Chapter 2 – Shattering

Author's Note: In which Anakin continues falling apart, and the Festival of Light begins. :')

WARNING: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts/feelings, blood, and general darkness!

~ Amina Gila

He didn't really sleep much in the end. It was more like slipping in and out of a doze, and it's not until late morning that he finally gets out of bed and mechanically eats with Ahsoka, because he knows that she needs food, even if he doesn't. It feels like duracrete inside of him, and he tries to ignore the sensation. And then, Yoda calls, asking him to come speak with him. Anakin doesn't want to, but he does anyways.

"You summoned me, Master?" Anakin queries, bowing his head slightly in respect which he thinks is more feigned than not right now.

Yoda looks at him for a long moment, ears drooping. "Much at stake there is, but wrong to deceive you it was," he declares.

Anakin frowns in confusion. "Master...?"

"Alive Obi-Wan still is," Yoda states, "Gone undercover to protect the Chancellor he has."

For a second, Anakin thinks that he heard wrong. "What?" he whispers faintly. Of everything which he could have expected, this was certainly not it. How could – that doesn't make any sense. He saw Obi-Wan fall. He felt his Force signature dim and vanish. He didn't imagine that. Their bond is empty – a gaping hole in his mind which can never be filled. "That's – I don't..." He trails off, shaking his head.

Yoda is scrutinizing him with something infinitely sad in his gaze. "Mishear you did not," he tells Anakin with more gentleness than he ever could have expected.

"Why are you telling me this now?" he finally blurts out, deciding to deal with the bombshell of Obi-Wan being alive later. He doesn't know how he's supposed to respond to that. He ought to be glad, thrilled even, because it means that he no longer needs to mourn. Except he still is. To his heart, Obi-Wan died, and even if he's somehow miraculously still alive... it won't change the fact that he's grieving. If anything, it'll make it worse, because it means that all this was for nothing. It might not have been real to the Council, but it was real to him and Ahsoka.

"Time to accept the truth you need if help protect the Chancellor on Naboo you will," answers the Grandmaster.

"What if he needs our help?" Anakin demands, crossing his arms. He can feel anger creeping up on him, but he holds it at bay.

Yoda hums almost thoughtfully. "If you leave, help him you could," he concedes, "But his future, uncertain is. Trust in Obi-Wan we must."

Anakin nods silently, keeping his jaw clenched to prevent himself from launching into an all-out rant at Yoda, before leaving and heading back to his own apartment. At the last second, he goes to Obi-Wan's instead, keying in the code and entering with trepidation. He can feel the familiar – so familiar – Force signature of Obi-Wan clinging to the walls, and it brings tears to his eyes. He thought he had lost him. He thought that everything was over... except it's not. But it will never be the same; he knows that as intimately as he knows that his trust in the Jedi has been broken.

Why? Why did they do this to him? To Ahsoka? What did they do to deserve it? Anakin struggles to think of something which he might have done to make the Council and Obi-Wan decide that keeping him out of the loop was best, but he can think of nothing. Maybe it's something he didn't to. Maybe this is their form of punishing him for not being a good enough Jedi, for having attachments, for struggling to let go, for loving.

He stumbles forwards into the living room before his legs give out and he collapses in the middle of the floor. Everything here feels like home, but it also hurts, grating on his senses until they're overwhelmed with sensations. Losing the fight of control, Anakin screams, though quietly enough that that sound won't be heard beyond the sound-proofed walls of the apartment. With so many people in the Temple, the apartments are protected to maintain privacy and induce peace and quiet.

"Why?" he yells at the walls, despair swamping him. "Why did you do this to me?" There's no answer, of course, and he finally breaks down into sobs. He doesn't understand. This – this is a pain more acute than anything he's ever known because it finally sinks in that Obi-Wan had betrayed him, that he chose the Council over him. He should have expected it. Obi-Wan was always a good Jedi, unlike him.

The wave of grief ends not long after it hits, leaving Anakin spiraling down into a pit of emptiness. He finally forces himself to his feet and robotically wipes away all traces of his breakdown before going back to his apartment where Ahsoka is probably still waiting. "What happened?" she asks anxiously, and Anakin wonders how much of his emotional outburst she felt, despite the shielding.

