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Chapter Text

Mace Windu felt like he would choke on all the shatterpoints spinning around him. They seemed to shine through his eyelids, refusing to be ignored even as he tried to settle himself, to meditate, to make sense of them. To make sense of this day.

Mace sighed and shifted, clenching and unclenching his fingers, shooing away the vision of shatterpoints he couldn’t make himself understand.

‘Send him to me, I might be able to help.’

Why in the Stars would the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic care about one difficult, if powerful Padawan? Skywalker might very well be as promising as Palpatine had professed, but why should one outside of the Order care? The boy was twelve, impatient, impetuous and disinterested in politics, hardly the making of a desirable companion for someone like Palpatine. If anyone, he should have been seeking Kenobi’s friendship, who was well-known for his steady character and silver tongue.

Could the Chancellor have been disinterested? Had Mace spent too many years dealing with corrupt politicians that he let his judgement of the man be clouded? He hadn’t felt any disturbance around the older man in the Force, never had. Palpatine had always been as stable as any of the Jedi.

And yet, at times, he had watched Skywalker like a hunter coveting a prey. Always at the edge of Mace’s vision, when Obi-Wan was distracted by his Padawan. 

‘Why, young Skywalker is a Jedi, is he not? The Jedi are under the Senate’s jurisdiction. And as I am the Chancellor of the Senate…’

And he pushed. After Mace refused his assistance, as was his right, the Chancellor had forced the issue. It was a brazen move, one who could sour the relation between the Senate and the Jedi Order for the rest of his mandate if Mace decided to make an issue of it.

By the Force, did he want to make an issue of it.

And the shatterpoints. There had always been an abundance of them around Skywalker, the Chancellor, and even Kenobi to a lesser extent. Palpatine’s words, his unsubtle threats, his hunger for Skywalker, had turned the three of them into a minefield of vibrating cracks in the Force. Mace hadn’t been able to look at any of them until he had left the Training Salle, and they hadn’t left him in peace ever since. They followed him to his rooms, driving him into a migraine. 

These days, all of his headaches seemed to trail back to Skywalker.

Why did Palpatine care so much about Anakin Skywalker? The Chancellor couldn’t have known about the Chosen One prophecy. It was a closely guarded secret of the Council. The only non-Council member to know of it was Kenobi, and he would never endanger his Padawan. Or give his cause for greater arrogance.

Was it sexual? Mace shivered in disgust at the thought, but it needed to be considered. Palpatine never struck him as the type, but in his years as a Jedi, Mace had found much more saintly men to be guilty of even lower depravities than lusting after young boys. 

It was the most obvious answer, and not one to be discarded when an old, powerful man demanded private access to a twelve year old, but surely, he would have not been so obvious  about it? Should anyone notice anything off with Anakin, should Kenobi suspect anything untowards, Mace would know right away who to blame. Perhaps Palpatine thought that the Senate’s hold on the Order was so strong that they would be willing to disregard the abuse of one of their charges in order to keep him happy?

Mace felt bile rise to his throat, and forced himself to let go of the thought for the moment.

If not for sexual favors, why else? Perhaps, his insistence had been nothing more than a demonstration of his hold over the Order. Perhaps he had been passingly intrigued by Skywalker, but Mace’s refusal had given him the perfect excuse to remind the Master of the Jedi Order of his place, of Palpatine’s superiority. Skywalker might be nothing more than a pawn, someone Palpatine was willing to sacrifice in his search for dominance.

But what if he wasn’t a brief fancy, a cog in a power grab? What if Palpatine hoped to groom a promising young Jedi into being his puppet? If he followed in his Master’s footsteps and realised his potential, Mace had no doubt Skywalker would be a great Jedi Master, even earning his place on the Council. Should Palpatine live to see it, and had the opportunity to cultivate loyalty from Skywalker, it would give him a greater hold on the Order than any of his thinly veiled threats could.

Knowing Skywalker’s penchant for strong attachments and fierce loyalty to those he cared about, a politician used to charm folks into believing in him and supporting him would find swaying the young boy a very easy task.

No.

Chancellor Palpatine couldn’t be allowed access to Anakin Skywalker, private or otherwise. For the sake of the Order, and for the sake of the boy.

But Mace couldn’t refuse the Chancellor. He knew very well that there had been a dangerous edge hidden under Palpatine’s smile when he had reminded him of their allegiance to the Senate. 

