Ever since Vader's unmasking at the end of Return of the Jedi I've been curious about Anakin Skywalker. Episodes 1-3 took care of all of those unanswered questions, but for me the relationship between Anakin and Obi-Wan remains one of the most fascinating aspects of the Saga.

So much between them goes unsaid in the films, so when I write fanfiction I often focus on their interaction. Toward that end I wrote a somewhat expanded view of the movie version of their final moments on the lava bank on Mustafar. I plan to make this a prologue to a much longer story arc including Luke, but for now this is what I have time for.

Just thought I'd share:
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It was over. Ended with two quick, powerful slashes of his lightsaber. The maneuver sent limbs rolling down the embankment and into the river of molten rock.

Obi-Wan could suddenly feel the scorching heat as it radiated up from the lava bed. Odd that he hadn't noticed it before. Breathing now seemed laborious. His lungs seared with each indrawn breath while every exhalation pushed moisture from his body.

He couldn't help glancing back at Anakin. No, he reminded himself, not Anakin. Darth Vader. Anakin was gone, destroyed forever by the Sith who now inhabited the dismembered body sliding down the steaming rock. Sith-yellow eyes had replaced the clear blue orbs of the boy he'd trained and raised. The unnatural transformation echoed the perversion of what had once been a beautiful soul.

A glint of silver caught his eye. He reached down and picked up Anakin's lightsaber as a hundred memories exploded in his head. "Lose something, Padawan?" "This weapon is your life." "Anakin, again?" He fought the urge to turn around and return the saber to its rightful owner.

No. He wouldn't be giving it back this time. It was a Jedi weapon, crafted for justice, used in war and vengeance, lost in Sith-fury. Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi, no longer existed. He would not need this blade again.

"I hate you!" Vader roared viciously, his face twisting with rage and helpless frustration as all that was left of his body slipped further down the hill.

Obi-Wan felt the words as a physical blow. His heart clenched, freezing into an unbearable, aching mass. He was powerless to stop the hot rush of tears that filled his eyes.

"You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you." There, it was said. Obi-Wan Kenobi loved the boy who had been his padawan and later, the man who had become his best friend. Grief tore through him as he allowed himself to feel the emptiness of a galaxy without Anakin's bright presence.

For a split second he felt a barely perceptible weakening of the Force barrier Anakin had erected to hide his thoughts. Then, in a flash of cloth meeting molten lava, it dissolved as the body of his former apprentice burst into flame.

Anguish and hate flooded Obi-Wan's mind, feelings so intense he was forced to erect his own mental shield against them. The source of the emotions - the Sith Lord wearing Anakin's face - screamed as blazing agony overtook him.

Horrified, Obi-Wan found he couldn't look away. Immolation was the burial rite of Jedi, yet it seemed this desecrated Anakin would follow in that final tradition.

Flames devoured fabric and flesh as all that was left of his friend writhed in anguish. The mechanical hand reflexively sought purchase on the embankment, crumbling ash in its still-powerful grip. Obi-Wan fought the urge to run down and grab it, to pull what remained of Anakin Skywalker away from the lava's edge.

At this point killing him would be a mercy, but Obi-Wan couldn't bring himself to do that either. The Force itself would need to extend that touch of grace. He could stomach no more killing.

Nine times Anakin had saved his life. More, if truth were told. Now those favors could never be repaid. A wave of guilt threatened to drown him. Steeling himself against a lifetime of regret, Kenobi turned away.

Not risking a backward glance, he ran up the hill in the direction of Amidala's ship.

By the time he ascended the boarding ramp the blistering volcanic heat had dried his tears. Still, a charred visage lingered in his mind. He suspected it always would.