Twenty-Six

His surroundings had shifted once again.

The labyrinth of caves that was Abeloth's lair had gradually retreated to reveal a dank, endless swamp cloaked in gossamer mist and murky shadows. It was yet another one of her illusions. She was dying and this was her way of delaying the inevitable. Anakin could feel the lifeforce slipping out of her.

She had concealed herself amid the hanging vines, dense fog, and fathomless bogs in the hope that Anakin would be dissuaded from pursuing her. That would entail chasing her deeper into the void and she knew he didn't want to be there anymore than she did. But what she didn't understand was that her prison had become his as well. He had severed his connection to the physical world so that Leia could regain hers. He couldn't return now. Pursuing Abeloth, finishing her was all he had left.

Locating her would not to be a difficult task. She was writhing in pain. Her agony curled back at him through the dense darkness as she attempted to burrow herself deeper into her prison. In truth, that was exactly what he wanted. The irony was not lost on Anakin. After everything that Abeloth had done to escape, the lives she had torn asunder to amass her power and regain her freedom, he was glad that the place she had been so determined to leave had now become her refuge. That fate was more appropriate than death.

It was the fear of the latter that prompted her to hide from him. She was beaten but not vanquished entirely. Once she regained her strength and recovered, if she did those things, she would come back at him again with all the Force might she could muster. Anakin was determined not to allow her the respite to regain that strength. Though he could easily save himself the energy and wait for the Force to decide her Fate, his time in the Maw would be better spent if he maintained a purpose and vanquishing Abeloth had become his sole purpose.

Show yourself to me, he urged her through the Force, I can end your suffering quickly.

Her hiss of fury rumbled across the Force. Who says I suffer, Chosen One?

You are dying. You will die.

You should hope that I do not die. Who do you imagine will replace me?

Anakin almost snorted to himself. Even when mortally wounded she was a consummate manipulator, smoothly double-tongued. He scoffed internally. Is that your roundabout way of prodding me into sparring your life?

You speak of the Force's will. I remain because the Force allows it.

She had a point, and it was one that Anakin was reluctant to concede. That was the true balance of the Force after all, that light and dark must always coexist and counteract one another. An eternal push and pull must continue between them for lifetimes to come. Abeloth's existence was the will of the Force just as much as his own. It was their individual choices that would ultimately decide how that balance shifted.

Destroying Abeloth would not eradicate the darkness because the dark had to exist, would always exist. And because it would, another would rise and inevitably step in to fill the void. It wasn't a question of if, but when and who. That was the part that remained fully hidden to Anakin, the part he couldn't see no matter how far he peered into the future. He could see very clearly that a dark figure would rise in Abeloth's wake, but their identity remained a mystery to him.

Anakin had his suspicions over who that figure might be, but he refused to let himself obsess over the possibilities. That would only lead to fulfilling the very thing he wanted to prevent. Abeloth was amoral and ruthless and had already driven a permanent wedge between him and his children, but at least he knew her tricks. A new threat, on the other hand, would be allowed to grow unnoticed and likely unchecked, much the way Abeloth had in the beginning. Better to contain the devil he knew than to unleash a devil he didn't.

He didn't necessarily want to spare Abeloth. He certainly didn't believe she was deserving of mercy. But he also knew that cutting her off would only result in more darkness flourishing, perhaps it might even bring to fruition the horrible visions of the future that Leia had seen. Abeloth, as manipulative and calculating as she was, hadn't fed Leia any illusions. Every vision she had shown his children had contained some element of truth, some grain of possibility. Whether that truth blossomed into stark reality largely depended on their individual action or inaction and whether or not they gave into fear.

For that reason, Anakin finally resolved not to destroy Abeloth after all. If it was the will of the Force that she would eventually transition into the Cosmic Force, then she would transition whether he intervened or not. But if he did intervene, and his actions somehow triggered the rise of something darker… Anakin wasn't sure he could live through that possibility again.

So, he would not kill her. If the Force allowed, he would serve as her eternal jailer instead. Anakin, however, would not be the one to decide her fate. Of course, she didn't have to know that. As long as she feared him, she wouldn't dare to leave her prison again. And, if she did, she would always have to contend with going through him first.

Anakin smiled inwardly in grim acceptance of her fate and his own and called out to her again across the Force as he navigated his way carefully through the ankle-deep marsh. Why don't you come out and face me? We can finish what we started.

Anakin didn't really expect her to respond to him that time and she didn't. She was licking her wounds, biding her time. Then again, her response wasn't needed. The point was that she remained where she was, that she never again attempted to leave the Maw.

