Chapter Text
Obi-Wan and Anakin scrambled to their feet, quick to dust off the dirt that clung to their robes. The flap of the insectoid helmet dangled from Anakin’s fingertips, and Obi-Wan glanced at it briefly before he straightened and looked ahead at a random point over Mace’s shoulder. The smoky smell of charred metal still hung in the air, exacerbated by the afternoon heat.
The sun was directly above them now, and Obi-Wan fanned the collar of his flowing cloak over his damp neck. That Mace glared at him as Obi-Wan attempted to find a measure of comfort in the humidity did not feel like a good omen.
“Your son, Skywalker,” Mace said as his focus reverted to Anakin. “Where is your son?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Master Windu,” said Anakin calmly, though Obi-Wan clearly sensed the man’s pulsing fury at the loss of his son.
Where did the boy go? Although Obi-Wan could no longer feel the child’s warm presence, he must be…somewhere. He ought to spend the night in the archives and uncover the meaning of his disappearance.
If Mace didn’t kick him out of the Jedi Order, first.
“So you think I’m an idiot, then?” Mace asked, his eyebrows raising. “The reports of you wandering the Temple hallways with a baby are false?”
He spread his arms in a gesture that could be mistaken for friendly submission, as though he just lost a game of Dejarik. But Obi-Wan knew the Jedi Master well—he was deliberately attempting to goad Anakin into an emotional response. But if the Jedi Council had already decided Anakin’s fate, then it made little sense. His son was gone, so why was Mace bothering with this line of questioning?
A tempest raged underneath the relatively gentle ocean wave of their Force bond, and Obi-Wan knew Anakin was thinking the same thing.
“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Master Windu. But I don’t see a baby here. Do you?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes widened at his apprentice’s flippancy, and he turned his head sideways to regard him. Anakin’s profile was perfectly still, though a scowl played around his lips. Rays of lemon-yellow sunshine scattered around the top of his head to create an effect resembling a halo, and Obi-Wan nearly snorted.
Anakin was no angel. But perhaps any angelic qualities in the Skywalker bloodline had skipped a generation and passed to his son.
Mace chuckled and grinned at Anakin, amused at his audacity, but there was no joy in either action. “I don’t see a baby here, either. But we should still take this matter to the other members of the Jedi Council, don’t you think?”
Obi-Wan exhaled slowly as Mace whirled around and headed for the door that led into the Temple. He and Anakin briefly exchanged a glance before following, and Obi-Wan sent a silent note of thank you into the Force, grateful his padawan had not mouthed back.
The Jedi High Council Chamber was mercifully empty when the three arrived, save for the crimson chair occupied by Yoda. Mace took his seat beside him with a deep sigh, and he dabbed at the sweat lining his brow with the sleeve of his tunic. It was much cooler here, many stories above the bustling surface of Coruscant. But the journey here had been strained; no one spoke as Mace stormed through the hallways of the Temple, Obi-Wan and Anakin trailing behind him like cattle. The turbolift ride had been particularly nerve-wracking, as if a hurricane threatened to blow through the cramped space. Thankfully, once they had reached the top floor and filtered out into the spacious antechamber, the electrical charge in the air diffused.
Somewhat.
Anakin stood in the centre of the Chamber as instructed, his feet rocking over the circular plant motif painted on the floor. Their shoulders brushed as Obi-Wan stood next to him, ready to accept whatever punishment the Council handed down. Unfortunately, he and Anakin would have to wait a little longer.
“As you can see, only Master Yoda and I could be in attendance for this…emergency session,” Mace said, elbows nestled on the edges of the armrest. “But later tonight, when the Council reconvenes, we will provide our judgment.”
Obi-Wan nodded, desperate to alleviate the tension. “Thank you, Master Windu and Master Yoda. Both Anakin and I understand the seriousness of the situation and we will abide by the decision set by the Council.” His hands clasped in front of his abdomen, hidden by the immense fabric of his cloak. Beside him, Anakin stiffened.
“Good. So, if you don’t mind, we have several questions for you. Off the record.”
“Of course,” Anakin and Obi-Wan said in unison.
Mace used the Force to tug the helmet out of Anakin’s grasp. The shiny black object launched through the air in a graceful arc, landing squarely in his large hands. He inspected it with a grimace, then placed it beside the chair. It felt like a short eternity had passed before Mace spoke again.
