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Ten years after the first time he stepped foot on the mosaic floor of the Jedi Council Chamber, Anakin could still feel eleven pairs of eyes boring holes directly into his soul, his heart curdling in his chest. More than a few were probably looking at his new prosthetic arm in all its Living Force-less glory. At the very least, if all went well, this would be the last time he would ever feel pinpricks of judgement directed towards him as such.
A deep breath. "Masters, I am resigning from the Jedi Order."
A rumble of confusion and disbelief. "Excuse me?"
"I said, Masters, that I am resigning from the Jedi Order."
Silence.
They were judging him. They always were.
Naturally, as the Grandmaster of the Order, Master Yoda had to be the one to break the silence.
"Make this decision lightly, you cannot. Hate to lose one of our most promising Padawans, we would."
The tiny, rebellious part of Anakin that he would otherwise keep locked up in the back corner of his mind resisted the urge to scoff. If the Council had truly seen him as promising, then they wouldn't have made him feel ashamed and unworthy to stand in their presence from the day they first met ten years ago.
To be perfectly honest, he still did, and while he was normally not one to give up on anyone, the circumstances had forced his hand. There was no other option.
"I discovered during my assignment on Naboo that Senator Amidala is my soulmate," he told the Council. "I cannot in good conscience risk her life by setting foot on a battlefield."
The first part was a lie. Anakin had known that Padmé was his soulmate since their fateful first meeting on Tatooine, but he wasn't about to tell them that — most Jedi didn't even know with whom they shared a soul-bond, because–
"This sounds much like attachment, Skywalker," Master Mundi remarked sharply, eyes narrowed in the same way he had always looked at him.
"I understand that it does, and I recognize it as such, Master Mundi," Anakin admitted, "but if acting on our attachments is what keeps civilians alive, then perhaps it would be worth it."
"By all means, please elaborate," Master Plo tilted his head in acknowledgement.
"With all due respect, Master Plo, how many innocent lives will be put at risk should we choose to fight in this war?"
"This is a war, Skywalker," Master Windu replied. "It is an unfortunate reality of war that innocents may be caught in the crossfire, regardless of how hard we try to protect them."
Anakin couldn't tell if Master Windu was bothered by the impending war as well or just his presence — he had always assumed it was the latter. Either way, he looked like he was in sore need of some headache medication, but that wasn't what Anakin was here for.
"But how many innocents have already died when their Jedi soulmate was killed in action during a mission in peacetime?" he pressed. "In the ten years I have been here, only at most 40% of all Jedi Knights or Masters would be completing field missions away from the Temple at a time. The Jedi Military Integration Act states that not only would all able Knights and Masters be granted the title of 'General' and a battalion to lead, but all able Padawans would be drafted as commanders as well. Dozens of Jedi have already fallen on Geonosis — how many more will be lost over the course of the war?"
Master Gallia twitched. Several heads turned to glance at Master Trebor's seat, now emptied of its usual occupant. Surely the place on the Council would have to be refilled soon.
"And what of the soulmates of the troopers? Those of civilians who reside on battle-torn planets? It is likely that even the soulmates of politicians would be at risk, considering that I was only assigned to bodyguard Senator Amidala in light of a failed assassination attempt on her!"
On instinct, he immediately shrunk back unto himself, his fingers twisting together beneath his sleeves. Never had he truly raised his voice against the Jedi Council before, and certainly not like this. Someone was about to reprimand him for losing control of his emotions. They always had.
"So you'll abandon your duty to the Republic as a Jedi."
The statement-question reverberated through his entire being.
Yes.
Yes, he would be, and he knew it reflected on him as a Jedi how the Council was right in that he should have never been trained at all if he couldn't even release his emotions into the Force and do what he'd been told. It didn't matter that every time he had tried to do that, they would just come crashing back into him a hundred times stronger, like those floodsurge waves from Naboo legend that Padmé had told him about once over dinner.
But he had also spoken to Padmé about how they might proceed with their relationship since they survived the arena on Geonosis, in hushed voices on the medical frigate while the Masters weren't looking, before he was sent to undergo surgery to have a prosthesis reattached to his right stump (now that he thought about it, did they just want him to go to war for them?). He wouldn't be able to bear losing Padmé, nor she him. As much as both of them wanted to do something, if he were to fight in the war, there would be a distinct possibility that he would die on the battlefield, and Padmé with him, and how could he bear to know there would be a galaxy where Padmé no longer existed?
Not to mention that Tatooine had still been — had always been — left behind by the Republic. The Hutts and the slavers had still remained after a decade since he first left. And not just Tatooine, far too many had been left behind by the Republic, and he had meant every word that he had said to the Council — he had wanted to become a Jedi to free the slaves, to help people, but the Jedi were beholden to the Senate, and the Senate spent far too much time dithering and not enough time implementing any effectual policies that improved anybody's lives. How was war supposed to help anyone on top of that?
Regardless of the instinctive urge to curl up unto himself, retract his resignation statement, and beg the Council for forgiveness, the tooka was already out of the bag: Padmé Naberrie was his soulmate. He wished to leave the Jedi Order because he refused to condone the war and didn't want her and countless others to die. Not to mention how the entire clone trooper army were all slaves, but the Jedi had made their stance on such matters clear and he had bitten his tongue too many times to learn not to argue with Core Worlders about his attachment to his childhood dreams years ago.
At this point, all of his sabacc cards were already on the table. He had no reason to hide anything anymore.
He raised his head and spoke up again:
"Master Piell, I am simply concerned for the possibility that there will no longer be a Republic by war's end."
Whispers erupted from the other Council members.
"Which is exactly why we'll need more knights to defend it!"
"Again, with all due respect, perhaps the Republic may remain intact, but what of the people? The Republic, no, the galaxy's population would be decimated should we choose to fight in the war, be they military or civilian, should they die on the battlefield or in prison camps or in their own homes. Countless lives are at risk, Masters, and casualties will be twice as high as if the Force did not grant each sapient a soul-bond. Even if it were to be preserved in the end, what is a Republic without anyone to populate it? As selfish as I know myself to be, to leave the Order for my soulmate's life and safety, this war will consume the galaxy whole, and far too many innocents will pay the price."
And Anakin didn't think he'd be able to bear it. His ears were still ringing from the last cries of the fallen on Geonosis, his back still sensitive from Padmé's nexu gashes and his newly mechanical fingers still barely flexible enough to hold a stylus. He didn't know how many more battlefields he would be able to take before he could no longer distinguish the suns-stroke flares of searing pain from the dulled throbbing of the Force beneath his skin, and for Padmé's sake, he knew better than to risk it.
The whispers from the Council grew louder until it was no more than a din of noise, as Master Ti mentioned something about him having a point about how many lives would be consumed, while Master Tiin never spoke and kept his mouth shut amidst the chaos, and Master Rancisis said that it had only been a week since Geonosis and to be perfectly honest, Master, he didn't need to meditate on his decision when he already had his answer in front of him even if he knew he was supposed to act like a Jedi and defend the Republic like he was meant to–
"I'm deeply sorry, Masters, but I have already made my decision and stated my reasoning for it," he interrupted, heart hammering in his chest like he was still on Tatooine, speeding into the dunes towards his mother as he had felt her pain from deep in his bones. "Consider this my formal resignation from the Jedi Order. May the Force be with you all."
He strode out from the chamber before he could start to second-guess himself, and collected his belongings from his and Obi-Wan's quarters — leaving only his lightsaber and a painstakingly written letter explaining himself and apologizing for everything he had done wrong over the past decade. As he bade farewell to his mouse droids cleaning the temple and made his way to his soulmate's office in the Senate building, he refused to look back.