"Obi-Wan's alive," he blurts out, fists clenching as he struggles to maintain his composure. Just saying the words makes it more real. "He's undercover as Hardeen to uncover the plot."

Ahsoka's face pales, and she drops onto the couch. "Oh," she says in a soft voice, barely above a whisper. She looks as shaken as Anakin feels, blue eyes filled with hurt. It makes Anakin want to murder someone. She shouldn't have to look like this.

"I'm..." Anakin stops talking and shakes his head, stumbling to his bedroom before he does something he'll regret.

He's drowning, and he doesn't have an anchor to pull him back to safety. With the door securely closed behind him, he doesn't even hesitate before yanking up the sleeve on his robe and picking up the rough piece of durasteel from the corner. He presses down against his skin – not even wincing when it slices though – dragging a long, bloody gash across his forearm. Blood wells up, spilling down his arm, but it's as if he doesn't even feel it. The pain registers somewhere in the back of his brain, stinging with a vengeance. It's not enough.

He runs the metal across his arm again and again, breath coming in harsh gasps. He pretends he can't feel the waves of hurt echoing through his bond with Ahsoka as she cries in the next room. If he can't even help himself, he can't help her either. He wishes he could; he's her master. Instead, he's here in his bedroom, hurting himself, because he doesn't know how to stop the pain. It's pathetic is what it is. He should be better than this.

Anakin stops cutting through his own skin when the metal becomes slick with his own blood. He's kneeling on the floor, and he can't even remember how he got there. His leather glove is bloodied, and he silently takes in the damage. The six gashes are fairly shallow, but they're bleeding badly. Blood is running down his arm, dripping from his fingers onto the floor. He's so glad there isn't a rug in this part of the room. All the evidence is easy enough to dispose of.

Careful not to make any noise, Anakin slips from his bedroom into the 'fresher and turns on the hot water, washing the injuries. The temperature is nearly scalding, but that's good. Finally, his mind is clearer, and he can actually think straight, the physical pain dwarfing whatever he might feel emotionally. After stopping the bleeding, Anakin pulls his sleeve back down, not bothering to cover the injuries with bacta. There's no point. If today is any indication, this... thing, whatever it is, will probably only be getting worse.

**w**

It's nearly a week later – a week of sleepless nights and restless days when Anakin tries to distract himself before inevitably giving in to the need to hurt himself – before he and Ahsoka are called to attend a briefing before going to help protect the Chancellor during the Festival of Light. Anakin can see the weariness in Ahsoka's posture as they enter the room together, though they took the time to make themselves look presentable. He knows that his recent distance has made it even harder for Ahsoka, but he can't let her know how badly he's falling apart.

Yoda was right. He was too old to be trained properly. Obi-Wan would never have resorted to hurting himself. He would have simply accepted Anakin's supposed death and moved on with the same calm he always seems to possess. It hurts. He doesn't want to be consigned to the pages of history, mourned and forgotten as if he didn't matter. Obi-Wan was – is – his world; he's his former master, the man who raised him. He's like a father to him. How could anyone expect him to simply... move on the way they always do?

"As you can see, we've mapped the Chancellor's route to and from the festival stage," Windu explains, pointing out the route on a holomap of Theed. "We know where he'll be at every moment from the time we land on Naboo."

"What security measures are in place?" Plo asks.

Windu pushes a button to change the holomap, a number of red dots appearing. "The Naboo Royal Guard will have armed sentries at all entry points on the palace, and the stage itself will be sealed off by a ray shield for the duration of the event," he informs them, motioning.

Anakin crosses his arms, casually pressing the multitude of wounds on his left arm firmly against his right one. The pain gives him a jolt of clarity, allowing him to focus more effectively on the current situation. He doesn't want to become distracted and miss any important information, thereby putting the Chancellor in unnecessary danger. "I see nothing here to worry about," he admits after a momentary pause. He forces himself to appear totally absorbed, even though the pain in his shattered heart isn't allowing him any rest. He would give anything, do anything, if it meant that he could reverse time and undo this betrayal.

"With complacency, comes vulnerability," Yoda cautions, tapping his gimer stick on the floor for emphasis. "Yes, it is what we do not see, that concerns me. A long time to plan his attack, Dooku has. Yes."