Even if Mace went to the Council and convinced all of them to refuse the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic based on nothing more than his unease, he doubted it would be enough to deter him. Not if he wanted Skywalker enough to be as brazen as he had already been. He would find other ways to get to the boy. The more underhanded they forced him to be to gain access to his prize, the harder he would be to uproot. The deeper he’d dig his claws into Anakin.

As long as Anakin Skywalker was on Coruscant, the Chancellor could find him. 

But what could Mace do? They couldn’t just expel Anakin, send him away from the Order. For better or worse, they had begun to train him. Every Initiate and Padawans had points in their journeys where they were too unstable in their knowledge to be left unsupervised, their curiosity too voracious for their capacities to control their abilities. That was one of the reasons Padawans were closely bound to Jedi teachers. To have someone to accompany them in all their moments and make sure they wouldn’t burn themselves out. 

Anakin Skywalker, ever the overachiever, had mixed this expected instability with his own staggering power in the Force. Left to his own devices, the boy was a timebomb, one whose potential for destruction no one could predict.

Even if he could survive the first few years on his own, expelling Anakin Skywalker, who had done nothing wrong, would foster resentment and anger against the Order in a boy that was already prone to violent emotions. It would not be a matter of if Anakin Skywalker fell, but of when. And of how many Jedi would be lost to put him down.

But that was all pointless theories, because Anakin Skywalker would not leave the Order alone. If Mace had Anakin Skywalker expelled from the Order, Obi-Wan Kenobi would follow him. Because of his promise to his Master, because of his promises to Anakin, because he was too attached to the boy to leave him on his own when a grave injustice was committed against him.

Perhaps he could speak with Obi-Wan. Speak to him of the Chancellor’s demands, and of his suspicions. Obi-Wan trusted Mace, and he was stiflingly protective of his Padawan. There was little doubt in Mace that he could convince the young Knight to take the boy and run, go on a “long-term assignment” for the Order, somewhere in the Outer Rim, or even the Unknown Regions. Obi-Wan had proven himself capable of such a feat when he went on the run with the Duchess of Mandalore for more than a year. 

Anakin Skywalker might be safe. He would certainly be cared for. And the Order would lose one of its most promising Knights. Obi-Wan Kenobi had proven over the last few years to be everything a Jedi should be. He was skilled, balanced, steady, and he had been the first person in over a millenia to kill a Sith. 

And he had fought so hard for the chance, the privilege, to prove himself worthy of being a Jedi. He had had to go through terrible ordeals to convince Qui-Gon to take him as a Padawan, had worked himself to the bone to improve himself to meet his own impossible standards, and he had excelled.

Three years into his knighthood, he would have to give all of it up, only to be given another impossible task. Mace didn’t doubt that Obi-Wan had done as well as anyone could have asked, could have hoped for, in training the boy, but even here, within the framework of the Order and with all the resources of the Temple, he was struggling. Three years in, Anakin Skywalker was still angry, still scared. 

Obi-Wan loved the boy. He loved him more than he should perhaps, more than he was equipped to handle certainly. He loved him enough to abandon his entire life, all he’d ever wanted for himself. But he didn’t see him clearly.

Obi-Wan, when he was barely older than Anakin, had learned to control his anger, his aggression, and he had done it the way Jedi were expected to. Through meditation and discipline.

Mace and Yoda had hoped that the man who had tamed himself into one of their most balanced members would be able to teach Anakin to do the same. But here they were, balancing on a mountain of shatterpoints on the verge of breaking. 

Obi-Wan had learned to dissipate his anger, but so far, he had not been able to teach his padawan to do the same. Perhaps he hadn’t the perspective needed for it. Mace himself had long struggled to release his anger, instead learning to harness it, to redirect it as one would guide a river.

Perhaps, given enough time, Obi-Wan Kenobi could break through to Anakin. But perhaps, freed from the framework of the Order, the two of them would spiral out of control, with no one to help them break their fall.

A choice had to be made. Now, before the Chancellor grew suspicious, before he had time to create contingency plans. 

Anakin Skywalker had to leave the Temple as soon as possible. 

Anakin Skywalker couldn’t leave the Temple alone.

Once Anakin Skywalker disappeared, there couldn’t be anyone who knew of his departure. There couldn’t be any links left to the boy, nothing the Chancellor and his undoubtedly numerous contacts could exploit to find him again. If Anakin Skywalker left with Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu would be left behind. Palpatine would know he had lost his prize because of him, because of their discussion.

Finally forced to contemplate the decision he had been circling ever since he had fallen to his knees in his quarters, barely a foot from his front door, grief burst through him, stronger than he had felt since he had lost Master Myr. It shot down his spine, leaving him numb except for the pain in his chest.

