Set during the Clone Wars, but not anywhere specifically. The only historical event referenced here is the Separatist infiltration of Corellia that happened at some point during the war, in which the Separatists built a droid factory in the hopes of invading the planet from both land and air. The attack never came, and the factory was never actually activated. Garm Bel-Iblis was indeed the senator during this time, but there's no info as to whether any Jedi visited the world, much less Anakin and Obi-Wan.

There are no such things as Corellian Bluebells, but I'd like to think they're out there. Until I get paid to do this, this will just keep being fanfiction and I will continue not owning Star Wars or its characters.

For all he made fun of Obi-Wan 's geriatric-like hobbies ("c'mon, Obi-Wan. Gardening?"), Anakin truly admired his friend's ability to remember the names and characteristics of extraterrestrial flora.

On breaks while navigating tough terrain, Anakin often found his mentor crouching over a weed, or examining a small flower squirming its way through a rock.

"It's a kind of white phlox" he'd say. "They tend to grow in rocky terrain where water travels through cracks in the ground." Sure enough, there was a stream downhill. Obi-Wan hadn't been smug, because that was not the Jedi way; but he was pleased.

Sometimes the skill came in great help, especially after that time Anakin was about to chow down on the wrong kind of Nal-Hutta fiddle-fern that, in all honesty, looked almost exactly like the one they'd eaten on Cato Neimoidia and had been totally fine after. If it wasn't for Obi-Wan 's attention to the location of the seeds ("they're supposed to be on the back, you see?"), he'd most likely have spent the next day in a considerate amount of… well, bowel inconvenience.

But most of the time, Anakin caught glimpses of Obi-Wan casually gazing at the flora around him, taking in every petal, leaf, stalk and stamen in quiet fascination. Anakin knew Obi-Wan found great joy in the small moments of peaceful contemplation that the natural world offered, and he'd made it a point to not embarrass or interrupt the man by pointing it out.

He had, however, spent a great deal of time gently diverting their walks, marches or treks through mountain meadows where he could.

These, of all the natural sceneries, were Obi-Wan's favorites. If the weather was just right and the altitude in the perfect window of vegetation for that world, then the meadows would be covered with a blanket of vibrant wildflowers in fiery reds, gentle blues, bright yellows and soft purples. The flora would dot the grassy hillsides and paint the mountains with color that, even to Anakin's untrained eye, took his breath away.

The look on Obi-Wan's face would be priceless. Every time. The gentle naturalist would light up, eyes roving over the picturesque landscape before him like a child in wonder. "Let's camp here for the night" he'd say, almost mechanically, never once taking his eyes from the flowers. "It would be good to get some rest, and this is as good a place as any."

Anakin would hide his smirk behind a groan or two, just to sell the bit, and complain a little too loudly as he watched Obi-Wan practically bound off toward a cluster of fiery pink weeds at the tree line. It worked every time.

Anakin didn't know too much about flowers, but he did know that Obi-Wan had a favorite: the Corellian Bluebell. Bail Organa had some growing in his office garden on Coruscant and Obi-Wan, once on a quick visit to the office to collect some documents on an insignificant matter, took notice of the flowers and complimented the senator on his horticultural skills. The two had spent hours discussing the small, lilac florals and poring over distribution maps and terrain data that showed just where one could find it on Corellia and to planets on which it had spread, such as Eriadu, Naboo and Alderaan, where the senator had first taken an interest in it. According to horticulturalists, the Corellian Bluebell only grew in alpine meadows where snowmelt was sufficient enough to keep the ground moist, but not too heavy to freeze the soil. Adequate sunlight was vital, which meant they needed springs and summers without too much precipitation and long days that were only really available at high latitudes. Mountainsides on the far side of prevailing winds ensured that wind and ice wouldn't destroy the delicate blooms, and the ground had to be flat enough to not waste away to erosion. Glacial valleys were ideal, then, as were high altitude lake shores and alpine meadows.

And although Anakin really didn't know a lot about flowers, he knew all this about the Corellian Bluebell because he had gone with Obi-Wan to Bail's office on that seemingly-short detour and had been trapped in that fateful room for several hours as the two men practically fawned over the delicate flower and their shared interest in alpine ecology. It was all he could do to not drive his head through a wall just to get Obi-Wan to either extract himself from the conversation or give Anakin the sweet relief of dismissal.

