Anakin knew that his grandfather would not be coming home, today. It was a strange feeling, knowing something like this, through his attunement to his grandfather, while his family stayed ignorant of Master Luke’s demise. Or change, rather, for Anakin knew him to be alive eternally.
His brothers, both his elder in years, whatever that meant, frowned, and the eldest among them quipped, “I sense a disturbance in the Force.”
“No such thing,” Cassie replied. He shrugged when the eldest, Hans, looked at him oddly. “The Force simply, is. There can be no disturbances, whether you think to sense them or not.”
Hans didn’t have to ask where he’d gotten that one. “Ruining our clichés again, are we Anakin?”
Anakin didn’t say anything in words, and his look, regarding his two brothers, and the third, who’d appeared from the temple atop the hill and made his way toward them, told the lot of them that he knew what was happening just then, yet he couldn’t figure what to say to them.
“What is it, Anakin?” Grayson, his only younger brother, asked as he approached. “I know you can feel that. What’s happened to great grandfather?”
“You don’t need me to tell you that, Grayson. If I put it into words for you, I would only pollute your own understanding of what it is. There are no words for a thing such as this. You must simply feel it out for yourself.”
Anakin didn’t wait around to see what else his brothers had to say on the matter. He took up his reading glass and tore away from them, walking briskly knowing that to run would make him look like a child, in their eyes.
As he neared the house, down near a footpath into the forest, Anakin began changing his face and shoulder width. He’d need to look older for this, but just a bit. He wasn’t the youngest in his family, but he looked it, having maintained the look of a young boy just before puberty.
His sister sensed his use of the lifestream they all called the Force, and Anakin wondered what she’d be doing about it. He reached his home and entered, not pausing before walking straight for his back door, setting the reading glass on the counter.
He didn’t lock up, like usual, and he skirted the hillside around to another entrance to the dojo, where he dodged his mother, who was making her way to the other boys back where Anakin had left them, for obvious reasons, Anakin supposed.
He didn’t want to be using his own weapon for this. It didn’t feel right, just now, hanging at his hip. He wanted his father’s sword.
“What do you need another lightsaber for?” asked Reginold, the keeper of the dojo. Anakin regarded him with an odd glance and simply said, “Practice,” before exiting through another door.
He reached his mother’s skyscraper in short time, regarded it, and decided to take a bigger ship. One he could fill with a crew if he desired one, but that he could still fly by himself.
It was Captain Seth’s that he found; the perfect picture of chromed metal coating and a sleek shape. He’d hacked it already, a few years before, so he just used his backdoor code on his wrist com and the boarding ramp lowered from beneath the ship.
“I’m coming with you, Anakin,” came the voice of his sister, who stood at the edge of the platform, not so far that he could race inside without her following. He stood where he was, thinking of what she was getting at. What she knew about his intentions.
“It’s too dangerous,” he said coolly. He repeated the same sentiment with, “You’re too young,” to see what she would do.
“You know I’m not,” she said firmly, watching him carefully. “This isn’t your right to do alone, Anakin. And besides, if we get into trouble before landing, it will take both of us to fly the ship and man the turrets.”
He knew that she was right, and he wondered about himself. He hadn’t finished changing his look yet, but it would happen gradually, smoothly. His sister hadn’t begun to slow her own aging yet, and so she looked perfectly like a girl half his age. He’d always admired her orange-red hair, smooth expression, and cunning wit. He would not be amiss to have her, despite never having completed her training as a jedi knight. Training was never complete, really, but she hadn’t even been allowed to construct her own weapon yet.
Anakin’s hand went to his lighsaber hilt, hanging from his belt. He’d always wondered why he’d built a device so foreign to him. It had never felt right in his hand, and the green glow of it put him off. He’d never felt comfortable using it, despite how guided he’d felt while constructing it.
He threw it to her then, without activating it, and the silver and gold metal cylinder spun through the air before she reached up and caught it, pulling the weapon’s natural fly course off track and to her hand.
She gulped, and he knew the gesture had gotten to her. “Truly?” she asked him.
He took his father’s lightsaber from his pocket, and hung it on his belt in answer. When she boarded the ship, he was already in the cockpit, prepping it for takeoff. He wondered how long he’d make his hair, for at present it was freshly cut close to the scalp.
His sister closed the ramp, and he didn’t know where he’d gone to in the ship until she returned, carrying a duffel bag. She slung it to the ground, between their two seats, while she took her own. He didn’t have to ask her what it was.
“This could be the last time we’ll ever get to see them again,” Ara. She regarded her elder brother. He’d been born a whole twenty winters before Ara was born, and yet he’d always looked like such a child to her, even despite his world-weary expression, which rarely left his face. It wasn’t tired, like some old war veterans, but one of aging, and knowing that those around you could no longer understand who you had become. Great grandfather had, and Ani had always loved him for it. She didn’t mourn the old jedi’s death, but glowed in it, for she could feel him with her, in spirit, more strongly than she ever had. It made her brave.
Don’t let him leave without telling him how you feel. She could feel their mother’s sentiment, and she knew that grandmother had not told her that Ara would be leaving as well.
Anakin’s head turned toward her, when the ship started to rise from the earth, and she activated her lightsaber, to see it’s glow.
The green glow of it painted her skin and lit up her already bright emerald eyes. Anakin knew, just then, that she’d always known the weapon her elder brother had built was hers. Anakin swallowed past the tears, wondering how long this feeling could last: He was leaving home, not for the first time, but for the last, and the girl he’d always loved was set to be his padawan. He trusted her implicitly, and knew that he would never want for another jedi as his partner.
“I’ve got a good feeling about this,” was all he said aloud.
“I love you too,” she echoed. Then said, “This is going to be fun.”