Pushing himself to stand on feet that barely belonged to him, Mace dragged himself to his kitchen. His hand was steady as he poured one last glass of brandy.

I’m sorry Depa, for leaving you behind despite my promises.

I’m sorry, Master Yoda, for leaving you alone with the weight of the Order. It’s too much for one person to bear alone, and yet I must go, for all our sakes.

Obi-Wan- Oh Force, Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry. I hope one day you’ll have the opportunity to forgive me.

Mace slammed back the drink and he strode out of his quarter to make the necessary arrangements.

Mace watched with a heavy heart as Obi-Wan’s small ship pulled away from the hangar. It had been an easy thing to fabricate a mission for him, a small conflict on a nearby planet, just far enough that even Obi-Wan and Anakin’s unusually strong bond would dull, but close enough to be a short trip. The mission needed to seem easy and short so Obi-Wan would eschew preparations and be gone as quickly as possible, but not feel conflicted about leaving Anakin alone on Coruscant. 

Anakin, who had an exam in a few days, and needed to remain at the Temple to study.

Obi-Wan’s ship disappeared into the clouds, taking Mace’s last chance to change his mind with it. It was set now. Mace couldn’t delay the inevitable, not when their time was so short. Anakin needed to be as far from the planet as possible before Palpatine extended his first invitation to the boy.

The trek to Kenobi and Skywalker’s quarter seemed too short for him to properly bask in the tranquility of the early morning one last time. His home, for as long as he had been aware of what home was. The door seemed to appear out of nowhere, sneaking up on him.

Mace Windu was not a man who hesitated. 

He was glad the door slid open before he had a chance to.

To his surprise, Anakin was already up, curled on the couch with a bunch of datapads and munching on a piece of bread. Studying, when most of the Temple was still asleep. Skywalker, the overachiever, Padawan of an overachiever. Kenobi and him balanced each other in many ways, but this was not one of them.

“Master Windu!” The boy startled, straightening himself on the couch, sending a couple of datapads clattering to the floor.

“Padawan Skywalker, may I enter?”

Part of Mace wanted to put the boy to sleep, get this whole ordeal over with as fast as possible. But even if he were capable of influencing someone of Skywalker’s power and stubbornness enough to knock him out, he couldn’t afford to. Kidnapping Skywalker would send him running back to Coruscant as soon as he had an opening, no matter how convincing Mace was later, when they were out of harm’s way. He wouldn’t forgive Mace for trying to take his dream of being a Jedi from him. He’d never forgive him from making him leave Kenobi.

Anakin Skywalker had to make the choice to leave the Temple on his own. He had to walk out on his own two feet.

Problematically, that all meant that now Mace had to convince him. The boy respected him, and admired him to a point, especially his lightsaber skills, but he was wary of him. Wary of his judgement. Mace had been harsh when Qui-Gon had presented the boy to the Council, and hadn’t made enough efforts to rectify the first impression the Padawan had had of him in the years since.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, of course, Master.”

“Thank you.”

“Obi-Wan isn’t here, he had an urgent mission this morning.” Anakin offered, confused at Mace’s early visit.

“That’s alright. I’m here to speak with you.”

Anakin Skywalker had three pressure points. Each of them contained mazes of complicated emotions and conflicting desires, but they were, in  essence, quite simple. His desire to be a Jedi, his love and loyalty for those he cared about, and his hatred of slavery.

“May I?” Mace asked, gesturing to the other end of the couch, when Anakin failed to answer him.

“Yes.” 

Mace sat down, trying to keep his expression as kind as he could. Despite his efforts, Anakin tensed as he settled against the armrest, clearly mentally sifting through the events of the last few days for what he had done wrong.

“Padawan Skywalker. I am here today to ask something of you. Something that no one should ever have had to ask of you. It isn’t because of any fault of yours. You have done nothing wrong. It’s not fair, but it is what must be.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I will tell you everything I know, every reason I have to ask what I do. I will answer every question. But you must listen. Really listen and try to understand. Time is short.”

“Master, I-”

“Please, Padawan.”

Anakin’s eyes widened at his words, gentler than he had ever gotten from Mace, at his pained tone, at his slumping shoulders. He pushed himself so he could sit cross legged on the couch cushion, fully facing Mace, straightening his back.

“Yes, Master.”

“There have been people, very important and powerful people, who have started taking a keen interest in you. People that would want to have you, to use you for their own means.”

Anakin paled, and only kept himself still through obvious effort. Fear spiked around him, permeating the air between them.

