#obi wan 'no thoughts head empty must kick' kenobi

[yellowocaballero]

Obi-Wan’s a teen dad and Anakin DESPERATELY wants to do crime

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters.

It hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s intention to spend a week lying in bed - or, at times, lying on the living room floor. Or staring blankly at the stove, or holding a toothbrush as he forgot what he was supposed to do with it. It had been his intention to handle the new...arrangements. Put on a brave face. Take care of business. There was so much to do, and Obi-Wan really did want to do it. But he stood in front of the stove staring at its knobs instead, lost.

Anakin had been a good sport about it, at least. He figured out alarmingly quickly how to work the stove and fry up the sliced fruit in their cupboards. Anakin didn’t understand that you didn’t fry fruit, but Obi-Wan ate it with little complaint. He put food in front of Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan ate it. When Anakin asked him, somewhat fearfully, how to use the shower, Obi-Wan showed him and then took one himself. After the third day he left the living quarters semi-frequently, which would have been worrying if Obi-Wan cared.

Obi-Wan’s depressed, grieving, and has an inferiority complex the size of an Alderaanian mountain. Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening, but he does know that the power grid failure was not his fault. Can Obi-Wan ever be a true Jedi and a competent master? Or is his backstory, as told by the Jedi Apprentice novels, too fucking weird?

Rest under the cut.

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters. 

It hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s intention to spend a week lying in bed - or, at times, lying on the living room floor. Or staring blankly at the stove, or holding a toothbrush as he forgot what he was supposed to do with it. It had been his intention to handle the new...arrangements. Put on a brave face. Take care of business. There was so much to do, and Obi-Wan really did want to do it. But he stood in front of the stove staring at its knobs instead, lost. 

Anakin had been a good sport about it, at least. He figured out alarmingly quickly how to work the stove and fry up the sliced fruit in their cupboards. Anakin didn’t understand that you didn’t fry fruit, but Obi-Wan ate it with little complaint. He put food in front of Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan ate it. When Anakin asked him, somewhat fearfully, how to use the shower, Obi-Wan showed him and then took one himself. After the third day he left the living quarters semi-frequently, which would have been worrying if Obi-Wan cared. 

On day six, Obi-Wan worked up the energy to turn on his datapad, and was promptly bombarded with messages. They scrolled down the screen, a new one popping up every second. 

A lot of them were from his automated specialized education classes. Obi-Wan had finished the required padawan courses when he was sixteen, breezing through each course at his own pace virtually during downtime in transit and on missions. He had signed up for some Knight-level specialized education courses afterwards, loading as many on his plate as he could and managing special permission to complete them all virtually too. Apparently, he had a great deal of assignments due. 

Many messages from the Temple administration. Notification for mandatory forms to complete for requisitions, medical care...reports on the Naboo mission...a mountain of forms to complete for the promotion...a mountain of forms for the new padawan...a mountain of forms for processing Qui-gon’s death. 

Messages from his friends. How are you doing, Obi-Wan? Are you okay, Obi-Wan? Can we come over and talk, Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, you stupid bastard, how dare you fight a Sith without me? 

Disturbingly, even the master of mission assignments had messaged him. Xe wanted to know if Obi-Wan was going to file for extended reprieve from missions to train his underage padawan in the Temple, or if he wanted to continue taking missions. Decide quickly, Knight Kenobi. Xe are willing to grant three years of light to no missions to help ‘facilitate Padawan Skywalker’s integration into the Jedi’.

The thought made Obi-Wan dizzy. No missions for years? He and Qui-Gon had barely gone weeks without a mission. But Obi-Wan had been thirteen, and Qui-Gon had a particular talent of taking an assignment to mediate standard legislative disputes and turn it into a three month embroilment in an endangered animal trafficking scheme. Staying stuck in the Temple for that amount of time made his skin crawl. Staying at home in the Temple so Anakin could integrate into the Jedi, become the Jedi he dreamed of...

Obi-Wan turned off the pad and tossed it across the room, letting it land on Qui-gon’s private meditation mat. Somehow, he couldn’t really bring himself to care. 

Five hours later, Obi-Wan dragged himself out of Qui-gon’s room to find Anakin lying on the floor with what looked like an entire droid disassembled over the carpet. He was kicking his feet in the air, lying on his stomach, stripping some frayed wire. 

Obi-Wan stared at him blankly, forms dancing behind his eyes. Anakin needed clothing. They had already processed him through his vaccinations - thank hell - and prescribed him some antibiotics for his multitude of intestinal parasites, but there was no way he was taking the pills. He needed to teach him how to braid the padawan braid. He needed to get them some food for the cabinets. He needed to…

“Are you hungry?” Obi-Wan rasped. His hair felt disgusting.

Anakin’s head snapped up, eyes widening. He scrambled off the rug, brushing a suspicious amount of dirt off his knees. “Yeah! I’ll make us that green thing!”

He shouldn’t let the nine year old work the stove. But Obi-Wan let him anyway, as he managed to somehow dump water in the kettle and place it on the stove, standing beside Anakin and waiting for it to whistle. 

I must be doing very well, Obi-Wan thought hysterically, as he stared at the old-fashioned durasteel kettle that Qui-gon had favored. He was releasing his emotions into the Force with perfection. He wasn’t feeling anything at all. He wasn’t thinking about Qui-gon. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all. His mind was clear and empty, and he was perfectly at peace. 

Obi-Wan tried to pour his tea, but he just couldn’t move. He stood and stared at the kettle for so long that Anakin eventually walked in and, straining on his tiptoes, sloshed the steaming water into the plastic white cup. 

***

On day seven, Obi-Wan managed to wrangle both himself and Anakin into some semblance of hygiene and clean clothes. Anakin needed a lot of help, which clearly embarrassed him, but Obi-Wan was too dead inside to be frustrated about it. 

He ended up tying his obi for him, as Anakin wriggled and tried to turn around to see it on the back. He’d have to show him how to do it himself later, but that was for later. 

“Why do I have to wear this?” Anakin whined. “It’s so heavy.”

“I’ll see if I can requisition you an outfit with less layers,” Obi-Wan said. A lighter outfit wouldn’t cut it, as Anakin had ramped up the temperature controls in their quarters a week ago and the rooms haven’t dipped below boiling ever since. “Hold still. Hold - hold still, please.”

“What does requisition mean?”

Anakin held still eventually. He managed to untie the obi in the first ten minutes, but Obi-Wan really couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Then they had to worry about brushing their teeth, and Obi-Wan had to teach him how to do that, and why was this so hard, why was everything so hard -

But when Obi-Wan eventually got them both out the door, he found no relief.The Temple felt different. Obi-Wan didn’t know how; just that it did. It was identical in every worldly way, yet mismatched in the Force. As if it was a different Temple, a pale echo from another dimension, that was the home of a different Obi-Wan. Or maybe Obi-Wan was different: maybe his Force signature was so warped and polluted that he tainted everywhere he went. 

They were all parts of the great whole of the Force. The Force was composed of every Jedi, every sentient being and eddy of wind. There were tens of thousands of Jedi in this Temple - how could the death of one man change it so thoroughly? Or had it just changed Obi-Wan?

Somewhat suspiciously, Anakin seemed to know the way out of the dormitories and into the main thoroughfare of the building. Obi-Wan kept a death grip on his little hand the entire time, slowing his steps so Anakin could keep up without having to jog. It didn’t stop him from trying to run forward every few steps, only for Obi-Wan to gently tug him back. 

“You weren’t supposed to run around the Temple by yourself,” Obi-Wan said flatly. Anakin grinned sheepishly, in what Obi-Wan was already beginning to recognize as his ‘Busted!’ face. 

“Why not?”

“You could have gotten lost.”

“I did get lost,” Anakin said proudly. “But then I found a secret service tunnel for the droids and I crawled through it and I found a server room and -” He stopped abruptly. “But that was way after the power outage yesterday. That I had nothing to do with.”

Obi-Wan...should probably care about this. 

He didn’t. He was too busy releasing his emotions into the Force, and returning his dark thoughts to the Force, and maintaining complete control over his body and spirit. There was no room in that for caring about Anakin, maybe, destroying the Temple.

Wasn’t he a teacher? Shouldn’t he be teaching?

“First rule of being a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted, “learn to lie.”

There. That was a lesson. Qui-gon had said the same thing to him when he was fourteen. Obi-Wan was doing great at this. Anakin beamed and made a weird motion with his hand, clenching it into a fist and sticking his thumb out. Obi-Wan stared blankly at him until he put his hand down. 

Maybe it was because Obi-Wan was releasing all of his feelings and thoughts into the Force so well, but he couldn’t help but feel a constant prickling at the back of his neck. It felt like everybody was looking at them. A group of gossiping knights downright stopped talking when they saw Obi-Wan and Anakin approaching, and they broke out into whispers when they left. Padawans and initiates openly stared. Masters were too polite to stare, but their interest clearly peaked in the Force. 

By the time they got to the quartermaster’s and slid in line, Anakin was practically hiding behind Obi-Wan. Anakin had likely gone his entire life without anybody noticing him, blending into the background. Obi-Wan had learned almost a decade ago that it was a useful survival tactic for slaves. Although how he had ever done it, Obi-Wan would never know. The boy was a sun in the Force. Blinding and burnt, as broiling as the temperature he kept their quarters at. 

“Oh my. Padawan Kenobi, is that you?” Meela, the Quartermaster’s knight assistant, stopped and stared at both of them. She was carrying a large box of fabrics, and all of the other Jedi waiting in line stopped talking to crane their heads and stare too. “Oh! It’s knight now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, before coughing. He hadn’t realized his voice was so hoarse - he hadn’t spoken to anybody but a nine year old in a week. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Meela.”

“Of course,” Meela said quickly. She was looking openly at Anakin, who was pointedly looking at Obi-Wan’s belt. “And you must be Anakin Skywalker! I had no idea you were so young. Is he even old enough to be a padawan, Knight Kenobi?”

“We determined that the creche wasn’t the best place for him.” Obi-Wan quickly grabbed his datapad, brought up the catalogue of items to requisition, and shoved it Anakin. “Pick out what we’re going to get. I’m certain you must be very busy, Knight Meela, so -”

“My, Padawan Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan refrained from gritting his teeth, before rotating on his heel. He stuck his hands in his sleeves, bowing to the aged Togrutan Jedi behind him. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Master Hashi.”

“My condolences for your master’s death,” Master Hashi said sympathetically. His watery old blue eyes were large and perfectly pitying. “It must be so difficult for you. And taking on a padawan so soon after your knighthood, as well.”

“He’s with the Force now,” Obi-Wan said. Smiling. He was smiling. Turn it down. Just a gentle smile. Remember Rishi. “But I appreciate your condolences.”

As it turns out, half the line just needed to express condolences for Master Jinn’s death, how sad, how tragic, how avoidable. He was so young. Obi-Wan was practically sweating by the time they got to the quartermaster’s desk, at which point he was promptly told that he was missing three forms. 

Obi-Wan stood in front of the quartermaster’s desk, gripping Anakin’s hand in his, trying not to unwind. “But I filled out the application on the portal -”

“Yes, but you need your knight’s identification code,” the Quartermaster said briskly. “You input your padawan code.”

“How do I find out my knight’s identification code?”

“It should be on your identification card, son.”

“I was only knighted a week ago.” They were staring. They were all staring - “They haven’t issued me a card yet.”

“I’ll refer you to my assistant, Knight Kenobi.”

Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s sleeve. “Are we not getting my new clothing?”

A horrible tremor rose in Obi-Wan’s chest: a choking, sinking feeling. It crawled up his throat, making his trachea burn and his head pound. It felt like a balloon expanding, splintering his chest cavity and threatening to crack him apart. 

Everybody was watching. They could not see it. Think about Rishi. Do not let them see it. 

After fifteen humiliating minutes sitting at a sympathetic Meela’s desk, Obi-Wan finally managed to secure them some clothes. Anakin also received the standard pack of Jedi personal items, including his own toiletries and datapad. They secured an identification code for Anakin and input him into the database, and gave him his own lanyard and set of cards. Older Jedi tended to keep them in a hidden pocket in their robes, but for obvious reasons they affixed them to the neck of younger children. 

But, without the identification code and five hundred more hoops, Obi-Wan couldn’t request a new living quarters and new furniture. He thanked Meela for her time anyway, stopped Anakin from attempting to requisition a B900-A40 droid with HyperFlex specs, and escaped something as simple as the Quartermaster’s trying to avoid rattling apart. 

Obi-Wan only exhaled when they were outside, looking at his datapad and marking off the first line. The to-do list scrolled down the screen, and onto another page. Anakin was already shifting from foot to foot, bored. 

“One down,” Obi-Wan said. “Three more.”

“Do we have to?” Anakin whined. “Why were the other Jedi so mean?”

Obi-Wan stopped short. He looked down at Anakin, who was fiddling with his obi again. “Stop messing with that. And they weren’t being mean, Anakin, they were just concerned.”

But Anakin just wrinkled his nose. “They were being mean. They were making you feel bad.”

How had he even - “If you keep quiet through the errands, you can have some fruit for lunch at the commissary.”

“Wizard!”

****

It quickly became obvious that nobody approved of Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Whispers followed them everywhere. Masters, old friends of Qui-gon, subtly disapproved of his choices. Which was nothing new - Obi-Wan had silently suffered almost everybody in the Temple disapproving of Qui-gon to him for years - but somehow it made Obi-Wan want to tear his hair out. The knights - the other knights - expressed incredulity that somebody knighted that morning received a padawan that afternoon. The padawans refused to even talk to Anakin, and he very quickly stopped trying. 

Obi-Wan’s own friends...he did not have many. He was never in the Temple long enough to significantly interact or make connections with any other padawans or knights. He was never home for longer than a few weeks, and if he was planetside for longer than a month then it was because Qui-gon was recuperating from getting blown up when Obi-Wan hijacked a pirate ship and crash landed it on a small moon. 

He used to have friends. Bant and Garen and Reeft and Siri...but a small and horrible part of Obi-Wan hated talking to them. A conversation with them always felt like they were trying to communicate with an Obi-Wan who hadn’t existed for a very long time, crying out over an impassable canyon. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan had begun resenting people who saw through him. 

Anakin was a stubborn and implacable kid, but he was very perceptive. He clung tighter and tighter to Obi-Wan’s robes the further they walked into the temple, and eventually Obi-Wan had to disentangle him and give him a quick talk about appropriate behavior. It was his tenth talk to Anakin about appropriate behavior - about everything from using utensils to washing his hair - but this was the first time he seemed to understand why. 

“So they don’t like you if you don’t do all the dumb stuff they do?”

“It’s not dumb,” Obi-Wan hissed. “And keep your voice down, this is a library.”

Judging from Anakin’s impressed gawking, this was his first time in a library. He clearly didn’t understand why they were supposed to be quiet either, and Obi-Wan was beginning to understand that Anakin refused to do anything unless you gave him a reason. 

Obi-Wan carefully placed him in a small chair in the children’s section, in front of a brightly colored plastic table. Some other initiates were sitting around coloring, or working their way through children’s books. Anakin squinted up at him judgmentally as Obi-Wan frantically grabbed the clunky and friendly library datapad and scrolled through the catalogue until he found a likely suspect. Bugs of Rainforest Planets, light on the words, perfect. 

“Just stay here until I come back,” Obi-Wan whispered, after a hurried explanation of why they were quiet in libraries. “Don’t leave this chair. Please.”

“I want more fruit,” Anakin warned. 

“You will have more fruit. Now please don’t move.”

This was not how you Jedi masters taught padawans. This was not how it was supposed to work. Obi-Wan was not doing this right. He was doing this terribly. And everybody knew, and everybody was judging him.

The children’s librarian was a kind, plump older Twi’lek with long silver lekku down to her waist. Madame Hallan had been a personal favorite of Obi-Wan’s when he was a youngling, and he knew that she still had a soft spot for him. She was probably the only librarian who didn’t explicitly distrust him.

He easily kidnapped her for a meeting - or, maybe, she took one look at his face and kidnapped him - and she shepherded him into her office. He had never been inside, and Obi-Wan felt weirdly on the other end of the fence of his childhood. It was bright and cheerful and had datapads scattered everywhere with tax forms. 

“I understand you have a new padawan,” Madame Hallan said kindly. “I saw him reading. He seems like a wonderful boy.”

She and half the temple understood that he had a new padawan. “I need your help,” Obi-Wan said, excruciatingly impolitely. Since when was Obi-Wan impolite? Since when was he lost? “It’s Anakin - I need to enroll him for lessons and I need some introductory literature for him and -”

“Dear, you’ll want to talk to Master Ravenholme for that.” Master Ravenholme was the Master of Education, and personal blight of many. “He’ll likely ask Anakin to take a placement test to determine which classes he joins.”

“Anakin can’t take a placement test,” Obi-Wan said. “He can’t read.”

To Madame Hallan’s credit, and raising a lot of questions about what exactly the other Jedi knew about Anakin, she accepted the information with a thoughtful look and a nod. “Does he know his letters and some words, or is it total illiteracy?”

Obi-Wan scrubbed his face. He was perched in the uncomfortable metal chair across from her desk, elbows propped on his knees. “It’s sporadic. He’s not totally illiterate, and I think he can read mechanical instruction manuals and labels and signs and that sort of thing...if it has to do with starfighters, he can write the instruction manual...I don’t know, I haven’t checked, but I can’t send him to class like this…”

“Calm yourself, Obi-Wan. Release that tension into the Force. Let’s take this one step at a time,” Madame Hallan said firmly, as Obi-Wan carefully breathed. “I will schedule a  reading and writing assessment appointment for Anakin for an assessment. Knight Fu and Knight Kili are available to administer personal tutoring until we get him up to speed.” Fu and Kili were two teachers in the special education department, which was somewhat lean for children over the age of ten or so. Most of the ‘delayed’ children were quickly assigned to the Jedi Corp. Obi-Wan was highly educated on this, and shamefully bitter. “Now, doesn’t that sound like a plan?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” Madame Hallen typed something out on her computer, making Obi-Wan’s datapad ping. “I’ve sent you a few of the handbooks that we give new knights and first-time teachers. Hopefully they’ll be of some use to you.” She smiled reassuringly at him, oozing serenity. “I think you will make a wonderful teacher, Obi-Wan. Our Temple’s never seen a young Jedi as dedicated and hardworking as you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

 “And I’m certain that once you and Anakin get settled in, no matter where he came from, he will make an excellent student. We’re all Jedi here, after all.”

Betting was not Jedi-like behavior, despite the fact that Obi-Wan was a world-class betting champion on three Outer Rim worlds (there had been a diamond heist), but Obi-Wan would bet five hundred credits right now that Anakin was not in the chair where he had left him.

In the end, Obi-Wan was pleasantly surprised. Anakin, obviously, was not in the chair where Obi-Wan had left him, but he was within easy searching distance and hadn’t destroyed any droids yet. Instead, he had just meandered to the large picture encyclopedia propped up on a wooden stand, flipping through the flimsi with wide eyes. 

Obi-Wan stood next to him, unable to smile but amused all the same. “Do you know what that is?”

Anakin nodded fervently. “It’s an encyclopedia! The padawan guy said it has pictures of every smart species in the galaxy.”

There were, of course, digital databases for these things, but kids loved flipping through things. “Sentient species. Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah!” Anakin lingered on a picture of a Togruta before flipping further at light speed. “The padawan guy said that Qui-gon was a ‘rogue Jedi’ and that he taught you how to do crime and conquer planets and backflip and stuff.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. Hard. “Please don’t listen to Temple gossip, Anakin. It’ll jump down Coruscant while the truth takes an airlift.”

“But you can do backflips, I saw it.” Anakin turned to look at him - eyes wide, unjudging. “What does ‘rogue Jedi’ mean?”

What did it mean? Obi-Wan had spent half his life wondering. “It means that Qui-gon and I had a lot of adventures,” Obi-Wan said tactfully. “My training was somewhat unconventional in comparison with many other Jedi.”

But Anakin just beamed. “That’s so cool! Is my training going to be uncon - unconvectional?”

“Unconventional.” Obi-Wan sighed. “And at this point, I’m afraid so.”

Was Anakin going to resent him for this once he grew older? He must. Anakin would never be a real Jedi, a proper one. Just like Obi-Wan wasn’t. And Obi-Wan had spent almost a decade now frantically, fervently, desperately trying. He had done everything: mastered the art of saber-fighting, excelled in as many topics as he could. He was an expert in diplomacy, politics, ecology, and tactics. Everybody who met Obi-Wan found him charming, graceful, and handsome - and nobody who ever met Obi-Wan liked him. He topped his classes, was better at saberplay than most knights, and had personally saved the lives of three princesses and a memorable duchess, and he couldn’t figure out how to be a Jedi.

Obi-Wan couldn’t teach what he didn’t have. And he would never be able to give -

“Cool! I want to backflip and conquer planets too.” Anakin grinned up at him, yellow teeth flashing in the soft library lights. “I already know how to do crime, I’m really good at it!”

“Jedi have diplomatic immunity, so technically I’ve never done a crime,” Obi-Wan said, somewhat testily. 

“What’s diplomatic immunity?”

“Lesson number two, padawan, is that it means we can do whatever we want so long as we can justify it in the mission report.”

“Wizard!”

Maybe Obi-Wan should just never repeat anything Qui-gon had ever said to him. Ever. 

In a roundabout act of bribery, Obi-Wan finally led Anakin towards the cafeteria. It wasn’t lunchtime, but few Jedi strictly followed the guidelines of breakfast, lunchtime, and dinnertime. This was mostly because the creche and Initiates did, and nobody wanted to be in the cafeteria while children were everywhere. Obi-Wan was somewhat infamous in certain circles for braving the cafeteria at 0500 hours, when the space was completely overtaken by retired and venerated Masters sipping tea and playing intense grudge matches of shogi. Obi-Wan had been forced into the matter by his habit of waking up at 0430, but the shogi skills he learned had once settled a trade negotiation between two tribal groups with an ancestral grudge on a Mid-Rim planet, so he had no regrets.

Anakin was practically crushing his hand in excitement. His head whipped around everywhere, eyes wide and drinking in the sublimely banal and boring sight. There was the salad bar, there was the meat bar, there was the drink fountain...but to Anakin, it was the most amazing thing on Coruscant. It almost made Obi-Wan smile. When was the last time he had that expression on his face? Even the beautiful spires of Naboo were commonplace to him. 

“And they just -”

“Yes, they just give you the food.” Obi-Wan stopped in the center of the crowded thoroughfare - where, thankfully, everybody was far too focused on their meal or their friends to care about the Temple’s newest spectacle. “I’m sorry, Anakin. What do you...eat, again?”

Anakin suffered this atrocious act of caretaking patiently. What had he been eating until now? Just the self-stable noodles? Had he been handling boiling water?! “At home we ate jinjaraak and ekijun. People with money had fruit and stuff.” He looked around hopefully. “And they just give you fruit -”

“Right,” Obi-Wan said. He struggled to remember the food Shmi had served them. It had been mostly gruel. Obi-Wan had been around the block enough to see that she had been an adept cook of terrible ingredients. “Could you give me an idea of what those are?”

“Uh…” Anakin made little slapping motions with his hands. “Jinjaraak is from clay and lard and spices. I help Mom make little cakes. Like this, see?” At Obi-Wan’s dubious expression, he quickly clarified, “From the good clay. Near the dried up rivers. Not the bad clay. That stuff makes you sick. O’la’rek ate some of that and she got super sick and she barfed up blue -”

  “Let’s get you some fruit,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin got as much fruit as he wanted. Obi-Wan was too busy thinking about what ‘good clay’ could possibly mean to stop him. He could take the extra back to their quarters, anyway. 

There was a line for medical diets, and Obi-Wan eventually shuffled an ecstatic fruit-chomping Anakin into that line. He had to present the script the Halls of Healing gave him to the friendly yet belaboured Padawan working the booth that day, and waited patiently as the Padawan squinted at it and ran off to go get his supervisor. Anakin was in Rylothian Heaven, complete with the trees of plenty. 

Eventually the supervisor shuffled out, and when Obi-Wan recognized Master Law he bowed. The gruff Patitite squinted at Obi-Wan, then down at the effervescent Anakin with jogan juice staining his sleeve. It was a good thing Obi-Wan thought ahead and ordered extra robes.

“Kenobi,” Master Law finally said, with an air of crisp memory. “Iron deficiency.”

“Yes, Master.” Please don’t remind him. “I’m here with a prescription for my -”

“And the Vitamin D deficiency. And malnutrition?” Master Law squinted further at Obi-Wan, as if half-convinced that he couldn’t possibly be remembering correctly. “I had you eating Lo’rok paste for a month.”

“Yes, Master. After I was stationed on Neskar.”

“How the blazes was a Padawan stationed on -” Master Law cut himself off abruptly, staring down at Anakin instead. He looked him up and down with sharp eyes, seemingly picking out a dozen things that Obi-Wan just couldn’t see. “I’ll get you the nutrient shakes. See that he has one with every meal, three meals a day. I’m prescribing extra vitamin gummies, he’s a bit yellow. Those dietician hacks at the Halls of Healing don’t know anything about real food.”

Obi-Wan really didn’t want to get in the middle of that, so he just nodded. But Anakin blinked up at the man, flecks of seeds caught on the corner of his mouth. “What’s a gummy?”

“A very sweet, tasty candy,” Master Law said gravely. “Which young Padawans only receive when they are very brave.”

Anakin brightened. “What’s candy?”

“The best food in the galaxy.” Master Law’s stern countenance split into a sharp smile. “Seems like that’s just what the doctor ordered. If you’ve never had any, then that means I have to prescribe you a double dose.”

Anakin grinned to match, bright and wide, with yellow teeth and crinkled eyes. “That means I’m brave! I’m super brave! Padme said so, and you said so, so it’s like I’m extra brave!”

For some reason that he just couldn’t parse, Obi-Wan found himself anxiously saying, “I think you’re brave too, Anakin.” 

“Triple brave!”

The cafeteria was quickly proving to be Anakin’s favorite place in the Temple. Obi-Wan was reasonably certain that this was a good thing, because it made Anakin happy and happiness was good. That was a reliable fact of the universe: when happiness was scarce, sweet food could usually supply it. Sometimes you took what you could get.

Obi-Wan made an uncharacteristic move and placed a great deal of sugar on his oatmeal. Dumping sugar on oatmeal was crazy. This was probably what going insane felt like. Obi-Wan felt like a criminal. 

“You’re very boring, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said judgmentally. 

“I’m afraid so,” the ten time war veteran agreed. 

It could be worse. Nobody was around to see his shame but Anakin, and the small child wouldn't squeal. All he had to do was ply Anakin with nutrition shakes and fruit, take him back to their quarters, not leave their quarters again for another two weeks in order to recover from this experience, and -

“Obi-Wan! Goodness, Obi-Wan!”

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin jumped a foot in the air, Anakin fighting to keep his food balanced on his child-sized tray. But Obi-Wan recognized the voice, the smooth familiarity soothing his panicking heart and calming down his padawan by connection. 

Despite the fact that the voice was the last person he wanted to see.

Bant didn’t run, because she was a respectable Knight, but she did speedwalk in a dignified waddle towards Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin subtly slid closer to Obi-Wan, which he should really discourage. 

“Obi-Wan! Oh, goodness, you - you jerk, you big jerk!” Bant wrung her flippers, jowls shaking with the clear uge to wrap up Obi-Wan in her patented tight hug and foiled only by the tray that Obi-Wan was holding in front of him like a shield. “You’re an absolute bantha’s - oh!”

She had just noticed Anakin, who held his tray tightly. He was frowning at Bant, and Obi-Wan could feel a twinge of childish bad emotion across their still nascent bond. Wait. What bond?

Bant was oblivious, or put on a good show of it. “You must be Padawan Skywalker,” she said warmly. She bent down a little, and Obi-Wan was struck by nostalgia for her glimmering eyes and bright smile. Bant loved kids. Obi-Wan never had. “It’s so good to meet you! Have you been taking care of your silly master for me?”

Anakin pursed his lips judgmentally. “My teacher’s not silly,” Anakin said, a bit loudly. “He’s great and smart and does backflips. It’s not his fault he’s a jerk!”

Never mind. Obi-Wan was never taking Anakin out in public again. He carefully destroyed the urge to wince, settling for smiling weakly at Anakin. Bant looked a little taken back - shocked by the idea that Anakin could have taken her friendly teasing seriously. Or maybe that he would openly call Obi-Wan a jerk. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to contest it. It was fair. 

“Bant’s my best friend, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, with as much warmth as he could muster. His smile was looking more pathetic than anything, so he dropped it. “She knows how good my backflips are.”

“The best in the Temple!” Bant immediately swore up and down. “I’m awfully sorry, Anakin. I think your master’s the coolest guy here. Come on, why don’t you two come eat lunch with me and the rest of Obi-Wan’s friends? We’ve all been dying to meet the newest member of the family!”

A stone sank in Obi-Wan’s gut. He looked over the crowd, effortlessly picking out the familiar table in the back center. Sure enough, he saw the telltale gawks of Siri and Quinlan.

Joy. The two people he wanted to talk to the least. Those two ate Obi-Wan for breakfast on a good day. They would devour him now. They could smell weakness on him. He couldn’t get anything past them. They would take one look at him and know, just know - 

“Obi-Wan has friends?” Anakin asked dubiously. “But he just stays in his room all day.” Went tactfully unsaid: and nobody likes him. 

Somehow, the emotional obstacle course his friends were going to put him through was more appealing than the cold judgement of the nine year old. “I have plenty of friends,” Obi-Wan lied through his teeth. “Let’s go say hi.”

It felt like walking to the guillotine. Actually, Obi-Wan had walked to a guillotine before, and this was - no, it wasn’t worse. Hadn’t he done it twice? The first time was stressful, because he wasn’t sure if Qui-Gon had seduced the prison guard yet. The second time was fine, since he had hidden his lightsaber in the loose floorboard under the guillotine before he set up his own capture. So -  better than the first time, worse than the second time. 

Bizarrely, Siri and Quinlan grinned when they saw them. Obi-Wan was actively fighting the urge to hide behind the nine year old. The nine year old who he couldn’t possibly have formed a training bond with - he had been his padawan all of a week, it was impossible - but who had undoubtedly sensed his anxiety anyway. 

