Blink.

The wind rustled the long fields of tall grass under the starry night sky. There, a baby fussed. Huddled around the fire, the mother's song carried into the night as she held him close to her bosom. Away, away from civilization.

Blink.

A shack. A garden. A blaring hot sun. With children laughing and playing in the yard. The father kissed the mother goodbye and headed out to hunt. She worked in the garden. The infant played in the dirt, barefoot. A levitated flower, an outstretched hand, a gift for mother. She screamed, and he dropped it. The flower smushed in the mud.

Blink.

Stormy clouds released sheets of rain. Two men in robes knocked on the door. A hesitant mother let them inside. Seated on a knee, the toddler did their tests. Smiled and babbled. The parents were horrified. They said he was special.

Blink.

No waves goodbye. No tears were shed. "Take him!" they said. So the toddler was carried aboard the ship. Stars and planets, mesmerized by hyperspace, he wasn't afraid. The toddler could sense he was among his kind. He grasped the tail of the tall man's robes.

Blink.

Reality hits the toddler in full force. He screams and wails, kicks and flails, and tries to get away. But in vain. He's forced to stay. Pokes and prods of foreign instruments. And warm smiles from alien creatures he's never seen. This is home now, he's told.

Blink.

Sunlight streamed through the windows into the quiet, well-kept room. The child sits on a cushioned mat in clean light robes with short red hair. A small, wrinkled master with a cane and pointy ears instructs the child to feel the Force. Reach out and connect. "Peace, you will find," the master said.

Blink.

Ice, snow, and howling wind. The child climbs after his peers into the cavern with a runny nose. Wrapping his robe around his body, he follows them into the cave. Then he is separated and all alone. Dreams and fears arouse and unearth. Aching pain and memories strike him. But determination furrows his brow. He makes it out with a glowing kyber crystal in his palm.

Blink.

Sweat and flushed faces. Obstacles and humming beams of lightsaber blades. Kata after kata, blow after blow, block and carry, swing and jump. When it's over, the child stops and bows to those watching in the observation deck above. His adversary does the same. He feels longing and worry because time is running out. He needs a master soon or it's the Agri Corps.

Blink.

A Hutt pounds him. A mysterious Jedi knight heals him. Eagerly, the child tries to help, but things are different outside the Temple. Things hurt. Things are unfair. He learns. He helps. But that is not enough. Rejection hits him. He is dazed but has learned to accept it. He is destined for the Agri Corps. And maybe that is for the best.

Blink.

Trapped with a bomb about to blow. The child offers a deep sacrifice. His life for the safety of others. But another way saves the day. The child is finally a Padawan on the planet Bandomeer. For he becomes more than a youngling in the knight's eye.

Blink.

A rescue mission on a planet torn-war between the Young and the Elders. Two pairs of blue eyes stare each other down. Wills and conviction collide. Then slowly the Padawan gives up his lightsaber. The Master takes it and leaves him in the wake of a roaring engine.

Blink.

Shouts and screams. Pain and suffering. The teen runs, his breath panting, his footsteps crunching gravel and snapping twigs. He sees the blaster aim. He sees his friend stiffen. A gleam on a cloudy day blinds him. He is too late. A shot rings out, echoing in his mind, and his friend collapses. Dead.

Blink.

A foggy night is illuminated by the traffic lights and vehicles filling the planet's sky. The teen stands amid a circle of grave, serious faces. Shame and repentance spew forth from his mouth. With reluctance and hesitance, he is welcomed back to the temple, his home. For he had been wrong about Melida-Daan.

Blink.

The brilliant sun is blinding temporarily. A new mission had been placed upon them. The Padawan and the Master step down the ship's docking ramp. There, a young woman his age in Mandalorian attire scrutinizes the teen critically. His master exchanges a few words with her chauffeur and bodyguards. Then a year on the run ensues.

Blink.

A year on the run drags by then goes too fast. A gentle breeze tousles her golden locks. A mere handshake goodbye of a cool formality after months of embraces, shared smiles, and tears. Words left on the tip of the teen's tongue, unsaid, as he turns and boards the ship back home. I love you, he thought secretly. Had she said the word, he would've left the Order. But it was a moment too late.