“Use me, Master?”

“Yes, Padawan. I don’t know exactly why they are so interested in you, but they have already started making disquieting inquiries about you.”

Mace paused, giving Anakin a few seconds to absorb the news. The boy was stiff, fingers clenched into the edge of his tunic. His fear wasn’t tinted with panic, but with something that tasted like resignation. Of course a child that had been raised as a slave would know what some people would want to do to a young boy.

“Is it because I’m the Chosen One?” Anakin asked in a muted voice.

Mace had hoped Anakin hadn’t remembered Qui-Gon’s claim about the prophecy he barely believed in himself. He had hoped that by keeping the knowledge of it restrained to the Council, the boy would have been able to live without the weight of it. 

“Maybe. No one outside of the Council should know of it, but it can’t be dismissed.”

Skywalker’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away, waiting for Mace to continue.

“Even without being the Chosen One, Padawan, you are very strong in the Force. And everyone that has ever taught you or been on missions with you agree that you have the potential for great things.”

The boy’s chest puffed out with pride, but his eyes grew stormy with confusion. Mace had never been one to praise him, and perhaps he could sense the wrongness in Mace’s heart. Skywalker had the habit of being very perceptive at the worst of times.

“All of this means that if someone, someone like the kind of people that have started paying attention to you, could get to you, turn your allegiance to them, you could do a lot of damage, to this Order, and to the Republic.”

Skywalker sprang from the couch, anger exploding from him, so strong it took Mace a few seconds to push his own echoing resentment back down.

“I would never betray the Jedi!” Anakin shouted. “I’m not dangerous!”

“I know.”

“Why do you al- What?” The boy stopped himself from ranting mid-sentence, the storm in the Force shifting to wary confusion.

Always dizzyingly mercurial. 

“I trust you, Anakin.”

“Than what-”

“I’m not worried about you, Padawan.” It wasn’t exactly true. Anakin Skywalker was still surrounded by more shatterpoints than any other child Mace had ever met, and the strength of his anger just now was concerning. But he had come to ask Anakin to trust him with his life. He would need to extend trust in return. “I’m worried what those people would do to you if they did get their hands on you and you refused to do as they say.”

Anakin seemed puzzled at that, which wasn’t unexpected. The boy still had a disquieting low regard for his own well-being. 

“And I am worried what they would do to others to try and get to you. Those are powerful people, Anakin, and powerful people sometimes will hurt others to get what they need.  Hurt people you care about so you would do as they ask. They might try to harm the Jedi Order, or your friends, like Padawan Secura.”

The blood left Anakin’s face so fast, Mace shot forward to catch him as he swayed, but the boy caught himself on the back of the couch with a white-knuckled grip.

“Or Obi-Wan.” He whispered, eyes wide in terror. Mace’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. “No. No! They can’t. We can’t let them, Master Windu, we have to do something! ”

“Yes, we do.”

“You said you had to ask me something. So you have a plan? Do we go and fight them?”

“These are not people we can fight, Anakin. They are too powerful, and we don’t even know why they want you yet. We don’t know how many of them there are.”

“Then what?”

“We need to leave. Tonight, as soon as we can go unnoticed. We need to leave, and hide somewhere they won’t find us.”

“For how long?” Anakin asked, already moving to pack his bag. 

Mace closed his eyes, bracing himself.

“I don’t know. Years, probably.”

For a moment, Mace wondered if he had died. The Force disappeared from the world, leaving him colder than he had ever been. He opened his eyes, to stare into Anakin’s horrified face.

“No.”

“I am very sorry, Anakin, but until we can find out more about these people, who they are and what they want, we will have to hide. Hide from them and the Jedi both”

“We?”

“Of course. It’s the Order’s duty to protect its Padawans. I was the one they approached, the only one to know of them. It has to be me that goes with you.”

“But, Obi-Wan-”

“He can’t know, Anakin. If he knows, they can use him to find us. As far as Knight Kenobi and the rest of the Order can know, the both of us will have disappeared without a trace.”

“No! I can’t leave him!”

“Anakin. If you stay, if you leave him a note, or find a way to stay in contact, you will be putting him in danger. The only way for us to protect our family is to keep them ignorant.”

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.” Anakin spat back at him, trying to muster anger, but Mace saw right through him. He saw them war behind Skywalker’s clear blue eyes, the now opposed urges to cling desperately to those he cared about, and the one to sacrifice everything he had, including himself to keep them safe.

Mace waited.