“Obi-Wan, I can’t fucking believe it,” Quinlan shouted, far too loudly. He and Bant’s trays were empty, while the slow eater Siri’s bowl of grains were half-eaten. They had been there for a while, probably hours, talking about life. He had always left after thirty minutes. He had stuff to do. “I must have left you ten damn voicemails -”

“You son of a varnaak.” Siri had a death grip on her spoon, wielding it like a lightsaber. “I’m strangling you with your intestine. Not inviting me to your own knighting -”

“If you’re going to be mean, we’re leaving!” Anakin interrupted, voice high and reedy. “I already said so! I will stomp your feet!”

“You’re not allowed to stomp their feet, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted beyond measure. “Hello, all. Save the interrogation for after we’ve eaten, please.”

And maybe it was the sheer power of Anakin and his mighty feet, but his friends quieted enough for Obi-Wan to shove sugary oats into his mouth and for Anakin to polish off his fruit before starting in on his nutrient shake. Obi-Wan had to stop and take a napkin and wipe the seeds off the corner of his mouth, and help him to insert the straw in the protein shake, but the act of sucking on a straw amused Anakin and he didn’t hate the taste. There were friendly animal species on the cup. Special nutrient shake for chronically malnourished children - now with bright colors! 

His friends just watched them, without even food to make the environment faux-casual. Their dark eyes seemed to follow him, and Obi-Wan felt his skin crawl. He didn’t want to deal with this. He could barely deal with Quinlan on a good day, much less...today. Any day, lately.

Finally, his grace period seemed to tick down to zero, and Quinlan broke the ice with a fishing spear and an excess of exuberance. “Is this the famous little guy we’ve heard so much about? I hear you’re a good pilot, kid!”

And, just like that, Quinlan was Anakin’s favorite person on Coruscant. “I’m the best pilot,” Anakin asserted arrogantly. Obi-Wan mentally noted the tendency for arrogance and pride down in the ‘Goal Setting!’ part of his brain that was half-heartedly drafting a training curriculum. “I can blow up anything and anyone.”

“Sounds like Quinlan,” Siri snickered. Unlike Bant, she was terrified of children, but she hid it well. “He and your master are Joballian twins that way. Those two could start a fire in deep space.”

“So who are you people?” Anakin asked. Obi-Wan put ‘unbelievably blunt’ in his mental training curriculum. “Are you really Obi-Wan’s friends? He doesn’t like you.”

“I like them very much,” Obi-Wan said rotely. Quinlan pantomimed a shot to the heart. 

But Bant just smiled down at Anakin, unflappable. “You’re a padawan, young one. You should call Obi-Wan your master. It’s good to be polite.”

“Why should I have to do that?” Anakin’s voice tinged a little louder, and at a pointed look from Obi-Wan he toned it down. Siri’s eyebrows rose. “He’s my teacher, not a master of no one.”

Bant winced a bit, and all three of them rippled discomfort in the Force. So they knew, even though it wasn’t totally public knowledge. Quinlan had undoubtedly used his ridiculous clearance as a Shadow to access the Naboo mission records and spilled the details to them. Keeping it professional, as always. 

“Master means something very different to Jedi,” Bant said gently. “It’s a special relationship between two people. Every Jedi teaches and learns from each other, but your master is the person who guides you and makes sure you go to bed on time. It’s just the same word for a very different thing than you’re used to.”

“What do you mean by that?” Anakin gnawed on his straw suspiciously. “I thought Obi-Wan was the one who taught me.”

Quinlan, who had far more experience with the wider world than Siri and Bant, caught on first. He propped his elbows on the table, and Obi-Wan saw him visibly struggle for the ‘wise teacher’ tone before giving up. “The Jedi have different relationships than you’re used to, kid. Who took care of you and watched you all day back home?”

This was heading into dangerous territory, and Obi-Wan frowned dangerously at Quinlan, but Anakin just hummed. “Mom took care of me and we moved around together. But Old Lady Hun watches me and the other kids in the gathering space when Mom’s busy. And when Jipol was sick, Mom and I took care of her two daughters. And Old Man Wa taught me how to fix things. And -”

“Right. So the Jedi are like that. Instead of a very small number of people raising kids, every adult raises every kid. So, for example, any Jedi would tell you to stop running in the halls or stop you from misbehaving -”

“And every Jedi did, with this one,” Siri added. 

“ - but any Knight or Master would help you with your homework, too,” Quinlan finished, elbowing Siri. “We all help each other here. We share food, stuff, school, and teachings. That’s why we practice nonattachment - everything’s everybody’s, not just yours. Make sense?”

Anakin’s brow was furrowed. He paid close attention to everything - chewing everything over again and again until it made sense. Obi-Wan shoveled oatmeal in his mouth, glad Quinlan was doing this. “Why does nonattachment mean you don’t get moms or dads?”

Dangerous territory. Bant opened her mouth to say something soothing, but Quinlan beat her to the punch. “Well, to Jedi, we think the idea of just putting two or three people in charge of kids is pretty crazy. Kids are loud and bouncy. One or two people would get totally stressed out and make mistakes. And imagine just a few people teaching you about life. They could believe all this crazy stuff, and then so would you.”

“And what if the parent’s being a total jerk?” Siri pointed out. “Then the kid’s stuck with that. But when there’s other people around, they can stop and tell the parent that they’re being a total jerk. Then they have to cut it out.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. “So nobody beats their kids here because the other Jedi would get mad?”

Awkward silence loomed. Finally, Quinlan said, “Yeah, totally. Anyway, that’s why our way rocks and makes sense. Boom. Teaching moment.” Quinlan slapped the table in victory. “We are so good at this. We’re going to be the greatest teachers ever, Anakin. Forget lame old Obi-Wan, he’s going to lead you down the path of boring. Stick with Knight Vos, I’m gonna lead you down the path that rocks.”

At Anakin’s deeply confused expression, Bant put a hand on his back. But when she spoke she spoke to Obi-Wan, gleaming eyes boring into his. “We’re Obi-Wan’s best friends. We’re going to be here for you almost as much as Obi-Wan is. None of us have padawans yet, so we’re all really excited to help you! Did you know I’m a doctor?”

Anakin perked up. He respected doctors highly - apparently it was a very prestigious position on Tatooine. “Wow! Obi-Wan’s friends with a doctor?”

“And I’m a superspy action hero, kid!” Quinlan flexed, tossing his dreads. “I can teach you how to hack into anything!”

“I’m a better pilot than anyone at this table.” Siri awkwardly waved her fist in the air in a pantomime of excitement. “I’ll help you...fly things. Which you can apparently already do. But I’ll teach you how to do it better.”

The idea was heady to Anakin. His eyes widened, filled with possibility and excitement. Of smiling adult faces, wanting to help. But he looked at Obi-Wan instead, fear sneaking in through the gap bored by long experience with misery. “So what does a master do, then?”

Obi-Wan smiled wanly at Anakin. Experimentally, he tried sending him as much warmth as possible. He didn’t have much to spare, but Anakin seemed to appreciate the sentiment. “I’ll protect you, Anakin. And I’d like it if you continued calling me Obi-Wan.”

And he knew that meant more to Anakin than all the rest. At least Obi-Wan won there. 

Although Obi-Wan had gone his entire life despairing for Quinlan’s future padawan, he somehow handled Anakin wonderfully. Even Siri awkwardly asked a question about Anakin’s favorite kind of ship - clearly expecting an answer along the lines of ‘a big one!’ or ‘one that shoots lasers!’ - and sat through Anakin’s ten minute scientific dissertations on the difference in engine ports between Genoshian Special X100 and Genoshian Special X200. 

When’s the last time Obi-Wan had a long conversation with Anakin, where they just talked about nothing? He’d been so selfish, focusing entirely on himself and not even thinking about Anakin. His friends were doing this a thousand times better than he was. They should be the one with a padawan, not him. Qui-Gon hadn’t thought he was ready for knighthood until - well, until it was convenient, but if it took him this long to be knighted he ought to be forty before he got a padawan. 

In a characteristically deft maneuver, Quinlan had flagged down a friend of his - Ku Lun, a friendly face and teacher to the Initiates - and gave Anakin a real world lesson in Jedi togetherness by asking him to walk Anakin back to their quarters. Anakin shot a panicked look at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan deeply wished to send a panicked look back, but he just nodded supportively. 

“Don’t you want to ask Knight Lun about lessons?” Obi-Wan said. “You can work together to design your school.”

The concept of school, and the power to choose it, was obviously heady to Anakin, and he jumped off the bench with only a tinge of reluctance. “Come back to the room in thirty minutes or you’re fired,” Anakin told Obi-Wan gravely, yet nonsensically, before running off with Knight Lun. 

It wasn’t until the sounds of Anakin’s chattering faded, then disappeared completely, that Obi-Wan turned back to his friends with a sigh. Their plot had worked. Quinlan and Siri’s perfect score in tactics - second only to his more than perfect score - had won again. He was subject to the masses, and the masses were stressed over his wellbeing. 

Better make the pre-emptive strike. “Greetings, my honored friends,” Obi-Wan said dully. “My very best friends in the galaxy, whom I have not spoken to in months.”

“And whose fault is that, you asshole!” Quinlan thumped the table, making the plasteelware rattle, and cuing a withering look from Bant. “You drop out of contact. You leave on a routine diplomatic mission. You get wrapped up in an interplanetary war, obviously, because that’s how your routine missions always go. And you come back with a kid and the head of a Sith?”

“You have the situation well in hand, Quinlan. There’s nothing more I can teach you.”

“Idiot! I’m not asking for a mission report, here.” Quinlan set his mouth, as tempestuous as ever. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?

Maybe Bant caught something on his expression, because she placed a reassuring flipper on his arm. “We’re sorry about Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan. We know how much he meant to you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“You can’t get rid of us just because you don’t talk to us.” Siri scooped the rest of her oats in her mouth, clearly regretful that she no longer had something to hide behind. “Reeft and Garen feel the same way. You’re lucky Garen’s on a mission, or he would have staked out your door.” He would have. Garen was insane. “I know they waived the two weeks in solitude considering your circumstances, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it. Anakin needs -”

“As his master, I have the best idea of what Anakin needs.” Obi-Wan kept his voice flat, dispassionate. He wasn’t a child anymore, not that impetuous Initiate who yelled and stomped and screamed. Obi-Wan had drowned that anger under thick layers of Jedi robe years ago. “I appreciate and understand your concern. However, I ask for faith in my abilities to handle my padawan.”

“Oh, no. Not the ‘I Am A Perfect Jedi And You Are The Irresponsible Bugs Beneath My Feet’ voice.” Siri didn’t sound amused, as she normally would be while making fun of him. What was funny about speaking properly? “Don’t shut down on us.”

“I’ve never understood where you got the impression that Jedi don’t have feelings, Obi-Wan,” Bant scolded, “but you know it’s not true. Jedi feel their feelings. They feel them and release them. This is you repressing them. They’re just going to fester and get worse if you do that.”

“Yes, Bant. I recieved top marks in Philosophy 101, same as you.” Obi-Wan picked at his sealed up, the rims of thick juice sloshing in the corners, before forcing himself to stop. He forced his hands still on the table, pressing them down hard on the linoleum. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what good a confession would do to all of you. Obviously I miss my master. Obviously I’m all…very sad about it.” Obi-Wan jerked his shoulders in a half-shrug, ignoring everyone’s unimpressed looks. “What good will talking about it do? I have to remain focused. In the real world, you don’t get the luxury of hermitage.”

“Luckily, you’re not in the real world.” Bant’s wry tone imparted the air quotes around ‘real world’. “You’re home. You and Anakin are safe here.” Obi-Wan snorted. “Knight Kenobi, what was that?”

Uh oh. But Siri unknowingly came to his rescue, leaning forward with as intent and sympathetic expression as she could wring from her usually severe countenance. “Don’t give me that dung, Obi-Wan. I cried for a month after Master Tahl died. You were there for me every second of it. What, are you so special that you don’t need help? Are you so much better than us that you don’t feel what every sentient feels? Your ‘better than you’ attitude doesn’t make you better than yourself.”

Bant made a warbling sound of frustration. “Siri, let’s not insult the person we are trying to help.”

“It’s not my fault he’s so - look, this is about Anakin -”

A tightly wound rope of...of something bad snapped in Obi-Wan’s gut. “You don’t think I can handle him.”

“Nobody’s saying that, brother,” Quinlan said, placating for the first time in his life, “but it’s like I was just telling the little guy, right? Nobody can do this by themselves. Cultures that try to do it are - they’re just crazy!”

“None of you think I can do this,” Obi-Wan whispered harshly, trying to keep the - the bad thing locked tight inside, incapable. It wouldn’t stop overflowing, a cup that runneth over. “Nobody in this Temple thinks I’m capable of taking care of him. They don’t think he can be a Jedi. It’s my fault. It’s because he has such a fuck-up for a master.”

Everybody around him suddenly radiated extreme alarm in the Force in unison. Was it really that unusual for him to say the words that swirled around in his head every hour of the day?

“Obi-Wan, we’re the fuck-ups. I mean, me and Siri and Garen. You and Bant are the Rylothian angels here.”

“That’s not what everybody else thinks,” Obi-Wan said lowly. “I’ve always been tainted because of Qui-Gon. Now just being around me is going to taint Anakin. Everybody knows it.”

“Tainted?” Bant asked with alarm. What was alarming? “What are you talking about -”

But Obi-Wan barrelled through her, unwilling to hear whatever sweet and placating words she had for him today. He stood up, carefully stepping off the bench and fussily fixing his robes with hands that did not shake. “We are going to prove it to them. Anakin will become a Jedi. I will make Anakin a Jedi, if it’s the last thing I do.”

He swept off, feeling a little bit dramatic, feeling as if he had expelled the smallest amount of emotion he could. That was the least he could give, portioning out bits of himself to the hungry and braying crowd. 

Why did they want these pieces of him so desperately? What was valuable about these hideous parts of Obi-Wan - the fear, the insecurity, the nightmares shaking him awake each night? People like Bant and Quinlan dug and dug and dug until they found what they were looking for, as if they wanted to prove something to themselves, to him, to the Jedi. 

Prove that he was inferior. Prove that he was just as wild and angry as everybody always said. Prove that his flimsy mask of ‘A Perfect Jedi’ was nothing more than a stage actor placing a pulp-mache bantha’s head mask over his face and strutting about as if he was a king.  Prove what Qui-Gon had always thought of him: that any love for him could only be held at arm's length, that a kid who needed to prove himself never required support or a helping hand, that there was no such thing as ‘good enough’ when you lived in competition with ghosts and shadows. 

Prove what everybody knew, and what Obi-Wan could not hide.

***

When Obi-Wan got home, Anakin was lying on the ground committing atrocities upon the ravaged corpse of a pilfered library droid.

“Please start putting down a tarp when you do that,” Obi-Wan said. “You’ve been getting oil into the carpet.” He paused a beat. “And please stop sneaking away from chaperones.”

“But I need to practice sneaking away from good guys so I can be good at sneaking away from bad guys! And it’s not like I was caught.” Anakin didn’t look up at him, absorbed in his work. “That’s Jedi lesson three, right? ‘Do whatever you want, just don’t get caught’?”

“When had - why do -” Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the one day exposure to Qui-Gon. But..in the face of that logic, Obi-Wan was forced to concede. It was objectively true. “Yes. But make an exception for me. Just don’t get caught by others.”

“You got it! Hey, pinch this wire for me.”

So Obi-Wan lay down on his stomach across from Anakin, staring at him from over a sea of rusty machinery. His round little face, somehow still clinging onto baby fat, was smooth as only a child’s could be. It was flaky and rough from the blistering heat of twin suns, but he had ointment now. His featherly light blonde hair would darken without its sunshine bleach, and it would grow long in limp brown shags. He would look like his mother - if, apparently, there was no father to speak of. 

His expression was screwed up in concentration, tongue poking out of his teeth as he carefully screwed in a bolt where it likely was not intended to go. There was something strangely beautiful about him in that moment - an intelligence at work, a powerful focus rarely applied. He glowed in the Force like a sun, overwhelming and breath-taking. 

But when Obi-Wan’s breath caught, he wasn’t sure if it was the Force. Maybe it was just Anakin. Could you fall in love like this? Just by looking at somebody, just by feeling how great they could be? Stronger than Obi-Wan, more righteous than Qui-Gon? Kinder than Master Dooku, more vibrant than Grandmaster Yoda? 

Could he be better? Or would Obi-Wan only make him worse?

“Do you like my friends?” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Gimmie a min’.” Anakin finished screwing the bolt, huffing at the piece. “Bad. Gotta redo...what didya say?”

“Do you like my friends?”

“Oh!” Anakin brightened. “They’re super cool and awesome Jedi! They’re just like I thought Jedi would be. Bant’s a doctor! Did you know that?”

“I did.” A pang shot through Obi-Wan’s heart. “They’d be better teachers than I. I’m sorry, Anakin. I’m sorry you’re stuck with…”

“No way! I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s expression crumpled a little, although he bravely tried to keep it straight. He was already picking that up from Obi-Wan. “I’m why everybody keeps looking at us weird...it’s all my fault. All the Jedi hate us.”

“Anakin, no. The Jedi love all sentient beings.” Judging from Anakin’s expression, Obi-Wan was speaking straight bantha poodoo and acting as if the Corellian moons were made of cheese. “It’s true. They’d - they’d all help you. You don’t need to rely on me.”

Wires hissed and sparked. Anakin was quiet for a moment, stripping some wires with a deft, chubby hand and tying them together. He reached out to grab a blowtorch, but at Obi-Wan’s dangerous expression he carefully retreated his hand. It was a matter of time until he was using his lightsaber to solder metal. Incorrigible. Finally, Anakin said, “What Mr. Quinlan -”

“Knight Quinlan.”

“Knight Quinlan was talking about how you’re just there to guide me and teach me the Jedi way for a few years. And they all acted like the master and padawan thing is so special and great, but…” His face crumpled a little, overcome by an emotion he couldn’t name. “When we had to leave Mom behind...I thought that meant that you were going to be Mom now. But they aren’t going to let us. They’re going to make other people teach me because they don’t like you, and - and - and!”

Fat tears were rolling down Anakin’s cheeks, no matter how hard he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. Obi-Wan quickly sat up and moved closer to Anakin, wrapping him in a hug and letting Anakin press his head into Obi-Wan’s tunic. He would probably have to get this one cleaned with Anakin’s robe. He didn’t know why he was focusing on that instead of Anakin’s hitched breaths as he tried to control his tears.

“Nobody’s going to take you away from me, Anakin.” That wasn’t what he meant to say. That was far too possessive. That hadn’t come out right. But what had Obi-Wan meant to say? “We all just want what’s best for you. You might be happier with the others.” Obi-Wan faltered. “You could be a normal child here. Take lessons. Play with the other children. Learn and grow and be happy. My padawanship, Anakin...it was dangerous and isolated. That’s the kind of life I’ve always lived. I don’t want to expose you to that.”

Anakin separated from him, eyes red-rimmed but dry. “They aren’t strong! All the kids and the old people here - they’re weak! Nothing bad’s ever happened to them, so they think sad people like us are freaks. But you’re strong, Obi-Wan. I want to be strong and just like you. I’m not embarrassed to be your padawan.” He faltered a little, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s okay that you’re sad and that I had to make food for a little bit. Mom would get sad sometimes too. She couldn’t leave bed and stuff. I would take care of Mom and make her food. I don’t mind making you food. The slaves all had each other, we did, but...Mom and I took care of each other. We can take care of each other. It’s just you and me. Right?”

Obi-Wan embraced Anakin tightly, fighting to control his breathing. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the correct way to do this. He had to be more like Qui-Gon - professional and strong and affectionate. Qui-Gon would have never let Obi-Wan cling to him like this, swearing an oath that neither of them should ever make. 

Nobody was going to help them. None of them had ever forgotten how Obi-Wan had been a failure as a child, and none of them were ever going to forget where Anakin came from. No matter what they all said, their bright smiles and helping hands - none of them understood what it was like. It was just Obi-Wan and Anakin from now on. 

In some strange way, it felt as if it had always been. As if Obi-Wan had only been alone, because he had not met or loved Anakin yet. 

This wasn’t the kind of master Obi-Wan should be. He should be discouraging this desperation and neediness. But he couldn’t discourage it in himself, and he had no idea how to quench it in either of them. 

As the Rylothians would say - if this was a sin, then hell had greater need of him than heaven. 

He would put in the request for active mission duty. If Anakin grew up like he did - in the midst of adventure and hardship - then he could attain the strength he so desired. That was all Obi-Wan knew how to offer, and that was Qui-Gon’s legacy.

“It’s just you and me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan swore, and damned himself. “It’s just you and me…”

[hellotherekenobi]

─── tired. [pt.ii]

summary: tired from a mission, you fall asleep on obi-wan's shoulder.

index: part one.

MINI-SERIES. ⟶ 2,533 WORDS.

cw: padawan!reader, master kenobi.

a/n: big thank you to those who helped me with this idea and giving me one hell of an inspiration boost!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It felt as if you had blinked. When your eyes opened, you expected to see the inside of the ship you and your master were on, and yet, you saw the inside of your private quarters. It didn’t seem like you had fallen asleep that long, but with how heavy your head felt and the feeling of sleep in your eye, apparently it was much longer than that. On any other day, you would have assumed that perhaps you were so tired that you forgot walking to your quarters yourself, but the sheets were far too neatly tucked to have been your doing.

Someone had carried you, and that same someone had tucked you in.

You sit up and look around, expecting to find something. You were alone in the room, that much was clear. How long it was since you were brought here, you don't know, but it’s definitely no mystery as to who that someone was. After all, who else was with you when you fell asleep? Then, speak of the devil, your comlink beeps. It’s loud enough that it startles you wide awake, as you scramble about in the sheets after patting your pockets and finding them empty. Finally, after some more digging, your fingers touch the curve of it and you quickly pick it up, but much too quick, you find, it slips right out of your hand and goes flying for your door.

Hitting the floor with a thud, your knees sink into the carpet as you start to shuffle over to your discarded, and hopefully not broken, comlink, almost burning your knees through the fabric of your robes. Imagine having to tell the Council that the red marks on your knees were due to carpet burn and not the mission. As you reach your comlink and swoop it up in your hand, you try your best to sound casual and not as if you had just woken up and bee-lined for the call.

“Hello?”

“Ah, you’re awake. How did you sleep?” it’s your master’s voice.

“Um, good, thank you.” you wait a moment. “How did I get here?”

You can hear Obi-Wan chuckle through the line. “You were completely asleep by the time the jet landed. I couldn’t find it in myself to wake you up.”

Okay. Processing... connecting the dots... registering. Obi-Wan, your master, carried you all the way from the hanger bay to your quarters?

“Yes, well, I couldn’t have woken you up even if I tried.”

Oh kriff, you had said your thoughts out loud.

“There’s much to do today. I know you would like to get some more rest in, but I hardly think I would be much of a Jedi Master if I let you take a day off.”

“Right, of course.” you say. “I’ll be ready in a moment.”

“Take your time. We don’t want you walking around with your robes on backward again, do we?”

Click. You hang up on Obi-Wan.

─────── ⋯ ───────

Obi-Wan’s lips curve into a soft smile, barely there but still noticeable. His comlink sits inside his pocket after he had put it there with a laugh, thinking of how you must have groaned at the memory he mentioned when he had called you earlier. He couldn’t help it, he loved to poke fun at you from time to time—you almost made it too easy. He also couldn’t help but think of you earlier, falling asleep on his shoulder. It was cute.

“Master Kenobi?”

His eyes lift up to the mention of his name. For a moment, he looks on in silence, wondering why he had been called (and completely forgetting his reason for being here), until he remembers.

“Yes,” he sits up in his seat, knees hitting each other. “I believe so.”

The Council members nod and for a moment it seems as if he’s getting away with the very obvious fact that he hadn’t been paying attention. Only for a moment. His arm is nudged by the Jedi next to him, one who had been on the mission too, and he quirks his brow. Obi-Wan shakes his head before crossing his arms and looking outward again, this time actually trying to listen.

He can hear the Jedi chuckle beside him, but he doesn’t mind. He’s alright being swept up in his thoughts of you, of how proud he is of you and of how young you make him feel, as the years go on and he finds himself growing further away from the young padawan he used to be. You almost help him make time stand still, like there could never be a sunset with the promise of spending the day with you. When he’s with you, he feels that same easy-going amiability he felt with his former master.

When the meeting is over and Obi-Wan leaves the room alongside the other Jedi, he finds you standing not too far from the door. The first thing he does is check your robes. On right. Good. The next thing he does is smile at you, which has you bopping a bit on the spot and smiling back at him. Sometimes he thinks one look at your smile could end the war. If only it were that simple.

“You look well-rested.” Obi-Wan says as he nears you, patting you ‘hello’ on the shoulder.

You smile, looking around you, watching the other Jedi walking past for a moment. “That was the most sound sleep I’ve had in months.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad to hear it. That must mean that you’re ready for a full day of training.”

The grumble under your breath does not go amiss to Obi-Wan.

─────── ⋯ ───────

You’re so tired again. This time it wasn’t a long mission, or an army of droids, but your very own master who had the audacity to smile at you all dazzling-like, as if he couldn’t tell how badly you wanted to hit your bed right now—or the floor, if you stay here any longer—after the training you went through today. He was seemingly upping the pressure each time you two trained and you had to wonder why he was doing so all of the sudden. Anytime you asked him, though, you were met with the same response: “It’s for your benefit.” Gee, thanks.

By the time your heels are aching, Obi-Wan finally calls a wrap on training. You could jump with glee if you had the energy, so instead you just smile at him and mutter a ‘thank you’ as you reach for your cloak on the chair beside him.

“You’re doing very well. I can see your progress each day.” he says, smiling up at you.

“All thanks to your training, master.” you reply, trying to hold back a yawn.

Obi-Wan chuckles. “You better go get some rest.”

“If you insist.” you shrug your shoulders, even though you’re internally crying with joy, then slip your cloak on.

You tell him goodbye, and goodnight, before trudging out of the training room and heading over to your private quarters. As you turn down the hallway where your door is, you’re greeted by a few other padawans who are walking in the direction you came from. They smile politely at you and you offer a wave, when suddenly one of them says: “Caraya’s soul, you look like death.” GEE, THANKS.

“I’ve been training so much these last few days,” you tell them. “I’m just really tired.”

“Where’s Master Kenobi?” one of them asks, looking behind you.

“Back in the training room. Why do you ask?”

“I figured he’d carry you to your quarters again.”

Some of them giggle when you stand there mutely. Take a deep breath, you tell yourself, then you try to laugh it off. “You saw that?”

“Who didn’t? You were out like a saber.”

“If you ask me,” another one pipes up. “it was pretty romantic. I wish he’d carry me like that.”

“You’re so lucky to have him as a master.”

You start to zone out from the embarrassment of it all, only picking up a few words and the grumble of one of them being trained by Master Windu. It’s a bit of a blur when they say goodbye, with you forming a smile in a tight line and then hurrying into your quarters just up ahead. They saw! If they saw, then who else did? You hadn’t really ever thought about it. To be honest, you were trying to forget about it. You’re so incredibly tired and this isn’t helping.

“Oh, Maker,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “This is horrible! How can I possibly fall asleep now?”

As soon as you hit the bed, you’re out.

─────── ⋯ ───────

It’s for your benefit, that’s what Obi-Wan kept telling you. It wasn’t exactly the honest answer, but in a way it was. Truthfully, Obi-Wan does want to see you progress to becoming a Jedi Knight. He knows you have it in you. Yet also truthfully, he’s been pushing a bit more with your training because... well because he’s holding onto the ridiculous hope that you might fall asleep on his shoulder again if you’re really tired.

He thought he had done rather well at avoiding attention the day he carried you back to your quarters. No one had spoken about it and he hadn’t heard a single mention of it from the Council either. Yet all it takes is the giggling of a few padawans walking toward the training room, hushed together, and becoming silent the moment they see him standing in the doorway for him to think kriff. He steps to the side for them to walk on ahead and they all smile at him politely, before going back to their hushed talking.

Obi-Wan makes a hurried pace over to your quarters. He’s hoping they didn’t say anything to you, or that you didn’t piece it together by their giggles alone, like he just did. It’s a horrible feeling in his chest when he knocks on your door. He’s felt his heart skip a beat many times in his life, mostly when fighting, but nothing compares to the feeling now—it’s almost thunderous. The true worry starts to kick in when you don’t answer his knocking. Were you upset? Embarrassed? It’s too much for Obi-Wan to think about, so he pushes the door open with the force and steps inside, ready to apologize or at least explain himself, when a noise shuts him up.

You’re... snoring.

There you are, sprawled out on the bed, almost looking like a heap of fabric and you’re snoring. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he should be happy or disappointed that you’re asleep, and then all together he feels apologetic. He worked you too hard. He let himself want so much that he didn’t even really think about how it was affecting you. He feels like the most oblivious Jedi Master in the galaxy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, though he knows you can’t hear him.

He stands there a bit awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He needs to tell you he’s sorry in person, not like this. Letting out a deep sigh, he turns on his heel and makes his way back over to the door, and then for the second time since he stepped inside your quarters, a noise stops him in his tracks.

“Obi-Wan,” it’s your voice, muffled and sleepy.

His heart is definitely thundering. He steps back over to you quickly, his fingers instinctually reaching out to brush gently along your cheek. “Yes?”

Your eyes flutter open and his worries dissipate when you crinkle your nose at him, smiling slightly. There it is, the smile that could end the war.

“Can you tuck me in before you go?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, feeling all the weight in his chest drop to his feet and melt into the floor. “Of course, dear one.”

He’s as gentle as ever, pulling the sheets up and over your body, moving the pillow slightly so that you can lay more comfortably. It’s almost like the first time, expect this time your eyes are still smiling up at him. When he’s done, he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead and this time he can see just how far your smile grows.

“Rest well.”

He lets you sleep in the next morning, no matter what kind of Jedi Master that makes him.

─────── ⋯ ───────

The jet lands smoothly and Obi-Wan is thankful. He didn’t want a rough landing to wake you up, but then he remembers that you have to wake up—the jet is landed and it’s time to get off. But he can’t. He can’t wake you, not when you look so peaceful and he was enjoying the feeling of your head on his shoulder. He probably could have gotten some sleep in as well, if he was being honest with himself. You have a way of helping him switch off of battle mode; turning him back into a person, rather than a General.

