Trial of the Times

Chapter 4 - The Face of Vader - Rewritten

Of course, being near Dooku means that he's constantly jumpy and on alert, but that's a good thing. The more time he spends puzzling over the Count's possible motives, the less time he spends mourning. After programming Artoo to keep watch all night for any nearby individuals or droids, Anakin resigns himself to a sleepless night in the guest quarters.

"Anakin."

He jerks at the sound of the voice – familiar, soothing – turning to see Obi-Wan looking at him, a small, warm smile on his face, one he only ever gives to Anakin. Desperately, Anakin studies his face, burning it into memory for all eternity, because it's never going to last. It never does. "Master," he chokes out, the words sticking in his throat. "Obi-Wan, please..." He doesn't know what he's begging for. Or actually, he does. He wants to beg Obi-Wan to come back, to stay with him. He wants to beg him to never leave him again.

"I'll be alright," Obi-Wan promises, a hand landing on Anakin's shoulder, warm and tangible. He reaches up, touching Anakin's face gently. "You have to let me go." He steps back, arms falling back to his sides.

Anakin can't hold back a cry at Obi-Wan's words and at the loss of contact. "No," he whispers stubbornly, a feeling of foreboding building within him.

A red lightsaber suddenly protrudes through Obi-Wan's chest, but he doesn't even react, still smiling as softly as he was before. Anakin screams. "No. No, you can't –!" Tears blur his eyes, but that doesn't prevent the image of Obi-Wan crumpling to the ground from being burned into mind. He tries to move towards him, finding himself frozen to the spot, whether from horror or shock or something else, he doesn't know.

"You should be more careful what you choose, boy," taunts Dooku, stepping from the shadows and twirling his lightsaber with a flourish. He's smirking, eyes a cold yellow. Anakin involuntarily takes a step back, fear clenching him in a vise. This is the man who cut off his arm, leaving him maimed for life, and he just...

"What have you done?" yells Anakin, finally dropping to his knees next to Obi-Wan's body, his former master's gaze empty and lifeless. It hurts. It will always hurt.

"You are fulfilling your destiny," Dooku replies, an eerie calm in his voice, though it echoes somehow, dark and sinister.

Anakin shakes his head desperately, mutely, unable to speak. He might have conceded to taking a Sith name, but that's not nearly enough to actually make him a Sith. He would never, ever betray Obi-Wan like that. Although... if it would be enough to bring him back? Yes, he would do it in a heartbeat. He would do anything to get him back, and though that thought should scare him, it doesn't.

"You are a Sith, Skywalker. You have always been one." His words are matter of fact, as if he's stating the obvious.

"Stop it!" screams Anakin, choking on a sob, tears streaming down his face. "Leave me alone!"

He wakes up with a cry, tears already blurring his eyes and falling unchecked down his face. He can't stop trembling as he sits up and buries his face in his hands. The room is completely silent, not to mention unfamiliar, but it's the quiet that feels like a knife ripping open a wound. It's far too silent, and he can't bear it. It reminds him too acutely of Obi-Wan's death, but he's alone. Ahsoka is all the way on Coruscant, so he can't go to her or Padme. It's only him and Artoo here. Never before has Anakin felt so desperately lonely and afraid.

***

Anakin struggles to brush aside his nightmare when dawn breaks the next morning, and he decides that any further attempts at sleeping are a fruitless endeavor. He straightens out his robes, waiting until the sun has risen before leaving his quarters for the small dining area. A waitress droid brings him breakfast and Dooku's apologies. Apparently, the Count is too busy with some political matter to come, for which Anakin is grateful. He doesn't think he would be able to see Dooku right now, not while the images from his nightmare are still so fresh.