Fall of a Sparrow
Title: Fall of a Sparrow
Summary: Obi-Wan cannot forgive what Anakin did.
Timeframe: Post ROTS
Genre: AU
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Fall of Sparrow
There's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.
- Hamlet, 5.2
When the wings were broken, he could not fix them.
Before him… before him this man, this fire-bringer, this man whose lack of body was stunning and chilling. This man, this fire-bringer, this destroyer of life, knelt before him, head bowed, and begged for forgiveness.
The lightsaber was cold in his hand, yet he knew it should be warm. He could not see the red and filtered eyes, eyes so distant and lying red when they should be hearty and wholesome blue. There were scars running along the neck and to the back, angry burning scars that raised from the skin and screamed for attention.
Before him, this man, this fire-bringer, who asked and begged for forgiveness.
“Why do you ask this?” he asked, unsure of what else to say.
Silence, and then, “I have failed you. I have fallen, but I am back now.”
“You expect me to trust you? After all this… all this time? After all those people you slaughtered.”
“You forget to mention the one I killed that will bring peace.”
He rubbed his forehead, the fire-bringer still kneeling, still bowing his head, yet with now the irony in his tone.
“That doesn’t erase what you did, Anakin!”
And now, the pleading was gone, replaced with the well-worn anger. “But I am sorry, Master.”
He snorted, something much like a cry. “You call me ‘Master’ now when the man to whom you swore allegiance barely dead? Why are you here, truly? What do you want?”
“Isn’t forgiveness enough of a reason?”
He wished Anakin would look up, so he could gaze into those surreal crimson eyes, shake him and make him speak truth. “You’ve never asked for forgiveness before. Why do you want it now when you know I can’t give it?”
The other man continued to look down. “Why won’t you? I’ve done wrong.”
“You need a trial,” Obi-Wan said. “I can’t pass judgment on you.”
“Oh, but you have, Master,” said Anakin, and he looked up, the crimson eyes sparking. “You don’t forgive me, and you never will. You left me to die, but you won’t let me live.”
“You’re living without my forgiveness, Anakin,” he said. “You’ve been doing a beautiful job of living.”
“You’ve never been good at sarcasm, Master,” Anakin shot back. “Your words never bear the bite like mine.”
“Could it be, perhaps, that’s because I’m not being sarcastic? Realistic, maybe?”
Silence, silence weighed down by light and life. They stood, often as they had before the dark times, before Anakin had turned. Now, on Tatooine, away from any form of dark and bathed in sweltering light, Anakin was still dark, the only speck of it in this non-shaded world. His demeanor, his very essence, was light - his clothing, his hair, even his eyes were not hollowed by darkness as they once had been.
Except for the Force.
In there, he was still tainted, deep and unmoving.
“You need a trial,” Obi-Wan said again. “I won’t be your jury.”
“My executioner, then?” Anakin asked.
“I would very much like to be,” Obi-Wan said before he could stop himself, and Anakin got abruptly to his feet.
“What do you mean?” he asked, voice suddenly quavering.
Eyes steady, heart beating without system, he said, “You fell, again. What do you want me to say? Erase the past and let it go? You know I can’t do that.”
“But… it was a mistake.”
“A horrifying, brutal mistake that nonetheless cost millions of lives and the destruction of the Jedi Order. I will not let you go after that.”
“Master - “
“I can’t, Anakin. Don’t ask me to try.”
“Please, Master. I need your forgiveness.”
Obi-Wan tried to summon up something, an emotion or thought that would cause pity or even sorrow for the man in front of him, but nothing came. Was this it, then? Two years of dreams and hopes Anakin would return and be welcomed were gone, dreams after all. He was the worst kind of hypocrite, the kind without the courage to act and say.
“I can’t give you that.”
The eyes were red. “I fell, Master.”
“You didn’t fall, you turned willingly.”
“I fell.”
“We all fall, Anakin. It’s how we are when we get up that counts.”
Anakin looked so broken, so rigid yet so cold. “Master… those people. I can’t… forgive me. Just say the words!”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, summoned the strength to do what must be done. “It’s not my right to purge you.”
“Yes, it is!” Anakin cried, screamed. “You… you of all people I hurt the most! You of all people saw what I could do! You left me to the fire; you have a duty to forgive me! You let me burn, let me die within! You can’t just walk away and pretend its alright because its not! It can never be!”
“And whose fault is that?” Obi-Wan growled. “I didn’t tell you to turn.”
“I fell.”
“There’s no providence in that. I can’t fix what you did.”
“But you can make it so it never happened.”
Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open, and before he could stop himself he was embracing Anakin and shaking him. “Oh, Anakin, how can you think that? What have you done to make you think that?”
Anakin pushed him away. “No… no, what have you done?”
“Please, Anakin, let it go. You will have your chance in trial.”
“You’ll need to get me there.”
“What?”
“The government is in disarray. It will be months yet before I will be brought to trial.”
“I will manage.”
“Months yet before you know where to take me.”
Obi-Wan laughed and gestured to his shack. “Of course. You’d love to stay here.”
“You’ll forgive me,” Anakin said, the confidence was back.
