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Anakin had come to him in his chambers, a somber look painted across his normally happy features. Obi-Wan had sensed something was wrong for days, but he had left Anakin to deal with his feelings himself. The boy was old enough to do that now. Obi-Wan corrected himself: Anakin was no longer a boy, a man in fact, but Obi-Wan often found it hard to see his former Padawan as anything other than a petulant teenager. He had grown in knowledge and body, but hadn’t managed to outgrow his stubborn, angsty attitude.
“Master,” Anakin called into the darkened sitting room. When the young man entered, Obi-Wan had been meditating in his bedroom. He hadn’t bothered to turn on any of the lights; it was easier to slip into a calmer state that way.
“You don’t need to call me that anymore, Anakin,” Obi-Wan reminded him, standing up and walking to the main room of his quarters.
“Master, I need your help,” Anakin murmured, insistent on the old title.
“Please, sit,” Obi-Wan offered, motioning to one of three chairs facing each other by the windows. Still the only light in the room was the white moonlight mixed with the gold and red of Coruscant, a constantly-changing, silver-and-orange glow that soaked everything in the room.
“What’s troubling you?” the older Jedi asked. As Obi-Wan sat, Anakin remained standing in the middle of the room. He seemed oddly out of place, towering over everything while still managing to seem small.
“I feel myself slipping, Master,” Anakin began. He was scared, Obi-Wan realized, coming to him out of crippling fear. And yet the young man was hesitant to speak. Obi-Wan wanted to demand what he had done, but he knew from prior experience that an accusatory approach, even out of care and worry, would only push the stubborn man away.
“What’s going on, Anakin?”
The young man lowered his head, still covered by the hood of his robes. “I… you won’t be happy with me.”
That was as close to an admission of guilt as Obi-Wan could take.
“Anakin, what have you done?”
Without a word, Anakin pulled back his hood and revealed a pained grimace, his eyes closed tightly.
“Master, forgive me…”
When he opened his eyes, they were yellow and bloodshot and desperate. The difference was more than color: the brightness, the part of Anakin’s gaze that Obi-Wan always enjoyed, had nearly vanished, overshadowed by pain. His fierceness had been replaced by a dull resignation. He looked like he would burst into tears at any moment.
“Anakin…” Obi-Wan repeated, standing up. “What have you done?”
“I had no choice!” the young man yelled, looking away. “Sidious…he said I had no other choice!”
The Sith…Anakin, how could you?
“Tell me you didn't, Anakin…”
“I did it for my wife,” he cried. “For my children. You don't know the pain I've gone through! And it still isn't enough!”
You were supposed to bring balance to the Force. What kind of balance is this?
Obi-Wan sighed. “That,” he said slowly, “is how the Sith work. Darth…Sidious, you said?”
He nodded, looking down.
“Darth Sidious will say anything necessary to convince you to serve him,” the Jedi explained. “What did he promise you, the safety of your family?”
Anakin crossed his arms and sat, silent for a moment. “Power,” he admitted finally. “The power to keep them safe. To keep you safe.”
Force have mercy on him. The boy doesn’t even know what he’s done.
“You don't need to keep me safe,” Obi-Wan reminded him.
“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “If it's only for me, I can't bear the thought of not being able to save you.”
“I can take care of myself, Anakin. I don't need saving. Please, don't worry about that.”
Anakin looked out through the windows. The night glow of Coruscant danced across his features, and his eyes, though they reflected such sorrow, looked beautiful in the lights.
“Even so,” he said softly, “I can't leave him.”
Yes, you can, Anakin. You can always come back to the Light. You're never too far gone, certainly not now.
“I pledged myself to him, Master, he owns me. I'm so sorry…I want you to come with me,” he admitted. “You don't have to say anything, I know you won't come. I just wish you would.”
I wish I would, too.
“You know I can't, Anakin.”
He stood, smiling sadly as yellow eyes held a deep sadness that seemed to cast shadows over his face.
“I know. I…well, I came to say goodbye,” Anakin explained slowly.
Please, don't go.
“I've known you far too long to think that more begging will ever get you to reconsider,” Obi-Wan said.
Anakin only smiled sadly before turning his back on his friend and walking to the door. Before he left, the former Jedi stopped.
“Thank you for trying, Obi-Wan,” Anakin murmured. “I hope I may meet you again someday.”