#while Anakin/Vader allowed his pain to consume him to the point where he turns it outward and tries to pull Obi wan in with him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

willowcrowned · 3 years

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Star Wars Time Travel AU - Flavor: Anakin and Obi-Wan, from ROTJ to TPM

I asked, you guys answered. Here it is: Obi-Wan and Anakin get sent back to TPM after ROTJ, and proceed to confuse everyone. In everyone’s defense, Anakin and Obi-Wan have a lot of confusing trauma.

The thing about being dead is that it’s not quite as restful as everyone made it out to be.

Oh, Obi-Wan is sure that if he’d done the irresponsible thing and ignored Qui-Gon and passed properly into the netherworlds of the Force instead of following his bloody Path of the Whills, he would be perfectly happy floating along as part of the larger universe. And alright, he doesn’t regret doing it because Luke desperately needed the help, what with Yoda’s isolation having made him only more reticent, but it’s still annoying. Because even though he watched Anakin toss Sidious down a reactor shaft and die peacefully in his sons arms before moving on, the next phase of existence looks a whole lot like the Healer’s Ward at the Jedi temple forty years ago, and he’s being stared at by one very alive-looking Mace Windu.

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan says, because being dead is no excuse for being impolite. “Whose idea was it to decorate like this? I find it rather gauche.”

One also very alive looking Vokara Che sends him a warning look. “Large windows and pale colors are beneficial to the health of patients.”

“Oh, I think we’re rather past the need for worrying about our health,” Obi-Wan jokes.

Vokara just gives him a confused and suspicious look. “Are you alright, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan feels hysterical laughter bubble up inside him. He’s dead. He watched the Jedi fall, felt their deaths like they were his own and heard the Force crying out at the pain and wrongness of it all; he disfigured— attempted to kill— one of the few people he had ever loved, fully and unconditionally, and felt the attempt rend him further apart in the process, and then he watched as that person twisted themself into a horrible facsimile of what they once were; he hid for twenty years on a desert planet while slowly detaching himself from his physical body so he could train and advise a child on whom he pinned nearly all his hopes; he was killed by Vader, and then watched Luke save him— save the man Obi-Wan couldn’t— and saw Vader kill Sidious, and then die. And now— now— he has finally passed on, expecting rest and peace, only to wake up in the healer’s ward of a temple that was destroyed.

Obi-Wan laughs, sharp and harsh and slightly deranged. “No,” he says, “I am not.”

“Yeah,” says a voice from next to him, “I get that.”

Obi-Wan turns to see Anakin— wait, no. Obi-Wan turns to see an unharmed Anakin— well, not quite. Obi-Wan turns to see Anakin, alive, unharmed, whole... and all of nine years old.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks, surprised. He’d assumed that this odd make-believe healer’s ward was a result of the Path of the Whills— a journey that Anakin had decidedly not undertaken.

“Yep,” Anakin says crossing his arms. “So, this is what being dead is like? I’d assumed it would be less, uh,” he searches for the word, “medical.”

“It could be a construct,” Obi-Wan suggests, “while our consciousnesses slowly dissipate— a waystation of sorts. Of course,” he frowns, “that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Excuse me,” Mace Windu says, very on-edge, “but what exactly are you two talking about?”

“Ugh,” Anakin complains, lying back, “why is he here?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, acerbic, “I wonder why he could be here, what with that fall you gave him.”

Anakin flushes, embarrassed. “Fair point.”

“So,” Obi-Wan turns to Mace Windu, “where are we exactly?”

Windu raises an extremely suspect eyebrow. “You’re in the Healer’s Ward at the Jedi temple on Coruscant.”

“Well, yes,” Obi-Wan says, a touch exasperated, “but where are we?”

Windu frowns at him.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says, “I don’t think he knows what you mean.”

Windu casts an evaluating glance at Anakin. “No, I don’t.”

Obi-Wan gives him a curious look before turning back to Anakin. “Perhaps he’s part of the construct.” He pauses. “Speaking of, why have you chosen to look like that?”

“Like what?” Anakin blinks confused.

“Like—” Obi-Wan huffs. “Does anyone have a mirror?”

“There’s one in the fresher,” Vokara Che says.

Anakin hops out of bed, and after a moment, Obi-Wan follows him to the fresher.

“Oh sweet stars and suns,” Anakin breathes, looking at his ten year old face. “I really used to look like this?”

Obi-Wan looks in the mirror as well, shocked to find that he looks as he did when he was twenty, padawan braid and all. “You know, I’m actually very glad that I’m never going to have to try to unpack the psychological implications of this,” he remarks.

Anakin snorts. “Yeah, why’d you choose to look like that?”

“I... didn’t,” Obi-Wan realizes. Before, he’d been able to change his appearance to living beings. He hadn’t for Luke, partially because Luke probably wouldn’t have taken very well to a thirty year old Obi-Wan, and partially because there wasn’t a point, given that Force ghosts didn’t get creaky knees.

“Weird,” Anakin says.

They head out of the fresher to see that Vokara Che and Mace Windu are looking at them as if they’ve grown second heads.

“So let me unpack this,” Windu says, “you both think you’re dead.”

Anakin and Obi-Wan look at each other.

“We have reason to believe so, yes,” Obi-Wan replies, amused. “Are you going to try to convince us that we’re not?”

Windu raises one very unimpressed eyebrow. “I would think that even a padawan would be able to look into the Force to see that they’re not dead.”

Obi-Wan looks at Anakin, who shrugs. It seems that neither of them have allowed themselves to be very connected to the Force. It must be a force of habit— Obi-Wan had been careful on Tatooine to never let too much of the outside filter in, for fear of Vader finding him, and for fear that the dark currents in the Force would sweep him away. Perhaps Vader had done a similar thing.

“Shall we?” Obi-Wan suggests to Anakin. At this point, it’s likely that this is the construct telling them both that they need to connect to the Force to finally relinquish their consciousnesses.

Anakin shrugs. “Can’t make things worse, right?”

Obi-Wan snorts. “On three?”

Anakin nods.

“One, two, three.”

Obi-Wan drops his outer shielding, letting the Force filter through.

What he feels isn’t the ethereal, ineffable currents of the Force, calling him to drift among them as they had during his time as a Force ghost. What he feels is thousands of bright lights, sparks where there should be void, and a darkness that has surrounded everything but not yet consumed it.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan breathes. “Anakin, I’m not sure we’re dead.”

Anakin doesn’t say anything back, and Obi-Wan turns to see him crying.

“They’re alive,” Anakin whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks, face frozen in wonder and horror and guilt. “They’re all alive.”

Obi-Wan can feel them— every single one— and a lump rises in his throat. “It’s—” he starts, but he can’t finish the sentence. “We—”

Anakin nods, face still frozen. “How?”

“I—” Obi-Wan shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

“We were— you were—”

“I know.”

“And now they’re—” Anakin takes a deep breath, small body shuddering, and Obi-Wan instinctively gathers him up in his arms, holding him close.

“It’s impossible,” Obi-Wan says. “You were dead. I was dead. I felt it.”

“Luke,” Anakin chokes, “We—”

“We’re alive,” Obi-Wan says hoarsely. “The Jedi are alive— none of it has to happen.”

“Mustafar,” Anakin adds, hoarse. “Padmé.”

“The Death Star. Alderaan.” Obi-Wan says in a dark undertone. Then, louder, “I will be very cross if I get chopped in half again.”

Anakin frowns at him, momentarily distracted. “The blow didn’t hit. I should know. You have nothing to complain about.”

“I have nothing to complain about?” Obi-Wan replies, indignant. “I was on Tatooine for twenty years!”

“You cut off my arms and legs!” Anakin shouts.

Obi-Wan huffs. “Only three!”

“I was stuck in a stupid life-support suit for twenty! Fucking! Years!” Anakin retorts. “Do you know how much that sucked? I couldn’t eat real food! I fucking suffocated just because I took off my helmet to see my son in my last breaths!”

“You killed me!” Obi-Wan shouts indignantly.