He simply wants this moment to last a little longer, but the door hisses open and the ramp lowers before he could even think to wish the thought. He doesn’t let up, though, so he waits until you’re both the last people on the jet. Then, very gently, he moves to cradle you in his arms; scooping you up and lifting you from the seat. He carries you the way over to your private quarters, not caring about some of the eyes on him, but does take an alternate route to save yourself from any future embarrassment, should anyone mention it to you when you’re awake. You’re still a padawan but no longer a child. He can only imagine what a sight this is and how you’d hold this to him for months if word spread.

When the door opens and he walks inside, he almost stops to allow the feeling of you in his arms to linger just a little longer, yet settles you down onto your bed before he can let himself stand there. He tucks the sheets in over your body, after putting your lightsaber on the nightstand. He wouldn’t want that turning on, Maker knows he’s almost done it a few times. Your hand is curled in an open fist on the pillow, right beside your face. You look so peaceful, not at all as if you had fought off a hoard of droids just a few hours before.

He wonders if you’re dreaming and, maybe, if those dreams involve a life free from the Order, where you didn’t have to fight for peace because there was already peace in the galaxy. Obi-Wan won’t lie to himself, he’s often wondered what his life would be like if he weren’t a Jedi and if there were no war. Would he farm? Would he do something creative, like paint? Would he still have met you? No, there’s no dream that could be worth nearly enough from the reality of knowing you. He wouldn’t offer it up for anything.

The only dream Obi-Wan has is that you can fall asleep on his shoulder again.

taglist: @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @alwayssleepingforreal @immoral-rose @bloodybunnyuwu @nagitokomaeda-onthe-nintendo-ds @princessxkenobi @mythandmagik @i-cant-hear-you16 @pradahux @inukako @whyiminlove @cosmicsierra @dxnxdjarxn @voidmalfoy @darthkenobii @chogisss @obiwns @nectav @hellolitty

[eucalyptuspines]

Lean On Me

Wrecker x Reader Fan Fiction

Chapter One

The Bad Batch

⚠️warning⚠️ This is a slow burn romance (also on ao3 and Wattpad SMUT , SEX, ORAL SEX, VIOLENCE, 18+ story

I do not own Star Wars or the characters

The OC (reader) was create through me and that is all..

For the Wrecker Simps

"This is Master Obi Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen. With a dark shadow of the empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi, trust in the force. Do not return to the temple that time has passed, and our future is uncertain. We will each be challenged. Our trust...our faith...our friendships, but we must persevere and in time a new hope will emerge. May the force be with you. Always"

———————————————————-

His words echoed in your mind every moment. It didn't matter if you were asleep or awake. The friends you once had were gone, maybe even dead. Your allies in battle, turned their backs on you. Everything was gone.

Maybe I could have stopped it. You thought to yourself.

Your eyes open at the thought, churning your empty stomach with guilt and sadness.

You could still see your master, lying on the ground, the smell of pennies overwhelming you. Shards of glass laying scattered over his robes and around his mangled body.

You could have tried to heal him or seek medical attention. Your mind strikes against you, stirring your stomach even more.

Word was that even the younglings in the temple that night were slain.

You had no contact from anyone at the temple to verify the rumor circulating throughout the city you resided in. Word always seemed to travel fast, especially if there was a high body count.

They died because you are a coward. Another strike.

You kicked the sheets that are laying on top of you and sit up in your bed, reaching over to grab the glass of water on your nightstand. Hands trembling, you bring the glass of water to your lips and slowly drink.

Still shaking you place the cup back on the nightstand and throw your head back down on the pillow with a deep sigh.

Just when you think the water helped, your mind probed at you again.

They had their whole life ahead of them, and they were snuffed out like a flame on a candle.

You threw the sheets off your body and ran to the bathroom.

Lifting the toilet lid, you threw up including all the water you just drank. You could feel the stomach bile burning the back of your throat and caused you to gag. You continued to dry heave a few more times before finally the nausea subsided. You use your arm to wipe the sweat between your brows, while the other hand flushed the toilet.

Standing on shaky legs, you walk to the sink and throw cold water on your face and brush your teeth vigorously. Shutting off the light you return to your living space where you bed lays. There wasn't much to look at. You couldn't exactly live-in luxury when you were a wanted fugitive to the newly developed Empire.

A bed, a shower, food and books were all you needed to be content. Luckily all those things were in the small little hut you chose to dwell in. Sure, the kitchen was tiny, and the bathroom could use repairs but at least it was something, at least you were still alive...unlike your brothers and sisters in the order.

You shake the thought from your head and rub your face with your hands. You look down to the floors examining the cracks beneath your feet. The coolness was welcoming, chasing away the lingering heat that was radiating off your body. Maybe if you could manage to keep under the radar, you could fix this place up, make it your own. Make it a worthy home. The hut had good bones, it just needed a little tender love and care.

The window was cracked open, letting a small breeze caress your flushed cheeks. The fresh air coming through was a delightful bonus, calming your anxious mind. Taking few deeps breaths, you close your eyes and try to pinpoint the certain smells circulating in front of you.

You could smell wood burning, meats being cooked over a flame along the streets of the city. You smelled the sweet caramel of the Mantell Mix you loved. You were soaking it all in when your stomach began to growl at you, asking for food.

You tried to think about the last thing you ate. You didn't think you ate anything solid for a couple days. Your mind was always preoccupied, and you didn't really think about feeding yourself. Maybe that was the guilt.

Guilt.

Your old masters face came back into your mind, blood gurgling in his mouth as he tried to speak.

You push the memory down, knowing that it was not going to help you to keep reliving that moment. As hard as it may be, you knew that you needed to get past this.

You can't change the past, you can only impact your future and the choices you make.

Of course, you want to push the memory down, it is your fault he died! You deserve to suffer!Your mind screamed.

Taking a deep breath, you turn to your trunk at the end of your bed. Bending down, you unhook the clasps and start searching for a fresh tunic and pants. As you sift through your belongings, your hand grazes something hard and smooth. You pull it out from underneath the clothing and books. Your lightsaber coming into view. It was a sleek metal with black gripping at the end of the hilt. You ignite it once, admiring the bright blue light emanating from the hilt. The soft hum of the lightsaber playing like music in your ears.

You missed the days of peace in the galaxy, everyone working together to make this a better place.

Once the Clone Wars kicked off there wasn't much peace. Jedis were being spread out all throughout the galaxy, fighting alongside the manufactured clones from Kamino. The Separatists threatened to destroy all the hard work that went into builing the Republic.

Even though it was war, you never imagined for the order and the Republic to fall. Never anticipated the clones to turn on their generals that they worked alongside for years. Our own men gunning us down like a bunch of clankers. You just didn't understand what went wrong, and you may never find out what happened on that day.

You turn your saber off and shove it deep down into your trunk. You grab a grey sweater sitting on the top and a pair of brown pants, not feeling like digging even more for a tunic.

Once you change into your clothes you grab your robe, walking out the front door, locking it behind you. Before you leave the ally, you bring the hood of the robe over your eyes, hiding your identity to the world. You did this any time you left your new home.

Ord Mantell city was quite nice, if your kept to yourself and stayed out of others peoples business, which should be common sense.

Don't involve yourself in business that has nothing to do with you.That was your motto.

This city was surrounded by crime lords, but if you stayed out of their way, they wouldn't bother you. Not that you were worried too much about anyone hurting you. You may be small and look fragile, but you packed a lethal bite. Not to mention your saber skills was that of poetry.

Many of the other Jedi praised your rhythm and technique, including Skywalker who was amazing with his saber.

The truth was, you let the force flow through you, letting it take over your body. It almost felt like the force itself had a mind of its own, using your body as if you were the sword. This always seemed to cause a challenge for your opponents. You were not exactly predictable in your moves, which made you extremely dangerous.

As you walk down the road aiming toward Cids parlor, you pass children playing in the street. Creatures of all nature in cages were being sold to customers. Venders were selling their goods to people, and people arguing over costs and trying to bargain. The smell of the meats and sweets were intoxicating, making your stomach growl even more. Luckily Cids Parlor was only a couple buildings down, so it wasn't too much trouble.

Cid was a good Trandoshan, who you knew through the Order. Often when we were looking for information on specific crime syndicates, we went to Cid. Sure, she always worked at an angle, but as the years went on you developed a very strong friendship with her.

You opened the door to the parlor. The smell of smoke and booze suffocating your nose. You walked down the right corridor into the large, dimmed cantina. Cid was nowhere in sight, so you seat yourself. Anytime you came in, either her or her workers would drop a bowl or plate of food with a large drink in front of you without saying a word. It was an easy and nice transaction.

Cid never tried to pry, never tried to make me talk about anything that happened that day. She knew I would talk when I needed to.

The workers only took a liking to you because you normally tipped exceptionally well.

You sit in the far corner of the room with your hood still shrouding your face in darkness. The people surrounding you may not be able to see your face, but you always monitored the room with the hood down. Your eyes were always scanning and observing.

As expected, your food was set down in front of you along with a large glass of water and a plate of bread. The worker walking away not saying a word. See, easy.

Not bothering to use silverware, you picked up the beef chunks and potatoes with your fingers, enjoying the savory flavors Cids cook had created.

As you continue to eat and scan the room you notice a small group you have never seen before. Although, you didn't really have a set schedule when you came in, so they may not be new at all.

Four men in armor and a very young blonde girl sat by the bar talking amongst themselves. You tried to get a better look at the armor to see if they were imperial, or possibly bounty hunters looking for their next job.

You tear a piece of bread, dunking in the juices the meat was resting in. As you swallow you look over at the group once more, finding that the young girl was staring right back at you. There was something oddly familiar about her, like you had seen her face before.

The girl talked up to one of the men who looked in your direction. You shoved another piece of beef in your mouth staring down at your half-eaten meal. The pain in your stomach finally subsiding. When you look back up, all of them are staring in your direction.

Although they can't see your eyes, you look down to break eye contact, sipping your water letting it chase down a piece of dry bread. Without looking, you can hear footsteps coming towards you.

When you looked back up, the men were closer. You realized that these weren't imperial or even bounty hunters. These were clones. They looked slightly different from one another, but their armor although not the same color, reminded you of your troops that fought beside you.

Yep. Clones.

"Just kriffing great." You mumble to yourself. You pop the last piece of meat in your mouth, rising from your seat. Pulling out the credits, you set them down on the table and turn away.

The footsteps were speeding up now. You continue to walk away from them.

"I said HEY!" you hear from behind you as a large hand crashes down on your shoulder.

You quickly grab his hand and twist it. Using more speed than you have in weeks, you rush behind him and hold his twisted arm behind his back, holding his elbow in place along the middle of his back so he can't move.

"Now is that any way to get the attention of a lady?" You ask in a sweet voice.

You use the force to toss him down to the ground.

As you stare down at the man, you noticed the sheer size of him. This guy was huge. He was nothing like the clones you worked with, but you could still see the small resemblance in the face. Your clones were smaller, lean and always clean cut and shaven. This man had stubble along his jaw line, looking more rogued. He had one brown eye and one eye that was completely white. The left side of his face had a huge, webbed scar that wrapped around the ear.

He looked at you stunned, you guess because you are so small compared to him and his brothers.

"Did she just man handle Wrecker?" One of the men asked. His voice sounding very familiar to you.

You turn to look at the source, seeing a man extremely pale, looking exactly like your troops.

This was Captain Rexs friend, Echo was his name. You remember the mission Skywalker went on that rescued him.

As you take in Echo and the rest of the men, it finally clicked into place, realizing who these men were. This was Clone Force 99.

Your heart rate picking up, not knowing who to target first. You ran through scenarios in your head, wondering what would get you out of this cantina without causing too much of a scene. You really didn't want to deal with spectators or have your identity revealed to these men, who knows what they would do with a Jedi.

"Who the fuck are you?" said the man on the ground, rising to his feet once more.

"Listen boys, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, hard way being I wipe the floor with your faces." You look at all of them individually evaluating who to take out first.

Readying yourself for a fight you notice the entire cantina has eyes on you. You could hear a pin drop it was so quiet. You then hear Cid fighting her way through the crowd trying to get to the center of the disturbance.

"Move...Move.... MOVE!" she yells as she emerges behind the clones.

"All of you, in the back room, NOW!" She yelled pointing a finger to the door where the kitchen was.

You sigh in annoyance and stare at the man who grabbed your shoulder.

"Well done brute! Maybe if you could learn to keep your hands to yourself, I wouldn't have to be yelled at like a child!" You yell.

You look down at the young child who is staring up at you with fascination "No offense."

You follow Cid and the group back through the door into the kitchen where the burners looked to be cold, they must have saved food for me just in case. You had to remember to thank the cook some time.

Cid ushers all of you to the table in the corner of the room.

"I am trying to run a business; I don't need fighting in my parlor. Take it outside next time." She says while she rests a hand on the table, we all stood around.

Cid looks towards you.

"And take off that damn hood, you look more suspicious lurking in the corner than you would with the hood down!" She yelled.

"Why are you looking at me? That giant Wampa started it!" you defend yourself, crossing your arms over your chest.

She stared at you pointedly.

You sigh and pull the hood off your face. Cid looks towards the giant waiting for his reply.

"What? We are on the run! She looked suspicious and Omega said- "Cid cuts him off mid-sentence.

"Omega said? Nice Wrecker, blame the child." She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Silence falls around the table until Echo breaks it.

"You look familiar..." He says, looking at you, trying to figure out why.

"Nope, I don't think so." You say as you avoid eye contact.

"You're a jedi aren't you?" He asks, seeming to already know the answer.

You look at him, remembering the fond memories you created with your squad. The friendships formed while serving on the battlefield with one another.

If I were with my men, would they have killed me? You ask yourself.

Your eyes become foggy as you fight back the tears. You would not let anyone see you cry. You took a moment to settle the pain in your chest.

"I am no Jedi, not anymore." You say.

You turn on your heels, dismissing everyone in the room, escaping the guilt and pain forming in your chest once again. As your about to walk towards the door, Cid slides in front of you blocking your exit.

"No girl. You need to speak to them; you are on the same side." She said softly, which was very unlike Cid.

You look at her shocked, then turn to the others.

"Same side? No, you gunned down the Jedi, you killed everyone I cared about, innocent children." The nausea was rising again, your throat closing in on itself.

"You served with General Kenobi and General Skywalker correct?" Echo asked.

Your mind coming back to the conversation at hand, distracting you from the self-hatred you were about to reap upon yourself.

"Yes, I served with them on occasion, we trained our troops together. I know who you are, you're Clone Force 99, Anakin told me about you." You keep your eyes fixed on Echo.

"Captain Rex talked a lot about you, your Echo."

Echo not saying a word, but his gaze towards you softens at the mention of Captain Rex.

"It was the inhibitor chips" Omega says.

You look down at the young girl, who is staring right at you.

"Inhibitor chip?" you questioned looking at the men.

"Omega is correct. We all have a chip within our brains. The Kaminoans who created us put them in our brains for a means to control our behavior or modify it. Although because we are defected clones, they do not affect us like the others." The lean man with goggles said.

"We were on the planet Kaller when the transmission came through to execute the order. Master Billaba was killed by her own men. We tried to save the padawan, but he ran, and we lost site of him." The man with the bandana said, never breaking eye contact with me.

You sigh, realizing it was your turn to talk.

"I have no contact with any Jedi. I am hoping they all went into hiding, but I do not know for certain. We received a transmission from Kenobi telling us to not return to the temple." You spoke quietly.

You clear your throat and looked down at Omega. Her eyes bright and looking at you nervously.

You begin to approach her when the hulking giant steps in front of your path.

"Excuse you!" You grind out of your teeth. You stare daggers at him. Oh, how you wish you could throw him across the room right now.

"The names Wrecker, and your excused." He gave a cocky side grin crossing his arms across his chest.

Omega inches around wreckers' leg to stare at you. You smile down at her and kneel.

"Omega, that is a beautiful name, your parents have wonderful taste." Omega looked at you confused, then looking back at Wrecker.

"Omega is a clone like us" Goggle face says.

That explains why she looked so familiar earlier. She had the face of her brothers...

You have never seen a female clone before.

"Well Omega it is lovely to meet you." You smile.

"We are the bad batch, that is Hunter, Tech and Echo, and you already know Wrecker." She giggles.

You smile a little at that, Wrecker staring down at her with a softened expression.

From what Skywalker told you about these men, they didn't seem to be the father type. I guess times change and circumstances change.

You raise yourself off the ground and look at all of them.

"No one can know I am here. The Empire is hunting down and killing all the Jedi. If you stay out of my way, I will stay out of yours." You nod your head to create a peaceful transaction with the group.

"We won't say a word, as long as you don't tell anyone we are here. They want us dead as well." Hunter says.

"I am not one to gab, your secret is safe with me."

You turn to leave, nodding at Cid, insuring there would be no conflict with either parties. She nodded in understanding, moving out of the way of the door. You cloak your face before walking out the door back into the Cantina.

The atmosphere picked up since the altercation, people were drinking and laughing not paying you any mind. You walked through the Cantina. Walked down the corridor, opening the door and stepping out into the city once more.

As you walk a couple steps toward your home, you hear the door open quickly and slam behind you. Omega standing there clutching a doll of some sort halting in front of you.

"I never met a Jedi before." She whispers.

You continue walking, Omega taking up the space next to you. You hear a door open and close, heavy footstep following. You already knew it was Wrecker. Keeping some distance behind you, he followed us along.

"I like your doll; did you make that yourself?" you ask with intrigue.

"Oh Lula? No, this is Wreckers, he lets me borrow her." She held Lula out at arm's length and shoved her back into her chest to snuggle it.

"Well, that was very nice of him" Your eyes soften as you smile down at her.

"It is, he is very nice. I know he looks big and tough, but he is a big softy." She smiles as we continue walking.

"They take care of me, we are a family." She says smiling fondly.

You glance back at Wrecker, who is staring right back at you. That man had a stuffed animal. You couldn't lie you thought that was adorable, not that you would ever admit it.

You brush the thought from your mind as you approach your front door. You unlock the door and turn to kneel in front of Omega. She is clutching the doll and smiling at you.

"Well Omega, thank you so much for walking me home, I hope you have a wonderful evening."

Omega closes the distance between you two and hugs you tightly.

You embrace her as well, smiling into her shoulder. She released you and said goodbye, skipping off back to Cids.

Wrecker watches for Omega to walk into the parlor and turns back to me. He approaches the barrier of my door, his face softening.

"Listen I am sorry about earlier, I have just been on high alert ever since Kaller, we are on the run too and I want to protect Omega and my brothers. I did not mean to offend you in any way, and I am sorry for that."

You feel yourself relax against the door frame.

"It's okay, I think everyone is a little on edge lately." You smile slightly.

He rubs the back of his head not saying anything for a moment.

"Don't you want to apologize to me?" he laughs, his hands moving to his armored hips.

You think about that for a second, tapping your finger on your lips in question.

"Well, I could apologize, but I have no idea what I would be apologizing for." You challenge.

He huffs out a breath and laughs.

"I mean, you did throw me to the ground in the parlor, in front of everyone." He says smiling.

You stare at him for a moment then finally speak.

"Well, we can't all be winners, can we Wrecker? Better luck next time." You smile at him and close your front door, locking it from the inside.

You could hear him laughing on the other side of the door, which made you giggle slightly.

The smile finally fading from your face as you hear his retreat towards Cids.

You did not anticipate this happening, but you had to admit, it was nice to talk to people and even better, to smile again.

You realized it has been a while since you smiled, and your face hurt slightly. You welcomed the pain though; you needed the relief from the guilt and pain.

You pull off your robe and hang it on the hanger behind the door. Taking off your shoes, you lay back on the bed, listening to your quiet surroundings. You knew it was only a matter of time before the memories came flooding back of that day.

You closed your eyes, hoping for the best and praying that you get a decent night's sleep.

[jasontoddiefor]

I wondered about aquatic species who are not capable of fulfilling land-dwelling Jedi tasks, but it’s actually just an excuse to write Mermaid Anakin.

Ahsoka knows that not everyone is meant to be a Jedi Knight. A few of her crèchemates even disliked sword fighting or diplomacy. They weren’t bad at it, they all took their studies seriously, they just weren’t interested in it, not the way Ahsoka was.

She knew she was meant for the battlefields of the galaxy, soaring through the skies above and guiding leaders of planets through their decisions. She’d seen it in her dreams and visions, drawn it on flimsi ever since she could hold a pencil.

Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Knight.

Never before had the future been so certain for her and never had it seemed so impossible. Ahsoka was getting older, and while she didn’t want to be jealous and resentful of the Initiates younger than her being picked as Padawans when she wasn’t, she couldn’t help it.

“It’s not fair,” Ahsoka complained and kicked the fruit from the tree as hard she could, watching as it flew into the pond and sunk below the surface.

Frustrated, she sat down on the grass. The Room of a Thousand Fountains wasn’t deserted this late into the evening, but the little alcove she’d found while exploring was empty enough. From experience, Ahsoka knew that the multiple ponds surrounding her were connected through underground tunnels. She’d gone through this part of the Temple only recently when deciding to take a class on aquatic life in the galaxy. The course had been in the middle of the night in one of the bigger pools, but they’d gone playing here during the break.

Ahsoka tugged at the grass, ripping it free. There had to be something she could do to make a Knight pay attention to her! Just when Ahsoka was trying to think of what essay or kata display might attract someone, something solid connected with the back of her head.

“Hey!” She jumped up, rubbing the back of her head. Down in the grass laid the apple she’d kicked away just minutes before. It was round and wet and had a large bite mark, all sharp edges. Whatever or whoever had bitten it must have canines like her.

Not wanting to waste another minute, Ahsoka grabbed the apple and threw it back into the water. She watched as it disappeared into the dark, then began to count. Not even thirty seconds later, the apple was thrown at her again from yet another direction.

Was this a group of younglings playing a trick on her? Stretching her senses, Ahsoka couldn’t make out a larger group. It barely felt like one person was there. Their presence felt just as muddy as the waters below, was likely attuned to it. Frowning, she tossed the apple and was nearly hit by it again moments later. With each time, Ahsoka became more skilled at evading the apple and eventually predicting where it was coming from.

“Got you!” she yelled when just after throwing, she turned around and saw a hand reaching out of the water, holding the apple. Instead of throwing it, the person disappeared again.

“Oh, not this time!” Throwing all rational thought of the wind, Ahsoka rushed through the edge of the pond and jumped right in. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the changed light. Above was the slight green of the pond, illuminated by the lanterns, below was the dark and two glowing eyes.

Ahsoka lost her focus and let more air escape than she’d wanted to. Before she could swim to the surface to take another breath and potentially use the person she’d just tracked down, the water moved away from her head, leaving her an air bubble in which she could breathe.

“Uh, thank you,” Ahsoka said, still staring down at the person.

Slowly they swam up, and it was only then that Ahsoka saw how massive their body was. Their tail, darker than Coruscant’s night sky, reached further down than Ahsoka could make out even with her sharper eyes. The only reasons he could make out its end at all were the slight golden flickers at the very bottom, where the light had to reflect on golden scales.

The person didn’t say a word until they were face to face with Ahsoka, bright blue eyes scrutinizing her.

“Isn’t it dinner time?” the person – Padawan going by their braid – asked. Their braid was pretty, had pearls and shells instead of the common wooden beads. “My Master left earlier to grab some and I’m pretty sure you should eat too.”

“I’m not hungry,” Ahsoka said.

The Padawan didn’t look very impressed by her reply. “Right, Snips. And that’s not your stomach.”

Ahsoka was going to protest when her body betrayed her and grumbled in hunger. Victoriously, the Padawan grinned, showing off sharp teeth. Trust a fellow carnivore to point out when it was mealtime.

“I don’t want to eat right now. And my name’s Ahsoka, not Snips, you fishface.”

The look the Padawan shot her wasn’t very impressed. “It’s Anakin,” the Padawan supplied. “Or Padawan Skywalker if you want to be formal. And I was getting my food when your apple landed in my dinner.”

Now Ahsoka was starting to feel a little guilty. A single Jedi’s struggle was never supposed to bring another pain. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I was just… not having a good day. I didn’t mean to ruin your dinner.”

“No harm done,” Anakin replied. “If you want, you can have dinner with my Master and me. He should be back now.”

And then Anakin promptly disappeared in the depths again before returning to Ahsoka’s side with a box of fishes. “C’mon.”

Together, they swam to the surface. When they broke through, Ahsoka found herself staring at another Jedi, one she definitely recognized on sight.

Obi-Wan Kenobi.

There was no one in the Temple who didn’t know him. He’d lost his Master in a duel with the Sith and then defeated the Sith in turn, was Knighted and immediately took a Padawan, whom they’d rescued—

Oh.

Ahsoka glanced back at Anakin, who was pulling himself up onto the soft grass. She hadn’t recognized his name because, well, Ahsoka focused on impressive Knights not… Huh. She actually had no idea what Padawan Skywalker specialized in. She knew of him because he was renowned for being strong in the Force and because he’d been rescued from the Hutts when he was much older than other Initiates, and there weren’t too many interspecies Master-Padawan teams.

“And who is this?” Kenobi suddenly addressed her.

“That’s Ahsoka,” Anakin introduced her. “She’s not having a good day, so she’s gonna eat dinner with us.”

“And by us, you mean I ought to share?” Obi-Wan asked amused but handed Ahsoka a plate and a bit of his meal anyway. “It’s nice to meet you, Initiate Tano.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Ahsoka returned, smiling.

Anakin and his Master talked about nothing in particular, but they still made an effort to include her. Slowly, Ahsoka felt all tension bleed from her shoulders until she was laughing along with Obi-Wan’s jokes and let Anakin drag her back into the water so they could pull his Master right in.

Maybe she needn’t worry about becoming a Padawan at all.

[dracowars]

ten years apart | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin x reader

word count: 6,0k

summary: where anakin comes back after ten years

a/n: i'm so sorry for the length but i just couldn't stop writing :( please get a drink and snack before reading this hella long os <3

warnings: angst, mentions of blood

universe: star wars

Exhaling heavily, you throw the garbage bag into the shaft and push it down with all your strength. Beads of sweat have already formed on your forehead which you wipe away with the back of your hand. It is, again, incredibly hot on Tatooine today and the unbearable heat has been beating your mind and body all day. But what temperatures can you expect from a desert planet, right?

The desert planet of hell, as you like to call it. Disgusting creatures, pirates, bounty hunters and actually all kinds of insidious henchmen cavort here in Mos Espa. The city you grew up in. The city you have always been stuck in and probably will be stuck in for the rest of your life. You come from a small and poor family, no money to escape this hell, always having to work hard to survive.

And yet you had a better life than other children here. Because you were lucky enough to not get sold as a slave. Your parents could always raise enough money - often in ways you do not support - to save you. Even though you are more than grateful, you cannot help but to sometimes wonder what would have happened if. If you became a slave, maybe just maybe, you might have met the same lucky fate as him.

It has been ten long lonely years since the two Jedi Masters Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi were stranded on Tatooine and seeked help. You were still very young, therefore you can barely remember their faces. But you definetely do remember the face of him, Anakin Skywalker. The little boy from Tatooine.

How could you ever forget him? He was the nicest, bravest and most courteous boy you have ever met in your life. You always knew that something about him was different. The way he acted, the way he thought. There was just something about him that fascinated you and before you knew it you had developed a small crush on him. You got along well and you loved to watch him when he was working on his droid yet again. He always told you about his dreams, how he wanted to help, how much he wanted to get away from this dump called Tatooine. With his mother.

And with you.

Anakin and his mother Shmi Skywalker were slaves and belonged to Watto, one of the many junk dealers and human traffickers of Mos Espa. Even though they must have had a terrible life, Anakin always stayed positive. The smile on his dirt-stained face when he was building on his droid was priceless and you can see it in front of you as if it was yesterday. In fact, it has been ten years.

Ten years since the Jedi Masters took Anakin with them to train him as a Padawan in the ways of the Jedi. You were happy for him, you really were. He was finally able to leave this terrible planet and live a better life elsewhere. But to a certain price, since he had to go without his mother and also without you, his best friend.

"Y/N! These tables do not clean themselves!", a voice calls for you from inside and you just roll your eyes before leaving the heat outside, entering the building again. Inside, the musty smell of smoke greets you, low music plays in the background and you go straight towards the round bar in the middle of the room. This is the most popular hotspot of Mos Espa: the infamous Twin Sun, a bar in the center of the city. The place where the creepiest species float around, where the dirty business is done.

You absolutely hate your job in the bar. Every day you have to tidy up and serve under worst conditions. Especially in the later hours of the evening, when it is completely overcrowded, you are running back and forth every second, receiving disgusting comments from the guests. However, hardly anyone is here in the early morning and you have to only take care of the leftovers from the previous day. Unfortunately though, you have to endure this kind of job.

Your parents, who always saved you from the worst, are too old and weak now to raise money themselves and you felt obliged to take on this role. That is also the reason why you have several jobs at the same time. In addition to working in the Twin Sun, you also work at some booths at the weekly market and when you are lucky, you can sometimes even help out on the farms outside of the city. It is the only way to ensure your family's survival.

While you are about to wipe the empty tables, the roaring unpleasant noises of podracers echo through the building, sweeping through the bar like an earthquake, and the following loud cheers of the audience can hardly be overheard. The race is also a reason why it is exceptionally empty here today. Almost every living creature in Mos Espa is in the Grand Arena, cheering on their favorite, probably making some bets beforehand.

Personally, you hate these races more than anything.

Besides being totally unfair and dangerous, it is really just about the money - the money you do not own. The same participant always wins and despite your hatred of these races, you watched one of them for the first and last time when Anakin himself participated, won and was thus able to free himself from slavery. Only his mother remained on Tatooine but he promised he would come back and rescue her once he is a fully trained Jedi.

It has now been ten years and he has still not shown up.

Well, maybe he did show up after all, just did not look for you as he initinally promised. Maybe he only picked up his mother, not you.

A few years ago you had to watch how his mother got sold at the weekly market, but the buyer actually seemed very nice and later you found out that he even gave her freedom and took her as his wife. The man called Cliegg Lars used to come to the bar regularly until a few weeks ago. Does Anakin know, or can he maybe even feel, what happened?