Waited until a ray of sunshine streaked through the window to bathe Anakin in light, and the boy slumped in defeat.

“Okay.”

“Where are we going?”

The ship Mace had commandeered from the Temple had just breached the first layer of Coruscant's atmosphere when Anakin piped up. The boy had curled in the co-pilot seat, not even arguing to be the pilot, pulling his knees to his chest as if to shield himself from his new reality, silent as a tomb.

Anakin Skywalker was rarely still, and he was never silent. Mace sighed and released his guilt into the Force.

“I don’t know yet. Somewhere far from the Core. We’ll have to find another ship soon, and then we’ll go somewhere in the Outer Rim.”

He started putting in coordinates for a small world he had visited a few years ago, a hub of smugglers and pirates. If anyone could get him an untraceable ship in a timely fashion, they could. At the corner of his vision, Anakin had tangled his Padawan braid around his fingers, biting his lip.

“We need to go get my mom.”

“Pardon?”

“You said they’d go after the people I care about to get to me. That means they might find my mom.”

Mace closed his eyes for a beat, once again cursing the Force that they hadn’t found Anakin when he was younger. Skywalker was not a common name, and it wasn’t a top secret that the boy had come from Tatooine. It was doubtful that even Obi-Wan could have restrained Anakin if his mother was in danger, but Mace certainly couldn’t. A slave on a Hutt controlled world had very little protecting her from the money and influence of the Chancellor. If he got his hands on her, Anakin would come running.

“Very well. We’ll go to Tatooine right away.”

Skywalker’s mother disappearing mere days after he did was more of a trail than Mace would have liked, but it was the lesser risk.

“What about the others? I had friends on Tatooine. As close as family. Like the Jedi.” Anakin  finally turned to him, fingers clenching hard enough around his braid that it had to hurt him.

“We can’t free every slave on Tatooine, Skywalker.”

“Why not? It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do now.”

“We can’t get involved in planetary affairs without-”

“Without the permission of the Senate? Of the Council? Did we get permission to run away from them?” His voice was firmer than it had been since Mace had entered his quarters, righteous in the particular way he had. “We’re never going to get permission from either of them ever again. If we’re abandoning the Jedi, the least we can do is try to do some good.”

Mace leaned back as they jumped to hyperspace, looking back at Skywalker. He was very aware that he would not be able to keep this boy stashed in a cave for how many years they would need to hide. He could barely meditate after a long day of training and lessons and whatever else his master could throw at him. 

Mace was also aware that he himself wasn’t made for a sedentary life. He’d be bored to madness within a couple of months of doing nothing. They would have to find a way to keep themselves busy, to do something useful.

Anakin Skywalker had three pressure points, and the best way to soothe going against one of them, was playing into another. 

Instigating a slave rebellion it was.

“We can’t start with Tatooine. It’s too obvious. We’ll get your mother, then we’ll find somewhere to lay low for a little while and start planning.”

“Master-” Anakin tried to protest, but Mace raised a hand.

“We need to disappear for a while, Skywalker, if only to lose whatever trail we might have picked up. Also, meaningful change can’t be done in a day. We’ll need to scope various worlds, establish contacts and build a network. We’ll need ressources, weapons, intel. If you want us to free the slaves, we’ll have to do it the right way. Better to take more time and make a change that lasts.”

“Jedi can-”

“We will not be doing this as Jedi, Skywalker.” Mace turned to face him fully, leaning forward. He needed Skywalker to hear him, to understand him. “If we go lightsabers blazing, if we use the Force, we might as well be waving a beacon for whoever is looking for us. As of today, both are never to be used in public.”

Anakin’s hand fell to his lightsaber, clutching it as if Mace was about to rip it from him.

“Also, the people we’ll be freeing? They won’t be Jedi. If we only get their freedom under the threat of our swords, their planets will fall again as soon as we go to the next one.”

Falling silent, he watched as Skywalker mulled it over, trying to find faults in his reasoning, before he melted into his chair. Mouth pressed thin and tight, he unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, extending it to Mace.

“I guess you’ll want this.” He sounded petulant, but Mace supposed he had earned the right to it, only for the night.

“No. I trust you to be careful and discrete with it. We’ll have to get rid of our clothes as soon as we can find replacements, however.”

“What’s the point of me keeping it if I can’t use it?” Anakin had yet to pull back his hand, and Mace gently took it in both of his, closing the boy’s fingers tighter around the hilt of the lightsaber.

“You made a great sacrifice tonight, Padawan Skywalker. For the Order, and for our family. Continuing your training will not repay the debt we owe you, but it’s what I can do.”