There’s a cough from beside him, and a silence as Vokara Che, Mace Windu, and several very nosy padawans stare at him.

Obi-Wan looks at them, slightly embarrassed by his outburst. “I got better.”

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan, the rage in his eyes not Vader’s, but Anakin’s, and then slowly, slowly, it dissipates.

Anakin snorts. “Fuck, we made a mess of things.”

A small, sad, smile creeps on to Obi-Wan's face. “We really did.” He sighs. “I suppose we’ll have to fix everything.”

Anakin shrugs. “Well, Sith Lords are our specialty.” He sighs. “And then I’m retiring on Naboo and learning to fish.”

#i know at first glance this looks like a very normal AU #but keep an eye out for the next post #which is about what happens AFTER they get rid of sidious #it devolves into my usual brand of nonsense VERY quickly #obi-wan and anakin ignore their trauma by quipping (as usual)#don't worry i'm sure they start going to therapy off screen #sugar baby ben au #star wars #willow's aus #star wars au #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker

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glimmerglanger · 4 years

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Whumptober2020 - Day 5

We’re right around the halfway point for the oof!au as of today! Life continues to be awful for Obi-Wan and the 212th. All general warnings still apply. Specific to today’s entry: strangulation (with the Force), torture, mistreatment of prisoners, brief mention of non-con, branding. Still jumping around with the prompts.

Oof!au basic information: Post-Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Past/eventual Codywan. One-sided Vaderwan.

No 24. YOU’RE NOT MAKING ANY SENSE Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation

Obi-Wan stared across at the wall in his cell for a long time, after the med-droids pulled him from the bacta. He had not thought while submerged in the tank. It had been a relief. All his memories were waiting for him as he came back to consciousness, every burning moment of them.

There was no way to pretend, even for a moment, that it had not happened. The brands across his back pulled each time he tried to move, remaining even after the bacta treatment. He could not see the marks well, not even with his arms free, as they were most of the time in his cell. He shuddered to think what Anakin had burned into his skin, what marks he would bear, for however long he remained alive.

He had known, when he antagonized Anakin, that the results were unlikely to be.... Pleasant. But he’d had no choice. Allowing Anakin to consider too long Padmé’s fate, the fate of his children…. It risked too much. The safety of the children first and foremost.

There was comfort in imagining Luke and Leia safe. Far away from the violence of their father. Obi-Wan would keep himself between them and the rage burning within Anakin, until it consumed him outright. He could keep Anakin distracted, keep his thoughts away from the children, from everyone who needed protection. Obi-Wan knew he could continue making Anakin angry. It had never been a difficult task, and it was significantly easier at the moment.

He closed his eyes and then opened them again, because there was nothing he wanted to see in the dark of his own mind. He’d been aware of Anakin’s….occasionally lustful thoughts for years, since even before Anakin had been Knighted. Anakin had watched him. Wanted him. But he’d never imagined Anakin would--

Well. There were so many things he’d never imagined Anakin would do. Forcing his way into Obi-Wan’s body was hardly the foulest of his actions of late. Compared to genocide, it barely counted, he thought, laughing alone in his empty, barren cell. The alternative was weeping, and he wouldn’t do that.

He knew well enough he was being monitored, ever and always.

It was strange, he considered, absently. He’d felt like a sleep-walker for years, living on Tatooine. He’d gone through the motions of living, a part of him stuck and held back on Mustafar, in that awful instant when he had turned and walked away from Anakin, all of his failures curdling in him.

Obi-Wan felt awake and like himself again, sitting in a cell, subjected to one hurt after another. He knew how to handle torture, knew only one way to deal with it, and it felt natural to fall back into sharp, ill-advised words, to goad his captor, controlling them without them ever realizing what he was doing, to feel almost… confident that he would escape.

He always had before, after all.

He needed to balance himself, if there was to be an escape. Needed to prepare for whatever Anakin intended to do to him next. Luke and Leia were depending upon him, after all. There was no way to reach out and touch the Force, no way to draw comfort from his connection to the universe. There’d not been much comfort there, of late, anyway.

He leaned his head against the wall, stared at nothing, and tried to focus on breathing exercises. He told himself, eventually, that he started to feel better.

Anakin left him alone, for days. Long enough that Obi-Wan suspected he’d been called away on some other mission, dancing to the whims of his Master. There was no way to adequately track the days in that featureless cell.

Troopers brought him food, sometimes. Well, they brought him nutrition, anyway, some kind of mush that was grey-ish brown in color, contained in a tube. One of them would hold his hair and jaw while the other forced it into his mouth, giving him no choice but to swallow or choke.

They always dragged his arms back and bound them, first, forcing him face-down against the cold floor, before pulling him upright once more, like he was little more than a sack of cargo.

“Delicious, as always,” he rasped, after they finished one day, specks of whatever the food was caught across his chin. It tasted vaguely of dirt and always set heavily in his stomach. They did not reply, they didn’t even look at him, his men who had been--

Been turned off, inside. Not even their expressions changed, as far as he ever saw. They were blank-eyed marionettes. Like droids, except droids had personality, even with a control bolt.

Obi-Wan swallowed, his throat tight and pinched closed, wondering if all of the troopers had suffered the same fate; if they’d all been killed, for all that their bodies continued walking around. He’d grieved for his people, for the Jedi, after the genocide…

He hadn’t realized that he had the eradication of two entire peoples to mourn. “Alzo. Booster,” he said, because someone had to remember their names for them, had to remember who they had been, now that they’d had their identities taken away. He supposed he might be the last person in the galaxy who both could and would. “I’m so sorry. For what they did to you.”

Alzo didn’t turn or hesitate as he walked through the door. Obi-Wan thought Booster did, thought he froze, for just an instant, but… Well. He knew he was looking for shreds of hope, regardless of whether or not they actually existed.

The troopers cared for his other physical needs on a sporadic basis. Sometimes they dragged in a hose and sprayed him down, the water icy cold and stinging across his skin. The pressure was so high that he had to turn his shoulders against it, but at least it cleaned him off.

Sometimes, they held him in place and shaved his face, uncareful with the razor. They did not trim his hair; it grew down over the tops of his ears, lower, shaggy. He doubted he’d recognize himself, without a beard and with such tangled hair, but that mattered little. There were no mirrors, in his little cage.

There was nothing at all to offer a distraction, just his healing wounds and the weight of wondering what Anakin had planned for him, next.

Obi-Wan felt almost certain weeks had passed by the time the troopers dragged him from his cell again. He’d gotten familiar with the walk through the halls of Anakin’s mountain fastness, to his throne room. He made absent conversation as they walked, the utter silence of his companions a weight in his chest.

They seemed to have grown used to his chatter. Or, at least, they no longer struck him for it. Perhaps Anakin had reprogrammed them.

Considering that option distracted him, if nothing else, from what he could guess was coming. Anakin waited already in the room for him, sitting on his throne, one leg crossed over the other, expression hidden behind his dark mask.

He was speaking to Cody, as Obi-Wan was dragged in, Cody standing there at attention before him, straight-backed and blank-faced and-- It was all wrong, all of it, even just catching the end of a conversation where Cody reported what had happened in Anakin’s absence. Obi-Wan wondered, fleetingly, if Anakin really left Cody in charge, if it were only another barb, meant to cut into Obi-Wan.

The...harness they’d chained Obi-Wan to last time remained where it was. It pulled at his attention, heavy as gravity. Obi-Wan fought to control his expression as Anakin stood and said, “Restrain him.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Obi-Wan said, speaking as Cody walked over to him, though he expected no answer. He fully anticipated that he would be ignored utterly, and so he was not disappointed as his arms and legs were dragged into position.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I don’t have to do this, either?” Anakin said, the mechanical sound of his voice still jarring and wrong. He’d stood and crossed the room, apparently, staying behind Obi-Wan’s back.

“Would it do me any good?” Obi-Wan asked, as the wall-covering raised across the room, revealing the fires of Mustafar, so far below. The lava fell in the distance, leaving Obi-Wan feeling cold.

