Chapter Text
When they finally reached Jedha, Anakin’s face lit up in a great big grin. The golden domes inside the walled city looked inviting. He loved colorful, chaotic markets. This planet reminded him a little of Tatooine, except that it was not nearly so sand-ridden. He walked with a spring in his step as they traveled through narrow, crooked streets, glancing at the wares for sale under colorful cloth canopies. There were people of all different species going about their business, many dressed in colors and styles he had never seen before.
Even though Obi-Wan had never been there before, he let the Force guide him through the complicated web of alleys. Along the way, they encountered a man with long, matted black hair with the front locks bound with cloth cords. He looked a bit like Quinlan Vos, except that he was human. “Hey, halt.” He stood blocking the alleyway, glaring at Obi-Wan. “Are you a pilgrim to the Temple of the Kyber?”
“I suppose so, from a certain point of view.” Obi-Wan flashed his winning smile, although even he was not so much of an optimist as to assume that it would work on the rather formidable warrior-monk standing in front of him. The man had his lightbow raised and ready to inflict injury.
“Baze? Has he come at last?”
A second man emerged from the shadows, also carrying a lightbow. He came to stand beside his companion, the man whom he had addressed as Baze. This man had his black hair cropped uniformly close and his eyes were a milky blue. Obi-Wan realized that he was blind.
“He hasn’t identified himself yet.” Baze continued to eye Obi-Wan suspiciously. “Besides, he’s not alone.”
“I noticed. There is a young man with a purple aura and a white hot young woman with him, but the leader is bright in the Force, almost pure light.” The blind man smiled cautiously.
“I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master. I’m looking for a Guardian of the Whills named Chirrut Imwe.” Obi-Wan continued to smile, projecting friendliness in the Force. “A friend of mine named Antron Bach wishes to thank him, and I have a holocron and an ancient text that I found on Ach-To, but they are not Jedi artefacts and I believe they belong here.”
“We’ll be the judges of that.” Baze’s expression softened a little and he lowered his weapon. Although the Jedi belonged to a different tradition, he had no real complaint about them, since the Jedi shared their respect for the Force and limited themselves to the Light. They were mostly harmless, as far as Baze Malbus was concerned.
“The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force; and I fear nothing, because all is as the Force wills it. I am the man whom you seek.” The blind man smiled again. “I saw in a vision that you were coming.”
Obi-Wan dug out the objects from the folds of his robes and presented them to the two Guardians. “These are the objects. The book will not stay open for me. The secrets are not for me to know.”
Baze accepted them and felt their weight. After determining that there were no bombs or other hidden threats, he handed the holocron to Chirrut. Chirrut smiled at the rightness of the holocron in his hands. “Come, let us go into the Temple.”
The three Jedi followed the Guardians into a dark cavern, carefully descending onto a small landing, then climbing the gradual incline toward the main chamber. “The fact that you’re here, with the holocron and book, shows that you have passed the first test. Let’s see if you truly are the current Chosen One.” Chirrut sounded buoyant, but Baze felt more guarded in the Force.
Baze was the one who stopped in this transitory space. He opened the book, remembering that Obi-Wan had claimed not to be able to do so. As soon as he saw the blank pages, he frowned. “This book is empty. Are you trying to deceive us?”
Chirrut drifted closer to his friend and gently placed a hand on the page. He stood with a look of concentration for a long moment and then smiled. “It’s quite all right. The book is not actually blank. It only seems that way to those whose vision is clouded by fear and distrust.”
Baze peered down at the book again. To his surprise, the page no longer appeared blank. This was a relief, anyway. “You’re right. It’s like the Sunset Prayer says. In darkness, cold. In light, cold. The old sun brings no heat. But there is heat in breath and life. In life, there is the Force. In the Force, there is life. And the Force is eternal.”
The main chamber was breathtaking. Kyber crystals lined the walls, carved into intricate statues, while there was a huge aggregate crystal in the middle of the room. “You are Jedi, you share our respect for the kyber.” Chirrut smiled. “The second test is to select one statue. There is one statue here that should be calling to you if you are indeed the Chosen One of our time.”
Obi-Wan stood by the aggregate crystal in the middle of the room and closed his eyes. He let the energy of the crystals flow through him, which felt good. He was smiling when he felt Qui-Gon’s presence. “Listen to the Living Force. What does it tell you?”
