Anakin sat crosslegged on his floor, eyes closed, as he concentrated on his morning meditations.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity... Anakin breathed in and out, centering himself in the Force, reestablishing his place in the universe, then stretched out with his feelings. He could feel the emotional ups and downs of the students, the myriad life and death concerns of the beings in the forest…he stretched further: Rory at Yale, Aeryn and John in Massachusetts, other alumni spread across the planet…the Force was without limit. Different dimensions didn’t even slow it down.
He was testing to see if it was possible for him to be able to feel what Jaina was up to twenty years in his future in a different version of his galaxy far, far, away when a sudden
lack in his mental rolodex of friends jolted him out of his meditation.
His eyes flew open. “Sam?” he whispered, reaching out towards her steady presence in Colorado.
He found
nothing.
Anakin took a couple of deep breaths, then tried again.
Still nothing.
“There is no death,” he murmured in a small, choked voice, “there is the Force.”
Now, as always in these situations, the Jedi Code brought him absolutely no comfort.
He bowed his head, slammed up emotional barricades—no reason to unintentionally traumatize every psychic on the island—and then fought through an overwhelming surge of grief. The pain hit him like a vibroblade plunged into his stomach and all he could do for the next few minutes was stay curled on the floor and remember how to breathe.
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