hesitated, eyeing the garments warily, experiencing a turmoil that confused him.
They were tools, nothing more. He had not felt this way about his lightsaber, and that object had caused far more damage in his hands than he cared to remember. He stepped into the boots without another thought, but the gauntlet lay in the palm of his hand, and he had the wild urge to throw it off of the balcony and into the depths of Coruscant.
In his mind, it had become a symbol; a piece of who and what he had turned into amid the smoke and flames – a creature that dwells in darkness.
A demon in every sense of the word.
A demon that had no right to exist in an angel's presence.
Padmé…

Pinpricks of light, like stars amongst the blackness of deep space, flared in the roiling shadows in his heart.
And his children – little sparks of innocence as rare as Krayt dragon pearls.
He wanted to give them the universe…but what kind of universe would they be coming into if he continued to bathe his soul in blood?
Revulsion churned his stomach, and he glanced up into the mirror, afraid that those hate-filled yellow eyes would stare back at him. But he gazed into familiar azure orbs and, gripping the edges of the sink, Anakin bowed his head in overwhelming relief.
From behind the darkness of his eyelids, he rationalized that the dark side had not truly changed him in the way that he feared. He was still Anakin Skywalker, Padmé still loved him, and he was still going to be a father.
Yesterday had been a fluke.
Sidious had told him that he needed to carry out those deeds – the Temple and the Separatists – so that he would be strong enough with the dark side to save Padmé.
Obviously he was now.
Anakin raised his head slowly, and stared coolly at his reflection. The confident young man in the glass seemed to murmur, that's right. You are strong enough to keep them safe. You are strong enough now to defeat Obi-Wan and remove this last threat to your family's happiness.
His chest swelled, and he set his broad shoulders as he deftly pulled the glove over his metallic arm. He could still make out strains of Padmé's soft humming, and it empowered him,
strengthening his resolve.
Anakin strode down the hall and into the vast sitting room. The air was chilly; the gauze curtains rustled slightly in the breeze and a hazy light illuminated the apartment.
Obi-Wan was close. His presence was muted, but the entire room echoed the Jedi Master within the Force. Anakin gripped his lightsaber in a vise grip. He stood at a loose parade rest and clasped his hands behind his back, raising an eyebrow expectantly as a cloaked figure emerged from a smaller room on the far right.
"Awake at last, I see," Obi-Wan Kenobi remarked casually.

Padmé could not seem to pin down the reason that she felt so light-hearted.
Yet she continued to hum an old Nubian lullaby as Ani went off to get some breakfast and she bustled around the wardrobe searching for something to wear.
She had been ready to drill Anakin about what was going on and what was going to happen to them…but something made her stop.
Those incredibly blue eyes had flashed with a deep vulnerability, and she had been reminded of a school trip she had taken up into the mountains on Naboo. She and a few friends had found a small, silver-furred lepri caught in a snare. Its small black eyes wide in terror, the poor little thing trembled as Padmé had knelt beside it and started cutting the rope around its leg. That tiny lepri had stared at her in fear, but she had seen a desperate hope in its eyes – as if it knew that she could save it from death.
She had seen that same desolation in Anakin's gaze.

Padmé shivered, absentmindedly rubbing her stomach as she sifted through racks of embroidered and decorative gowns for a simpler garment.
With their father's absence, and perhaps sensing their mother's melancholy mood, the twins seemed to take it upon themselves to keep her from boredom. A host of kicks resounded all around their shrinking domain, and with a gasp, Padmé bent forward and froze as they seemed to switch places inside her.
"Settle down, you two," she murmured gently, straightening. She rubbed her belly soothingly, and the twins gradually settled. "Daddy will be back soon."
She finally chose a long-sleeved dress with a high waist that suited her expanding shape.
The fitted sleeves covered her hands nearly to the knuckles, and the high neckline and soft smoky blue material would keep away the chilly fog lingering in the morning air.
Padmé struggled briefly to clasp the dress, but she was not about to let an article of clothing defeat her.
Fully clothed, she slipped on a pair of brown house shoes and studied her reflection in a large, full-length mirror. Her belly protruded just slightly – enough to be noticed – and Padmé stared in amazement at the curve. She had spent months concealing such a major part of her life; she had not noticed how…large she had become - and she still had seven weeks to go.
I look like a shaak.

A snort of laughter followed that musing, and she turned her attention to her unruly curls. Locating a sculpted silver clip from her vanity, she pulled the dark brown locks away from her face and secured them at the crown of her head. Smiling brightly, Padmé posed before the mirror and addressed her belly. "Well, how do I look?" One of the twins kicked in reply, and Padmé imagined that it was her son. "Thank you," she said quietly, patting her tummy.
There was a small noise outside, a barely audible click. "Ani?" she called eagerly.
But there was only silence. Peering around the corner playfully, Padmé was confronted with an empty room. Shrugging, she finished folding her rumpled outfit and replacing it in a drawer, and then set about making the bed.
She found Anakin's utility belt stashed under the bed, so she set it in its customary spot on the small table nearby.
Then she noticed that his lightsaber was missing.

