When Paths Diverge

Death Star [0 BBY]

Prologue:

When the moment comes, it is twenty years too late.

It's a sore subject, and one that Obi-Wan has avoided thinking about for so long, never even daring to let himself think of Vader after the Jedi Temple was destroyed. It's an old wound, but one that has never learnt to heal. The sense of betrayal and anguish that came on the heels of the realisation that it had been Anakin who had let the march against the Temple is as fresh and raw as ever, and he has a sinking feeling that it will stay with him for as long he drew breath into his lungs.

Perhaps, even long after that as well.

Those images from the recordings are ones that will haunt him for the rest of his life. Every pixel is seared into the back of his eyelids, and he is still haunted by his own inaction and blindness that led to the death of the only family that he has ever known. Guilt gnaws away at him, and he lets it, both craving and fearing the punishment that he is sure that he deserved.

Inhaling deeply, he lets the air filter through his lungs, ignoring the familiar ache in his heart that is nestled at the centre of his body. His joints ache from the years spent in the desert, his muscles stiff and old. He supposed that the perpetual lack of sufficient food and water has taken its toll on him as well.

When he turns to finally face Vader, spurred on by gut instinct and the presence of the dark, abyss-like vortex in the Force that he can feel in the general vicinity of the other end of the hallway, it's surprisingly less harder than he had imagined it to be.

Numbness is his primary reaction, because deep down, a part of him had always known that this confrontation would eventually happen.

His hand tightens against the hilt of his lightsaber. The weight of it in his hand is heavy, pulled down by years of history. The ridges of the metallic hilt carve lines along his palm, and he imagines that if he applies any more pressure, he might end up splitting open his own skin by accident. The skin on his hand is especially fragile, worn down and weathered by toil and injury.

Vader is a menacing figure, still and unyielding. He is more machine than man, more monster than human and Obi-Wan doesn't know whether to weep or to laugh because the truth is, he can no longer recognise the Anakin that he had so dearly loved behind that suit. It's like staring at a stranger, and a part of Obi-Wan prefers it that way.

He can't deny that Vader is certainly a strikingly terrifying creation of Palpatine's. Vader radiates menace into the atmosphere, and Obi-Wan can certainly see how that vaguely disturbing breathing patterns can strike fear into the hearts of anyone who had dared to cross the Empire's path. The air is much colder here too, although Obi-Wan cannot tell whether it is merely the surroundings or perhaps it is the after-effect of directly feeling the Sith's twisted and warped Force presence, especially in such proximity as this.

Despite his best efforts, he cannot resist the temptation of reaching out. It's instinct, an old habit of his that he has never been able to fully suppress.

The planet-sized mega weapon that he currently stands on contains at least several Force-sensitives, but whether they themselves realise it or not is another story entirely. Obi-Wan's reaches towards the brightest one, Anakin's son, Luke, and finds that the boy is close to his sister's location. The smuggler is near them as well. That meant that the small group were somewhere around the detention cells.