He caught a flash of white amid the gloom just ahead of him. What began as a weak sliver of light gradually grew into a beacon and it beckoned Anakin closer. He transported himself fluidly across the marshy landscape, his hand situated securely on the hilt of the dagger in the event it might be another one of Abeloth's illusions. Even in her weakened state, Abeloth wouldn't hesitate to engage him if she felt threatened and he wanted to be ready. But the figure that emerged from behind the gnarled tree in front of him was not Abeloth, but the wide-eyed, fresh-faced, eight-year-old version of himself. The vision was so unexpected that Anakin stumbled backwards with a stunned laugh.

"More of your tricks, Abeloth?" he scoffed derisively, "Really? Aren't we beyond that now?"

Yet again, she didn't answer. Instead, his answer came from the prepubescent vision of himself. Or rather, a question instead, the last one he would have expected to hear given the circumstances.

"Have you come to free the slaves?"

Anakin jerked a glance towards the boy. The biting accusation he had ready died on his lips when saw the swamp was now replaced with the barren terrain of Tatooine and he found himself standing outside of the small, dusty abode he had once shared with his mother. Eight-year-old Anakin stepped closer to him, his blue eyes shining with appeal, innocence, and hope.

"You are a Jedi, aren't you?" the boy asked, "That's why you've come? To free us?"

Staggered by the question, Anakin glanced down at himself and discovered that he was, indeed, dressed as a Jedi. The tunic, leggings and boots were very reminiscent of the dark clothing he used to wear after he had been knighted. Even the dagger of Mortis, which had been clipped at his belt, was now transformed into a replica of the lightsaber he had fashioned for himself shortly after he had become a general in the GAR. Anakin turned it over in his hands, overwhelmed with emotion to feel the weight of that long-lost weapon in his hand again. The last time he'd held it he had been trying to kill Obi-Wan. The memory made him shudder.

He finally looked back at his childlike visage and found the boy studying him expectantly. None of it was real. He knew that. This was yet another manipulation designed by Abeloth to throw him off balance. However, he didn't understand why she had chosen to present him with this nearly forgotten version of himself. What exactly was she seeking to gain?

Though it took some effort, Anakin finally managed to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth and speak. "I'm not here to free anyone," he said gruffly.

"Then why are you here?" child Anakin demanded.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm a slave! I have to be here!"

The response frustrated Anakin, not because it was such a clear evasion but because it was uttered with so much sincerity that he almost wanted to believe the vision was genuine. This was an intricate game, even by Abeloth's standards. He wanted to rail at her to get out of his head and show herself, but he held back because he suspected she wanted to see him unravel. That was the only reason she had chosen to flood him with these painful memories now. She wanted him to break and retreat. Instead, he stood there in silence and waited for the boy to disappear.

But the boy did not disappear. In fact, not only did he remain, but he grew impatient with Anakin. His small features scrunched into a disapproving frown. "I thought Jedi were supposed to help people," he muttered in disappointment.

"They are."

"Then you're not a very good one," young Anakin admonished, "Why won't you help us?"

Anakin could remember asking himself that same question again and again as a young child and it was that recollection that softened him. Even among the remote sand dunes of Tatooine, he had heard fantastic tales about the Jedi and their phenomenal command of the Force, how they acted on behalf of the vulnerable and the oppressed. He had spent most of his young life waiting for them to come to that abhorrent planet, certain beyond all understanding that one day they would come and free them all. That same conviction was reflected in the boy's eyes now as he stared up at Anakin. The remembrance of that undaunted hope made the boy difficult to dismiss.

But Anakin also remembered when he started to lose faith in that hope. Eventually the day had come when he stopped wishing for a protector. Instead, he vowed secretly in his heart to become that protector. He would provide salvation for himself and for others rather than wait for it. Anakin was surprised when the boy's expression suddenly hardened, and he expressed those very sentiments out loud.

"Forget it!" his younger version flared suddenly, "I don't need your help! One day I'm going to leave this place and I'm going to free the slaves. I'm going to free my mother. She will never be a slave again!"

Anakin scoffed, but not in disbelief. This boy was such a perfect reflection of the innocence he had once displayed, the boy he had been, the one whose existence he had almost believed had been conjured in his imagination, that he almost felt as if he had been transported back in time. It was both disorienting and humbling. And it made little sense to Anakin that Abeloth would want to remind him of that ideal little boy he had once been, but it was possible that the Force might.

He was still trying to make sense of it when the boy spoke again, jarring Anakin from his internal musings. "You don't believe me, do you?" he demanded righteously, obviously having mistaken Anakin's laughter for derision, "You don't think I can do it?"

"On the contrary, little one, I know you can do it," Anakin replied, stooping to the boy's level so that they were eye to eye, "and you will but you should never forget who you are."

