Ataraxia: noun: tranquility; the absence of anxiety
There is no emotion, there is the Force.
At first he struggled as the tendrils of the Force sunk into his mind, but even as he fought, it called to him, promising serenity with its siren song.
My child, it murmured, rest, my child. You have fought long and hard. Return to me, and you will find peace. He tried to ignore it, tried resist it, but it wore away at his anger and his fear. He couldn't remember why he was fighting, but he knew it was important. So he pushed away the Force with all his strength, trying to hold on to his own identity, but every attempt he made to oppose it only made it stronger. Slowly the Force began to overwhelm him, wiping away thoughts and emotions alike. He was weary and tired of fighting - both this fight and all the others that had followed him throughout his life, and the Force offered him rest from all of it. He gave in to the overwhelming tide. He allowed it to rush through his mind, consuming his thoughts, memory, and fear; it left nothing but calmness and peace behind.
Faces of the people he loved swam in his vision and grew hazy as his memories faded away. He couldn't have cared less. What did the past matter? What were mere individuals in the face of the all-encompassing serenity that he felt? He had known the Force all his life, and he had thought he'd touched its power. But everything he'd ever known of the Force was less than a drop in its vast ocean. Now, he could see the power within planets, beyond the very mechanisms of life itself. The mysteries of the universe and of life itself - everything was crystal clear to him in a way that went beyond sight, beyond any senses, and beyond thought itself. He was a part of it; he was one with the Force. His name and even sense of self was completely erased, and it was pure bliss.
Sights entered his eyes and sounds entered his ears, but his mind discarded them. His body moved and spoke, controlled by an external force, but he was entirely unaware of it. He felt no pain, no hunger, no thirst. The infinite Force was all he was aware of. Time was meaningless here – he could neither remember the past nor conceptualize a future, and he wouldn't have wanted to even if he could.
Abruptly, the Force shook. Slowly, he became aware of two presences, distinct and separate from the Force. This puzzled him. He knew nothing but the Force and yet, here they were.
Master? One of them said. The word was an arrow piercing through his mind. What was this? This was not the Force. Please, please come back! We need you, Master. Communication, words, – this was something he had forgotten.
What? The single word was all that he could manage. Defined thought felt strange and uncomfortable for his mind. He tried to pull away from the two presences that were interrupting his perfect serenity. They, however, seemed to take his response as encouragement.
It's us, Master! Ahsoka, and Master Kenobi. If the original words had been an arrow, these were a wildfire that burned through him.
Ahsoka? What did that mean? Kenobi? Why did-?
Obi-Wan.
The name snapped into focus. With it came other memories, agonizingly sharp and clear as they seared through his consciousness. Burning sand on his bare feet and the heat of twin suns on the back of his neck. Cool metal against his hands and engine fumes burning his lungs, then cheers, screams, and the rumble of machinery digging into his ears as his pod pulled across the finish line. His mother's voice, telling him to go and not look back. The burn of a training lightsaber against his arm, the ache of weary muscles after a long day's training. The cool air of Coruscant . The feel of his lips against Padme's and the scent of her perfume. The stink of burned flesh and his mother's limp body in his arms. The pain as he lost his arm. The shock at being given an apprentice. The loss, the unbearable loss, of a war that dragged on and on and on...
No, he begged, pleading for the memories to stop. The pain of just being – of thinking, of feeling, of existing – was too overwhelming without a lifetime of pain being added on top of it. He was falling out of the Force, out of the perfect calm that had taken away his fear and his pain. Desperately, he clung to the Force around him, pleading with it to take him back. But it was sliding from his grasp; the two presences – Obi-Wan and Ahsoka - were dragging him away from the Force and away from everything he wanted. The separation from the Force was agony; each thought, each emotion, each remnant of a memory was a burning spike slammed into his mind
"Please, no," he groaned. This time the words came from his mouth as he was slammed back into his body. After the freedom of existing as pure consciousness, he was aware of every nerve ending and every cell in his body. That awareness was agony, a thousand times more painful that what he could stand. Words tumbled from his lips, broken mutters and pleas, incoherent begging for the Force to come back, to not abandon him. It didn't come back, and the pain didn't stop.
Anakin Skywalker broke down and cried.
