a modern au where obi-wan runs an environmental non-profit that’s bleeding out and the only thing keeping it afloat is a potential merger with a glossy new corporate eco-conglomerate that “revitalizes desert economies” (translation: gentrifies everything) called SKYFALL.
the ceo is reclusive. young. reportedly brilliant. goes by Sev Renier. Obi-Wan hates him already, but his chief of staff strongly advises he takes the meeting and negotiates. it's preferrable to selling this labor of love that is obi-wan's company to some asshole who's gonna strip it for parts.
obi-wan agrees to the meeting. he walks into the office and and standing there, across the conference table in a black-on-black suit and glacier-cold gaze—is Anakin.
except - it can't be? Anakin is dead. Long dead. Dead at 22. Obi-Wan knows, because since that moment, he's been half-dead too. And his Anakin was sweet, loyal, wore his heart on his sleeve and this - this cold, icy tower of a man is foul-mouthed, fickle, and hates obi-wan's guts. of course their merger turns into a whole ass thing where neither side is satisfied - they fight all the time like cats, their lawyers cannot see eye to eye either.
until their chiefs of staff force them into a one on one meeting at a private location so they can talk over their differences over coffee and biscuits.
they end up fucking on a persian rug.
Obi-Wan begins to unravel. He knows it’s Anakin. But this man—this “Sev”—refuses to acknowledge it.
He gaslights Obi-Wan with a smile. “You must be mistaken.” “We’ve never met.” “You look tired.”
He tells a different story about his past. Rewrites everything. Obi-Wan is trapped in a negotiation with a ghost who denies being dead.
But in moments—in microexpressions and cruel slips of memory—Anakin leaks through.
Obi-Wan stops sleeping. He starts hoping. He starts hating that he still hopes.
“Why are you doing this?” / “Doing what?” / “Wearing his face.”
And one day, finally, Obi-Wan screams: “Say it. Say your name.”
The man stares at him. Smiles.
“I think you want me to be someone I’m not.”
we are dealing with:
Identity as a weapon.
Grief you gaslight yourself into enduring.
The unbearable pain of seeing the person you love pretend they don’t know you.
A love story where one of them has to say I forgive you before the other can say I remember.