"What do you think you are doing?! Finally work for your money or I will kick you out!", the bartender, who is also your boss, suddenly yells at you and pulls you out of your thoughts. "Sorry", you huff out and continue to clean up the tables at a quicker pace. It is a day like any other day. At least that is what you thought.

After you have cleaned all the tables you stand behind the bar and tidy up the glasses. Meanwhile it is already in the afternoon and the bar is much more crowded than it was this morning, which means more work for you. However, for some inexplicable reason, you are very distracted today, your mind always wandering off, and when you do not pay attention for a tiny second, a glass slips out of your hand and shatters into a million pieces.

"Watch out!", your boss grumbels at you immediately, only waiting for such an opportunity. Quietly cursing under your breath, you pick up some of the broken pieces. With a hiss you reflexively pull back your hand after accidentally cutting yourself on a sharp piece. Quickly, you put the small bleeding area against your lips to stop the blood from flowing.

"A table just got free back there! Clean it", your boss orders, not waiting for you to get up again as he almost throws the wet cloth into your face. Trying to control the rising anger inside of you as best as possible, you stand up, dispose of the broken pieces and make your way to said table. When you reach it, you have an uncomfortable feeling all of a sudden, a feeling of someone watching you. You turn around but do not see anyone looking into your direction. Shaking off the weird feeling, you take care of your task and then go back behind the counter to do your work while you hear your boss talking loudly to one of the guests on the other side.

"Watto, Watto.. Never heard of him before", he says thoughtfully over the music. You frown irritated and bend over to be able to see your boss. He is talking to a young, handsome man who seems quite determined about finding Watto. "Buy something or get out of here, kid!", your boss suddenly threathens, but the young man seems pretty unimpressed. Nevertheless, he turns around and leaves but not without your eyes meeting first. His blue eyes shimmer in the weak light and while turning away, he pulls the brown hood of his cloak over his head.

Even though your boss did not call you for help, something deep inside of you tells you to help this unknown, mysterious man. After all, you actually know Watto. You worked for him in your younger years until he went bankrupt eventually. Therefore, it is very uncommon and suspicious for someone to ask for him.

You put everything aside right away and go to your boss, who seems to be in an extremely bad mood today. "I take my break now", you quickly let him know and without giving him a chance to answer, you already head towards the entrance. When you arrive outside, you take a look around and spot the young man just a few meters away from you. Running after him, you gently tug on his sleeve to draw his attention to you.

"Excuse me", you stop him in his tracks and he turns to you with confusion written all over his face. "I heard you ask my boss about Watto in the bar. I know where to find him."

His face seems even more surprised now and he raises his eyebrows. "Really?", he asks, a hint of hope in his voice. You nod in agreement. "Can you lead me to him?", he resolutely asks and you nod again.

"You do not look like you are from here. What do you want from Watto?", you ask him curiously and go ahead to lead the way while he follows right behind you. "That is not important and also none of your business, I think", he replies emotionless, only looking ahead and not at you. You are a little taken aback by his harsh words but decide that it is best to not ask any more questions. He seems quite serious about it and somehow you still cannot get rid of this strange feeling inside of you.

You lead the way to the market, where some stalls are set up, and finally find Watto at his regular place in the shade of a house. He sits on a small chair and is currently busy examining a screw in his hand as you both approach him. Watto raises his gaze when he realizes that someone is walking towards him and as soon as he recognizes you, he flutters into the air excitedly.

"Oh! I have not seen you in a long time", he laughs and looks at the unknown man next to you. "There is someone who was looking for you, Watto", you explain in Huttese and point to the young man next to you, who bows his head slightly as if he could also understand what you are saying. Which is ridiculous, of course, because only Tatooine people can speak and understand Huttese.

Immediately Watto flies back, unsure whether he has done anything wrong. "Excuse me?", he trys hiding his nervousness, suspiciously looking at you.

Instead of telling Watto what he wants, he picks up a piece of equipment and fiddles with it. "Let me help you with that", he murmurs under his breath while actually speaking in Huttese, fixing the broken piece. "What? I do not know you! What can I do for you?", Watto grumbels but his eyes widen at once as he discovers something. "You look like a Jedi. Whatever it is.. I did not do it!"

A Jedi?

The next words abruptly catch you off guard and your heart completely stops beating.

"I am looking for Shmi Skywalker."

You look at him in shock as he pulls the hood down, Watto looking at him exactly the way you do as he finally lets out the words you were too scared to say.

"Ani? Little Ani?", Watto breathes out in astonishment, now using Basic instead of Huttese. When Watto then realizes that he fixed the broken piece, he happily jumps into the air. "You are Ani! You sure sprouted! A Jedi! Hey, maybe you couldda help wit some deadbeats who owe me a lot of money.."

"My mother."

"Oh, yes. Shmi.. she is not mine no more. I sold her", Watto confesses, obviously feeling uncomfortable about the situation while you are still not able to get out a word as they get stuck in your throat.

You were sure that you would never see Anakin again in your life, that he would have long forgotten about you. And now that he is actually back, that he is actually standing right next to you, you cannot believe it. He changed so much that you did not even recognize him.

And it seems he does not recognize you either.

"Sold her?"

"Years ago. Sorry, Ani, but you know, business is business."

"Who did you sell her to?"

"I-I do not remember, actually. I think it was a farmer, yeah, a moisture farmer probably", Watto stutters and his words pull you out of your trance all of a sudden, hitting a trigger in your head.

"His name, Watto."

"I-I think I do not know-"

"Cliegg", you mention softly, turning your gaze to Anakin whose brows are furrowed in confusion. "His name is Cliegg Lars."

"How could you-", Anakin starts, slowly becoming more tense, but as he looks at you more closely, at your face and in your beautiful glistening eyes, his expression suddenly softens. "Y/N?"

"Anakin", you say barely audible, trying to prevent your eyes from watering at hearing your name out of his mouth for the first time in years.

He does remember you. He did not forget about your existence.

You both cannot help but stare at each other for what feels like hours before he gently pulls you into his now very strong arms, hugging you tightly.

After all these years you were separated one would probably think that the hug would be uncomfortable and awkward. But it is far from that. Anakin's embrace is warm and soft, like it used to be when he was still here. He just got stronger and much taller since then.

He grew up.

On a whole different planet, far far away from you.

He has become a Jedi and fights for justice in the galaxy while you are still stuck on the same old planet, struggeling to keep your family alive.

"I can't believe it is actually you, Y/N!", Anakin gives you a warm smile after breaking the hug, his hands still resting on your forearms to keep you close while scanning you from the top to the bottom. "You have grown so much."

"I could say the same to you", you giggle, hiding your bright smile behind your hand while you blush. His blue eyes have become even brighter than you remember them and his face and stature in general look extremely healthy. If someone had told you years ago that Anakin would develop into such a handsome man, you almost would not have believed them. Yet, in your eyes he is still the same Anakin.

"And you are a Jedi", you mumble, pointing to the lightsaber attached to his belt under his brown cloak. Anakin continues to stare at you for a moment before finding his way back to reality.

"O-Oh yes. My lightsaber", he stumbles over his words and looks down at his weapon, but makes sure to completely hide it behind the fabric after that while clearing his throat. Slowly but surely it suddenly gets a bit awkward between you, none of you knowing what to say or where to start.

You have so much to tell him and still want to ask him so many question, but you do not know how.

"So, you know where my mother is?", Anakin finally speaks up again and breaks the silence, but with a question you did not quite hope for.

"It is very far outside of Mos Espa, yes. I can bring you there", you answer with a little sadness in your voice. Of course, he wants to find his mother after all these years.

"Hey! When you come back, make sure to visit me. Ani, I could really need some help, you know", Watto calls after you both as you show Anakin the way.

"He has not changed a bit", Anakin chuckles slightly next to you and follows you over the street, where you pass numerous creatures and vehicles.

"We need a vehicle to get there", you absently speak to yourself while searching for a suitable one. "Or a Dewback works too."

"A landspeeder sounds good", Anakin immediately answers after you end your sentence, almost interrupting you. With raised eyebrows you look at him sceptically.

"What happened to your sense of adventure?"

"I got older, I guess", he sighs and you hear out some sadness in his voice for the split of a second, but you tell yourself that it must have been your imagination.

"We all did", you mumble and finally agree to take a landspeeder instead of a dewback, even though it is much more expensive. However, Anakin insists on paying and after doing so you sit in the passenger seat, patiently waiting for him to join you and start driving.

At high speed you whiz over the dry sand and out of the city towards the seemingly endless outback. From time to time you glance over at Anakin, who does not look at you once, not even when you tell him the directions. When you catch yourself staring at him for longer than a second, you look away quickly but not without noticing the changes in his apperance.

His face has become much more striking and his hair got darker. The dark brown cloak that is covering his body compliments his eyes and makes them shine even more.

On your way you drive past a group of Jawas with their Sandcrawler, who are currently busy taking apart an abandoned spaceship that has apparently been stranded out here.

After a few more minutes you finally reach the Lars homestead and get out of the speeder, Anakin giving you a helping hand that you shyly accept. He keeps his gaze on the dome in front of you though and you can feel the nervousness that suddenly emanates from him.

As soon as you both walk towards it, a girl, younger than Anakin and you, comes up the stairs after she has apparently heard your arrival. Which is honestly not very difficult out here regarding the fact nobody comes here that often.

"Can I help you?", she asks, concern in her voice, and the longer you look at her, the more familiar she gets until it clicks in your head. She is Cliegg's daughter-in-law. You have often worked together on the farm. It seems like she already recognized you as the concern in her face slowly fades.

"Beru, right? I often helped you out on your farm", you take a step towards her and she nods in agreement before glancing at Anakin, who is standing directly behind you.

"We are looking for Shmi", you explain and Beru's brows furrow, obviously confused as to why you search for her.

"She is currently at the market in Mos Eisley with my boyfriend. But they should be back any moment", she mentions and then points down the stairs behind her. "If you want, you can wait for her inside."

Accepting her offer, you follow her inside the dome and you are completely amazed when you arrive at the open pit, a crater housing a courtyard from which all rooms can be accessed. You saw the huge hole in the ground before but never paid attention to it.

You follow Beru into what seems to be a kitchen and she asks you to sit down, but before you are able to, Anakin suddenly turns around due to a noise and a man in a power chair appears behind you.

"Who are you? What do you want?", he asks grumpily and Anakin's grip around his lightsaber on his belt, probably a reflex, reduces as you step in between. "Oh, Y/N! It is you!"

"Good afternoon, Cliegg. I am sorry for our unannounced visit, but we are looking for your.. wife", you say, almost whispering your last words, your heart stopping for a moment when you realize Anakin does not even know his mother married this farmer.

"What?", Anakin asks, shocked, his eyes widened and his lips split while he takes a step forward.

"I am Cliegg Lars. Shmi is my wife. Then you must be my stepson", Cliegg introduces himself and offers Anakin a handshake, which gets refused as Anakin just stares at him in disbelief.

"How is that possible?", Anakin breathes, directing his gaze to the ground, and you discover how he fiddles with the sleeves of his cloak in despair.

"I bought her from Watto at that time and gave her freedom before I made her my wife", Cliegg explains calmly, also noticing Anakin's displeasure about the situation. "My son and Shmi are just-"

He does not get to finish his sentence when loud screams and shouts interrupt him out of nowhere, silencing all of you. A brief moment later you are already on your way back up, Anakin ahead.

Once at the top you spot another landspeeder that has stopped in the distance, fuming. Due to the bright sunlight it is difficult at first to see that two people approach you, followed by several aggressive, snarling Massiffs. Disgusting beasts from hell that usually only live in the mountains unless they have been tamed by Tusken Raiders for their own purposes.

Quickly, you come to the conclusion that they must have been attacked by Tusken Raiders, who are now chasing their pets after them. It takes another second until you all realize that these two people running towards you are none other than Anakin's mother and stepbrother.

"Owen!", Beru desperately exclaims next to you, hands covering her mouth in shock.

Without hesitation, Anakin and you sprint straight towards them at the same time, hoping to somehow help and save them. But when suddenly a blue light brightly erupts next to you, you almost forget to keep running.

Anakin now runs towards them with his ignited lightsaber, much faster than you, and reaches them in seconds. Positioning himself protectively in front of them, waiting until they have run past him, he kills one of the Massiffs with the single stroke of his deadly weapon.

"Y/N, get them to safety!", Anakin shouts while he is fighting with the Massiffs, and you obey his words, quickly escorting them back to their house.

Glancing back after you have brought them inside safely, Anakin has just fended off an attack and pushes the monster a few meters back through the air, his hand outstretched. Finally, yowling and panting, the few survivors retreat and if you would not have called out Anakin's name, you are sure he would have followed them.

Deactivating his lightsaber, he quickly comes back to you, his face flooded with anger and pain. However, instead of paying attention to you, he walks straight past you.

"Are you injured?", you catch his upper arm worriedly and bring him to a stop. Shaking his head, he immediately removes his arm from your grip and continues his way down the stairs. With a sigh, you follow him.

"Where is she?", Anakin asks emotionlessly when reaching the bottom of the stairs, stopping abruptly and causing you to accidentally run into him.

"Ani?", a quiet voice finally sounds and Shmi steps out.

"Mom", Anakin swallows hard and embraces her tightly in his arms as she comes running towards him. After ten long years, mother and son are finally reunited.

"Oh, you look so handsome", Shmi sobs and takes a closer look at Anakin, taking his face between her hands, whereupon Anakin places a kiss on her palm. "My son. Oh, my grown up son. I am so proud of you, Ani."

"I missed you", he sniffs in response and a few tears find their way down his, her and also your cheeks.

"You came back, I can't believe it", she happily smiles at him, pride showing in her eyes.

"Just like I promised", he gives her the same smile and they hug each other again.

"And you saved us. You truly became a Jedi", Shmi sobs and Anakin gives her a kiss on the forehead before her gaze falls on you for the first time. "Y/N! Thank you so much for bringing him here."

"Of course", you wipe away your happy tears and smile back at her.

"Let us eat something, children", Cliegg then suggests while already being on his way to the kitchen, followed by his son and daugther-in-law.

"You might want to freshen up. I will show you where you can", Shmi offers and leads you both through a hole in the wall into a medium-sized room before she reluctantly separates from Anakin.

"Show me your leg", you order as soon as Shmi is out of reach and he turns around to you in confusion. "Your leg, Anakin. I saw you limp."

"It is not that bad", he shrugs it off and puts his Jedi robe aside, revealing his broad shoulders.

"Please", you repeat again and stare at him worriedly until he is no longer able to hold your gaze and pulls up his pants to reveal his leg. You have to swallow hard when a gaping wound appears on his shin and it takes you a lot of self control to not scream at him right there.

"That has to be treated, Ani!", you rebuke him indignantly, but now he is the one who keeps staring at you until you notice what you have just said. "A-Anakin, I mean."

"N-No, no! It is okay. I like when you call me that, it just... it has been some time since you last did", he clears his throat and your cheeks turn into a slight shade of red.

"Y-Yes, a long time ago. But we have gotten older, like you said", you stutter out, trying to make the situation less awkward. "I will ask if they have Bacta patches here, fix you up and make my way home."

"What are you even talking about?", Anakin raises his voice all of a sudden, rather unintentionally as you notice in his subsequent expression, while he grabs your wrist tightly to keep you from walking away.

"You have just seen your mother for the first time in ten years. I am sure you have a lot to tell her and I do not want to stand in the way", you explain and place your hand on top of his to loosen his grip, but to no avail.

"But.. I want to tell you too, Y/N. You are forgetting that I saw you again for the first time in ten years as well. I do not want you to go now", Anakin admits and takes a step closer to you, his eyes pleading to not leave him. "Apart from that, I will certainly not let you go now when these monsters are out there."

Leaving you no choice and not even a chance to answer, he suddenly pulls you into a tight hug, much like he did with his mother.

"I missed you so damn much", he softly whispers and you can't help but smile while you wrap your arms around him.

"I missed you too, Ani", you mumble against his shoulder and claw your hands into the fabric of his clothes.

Although you already hugged each other when you first met today, this one feels much more intense than before. It makes you feel safe and warm and comfortable, a feeling that you have not felt on this planet for a long time. For ten years, to be exact.

The next morning, you tiredly step outside into the burning hot twin suns and follow the voices coming from the kitchen. You stayed awake late yesterday and Anakin told you everything. From start to finish, he explained everything about his training to you, everything that happened after he left ten years ago. You have eagerly listened to his stories about the numerous adventures and here and there caught yourself staring at him sadly but lovingly.

Even though he pretended to be strong while telling these heartbreaking stories, you could see that he is not. After all these long years you can still read it on his face in an instant. He was not strong after Qui-Gon Jinn was killed shortly after their departure and also not when he became Padawan of a Jedi who was almost still a Padawan himself. He was not strong when he has been seperated from his family and he still is not as strong as he pretends to be. No matter from which point of view you look at it, Anakin is still the little boy from Tatooine.

"Good morning", you yawn when you meet the Lars family in the kitchen.

"Sit down, Y/N. I made breakfast", Shmi happily greets you and puts a plate down for you on the table.

You have not seen Shmi this happy in a long time. You never met her often after Cliegg freed her from slavery, but when you did, she always looked very absent and, above all, sad. She seems like a whole different person now.

"If you are looking for Anakin, he is outside", Shmi mentions when she notices your mental absence. Shyly, you nod and give her a warm smile. After you have eaten up your breakfast, you make your way upstairs. Arriving outside, you briefly get blinded by the bright suns when the dome no longer offers you protection.

However, as soon as your eyes get used to the sunlight, your breath gets caught in your lungs when a huge spaceship appears in your field of vision. The ship landed just a few meters away from the farm, the boarding hatch open. You spot Anakin in front of it, deeply submerged in a conversation with another man.

Said man notices you right away and draws Anakin's attention to you with a subtle head movement. When Anakin then sees you and the worried expression on your face, he waves you over. Nervously, you set yourself in motion and approach them.

"What is going on here, Anakin?", you ask shyly after discovering a lightsaber on the other man's belt, quickly gesturing a bow with your head.

"This is my master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Maybe you still remember him", Anakin introduces him to you and, in fact, you actually do remember his face.

"If this isn't the little girl from back then who watched us leave with such a heartbreaking expression", Obi-Wan loudly thinks and scratches his beard before patting Anakin's shoulder. "I will go ahead and meet Padmé on board."

At his words, an uncomfortable feeling of nervousness rushs through your body until it turns into a feeling of sheer fear. Not only because you remember the name and its associated, incredibly beautiful Queen of Naboo, - which Anakin also told you about in his stories - but also because you suddenly feel like your worst nightmare turns into reality.

"W-What does he mean by that?", you stutter out, not really wanting to hear an answer to your question, but Anakin gently puts his hands on either side of your cheeks to calm you down.

"The Jedi Order has called Obi-Wan and me back to Coruscant, along with the senator", Anakin sighs and sadly looks to the ground, his thumb lightly stroking your skin. "My mother is happy here and that is most important for me. I now know that she is fine and safe."

Transforming his words into sharp weapons, they painfully shoot through your heart and you take a step back immediately, breaking the body contact with him.

"But I am not, Anakin!", you yell at him desperately, much louder than originally intended, and he just looks at you in shock from your sudden outburst. "I am not fine since you left ten years ago! I can't do this anymore."

"Y/N-"

"No, do not touch me! Please", you sob and wrap your arms around your own body in order to protect you from further damage. "Would you- Would you have even searched for me at all if I had not found you first?!"

Breathing hard while accusing him, he remains quiet and does not answer. His eyes wander around, desperately seeking an appropriate answer that will not hurt you, but he terribly fails.

"That's what I thought", your voice breaks and a single tear runs down your cheek before you turn around and walk away. However, you do not get very far when you feel a firm grip on your arm and are turned around again to face him shortly afterwards, your bodies only inches away from each other.

"Come with me."

"W-What?"

"Come back to Coruscant with me, Y/N", he begs you, his voice full of sorrow.

"A-Ani-"

"I had a dream about my mother and about you. You were badly injured and I was too late to save you", Anakin confesses, desperation prominent in his coarse voice, opening up to you all of a sudden, letting his guard down and showing you his vulnerable side for once. "That is why I came back. That is why I am back on Tatooine."

"A-Anakin. I can't.. I have responsibilities here", you choke out and look away, not able to hold his pleading gaze while your hands and knees shake in fear. "I have to go back to my parents.. I can't just leave them like this."

Silence spreads between you until Anakin lifts your face up with his fingers on your chin, deeply looking into your eyes. Suddenly your fear is reflected in his glassy eyes. A fear you last saw all those years ago when he left. When he had to leave his mother and you behind. It is precisely this fear that is now reappearing in his eyes and all of a sudden the little boy from Tatooine is back, not wanting to leave his home.

"I understand", his shaky voice whispers as he is close to tears as well.

How much you would like to just go with him. To just leave everything behind and finally get off this dirty planet. But you know it would not be fair to your parents and that you can't just leave them behind. As much as you would love to go with Anakin, you would never forgive yourself if you did.

"I am really sorry, Ani", you carefully say and place your hands on his upper arms to steady yourself before he pulls you closer and places his chin on top of your head.

"I will come back", he breathes into your hair and his voice sounds so fragile in your ears that you can no longer hold back the pricking tears, letting them stream down your cheeks freely. "I promise."

"I will wait for you", you fake a smile through your tears before he gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead, leaving a warm spot there.

The following repeated exclamation of his name coming from his master makes your heart ache even more and Anakin takes a step away from you, breaking off any contact.

"See you soon", he forces a smile and slowly retreats backwards to the spaceship, not averting his gaze from you and repeatedly raising his hand to wave goodbye.

Your eyes filled with tears and your vision blurred, you watch him leave and say goodbye with a heavy heart.

After ten long years you were finally able to see him again. You were ten years apart and now you pray that it will not be another ten years until you meet again.

[esamastation]

Codywan prompt: CC-2224 was among the command clones whose final exam took place off Kamino at the nearby smugglers haven of Rishi. While performing maneuvers in an abandoned mountainous settlement, three clones were lost to a sudden rockslide, but only two bodies were recoverable, the third having disappeared into the rapids below. Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi had been hoping a simple mission to investigate a smuggling ring would go smoothly, but it seems the force had a different plan.

Obi-Wan has a feeling that the whole mission is some kind of ploy by the Jedi Council to force him to take a holiday. It has Yoda's fingerprints all over it.

Rishi moon is desolate in the exact way he strangely enjoys. It's liveable but uninhabitable, with galactic standard atmosphere but no arable soil and no plant life, with only sandy canyons and dunes and dry mountains and rocky plateaus, rough oceans and wild rivers that went whichever they damn well pleased. The swell of the planet on the night sky overhead is magnificent and overpoweringly bright even in night time and there's something terribly beautiful about being on a planet where no one lives.

Obi-Wan has no doubt that it is actually being used by probably thousands of smugglers as convenient place to hide illicitly acquired goods, it's just the sort of place for that kind for thing… but really – the place is so close to one of his old poems given actual physical form that it has to be intentional.

He's not sure if he's mortified or gratified that someone still remembered the thing – or that the Council thought this would be the sort of thing to help him unwind after Anakin nearly got himself killed, again. They're right, in a way, but by force he's not going to admit it.

Tucking up his hood, Obi-Wan breathes in and out, tasting the un-tasted air of the desolate moon, and lets himself be, for a moment, completely alone in the universe.

And then he feels a stuttering song of a life form, not far from him, quivering and unsteady. Someone is on the planet with him – and they aren't doing too well.

Obi-Wan immediately heads for them, of course – he is there on a mission to supposedly investigate smugglers after all, and this person must be one. Who else would be in such a remote, desolate place? And in either case, they're in trouble and as the only living person in several light years, Obi-Wan is likely the only one who could help.

He expects to find a crashed ship, maybe, or one that had been attacked, something of the nature. He doesn't expect to find a single man splayed open a shoreline of a lifeless river, unconscious and half drowning inside his strange, vaguely mandalorian armour.

"Oh dear," Obi-Wan murmurs, and forgoes trying to get to the man and simply levitates him off the water, and to himself. The man hangs limb in his hold, raining water from under the white plates, and holding him up in the force Obi-Wan gently checks for his breathing, his pulse.

It's weak, stuttering, but as Obi-Wan enforces the man with Force, it grows stronger. It's obvious he's been knocked about, and he'd almost drowned – there's certainly water in the man's lungs – but he's breathing and he's going to live. Obi-Wan touches the helmet, considering it, but… who knows, he might be from the Watch. It sounds like the helmet is offering some oxygen to the man, as it is. Best leave it.

"Well then," Obi-Wan murmurs, manoeuvring the man around with force and then lets him drop into his own awaiting arms. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable, shall we?"

The way to his ship is too long – and it's one-seater anyway – so Obi-Wan searches in the Force until he finds a sheltered place, warm and welcoming in the Force. Obi-Wan could swoon at the sight of the place, when he makes it there – it's a cave in front of a natural hot spring.

"The very universe is conspiring to please me today," Obi-Wan sighs. "Keep this up and I will start waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or perhaps fear my own upcoming doom!"

He lays his rescuee on the warm rocks, making the man as comfortable as he can without removing the armour, and sits down to wait – soaking his feet in the water and trying to restrain himself from stripping and plunging right in. The man he saved is likely not the most trustworthy sort – better not risk it… just yet anyway.

Hedonism, this whole mission is pure Obi-Wan specific hedonism. Stars, Obi-Wan almost fears for whatever unpleasantness the Council is pre-emptively trying to make amends for this time.

-

Obi-Wan is meditating and almost dozing off in a pleasant, warm haze, when the armoured fellow finally wakes up. He does it in a strange mixture of relief, trust and comfort – and then, clashing all of that, he spots Obi-Wan and aims his blaster at him. The cycling of emotions is so rapid and sharp, that Obi-Wan doesn't even have the chance to reach for his lightsaber.

"Hello there – please don't shoot," Obi-Wan says as pleasantly as he can. "Be a shame to stain this fine pool with blood. Especially since I have done you no harm."

The blaster doesn't waver. "Who are you?" the man demands.

Obi-Wan smiles – he'd given a good deal of thought for his cover story, and had decided to go with the desert hobo one. He doesn't have the ship to play the smuggler, and he isn't dressed for it either – and who else would have any reason to come to a place like this, anyway? The desert hobo is an act that feels truest to his actual personality, too – even if it's only a secret part of him that only tends to come out in secret and poetry.

But what can he say – Rishi moon is beautiful.

"My name is Ben – I found you by the shore over there," he points towards the river, "half drowned and knocked about, judging by the looks of you. I think you took a tumble into the rapids, there. I picked you up and brought you here so that you'd get to recover and hopefully not get a cold."

There's a moment of silence, and then the man says, bland, "Colds are caused by viral infectious diseases not present on Rishi moon. The moon is barren."

"… you are right about that, but you still would have gotten cold," Obi-Wan says, not sure if to be amused or amazed. "Frostbite is no fun either."

"The temperatures here don't get low enough."

"Well, you're a very reassuring sort of man, aren't you," Obi-Wan says, amused. "I suppose you're alright then. Do you mind not pointing that thing at me, though? It's the least comforting thing about you."

There's a moment of hesitation, and then the armoured man puts the gun away. "Ben," he says slowly. "Your name is Ben."

"Yes?" Obi-Wan agrees, a little guiltily. It wasn't exactly a lie – he was known as Ben on some planet. Well, one planet. And now one moon. "That's me – how about you?"

The man doesn't answer, sitting up slowly and shoving his blaster into the holster. Then, watching Obi-Wan carefully, he checks his gauntlet, tapping something into a keypad and then lowering his arm. "Why are you here, Ben?"

Obi-Wan hums and then smiles, looking away. Interesting, very interesting. "I love places like these," he says, motioning to the vista in front of them, the open canyons carved into the landscape by the wild rivers. "There's so little in the galaxy that's so untouched. This place is so little use to so few people, so it's been left be. The only thing that's made any difference here is the wind, the weather, and the pull of the planet, and nothing else. It's… glorious."

Even through the armour he can tell the man he'd fished from the river is giving him an incredulous look. "Glorious?" he repeats.

"Nature of wild things," Obi-Wan agrees and kicks his foot in the water, sending ripples racing over the surface. "Wild nature and desolation of the universe, utter loneliness. We two are likely the only living souls on this whole system, with nothing but the emptiness of the universe all around us. It's glorious."

The armoured man just stares at him for a long, long time. Obi-Wan smiles a little wider as the armoured man looks up to the sky, like he's searching for what Obi-Wan is seeing. He hopes the man does see it.

"Glorious," the armoured man repeats. "Hm."

Obi-Wan grins wider and looks up as well. This is going to be a great mission, he can already tell. Maybe it will even be worth whatever indignity the Council would throw at him next. Who knows. For now, Obi-Wan thinks he's going to enjoy the company in loneliness and see what came of it.

-

And then they have adventures in Rishi moon while Obi-Wan shamelessly waxes poetry about desolate places and canyons and stuff and eventually gets to take his dip in the hot spring and Cody gets smacked over the head with “oh no, he’s completely ridiculous, I must protect him with my life.”

Not exactly what you asked for, but for a moment I got to live in a world where Obi-Wan might actually enjoy living on Tatooine one day and that was nice. Maybe Cody will live there too, enduring Obi-Wan’s bad poetry about the desert into his old age. That’d be nice too.

[crispyjenkins]

Prompt where the 212 gets together to paint Obi-Wan’s armor so he would wear it more but at some point our fool gets captured and his captor wears the armor to piss Kenobi off so when the 212 comes in Cody goes absolutely feral when he sees someone else where his general’s armor and Kenobi gets absolutely railed by Cody after.

(i don’t do smut, but i love this idea so so much, i really don’t know why i haven’t come across more painted armour Obi stuff, and y’all have probably realised i’m all about Obi angst, sooo this one was a lot of fun. thank you so much for prompting, lovely! threw in some headcanon mandalorian family and courting culture just for you) 

  Jedi were not made to wear armour, they were not soldiers, at least not before. Cody knows his general picked up clone culture better than most, from the little bits of Mando’a to the importance of Vode An, and he should perhaps be thankful that General Kenobi wears any armour at all, but what good are simple pauldrons and vambraces when Kenobi throws himself against hundreds of clankers without backup on a weekly basis?

