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The desert heat felt like all Obi-Wan deserved. He’d always known he’d die in fragments. In pieces of his soul leaking through his fingers and leaving him hollow and empty where a person should have been. He could remember once, long ago, telling Quinlan that he would die slowly, that he would leave his own soul behind time, and time again. His friend had been a solid comfort then, and the two spent the afternoon jumping off the roof of the temple and daring each other to do tricks as they fell.
It did not change the fact that Quinlan was gone, that the Jedi, once a beautiful bright collection of lights in the force, had vanished into frozen silence. The force ached like an infected wound and Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to do much more than brush against the force without blinding pain shooting through him. When he’d tried, in an attempt to comfort Luke, he’d nearly been sent to his knees; Luke had wailed in distress.
So the dead man walking stood at the door of a pair of strangers he’d never met. He was baking under the desert suns. He could barely hear himself as he handed his-- the little one off to Owen and Beru. The pair hesitated, but once they accepted Luke, he was undeniably theirs . Obi-Wan shoved the unimaginable loss he felt deep deep down. There was no use for such loss here, not when it would inevitably harm the little one. It was also clear, from the way Owen had shuffled Beru and the little one back, that Obi-Wan was not welcome here.
“Ca-can I, would you let me see him again?” Obi-Wan asked. Owen raised an eyebrow and scowled at Obi-Wan
“Why?” The man snapped irritation tainting the air “So you can inflict your magic nonsense on him? You took Anakin, convinced him to leave Shmi behind, and when he comes back he’s some angry thing, nothing like that little boy she used to tell me about. He brought her back to us but…” Owen huffed “A whole camp of Tuskens disappeared overnight. Apparently their corpses were covered in burns. Limbs everywhere. Then you go to war and all it gets is him dead. If that is what you did to him, took Shmi’s bright boy, took him, and turned him into some violent thing whose only fate was to die… then I want you nowhere near this Skywalker. You’ve killed enough of them already.” the vitriolic rant chilled Obi-Wan to his bones. He nearly choked on the anger in the air.
The Jedi froze. He felt like his world had tilted yet again. He could barely see, barely breathe. There was a deep deep wrongness that set into what little remained of Obi-Wan’s soul. He wanted--desperately--to deny the implications of Owen’s words. No, no, it- it couldn’t be. But it was. Obi-Wan could barely feel the force but he knew Owen’s words rang with truth . He could practically see the wreckage as the wounded, raw, and screaming force pushed past his shields. Despite the heat, he was frozen . Frozen in the knowledge that Anakin, that his padawan had-
That there’d been-
That he’d-
Years ago .
The world tilted, distantly he could feel someone brushing against his arm, pulling him out of the sun as his world fell apart.
He hadn’t seen- he hadn’t- years before Anakin- before he-- the temple, was that even his first time taking his blade to younglings? To the force-- to the force . Obi-Wan’s memories blurred past him, his mind screaming as he remembered.
Soon before Anakin became a knight, soon before he’d lost his arm, Anakin started complaining that his kyber wasn’t listening. It had hissed through the force, clearly upset at its wielder. Obi-Wan had tried to help, tried to fix it gently, but Anakin’s kyber had always been picky. It actively fought anyone other than Anakin and those close to him. Anakin had been the only one Obi-Wan had ever met, who managed to get into fights with his own kyber. Obi-Wan had assumed it was merely another instance of both kyber and wielder being stubborn but…
Oh, how his soul screamed at the idea.
And yet he knew it was true. The Kyber had wailed in mourning when Obi-Wan pulled it from the volcanic ground. It wept at what it had been made to do, but it was layered, wrapped in a silent resignation. (as if the kyber was familiar with the violence it had inflicted)
Oh, oh, how Obi-Wan hadn’t seen. How blind had he been, if he’d only noticed sooner he could have. If he wasn’t so blind to Anakin’s faults. He’d loved Anakin, his padawan had, at times, been like a part of his own soul. Perhaps it was his own fault. Obi-Wan mused as he felt his body fall into a chair.
Perhaps if Anakin had any other master this could have been prevented.