Which is why, as Anakin lay on the soft grass of a green meadow, he immediately recognized the Corellian Bluebell mere inches from his face, it's lilac petals bouncing and fluttering as his shaky breaths sent it wobbling on its thin green stalk.

There were more bluebells. Too far, it felt, though they couldn't have been more than an arm's length away. Soft green stalks poked his cheek, and he saw tufts of soft meadowgrass in his line of sight scattered between the flowers. He smiled. He must be in a meadow.

Obi-Wan would love this place, he thought, the sentiment warming his heart. The old man would bury his fingers into the tufts and figure out exactly what kind of meadowgrass this is.

He heard birds, too, and he slowly turned his groggy head to stare up at the afternoon sky. He frowned — none were flying overhead. His gaze moved sluggishly over to the right, where he heard the birds chirping again. Force, they were insistent on ruining this peaceful moment.

Anakin didn't find birds, but his gaze eventually focused on the blinking light on the black-clad glove of his right hand, outstretched on the grass beside him. Funny, it blinked along with the chirps.

He dragged his head back to the sky and settled his sights on the soft clouds gathered ahead. On Tatooine, the sight of clouds meant the rare desert rains were coming, but he knew better now. His years traversing the galaxy and experiencing the various climates and atmospheres on the worlds he visited taught him more about clouds than just that they made rain. These clouds, up ahead, were the kind that you didn't have to worry about — no rain, just a bit of moisture trapped in the upper atmosphere. These ones, you could watch for shapes and pictures, and the late afternoon sun was lighting them up so, so beautifully…

The birds chirped again, dragging Anakin's attention away from the clouds and back to his right hand. Something in the back of his mind told him that the birds were related to the light on his hand, and that the light and birds were important. Maybe he should… do something to it?

His body went to sit up, making it barely a millimeter before white hot electricity volted from his core and seized every nerve in his body. He gasped, making it much, much worse, and his vision went dark.

The next time he sluggishly opened his eyes, barely any time had passed. At least, that's what he thought. The birds were still chirping, and the sun had moved only a little from where it was before. The blackness had gone, but the pain still radiated from his stomach like a superheated rod.

This time, though, the pain (or, the Force, perhaps) allowed him a moment of clarity as clear as the fresh mountain air. He was in an alpine meadow, one that he'd paid a kindly old man to take him to from a village in the foothills. That man had been holding a grudge against the Republic and was, in fact, not so kindly — rather, he was cunning, quick and knew exactly what kinds of poison to lace in Anakin's tea to make him weak and dizzy in the high mountain altitudes. The man also had a knife, which he'd left buried in Anakin's gut.

Panic arose in the young Jedi as his drug-addled brain tried to process what his dulled senses were attempting so hard to tell him.

There was a knife in his gut, his body was on fire and he was up high, so high, in the mountains.

And he was surrounded by the gentle, tender petals of Corellian Bluebells.

Obi-Wan.

His eyes widened and he tipped his fuzzy head to the right and focused on the birds… no, the comlink, chirping wildly on his wrist. His breath shuddered, sending the bluebell flailing wildly as he strained to pull his right hand toward him. The limb was covered in blood, probably his from when he first reacted to his guide's attack. The bloody hand brushed the bluebell as it arched over to his chest, and a part of Anakin's mind wished that he would have spared the sacred bloom from the abuse.

After all, he'd made the whole detour from their diplomatic duties just to find them for Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan.

His mind scrambled to focus. The birds comlink had taken on an ear-screeching urgency that almost certainly belied the sender's own, and Anakin hefted his free, flesh hand up to activate the switch. If he could… just… press…

…there.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan's voice was oozing with relief, and not a bit of annoyance. Clearly he'd been trying to get through to his wayward friend for some time. This was not an uncommon occurrence for the two of them.

"Anakin, where are you? I've been trying to get in contact with you for hours." Obi-Wan 's matter-of-fact voice was laced with frustration and worry. "Senator Bel-Iblis is preparing to brief the Council on the Separatist infiltration and we need to be there to present our findings. If we don't have everything we need it will…"

"I found them, Obi-Wan." It was muttered quietly, but it was enough to stop the older Jedi in his tirade.

A brief pause.

"What? Anakin, I…"

"I found them, Obi-Wan" Anakin repeated, speaking softly, his head lolling back to look at the bluebell. "The bluebells. They're beautiful."

