Chapter Text
Anakin Skywalker, Space Dad
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Ch. 1: In Which Anakin Has A Vision
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Anakin Skywalker, 22 years old, was going to be a father.
He pondered this as he watched Padmé brush out her long curls against the balcony railing. Force, she was beautiful.
“…I know the perfect spot, right by the gardens.” Padmé turned to grin at him, and the sight of her, standing in the twilight, blue woven silk draped around her and her eyes deeply rich with joy, stole Anakin’s breath.
“You are so…” Anakin sighed, lost in the sight of her. “Beautiful.” His eyes drifted to her belly, where their child was growing. Her pregnancy was unmistakable now; he must have been truly blinded by Padmé’s presence to have missed it entirely when he’d picked her up and spun her around. A thought wrestled its way in his head, unignorable. “Should I have spun you?”
Padmé’s smile turned curious. “What?”
“Earlier, when we embraced behind the pillar. I spun you around—did that hurt the baby?”
Padmé laughed and resumed brushing her hair. “Oh, Ani.”
She startled when he appeared next to her, then saw the concern on his face. “Anakin, really—”
“I’m just making sure,” Anakin said in a light, placating tone, and gently placed his right hand to her bump.
A swift kick met his hand.
Anakin’s eyes widened. He ignored Padmé’s snickering and pressed again—and like a steady little drumbeat, tiny kicks met his hand.
“Does this happen often?”
“Throughout the day,” Padmé shrugged.
“How do you…” Anakin gestured at her hair brush, still running through her hair, “carry on? Doesn’t it distract you? I’d be distracted.”
“I don’t mind. I like the idea of him communicating with me in some way. Even if it is to kick my ribs in the middle of the night.”
“Him?”
Padmé smiled mischievously. “I’ve a strong feeling it’s a him.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Anakin’s mouth, his gaze softening as he stroked her belly. “You haven’t checked yet.”
“No. I was hoping that we…but, I’m not sure how…”
“We’ll do it,” he said quietly, his tone firm. Padmé’s eyes lit up. “But I think it’s a girl.”
Mirth replaced Padmé’s worried look. “You do, now.”
“Yes,” he said confidently. “And she’d be just like me!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Anakin’s smile slowly faded. Padmé grinned and said something else, but Anakin hardly heard—his own voice rattling around his head.
Just like him.
She could be just like him?
“…to bed?”
Anakin blinked. Padmé’s sweet face tilted up at him, and he forced a smile.
“Of course, my love.”
/ \
Dark gaze, beautiful brown hair, coiled in a braid tumbling down her back. She was beautiful, so much like Padmé, but Anakin could see more—her eyes. Force, her eyes were shaped just like his.
“Hraagrh!” A second face. Slobbery, rotting from the inside, eyes wild with greed. He knew this face.
Jabba.
The picture grew clearer, focusing—a young woman tied in chains, barely clothed, and inside Jabba the Hutt’s palace. She fought against him, her eyes filled with anger, rage, fear, and revulsion as Jabba leaned in to lick her face.
Anakin Skywalker’s daughter was a slave.
“No!”
Anakin jerked awake. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his chest. Gasping, he sat up abruptly.
Not his daughter. Not his daughter.
She was just like him. A slave to the Hutts.
His stomach turned. Quickly, but quietly enough as to not wake Padmé, he bolted to the refresher and barely closed the door before upheaving the contents of his stomach.
Anakin gasped for breath. Minutes passed. His hands trembled and his body felt weak, and the images from the dream would not leave his mind. Finally, Anakin started cleaning himself up.
It was a vision of his daughter. He was certain of it. And somehow, she had been sold into the very same family that had once owned Anakin and his mother.
Anakin pressed his face against the cool tile of the refresher wall. This was not how Jedi behaved. Shame burned through him again as he imagined what they would think, seeing him lose control like this. He never was good with handling his emotions. Swallowing thickly, he tried to center himself.
There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
There is no death, there is the Force.
The words felt hollow in his head. He repeated them again anyway. The focus on repetition always managed to calm him.
Eventually, the frenetic energy curling around him slowed. Feeling steadier, though still somewhat shaking, Anakin pushed away from the wall and exited the refresher.
