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Anakin Skywalker died. It happened quickly, barely within the blink of an eye. Searing heat and the flashing blow of a blade, that was all it took. Just a single movement for his life to fall at his feet, bleeding out, a breathless plea on its lips.

He stared down at it, emotionless. Or at least, Vader did because that was all who was left—a swirling void of anger and pain. The last remnants that would’ve made him anything more were now leaving a trail of its lifeblood on the floor. The last drops of Anakin’s humanity.

And it was in the form of his son. His son whose body was collapsed at his feet, whose empty, dead gaze stared up at him. Blue eyes- sky blue- pale, lifeless blue- hopeful blue eyes. Hopeless blue.

And his face- earnest, soft, lifeless- he looked like Padmé- beautiful, powerful, a force to be reckoned with- she would’ve been so proud.

They were detached thoughts, absent fleeting thoughts that passed through and then by the forefront of Vader’s mind. He felt nothing, there was only a gaping hole where emotions should have been. It hadn’t always been like this, he knew it hadn’t, but, even before he had become this, it had never been far away.

Now he couldn’t remember anything more, not a time before, not his time before.

He could not look away. He had felt it when his son had died. He had felt it when the last desperate claws of Anakin Skywalker ripped through his being. In the face of his son, he saw the faces of a hundred others.

Ones with no names; those who had been cursed by his presence, their deaths adding to the ever-growing toll, written on his list, the ink their blood. Ones who he knew, fleetingly, faint memories of the temple, children who never grew up. And ones he had once loved, whose betrayal had started the long slow death of Anakin Skywalker.

He saw Shmi Skywalker in a grandchild she would never know, he saw Padme Amidala in a son who would die, if not by Vader’s hand, but by the blood that ran through his veins. For a prophecy that was never real. Destroying his child’s life like it had destroyed his. He was punished for it, like Vader had been, but Vader had survived, and he had not.

And he saw Obi-Wan Kenobi, and perhaps that was the strangest thing of all; that this face, the one face that should’ve stopped haunting him, yet never had, struck the deepest chord in Vader.

He was an instrument whose strings had snapped, one by one, year after year, by the roughened and callous hands that had carelessly plucked at him. But never had he thought it would be now that the final string, pulled until thin, would be severed.

Vader hadn’t moved, hadn’t breathed since the final blow was struck. He had stood motionless, while his Master had cut down the last thing that tied him to his past. Anakin Skywalker was truly dead now, and with him, the last threads of a distant fraying loyalty fell free.

He didn’t think, not that he had ever been made to think. His role in the new Empire was as the gripping jaws at the throat of the Galaxy, a dog to sit when told and to tear and bite when ordered. But he moved. Within the span of a second, less even. His ‘saber left its heavy presence by his side and raised. Ignited, its melting fire of a bloody red branding heat found its mark, though he had not aimed. Within seconds there were two dead, not one, lying at his feet.

A small, simple ending for something so big. The empty shriveled yellow eyes that looked up at him now were not–They were not eyes he knew. Perhaps he had never known them.

The Force rippled around him, a small touch that grew and grew. It became a tidal wave, it roared around him. Every Force-Sensitive would be able to feel it because it shook sky and earth. It was a dark power that was finally released from the tight reigns that had held it for centuries, champing and stamping. Now it finally thundered out.

But Vader felt nothing. No, that was not quite true, he felt anger. It was familiar, comforting, it was his drive. A drive that was, as quickly as it was kindled, blown out again.

He looked away from the still-cooling corpses. Space moved on around them, passing by as it always had. Behind the solid steel walls of this tomb, the Empire continued on.

He had killed the Emperor, cut the head off the snake, he had the power he had always craved. To grow or to end the Empire. It was Vader, not Skywalker who had fulfilled the prophecy. A prophecy he had never believed in.

But that too, was not quite true.

The balance had been found. He could taste it in the waves of the Force, a newfound peace left in the wake of those dark vengeful horses. There was no satisfaction in proving them wrong, no real ending.

There was nothing worth living for, every step heavy laden with a weight so unshakable that now lifted had left him- empty. Emptier than when Skywalker was afraid, colder than his anger, and- lonelier than all of his past lives.

He pressed a hand to his chest. He felt nothing. And it was that that sparked the anger, a small flame that flickered. Vader had lost everything, everything he swore to protect, everyone he had ever loved- no, he had never loved- had he?

With a snarl, he flung his lightsaber away. He didn’t need it, not now. His anger grew and grew. Vader was a being of malice, a deep writhing hatred that devastated all and left nothing but ash in its wake. Now there was nothing to burn, nothing but the mortal form of a son he would never know, and a man he never had.

Skywalker had been used. Padmé had been used. Kenobi- Obi-Wan had been used, so sorely, by Vader. But his old Master had never understood, it had all been for them- for him. He couldn’t understand that Anakin-

Vader’s heavy breaths came out in sharp rasps, each one agonizing. When had breathing stopped being a sign of life and instead a burden? When had he become this-

The anger built. He steamed with it, with nowhere–no one–to direct it towards. Vader turned on his heel and paced.

His ‘saber lay on the floor, desolate. Each time he passed by it he felt its call. A siren’s lure, but not beautiful, not the soft whisper the crystals were supposed to sing. It was screaming. It was quiet. It was agonizingly loud.

Vader turned away from it.

The son of Skywalker remained where he lay. Vader stopped. The boy’s face was turned away from him, but he knew its expressions because they were branded in his mind.

He hadn’t been scared. Angry, perhaps, but never scared. And when he had looked towards Vader he held an expression of- not pity, never pity, but understanding. How could he understand? He never had and never would.

It tugged at something underneath Vader’s skin, it unsettled him. He had seen that look on only two before- and he had loved them, so much. They had never seen it, or if they had, they never understood it. Skywalker had known, it's why he had left them, first one, then the other. Perhaps he had always known, a love so consuming was- it would have destroyed her, and he had never given him a chance to test his strength against it. He had never even tried.

He wasn’t entirely a foolish boy. That was all that Vader could praise him for, if barely. Skywalker knew when to pull back. Vader never did.

Luke Skywalker- what a beautiful name, he should’ve known, been there to name him- was dead. With him, hope. And it was Vader who had ended it. He-

The longer he stared the more agitated he became. The Force broiled around him. There was nothing left in the future, nothing except his own death, or the entire Galaxy’s. He would be the end of the Sith, he would end the Sith- But there was something there, and for the first time a new feeling grew.

It was soft, and it slipped in, cooling the blue heat of his anger but setting alight something else within him. It wasn’t new but it was forgotten. It was regret. And from that flame caught sadness and from that flame another.

Something had changed, something in the Force changed. The Dark Side rebelled, thrashing under his skin. He staggered a few steps before falling to his knees. The Force, in its pure entity called to him, and swelled around him, a connection to the Light he hadn’t touched in years.

He reached out and brushed against it gently. When did Vader become gentle? When had Anakin stopped?

The Force softened around him in return. It coaxed out his anger and he let it go. It swirled around him, no longer soft but sharp and solid. Then it asked for his fear, and he let go. The whirlwind around him cooled the fire, but it was icy.

It called for his regret and his sadness, and he gave it. The Force grew stronger and stronger around him, as he grew weaker. It whispered to him. Soft words that he could not hear, not yet. Then it asked for his love. He refused. Vader, layer after layer shed insistently by the Force was left clutching onto it. Anakin held it close to his chest, his heart. He couldn't let it go.

Not even to save them? The Force asked. Not even to save them?

Anakin- Vader bared his teeth. There was no saving them now. This is all he had left to their memories. He bent down against the onslaught.

You could save them. I can show you how. Let me show you how.

His grip loosened, he lifted his head, and he listened.

You can go back. You can save them. You can stop everything from happening. End it before it begins.

Blue eyes haunted him, blue hopeful eyes. A warm smile, a gentle hand.

It will kill you. You will die. The Force warned him. All of it will die.

Vader almost smiled. He had always been selfish, why would now be any different? Then I will die. He thought. And then he let go.

The Force accepted his love. It took it from him, but not with the hunger it had for those that came before it but with what he could only call reverence.

The whirling storm around him slowed bit by bit until it calmed to a still, and it was no longer biting flames but a gentle warming fire. Fire of home, of the hearth, of family. The black hole in his chest stopped pulling. The universe paused, and it listened and it heard. The flame was hope.

Then the Force snapped. The still was broken, and it rushed towards Vader, pushing into him. He was no longer himself but the Force itself, alive, Dark and Light. He was Balance, he was the Force. And he was the Chosen One.

Vader hadn’t completed the prophecy. He was meant to end the line of Sith. To protect his family. And now- he had the power to. It was too late now, but before- when she still loved him, and he still held and trusted him- Vader, Anakin, and the Force itself, could rewrite time. Even if he died trying. Especially if he did.

There was only one ending to this story, and it would be on Vader’s own blade, no one else's. And that's exactly how he wanted it. And that’s exactly how it would end.

The storm spiraled, surrounding Vader, covering him, draping him under its cover. And just as suddenly as it had formed it dissipated. When it finally fell, and the vacuuming strength that it had created relaxed, all that was left in its wake were the two bodies, the beginning and the end. Vader was nowhere to be seen.