Obi-Wan stilled his spirit to listen. He felt Anakin next to him, roiling even at rest. It began to make sense. Anakin was the sandstorm, the one who fights and vanquishes the Dark and makes new. Ahsoka stood to Obi-Wan’s right, three steps behind him, in the traditional padawan position. She felt detached, neutral, not Light or Dark or Grey, but an empty vessel of the Force. She was the maintainer, the one who did what needed to be done. Obi-Wan focused harder. Ah, the third member of the triad was finally in existence but not yet born, the one who plants and reaps hope, a golden ray of pure Light that respects the Dark without fearing it. This must be one of Anakin’s unborn children; Padme was pregnant now.
That third person would be Obi-Wan’s final padawan. Obi-Wan himself had rebalanced the Force; by defeating the Sith master, yes, but that was only part of the story. Marrying Satine, who was now the Mand’alor, and fathering her children was another part of his rebalancing, while the last piece of the puzzle was here, now, in which he recognized that the Jedi Order did not always know best and did not have a monopoly on the Force. Master Yoda had been born as the previous Chosen One after the war with the Sith, to guide the growth of the Light, then presided over the growth and defeat of the Dark in the form of Darth Sidious and his master.
It was neither possible nor desirable to eliminate the Dark entirely. That was not balance. Balance was peace, nexus and eopies curled up together. Obi-Wan stood with his arms crossed, feeling each kyber crystal in the room.
His eyes snapped open when he heard Baze inhale sharply. “The book does open for me, and stay open, and there were words just now, but again there are no words on the pages. It’s empty. What have you done with the words?”
Obi-Wan frowned. The book would not stay open for him, but in the glimpses he had caught of the pages, the book was not blank inside. Just now, when Chirrut held the book open, the words had appeared. Obi-Wan had seen words on the pages, but had not been privy to them.
Chirrut ran a finger over the blank pages. “The words will reappear. You just have to choose the right statue.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes again and redirected his attention back to the statue crystals. One of them was supposed to be calling to him. I’m one with the Force; the Force is with me. Obi-Wan mouthed the words of the mantra he had learned in the creche, then noticed that there was another voice mumbling this same mantra. Chirrut Imwe was also reciting it to himself.
Obi-Wan saw himself as a toddler not quite three, afraid of his father and grandfather going into one of their drunken rages, but strangely detached from his fear. Then he saw himself as an Initiate, in pain after an attack by Bruck Chun and his merry band of bullies, lip bleeding and a tuft of his hair on the floor, feeling anger and residual fear, but sadness on behalf of the bullies rather than hatred. It was the same in his memories of run-ins with Xanatos. Even Maul, he had never actively hated. Darth Sidious and his plot to make Obi-Wan a drunkard was the same story. He had felt despair when his baby daughter died shortly after her birth, but he did not hate the Force for taking his little Coraline away. Pre Vizsla threatening to kill him, even having designs on his wife, had also failed to incite Obi-Wan’s hatred. Was he incapable of hating?
Even his fear had been muted, as had his anger. On the other side of the coin, Obi-Wan recognized that he loved deeply and freely, but not obsessively or jealously. His detachment was not indifference. He did feel—despite the jabs from Anakin that C3PO was more emotional than Obi-Wan—but these feelings did not rule him, any more than mental calculations did.
He began to smile. This was the balance he was supposed to restore. The Force was Love. An all-encompassing, deep, open, gentle love for everything and everyone in the galaxy. The love that pulsed in his veins when he held his wife in his arms, when he played with Deltine and her friends, when he worked with Korkie on his singing, his everyday life with Ahsoka and Anakin before her, his friendships in the Temple and with non-Jedi, all of this was merely a taste, a glimpse. There would be no individuals, no distinction between the living and the dead. All would be united, merged, into a vast amniotic sea of Force-love.
Obi-Wan let the Force guide his feet as he took a step, his eyes still closed. “Yes, take those steps, Obi-Wan. Let the Force guide you. Each of your hardships until this point has had a purpose, to forge you into a being worthy of this moment.” Obi-Wan heard Qui-Gon’s voice as he came to a stop.
“This one.” He opened his eyes to see the statue at which he was pointing. It was a figure of a Jedi, standing behind a small padawan, working on his stance with a lightsaber, a baby strapped to his back, while an elderly figure bent over a cane stood with an arm around the child’s master. The Jedi were a family. That familial affection extended beyond the lineage, beyond blood relatives, and to the entire galaxy, including the flowers at the figures’ feet. He thought of the old Neti, Master Ood Bnar and his sapling on Ossus. Qui-Gon was not gone because of the love between them, which now extended to Anakin and Ahsoka.
