I know you're waiting for the trial, but I haven't managed to write the section in a way that I'm really satisfied with yet. Therefore, here is a somewhat shorter chapter which serves as a transition. And in the next chapter there will be the trial (this time for real :D)

Chapter 12

He couldn't do it. Even though there was this part inside him that was crying out to understand why Anakin had done what he had done, the irrational part prevailed, trapping him in a vortex of fear.

Ahsoka sat nestled up next to him, but her calming, grounding presence just wasn't enough.

The trial was in a few hours. And then he had to face Anakin. Involuntarily, he gasped for air in an attempt to loosen the knot in his throat that threatened to strangle him.

"Obi-Wan, you must try to breathe calmly," the Padawan spoke, suddenly sounding so adult that he had to wonder if perhaps he had missed more than he thought. Ahsoka had been officially declared innocent yesterday. All this time it had been Barriss. Ahsoka had accepted the information silently, but Obi-Wan had felt her inner turmoil, the anger, but also the incomprehension. He still couldn't understand why she was still sitting at his side. She was free. Nothing should keep her here anymore. What made her so sure he wouldn't betray her too?

If he could, he would run. And never look back.

Obi-Wan continued to struggle for air. His eyes were burning. Maybe he had forgotten to blink again. But it made no difference. The darkness would remain anyway.

Subconsciously he noticed that Padme had not come back as she had promised. Not that he could blame her. Who knows what had stopped her.

Seeing with the Force was everything but easy for him. In good moments he managed to make out individual silhouettes, but most of the time the Force was as helpful as his clouded pupils. It kept slipping away, and in the end, he felt drained of all the energy he had scraped together. Obi-Wan felt like a youngling. His own incompetence made the rage boil up inside him and there was nothing that could stop it.

"No one will force you, Obi-Wan," spoke Plo, whose presence he had almost forgotten, "Anakin only asked me to tell you."

"I know," he breathed in response, somehow feeling detached from his own body, "How much time do we have left?"

"Just under two hours," the Kel'Dor said after a moment's hesitation. No one had to say out loud that this sounded like a death sentence.

Shortly thereafter, a commlink began beeping. For a moment Obi-Wan thought it was his, but that was a foolish thought. There was hardly anyone who would still contact him.

Finally, Plo quieted the offending noise and left the apartment with brisk steps, but not before Obi-Wan could catch that one of the temple guards was on the line.

"Do you think...?" began Ahsoka, shifting uneasily beside him.

... it's starting already?

Obi-Wan forced his breathing back under control. "I don't know." There was so little time. And what little was left melted like sand between his fingers.

"Ahsoka, maybe you should..." he began, the words almost sticking to his chapped lips. The padawan interrupted him.

"No," she defended herself confidently, "I'm not leaving."

Obi-Wan slumped his shoulders and rubbed his hands over his aching temples. "I just want you to be aware that it will take time for any of us to be at large again. I don't want you to throw your future away."

"I will wait," came the quiet reply, "I don't care how long it takes."

Whatever argument was on the tip of his tongue, he didn't get to it when Plo entered the apartment again.

"Obi-Wan, there's someone here to see you," he said straight out. Something had stirred his friend inside, only what it was remained hidden from him until now.

"Who...?" he was about to ask, but he got his answer sooner than expected.

"Master Kenobi."

Swallowing hard, Obi-Wan sat up straighter. "Mrs. Skywalker."

What was she doing here? Obi-Wan did not know if he could withstand a mother's protective instinct. She had entrusted her child to him. And now look what he had done to Anakin. So much anger and hatred.

"Perhaps it would be better if you left us alone for a moment," he breathed, his voice raspy.

He could feel her emotions as if they were his own. There was anger above all. Obi-Wan would be angry at him, too, if he were her.

He felt Ahsoka hesitate beside him, but a little nudge with the Force that assured her she didn't have to worry about him finally made her leave his side.

Both waited in silence until the door closed behind the two Jedi. With his head bowed, Obi-Wan listened as Anakin's mother walked across the room and finally took a seat opposite him.

So far, she has remained silent. It unnerved him that he could not see her expression. But Obi-Wan could sense that something was bubbling inside Anakin's mother.

"Can you tell me why my son suddenly calls me after months, tries very unconvincingly to make me believe that everything is all right, and a few hours later I have to find out what happened between you?" Her tone was biting and it felt like a knife was cutting into his skin.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "I don't know exactly what you want me to say," he went on the defensive.

