No!

Anakin bolted upright from his position against the cold marble of the Temple.

A crippling feeling of trepidation washed over him, swallowing his conscience in a terrifying numbness, leaving him nothing to do but gasp for breath as he leaned heavily against the stone.

What is happening?

He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, the cool wind nipping at his face.

He recognized the feeling as panic, but he felt it from a dissociated point of view — like the phantom pain of a lost limb (he knew from experience).

It wasn't his panic, he concluded. He was fine. Well, physically, anyway.

Then why did his heart feel like it was pounding out of his chest, and why did his stomach feel like it was twisting into impossible knots? Why was he frozen, and why was he unable to think straight?

His lungs constricted and his chest rose and fell rapidly in an attempt to compensate for the lack of air supply.

Get a grip!

He clenched his fists, his heart slowing to a reasonable pace and the irrational hysteria receding ever so slightly as he got a handle on his surroundings. His sporadic breaths came easier, and he leaned his head back against the cool stone of the wall, closing his tired eyes once more.

What had just happened?

He rubbed a hand down his face with a sigh, before opening his eyes once again.

He was still on the steps of the Temple — he hadn't moved since her fateful decision — but he seemed to have succumbed to the mental and physical exhaustion that had plagued him and fallen asleep right there on the steps.

He shivered slightly in the frigid wind whipping his hair, but he ignored the physical cold and tried to place where the icy numbness from inside of him had come from.

He frowned. There was nothing about his immediate situation that had warranted the paralyzing irrationality that had awoken him.

He shook his head to clear it, and his eyes were drawn to beside him, where the figure of Obi-Wan Kenobi was sitting stock-still, his sleeping face resting on his hand. It seemed that he too had given into the exhaustion of the day.

Anakin frowned again. When had Obi-Wan shown up? His brow creased. How long had the both of them been sitting there?

And then he turned away with a scowl as a wave of conflicting emotions burned its way through his conscience.

Why is Obi-Wan here?

It's too late for him to care.

He crossed his arms and glared at the stone steps, wishing there was a perfectly logical, black and white reason why all of it had happened.

But, of course, there wasn't just one plain, clear, unquestionable and undeniable reason why all of it had happened, and Anakin didn't know what do feel because if that.

So his complacent anger and blame filled the void his churning emotions had left behind.

Why did Obi-Wan let the council do this?

He could have stopped it! Anakin thought in desperation. Should have, he amended, feeling his anger flare up, and a certain darkness bleed into the edges of his vision.

And he couldn't find it in himself to stop it.

Though his festering anger was cut short as the pieces finally clicked together, and his dissociated version of panic began to make sense.

Ahsoka.

Of course it wasn't his panic. It was hers. Who's else could it be?

"No!" He cried out, jumping up, now in his own panic. He started forward, but a firm hand held him back.

"Let me go," he growled, trying to twist away from the warm hand of Obi-Wan Kenobi, who seemed to have awoken at Anakin's outcry.

"There is nothing more you can do, Anakin." He whispered, his blue eyes clouded with something Anakin couldn't understand.

Why was Obi-Wan upset? He had done this!

"You don't understand, Obi-Wan. Something is wrong! I felt it." His eyes bored determinedly into Obi-Wans, blue meeting blue, and Anakins holding a desperate challenge.

A desperate challenge that is seen in the eyes of a mourner looking for something to blame when there is nothing left to shield them from the reality.

Obi-Wans brow furrowed as he frowned. "Felt it? Anakin, she gone." He moved his regal gaze down to the white marble beneath them and his grip on Anakin's shoulder loosened ever so slightly.

But Anakin didn't care. He scowled, slapping away the hand of his former Master.

"She is not gone. Don't you dare say that."

Obi-Wan didn't respond, so Anakin continued.

"Something is wrong, Obi-Wan. I know it. Let me help her." Anakin was deaf to the desperation hinted in every syllable of his voice.

But Obi-Wan wasn't, and it broke his heart.

"Anakin," He said softly, trying to reason with him when he was beyond rational acceptance. "There is nothing more you can do. She has made her choice —"

"She has made her choice?" Anakin let out a humorless laugh that brought chills down Obi-Wans spine. "No! The council made it for her!" Anakin thrust a desperate hand out to the side, his shaking arm directing Obi-Wans gaze to Anakin's estimated position of the council chambers as he leaned forward in anger. "You made it for her."