Anakin knows that, he really does, but he doesn't feel any reason for them to be concerned. The Force wraps around him as it always does, though now, it's embrace seems far more comforting than smothering. Wouldn't it be nice if he could vanish into it entirely, giving up his conscious self, so nothing remains but the Force? Would it hurt? Can the Force hurt? If it can, he thinks it is right now. The currents flow around him far more gently than he could have imagined, almost as though it's offering him the only form of support it can. It hurts in a strange way that an energetic entity can be more caring than fellow sentients.

"We thought we'd have an advantage with Obi-Wan inside, but we haven't had any communication from him in days," Windu informs them.

Anakin nearly bristles at the seeming insinuation that Obi-Wan is somehow incapable of pulling off his part of the mission. He is clearly very competent seeing what happened the last few days. "Obi-Wan will do his part," Anakin snaps, stepping forwards and jabbing a finger in the air for emphasis. "Let's make sure we do ours."

He whirls, stalking from the room, anger nipping at him, cold and bitter. He can feel the blood spilling down his arm; the simple pressure was enough to tear them open again. Though he can feel the uncertainty – not concern; there's no way any of them could possibly be concerned about him except Ahsoka – he doesn't slow down or look back. If he's going to be fighting, he probably should patch up or Force heal the wounds on his arm. It wouldn't do for him to be bleeding everywhere.

**w**

Later the same day, Anakin finds himself landing the shuttle transporting the Chancellor and his retinue on Naboo. He and Windu flew them there, and he found that being is such close proximity to the Jedi Master made his skin crawl. He doesn't want to be around people right now, except maybe Ahsoka. Or Padme – he hasn't seen her since the funeral. His left forearm is sore, and his robes are irritating it. Good. Maybe it will keep him from getting stuck in a spiral loop. At least the cuts are mostly healed over.

He's moving on automatic as he descends from the boarding ramp, following Windu who is, in turn, following Palpatine and Mas Amedda. They're greeted by Padme, Bail, and the Nubian Queen. "Greetings your Majesty," Palpatine says, inclining his head towards the Queen. She does likewise. Anakin stands in the back, trying to keep his senses sharp and alert. None of his pain matters anymore. He has to focus.

"Welcome home, Chancellor," Padme greets with a warm smile. "I'm thankful to the Jedi for bringing you here safely."

"Yes, Senator, it is good to be back," he agrees. "Although I think the amount of security that has accompanied me is overkill." He gestures to Windu, something disapproving in his tone.

"With all due respect Chancellor, where your safety is concerned there is no such thing as overkill," argues Windu.

Palpatine glances at him with a slightly raised eyebrow. "So you keep insisting Master Jedi," he answers, before beginning to walk away in a clear dismissal, "But I've grown tired of discussing it."

Everyone walks away, except Padme, who lingers behind, looking between Anakin and Ahsoka. Just being in her presence takes the edge off of his pain. Everything else fades away as he slips into battle mode. There might not be an actual attack, but it's still a distinct possibility. He has to be ready for anything. "Anakin, Ahsoka, welcome to the festival," she declares with a pleasant smile. He can feel her relief at seeing him again.

He falls into step next to her, Ahsoka on his other side. The Togruta's curiosity is obvious, head swiveling as she looks around. "I've never seen the Festival of Light," she comments. "Sounds like a big event."

"They're expecting a large crowd, which means it will be difficult for Dooku to attack during the ceremony," Anakin explains to her. "That leaves the palace as the best opportunity for an ambush."

"Are you that certain an attack is imminent?" Padme questions, a hint of fear in her tone.

"I'm afraid so," Anakin concedes grimly, "Which is why I'm making Ahsoka your personal bodyguard." He'd discussed it with her on the way to Naboo. If something happens, he wants Padme and Ahsoka to be as far away from the epicenter as possible.

"At your service, M'Lady," Ahsoka chirps. Anakin is glad to see her acting a little more light-hearted. The past week was almost as on her as it was on him. As long as she'll be alright, he can deal with his own feelings.

"If there's trouble, Ahsoka will get you, the Queen, and the rest of your staff to safety," Anakin finishes. It's so easy and comforting to slip into the role of general. No thinking. No feeling. Simply hard facts, experience, and the Force. He almost envies droids, and their inability to experience emotions. What he wouldn't give for even a fraction of that endurance. He feels as if he'll shatter into a million pieces if someone so much as touches him too hard.

