Chapter Text
Prologue
The clone wars ended fifteen, nearly sixteen years ago, in which Anakin Skywalker killed Dooku, and the Separatists scattered without a leader. Since then, the Republic has gotten better, Senators that actually kept their promises were elected, and with Dooku dead, the Chancellor Palpatine had to return his emergency powers and step down, sending the Republic into another Democratic vote where many planets called for Anakin’s name on the ballot, having been a popular figure during the war. A man the galaxy seemed to trust.
While some planets never truly recovered in the aftermath, many, many lives were lost.
Including hers.
When Anakin returned from war, Padme had fallen ill, nearing the end of her pregnancy, and gave birth to one tiny baby boy with a mop of light blonde curls and blue eyes. His son. His only child. Padme’s last gift to him.
Luke, she had named him with her dying breath.
The Jedi Order hadn’t been happy about him arriving at the Temple, confessing to a secret marriage to a former Senator of Naboo and the birth of the child. He had been desperate for any help, any direction to go in. He felt lost without her. Luke was the son of the Chosen One, with a midichlorian count only a few hundred under Anakin’s own. The council suggested separating father and son, having Luke be raised in the Creche, where one day he’d be assigned a Master, where their blood relation would only be known by the Council and himself, but Anakin couldn’t live with that future. This was his blood, his last connection to the only woman he ever truly loved. Luke deserved to have at least one parent, and Anakin wanted to be the one thing he never had himself.
A father.
The Jedi and the war had already taken so much from him.
His darling mother.
His brilliant Padawan Ashoka.
His lovely, wonderful, beautiful wife.
Even his dreams were a constant source of fear and uncertainty. Visions and nightmares of his loved ones dying tortured him nightly. The pain, the guilt of either leaving men behind or watching his brothers in war dying in his arms, haunted him. It affected his life during the day, as well as the flashbacks, the intense anxiety, or numbness that felt like an empty cavity in his chest. The worst of his ‘reward’ from the war was the personality changes. He wasn’t an extrovert by any means, but since his return, being around others became draining. Almost unbearable. He used to command legions of clones, worked with many Jedi, and traveled the galaxy; now, he was anxious to go to any main town in fear of being recognized and followed by paparazzi.
And now they wanted to take his innocent newborn. The only family he had left.
He couldn’t get out of the public eye fast enough.
With his victory, Anakin disappeared and moved to the lake country villa he and Padme had always talked about since the beginning of their secret relationship. She had left a hefty sum of credits, all her credits and assets, to him. How she did this, he didn’t know. Must've been when she fell ill. She never told him about it, but now that he had a child, their child to support and raise, he couldn’t be more grateful for his late wife.
Forty five acres of land, a private lake, and a small village, a thirty-minute walk away from the edge of their property line, was all the glory Anakin needed these days. It was perfect for him and his son.
— .✦ —
“--can hold the light steady now,” Anakin grunted from where he was working underneath a broken-down speeder in the garage. He was lying back on a creeper and half under the speeder, Luke shining the light from above to where he was working on a leaking hose.
Luke rolled his eyes and flashed the light in his eye, drawing a half-annoyed and half-amused huff from Anakin. Fondness rippled through their Force bond. “I’ve been holding this light for the past-” he checked the clock on the wall, “fifteen minutes now. Are you finished?” He whined.
Anakin laughed.
“Honestly, how long does it take to change a simple hose?” Luke snorted quietly.
“Patience is a virtue, son of mine.” Anakin chided gently. “The reason our speeders and ships last longer than others is because of careful attention to detail. You’ll thank me one day if you ever get stranded somewhere without me.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what you think I get up to, but I’m traveling to any deserts for fun.”
“You’re quite welcome for the lesson, you little rat.” Anakin sighed fondly as he finished and slid from underneath the speeder, sitting up on the creeper.
Luke flicked off the light and held out a hand, to which Anakin smirked before taking his son's hand. “I have over a hundred pounds on you, kid. But I appreciate the help.” He stood and stretched his arms over his head, his back and neck cracking from working in the garage nearly all afternoon.
“When’s the last time you took a break?” Luke asked, arms crossed. Anakin couldn’t help but compare him to his mother. He inherited Anakin’s looks but her petite and short build. It hurt and amused him simultaneously.
Anakin ruffled his son's light golden curls with a huff. “You calling me old, kid?”
“If the shoe fits,” Luke smirked, dodging his father's large hand and another ruffle to his hair. He checked his complexion in the speeder window, and Anakin snorted at him.