"Anakin —" Obi-Wan tried desperately, his own voice now loosing its regal assurance and authority.

"No! This is your fault."

Obi-Wan felt his stomach drop as Anakin shoved a finger into his chest with every syllable, before turning and storming away back into the Temple.

The sun began to rise, its rosy fingertips spreading warmth throughout everything it touched, but Obi-Wan felt colder than he ever had before.

Not even on Hoth had been felt this frigidly numb.

He stood, stock-still, in a desperation that had rooted his feet to the spot and made his throat feel sore and raw.

The pressure of Anakins finger had not seemed to alleviate even after Anakin had gone. It was like a hole was burning through his sternum, restricting his throat, and festering in his stomach.

Obi-Wan stared, utterly heartbroken, after his former Padawan as he stalked towards the large doors of the Temple.

It was like a lightsaber had pierced his heart.

And it was all too familiar a feeling.

Like the awareness of being helplessly incapable of action, and having to watch the most prominent what if? of his life be cut down because of another's animosity towards him. 

Like the cool marble of a throne room pressed against his knees, the desperate hand outstretched in vain as the sadistic smirk of a sociopath leaves a burning hole through the chest of an innocent life.

All because of him.

This is your fault!

His ears rung with the venomous words that had been spit at him, burning their way through is conscience and resting in the pit of his stomach like a shackle, forever restraining him and connecting him to the indescribable guilt.

And the worst part of the pain was not because the words had been spoken in anger.

No.

It was because the words had been spoken in truth.

...

Mace Windu frowned out the window of the council chambers, his brow furrowed, as he stared at the scene unfolding on the steps of the Temple.

Cmon, Skywalker, he thought. Get it together. You'll be okay.

He hoped it to be true.

No, he wanted it to be true. But was it?

He closed his eyes after watching Skywalker storm up the steps, leaving Obi-Wan Kenobi rooted to the spot.

"A grave mistake, we have made."

He turned, resting his gaze upon the short, green creature who was shaking his head in a sort of grief that was felt by a friend.

A grief that was not only for himself, but for someone else mourning, too.

Mace Windu closed his eyes as he nodded, turning away once again.

There was a strange weight on his chest and tightness of his throat that he attempted to push away.

But the weight on his chest had other ideas, and it seemed to manifest itself into its own words.

"Skywalker will need time," he found himself saying to Yoda, turning to face him once again.

Yoda raised his eyebrows. "Accept his attachment, you do, hmm?"

Mace turned away again, frowning. "No, Master Yoda." He paused, considering his next words. "But there is a difference between knowing and accepting."

"Hmm," Yoda hummed, satisfied with Mace's answer. "Agree, I do. But let this grief fester, we cannot, no?"

"No." Mace clarified, meeting the imploring gaze of the Grandmaster. "We cannot."

::::

A short chapter and a quick look at the Temple and the Jedi's reactions! So how was it?

I know a lot of people hate Mace Windu, but I think there's definitely more to him than just the black and white picture everyone sees it as. I dont know, i think he definitely feels at least some guilt over what happened, but he doesn't really realize it and ends up moving on because that's what he has been trained to do his whole life.

and i feel like anakin would be one to blame someone else even if it was uncontrollable. like obviously he gets over it and realizes it's not really obi-wans fault, but his immediate reaction is to associate his overwhelming and conflicting feelings with something tangible that he can act out on — like obi-wan. i think it's also kind of like how people have less reserves about flipping out on their family because they know that they'll have to forgive them eventually (in most cases, anyway).

i think obi-wan would somewhat blame himself for this, even if he's more rational than anakin in his grief and guilt and comes to realize that it wasn't just him, and that he needs to move on. he is aware that his atonement for his mistakes lies in the future, while anakin believes that it lies in the past, and is therefore unchangeable, which is why he is so unforgiving at first.

and then there's yoda, who is like the old grandfather that has all the answers and is not a stranger to the fresh and overwhelming emotions, and therefore can think with a clear head and understand the others grief more — like he grieves not only for his actions and what he has done to ahsoka, but also for the harsh feelings of the others because he already understands what it is like to feel that way.

anyway, that's just my take on it. i could be completely wrong, as, obviously, i'm not dave filoni or george lucas. 

and if anyone was wondering, yes, i am procrastinating my homework, hence why you're getting another chapter even after one with 6000 words the night before...

anyway, thanks for reading! bye!

*unedited

10/28/20

word count: 1838