When You Come Home

-56-

Anakin stood in front of the open coffin. His white knuckles gripped the edge of the polished wood. Rex had offered for him to come up and say goodbye. Anakin hadn't liked that word.

Goodbye.

It was so final. There was no taking back a goodbye. One only said goodbye when they left. Sometimes they came back. Sometimes they didn't. But the worst pain was when one only got to say it after they were gone. There was no point to it. They wouldn't hear it. They wouldn't understand it. They wouldn't know how much the other person needed them to hear it. They were just ... gone.

The gentle man in a black gown was smiling kindly at him, so he wondered if that meant he had to speed up the process.

He couldn't say goodbye.

So he didn't.

He just said, "I love you more," then for some reason smiled at the man in black. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to thank him for something, so he kind of dipped his head and went back to his seat. Rex watched him sit down, squeezing his arm. Anakin couldn't get his head around how he had known this man for less than a week, and yet he was here and his father was not. Anakin barely remembered the conversation they had had before the funeral, but he knew Father had been angry.

"My son is out there!" he had yelled. Anakin had never heard him yell before. "I will not waste even one hour when I should be out looking for him! You can go to that funeral for all I care, but I will not be seeing a cent of its expenses out of my bank account."

Anakin hadn't known what to do. So he asked his new friend what to do. Rex had adjusted the cap on his head a few times, seeming strangely angry when Anakin told him his story. Anakin figured he had upset him somehow and so turned to leave, but Rex grabbed his arm to stop him. Anakin was beyond confused by Rex's trembling hand.

"No, no, of course I can help, kid," he had said, his voice strangled by some emotion. "I'll pull something together for you."

Anakin had told Rex he didn't want to trouble him and that he didn't have much money, but he just wanted advice. What did people normally do if they didn't have enough to pay for a funeral? He had a little earnings from his paper run, but since he had abruptly stopped that, he wouldn't be getting any extra income from there. Besides, he needed to save some money for this new project he was starting. But Rex had silenced his rambling wonderings, promising to help him out.

In the end, the funeral hadn't been expensive. With neither food nor drink for a morning tea or lunch, the only real costs had been the coffin and burial arrangements. They had done everything as cheaply as possible, opting for an outside funeral and inviting people via word-of-mouth and social media.

Anakin didn't see Father once. Not at the dinner table in their silent home. So he ate out. Rex would pay for both their meals at the cheapest place they could find.

Not at the funeral home with the kind people and soft smiles. So he stayed close to Rex. He seemed to know what he was talking about.

Not even at the funeral itself. So Anakin sat with Rex. He was the rock that Anakin didn't know he needed. The rock he didn't know he'd lost.

Because Obi-Wan would come back. If not for the funeral, but to see his dad. To stop him searching, tirelessly searching. To make him smile again. To stop him scowling in grief and disgust whenever he looked at his stepson. As though the crash was Anakin's fault.

Anakin, of course, had not let Rex help him purely out of the goodness of his heart and the contents of his wallet. He had promised to contribute as much as he could. Rex wouldn't hear a word of it, until Anakin had practically begged him.