Will of The Force (Star Wars / Worm)

So, I thought I'd finish the next chapter tomorrow or the day after, but I managed to steal some time and finished it today.

This is actually the first chapter I wrote since coming back, the last one being something I had ready at my page for some time, so I hope it doesn't drop in quality... or if it does, that it's not by too much.


Anyway, for those who enjoy my other stories, I just released 5 chapters of something I started recently as a way to get back to writing called Arcane: Rule of Blood. I'll be posting chapter 6 this week. then I'll finally restart my Supergirl fanfic.

As always, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter.

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The new location was subpar, an abandoned mechanical workshop and warehouse; it had enough space for his goals, but lacked the majority of the equipment and modifications that made the former hideout acceptable.

Disappointing.

Marissa looked around the place, then did her best to move her wheelchair towards a corner, not an easy thing when most of her fingers were still missing, but at least it proved she had resilience.

Anakin just stared at her, causing the woman to flinch and retreat into herself, his anger starting to rise again at the sight of someone even partially responsible for the youngling's latest wounds.

Turning away, he considered what to do, searching for any distractions. Losing the repulsolift and most of the ship he had been building at the previous workshop was an annoyance; the equipment was probably inside one of the PRT's warehouses and, while he could recover it, he had no desire to start another confrontation at the moment.

With a glance, he turned on the forge, using Force telekinesis to move a few bars of metal inside while he found a crate of Bakuda's equipment the ABB had yet to move into his previous location. The wooden container was filled with electronics, from small circuitry to computer parts and precision tools.

In her corner, the woman had enough sense to be quiet, not interrupting his work and doing her best to avoid further drawing his attention.

Grabbing a motherboard with his own hands, he sat down and started tinkering. Creating and modifying equipment was perhaps the only pleasure he had allowed himself after falling to the dark side, and that only because it was also useful.

His own skills vastly surpassed those of anyone he had ever employed and, considering his previous armor, maintaining it was a necessity that even Sidious recognized.

Using the Force almost without thought, he unscrewed the small bolts on a dozen primitive data storage devices, 'hard disks' with barely a few gigabytes of memory, harvesting them for parts while using other materials to create an acceptable integrated circuit by hand; those available were far too slow.

Without turning his head, he pulled a bar of metal out of the forge, the material glowing red and perfectly malleable under his power, then he started shaping it, the Force substituting for the lack of tools precise enough for what he required.

Focusing inward, he dove deep into a meditative trance, choosing a semiconductor and using another Force power he had barely touched upon before, a difficult challenge as it was not something he was particularly talented at.

The Art of the Small was an incredibly effective, and rare, Force power, one that even Sidious had only tangentially touched, the ability to use the Force not in grand and overt ways but at the molecular level.

It was not Anakin's specialty but, with such primitive tools, even the small amount of material he could affect proved invaluable.

Shifting the very atoms of the substance, he changed its nature, transforming the material into something that would require far more advanced equipment than what was available to produce.

For over an hour, he lost himself in his work, the process, the familiar feeling of creating something, letting him relax and center himself better than hours of meditation could.

Connecting the resulting device to his notebook, he downloaded the necessary programming, something he created while working on Dinah's replacement hand, even if he hoped she'd have no use for it.

"Come," he ordered the former villainess.

Marissa hesitated, so he simply used the Force to move her wheelchair closer, causing her to release a small yelp, which he ignored.

"Secure the padded sockets to your limbs with the belt, then attach the devices using the magnetic locks," he told her, handing over the makeshift equipment.

It was a pair of gloves containing substitutes for her missing fingers and two prosthetic feet, each one made to fit the remains of her missing limbs, a makeshift thing reminiscent of a droid.

The prosthetic would be difficult to use and require a cane to allow her to move, at least until the simplistic AI he had created adapted to her body's movement and learned to make the necessary adjustments, but they were still adequate, and the project had somewhat helped him calm down.

Maybe now he could stop himself from crushing her when studying her power… if only to avoid having lost an hour of work.