She gasped and got up from her seat again, pacing through the apartment. After a moment, she came to a stop in front of him. "I want to know what happened," she demanded angrily.

Clenching his jaw, he tried to remain calm. "Anakin attacked me, that's what happened."

"My son would never just do something like that."

Before he could stop himself, Obi-Wan finally raised his head and stood up himself, now standing face to face with her. "Oh really?" he asked with a hiss, giving her a good look at his disfigured face.

A gasp followed, an awkward step backward. Obi-Wan heard Shmi bump into the coffee table and start to fall. He stopped her halfway by catching her arm. Silently, he pulled her up, the anger in his chest subsiding again.

"I'm sorry," he rambled, letting go of her again and averting his face. Not knowing what to do with himself, he sat down again.

Obi-Wan crossed his hands behind his neck as he braced his arms on his legs to suppress the tremors that wrecked through his body. Or maybe he was doing it to hide his face from her. "I wish I knew...," he breathed, "I wish I knew what has gotten into him…"

Shmi still stood rooted to the spot, shocked. Her anger was gone, swallowed like a ship by the infinite blackness of space.

"My gosh...," she finally managed, kneeling down in front of him to lift his head. She then let a hand hover over his scarred temples. "I did not realize…"

He felt the heat of her skin. For a moment there was the desire to lean into that warmth he craved so much.

Obi-Wan grasped her hand and pulled it down, a sad smile on his lips. "Don't worry about me."

"Don't worry...," she repeated doubtingly, "I... my son has blinded you!"

Obi-Wan gently squeezed her hand, as if that could assure her that he would not fall into pieces in the next moments. He had no words to respond. So he let the silence speak for itself.

It was not long after that he heard her sobbing. How could he comfort her when he didn't know how to help himself?

"Anakin will need you..." he finally said, "When this is all over."

Shmi sniffed and tried to catch her breath. "And how will I ever be able to look at him again without having to remember what he did?"

And there they both stood at the same point. Obi-Wan had not wanted to deal with it until now. Or rather, hadn't been able to.

"I don't know if I can forgive him...," he finally tried, his tongue heavy as he spoke, "...but even I realize that I can't hate him. He is and will always be my brother, even though we may never have the relationship we once had."

He remembered the good times. When they laughed and joked together, had each other's backs. And the shatter points that had sent the whole framework reeling. The war. Hardeen. Ahsoka's trial.

When Shmi still said nothing, he continued. "He will need his mother, Shmi. Whatever caused him to do what he did, he needs to heal. And he can't do that here. And I've ignored that all these years."

Where other Jedi had felt comfortable and safe, Anakin had always felt irritated.

"And where will you be if he should ask for you?" she finally whispered.

He had only one answer to that, even if she wouldn't like it. "I don't know," he replied under his breath, "I, too, need time."

His skin ached and itched. Obi-Wan felt the need to scratch and not stop until there was nothing left of him. He withdrew his hand from hers and clenched his fingers.

"I see," she replied, "I... I have to think about it."

She'd have enough time to do so, Obi-Wan thought bitterly. Whatever came out of the trial today, Anakin and he would not walk out free.

"Of course," he pressed out, banishing his thoughts into the back of his mind.

She slowly withdrew her hand from his and with that the coldness immediately returned. "I should go," she breathed, standing up and taking a few steps back.

Obi-Wan nodded stiffly and stood up as well. "Don't let me stop you."

Once again they found themselves standing in front of each other, not really knowing what to do with the other.

With the knowledge that she was about to leave, fear returned as well. It seemed to be reflected on his face.

Unexpectedly he found himself in an embrace, feeling too overwhelmed to really return it properly.

Somehow he managed to wrap his arms around her body. And with that, the memories returned.

"I'm glad you came to visit us after all," his mother greeted him joyfully, hugging him before the door was even fully open.

Obi-Wan grinned and embraced her as well, giving his father, who was standing in the doorway, an amused look.

"Don't crush our son," the man joked, at which point his mother finally let go of him.

Snorting, Obi-Wan now also briefly stepped over to his father to greet him with a quick hug. "Glad to see you both, too."

"So you grew a beard, huh?" his father said, running a hand through his own, by now only gray, beard.

"Afraid I'll wear it better than you?" he asked back, raising an eyebrow.