Blink.

A dusty, scorching hot sand planet with twin suns. A queen and her handmaidens on the run. A handshake with a young slave boy, recently freed. They discover he has a midichlorian count that supersedes any Jedi in history.

Blink.

Red. Red. Red. A red lightsaber. A red Zabrak. Red ray shields. Red rage. Red hate. Blinding pain resonates through the Force as a choked-out scream tears the young man's throat and the Zabrak's weapon penetrates his master's abdomen. Helpless, he watches his master breathe his last.

Blink.

Flames burning the body. Grave silence over them all. The young man is knighted. The young boy is his Padawan. He'd train him, he said. His master had his word.

Blink.

Millions of identically cloned men. An army mysteriously created for the Jedi. The man investigated, to no avail.

Blink.

Forbidden love and a dark lord's influence festered in his Padawan's heart and loss weighed heavily on his mind. A hot, insect-infested gladiatorial arena. The first taste of Jedi blood splattered on dry, cracked dirt. Dozens of bright lightsabers humming in harmony against the flapping and buzzing of the bugs.

Blink.

Cauterizing flesh penetrated the man's nose. The man watched helplessly as his Padawan fought the Sith, Count Dooku. Darkside lightning. An amputation. His Padawan became unconscious at his feet while the man was rendered helpless. The Clone Wars had begun.

Blink.

Medical supplies came with a blessing and a curse. A young Togruta girl clambered down the ship's docking ramp, a lightsaber attached to her hip. Mistaken miscommunication led to a pointed finger in the man's direction and then "No, no, no, no. He's the one who wanted a Padawan!" A smirk thinned the man's lips at his former Padawan's, now knighted, shock. The Chosen One had a Padawan. Whether he liked it or not.

Blink.

Red. Always red. It was never a good sign. Dressed in red Death Watch armor, he was helpless as he watched. A black, dark lightsaber with a Mandalorian history. Two mechanical legs. A Zabrak, fueled by hatred and revenge. The love of his life dangling midair, gasping for breath and clawing at an invisible hand choking her neck. The monster extended the weapon. Time froze. It impaled her in the gut. She gasped. Wheezing, weakly, she whispered, "I've loved you always. I always will." Heartbroken, grasping her hand. "And I've always loved you." And he lost another to the same monster. A monster he thought he killed years ago.

Blink.

"Ahsoka, wait!" Anakin called, racing after her retreating form. He moved to join him, but he was held back. Ahsoka had left the Order. She wasn't coming back. Fresh pain bloomed in his chest.

Blink.

A crackling fire. Sparks exploded into the sky. He poked at it with a stick. Then he sensed the troubled darkness in his companion. He looked up at the back of Anakin. "How could she do this? She was my Padawan," his former Padawan said. Attachments. Always a struggle. With every Jedi, sure, but particularly with Anakin. First Padme, his mother, and even now, Ahsoka.

Blink.

Smiles. Cracking jokes. Anakin was teeming with joy after the news of Ahsoka's return. So certain was he that Ahsoka had changed her mind and come back. The man wasn't so sure...something felt...off in the Force. But he smiled and went along with it.

Blink.

Victory tastes sweet. Dooku was dead. Grievous was dead. The war was finally nearly over. A faithful friend and commander, clad in yellow and white plastoid armor, gives the man back his lightsaber.

Blink.

A cannon fire rings in his ears and a boom shakes the wall. The man's lizard-like mount warbles in distress and soon he is falling. Falling...and falling... To Order 66. To betrayal. To a cold, absent look in the clones' eyes, in his friends' and comrades' eyes. Gone were the clones who helped the Jedi.

Blink.

Dead bodies litter the Temple Halls. A holo-recording displays the worst news of all. He must tell all the remaining Jedi to hide. For a Sith Lord has risen from the shadows.

Blink.

Padme is the mother. Anakin is the father. He knows she's pregnant. He's known for so long. She doesn't believe him. He stows away on her ship as she goes to find her husband.

Blink.