The woman first put on her gloves, testing the fingers and seeing them move with rigid twitches, then carefully adjusted her new feet and tried to get up, the movement awkward, her balance failing several times and causing her to fall back on the chair before she managed to take a step.

"Ack," she cried out, putting a hand on the desk to avoid another crash. "This is harder than I expected." Holding on to the desk, she lowered herself into the chair again and released a long breath, both her arms and legs shaking from the effort, days of being asleep having taken a toll on her fitness.

"Repeated movements will improve your coordination, the AI is already adapting to you and making adjustments."

"Wh-What are you doing?" the girl asked as he approached her.

"Fulfilling my part of our deal," he said, using the Force to look deeper into her mind.

Some sentients believed Force users were able to perfectly read minds, that belief was incorrect, but it was not wholly without a base, although their power was far more empathic and impressionistic.

It meant that he couldn't delve into her mind as if it were a book, at most being able to read her most surface thoughts, but sensing the impressions left by a foreign influence was much easier.

For a moment, he thought about her attack on Dinah, the moment Trickster switched his cane with a blaster and shot her, the look on the youngling's face as she tried to respond in kind.

Relaxing his muscles, he managed to avoid scouring her mind, using the Force to take everything she was and leave an empty husk behind, to force her to experience every terrible thing she had done over and over again as punishment.

After days of meditation, resisting the whispers of the Dark Side had been getting easier.

"What do you me-mean?" the girl asked, flinching when he brought an open hand closer to her head.

"The 'Endbringer's' influence in your mind appears obvious, a minor compulsion that would work with your nature, relying more on prediction than domination for its goals; however, it is not impossible that the creature has left other, more subtle commands. I will check for such things before expurgating them altogether.'

"Will it hurt?"

"Unlikely."

Usually, Anakin would not require any overt gestures, but it had been years since he tried to avoid causing damage, so he left his hand only a few centimeters from her temple, closed his eyes and focused on asking instead of demanding through the Force.

Subtle but overwhelming fear, a sickening miasma that permeated her every moment, making her subconsciously suspect every thought, every action of being controlled.

Regret, a heavy layer filling her mind, not recent but lingering, building with every action for months or even years.

Hope, a recent and small thing, even if heavily colored by a more immediate fear, she did not want to die.

It seems the creature was as competent as he first expected. There was no modification to Marissa's brain, nor did it leave a psychic compulsion or any obvious working he could break. And yet, its influence was still there, using lingering fear and the inevitable result of a few, years-old prompts to guide her decisions.

The Simurgh had used a combination of an overwhelming first impression, trauma, her own reputation, and the girl's circumstances to create a lasting influence in her mind; there was no active effect, just expert manipulation. Sidious himself would have appreciated the precision of the technique.

Regardless, he had agreed to break the beast's influence, so break it he would.

Releasing the hold he had on his power, Anakin allowed the girl to feel, even at a subconscious level, a small part of it, sharing with her his own disdain for the Endbringer, overwriting some of her fear with the absolute certainty that, whatever it was, the Simurgh paled in the face of the Force.

For a single moment, less than a second, he forced the girl to feel the full effect of his presence, to sense him as a Force user would.

"Ahhhh!" Marissa threw herself away from him, her newly created limbs stumbling over her wheelchair and sending her stumbling to the ground, then scurrying backwards, eyes wide and her entire body shaking.

"Enough," Anakin said. "It is done."

He could not break an inexistent connection, but he could adopt the same tools, using his own power and influence to counter the creature's fear; already, he could feel the fear she felt for the creature diminishing in the face of a new one and, ironically, the sliver of hope growing.

Even at such a base, unconscious level, knowing what he was capable of would make her fear him more, but that same fear would counter the Simurgh and give her confidence that he had done what he claimed.

"I'm… you…" Marissa started to say, her pupils dilated into wide circles, and her breath coming hard, a tickle of blood running down her nose.

A light warning in the Force made Anakin turn his gaze slightly out into the bay, the echoes of something brushing his senses. He tried to grasp it, but it faded as if it had never been there.