“No,” Anakin said, leather-covered fingers trailing across the top of Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I’m no longer swayed by your lies.”

“I’m not the one lying,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin snarled behind him, stepping away. Obi-Wan felt the heat when the furnace opened. He wondered how much of his skin Anakin intended to burn this time. He kept talking, because he knew no other way to be, “Successfully murder anyone for your new master?”

The pain was sudden and swift, directly over his spine, the metal so hot it felt almost cold as ice, at first, tendrils of agony spreading everywhere. “I protected the Empire,” Anakin snapped, leaning his weight against the brand, “I made people safer! Secure!”

The brand came off his skin, though it really changed nothing about the level of his pain. He listened to the metal clatter across stone, considering, bitterly, that once he would have hoped desperately for Anakin to find him, in this situation. Once, he would have held out hope that Anakin - above all others - would rescue him.

He said, around the bitterness in his throat, “Ah. The way you made our people safer?”

“The Jedi weren’t my people,” Anakin snarled back and - and the next burn was higher, still on his spine, a blaze of agony. “They were nothing but a corrupt cult. Religious fanatics who went power mad during the war. They were traitors--”

“Traitors to what?” Obi-Wan cut in, the lies pouring from Anakin’s mouth too much for him to take. He panted, twisting his wrists against the bonds, body shaking as Anakin pressed a fresh brand to his skin and it hurt, Force--

“To the Republic,” Anakin spat, and Obi-Wan laughed, shakily.

“Oh,” he gasped, his thoughts getting sharper with pain, “the Republic you destroyed? That Republic, or do you mean--”

“Shut up!” Anakin snarled, and made his point by curling tendrils of the Force around Obi-Wan’s throat, squeezing. Obi-Wan sipped at the air, unable to breathe deeply, feeling his pulse pounding against his skin, giving a strangled cry as Anakin burned him again, Force, he’d almost reached Obi-Wan’s neck--

“The Jedi betrayed the galaxy. They were dangerous. Self-centered. Even before the war, they - they only cared about themselves. But I saw through them, with the help of my new Master. And - and we stopped them. We gave the Jedi exactly what they deserved, Obi-Wan. Just like you’re getting what you deserve.”

He released his choking grip, finally, and Obi-Wan slumped, gulping at the air, smelling the burned char of his own flesh, shivering all over and unable to stop it. He’d gone into shock, he knew. There was no way to avoid it without the Force to draw on, the tell-tale signs of it a betrayal by his own body.

He thought how fortunate it was that he seemed to have set Anakin off on a speech, one that did not require further input from anyone else. “It was right, what I did,” Anakin was shouting, pacing, by the sound of his voice, no longer right at Obi-Wan’s back, “Necessary. And - and my success proves that the Jedi deserved it. The Force smiled upon me. Blessed my purpose. It was the will of the Force. Their - their death proves that.”

Something shifted in Obi-Wan, beyond the pain, beyond the numb horror of the past years. Something that had always been within him, a fierce little ball of whatever made up his soul, stirring his tongue, knowing it would drag Anakin’s attention back, knowing it would mean more pain…

“By your logic,” he panted, inhaling the smell of char and ruin, unable to stay silent while Anakin deluded himself even further, “I suppose that means what happened to your mother was the will of the Force.”

There was a moment of utter silence. Utter stillness. Obi-Wan’s mouth twitched up in one corner as he stared out into the falling lava, bracing with a jagged grin.

Anakin snarled, something low and deadly in his tone, “What did you just say?”

Obi-Wan wetted his bottom lip, unblinking, deliberate in each word he spoke. “I said: you must believe, then, that the successful murder of your mother proved that she deserved--”

Anakin made an awful sound, bestial, and something gripped around Obi-Wan’s throat, his mouth, the Force digging into bone and muscle. “Take it back!” Anakin roared, even as the shackles around Obi-Wan’s wrists tore open, pried apart with the Force.

Obi-Wan slumped, opening his mouth to refuse, but no sounds issued from his throat, Anakin’s grip only tightening, crushing things--

“I said: take it back!” Anakin snarled, grabbing his shoulder, jerking him around and the first blow caught Obi-Wan by surprise, spinning him and dropping him to the ground. Anakin followed, fingers in his hair, tilting his face up into another blow.

“How dare you!” Anakin spat, following one blow with another and Obi-Wan lost track, the impact of metal against flesh felt almost like it was happening to someone else, someone far away from him, Anakin’s continued demands that he apologize, that he recant everything, take back his lies, were barely even noticed.

He could not speak anyway. Anakin was… crushing things. In his throat. Tearing them to pieces. He could not make a sound, not as Anakin bodily lifted him, throwing him against the stockade, pressing him into the sharp edges of the metal, and all the pain blended together into one huge, twisting nightmare.

Eventually, the dark reached up and took him away, even while Anakin was still thrusting into him.

Obi-Wan fell into the black and appreciated the relief.

Obi-Wan woke up in his cell, most of the hurts gone. For a moment, after waking, he considered that perhaps he’d only dreamed his last run-in with Anakin. But his throat hurt, still, strange and deep. He cleared it and tried to rasp out a “hello” to no one. He made no sound at all, and shuddered.

He did not bother trying to leverage himself up off of the floor. He lacked the energy for it.

He wondered, smelling bacta drying in his hair, why Anakin had simply not killed him.

He was still wondering when Tich and Sweeper brought his breakfast. Obi-Wan nodded at them, old habit, since he could not offer a proper greeting. They alternated his care, the men on the base. Obi-Wan believed there to be around three-dozen of them, but… Some had disappeared, since he’d been delivered.

He shuddered to think what had happened to them.

Tich and Sweeper shackled him and hauled him up, pushing his shoulders against the wall. He leaned against Tich’s hand, when Tich gripped his jaw, helpless to stop himself looking for some scrap of comfort, and Tich’s index finger tapped, blaster-fire fast, against his cheek.

He wanted to say: I tried to ask for help, but trying to speak at all was a fresh agony. He winced, used to the fingers in his hair by now, and said nothing. They wouldn’t have done anything, anyway, even if he’d been able to plead for assistance.

And so Obi-Wan just stared forward, waiting for whatever they were going to do to him next.

Days passed. Vader had him dragged in and dragged out, but seemed to grow irritated and distracted when he realized that Obi-Wan could not speak. It took… significant effort before Vader believed that Obi-Wan was not just refusing to make a sound. Once he did, Vader ordered the troopers to take him back to the medical bay, for repairs.

Obi-Wan laughed soundlessly as he was dragged along. He’d always assumed Anakin would be pleased to never have to listen to him again. There was something amusing, darkly, about Anakin’s drive to return his voice.

Perhaps it was only because he hadn’t yet heard Obi-Wan screaming.

Nor would he, even if Obi-Wan’s voice were returned. Those thoughts chased each other around Obi-Wan’s head as they got closer and closer to the medbay. He hung between Cody and Booster, too damaged to walk under his own power, his legs giving finally halfway down the hall.

And it was a surprise, strange and jarring, when Cody hesitated and then shifted, movements oddly fluid for how stiff he normally moved, and just… lifted him. Cody had carried him off of battlefields before, too many times.

He’d joked, towards the end of the war, that it was getting to be a habit.

Perhaps it had. Perhaps it was muscle memory, the way Cody just pulled him up. It certainly was habit that had Obi-Wan dropping his head onto Cody’s shoulder, taking comfort in the familiarity of the contact, his eyes burning, all at once.

He wept not in front of Anakin. Wouldn’t. But the tears streaked down his face, unheeded, as Cody carried him into the medbay, finger tapping erratically against Obi-Wan’s skin. And Obi-Wan wanted to tell him it was alright, that Obi-Wan would find a way to get them all free, but he had no voice, no way to speak the words into being.

#whumptober #no.24 #forced mutism #clone wars #fic #non-con #non-explicit #branding #strangulation #torture #my writing #oof!au #codywan #vaderwan #troopers trying very hard to wake up

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elmidol · 4 years

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Transitional Return

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death is an Art

Read on AO3

Warnings: None(?)

