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Obi-Wan almost talked himself out of it.
He was pulling on his boots with unsteady hands, his heart threatening to beat its way through his ribcage. It was evening, and the sun was setting outside the Jedi Temple. If not for the turmoil in his head, he might’ve thought it beautiful.
I shouldn’t. But he wanted to. It will just make it harder to say goodbye. But he’d rather a million painful goodbyes than to never have said hello in the first place. As he laced his boots and straightened his tunic, the tug-of-war between his head and his heart was enough to give him whiplash.
In the end, his heart won.
“Where are you going?”
He turned to see Anakin emerge from his bedroom, barefoot and messy-haired. Obi-Wan kept his face blank – Anakin would instantly be able to read any flicker of emotion he didn’t mask. For the thousandth time, he wondered if he should stay.
But then the lie was tumbling from his lips – “For a run.” – and he knew there was no turning back.
Anakin didn’t question it, though Obi-Wan didn’t miss the flash of recognition in his eyes. No doubt remembering a younger, sadder Obi-Wan who used to spend night after night running laps in the training dojos, chasing the ghost of the master he couldn’t save. There were times even now when that guilt returned – when soldiers fell at his feet, when civilians were enslaved, when friends and comrades didn’t come home. When the whispers started once more – I couldn’t save them. I wasn’t fast enough. – it was almost enough to start him running again.
Now, Anakin said nothing.
Obi-Wan started to jog when he hit the streets of Coruscant. Then, at least, there would be one thing he’d told Anakin recently that wasn’t a lie.
.•° ✿ °•.
Anakin made sure no one saw him leave.
By now, he’d hoped he would be used to it – the sneaking around, the alibis, the looking over his shoulder. Getting married in secret had its pitfalls. But in the years since, he found he’d only gotten more paranoid. As he stepped into the Temple docking bay, he couldn’t help the way his heart dropped at every sound, every imagined shadow.
At least Obi-Wan was already gone. It was better that way – he wasn’t really lying, then. Just…not being forthcoming with the truth. It was easier to prevaricate when no one asked you to. Keeping his eyes down, he signed out an unremarkable citibike – one that wouldn’t attract undue attention – and took the long way across Coruscant’s teeming airlanes.
When at last Padmé’s apartment came into view, he felt something come loose in his chest. Like a door unlocking, a knot pulling free, an open circuit suddenly complete so the energy flowed through.
This, he thought as he streaked across the orange sky, this is what it feels like to come home.
.•° ✿ °•.
Obi-Wan saw her before she saw him. Satine was perched on the curb in the Senate parking lot, a red hood pulled up over her head, blonde curls spilling to her shoulders. For a moment, he indulged himself in staring at her. And as if this one solitary glance had awakened his senses, he found himself noticing colors he didn’t even know he could see – red silk and yellow hair and blue eyes and pink lips. Against the backdrop of grey Senatorial speeders and duracrete ground, she was a rainbow.
She saw him, then. She stood, folding her arms across her middle and looking over her shoulder, and it was all he could do not to run to her.
When he stopped walking, there was one terrible moment where he thought of embracing her. But they were still in public, discrete as the location might have been, and goodness knew who might walk by at any moment. Obi-Wan tucked his hands inside his sleeves as though to handcuff himself.
“How long are you here?” he said in lieu of greeting.
“Until tomorrow.”
And though no one said it, they both certainly thought it – not long enough.
Obi-Wan nodded. “The vote?”
“I’m sure you can guess.” Satine huffed, her lower lip sticking out. “Military occupation.”
He exhaled. She was right, he had guessed how the Senate would lean – and if he let himself admit it, Mandalore would serve as a strategic position for the GAR to target nearby Separatist systems – but he hated what it meant for her and her people.
Obi-Wan stroked his beard. “Well, there is one thing you could do – ”
“No. And anyway, let’s keep politics out of this, shall we?” she said. “You already know what I’m going to say.”
He did. She wouldn’t betray Mandalore’s commitment to peace. Not even if it would save her.
But as he studied her – how her eyes skirted away from his, her bottom lip sliding into her mouth – he could see that something besides politics was bothering her.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Satine.”
“It’s a personal matter more than a political one,” she said. “And I believe that makes it none of your business.”
“Does it pose a threat to your safety?” he said, and she hesitated. “Because if that’s the case, it’s very much my business.”
“No. She would never hurt me.”
“Who?”
There was a crash from somewhere behind Obi-Wan’s back, and they both jumped. He whirled around, hand on his lightsaber, only to see a custodian tossing bags of garbage into a dumpster. A reminder that they were out in the open, vulnerable, visible. Anyone could be watching.
Shoulders stiffening, he turned back to face Satine. She lowered her face.
“My sister,” she whispered. “She’s part of Death Watch.”
