Anakin had left shortly after those words. Ripped his hands from yours and stalked out of the room without another glance.
Being stabbed in the chest would have hurt less.
You weren't sure what to do with your hands anymore– left open and empty in the position they had held his. And your legs, they were beginning to go numb with how long you'd been kneeling on the floor.
You couldn't stay here. Not with the emptiness screaming at you from every corner of the room.
Your feet took you to the only place you could think to stand right now– the garden in the Jedi Temple. As soon as you stepped out of the path and into the hidden clearing with the water fountain, you closed your eyes.
There. The sound of the trickling water of the fountain. It had been the one constant source of peace in your life.
Without fail, this was the place you had come to when you were broken down over and over again. And this time, as you curled up into a ball on the stone before the fountain, you weren't entirely sure you would be able to get up again.
You thought that maybe your head should be swarming with thoughts, but you could only really hear one thing repeating over and over again in your head.
Save him.
It was as if it wasn't even your own voice, the intensity it screamed at you.
Save him, save him, save him.
And the push of it scared you. You were teetering on a precipice, staring at the drop down below, and with every frantic shout it urged you closer and closer. You wanted to cry, but more than anything, you just wanted him to be alright.
How pathetic of you, wasting away for a man who was too blind to help himself.
No– not blind.
He was misguided. And overwhelmed. And he was trying to help you. This was all for you.
You're not sure when you fell asleep. All you knew was that one minute you were shivering, ice cold on the stone before the fountain, hoping that Anakin would wander in and find you here when he realized you weren't back at the room, and the next you were shooting upright, sweating and shaking your hands as if it could wring the feeling of the flames off of them.
In your dream, Anakin had been burning. He was on the bank of a little mound of molten rock, the lava inches from his legs, and he was alight with fire. Every single inch of him. And you were staring at his face, that beautiful, beautiful face, twisted with torture and agony. Screaming and screaming and screaming.
Your heart was in your throat, tears blurring your vision as you found the door to Obi-Wan's room.
He opened after a moment of you knocking, eyes bleary and hair sticking up in odd places. He was wearing a loose shirt and sweatpants, instantly frowning as he took in your condition.
"What's wrong?" he nudged you inside with a gentle arm around your shoulders, closing the door behind you. His room smelled fresh, like a rose garden and boiled herbs.
"Y/n," he spoke softly as not to startle you, leading you toward the island seat and immediately starting up a pot of tea. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I don't know what to do," your voice came out small. Like a child's.
Obi-Wan's face fell.
"Is this about Anakin?"
"We're going to lose him," your throat ached, eyes burning. "He won't listen to me."
Teapot forgotten, Obi-Wan circled around the island to sit in the chair next to you. His eyes didn't leave your face, alarmed and intense as he spoke his next words.
"Tell me everything."
So you did. Everything from how you've been having dreams for months, the scary ones where it feels a little too real, a little too off, and then they started appearing with Anakin in them. And then you explained his dreams, and how, when he brought you back, he had to give some of his life force to you. And now, technically, you shared that little bit of life, evident in the way your hearts beat in synch.
He thought you were done, until you began to divulge your conversation with the Chancellor. All of your suspicions, and then the conversation you had with Anakin after. How it didn't end well.
You ended it with the dream you just had now.
By the time you finished, the tea was screaming in the kettle, but Obi-Wan was just staring off into space, one hand on his beard, lost in thought. You got up to turn the stove off and poured the tea with trembling hands, having no real appetite for anything right now. But maybe the warmth of the drink could bring some life back to your hollow veins.
"I am a strong believer in that you should trust the will of the force above all things," Obi-Wan said, and you almost dropped your cup.
So he didn't believe you either. He thought it was best to let you die.
"Don't– Y/n, you didn't let me finish."
You blinked a couple times and stared at him.
"The force may be right," he said slowly. Carefully. "But the Jedi may be wrong."
You turned the mug over and over in your hands, letting his words sink in. The weight they held, for someone like Obi-Wan to be saying this.
"I started to doubt as soon as they requested me to ask him to spy on the Chancellor. It's... not right. Not by any means, but a necessary evil even so. Still– there is corruption among the Jedi. And some of our ways... They set certain people up for failure."
