Chapter 1 - Falling

                                    

                                          
Author's Note: Okay, so this fic is... dark. Like very dark. I've never written anything like this before, and I frankly don't know what hole it crawled out of. But here it is! I've put Anakin through so much suffering in this fic (please forgive me), and I'm only half-way sure what all will even happen in it (I'm only on chapter 5-6 or so). As dark as this may be, I hope y'all enjoy it if you're willing to continue on to read. :')
                          
Updates will be monthly!
                          
WARNING: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts/feelings, blood, and general darkness!
                          
~ Amina Gila
                          
It starts when Anakin stumbles into his bedroom after the funeral and arresting Hardeen, tears blurring his eyes, unbearable pain crushing his heart. It's dark, and he can't be bothered to turn on a light, so he shouldn't be surprised when he trips on one of the stray pieces of some contraption on the floor. His reflexes aren't what they should be, so he lands hard, the sharp edge of the metal cutting into his arm.
                          
Muttering a curse under his breath, Anakin shoves the things aside, before going to tend to the wound. It's not bad, and he stands in the 'fresher, numbly watching the blood drip down his arm. That's when he first realizes that he feels... not better maybe, but certainly not worse. It's more like comfortable in a bad sort of way. The hollow ache inside of him isn't quite as overwhelming as it was a minute ago, and it's with that thought in mind that Anakin stops the bleeding and crawls into bed.
                          
He tries not to remember – or acknowledge – what happened the previous night as he awakens, dragging himself out of bed and robotically eating breakfast. He doesn't think he looks too good, but then again, neither does Ahsoka, her expression unusually vacant, hardly responding to anything around her. Obi-Wan's death hit both of them hard, and Anakin is floundering. He doesn't know what to do, how to go about bringing himself and his Padawan out of this.
                          
"You want to spar a bit?" he finally asks, growing restless in the heavy silence hanging over them. He's desperate for some sort of release, something to alleviate the gnawing pain inside of him. The cut on his arm no longer hurts, but it's there, and it's as though he can feel it, much as he tries to ignore the sensation.
                          
"Sure," Ahsoka mumbles, without a shred of enthusiasm.
                          
Anakin sighs, forcing himself to rise and placing a comforting hand on Ahsoka's shoulder as they step into the hall of the Temple. She stays next to him as they walk to the training room, eyes downcast. If someone says something to them on the way, Anakin hardly registers it, desperate to find some way to unleash the storm of emotions which are drowning him. If he was better, Obi-Wan would still be here. If he wasn't so – so weak, perhaps things would be different.
                          
They spar for a couple hours until they're almost too exhausted to move. Anakin tells Ahsoka that she has the day off before going to his bedroom and staring down at the droids scattered about. The duel was good. It made him feel better, and he's fairly sure it helped Ahsoka too, though he didn't ask. After showering, he throws himself on his bed and lays there. 
                          
Eventually, when the sun is sinking towards the horizon, he's pulled from a short, terrifying nightmare of being trapped in a suffocating void, unable to call for help. He ignores the tears pricking his eyes as he rolls off his bed to the floor and begins pointlessly fiddling with the parts laying strewn around. Anakin hardly remembers what it was that he was trying to build, but he starts working anyways, finally giving up less than half an hour later when the memories won't stop tormenting him. 
                          
He can't believe it's really come to this, to the point where he's desperate for help and Obi-Wan isn't here to help him. Because he's dead. He clenches his fist around one of the parts, ignoring it even when the edges bite into his fingers, drawing blood. Pain helps him focus on here, so he'll use it. When Anakin opens his hand, there's a long, shallow cut oozing blood on two of his fingers. He flexes them, focusing on the sting to hold back the torment threatening to devour him whole. It's replaced by guilt.