Trial of the Times

Chapter 10 - Betrayal

"You must hear this," announces Dooku striding into the room, a disturbed look on his face.

"What?" Anakin looks up.

"This won't be easy for you," warns Dooku, "From the commlink installed on Hardeen, I have discovered some troubling news. It seems that we were right. Hardeen is not who we thought he is. He is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Dooku's words crash down onto Anakin, shattering his mind with the implications. If Hardeen is Obi-Wan, then Obi-Wan is alive. And if he's alive, he left Anakin suffering for no reason other than to uncover Dooku's plot to kidnap Palpatine. And that means – it means that Obi-Wan betrayed him and –

"No!" exclaims Anakin, desperately shaking his head. He scrambles to his feet and slowly backs away. "That's not possible! He wouldn't do that to me!" Dooku doesn't answer, but his expression says more than words ever could. He could. He did. It's true.

"No!" cries Anakin, whirling around and running out of the room. He doesn't know where he's going, because he can't escape the horrible truth. He ends up in his cabin where he takes off his helmet and tosses it to the floor.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and buries his face in his hands – both gloved – and breaks down. It – it's true. Force, it's true. Obi-Wan is Hardeen. He faked his death and hurt Anakin for no reason. It's not excusable. Nothing can excuse breaking someone's trust – and heart – like that. Anakin didn't think anything could hurt worse than finding out Obi-Wan was dead. He was wrong. This – this hurts him more than anything ever could.

In that moment of pure agony, Anakin finds himself wishing that Obi-Wan was dead, because if he was, he wouldn't feel like this. He loved him like a brother. He loved him, would have given anything for him. He saved him over and over because he cared about him, because he didn't want to lose him, and this is what he gets? How? How could he do that to me?

Anakin knows that no matter what happens to him, this will always be engrained in his mind as his worst memory. Even losing his mother wasn't nearly so agonizing, because he'd known how much she loved him. Words could never, ever do justice to the pain ripping him apart. Apparently, it's possible for an already shattered heart to be hurt even more, because he was already hurting, thinking Obi-Wan was dead.

He doesn't move. He doesn't think he even could. Forget about Sidious and his crafty plans. Obi-Wan is the one who just broke him. No one else could have done what he just did. Anakin cries until he just can't anymore, because he's too exhausted. It just hurts so much. He wants it to stop, but he knows it won't. It never will, because betrayal isn't something that can be healed. If Obi-Wan was dead, the pain could fade. Grief dissipates with time. Betrayal doesn't.

Anakin continues to sit there, head buried in his hands, desperately wishing that he could wake up and discover that this was all just a nightmare. Obi-Wan will be there, and he'll make him feel better. But no. This isn't a nightmare, and it will never go away. Ever. And all he can ask is how? How could his brother, the man he'd loved and trusted with his life, do that to him? Did their relationship really mean nothing to him?

And now, he does want to die, because in death he could escape the terrible pain that will destroy him, is destroying him. It no longer scares him, and perhaps that fact should bother him, but it doesn't. He won't kill himself – not because the galaxy needs him – but he can hope. Maybe he'll die killing Sidious. It would be better. A place beyond the pain, beyond the crushing betrayal.

This should never have happened. Obi-Wan never should have done that to him. Is this what the Jedi are all about? Do any of them even feel a shred of remorse? Does Obi-Wan? Does it even bother him, knowing he left Anakin suffering, in pain? He pressed his fists against his temples. He can't think about these questions. It already hurts so, so, so much.

As much as he wants his brother, he's no longer so certain if he should. If he could do this to him, what else is he capable of? How much more could he do in the name of the Jedi? How could anyone in the Council have let this happen? There's simply no reason – no excuse – for what happened, for what Obi-Wan did to him.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, balancing precariously close to just giving up. Why should he fight? What should he fight for? If Obi-Wan betrayed him, who can help him now? The Sith? Dooku certainly. He helped him already. He saved him. If it wasn't for him, Anakin doesn't know where he would be. Sidious would have used his emotions to get him to fall. He shudders to think that he might have become the Sith's apprentice, become the one to help wipe out the Jedi.

And maybe they deserve to die, but he won't be the one to do it. He's not merciless. They might have hurt him, but he can't – won't – hurt Obi-Wan back. It goes against his nature. Slowly, he can feel himself slipping from the edge of rationality, and he tries to hold on, but it's just too hard. It just hurts too much. Everything hurts. Everything.

He doesn't want to go on like this. He shouldn't go on like this. He closes his eyes against the pain. There's just too much... He can't handle it. He can't. He draws his knees up, resting his forehead on them, emotions raging between overwhelming pain and numbness.

"We need to go," Dooku's voice draws him out of his mind, bringing him back to the present, "I know this is hard for you, but we need to leave now."

"Can't," mutters Anakin, his voice partially muffled.

"You don't have a choice," Dooku replies firmly, stepping into the room, "I can't defeat Sidious without you." Why can't the galaxy ever just leave him alone? Why does it always have to be him who has to save everyone? It's not fair! He never gets a moment to himself, and right now, he desperately needs one.

Anakin groans, because he knows Dooku is right. He can just go and destroy Sidious before spending the rest of his life grieving the betrayal. Maybe that's not too bad. He reluctantly stands up, unwilling to even look at the Sith Lord watching him.

"I'm sorry, Skywalker," Dooku murmurs gently, and he means it. Right now, at least, he's not being fake. He's being sincere, and Anakin appreciates it so much, because if he didn't have someone – even if that someone is a Sith – he would... he would just shatter.

Anakin just nods, clenching his jaw, swallowing past the lump in his throat. The pain, the agony, they're still tormenting him. And this time, they probably will never go away. He loved Obi-Wan, and now can he admit that he cared for him more than anyone else. Pain like this doesn't just go away.

He turns his back on Dooku, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. How can anything hurt so much? He uses the Force to grab his helmet before pulling it back on. He doesn't hate wearing it right now. He likes hiding behind a mask, so no one can see him falling apart.

"Keep yourself together," instructs Dooku quietly, "If we confront Sidious and he feels you right now, he will not hesitate to use your emotions to destroy you." He's right. Anakin knows he is, but he can't find the strength to do as Dooku is asking. It's still too fresh in his mind and heart. The inner fortitude he's always possessed seems to have vanished.

He can't even follow Dooku's advice about letting emotions give him power. The only power he could get right now would be from the Dark Side, and he's not willing to let himself fall. His love for Obi-Wan will only serve to torture him, causing even more torment. That seems to be the summary of his life right now.

Why didn't his love for his brother matter? Why couldn't it have been enough to prevent this from happening? Why?! Dozens of questions buzz through Anakin's mind, each more painful than the last.

"Cloak your presence," murmurs Dooku as they leave for the meeting location, "It could be vital to the success of our mission."

Anakin nods, again not responding though he understands what Dooku is saying. He reaches out to the Force, drawing it in snugly around him, blocking his Force presence off from other Force sensitives. To them, he'll feel like a black hole of nothingness. It's a Sith technique. One which he adapted to the Light Side.

He'll be ready for a fight. He must be. There's no choice. Somehow, he'll be ready, just as he always is.