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A sense of purpose is a welcome distraction from the months of disillusion and meaningless fighting. Finally , Vader is doing something that will help the galaxy, unlike the pointless wars that he had seen too many of.
His footsteps are drowned out by the sounds of blaster fire and short-lived wails of shock. What’s left of the 501st, what Ahsoka hasn’t taken to Mandalore with her, are carrying out the first steps of cleansing the galaxy.
Vader finds himself wishing that the troopers with Ahsoka finish her off quickly. She’s suffered enough this lifetime.
He follows the Force signature to the Council room- it’s either one mildly powerful Force user or a cluster of young users.
Vader pushes open the door and finds the latter; all of them peeking their heads out from behind the plush chairs.
Blood roars in his ears and his jaw clenches so tightly his teeth start to hurt. Vader drops his hand to his belt and pulls free his lightsaber.
Immerse yourself fully in the dark side, He reminds himself. For Padmé.
“Master Skywalker,” A little boy, with blond hair that curls, peers up at him with bright blue eyes. He flinches with every faint blaster shot. “There’s too many of them. What are we going to do?”
Vader stares. His vision begins to fade, blurring on the outsides and creeping towards the boy until all he can see is dark and then-
A boy, no older than twenty, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes stands in a little hut on Tatooine. He’s standing next to man, old and weathered with haunted eyes, and Vader knows immediately it’s Obi-Wan. How has he come to look so weak? The boy holds a lightsaber in his hand, Vader’s lightsaber, with a reverence.
“Master Skywalker?”
Vader’s vision spins back into focus, and he looks at the little Togruta girl still cowering behind a chair- his chair.
(“You’re stuck with me, Skyguy,”
“You’re reckless, little one. You never would have made it as Obi-Wan Padawan. But you might make it as mine.”)
Anakin’s thumb freezes on the ignition of his lightsaber. He tears his eyes off of Ahsoka the Togruta to look at the little boy. He hooks his saber back onto his belt.
(“Just for once, let me look on you with my own eyes.”)
He drops to one knee and holds the boy’s shoulder with one hand and with the other, presses the boy’s fallen saber into his too-small hand, “We will persevere, young one,” He pushes his hood back and meets the boy’s gaze, “Keep your lightsaber in your hand,” Anakin stands up, “And trust in the Force.”
He looks down at the rest of the younglings, eyes lingering on the Togruta, before taking his saber off his belt once more.
The uniform steps of the troopers' march echo through the hallways. They get closer until they’re right outside, and Anakin starts to worry.
There are too many of them, and Anakin won’t be able to protect all of the younglings, not his son or Ahsoka or-
The footsteps keep marching past the Council doors.
“Okay,” Anakin says, more to himself than to any of the younglings, “Follow me.”
~
“Master Skywalker!” The Kel Dor points out the cockpit window at the Nabooian aircraft that coasts into view and comes to a stop on the Mustafar landing platform, across from Anakin’s starfighter that he had somehow crammed eight younglings into.
Anakin shoots to his feet, jostling the Nautolan dozing against his shoulder, “Okay, uhm,” He stumbles in his haste to stand, “Stay here. I’ll- I’ll come to get you, I promise.” He points to the little blond boy, Valsi, and tries for a smile, “You’re in charge.”
He disappears down his landing ramp to meet Padmé halfway. He doesn’t collide into her the way he wants to. Her baby bump is a glaring reminder of how fragile Padmé is, more so than usual. Even before she was pregnant, Padmé was always small, no matter how strong she was. (Watching her scale the giant pole she was chained to on Geonosis while he and Obi-Wan bickered will haunt him for the rest of his life.) His nightmares of Padmé’s slight frame trying to push out a baby might as well be tattooed on the insides of his eyelids.
Oh Force, is Obi-Wan even alive?
“Anakin,” Padmé mumbles into his chest, her hands clenching tight at the back of his robe.
“Padmé,” He chokes out, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He breathes in the familiar flowery scent of her hair, and his hands drop down to her stomach. He can’t feel any kicks, but if he focuses hard enough, he can make out a strong Force signature.
She pulls back just enough to see his face, “I was so worried about you. Obi-Wan told me terrible things,” Her eyes well up with tears, and Anakin forces himself to meet her gaze even though he can’t force any words out of his throat.
“Ani, he told me that Yoda thinks you- that you killed younglings,” Her hands loosen their grip on his robe, and she takes a little step back.
“Padmé, no, you don’t understand,” Anakin reaches out and grabs her wrist and-
And Padmé flinches.
Anakin drops her hand as quickly as he had grabbed it. He would take a thousand lightsabers to the gut before he ever thinks of scaring his wife. Force forbid hurt her.
“Padmé, please, just let me explain,” His voice doesn’t crack. Definitely not.
“Yes, I think that’d be best.”
Anakin freezes as a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Obi-Wan stands at the top of Padmé ramp, and suddenly Anakin has General Kenobi, the Negotiator, glaring at him in full force.
He feels freezing cold despite the blazing heat coming from the fiery planet.
“Obi-Wan,” Anakin breathes.
He’s alive. Obi-Wan is alive, and he’ll figure this out. Together, they can fix this.
“What have you done, Anakin?” Obi-Wan walks down the ramp until he’s nose to nose with Anakin, Padmé’s frame hidden behind the bulk of Obi-Wan’s.
He’s protecting her from me, Anakin realizes.