When he saw Satine’s eyes fill with tears, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to care who might be watching. He pulled her into his arms and held her as her shoulders started to shake.
Even when the sun had disappeared from Coruscant’s sparkling sky, he didn’t let go.
.•° ✿ °•.
With his face in her hair, Anakin breathed her in. He’d long since come to associate Padmé’s perfume with peace and passion and harmony. He hated that as soon as he got back to the Temple, he’d have to toss his clothes in the laundry and wash out his hair just to rid himself of her scent. Each time, it was like leaving her all over again, erasing her from everywhere but his memory
Padmé pulled back first, and already he missed her hands in his hair.
“How long are you here?”
“Until tomorrow,” he said. “Then it’s off to Christophsis for the supply run, even though the planet’s under Separatist control, and…”
“Let’s keep the war out of this, for now, can we?” she said, then sighed. “I think I’ve heard enough of it today.”
“So have I. Especially when all it seems to do is keep me away from you.”
He leaned in then, kissing her like he hadn’t seen her in weeks – and really, he hadn’t – and her lips felt more like home than his room in the Temple ever did.
But he noticed soon enough that she didn’t return his hunger. He drew back, staring at her lips and then tracing his way up to her eyes. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Padmé.”
He chased after her eyes, but they evaded him. A hint of frustration bubbled in his chest – they’d struggled with honesty their whole relationship. When everything else in your life is a lie, Anakin thought, suddenly the truth feels foreign.
But then she did look up, and her eyes didn’t hold the anxiety he expected to find.
“Something wonderful has happened,” she said softly. “Anakin…I’m pregnant.”
Anakin took a step back. Then another, and another, until he all but stumbled onto Padmé’s couch.
“You’re what?”
.•° ✿ °•.
By the time they pulled apart, Satine’s eyes were dry and dull. Obi-Wan ached at her fear and her sorrow, but didn’t know what to do about either.
“Is there a chance she’s being manipulated?” Obi-Wan said. “Made to work against you by someone higher up?”
“Obi-Wan…” she murmured. And immediately he hated himself for saying it. Not when they both knew it wasn’t true. She’d chided him before for coming at things too objectively, always looking for another logical explanation. Never trusting what he knew in his heart.
But only because he rarely knew his heart to be trusted.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead.
She just shrugged. “I mean, who knows what she’ll do? Bo knows things about me I’ve never told anyone. And all of that information in the hands of Death Watch…”
She stopped midsentence, eyes going wide as the sound of footsteps and laughter echoed across the parking lot. Obi-Wan turned in time to see Bail Organa and a few other senators emerging from the turbolift.
Kriff.
He didn’t think – just grabbed Satine’s hand and led her through the rows of ships and speeders. Hoods drawn, heads down, they ran until they hit the alley, and kept running.
He didn’t slow down until he was certain Bail hadn’t seen, that they weren’t being followed. The alley let out a ways ahead, but he was in no hurry to get there. He realized then that he was still holding her hand, and released it.
“Sorry,” he said softly. “I – ”
“I know.”
They walked side by side, silent except for Satine’s slightly heavy breathing. He watched her from the corner of his eye – with her hood drawn, he could only see her lips – and she opened her mouth to speak.
But a crash from somewhere behind them stopped her short.
She grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm before it could even go for his lightsaber, her fingers wound so tightly around his wrist he was sure she could feel his pulse.
But then a small, fuzzy creature emerged from an overturned garbage can. He exhaled in relief.
“Just a lothcat,” he said, trying to sound as if he knew that the whole time. But he recognized the look in her eyes, the same look he saw in the mirror – when you’d seen the things they’d seen, every shadow was a zillo beast.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I jump at everything anymore, since...” Brushing her hood away from her face, she let go of his arm. “Pathetic, I know.”
“It’s alright to admit you’re rattled.”
“I’m not rattled.”
“Someone tried to kill you yesterday.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time, and you know it.”
“That doesn’t make it any less scary this time,” he said softly, then lowered his eyes. “For either of us.”
Obi-Wan felt her watching his face. He could still feel the ghost of her hand on his wrist, and took a step back – not trusting himself any closer. Hands in your sleeves, hands in your sleeves…
Satine’s eyes caught the light of a neon sign at the end of the alley, turning their hue from a light blue to something much deeper. But then she looked away, and for a moment he was almost grateful – he couldn’t be held accountable for anything he said while hypnotized by them.
“I just don’t feel safe anywhere anymore,” she said. “Not even among my own family. It’s all tainted.”
His hands moved before he could stop them, coming to rest on the small of her back, and he saw her shoulders lilt with a sharp, silent breath. But then she was running a hand through his hair, letting it fall in his face the way she knew he couldn’t stand. The breath in his lungs evaporated as her fingers trailed his skin and she came closer, closer, closer…
“Except here,” she whispered, and he felt the words on his neck. “I feel safe here.”
