Angel of Death

Chapter 6 - Aftermath

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for reading, voting, and/or commenting on this fic! I know this is not the normal kind of ending I give in my fics, because it's not really happy, though it is bittersweet, but I hope you enjoy this final chapter!!! :D

~ Amina Gila

Anakin must have slipped into unconsciousness again, because when he opens his eyes next, it's to darkness. Before, rays of light were slipping in between the cracks of the debris. He twitches, a groan slipping out at the excruciating pain that grips him. But he's still alive. How he is he still alive?

It probably doesn't matter because it's only a matter of time before he dies. He's lost too much blood, and he doubts anyone will be able to find him here. Using the Force, Anakin assesses his condition. His left leg is broken in multiple places, and he can't really feel it anymore – the lower part anyways, but it's still... there, for now. Several ribs are broken, and his right lung is punctured in three different places. He's experiencing internal bleeding in his abdomen from where a chunk of duracrete landed on him and is still pinning him in place. His head is pounding from a concussion as well. Some of his vertebrae have been cracked, and his spine could easily be damaged.

That doesn't even count the many minor fractures and cuts and bruises which he has all over his body. He's bled out a lot, but the pressure is also helping keep him alive, he supposes. It doesn't matter anymore though, so he focuses the Force on reaching outwards, trying to sense how deeply he's buried. Could he unbury himself? Maybe?

When he brought the building down, he brought it down with the intention of killing himself and Sidious, so he didn't care to shield himself. Anakin almost regrets that now, especially because he's still alive and in more pain than he's experienced ever. Still, he manages to move some of the debris around, shifting his body carefully – very carefully – to a slightly more secure and comfortable location.

He might as well die while being as comfortable as possible, he supposes grimly. From his new position, after the debris finishes resettling, he can actually see the sky... and he's on Coruscant? He would recognize that skyline anywhere, and he'd be lying if he said it didn't sting that no one came for him here. Or... they did. Didn't they? And Sidious killed them? Or. Wait. No. He doesn't know, and his grip on the Force is too weak to reach out more than ten or fifteen feet from his current location. Sensing bonds would be impossible like this.

Still, he can see the sky, and it's getting lighter. It's sunrise, Anakin realizes. It's ironic, in a way of sorts, because now that Sidious is really dead and gone, the sun – metaphorical sun, anyways – can rise on the galaxy. He won't be here to see it though.

He holds that thought in mind as he spirals back into unconsciousness...

And presumably, the welcoming embrace of death.

***

He doesn't die though. At least, he doesn't think he's dead when he opens his eyes next to see the inside of the Temple, the Halls of Healing to be precise. Anakin can't really feel his body very well – he's high on drugs of some type, he can tell – but he remembers enough. He turns his head slightly, shock flooding through him when he sees Obi-Wan and Ahsoka sitting next to his bed. But that's not possible. He knows they died. Didn't they?

Ahsoka perks up first when she sees him, some of the exhaustion which is clear in her features dimming. "You're awake!"

He remembers her voice, remembers her, but this is just a dream. It can't be anything other than a dream because he held her as she died, her blood soaking his robes. "You're dead," he blurts out, voice weak enough that he doesn't know if she can understand him. "This isn't – you're dead." That, he knows.