"I know. My mom always tells me that."

"She's right. Your mother is very wise." He reached out to tap lightly on the boy's chest. "Stay true to your heart, young one. You must always do what you know is right."

"I will," the boy vowed solemnly.

As soon as he said the words, the boy transformed into a bright beam of light and, before Anakin could prepare himself, the light entered him in a blinding flash. But he did not feel panic or fear when it happened. Instead, his entire being was saturated with peace and understanding, as if he was being reconnected with a part of himself that he had severed long ago.

When it was over, the light faded away into the same filtered beacon that he had glimpsed earlier. Anakin staggered to his feet. "Well…that was really strange," he muttered to himself.

Just ahead of him, the light continued to pulse and flicker. It called out to him. Anakin was being led somewhere but he was beginning to understand that it wasn't Abeloth who was leading him.

He followed the beacon and, as he did, the deserts of Tatooine gradually transformed into the Jedi Temple courtyard. Anakin found himself drawn to the lush tree that had been planted there years before he had come to Coruscant, a preferred meditation spot for many Jedi, particularly Master Yoda. Anakin had lost track of the number of times he'd encountered the wise grandmaster beneath the shade of that tree. This time, however, it wasn't Master Yoda that he found huddled beneath its dipping foliage, but a version of himself as an adolescent padawan.

The boy was seated with his back against the gnarled trunk, his knees drawn tightly to his chest as he sobbed harshly into his folded arms. It was a familiar posture. That hadn't been too uncommon an occurrence for him in those early days at the Jedi Temple. He had spent those first few years perpetually miserable and homesick.

These tears were different, however. They weren't a mere reflection of sadness or loneliness but pure, uncontained grief instead. These tears were triggered by loss. Anakin could only remember a few significant events during his childhood that would have shaken him to such anguish…the first time he had taken a life being one of them.

His target had been a smuggler and a slaver, one who had inflicted harm on countless individuals across the galaxy. Anakin had felt a certain satisfaction, even enjoyment in driving his lightsaber through that odious sentient's abdomen. The shame had come later when he was face to face with Obi-Wan again and he clearly read the disappointment and mild disgust in his master's eyes. It was at that point that Anakin began to wonder if something might be wrong with him, if the reason he was being treated as a pariah among the Jedi wasn't some defect with them, but with himself. He had been thirteen years old at the time and it was the most isolated that he had felt in his entire life.

Anakin cautiously approached the weeping boy and crouched down beside him. He said nothing, but he knew his younger self sensed his presence because his harsh sobs gradually died down to quiet hiccups. Without lifting his head, he mumbled, "I'm not a good Jedi."

Though the words were muffled by his folded arms, Anakin was able to discern them distinctly. After all, it was a self-denouncement he had made in his own secret heart countless times over. He knew the shame well because it was his shame, shame that he carried still to this day.

He placed a consoling hand on the boy's shoulder and whispered, "You're right. You're not a good Jedi." Young Anakin lifted his head then and stared at him with blue eyes swirling with hurt and resentment. "But that's not necessarily a bad thing."

The resentment was swiftly replaced with surprise. "It's not?"

"You're not a bad person, Anakin."

"Tell that to Master Kenobi. I've disappointed him. Again."

"He doesn't think you're a bad person either."

"But maybe I am. I feel so unworthy. I have nothing here. I miss my mother. I want to go home."

"You have more here than you think." Wet blue eyes filled with skepticism and doubt cut his way. Anakin sighed. "Do you know what your real problem is?"

"That I'm too powerful and everyone here fears me because of it?"

Anakin couldn't bite back his answering laugh over that familiar show of arrogance. "Your problem is that you trust in yourself too much," he emphasized, "It is not your power at all. What you have was given to you, and it is an incredible gift. You must cherish it as such. Only when you finally recognize that truth, will you no longer feel unworthy."

"I don't understand."

"Your pride is what is holds you back."

"Why should I be humble when I have nothing to be humble about? I am the most powerful person here, and they all know it!"

"Better to be wise than to be powerful," Anakin advised him, "Only then will you achieve everything you are seeking."

"Do you promise me?"

"I promise you."

This time, when the childlike vision became a beacon of light Anakin was prepared for what came next. Once again peace and understanding pervaded him. He closed his eyes, savoring the complete contentment that blanketed over him. When he opened them again, he was presented with a teenage visage of himself.

He was still in the Temple courtyard, but this time he was at the center. A version of himself, no older than sixteen or seventeen, was diligently practicing his lightsaber forms while pretending to be unaware that he had an audience of more than half a dozen of his fellow padawans watching him. The males studied him with envy and curiosity. The females studied him with lurid interest. Teenaged Anakin, however, clearly didn't care about their interest.