Lava. Fire. Yellow Sith eyes. This was not his former Padawan, not his brother. Not anymore. He's failed his Padawan, his friend. He's failed his Master, his mentor. "I hate you!" the voice of the stranger roared. A lump choked him as he stared down at the mutilated flesh-the work of his own two hands. "You were my brother, Anakin!" he swallowed. "I loved you."

Blink.

Twins. A medical droid. Padme. Death by a broken heart. He bid farewell to yet another friend as she passed and took to Tatooine. He'd watch over his brother's boy. Even if his presence was unwanted.

Blink.

Sand. Thirst. The occasional hallucinations. He pounded the ground and sobbed tearless sobs under the merciless twin suns of the planet. Obi-Wan was gone. Ben was his name. The Empire has arisen.

Blink.

Labored, mechanical breaths. A tall dark robotic suit. Emotions and memories struck him in a vicious whirlwind. He knew who it was. Anakin was alive.

"I'm sorry, Anakin," he said, voice wobbling, blinking tears away as he saw the scarred flesh of what used to be his brother. "For all of it."

"You didn't kill Anakin Skywalker," the monster replied, almost softening for a moment as the remaining light dwindled in the twisted darkness engulfing Anakin fought through. But it vanished as quickly as it came. Followed by a growling, "I did."

Blink.

A familiar droid, an astromech. A young, curious boy, strong with the Force stumbles across his path. The old man trains him in the ways of the Force, just as he did his father. This, he tells himself, has to be the Chosen One. Surely.

"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi," a familiar voice pleads. A girl he had once rescued. "You're my only hope."

Blink.

Luke and Leia together. The twins. The offspring of Anakin. The Force had no use for him anymore. It was time for the old man's suffering to end. Obi-Wan, meant for infinite sadness, had reached its completion. Sucking in a deep breath, he ceased fighting and smiled weakly. The mechanical machine, Darth Vader, leapt upon the opportunity and swung his blow. And he was welcomed into the warm arms of the Force as he died.

Blink.

For a while there is nothing. No warmth, no cold. No pain, no pleasure. No thoughts, no emotions. Just peace. Serenity. He floated and basked in the empty void. Non-existent.

Blink.

But he grows aware of grass underneath his hands, waves lapping against some distant shore. A bright, warm light beats against his eyelids.

He opens his eyes.

Blink.

A familiar face swims into his vision, blurry and blue.

"Qui-Gon?" he asks weakly. "Master?"

Blink.

A warm smile. "Hello, Obi-Wan."

Blink.

He sits up and finds that he's in the company of so many lost. They walk around and talk, all at peace in the strange garden. He looks up at Qui-Gon, bewildered. How long has he been there?

Blink.

"Am I...am I dead?"

"It would appear so," Qui-Gon nods, still smiling. "Welcome here." He heaves him to his feet and wraps him into a hug. "Welcome here," his master repeats, whispering.

Blink.

Pain and tension tighten around his chest. The weight took his breath away and unshed tears stung his eyes. He was so tired.

"Master, I failed you. Anakin he's-"

"Master? Master Obi-Wan?" a familiar voice interrupts.

Blink-blink.

He turns.

Blink-blink...

A Force ghost of his Padawan appears, chuckling sheepishly.

"A-anakin?" he narrows his eyes in disbelief.

Blink-blink...

Anakin smiles and gives an awkward wave. "Hello there."

"Ah, ah! That's his line," Qui-Gon jests. Obi-Wan pays no heed. He watches, as if in a trance, as Anakin hesitantly approaches him. Like he was a wounded animal. Then, cautiously, when Obi-Wan didn't flinch, Anakin enveloped his former master in a hug.

"I'm so sorry," he croaks into his shoulder.

It takes a moment for him to register the touch. It takes him an agonizing second to realize the yellow had vanished from his eyes, that he sensed no darkness in his friend.

Tearing up, he returned the hug and squeezed. He smiled and closed his eyes. His failure hadn't been complete. Of course, he still didn't have the whole story. There were still faces he yearned to see. But he was finally at peace. For he was home, resting in the arms of the Force.

"You look old," Anakin remarks, pulling away from his friend. Obi-Wan snorts. "And you look young."

And now, neither of them blink any more.