Across the Galaxy, the threads of reality began to deteriorate. The loom of the universe had its fabric pulled from its machinery, and slowly, piece by piece it began to unravel. A new universe began to weave itself together in the wake of what was to come, and what was. A new tapestry of life, and history, was beginning. It was all beginning again.

Anakin wasn’t dead. It was a relieving thought, made more vivid by the living breathing creature that walked beside him. And he was a creature, passionate and beautiful in his very specific way. Even when he was brazen one moment and sullen the next.

Any and all time they had together was precious. Obi-Wan knew, deep in his heart, that Anakin would leave after the war. What does one do when the one thing that has been a constant their entire life ends? Obi-Wan was not so foolish as to think that they would end any other way.

He had been plagued by such thought, growing more and more the longer the war carried on. But regardless of his gloomy mood they had spent the return trip home, to the Temple, pleasantly.

They were on leave, for as long as the war could permit them away from its front. Anakin had once called War a demanding lover to which Obi-Wan had pointedly cuffed him and dragged him away from Master Windu. Anakin had simply laughed, loud and joyously, while allowing Obi-Wan to take him away.

In the privacy of his own mind, Obi-Wan too had found it entertaining, though he didn’t let on. There were a lot of things he didn’t let on in the presence of his former Padawan, perhaps there were some things he shouldn’t. They had spent that evening drinking tea (or at least, Obi-Wan had) and deep inside some machinery (that part was decidedly Anakin).  It was one of his favorite evenings they had had together in a long while.

Obi-Wan was always at his rope's end with the boy. A thing he could think of fondly when his former Padawan wasn’t dangling from the edge of a cliff or doing something so certifiably stupid that it would most likely kill them both. Or worse, everyone nearby.

He tended to lean towards the more dangerous sides of life, dancing the line with a smile on his lips, and a powerful curiosity for everything beyond.

One more mission with him and Obi-Wan would be forced to resign, his grey hairs already too numerous to count, regardless of how much Anakin himself portrayed to like them.

“Well, Obi-Wan?” A cool hand lightly touched him. A slight brush.

Their sharp echoing footsteps on the hall floors were only two out of a small few, the floors around them nearly deserted. There was the faint sound of Younglings playing. They must be taking their lessons now, it was the right time of day, in a room off the side.

Obi-Wan stopped walking, he hadn’t been listening, the voice in his head so much louder than anything Anakin would have said. He shook it. Something was off, something shifted.

Anakin turned back, and stood beside him, “Master?” He sounded concerned. His mechno hand hovering between them. He never touched Obi-Wan with it, he treated it like it was something to be ashamed of. He never touched anyone with it.

Obi-wan took a second to collect himself, and smiled slightly, “I just had the strangest feeling, Dear One, it is-” He paused, if only to be sure, “passed now”

“Not one of Those feelings, was it Master?” Anakin asked with a hesitant smile. He was tense however, prepared for anything, yet deceptively calm on the outside.

“No, I don’t think so.” Obi-Wan chuckled.

Anakin relaxed minutely and then when nothing jumped out at them from behind a wall he relaxed well and truly, “That’s good.” He said decisively, “We don’t need any more of those than we actually get.”

“I quite agree,” Obi-wan said, and then started walking again, “Now, what were you saying?”

Anakin fell into step beside him, “Only how much I want to get back to our quarters for a real wash and a real bed.”

He could only hum in agreement. The Force felt apprehensive, agitated, turning anxiously around them. Something was coming, or- It sharpened. A spike of warning.

Anakin felt it too. He put an arm out protectively, as he spun around. There was nothing of apparent threat to them. He turned wide-eyed to Obi-Wan and started, an unfinished question, “Master-”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan said, his own eyes scanning their surroundings. The Temple should be safe, protected from the Separatist forces. His mind raced. They were on Coruscant, in the center of the Republic, but something was coming, and it was coming here.

Familiar was the feeling of faint panic and anger that came across their bond.  He needed to filter it out. He took a deep breath and then closed his eyes.

“You’re meditating now?” His Padawan exclaimed incredulously. Then he laughed, “I should’ve known.”

Familiar was the feeling of Anakin’s hand as it clasped onto his own, always his flesh one. With that as assurance and with the connection between them humming, Obi-Wan let go. He trusted Anakin like he trusted the Force. And he needed answers.

A minute passed, then two, since he had first slipped into the flowing lifelines of the Galaxy. When he resurfaced, Anakin’s hand was still holding his own, and he had remained grounded. As soon as Anakin saw that his eyes were open he dropped his hand, tucking into the side of his robes, resting right above where his ‘saber was clipped.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He asked.

The Force around them was still loud, if not louder than before. IT felt like a presence he had never felt before, now targeted. Mental shields could do nothing against the pure power of the barrage.

“Nothing, all that’s out there is-”

“Just this?” Anakin finished grimly.

“We need-”

“To go to the Counsel?” Anakin asked, and he grinned sharply, “As I’m always the first to suggest.”

Obi-Wan scowled, “This is serious, Anakin.” He reprimanded.

Anakin sobered up, “I know, we need to go now before-”

The Force was ever calm and quiet, only ever amplifying what those who could dip their fingers into it felt. But it was far from that at the moment. Now it was cold and cruel. It was a wall of power.

The only time Obi-Wan had ever felt anything similar was from Anakin, when they were trapped, when he was scared, but it was softer, calmer. Never such a deep and malicious intensity.

It nearly brought Obi-Wan to his knees with the sheer pounding fear of it, icy trickles of it were fed into his blood, forcing his breaths into short sharp gasps. Through the drumming in his ears he could hear the Younglings, they were terrified. They were so scared, and neither the Creche master nor Obi-Wan could help them.

As suddenly as the storm had grown it collapsed. The absence rang in his ears, like the crack of lightning.

Obi-Wan straightened up, trying to pull steady breaths into his lungs. His hand went automatically to his belt. The hall was still intact, nothing seemed to have penetrated the rough walls, no enemies rounded the corner.

He was startled when doors banged open and tear-streaked Younglings flooded out. They formed a circle around Obi-Wan, clutching at his robes. He could only pay so much attention to them, gently pulling their fingers away. He didn’t dare ignite his blade so close to them but he held it, prepared.

He needed Anakin to watch their back, sweep the halls, and help direct the Younglings to a safe room. This was the calm, not before the storm, but after. And it was no less dangerous.

The Force was frustratingly silent, all Obi-Wan could pull from it was absence. Absence of something, someone-

Anakin-

Obi-Wan's head turned around. He hadn't seen him, he couldn't see him, not over the heads of the Younglings but-

There he was. He was on the floor, a few feet away, doubled over. His hands clutched to his head, a pale sickly white. Obi-Wan approached him, but before he could reach out and touch him the Force reared its head and snapped at him in warning.

Don’t touch. Stay back.

He hesitated.

Anakin let out a low pained moan, curling in on himself even more. He must have hit his head when he fell, a trickle of blood dripped down the side of his face disappearing beneath his fingers.

Then Anakin screamed. It tore through him, from his chest to his throat, breathless agony. Darkness seeped from him, it oozed out and across the floor. It tainted the air, choking Obi-Wan’’s lungs forcing him back step after step, a hand pressed to his mouth trying to keep it out.

The Force rolled and writhed, matching each twisting pained movement Anakin himself made. His scream mixed with the scream of the Force, melding in a grinding harmony. The Younglings clung tighter, their master stepped in front of them, ‘saber drawn to protect them, but all Obi-Wan saw was Anakin.

Wind, that should not, could not, be possible here, now rushed around them. A whirlwind called by the Force. It was powerful. But it was not stronger than Obi-Wan, than his will and stubborn determination to reach his- To reach Anakin.

Then Anakin went still, and Obi-Wan feared, a gripping endless fear, that Anakin Skywalker was dead. He lunged forward and caught Anakin, pulling him down, not against gravity, but with it, to the safety of his lap.

He was mindless of the Younglings, forgetful of all except his Padawan. The wind fell and dropped back to its whisper, but he did not notice. The darkness around Anakin coiled tighter against his light, but Obi-Wan could not notice, all he could see was Anakin’s face. All he could feel was his heavyweight.

He searched, afraid of what he might find but- there, against his neck, was the faint fluttering of a pulse. Obi-Wan looked up, a thankful prayer on his lips when he felt Anakin stir. His hands cradled his Padawan, and they were shaking.

When Anakin took a deep breath, the first painless one he seemed to have taken in the last few terrible minutes, Obi-Wan continued to hold on. He couldn’t let go.

And when Anakin’s eyes opened, bit by bit, he still held on.

“Master?” It was small, confused, but alive. So alive.

Something had attacked Anakin and he had survived. He had survived.

Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief, and pressed their foreheads together, as uncomfortable as it was. He was alive. Anakin was alive.

He must have said it. Whispered it. It was hard to believe, but when said aloud it was like singing. Now, when he had Anakin in his arms, living, breathing, he knew what the absence had been. It had been their bond, not severed but gone. As if it had never existed. It was emptiness. Its absence had been a dreadful potential, the potential of a life without Anakin.

Even now he couldn’t feel it, with Anakin’s warm breath heating his skin with its soft puffs.