  It’s Wupi that suggests it, drunk on Waxer’s rotgut and going grey with how often he has to patch up their general after missions. Boil is mostly amused by Kenobi’s apparent death wish, but he isn’t like their medic, or Cody: he doesn't have to deal with the fallout when Kenobi comes back to the Negotiator so much worse off than his men.

  “Why don’t we give him one o’ yours armours?” Wupi had slurred, half out of his blacks and staring into his cup like it would relieve him of his duty. “S’General’s too nice to lose someone else’s.” 

  Wooley had jerked his attention from his own cup and stared at Cody because that... that wasn’t a bad idea. 

  And because Wupi is too hungover the next day to do anything about it himself, it’s Wooley that starts the task of finding and retrofitting pieces of clone armour to fit their general (their “wonderfully tiny" general, as Wupi had put before passing out in his chair). It takes a few days, bouncing between three different quartermasters and Commander Tano for input on how to wear it over more traditional Jedi clothes, but Wooley finally amasses something close to a full set that they might convince Kenobi to wear, and then goes around giving each member of the Ghost Company a few pieces to paint. 

  Cody tries not to think about why Wooley gives him the chestplate. He tries really hard.

  There’s something to be said about family giving each other armour, of course, Cody doesn’t think Wooley or Boil or Wupi or Waxer are trying to woo their general, and it shows in the pieces of armour they choose to paint, but the breastplate is... forward, when not given in a familial sense, and Cody can’t pretend that he is. Giving it in a familial sense. Kriff. 

  Ghost Company all sit together in the empty mess one night, Cody having strategically made sure their sleeping shifts line up, and they paint the pieces while drinking more of Waxer’s rotgut and pretending they don’t have a battle tomorrow that they might not win. Cody’s men paint each piece to match their own, so that Kenobi’s set is a mix of bits of each of them. They aren’t quite sure how it works for natborn Mandalorians, there were limits on what the Kaminoins let the Cuy’val Dar teach them, but this is as close as they can get to claiming Ken— Obi-Wan as one of the vode. The meaning won’t be lost on him.

  Cody carefully paints his sun rays onto Obi-Wan’s chestplate, the orange crisp and shiny-bright, and he wonders if Obi-Wan knows the meaning of colours on beskar’gam. He seems to know a lot about Mandalorian culture that even the clones don’t, but Cody has never pushed to know more about why, not when it makes Obi-Wan clam up like that.

  Boil finishes quickly, and just as quickly gets completely smashed to the point he’s singing the last raunchy jig they’d picked up planet-side, and it’s almost calming to see him so relaxed. Waxer smiles fondly at his brother and switches his cup for one of water instead, shaking his head at Wooley’s disapproving glare. 

  Cody waits until the others have gone to bed to ask for the medic’s steady hand, to help him stencil a beskar’ta right above the sternum. He isn’t sure if he’s ever seen another vode with a beskar’ta, and perhaps it’s a little presumptuous for Cody to give Obi-Wan one without discussing it with him first, but he can offer no greater protection to his general. The way Wupi doesn’t say anything when Cody carefully paints in the lines says more about his relationship with Obi-Wan than he’d really like to admit. 

  Cody isn’t there when Wooley presents the armour to him, but when Obi-Wan joins them in the hangar before descent planet-side, he wears every piece as if it were the regalia of some ancient royal, and not a cobbled-together attempt to keep him alive. The rest of the 212th hide their stares inside their buckets, and Obi-Wan still wears his outer robe over it all, but Ghost Company all preen at the sight of their general not only protected, but in their colour and crests. 

  Obi-Wan smiles at Cody as they load into the shuttles, tapping a closed fist over the beskar’ta in all-too-knowing thanks. So he knows at least the familial connotations, which doesn’t bode well for Cody’s half hope that that’s all he knows.

  Crys claps Cody on the shoulder with an eyebrow wiggle, and Cody wishes Jango hadn’t taught them a damn thing. 

-

  Day three without water, even with the Force sustaining him, leaves Obi-Wan more than a little delirious. The Nikto bounty hunter that thought they could somehow convince Count Dooku that they’d captured the famed Negotiator grows increasingly agitated as the hours roll by, and Obi-Wan wishes he had better presence of mind to appreciate it. 

  They have him on his knees and strung up in chains like a barbarian, and stick him with a needle every three hours with some sort of Force suppressor that makes him even more incoherent — Obi-Wan is fairly sure they’re over-drugging him. Actually, perhaps the Force isn’t sustaining him properly; that would certainly explain a lot. 

  The morning of day four in the brig of a ship Obi-Wan can’t remember the make of, the Nikto starts picking through his removed armour, with scathing comments about the colour and fact that it had come from “cannon-fodder slaves that are better put-down than eating up the galaxy’s resources”, and oh, Obi-Wan wishes he could rend them limb from limb.

  “A bastardisation of Mando armour, you know,” the Nikto grumbles, sending Obi-Wan a pitying look when all he can do is grunt angrily. “Look, this even has an iron heart; what poor kriffing fool told you you were allowed to wear such a mark?” Scoffing, the Nikto discards their cloak to slip on Obi-Wan’s chestplate; every last scrap of energy in Obi-Wan screams at the wrongness, and he jerks in his chains.

  The Nikto startles and doesn’t get to fastening the sides as they stare at their prisoner. “You shouldn’t have any mobility left,” they say in part surprise, part anger, getting back to their feet to drag the small medical crate of suppressors back across the room. They kick it open and pull out an almost-empty vial, but don’t get to the needles before a proximity alarm goes off.

  They drop the vial and grab the blaster from their hip, and barely get it up in time for the single door to explode inwards, Ghost Company forcing their way into the room before the smoke has even cleared. And Obi-Wan trusts his men, his family, with every Force-forsaken bit of him, which means he promptly passes out at the sight of them.

  He doesn’t wake in safety, rather with a vibroblade pressed to his throat and a hand twisting cruelly in his hair. His vision is filled with white and orange and warmth, before his brain catches up to what he’s actually seeing, and he focuses on the blank helmets of his men. The suppressors in his system do nothing to hide the molten metal anger that leaks into the Force all around them, and Obi-Wan must look worse than he thought, if Cody’s hand is trembling on his blaster.

  ‘Easy,’ Obi-Wan whispers without moving his lips, Cody giving the smallest of jerks so Obi-Wan knows the message is received.

  ‘Sir?’ Cody shifts on his feet, the Nikto saying something from behind Obi-Wan that’s surely full of gloating and threat, but Cody’s helmet is tilted towards Obi-Wan, his presence fluttering in the Force like a lamp in the dark.

  ‘I’m not quite sure how you’re managing this,’ Obi-Wan admits, with half a thought to the cosmic implication of Cody giving him a beskar’ta, which has meaning even outside Mandalore, outside even the Force. ‘But my lovely captor is weak on their left side, an old injury, I think.’

  ‘He’s wearing your armour,’ Cody all but growls and raises his blaster properly, and the Nikto must sense the change as they nervously fumble the vibroblade and cut through the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic.

  And Obi-Wan is tired, he’s been in chains for four days with drugs he’s never encountered burning the ends of his nerves and cutting off an entire sense he has never been without, so he looks up until he meets Cody’s eyes squarely. ‘Then relieve them of it.’

  ‘With pleasure, sir.’

Mando’a: Vode An — "Brothers All" (a Mando’a war chant taught to the clones by Jango and the Cuy’val Dar)  Cuy’val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy beskar’ta — “Iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called ka’rta beskar or “heart of the iron”

[captaingondolin]

(Rexwalker + Anidala polyam they know about each other and are chill. i wrote this while ignoring a mile long list of to dos. i am made of stress and denial so i am giving these characters time to relax.)

The air inside 79s was always too hot, subpar air filters never quite keeping up with the mass of bodies confined into the small space. If it was warm enough, people would spill out onto the balcony, the low beats of the music reaching even outside.

Rex had stopped noticing the smell of spilled liquor and sweat after less than ten minutes inside. The heat, however, was starting to get to him. But maybe that was just Anakin plastered against his side.

There had been a few curious glances in their direction, natborn officers and Jetii being uncommon sights at 79s, but Anakin was with him and no one questioned them. Jesse had winked at him from the table he shared with Kix, before going back to his own drink.

Anakin’s hair was tickling his neck, and Rex looked down at where his riduur was slumped against his shoulder.

“I might have had one too many,” Anakin admitted, lifting his empty glass and giving a half shrug, somehow without dislodging himself from Rex’s shoulder. “Everything is spinning and I think I’m hearing more of people’s thoughts than I should.”

Rex knew that no Jedi, not even Anakin could read thoughts piecemeal, like a written text or an overheard conversation. But Anakin was highly sensitive to feelings, attuned to perceiving changing moods or absorbing strong images or sensations people might be projecting, and he knew Rex would understand his shorthand. When he was tired or, like in this case, drunk, filtering out the noise of the world became harder.

“Let’s get you home, then,” Rex said. 

He might have hoped for a longer night, but they were coming from a long, thankless, bloody campaign, and he understood better than most the temptation of numbing it all down. Anakin had had to carry him back to the barracks a few times before, and her was more than happy to return the favour.

“Do you...” Anakin started, then mumbled something inaudible.

Rex gave him time to collect his thoughts.

“You know I love you, right?” he said after a moment, pushing himself upright to look Rex in the eye.

“Should I be worried?” Rex joked, ignoring the flutter of joy he always, always felt at those words.

Anakin pouted, and Rex couldn’t help but kiss that insufferable, beautiful pout.

“Do you, I mean, would you. Do you want to come to Padmé’s? I really miss her, but I don’t want to be without you.”

Rex hesitated. He hadn’t spent that much time with the Senator. They had a near-death experience together with the blue shadow virus, which had led to awkward confessions and a renewed mutual respect, but that was the extent. Despite sharing something incredibly important and precious, they weren’t exactly close. Rex didn’t know exactly how she felt, but he often feared overstepping, and he made a conscious effort not to monopolise Anakin’s time when they were on leave. 

“Are you sure she’d be okay with this?” Rex wasn’t sure if he meant the late hour, the last minute call, or his own presence in her house.

Colour rose even more on Anakin’s cheeks. “She said... she offered. She wasn’t sure you wanted to and didn’t want to pressure you, but... And I felt so awkward! I love you both so much, but I don’t know if...” he made a vague gesture that added absolutely nothing to his babbling, but somehow, Rex understood him.

It was, in a way, like inviting Anakin to 79s. Rex loved his brothers, and he wanted Anakin to spend time with him in one of the places where he got to be himself. But there was friction. Anakin wasn’t exactly part of that world, much like Rex wasn’t part of Amidala’s. He worried for a moment about what they were going to do after the war - if they both... No, he wasn’t going to go there.

“Let’s give her a call and see if she wants to deal with your drunk ass, or I’m dropping you on Kenobi’s doorstep and washing my hands of you,” Rex said, a little more gruffly than he intended. But Anakin was smiling at him like he hung the moon and stars.

They walked - more like wobbled - outside and found a corner where they wouldn’t be overheard to make the call. 

“Ani!” Padmé said with a bright smile that made her look so young. Or maybe just like herself, instead of the ageless effigy she presented to the world.

Her smile didn’t dim when she saw Rex, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Captain. Is Anakin being a nuisance?”

“Hey, I resent that! I am a kriffing delight to be around!”

Padmé and Rex laughed at him, but fondly and without malice, and Anakin sighed, tragic and put upon.

“Once you two have finished laughing at me... Padmé, would you... can we...”

She came to his rescue. “Would you like to come over? Both of you?”

-

Padmé is waiting for them at the door - Rex notices not even her protocol droid is around, and appreciates the discretion. He’s sure there must be at least one guard somewhere on this floor, but they are alone in the apartment.

Anakin bends down to kiss Padmé. He’s tall, and he needs to angle down to kiss Rex too, but Padmé is surprisingly tiny up close. She has such a large presence, it’s easier to forget her actual height. Rex wonders idly how it feels, to be so visible and yet so invisible.

He can see her lips curl up, smiling into the kiss, her eyes blissfully close. Anakin tangles a hand into her hair, cascading freely down her back, unconstrained by headpieces or jewels, and Rex realises the level of trust she is showcasing by receiving him like this - not as Senator Amidala, but just Padmé, without her own form of armour and armour-paints.

“Come on,” she says after a moment, lips red and well-kissed, and takes them to the living room. 

They all sit on a large sofa, Anakin between them looking pleased and a little nervous. Rex can relate.

Padmé offers them drinks and asks about their plans for their leave. She does not ask about the fighting, the campaign they just left behind. She does not ask about where they will be assigned next. Their conversation stays in the small confines of a few days of dirtside leave, and it’s surprisingly comforting. Rex tries to imagine them into a bubble, the galaxy outside nothing but a muted memory.

“You with us, Rex?” Anakin asks him.

He is still staring into his glass of muja juice. “Mh?”

Then he realises the other two had stopped talking and raises his eyes. “Sorry. I was just thinking... It’s nothing.”

It’s stupid, he thinks. The bubble bursts, the outside world filters back in. It’s all well and good to enjoy leave, but this it all this is: a moment respite, a parenthesis in a history of war. Rex knows no other life and maybe he never will.

Anakin takes his hand and just holds it, waiting in silence. Padmé peers over at him, frowning. “Would you like to talk,” she asks, “Or to be left alone? Or do you want to talk just with Anakin?”

She disentangles herself from Anakin and is about to stand up, when Rex stops her. “No, no. I’m not about to... this is your house. I’m not going to kick you out from your own living room. Maybe I should go.”

Anakin’s fingers tighten around his, but before he can say a word, Padmé is standing in front of him. “Rex. I like to think we will be friends, one day, but I can’t presume to know you yet, and I have no right to your every thought. Please. Let me give you some space.”

There is vice around Rex’s throat and he can only nod. He watches her go, her ridiculously long, impractical blue robe trailing after her, and he almost calls her back. He wants her to know how he feels.

But he isn’t sure she would understand, and he isn’t ready to risk it yet. So he spills his heart to Anakin, who is ready to receive it all. Anakin always promises him they will both see the end of the war, and sometimes Rex gets angry at him for that. Anakin isn’t babying him, he truly believes that, but Rex can’t always accept the weight of that hope. Tonight, though, he leans with his forehead against Anakin’s chest, and lets him caress his head, his back, and talk promises of peace.

“I will keep you safe. I will keep you all safe,” Anakin promises, bright and impossible, and Rex believes him.

Padmé comes back after a while with hot chocolate and cookies. They eat and drink and Padmé gets a cream moustache and does a frighteningly accurate imitation of Admiral Yularen that makes Anakin laugh until there are tears in his eyes. Rex, who is maybe still a little bit tipsy, does Obi-Wan. Padmé is gasping for air and accusing him of having a recording of Master Kenobi hidden somewhere.

“I’ve just been present for many of General Kenobi’s lectures. Somehow,” he side eyes Anakin, “Someone always ends up prompting them.”

“I am a victim!” Anakin says, and keep laughing.

It gets late enough that the conversation slows down and they are all yawning more than they are talking, and Rex thinks it’s time to go.

“You should stay, Rex. Stay for breakfast. Mon brought me a giant box of chandrillan spiced chocolate pastries that I will never be able to finish on my own. Unless of course you’ll be needed too early tomorrow?”

Rex can see through the flimsi thin excuse, and he appreciates the easy way out. Which he should take. He should go and leave Anakin alone with his wife. He should go back to the barracks in case he was needed. Should, should, should.

“I would love to,” his traitorous voice says, lower and more uncertain than he has ever sounded. “Stay, I mean.”

“I’ll go find some spare sleeping clothes,” Anakin offers helpfully, then winks - winks! the shameless flirt - at him, “I’m sure you won’t mind.”

Padmé looks between them, the faintest pink colouring her cheeks. “I’ll show you to the guest room,” she says, standing up and beckoning him to follow.

The guestroom is, as expected, far bigger than necessary and with its own attached fresher. 

When Anakin fails to come back, Padmé goes in search of him. Rex hears a faint laughter, and Padmé reappears with some folded clothes. “He passed out face down on the bed.”

She hands him the clothes and her small, soft hand touches his. He smiles at her and wishes her goodnight.

And it is. For tonight, still, they are at peace.

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 1

Prompt: Mind Control @febuwhump

read on ao3

A Magnet for Trouble

"This," Anakin kicks at a ball of dust, causing the particles to go flying everywhere. "blows,"

His Master coughs, and Anakin looks up to see he has kicked the dust directly into the face of Obi-Wan. He supposes he earned the disapproving scowl this time.

"Not every mission is going to be exciting, Padawan. Sometimes we receive tasks that are a little more on the mundane side."

Anakin examines his Master's face as he continues to brush dust out of his bearded face. Though he has the typical Obi-Wan Kenobi stoicism, Anakin has known him long enough to see that he too isn't exactly pleased about their task.

Some random Outer Rim planet claimed to have found some ancient Jedi artifact, so the council sent them to go fetch it. Literally, anyone could have done this, but they decided to send a Jedi knight? Master Nu would probably love this kind of thing, but Master Obi-Wan wouldn't let him suggest that to Master Windu.

So now they're searching through this dusty old house that smells like bantha poodoo and mildew because the local officials were too afraid to touch it. Apparently even too scared to get close enough to the artifact to get a decent holo. From the dark image, it looked like a deactivated Holocron, so Anakin isn't sure what all the fuss it about.

"Why would the Jedi leave something valuable in this kind of place?" he asks, crinkling his nose at a pile of something in the corner that seems to be a source of the horrible smell.

"This house is old, Anakin. I suspect long ago it was quite elegant and beautiful. During the Great Peace, Jedi Masters often opted to retire in their home worlds or places they liked. It is entirely possible this was the residence of a Jedi Master."

"I thought Jedi didn't like material things, though. This place is huge!" They'd spent the last hour or two making their way carefully through the three-story winding home.

Obi-Wan chuckles. "We are taught not to keep material things, but that does not mean some Jedi don't like them anyway. I'm sure you and that desk of projects you have can relate."

"Those are practical, Master."

"A bolt slingshot is practical?"

Anakin looks away from the wry gaze of his Master. He may or may not have broken a mug or two with that slingshot, but it was a prototype.

They go into the next room. It's the largest bedroom by far, with a canopied bed and large heavy furniture in various places. White sheets haphazardly cover the tables and paintings.

"Surprise, surprise. Another dusty bedroom." Anakin sighs, tugging down one of the sheets to look at the painting. In the dark, it is difficult to see, but he can tell it's a portrait of a woman.

"This is the main bedroom. Perhaps our artifact is somewhere in here."

"You'd think they'd tell us where they found it."

"I suspect they forgot which room it was."

Understandable, I suppose. There are literally over twenty different bedrooms that all look similar. While Master Obi-Wan looks through the drawers of the bedroom, Anakin continues to take interest in the painting. He pulls his lightsaber out, igniting it to get a better source of light.

"What are you doing?" Obi-Wan asks, his back still turned to him.

"Need more light." He waves the lightsaber close enough to the painting to see the face of the woman. Intense golden eyes stare back at him, almost like they are locking him into a gaze. He is entranced by her dark shiny curls that cascade down her shoulders and seem to fade into the elegant dark robes she is wearing. His eyes settle at the necklace that hangs from her neck, its dark metal forming a teardrop shape with a red gem in the center.

The woman is beautiful. Scarily beautiful. Were her eyes brown she might look a little bit like Padmé, or at least how Anakin remembers her. It's been nearly eight years since he's seen her, and he misses her sweet smile dearly.

"Anakin, what have I told you about gawking?" Obi-Wan teases, tugging at his padawan braid as he passes.

"I'm not-- oh nevermind," he groans, pulling his braid back in front of his shoulder.

"I'll check the closet, keep looking here."

"Yes, Master." He lowers his saber, about to turn it off when something catches his eye. The glow of his saber shows a space at the base of the wall. Anakin crouches down, placing his hand at the baseboard, and indeed feels a bit of a draft coming from underneath.

Interesting. He puts his saber away and stands, running his hands along the sides of the painting. To his excitement, he finds a seam in the wall, hidden well by the frame. He grins and reaches out with the Force. If this is the home of a Jedi, they undoubtedly would have a secret door that is Force activated! Maybe I can figure out how to put this in my room...

The section of the wall shutters and then slides backward, revealing a darkened room.

"Oh wizard," Anakin mutters to himself, pulling his saber out. He is about to walk into the room when he turns, looking to see if Obi-Wan is anywhere near. He probably should tell his master what he found, but maybe checking it out first would be a good idea. He would hate to take him away from his search for a dead-end...

He will call for him if he finds something. If this is where the artifact is, then he can say he found it all by himself!

Anakin steps into the room, using his lightsaber to light his path. It is larger than he expected, just a desk in the far corner and a bookshelf that is now empty and covered in cobwebs. He walks right up to the desk, giddiness running through him as he spots a cube in the center of the table. He picks it up, turning it around in his hands to examine it.

The holo they gave was dark, but this seems to be the artifact! It is a dark metalloid material with markings that do look like a Holocron, but it doesn't glow blue as the ones he has seen. In fact... it doesn't seem to be a Holocron at all. If it is a Jedi thing, maybe it too responds to the Force? He closes his eyes, trying to get some sort of signature from the object, but it is like it is just out of reach for him.

Strange. He decides to show Obi-Wan and walks out of the secret room. In the light of the main room, now Anakin can see there is a latch. Oh duh, it's a box!

"Hey Master, come look at this," he calls, as he undoes the latch.

"One moment, Anakin."

With the latch open, Anakin tugs at both ends, and the cube opens at the center, sending something from within rattling out and onto the floor under the bed. He cringes, hoping he didn't break whatever it is. He crouches down, feeling around the dusty floor until his hands lie on something cool and metalloid. He draws it out, his eyes widening when he realizes it's a necklace.

The necklace from the portrait. Its teardrop design is smooth in his hand as he examines it. Somehow, as old as it must be, it isn't tarnished.

Skywalker.

He looks over his shoulder, but there is no one there. Anakin could have sworn he heard his...

Skywalker, come to me.

He looks the other way. The voice is quiet, indistinguishable of gender though it is definitely speaking basic. When it whispers his name once more he looks down at the necklace, suddenly realizing that the voice is not coming from around him, but from it.

He flips it over, revealing the beautiful red stone. It shimmers as though it is its own light source, entrancing Anakin in its kaleidoscope of colors. He runs his thumb from the side of the necklace to the stone to feel the smooth-looking gem.

The moment he touches it, he is struck with an icy chill that runs from his fingertips down to his toes. Terror fills the Jedi Padawan, and he staggers backward, his mind telling him to drop it but his body not listening. He clenches the necklace in his freezing hands, and the world around him tunnels.

Obi-Wan is going to be so mad at me...

And then there is only darkness.

_______

A clatter and a thump resonate from the other room. Obi-Wan sighs. What has he done this time? He found nothing in the closet so he heads back to see what his padawan has gotten into this time. While he had hoped Anakin would outgrow his propensity to attract trouble, it seems the sixteen-year-old is still well endowed in finding mayhem.

"Anakin, if you managed to break something--" he trails off as a chill runs up his spine. A warning in the Force. Obi-Wan puts a hand on his lightsaber and reaches out through their bond.

On the other end, he feels nothing but static.

"Anakin!" he calls, now running into the bedroom. He skids to a stop at the sight of one of the walls caved in, an open box lying on the floor, and Anakin's body slumped to the side. Though he still senses danger, he doesn't see anything that could be causing it. He drops to his knees beside his padawan, rolling him so his head lies atop Obi-Wan's legs. He lays a hand on Anakin's cheek and pulls away in horror at how cold he is. "Anakin, wake up!" he orders, shaking him firmly.

Obi-Wan gets a sudden feeling like he's been here before. For a split second, his teenage padawan becomes his graying Master lying motionless in his arms on Naboo. Panic grips him, and he grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. As quickly as he sees it, it is gone.

Freezing fingers enclose around his wrist and Obi-Wan's eyes snap open to see Anakin staring back at him, but there is something off about him. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he has time to process what is happening his body is being flung across the room with tremendous force. His back slams into the wall and he sags to the ground, vision spotting with black dots.

Anakin stands now with his lightsaber in hand, and Obi-Wan realizes what is wrong with his padawan is that his bright blue eyes now shine a dusty gold.

"Padawan," Obi-Wan says carefully as he pulls himself to his feet. He doesn't dare reach for his own lightsaber. "What happened?"

"I am no padawan," he says back, his ashen face devoid of any emotion. Though it is Anakin's voice it isn't Anakin. Obi-Wan has never heard him speak in such an inflection.

"Then do tell me who I am speaking to."

"Anakin Skywalker."

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "I'm afraid not."

"I am Anakin Skywalker, and you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, will die by my hand."

Anakin raises his saber, not in his usual starting position but in Form II-- Count Dooku's preferred form for its elegance and dueling superiority. Anakin has never once taken interest in the fluidity and discipline it takes to learn Makashi.

Obi-Wan still doesn't grab for his own weapon. Anakin lets out a guttural yelp and darts forward, jabbing his lightsaber aggressively. Obi-Wan twists out of the way much to the displeasure of whatever is controlling Anakin.

"Draw your weapon, coward," he hisses.

"What have you done to him?"

Anakin's face twists into a sinister smile that Obi-Wan has a feeling will likely give him nightmares in the weeks to come. "He is my vessel. A strong one, at that, for an apprentice. I have inserted my Life Force into him, and now we are one."

The boy lunges at him again, and Obi-Wan is able to evade him once again, but this time his shoulder is grazed by the tip of the lightsaber. He bites his lip at the red-hot pain igniting his upper body but swallows it back.

"So what is the plan then? What is your purpose?"

"Does there need be a purpose besides the chance to walk the galaxy once again?"

He stares at the boy, recognizing the tell-tale shadowing of him about to strike once again. If whatever is occupying his padawan is telling the truth, then Obi-Wan knows what he must do. He finally draws his lightsaber grimly, raising it above his head parallel to the floor in the opening move of Soresu. He points in Anakin's direction.

"You will not take over the soul of a boy for your selfish purposes," he says, and then Anakin's saber is crashing against his.

Obi-Wan has sparred with Anakin so many times throughout their training. The boy is a natural with a lightsaber, and one of the best padawan fighters among his age mates. He is quick and decisive, pouring every ounce of his endless supply of energy into each brutal strike. Even with another controlling his mind, his body still moves like Anakin. Thankfully, this is a feat Obi-Wan can easily accomplish. He blocks every strike, knowing exactly what he is planning before Anakin even knows it. Every one of his jabs is met with Obi-Wan's lightsaber waiting patiently for him to catch up. With every crackle of their blades striking another, he can see the fire in Anakin's eyes grow. His golden eyes are not unlike the piercing yellow of Darth Maul, filled with hatred and anger.

Through his anger and fatigue and many minutes of combat, Anakin becomes more and more sloppy. Obi-Wan takes this opportunity to lash out with a rapid kick to the center of his chest. He goes staggering backward in surprise, and Obi-Wan is quick to sweep his legs and cause him to go tumbling to the ground.

"I see you are not used to the awkward body of a teenager," Obi-Wan says, kicking the lightsaber out of Anakin's hand and using the Force to pin him to the ground. He thrashes against the hold, but Obi-Wan is tapping deep into his Force abilities to hold him still. He can already feel the tremendous headache blossoming in his temples.

"You know you will have to kill him to stop me," The thing says lowly. "There is no other way."

"No," Obi-Wan shakes his head. "There is always another way."

"The boy is kin to the darkness. It wraps around him and he accepts it with open arms," he grins. "Anakin Skywalker is a natural in the dark side, and so you must kill him to free him."

Obi-Wan kneels down beside the restrained boy, placing a hand on his forehead despite his attempts to pull away. He looks Anakin-who-is-not-really-Anakin in the eyes, reaching out once again through their bond.

Anakin. He calls against the distant sliver of his padawan's Force presence. Come back to me, my padawan. You are stronger than it is. Fight against it. Take hold of the light.

A girthy cackle. "You think the boy can fight me? A Master of the ancient Sith arts?"

Obi-Wan smiles. Through their bond, he hears the quiet voice of his padawan. Distant, but determined.

"And you think you can silence my padawan? I assure you, I have tried. Many times."

The darkness that taints the Force suddenly begins to flicker, and the Sith's prideful face flickers with sudden worry. "This is-- this is impossible," it says.

Master! Obi-Wan hears Anakin saying with great distress, and he lays his hands on either of his cheeks.

Anakin I am here! I am with you, keep trying! Obi-Wan is growing wearier and wearier by the moment trying to keep Anakin still.

"I will not be bested!" the Sith grunts and Obi-Wan is thrown back. He manages to stay on his feet, but his hold finally slips. The bedroom erupts in a whirlwind of raw power. Loose objects and a cloud of dust fly around at terminal velocity. Obi-Wan squints through the dust storm and sees Anakin now on his feet, his saber back in his hand and ignited in front of him. His eyes stare wildly at the blade as he rotates it in his hand before looking back up at Obi-Wan with a sinister look. "Not by you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and certainly not by a padawan."

Obi-Wan's eyes widen, "No!" he yells, lunging forward as Anakin's wrist turns to point the tip of his blade toward his own heart. Naboo flashes before him once again, and Obi-Wan is filled with a burst of energy from the Force.

He will not watch the Sith take another from him.

Obi-Wan flips through the air and manages to jam his blade between Anakin and his own lightsaber, deflecting it away from his chest and smashing his wrist in the wall. Anakin's cry of pain rings out as his shoulder dislocates from the force Obi-Wan uses. It makes him feel like his heart is tearing in two, but a dislocated shoulder is worlds better than a lightsaber through the heart. Anakin's lightsaber drops and Obi-Wan summons it to his hand with the Force. Now he is restrained once again, this time physically rather than through the Force. He can feel the heave of his padawan's chest, and the feral thrashing of his body.

Obi-Wan blankets himself with the Force, allowing it to take control of his strength. He reaches through their bond once more, pushing past the barriers the Sith had placed. To his relief, he finds Anakin's Force presence shining brightly, just lost.

I am here, padawan. Come back to me.

__________

Anakin opens his eyes and immediately closes them. His head hurts.

As his grogginess begins to clear, a few questions prod at him. Why does my head hurt? Why am I on the floor? Where is Obi-Wan?