.•° ✿ °•.
Anakin felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs.
“That’s…that’s wonderful.”
He said the words, he knew he did, but it didn’t feel like his voice that left him. He was digging his fingernails into the plush of the couch, trying to root himself to something – otherwise, he was sure he’d float away.
“Are you okay?”
Oh. Padmé was beside him. She was beside him, and stroking his arm, and she was pregnant, and…
“Yeah, no, I mean of course,” he stammered back. “It’s just that that…it’s wonderful.”
“Yes,” she repeated. “Wonderful. Ani, you look a little – ”
“Happy?” he said. His voice came out as a squeak. “Because I’m happy.”
Padmé squeezed his arm. “I was going to say green.”
“I’m fine! Completely, totally…”
His stomach lurched. And about four seconds later, he realized Padmé had been exactly right, and he bolted for the ‘fresher.
When Padmé appeared in the doorway, he was leaning over the sink, trying not to give in to the gag sensation building in his throat.
“And I thought I was supposed to be the one with morning sickness,” she said. She came to his side and rubbed his back, and he briefly caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror. Kriff, she was beautiful. Her forehead now was creased with worry, and for a moment he wondered about her hesitation to tell him about this. Had she been afraid he’d be upset? That he’d be angry?
He finally straightened and ran his hands down his face. But when he pulled them away, he was smiling. No, he was laughing. Because this was amazing. This was crazy. It was crazy amazing. A father. He was going to be a…
“We’re having a kid!”
Padmé’s eyes fluttered, her face relaxing in relief as a smile split onto her face. “We are.”
And then he was hugging her, and then pulling away to put his hands on her stomach, and then hugging her again.
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl? Oh, I bet it’s a girl – I hope it’s a girl. She’ll take after you – ”
“I think it’s a boy. I just have a feeling.”
He smirked, chin in the air. “Well, I have a feeling, too.”
When she smiled, it was radiant. “We can take him on vacation to the Lake Country on Naboo…”
“…and teach her how to fly a speeder…”
“…and raise him in public service…”
“…and show her how to build droids…”
He picked Padmé up at the waist and spun her, and her laugh rang out against the marble floors.
“And we’ll raise him together in a house near my parents, and – ”
“Near your parents?”
Padmé’s smile faltered just a little. “Yes, of course. Why?”
He set her down, keeping his hands against her waist. “No, nothing…I just didn’t expect you’d want to leave Coruscant. I mean, we already see each other so rarely as it is…”
“What do you mean? We’d be together.”
Oh. “R-right. Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What about your work?”
For a second her eyes flashed with an emotion he couldn’t name – regret? Anxiety?
“I guess I would take time off. Raise our child.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“Sure I do,” she said. “I’d give anything for that. To be there for all those special moments – the first steps, the first word…wouldn’t you?”
Sure, Padmé, he thought, elation quickly fading. When you can figure out a way to pause the war. Do you think they offer paternity leave for Jedi generals fathering illegitimate children?
But instead he just nodded and said “of course,” and Padmé seemed to decide that was enough. They would figure it out. They always did.
Except…
“We’d have to come clean. I’d have to tell Obi-Wan, and the Council. You’d have to tell your superiors. It would be political scandal.” He noticed she’d taken a few steps back, standing in the doorframe again while he leaned back against the sink. “You might not have a job to come back to.”
He could tell by the darkness in her eyes that she’d already considered that. That she’d likely already gone through every possible scenario – ones he hadn’t even thought of yet. Like if the child was Force sensitive. If she lost her seat in the Senate. If Anakin died in the war before the child was born, and she had to raise it on her own. He could see the possibilities flickering across her face like a holovid, though her expression never changed.
“I guess it just depends what’s more important to us, then,” she said. He noticed a touch of the Queen Amidala persona in her voice – the words clipped and toneless. “Our lives as we know them, or our family.”
“You know what I’d choose every time. What I’m already choosing.” Anakin reached for her hair, smoothing it against his palm. “I’m being honest with you when I say it would be hard for me to leave this life. Obi-Wan, Ahsoka…the power to help people every day, or at least to try.”
And he didn’t realize until he said the words how true they were. As much as he clashed with their idealism at times, he was a Jedi to the bone. Even in his worst moments, it was still the life he kept choosing for himself. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were the closest thing to family he’d ever known, besides his mother and his wife. They were as much his roots as any home he knew.
“But I would do it in a heartbeat,” he said quietly. “If you asked me to.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
But as she looked away, Anakin felt something invisible shatter.
.•° ✿ °•.
Obi-Wan’s back was up against the brick wall when Satine finally pulled away.
The loss of her physically stung – every square inch of his body felt wrong without her touch. But she stepped back, and he tucked his hands back into the prison of his sleeves, and the alley seemed to slowly drain of air until he couldn’t draw a breath at all.