"What about you?" Padme queries.

A smile ghosts across his lips, but it feels foreign and mirthless. "Hopefully, I'll be where I always am," he answers, a bit loftily, trying to convey the nonchalance he would rather feel.

"He means saving the day," Ahsoka helpfully translates.

"Of course, he does," Padme murmurs wryly, but with unmistakable fondness. It makes his heart beat a tad faster to hear it, and the knowledge that he's not alone, that he has someone who does love him despite everything takes a burden off his shoulders. He can't tell her what he's doing; it's not something she needs to know, but when she's there, Anakin is confident that her presence alone will help him bury his inner demons.

**w**

For the rest of the day, Anakin remains on the move, checking and double-checking security simply because he can, and it gives him something to do. He remains almost entirely zoned out – operating on automatic, letting the Force direct his actions and words, while trying not to let anyone know his emotional and mental statuses – while the celebration begins. The Chancellor gives a speech, and then, fireworks are let off as everyone cheers. Anakin just feels numb. He could kill like this, a distant part of his mind notes, and he wouldn't even regret it.

Anakin. It's more a quiet nudge than an actual whisper, but it jolts him back to his own body, senses screaming of danger. Look. He's turning, just as he hears Windu's voice calling out to him. "Skywalker, the shield generator!" He's racing across the plaza towards a Parwan bounty hunter, who is reaching towards the generator through the ray shield, before his mind has even had a chance to register what's happening.

He doesn't get there in time. The bounty hunter presses a button, causing the generator to explode. He's hurled backwards by the force of the explosion, throwing up a Force shield to protect himself from the worst of the blast. Before the smoke has even begun to clear, Anakin is on his feet, leaping over the railing towards the Parwan. He swings his lightsaber, but the bounty hunter ducks each time, finally pulling out a couple blasters which he fires.

Anakin skillfully deflects each bolt, body humming with a slow burning anger. It's easier to deal with than pain, but at the same time, he doesn't know if he likes it. Spinning, Anakin slices the ends off the blasters. The Parwan lurches forwards, trying to hit Anakin with his tentacled limbs. Anakin is able to dodge a couple times, but finally, the limb connects with his shoulder, and electricity is jolting through his body. He hardly has the time to think that it's very effective at distracting him from his grief before he's collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

Slowly, reality filters back in, his body aching from the aftershocks. Anakin forces himself past the pain, pushing himself upright as Windu approaches, lightsaber ignited. "Those tentacles pack quite a punch," he mutters, though he's not really talking to the Jedi Master. Delving into the Force, he pulls on its currents, willing it to reduce the damage and pain as he rises.

"Come on," urges Windu, turning towards the plaza again.

The Force whispers of danger, and Anakin ignites his lightsaber, racing after Windu towards the Chancellor, whose being pushed into a speeder by a bounty hunter. Wrong, contends the Force, and Anakin pivots, scanning the area. That doesn't stop Windu from leaping onto the speeder and pointing his lightsaber at the bounty hunter. The Chancellor slowly gets out and walks towards Anakin. Wrong, the Force insists, and Anakin reaches out and sees.

With a flick of his hand, he Force shoves the bounty hunter in disguise away from him and races towards another speeder where one "security guard" has just lifted another inside. "Stop!" he yells, leaping towards it.

"So long, Jedi!" shouts Cad Bane, the hologram disguise disintegrating as the speeder flies away. Anakin barely manages to catch himself, landing on the edge of the platform and cursing silently. If only he'd been just a moment faster, looking with the Force instead of his eyes. He might have been able to stop him if he had been.

At that moment, Windu's comm crackles to life. "I'm going after the Chancellor," announces Hardeen's voice. Anakin tenses instantly, a swell of grief crashing into him, which he tries to shake off a moment later. It's stupid. Obi-Wan is alive. He's the one talking... and yet, his mind doesn't seem to have gotten the message.

"Copy that, Obi-Wan," Windu declares, seemingly oblivious to Anakin's conflict. Force, he hopes he is. He doesn't want anyone to know how he's feeling, how deeply this is tearing him into pieces. If they're punishing him for not being a proper Jedi – and really, what else could it be? – then he has to prove to them that he is good enough, that he can follow their rules, however stupid they may be.