“Well,” Anakin rasped, “This wasn’t quite the welcome I was expecting.”

“What?” Obi-Wan said, and then he saw.

The eyes that looked up at him weren’t- they were gold. The purest gold Obi-Wan had ever seen, and they glittered, they knew a secret he didn’t. They were beautiful. He pulled back, but he didn’t let go.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan brushed a finger on the skin below those gold speckled eyes, because now as he looked closer he saw that they weren’t pure gold, but a shimmering grey, “Anakin,” He started, “Your eyes.”

They gazed up at him, almost in wonder. Perhaps he hadn’t realized how much he leaned into Obi-Wan’s touch (not that he ever had) but at those words, he seemed to snap to attention.

“Why Kenobi,” His words sounded cruel, “Haven’t you ever seen a Sith before?” They were biting, but- though directed towards him, his name in use, it didn’t sound like they were meant for him.

Still, Obi-Wan did not let go. Still, this version of Anakin lay in his arms. He made no move and showed no intention of wanting to be anywhere except where he was. He seemed content, gold eyes soaking in Obi-Wan’s face as if he hadn’t seen it in centuries, millions of years. Like he could never look away.

What did, however, draw his attention away was the soft whimpers of the Younglings. He looked towards them, their small trembling forms sending a flickering expression across the Sith’s face. No, Obi-Wan couldn’t-wouldn’t accept it, beneath the visage of Sith it was still his Padawan, his Anakin.

His Anakin who rolled off of his lap and stood on newborn legs. Obi-Wan let him go then, without a fight, and watched as he examined his limbs. He seemed fascinated with himself. Then he did something Obi-Wan never thought to see his Anakin do, he pulled off his glove.

He dropped it without ceremony to the floor and took as much care as he had with his flesh with the Mechno. He caught the expression on Obi-Wan’s face, “Shame only holds us back, Kenobi.” He said.

Again, the name, but never one he had used before. Always Master, always Obi-Wan, or old man. Always affectionately. Never Kenobi. He wasn’t talking to Obi-Wan. But the coldness of his tone still struck bone jarringly.

Obi-Wan stood, but he refused to back down, or away. He met the Sith and matched him. The stranger’s eyes appraised him, watching him curiously.

“Tell me,” Anakin drawled, “What year is it?”

It was nonchalant except- there was something there. This wasn’t Anakin. Obi-Wan knew as much. All of his actions so far had proved the fact that whatever had happened to him the Anakin Obi-Wan knew was trapped. Not no longer there but suppressed. But he couldn’t let go. Surely Anakin had to know, for all his animosity, that Obi-Wan would follow him to the edges of the Galaxy without a word.

Taking his silence for refusal the Sith snarled, “Tell me.” He hissed, he looked towards the children deliberately, “Or I cut down every last Youngling, and then pull the answer from your mouth with my teeth.”

Obi-Wan only hesitated for a moment longer than he should have before the Sith drew his lightsaber. Or not his- but Anakin’s. When the blade ignited, Obi-Wan was forced to pull back. If the threat on the life of the children was real in any way then Obi-Wan had to protect them, even if he could not fight Anakin.

This isn’t Anakin, he reminded himself.

The Sith laughed, a brittle dark thing, and he stalked towards them, his very step predatory in  nature, “Oh, so it is now that you withdraw, old man.” He raised the blade, still blue, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice, and pointed it directly at him, ‘Tell me the year.” He demanded.

The Younglings, protect the younglings.

“You are not of this time then,” Obi-Wan observed aloud, distracting, buying time.

“I see what you are doing, Negotiator,” Hateful words with no real heat behind them. Something else, however, was behind his words, something that made the Sith’s voice harsh.

The Younglings teacher stepped up beside Obi-Wan, shielding them from view, their own ‘saber drawn. Waiting. Waiting.

“Very well,” The Sith spat, “I will do this blind.” And without another word he turned on his heel and marched away.

“Get the Younglings to safety,” Obi-Wan ordered, “Alert the other Masters, whatever he is planning we need to cut him off. Anakin Skywalker is a Sith, tell them!” He needed to follow his Padawan so he wouldn't lose his trail.

There was no knowing what he was going to do but maybe- If Obi-Wan could convince him, pull him out of the way of whatever was going to happen, beg him to leave the Temple- Maybe he would agree.

There were planets, so far away that they hadn’t even been heard of. They could hide, run away together. Anything, anything at all.

The Sith’s cloak billowed out behind him. Anakin always did have a flair for the dramatics.

“Anakin,” He called out, “Wait!”

“Anakin Skywalker is dead.”

Dead. Dead. Dead.

And yet they were said without color or taste. A line repeated, Obi-Wan thought, sounding so similar to when his Padawan answered to the counsel. Yes Masters, no Masters, of course, Masters.

“Then who am I talking to?” He enquired, aiming for cheerfully polite yet missing it by a few inches. They fell into step, a routine as familiar as breathing. The Sith had no objections to their walking together apparently. Just like how had no objections to Obi-Wan cradling him.

Perhaps Obi-Wan could use that as an advantage.

“I am-” he hesitated.

“You are?” Obi-Wan pushed, following his former Padawan’s urgent steps. They wound through passages that he had forgotten but Anakin seemingly hadn’t.

“I am not Anakin Skywalker.” The Sith finally said.

“Well then, we seem to be in a bit of a contradiction, Darling.” The endearment slipped out before Obi-Wan could stop it.

The Sith’s lips twisted in a sardonic smile, “Really, Obi-Wan,” He said, “You need to change how you address your enemies, or else they might think you have some ulterior motive.”

“Are we though?” Obi-Wan asked, “Enemies, that is?”

His steps nearly faltered, “I am a Sith,” He barked at Obi-Wan, “You are a Jedi.”

“You are Anakin. It has always been a little more complicated than all of that.” Obi-Wan said dismissively. But he wasn’t prepared for the fast aggressive way that Anakin spun on him, slamming him into the wall, arm pressed against his neck.

His eyes glowed, here in the darkened cramped back passage where they stood. Obi-Wan could have said something, should have, but he didn’t, he only stared.

Anakin, lips curled in anger, stood so close to him. His gaze was- For a moment Obi-Wan thought that- Well, it didn't matter what he thought because the Sith had already turned and strode away as if nothing had happened.

To be fair nothing really had.

Obi-Wan wanted time. Time to talk, time to think, time to make everything in the whole damned Galaxy stop for just a moment, just so he could breathe. But time stopped for no man, and neither did Anakin Skywalker, or the Sith of the man.

He caught up again in seconds. They walked in silence, away from the center of the building. Twisting and turning through small forgotten hallways away and out of the Temple.

A few minutes later he tried a different tactic.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“Why do you want to know?” The Sith snapped back. Ah, it was nice to see some things never changed.

“So I can help you, if possible.”

For the first time since the Sith emerged, he showed something other than spiteful rage, “Why would you do that?” He asked harshly.

“Like you said, Dear One,” Obi-Wan said, “You are a Sith, and I am a Jedi. But you are also Anakin, and I would follow you until the day I die.” He tried for a lighter tone, “Though I do hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Perhaps infusing humor into his words hadn't been the best idea, because at the thought the wide-eyed stare directed towards him, pure unadulterated surprise, was shadowed again by- not anger but- fear. The Sith was afraid. Afraid- for Obi-Wan? Of him?

“Anakin Skywalker is dead.” The Sith stated, again, but there was something that trembled in the words. He looked away from Obi-Wan.

“I know, you said-”

“I killed Anakin Skywalker, ripped him from his body. I am not of this time. You will never get him back.” The Sith didn’t look at him, only straightforward.

“Oh.” Obi-Wan said, “I didn’t know-” He felt grief. A deep well of grief that bubbled up. He would never see his Anakin again, he would never smile, or be smiled at by Anakin. They would never talk, share comfortable companionship. The grief was almost overwhelming. He couldn’t keep walking.

The Sith returned for him. He stood over Obi-Wan, and then, unexpectedly, offered a small comfort.

Obi-Wan stared uncomprehendingly at it, the outstretched hand. And when he accepted it, slowly, the fingers closed around his own. The intricate metal tightened instead of releasing once Obi-Wan had been hauled up.

“I am sorry, Obi-Wan Kenobi, for your loss.”

The Sith’s other hand came up and brushed at Obi-Wan’s eyes with a surprising gentleness, wiping away tears he hadn’t noticed forming.

“Whoever said that Sith felt nothing was wrong, it appears,” Obi-Wan said after a moment.

“I am no ordinary Sith,” The man said.

That was something of an understatement. But Obi-Wan said nothing, and neither did the Sith. He, who was wearing the face of his friend, his brother, his everything.

They continued on their way, now with their hands clasped. It was comforting, small, but comforting.

They neared the gates out. Their path was clear, the Jedi Masters were nowhere to be seen. And Obi-Wan was glad.

The Sith saw it too. They hovered in the shadows watching and waiting. The Sith’s Force Signature was unnoticeable, it was hidden, almost nonexistent. Or it would’ve been if Obi-Wan hadn’t known what to look for. Who to look for.

Anakin- The Sith felt him in the Force, his eyes, shining, beautiful, cruel, cold, warm, turned to him. A wave of emotion caught at Obi-Wan.