"Excuse me, Susanoo-Kumichõ," an old man dressed in a suit said, but froze as soon as he entered the workshop, eyes going from the fallen girl to him, then bowing at the waist. "I… apologise, I can come later?"

"Approach, we are finished for now," Anakin said, putting both hands behind his back and adjusting his posture.

He'd let the girl recover for a day before starting to study the connection to her power.

The man was older than expected for a gang member, his hair completely white and combed back, but his full goatee was pitch black, and he still had vigor, his body maintaining muscles despite being around sixty years old.

Inugane Kimanjirou, the one Tae-Soo had put in charge of building the workshop.

"Susanoo-Komichõ, the report you requested," the old man said, offering him a so-called 'pendrive' while still bowing. having arrived from japan only a few months ago, he was still unused to the United States.

"Anakin," he corrected, receiving the data storage device and using the Force to start organizing his worktable, putting away the equipment he had used. "Without the youngling, I tire of those 'parahuman' games."

"Of course, Anakin-komichõ," the man quickly said, finally raising his head. "Regarding your tinkering…one of my underlings was in charge of the ABB's dealings with Toybox. Do you wish to restart communication?"

Anakin thought about the offer. From his observation, Tinker creations were inherently flawed; every device created to fail within a year unless maintained by a parahuman, likely a means to prevent the technological elevation of the populace.

"Yes, I may require their cooperation. Provide me a list of their specialities."

He would need to modify any device he acquired to eliminate such flaws, but the purchases could still accelerate his projects, especially if they provided superior tools or components.

"It is included in the pendrive, sir," The man said, reaching for something in his pocket out of habit before thinking better of it and continuing. "I'll make contact with them at once and inform you when they answer."

Competency, how unexpected. "Very well, anything else to report, Lieutenant?"

"Your former neighbor, Mrs. Aikawa, approached some of our younger members," he said, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Her house was damaged during the confrontation at your previous workshop, and she demanded restitution."

Turning away from his work, Anakin focused on the older man even as his equipment continued to float behind his back, electronic parts neatly sorting themselves, and his notebook turning on.

The girl had grown fond of the old woman and her sithspawn cats, he could spare her some consideration.

Inugane swallowed at his look but quickly continued. "Tae-Soo-wakagashira passed the deed to your former workshop back to her since, with the PRT knowing about it, the ABB had no more interest in the location. He also arranged some temporary housing for the woman."

"Understood, Lieutenant, you're dismissed," Anakin nodded, then turned away from the man.

Bowing again, Inugane left the workshop, waiting for him to close the door, Marissa finally spoke. "What did you do to me?"

"As agreed, the Simurgh's influence on you is broken," Anakin said, only briefly looking her way before continuing to study Toybox details. "Tomorrow, we start studying the source of your powers."

Interesting, most of the Tinkers in Toybox were unimportant to him, but both Cranial and Dodge showed promise, particularly in his search for answers.

"... Thank you, I'm sorry about the…" Marissa started to say, then hesitated, swallowed hard, and seemed to gather her strength. "I'm sorry about the attack. If I knew what Trickster was doing, I'd never have agreed to it. I read that Panacea got to the girl in time? She's doing fine, right?"

"That is correct," Anakin said absentmindedly, finding one of the last Bakuda bombs he had and starting to disassemble it. "Pray that she remains that way."

Despite her previous choices, Marissa wasn't wholly unintelligent, her survival instincts making her retreat closer to the exit with her wheelchair and stay quiet, simply testing her new prosthetics and slowly letting the AI adapt to new movements.

Hours later, Anakin stepped away from the new holoprojectors, two table-sized devices that would act as his new centers of command. Lying on top of it were five wrist-mounted comlinks, the sixth already resting on his wrist, all that he could build with the materials at hand.

With him firmly in charge of the ABB and Dinah's current situation, leaving the planet was no longer a priority; as a result, he could delay the construction of his ship to focus on improving his new troops.

Fortunately, with how primitive armor technology was on the planet, the low-tech slugtrowers available were sufficient; even the most advanced blaster models would provide only minimal advantages, much less the kind he could produce with available materials, so he chose to focus on securing communications.