“Master Yoda said that you killed younglings,” Obi-Wan continues, “Their bodies haven’t even been found,”
Anakin shakes his head, hair flying around his face, “Please, Master, you don’t understand,” He reaches out and grabs at Obi-Wan’s forearms, “I didn’t, I wouldn’t, I-”
Obi-Wan frowns, and it’s here, up close and personal, that Anakin sees the hurt swirling behind Obi-Wan’s anger, “I’m not your master,” He whispers and slides his arms out of Anakin’s grip, “Not anymore.”
Anakin flinches at the reminder of how he kneeled before Sidious and pledged himself to that monster. Of how he helped kill Master Windu.
His hands grasp at nothing. Anakin takes a step back towards his starfighter, “Just- just let me explain, please. I’ll- stay right there, please,” He staggers up his ramp.
Valsi sits in the pilot’s seat, and all the rest of the younglings sit scattered around.
“Hey,” Anakin reaches a hand out towards the Valris, “Do you guys remember Master Kenobi?” He waits until they nod, “He’s just outside, with another friend of mine. They’ve been waiting for you.”
Valris takes his hand and pulls himself off the chair. Anakin can’t help himself and picks the boy up. With Valris sitting atop his hip and the little Togruta girl claiming his free hand, Anakin leads his gaggle of younglings down the starfighter’s ramp and towards Obi-Wan and Padmé.
“ Ani ,” Padmé gasps.
“Anakin, I-” Obi-Wan hand strokes his beard like he always does when he’s perplexed.
Anakin used to love being the reason Obi-Wan ran a hand through his beard. It meant he surprised Obi-Wan. He doesn’t like this surprise. Doesn’t like the fact that Obi-Wan is surprised Anakin didn’t kill younglings.
“He… Sidious wanted me to kill all the Jedi left in the Temple, but I… I couldn’t,” Anakin shifts his grip on Valsi and not-so-subtly wipes his eyes on Valris’ tunics.
Valris, if he notices, doesn’t say anything.
Anakin doesn’t know what he was expecting. Them to apologize? To hug him and welcome him back with open arms?
He doesn’t deserve their forgiveness. Anakin will never deserve their forgiveness. How could he when he knelt in front of Sith Lord and declared his loyalty to a murderer.
“Anakin,” A hand squeezing his shoulder shakes Anakin from his own self-loathing. Obi-Wan’s hand shakes where it’s bunched in his robe, and Anakin looks up just in time to see a tear drip into his beard. “We’ll figure this out,” Obi-Wan vows just before pulling Anakin into a bone-crushing hug.
Anakin lets go of the Togruta’s hand in favor of wrapping his arm tight around Obi-Wan’s shoulder and buries his face into Obi-Wan’s neck.
The two of them are content to just breathe in each other’s presence until-
“Master Kenobi, you’re crushing me,” Valris mumbles, squirming against where he’s crushed against Anakin’s side.
“Oh,” Obi-Wan jerks back, a slight flush on his cheeks hidden by his beard, “I’m sorry, little one,”
They stand there in silence. It’s almost anticlimactic.
Anakin’s skin buzzes as if he should be doing something, almost like it does when he’s on the battlefield. The lightsaber on his hip feels heavy every time he looks at Obi-Wan, and he gets the idea that Obi-Wan feels the same based on how he shifts guiltily whenever they make eye contact.
“Where’s…” Anakin’s throat gets tight, “Is Ahsoka-” He can’t finish the question, can’t even say the word. If she’s dead, it’ll be Anakin’s fault. He will have failed her again.
“She’s okay,” Obi-Wan is quick to reassure, “She’s alive,”
Every ounce of tension leaves Anakin’s shoulders, and his eyes flutter shut. She’s alive. But, if she’s alive, then that means-
“She and Rex made it out,” Obi-Wan continues.
Anakin inhales sharply, “Rex?” He repeats in disbelief.
Obi-Wan smiles and gestures towards Padmé’s ship behind them, “Come along, my friend. It seems we have much to catch up on,”
~
Padmé’s ship has much more room for the younglings to lounge properly, yet despite all the space, they collapse in a small pile to sleep.
Despite all the space, Anakin sits wedged between Padmé and Obi-Wan, thigh to thigh with each of them. Padmé holds his hand in a death grip.
They’ve set course for the isolated asteroid, Polis Massa. Bail Organa and Master Yoda are already there.
“I think our little girl will be coming soon,” Padmé murmurs, pressing a kiss onto his knuckles.
Anakin finds himself smiling. “You think we’ll have a girl?”
Padmé hums, “A mother knows, Ani,”
It might be cheating, but Anakin thinks he’s earned a little leeway, “I bet we’ll have a boy,” He closes his eyes and thinks about the blond-haired, blue-eyed son he knows they’ll have. Luke.
“What do you think, Obi-Wan?” Padmé asks, peeking around Anakin’s shoulder.
Obi-Wan blinks wearily, and Anakin would feel bad about keeping him from a much-deserved nap if he didn’t think the sight of Obi-Wan’s head bobbing up and down wasn’t so funny, “Both,” He grunts.
Padmé laughs, “Obi-Wan, you have to pick one,”
Obi-Wan grunts again, shaking his head this time, “There’s two,” He wags a finger vaguely towards Padmé’s midsection, and his eyes settle closed again.
“What?” Anakin sits up straighter, eyes flickering between Padmé’s equally shocked expression and Obi-Wan, who has already begun to doze off.
“Honestly, Anakin,” Obi-Wan drops his head onto Anakin’s shoulder, and Anakin can see the smile quirking his lips up, “For as strong as you are in the Force, you truly are oblivious.”
Anakin gapes, “Obi-Wan!” He shakes his shoulder, but Obi-Wan doesn’t stir, “ Obi-Wan! I know you haven’t fallen asleep that fast!”
Obi-Wan snores in agreement.