“Did you love him?” The Sith asked.

They were inexplicably intertwined, even when their bond was gone, even when it wasn’t Anakin. He had nothing to hide, not from this being.

“He was my everything.” The confession, a confession to someone who was and wasn’t the one he would’ve given it to. But it was given nonetheless.

Sharp calculating eyes softened, “Perhaps,” he said, “In another life, you and he-” His eyes flickered, and Obi-Wan saw it, patches of blue, blue, blue. “You- I-,” Blue, blue, blue, “We would have been happy.”

“I- I think we would’ve been very happy,” Obi-Wan said, stunned. Stunned because there was blue. Sunny, sad, sky blue.

“I’m going to kill Sidious.”

“What?” Obi-Wan managed.

“Today is the day that the line of Sith ends. Like I should’ve done the first time.” Anakin said, regretful, saddened. He made an aborted movement towards Obi-Wan, “I’m sorry.” he said.

Obi-Wan stared at his Padawan, aged beyond his years first by war and now by- this. He wasn’t dead, he knew it, in the way the Sith moved, talked, and treated him. He wasn’t inhibited by himself anymore, he took what he wanted. Selfish by nature. And Obi-Wan would ensure that he would live another day to continue to do so.

“I trust you,” He told Anakin, told the Sith, “I trust you, and I believe you can do it,” He hesitated on the next words, “right this time.” They tasted strange in his mouth. He wasn’t talking to his Anakin, but he was talking to one of them, perhaps.

Anakin took their still clasped hands and raised it to his lips, nodding his head in a half bow, “I know you too well, Master,” He said, and then softer, “Don’t come too early.”

“And where should I avoid until then?” Obi-Wan asked, carefully.

Anakin grinned at him, “The Senate, or more specifically, Palpatine’s office,” He wrinkled his expression in distaste, but his smile- “I don’t imagine it will be very pleasant there after I'm done with him.” Callous, angry, and deathly serious.

Obi-Wan refused to be shaken by this gold overtaking his Padawan’s eyes. By his sharp teeth, and his hungry look. By the fact that their Chancellor was a Sith if Anakin was to be trusted. All he could say was, “Be safe.”

Anakin left, and Obi-Wan watched him go. The press of his lips left warm imprints behind, and the blue burned itself into Obi-Wan’s eyes. Startlingly blue, the only gold left behind the faintest light that caught on his eyes from behind Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan had a plan to enact. He couldn’t come too early, he would distract the Counsel, hold them back. But he wouldn’t arrive too late, that he had to be certain of. Anakin danced with death, why would this version of him, sharp and cruel, more calculating, be any different.

Obi-Wan could only hope that he was more careful, less reckless. But knowing his Padawan, he had little to truly hope for.

Vader hasn't planned this far. To be fair he hadn’t had much time to plan anyway. But this was-  Travelling through time was strange, the Force guiding him, pulling him. Everything spinning past, blackened and dark, only small flashes of light, stars in a timeless abyss.

Frames, moments in his life, reversing picture by picture. He didn’t dare move, letting it drag him through until the Force sang. He listened, reaching out he caught a hold of a light. Brighter than the others.

The light was a memory, they were all memories, he realized. Most were so long ago, so inconsequential that he had almost forgotten them.

His perpetual movements stopped, and he hovered. He was formless, he was timeless, he was the Force. It curled around him, a loving serpent, without head or tail, stretching out into the horizon with no end in sight.

It wrapped around him in careful tendrils and tugged at him. He let it. The light grew brighter, almost blinding, and when he stepped through into it the pure white light faded.

He was in the halls of the Temple, long since destroyed in his time. Here they were undamaged. He couldn’t breathe, like he was held in stasis, but he felt the memory of the air, the smell and taste of it and it was like returning home.

Perhaps the Temple had been his home more than he had ever thought it was. He looked down the empty walkways, small everyday Temple noises could be heard, a gentle forgotten ambiance that brought many memories to surface.

Memories that weren’t filled with the screams of those who lived here, but of laughter and conversations half heard, of those who were alive and well.

He hesitated. This is what he wanted to protect, this is what he wanted revenge for. This is the life he lost, and he would take it back. But he needed a body- and there they were.

Anakin, war-torn but alive, well, how he was before Sidious sunk his claws into him, before Vader ripped his throat out. Behind him walked Obi-Wan.

His Master was- he was so young. He was smiling, talking to his Anakin with interest. They had always been so close, he had just never noticed how close. These two orbited, unconsciously mirroring, circling around each other in perfect unison.

It would be a shame to destroy it. To destroy them. But Vader had never felt much before when he was purposeless. Now he had a purpose, and he was determined to succeed. Nothing would stand in his way.

He moved forward, somehow. It was like swimming, almost. Anakin’s body was so close he could taste it. He just needs to-

Something of his hostility must’ve bled into the Force because he alerted them. He cursed, withdrew, but it was still enough to worry them. Obi-Wan especially.

Vader watched Anakin clasped hands with this Obi-Wan, anchoring him. He remembered doing that, to help reign in Obi-Wan’s mind. He had never thought much of it then, not out on the battlefield, not in their endless floating in space, not when there was a threat. Somehow it had become normal.

Obi-Wan spread out into the Force, cautious, searching. Vader wanted to take his time, surprise led to the least resistance, but he knew the longer he stayed here in the in between the harder it would be to leave. Some things were impossible, even for supposed Chosen Ones, and Vader had no wish to test this further than he had to.

Obi-Wan was prepared. There was almost no one stronger than Skywalker’s Master at preventing attacks through the Force. It had always been a point of pride for Anakin- Skywalker.

Vader waited. The trickling sand of time grating against his being. He waited.

Here, from the perspective of a stranger, someone outside of the little world that the Team had together he felt nothing but a fiery burst of jealousy.

Vader’s anger affected the Force, and he utilized it. The moment Obi-Wan disengaged from the force, Vader took the few precious seconds it took the Jedi to settle back, to disregard the danger, and he struck.

Skywalker was easy to subdue.

Oh, he had missed this, having a fully functional body. This Anakin had everything and he hadn’t even known it. Vader grabbed a hold of Skywalker and sank under the waves of the Force. He found Skywalker, terrified, angry, and helpless. It was easy to pull him away, cut him from his mortal form.

It would be just as easy now, holding Skywalker in the palm of his hand, for Vader, engulfed in the Dark Side, to crush him between his fingers.

He put up a good fight, but he was no match for Vader, the result of everything that Skywalker could never hope to accomplish. More powerful than he had ever been.

But as Vader stared down at the pathetic cowering creature that had once been Anakin Skywalker he knew that he couldn’t. He chained him instead, heavy draping metal, locking him down in the deepest darkest depths of his mind.

It wasn’t a big change from how he would’ve been, a few short years in the future. He would quickly grow used to it. He would have to or he would die. It was the same darkness Vader had already spent twenty years in. If all went well he would only spend a few hours, and it would be nothing compared to that.

When Vader finally opened his eyes he felt. He felt air fill his lungs, he felt the aches and bruises he had sustained from- well, himself. He felt it all, the cold stone floor, the cool air, and warm warm hands.

He hadn’t considered that this would be something that would drag him down again, the addiction of living, of feeling. And Obi-Wan. He hadn’t considered that being in the presence of Obi-Wan, his or not, would have such a powerful control over him.

The first thing he saw, was grey eyes, a worried caring face, and soft words. He couldn’t leave. It was like he was seeing Kenobi through the eyes of Skywalker. It was disgusting. He needed more.

Vader was quickly losing the element of surprise on Sidious. Surely he must’ve felt the disturbance, he would be ready for Vader. But he found he couldn’t leave. Not yet.

Somehow remnants of Skywalker must’ve remained behind, leaving a warmth in his heart for Kenobi, a betrayer, a man who had destroyed Vader’s life, pulling brick after brick out of the many high walls he had built somehow just by being concerned for his apprentice.

Yet when Vader finally managed to pull himself away he was followed, and- he found himself an unexpected ally in Kenobi- Obi-Wan. The man with the same face, same voice, but not the same. He had to remind himself, harshly at times.

“I would follow you until the day I die.” Obi-Wan had said. “I would follow you until the day I die.” He had promised. “I would follow you until the day I die.” He hadn’t lied.

The truth was held in the Force, echoing over and over in Vader’s ears. Even after he had said he had killed this man’s Anakin, this Obi-Wan still trusted him completely. He was sad, mourning, alone now and forever, but he still listened.

Vader had looked into the eyes of Younglings he had already killed in one life, and threatened them, again, and Obi-Wan had still followed him. Not that he had known that Vader had.

He meant what he had said, today was the day that the Sith line would end, once and for all, by Vader’s hands.

He was the instrument for his own Fall last time, now no one stood above him, no one controlled him. He was free to do as he willed. Free to make his own choices, and now he had neither fear nor shame to hold him back. He was angry, he was vengeful and he would take what was his; the head of Sidious.

When he arrived he marched, unopposed through the Senate. Being the pawn of a Sith was only advantageous now. He stopped outside of Palpatine’s doors, familiar, once comforting but so so long ago. He took a second to unclip Skywalker’s lightsaber, to throw off his cloak.