His son was fifteen, now nearly sixteen, and a young man. It had seemed like only yesterday his little boy was scampering after him, climbing on him like a jungle gym and asking question after question, his curious nature never failing to amuse the father. Now Luke was drifting away, spending more time with his friends and joining after-school activities. It was hard to deal with, especially when all Anakin wanted was to stay at home with his son, cuddle, and spend time with his only child.
But Luke was growing up, and soon wouldn’t be a child any longer.
It broke his heart.
Something brushed against his side, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. He glanced down, watching Luke purposefully bump into him.
“Stop that.” Luke huffed.
Anakin blinked, confused.
“Stop what?”
“Whatever mood you’re getting into. You’re glaring at the wall, and you’re projecting a whirlwind.”
He erected his mental shields fast, too fast, and Luke flinched at being completely cut off from his father. He could still feel the man in the Force, still spot his presence, but couldn’t hear or feel a thing from him. He frowned.
“Are you… okay?” Luke asked hesitantly, and Anakin sighed, nodding.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He grunted. “Just.. thinking.”
“About the war?” His son asked, and Anakin’s heart swelled at the concern in his tone. Since Luke learned of his father's role in the war and saw the toll it took on him, he’d always stuck by his side and tried his best to help him.
It made Anakin feel incredibly guilty. Because his son shouldn’t have to pick up the pieces of Anakin’s broken heart and life. Luke was a lot like her in that sense, too, always so sweet and caring.
Paternal protectiveness flowed through their bond as he lowered his mental shields, just a smidge. Enough that Luke relaxed slightly.
“No, Luke,” He murmured and wiped his hands off on a dirty rag. “Threepio must be finished with dinner. Go wash up.”
“But–”
“Go.” He grunted, watching as Luke deflated and stalked off inside.
He sighed, running an oily hand through his dark golden curls, but he couldn’t care less. He knew he shouldn’t shut Luke out like this; his son only wanted to help, but part of the reason why Anakin left both the Order and Coruscant was to protect Luke.
He knew the boy would learn about the Clone Wars in school, obviously, but reading bullet points was different than hearing the horror stories Anakin had lined up. He fought the war to protect his son, so his child could grow up in a relatively safe environment, not frighten his child with gruesome stories that kept even Anakin awake at night.
Anakin entered the dining room ten minutes later, Luke already sat in his usual chair, scooping a piece of his bread roll into the soup and nibbling on it. He eyed his father as he sat with a heavy sigh and stretched out his legs, but the father focused his eyes on the tray before him.
Threepio puttered over and uncovered his food, revealing hot soup and fresh bread rolls.
“Thanks, Three,” Anakin muttered before digging in.
They ate in peaceful silence for a while before Luke spoke up.
“I wanted to go over to Maven’s tomorrow after school. Is that alright?”
Anakin looked up from his bowl. “Who?” He grunted.
Luke rolled his eyes. “Maven, my friend. You’ve met him. Several times.” He said flatly.
“Oh, sure. Where does he live?” He asked.
“Just outside of Kaadara.”
“Luke,” Anakin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his flesh hand. “Kaadara is an hour away.”
“...I know.” He muttered, pushing his soup around with his spoon.
“How are you getting there?”
“His parents would pick us up.”
“Hmmm..” Anakin hummed quietly, thinking. “Fine, but you keep your comlink on your person and online. No turning it off by 'accident'. That excuse only works so often, little one.” Anakin laughed at Luke’s eyeroll.
“Kaadara. That’s…a seaside down in the North. Are you planning on going fishing, kid?” He asked, and Luke snorted quietly.
“Gross, no. Just to hang out.”
“Well, either way. Stay safe.” He stressed, and Luke softened slightly.
“I’m always safe, Dad. Stop worrying so much. You’re such a hermit.” Luke hopped off his chair after he finished and jogged upstairs to his room.
Anakin watched him go until his son's form disappeared upstairs. He sighed softly as Threepio began clearing the table and stood, heading to the garage again.
He found that after the war, and once Luke started not needing him so much, he didn’t have much to do. Training and meditating only went so far, but without constant missions and orders and chaos, life sometimes felt… dull. As if he weren’t even the one steering, but watching.
It was the silent moments like this when his thoughts began to spiral.
He feared how well he’d fare once Luke moved out.
“Ridiculous,” he grumbled to himself and picked up a spanner, heading back to the speeder before his mind could go down any darker paths.