Padmé lay asleep where he’d left her. Should he wake her and tell her what he saw? He watched the rise and fall of her chest, then to her belly. No, he will not tell her. He would not worry her.
But he could not stay here.
Dressing quickly, Anakin scribbled a note on a flimsi and left it on the bedside table, then left Padmé’s apartments.
/ \
The Jedi Temple was quiet when Anakin parked his speeder. The lights were dimmed in the halls and he felt the lulled, sleepy warmth of the Force with each room he passed by. He did not think about where he was walking, only that he must walk. The Temple may not feel like home to him, but it was the only place where he could reasonably think.
He considered going to his quarters but rejected the thought immediately. He’d hardly stepped foot in there since Ahsoka left. It was a cold and joyless place now. His heart constricted at the thought of his former padawan, but pushed it aside. He could only handle one despair at a time.
Before he knew it, he was standing in front of Obi-Wan’s quarters. He could feel his former master’s presence resting inside. Anakin stood there for several minutes, paralyzed with indecision. Then, he tapped in the code and entered.
The familiar scent of their shared quarters released a tense knot in his chest that he hadn’t known was there. Through the dim city light filtering through the window, Anakin eyed the living area. Exactly the same. The furniture and rugs were arranged just as Anakin had last seen them; the only changes were a few new cuttings of plants that Obi-Wan must have brought in recently. It was tidy and clean, and slightly humid from the humidifying orb Obi-Wan had stationed near a group of exotic plants that closely resembled those he’d seen on Telos.
Anakin could not stop the flare of irritation. Somehow, Obi-Wan carried on after Anakin’s departure. Not that he expected otherwise. None of Anakin’s tools lay about anymore, or any deconstructed droid parts. Though he couldn’t really blame Obi-Wan for the latter; he was always on Anakin’s case on not leaving them lying in the living area.
He should not have come here. He should have stayed with Padmé and folded her in his arms. He could have waited until he could go to the Senate and speak with Palpatine. He would tell his friend about his dream and his worries. He would not let his child become a slave on Tatooine. He would die before that happened.
He would kill Jabba and everyone in that palace if he had to.
Emotions mounting, Anakin left the living area and walked to his old quarters. When the door slid open, Anakin blinked in surprise.
Obi-Wan had left it the same. His old toys, the holobooks, even the small droids he’d left behind were all here. He spied his old toolkit in the back, and the bed was dressed with his favorite bedsheets. They had little tiny blasters on the pillows with lasers shooting out from them. He wondered if they’d still smell of the same laundry soap Obi-Wan preferred.
Anakin couldn’t believe it. He was sure Obi-Wan would’ve cleared the room out by now, or put Anakin’s things in a storage closet at the least. Especially as he’d intended to train a new padawan. By this point though, Anakin was surprised Obi-Wan was even staying in the same quarters at all. He could’ve traded for a single Master’s room.
He glanced down the hall where Obi-Wan’s room was. Anakin sensed his force signature, warm and steady. Peacefully asleep.
Not knowing what to think, Anakin sat down on the rug, pulled open the toolkit, and picked up one of the small droids.
This was good. Familiar. Tinkering with spare parts, putting his hands to use. It eased the storm raging in his mind to a quiet hum, allowing him to think more slowly. Hours passed. Possibly less.
It reached a point where he focused only on the droid and taking it apart. He remembered now why he’d left it behind. Some of the wiring was completely shot. There would be no fixing it without a replacement set, but now Anakin thought he could probably reroute the current to pass through a different terminal—
“Anakin?”
Anakin froze, glancing up. Obi-Wan’s face peered through the doorway, perplexed.
“Uh.” Anakin said unintelligibly.
Obi-Wan looked at the droid part in his hands, then the mess on the floor. He stared at Anakin for a long moment. Finally, he said, “It is rather late for this, don’t you think?”
Anakin glanced down, feeling caught with that uneasiness and guilt that always followed him when Obi-Wan had found him staying up past his bedtime. He couldn’t prevent the guilty look. “Yeah. Sorry, Master. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t, actually. I was on my way to the kitchen.” He paused, seeming to choose his words. “Care to join me?”
This wasn’t what Anakin had wanted for tonight. Not that he really knew what he did want, but a talk with Obi-Wan was definitely not on the list. But it was unavoidable now. Anakin was still frayed around the edges and he was in his old bedroom feeling all of twelve years old again, as if this exact scenario had not happened before, over and over again.