An exacerbated exhale beside him makes him realize maybe the answer to his last question is easily answered. Anakin rolls to his side, squinting through the pounding headache at his temples. Obi-Wan lies on his back next to him, head flopped to the side so Anakin can clearly see his face. Shock pangs through him and he ignores the pain and makes himself sit up.

Bad idea. His shoulder now erupts in shooting pain, and he looks down to see it is not in the correct position. He blinks back some tears that have formed and tries to focus on his master.

Blood drips down from Obi-Wan's nose, coloring the mustache of his beard a dark crimson. He spots a char mark across his left shoulder-- from a lightsaber?-- and dark circles so dark they look like two black eyes..

"Master!" Anakin yells, grabbing him by the lapels of his robes.

He doesn't remember what happened. How they ended up unconscious in the bedroom-- which looks war-torn with kicked up dust and broken objects. A glint of metalloid catches his eye and he picks up his own lightsaber that lies in Obi-Wan's other hand. His stomach drops. What could make Obi-Wan need to dual-wield? He isn't sure he's ever actually seen Obi-Wan fight with two sabers.

Anakin reaches out through their training bond, and his master winces in his sleep. He immediately withdraws, eyes wide. Their bond is strained. Obi-Wan's shields are simultaneously locked tight and clearly on the brink of collapse. Force exhaustion.

His master isn't the only one suffering from it, either. Anakin slumps himself forward to lay on Obi-Wan's chest, careful of his dislocated shoulder. He matches his master's even breaths to calm himself down and ease his own pain. He is nearly falling asleep when he feels movement below him and fingers carefully rifle through his hair.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan says stiffly. "Why are you on top of me?"

He perks up, turning around with glee at the sound of his Master's voice.

"Have a nice nap, Master?" he says, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

Obi-Wan slowly pushes himself to a sitting position. He leans his head back against the wall. "Oh, a lovely one," he says dryly. Then his expression shifts to worry. "What do you remember, Anakin?"

Question of the year. "I remember finding the secret room. And opening a box that had a necklace in it. And then... I woke up here."

"Nothing else?"

He takes a slow, deep breath. "I kind of remember hearing you telling me to come back, or something," his eyes flicker up to meet Master Obi-Wan's. "Did I pass out? Were we attacked?"

The Jedi Knight stares at him for a long moment-- so long it begins to feel uncomfortable. Anakin can tell he is not saying something important, or at least debating whether or not to actually say it.

"It seems your snooping got you into trouble again, my padawan. That necklace... held the Force presence of an ancient Sith who managed to... control you for a small while. I suspect the request was forged to lure Jedi here."

Anakin blinks with confusion. He looks at the lightsaber mark on Obi-Wan's shoulder and the pieces start to fall together.

"We fought... I did this... and I hurt you," he says, shame filling him.

"To be fair," Obi-Wan shrugs. "I accidentally injured your shoulder so don't feel bad about something you didn't consciously do."

Still, Anakin bows his head and stares at the floor. He messed up and got them both hurt in the process. Probably lost the artifact as well. When will I stop being such a screw-up?

A finger taps at his chin, and Anakin looks up to see Obi-Wan looking at him with a comforting gaze. There is no anger or disappointment in his face or the Force that flows between them. "This was not your fault, Anakin. In fact, you did amazingly. You were the one who stopped the Sith, forced it from your body and sent it back into the Force where it cannot hurt anyone anymore. You were brave and strong and didn't give up."

Anakin smiles, the negative feelings melting away easily now. Obi-Wan slowly pulls himself to his feet and reaches his hand out to help Anakin up as well.

"Come, padawan. I've had quite enough of this mission."

They begin to stagger toward the door. Anakin looks over at the painting and feels his heart skip a beat. The woman is gone now, leaving only the simple background on the canvas. In the back of his mind, he can hear her now. Feel the darkness surround you, Skywalker. Embrace it. Use it. Fuel your power and extinguish the light.

But more clearly, he can hear Obi-Wan. You are stronger than it is. Fight against it. Take hold of the light.

Their commands echo through his mind, the Sith one becoming quieter and quieter until it is gone completely. Relief finally washes through him as the darkness fades away.

They walk back through the dusty halls, slowly and leaning on one another. Anakin remembers their conversation as they walked these corridors earlier and smiles.

"I suppose this wasn't a boring mission after all,"

Obi-Wan sighs. "I should really stop wishing for mundane missions. There seems to be no such thing. We could be farming and you would find a way to attract trouble."

[avengersassemble-fics]

Ashes

part 01/?? “i’ll always be here”

master list

next part

Summary: What does it mean to be lost? To lose yourself to the one thing you trained most of your life to defeat? To succumb to the darkness? To lose those you loved the most? Anakin Skywalker was, and always will be the Chosen one. But he fell, and the galaxy and the Force felt it all at once. Everyone around him felt it - Anakin Skywalker was lost. The Jedi Order is purged. The Republic has fallen, and the Empire rises from its ashes. The Force is unbalanced, but only he can bring back the peace - only he can defeat the Emperor. But with Anakin Skywalker lost, and his connection to the Force severed, hope seems to be lost. But the Force works in mysterious ways. There's one person out there who can save him; bring Anakin Skywalker back. And the time is coming. The balance in the Force needs to be fixed. Anakin Skywalker must be found so the Emperor's tyrannous and evil reign can be stopped. Hope is out there, in hiding, but it's there. Darth Vader (Anakin) just doesn't know it yet.

word count 4.3k

an: this literally PAINED me to write. like i literally cried. anyways... enjoy

The Empire stood for many things. None of those things included peace, freedom, justice, and security. Crime was rampant on every world, every dark alley you dared to walk down you ran the risk of being jumped, and the fear that spread through people when they saw the white of the Stormtroopers armour would make the bravest of hearts cower out of sight. The thought would make anyone who saw the days before these weep in remembrance.

Before the fall of the Republic. Before the Jedi were purged. Before the Chancellor became the Emperor. Before Anakin Skywalker was lost to the dark side. Before the rise of Lord Vader.

The name instilled fear into the hearts of many. Common people didn’t know what Darth Vader looked like, they just heard the whispers amongst them. He wasn’t a man, but a machine dressed in black. Tall and intimidating. You could hear his breathing before you saw him, but even then it was too late. He was unstoppable. He was deadly. And he didn’t care who he struck down.

That’s what the galaxy turned into. It had been three years since the fall of the Republic, since the Jedi were killed off, and each day the future grew more bleak than the one before. Every corner you turned there were Stormtroopers enforcing some kind of unheard law. Even here, in the blandest of places, they were here too.

Tatooine didn’t change through the years. The hot desert planet with two suns would never change. It truly was a desolate world. How it still stood would always make one wonder. After the rise of the Empire, the Hutts Cartel seemed to only grow in number. The drought that was taking seed in Tatooine was lucrative for the Hutts, as they had just implemented a water tax. The fact the Empire let it happen was laughable, but what really surprised you anymore?

That surprise and guilt never filled your mind anymore. The last three years have taken a toll on your heart and morals. Having to re-settle into life on Tatooine took a bit of time, but establishing yourself had to happen quickly. With bounty hunting becoming more popular, you had the idea of capitalizing off of it. It was a good cover anyway, and you could keep an eye on things from afar. Building your gang was what took the most time, since you had easily beaten respect into anyone who challenged you. Fairly, of course.

You often frequented this disgusting cantina and sat in the farthest booth in the back with your feet kicked onto the table. Arms crossed, you just listened to your members talk and fight amongst themselves. They had become almost your second family after you lost. . You stopped the thought from entering your mind, instead taking a sip at the beer that was in your fingers. It had been a rather slow week for the bounty hunting clan, but you narrowed your sight on a man who entered the cantina.

“Ras,” you called out to one of your followers, gaining the attention of the male Twi’lek. You nodded your head at the lost soul who was searching for you, and Ras’ eyes darted over in realization, before tossing you a knowing grin. He stood from the booth and walked over to the man, throwing his hands behind the man's shoulders. You didn’t know what he said to him, but when he faced the human your way and began to lead him over, the noticeable lack of color made you guess a couple of possibilities.

Ras sat the man down in a single chair that was opposite the rounded booth. Ras grinned and walked behind the booth so he stood directly behind you, and stepped back into the darkness. He was for the theatrics today it seemed, and you kept your eye on the bottle in your hand.

“I was told you have a puck for me,” you started, finally looking over to the man across from you. You saw him look you over before raising a brow.

“You’re Trace?” He asked. You chuckled a bit, finally lowering your legs and turning to the table fully, leaning your arms on the table to stare him down.

“Do you have a puck for me, or not.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. You didn’t lift your stare until the man reached into his jacket and threw a puck down onto the table. Even then you held your look on him for a couple more seconds until you grabbed the puck in your palm. As soon as you did Ras was grabbing the man by his jacket and pulling him back to the exit. You sat back against the rough cushions and turned the puck on to show the groups next target.

Well, it was easy enough. You could give it to Chorda, she was busting your ass for work just a few days ago. She was even eyeing you now, and you rolled your eyes and tossed it her way. The Rhodian caught it and let out a small noise in anticipation.

The cantina door opened and in walked a hooded figure. The sudden burst of sunlight made your eyes land on the person who walked in. The more you watched them, and the fact they didn’t remove their cover made you slide your hand down your side to the holster tucked on your leg and flick it open. Something about their presence made your skin itch, and they moved closer and closer. Ras sat in the chair the human had just evicted and saw your stare and followed your eyes to the hood covered being and stood up tall, gaining the attention of the other bounty hunters. Four more of your crew stood up in defense which started to gain the attention of other cantina dwellers. Ras stuck his hand out to the hooded being to stop them.

“Is there something we can help you with hoss?” Ras asked. You could see the hooded figures head tip up, but Ras’s body blocked them from your view. You could at the very least make out their hand lift in a way you also couldn’t see too clearly, but you saw Ras falter a bit. You carefully stood from your seat and kept your hand placed on your blaster. Ras took a step backwards, and your crew parted down the middle. The mysterious figure reached up and peeled back their hood, and you were faced with someone you hadn’t seen since you left Coruscant all those moons ago.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood just feet from you, not looking like he aged a day from that time. His hair was grown out and his beard still looked the same, but you could see the change in his eyes. He didn’t greet you with his familiar smile, and you didn’t either. You had to do your best in concealing the shock you felt. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

A few moments passed until you nodded to Ras. Your crew backed off from the two of you and went to the other cantina occupants. One by one they grabbed and threw people towards the door, and you stood there to stare at your old companion. One by one the cantina emptied until it was just you and him.

You locked your holster and sat back into the booth you so often sat in. Obi-Wan Kenobi sat across from you and still, neither of you said a word to one another. He was gauging you just like you were doing to him.

“It looks like you’ve set yourself up well,” he spoke. That familiar drawl almost made you smile. Almost. You shrugged your shoulders.

“Good money. Gives them work,” you offered.

“Is that how it works? They do the deed and you get paid?”

“Oh don’t patronize me,” you threw back. “They do the work? They make the money from it. I have the pleasure of dealing with the Guild by myself, and they aren’t nice people.”

Obi-wan studied you, before he spoke next. “I heard stories about this infamous hunter, Trace they called her,” he paused as you reached for your almost finished beer and let out a chuckle before you took a sip. “Had one of the biggest clans on Tatooine, favored by the Hutts-”

“Well,” you cut him off before placing the bottle aggressively on the table. “Guilty as charged. . Let’s cut the shit, what are you doing here O-”

“Ben,” he cut you off this time. You couldn’t help the grin on your face after that.

“Sorry, Ben. What do you want.”

He frowned at you and sighed. “What happened to you? You used to be so-”

“So what,” you pressed, feeling your jaw tighten. “Hopeful? Charismatic? Lovely to be around?” You scoffed and shook your head as a sad smile formed on your lips. But Obi-Wan-- Ben nodded at you.

“At least yourself,” he said quietly. Your smile fell and you felt a lump form in your throat.

“Yeah, well,” you whispered, averting your eyes from his gaze to look at your hands. “That part of me died three years ago. . With him.”

Ben looked at you with sad eyes, noticing the tears that began to form in yours. You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt it and reopened them to give him that same stoney look. Ben shook his head and sighed.

“I was hoping that you would be interested in helping me with something,” he said carefully. You laughed a bit, of course he didn’t come here to check in on you. He wanted something. That’s all the Jedi wanted from you. The only reason they kept you around.

“And here I was thinking I was getting a visit from an old friend,” you smiled at him in a light scoff. “What are you proposing. I may have someone I can lend-”

“No,” he cut you off. “Only you.”

It caught your attention, and you leaned forward to rest your arms on the table. “What are you proposing, Ben.”

“I need help looking over Luke,” he said. You raised a brow at him, not knowing the name.

“Who?”

Ben let out a deep sigh, still not answering you. You narrowed your brows in concentration until it finally dawned on you. You look softened, and you leaned backwards until your back hit the hard cushions.

“She had the baby,” you whispered. He shook his head.

“She had twins,” he told you. You gaped a bit at him as you tried to search for words, but nothing came out, so he continued with. “But only the boy is hidden here.”

“There’s a girl,” you said matter of factly to yourself, and he nodded again. “Where is he-”

“With his family,” Ben confirmed. Right. His family. There was a moisture farm a bit of ways away. You didn’t avert your gaze from his soft blue eyes, almost afraid that he was tricking you. You had never thought that the Senator had the baby, you heard of her death and just assumed. Your heart grew heavy. For the first time in years it grew heavy. But you shook your head.

“No,” you suddenly said, standing abruptly from the booth. Ben watched in shock but was quick on his feet as you were headed for the door. He grabbed onto your arm and spun you back to face him.

“Let go of me-” you started and he cut you off.

“You need to snap out of it, (Y/N),” he said, grabbing hold of your shoulders.

“Don’t call me-”

“What?” He cut you off once more, raising his voice at you. “Don’t call you by your name?”

You shoved his arms off, glaring him down as he planted his feet into the ground. He had never stared at you in such anger, but you matched it just as easily. He shook his head.

“You act like you’re the only one who lost someone that day,” he started, and then pointed to himself. “All my friends are gone. . and I lost my brother. I loved him just as much as you did.”

“I know,” you spat out at him. “I know what you lost. I know what the galaxy lost. I had to feel it all, I had to. . I had to see it all.”

His glare softened and he glanced down at your fist that was tightened at your side. “I saw every Jedi fall that day. I felt all of their cries, every shot that split through their bodies,” you paused as tears threatened to fall down your face. “I felt their light leave me. And then I felt,” you had to stop at the name, not being able to bring yourself to say it when a tear slid down your cheek. “I felt him get pulled from me. It was like he was torn right from my side.”

Ben watched as you began to shake, and the tears just continued to fall, and he took a step closer to you as you just talked. “I had to watch him kill all of those younglings, and I. . I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop him,” you shook your head as the man in front of you carefully grabbed your arms. “The pure anger he felt. The hatred he held for you, I felt it all. I saw it all. I saw the fight, and I had to watch as his body melted before me. I had to hear his screams when they put him into that suit,” a sob left your lips. “I couldn’t help him.”

He pulled you into his arms as the tears poured down your face. Your arms went around his neck as he held you and you cried. You could feel his hands on your back and the way they rubbed you slowly. Ben shed a couple of tears on his own, though you would never see it, and just held you against his body until you calmed down.

This was the woman he remembered. The one who cared about something and doing the right thing. Strong, but still confident enough to share these moments with people. Often that was with. . Him, but he saw it a few times. It never made you weak, no never. It was often something he admired, even if it was against the Jedi way, your ability to express your emotions was something he always looked at as one of your qualities. Because he could never have admitted that. Maybe not even now.

Your cries had quieted and he slowly peeled his head from atop yours. Your eyes were glued onto something to his side so he carefully released you. No your eyes weren’t glued to something, they looked like they were dull again. You glanced at him and shook your head.

“I don’t know if you actually want my help, Ben. I’m not as helpful as I once was.”

He raised a brow. “I doubt that, but. . What is it you mean?”

You sighed, taking a seat on one of the barstools nearby, and lacing your fingers together on your lap. “Before I fled here I cut myself off from the Force.”

He blinked at you until you looked his way again, and offered him a small smile. No wonder tracking you down was so hard, and no wonder he didn’t feel any sort of connection just now. He settled himself onto the barstool and laced his hands together as well.

“Did they tell you to do it?”

You nodded, knowing who he was talking about. “If I didn’t he would’ve found me,” you glanced at him. “Sidious would’ve found me first. They said that it was for my safety, but when the time was right they’d be back. I haven’t had any visions since then.”

Ben nodded beside you, and sighed deeply which made you raise a brow at him. “Well. I guess it’s a good thing.”

“Good thing?” You asked. And then he smiled at you.

“Well it’s not like we can just go around using lightsabers anymore, and I’ve heard your quite an aim with that,” he motioned to the blaster that hung on your leg. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips.

“What exactly are you needing help with?” You asked.

“I’ve taken residence a fair ways from here, and the Raiders are getting more and more antsy with my presence. I’m afraid our peace is coming to an end if I don’t meet with their Chieftain.”

“You want to meet with the Chieftain?” You exclaimed, only earning a nod from him. You rolled your eyes and mumbled. “You’re turning out to be quite that surprise, Ben.”

“Is that a yes?” He asked, looking over your face for any kind of answer. It wasn’t until the corner of your lips lifted in a smile did he smile wide.

“I’m in.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Heavy steps filled the corridor. Each boot met the shiny floor and those around cowered. Power was the one thing Lord Vader feasted on. Fear was just something he admired. The aversion of people’s eyes, the way they held their breaths as he towered before them, it made his presence that more powerful. As he marched his way down the corridors of his Star Destroyer to his chambers, Vader was met with the inkling of a familiar sensation. He didn’t stop to ponder this feeling until the door to his chambers slid shut. With the grip of his hand he looked through his mechanical helmet at the environment around him.

Vader could not seem to forget the time before he killed Anakin Skywalker. He often imagined the faces of the pesky Jedi he once served with, and cursed them from his mind. But there were a few images he never pushed away. For some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. But Vader squashed his rememberings, and moved towards his meditation pod.

This is where Vader often tried to retune himself with the Force. He could climb inside and have his helmet removed so he could breathe the filtered air on his own. And that is what he did now. He sat himself on the throne-like seat and the pod closed him inside, and something lowered from above to remove his helmet. The sizzle it released was a comforting sound, and Vader blinked at the sights before him. Before his very own eyes.

He cursed his old Master for doing this to him, for putting him in this state. He often struggled to reconnect with the Force after long periods of time, and he also couldn’t function like he used to on his own. One day he would make his old Master pay for what he’s done to him. He will make him suffer like he has for the last three years.

Vader closed his eyes to calm his thoughts. He reached out before him for that connection he so desperately sought, and his mind wandered onto the abyss of darkness.

Vader’s eyes opened once more, but he wasn’t in his pod. Now he was laid in a bed, and he could feel the cool silk sheets under his back. His flesh back. His flesh hand and mechanical one too. This was before the Purge, a memory. He couldn’t help his heart swell as he realized where he was.

Something moved against him, a quiet murmur filled his ear, and a head came up near his. He fought the urge to look their way, but his desperation won this battle. On his chest a hand rested and on top of that was a chin. His eyes took in the sight of the body who laid with him, and he couldn’t help the smile that spread over his lips.

“Have you been up long,” the voice nearly whispered. Vader nodded, running that unfamiliar flesh hand up the unforgettable skin of another.

“A long time,” he murmured. His voice was different. It was filled with. . Something. He hadn’t heard it this way in so long. But then again, he hadn’t seen you in just as long.

You were still beautiful. The way your eyes shined when they looked at him, the way your smile made his heart ache, the little way you bit your lip in anticipation. He longed to see this again. But then he frowned, and your face scrunched up, and the hand that rested on his chest went to hold his cheek. It shocked him how soft your hand still was against him.

“What is it, Ani?” You whispered. His eye twitched at the name. He hadn’t heard it in so long. But he didn’t detest it when he heard it from your lips.

“I miss you,” he quietly admitted. A small smile fell upon your lips, and you pulled yourself up more so you hovered over him. Oh to see once again how you crawled on top of him, legs wrapping around him in such a familiar and intimate way, and fully cupping his face in your hands, it made something swell up in his chest, and burn behind his throat. It was all wrong. But Vader he. . He didn’t care right now. It had been too long since he saw you.

You brushed some hair from his forehead, he could feel the familiar strands under your fingers and he nuzzled his face into your hand, his metal one coming above yours. His eyes closed and he let this moment settle in his mind. Just one more memory of you, he could at least allow himself to have that. Your giggle made his eyes reopen and you were looking down at him in curiosity.

“Ani,” you said again, but this time he didn’t flinch. “You’re so touch starved.”

Vader couldn’t help but nod. “I am,” his raspy voice admitted.

Your smile fell a bit and your eyes softened. You lowered yourself and caught his lips with yours. It felt so real, you felt so warm above him, and you rubbed his cheek with your thumb before separating from his lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered to him, and before he knew it you had leaned down to place a kiss against his forehead. You locked your eyes with him again. “I’ll always be here.”

That’s when his hands crumbled into a fist. It was a lie. You weren’t here with him. You were gone. He couldn’t save you. As anger filled his body your face fell before him, and that pained look was the last thing he saw before you disappeared again. He growled and his eyes shot open with the tension re-entered his body. Vader was back in the present, the real world, and swore he wouldn’t let another empty memory like that cloud his mind again.

You were dead. There was no coming back to him. There was nothing for him to hold on to. He let you go years ago, and that’s how it would stay. As his helmet was put back onto him his hand formed back into a fist, and he could hear the metal of something on the other side of the pod clench with his power.

There was an eerie feeling that passed over your skin, and you paused on your journey back to your hideout. Night had finally fallen on the desolate planet, and you had said your goodbyes to Ben ours before. But as you made your way back to your hideout, something made you pause. The sand you kicked up left a mark on your boots, but you glanced around for an answer. Whatever it was made that sting form behind your eyes, and you rolled your neck a bit as you started your walk again. As you made your way around the corner of one of the alleys, you stopped in your tracks at the sight before you.

You had never seen ones before, though you did hear the stories. But what were a pair of Inquisitors doing so far in the Outer Rim? And here of all places? You slithered back around the corner and pressed your back to the wall. Whatever their business was here, you wanted no part in it. The last thing you needed was to be recognized by anyone. You felt around for the comm link Ben had given you and stared at the familiar piece of tech. With a roll of your eyes, you started back towards the direction of the cantina. All you’d need was a speeder.

“Ben, are you there?” You asked into the piece of metal. You continued past the cantina towards the furthest point of Mos Eisley, until that familiar green blip blinked at you.

“I’m here,” his voice rang out. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know,” you paused when a couple Stormtroopers passed you, but you offered them a flirty smile and they kept on their way. This would be easy enough, you climbed onto a basic speeder and started to hotwire it, as you spoke lowly again. “There’s Inquisitors here. Figured my best bet would be to avoid them.”

“You would be correct on that,” his voice rang, though it paused when the speeder roared to life, and you hesitated when he didn’t say anything. “I’ll send you my coordinates.”

He cut out but you received his message either way. You gripped the throttle, but something made you pause. You sat back in the seat and reached for something in your pocket, desperate to feel it in this instance. You pulled the all too familiar japor ivory pendant from your pocket and turned it over in your hand. The last thought you had before you sped away from Mos Eisley was that constant voice in the back of your head. A question you couldn’t shake.

When exactly was it going to be the right time?

- - - - - - - - - - 

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[katierosefun]

known

The events of Lawless, only Satine lives. But at a cost.

**for Obitine Week 2020, Day 2: Role Swap 

wc: 2215 

read on ao3 | read on ff 

Satine’s knees had long gone numb since the Death Watch had dragged her into the throne room, but she didn’t particularly care, not as she stared up at that wretch who sat on her throne. At Obi-Wan kneeling a little ways from it, his face shadowed and interrupted by bruises and small cuts. Satine had just barely repressed her own cry when some of the Death Watch members had thrown Obi-Wan as though he were a sack of bones.

But Obi-Wan had lifted his head to Satine, and though pain had glazed his eyes, they remained steady. Don’t, he seemed to say, and Satine had wanted nothing more than to tear out of the grip of the men who gripped her shoulders and run to Obi-Wan, drag them both out of the palace as they had come so close to doing just a few minutes ago.

Now, Maul pushed himself off the throne and settled down in front of Obi-Wan, an ugly leer stretched across his face. “A bold attempt,” he drawled, lifting Obi-Wan’s chin with a gloved hand. “But did you truly think you would get the Duchess and yourself out of this palace without my knowing?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, and Satine didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not how even in pain, his voice still remained light. “I was able to get into this palace without your knowing, wasn’t I?”

Satine sucked in a breath, waiting for that monster to do something, but Maul only smiled. It was the worst thing that Satine had ever seen: a chill, gradual smile that would have sent the average person tumbling back, but Obi-Wan remained steady, his expression solid as Maul stood back up.

“I could kill you right now,” Maul said, growing to his full height. He circled around Obi-Wan, those yellow eyes of his trained on him. “Or,” he said, and in a flash, Satine felt something cold wrap around her throat, and then she was being lifted in the air—and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She clawed her hands up for her throat, trying to find some way to unblock the passage of air, her mouth opening and closing, desperately trying to suck in whatever breath she could find—

“Or,” Maul said, his voice a low chill, “I could kill her first.”

There was movement out of the corner of Satine’s eye, and when she managed to look down, she found Obi-Wan on his feet, rage flickering across his face. “It’s me you want,” he said, his voice low, even. “Let her be.”

Satine felt that grip on her throat tighten, and for a brief moment, she wondered if this was really how she was going to meet her own end—if she really was going to die right here. She met those thoughts with some quiet reluctance, but at the same time, looking down at Obi-Wan’s stormy eyes, she was met with a small stab of sadness. She would have liked to see him away from this place first.

But then the hold on her throat loosened, and Satine crashed to the ground, pain splintering up her limbs as she collided on the cold floor.

She gasped for breath, coughing, wheezing as air filled her lungs once more. She heard rapid footsteps, a few shouts, and then Maul’s quiet, “No—let him.”

And then Satine felt hands on her face, brushing back her hair, flitting past her chin, her cheeks. She managed to lift her head and found Obi-Wan, his eyes wide and pained, and then relieved—a tentative, choked kind of relief—as she said, “I’m alright.”

She wanted to reach up to his face, rest a hand against his cheek and drag him close, rest her forehead against his and shield themselves from the horror of the throne room then—she wanted nothing more than to hide themselves and wait until all of this had come to pass, but she heard the march of footsteps getting closer, and then Obi-Wan was suddenly ripped away from her, leaving nothing but cold and empty air.

Satine watched helplessly as Maul tossed Obi-Wan to the ground, the sound of a body meeting marble filling the throne room with a sickeningly loud thud and crack. A soft groan left Obi-Wan’s lips, but he rolled over to his side, staggered up to his feet as Maul circled him.

“Consider yourself lucky for that brief reprieve, Master Jedi,” Maul crooned. “Because I promise you…” Flashes of red light, and then Maul was twirling his lightsaber around his hands with that ugly sneer of his. “There will be no more.”

Obi-Wan only smiled grimly. “Good thing I don’t believe in luck, then,” he said.

That was all it took.

And then Maul lunged for Obi-Wan, his lightsaber flashing, unyielding, unforgiving. Obi-Wan dodged out of the way, and then he extended a hand—there was a soft click, and then the lightsaber hanging at Maul’s side came free.

Satine watched as Obi-Wan just barely activated his lightsaber in time to meet Maul’s. Their blades met in a clash of red and blue light, and then a blinding white as they pressed against each other—Maul’s face glowing with rage, Obi-Wan’s glowing with a cold determination.

Satine looked around the throne room, at the Death Watch still stationed around the throne room. Her mind raced for some idea of how to disrupt the duel—if she could at least leash one of the blasters at one of the members’ sides, then she could—

The thought of letting loose any violence still chilled Satine to her very core, but the noisy clashes of lightsaber against lightsaber, the hatred radiating off Maul—

Satine knew that this Maul wasn’t going to end the duel until he won.

Satine snuck a glance at the weapon dangling from the Death Watch member standing closest to her. She could make a quick lunge for it, and then—what? She could kick out his legs, hopefully give him enough of a surprise and enough disorientation for herself to get a handle on the situation.

But before Satine could think of any other way to execute her little plan, there was a sudden jab at her shoulders.

“Eyes front,” the Death Watch member behind her barked.

Satine swung her gaze back around, her core tightening as she felt the nudge of a blaster at the back of her skull. She didn’t need to hear any more warnings to know what any more movement from herself might mean. A part of her raged and raged, looked blindly for some other way out, but that blaster at the back of her head kept her eyes trained on the fight still going on in front of her.

Obi-Wan met Maul blow for blow, his face tightening with each impact of their weapons clashing against each other. Maul growled something that Satine couldn’t make out, but she knew it was bad enough that Obi-Wan’s entire body seemed to clench, and then, in a burst of sheer power, Obi-Wan had shoved Maul back with a twist of his saber and a wave of his hand.

The wall Maul hit grumbled on impact, but then Maul rolled up to his feet, breathing hard and absolute murder in his eyes.

“You’re getting angry, Kenobi,” Maul crowed, twisting his saber in his hands. “You can feel it too, can’t you?”

“And you must be getting nervous,” Obi-Wan replied, breathing equally as hard. “If you’re suddenly talkative.”

There was pure hatred in Maul’s eyes as he lunged for Obi-Wan again, his lightsaber nothing more than an angry blur of red before it collided against Obi-Wan’s blue. Despite the danger, Satine felt herself leaning forward, her lips moving in silent prayer as Obi-Wan skidded back at Maul’s sudden push against him.

Please, Satine thought. She didn’t believe in miracles, nor did she believe in luck—but please, just this once—just this once, let them be able to get out of this mess in one piece. She caught Obi-Wan’s eye, saw the sudden renewal of strength in his face before he blocked another one of Maul’s strikes.

Please, Satine thought again. Please, just this once.

Obi-Wan struck at Maul, drove their lightsabers down to the ground, left behind a smoking mark of molten stone before their sabers were back up in the air, bracing against each other. There was one second, two seconds, before Obi-Wan’s foot suddenly shot out, kicked against Maul’s abdomen.

