The Lightsaber

I don't usually write a lot of Anakin fics, mostly because I don't really like writing Anakin. But I entered this short story for a one-shot contest with the prompt, "Anakin, I have a bad feeling about this."

Actually, it turned out much better than I expected, and I'm pretty happy with the results. It may run a tad on the melodramatic side, but Anakin isn't exactly the most stable of people. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

The ground trembled.

“Anakin, I have a bad feeling about this.”

It wasn’t as bad as it could be. That is, there had been some times, a few at least, where it had been worse. But Anakin was having some difficulty remembering said times.

That was irrelevant. They hadn’t been called upon to reminisce about the past. They had been called upon to do their duty to the Republic. And that was all that mattered. The past didn’t matter because, literally speaking, there is no past. Nothing dictates the future except for the present, and the present doesn’t last very long.

Except when the past refuses to go away.

With an effort that was almost physical, Anakin thrust that thought from the cold chasm of his mind, shutting his eyes tightly against the pain that was certain to follow. But, as usual, the icy tendrils of doubt refused to unclench their death-grip on his soul. For it wasn’t his mind that ached; it was Anakin Skywalker’s heart.

“Anakin! Where are you?”

Pausing to inhale deeply the dank, musty air of the cavern, Anakin opened his eyes to a darkness almost as oppressive as the one that continued to haunt his very existence. It was almost hypnotic, in a way, the different shapes and flashing colors that his unfettered imagination fashioned out of the unrelenting darkness.

“Anakin? Arty’s almost got the entrance open. They’re going to be pouring through here any minute!”

“Coming, Master,” Anakin called, his voice echoing throughout the recesses of the cavern walls.

Surrendering himself to the foresight granted by the cool brilliance of the Force, Anakin sought out Obi-Wan’s presence amongst the various beings that dwelled within these dark barricades.

With his consciousness buried within the Force, Anakin no longer needed to strain his eyes to see through the darkness. He now possessed a sight that was greater than seeing, that was deeper than thought, where a simplicity dwelled that belied the complexity of the Force.

“This isn’t so bad, Master,” said Anakin, skidding to a halt behind Master Kenobi.

Obi-Wan turned from where he was overseeing the precise-hit charges that Clone Commander RT-1931 – nicknamed “Arty” – and his men placed against the entryway of the cavern.

“Nice of you to show up,” Obi-Wan said, lifting a comlink to his bearded lips. Through the dim light filtering through the cracks appearing in the cavern wall, Anakin saw that this wasn’t so bad at all.

This was terrible.

Anakin Skywalker was accustomed to the carnage of war, but that didn’t stop the bile from rising in his throat every time he witnessed the sheer terror of destruction that was continuously wrought upon the galaxy. Shuddering uncontrollably, but unable to wrench his gaze away,

Anakin gripped the reassuring bulk of his lightsaber so tightly that his hand began to shake almost as violently as his body. Only a raw fragment of will permitted him to lift his gaze from the death flaunted like so much waste, to the small cylinder in his hand.

His lightsaber. Chuckling a bit, despite of himself, Anakin thought back to the countless discussions he had with his Master over the years about the responsibility a lightsaber entails. This lightsaber was his duty, his life, his being, and nothing could take that from him.

“Beta-257, this is General Kenobi. Beta-257 this is General Kenobi. Do you copy?” Obi-Wan paused, his face contorted in a struggle to hear what was being said via comlink over the impatient rustle of static that blanketed his communications. “How did things go with Ventress?” he muttered to Anakin, his concentration obviously absorbed in several different directions.

Anakin’s glance hovered uncertainly, dropping to the black glove that veiled his mechanical hand. There had been whispers around the Jedi Temple when he had sacrificed his hand to the tyrannical Sith Lord Count Dooku, murmurs that he had begun to lose himself in a shroud of inhumanity that fed itself on his growing power. When his eyes began to sting, he tore them away.

“I lost her about a mile and a half away from here, Master,” he replied, lifting his chin and staring into the unnaturally grim face of his old mentor. “She blasted out of the system, and I decided to come and find you.”

“Oh, did you?” answered Obi-Wan, eyeing the comlink anxiously. “Beta-257, can you read me? Blast,” Obi-Wan swore, lowering the comlink to his belt. “They must’ve taken out our western flank. Looks like we’re on our own.”