Nodding, Anakin stood and followed Obi-Wan to the kitchen. He watched Obi-Wan pull out two mugs and tried offering his help, but Obi-Wan waved him off to the chair at the small table nearby.
Three minutes later, a steaming mug was set in front of Anakin. Obi-Wan took the seat opposite him. Anakin lifted his mug and a small smile curled the corner of his mouth. He knew what it was just by the scent.
“I didn’t think you’d keep any more packets of this,” Anakin noted, taking a sip. Warm milk, earthy chocolate, and a pinch of desert herbs filled his mouth and warmed his entire body instantly. “Not many people like Tatooine’s hot chocolate.”
“I saw no reason to let them go.” Obi-Wan took a careful sip, then gently placed the mug on the table. He waited until Anakin brought himself to meet Obi-Wan’s eyes, expecting to see reprimand or confusion, but his gaze was kind.
“Anakin,” he said gently. “Did something happen?”
Anakin almost snorted. Yeah. I got married against the Order’s rules, my wife Padmé is pregnant, and I dreamt my child would be Jabba the Hutt’s slave and voided my dinner in the ’fresher. Everything’s fine!
“I’m fine,” Anakin replied.
A pause. “I’m glad to hear it,” said Obi-Wan carefully. “But that isn’t what I asked.”
Anakin looked away, staring into the swirling liquid in his mug.
“It’s nothing,” said Anakin, shrugging lightly. “I just. Wanted to finally fix that droid.”
He could tell Obi-Wan wanted to sigh, but instead he lifted his mug and took another sip. How he managed to avoid getting any on his mustache continually perplexed Anakin.
“Well,” Obi-Wan said finally. “Did you manage it this time?”
“No. I was thinking of rerouting the current. Maybe pick up some wires in the morning. What time is it?”
“Quarter past two in the morning.”
“Plenty of time then.”
Obi-Wan stared at him. Then, he leaned back against his chair and nodded. “Alright. I’ll go with you. Perhaps I can get something to fix the light in my room while we’re at it.”
Anakin blinked, pulling out of his thoughts. “Your light isn’t working?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Did you try—”
“I did.”
“You probably need a new—”
“I do.”
“How come nobody’s come to repair it for you?”
Obi-Wan smirked. “Oh, you know how it is. I won’t inconvenience someone else to fix it.”
Anakin rolled his eyes. “Of course not. Right, I’ll do it for you.”
“You really don’t have to,” Obi-Wan protested.
“Knowing you, old man, you’ll probably short out the entire hall if you tried,” Anakin smirked.
Obi-Wan gave a narrow look. “You know, I did manage well enough on my own before you arrived, my former padawan.”
“A time I’m glad I never saw.”
They shared a smile, Obi-Wan’s gaze lingering on Anakin. Anakin broke away before something would blurt out from his throat. “I uh, I saw the living area. Looks nice. Clean.”
“Yes. Not as clean as you’d like it, probably.”
Anakin frowned. “Uh, are you forgetting I’d leave droid parts everywhere?”
“Oh I do. I’m referring to something a bit before. Remember when you’d clean the living area and my quarters that first year you came to the Temple?”
Anakin’s frown deepened. “I did?”
Obi-Wan’s eyes widened with surprise. “You really don’t remember? I used to think they were sending a cleaning droid here. It was spotless every day. Then one day I found you tidying up my room and pressing my robes.”
The memory clicked, and Anakin groaned, laughing. “Force, yeah, I remember.”
“Every day for nearly three months, I think. And I never would’ve guessed it was you because your room was a disaster. Not a clean underwear in sight,” said Obi-Wan, eyes dancing with mirth.
“I totally had clean underwear! I wasn’t that gross.”
“Mm, yes. But you agree, it was messy. It took you some time to develop the interest in cleaning your own room. But the rest of the quarters…”
“Spotless. Yeah, I remember.” Anakin smiled a little, shaking his head.
Obi-Wan traced an idle pattern on his mug. “Do you recall what you told me when I asked you why you were doing it?”
Anakin’s smile slipped, and he stared at the tabletop for a moment. “I said that you were my master. And I must always clean for my masters.”