Maul staggered backward with a grunt, and then, regaining his balance, he dove at Obi-Wan once again—only this time, one hand was free, and before she could stop herself, a shout left Satine’s lips as Maul slammed Obi-Wan against the wall. Obi-Wan struggled under the invisible grip, his legs kicking as Maul held him there—pinned, helpless—

Satine didn’t care if there was a blaster to her head. She ducked forward, slipped off her boot—

And it would have been funny if she hadn’t been so terrified—

But she threw her boot against Maul’s head.

That was enough to break Maul’s concentration, and Satine only just let out a breath of relief as Obi-Wan slid back to the ground—before Maul was suddenly swinging his gaze to her, his wrathful gaze unfaltering as he pulled his lips back into a snarl.

“Perhaps,” he hissed, striding towards her in two powerful steps, “it was a mistake to leave you alive.”

Satine couldn’t even cry out as Maul lifted his saber over his head, aimed right for her chest, and then—

Obi-Wan was suddenly at her side again, his saber close enough that Satine could feel its heat as he pushed away Maul’s blow. Obi-Wan’s face was an unbreakable mask, his eyes lit by the glow of his saber as he said in a dangerously low voice, “I thought we agreed that it was only me you wanted.”

“Ever the negotiator,” Maul snarled, pressing close. “But not quite.”

And then Maul was twisting the lightsaber away from Obi-Wan, too quickly, too quickly—and then Obi-Wan’s lightsaber was twisted out of his grip. Maul let out a growl, his lightsaber aimed for Obi-Wan’s chest, but at the last second, he dove out of the way. Rolled over to his fallen lightsaber, held it up over his head as Maul came crashing down on him.

Satine watched as Obi-Wan staggered under the crushing weight, propping himself up only by his knees as Maul leaned closer, closer.

Satine’s chest tightened. He was stuck in a too vulnerable position, that much she knew. He couldn’t get out, not like that—

And then Obi-Wan flicked his eyes to Satine.

And then, as though in slow motion, Obi-Wan smiled. A gentle, sad smile that Satine only had a moment to process before Obi-Wan dropped his saber from Maul’s and drove it right into Maul’s abdomen—just as Maul’s saber drove into Obi-Wan’s chest.

--

Satine didn’t recognize the strangled, stuttered cry that left her lips as Obi-Wan dropped back to the ground, the strength already leeching from his body, his face as his lightsaber rolled out of his grip. She was dully aware of Maul falling backwards, his eyes already unseeing as his own lightsaber dropped from his hands. Later, she would realize that the Death Watch had scattered in a panic, leaving Maul’s body behind—

But right now, in this moment, Satine could only scramble for Obi-Wan, her hands shaking as she tugged him into her lap.

His eyes were still open, still fluttering as Satine brushed his hair out of his face, tried to even the trembling in her own voice as she whispered words that didn’t make sense to her own ears—just a rapid breaths that sounded vaguely like Obi-Wan’s name, like a heart breaking.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan breathed, and Satine managed to stop, just for that moment—for that one, brief moment—as she found Obi-Wan’s hand tangling into hers, their fingers helplessly twining around each other. His eyes—so stormy just a few minutes ago, were now clearer than Satine had ever seen them. Bright, shining like the sky that they had walked under years ago.

“I’m here,” Satine managed to say.

Obi-Wan smiled slowly. “I know,” he whispered. His voice was weak, soft. He brought their hands to his lips, the briefest brush of his mouth against her hand.

“I love you,” Satine said, her voice cracking. So please don’t go.

Obi-Wan seemed to hear her thoughts, because his smile turned sad. “I wish I…” he murmured, his eyes drifting up towards Satine’s face. His breaths were coming more rapidly now, but his eyes remained on Satine, his hand still entwined in hers. And then, his breath hitching, he breathed, “I wish I told you sooner.”

Satine’s throat closed. Something wet slid down her cheeks. Tears, she realized dully.

“Do you know?” Obi-Wan whispered, his face flashing with pain. “Do you—”

“Yes,” Satine whispered. She lowered her lips down to Obi-Wan’s forehead, closed her eyes as the rest of the tears slipped away, down her cheeks and into his hair. “I’ve always known.”

There was a sigh.

And when Satine pulled away, she found that Obi-Wan’s eyes were still trained on her—but not on her.

Satine closed his eyes.

And she wept.

[redrobinhoods]

Age of Heroes | Chapter 7, 66

AO3 Link | 3140 words (approx) | Prologue, Chapter 6, Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: 66

CW: Character Death

“Loyalty means everything to the clones.” – Anakin Skywalker

“He wiped his hyperspace travel and fuel records.”

Wolffe growled and raised his comm. “Any update on the Separatist leaders?”

“No, sir. We think they may have fled the planet.” One of his men responded.

“Keep looking.” Wolffe huffed, resisting the urge to kick the burnt remains of General Grievous over the edge of the platform.

“Patience, Wolffe. I am sure that a solution will present itself.” Plo Koon stepped out of the cockpit of the fighter and sat on the wing next to Wolffe. “Even if we fail in our efforts now, you did very well in destroying Grievous.”

Wolffe took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. “Thank you, General Plo. It’s been an honor to serve with you, sir.”

“The honor has been mine, Commander.”

A beep from a comm interrupted them. Wolffe reached into the hidden compartment on his belt and pulled out the holocomm that he had never used before, though he knew its purpose. “It’s the Chancellor.”

“Then you had best take it.” General Plo patted Wolffe on the shoulder. Wolffe nodded and walked across the platform to take the call. The Chancellor appeared in his hand, at least, it should’ve been the Chancellor. He didn’t recognize the hooded man before him, but he did know his voice, and he did know his command.

“It is time. Execute Order 66.”

Wolffe felt strangely empty. “Yes, my Lord.” The hologram of the Chancellor faded away and he put the holocomm back into the compartment. Clone Protocol 66. He hadn’t thought about the contingency protocols in years. He was surprised that he remembered them. Then again, they’d been engrained in him through his training.

“Are you alright, son?” His general, the supposed traitor. Wolffe was suddenly aware of the blaster he had taken into his hands.

“Stay back!” If Plo was out of reach, he wasn’t an aggressor. If he wasn’t an aggressor, Wolffe didn’t have to kill him. But those had been his orders, and good soldiers follow orders. Wolffe was a good soldier, he followed orders.

And yet, he could feel something else stirring. The feeling of dread that had been trickling down his spine reached a downpour. If General Plo was a traitor, he would’ve felt it. He knew his brothers were dying. He couldn’t have explained how, but he knew that across the galaxy clones were being killed by the Jedi. His hand began to tremble. But not his Jedi. They weren’t being killed by his Jedi, and they had fired first. This was all a misunderstanding. Any moment now a counterorder would be given and they could grieve. But the order didn’t come. He was muttering something under his breath, a phrase that had been encoded in him for as long as he could remember, that was so familiar to him that he didn’t register his chant.

“Wolffe. Let me help you.” General Plo took a step in his direction, Wolffe scrambled backwards to keep the distance between them as he raised the blaster.

“Stay away from me.” Maybe if he backed up then Wolffe could lower his blaster. He needed to lower his blaster. He needed to lower his blaster after he had fired it and obeyed orders like a good soldier. General Plo was lying to him, he would kill him too. But General Plo wasn’t lying and Wolffe could feel waves of concern coming off the man. He wanted to help; the Chancellor was wrong. Wolffe couldn’t breathe.

“Wolffe.” He took another step closer, too close. His hands were at his side, his lightsaber could spring into his hand at any moment and he could kill Wolffe. He was going to kill him. The Chancellor was right, he wanted to kill him; the Jedi were traitors.

Wolffe had orders, and he was a good soldier. He followed his orders.

He barely registered the slight pressure he put on the trigger, the kickback of the blaster in his hand, or the tears falling from his eyes. The only thing he could see was the look of betrayal on his former general’s face as he died.

---

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood side-by-side with Commander Cody, looking over Mandalore from the bridge of their Venator, watching the return of the last of their forces from the surface. A clone carrying a datapad approached from behind.

“General Kenobi, Commander Cody, the latest briefing has come in.”

“Thank you, Wooley. We’ll take it in the command center.” Cody turned to Obi-Wan. “Want to have a look?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “I’m sure it’s more good news, but alright.” He followed his commander to the briefing room, closing the door behind them. In the sound of the door, he missed the chime of a holocomm. “From what I understand, Master Plo has managed to retake Utapau completely. However, Separatist leadership is nowhere to be found on the planet. They must have fled when the Wolfpack showed up. Maybe this briefing will have more on information on-, Cody, are you listening?”

Cody stood still, holding his helmet in one hand and the holocomm in the other. He slowly returned the holocomm to his belt as he let his helmet fall to the floor.

“Cody?” Obi-Wan stepped forward. Cody’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, his pupils dilated so much as to nearly hide the golden of his irises. “Cody, CC-2224, can you hear me?” Cody blinked slowly, as if it was an effort, then raised his blaster from its holster.

The first shot missed. The second would have hit its target had Obi-Wan’s lightsaber not sprung into his hands. “Cody!”

“Good soldiers follow orders; good soldiers follow orders.” Cody was muttering under his breath as he advanced upon Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan ducked under another blaster shot and raked his lightsaber across the door controls, sealing them in.

“Cody, you are a good soldier. Fight it!” Obi-Wan blocked the next two shots but was unable to block Cody’s lunge. Cody’s fingers wrapped around Obi-Wan’s throat and pushed him into the wall. Obi-Wan reached into the Force and flung Cody across the small room. Cody’s head made contact with the metal wall, and he fell limp to the floor.

Obi-Wan advanced slowly towards the clone, stopping and stepping back when Cody rolled over onto his side. Where his head had been was a smear of blood.

“Kill me.” 

Obi-Wan walked over to his commander with caution. Though Cody’s blaster lay halfway across the room behind Obi-Wan the man was still exceptionally skilled in hand-to-hand combat. Obi-Wan knelt by Cody’s side, tensed for an attack that never came. 

“Obi-Wan.” The sound of his name brought his focus to Cody’s face. His pupils were no longer dilated, and his eyes focused on Obi-Wan’s face. “Please kill me. I can’t-,“ his body jerked in on itself, “-soldiers follow-” as he let out a pained gasp, “-I can’t stop it.”

Obi-Wan gathered his injured commander in his arms and pressed Cody’s forehead into the crook of his neck, his hand resting on the nape as he tapped into Cody’s presence in the Force. The commander’s energy was weak and pained. And fading. Obi-Wan came to a decision. He found Cody’s heartbeat with his sword-hand and shakily pressed the hilt of his lightsaber against the drumming.

“Please, Obi-Wan.” A pained mutter into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He felt Cody grasp the lightsaber hilt below his hand, holding it steady. In the Force, Cody’s energy began to flicker, disappearing into nothingness.

“I’m sorry, Cody.” Obi-Wan ran his fingers through Cody’s hair for a few moments before his hand stilled, holding the commander’s face against his robes, and he pressed down on the activator of his lightsaber. Cody jerked once in his grasp, letting out a muffled cry, then was still.

---

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Anakin looked horrible. He refused to look Rex in the eye, focusing instead on the right cheek. For many beings this would have been an imperceptible slight, but for a solider it was horrific. What orders could come from a general who was unable to look his men in the eye as he gave them a command? He waited until the door to the barracks briefing room closed before he spoke.

“I did, Commander Rex. I need you to prepare the men.”

“Sir, what’s going on?”

Anakin set a hand on Rex’s shoulder and was finally able to make eye contact with his right-hand man. “You’ve been promoted, Rex, to lead the march on the Jedi Temple.” Rex’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to find the words to form a response. He was getting a headache. Surely, he had misinterpreted what General Skywalker had said? “The Jedi have betrayed the Republic, Rex. I watched Master Windu attempt to assassinate the Chancellor myself. We must subdue them before they make another attempt to overthrow the Republic.”

“Yes, sir.” It was all he could say. Rex trusted Anakin. The man had never lied to him, had entrusted him with protecting the secret of his marriage. Rex was prepared to give his life for his general, or for Padme, or for Ahsoka. It was what he was meant to do, but it was also the ultimate way for him to thank Anakin for his honesty, hell, for his friendship. But the Jedi, traitors of the Republic?

“Find me when the 501st is ready.” Anakin squeezed Rex’s shoulder, then let his hand fall as he left the briefing room.

Rex couldn’t find it in himself to reach for his comm. His hands hung limply at his sides as he thought about what he would have to do. What his men would have to do. He reached back for the ache in the back of his skull and ran his hands along his close-shorn hair as he tried to pinpoint the location of the lingering pain. Then an agony exploded in his chest. Rex grasped at his breastplate as he fell to his knees, feeling as though his heart was on fire in his chest. Then as quickly as it started, the pain stopped.

Tears splashed down onto his armor, which remained white and uncharred. ‘Cody.’ His lips moved to form his brother’s name, but no sound came out. They had just talked, he had just been alive, but the only difference between Cody dead and Cody alive was the burn of blasterfire on his breast.

No.

A lightsaber.

This time, he had no issue raising the comm to his lips.

---

Obi-Wan set the body down gently, trying not to look at the two wet patches on his shoulder, or the blood on his hand, or notice the tears that leaked down his own cheeks. He failed on all counts, and the pain of Cody’s loss was added to the myriad of pain he was feeling through the force. He could feel Jedi being slain all across the galaxy, betrayed by the men who had served them for the past three years. He could feel the clones now too. A million voices in the Force. A wave of panic then silence in each battalion as they received the command. There was nothing he could do to help them. Obi-Wan lay Cody’s hand over his ruined chest and pushed his hair away from his face for the last time. With the wound covered, he could have been sleeping. But the dark hole in the force around the body said otherwise.

“Commander!” There was a banging on the doors. Obi-Wan looked around desperately for an escape. He found one in the ventilation system above the command table. A tight fit, but he had no other choice. No sooner had he closed the grate behind him when the doors fell inward and clone troopers advanced into the room, blasters drawn. Not daring to move for fear of making noise, Obi-Wan watched as one knelt by Cody’s body. Wooley set a hand on Cody’s chest, the other reaching for the exposed skin of Cody’s throat.

After a few moments Wooley rose and shook his head. “He’s dead, Captain.”

Another yellow-painted clone walked over and knelt by the body. He removed Cody’s hand from his heart and examined the burn.

“The Jedi killed him.” He stood up again. “Jettison the escape pods and send as many men as we can spare to guard the hanger. The Jedi must pay for his treason.”

Obi-Wan waited until the clones had left the room before shimmying further into the air ducts. He went as far as the maintenance halls before he dropped down from the shaft. The maintenance halls were empty, but he was careful to keep his footsteps light so as to not alert the clone troopers below of his presence. They were out for blood now, not simply following orders but looking to avenge the death of a brother they had all looked up to. Obi-Wan could feel their sadness and anger radiating through the Force.

When he found himself above a deserted hallway he brought out his comm. “Arfour, I need you to start up my fighter.” He stopped to listen to the string of beeps that came as a response. “If the clones ask, tell them that you have been ordered to destroy it.”

If there was a response he would never know. He shut the comm off when he heard the sound of blast doors opening beneath him. After the clones had passed, he continued through the maintenance halls until he found himself standing on the edge of the hanger. A platoon of men awaited him, standing before the doors with their hands resting on the handles of their blasters. If he moved quietly, he could perhaps slip by unnoticed. His ship was only two bays down, he could hear the hum of the engines. Using the Force, he opened the grate covering the entrance to the hall, and slipped out into the shadows of the hanger bay. He replaced the cover just as softly, and moved quickly towards his fighter, keeping to the shadows and using the Force to boost his speed and muffle his footsteps. He was climbing into the cockpit when one of the troopers turned back in a stretch.

“The Jedi!” The platoon turned, raising their blasters as Obi-Wan flung himself into the cockpit. He began to take off before the canopy had fully shut, raising the shields as soon as it sealed around him. He managed to not catch any of the blaster fire himself but heard the unmistakable squeal of an astromech as R4-P17 was hit. As soon as the shields were raised he launched his fighter into the sky, the force of the engines flinging several clones across the hanger floor.

R4 had already opened the hanger doors in preparation for the supposed destruction of the fighter and Obi-Wan set his course back towards Mandalore. Several ARC-170 fighters and some Y-wings that had accompanied the Venator turned to follow him. Obi-Wan grimaced as the fighters opened fire. Some shots collided with his starfighter but were held off by the shields. For now. He needed somewhere to go. Obi-Wan found himself punching in the coordinates for Coruscant out of habit. He would have time to think on the journey and perhaps change his destination. But if he stayed over Mandalore, he would be shot down by the men he had once commanded. Once the jump had been calculated he swerved back towards the Venator, passing through the line of fighters that pursued him, aiming for his hyperspace ring. One of the ARC-170s swerved off to pursue him, no doubt realizing his intention. But they were too far behind. Obi-Wan always kept a hyperspace loop active in case he was needed somewhere away from his fleet, and he was thankful for that preparation now. The loop locked around his fighter. With the pull of a lever, Obi-Wan left Mandalore and the 212th behind.

---

Ahsoka knew something was wrong. She sat in Rex’s bunk with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When she had returned from the showers Rex had been gone. So, she’d waited. The words she had heard rattled around inside her head. Anakin was in such pain. She didn’t know what to do. Rex always knew what to do. Then another wave of pain hit her. Rex. He needed her. Sensing a presence at the door she stood up.

The door slid open, but instead of Rex she found Anakin standing before her. With a soft cry she flung herself into her master’s arms and he wrapped his arms around her as she let out a loud sob. Anakin ran his hand down her back headtail and held her until her breathing evened out.

“Ahsoka, something terrible has happened. The Republic has been betrayed.”

“Betrayed? By who?” Surely not-

“The Jedi Council.”

Ahsoka wanted to push Anakin away. She wanted to scream. And yet, she believed him. The Council had been so willing to throw her out without hearing her side of the story, even Master Yoda had admitted how the Dark Side of the Force was clouding their judgement. It was not impossible that they had fallen to its manipulations. Besides, Anakin had never lied to her. He had always had her back, unconditionally, and had trusted her with so many of his secrets. She couldn’t believe that he’d turn on her now.

“I want you to go to Padme and protect her for me. I would go myself, or send Rex, but we’re needed elsewhere. I need you to keep her safe. I’ll explain everything when it’s over.”

And how could she say no to that? She pulled away from his arms and nodded. “Yes, Master.”

Anakin escorted her out of the barracks to a waiting speeder. They didn’t pass anyone on their way out and she wondered where the clones were. Surely they were rallying to protect the Senate or the Chancellor.

“Take my speeder, I’ll find you when this is over.”

She nodded again, slipping behind the controls. Before she took off from the platform she looked back. There was Anakin, robes billowing in the wind. Behind him she saw Rex step out of the door to the barracks. She couldn’t read his helmeted expression and for a moment she felt guilty about leaving him behind, but Anakin would be there for him, as he always had been. Right now, Padme needed her.

Anakin watched the speeder shoot off into the Coruscant sky. Once it was out of sight, he brought out a holocomm.

“My Lord, my apprentice is out of our way.”

“Well done, Lord Vader.” Responded the hologram of Darth Sidious. “Are your men ready?”

Anakin gestured for Rex to join them and he approached. At Anakin’s side he stopped and saluted Sidious. “The 501st is ready, sir.”

Sidious nodded. “Commander, it is time to execute Order 66.”

[annoyedfanfiction]

Qui-Gon Jinn x reader (7) ...ft giant time skip (also official apologies to Darrus Jeht, you did not deserve this but Anakin is my baby)

“Ah, Anakin Skywalker,” Palpatine identified him, coldly, stalking towards the young teenager. “The Jedi’s little pity project. You didn’t think any of them actually cared for you, did you? The Code might be gone in writing, but we all know they still adhere to it. In fact, I hear your precious Master Kenobi is especially strict on it.” Anakin shrank away from him, fear and anger fighting for dominance inside him. He couldn’t hit his way out of this one without damaging the Jedi’s position. “Chancellor Palpatine,” you interjected, stepping into the room and closing the door firmly behind you. “I’m going to have to ask you to step away from my son and apologise.” Palpatine stiffened, turning to you. “Senator (L/N), what a pleasant surprise,” he sneered, glaring at you through a smirk. “I wasn’t aware he was your son. I thought love was against the Code at the time.” “He is my son in all but blood, Sheev,” you responded, tightly, crossing the room to stand between him and Anakin. “And if you wish to lay a hand on him it will be over my dead body.” You paused, and inclined your head politely, grasping Anakin’s hand firmly behind you. “I will see you on the Senate floor, Chancellor.” You tugged Anakin with you as you left, the door slamming shut behind you and echoing through the empty hallways. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” you asked, immediately turning to face Anakin, checking him over for any sign of injury. “I’m sorry I left you alone with him. I didn’t think he’d be so obviously violent. Are you ok?” Anakin was staring at you, blankly, opening his mouth to speak and then closing it again. He ultimately settled on: “You probably shouldn’t have threatened him.” Earning a wry smile. “I probably shouldn’t have done a lot of things in my life, Ani.” You led him down the hallway and out into the open air of Coruscant. “Defending you is not something I will ever regret.” You settled into silence again as you made your way back towards the Jedi Temple. “Did you mean it?” he asked, eventually. “I meant every word I said in there,” you responded, evenly, smiling gently at him. “There will always be people who want to tear you apart from the people you love, disillusion you to the things you want to believe in. Sheev Palpatine just so happens to be one of those people. But no matter what he, or anyone else tells you, Anakin, you can always trust in this truth: I love you. So do Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan.” You paused, and let the emotional moment pass. “And I’m hearing rumours that so too does Senator Amidala.” He blushed bright red.

“So, quick question, anyone else just a little, tiny, incy-wincy bit, hugely concerned about the fact that Jeht has literally been missing for a month?” you asked, looking around the council room. “I mean, he’s one of the most skilled warriors among us and he just...disappears? Am I the only one who finds that a bit suspicious?” “What do you propose we do?” Windu asked, and you could hear the helplessness behind his challenge. Jeht had been a favourite of his – never his Padawan, but close enough. “We cannot afford to send out a search party.” Alarms trilled through the air before you could answer, and Anakin burst in. “The 501st is attacking,” he explained, urgently. “Our own 501st?” Tiin asked, frowning. “Under Master Jeht,” Anakin answered, tersely. You were the first to stand. “Anakin, take Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and the other Padawans and evacuate the younglings.” you instructed, firmly. “You can get to Dorin easily from here. Rendez-vous with survivors at the last Temple of the Dorin Jedi there, but leave no later than 1200 tomorrow for Dantooine, even if no one shows up.” He hesitated, but eventually nodded, racing back out again. “For battle prepare yourselves,” Yoda instructed, filling the silence left behind. “Knows us our enemy does.” You all nodded, filing hurriedly out of the room to face the incoming army. You stopped, turning back to Qui-Gon, who was wheeling himself out of the chambers. “You should accompany the younglings,” you suggested, firmly. “They might be our future but they must learn to be first.” He looked like he wanted to protest, for a moment. “Please, Qui-Gon. Don’t make me lose you.” “As long as you don’t make me lose you,” he answered, eventually, his voice heavy. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I love you. And make sure the others know I love them too.” You watched him go, herding a group of younglings down the hall as he went.

“Bacca, you are an incredibly tall, fluffy angel,” you informed the Wookie, sprinting after him with Yoda and Mace Windu beside you.  “And you get yourself into too much trouble,” Chewbacca answered, disapprovingly.  “I’ve told myself this for years,” you agreed, ducking another blaster shot. “Still haven’t done anything about it. Probably should.” You came into sight of the ship, and the three Jedi turned to face the oncoming clones once again. “Can you get the ship running?” You requested, opening your lightsaber to reveal light purple blades. Chewbacca made a noise of agreement and started towards the ship again as you held off the approaching clones. Eventually, the clones dropped back a little, revealing Jeht, shrouded in black robes, emerging from among them. “Darrus,” Windu breathed, and your heart broke for him. “Master Windu,” Jeht sneered back, “Got another lesson for me?” “Darrus, please,” Windu asked, his voice trembling. “Don’t do this.” “You know, in some cultures, in their final lesson, a student graduates by killing his mentor.” He unsheathed his blades. “I’ve waited a long time to graduate.” He swung at Windu, who blocked, but didn’t counter.  “Not even going to take a swing, Master?” Jeht mocked, as Windu blocked his strike again. “Surely if I’m not good enough to even take as Padawan, I’m not worth wasting your life on.” You saw Mace’s block falter as Jeht spoke, Yoda stepping in to block his old friend from the attack. “Mace, get back to the ship,” you insisted, as Yoda countered Jeht’s next strike. “You can’t fight him.” He caught your eye, and you offered him a gentle smile, closing your hand tightly on his shoulder. “It is not your fault. People can be impossible to understand, let alone predict. You did your best for the boy, and we will not ask you to fight him. You will be more use getting the ship running.” He nodded, eventually, dropping his head. You handed him the small pack of supplies you’d managed to scavenge from the falling Temple, and he ran for the ship.

“Always running away,” Jeht called after him, firing at him with his blaster. Yoda jumped, blocking the shot in mid-air, leaving you standing between the Grand Master and Jeht. “And you,” the turned Master cast a contemptuous gaze over you, “Too weak to even stay away from the Order that broke your heart. You’re still protecting them, after all the pain they caused you.” “Broke it and mended it,” you countered, lunging in to snatch the blaster from his hand. He growled, throwing his lightsaber forward, but you caught his dark violet blade with your lighter one, and shoved him back. You heard the engine of the ship start up in the background, and Jeht moved to signal the clones to start firing at it. “No! One on one,” you demanded, cutting him off mid-command. “No clones, no assistance. You and me.”  He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, looking you up and down. “You think you can defeat me, Senator?” he scoffed, turning back to face me.  “You going to prove I can’t, Jeht?” you bit back, smirking, despite the pounding of your heart in your ears. He smirked. “As you wish.” He swung at you, instantly, but you blocked it, shoving his blade back hard enough to send him stumbling, and you followed, slicing up to knock his sword-hand again as he recovered, knocking the lightsaber from his hand. You pressed your blade against his neck, panting. “You think you can defeat me, Jeht?” you mimicked his words back to him, as you kicked his lightsaber away behind you. He smiled, and you almost dodged the songsteel sword before it hit your ribs, leaving it glancing sharply across your stomach.

“Clever,” you admitted, stepping back to circle him, feeling the blood beginning to drip from your new wound. “Songsteel. Resistant to lightsaber strikes.”  “You cannot truly have expected a weapons specialist to carry only one weapon,” he leered, lunging in once again. You batted his sword away, countering with a blow of your own that earned you nothing more than a swift strike across your right shoulder.  “I like to hope,” you answered, through the searing pain. “But no.” He stepped forward again, and this time you ducked under his strike, launching yourself into him. The unexpected move threw him back into the dirt, and you landed on top of him, lightsaber buried in his chest. “Clones,” he hissed, and the army behind him hoisted their blasters as he choked for breath. “Oh fuck you,” you snarled, slicing the blaster aimed at your head in half and bolting, following Yoda across the short distance to the ship as Chewbacca readied it for take off. Once you were at light speed, he reappeared, pulling out a medkit to start patching you up. “You get in way too much trouble,” he complained, pouring antiseptic over your wound.  “I fucking know,” you groaned against the stinging.

[khaleesa]

Fic: Sprouts

Fandom: Star Wars

Pairing/Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Sabé, original child character

Rating & Warnings: K for kidfic

Word Count: 1400

Summary: They can hardly be surprised at their son’s enthusiasm for gardening...

A/N: Is it spring yet? Not quite, but I’ve had a gardening bug lately, and a friend’s Instagram story inspired this little Sabewan fic. (And made me realize how long it’s been since I wrote any fic, eep! I mean to do better!) Set in Born of LIght-verse, a few years after Growing Seasons. Unbetaed. I hope this fic is a nice little glimpse of spring!  Please read, review, reblog. :)

Read it on AO3. Or here. ;)

~*~

Sabé dreamed of gardening, so vividly that she could smell the rich soil, feel the itch of it on her skin, taste--

Spluttering, she snapped awake and sat up to meet a pair of wide blue eyes twinkling at her from the foot of the bed. Specks of black dotted the unbleached bedlinens between their owner and her, like the proverbial trail of breadcrumbs in the fairytale.

"Ben Jinn Kenobi!" Sabé grimaced at the grit on her lips and put up a hand to wipe it away. "Did you throw dirt on me?"

With his sunny grin, Ben held up pudgy hands, displaying evidence of his toddler mischief, the lines of his palms darkened with potting soil. "Pwant seeds!"

Sabé flopped back on her pillow and met another pair of blue eyes now open beside her, crinkling at the corners with his silent amusement.

"Yes, I did say we'd plant seeds today." She scrubbed a hand across her face, scattering more dirt onto the sheets. "I suppose I ought to have specified after breakfast."

"We can hardly be surprised at his enthusiasm for gardening," Obi-Wan said, "seeing as he sleeps in a cellar garden." He moistened the pad of his thumb on his tongue, swiped it across her cheekbone, then brushed his lips over the same spot. "But Benji," he added, sitting up, "you know you are not supposed to play with any of the gardening equipment."

Ben's round eyes welled at the gentle rebuke, only to light up again as he found himself caught in the arms of his father, who lay back again with the little boy on his chest.

"How did he reach that bag of soil, anyway?" Sabé mused as she lay there with them, combing her fingers through his untidy shock of dark hair. "It was on the top shelf."

Ben bolted upright on Obi-Wan's chest, his own puffing with pride. "I make it fwy!"

Sabé noted her husband's rapid blink. "We can hardly be surprised at his enthusiasm for levitation," she said, "seeing as his father is a Jedi."

 ~*~

While Sabé made breakfast, Obi-Wan went out to tend the eopies and Ben--ostensibly--went along to help. A toddler, in all honesty, was more hindrance than help with milking and mucking, but as days in the desert were long, and more so with a child to keep entertained, nobody truly minded the chores taking more time than they ought to. That might change now that Ben could, apparently, make things fly. Sabé hoped he wouldn't test his abilities on anything unfortunate in the pen or barn. At the same time, she'd be sorry not to see it.

An even better sight, however, was that of Obi-Wan carrying their son back toward the hovel on his shoulders, both wearing grins as bright as the twin suns that rose over the dunes. She glimpsed them through the side windows as she set the table with steaming bowls of oatmeal and muja berry jam made from their own crop.  