He loosened the tight grip he had over his Force Signature, and it rippled out in a midnight black cloak to replace Skywalker's. It flowed from his shoulders and spread out behind him. Angry, snapping, hateful, it swept out and slowly and steadily covered the entire Senate. The only forewarning to death that Sidious would receive.

He didn’t know what was coming for him, and Vader would take a vicious animalistic joy in tearing the Sith Lord limb from limb, all in the name of revenge.

In the name of hate, betrayal, and love. It had always been for love. But love had always pushed him towards his fear, and always further away from Them. He rolled his neck and ignited his blade, then he pushed through the door. He spun it once, twice, the grip comfortable, deadly.

Then he smiled, but not out of genuine happiness, that wasn’t an emotion he had anymore, but out of savage delight.

“Anakin, my boy-” Palpatine stood from his chair, innocent, caring, “Is everything alright?”

Vader knew what hid underneath his skin, the crackling lighting of the Dark Side feeding him. Not anymore. The only thing that would eat tonight was Vader. He was ravenous and no one would stop him. Not the Sith, not the Jedi, not even Obi-Wan if he was foolish enough to try and protest.

They were alone.

All the better. Vader didn’t need witnesses, not right now. The time would come when all would know who bled the Sith Lord out on the floor. But not now, when bystanders would only get in the way. No one would get to see this retribution, only the aftermath. And it would be beautiful.

Sidious saw the change, and he knew that Death had come for him. But he did not submit, just like Vader had hoped. He drew his own ‘saber. Blue against red. Bleeding, molten lava red. “I am sorry, dear boy, that it has come to this.”

Venom hidden in the words that Vader had listened to, that had poisoned his mind. Now he could see it as it truly was.

Vader snarled as the door sealed shut behind him. Oh, this would be fun. The fight he had been waiting for for the last two centuries was finally here. He would get his revenge.

The city fell dark. Anakin’s presence was felt the moment they stepped foot outside of the Temple, and only grew the closer they got to the Senate. It was powerful, unlike anything Obi-Wan had ever felt before, and it came in pulses.

The Jedi Order had come together quickly, urgently. A Sith had managed to infiltrate them, and now they would have to remove the threat. It had been suggested that Obi-Wan not, perhaps, be included.

He had refused any and all such ideas and insisted that he was going with them.

Arriving at the Senate’s steps with the Dark Side so blatantly revealed was- surreal. Anakin had not hidden himself, a blazing beacon that declared him a Sith, and taunted, “Come and get me.”

Which was, Obi-Wan supposed, exactly what they were doing now. There were six of them, led by Master Windu. Obi-Wan was technically on strict orders to stay back and be involved as little as possible, but he remained by Mace’s side, stubbornly.

The Force gave no guidance, it was wrapped around Anakin’s fingers, and even now he could feel his former Padawan’s bloodlust, his rage. Amplifying everything around him, but it wasn’t just angry, it was exultant.

The strain on the Force, in the pitchest black, a black darker than it was ever meant to sustain, was so strong that even those not Force-Sensitive could feel it. This was not the balance the Chosen One was supposed to bring. This was evil, malice in its very truest form or meaning. It was Dark.

They traced the Dark to its source, through the wide corridors directly towards the Chancellor’s office. Obi-Wan had, regrettably, never been before. But Anakin, his Anakin, had been there many times. If Palpatine had been the reason for Anakin’s Fall- trapping him in his Darkness then- but it was a thought too terrible to even entertain.

Mace held out a hand to stay them. Cautiously approaching the Chancellor’s door, he listened. Obi-Wan found himself straining his own ears, but all was silent.

The Force reached out to him, it caught him up in its arms, examining him. Like a child would to a toy, poking and prodding. It was reigned in by a familiar touch.

Obi-Wan let out a sigh of relief, “Anakin.”

“Obi-Wan?” Mace said.

“He’s alive in there.” He moved forward, fully intending to walk through the door. However much he was dreading the contents behind. Mace stopped him firmly.

“We don’t know what’s behind that door,” He said grimly.

“But I do,” Obi-Wan cut in.

“There could be two Siths, working together, or there could be only one, one who overpowered the other. Whatever it is, whoever it is, you will stay behind.”

“I hardly think-” Obi-Wan started, but then the door slid open, hissing gently.

“Masters!” Anakin greeted cheerfully,, “You’ve finally made it!”

He was alive, it was the first and most obvious thing that Obi-Wan saw. Then he saw the rest of him. His cloak was no longer draped over his shoulders elegantly, instead, it was gone revealing in its absence the rips and tears, the singed fabric of Anakin’s robes. He held his ‘saber loosely in his hand, blade retracted, leaning relaxed against the frame. He grinned at them.

His smile was dripping in blood, his own, Palpatine’s, it hardly mattered. What did matter was that across his eyes (sunset gold eyes) crossed jagged blood-red cuts. No, too small, too delicate, too intricate- spreading out like lightning, caused by lightning- Anakin had been hit by lightning. It had happened again and Obi-Wan had not been there.

Obi-Wan recognized them easily, it was hard not to when the first thing he saw in those first few days after Genosis were those tangled twisted lines. Those ugly lines that expanded across his former padawan’s back like a map of Coruscant.

Like a magnet he was drawn forward, step by step, matched by the other Jedi. Though he moved forward, pulled by something deep within him, while they, backwards. The magnet was fear, attracting him, repulsing them.

He reached out and traced the lines. His fingers came away bloody. Anakin watched him with molten eyes, curious. A small wound burned itself across Anakin’s cheek, cauterized by the blade that formed it.

Obi-Wan hovered over it for a few seconds. He pulled back and looked for the blue. If there had been any left it was eclipsed by the liquid suns, melting the sky with their descent.

“I played with fire,” The Sith said, “I’ve since grown out of it.”

He pulled something from his belt, holding it for a few seconds. A lightsaber, but not his own. It exuded evil. He winked at Obi-Wan and tossed it to the floor at the other Jedi’s feet.

“Skywalker?”

Obi-Wan did not need to turn around to know the expression on Mace’s face, as close to blank as he could manage, tensed and ready to fight. He held back, prepared for anything. If the Sith were even to attempt an attack he would stand no chance, no matter how powerful he was.

But the Sith made no move. Anakin remained where he stood, not moving, not looking anywhere except at Obi-Wan. He leaned slightly into Obi-Wan’s touch, soaking it in with the barest press of his cheek to his palm.

“Worry not, Master Windu,” He called jovially, over Obi-Wan’s back, “A Sith has died today.”

“I’m more worried about the one that remains,” Mace said warily.

Anakin pulled away from Obi-Wan, his hand coming down to give a slight squeeze of reassurance to his old master. He smiled, cocking his head at Mace, “There are far more than just one, Master.” He said, almost mockingly. “But, worry not, they too shall be dealt with shortly.”

For the first time, Obi-Wan thought to look into the room behind Anakin scene behind him was-

Everything within was destroyed, furniture shattered into splinters of wood. The floors were covered in a thin carpet of dust. The violent struggle that had mapped itself across the floor in destruction. Footsteps where the dust had been disturbed showing starkly against the stone tiles.

Anakin stepped aside with a fluid half bow, “Where are my manners,” he said mockingly, “Welcome to the throne room of the last Sith.”

He walked in, backwards, steps assured and calm, luring them in. Helplessly they followed. Obi-Wan first, then, hesitantly, the others.

Blackened streaks adorned the walls, the scorch marks of ‘sabers crossed, dragged against solid stone in the heat of battle. All that remained intact were the windows and a seat that would’ve headed a great table. A table that was split in half, slashed to pieces.

Master Windu surveyed the damage, “I don’t suppose I’m going to like how you dealt with the other Sith.”

Anakin continued walking, his smile morphing into something more-

“Nothing that he didn’t deserve.” He stated simply. And that said, he approached the lone chair, standing in the midst of all the destruction, “After all, how does one treat the one man who ruined your life.”

It almost looked like a throne. Obi-Wan could see, pictured in his mind as clear as day, Anakin sitting there. Ruler of the Galaxy.

Underneath pieces of rubble by Obi-Wan’s feet where he had stopped at a standstill were small splatters of blood. They caught his eye. Master Windu, too, seemed caught in a standstill, though for different reasons.

“I am more than familiar with the ways of the Sith, Skywalker,” he said sharply.

Anakin reached down, flashing him with a smile with teeth, fierce and hungry, “Is that so?” He asked, “I do not find that so surprising, Master Windu, after all, you have studied the darker arts.” He paused, “Yet somehow you do not quite know what to do with me.”

“You are rather the anomaly,” Master Windu acknowledged, “But it will take me less time to cut you down than to puzzle you out.”

Anakin laughed.

Obi-Wan used the tip of his boot to shift aside a piece of shattered stone, streaks of blood grew until- discarded flesh- stolen-

Obi-Wan turned, “Anakin,” He said slowly, “Where is the Chancellor?”

Anakin looked at him. The Sith Lord within him faded from the forefront of his eyes, how Obi-Wan could tell he did not know, but he saw it.

“I did not kill him,” He said carelessly, “I was waiting for the right audience.”

“Where is he, Skywalker?” Windu cut in.

