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Anakin doesn’t know why his brain is torturing him like this. He knows Obi-Wan is dead. He felt it as the bond between them shattered - the cold, implacable walls of death slamming across their connection hit him like a blow. He dropped his saber (this weapon is your LIFE!), clutching his chest as his vision blurred - is this was it was like? When Master Qui-Gon died? Is this what you felt, Master?
Anakin knows that Obi-Wan is dead. He knows it they way that he knows his mother is dead. With bitter, unrepentant grief.
He doesn’t know why his dreams show him Obi-Wan. If they had to show him his dead master, couldn’t they - couldn’t they show him the good memories? Of Obi-Wan laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled over the edge of a cup of tea - his master happy, content, surprised, joyous -
Not like this.
Not with bitter, Sith-yellow eyes and straggling hair. Not his master screaming, helpless, in pain, in agony -
Anakin doesn’t know why he dreams of Obi-Wan. His master is dead.
(Once upon a time, Padme says, as she curls sleepily in his arms, you thought I was dead.
You were wrong.)
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