How to Disappear (Anakin Skywalker x Reader)

"Take my hand, Ani."

So he does, just like he has been doing over the past few decades.

"Am I dead?"

Your smile catches like little hooks in his skin, guiding him gently through the great, big puddle, which stretches infinitely on all sides. His feet aren't wet, and there are no ripples or tension in the water. There is only stillness, silence, and you.

"Jedi don't die, Ani. They move on to greater things."

He likes that, he thinks. He isn't too sure where he is, or even who he is, but he's okay with that. The great, big silence, he realizes, is his own, so he steps back, expecting to hear the sloshing of water. He is caught between fear and wonder when the water remains still and quiet, seemingly unaffected by his presence, like he was never there.

You shush him and step forward to cup his cheeks. He protests for only a moment when he swears that he sees a Jedi with shaggy golden hair looking up at him with the same unsettled frown.

"Anakin, come back to me."

He blinks because it is easy. He blinks because it's easier to see nothing than to see a hundred mirrors looking at each other. He inhales sharply because it's the human thing to do, and he gasps and lunges forward to clutch your shoulders when he can't feel any air entering his lungs.

He expects you to shove him away, but you only pull him closer and bring his forehead to yours so he can steal the breath between your lips.

"Come back to me," you whisper more insistently, brushing your thumbs over the vein on his neck, where he hopes his pulse is throbbing.

He hums and meets your eyes. It slows down the space around him, and he begins to see beyond the water, beyond the five senses, into a place where he is everywhere all at once. He is the seas, the mountains, the valleys, the people, the rain, and the sun all at once. And you are there too—the tree to his fruit, the grief to his mourning.

You paint in the colors around him. The first notable one is blue. You are blue, and he is blue. You are glowing like the falling rocks from space that light up the night sky, and he is the darkness watching your light with curiosity. And just when he thinks you are passing by, that smile of yours hooks itself deeper into his skin, and you are falling through the night air together.

He feels full and satiated when you share your blue glow with him. Together, you are the blue ghosts of the Force, wandering the land but not lost.

It is here, there, and everywhere that love follows.

You—the ever-experienced force ghost—teach him the Force all over again as if he were a youngling. He makes some awful joke about haunting some Jedi that got on his nerves, and you rightly tug on his ghostly blue Jedi cloak.

Oh.

That's another thing.

He wears his Jedi uniform as a Force ghost, even if he wasn't exactly loyal to the cause his whole life. It takes some getting used to; his cloak, for the most part, was permanently folded away on the top shelf in their Nabooian cottage. The uniform did nothing for the perilous summers on the coastal planet anyway. Now it hangs on his shoulders like it's never left.

It takes some time to come to terms with being a Force ghost, and he now holds more respect for you now that you've done it twice. He's older now; you both are. You grew old together and lived. A part of him hurts when he sees his reflection in the still lake, vacant of all his hard-earned wrinkles and scars, all of which he proudly wore like badges to say, yes, I lived. Even in death, he is still a little stubborn. He's still Anakin Skywalker. It's just dissociating to see his past self when he was so unhappy and in a dark place. He doesn't relate to that boy anymore. He's grown, changed, and he wants to see that reflected in the water.

And when he's ready to stand up and shift away into the wind, you're there, hand on his shoulder, wearing that soft, understanding gaze, saying, I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you. Those three words banish the darkness and welcome him into a warm embrace of love. Forgiveness is never too late.

You take to your new life with the grace he remembers. It scares him at first, seeing you as the blue ghost that haunted him all that time ago. He tries to sink away when those feelings surface, but he knows you see right through him. It's confronting prying open things he'd rather keep closed. There's no privacy in his life. There's no his life, only life. He belongs to the Force, and so do you, but you also live independent of the Force, and are just beings existing. It's all very confusing.

But there's one thing that still remains.

"Do you think Yoda is a Force ghost?" Anakin asks.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. He mentors orphans and teaches them the way of the Force," you whisper, too focused on your meditation to say much more.

Anakin scoffs. "I'm that replaceable, am I?"

You sigh, open your eyes, and turn to him.

"Careful, Skywalker. Sounds like you're getting jealous."

"I'm not jealous!"

"Hmm."

"I'm not!"

...

"Do you think Obi-Wan's still around?"

You smile.

"He still dreams about you."

Anakin perks up.

"He does? How do you know?"

A part of him already suspects the answer.

You intertwine your hands.

"He never stopped looking for you, Ani."

A poison named guilt sours his tongue.

"I... I should go find him then. Tell him I'm fine."

You shake your head. You're not upset; you look more at peace.

"He knows, Ani. He knows."

Anakin can't quite understand how, he's still new to this Force ghost thing.

"...And he's happy?"

You nod with a smile and squeeze his hand.

Only one more thing troubles Anakin.

"Do you think I'll ever see him again?"

"He'll come find you when he's ready."

You pull him into your arms, and he buries his nose in the crook of your shoulder like old times. Your laughter lifts his spirits.

"You have much to learn, young Padawan."

There's no place to start like the end.