Balance

by pixelbaby

Archive: M_A, if they want it. Anyone who wants it, really, is welcome to archive it. Just let me know, please?

Pairing: None, really.

Category: POV (Obi-Wan's), Angst... maybe.

Warnings: This is dark. Brief, but dark.

Summary: I'm depressed, and decided to take it out on "The Chosen One".

He was sitting by the window when I crept into the common room. He seemed so small, so young, with just the moonlight illuminating the room as he leaned against the windowsill. I saw him shivering so I picked up the blanket my master had laid out for him, and brought a pillow from the sofa. The blanket I draped around his shoulders, and the pillow I placed behind my back as I leaned against the wall near him.

Anakin smiled at me gratefully. "Thanks, Obi-Wan," he said shyly. "I'm not used to the cold here."

Despite myself, I smiled slightly. "You're from a very warm planet. Most places will probably seem cold to you."

"I guess," he replied, turning back to the window.

"Were you unable to sleep out here?" I asked him. He barely looked all nine years of his age sitting there, dwarfed by the thick synthwool blanket.

He shrugged in response. "I could if I really wanted to. But so much has happened, I think that if I fall asleep, I'm going to miss something."

"I remember that feeling," I replied wistfully, following his gaze out of the window. To a boy from the Outer Rim, the endless lines of traffic in the Galactic City must be fascinating.

Anakin turned his face to me again. Suddenly, in the dim light, his face changed, the planes angling, seeming older, harder, and what was before just the reflection from the window glass became a dangerous glint deep in his eyes. Those eyes locked onto mine, and he stared at me for several long minutes before his face softened and again became that of a nine year-old boy. He cocked his head, then turned back to the window.

When I realized I had been holding my breath, I exhaled sharply and he turned to face me again. His expression was curious, and I forced a smile. "Come on; let's get you to bed," I said shakily.

He walked over to the sofa and lay down, arranging the blanket over himself. I brought the pillow over and stood looking down at him. He smiled up at me shyly again, raising a hand to take the pillow, and in my mind, I once again saw the eyes dark and hard as durasteel; eyes that had witnessed terrible suffering and tragedy, agony and Darkness.

By the time I registered that he was no longer moving, his Force- signature had ebbed completely, and there was no pulse or breath of air left in his tiny body. My master came rushing into the room at the same time I realized my shields had faltered, and I lifted the pillow and held it out to him.

"Not Anakin." I explained, gesturing to the small form now lying limp on the sofa. "It wasn't Anakin. It was never Anakin, Master. " Even from across the room, I could see the horror dawn on my master's face, and I frowned.

"P...Padawan... What happened?" He slowly approached the sofa, grasping the edge of it weakly, staring down at the still body.

Patiently, I explained again, "Master, it wasn't Anakin. Anakin never was." My head was beginning to ache, and I could see a swirl of light behind my eyelids.

"Oh, Obi-Wan. What have you done?" Qui-Gon gasped, turning his gaze to me. The blood drained from his face as I unsteadily smiled at him.

I sent the image of foreseen evil across our training bond. "Saved us all," I whispered as I collapsed to my knees in front of my master. "I've saved us all, Master," I repeated dreamily as unconsciousness claimed me.