There is darkness when Vader comes fully to his senses. That familiar smell wraps around him like a blanket. He feels…better. Better than he has in years. Certainly better than one should feel after having been impaled.
An attempt to move reminds him of the rebreather that has been placed over his face. It is just barely enough to fill his lungs, but it is better than nothing.
There are stars above him, and bandages around his waist, but he is alone. Someone or something has nursed him. But who? The acolytes have gone, and Sidious would never be so caring as to even send one of his minions to his aid.
The planet is all but devoid of sentient life. He feels only a single Force signature far beyond the realm of the clearing. With a twist of anger, he realizes that they have seen his face. They have seen him vulnerable. Whoever they are, they will have to die. If he does not do so himself, then they will suffer an even worse death at the hands of Sidious' assassins. The Dark swirls around him as he draws on his hate and commands its power to aid him to rise.
He seizes the saber that remains around his belt and stalks toward the unsuspecting soul whose only mistake has been giving him compassion.
It's a pity. Whoever they are, they should have left him to die.
Obi-Wan drops the firewood he is carrying as he feels the Force ripple with Anakin's stirring consciousness. He is like an earthquake in the Force, while Obi-Wan is nothing but a gentle breeze.
So he is awake at last.
The Dark swells, its tendrils reaching for its prodigal son.
His heart sinks.
So it is to be a confrontation. He had had such hopes. But, alas, he is an old fool. He should never have expected anything else to come of his misguided attachment to the memory of a boy long gone.
Perhaps there is still a chance...perhaps he has one last hope… If he can only bring the Sith to remember the part of himself that had only a few hours before begged forgiveness, there may yet be a chance—
His stride grinds to a halt as he hears a voice from beyond the clearing.
"I know what you want. And I will not fight you, Anakin," it whispers. That voice. That presence. He has not felt it since…
Memories of a split mask, of gurgling breaths, of roaring with anger. Of fire. Of pain. Of leaving him to die!
"Kenobi," he rasps with all the venom his raw voice can carry. His weak eyes dart around him, hunting for movement, for the source of the sound, but he sees nothing but trees and shadows.
Then it comes, again. Still calm. But from a different direction.
"We both know you do not truly want to kill me."
The voice echoes around him, making it impossible to determine from where it comes. With a roar, he swings his blade at the nearest boulder, splitting it in half in a shower of sparks and molten rock.
"In your delirium, you begged for my forgiveness. I grant it to you now. I forgive you, Anakin."
The rage of the Dark swells inside of him.
"Stop calling me that!"
"It is your name. The name to whom I grant absolution."
How dare the Jedi mock him…!
"TRAITOR!" He screams. His throbbing belly aches with the force that the use of his natural voice places on his diaphragm.
"You know I am not."
The Jedi is taunting him, but Obi-Wan's vague presence is retreating, and with a growl, he stalks after him. The Darkside sings with anticipation. It is time for Obi-Wan to pay.
He leads his pursuer into the high boulders. Easy enough for an agile man to traverse and hide between, less so for a limbless cyborg.
Ben hears the labored breathing following behind him, hears the Huttese curses that drop from Vader's ruined voice. There is no strategy here. This is blind pursuit, like a hound set upon a hare.
He feels Vader in the Force, he is so loud its almost painful. He feels the pain flowing through the old bond. Not only the pain of the Dark but of a feverish sickness from his wounds. Perhaps the old Jedi yet has a chance. If he can wait out the Sith's fading strength and remind him...remind him of the human need evident in his delirium...!
Obi-Wan is jeering him. He knows it, yet, he does not care. He butchered him! Abandoned him! Left him behind to die a horrid death. How dare he?! How dare—?!
It was so hard to breathe like this. Barely enough air whooshing into his charred lungs. The laborious climb among the rocks is meant to tire him, and it has done its job all too well.
He feels too hot, even beyond the normal burning sensation caused by the tearing of the ill-fitted suit on his acrid skin. The wound in his middle is pumping, belching, an intermingling of blood and other fluids from his damaged cybernetics.
He stumbles on a cache of gravel, the earth slipping out from beneath him as he falls and lands painfully over a rocky outcropping.
Blood smears over the white stone as he lays there gasping for breath. He is stronger than this. He is unstoppable! He has taken on armies in worse condition! And yet…and yet…he cannot will himself forward.
Instead, he lays there wheezing, aching. Obi-Wan will not kill him. Thrice now, he has proved his unwillingness to end the suffering he had inflicted upon a man he had claimed to love. In the quiet of his heart, he knows he had once loved Obi-Wan, too, seeing in him the father he'd never had. That was why the betrayal had hurt so much.
Perhaps Kenobi will run. Maybe it is better that way.
In a weak effort to rise, he raises himself on his elbows, only to have spots fill his vision.
He rages when a humanoid shape steps forward to join them.