Three Blind Tooke

Part Three: Death is an Art

Chapter Fifty-Three: Transitional Return

For so long I chased a shadow,

Yet when I realized that it was my own,

I learned that the journey was but this:

Accepting that I had at last fully grown.

Through clenched teeth you hissed out the thoughts that had been circling in your head. You stated it as fact that Kylo Ren would stop at nothing to gain more power. The red-rimmed amber eyes were then momentarily concealed by his eyelids as the man blinked. His eyebrows began to draw towards one another in an expression that was similar to confusion. Similar, but not quite. Disappointment was more accurate. You could possibly concede that there were potential limitations to his hunger for power and the desire he had to rule the galaxy; but those limitations pushed aside boundaries that you, personally, could not. They went against your moral code more than anything else in this gray area had. You looked to Luke Skywalker. All the while, you had your blaster pointed at Kylo’s abdomen, and you were growing more confident that you could take the shot.

Rey had failed to extinguish her lightsaber’s blade, and the female Force user kept her weapon at the ready to strike either member of the Skywalker bloodline. “Whatever he did, it was not for power.” These words were directed at the Order of Ren’s Supreme Leader. He, in turn, grunted. Your eyes darted back to Luke, who did turn his gaze to you. They were cold in comparison with what you had come to know from him, however they did not burn through you or freeze your entire being. “She told me what you said.” Here Master Skywalker looked at his student. A frown tugged at the corners of his mouth, and the intensity of his eyes sparked. “Was it even true?”

Kylo Ren lifted a gloved hand to trace directly underneath his left eye. In your peripheral, you could see the Knights of Ren alternating between observing the First Order and what was taking place on the ground. Time was nobody’s friend. Three of the Knights began to back away, presumably to ready their ship in order to either engage the First Order or else escape. Their movements prompted Kylo to drop his hand back to his side. He twisted away from you and faced Rey in full. The Dark and the Light, which was strange now that Kylo had claimed to be both. Where did that leave Rey? It struck you finally that she might be feeling betrayed by both men; Kylo seemed to abandon his decision to work with her as his equal, and Luke had succumbed to some dark force to an extent after frequently insisting that she take care to stay away from such temptations.

Navrin had believed that the object that had drawn Luke and Kylo there, this amulet that they each possessed a half of, was more defensive than offensive in nature. You found yourself angry at him once more for how vague he had been. It did not matter that this could be an entirely different item. One quick glance in the former Knight’s direction confirmed this. He refused to drop his hand away from his weapon, and he seemed more on edge than you had ever observed him.

“What is it?” you asked, your question directed at the man who had for so long been a legend. Poe Dameron’s eyes were tracing the man’s back. This was someone that his parents had known, had fought beside. The man whom he had been caught by the First Order to locate. What Kylo Ren claimed to be humanity was all wrong.

Unless… With a heavy breath, you considered everything that your husband had said since your arrival. Luke Skywalker had said that he would save Kylo’s soul. That your heroes were falling from their pedestals. Wasn’t that precisely what happened when they sacrificed themselves? Luke Skywalker had not been fighting to kill his nephew, but to prevent him from gaining access to the other half of the amulet. He was willing to die for his beliefs just as he had been when it came to Anakin Skywalker casting aside the existence as Darth Vader.

No one had offered a response to your inquiry. After checking how close the First Order flagship was, Rey repeated it. Her tone was harsh, a hiss. Then she screamed it, her teeth bared, giving her a sort of feral appearance.

It was her Master that replied at long last. “The price of healing with the power of the Dark side is different than the Light.” So then Kylo Ren had indeed come to restore his eyesight. You glowered at the man. You felt your nostrils flare a second before you sniffled. Your trigger finger was bouncing back and forth, tapping the trigger without placing any real pressure on it. That did not mean you couldn’t theoretically accidentally fire the weapon. Would it be an accident? “Imbued with the Sith’s soul. Over time the user would sell their own until they themselves were destroyed. In their place, the Sith that created this.” He closed a mechanical fist around his half of the amulet.

Now you understood how it was that Luke Skywalker had succumbed to the artifact’s dark power. He had already been weakened, which had meant that the healing process started. The more he had clashed with Kylo Ren, the more he had been drained. Both of them bringing the other to the edge of exhaustion and death. Had Kylo fought him out of spite?

“I will live long enough to see him fall.” Those chilling words he spoke to you and Rey. Off to the side, Finn muttered something in regards to no one living very long at this rate. All around you, those gathered looked up at the sky. The flagship was almost completely solid now, and it was visibly powering up its weapons. “That ship is mine.”

The air that was trapped in your lungs refused to leave, and it felt as though a weight continuously built up on your chest. Like someone was repeatedly striking you until it started to burn. Rey, her lightsaber ever at the ready, closed the distance between herself and her Master. She urged him into the X-wing. Said something to Poe that you were unable to catch. Rose, meanwhile, had hopped out of the Silencer to join Finn. Finn, Rey, and Rose watched you as they headed in the direction of one of the stormtrooper transports. They meant to take it, you noted. And they wanted you to go with them. You should go with them.

“Take it from me then.” The words were spoken so calmly that at first you did not recognize them as coming from you. The challenge caught Kylo Ren off guard. His mouth opened a fraction. Those eyes dulled in color for a breath. A breath that you were able to take without any pain. It was all the proof you needed that Luke Skywalker, should he die this day, had not sacrificed himself in vain. Whatever historic Sith it was that had its grips on Kylo Ren, it could be fought.

Kylo, recovering his composure, lifted a hand in your direction. He yanked his arm sideways, and the blaster was snatched out of your grip. It reminded you of the day you had met him on the battlefield, although this time your finger was not broken. Bent and hurt, true, however you had not heard nor felt any snap. You shook your hand as a means of lessening the discomfort.

The stormtrooper that had been engaged with Finn met him at the entrance of the transport. Heart pounding in your chest, you waited for their battle to resume. Something about him had set alight a new courage in her. She stood aside for your allies to board the ship. Her wavy hair, tied back in a regulation bun, she set free. The curls toppled down her shoulders. Her eyes landed on the man that had been her Supreme Leader, the man she was betraying. In them was sorrow. Finn placed a hand on her shoulder and said something to her to comfort her. She turned to him just as Navrin was boarding. The former Knight had his weapon pointed at two of the Knights of Ren that were closing in on them. With Rey aboard, they might not strike, you thought. Unless Kylo Ren had changed his mind about wanting her.

It would not be difficult for you to reach for the weapon controls on the TIE Silencer. It would be just as easy for him to use the Force to stop you. By the way he was watching you with every step that he took, you suspected that he was waiting for you to do it. That was how it had been in the past; you had taken advantage of numerous situations to land a blow. Maker, how many times had you been so close to actually killing him? A part of you was aware that, no matter how painful, you could commit yourself to that mission again. You could endure his death though it would make you feel like something of a shell. What you could not take was his destruction. This idea that another entity, equally hungry for power, would overwhelm the Kylo that you knew and consume him, that sickened you.

The amusement in his expression spread to his eyes, the corners of which creased. He was directly in front of you. Less than an arm’s length away. Every muscle in you screamed to react. To fight or flee; you didn’t know which, to be honest. You ignored both impulses. Scooted off to the small area that Rose had occupied. It allowed you to appreciate just how cramped and uncomfortable it was, how miserable she had to have been.

“I know what you’re thinking.” You snorted. Uttered out an of course you do. Supreme Leader Kylo Ren climbed into the TIE Silencer. He adjusted the seat, locking you more tightly in. You clenched your teeth in pain and frustration. If you could just snatch that amulet away from him, you wouldn’t care if the two of you perished together. Rey would be able to sense it. Or Luke would. He could do it then, kill his nephew. Save his soul by blasting the Silencer into pieces after you had the amulet away from him. Unless it had to be a certain distance, you mused. Sithspawn, you hated the mysteries of the Force.

