B L A M E ( Anakin Skywalker)

Chapter 2

Unspoken Truths

Anakin made his way through the bustling corridors of the Jedi Temple, his footsteps echoing softly against the cold stone floor. He sought solace in the familiarity of these halls, the memories of his training with Obi-Wan Kenobi providing a fleeting sense of comfort amidst the turmoil of his thoughts.

As he approached Obi-Wan's chambers, Anakin's heart quickened with anticipation. He longed to confide in his mentor, to unburden himself of the weight that lay heavy upon his shoulders. But as he stood before the door, his resolve wavered, and he hesitated.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Anakin knocked softly, his knuckles rapping against the durasteel surface in a rhythmic pattern. The door slid open, revealing Obi-Wan standing on the other side, a look of concern etched into his features.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan greeted him warmly, though his eyes betrayed the worry that lurked beneath the surface. "Come in. Is everything alright?"

Anakin forced a smile, though it felt hollow and brittle on his lips. "I'm fine, Obi-Wan," he replied, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining the facade. "Just... a little tired, that's all."

Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on Anakin for a moment, his eyes searching his apprentice's face with a knowing intensity. Though he did not use the Force, he could sense the turmoil that churned within Anakin's heart, like a tempest raging beneath calm waters.

"Are you sure, Anakin?" Obi-Wan pressed gently, his voice tinged with concern. "You seem... troubled."

Anakin's smile faltered, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in his eyes before he quickly masked it with a forced nonchalance. "It's nothing, Obi-Wan," he insisted, his tone dismissive. "Just some... Jedi business, you know how it is."

But even as he spoke the words, Anakin knew they rang hollow, a feeble attempt to deflect Obi-Wan's probing concern. He felt a pang of guilt at the deception, knowing that he was not being entirely truthful with his mentor.

As the silence stretched between them, Anakin's thoughts drifted back to the days of his youth, to the countless hours he had spent by Obi-Wan's side, learning the ways of the Force and the Jedi Code. He remembered the bond they had shared, the camaraderie and trust that had blossomed between them like a flower in bloom.

And then, without warning, the words spilled from his lips before he could stop them, a slip of the tongue borne of a heart weighed down by unspoken truths.

"I love you, Obi-Wan," Anakin blurted out, his voice tinged with a mixture of longing and regret. "Like a brother, you know?"

Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise at Anakin's confession, his brow furrowing with concern. He could hear the undercurrent of sorrow in Anakin's voice, the unspoken sadness that lingered in the spaces between his words.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said softly, his voice gentle yet firm. "You know you can talk to me, don't you? Whatever's on your mind, whatever troubles you may have, I'm here for you."

Anakin met Obi-Wan's gaze, the weight of his unspoken fears and doubts pressing down upon him like a leaden cloak. He wanted to confide in his mentor, to pour out his heart and soul and seek guidance in the darkness that threatened to consume him.

But as he looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, he couldn't shake the feeling that this might be their last conversation—that destiny was calling him down a path from which he might never return.

"I know, Obi-Wan," Anakin whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know."

And as they stood together in the quiet stillness of Obi-Wan's chambers, Anakin couldn't help but feel the weight of the unspoken goodbye that hung in the air between them, like a silent echo of a future yet to unfold.  As Anakin exited Obi-Wan's chambers, he made his way down the corridor, his steps heavy with the weight of his unspoken burdens. As he walked, he passed by Yoda, the diminutive Jedi Master who stood silently, his keen eyes observing Anakin's every movement.

Anakin forced a smile as he walked past Yoda, his attempt at reassurance feeling feeble and insincere. He could sense the disappointment emanating from the wise old Jedi, a palpable aura of disapproval that hung heavy in the air.

Yoda watched Anakin with a mixture of concern and curiosity, his mind swirling with thoughts and memories of the young Jedi Knight. He couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at Anakin's lack of confidence and strength, a stark contrast to the fiery determination and passion that had once burned brightly within him.

As Anakin disappeared around the corner, Yoda's thoughts turned inward, reflecting on the parallels between Anakin's current state and the fall of Count Dooku. He remembered the day when Dooku had walked the same corridors, his once unwavering resolve replaced by doubt and hesitation.

Yoda couldn't help but wonder if history was repeating itself, if Anakin's wavering faith in himself would lead him down a similar path of darkness and despair. He knew that he must tread carefully, lest he risk losing another promising Jedi to the temptations of the dark side.

With a heavy heart, Yoda turned and continued on his way, his mind filled with thoughts of the uncertain future that lay ahead. For even the wisest of Jedi could not predict the twists and turns of destiny, nor the role that each individual would play in shaping the fate of the galaxy.

Galactic City Streets
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As Anakin soared through the bustling streets of Galactic City in his speeder, the vibrant hues of the sunset painted the sky in a breathtaking tapestry of colors. He couldn't help but be captivated by the beauty of the fading light, the warmth of the dying day a stark contrast to the shadows that lingered in his heart.

As he neared Padmé Amidala's apartment, Anakin's gaze drifted towards the window, where he caught a glimpse of her silhouette against the backdrop of the starlit sky. She stood there, her eyes fixed on the heavens above, a sense of longing etched into her features as she clutched the Japor snippet in her hand.

Anakin's heart clenched at the sight, a pang of regret coursing through him like a blade through his soul. He knew that Padmé still held a place in his heart, a place that he had tried so desperately to deny in his futile attempts to bury the past.

But as he watched her, bathed in the soft glow of starlight, he knew that their love was a flame that refused to be extinguished—a flame that burned brightly even amidst the darkest of nights.

Padmé's gaze shifted, her eyes meeting Anakin's for the briefest of moments before he flew off into the distance, disappearing into the twilight shadows of the cityscape. And in that fleeting instant, she felt a pang of regret wash over her—a regret for all that they had lost, for the love that had slipped through her fingers like grains of sand.

She clutched the Japor snippet tightly to her chest, feeling the weight of her own mistakes pressing down.