"You might make a friend if you tried saying hello," Anakin suggested with some degree of amusement, "I think you have a few admirers."

"I don't want any friends," his teenaged version retorted haughtily, "Least of all those guys. They hate me because they want to be me."

Anakin cast a glance over his shoulder at the twittering girls before turning back to his younger self with his brow quirked in amusement. "Does that count for the women too?"

"I don't care about them either."

"Ahh…I see. Is that because you have your heart set on another?"

The younger Anakin deactivated his lightsaber and turned to regard Anakin fully for the first time since their conversation began. His manner and expression were suspicious and guarded. "I don't know what you mean. Attachment is forbidden."

"You're not fooling anyone. Obi-Wan is quite aware of your feelings for her, you know. Perhaps if you were honest with—,"

"—Don't you think I've tried to talk to him?" younger Anakin flared before he could finish, "He always follows it with some stupid lecture about how I should be mindful of my feelings! What does that even mean? He doesn't care what I really think!"

"Do you honestly believe that?"

"He never wanted me! I'm a burden to him."

"You don't have to be a burden."

Younger Anakin's glare became piercing and accusatory. "So, it's my fault that he's a terrible mentor?"

"You resent the fact that he expects perfection from you, but aren't you expecting the very same thing from him?" Anakin asked him softly. It was evident that the boy wanted to argue, but he also knew he had nothing to say that would justify himself, so he said nothing. Anakin took that as his opportunity to drive his point home. "Perhaps if you could see matters through his eyes for once," he suggested quietly, "then you wouldn't be so angry all the time."

After what seemed an indeterminable amount of time, the younger Anakin jerked a nod. "He's frightened, isn't he?"

"Yes. Just like you're frightened. You expect him to know all of the answers, but he is still learning too."

"I want him to be proud of me," the boy mumbled gruffly.

"He is. But if you want him to be patient with you, you must be patient with him as well. The Force is like a flowing current. You get back what you give, Anakin."

"I understand."

After the boy became light and entered into him just like the previous two, Anakin surveyed his rapidly shifting surroundings and whispered aloud to the Force, "Why is this happening? Where are you leading me?"

You will see, Anakin Skywalker, a voice that was familiar and yet not familiar at all seemed to whisper. You will see. The Force, perhaps? His own conscience? Anakin wasn't certain, but he trusted the guidance implicitly. It propelled him forward, and he moved effortlessly with the current.

He eventually found himself on the balcony of Padmé's senatorial apartment on Coruscant. The capital city was just beginning to awaken, and traffic was relatively slow due to the early hour. Just beyond the mechanized, transparisteel door, Anakin knew that she was sleeping soundly in her bed. If the Force had chosen to bring him to this moment, he suspected that she was likely not alone either. He could imagine her in his mind, her slender body curled against his own, her hands sweetly tucked beneath her cheek, her thick hair fanned around her face in curly disarray, her skin soft and warm. The recollection of cuddling with her so closely made him smile.

Dawn was breaking. The sun was just beginning to make its predictable stretch over the sleek spires of the Jedi Temple. Anakin knew what that meant and what would surely come next. He didn't have a long wait. A few seconds later, a version of his younger self, haphazardly dressed in his Jedi robes but boots still in hand, stepped out onto the balcony, and contemplated the Temple and the rising sun behind it with a mournful sigh. Anakin watched silently as that past version of himself reluctantly pulled on his boots.

"If it pains you so much, why do you keep saying goodbye to her?" Anakin asked him.

His younger self wasn't startled at the question. It was as if he had been expecting it all along. "There's a war. It would be selfish to leave the Order now."

"That has always been a convenient excuse. What is the true reason?"

The younger Anakin looked over at him then, his entire heart visible in his eyes. "What if there is nothing at all to keep us apart and she regrets our marriage? What if she realizes that she doesn't love me as much as I love her? What if I lose her?"

"And how much do you love her?"

"Beyond everything imaginable."

"Then if that is true, what do you have to fear? If her happiness is what matters, then that should be the thing that drives you even if her happiness results from being apart from you. Ask yourself, is your love truly about her…or is it about you?"

"You're saying that I'm selfish?"

"You know that you're selfish and possessive and jealous. And that is why you fear losing her so much. Because it is not about her and what she wants. It's always been about you."

"I want to spend my life with her! Why is that wrong?"

"It's not wrong. But true love is putting the needs of others before your own."

"Can I not have one thing for myself?" he cried.

"Is the privilege of loving her not enough?"