Anakin’s expression grew colder, “If you doubt that your precious Chancellor is, as I’ve said, a Sith Lord, then you can doubt no more.”

He leaned down, and with little effort pulled something out from behind the severed table. He dropped the Chancellor at their feet.

Sickly, faded golden eyes looked up at them. Palpatine, if it was indeed him, almost unrecognizable in appearance, lay there at their mercy. Anakin looked on contemptuously, the anger distorting his features, “There,” He said, “There is your Sith Lord, there is Sidious.” He spat out.

“And if that is not enough for you then the lightsaber I gave you should be the solid proof you so deeply crave,” he continued, “and if even that is not enough to trust me on my word then you might be very interested in what his collection of Sith Holocrons might have to say-”

“Enough, Skywalker!” Windu stood from where he had crouched in front of the fallen Sith, “And the others? The ones in league with Sidious?” Anakin sat, first gracefully, and then in a careless fall into the throne, a plain chair that it was. That had never stopped Sidious, his real throne, the center of the Senate, the Chancellorship. The thought was sickening.

“They are being ended as we speak.”

Obi-Wan wanted to look away from this twisted version of his Padawan, but he couldn’t. He was transfixed by him. Anakin who had come into his power violently, angrily, beautifully.

“How?”

“You are a fool if you think that Sidious controlled just the Senate, and even more so if you think he did not plan to destroy all of his opposition, including his allies,” Anakin said flippantly.

The words hung in the air,

“What will you do now?” Obi-Wan asked eventually.

Anakin stood. He drew his ‘saber. Its blade was still blue, but it reflected off of nothing in his eyes, his golden eyes. He drew nearer. The Sith no longer looked at Obi-Wan, his eyes were now focused on a better prize, Palpatine, Sidious. His intentions were dangerous.

Sidious’s wings were cut, he was helpless. Windu stepped forward, the Jedi beside him, to protect the Sith Lord. Justice was in no way ever served through violence. Assassination helped no one, and if Anakin truly wished to, for Obi-Wan’s sake, he would stop.

He did not.

‘Saber after ‘saber ignited against the vengeful Sith. Obi-Wan ignited his own too, to be used for or against Anakin was yet undecided.

Before he could do anything Anakin swung his blade. It crackled with power as it connected with Windu’s blade. He was straining against Anakin’s strength.

The Dark Side fed Anakin, nipping at the Light, taking and taking from them, giving and giving to him. It rippled around them.

“I have already played enough games to last a lifetime, Master Windu, and of those who played with me none have come out unscathed,” Anakin snarled, “You will step back, or you will tempt me to go further than I’ve gone yet today.”

They stood, locked, above Sidious. Obi-Wan couldn’t move, he warred with himself. To allow Anakin his vengeance would be to allow everything he stood for not least counting justice to fall to the side.

“How much further can you Fall,” Windu pushed back, “before there is no climbing back up?”
It caught at Anakin and he faltered, only minutely so, but still, Master Windu pressed it. He knew he had the advantage and he pressed it, “I feel it,” he said, “there is Light in you, it threatens your power. Which one death will be your turning point, I wonder, Skywalker.”

“That is not my name.” Emotion was clouding Anakin’s mind, he struck, once, twice, three times. They clashed. Vader’s movements were like a viper, venomous, deadly, fast and relentless. Master Windu held his own, pushing against and forcing Vader step by step backward.

Panting, Vader lowered his blade, “This is getting us nowhere, Master Windu, and I do not have time for this.”

The Force swirled around him, Dark and Light. For a brief moment, Obi-Wan could see something in this union, a balance, but then it was gone. Clouded by Darkness the Force whipped out and snapped in tight coils around Windu and the other Jedi. One by one they were forced back.

Anakin shook his head, “I am Darth Vader, and you will kneel before me.” The name sent shockwaves, heavy with the weight of it. All it took was the flick of a hand the Jedi were forced to drop to their knees, their ‘sabers falling to the floor simultaneously. He seemed to have entirely forgotten about Obi-Wan, leaving him standing, and armed.

Darth Vader, not Anakin, turned his blade on Sidious, “The first time I did this I did not have the pleasure of time to savor your death,” He told the Sith as he circled him, “I have already taken some of your limbs, it will not be much longer before I take your life. You may not be able to fully hear me now, but know,” The Force grew angrier, “I would have taken you apart, piece by piece until there was nothing left but the last remnants of your consciousness, nothing left for you but to beg for death. For my mercy. And I would not have given it to you.”

The first time.

Pure malice filled the room, suffocating. Darth Vader grasped Sidious’s frail face harshly, “I would have placed what was left of you in a coffin, it would’ve been the only thing that would keep you alive, and it would be the thing that would kill you slowly. Twenty years I would keep you in its weight and I would force you to kneel at my feet in subjugation. Every step, every breath you’d take, a reminder that you were alive, once. There would be nothing worth living for, nothing to gain, nothing to lose.”

Vader’s mechno hand closed tighter and tighter, bruising skin and soon life, he was not done, “And I would keep you there,” He growled, “until just when you thought there was nothing worse I could do to you, then, and only then would I take your heart and cut it out of your chest. If you had ever had a heart, Sidious, and I would have made you eat it.” He slammed the Sith down onto the floor.

Breathing heavily he forced himself back, his eyes wild, hair tangled, chest heaving, “I have never been a patient man,” He said, quieter, emptier than he had ever been before, “so be grateful that this is where you end.”

With a strangled yell, he swung his ‘saber.

Obi-Wan hadn't noticed himself move, but he did, and he caught the blade. Blue met blue, gold met blue. Disbelief, then anger crossed Vader’s face, “You would stop me,” He said, wide-eyed, “From my revenge.”

“This isn’t the way this has to end,” Obi-Wan said, “Please, let justice be dealt the way it was meant to.”

Vader laughed hollowly, cruelly, in the voice that Obi–Wan had once known and adored but now struck something like fear into him, “Justice,” he mocked, “There is no justice, not if you prevent me from doing this.”

“If I let you do this, Dear One, will there be anyone left to avenge, or will you be who he made you?”

Obi-Wan’s worst fear was confirmed in the full-body flinch Vader made at the words.

Vader, their blades pressed together buzzing with their heat, hesitated. His cold gaze softened, “Obi-Wan,” He said softly, much too softly for what was happening right here, right now, “I am not Anakin-”

“But you were.” Obi-Wan said, almost desperately, “You can be once more.”

Vader, untethered, power thrashing out of him, lowered his blade, “This is not something you can come back from.”

“Then don’t come back, just come with me. We could leave-”

“You do not understand, old man,” The anger was back, not that it had ever left, biding its time, “It will all end today, by my hand. Now get out of my way.” He ordered.

Obi-Wan had stepped in front of the prone Chancellor in his attempt to draw Vader’s attention to him, away from his target. He lowered his own blade in a mirror to Vader’s, “I cannot watch you do this, Dear One, I cannot let you.”

“Then look away.” Vader snarled.

Obi-Wan was alone, standing against the most powerful SIth they had faced in centuries, facing off against his own student. Alone because Vader had silenced the other Jedi, and trapped them. He was alone.

He turned his head slightly and looked down at Sidious, “He must die?” Peace. He felt nothing, just peace.

“Yes.”

He looked back up to Vader, “Then I will do what I must to spare you from this.”

Vader reared back, surprised, “What?” He said, “Obi-Wan-” He could not stop him, he was too late. He saw the change in Obi-Wan’s eyes, he knew him long enough to see the moment warmth turned to cold calculation and from that to an acceptance of odds that were not in their favor.

How many times had they been together, trapped against the rallying forces of the Separatists?

He knew Obi-Wan’s next move before he had even planned it out, yet was still helpless to stop the outcome. Jedi did not kill the defenseless, they didn't kill the unarmed, but in one swift movement, Obi-Wan did.

Sidious’s head rolled across the floor, stopping at Mace’s knees. Obi-Wan couldn't look away, he couldn’t look at Windu, he couldn’t move.

He dropped his ‘saber. It clattered to the floor, blade retracted leaving it lifeless. That was, perhaps, the last time Obi-Wan would ever hold it again. He couldn’t be a Jedi anymore. War had forced them to change, adapt their morals, close their mind to the acts they committed. But this was murder, cold-blooded, no matter how much he deserved it. But the reasoning behind it, love, devotion. Well, it more than balanced itself out.

An attachment so deep that he would rip the Force itself apart if anything were to happen to his- Anakin, Vader, his name hardly mattered now. With one life he had willingly given it all up.

“No!” Vader cried, his voice cracking. He sounded almost like Anakin again. Fear and anguish exploded in the Force. “Why?” Desperate, almost broken.

The Force wrapped around Obi-Wan, and he felt their severed bond start to burn. He was slammed backwards, collided with nothing, an invisible wall. He gasped, trying to force his lungs to inhale again, to recapture what had been forcefully crushed out of him.

Vader stepped over the slumped corpse, seething. His eyes flashed, lips pulled back in a furious silent snarl. He grabbed Obi-Wan’s hair and forced his head up.

“Why?” He asked, so angry, so scared.

“I would do anything for you.” It sounded so simple, so gentle. It cut at Vader's open wounds, and he flinched heavily.

“You had no right-” He barked.