“The child just disappeared?” he asked. The disbelieving pitch in his voice was unmistakable, and Obi-Wan flinched.
The Force didn’t need to confirm the truth—Obi-Wan observed it plainly on the man’s face. Mace Windu no longer trusted them, and oddly, it hurt as much as losing Anakin’s son.
“Yes, Master Windu,” Anakin said with a heavy sigh, no longer pretending that the boy didn’t exist. His eyes flickered to the window for a moment, studying the planet’s crisscrossing skylanes as air speeders rushed by. The inner maelstrom within his padawan was difficult to ignore; Obi-Wan considered resting his hand on Anakin’s shoulder but opted against it.
“That’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” Mace said, leaning forward in his seat. “You broadcasted your joy throughout the Force. You were happy that you had a son. A Force-sensitive son, I may add, one who will need training and guidance from the Council.”
Anakin met Mace’s scrutiny with a disapproving sneer but offered no rebuttal. The last thing any of them needed was a repeat of the classroom, where Anakin had touched the dark side and lost control of his already fragile mental state. Only the presence of his son calmed him down then, but any sufficiently trained Force user in the area would have sensed Anakin’s outburst.
Would Mace mention that, too?
Obi-Wan stroked his chin with shivering fingers. The temperature in the room dropped, the air so thick a lightsaber could slice through it.
“Where is your son?” Mace asked again, his voice rising.
“I don’t know.”
“Really. It’s odd, don’t you agree? A sith is out there somewhere, perhaps right under our noses. And then a child with extraordinary Force potential just…poof! Appears out of the ether.”
“The coincidence is strange, Master Windu. But, as I’ve already said, I don’t know. The Force works in mysterious ways.”
Mace leaned back against the seat and frowned. “He was here for a few hours and then he just disappeared back into the Force? Just like that?”
“Yes! He did. And I don’t know where he is!” Anakin said. The two men glared at each other, the relentless activity of Galactic City forgotten, and Obi-Wan held his breath.
For several seconds, Anakin’s irritation poured into the Force like a spout. But just as abruptly, he shook his head and his feelings evaporated into nothingness.
“The Force took him from me,” said Anakin sadly. “He’s my son. Why would I just give him back?”
Mace’s gaze softened, and he rubbed his palm over his shaven head. “What a mess,” he muttered, although it was loud enough that both Anakin and Obi-Wan heard him.
“May we take our leave and rejoin you in the evening?” Obi-Wan asked, eager to visit the library with his apprentice in tow.
Mace nodded, but as Anakin and Obi-Wan turned to depart, a distinctive, throaty voice spoke for the first time.
“Strong in the Force, son of Skywalker is,” Yoda said, gesturing with his hand. A smile spread across his face and he laughed, as if lost in some long-ago reminiscence.
“Yes, Master Yoda. He’s special.”
“Hmmm. From the future, he is. To teach us. No…to warn us. What did he say, the boy?”
Anakin shrugged. “Nothing, actually. He’s too young to speak. Master and I tried to see into his mind, but it was blurry and there were…”
“Battles, hmmm? Lightsabers, of blue and red? A Sith lord in armor?”
Obi-Wan and Anakin gasped and whipped their heads around to face each other, eyes wide and mouths agape. It was a comical sight, and perhaps Obi-Wan would’ve laughed at the outlandish pose they were in. But Yoda’s forbearance was palpable through the Force; the Jedi grandmaster knew more but hesitated to reveal it.
Anakin returned his attention to Yoda. “How did you know that?” he asked with a hardened edge as he took a determined step forward, then stopped as he remembered his place. “What else can you see?”
Yoda’s ears twitched as he looked away. “Not much else. Here, son of Skywalker is. Find him, you can.”
A tremor passed along their Force bond and Obi-Wan frowned. He remembered the boy’s warmth and brightness disappearing into the Force. Stretching out his senses yielded nothing out of the ordinary, but admittedly, there was plenty about the metaphysical nature of the Force that mystified Obi-Wan.
“Have you seen anything like this before?” he asked, then held his breath as a pair of knowing green eyes locked onto his. Wisdom accumulated over 900 years of life reflected in their round depths, as well as something enigmatic and sealed away.