As if to punctuate his words, the ground shuddered violently, knocking several clone commandos off their feet.

“How are things going here?” asked Anakin.

“We’ve managed to avoid detection so far, but goodness knows how long that’ll last. Those blasted droids are giving us quite a beating upstairs, but hopefully they’ve got all their attention focused up there and won’t noticed us until we’re in the base.

“We’ve lost half the Seventh Fleet and the rest was forced into full retreat. We’ve lost more artillery equipment than I care to count, not to mention our clone commanders. And now…”

“The western flank,” completed Anakin, nodding grimly. “What about our reinforcements?”

“Those were our reinforcements.”

“Things have been worse,” he murmured. Sensing that there was a fragment of the conversation that his Master was avoiding, Anakin added, “Tell me the bad news.”

“The bad news? Dooku isn’t here.”

Anakin’s eyes grew wide at the mere mention of Dooku’s name, his artificial hand clenching until the servos whirred in protest. Narrowing his gaze, Anakin slowly eased his hand open and breathed slowly through his nose. A red mist began to descend across his field of vision.

“Any good news?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. General Grievous is in the base.”

“Grievous!” Anakin gasped, the mist lifting. “He’s here?”

“That’s what intelligence reported before our communications were knocked out.”

“When are we going to bust through?”

“I don’t know. Soon, I hope. We’ve got a sizeable gap drilled into the wall, but we need to blast the whole thing before we can go in. Otherwise, we’ll never get through those horrid Super Battle Droids. We’ve been attacked by several waves of battle droids, but so far, the SBDs are unable to break through.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“Yes, Anakin, indeed,” answered Obi-Wan, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Sir,” said Arty, jogging up to Obi-Wan and saluting sharply. “We’ve placed the charges and we’re set to go at your mark.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Obi-Wan turned to Anakin.

“Ready when you are,” Anakin said.

“Start the cycle.”

“Yes sir.” Turning smartly on one heel, Arty motioned to his men. “Commence cycling maneuvers.”

“We’d better find some cover,” Obi-Wan said, kneeling behind a large, bluntly serrated rock formation. Unclipping his lightsaber from his belt, Anakin joined him.

“They’re going to come through there fast. When they do—”

“I know, Master,” Anakin interrupted, eyes fixated on the walls of the cave.

“Do you?” asked Obi-Wan, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve only been talking about it ever since we arrived, Master. And you haven’t stopped since I got in the cave.”

Before the sentence hardly escaped his mouth, Anakin grimaced, expecting harsh words from his former Master about his inability to listen when the situation demanded it. Instead, and much to his astonishment, Obi-Wan smiled.

“So you’re right, Anakin.” Looking down in slight consternation, Obi-Wan said, “I suppose I should acquaint myself with the fact that you’re no longer my Padawan learner. I owe it to all you’ve accomplished to be a bit more…tolerant.”

Blinking slowly, Anakin opened and shut his mouth several times before a small sound finally edged through his lips.

“Master…”

“Clear!” Arty shouted, shattering Anakin’s thoughts.

Inhaling sharply, Anakin ducked under the protective cover of the massive boulder, struggling to protect his head as the explosion rained solid fire upon the Jedi. Anakin barely managed to raise a haphazard barrier of Force energy before he was assailed by the burning chunks of ash and stone.

Throwing off the Force shield and leaping over the confines of the boulder, Anakin ignited his blue blade and rushed through the vast, smoldering opening created by the explosive charges. The opening was consumed by the ubiquitous firepower of the battle droids, spraying the cavern walls with red tendrils of pure death.

Each slash of his lightsaber was a life that would not be lost, a loss that would not live to prey upon his consciousness like so many others.

And from the tattered remnants of memory and premonition, the visions returned.
“Ani…Is that you?”

“Mom…”

“Oh, Ani…”

“Don’t leave me, Mom.”

So much pain…

“Now, I am complete…”

“No! Mom! I can’t go on without you…”

You were too weak.

“Anakin!”

“Master Qui-Gon?”

“No…Anakin…”

“Master Qui-Gon! Don’t go…don’t go…”

Too weak.

“Anakin? Anakin, I need you!”

“Obi-Wan…”

You have anger, you have hate…

“Anakin! Come here, my boy. Help me!”

“Chancellor…”

Use them, Anakin.