“I won’t,” Obi-Wan said, and he meant it.
Summary: Obi-Wan cannot forgive what Anakin did.
Timeframe: Post ROTS
Genre: AU
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Fall of Sparrow
There's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.
- Hamlet, 5.2
When the wings were broken, he could not fix them.
Before him… before him this man, this fire-bringer, this man whose lack of body was stunning and chilling. This man, this fire-bringer, this destroyer of life, knelt before him, head bowed, and begged for forgiveness.
The lightsaber was cold in his hand, yet he knew it should be warm. He could not see the red and filtered eyes, eyes so distant and lying red when they should be hearty and wholesome blue. There were scars running along the neck and to the back, angry burning scars that raised from the skin and screamed for attention.
Before him, this man, this fire-bringer, who asked and begged for forgiveness.
“Why do you ask this?” he asked, unsure of what else to say.
Silence, and then, “I have failed you. I have fallen, but I am back now.”
“You expect me to trust you? After all this… all this time? After all those people you slaughtered.”
“You forget to mention the one I killed that will bring peace.”
He rubbed his forehead, the fire-bringer still kneeling, still bowing his head, yet with now the irony in his tone.
“That doesn’t erase what you did, Anakin!”
And now, the pleading was gone, replaced with the well-worn anger. “But I am sorry, Master.”
He snorted, something much like a cry. “You call me ‘Master’ now when the man to whom you swore allegiance barely dead? Why are you here, truly? What do you want?”
“Isn’t forgiveness enough of a reason?”
He wished Anakin would look up, so he could gaze into those surreal crimson eyes, shake him and make him speak truth. “You’ve never asked for forgiveness before. Why do you want it now when you know I can’t give it?”
The other man continued to look down. “Why won’t you? I’ve done wrong.”
“You need a trial,” Obi-Wan said. “I can’t pass judgment on you.”
“Oh, but you have, Master,” said Anakin, and he looked up, the crimson eyes sparking. “You don’t forgive me, and you never will. You left me to die, but you won’t let me live.”
“You’re living without my forgiveness, Anakin,” he said. “You’ve been doing a beautiful job of living.”
“You’ve never been good at sarcasm, Master,” Anakin shot back. “Your words never bear the bite like mine.”
“Could it be, perhaps, that’s because I’m not being sarcastic? Realistic, maybe?”
Silence, silence weighed down by light and life. They stood, often as they had before the dark times, before Anakin had turned. Now, on Tatooine, away from any form of dark and bathed in sweltering light, Anakin was still dark, the only speck of it in this non-shaded world. His demeanor, his very essence, was light - his clothing, his hair, even his eyes were not hollowed by darkness as they once had been.
Except for the Force.
In there, he was still tainted, deep and unmoving.
“You need a trial,” Obi-Wan said again. “I won’t be your jury.”
“My executioner, then?” Anakin asked.
“I would very much like to be,” Obi-Wan said before he could stop himself, and Anakin got abruptly to his feet.
“What do you mean?” he asked, voice suddenly quavering.
Eyes steady, heart beating without system, he said, “You fell, again. What do you want me to say? Erase the past and let it go? You know I can’t do that.”
“But… it was a mistake.”
“A horrifying, brutal mistake that nonetheless cost millions of lives and the destruction of the Jedi Order. I will not let you go after that.”
“Master - “
“I can’t, Anakin. Don’t ask me to try.”
“Please, Master. I need your forgiveness.”
Obi-Wan tried to summon up something, an emotion or thought that would cause pity or even sorrow for the man in front of him, but nothing came. Was this it, then? Two years of dreams and hopes Anakin would return and be welcomed were gone, dreams after all. He was the worst kind of hypocrite, the kind without the courage to act and say.
“I can’t give you that.”
The eyes were red. “I fell, Master.”
“You didn’t fall, you turned willingly.”
“I fell.”
“We all fall, Anakin. It’s how we are when we get up that counts.”
Anakin looked so broken, so rigid yet so cold. “Master… those people. I can’t… forgive me. Just say the words!”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, summoned the strength to do what must be done. “It’s not my right to purge you.”
“Yes, it is!” Anakin cried, screamed. “You… you of all people I hurt the most! You of all people saw what I could do! You left me to the fire; you have a duty to forgive me! You let me burn, let me die within! You can’t just walk away and pretend its alright because its not! It can never be!”
“And whose fault is that?” Obi-Wan growled. “I didn’t tell you to turn.”
“I fell.”
“There’s no providence in that. I can’t fix what you did.”
“But you can make it so it never happened.”
Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open, and before he could stop himself he was embracing Anakin and shaking him. “Oh, Anakin, how can you think that? What have you done to make you think that?”
Anakin pushed him away. “No… no, what have you done?”
“Please, Anakin, let it go. You will have your chance in trial.”
“You’ll need to get me there.”
“What?”
“The government is in disarray. It will be months yet before I will be brought to trial.”
“I will manage.”
“Months yet before you know where to take me.”
Obi-Wan laughed and gestured to his shack. “Of course. You’d love to stay here.”
“You’ll forgive me,” Anakin said, the confidence was back.
“I won’t,” Obi-Wan said, and he meant it.