Obi-Wan said nothing, watching Anakin intently. Anakin struggled with that memory. It had taken him a while to understand what freedom meant. The life he and his mother had was nothing like what his upbringing in the Jedi Temple was. And Obi-Wan was absolutely nothing like Watto or Gardulla the Hutt. That life was a fate nobody deserved.
A warm hand settled over Anakin’s. Anakin glanced up at Obi-Wan and saw nothing but love and concern.
Something in him cracked. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. He had no one else right now, and it was feeling like before—how it used to be.
“I had a dream.”
Obi-Wan did not look surprised. His hand tightened fractionally over Anakin’s, sending quiet support through their bond. Anakin swallowed thickly.
“It was a vision. I know it. There’s always a difference.” He glanced up at Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan nodded. “There is.”
Anakin mirrored his nod, staring at their hands. “I saw a woman.” My daughter. “Young. She was bound in silver chains.” He clenched his jaw, forcing the words out. “Humiliated, wearing almost nothing. And I saw Jabba—they were in his palace. She was his personal slave.”
Soft concern reflected in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Did you recognize her?”
Anakin hesitated, trying to find the wording. “She is…familiar. But I don’t know her.” Obi-Wan nodded encouragingly. “I think it’s something not too far away. Maybe twenty, twenty-one years from now.”
Obi-Wan looked at him kindly. “I understand why seeing this would upset you. It recalls bad memories.”
“It’s not just that. It’s personal.”
“I understand.”
Irritation flared through him. Anakin snatched his hand away. “No, you don’t.”
Hurt flickered across Obi-Wan’s face, but with a slow breath his expression calmed again. “I can never understand your experiences, Anakin, but I do understand your pain. You must remember, visions are not absolute. The future is always in motion. Perhaps this woman’s fate will change.”
“I want to stop it. I won’t let it happen.”
Obi-Wan eyed him carefully. “That may not be within your power, Anakin. Have you considered that by attempting to prevent it, you will encourage its fruition?”
“Because doing nothing is the answer?” Anakin snapped. “Why else would the Force show us anything if not to affect change?”
“Anakin—”
“I won’t sit by and do nothing again. I won’t.” Anakin let out a short, bitter laugh. “Why am I surprised. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to you.”
Obi-Wan pursed his lips. With an agitated movement he scratched his beard, then folded his arms over his chest. “Alright. How do you plan on preventing this young woman from being Jabba’s slave twenty years from now?”
“Easy. Get rid of Jabba.”
“Right. Now there’s a whole council of Hutts, not to mention his own offspring, ready in line to take Jabba’s place. Will you get rid of them too?”
“If that’s what it takes,” Anakin said through his teeth.
Obi-Wan sighed, tiredly rubbing his temple. “Anakin, I am genuinely trying to understand, so please help me to. You don’t know this woman. And eliminating the Hutts is only putting bacta tape over a whole system’s problem with the slave trade.”
“And why is it still a problem?” Anakin exploded and stood up, shoving his chair back. “You know it’s wrong, you know someone should’ve dealt with this years ago! But no. Nobody cares about us unless we have some value. Like a part replacement, or a kid with a kriffing prophecy.” Energy rippled through him, anger mounting. He started pacing. “And so what if I don’t know her? Is helping someone only acceptable if we know them? Should I have said it would be Ahsoka—would that finally motivate you?”
Obi-Wan stared at him as Anakin shook out his hands, pacing in the kitchen. Dark anger clouded him but Anakin didn’t care—and neither, it seemed, did Obi-Wan.
This. This was why Anakin had stopped reaching for Obi-Wan and left his personal feelings for the Chancellor only. Obi-Wan didn’t care about his feelings. He never tried. And Anakin had long lost trust in—
“You’re right.”
Anakin stopped, turning to Obi-Wan incredulously. His face was drawn and tired, looking older than he was. “It’s true,” he said. “It should not be this way. You’re not wrong about this. What we are doing to address it, both as a Republic and the Order, is flawed. And I know, Anakin. I know how this hurts you, personally.”
He stood up, eyes locked with Anakin’s, who was rooted to the spot. He stopped in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But I have failed you miserably if I ever let you feel that I only cared for you because of your value to the prophecy.”