“Through many ages, have I lived. Many cycles, have I seen. Anything like this, I cannot say.” Yoda sighed deeply before he continued. “But in the Jedi archives, you search. Perhaps there you will uncover what you seek.”
Obi-Wan dipped his head in assent. “Thank you, Master Yoda and Master Windu,” he said, taking his leave. Anakin followed silently, and they reached the doorway separating the chamber from the rest of the Temple when Mace’s firm voice cut through the muddle.
“Do not think of doing anything foolish between now and the hearing. Both of you have caused trouble with your actions today and there will be consequences.”
Anakin and Obi-Wan shared a mutual look of disquiet and exited the room swiftly without a backwards glance. Once they entered the turbolift, safely ensconced within its unassuming interior, Anakin smiled and emitted a hearty laugh.
“What is it?” Obi-Wan asked, not understanding his padawan’s mirth. He scanned the buttons to his left and pressed the one that would take them directly to the archives. Jocasta Nu, the guardian of the vast repository and its collection of information spanning eons of the Jedi Order, would surely know where to look.
He hoped.
The relaxing hum of the turbolift whirled around them, and he could almost pretend everything was normal. They were most certainly getting expelled from the Jedi Order now that the Council’s trust had completely eroded. The child remained missing, although Yoda seemed assured that the boy was…somewhere close. Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut as the beginnings of a headache formed. He needed to visit the archives before the hearing and tried to meditate away the pounding in his skull.
Anakin shrugged and leaned against the turbolift’s glass paneling that separated them from the ecumenopolis outside. “Nothing,” he said, watching the blinking floor indicators. “I’m not happy or relieved, Master. Just, it’s hard to explain. They’re going to kick us out, and then what happens to us?”
The floors ticked by. Obi-Wan opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wasn’t accustomed to being rendered speechless.
Finally, the automatic door slid open, unveiling the entrance to the archives. Steep columns—aligned in precise, geometric formation—rose like mountains in front of them. Glimmers from the setting sun produced a stunning contrast of light and shadow on the expansive marble floor.
The archives always left Obi-Wan in awe, and a sense of renewal washed over him. He spotted Jocasta near a stack of bookshelves and beckoned Anakin with a flick of his wrist.
“Come,” he said, keeping his voice low.
But Anakin stood in place and shook his head. “Master, you go ahead. I…think I need some time alone.”
Obi-Wan furrowed his brows as he observed his padawan. Anakin’s clear blue eyes showed signs of redness and were cast downward. Losing the boy had obviously taken its toll on him—Anakin appeared ready to sleep or cry.
“Okay.” Obi-Wan glanced behind him at the sprawling library and pointed at an empty oak desk. “That’s fine. Go and rest. I will be over there, hunched over some ancient texts until the hearing.”
Anakin nodded, his sandy hair reflecting the last vestiges of fading sunlight. “Thank you, Master. I’ll just meet you here later, then,” he said before walking back to the turbolift. He offered a small wave as the door glided shut.
Obi-Wan scratched his beard, so fixated on locating Jocasta and the relevant manuscripts that he didn’t notice the turbolift was descending to the level of the courtyard instead of upwards towards the bedroom chambers.
A streak of fading orange light caressed the horizon, the final remnants of the blazing sun before twilight enveloped the sky. The stars were not visible on Coruscant; far too many artificial lights blighted the majesty of the night, and an ever-present layer of smog hung like a shroud in the atmosphere. But as Anakin strode briskly towards the uneti tree, he swore he saw the twinkling of a diamond-shaped star in the distance.
Yoda had said that the boy was still here, though Anakin was unsure what “here” meant. Perhaps the child was stuck in an in-between world, wondering where he was and waiting patiently for his father to bring him home.
Guilt swept over Anakin, cutting through him like a knife. Once he had his son back, he would never let him go again.
The courtyard had cooled down considerably, a welcome relief from the overbearing heat that swathed him earlier that afternoon. The breeze had picked up, still warm but not uncomfortably so. Anakin’s hair was disheveled by the time he reached the tree, and he absently smoothed the waves back into place with both hands.
The tree looked the same, much to Anakin’s dismay. But what was he expecting? He couldn’t feel his son’s presence in the Force anyway, and a thorough examination of the branches and trunk revealed nothing out of place.