As the TIE Silencer slid closed, the Knights of Ren abandoned the transport shuttle that they were losing to the Resistance. It was hardly a fair trade: you for those stormtroopers and their ship. Enough time had been wasted though. The atmosphere was crackling with not only lightning and thunder. The First Order’s prized weapon, this planet destroyer, was not far from complete charge.

Kylo thumbed the top of the controls as though he was genuinely tempted to fire on the transport shuttle that housed the others. You lurched forward before you could stop yourself. An invisible force shoved you back into place. This resulted in your head thumping against the side of the TIE. You winced. It wasn’t enough to give you a concussion, however you were not going to rule out the formation of a lump. He did not pursue the stormtroopers or Rey. Neither did his Knights of Ren. You watched their shuttle as best you could before it was out of sight. Instead, Kylo directed the TIE Silencer to follow the X-wing that had taken off not long before. Poe’s. He would not allow Luke to escape.

“You’re going to hand Hux the galaxy over something so petty?” you growled in unison with making another attempt to shift forward. For a second time, you were slammed backwards. This time the pressure lingered on your collarbone until you yelped in pain. “Let him leave! You won’t get to watch it, but…” You squeezed your eyes closed, unable to say it.

The darkness was taking over Luke Skywalker, who would not allow that darkness to win. He would remain with the Light, however it would cost him his life. He was dying. There was no way that you were aware of that this could be reversed.

“You wish for me to revert back to blindness.”

“You sure as kriff are blinded right now anyway!” With slower movements, you were not stopped nor tossed aside as you readjusted yourself. You were on your knees in the ship now. Your hands grasping whatever they could so that you were not thrown about should Kylo decide to be more acrobatic in his flying. “Do you even know if the healing will be reversed?” Silence. “You don’t. You’re letting your emotions get the better of you!”

“Allowing my personal interests to interfere?” Amusement again. This time Kylo gave a quick chuckle. The Resistance X-wing in front of the ship dodged with a spin to shake off pursuit. Kylo followed it with his gaze and head. You did not know if he would truly let them leave this easily. He might not have except that the First Order ship released another fleet of TIEs to track the Supreme Leader. One of the larger Order of Ren ships was engaged in battle with a second First Order Star Destroyer. “Prepare full retreat,” he said over his comm. Several voices chimed in with acknowledgments. The smaller ships headed for the larger. Some of them were picked off. You winced then shook your head, remembering that these were all your enemies. The Resistance had already retreated for the most part, save for a handful of stragglers that were even still making their escape.

I am loyal, I am, you thought. You had vowed to fight against the First Order. You had made it your mission to take down Kylo Ren so that he would no longer pursue those in the Resistance. Whenever you had been captured, you had made it your goal to return to your comrades. And to my mother. She’s alone there. Alone among friends.

The jerky movements of the TIE Silencer jostled you as Kylo did a roll to avoid two First Order TIEs, which crashed into one another in a fiery explosion.

My heart feels like it’s being torn to pieces. I don’t know what’s right anymore. So many people losing those they love. Luke sacrificing himself. But what if it’s all in vain? Then General Organa would do the same. She would sacrifice herself to save her son.

You were tossed forward. Catching yourself, you managed to avoid having your face meet with a painful impact. Your shoulder, on the other hand, hit against Kylo’s. It did not knock him much at all, which meant that the Silencer rocked but a little. He gave you a quick look with those eyes that you so hated.

“‘Blood from the one that I love’, that’s what you said that time.” Stars, you despised how your hands had begun to tremble when you spoke. Yet saying those words, accepting that he did, in his twisted way, love you, it meant that you were opening yourself up for rejection. That he would reject the love, this man that knew the darkest parts of you. “What if I accept your love and never return to the Resistance? Am I enough…” You flinched. Looked down at the floor of the TIE Silencer. Kylo Ren had directed the ship towards one of the others of the Order of Ren, towards its docking bay. There was wetness on the back of your hand. A tear, you realized when another fell next to it. “You aren’t some monster to me anymore, but that’s exactly what you’d become. You wouldn’t even be you. You’d be someone else entirely. Then your mother would die for that thing in the hopes that she could bring you back.”

The two of you were sealed inside the TIE Silencer, which was fully docked and powered down inside the Supreme Leader’s ship. It was a familiar sight to you from when you had been taken along with Finn and Rey. Back when Kylo Ren had commandeered your ship and taken your blood.

“I slay monsters, Kylo… And if you can’t be the Ben Solo of the past… We can never return to who we were, you taught me that. The thing is that, despite everything you did to me, the way you destroyed me, there were others destroying me too. But you were the only one that made me accept who I became. You painted me in ashes while I bled when you ripped through the last of my innocence. That could have been me burning. Then you wouldn’t let me stay dead, wouldn’t let me stay with my father. You said you saw nothing when you died. I was the last thing you saw then there was only darkness.

“If that’s so then… You said that you wanted to be the dark and the light. But you’re so blinded by all that darkness. Just give it to me. Please. If you give it to me, I will stay with you. Give me it, give me hope that there is light at the end of all of this, that the war isn’t eternal. My heroes aren’t falling off their pedestals, Kylo, they’re jumping off to stop you from becoming a monster far worse than the one I had thought you were.” You could see nothing but blurs beyond your tears. A sob rose in your throat. Erupted from you, yet somehow did not leave you feeling weak. Vulnerable, yes, but not weak.

It was your loyalty to the Resistance that had you thinking of General Organa. You could trust her to find a way to break through to Kylo. She had not thought you a traitor despite the way in which you had negotiated with her son. Others in the Resistance had looked at you as though you were scum. You feared allowing this new threat to take over Kylo; this new threat that would be worse than Armitage Hux, would be worse than Snoke. It would have her son’s face, and you feared that she would not be able to strike him down. And when another did, it would break her. She would have lost everything and everyone; her husband, her brother, her son.

If he chose you, it would not be due to power. You had no power to offer him, no power that he could take advantage of. Should he choose you, it would be proof that he wasn’t lost to the darkness as you had once upon a time believed.

“When we would play makebelieve, we both knew it would end.”

It was hurting to breathe. You felt as though someone had suckerpunched you then wrapped their hands around your throat. It was his voice, but there was an echo to it that was foreign. This combination of Kylo and the Sith you did not know, it was what had delivered the death stroke to Luke. The slayer of legends. After brushing aside your tears with the sleeve of your shirt, you met those eyes. They remained amber in color although the red had faded. It may have been due to the distance of the amulet’s other half. Truth be told, you did not know how much of a threat it was now that it was broken. Enough that Luke Skywalker had met his nephew strike for strike.

“This would not be makebelieve.”

Leather ran smoothly along the amulet half. Only now, up close, were you able to see its finer details. The amulet had not been broken in half, but separated. Poor craftsmanship, or intentional? That was the question that you did not care to know the answer to. You simply wanted the amulet to go away. Without letting the Sith amulet slip out of sight, you worked the chain that held your wedding and his off of your neck. Unclasped the piece of jewelry, fitted the ring onto the correct finger, and held his out for him.

“Trust will have to be earned.” It would be all too easy for you to steal away in a ship and return to the Resistance if you were given free reign. This was akin to when Hux, as a First Order General, had had someone shadow you or else had you sealed in a cell or with him in his quarters. You nodded acceptance; it was this or be placed in a cell anyway as his prisoner. No matter what, he had no intention of letting you go again. “Follow.”

There was no room for argument or bargaining. You obeyed his command to follow. His footfalls were heavy, as you had remembered them to be, and they were echoed by the footsteps of his Knights of Ren, who walked behind you. Kylo had failed to give you the amulet. This had to be intentional, a test; you recalled some of your early days of training with the Resistance, the tests to outsmart your opponent. To learn when to speak up and when to remain quiet. Even glances could be noticed, could get lives lost. What you wondered as much as if he would give you the amulet was if he would strip you down as he had done when you had been captured the first time. You were nauseated at the thought; he had no reason to dehumanize you now as he had then.

The Order of Ren’s officers and stormtroopers kept themselves busy with running as alarms blared. There would be no calm until after it was certain the First Order could not pursue.