“You didn’t want to train me before. You didn’t want me to be trained at all.”

“I didn’t. And tonight, you proved me wrong. I can’t, and will never take Obi-Wan’s place as your Master, Padawan. But I will teach you everything I can.”

“I’m not a Padawan anymore.” He mumbled, his other hand tugging at his braid, unmoored grief washing over his face. “I’m just Anakin now.”

Mace felt his chest tighten painfully. 

“Well, then I suppose I’m just Mace too.”

If he had to betray the last wishes and hopes of a dead friend, if he had to break the heart and trust of a living one, then all he could do was guide and raise Anakin Skywalker into a good man. Into a Jedi in all but name.

Mace released Anakin’s hand, and they sat in silence for a long while, both trying to comprehend what they had lost that night. Tomorrow, Mace would release his loss and pain into the Force. He would move forward. But tonight he let himself think of all the friends he might never see again.

He felt Anakin move away but he didn’t shift. He had been at the Temple since before he could talk. Would his hands still be his if they didn’t wield a lightsaber? Would his feet still be his if they couldn’t take him down the Room of a Thousand Fountain? Would his soul still be his if he didn’t serve the Council?

Would he still recognize his life if he spent it protecting Anakin Skywalker and freeing slaves?

Who was Mace Windu if he wasn’t a Jedi? Was his name still his own anymore? He’d have to get a new one, at least for the rest of the Galaxy.

Would it be better to bury Mace Windu completely? Forget who he had hoped to be, except to offer Anakin the guidance he’d need?

Fingers clenching painfully into his thighs, Mace closed his eyes over his tears. For a moment, a blissful moment, he could pretend he was in the Council chambers, sitting beside Grandmaster Yoda, waiting for the rest of the members to join them.

A spike of distress tore through the Force, and Mace jumped from the seat, dashing to the fresher. What was Skywalker doing? Had he hurt himself? Had he already done something stupid, no, surely he hadn’t-

The door slid open, and Mace caught Skywalker’s wrist, stilling the blade he was trying to slide against the base of his braid. Looking at him through the mirror, Mace’s already tender heart broke a little bit at the tears rushing down Skywalker’s cheeks. Careful to keep his hold gentle and his movements slow, he pulled the knife from his shaking grip. It was a blunt, rusted little thing. From the frayed strands of hair spilling from the braid, Anakin had been trying to cut it off for a moment already.

Mace could only be glad that in his state, he hadn’t tried to use his lightsaber to cut it off.

Catching Anakin’s eyes in the reflection, they both came to the inevitable solution at the same time. Arms falling at his sides, Anakin closed his eyes, tears still spilling at the corner. Mace’s hand was heavy but steady as he grabbed his lightsaber and ignited it.

Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry. This is not how it should be. This was never how it should have been. I’m so sorry. It should be your hand on his shoulder. He should have you at his back. You should have his braid. This shouldn’t happen for so many more years.

Obi-Wan, I’m so sorry.

I’ll keep him safe for you.

Mace pressed Anakin’s braid into his hands, and held the boy as he cried himself silently to sleep.

Chapter Text

Anakin sprung from his fighter’s cockpit, shaking the long space-travel from his legs. He had improved his baby in many different ways over the years, making it one of the fastest, most powerful, most dextrous ships in the Outer Rim, but it had gotten a little cramped after his last growth spurt.

Pushing his hair from his forehead, Anakin twisted it in a low bun as his battalion’s stragglers flew into the hangar, all accounted for, without obvious damages. As soon as the doors closed, camouflaging the base back into the side of the cliffs, Anakin strode deeper into the complex. His people were already milling around, chattering excitedly in clusters around the ships. He clapped the shoulders and backs of everyone that crossed his path, pilots or mechanics.

The base hadn’t been the one used by the heads of the Rebellion when he had left for Gannaria, but he found his way without issue. All old Republic bases followed similar patterns, and he’d been with Mace when this one had been discovered almost five years ago. 

He crossed paths with several engineers carting boxes of cables around the facilities, followed by younglings asking a million questions a minute. Cleaning crews were hard at work removing decades of dust and grime off the walls. There was even faithful Trexk lecturing her entourage into settling a proper kitchen at the back of the mess hall.

The command center, in comparison, was quiet when Anakin slipped in. With most of their commanders busy establishing the base, there were only two people in the room, bent over a map of the nearby systems.

“With Gannaria under our control, we will need to alter the travel routes to include it and protect the airspace around it as soon as possible.” Shmi Skywalker pointed out, drawing the proposed changes with her finger.