“I had every right, dear heart.” Obi-Wan said softly, “Anything to protect you, even from yourself.” He would reach out and touch Vader’s face if he could, but his arms were pinned, his whole body was. He was the helpless one now.

Vader’s gold eyes flickered blue. Obi-Wan couldn’t look away. Much like he hadn’t moments ago with Sidious, but this was different. He was mesmerized. Blue bled into gold. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

The Sith stepped away, his hands flew to his hair and tightened. He looked wild. The Force constricted around Obi-Wan. And around the other Jedi, their pained sounds fading into the background.

“Vader-” Obi-Wan tried.

“Don’t call me that!” The Sith snapped.

“Then what should I call you?” Obi-Wan said, almost patiently.

“Anything but that.”

Alarms rang out, the Senate had been alerted. Too late, too soon.

What a strange sight they would make. Jedi kneeling before the Hero With No Fear, the Chancellor dead at his feet, and his eyes that telltale gold. What a sight, that the world had fallen to its knees before Anakin. What a sight.

Vader started pacing. It was so similar to when Anakin was stuck on something when he refused help and pushed through. The result was never pretty, though it sometimes worked. Anakin’s solutions were often crude things, things that required their edges to be smoothed. He had only ever let Obi-Wan do it for him.

Now he wasn’t asking for help. Obi-Wan could see the gears turning. This outcome would not end well, he knew it. The Force knew it also. It urged him to make a move.

“Anakin.” He called out.

Vader turned and looked at him. He looked so lost. He could almost be the child Obi-Wan had grown up with. But the fact remained that he was standing in the wreck of a room, over a corpse, and that he was no longer Obi-Wan’s.

“Anakin, come here,” Obi-Wan begged. He hoped.

Slowly, almost like he was drawn by the strings of the universe, Vader stepped towards him.

He stopped a few feet away from Obi-Wan. His golden eyes flashed. But the cold lines that traced his features relaxed slightly.

He had already come to his own conclusion. When he had left Obi-Wan, in the Temple, he had set out with a purpose, and contingency plans, almost certainly, should his purpose somehow not come to fruition. He had known what his next step was after he killed Sidious. But now he looked like Obi-Wan had pulled the carpet out from under his feet. Unbalanced.

His eyes were still gold, but they had not deepened in color as Obi-Wan had feared, as he had tried to prevent. They had faded, slightly. Their edges tinged blue.

“Anakin, please,” Obi-Wan pleaded, “Leave, go as far away as you can. Leave this all behind. Please, for me. Don’t let them catch you.”

The Sith watched him, his face revealed nothing, “What about justice?” He eventually asked, twisting the words, letting them out of his mouth. He was sardonic.

“Please.”

Vader’s lip curled, “It is too late for me, Kenobi. Let me go.”

“Never,” Obi-Wan said. The only thing he could say. He wanted the word to convey to Anakin everything he could never have said. To Vader.

Something shifted in Vader’s eyes and his expression changed. Like something had broken, irreversibly snapped, and with it, his grief poured out of him. Within a second he was on Obi-Wan. He took two short steps and curled his hand behind Obi-Wan’s head pulling himself into him, into a kiss.

Obi-Wan’s head knocked backwards, trying to accommodate Anakin. He pushed back. They moved together, harshly, their teeth colliding against each other. He was so desperate.

Anakin needed him. He needed Anakin, and he was losing him. Had already lost him. The power of their kiss, of Anakin trying to meld himself into Obi-Wan, to make them One, distracted him. His control over the Force faltered.

The wall holding them up faded away, and they fell back a few steps. But Obi-Wan, with his newfound freedom, only used it to get closer. He grabbed back, just as desperate. He needed to take and take and take. Anakin only wanted to give and give and give.

Stumbling, Obi-Wan was led, pushed backwards. There was nowhere else for him to go but where Anakin needed him. When they hit the wall, somehow not falling over the destruction that Vader had wrought, Obi-Wan had to pull back, if only a little, to breathe.

He laughed breathlessly, holding onto Anakin as tightly as he could. He wouldn’t let go.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin brought a hand up, gently pressing his fingers to Obi-Wan’s eyes, “You’re crying.”

He kept his eyes closed, he couldn’t bear to look. Anakin bumped their heads together. He also couldn’t let go, his Mechno and flesh hands holding onto whatever they could.

Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open, and he was met with crystal blue eyes. His hands came up, circling Anakin’s face. “Oh, Anakin,” He breathed. And then he hugged him.

Anakin let go of his grip on Obi-Wan, exchanging it for wrapping them around him in a close embrace. They stood still for a moment.

Obi-Wan could smell him, breathe him in. He felt warm, alive, real, in his arms. He wanted them to stay like this, here with each other, for as long as they possibly could. But then it was over. Anakin pulled back, and now instead of tinged blue his eyes were entirely blue. Circled only by the lightest gold.

His face, softened and vulnerable, hardened again, and his attention left Obi-Wan. He spun towards the Jedi. Obi-Wan had forgotten about them. But in Anakin’s lapse, their own bindings had fallen so that they could stand. They were outnumbered now.

Anakin kept a hand out behind him, brushing against Obi-Wan’s own. Protecting him, Obi-Wan realized, though he did not need it. He could stand his ground against the other Masters and would come out alive. Because he needed to.

By doing it he was, inadvertently, giving away his weakness. Anakin had never been very good at holding his cards close to his chest. Obi-Wan quickly stepped out from behind Anakin so that they stood side by side. A unified front. Anakin spared him a glance with the barest hint of irritation. But no matter how endearing it was, it was also a weakness. They couldn’t show weakness. Not now.

But his protective stance did not go unnoticed.

They faced off.

Mace summoned his lightsaber, igniting it the moment it hit his hand. The others followed suit. Anakin stood unmoving. Obi-Wan’s lightsaber was too far away to call to his hand now without being at a severe disadvantage.

The Jedi slowly approached. They were treating Anakin like a beast. Wild. Volatile.

Still, Anakin did nothing.

“Anakin Skywalker,” Mace Windu said, loud and clearly, “you are under arrest for conspiring with the enemy, for being a Sith Lord, and for the assassination of Chancellor Palpatine. What do you have to say to this?”

Anakin said nothing. He only watched them. His ‘saber remained where it rested, loosely in Anakin’s hands, unlit and unused. He made no move to raise it. He wasn’t threatened by them. He said nothing, frozen in place, but the Force around him didn’t project anything except a tranquility foreign to Obi-Wan. Not something his Anakin would have ever shown, and if then only rarely.

Unexpectedly he looked away from them, to Obi-Wan. “This was never part of the plan,” He said quietly, “I was never supposed to want to stay.”

And it was Anakin, not Vader who was speaking.

“What plan?” Windu asked moments before Obi-Wan himself could. But then he knew, because, because because he knew Anakin. He knew him better than he knew himself. Or he had.

Anakin looked back to Windu, “To kill the Sith.” He said.

“You seemed to have missed one.” Even when confronting a Sith Mace managed to inject dry humor into his words.

“Yes,” Anakin mused aloud, “It seems I have.” He lifted his blade, but not towards the enemy. He examined it, absorbed.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan couldn’t keep the fear from his voice, “No.”

Blue eyes flicked towards him, before settling finally. He turned to Obi-Wan, forgetful of anyone except him in the room, “This was always the plan, Master.” Plainly spoken, like there was nothing past this point. Nothing past this point and Anakin had accepted as much.

“You’ve never planned a day in your life,” Obi-Wan said.

“No, not really.” He admitted, “I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan wanted to do something, anything, but Anakin interrupted him. Whatever Obi-Wan was going to say was cut off by Anakin pulling him in for a soft, chaste kiss.

The Force teetered, matching Obi-Wan’s own icy blank fear. Then the Force exploded and Obi-Wan was pushed away. Not the slamming angry power from before, but something different.

A wall was formed around Anakin. The Force cradled him in its hands, wrapping around him, lovingly. Obi-Wan climbed to his feet and hit it.

The swirling storm returned. Anakin lifted his blade and the ‘saber ignited. A blue that matched his eyes. He raised it grimly.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan yelled, “Anakin please!”

But he was too late. He was always too late.

The blue glowed ethereally, reflecting off of eyes- blue blue blue eyes- Anakin’s eyes- and then they went dark as the blade disappeared into his chest. Plunged there by his own hands. He staggered a step, and the ‘saber fell out of his hands, now a bloody angry red. And then he fell.

Never before had time moved so slowly. Obi-Wan moved, but he was not fast enough.

With Anakin’s fall, the Force’s raging winds fell too. The shield around him collapsed and Obi-Wan rushed forward. He fell to his knees and tried as best he could to support Anakin. To lift him up.

Anakin was limp in his arms.

Obi-Wan pulled him into his lap, gently holding his head in his shaking hands. He brushed Anakin’s hair out of his face. The soft blue eyes looked up at him, and Anakin blinked, not altogether there.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan murmured, “Anakin, look at me.”

He did, slowly, laboriously. “Master?” He asked.

“Oh, darling.”

He found the gaping hole in Anakin’s chest, the bond between them felt like it was bleeding, pouring all the lifeblood from Anakin’s body in its place. It felt like he had been stabbed, and the wound ached. He tried to put pressure on it. But it was all hopeless now. He would die.