Obi-Wan's heart bleeds as he watches Vader languish where he has collapsed across the white boulder. The Sith Lord makes no effort to rise, and Obi-Wan knows from the agony flowing through their bond that he has no intention of doing so.
He could leave him like this. Flee to his ship and forget all about what he had seen. But Obi-Wan knows the Force would not have brought him here without a reason. It is time for him to stop running. To stop abandoning his charge to suffer this gruesome fate.
As Obi-Wan makes his way down the rocks and toward his fallen adversary, the sky is pinkening with the first rays of sunlight, the gloom of night fleeing before the day.
With tentative steps, he makes his way toward the wheezing black shape, which seems now to be trying feebly to sit up. Even this simple task seems to pose an insurmountable challenge.
As the metal arms collapse beneath Vader's bulk, Obi-Wan instinctively reaches forward to catch him. Despite his good intentions, the Force rings with warning, and Obi-Wan dodges as a red blade slashes through the place where he had been standing mere nanoseconds before.
It passes and sizzles through the sleeve of his robe, but leaves the rest of him unscathed.
On instinct, he lashes out with his saber. His hate gives him just enough energy to make a poor lunge for his former master. He does not need Obi-Wan's assistance!
How dare he pity him! How dare he—!
The thought breaks off as he is seized by a coughing fit, the spasms aggravating his bleeding stomach. He clings to the handle of his blade, even as he disengages the plasma, and slumps painfully onto the stone beneath him.
"Anakin…"
There, again, is that deceptively soft, taunting voice.
"I…am not…Anakin…" he labors.
"You are." The voice insists. "And you'll die if you will not allow me to help you."
The rebreather wheezes for several cycles as he lays there, the fight driven from him by the lure of release.
"I do not…wish to live..." He coughs harder, but the words fall from his tongue as the truth bubbles to the surface.
"Why, Obi-Wan…why did you leave me…like this?" He means it to be an accusation, but it comes out as a strangled sob.
He cannot see well enough to know, but through his blurred vision, he thinks he sees something glistening on his former master's face. Nonetheless, as he reflexively gulps for air, he dismisses it as a trick of the light.
Why did he leave his Padawan like this? Why hadn't he had the courage to kill him?
The answer is simple, yet shameful: it was because of love. He had loved Anakin Skywalker. And, even now, he still, in his own way, loves Darth Vader. It is attachment, plain and simple. And he could not bring himself to deal the killing blow.
Not then. Not again. Not now.
"Because I loved you too much." The words sound trite even as he speaks them. But they are true. The wetness filling his vision attests to that fact.
His only answer is the sound of that wheezing rebreather. Too little oxygen for too little lung capacity. Vader could expire here if he does not act. Even so, perhaps that would be the greatest mercy he could grant his old apprentice: one final calm and peaceful release.
They could watch the sunrise. And if Anakin would permit it, perhaps he could then die in the arms of the last person who had loved him. It would take so little, one plunge of his saber through the cyborg's heart. He would feel no pain. Only a little pressure and then the fading cold of nothingness.
But then he remembers two children who are far, far away and unaware of their sire's existence. Children who will one day wonder what had become of their father. Obi-Wan's heart clenches to think that he might have to tell them how he had killed him; even in defense and mercy, the words would be like poison on his tongue.
"Please, Anakin, let me help you…"
He would snort with derision, if he were able. How can Obi-Wan still claim to love him…?! The old man is stubborn. He'll give him that. Can he not see the odiousness of his existence? The agony of his "life," such as one might call it?
He hasn't the oxygen to form such a retort.
But even so, he remembers the warm glow that pervaded his fever dreams. He thinks of the gentle hand on his face and the sustenance held tenderly to his lips. The Sith Hells curse him, but he yearns for it, false kindness or not. Would that he could die in that hazy glow of pretended affection. And even if he is not so lucky as to die, perhaps he can kill Kenobi on another day; after all, he cannot be the one to kill him if he is not around to do it.
Before his mind quite registers its decision, he finds his head nodding weakly in surrender.
Before he loses consciousness, the last thing he feels are Obi-Wan's hands slipping under his chest to catch him.
He drags Vader back to camp and re-dresses his wounds. Tying fresh bandages around the ones Anakin has bled through in the course of his undue exertion.
The rebreather is adequate at rest, but he will have to find something else to sustain him if Anakin is ever to stand and walk. Even so, that is a problem for a different day, and, for now, at least, it works in his favor.
In exhaustion, Obi-Wan lays down to sleep beside him, uncaring whether the Sith should wake and murder him. He trusts only in the Force and the strange twist of fate that has brought him thus far. He can only pray that it will make his path clear.
It feels so familiar to rest beside his Padawan. Comfortable in ways it should not be...
And with that thought, Obi-Wan Kenobi knows no more.
Author's Note: Please review. Guest reviews do not require registration! Thank you for reading! I have a full story plotted out and loosely pre-written so please stay tuned. I do change things based on reader input.