The room that you were led to was not, as you had expected, his personal quarters, but neither was it some cell. The Knights of Ren did not enter with the pair of you. The door slid closed and blocked them from your view. It did not erase the knowledge that they lingered there in line of hearing. You had betrayed their Master before. It did not matter if Kylo Ren was willing to trust you, they were not. No words had to be said for you to know this. Their mistrust was shared. You would not place your life in their hands if you could help it. You would not permit them entrance into this room if you could keep from doing so.

Your gaze wandered the circumference of the room, which had an attached refresher. It was roughly the same size of the quarters that you had been brought to what felt like so long ago. There was enough room for the bed and a chair a little ways away from it. Instead of any wardrobe, there was a metal trunk tucked to one corner. The bedsheets were a mixture of crimson and black, which did not surprise you. It was something that you liked, seeing the red that matched the jacket you wore.

“Are the children on a different ship?” You were not thrilled with the idea that the First Order would have been so close to killing the younglings that Kylo had taken from you. The man confirmed your suspicions. The relief you felt was miniscule. “Are you even going to give it to me?”

He slid open the door to the refresher, and you caught sight of his reflection. The man watched you the same way that you observed him. There was an added intensity to his gaze that you believed came from his having been blind before. He was tracing your face, mapping everything out. Maybe comparing it to what he had seen before he had lost his sight.

You wrapped your arms around yourself when the silence began to grow uncomfortable. This felt like a prison now. Just when you had truly grown to exist beyond the man, here you had handed yourself over to him. Not that it erased the woman you had become. Here you would be able to find the children when at last you were allowed to move to other ships in the Order of Ren. They did not have to become soldiers, and you would see to it that they weren’t victims of this war more than they had been. You were not going to lose yourself again though you had committed yourself to the task of preventing him from destroying himself.

Guilt assaulted you now that things were slowing down. You had left your mother again, the woman who had lost everything. The room seemed to spin, and when it righted itself you saw that you had crumpled to the ground. It would have been better if you had kept away such thoughts and realizations until you were alone. History with this man had you waiting for him to tell you how foolish it was to be sentimental. He said nothing. He made no movement, and you could sense that he was still watching your reflection.

“You won’t even take it off,” you said. Anything to change the subject so that you would not think of your mother’s face from when you had left her. How unresponsive she had been. How she would listen to the news of your departure and maybe react, maybe not. It stung that Kylo Ren wore the amulet half when you had been obedient in fulfilling your end of the agreement thus far.

Kylo Ren, too, was one to switch topics as a means of avoiding issues that he did not wish to discuss. He commented on how Finn’s powers had grown. When the former stormtrooper had arrived on the planet, not even Skywalker’s powers and artifact could shield him. It was what Kylo had sensed that day on Jakku; as he spoke, you heard a hint of regret that he had not approached the stormtrooper before Finn could defect. This was followed up by him musing that things would not have developed as they had. Rey would quite possibly still be on Jakku. Snoke would be alive, and that creature would not have allowed Kylo Ren to train Finn at any rate. Frustration with your present situation had you addressing the stormtroopers that had left with the Resistance.

“Mm. Tales of the traitor have since fostered conflicted emotions amongst those who serve the Order of Ren. They question Phasma and Hux’s actions along with Snoke’s. I have made it no secret that I would accept Rey and Finn amongst our number.”

The only way for him to truly rule the galaxy was for the war to end. There would always be battles and skirmishes. Those had occurred for as long as there were recorded accounts, and more beyond that.

Kylo abandoned the mirror and refresher. He returned to the room with lighter steps than he more often took. They echoed in the sparsely filled quarters until he stopped less than three feet away from you. For several seconds the man was looking down at you. He then squatted, resting his forearms on his knees as he had in the past, and watched you from this closer angle. The amulet swung back and forth on its chain. Traces of red lines glowed then faded. You shuddered and gave a quick glance at his eyes. The red was returning there.

He raised his right hand, which he used to wrap around the amulet, and tugged off the Sith artifact. The chain’s clasp snapped noisily. It had you wincing as you thought of how that would feel on one’s neck. Nevermind that there was cloth to prevent him from being cut, the pressure alone would leave a mark and offer pain. He held his closed fist inches from your face. You cupped your hands together underneath with the expectation that he would allow the amulet to fall into your grasp. The heavy silence of the room was disturbed by the tiny clinking noise the chain made as it swayed back and forth without dropping.

The expression on Kylo’s face had you once more holding your breath. While the redness had again faded from his eyes, there was a hunger dissimilar to what you had observed in all your time with him. Granted there had been many occasions that he had worn that helmet to obscure his features from his foes. The wildness to his gaze, however, made him look less like the Kylo you had come to know. Not even when you had viewed him as nothing more than a monster had he appeared as such. You recoiled from him without lowering your hands. Arms remained outstretched so that you could catch the amulet if given the opportunity.

Not for the first time were you wondering how much of himself he had sacrificed to restore his eyesight. How much more had he lost during the subsequent battle with his uncle? If it was not for your wanting to protect Finn, Rey, your mother, and everyone else that you could from the Sith that threatened to emerge, you would have completely regretted your decision to leave on the Silencer. You had not left the Resistance because you were a traitor, you reminded yourself. Such thoughts were hardly a comfort as you observed the flickers of proof that a Sith had sealed itself inside the amulet to take over a host.

Will Skywalker be similarly affected? You tried your hardest to not imagine Rey being forced to attack her Master. Worked more diligently to avoid the idea that General Organa would instead lock blades with her brother. His weakened state did not equate that he would be a less than formidable foe. The emotional devastation would crush part of the Resistance’s spirit. Was that his aim? Splinter the Resistance as the First Order had been, and accept those who come to him.

“Kylo,” you whispered. He started to open his hand. The amulet noisily slipped downwards only to be caught anew by a clenched fist. Kylo said your name in turn. This preceded his calmly spoken demand that you admit to the other reason that you had agreed to join him. It was one that you had avoided thinking about or acknowledging; and it was why you had been able to justify the action of leaving behind your mother after everything she had been through. Your lips formed soundlessly around the words that you could not yet say.

For a second time, the man in front of you temporarily relinquished his grip on the amulet. It slipped nearer to your outstretched hands, and made your heart skip a beat before thumping faster and harder in your chest. There were limitations to what you would do for power. If you tried to deny that you wanted power at all, you would be a liar; you did want to gain enough power to crush the First Order. More now than ever before. Naboo’s destruction had revealed to you such a thirst, and yet the sight of Kylo and Luke’s eyes had unveiled that you were not going to destroy yourself or those you loved for it. Joining the Order of Ren was not the equivalent of donning this amulet. It was not your soul nor your morals that you were selling. It was the ability to be present with your friends and allies.

Comrades that would never trust you with the mission you so wanted. Everyone that had lost someone to this war had the same claim. How many worlds had he now destroyed? Supreme Leader Armitage Hux, the Destroyer of Worlds, the tyrant of the galaxy.

“You’re the only one who might let me play a role in his death. They would never trust me. Or they would think they were trying to protect me. Even if there are areas that you’d never trust me, that won’t stop you from placing me in a position that might allow me to kill Hux. All of the hatred and anger I have towards him is consuming me. I’ve finally, finally learned to start loving who I’ve become. If things carry on this way, that person I’ve become will be destroyed in the same way this Sith is destroying you.”

This time when Kylo opened his hand, he did not close it into a fist until after the amulet had landed in your grasp. You curled your fingers around it. Marveled over how heavy such a small object could be. Felt your stomach do a sort of flip and begin burning at the sensation that traveled through you at its touch. The thing was wicked. You could not explain how an object could arouse such an impression, but there it was. You pulled your hands down into your lap and tilted back your head to stare up at the ceiling of the room. Here you were among stars that you could not see.