"I'll send you the coordinates and hold Bane there as long as I can," Obi-Wan informs them.

Not even a two minutes later, Windu has gotten the coordinates, and Anakin takes a speeder, flying the two of them towards the location, another speeder with a group of clone security following. He's even tenser than he was earlier, dread coiling in his gut. He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to see Obi-Wan again, whether in a disguise or not. He – He needs to stop being ridiculous and start acting like the Jedi the Council wants him to be. It's a familiar routine, and it sickens him, because the last time he felt as if he was being crushed by superiors was – was when he was a slave on Tatooine.

Anakin truthfully doesn't think that the Council views him as their own personal slave to order around as they see fit... but somehow, that image is the one they're conveying. It grates on him, but he has to accept this. He should have known better than getting attached, right? How many times has Obi-Wan told him that he needs to learn how to let go of his attachments? Far too many, and maybe not enough.

Up ahead, he sees Har- Obi-Wan pointing a blaster at Bane who is lying on the ground. As Anakin brings the speeder to a halt, he leaps out, somersaulting through the air as he ignites his lightsaber, pointing it at Moralo Eval. "Please!" he begs, "Do not kill Moralo Eval!"

Anakin keeps his blade ignited until Eval lifts his arms in the air in surrender, and the clones come to take him into custody. "Take him and Bane into custody and make sure the Chancellor is returned safely to the palace," instructs Windu. "You did a good job, Obi-Wan."

Those words make something twist harshly inside Anakin. When was the last time that he was ever told that he did good? He can't even remember. Once in a long while – months or years even – from Obi-Wan, and almost never from anyone else. Why? He does his best, and sure, his methods are a bit unorthodox, but... Is that why? Because he's not a proper Jedi, cold and emotionless like the rest of them? He can't be like that even if he tries – though he can bury whatever emotions he does feel – because his emotions are too much an integral part of them. He can feel with every fiber in his being. No one else seems to understand that.

"Kenobi!" spits Bane, glaring. "I should have known! Something smelled wrong about you from the start." Anakin isn't surprised that he noticed. Bounty hunters, especially good ones, need keen senses if they are to survive and be successful.

"Yes, well, spending so much time with you was no reward either," Obi-Wan shoots back. His voice sounds wrong, but the familiarity of the words is like a knife to the heart.

"Reward!" Bane snarls. "I'll give you a reward, when I plug you full of laser bolts!" Not if I can help it, Anakin thinks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms. He catches the thought a moment later, flinching inwardly. See? He's not controlled enough. It's probably fine if no one notices though. He subtly clenches his mechanical fingers into his left arm, pressing in the places where it hurts worst. The shock of pain nearly leaves him breathless, and he relishes it.

"Such a pleasant fellow," Obi-Wan comments lightly. "I hope this was all worth it."

Anakin can't quite bury his bitterness that he's being completely overlooked and ignored. Again. It's not unusual per se, but it stings, nevertheless. He was the one who thought Obi-Wan was dead. He was the one who went to the funeral and grieved and fell apart. And Obi-Wan is acting as though his presence is of no concern. Worse, he seems to think that his actions were worth it. Were they? Possibly, if Anakin's mind and sanity are an acceptable cost.

"We saved the Chancellor," Windu assures him, putting a hand on Obi-Wan shoulder. "That's the important thing."

"I'm going to ensure they're secure," Anakin blurts out, dashing after the clones and vaulting into the speeder before anyone can stop him. He doesn't think he has it in him to talk to Obi-Wan yet. He'll do it in the morning, but only then. He needs... a moment to pull himself together, to prepare the mask that he's going to show the world. It'll be fine. It will be.

Final Notes: If you want to join our Discord to receive updates or just hang out, here's the invite link, and please delete the spaces! :) discord . gg / nqSxuz2

We also have a tumblr account (and delete the spaces): fanfictasia . tumblr . com

And! We have a YT channel for tributes! Please delete the spaces in the link. :D youtube channel / UC_g1M5rSCxJUzQCRS29B6pA

Finally, if you're interested, you can submit a SW gift fic request via the following form (delete the spaces): forms . gle / rmXWtRomMMaULuPa6