Certain people like Anakin. Who they didn't even give a chance to before writing him off as untrainable, even though he had the highest midichlorian count they've ever come across. People like Anakin, who felt too much and loved too deeply.
And certain people like Obi-Wan, you supposed. Who wanted to belong to the Order so bad, he was willing to pretend to be something he wasn't in order to remain in his place. Who pushed away the people he couldn't admit he loved because it was against the rules.
"Will you talk to him then?" you asked, voice raw. Obi-Wan reached for the honey and squeezed some into your mug.
"I cannot go about spreading rumors about the Chancellor. Especially not of that nature– no matter how true they may be." Of course he wouldn't. "But... do you really believe Palpatine is a Sith?"
"I don't know anymore. Maybe I jumped to some conclusions. I just– I had a feeling. I can't explain it."
"I will take your words to heart," he added some honey to his own mug. "And I'll keep an eye on the Chancellor. Discuss the possibility with the Council. But I cannot promise it will get very far. There have already been suspicions, and your meeting offers little proof. A "feeling" doesn't say much as far as evidence goes, unfortunately."
Your shoulders slumped.
"What I'm trying, and failing so horribly, to say, Y/n, is that the Council is on your side. We believe there is corruption with the Chancellor. I'm just not sure we can go as far as to say he is a Sith Lord without actual proof."
"You mean, without a Jedi saying it." As soon as the words left your lips, you knew you were being difficult. You shook your head. "Nevermind. Just... what do you suppose we should do about Anakin? He's already losing it, I think. And if we let him go on like this..."
The image of his face burning and screaming flashed through your mind again. You flinched. Where was he, anyway?
"I will talk to him. See how he's doing. But I can only help him with as much as he decides to trust me with. Otherwise, he will think we are scheming behind his back."
"We're just trying to help him."
"He's stubborn," Obi-Wan tipped his mug back and took a sip of the tea. "We have to tread carefully. But... at the end of the day... it's Anakin. You and I can both trust that he'll do the right thing."
The right thing as in, not going to the dark side when I die?
"Are you okay with this then?" you had to set your mug down. "I don't mean to make this about me, or sound selfish or anything, but... are you okay with me dying? Is there really no way to get around it?"
He had already said it before. He trusts in the will of the force above all else. You're not sure why you even asked– maybe you just wanted to see the sorrow and guilt on his face as he admitted to you that he would do nothing as you died.
"I will do what I can," you had never seen him look so torn apart. That cracked, bleeding look in his eyes. "I will do everything in my power to look for a way out of this, but... premonition can rarely be altered. I'm not sure what his dreams are trying to say, or what the force is trying to do, or what the Chancellor is planning. But I do know that I will protect you with everything I have, Y/n. Even if it is hopeless– I'll try."
At least he was honest with you. You had to give him that.
"Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?" he nudged your knee with his own. You shook your head no.
You didn't want to go back to that bed, the one you and Anakin had shared just last night. Force, it seemed like a lifetime ago. And you knew that if you fell into it, you would only smell him, and remember the night you shared together. Mourn it– because you're not sure things could really heal between everything that had transpired since then and now.
"Take my bed. I'll sleep on the couch. And stay as long as you want– you're still all beat up, it'll make me feel better knowing you're safe and healing where I can watch out for you."
For a Jedi who's such a stickler for rules, that sounded an awful lot like attachment. Even so, you were too tired to call him out for it, and simply just glad that he cared. And too numb to wrap your head around any more fucked up shit today.
You didn't even argue with him as he led you toward his bed, not when every cell screamed at you to take the couch because it was the polite thing to do. You were just simply too tired.
Maybe, you thought as you pulled Obi-Wan's silken sheets up over your body, it would be better if Anakin took back his life force from you. Became as powerful as he could possibly be. Fulfilled his destiny. And if you spent the rest of your days warning the Council about the Chancellor, of the corruption, of their need to protect Anakin from going to the dark side, things would be alright.
Things could be alright without you.
Maybe you just had to accept that. Maybe that's what your tired brain was telling you so that you could fall asleep again. Maybe you weren't sure what the truth was anymore, either.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
You had to return to your apartment eventually. You knew it as soon as Obi-Wan greeted you the next morning, opening the cabinets to find his sorry stock of crackers and tea that was the only thing he could offer you for breakfast.