Anakin clumsily reached down and grasped at Obi-Wan’s hand and pulled it to his mouth for a kiss, “Let me go.” He said, “Let me go.”

“Never.” Obi-Wan vowed, “Never.”

“You’re an old fool, Kenobi.” Anakin managed. He reached up, to hold Obi-Wan’s face in his hands, to touch him one last time, to do something, anything. But he never made it. The blue faded from his eyes until all that was left was an ashy pale.

The hand fell. Obi-Wan could not catch it. He could only stare at his brother, his padawan, his everything, his heart fragmenting in his chest. And all he could do was weep.

Anakin Skywalker died. It was short, fast, in the flash of a blade and the blink of an eye. But even as Obi-Wan held him, he knew it to be so. Knew that he would never come back.

The Force around them roared, not from a man’s power but from loss. Something was lost to it tonight, and it wasn’t the Chosen One.

He was angry, so angry. Angrier than he had ever been before. Obi-Wan was furious. Anakin had been taken away from him, twice, in one day. Now there was nothing left. The Force had taken Anakin away and for what? Losses, throughout the war, throughout his life and he had accepted every single one.

Accept and release. Let go. Accept your grief, accept your loss, let them go.

Let me go.

The words- they echoed in his head. Echoed and echoed.

Anakin slipped away from him, slipped through his fingers. He couldn't let him go. Obi-Wan reached out desperately and held on. He closed his very being around the last remnants of what was left and he fought it. He fought it in his grief, grip tightening, fingers clenched white with the strength of his will.

Never. He had said. And he had meant it.

Let me go.

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. Never. He had said, and now he would make true on that promise. He never would let go of him, not until the day that he died. Not until they both died. Not until the day Anakin died, and it would not be this day.

Never.

He gritted his teeth and using the Force he reached through their shattered bond and he pulled.

Anakin Skywalker lived. He shouldn’t have lived. He shouldn’t be alive, but he was. It was a long, slow affair. It took hours. And then hours turned to days, and days to weeks. Life is not so easily returned as it is taken away.

He was alive and he was alone.

The first he realized that he was alive was almost an hour after he first woke up. The Force had not accepted him, he was not, as he had hoped, returned to the dust of the Living Force. He was in a bed, familiar, so familiar. But he couldn’t place it.

It was an hour before he realized that he could feel. To know that he was in a mortal form. He should have realized, from the soft brush of the sheets that covered him, the warm air that he breathed, and the bright lights that shone down on him, that they were all connected. Connected to the truth, and the truth was that he was alive.

As it was, it took an hour. He floated, desolate, in his own mind. He didn't dare open his eyes, he didn't want to accept that he was dead, or at least, that he lived past death. Consciousness after it was all supposed to be over was a fate worse than death. He couldn't stand to spend the rest of eternity with himself, alone. He couldn't stand himself.

But when he did, eventually, open his eyes he was alone. That was as it should be. Perhaps in this new punishment of his, he could remain alone to think. He hadn't done a lot of thinking whilst alive, but he could now.

So he lay on the cot, for a cot it was, and thought. Then he felt a slight discomfort, and then he tried to sit up. He was cuffed to the bed. Something he discovered through sharp pain and an inability to move. It also explained the lack of the Force, something that should’ve been moving and swirling around him now completely absent.

He wasn’t having a good day.

Perhaps his punishment was to spend the rest of everything in halls that looked so like the Healing ones from the Temple. Maybe he would walk the Temple itself, reminiscing.

He didn't think about how real everything felt.

Care droids entered the room, a cell more like, and fussed about him. He tried to talk to them but they clucked at him and carried about their business. Then they left. He was alone and it was hard to differentiate between dream and wakefulness. Time passed slowly.

The next time the door opened he was deep in an attempted meditation.

“Anakin?”

He lifted his head at that. Obi-Wan stood in the doorway, disheveled, worried, and there. He was there.

“Obi-Wan.” And oh, his voice was dry, cracked from disuse. He winced at the sound.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem to mind because he crossed the floor of the room in a second. But then he hesitated, standing over him almost like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. Anakin expected something, perhaps a scolding, or disappointment, but not the shining bright look of relief that crossed his face.

“Oh, Anakin.” He said at last, and then he kissed Anakin. He kissed him and kissed him and kissed him. Then he kissed his hands, and his face, and his hands again, and then every part of Anakin that he could reach until Anakin laughed, and kissed full and properly.

They were panting, leaned against each other, breathing the same air and it occurred to Anakin that he hadn’t felt this at peace since- He couldn’t remember.

“You're real.” Anakin said, and then again, louder, “You're here, you're real.” He wanted to laugh. He wanted to cry. “Did you die too,” he tried to hide the heartbreak in his voice, “you weren't supposed to die.”

“I'm as real and alive as you are, Anakin.”

“I'm alive?” he wanted to know, needed to.

“Very, very alive,” Obi-Wan said. He held onto Anakin as if he were just as afraid as Anakin was, that he would fade away, or disappear. Stranger things had happened before.

So, Anakin thought, this was before.

“Come,” Obi-Wan said suddenly, pulling away, “We need to release you.”

The handcuffs. Suppression cuffs, ah, well, that explains it. The Dark Side consumed and consumed, eating away at its hosts, but with the cuffs on he- he had been free. Free to feel without hate, to think and breathe clearly. It was something he had forgotten.

The only times he ever got close were in the arms of his Master. Obi-Wan moved to his wrists, and reached out to release them but-

“Wait,” Anakin said, loudly, too loudly.

He paused, “Anakin?”

“I don’t-” He swallowed nervously, “I can’t-”

Obi-Wan seemed to understand, he brought his hand up to caress Anakin’s face, “It’ll be alright, whatever is underneath them, it’ll be alright.”

Then the cuffs fell off.

The Force rushed through his veins, burning with the fire of life. It brought him back to the universe, with it a connection to every living creature, every child of the Force, but the hate and rage were not there.

He felt like a foreigner in his own body. He was Vader, he had his memories, his past, his truths but he was also-

“Anakin Skywalker is not dead,” Obi-Wan said, his words ringing with finality, “Whatever you may have thought, he is alive. You and he are one. Now, we have to leave before anyone realizes that you’ve woken up.”

Anakin sat up, and accepted the hand offered him, “What?” He asked.

“You do remember trying to kill the Chancellor, don’t you?”

“Ah,” He did indeed, “Yes, that.”

“Exactly. We must leave at once.” Obi-Wan said.

The Force tickled at something in the back of his mind. There was a new connection, and he traced it gently. It was a chorded steel, strong and unmovable. He followed it. It led from his chest to Obi-Wan’s.

He stared in awe at it. He ran a hand along it, and then he gave it a tug. An answering tug returned, reassurance. Obi-Wan was watching him.

“Ah,” he said, slightly embarrassed, “When you-” Anakin knew what he was trying to say. Obi-Wan paused to think through his words, “I couldn’t let you go.”

Anakin returned his attention to the line, he gave it another tug, “You promised didn’t you.” He said.

Obi-Wan smiled at that, “I did.” He said.

Anakin twisted it around his fingers absently, “What is it?” he asked.

“A dyad.”

Anakin’s head snapped up, “A what?”

“Did you never pay attention to your lessons?” Obi-Wan asked, slightly affronted.

“I know what a dyad is, Master.” Anakin said, “It's just- We have one?”

It was grey, composed of a thousand strings, pieces of their conscience stitched together until it was hard to discern whose was whose. Each string was made of two smaller pieces, pure starlight white, and the darkest black he had ever seen, and they were woven together. It was Balance.

“It’s beautiful.” Anakin finally said.

Obi-Wan gave him a soft smile, “That it is.” He said fondly. Then, taking Anakin’s hand in his own, and squeezing it gently he smiled, “Let’s go now.”

He tugged Anakin through the door and they crept through the Halls of Healing unnoticed.

“Where to?” Anakin asked as they slipped around a corner.

Obi-Wan turned back to look at him, “There’s a whole Galaxy out there to explore.” He said as if that made sense.

“But the war?” Anakin started.

“The war’s over, it ended the moment Sidious died.”

Anakin gasped, “You killed Sidious.” He said.

Obi-Wan gave him an odd look, “I know.”

“Why?” Anakin pressed.

“Why else?” Obi-Wan answered, “For you.”

The words hung in the air. For him. To protect him. To protect Vader. It was almost absurd. Almost.

The memory pulled at something. Anakin felt along his chest. He ached there, the faintest raised lines of a wound not fully healed. Obi-Wan put a gentle hand over his own where it rested. He stared at the place for a moment, and when he looked up at Anakin his eyes held something haunted. They seemed to beg, never do that to me again, please, mine, darling.

He shook his head. He never would. After all, there was a life ahead of him, and a whole  Galaxy to explore. And with Obi-Wan by his side, maybe his story could finally end the right way.

Then his words finally got to him, and they felt far too much and far too strongly that Anakin had to kiss him, was practically forced to or he would’ve exploded. “Don’t ever let me go,” Anakin said fervently when they separated.

Obi-Wan answered with a kiss just as enthusiastic, but far more gently. “Never.” He promised.