"I can't believe they let you teach."

Anakin wasn't staring into space in a vaguely Connecticut-like direction.

Because that was just entirely too ridiculous. He was an adult and was perfectly capable of going for a week without seeing his fiancée.

He just didn't like it.

He stared at his phone and pondered calling members of the wedding party. Rory would be very proud of him for getting to check something off of her many, many lists.

He just didn't really want to talk on the phone.

The door was open and he'd welcome any distraction.

Puddle of Grace - Amy Jo Johnson

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.

Anakin was in his office sketching something out on what appeared to be almost an entire ream of paper.

Every now and again his attention would wander and he'd stare out the window and watch the rain fall, lost in thought.

[OOC: Open like an open thing...contents of conversation with Sam C. NFB]

Buttercup's Lament (Princess Bride) - Marc Gunn