Chirrut smiled. “That is correct. You have passed the second test. The third test is of your companions.”
Anakin raised an eyebrow. What was he being asked to do? He thought of his explosive anger toward Rush Clovis, which had frightened his wife. Did he hate that man? But one had to be emotionally invested in order to hate. He loved Padme, yes, but his love was caught up in his fear of abandonment. It was not his fault that he felt that way, given his upbringing, but he was an adult, a Jedi, and soon to be a father himself. He had a model of how to love as a Jedi standing right next to him. Anakin opened himself up to the Force, then smiled.
“Twins. I feel the twins. They must be quite powerful if I can feel them from here.” He closed his eyes and reached out to his unborn twins, flooding their Force presences with love and warmth.
Ahsoka stood where she had come to rest in the room, arms crossed. It was hard not to feel a little left out. On the other hand, she did not really envy the other two. She saw herself extending her hand to choke someone, the way she had seen Master Dooku do on Lothal, but not going all the way. Shooting lightning out of her fingertips, but also comforting a little orphan in a disaster zone. She was capable of loving acts, certainly, but they were directed toward the galaxy at large, not at anyone in particular. Oh. Perhaps this was the true goal of non-attachment.
She thought of Senator Merrick, arrested on trumped up charges on Mandalore. Satine had reopened his case as soon as she had gotten over her initial shock at suddenly finding herself the rightful holder of the Darksaber, discovering that he was not entirely innocent in the bomb plot, and that he had been betrayed by Bo-Katan and Pre Vizsla. In the end he and even Bo-Katan had been sentenced to community service, which they performed without complaint because Satine was the Mand’alor. She had treated both of them well during their sentence, inviting him and Bo-Katan to join her in reintegrating the remains of Deathwatch into a peaceful Mandalorian society. Ahsoka had felt relieved at the news. Justice had prevailed.
Senator Chuchi had sent a message to her master thanking him and Duchess Satine for helping her deal with Chairman Cho, advising her, so that she finally succeeded in getting him impeached and removed from office. The Pantoran people had come to agree with Riyo Chuchi that Chairman Cho’s attitude about the native Talz of Orto Plutonia, not to mention a host of other xenophobic and frankly authoritarian acts in direct violation of the Pantoran Charter and of course the laws of the Republic, was completely unacceptable. Ahsoka had to smile at this news. The Jedi had not been directly involved, but the Kenobi family certainly had.
Ahsoka also thought of Feemor and the rest of their lineage, then of Master Argorria. She would always miss her first master and part of her would always be the little girl frightened and confused by her master’s relapse, but that was all right. She could forgive both her late master and the little girl who had blamed herself. Ahsoka remembered the future padawans she had seen in visions. She was going to be all right.
After a long while, Chirrut Imwe spoke again. “The auras of your companions have calmed down considerably. Would you like to share a chalice of our holy wine?”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but none of us are in a position to drink any wine. I can’t drink, my former apprentice isn’t fond of it, and my current apprentice isn’t old enough. Anakin, it’s up to you, though. If you want to share a drink with them I won’t stop you.”
“No, no thank you, Master, um, Guardians. I don’t think it’s our place to. This is your temple, not ours.” Anakin ran a hand through his long curls, hoping this was the right answer. It would have to do.
Chirrut smiled. “Your humility is a credit to you and your Order, Master Jedi. No offense taken. I believe it is safe to let you go. You may take the statue, or not, whichever the Force tells you.”
Obi-Wan stood for a moment longer, staring at the statue, then shook his head. “I don’t need to take it with me. I live it every day. Thank you for everything.”
It was Baze who showed them another way out of the temple, a hidden exit that led right to the city wall, near the very exit where they had left their ship. The three Jedi bowed deeply, then remained silent until they were in hyperspace.
“That was a strangely satisfying outcome.” Anakin smiled. “I almost wish you had taken that statue. It reminded me of when I was younger and you were training me. You know, back in the beginning of our partnership before you were too drunk. I focused on my needs that you couldn’t or wouldn’t meet, but you did do a lot for me and I understand now how much you did love me.”
“I’m afraid it wasn’t enough. You do your best and hope your children can forgive your mistakes. As you will be finding out soon enough.” Obi-Wan smirked at his former apprentice. Anakin becoming a parent himself was certainly going to be interesting. If nothing else, Anakin would finally understand so many things.