Anakin was speechless. Obi-Wan had never admitted to anything of this caliber, not like this. Anakin searched him, and found nothing but his sincerity through the Force. All at once the anger seeped out of him, and Anakin deflated.
“I know, Master. I-I never thought you did. I know you truly care about me.”
Obi-Wan’s lips twitched in a smile, nodding a bit. Anakin continued, somewhat grudgingly, “And I understand what you meant about the vision. The future is in motion and…and I shouldn’t let my emotion steer my judgment.”
“You are a wise Jedi, Anakin.”
Anakin smiled half-heartedly. “Not so wise if I have to blow up every time to get to the right end.”
Obi-Wan shook his head. “It isn’t about right or wrong, my friend. It is about balance.”
Anakin closed his eyes. “I know. I tried meditating earlier. It helped a bit.”
“Perhaps trying again will also help.”
Anakin nodded. He peered at Obi-Wan warily. He was still open to him, both in expression and in their bond. It gave him the push to ask, “Will you meditate with me?”
Obi-Wan gave him a true smile. “Of course. Living area?”
“Yes.”
A minute later they sat facing each other, hands resting on their knees. Anakin felt their bond strengthen immediately, the Force flowing between them as if no time at all had passed since the last. He could sense Obi-Wan’s fatigue, his worry, but also his acceptance and calm strength that Anakin always latched onto as a young padawan. Anakin let his feelings pass through the bond as well, but mindfully kept anything relating to Padmé or the pregnancy safely shielded.
Obi-Wan inclined his head, and Anakin started.
“There is no emotion, there is peace.”
“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge,” said Obi-Wan.
Anakin swallowed. “There is no passion, there is serenity.”
Obi-Wan paused, peeling an eye open. “Anakin,” he said. Anakin opened his eyes glumly. Obi-Wan had sensed his disquiet. “I think…there is a version of this that might connect more with you. You probably heard it when you first arrived at the Temple.”
Anakin tilted his head, confused.
“Let’s try again. Only let me say it, and you repeat.”
“Alright.”
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and Anakin followed suit. “There is emotion, yet peace,” said Obi-Wan.
“There is emotion, yet peace,” Anakin repeated.
“There is ignorance, yet knowledge.”
“There is ignorance, yet knowledge.”
“There is passion, yet serenity.”
“There is passion, yet serenity.” Anakin felt a cool wave pass through him, and he fell deeper into meditation.
“There is chaos, yet harmony.”
“There is chaos, yet harmony.”
“There is death, yet there is the Force.”
“There is death, yet there is the Force.”
Anakin felt himself submerge into the calm that was not just his bond with Obi-Wan, but with the Force itself. Obi-Wan was right; the tenets felt clearer to him this way. He connected. Understood. The Force surrounded him, a feeling so familiar, but one he’d been having difficulty reaching for some time. He wondered if Obi-Wan was experiencing the Force the way he was, too.
“I feel it,” came Obi-Wan’s voice, softly. “How long has it been for you?”
“I’m not sure,” Anakin muttered, his eyes still closed. He let the Force guide his thoughts. When was the last time he allowed himself such serenity?
Thoughts soft as clouds emerged. His rank changed to General. Assigned to the 501st. Endless months away from Coruscant.
“The start of the Clone Wars,” said Obi-Wan quietly. “That is a long time, old friend.”
Anakin made no reply. He wondered why he’d stopped himself from this for so long. How could he forget? It was soothing. Wonderful. And with Obi-Wan, it felt complete. Almost.
Unbidden, Ahsoka’s face emerged in his mind. He knew Obi-Wan sensed it as well, for he released a soft sigh. To Anakin’s relief, though, he said nothing of it.
One despair at a time.
Slowly, like the ebb and flow of water, Anakin’s anxieties unraveled into the Force. Less like a release, but more a reluctant offering. He could not erase his fear for his child, for his daughter’s future, but he knew he could think clearer now if he wanted to plan how to help her. And he would help her.
Eventually, as tiredness returned in full force, they ended their meditation. It was nearly four in the morning, yet Obi-Wan said nothing of it. He left Anakin to his old room, where Anakin slipped off his boots and tunics and burrowed into his old bed, the smell of fabric softener on the sheets lulling Anakin into deep sleep.