“We’re stretched a bit thin with the relocalisation of the base at the moment, and Troiken needs support after the Hutt’s forces surprise attack. Gannaria was a smuggling hub, they must have the resources to keep themselves afloat for a moment.” Mace Windu grumbled, swiping through a datapad on the table, a registry of their ships and the supplies at their disposal.

“Not if you want to keep the pirates happy!” Anakin grinned as he joined them, shedding his dirty jacket on one of the chairs. 

His mother turned away from the map to sweep him in her arms, smiling wide and warm. Anakin folded himself into her hug, clutching at the back of her shirt. Second by second, wrapped into his mother’s embrace, he felt the tension bleed from his bones. Nose buried into her hair, he could finally breathe deep. His skin loosened until it didn’t feel three years too small for his body.

In a week or two, he’d be dying to get back to the fighting, dying to go back to helping people and flipping the karking Hutts off for good measure, but right now, his mother was laughing, and it really didn’t get much better than that.

Eventually, she released him, inspecting him for any injuries he might have sneaked by his batallion’s medic before she passed him off to Mace.

Beaming, he grabbed the man’s forearm, and lowered his shields at the firm prodding in the Force. Mace’s ever present faint frustration and barely disguised fondness rolled against his mind, as familiar and reassuring as his mother’s scent. 

“I heard the mission went smoothly?” Mace asked as he released Anakin’s arm and raised his shields back again. Anakin did the same, if a bit slower. Mace was always straight to the point, probably eager to get back to whatever logistic nightmare was waiting in his office. 

“Yep. Went especially smoothly after we had the pirate’s help. Which we’ll lose if we let them alone to deal with a Hutt counterattack.” Anakin answered, watching for Mace’s reaction. He had contacted them with his plans to enlist the help of the Gannarian pirates. But just because it had been the best plan, especially to minimise their own losses, didn’t mean Mace was happy at dealing with them.

“Remind me what we promised in exchange for their help?” Mace asked, as if he wasn’t very aware. 

“An official partnership with them for any commerce in the system, and for them to keep control of their own bases on Gannaria.”

“So we’ll have to pay them for something we could have done ourselves.” Mace complained, rubbing at his eyes.

“We’re always paying, Mace.” Shmi pointed out. “Even for our own ships, we have to pay for the fuel and maintenance. And eventually, the Freed Government will have to pay the crews.”

“We don’t have the money to pay pirates’ fees.”

“They’ll make their own money for the moment.” Anakin answered. They both turned to him, arching their eyebrows in perfect synchronicity. “What? They’re not stupid, they know we’re not going to be setting up a real economy in the middle of a Rebellion. So, for the moment, we’re keeping them safe and in a position to do their own things, and when we’re done stabilising the system, they have an in to go legit.”

“We can’t fight everyone.” Shmi added to her son’s argument. “Pirates are a lot easier to deal with than everyone else. We make sure they get safer, better money with us than with the competition, they don’t stab us in the back.”

Mace sighed, and turned back to Anakin.

“No slaves.”

“Oh, trust me, they are well aware. ” Anakin assured with a toothy grin. Mace raised an unimpressed eyebrow, but yielded the point.

“Fine, I’ll make sure to divert some of our supplies to Gannaria, and I’ll inform the network of the change in the travel routes. Tell the pirates to contact me if they have dire need of something specific.” Mace paused, and glared at Anakin. “ Dire need. I have enough of Ohnaka hounding me with his inane demands without adding another pirate crew to the mix.”

Grinning back at him, Anakin saluted and walked back to the map table.

“So, when do we ship back? There’s already been noise on Codia, I don’t think it would be too hard to organise them, solidify the area.”

“I think we need to slow down our efforts for the moment.” Shmi answered, looking at Anakin’s hand tracing the planets he spoke of.

“What?” Confusion twisted Anakin’s stomach. What did she mean slow down? They had the Hutts on the defensive! They needed to give chase before they had time to regroup!

“Shmi’s right. We’ve done good work in the last year liberating multiple important planets, but we’re stretched very thin.” Mace said, looking down at his datapad again. “We need to take the time to solidify what we already have, to have a better idea of what we’re working with. We need resources we might already have, but have been moving so fast we haven’t had time to actually organise them.”

“But we took Gannaria because it would be a good base for neighbouring planets!” Anakin protested.

“Yes, it is. And it’ll still be there in a few month’s time, when we’re ready to make use of it. What’s the point of controlling a smuggling hub if we don’t have anything to smuggle?”