An independent hololink network would be both an improvement over the current 'cellphones' used by the gang and completely isolated from hacking. They'd also not require him to take off his gloves just to use those primitive screens.

Feeling stiffness in his neck, Anakin frowned at the unfamiliar sensation. It had been so long since he had felt anything but pain in his body that he'd forgotten it was even possible.

However, more than the physical discomfort, it was his ability to tinker without interruption that bothered him; the younglings' constant interruptions had been irritating but helped ground him in the moment, without it, he had been free to think about the past. It was not a pleasant experience.

Opening the doors of the workshop, Anakin found Tae-Soo and Jun talking in the reception area; they immediately stopped, Tae-Soo lowering his head in greeting. "Boss?"

With only a glance, Anakin floated five of the comlinks towards the man. "Distribute those to the other leaders of the ABB; they will allow secure communications, then transport one of the devices inside into my house."

"Yes, boss," he said, then glanced towards the younger man, causing Jun to start moving. "Sir, I believe we have a new development you should be aware of."

At Anakin's nod, the man pulled out his phone and transferred an image to the security monitor on the wall, a low-resolution video of three men robbing a gas station.

"About two hours ago, one of our men received this video from a family member, since they weren't on our territory and none of their capes were present, I didn't think I should interrupt you, but it seems likely the Teeth have arrived in town."

Who? He had thought their spiked clothes were simply another custom of this primitive planet, likely a more tribal subculture, but was it another of those parahuman costumes?

It took him a second, but Anakin briefly remembered the name from his initial search on parahumans; their leader should be the Butcher, an interesting phenomenon where both the being's powers and personality were partially inherited by whoever killed it.

Perhaps this was a second stage to whatever experiment those parahumans were. A way to imitate the goal of the rule of two? That would mean the experiment was created after the time of Darth Bane, a survivor from his purge? Or it could be simple coincidence, there was no need to form premature conclusions.

"Very well, Lieutenant, inform me the moment they're sighted again. Capturing this Butcher will require my personal attention."

Tae-Soo hesitated for a second, but then he nodded. "Understood."

Considering everything he had learned, it was obvious there would be protections to prevent the study of parahuman powers; however, allowing said powers to be passed on may require the existence of less protection or even a temporary lowering of them, even if not, a second subject he did not mind damaging would be useful.

Looking back at Marissa, he noted that she had spent the time well, the prosthetics having reached a point where she could move without any trouble.

"Arrange for someone to lead the girl around. Do not allow her to escape, but provide her with whatever she desires, within reason."

"Yes, boss."

Left alone, Anakin stood in the middle of the workshop. Having exhausted all of Bakuda's remaining equipment, he could start disassembling common electronics and equipment, but that would simply be busywork; anything gained that way could be easily bought by the ABB.

Instead, he released a long breath, letting his senses expand through the Force, his power spreading through the city, touching everything but influencing nothing.

He felt better now, almost as stable as before his confrontation with the PRT and Travelers. He finally felt like he could reach for the youngling without staining their connection with the Dark Side.

Their Force-bond was still there, a thin connection thanks to the youngling's lack of presence in the Force, but no less powerful for it.

For a moment, he felt her inside the PRT rig, a thin spot of light in the middle of the bay. She felt tired and angry, but not hurt, her emotions coming from frustration, the desire to do something when forced to remain in place.

Anakin smiled, reminded of his time as a padawan, of how many times he wanted to move, to act, to pursue an objective while his master preached waiting… more often than not, Obi-Wan had been right.

Like him, Dinah wasn't a particularly patient girl, using her Matukai training to exhaust herself as a distraction.

Using his power to widen the connection, he unclasped the lightsaber from his waist and laid it atop the table, then took a deep breath and adjusted his feet, entering into a Matukai stance.

The girl couldn't use the connection, not like a normal Padawan could, but she could still sense it, even if only at the most superficial level, nothing more than hints and suggestions like the feeling one gets when being observed or resting in a safe place.

Feeling the echoes of her movement through the bond, he moved his feet, accompanying her through the routine, correcting her.