“Next thing I know you’ll be telling me all about being a grandparent. Korkie is graduating soon, then he’ll be coming to Coruscant as representative of the Neutral Systems. All the better to romance his senator. Funny how all your boys seem to marry politicians. I wonder where they learned that?” Anakin gave his old master a playful shove. He was including himself in this statement, of course.
Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “You won’t catch me doing that, Skyguy. At least, not any time soon. I have more sense than that.”
“No worries, Padme and I can overrun the galaxy with little Skywalkers to do your share of the damage. Who says we’ll only have these twins?”
Ahsoka gave a snort. “A galaxy full of Skywalkers would be worse than if you let the Sith run amok in terms of sheer destructive power.”
“You wound me, Snips!” Anakin held his heart in an exaggerated gesture, miming being shot to death, but having a hard time concealing his grin. “Besides, they’re going to be half-Padme.”
“I’ve seen your wife in action with a blaster. She’s the one who killed the Sith Master. Those kids are going to get a double dose.”
“They’re going to be wizard.” Anakin had a dreamy expression on his face. He was terrified but also overjoyed. Ever since he was a little slave boy toiling under two desert suns, he had always known that he wanted a family, just as surely as he had wanted to be a Jedi. Now he was going to get both. The galaxy had better watch out. He smirked evilly. Padme was already much more formidable than what people assumed when they first saw her. Add a maternal instinct to the mix, and she would surely become a mama gundark.
He had been wrong to get so hot and bothered about Rush Clovis. That man had underestimated Padme and he would be sorry, even without Anakin stepping in to do anything. Mrs. Naberrie-Skywalker was a terror in her own right, just as much of a warrior as Bo-Katan, but without need of a blaster or armor. She would take care of herself. After all, this was a woman who could run the whole galaxy and do a much better job of it than either Sheev Palpatine or Finis Vallorum.
When they returned, Master Dooku was there to meet them, Komari in tow. “Welcome home. Jocasta is pretty excited about the ancient texts, especially the Aionomica. And I am, too. I always thought it was counterproductive to have to sneak around to research the Sith in order to get a fuller understanding of the Force from both sides. I realize now that what I was truly seeking was balance.”
Obi-Wan gave his grand-master an eye-crinkling smile. “I agree with you. A better sense of balance, a wider view of the Force and the galaxy will help us see clearly as we combat corruption with compassion.”
“Antron will be happy to see you back. Make sure you come to the meeting tonight.” Master Dooku’s eyes were sparkling, happy.
Master Yoda was pleased to see the Aionomica Book I, but his ears drooped when Obi-Wan recounted the rest of their trip. “Arrogant we were, to think that the Journal of the Whills ours to take was. Understand I do, that belong to us it does not. Right you were, to leave it on Jedha.”
Ahsoka found Barriss and her master standing behind Master Yoda. She gave her friend a big smile. Whatever possible alternate futures or pasts there had been in which Barriss had lost her way, she was here, now, radiating warmth and Light in the Force, rejoicing in her reunion with her friend.
Anakin slipped through the ranks of the welcome committee, heading for the Senate. He did not even have to leave the Jedi Temple before Padme found him. She threw her arms around him and nuzzled his nose. “The baby is Force-sensitive, I’m sure of it. My own mild Force-sensitivity has been heightened during this pregnancy. I felt your return, when I normally don’t feel it this strongly.”
“That’s because there are two babies in there, twins. I feel two Force signatures.” Anakin was smirking. “Double the fun.”
Padme pretended to groan. “Double the trouble. I’m going to have three Skywalkers getting into mischief?” She cocked an eyebrow but undermined her show of fake stern displeasure by giggling and stroking her husband’s face.
“Hey, they’re half-Naberrie. They can’t be all that bad.” Anakin leaned down for a kiss. Raising a pair of Skywalker kids would certainly be a challenge, but he felt almost up to it. Almost. He would have Padme, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, the whole Temple to help. Once he got the hang of it, maybe he could talk Padme into having more. Perhaps he was overcompensating for not having had much of a family beyond his mother and Obi-Wan, but he did not care. The love he already felt for the twins was good for his soul. Obi-Wan was right that fatherhood improved a man, made him strive harder to be a better man worthy of his children’s love and respect. “They’re going to have the best, most wizard, most badass mama in the galaxy.”
“Oh, Ani.” Padme reached up for another kiss. If she could run the entire galaxy as Supreme Chancellor, she could manage to bear and raise the children of the man she loved more than anything.