"...Anakin, what do you mean? Where are you?"

He considered the wildflower. "I see why you like them so much. They're so" he paused, a soft smile gracing his lips "gentle."

If his body didn't hurt so much, he might have laughed. Or sobbed. Gentle Obi-Wan, who spent his time frolicking through meadows such as these looking for this very flower, but never seeing it in person outside of a senatorial office.

And Anakin had found it! He'd been planning this since they'd received word about their assignment to Corellia, and Anakin had made the trip back to Senator Organa's office to ask — as briefly and politely as he could — for information on where exactly he could find his friend's favorite alpine wildflower. Senator Organa had been more than happy to oblige, and Anakin had managed to extract the information and peel himself away from the talkative horticulturist. Force, that man could talk! If Anakin ever had children, he was sure Senator Organa — Bail — would be a great teacher for them.

The thought made Anakin think of Padme, which sent another pang of pain into his heart. She would love this meadow, too. It was just like the one on Naboo, where they'd shared a picnic back before his dreams, before his mother had died, before the war, before…

"...hear me? ANAKIN!"

Oh, right. Obi-Wan.

"'m here, Obi-Wan" he mumbled. "Still here."

"Anakin, I need you to focus." Obi-Wan's tinny voice no longer held annoyance. It was filled with worry, pure and simple. "Where are you? We're tracking your comlink but the signal is bouncing around and we can't get an accurate trace. Rex is working on it, but we need you to help us." He paused, just for a heartbeat. "Anakin?"

"'m still here, Obi-Wan." Anakin, scrunched his eyebrows. Was that a bantha in the sky, or was it a cloud?

"Anakin, tell me. What do you see?"

Anakin could hear his friend's voice and knew he was worried. He'd spent enough time around the man to recognize his speech and tone, and this was definitely worried-Obi-Wan. He could help with that.

"Meadows, Obi-Wan. You know, the ones you frolic in."

"The ones I…? Wait, a meadow? What?" His voice held confusion. "Why are you in a meadow?"

"S'what I told you, master" Anakin saw his friend in his mind's eye, ambling off into a grassy hillside toward a copse of flowers. Satisfaction on his face.

Anakin smiled, open eyes seeing only his memories. He whispered "a meadow."

Dream-Obi-Wan continued to meander through the meadow's in Anakin's mind while real-Obi-Wan continued to bug him with noises. The comlink started to sound loud and grainy which, if Anakin thought hard about it (which he didn't), meant that a shuttle was powering up.

I wonder where he's going. Anakin thought. He frowned slightly and turned once again to look at the bluebell drooping beside him. If he leaves, he won't get to see the bluebells.

He tried to roll his head back up. But it felt. just. so. heavy. "Master?"

A quick reply. Anxious. "Anakin? We're on our way to your location, hold on."

"You can't leave yet" the young man implored. He had to make sure he saw these flowers. "You have to come see the bluebells."

"What?" Panic now. "Bluebells? Anakin what bluebells?"

Anakin smiled at the flower next to his face. Wait 'til Obi-Wan saw what he'd found. "Corellian Bluebells, master. I found them for you."

Anakin was too busy gazing at the flower, lost in memories of him, Obi-Wan, Rex, Cody and the clones spending gorgeous evenings in mountain meadows to hear the deafening silence from his comlink.

It was hours, minutes or seconds later that Anakin was hit by a nudge of urgency from the Force.

Stay Awake.

He peeled his lids open, which took tremendous effort and he didn't even know when he'd closed his eyes in the first place. His vision was blurry, unfocused by the proximity of the ground and grass next to his cheek. The sky was turning orange. The bluebell was still there. Obi-Wan hadn't arrived yet.

"Anakin, please come in." No, actually, there he was. Still on the com.

"Anakin! Come in!"

"Master, I think you have to hurry." There was a calm, now. Anakin felt it. He had felt the Force talk to him, and he knew what had happened.

He was dying.

The tinny voice was loud and sharp from the comlink. Good. That meant they were getting closer.

"Anakin just tell us–"

"Obi-Wan, listen" Anakin interrupted. "Please". He couldn't speak loudly, nor could he speak long, but he knew he could make Obi-Wan listen.

Silence on the com. Then, "we're trying to help, Anakin. Please."

A soft sigh escaped Anakin's lips, and his eyes grew hot once more. "Master, I'm sorry." A pause. Breathe. "I followed a local man," breathe, "into the mountains." He was having a hard time taking deep breaths with the knife still in his gut.