For half an hour, Anakin fully embraced the Force, letting its power flow through him without any demands, releasing his absolute control and accepting its guidance to act as a conduit, not a master, his unwillingness to taint her with the Dark Side helping him resist its temptation.

"You know, for some reason, I had hoped you'd have made more progress, certainly left fewer corpses at least. How foolish of me."

Opening his eyes, Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, the old man sitting on the table beside his lightsaber, his body formed entirely by the Force, his presence filling the entire room.

"... Master."


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So, what do you guys think about Obi-Wan finally showing up in a canon chapter? i confess I'm still conflicted about it but, while I was writing, he just showed up and i decided to leave him there, but I'm still not 100% it was the right choice.

Dinah Alcott dropped to the floor, huffing, her clothes completely soaked in sweat. She… didn't know if she could manage another session tomorrow morning, her everything was aching from the training, and she had been taking it easy since being 'arrested'. Thankfully, nobody was looking.
Still, she wouldn't stop. The Matukai training gave her options; she refused to stay the same hopeless child who'd be captured by Coil, who'd spend the rest of her life trying to recover from drugs.

And if it also made her feel connected, as if Anakin was still by her side, and she wasn't alone, that was a nice bonus.

Alright, maybe it was more than a bonus.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to sit up, but her limbs refused to cooperate, her head falling back to the floor, sweat starting to pool around her… gross.

At least she had muscles; those were cool.

Giving it another minute, she finally managed to get up, slowly dragging herself towards a warm shower, even as she took off the prosthetic Kid Win had made her, a makeshift plastic hand that wouldn't do half the things her previous one could.

Thanks to Miss Militia and a lawyer her family had called, she had only been kept in M/S lockdown for a little bit, but she already knew it would take another week for them to consider releasing her to her parents. At least she'd be able to see them today.

She didn't know how to feel about that. She really, really missed her mother, but she doubted they would ever let her spend time with Anakin again.

Sithspit, she'd probably have to use her powers again just to find a way to keep training.

Standing under the shower, she glared daggers at the hot valve… stupid Missy and her stupid versatile power, why did she have to turn the valve to cold when it was that high?

Instinctively checking if there was anyone looking, she stretched one hand towards the valve and closed her eyes, concentrating on feeling the Force and asking, then demanding it to turn.

Lowering her hand, she huffed, then glared at the immobile valve again. She didn't want to be late, damn it, why couldn't they give her Hal back? He'd be able to solve this.

Hmmm… there was only an eight point five, six, nine percent chance any of the boys would come in if she used their bathroom.

…..

"Dinah?" Miss Militia yelled from outside the bathroom.

Hair wet because her arms still weren't working right, and her lame robot hand wasn't as good as the one Anakin made, she straightened her back and walked out of the bathroom with long steps, arms behind her back, then stopped, took a second to let her muscles stop shaking, and continued slower.

Ugh, she didn't remember being this sore after her sessions with Anakin.

"Why were you using the male bathroom?"

"... Reasons," Dinah said, refusing to tell anyone it was because she couldn't reach the control valve.

"What did I say about your training?" Miss Militia asked, using her remaining arm to press her eyes.

"But… I did take it easy," Dinah grumbled. "I followed the routine from when I had just started!"

Leaning against the back of the sofa, Miss Militia waited until she came closer and pulled the towel from her shoulders, starting to help with her hair. "Dinah, without a healer helping, it takes much longer for your muscles to heal; overstressing them will only cause problems. It's why you don't exercise the same thing every day in an academy."

"Fine, I guess I can wait until Panacea isn't so busy to continue training like this."

"Panacea doesn't take requests."

"That won't be a problem," She declared imperiously, "Eighty-two point three percent chance I can convince her," it was actually ninety-five if she were to share her Matukai training with the older girl, but Dinah wasn't about to tell that to the PRT.

They had already made a fuss before letting her continue training; no way were they going to let her teach someone else.

"Come on, we've a surprise for you," Finishing combing her hair, the hero got up and started leading her towards the door.

"Thanks," Dinah said, following after the woman, her legs incredibly stiff. "I didn't want to be late to meet with mother."