It was strange to you that once you had believed Kylo Ren was merciless; ironic that he had set out to destroy you only to now be working to prevent that very thing from happening again. You shifted your legs forward, shuffling until you were between his legs and could rest your forehead on his collarbone. Inhaling, you found that he smelled of dust and sweat. Dirty from battle. You exhaled through your nose to get rid of the dirt, which threatened to have you sneezing. Your own clothes were barely in a better state. The filth from them was what had you pulling away from the man. That, and the presence of the amulet. More distance between it and Kylo was your priority until you could destroy the wretched thing. Flushing it out of an airlock wouldn’t be enough. It had to be gone for good.

Tension in your legs lessened as you pushed yourself up into a standing position. Mere movement helped in general. Now that you had admitted to the other reason you had remained with Kylo, you were not weighed down by the guilt that had been building from it. You walked into the refresher. There were two drawers, both of them small in size, and you set the amulet into the bottom one. The door that connected the refresher to the room remained open, a fact that did not bother you. Nor did Kylo Ren’s presence there. The one thing you did avoid was looking at the mirror so that you wouldn’t have to see his eyes, to see if they had changed. It had you on edge as far as whether or not his voice would be his alone or if it would have that echo.

Dragging down the zipper to your jacket, you shrugged the material off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Paused. Then resumed undressing while hoping that no one, not Kylo Ren or one of his underlings or a droid, would take your possessions away. As what always seemed to happen, you felt more dirty as you stripped off the layers of clothing that you had been wearing. Now you were able to tell what greasiness was affixed to your skin, what wetness and grime had been on the clothes. The contrast of the clean walls in the refresher added to this. On the ground, when you were at a Resistance base, you didn’t notice such things as much. There was dirt almost everywhere.

Artificial lights were easier for you to grow accustomed to, and their dimming functions in this particular refresher made you more comfortable. There were two sets of switches, one by the door and the other beside the shower stall. You utilized the latter to lower the brightness. Fatigue was starting to set in, and along with it came a headache. The pile of clothing grew until you were stripped bare. You reached into the shower to turn on the warm water.

Your plan had initially been to allow the water to heat up before you got inside. This changed when Kylo came into the refresher. Getting into the shower was the fastest way to avoid his reflection. It also let you hide away from the decision that you had made. Shrunk your world. No Resistance. No Order of Ren. Nothing. Just the water and dirt and you. Water that was cold but not uncomfortable. You stood underneath the spray to keep the world melted away.

The world would not be silenced for very long. Kylo released an audible sigh. No hint of the Sith presence, but that might not mean anything. You were ready to be misled. When the curtain was slid aside, you turned your head to allow reality to hit you. The amber refused to fade. His features were soft again. The face that had shaken you to the core after he had removed his mask for the first time in your presence.

“How much of you is gone?” you asked him, ensuring that you were the one to speak first. Giving yourself more time to prepare for the echo should it be present. “What did you sell for the ability to see?”

“The scared boy that could not face his uncle.” There was no echo. Instead there was a coldness, a lack of emotions that perfectly accentuated what he was trying to convey. He had lost part of his light in order to see. The fear he had had of his uncle had bred hatred. Now, while he continued to desire the man’s death, there was less vehemence. He was more logical. Calculating. Emotionally distant, which made him deadlier. You wondered as to the identity of the Sith that had created the amulet. What would such a Sith do to the many Force sensitives that existed in the galaxy, in the Order of Ren alone.

You reached for the curtain and pulled it back closed, ending the conversation. No insult was taken. He informed you that he would have a meal brought as well as a guard posted at your door. No one would be permitted entrance, and you would be confined to these quarters unless he personally came for you. An okay left your lips, but you said nothing beyond that. The world melted away again as the door to the refresher was closed and the spray of the water warmed.

The warmth radiated through you and helped to ease some of the tension that had been building in your muscles. You allowed yourself five minute’s worth of time to simply enjoy it and relax. Afterwards you scrubbed your body and hair, rinsd, and shut off the spray. You towel dried after failing to locate any appliances that would expedite the process. Wrapped up in one towel and the other returned to the rack, you exited the refresher. Food hadn’t yet been brought. There were, on the other hand, fresh clothes. They offered a different kind of warmth, one frequently experienced when you had attire not caked in dirt.

As for the Resistance jacket, you returned to the refresher and attempted to shake off some of the grime. It was not going to work. You settled for folding it and tucking it, along with your other dirty clothing, into a corner in the room. The amulet remained inside the drawer.

You were beginning to feel restless, quite similar to how you had been after first joining the Resistance. Maker, when you thought of that person that you had been. What a naive fool. In times such as these, you found that you still did miss her. It did not erase the love that you had for this new self, but you did miss her.

Before a droid could arrive with food, Kylo Ren himself returned to your new quarters. At first you did not know if it was the shadows playing tricks, his eyes being darker, but as he came closer you realized that they indeed were. Not quite the brown that you remembered. Closer though. He carried with him a thermos that had you snorting in memory. Accepting a drink from him would not always be a wise choice. If the drink was even for you, you thought. You seated yourself on the edge of the bed. Allowed him to slip the thermos into your hands.

“You may record a message for your mother if you wish.” No echo. You raised the thermos to your lips and took a sip of the warm liquid within. The cocoa blend that your father had made for you as a child. It had you again thinking of a home that no longer existed. “I will be present if you do.” This was not unfair of him. You gave a single nod of agreement to his terms.

The warm drink helped you to calm in ways you had not realized you still needed. Kylo remained in the room long enough to see that you ate the small meal a droid at last brought. He left along with the empty plate and thermos. The recording would be made later, after you had time to think of what you would say to your mother. For the time being, you climbed under the blankets and curled into the fetal position to sleep.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #three blind tooke #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #elmidolfanfic #death is an art

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redrobinhoods · 3 years

Text

Age of Heroes | Chapter 8, Ruin

AO3 Link | 2000 words (approx) | Prologue, Chapter 7, Chapter 9

Chapter Summary: Ahsoka and Rex struggle with their sense of duty in the wake of Order 66

“It’s not a thrilling climax; it’s not the culmination of an epic struggle. Just the opposite, in fact. The Clone Wars were never an epic struggle. They were never intended to be. […] The Clone Wars have always been, in and of themselves, from their very inception, the revenge of the Sith.” - Revenge of the Sith novelization

Obi-Wan stared blankly at the blues waves of hyperspace before him. R4 was gone, so many Jedi were gone, Anakin- he couldn’t think about Anakin right now. He and Ahsoka were still on Coruscant with the 501st. Ahsoka had practically moved into their barracks. He could only hope that she hadn’t been there when the order had been given. An army commissioned by Count Dooku. And they had trusted them. Obi-Wan remembered an incident where one of Anakin’s clones had gone rogue and killed a Jedi. How could they have been so foolish to overlook that? Or maybe the Sith Lord in the Senate had covered it up. They had been so close to discovering their identity, and now they never would. Maul was probably dead. The Sith would have never left such a loose end lying around at the pinnacle of their plot. Cody had heard some of it. The plan. That clones had been part of the plan. Maybe, if they’d had enough time they could have stopped it. If they had reached Coruscant and spoken before the Council they could have pieced it all together. That would never happen now. Cody was dead, preferring death to blind servitude. Maul was in the hands of the 212th. And the Jedi Council, they must have been destroyed. They all must have been destroyed. No loose ends. No survivors.

A series of beeps from his comm came to his attention. The Jedi recall code. It meant that the war was over, that it was time for the Jedi to return home. It was a trap. Obi-Wan reached for his comm.

“Emergency code nine-thirteen. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Silence greeted him. “Repeat, code nine-thirteen. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Is anyone out there?”

“Master Kenobi.” A hologram sprung to life in his cockpit. It couldn’t be-.

“Senator Organa. My clone troopers turned on me. I need help.”

“We have just rescued Master Yoda. It appears this ambush has happened everywhere. We’re sending you our coordinates.”

“Have you heard from anyone else?”

A pause. Obi-Wan knew the answer before Bail spoke. “No.”

“Coordinates received. Thank you, Senator Organa.” Obi-Wan plugged the new coordinates into the hyperspace drive and set off to the rendezvous.