She led him back to her office in the Senate. C3PO came toddling into the main reception room. “Master Anakin! You’re back!”
“Yeah, it’s good to be home.” Anakin patted the gold-plated droid affectionately. He had built this protocol droid as a child, giving it existence, but producing a new generation of Skywalkers was entirely different. He was going to be a father.
He moved closer to Padme’s desk and saw the datapads she had left out. Rush Clovis had been suspended, apparently. Sure enough, Padme had taken care of it herself. He just needed to have faith in her.
The other item that caught his eye made him beam with pride, impressed. It was a draft statement outlining Padme’s succession plan for maternity leave. Aha, so she was delegating to Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, Uncle Onaconda Farr, Riyo Chuchi, and even Senator Orn Free Ta of Ryloth—the anti-slavery campaigns, anyway. It was when Anakin’s eyes reached the bottom of the document that he gasped. She had signed it as “Padme Naberrie-Skywalker, Supreme Chancellor Amidala.” The whole galaxy was going to know.
Obi-Wan made a stop in front of the classroom that was just past the Archives. Elementary Force Studies would be wrapping up in a few minutes. He stood by the door as the Initiates came flooding out, then let himself grin as soon as he caught sight of her. Deltine looked up from her conversation with Gungi and beamed. “Buir!”
Standing with his daughter’s arms wrapped around his trunk, Obi-Wan looked down at her ginger hair, pulled into a nertail, and stroked the top of her head. Someday, she would be a fearsome Mandalorian Jedi, while also bearing the next Chosen One, his grandson, but for now she was still eight, still his baby girl. The future was always in motion, after all.
Obi-Wan and Ahsoka sat in the waiting area of the Halls of Healing, waiting to be called inside Padme’s recovery room. Anakin was already inside, probably pacing. Obi-Wan could feel his complicated cocktail of joy and fear and pride and worry through their bond. As a father himself Obi-Wan understood. He sent reassurance down the bond, adding a mental picture of Deltine. Anakin was so good with her. He would do just fine with his own children.
After what felt like hours of pacing in the birthing room, Anakin finally came to a stop at the foot of Padme’s bed. He must surely have holes in the soles of his boots by now. Any minute now, the first of the twins would come out. He could feel it in the Force. A blindingly bright Force presence, like the twin suns of Tatooine, as powerful as his own but as Light as Obi-Wan’s, had come out.
Anakin held his son in his arms, cooing over the red-skinned newborn with a barely-there dusting of blond hair. This was Luke. He and Padme had already agreed on names, but the boy himself radiated Luke-ness. Anakin had always wanted a daughter, but holding his infant son in his arms, he realized that he did not truly care. This was his baby, come what may.
And then he saw her. Padme sat up in the bed, cradling their daughter. Anakin had gotten his little girl after all. He smiled at her. She had an intense Force presence, swirling with the power of a sandstorm, mostly Light with hints of passion that could turn Dark. This was Leia. She was bald and tiny, but it felt right to name her after the Krayt dragon. Anakin was gazing at his wife and two babies, but he found his vision blurring as tears of joy welled up in his eyes.
The healer called in Obi-Wan and Ahsoka at this point. Ahsoka stared at the girl. This was the same Leia Skywalker she had seen in her vision of the future. Her first padawan. The baby girl had a commanding presence even as a wrinkled red newborn with her eyes closed, already larger than life. Ahsoka did not need to see the girl’s eyes open or imagine her older to know that she would look like her mother, blindsiding people who expected a mini-Padme, when it became obvious that she would have a personality more like her father’s.
Anakin handed Luke to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan cradled the boy in his arms, feeling his Force presence, taking in the features of the boy, both physical and in the Force. He would grow up to look like Anakin, but his air of sweetness and unassuming badassery was pure Padme. Oh. Obi-Wan smiled as the realization hit him. This boy was his last padawan, the little ball of Light who would grow hope and love throughout the galaxy the way Qui-Gon used to grow dinky little plants from obscure corners of the galaxy. “Hello there, Luke.” Obi-Wan cooed over the baby.
The galaxy was probably not ready for three—no, four, counting Governor Shmi Skywalker of Tatooine—Skywalkers, maybe more in the future, but it would have to adapt. The Jedi Order would endure, changing form to evolve with the seasonal cycles of the Force, the Code turning as a waterwheel in the Force, but it would be bound together by love and truth, a family in balance.