— .✦ —
The next morning, Anakin was already awake and sat on the sofa with a mug of coffee between his hands, having only gotten an hour or two of sleep before night terrors took over. They always kept him awake.
Luke skipped down the stairs, still in his pajamas and hair wild. He inhaled the breakfast that sat on the counter for him, then padded over to where Anakin sat a few minutes later.
“You look like shi–crap.” He winced at the sharp, but tired look sent his way.
“Language.” Anakin chided, but he was too exhausted to really care.
The son shuffled closer and sat beside him, snatching the mug out of the father's hands and sipping before Anakin exclaimed and took the mug back.
“No caffeine for you.” He huffed. “Your mother did caf shots behind my back. You’re not getting hooked with your predisposition to caffeine addiction.”
“You’re just an old meanie.” Luke laughed softly, and Anakin snorted.
“Go get ready for school before I make you walk, my little terror.” He threatened, but it was empty. He’d never do that to Luke. His son knew that too, judging by the smirk on his face and amusement in their bond before the boy trudged back upstairs.
Anakin stood by their main speeder, leaning against the hovering transportation with his ankles crossed, when Luke appeared, thankfully dressed and hair brushed, ready to start his day.
“You missed a spot,” He muttered, gesturing Luke closer to him. He licked the pad of his thumb and smoothed it over his son’s eyebrow.
Luke made a disgruntled noise and jerked back, face scrunched in disgust.
“Ew! Dad!” he complained. The father just chuckled.
“Get in, kid.” He murmured fondly.
They rode in comfortable silence. Once they approached the building, Luke spoke.
“Remember, I’m going home with Maven tonight.”
Anakin nodded, pulling to a stop. “Keep your comlink on you. Be safe, Luke. I love you.”
Luke rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I love you too, Dad. Try not to miss me too much.” Then he hopped out of the speeder and ran towards the building.
The father smiled and pulled off, shaking his head slightly. He loved, truly loved, his dumb, infuriatingly sweet son.
— .✦ —
All day, Anakin either tinkered in the workshop, tuned the speeders in the garage, meditated by the lake, or read under the large black willow tree in the lush grass. Sometimes it was harder to keep busy when alone, but today he managed. He was happy his son was spending time with a friend. He deserved to get out there and have fun and explore, within reason, of course. The galaxy was still a dangerous place, but he couldn’t let his anxiety cripple Luke’s social life.
His comlink buzzed in the afternoon, and his eyes scanned the screen, sighing in relief when Luke’s name popped up, letting him know he had arrived safely at his friend's place.
It was the little things that mattered. The little things that Luke did to alleviate Anakin’s anxiety and blood pressure. The fact that his son went out of his way to be kind to his father made his chest hurt, his heart swelling until the dam broke.
He wasn’t ashamed that he wept, although he wouldn’t admit it willingly.
R2 found him an hour later, sitting by the edge of the lake in deep meditation. The former Jedi felt the droid before the little sassy thing rolled over to his side and beeped almost inquisitively.
Anakin cracked an eye open and glanced at the droid before closing his eyes once more.
“I’m fine, R2. You don’t need to keep checking on me.” He grumbled. The droid beeped again, the reply almost sounding disapproving.
He sighed. “Really. It's just… he’s getting older. He won’t need me so much anymore; it’s already starting. Soon he’s going to be out of the house more often than not, and I’ll lose him like I lost–” The droid rolled forward, nudging him.
The man jolted out of his downwind spiral, but the dark thoughts were still there. Lingering in the back of his mind, torturing him.
“I’m a damn mess, aren’t I?’ He chuckled weakly, running a hand down his face, realizing he had more stubble than he thought. He wasn’t taking care of himself as well as he thought he was.
No wonder Luke projected concern through their bond. He’d sensed it when Luke’s mental shields were down, despite how hard his son tried to keep it from him; he was a former trained Jedi Knight and General, he knew. He pushed himself up with a soft groan and called the datapad he was reading on earlier into his flesh palm with the Force and headed into the villa with R2.
The glass doors hissed shut behind the two, and Threepio shuffled around the corner, the droid's gold exterior glimmering in the afternoon light pouring in through the large floor-length glass windows.
“Oh, Master Anakin, you have a message from an Obi-Wan Kenobi. Does that name mean anything to you?” The droid asked.
Anakin froze; time seemed to freeze. All he could see, all he could hear, were times he and his former Master, the only father figure he had, fought together, trained together, and laughed together. His mouth went dry, and he swallowed, nodding once.