She checked under the bed again, and the table, thinking that perhaps she had moved it without noticing – but the silver cylinder was nowhere to be found. She braced a palm on the small of her back as she stood, her mind racing frantically as she fought to remain calm.
Any stress could send her into premature labor.
Calm down and think, Padmé, she ordered herself, and made her way to the window.
The shades rose as she neared, and Padmé gazed out at the shimmering structures slowly emerging from the fog.
There had been a moment earlier; a handful of seconds, when Anakin had stiffened with tension and held her so tightly it had almost hurt.
Like he was afraid she would be torn away from him.
And he was taking far too long with their food.

Padmé Amidala was not a passive person. If you wanted answers, you had to take action. Her chin rose determinedly and she marched to the door, prepared to give her husband a piece of her mind. She grasped the knob…
The door wouldn't budge.
She tugged again; took it in both hands and pulled with all the strength that she could muster, but it was shut tight. Padmé's temper flared as she continued to twist the handle vainly. She knew that something was wrong and Anakin had sensed it –
and instead of being honest with her or telling her what was going on, he had locked her in. She growled in frustration and banged loudly on the door.
Anakin, you nerfherder! She yelled mentally, hoping he heard her and sensed her anger with him. She may be pregnant, but she was not helpless.
Padmé filled her lungs with air, ready to shout for him to open this door or so help her, she would –
A muffled voice issued from down the hall.
She couldn't make out the words but there was no mistaking the cultured tone, the proper Coruscanti accent.
Padmé's blood turned to ice water in her veins. She had to get out of this room. Anakin's life was in danger, and she could not let him and his best friend destroy each other. She started knocking incessantly, without regard for who might hear her.
Obi-Wan knew everything anyway.
"Anakin! Anakin Skywalker, you open this door right now!"

Obi-Wan was aware that Anakin was waiting for him in the other room, and knew that he could no longer delay in inevitable. He felt the darkness and the rage brewing inside his friend – a roiling cauldron of shadows punctuated with strange, brief flickers of light, as swift as shooting stars. He also felt the walls that kept it at bay.
Truly, his power had grown.
Obi-Wan immersed himself in the Force, letting it fill him up as one fills a jar with water, and strode into the spacious room, a picture of serenity. Anakin stood calmly in the center of the spherical area, hands clasped behind his back and clad in dark pants, boots, and a thin nightrobe.
"Awake at last, I see," Obi-Wan said mildly.
Anakin's blood boiled over the remark, but he kept his expression bland – although his hands flexed around the hilt of his lightsaber. "I didn't know we were expecting a visitor," his tone was laced with sarcasm, "or I would have tidied up."
A dull pounding echoed down the far hall, and Anakin was blasted with Padmé's furious cry, Anakin, you nerfherder!
He winced inwardly. She would not easily forgive him for this, but at least he could be certain that she and the twins were safe. He quickly cut off all thought of his family and glared at his old Master. "What are you doing here, Obi-Wan?" He uncoiled smoothly from his relaxed posture and paced sideways, placing himself between the Jedi Master and his wife.

Obi-Wan's blue-grey eyes filled with sorrow. "Why, Anakin?" he asked quietly, and Anakin felt a sharp pain jab his heart as the meaning behind the question awoke visions of bodies on the Temple floor, the stench of death and blood heavy in the air, and the guilt that threatened to bring him to his knees…
Anakin snarled, "Because I made a choice – the only choice I had."
Obi-Wan studied him in silence, focusing on the tattered remnants of their bond, and received a shock of fear so white-hot in its intensity that it scorched his nerves. His eyes widened.
"It was for Padmé," he said in realization.
Anakin blinked, startled, but his surprised expression rapidly clouded with wrath. "You will not take her from me!" he hissed.
Whatever had happened – and Obi-Wan was fairly certain he knew – had driven Anakin into a state of near-paranoid obsession over the woman he loved.
He heard distant thumping and wondered if Padmé understood just how much Anakin had sacrificed for her.
It was probably better that she didn't.

