THERE WAS A THERMONUCLEAR FURNACE WHERE HIS HEART SHOULD BE, AND IT WAS BURNING THROUGH THE FIREWALLS OF HIS JEDI TRAINING. HE HELD THE FORCE IN THE CLENCH OF A WHITE HOT - FIST: HE WAS HALF SITH ALREADY AND HE DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT.
ind. and private anakin skywalker from star wars written by sari
the usual response rested on her lips: i’m fine. but no, no, no, she WASN’T, and she knew he understood — knew it by the way he sat on the ground, staring at her with worry bright in the air around him. perhaps the night made her honest; perhaps she was finally ready to tell him. for whatever reason, she tugged her knees to her chest and let out a soft sigh. preparation. “i know THE DEAD never really leave us — that they become part of the force.” she hesitated. “but i can’t stop thinking about them. i SURVIVED because of what you taught me, and i saved as many as i could, but — ”was that ever enough? “how do you let them go?”
HOW DO YOU LET THEM GO ? her answer lays in the burning of heavy bones , the scalding pressure twisting his insides at such innocent query. it’s swallowed in the emptiness of damaged heart , where memories of his mother rest uneasy , where fear beats faster than any storm. it is their path , their destiny : all things die , anakin skywalker. even stars burn out. mourn they should not , simply accept it and let it go. HOW DO YOU LET THEM GO ? —— you can’t. you never could. ❛ DEATH IS A PART OF LIFE —— ❜ he pauses , for the words sound hollow ; teachings he will not follow. frustration coils at his wrists , tightening fingers into fists. HE’S NOT THE RIGHT MASTER FOR THIS. the right jedi. but her gaze leaves an ache beneath his chest : he has to help , somehow. ❛ —— but you can’t stop yourself from remembering. you can only do your best to honor the memory of those you’ve lost. ❜
WELL TRY HARDER the child inside of him wants to cry out! But such a reaction is hardly fitting for a Jedi, certainly not a Jedi Knight with a young padawan & a legacy to shoulder … that familiar pang of loss stabs him in the gut, he can’t breath for a moment, he accepts the grief, lets it pass … then he breathes deeply & attempts to calm his frustration. He sits, cross-legged, across from the boy, fighting an expression of irritation, fighting to keep his composure ( perhaps if you stopped fighting, Obi-Wan, there would be nothing left to fight against). ‘I know you are, Anakin, just – try again.’
it’s not lack of appreciation that electrifies his nerves , though his chest aches each time he remembers naboo. HE IS GRATEFUL TO OBI - WAN KENOBI. in his soul he’d found the strength to honor qui - gon , had ignored even the council and kept his memory alive. but his heart — so young and reckless ! shadowed by selfish doubt and childish fears , choking with terrors that keep him awake at night. he feels , and he feels so much. a shake of the head to express disagreement : he does not want to train anymore , simply find a source of comfort in this foreign planet. ❛ can’t we do something else today ? ❜ tones are softer , almost shy as lingering anger melts away.
‘ANAKIN!’ his call is sharp & staccato, harsh against the soft but austere surroundings of the Temple. The small room, a private place to train, was filled with his & the boy’s FRUSTRATION. He tried to let it go but he couldn’t - something in him held tightly to the emotion, held it in a death grip, & would not leave him be. This shouldn’t be so difficult( QUI-GON! HELP ME!), but it is, it is. He must make up for years of lost time. This is impossible, he thinks, this is impossible.
lips pursed , gaze raising towards his teacher :the picture of disgruntlement painted crossly against his features. with a frown , rounded cheeks are flooded by red ( implying anger , meaning shame) , tortuous hurricane destroying any attempts at finding inner peace. HE DOES NOT APPRECIATE BEING YELLED AT. after all , is he not doing his best ? has he not meant to adapt as quickly as he can? what obi - wan doesn’t understand , qui - gon surely would have. swallowing , the child speaks in frustrated tones : ❛ —— i’m trying! ❜
she dreamed of CHILDREN, of padawans— of their bodies ( burned by manner of blaster and pierced by crude weapons ) left to decay on a forested world without care. she dreamed they sat up from their mossy coffins and called to her a hundred questions, all variations of the word why. the jedi warned her if she became attached to these images they would tear her apart, yet she could not simply FORGET THEM, try as she might. she pushed them away until she couldn’t any longer, and she woke to phantom cries mixing with real ones. when she heard anakin’s voice, she was not sure if it was real (perhaps he was there to blame her too ), but she stumbled from bed toward it all the same.
the door flew open – force or hand, she could not be sure which guided it — and she stared at anakin. “i’m…” she swallowed her assurances for once. “NIGHTMARES,” she finished. and then, uncertainly, “can we sit somewhere for a while?”
nightmares. he knows them well , knows of their haunting echoes and whispering vengeance. they are his oldest enemy , an unpredictable adversary — but he had not expected them to hunt her. HER FEATURES ARE TIRED , WORN BY THE RESTLESS REALITY SLEEP HAS BROUGHT. in them , he sees himself : an excuse sufficient to increase crippling concern , though he tries to act unperturbed. ❛ —— SURE. ❜ with long steps he’s inside her room , quickly sitting on the floor. legs crossed , voice light when he asks : ❛ what’s wrong , snips ? ❜ oh , the answers are infinite ! in the middle of a war they’re found , each breath a fight for life ( and not their own , no ) and justice. everything is wrong , simply pick one reason and call it enough. a small , nervous smile is directed at her , hopeful she will understand — he can be trusted. here in the dead of night , tomorrow when the sun rises , he could never judge her.