You told him it was alright, thanked him for being there for you and for letting you sleep in his bed, and accepted the tea he gave you in a to-go cup. You had to shower anyway, and change out of your day old clothes. You're sure you looked– and smelled– like absolute crap.
Anakin wasn't in the room when you got back to your apartment. It was still dark, so you turned on the lights and opened the blinds. Almost like nothing was actually wrong, and things were still normal.
You ran through the motions of getting in the shower, washing your hair, scrubbing your body. You couldn't find it in you to look at yourself in the mirror, the white of your hair only reminding you of how little time you actually had left.
You were tired of running from death at every corner, and tired of watching Anakin fear for you every single day. You both deserved peace.
The thought had you choking back more tears as you got dressed. The unfairness of it all, but the necessity of it, too.
You thought you had time.
Well, time had run out for you a long time ago technically. Everything after the crash was just borrowed time. Stolen time– from Anakin himself.
The sound of your apartment door opening made you freeze. First instinct: hide in the closet. But the possibility of it being Anakin made you too dumb and desparate to act smartly, and you found yourself rounding the corner of your bedroom to find him standing by the doorway.
His shoulders were slumped. Hair a mess. Face gaunt.
But he was holding a bouquet of flowers.
You eyed them, so bright and lovely against the dark browns and blacks of his leathers. They should have looked out of place in that warriors grip, but their loveliness still paled beside him. Even when he looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"I wasn't sure which ones you'd like," his eyes were burning holes in the petals. "But I remember you looking at these ones all the time in the garden. I thought..."
He didn't continue, but he didn't have to. Maybe you were stupid. Maybe you were just too in love. Or maybe you didn't want to spend whatever little time you had with him being angry at each other.
You crossed the room to him, standing before him and standing on your tip-toes to look into the blooming bouquet of flowers. Despite everything, you smiled.
"I know I'm not forgiven," he watched your face carefully as you took them from him, your smile growing as you felt how heavy they were. He did that for you. Picked all of them from the garden, remembering how you lingered at the pretty ones that smelled especially nice. It was sort of lame, and more than a little cliche, but no one had ever done something so... sweet for you.
"Thank you," you set them aside on the counter, and then turned back to face him again. He was watching you as if he was entranced, eyes glazed like he was under some sort of spell. "Are you okay?"
"I'm... I'm okay."
You nodded, hands itching to reach out for him. But he wanted to say something, and you wanted to hear it first.
"Y/n, I'm sorry. I'm terribly, terribly sorry."
It's okay.
"I reacted horribly. It was the worst way I could have handled the situation. I shouldn't have pushed you away."
You listened.
"I shouldn't have brought up my mother. I should have heard you out, at least, when you said you just wanted to explain. There's some merit to your thoughts about the Chancellor, I know. I'm the one looking into it for the Council. I was angry that we received no answers, no help, and the people I care about are pitting against each other. It's no excuse but... I'm sorry."
We're running out of time.
"What can I do to make it up to you?" his eyes softened along with his voice, vulnerable. Begging.
"A hug."
He almost looked like he wanted to cry too as he finally pulled you into his chest. His arms wrapped around your back, a hand fitting to the crown of your head, holding you against him. You squeezed him so tight. Breathed him in like it was the last time you would smell that leather and spice and breeze. Listened to the thumping of his heart beat in time with your own.
"Anakin."
"Hm?"
Your words were muffled by his chest, but you could both hear your words as clear as if you were shouting them.
"I don't care if I die anymore. I've accepted it– er, I'm accepting it. But if I live, and you go to the dark side–"
"I'm not–"
"Listen. If you, for whatever reason, go to the dark side, you better fucking take me with you."
"You aren't dying, and I'm not going to the dark side."
"Just promise me."
"That's ridic–" he stopped himself and sighed. Seemed to realize that nothing was really out of the question anymore, and if it gave you peace of mind, he would do anything. "I promise."
"Thank you."
Neither of you pulled away for a long, long while. And when you did, you didn't mention the dreams. You didn't mention dying. And you sure as hell didn't mention the Chancellor.
You simply asked Anakin to reach into the tall cupboard and grab a vase, and you filled it with water as he started making you breakfast, and you arranged the flowers in the vase as he told you about the mission Ahsoka was currently deployed on.
For just a moment, there was peace.