The past version of himself pondered that question for an indeterminable moment before he finally asked, "Can I change it?"

"You will. You have. But your tendency towards selfishness will always be there, so you must never forget. That is as much a path to the dark side as anger and hatred."

"I won't forget. Thank you."

After that latest version of himself had transformed and entered in a flash of white light, Anakin began to feel a thread of apprehension. Every vision he'd encountered thus far had been before his Fall. He suspected that the next confrontation he had wouldn't be nearly as self-affirming. He wasn't wrong either. When his environment shifted once more and Anakin found himself standing in Vader's private quarters onboard the Executor, he was not surprised.

Everything was as he remembered it. The room was minimalist in its décor, sterile, devoid of vibrancy. There was no warmth to the room at all, no personality to it whatsoever. He'd had no personality. Back then, he had been little more than the shell of a man, represented by Vader's armor. He had forgotten entirely what it meant to be human.

His existence had dwindled down to rage and hatred. The acquisition of power was all that had remained. Anakin thought of that existence and compared it with the life he'd lived after the time travel and marveled over how he hadn't recognized how truly pathetic his life had become back then.

There was a sudden whoosh of the door sliding open, followed by his heavy, booted steps and mechanized breathing. That rhythmic, cadenced inhale and whooshing exhale that he would never forget. Anakin slowly pivoted to face his greatest nemesis. He kept his expression inscrutable when he found himself face to face with the obsidian mask that he had been trying to forget for more than a decade.

"What? Have you no sage advice to offer me, Skywalker?" Vader mocked when he remained silent.

"Leave me. I already know where I failed with you. I don't need this lesson."

"You are as arrogant as you are foolish! It seems the Force has decided otherwise."

"You are the worst part of me. I purged you."

"The worst part?" Vader scoffed, "I am the reason you breathe at all, Skywalker!" Anakin snorted at the claim, but Vader persisted in the dogged way he persisted in everything. "You should have died on Mustafar! Who do you think sustained you?"

"Sidious sustained me! He turned me into a monstrosity to be his slave! You are his slave!"

"You are wrong! It was not the Emperor who kept you alive! It was me! My will! My strength! It was my fortitude that carried you and it continues to carry you to this day! I am you, Skywalker, just as you are me."

"No. That's not true!"

"Search your feelings. You know it be true," Vader taunted.

"I won't accept you! You destroyed my entire life!"

"No, Skywalker. I am part of you…as much as everything else. Only when you accept that fact will you achieve true balance."

It was a difficult truth for Anakin to accept because Vader was representative of everything that he despised about himself. He was repulsed by the idea that this dark specter that he had spent so many years repressing and avoiding could represent his strength and fortitude. But there was an element of undeniable truth there.

Vader was symbolic of the most reprehensible parts of his past, the parts that he would have gladly buried and left forgotten, but he also could not deny the veracity of what Vader had spoken. That indominable Sith lord had imbued him with the cold, unrelenting drive to follow through, to persevere, to march on no matter the adversity he faced…to conquer his fears and embrace them. He had known a resolve as Vader that he had never known in his entire life, likely because back then he'd had absolutely nothing to lose. Either way, he had been steadfast in his determination. He had simply been misguided the course he'd chosen for himself.

He looked back at Vader in unspoken albeit reluctant acceptance. The dark figure inclined his head knowingly. "Are you ready to be whole at last, Skywalker?"

"If it is the will of the Force, do I really have any other options?" Anakin asked him wryly.

"You do not."

Anakin expected that when Vader transformed that he would become tendrils of dark shadows and smoke, but he was stunned to see the vision become a burst of light just as all the previous incarnations had become. The beam melded into his body, filling him with the same peace and understanding that had characterized his previous experiences. He had finally achieved what he had spent decades and two timelines to achieve…balance. When the conversion to understanding was finally over, Anakin found himself standing back in the labyrinth of caves that had served as Abeloth's lair for centuries of time.

He tensed as the entrances of the surrounding caves began to pulse with light, expecting that Abeloth might leap out to attack him at any moment. But the figure that emerged from the mouth of the nearest cavern wasn't Abeloth at all but a young human woman whom he didn't recognize at all. She was tall and slender and clothed in the traditional, ceremonial robes of a Jedi Master. There was something about her mischievous blue eyes that was inherently familiar though he had never laid eyes on her in his life. He felt drawn to her, but the sudden conjuring of an unknown girl seemed incongruent with the spiritual journey he had just embarked upon. However, he knew if she had made an appearance then it was certainly for a reason.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Her smile stretched into a full grin that, incredibly, reminded him of his own mother. "I'm Lemé Skywalker, and I'm here to rescue you."