"Doubtful," his father snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Boys, I hate to interrupt you, but the food is getting cold. We should go inside," his mother reminded them.

His parents already went into the kitchen, while Obi-Wan still lingered in the hallway, his eyes glued to one of the pictures. It must have been taken shortly before the Jedi came for him. He was to be seen together with his parents, perhaps two years old. Sitting on his father's lap, he grinned into the camera with big blue eyes, his red hair slightly tousled, holding a small wooden fox in his hands. To his left sat his mother, laughing, her blue eyes sparkling and a strand of blond hair falling into her face. And then, of course, there was his father. His mother was right when she said that he was the spitting image of him. Auburn hair, beard and, of course, the blue eyes.

"Obi-Wan, are you coming?" his father snapped him out of his thoughts.

Shaking his head, he tore his gaze away from the image, banishing the thought of what would have been if he had never left Stewjon.

He joined them in the kitchen, where freshly baked bread and a delicious smelling soup were already on the table.

"Looks good," he commented as he sat down.

"I hope it tastes like it smells," his mother chuckled, pushing a full plate over to him, "Now I'm curious, how are you and your student doing? What was his name? Anakin?"

Obi-Wan nodded as he took a piece of the bread and bit into it. "We're getting along...I think. It's not exactly easy teaching someone. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever really ready for it."

Obi-Wan had initially considered taking Anakin with him, perhaps to get some distance from the Temple. But the boy seemed less than eager to do anything with his master lately. Now the opportunity had arisen for Anakin to participate in an excursion, and Obi-Wan hadn't had the heart to deny him the wish. So he had flown alone to Stewjon.

"You shouldn't underestimate yourself," his father said, "I'm sure you'll do a fine job."

Obi-Wan forced a clenched grin onto his face, then took another bite.

For a moment, he didn't want to think about his duties, he just wanted to enjoy a moment with his family. Even if one person was missing.

The memory shifted. He was still on Stewjon, just a few days later.

He was still on Stewjon, just a few days later. He was saying goodbye to his parents.

"Come back sometime," his mother said, giving him a hug, "And then be sure to bring Anakin."

"I will," he replied, even though the thought of his Padawan pained him.

Then it was his father's turn. "Remember, we're proud of you," he said, "And the door will always be open for you here if you need us."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan smiled softly, now letting go of his father as well.

The memory wavered again, this time it was him, back on Stewjon, a year later.

He stood in front of the slightly open front door, the key clasped in one shaky hand. In the other he held the picture of himself and his parents. Obi-Wan forced himself to take a deep breath and then pulled the door closed, locking it in one swift motion. The smell of burning wood still lingered in the air. He couldn't bring himself to look at the remains of the barn.

With heavy steps he moved away from the house, his fingers gripping the picture frame so tightly that he almost left gouges in the wood.

Feeling suddenly cold, Obi-Wan pulled away from Shmi. "You should go now," he murmured hollowly.

Anakin's mother seemed to hesitate for a moment. "You know, if you ever need someone... I'm here for you just as I am for Anakin."

"I appreciate that, thanks."

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Be safe, Obi-Wan."

Then she pulled it back and left the apartment.

He felt empty as he stared into nothingness. His skin still itched.

When the temple guards came to pick him up, he could barely muster a reaction. Even as the handcuffs locked around his wrists along with a feeble excuse that the guard had to follow protocol, he didn't care. As they strode through the halls of the temple, he was aware of Ahsoka and Plo hovering at his side. It made no difference; his head was trapped in vacuum.

When they reached the exit of the temple, heat prickled his face. The sun was shining. Obi-Wan lifted his head. His eyes burned.

Sometimes he had dreamed of fire and lava. Had woken up screaming when it felt like he was burning alive.

His eyes still burned as he averted his eyes and pulled the hood of his robe deep into his face.

Someone impatiently ushered him forward, past the glances of prying eyes and drones that would record every single step he took.

Obi-Wan hid his cuffed hands in the arms of his robe. As his fingers began to scratch the top of his hand and the blood began to stick to his fingertips and robe, he no longer noticed.

How do I get my muses to whisper to me a useful idea for the trial? Seriously, I'm not even sure from which perspective I want to write the chapter. Anakin, Obi-Wan? Maybe even Palpatine? Grrr, sometimes it's a mess trying to come up with an idea for a story, but maybe some of you can relate to this :D