---

The Jedi Temple was in ruins. Fires ravaged its halls and rooms, caring not whether the things they consumed were inorganic or corpses. Dead clones and dead Jedi littered the floors. The living clones still patrolled for Jedi survivors and their wounded brethren. The medics had been the first to withdraw from the attack to treat their brothers. Now the wounded were being taken off-site. Commander Rex watched his brothers being carried out from one of the balconies in the main auditorium. His still posture betrayed none of his racing thoughts. It had been a long night, and the dawn would not bring him comfort. He didn’t think that anything would bring him comfort for a very long time.

At the sound of approaching footsteps Rex turned to face his general.

“Commander, I have just received new orders. You and the 501st are to remain here and ensure that the Temple is secured. I am needed elsewhere. Answer to no one but myself and the Chancellor.”

“Yes, sir!” Rex watched after his general as he strode out of the doors. Once Lord Vader was out of sight- when had he become Lord Vader to him?- Rex took off his helmet and set his forehead against one of the cold stone pillars of the Temple in an attempt to calm his churning mind. Anakin Skywalker, Lord Vader, when had they switched? Was it before or after he had given the order for Operation Knightfall? Did the difference matter?

He pressed his head harder against the stone as his stomach heaved. But nothing came up but bile. He hadn’t eaten in the last rotation, there was nothing to vomit. He spat the bile out and turned to see Jesse standing behind him. Jesse had always been light of step, and his footfalls had been lost in the sizzle of destruction.

“Commander Rex, are you okay, sir?”

“I’m fine, Lieutenant. Just the smoke.”

Jesse slowly took off his helmet and stepped closer to his commander. The effect of the inhibitor chips on the clones was beginning to wear off. His pupils had returned to a normal size, and his eyes were misty.

“Rex, do you really believe that the Jedi betrayed the Republic?” A whisper. Nobody but the dead was around to hear their voices, and the crackling fires that burned in the lower auditorium sheltered their conversation from their brothers below, but dread still hung in the air around them.

“I don’t think it matters anymore, Jesse. They betrayed us. I felt General Kenobi kill Cody. And here, even their younglings and padawans struck us down.”

“In self-defense, Rex. You can’t tell me that this was justified. I killed children!”

“You killed Jedi.” Rex wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Jesse, or himself.

“I killed children. I don’t know why I did it.” Jesse scoffed. “I mean, I do know why. I was ordered to kill them. But we’ve never listened to orders before. What changed?”

“Jesse.” Rex closed the distance between them and lay his hand on Jesse’s pauldron. “Not another word, I don’t want to lose you too.”

Jesse’s eyes widened and he stiffened under Rex’s grip. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Rex’s heart broke at the fear in Jesse’s eyes. Jesse had never been afraid of him before. But he would have to be now, for his own sake. If Lord Vader had heard him questioning orders, he’d be dead. Rex had watched it happen to at least one of his men who had refused to fire on a youngling. There had been a snap, and his brother had fallen like a ragdoll. He didn’t remember his name.

Rex couldn’t remember who had died or who he had killed. He didn’t want to remember. If he remembered, he couldn’t live with himself. He almost couldn’t bear it anyways. Fives. Fives had been right and he had been killed for it, executed under the order of the Chancellor. Perhaps, so was Kix. Rex hadn’t been there for him as he had been for Fives. He had failed so many. Ahsoka. He’d never be able to look her in the eye again. Did she know what was going on? Was she still alive? If alive, did she know that he had killed her people? He had seen her leave the barracks but didn’t know where she had gone. He could only hope that it was to a place where there were no clones. He couldn’t believe that Anakin would send his padawan to be slaughtered. But Darth Vader, he just might.

“Commander, are you with me?” Jesse had both hands on his shoulders, he could feel his grip through the plastoid.

Rex blinked away his distress. He couldn’t think of those things now. He had orders, and while the small voice in his head had grown weaker it still whispered to him that good soldiers follow orders. “Yeah, yeah I’m with you. Come, I want men stationed at every door and access point to this building. Nobody gets in, nobody gets out. No survivors.”

---

“Anakin!” Padme leapt from the couch to greet Anakin at her balcony, followed closely by Ahsoka. “Are you all right? We heard there was an attack on the Jedi Temple. You could see the smoke from here!”

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Anakin took his wife into his arms and held her close. Before, Ahsoka would have looked away. Now, her eyes clung to the display of affection as if it was her world. If she focused hard enough, it could be. “I came to see if the three of you are safe.”

“What’s happening?” Padme pulled back slightly to look him in the eye.

“The Jedi have tried to overthrow the Republic.”

“But you said it was just the Council?” Ahsoka stepped forward to bring some of Anakin’s attention to herself.

“I saw Master Windu attempt to assassinate the Chancellor myself. But it seems that the treason of the Jedi ran deeper than we initially thought.”

“But what about the other Jedi? Master Plo wasn’t a traitor.”

“Master Plo wasn’t on Coruscant. Perhaps he has come around to see the error of his ways.”

But Ahsoka knew he was dead. She hadn’t yet tried to reach out to him in the Force, she’d been so overwhelmed by the numbing pain of the day, but there was something inside of her telling her that there was no point in trying. She knew the pain that killing any of his men would’ve inflicted on Master Plo. She wondered if Wolffe had been the one to do it. In a way, she hoped so. It would’ve been quick.

“Anakin, what are you going to do?” Padme asked.

Anakin took a step away from Padme, turning to gaze over Coruscant. Smoke from the still-burning Temple filtered across the horizon, the smell still permeating the cityscape. Ahsoka stopped her mind from imagining what it looked like inside. She wouldn’t allow herself to grieve until everything was over. She needed to remain strong for Anakin, for Padme, for their unborn child. They were counting on her.

“I will not betray the Republic.” Anakin finally said. “My loyalties lie with the Chancellor, with the Senate, and with you.”

“What about Obi-Wan?” Padme reached back out for her husband, holding onto his hands.

“I don’t know. Many Jedi have been killed. We can only hope that he’s remained loyal to the Chancellor.”

“Anakin.” Padme’s voice broke and he pulled her back into his embrace. Ahsoka stepped forward and lay her hand on Padme’s shoulder. She could be strong for her. She had to be strong for her or the images of her burning home would take over. She let a tear slide down her cheek anyways. She wished that Anakin had brought Rex with him. She refused to imagine what Rex was doing now, or what he had done. But at the same time, she refused to imagine that he was dead.

“Have faith, my love. Everything will soon be set right.” Anakin pulled back from the embrace, fixing his gaze on Ahsoka. “The Chancellor has given us a very important mission. The Separatists have gathered on Mustafar. We’re going there to end this war.”

“I shouldn’t, Master. I should stay here with Padme.”

Anakin shook his head. “I need you with me, Ahsoka. We can end the Clone Wars, this may be our only chance.”

“Okay.” She spoke softly and moved to stand by his side.

Anakin turned his gaze back to Padme. “Wait for me until I return. Things will be different, I promise.” He moved in to kiss her, and now Ahsoka looked away. There was no plausible deniability there. “Please, wait for me.”

The next thing Ahsoka knew was that she was sitting behind her master in the cockpit of a starfighter as the lights of Coruscant faded behind them.

---

Wolffe didn’t look up as the door to the cabin slid open. Two of his brothers stepped inside, closing the door once more behind them.

“Commander?” Boost prompted. “Do you mind the company?”

Wolffe didn’t answer, keeping his gaze on the lightsaber he held in his hands.

“We’ll leave if you want us to, but we’d rather stay.” Sinker added.

They both looked around the cabin as they waited for a response or any acknowledgement of their presence. A Jedi’s robe still hung on a hook by the door. It would have to be burned soon lest it be seen as inspiring. If they looked in the trunk at the end of the cabin they would have found some of the very few possessions of their former general. But they didn’t.

It took Boost shifting his weight towards the door for Wolffe to speak.

"Stay.”

So they did.

#obi-wan kenobi #captain rex #arc trooper jesse #ahsoka tano #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #commander wolffe #my fics #age of heroes fic

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