Anakin sat for a long moment in the rooms he used to call his own. His belongings had been cleared out of it and the room itself seemed to be more a cell than anything. It was interesting to note that they hadn't touched a single one of Obi-Wan's posessions. It hurt him to know that the council apparently had no faith in him ever returning from the dark side or even if they had they clearly had no intention of allowing him to return. Pangs of hurt turned into sharp little ticks of anger, but he calmed within a few moments. What difference did it make? He was leaving anyway. He sat on what used to be his bed, mentally noting that it smelled of sanitizer. He couldn't take the discomfort and instead lowered the position of the holorecorder and sat on the floor in front of it. A push of a small red button and the instrument began to record his visage. He was silent for a few beats. He really should've practiced this. A swallow over a dry throat and he finally began. "Members of the council. It is with great sorrow that I submit to you my resignation from the Jedi order. My instincts tell me that even if you were to allow me to return to the fold, I would be separated from Master Kenobi. While I can sufficiently deal with one loss, it would be another severe blow to know that, because my wife is no longer among the living, my children have no real home to go to. They are strong in the force and without a home would have been brought to the creche and I would've been forbidden to ever lay eyes on them much less speak with or be in their general presence. They are the only things keeping me from repeating my past mistakes and I cannot allow a permanent separation between myself and Luke and Leia. I wish that there was another way, but my feelings tell me that there is not. I regret that it has to come to this." A period of silence follows. "Thank you, for allowing me to be trained. I am deeply sorry that I could not be the man you wanted me to be. May the force be with you." He bows his head and shuts the recorder off.
For a few minutes he just sits there and stares at his boots, at the folds of the leather at his ankles. He raises his head again and sighs. His hand goes to his lightsabre. One last time, he ignites it and swings it a few times before turning it off once more. "I will miss you, old friend." He summons the recorder to him, takes a deep breath and steps out to the common room where Obi-Wan is waiting for him.