Miss Militia sighed. "Yes, I managed to talk with the Director, and she allowed them to meet with you. How did you know?"

Dinah gave her a deadpan stare. "... I see the future."

Miss Militia shook her head, causing Dinah to frown when she sensed an amused smile under her mask. "I guess you would spend questions on that."

Hmph, anyone would ask about their parents in her situation; she wasn't being childish.

Opening the door, Miss Militia motioned for Dinah to enter, and, even from the outside, she could see her parents. Her Mother was on her feet, a hand clutching her purse while the other was in her father's grasp.

Her father was sitting down, one hand holding his wife for support, even as his head was lowered, a worried look on his face.

It was a comfortable waiting room, with a sofa and two stuffed chairs, a little center table with several magazines piled in one corner, and an ornamental chessboard in the middle. A small TV was in the corner, and Dinah could even see some coloring books and crosswords to pass the time.

She hesitated, frozen in place with fear. How many times did she ask about their deaths? How many times was it almost a certainty?

Inside her mind, her power immediately answered, the overuse starting to give her a light headache. Four point nine, nine, six, seven, two percent chance her parents would die if she were with them.

"...Mom?" she asked, finally stepping into the room.

She almost missed what happened, her parents moving faster than she had ever seen to rush at her, their faces breaking into huge smiles.

"Honey!" her mother shouted; she never shouted. "Oh, honey, you've no idea how much we missed you!"

"Aw… aw…" Dinah couldn't help saying as her father lifted her into his lap, the strength of his embrace causing her aching muscles to hurt, but also sending a wave of warmth through her.

"What's wrong?" Her father said in a worried voice. "They said you were fine, I'll…"

"Mr. Alcott," Miss Militia interrupted. "Dinah is perfectly fine; she simply overworked herself while working out."

"Why was she even doing such a thing? If you think we're going to let her become one of…"

Dinah managed to stop him by pulling on his sleeve, temporarily letting herself act like she had before her power came. "Dad… You know I always liked martial arts."

"But… I thought you preferred dancing?"

Dinah huffed. "I only did that cuz of Mom."

"I'll leave you guys alone now," Miss Militia said, smiling with her eyes. "We've turned off the microphones so you can talk freely. I'll be right around the corner if you need me."

Dinah spent half an hour in her Mom's embrace, and it felt better than it had ever felt before, to just stop caring about the future for a few moments, but as the time passed, she realized she had been stupid… things could never be the same.

She loved her parents; seeing them again was what she had been looking forward to the most after Coil… but she couldn't feel safe with them.

It wasn't the same, as a child she had always thought the safest place in the world was beside her mother, now she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it wasn't… it didn't feel nice.

Dinah sighed, leaning back against her mother and letting herself enjoy her warmth, listening to her talk about school and how her friends were doing. 'Chances that PRT will be able to read anything I write using the table?'

Ninety-eight point three, two, two percent.

'Chances that PRT will be able to read anything I write if I try to hide it while on the sofa?'

Twelve point five, two, nine, four, six percent.

Good enough, grabbing one of the pens for crosswords, she grabbed a clean sheet of paper and made a show of making a stupid drawing on the front. When she was done, she pretended to lean back on the sofa, using a magazine for support as she started writing something at the back.

"Mom, how good is the lawyer you guys hired to help me?"

"What?" Her mother paused her story, looking down on her. "Why'd you ask that?"

"I'm tired of staying here. I want to leave as soon as I can," she said, feeling a spike of guilt as she lied, or… well, it wasn't really a lie.

"Your uncle Roy hired a bigshot who specializes in parahumans," her father smiled at her. "Don't worry, princess, Mister Calle will get you out of here soon."

"Say, if I gave him a bunch of questions, do you think Uncle will hire him for someone else?"

"Dinah Alcott, we're NOT hiring a lawyer for that… that kidnapper!"

Dinah grimaced. Would her mom's opinion change if she had the entire story? If she knew how powerless they were? She… didn't want to tell her.

"Not him," she shook her head. "My minion."

"Your what?!"