“Thanks, Three. I’ll see to it. Oh, and while you’re in the kitchen, make me some tea?” He requested. The droid waddled off around the corner while he braced himself for whatever Obi-Wan was contacting him about. It had been nearly sixteen years since he’d last seen his old Master. He left the Order, but Obi-Wan chose to stay. In the end, he understood, but he himself couldn’t stay. Not when he had a newborn counting on him, relying on him.
He sat on the sofa, pulling out his comlink to check the home messages, and sure enough, he recognized that number anywhere. R2 went to his charging station as he dialed the number and waited.
He didn’t have to wait long.
‘Anakin,’ Obi-Wan’s voice sounded on the other end. He could hear the age in the man’s voice and smiled softly.
“Obi-wan, Master. How’ve you been? Your call was unexpected.”
‘Well enough, old friend. I hate to intrude after so much time has passed, but… Anakin, I need to speak with you, personally.’
Anakin sat straight on the sofa; he knew that tone.
“Are you in trouble, Master?”
‘Not necessarily, but it's urgent.'
“Okay, you can come to me if you like. So long as you don’t bring trouble…” He added.
The rest was a blur to him.
His heart was racing, his palms sweaty, his knees weak, arms were heavy. He glanced down, and there was vomit on his sweater already; he missed his mother's spaghetti.
He barely heard the door open and failed to sense his son’s Force signature so close.
Luke knelt in front of him, and he realized he was curled up in the hallway on the floor. He blinked, momentarily disoriented.
“Dad?” Luke asked softly, slowly reaching a hand out to him, offering, waiting patiently. He felt a wave of soothing love sent his way through their bond, washing over him. He closed his eyes, reaching out, and Luke met him halfway, wrapping both slender pale hands around much larger, rougher ones. He had scars all over his body from his time as both a Jedi and a war General.
‘I’m here’ the son thought in their bond, his mental shields lowered.
Several deep breaths later, he could open his eyes.
He gently squeezed the soft, slender hand engulfed in his own. “You’re just like your mother.” He said in a whisper, and Luke shifted, leaning closer to bump his forehead against his father's before leaning back.
“Are you okay?” Luke murmured.
Anakin hesitated. Was he okay? No. Not even remotely, but he didn’t want to burden his son–
“You’re not a burden,” Luke said firmly. “So stop thinking that.”
He blinked, again thrown off balance. “How did yo–”
“Your shields are down completely. Is okay, though. I don’t sense anyone nearby. You’re safe. I’m here.” He stood when Anakin did, still holding onto his hand.
The father glanced down at their joint hands, then pulled his son into a bone-crushing hug. They stayed that way for several minutes before Anakin felt calmer. He pulled back and ruffled Luke’s hair affectionately. “Thanks, kid.” He said softly and wrapped an arm around his son, leading him to the kitchen where his tea had long since cooled.
“....did you wanna talk about it?” the son asked hesitantly, climbing onto a stool at the island, and Anakin sighed softly, opening up the freezer and pulling out a bucket of ice cream. Chocolate is their favorite. He always appreciated how similar he was to his son, and adored the traits of her he could see from time to time.
Anakin scooped two bowls of ice cream and slid the one with slightly more across the counter to his son. “Someone called.” He grunted, slowly putting back the ice cream bucket before poking at his chocolate treat with his spoon.
“And?”
He sighed heavily. “And it was… an old friend. My…My old Master.”
“Oh, what’s his name again? Some Kenobi?”
Anakin nodded. “Yeah, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
“....So..?” the son asked.
“He’s on his way. He’ll be here in the morning. Said it was urgent.” He admitted.
Luke was quiet for a long moment before speaking in a quiet voice. “I thought you were done with the Jedi?”
“I am.” He replied firmly, nearly barking at him. He exhaled, running a hand through his dark golden curls. “I’m sorry, little one.”
Luke snorted. “It’s fine, and I’m not little.” He pouted, and it made the father feel a small wave of amusement towards his son. Always his little cheerleader.
“So, he didn’t say what?” the son guessed.
Anakin shook his head. “No.”
“Dad, you don’t owe them anything anymore. You know that–”
“I do.” He grunted, cutting Luke off, who huffed.
“Then why?”
“He’s not just my Master Luke, he’s my friend. The…only father figure I ever had. I can at least hear him out.”
Luke sighed softly. “Fine, but if he’s asking you to help with any dangerous missions or battles, I’m going to blow up the ship.”
That startled a laugh out of Anakin, and his episode from earlier was nearly pushed out of his mind. Almost forgotten about. Almost.