Someone, in the background, beyond Obi-Wan’s thoughts, was telling him to breathe.
The two of them had fit together in that perfect, horrible way everyone in his lineage fit together. In teams that had the highest highs brought down by the lowest lows. In how their personalities matched for complete success and chafed against each other, rubbed raw and bleeding as they poked and prodded at each other. They’d fit together, Anakin and Obi-Wan, just as Ahsoka and Anakin had, as Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon did, as Qui-Gon and Dooku did, as Duku and Yoda did. Each and every one of them, slotting together like mismatched puzzle pieces someone had bitten the corners off so they could fit.
‘In and out, slowly.’
Their partnerships had been the dizzying perfection of a beloved temporary solution. Perhaps this was the problem with his lineage, perhaps it was rotten all the way down. Their personalities are so large they’d eclipse everyone but each other. They loved with such completeness it consumed them. And Anakin fell, and Xanatos fell, and Komari fell, and Dooku fell, and there was no longer anyone left to pick up the pieces. And of course, it had been Anakin’s fall that left the biggest impact.
Had he fallen so far because he’d climbed the highest, or had he just decided to take everyone down with him?
‘What are we supposed to do with a panicking wizard?’
All at once Obi-Wan felt air fill his lungs. They spasmed as he fought to breathe.
“Are you with us now, Wizard ?” Owen asked hissing the last word like it was made of acid.
“I don’t think I ever will be again,” Obi-Wan admitted, his mouth tasted like ash, and he could hear blood running through his ears. “I should, ah- stop bothering you, I’m sure I’ve dumped enough on your hands.” Obi-Wan didn’t look up, he stared at his hands the whole time, still he could hear the pair thinking behind him.
“Stay until you stop shaking,” Beru ordered. Obi-Wan looked up, she had a stern look on her face and Luke in her arms. The Jedi took a deep breath and tried to let his emotions pass off into the force yet he found himself barely able to think, his mind was still hazy. His lungs still assumed as he tried to settle himself.
“Why did you react like that, Jedi?” Owen spat.
“The boy I knew-” Obi-Wan cut himself off with a shutter, and resisted the urge to bury himself in his robes. He felt well and truly broken, left as nothing more than a pathetic shamble in dusty robes. “ Anakin , my padawan , was supernova bright in the force, he had patches of darkness, we all did, but he- I thought he was happy , I-'' he sobbed “I- I should’ve seen it, I should’ve seen it, I could’ve helped him if I-'' he cut himself off “I’m sorry, perhaps you were right, perhaps he would have been happier here.” but then, Anakin had been a slave, Qui-Gon had won him. Maybe they could have found another way to save the boy, to keep him with his family. Maybe… maybe…. Maybe
“Then why did you take him?” Owen demanded
“I- took him as my padawan b-'' Obi-Wan's voice warbled, he couldn't deny Owen the answers he desired. The man deserved to know about his family.
“No.” Owen cut in. “Why did you take him?”
The confusion in Obi-Wan burst like a bubble. Oh. “I- I didn’t, my master Qui-Gon, found Anakin and offered to take him with us. He was known to take in any he thought needed help.” Obi-Wan remembered complaining endlessly about that, despite having done the same several times over. Silence settled over the room. Obi-Wan took another breath, the conversation has run its course.
“I- I wouldn’t wish to overstay my welcome. Please let me know if you need anything in regard to Luke’s care. Force sensitives are known to have unique needs.” slowly Obi-Wan got up, his legs felt weak, but he was still steadier than he had been. It occurred to him that he was inside the Lars' dwelling. Owen didn’t move, so Beru stood to lead Obi-Wan out. “I-I’d like to see him again if you’d allow it,” Obi-Wan added when the two got to the door.
“I’ll speak to Owen about it, and Ben?”
“Yes”
“The desert is unforgiving, don’t let it kill you.”
“Unfortunately my dear, I believe it already has. I will do my best not to have my body when it’s already claimed my soul." With that, the dead man turned away. He briefly heard Beru mutter something about ‘damn cryptic wizards’ as he shuffled into the endless sands.