"I mean, she doesn't know she's my minion," Dinah smirked at her father, her voice growing heavier. "But I'll make her an offer she can't refuse."

"I shouldn't have let you watch those movies with me," her dad sighed. "Princess, I…"

Slipping the paper inside her mother's purse, Dinah adjusted her position on the sofa. "Father, he's still out there, the one I had to run away from; she can help take him down."

"Honey, let the PRT deal with it, we'll just go home and…"

"He worked for the PRT," Dinah shook her head, then she used her last resort, looking up at her father with her best sad eyes. "Daddy, I can see the future; they're not going to get him without this, please."

"You're sure you need this?" She nodded, her father hugged her, squeezing her head against his chest and releasing a long, deep breath. "I'll talk with him, even if he doesn't pay, I will."

"Thanks, daddy."

Headache starting to grow worse, Dinah stopped asking questions and just… let herself be with her parents, her body relaxing against them as she laid her head against her father's lap. "So, did Marissa finish our project for school?"


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"... Master," Anakin said, cold voice masking his surprise.

He had never thought he'd meet his former master again, hadn't known it was even possible, but he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. There was still much about the Force he didn't know.

Unfortunately, now that he stood in front of him, Anakin found that he was still angry; he accepted that much of what happened was his own fault, his own choices, but he still resented Obi-Wan for his failures in guiding him.

Obi-Wan looked into his eyes, a deep sadness in his face as he answered. "I made too many mistakes with you to deserve that title, Anakin."

The tension between them made the air heavy, the Force itself offering no guidance to their interaction, letting the words hang between them without pushing in any direction.

Stopping his Matukai training, Anakin took a rigid stance, arms behind his back. "Am I? Anakin once more, I mean?"

Obi-Wan stepped away from the table, glancing at the new lightsaber once before staring out towards where Dinah was. Finally, he spoke with a tired voice. "Are you the same Anakin I rescued from Tatooine? The same rebellious young man I called a brother?"

Anakin didn't say anything, didn't even move, just waited for an answer he already knew, his senses focused entirely on the Force ghost in front of him.

"Would it help if I said yes?" Sighing, his former Master shook his head. "No, you don't need me to lie; neither of us is the same as back then, but Luke could sense him in you, and he was right. I can already see hints of the man you were in the one you're trying to become."

Taking one arm off his back, Anakin stared at his open hand, remembering all he had done with it. "I betrayed everything I believed in for a lie, I hunted every Jedi that survived the war, I killed children… There is no return from what I've done."

"Progress isn't made by walking backwards," still looking towards where he could sense Dinah, Obi-Wan gave him a glance from the corner of his eye. "You can't undo what happened, but turning against the Emperor was a good first step to the path forward."

Unable to keep his emotions in check, Anakin started to pace, both anger and regret rising to the front. "I did not turn back for you, or the Jedi, I did it for him, there was nothing noble in that."

"That you think so is one of my greatest failings as a master," Obi-Wan said in a quiet voice. "Your ability to love is your greatest strength, Anakin. It was your inability to deal with said love that made it a weakness, and that was the Jedi… and my fault. Trying to deny such feelings is what caused the Order to fail, to distance ourselves enough that a Sith could stand by our side and we couldn't recognize it."

"You told me to suppress it, to just… let go of my mother, to let go of Padme," For a moment, the entire room shook as his anger kept rising, a loose piece of metal almost flying just centimeters to the side of his master and burying itself on the wall. "You cut me down! You left me to die!"

"Yes, back then I failed you, as a master, as a friend and as a brother. I failed you when I didn't teach you to deal with your love, and I failed you again when I gave up, when I didn't drag you out of that pit and did everything in my power to put it right even if it took decades.

"I'll forever carry that guilt with me, and if you need to yell, I'll gladly carry your anger too, I believe I deserve at least some of it, but I'm glad that Luke proved me wrong."

For a minute, Anakin just strided across the room, barely able to keep his presence in the Force from crushing the delicate equipment in the workshop, from twisting both metal and wood, turning it all to dust, his head lowered and a hint of yellow threatening to fill his eyes.