"He… drugged me" breathe, "he had a knife."

A tear spilled out his eye. Then another. They were hot.

"Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry." He clenched his eyes shut. His breath hitched, and the involuntary spasm sent waves of hot pain through his body. A sharp, piercing pain — his lung, he knew. His heart tightened; more tears fell; he tasted iron in his throat and he started to truly panic. He was scared now, and he was alone.

"I just…" He ignored Obi-Wan's frantic interruptions, "I just… wanted to do this… for you."

His vision blurred with tears and he lifted his gaze to the sky. The heavens were lilac tufted with clouds of white, like soft grass in a meadow of bluebells. Anakin's left hand, his flesh hand, frantically sought the touch of grass beneath him and felt the calming presence of the Force flowing through the stalks of greenery in between his blood-slicked fingers. It grounded his presence and calmed his mind, even as his body began to falter.

He felt the wind move through the weeds around him, felt the tiny scurrying of ant legs along a log, felt the weight of the snowy peaks pressing down onto the world from so high above. He felt the rush of blood and how it filled his lungs, how his face grew pale and how the grass felt cool between his fingers.

He felt Obi-Wan, somewhere nearby, his bright presence pulsating with twinges of black as he felt his mentor's fear. For just a second, the presence flared brighter than ever, and Anakin knew that Obi-Wan felt him too.

Anakin Skywalker choked once. Twice. His eyes unfocused, but he could swear that he could see more stars in the sky than he ever had before. His body relaxed, and the flower beside him bobbed with the final breath released from blood-soaked lungs.

And, he thought to himself, I can see Obi-Wan's bluebells.

And Anakin Skywalker was no more.

They found him ten minutes later, lying still in the grass. His left hand — still warm and pink in the sunset light — was nestled in a tuft of soft meadowgrass, fingers entwined in the green stalks. His right hand resting gently on his red-stained tunic, black glove smeared with blood.

Obi-Wan's stomach crashed through the souls of his feet and into the earth itself. He… when he felt Anakin's glare in the Force, he had gone blind with panic. Time froze and time was a blur. He felt his soul shrink into itself while his body went wild, and when he had seen a small black smudge illuminated by the setting sun, it had been partly thanks to his adrenaline-addled eyes and his deep retreat into the presence of the Force itself.

But it was Cody who restrained him from leaping off the ship.

Now, landed in the sea of waving stalks, he stood alone on the soft, green grass. His men were on the ship — utterly silent.

He moved forward half a step before his legs stopped cooperating, and he stood a few steps from the ship and a few steps from his prone friend. Feeling cold to the bone and hollow as a chasm, Obi-Wan could do nothing but stare at Anakin Skywalker.

His friend.

His dead friend.

Anakin's sea-blue eyes were half open, lids relaxed, as if lost in gentle thought, staring unblinkingly up toward the twilight stars quietly emerging through the peach-colored sky. Dried tear tracks traced through the dirt on his left cheek.

Beside his cheek, almost directly within his unseeing gaze, was a single bluebell. A Corellian Bluebell.

"You have to come see the bluebells."

As if it were even possible, Obi-Wan's heart broke even more.

It was just as Obi-Wan remembered it — barely higher than a hand's span above a bed of velvety-green leaves, supported on a deep green stalk too thin to hold the flower upright. The drooping lilac petals curling delicately up and away from a cluster of miniscule yellow seeds. Here in the meadow, they were all the more beautiful than when he'd first seen them in a small office planter so long ago. This time, though, he felt sick looking at them.

They were beautiful, truly — but Anakin lay dead beside them.

As he watched, the scene frozen in time, the sun finally dipped behind the hills and shrouded the meadow in shadow. It was only then that he noticed that the bluebell wasn't lilac at all. At least, not totally. This one, this one otherwise perfect little bluebell in a meadow, was bending under the weight of a droplet of dark red blood. It dropped suddenly, as if waiting for Obi-Wan to notice it, joining a pool of its brothers that collected on the dirt. The flower, released from its burden, floated back up to once again face the sky, sharing the same quiet gaze as the dead man resting in the meadow beside it.

He crashed to the ground, knees crushing half a dozen perfect little bluebells and digging into the cool alpine dirt.

And Obi-Wan, finally, allowed himself to weep.