"I thought Mari Starfall's jam was delicious," Obi-Wan said, hmming after his first bite, "but nothing tastes better than food you've grown yourself."

Sabé had to stop Ben from reaching into his bowl with his hand, closing his fingers around the handle of his spoon instead. "How quickly you've forgotten our first Naboo lettuce crop."

"Pwant seeds!" cried Ben, waving his spoon and flinging oatmeal and jam over his tray.

"It seems after breakfast may prove an unattainable goal," Obi-Wan observed.

"After ours, then," Sabé said.

They wolfed down their oatmeal, then fed Ben as much as they could get him to take--mostly by asking him what they were going to do today, then shoveling spoonfuls in whenever he opened his mouth to reply, Pwant seeds!  After a few bites, he caught on, clamped his mouth shut, and refused to answer, kicking his legs and grunting until they wiped the jam off his cheeks and chubby hands and released him from the confines of his chair. He toddled toward the open cellar door, and Sabé hurried after him, catching his hand to help him descend the steps.

She called over her shoulder to Obi-Wan, who'd started to clear the table. "The washing up will keep till later."

"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed, setting the bowls on the kitchen counter on his way to them, "we'll need something to do after we've completed the single task on our to-do list. Even a three-year-old can't make planting seeds take all day."

"We have potting soil to clean up, too," Sabé announced cheerfully as they were greeted by most of the contents of a large bag piled on the cellar rug. And they'd thought it was safe out of reach on the top shelf. "Thank the stars that didn't fall on Ben's head. How does one childproof for Force-sensitive offspring?"

"Send them to the Jedi Temple," replied Obi-Wan softly, with a sad smile as he scooped up Ben, who'd let go of Sabé's hand to run squealing to play in the dirt. Planting a kiss on the dark hair--which he discovered had jam in it--he said, "The potting soil is for planting, not for playing, young one."

"Not for pwaying," Ben echoed, and wagging his forefinger solemnly in imitation of his father.

Sabé stifled a laugh, but Obi-Wan's grin broke free. Together, they cleaned up the mess, which was an agreeable pastime to Ben, for it meant he got to scoop dustpanfuls back into the bag after Obi-Wan swept. When that was finished, Obi-Wan plopped Ben on a stepstool Sabé had pulled up to the workbench, where empty trays were lined up, ready for new seedlings. She handed Ben a child-sized shovel the Starfall children had outgrown--though it wouldn't be too long before their new addition would be ready to help Mari in her cellar garden-and let him fill each tray with soil. He did this quite competently, and managed to cover the workbench with a healthy layer, as well. Then, one at a time, she gave him salthia beans that had soaked overnight to press into the soil, showing him how to place the eyes facing downward. She had to do most of them over.

"Now we must cover them up," Sabé said, moving soil over the first bean. "Gently! Like you're tucking them into their little beds."

"The seeds sweeping?" asked Ben, looking up at her.

Sabé smiled over his head at Obi-Wan. "That's right. They'll grow while they're asleep. Just like you." She tickled him under the armpit as he reached to cover the seeds. His squeal of laughter echoed in the cellar, then he said, "Top it, Mama! Shh! I putting the seeds to bed!"

"Sorry," Sabé whispered.

"Shh, Dada!"

"But I didn't say anything," Obi-Wan protested in a hushed tone.

The trays of salthia beans were soon sufficiently covered. Ben insisted to be allowed to carry them to their place beneath the grow lights. With some convincing, he allowed Sabé to help.

"Turn off wights?" he asked.

"No," Obi-Wan told him, "unlike you, the seeds need to sleep with the lights on so they can grow big and strong."

Ben stared at the trays beneath the humming grow lights, then waved his hand at them. "Gwow, seeds!"

"It'll take a few days for them to sprout," Sabé said, taking his hand to guide him back upstairs. "Maybe even a whole week."

"Not a whole week!" Ben cried, though he hadn't the faintest idea what that meant.

That evening, when they returned to the cellar at his bedtime, Ben stopped to check the progress of his seeds. "They gwow!"

"I told you, Benji," Sabé said from across the room, where she pulled back the covers of the little bed in the corner by the laundry unit, "they won't sprout for a few days."

"Erm," Obi-Wan said, "you might wish to come re-evaluate that hypothesis."

"Are you barvy?" Sabé asked, joining them. She stopped short at the sight of green poking up through the dark soil, then bent low over the trays, not trusting her eyes.

"Gwow, seeds!" Ben demanded, waving his hand over the trays as he'd done earlier.

"Our son appears to have a natural mastery of plant surge," Obi-Wan said.

 After she'd picked her jaw up off the floor, Sabé slipped her arm around his waist. "Well, we can hardly be surprised."

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Obi-Wan is up late studying and his new Padawan sleeps next to him on their sofa. AN: @thenegoteator enables all my wishes for smol Padawan Anakin and Obi-Wan bonding so I hope you like this! Read on AO3!

Despite common misconceptions, the Jedi temple at night was still as busy as it was during the daytime. The many nocturnal members of the Order went about their daily life, training, teaching, learning, preparing for missions, and tracking down wayward Padawans deep in the temple building. Not as seldomly as they’d like to, they also sent one of their diurnal Jedi, awake despite their rhythm, to bed.

Sleep eluded them all often enough, visions and twisted dreams keeping them awake and as such, they all took care to ensure they did get a healthy dosage of sleep.

This was the precise reason Obi-Wan Kenobi was not in the archives but in his quarters.

He yawned for what felt like the twentieth time in the past ten minutes, staring at the light screen of his datapad.

It was the only source of light illuminating the dark room and consequently hurting his eyes. Obi-Wan could have turned on the main lights, but he hadn’t really expected to still be sitting here at this hour.

He should have gone to bed about four hours ago or so, he wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed and hesitated at checking the chronometer, but Obi-Wan also still was about two hours of work away from where he wanted to be with his thesis paper.

He didn’t have the time to sleep. Staying awake was an entirely reasonable course of action.

He reached for his cup of tea, black as the deepest voids of space. It wasn’t his favorite by any kind, but it did its job at keeping him awake better than any of his favorite teas or kaf did. When he raised his cup to his lips, he noticed that not only it was cold, but also almost empty. He could have sworn he had made it just ten minutes ago.

Displeased he set it on the living room table and sighed. Right, only about ten pages and a conclusion to go. Obi-Wan was able to work through those pages without any tea keeping him alert. He could, of course, get up and make himself another cup, but that also meant moving his small companion out of the way and possibly startling him awake.

Obi-Wan looked down at his lap where his Padawan was dead to the world, the rise and fall of the bundle being the only sign that Anakin was asleep. Obi-Wan could hardly see Anakin, wrapped up in three blankets as he was. Obi-Wan doubted that Anakin would learn to sleep with less than three layers any time soon.

His only visible feature was his crown of messy golden locks. Anakin had been up until just two hours ago, working on his own homework first, then had continued working on his sheer endless numbers of mouse droids and, when even that hadn’t kept him busy anymore, he had started drawing. Only after he had gotten too tired to hold onto his pencil had he started pestering Obi-Wan with questions about his paper until he had fallen asleep. At first, Anakin had been leaning against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, but the longer the night had gotten, the more did he slip off until he had ended up dropping into Obi-Wan’s lap where he was now snoring lightly.

Obi-Wan smiled at his Padawan, then gently so he wouldn’t wake him, ran his fingers through his hair. Anakin’s hair was surprisingly soft and, when the boy remembered to shower, smelled of spring flowers instead of motor oil.

He had a Padawan.

A small, cute, kind, and good-hearted Padawan who deserved a world that would treat him gently and the best of teachers who could guide him well.

And Obi-Wan had no idea how to handle him. He was doing his best and he was quite sure that he was at least on the right track, but he definitely could improve still.

But first, he had a paper to finish.

It was ridiculous.

He had been supposed to be done with it months ago. When his Master and he had been called to Naboo, Obi-Wan had just started writing it, a vague thesis in mind and some literature assembled. Most of the work had been in his head and constituted of the endless discussions Qui-Gon and he had had about the true nature of the Force. They had spent years discussing what it felt like what its purpose was – It was a heavy topic, and Obi-Wan could have gone with an easier one such as the traffic laws in Coruscant’s lower levels, but instead he had chosen to go with such a research-heavy field.

It was a chore and a half to work on this paper. Not so much writing the paper in and of itself, Obi-Wan happened to be one of those bastards who enjoyed writing up reports and forcing people to go through his elaborations on the banalest of topics. Handing his papers in had always been his utmost delight. There were very few sights that could compare to someone seeing that they’d have to proofread his paper.

No, the problem with his theses was the agonizing pain that came with every revisit to all the memories he had made with his Master. Getting even half a sentence transferred to the datapad was an ordeal Obi-Wan had never experienced before. Whenever he had to look up literature, he felt as if Qui-Gon was standing right beside him, commenting on the material, or quizzing him on it.

Qui-Gon would have a lot to say about his paper: Obi-Wan could just picture him making one remark after another, grilling him about every sentence and pointing out every flaw in his argumentation. Obi-Wan would hate every second of it, disagree with Qui-Gon on at least 215 accounts, but in the end, he’d hold his paper in his hands and could say that it had been a job well done indeed.

His Master would be proud.

His Master wasn’t here to see it.

Anakin whimpered.

Obi-Wan looked down at his Padawan again and soothingly ran his fingers through his hair again, sending him reassurance over their bond, hoping his emotions would reach his young charge even when he was asleep. Anakin, for all that he enjoyed talking a lot, was a very quiet child when he wanted to be. He didn’t make a lot of noise when he moved through their quarters, he hardly made any noise when he was sleeping. He didn’t let out a single cry despite the nightmares that must be haunting him now.

Obi-Wan began to hum a melody that had been sung to him in the creche. It was meant to calm children down during or after nightmares. Obi-Wan had always been prone to such, visions of darkness, death, and decay haunting him. Soon after he began singing, his Padawan calmed down and returned to an easy sleep.

Obi-Wan smiled down at Anakin’s form. It was nice that at least one of them could catch a couple of hours of sweet rest.

Sighing, Obi-Wan focused on the text on his datapad and began re-reading his last paragraphs.

He hadn’t typed anything that made any sense for the couple last hours. It was ridiculous.

“I should stop,” Obi-Wan muttered. “This is useless when I’m tired.”

Frustrated, he saved the document and then turned out the datapad, leaving himself in total darkness with only the weight of Anakin as a gentle reminder that he wasn’t truly lonely.

For a moment Obi-Wan contemplated just staying like this and sleeping here. He didn’t want to move, he was semi-comfortable, and Anakin by his side was more than enough comfort.

But he did have a bed with a good mattress, and so did Anakin. As his Master, Obi-Wan should set a good precedent for Anakin and follow healthy habits, avoid falling asleep on the sofa where his neck would make him pay for it in the morning.

Slowly, Obi-Wan pushed Anakin of his lap. The boy grumbled and Obi-Wan froze, not daring to move an inch. He breathed in and out, once twice, but Anakin kept on sleeping, still knocked out. Obi-Wan suppressed a laugh and then stood up in one swift move. Once standing, he cracked his bones and neck so that the stiffness would disappear from his body. If he didn’t take care of his body now, it would come back to haunt him when he attempted any of his usual Ataru sequences.

Not that Obi-Wan had been doing many of those lately. Form IV had become uncomfortable since Naboo, but he had yet to find something easier. A few of the Soresu practitioners had pointed out that he seemed to be well suited to it, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure.

Sighing yet once more and putting the thought aside for another day, he then turned around to his Padawan and scooped him up in his arms. It was good that Anakin was so small still and didn’t weigh too much. With the boy settled in his arms, drooling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, he walked past the many datapads spread across the ground and carried Anakin to his room. He opened up the room and danced past the various droid parts carelessly thrown everywhere until he reached Anakin’s bed. With careless use of the Force, he threw back Anakin’s other two blankets before setting the boy down. He considered moving Anakin out of the cocoon to spread out the blankets properly but figured it wasn’t worth the effort. He’d just roll himself up in them again. Instead, he grabbed the two remaining blankets and tugged him in, his covers secured so that no air would get in.

“Good night, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said and turned around to leave.

He had not stepped two feet away from the door when he heard a soft, “Obi?”

Anakin had woken up.

“Yes, Anakin?” Obi-Wan looked at his Padawan again who was now staring at him with his bright blue eyes and the kind of look that Obi-Wan knew he wouldn’t be able to deny him anything.

“Can you sleep here tonight?”

“I-“ Obi-Wan hesitated for a split-second. He had his own bed to return to, one that was made for an adult and not a child, with his own blanket and pillows.

“Sure,” Obi-Wan agreed and kicked off his slippers so he could crawl into bed with Anakin. His Padawan made space for him, but the moment Obi-Wan was also under the covers, Anakin pressed himself against him, somehow already having untangled his limbs from his blankets so he could stick his cold feet and hands beneath Obi-Wan’s war robes. Obi-Wan hissed at the cold contact and shot Anakin a look.

“You are a menace,” he told the boy seriously, but Anakin only giggled, seeing through his ruse.

“Nuhu, I’m cold,” he replied and promptly moved his hands just below Obi-Wan’s ribs where Anakin knew he was ticklish.

Obi-Wan jumped up, all signs of exhaustion were forgotten. Oh, it was on.

“You will regret this!” He declared dramatically and began tickling Anakin, who let out high-pitched shrieks in between his joyful laughs.

“Mercy! Obi-Wan I can’t-” Anakin begged as the rest of his sentence was swallowed by his giggles.

Obi-Wan stopped for a moment and thoughtfully crossed his arms, giving Anakin a minute to recuperate. “Oh? On what grounds!”

“Uuh,” Anakin pouted. “It’s late?” He suggested “And we should sleep. And I won’t make you cold again.”

“That’s a lie,” Obi-Wan pointed out, already knowing that Anakin would stick his freezing hands beneath his shirt.

Anakin shrugged easily and grinned at Obi-Wan. “Yeah.”

Well, at least his Padawan was honest enough to admit to it.

“Alright, let’s sleep then,” Obi-Wan said and laid down again next to Anakin. He pulled the many blankets over them both and wiggled underneath them until he was comfortable. The bed really was a little small for them both, but there was no helping it. Perhaps they should just sleep in Obi-Wan’s the next time.

“Night, Obi-Wan,” Anakin muttered and yawned.

“Good night, Anakin.”

He tugged Anakin’s head under his chin and sooner than he could count, they were asleep.

[crystal-siren]

Dark Horizon (Obi-Wan x Reader) Pt.12

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11

@dovies666 @stuck-as-me @attorneyl @maiden-of-gondor @sassmasterjedi @runs-with-sciss0rs

‘I am lost without you’. What a hauntingly beautiful thing to say to a person - that whether you are off on another wild adventure or in the familiar quiet comfort of your very own home, you are all the same, enormously lost, whenever you are without them. ~ Beau Taplin // I am Lost Without You

The fight was savage, yet it was the culmination of everything both of them had been taught. Vader struck and swung his weapon with frightening skill and ferocity. His attacks were fluid, yet aggressive.

Obi-Wan soon found himself on the defensive. Never would he have imagined to find himself in this situation. Fighting the one he loved as dearly as a brother. As the fight grew in intensity, sparks flew around them, signalling the damage they were causing to their surroundings.

“Anakin is our brother.” His own words echoed around him as the fight escalated.

“We love him and we will fight for him.” 

Their surroundings changed and took the shape of the Control Centre. Vader’s attacks were becoming more and more aggressive, his anger directing where he struck.

“But never against him.”

Now more than before, Obi-Wan was glad that Y/N had not survived to see this. To see him break a promise. To see Anakin as someone even she would not recognise.

~ ~ ~ 

No sooner had Y/N crumbled to the ground, unconscious from the pain, than Yoda had moved to stand in front of her.

“I have waited a long time for this moment, my little green friend.” The Emperor sneered, his yellow eyes glancing briefly at the young woman.  “At last, the Jedi are no more.”

Before Sidious could take one more step, Yoda raised one clawed hand. “Not if anything to say about it, I have.” Calling on the Force, he threw the Dark Lord back the way he had come, with such a force that he tumbled completely over his desk and landed with a thud.

“At an end your rule is,” Yoda continued, taking on a defensive stance, “and not short enough it was, I must say.”

Brushing himself off, Sidious stood and faced the Grand Master for a brief moment before making for the office entrance. He would have left, had Yoda not quickly intercepted him. “If so powerful you are, why leave??” His words were followed by the igniting hiss of a lightsaber.

“You will not stop me. Darth Vader will become more powerful than either of us.” Sidous responded, activating his own blood red blade.

“Faith in your new apprentice, misplaced may be, as is your faith in the dark side of the Force.”

The fight that ensued was faster and more ferocious than the human mind could possibly imagine. They became a blur of green and red. Each using the confined space of the office to their advantage.

~ ~ ~

The view screens exploded and shattered around them. Vader and Obi-Wan worked their way steadily through the main room of the Control Centre, leaving a path of destruction in their wake.

As yet still finding himself on the defensive, Obi-Wan took the first opportunity and leaped onto one of the three table-top view screens. His lightsaber remained directed at Anakin.

“Don't make me destroy you, Master. You're no match for the Dark Side.” Vader prowled around the edge of the table like a caged animal.

“I've heard that before, Anakin,” Obi-Wan responded and took a deep breath. “...but I never thought I'd hear it from you.”

Clearly impatient, Vader struck and forced his opponent backwards and into the Conference room. Suddenly they did not have as much space as they previously had.

Jumping onto the long table, Vader made to strike when Obi-Wan slid across the table, knocking him over. Reaching out, Obi-Wan caught the fallen lightsaber and called on the Force to retrieve his own fallen one. But it seemed as though Vader had the same idea.

~ ~ ~

Yoda showed no signs of slowing down or tiring, if anything, he was growing stronger and his attacks were quicker.

Seeing no other option, Sidious thought to find some measure of refuge in the Chancellor’s Senatorial pod. The relief he felt was short lived.

Yoda’s green eyes caught onto the rising podium and called on the Force to propel him onto it.

The ferocity of the fight only heightened. The confined space of the podium only escalated the determination of both parties to end the other.

~ ~ ~ 

Having fought their way back into the main Control centre, Vader and Obi-Wan’s duel only intensified. Vader began to rely heavily on the Dark Side as his opponent proved to be every inch as skilled as he.

“The flaw of power is arrogance.“ Obi-Wan continued, as though his speech from earlier hadn’t been interrupted.

“You hesitate,” Vader sneered and curled his lip, “...the flaw of compassion.”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan conceded, “but it is compassion for the man you once were and for the man you could have been. And for the life she had wished for you.”

Incensed, Vader lashed out. “She wanted me to run.” His lightsaber clashed with Obi-Wan’s. “She wanted me to run...like a coward.”

Clenching his jaw in an effort to hold out Anakin’s increasing strength, Obi-Wan ground out, “she wanted to save you. Like she always did.”

Their lightsabers crackled against eachother until their owners pulled away and called on the Force to try and push the other away. The sheer strength of both parties soon had them repelled away from each other and flung to opposite ends of the room.

More determined than before, Vader sprang up and leapt across the large span of the room and struck at Obi-Wan, who managed to dodge the attack just in time. Vader’s weapon came crashing down on the control panels, thus deactivating the deflector shields of the metal machinery that hung just above rivers of molten rock.

The fight continued to take them across the room, until a door on near both of them was knocked open when Vader landed a sound kick, knocking Obi-Wan onto the now visible balcony.

~ ~ ~

I am never complaining about a headache again, Y/N groaned inwardly as she began to regain mobility. Cracking her eyes open, she took in her surroundings. She appeared to be alone. At least, that was what she thought until the tell-tale sounds of a fight reached her faintly-ringing ears.

Instinctively reaching for her lightsaber, Y/N’s eyes swept over the empty office before they were drawn to the pillar in the centre of the room. Pushing herself into a standing position, she approached the pillar and craned her neck. What she saw should have surprised her.

Master Yoda and Darth Sidious were locked in a fight that looked more ferocious than any Y/N had ever seen.

“Destroy you I will,” came Yoda’s voice. “Just as Master Kenobi, your apprentice will destroy.”

That did it for her. Not waiting to hear the Sith’s reply, she abandoned all reason and called on the Force to help her ascend the pillar. She pulled herself onto the podium just in time to see Yoda jump to one of the lower Senatorial pods.

Y/N’s e/c eyes widen in horror as Sidious used the Force to loosen one of the pod’s moorings. “Oh no, you don’t,” she murmured and lashed out with her sword arm, using the Force to send the Emperor sprawling backwards.

“Young Y/N,” Sidious smiled coldly at the young woman. “One would have thought you would have learned your lesson.”

“I’ve been known to be a bit thick sometimes,” she shot back.

The Emperor simply nodded before sending a bolt of Sith lightning her way.

Igniting her lightsaber, Y/N barely manage to deflect the damaging energy. “But considering the circumstances, I’d say I’ve learned it pretty well.” Her hands began to tremble with the effort of maintaining a firm grip.

“Tell me,” the Emperor continued, the bolts flowing seemingly endlessly from his outstretched hands. “Do you still believe you can take what is mine?”

Y/n ground her teeth and clenched her jaw. “What makes you think I’ll stop?”

“He betrayed you,” Sidious taunted. “He broke the promise he made you.”

Y/N shook her head and fought the tears that were threatening to spill over. “He betrayed me because you poisoned him.” She forced herself to look at him and strengthened her grip and continued to push against the lightning. “He betrayed me because of your promise of the impossible.” A breath shuddered through her. “He broke his promise to me-” Y/N silently cursed herself for her trembling voice. Her lip curled and she snarled at him, “you broke his promise to me.” With those words, she gave one last push before leaping onto the same pod on which the Emperor stood.

Yoda watched her from his position below them. Many times had he witnessed Y/N in combat, he had often considered her a controlled and elegant fighter. Transforming something deadly into something beautiful was what he had come to expect off her. She made every duel look like a dangerous dance.

Now, the control was gone, her ravaged emotions seemed to be in the lead. Her attacks, while fluid, were evidently fueled by anger and the strong desire to protect those she loved. Yoda’s green eyes followed her as she dodged the Sith Lord’s strikes and the pods he had begun to throw in her direction.

Everytime she managed to dodge one of those things, Y/N considered it a miracle. She didn’t even want to think of what would happen should she be unlucky enough to be hit.

Leaping from pod to pod, Y/N found that her thoughts had changed direction.

“Farewell then, big sister.” Y/N gasped and almost lost her footing. Why did she have to remember that now?!

“I haven’t seen you smile like that for quite some time,” His voice quickly replaced Anakin’s.

“Easily distracted I see,” Sidious spoke from beside her.

Jolting in shock, Y/N’s foot slipped and she felt herself fall until her left hand caught the pod’s rail. Her lightsaber clattering to the ground far below. As her feet dangled free, Y/N tried to calm herself and refused to look down.

“I cannot imagine Master Kenobi fairing any better,” Sidious taunted from above her. “Vader, however..”

“Leave Obi-Wan out of this,” Y/N hissed, trying to reach the rail with her right hand.

The Emperor laughed, it was an unpleasant sound. “I cannot do that. Your precious Obi-Wan will soon meet his end at the hands of the one you loved as a brother.”

Anakin wouldn’t dare! Y/N was almost certain that Anakin wasn’t physically capable of that. Her already frantic heart-rate increased as she fought the fresh tears. This couldn’t be happening, she thought, this can’t be how it ends. Obi-Wan-

Her thoughts were cut off as the sensation of falling was accompanied by a pain of such an intensity as she had never felt before.

Yoda watched in horror as Y/N was struck a second time. Hanging helpless, she had been the perfect target for the hateful Sith Lord. Leaping down, Yoda called on the Force to cushion her fall. She was unconscious by the time she reached him, the right side of her face horribly disfigured by the lightning.

~ ~ ~

If anything, Vader’s attacks became more aggressive as he forced Obi-Wan along a narrow balcony.

Once again finding himself on the defensive, Obi-Wan soon found himself trapped at the end of the balcony. His eyes took note of his surroundings and landed reluctantly on the lava river just beneath them.

Not wasting anytime, he leapt from the balcony onto a small pipe that connected the Control Centre to planet’s Main Collection Plant.

Vader followed suit and soon both were balancing on the narrow metal, their lightsabers still directed at each other.

While still ferocious, the fight slowed down, both opponents overly aware of their dangerous surroundings.

Then, suddenly, Obi-Wan jumped down and landed on the walkway of the collection plant. It did not take long for Vader to follow.

The intensity of the fight picked up as soon as both had found secure footing. Lava sprayed up around them, threatening to fall on them.

The further they advanced, the further the safety of the control centre slipped away. The fight carried them far enough along one of the arms for them to be completely above the river of lava that flowed and bubbled beneath them.

~ ~ ~

Using the Force to pull Y/N along, Yoda gently moved her through a small chute, while struggling not to get either of them entangled in the numerous wires.

“Hurry,” Yoda spoke into his comlink. “Careful timing we will need.”

Bail’s voice soon answered him. “Activate your homing beacon when you're ready.”

~ ~ ~

“There are no signs of their bodies, Sir,” Clone Commander Thire reported to Sidious who hovered just above him in a Senatorial pod.

“Then they are not dead,” Mas Amedda spoke up from beside the Emperor.

“Double your search.” Sidious instructed, he was fuming. How was this possible? Turning to his aide, he spoke, “tell Captain Kagi to prepare my shuttle for immediate takeoff.”

Docking the pod, the Emperor walked into the hallway beyond. “I sense Lord Vader is in danger.”

~ ~ ~

It was only when a particularly large spout of molten rock erupted that both Obi-Wan and Vader ran. Soon, the hot lava melted the metal on which it had landed and the arm began to fall.

Quite literally running on instinct, both Jedi and Sith ran from where they had taken shelter. As the structure descended towards the river of molten rock, they leaped onto what used to be the walkway.

Both climbed in a desperate attempt to get away from the furious river of lava that was steadily melting the metal arm.

As they climbed they fought. Obi-Wan had managed to climb above Vader and soon became trapped at the top. Looking around, his sea-shaded eyes soon located the edge of the river that ended in cascades of lava. Grabbing hold of one of the numerous loose cables, he continued to defend himself against the vengeful Sith.

~ ~ ~ 

Following Yoda’s beacon, Bail directed his open-cockpitted speeder towards the eaves of the large Senate Building, towards a recess of lights.

The Senator was surprised when a young woman came through and landed softly on the seat beside him. Yoda followed her soon after.

“Fought Sidious, she did,” Yoda explained. “Survive, she might.”

Only then did Bail take proper notice of her. She seemed strangely familiar. His eyes widened ever-so-slightly as he took in her injuries. “Who is she?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

That name did ring a bell for the Senator. He turned to Yoda, “she may yet live, but we must hurry.”

Yoda simply nodded and did not answer right away. When he did, his voice was softer, sadder. “Into exile I must go. Failed, I have.”

~ ~ ~

Vader was relentless, even when Obi-Wan swung out and away from the arm, did he lash out. When his opponent did not return, Vader looked around and saw him land on a small platform in the middle of the molten river.

Obi-Wan watched from where he stood as the remains of the metal arm slowly tipped over the edge and a figure ran and leapt in a graceful somersault, landing neatly on a small worker droid.

Taking advantage of the distance, Obi-Wan began to head for the shore. Vader however, had different plans. The droid on which he stood was faster, allowing him to catch up to and intercept Obi-Wan.

The fight continued, even faster and more ferocious than before.

“I have failed you, Anakin. I was never able to teach you to think.” Obi-Wan managed to say in the brief moment of ‘peace’. His eyes focused on his former Padawan, who now looked at him with thinly veiled loathing.

“I should have known the Jedi were plotting to take over-” Vader called over the roar of the lava falls.

“From the Sith!” Obi-Wan interrupted him. “Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil.”

“From the Jedi point of view!” Vader protested angrily. “From my point of view, the Jedi are evil.”

“Well, then you are lost!”

“This is the end for you, My Master.” Vader spoke as his droid neared Obi-Wan’s platform. “I wish it were otherwise. Give my regards to Y/N.” With those words, he jumped and flipped neatly over Obi-Wan and landed on the edge of the platform.

The duel continued until Obi-Wan caught sight of how near the shore was. Not wasting the opportunity, he leaped and landed smoothly on the black sand.

“It's over, Anakin.” He called, “I have the high ground.”

But Vader was not one to give up so easily. Nearing the shore, he glared up at his former Master. “You underestimate my power!”

“Don’t try it!” Obi-Wan pleaded and sensed what Vader was about to do.

Squaring his shoulders, Vader jumped and Obi-Wan struck. In the blink of an eye, he had cut both legs at the knees as well as Vader’s left hand.

As a result, Vader tumbled down the slope and stopped just short of the river. With his remaining mechanical hand, he began to pull himself up.

Obi-Wan watched with tears escaping his eyes. “You were the Chosen One!” He cried, heartbroken. “It was said that you would, destroy the Sith, not join them. It was you who would bring balance to the Force, not leave it in Darkness.”

In that moment, he swore he saw the Anakin that Y/N and he had always loved. The one they both saw as a brother. The one they would have done anything to protect.

Bending down, he picked up Anakin’s fallen lightsaber and made to leave.

“I HATE YOU.” Nothing of Anakin remained in that voice. In those words.

“You were our brother Anakin,” he reminded the fallen Jedi. “We loved you. But no one more than Y/N.”

A brief moment passed before Vader’s clothing burst into flames and began to engulf him as well.

Obi-Wan could do nothing but watch in frozen horror. Only when Vader desperately tried crawl up the embankment did he finally turn away. His screams shattering the air.

The screams echoed after him even when he returned to where Padme’s ship stood waiting. 

Immediately boarding, he saw Padme lying unconscious on one of the ship’s beds. He went to her and gently lay a hand on her shoulder, waking her.

Padme blinked up at him. “Obi-Wan? Is Anakin all right?”

Not trusting himself, Obi-Wan chose not to answer, sending her a sad smile before she slipped back into unconsciousness.

As the Nubian skiff leaves the fiery planet behind, Obi-Wan sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. Shaking his head, he dropped it into his waiting hands. His world had long since fallen to pieces, it was only now that he truly realised it.

To be continued...

Part 13