“Ani…Oh, Ani…Where are you?”

She’ll die, Anakin.

“No…Not Padme.”

She’ll die.

“Anakin!”

Gasping through waves of nausea produced by a now fading rush of pure adrenaline, Anakin stopped so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance.

“Anakin, they’re gone.”

Staring into the humming blue blade of his lightsaber until he thought he might go blind – or mad, whichever came first – Anakin looked up into the concerned frown of Master Kenobi. Obi-Wan’s elegant features were crusted in the dirt and grime and filth that could have come from a thousand battlefields on a million worlds, his mouth twisted into a grim line.

“Master…” Anakin began, but was unable to finish. He seemed to have forgotten how to communicate. His brain and heart and soul were so disconnected that he could no longer express how he actually felt.

“Anakin,” said Obi-Wan, gently placing his hand on his old apprentice’s shoulder.

“The droids,” Anakin managed to croak above the hum of his lightsaber.

When Obi-Wan didn’t answer, Anakin looked down. He immediately whished he hadn’t.

The ground was littered in droid parts of various forms, thrown together in a vicious parody of sentient death. Spindly heads and thin bodies were heaped together in irregular piles that would have made even a junk dealer tear his hair out.

“I…I did this?” Anakin asked.

“You don’t remember?” prompted Obi-Wan.

“What…” Anakin shook his head, partially to clear it and partially out of resignation.

“Anakin, we all have our fights with the darkness. The dark side is in all of us. You can’t stop that.”

I couldn’t stop you from dying, Mom.

“But you can keep the dark side from entering you if you remain true to the Force. To the Jedi. Remember your training; it won’t fail you.”

“People change…” Anakin muttered.

“But the Force is still with you. Always.”

I don’t want things to change.

But you can’t stop the change…any more than you can stop the suns from setting.

“Master?”

“Yes?”

“What does it mean? To be a Jedi?”

“A Jedi’s ultimate devotion is to the Force, Anakin. To goodness. The Jedi are selfless; we do only what is required of us to protect the Republic.” He looked at his former apprentice. “You do understand that?”

Anakin glanced at his lightsaber, still pulsing in his hands. The hypnotic hum that was once so comforting brought only pain. Weary, he shut it off.

“Of course, Master. Now let’s go get General Grievous.”



“I was blind, Luke. I didn’t see Anakin as I should have…as Master Qui-Gon trusted me to. Looking back, I don’t know if any of the Jedi saw in him the goodness that ultimately destroyed him. You see, Luke, he was a good man. And I failed him. I failed us all.

“I leave you this hologram that was taken by Anakin’s droid during the Third Siege of Ricotti in hope that you will someday seek wisdom from the errors of the Jedi before you. I’ve seen much of your father in you, Luke, but you have something that he did not. Anakin was robbed of freedom when he was a young boy, and he learned to enslave himself to everything he loved. So when he lost it…he lost part of himself.

“But you, Luke…Before you were even born, a great burden was placed upon you. Your destiny as a Jedi. But you can look upon the story of your father not as a tale of tragedy, but as a tale of hope. You, Luke Skywalker, are our new hope.

“When you look at your father’s lightsaber, think not as the last of the old Jedi, but as the first of the new.”



“That’s it, Artoo.”

The droid beeped inquisitively.

“No, I’m alright. You can shut down now.”

With a short bleep of appreciation, Artoo powered down.

Luke ran his thumb across his father’s lightsaber, stopping at an area near the top where the metallic sheen had been scratched off.

Your father’s lightsaber. This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight…

“Master Skywalker?”

Luke glanced up at the young apprentice who stood fidgeting near the doorway. He smiled absently, noting that the young boy, who couldn’t have been more than five or six years of age, was projecting little nervousness through the Force.

“Yes?”

“Master Horn instructed me to tell you that the Academy is waiting.”

Luke nodded.

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Bowing slowly, the apprentice exited the room.

Tilting his head, Luke centered himself in the Force and brought to mind the words he needed so desperately to say, that the Order needed so terribly to hear.

The Yuuzhan Vong are poised to break us from within, but we will not be broken. For we are Jedi, and we will stand strong.

And Luke Skywalker placed his father’s lightsaber on the table, walked toward the doorway, and out into the Jedi Temple. He didn’t look back.