Obi-Wan asked sadly, "What did you see?"
"Dreams pass in time – isn't that what you told me?" Anakin bit out. But his terror over losing the one thing that gave his life meaning had returned tenfold and seeped into the Force like a slow poison, killing his ties to the rest of the galaxy.
"I know better than to dismiss your premonitions, Anakin, they have saved my life. What did you see?"
Anakin seriously considered ending it right then – igniting his lightsaber to cut the Jedi traitor down…but something, perhaps his lingering feeling of trust in this man who had effectively raised him,
made him pause.
"I saw her die," he choked out bitterly, "giving birth to our child." Obi-Wan's sympathy washed over him, and he found himself continuing bleakly, "She was screaming for me to help her, but I…
I couldn't move. And then I saw you."
Why was he telling this man, his enemy, any of this?
"You were there with her." The anger was growing, burning inside with increasing intensity, filling his numbed being with heat and power. "Where I should have been. Telling her not to give up…" Anakin's handsome face twisted into a hate-filled sneer. "But you can't have her."
His countenance changed so abruptly, Obi-Wan barely resisted the urge to step back. Anakin had fully embraced the Sith teaching that your passions contained the greatest strength.
Fear was naturally one of the strongest, and the young Jedi had always carried that emotion in great store – but kept locked tight, deep in the caverns of his heart. Now that fear fueled the dark side
of the Force.
Obi-Wan was running out of time.

"You have allowed this dark lord to twist your mind, until now…" Obi-Wan stepped closer, murmuring quietly, "Until now you have become the very thing you swore to destroy."
Anakin's blue eyes flashed, and Obi-Wan thought he saw the familiar orbs burn yellow with crimson flecks, careening him backwards to memories of a duel nearly fourteen years ago that had cost him his Master and almost his life.
"Don't lecture me, Obi-Wan." Anakin stated angrily, "I see through the lies of the Jedi." He strode sideways, flanking the older Jedi, but his attention was fixed on the sprawling capital glinting in the pale dawn. Glancing contemptuously over a broad shoulder, he said, "I do not fear the dark side as you do." Showing Obi-Wan his back, Anakin spread his arms wide as if to encompass the universe, declaring, "I have brought peace, justice, freedom, and security to my new Empire!"
Our new Empire, he added the silent promise to his angel as she continued to shout at him to open the door. He felt her ire plainly, as one feels the flame of a candle even when deprived of sight – but he also sensed her worry for him. It touched him deeply, but Anakin refused to put Padmé and their twins in any unnecessary danger.
"Your new Empire?" Obi-Wan challenged incredulously.
Anakin slowly lowered his arms – a dark outline amid the bleached terrain. "Don't make me kill you."
Obi-Wan's disbelief and troubled resignation swirled through the Force as he said forcefully, "Anakin, my loyalty has always been to the Republic – to democracy!"

An icy breeze tossed Anakin's hair and billowed the hem of his robe as the world seemed to hold its breath. Anakin berated himself for thinking that there was any chance that his old friend would understand. He had been disillusioned by the Jedi Order from the moment he was given into their care as an infant – he could never understand what Anakin felt for Padmé, or the need to save someone you love from a terrible fate.
Even when it required the sacrifice of your entire existence.
Jedi have no attachments.
That was why they were weak.
Anakin had forfeited everything he believed in, everything he had fought and bled and seen friends die for…for the sake of three people. His family.
Obi-Wan's sanctimonious point of view and the maddening Jedi Code he clung to had removed his old Master from that equation. Obi-Wan was a Jedi.
A traitor to the Empire.
A threat to Anakin's family.
But he had to offer him one last opportunity to stand with him – he owed him that much. Anakin replied firmly, "If you're not with me…then you're my enemy."

Obi-Wan felt the shock like a dull knife to his already flayed spirit. The culmination of everything that had transpired since the clones had turned on him in the sinkholes of Utapau began to pull at him like quicksand. He fought to remain upright with every bit of determination he possessed in his being – but his heart wept in anguish.
His Padawan, his friend, his brother…was lost forever. He had failed.
The Jedi Master had no choice.
Forgive me, his soul whispered, but he was unsure to whom he was apologizing. Perhaps to his own shattered heart. He gave his answer steadily, but he could not hide the sadness in his voice as he said, "Only a Sith deals in absolutes."
Sorrowful slate-colored eyes focused on the shell of his fallen friend – the brother of his heart – Obi-Wan thumbed the activator stud on his lightsaber. The blue bar of light sprang to life in his hand as he shifted into the Soresu combat stance. Anakin seemed unaffected by the threat of an armed opponent at his exposed back. The young man poured arrogance and barely suppressed rage into the Force – but the fear was still there, driving him like a beastmaster controlling a Drexyl.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, breathing in the light as he struggled, in an eternal moment, to release his attachment to the man before him. If he struck at him now, with the threads of his life so intricately woven with Anakin's… It would be far less painful to thrust his own lightsaber into his chest.
But the bond was too strong – knotted together by years of companionship and forged like tempered steel through every conflict the war had thrown at them.
Obi-Wan could not cut himself loose.
Only death would sever the link.
His eyes opened.
"I will do what I must."