Obi-Wan gave him space, turning towards him but saying nothing as he attempted to regain control, just standing close enough that he knew he wasn't alone, and, in the end, that was enough.

Looking away from the man, Anakin spoke. "I still see him, the armor, the mask, the rage, when I look in the mirror… Whenever I meditate… There's so little of me left."

"And what does she see, the girl you took as a padawan?" Obi-Wan gave him a bitter smile. "Do you think Luke saw only the mask?"

Finally, he turned towards his former master. "I killed younglings, I choked my wife. Tell me, how can a man like that deserve to live?"

"Life rarely is about what one deserves," Obi-Wan said, stepping closer. "Mercy found you through your son, the Force willed that you live… and there's still those that need you, particularly here, can't you sense it?"

Anakin couldn't, his ability to sense the will of the Force had always been steered by his emotions and, while he knew the Force had guided him here, he was still uncertain if he wanted, or trusted, himself with its goal.

Finally, some of Anakin's anger abated giving way to another emotion. "And what if I fall again?"

"You won't," Obi-Wan said as if there was no doubt in his mind. "Not again, not while she still needs you, not when your Son is going to need you in the future. Not believing in you is a mistake I won't make a second time."

"... Why are you here? Why now?"

"You know why, and would you have listened before?" The old man asked while lifting an eyebrow. "Without destroying the city?"

Anakin huffed, but he knew he wouldn't. Even after taking the youngling under his wing, he would not have responded well to Obi-Wan showing up, and it was only now, guiding Dinah from a distance, that he had opened himself to the Force enough for it to happen anyway.

Releasing a long breath, he finally stopped beside his former master, his former friend. Things were not fine between them, too much had happened, too much pain, too much betrayal, but for a short moment, Anakin allowed himself to put it all aside and just stared out the window into the bay.

Standing there by Obi-Wan, without the pain of his wounds, without the ever constant hate that permeated his last years, he was reminded of a better time, a time where he was actually happy. It made him feel younger, if only for a little bit.

"You're right, Anakin, it's time you stopped hiding," Obi-Wan finally said. "You were always stronger when you connected with people, when you let yourself care."

"I cared too much. It's what drove me to slay an entire tribe when my mother died. Even now I'm still tempted."

"You're not the same inexperienced boy who fought the Clone Wars, the one who didn't know how to deal with loss. And do you honestly think denying yourself would make it easier, or would it just give you something else to regret?"

Anakin let the words hang in the air. His former master was right; he'd been avoiding any connections, thinking it was easier not to care, safer.

But he had spent enough time hiding, centering himself… And inaction was never something he could accept. Even now, he struggled, dealing with Lung and the Empire while trying to remain distant.

"I don't suppose you can just tell me why the Force sent me to this planet? You are a part of it now."

"A small part," Obi-Wan corrected. "You, better than anyone, should understand how vast the Force is. Even from here, I can't see everything. My advice? Trust in the Force."

Anakin snorted. "... You always liked being mysterious."

"And you, my friend, always had terrible patience."

"Will I see you again?" Anakin asked before an uncomfortable silence could settle between them.

"You're healed, your connection to the Force fully restored. Now that you've seen it happen, are you telling me you couldn't call upon me if you wanted?"

He could, he'd felt how after only a minute in Obi-Wan's presence, but they both knew he wouldn't, not anytime soon, he… enjoyed talking with the man again, and he needed to hear some of what was said, it was closure, but the wounds were too raw to be opened so soon.

"Goodbye, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "May the Force be with you."
Anakin didn't say anything, just watched the light fade from the room, leaving him alone once more, his shadow seeming to stretch over the floor and cover the entire wall. Out in the city, the sun was just setting, an orange color filling the sky.

With a wave of his hand, Anakin used the Force to put everything back into place, deformed metal straightening and dropped equipment flying back into shelves, his lightsaber flying back to his waist as he stepped closer to the window.

His reflection in the glass stared back, a hint of yellow still in his eyes but fading fast as he regained control of his temperament. Obi-Wan was right; he would not allow himself to fall again.


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