“Obi…”
Don’t, he wanted to say. He shook his head, not able to bear the sound of his name on her lips. Not when I have to leave you.
And part of him almost wanted to laugh at himself, at the fool he’d become – meeting in parking lots, hiding in alleys, missing someone he hadn’t even lost yet. But he would lose her, as he already had a million times before.
And so he watched as Satine folded her arms across her waist, and he lost her yet again.
“I probably won’t see you again before I leave,” she said softly. Her voice was nearly masked by the muted hum of Coruscant traffic far above. “Unless…”
The word hung in the air, and Obi-Wan held his breath. Unless what? Unless they met up again tomorrow? Unless she stayed here? Or he went with her? He thought of his own confession just days ago: Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order. Had you said the word…had you said the word…had you said the word… What if she said the word now?
And he was absolutely terrified by the realization that he rather wanted her to.
But she just looked down. The silence stretched on, crackling in his ears like radio static. If she asked, he would go.
But she wasn’t asking.
Obi-Wan wrapped his robe tighter around himself. She looked up, and for a moment he could see the apology in her face.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said quietly, and extended his hand. Wordlessly, she took it.
Neither of them said that her little Coruscant motel room was not home. She was home already.
He didn’t let go of her hand until they stepped into the shine of streetlights. Everything in the city was bright. And yet, he felt as though the color had started to drain. The sky looked duller, the lights less vivid, empty of the radiance he found himself seeing in Satine’s eyes, her lips, her skin.
They walked on, her fingers now just a breath out of his reach.
.•° ✿ °•.
Each time he held Padmé in his arms, a part of him knew it might be the last time. That was the reality of war. Though he may be the Chosen One, he was not invincible.
Padmé pulled back, her eyes skimming his face so gently it was as though she’d reached out and touched his skin.
“I probably won’t see you again before I leave,” he said. “Unless…”
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “I have committee meetings back to back tomorrow, and then I’m leaving, too.”
“Can you travel?”
“For now.” For a moment, her face seemed to drain of some of its color. “Ani…this is going to change everything.”
“I know.”
“We’re going to have a family.”
“I know.”
And though his voice was clipped, she was right – nothing would ever be the same again. Yet here they both were, going their separate ways as they always did. How were they supposed to carry on like that? With a baby to raise and a life to build?
For a moment, he let himself imagine how it could be different. He could leave the Order. If that was what was best, if that was what she wanted, he would do it.
But Padmé just smiled, even as her eyes were tinged with sadness. “You’d better get home.”
“I am home,” he said, and she pulled him close, speaking into his chest.
“I know.”
He took one last look at her before boarding the citibike. And though she wasn’t showing yet, her abdomen flat beneath her ornate gown, he tried to imagine the little life inside. A father. He was going to be a father. The joy bubbled up in his chest, and he smiled at her so brightly she looked surprised.
For now, they would keep up the lie. And as Anakin took to the skies back toward the Temple, he knew he would lie a million times if it meant forever with her.
.•° ✿ °•.
When Obi-Wan stepped back through the door of their Temple quarters, Anakin was there. He looked pale, and he was bouncing his knee as he sat at the kitchen table, staring at a datapad. He looked up when Obi-Wan entered, though he didn’t seem to relax.
“Hey,” Anakin said. “How was your run?”
Obi-Wan felt as if every muscle in his body was made of rubber, and for a moment, he could almost make himself believe he had been running.
“Fine.” He flipped on the light switch – Anakin had been sitting in the dark. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Anakin replied immediately – but the tone of his voice did nothing to make either of them believe it.
In the moments that followed, Anakin considered telling Obi-Wan everything. It would be so easy. It would be done, out in the open. He could go back to Padmé right now and tell her he was hers, and their child’s, and they could move to Naboo like she’d said. Maybe Obi-Wan would even have some advice, and Force knew he could use it.
Obi-Wan was thinking too. About the conflict he knew dwelt in his former padawan, about the love he harbored but kept secret. He thought about telling Anakin everything – how he too ached for someone in ways he couldn’t speak about. How even now he thought about turning around, chasing after Satine and telling her what he’d never allowed himself to say.
But instead, they just nodded to each other. Anakin picked up his datapad and went to his room, closing the door behind him. Obi-Wan did likewise, and flopped down on the bed to stare up at the ceiling, replaying the memories as if he could live in them.
And in one room lay a man with a heart underwater, drowning as an ocean filled his lungs and shriveled his skin and sunk him deeper and deeper and deeper. His heart was on fire, though he feared any moment it would stop beating.
Next door lay a man with a heart in the air, so high up that galaxies streaked by. His heart was on fire, though he feared any moment it would beat out of his chest.
But the thing about oceans and star-speckled space is this: in either, a fire will suffocate.