Anakin sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite the constant noise from aircraft flying overhead and the honking of speeders on Processional Way, at least he was alone in the courtyard—again—and for that he was grateful.
He sat down in a crossed legged position, in roughly the same spot as before, and shut his eyes. Time was running out. Soon, the Jedi Order would expel him and Obi-Wan…and for what? Because he had a son and intended to prevent the Council from training him?
It didn’t seem fair. The Council had no right to his child!
Anger coursed through his veins, hot and fiery like molten lava. The temptation to lash out was strong. But the memory of the boy’s distressed reaction when Anakin lost his temper in the classroom floated into his mind and immediately helped to soothe his overwrought nerves. He shook his head at the shameful moment. He should apologize to Obi-Wan…later.
Meditation was challenging for Anakin, even on his best days. Still, he sank into the Force and accepted its purifying energy. Anakin focused like never before, and eventually, he sensed the edge of discovery was near—he just had to press a little further.
A brightness flickered in the infinite space in front of him, and a form took shape. It grew and retreated, like a sun borne of the shadows, but couldn’t quite manifest. Son, I’m here! Anakin tried to speak, but no sound emerged when he opened his mouth. Come back!
He further spread out his Force signature, but as soon as he felt an innocent yet familiar Force presence sweep against his own, a flicker of something caustic and indescribably evil pushed against his shields.
Anakin froze, still deep in his meditation. Was that the Sith lord? The dark sided aura hovered in place like a storm cloud, uncomfortably close, seemingly content to watch the proceedings unfold. The brightness withdrew, and the taste of ash coated Anakin’s tongue.
Son! Where are you?
Again, no sound.
Anakin’s lips thinned as he fought to control the rapid beating of his heart. He prodded the nefarious energy. Once. Twice. It didn’t move or react; instead, it seemed…curious.
If this presence was the Sith lord responsible for hurting his son, Anakin wouldn’t hesitate to use all his skills and the power of the Force to protect his family—and the galaxy—from danger.
Yoda was right—the boy was close. And Anakin knew how to get him back.
He gathered the Force and hurled a ball of light directly into the cloud of darkness. The cloud split apart easily, like a curtain drawn back to reveal the curve of the dawning sun. Then it dissolved, leaving only a golden beam so blinding that Anakin had to retreat from the meditation.
He blinked his eyes open and gasped, pressing a hand to his chest to centre himself. His head spun from the sheer amount of energy it took to dispel the threat, and the resulting dizzy spell nearly caused him to topple over onto his side.
Then he heard a gleeful shriek.
“Son?”
The boy sat several feet in front of him, tiny fingers in his lap, a beatific grin lighting up his adorable, round face.
“I missed you! Where did you go?” Anakin asked, his dizziness forgotten. He stood up just as the boy lifted his arms, asking to be held.
Anakin laughed and hauled the tiny body into an embrace, cradling the soft head against the crook of his neck. He pressed his nose to a cradle of fine blond curls and inhaled the clean scent there, just as the boy grabbed a fistful of Anakin’s tunic and babbled some delightful baby talk.
“I’m going to protect you, I promise,” Anakin said, tipping his son’s chin to gaze into his light blue eyes. “The Council…I can’t let them have you. So, I’ll have to hide you from them. But don’t worry—I know exactly where we should go.”
His son stared at him with a solemn expression, as though he understood every word. Anakin leaned down and pecked the boy’s pink cheek.
“First…we need food. And diapers. And new clothes.”
A baby shouldn’t dress in black, Anakin decided. And no more designer boots—his son required more comfortable shoes for his pudgy feet.
He secured the little bundle carefully in his grip and looked around. Nighttime had fallen, the sky painted in a tapestry of neon hues. But even through the thick haze and pollution, Anakin could still see it—the twinkling star.
A sharp nudge against his shields made him pause. Obi-Wan, still in the archives, was attempting to contact him.
Anakin pondered his next course of action. Should he retrieve Obi-Wan? Did his master, along with Yoda and Mace Windu, detect a shifting in the Force when the boy reappeared?
His son cooed, and Anakin grinned in response. He sent a nudge back, then battened down his shields. Their conversation would happen later, as would the fallout from the Council’s decision. For now, he and his son eased their way out of the courtyard, away from the Jedi Temple, and into the vibrant Coruscanti night.