“Helping people, that’s what!” 

“Anakin.” Shmi’s voice cut through his objections. “We won’t be doing anyone any favors if we get too greedy and start losing planets we’ve already liberated because we didn’t have the means to protect them.”

She leaned away from the table, laying a warm hand on his arm. 

“We’ve received worrying news that the Zygerrians are rebuilding their empire and have been making trouble around Ryloth. And the Hutts are becoming more and more insistent on their attacks on their old colonies. We need the time to take stock and push them back before we can even consider taking another planet.”

He opened his mouth to protest again, images of sizzling whips and children in chains rolling through his mind, but a look from Mace stopped him. Inhaling loud enough to express his disapproval, Anakin took a small step back, turning their arguments again and again in his head before he nodded. Better for those children to wait a few more weeks for their chains to break than to have a taste of freedom and lose it because Anakin couldn’t protect them.

“Fine. Then where do you want me?” Unease still rolled in his guts, but he let Mace and his mother’s quiet certainty pacify him.

“Right now, I want you on base. Sleeping, eating, making sure our fleet is in good condition.” Shmi answered, stretching up to ruffle his hair.

“Mom!”

“And catching up on your training and all the meditation I’m sure you’ve forgotten to do.” Mace added, not looking up from his datapad.

“I was in a war-zone!”

“All the more reason for you to take the time to find your balance again.”

“Are you going to spoon feed me too?”

“I’m sure Threepio would be delighted to be of assistance.” Shmi said with a grin.

“Don’t even joke about that, mom.”

A buzz interrupted Anakin’s retort, and Shmi flipped the comm open.

“Juk?”

“Count Dooku’s representative has asked for another meeting, boss.”

“Send me the message, Juk, I’ll look it over.”

“Yes, boss.”

Shmi rolled her eyes to the ceiling, and Mace crossed his arms.

“Why do you even bother reading that crap anymore?” Anakin asked, snatching his mother’s datapad when it lit up with the message. “ ‘Good day to all you filthy slaves, I’m trying to conquer the galaxy and it’s recently been brought to my attention that the Outer Rim exists. Please surrender immediately. Love and kisses, Count Dooku.’ ”

“Anakin.” Shmi chided, extending her hand until he gave her the pad. “I read them because there might be new information in them. I won’t discard new intel simply to be petty.”

“Dooku wasn’t ever one to give compliments freely, even before he left the Order.” Mace drawled. “We should take the time to enjoy them.”

“Compliments?” Anakin’s voice rose with incredulity. 

“We’ve been approached by the Leader of the Separatists for a meeting on multiple occasions. Eight years ago, he, and the Republic, would have been groveling at the Hutt’s door. Clearly, we must be doing something right.”

Anakin felt a bright grin break on his face despite himself.

“Kark yeah we are. Speaking of the Republic-”

“We’ve also received a new message from the Senate a few days ago.” Mace answered, voice muted.

“So that’s three from the Separatist and four from the Republic. Wonder how high the bidding’ll go.”

“There won’t be any bidding, Anakin.” Shmi shook her head. “We are neutral in this conflict. We’ve got more than enough with our own war without fighting in theirs.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Which side would we even fight with, Anakin?” She asked him, eyes tired. “The Separatists have their legitimate reasons for disagreeing with the Republic. Are we fighting with them?”

“Of course not, they’re the ones who started the whole thing! You’ve seen what they’ve done in Troiken!”

“Alright then, so we must be fighting with the Republic. Fighting for Chancellor Palpatine  and his slave army.”

Anakin had to suppress a panicked shudder at the thought of getting close to Palpatine, of fighting under his orders, of doing anything for the despicable man who had been responsible for his desertion from the Order. 

“Mom!”

“I’m not trying to be difficult, Anakin. But if you want us to get involved in this war, we’ll at least have to figure out who we’ll be shooting at.”

“We would go with the Jedi!”

“The Jedi fight with the army of the Republic.” Mace pointed, voice heavy and conflicted.

“You and Master Obi-Wan always said Jedi are peacekeepers. Surely, whatever they are fighting-”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi is High General for the Grand Army of the Republic. No matter what we, or they, might wish to be the case, Jedi are most definitely soldiers in this war.” 

Anakin winced at Mace’s tone, rubbing the back of his neck. Why the Jedi would involve themselves in the war, to the point that they held military ranks and commanded entire fleets, was a question that had haunted Mace and himself for a year.

It chaffed to think of Obi-Wan Kenobi, out there fighting a war. His Master, who liked nothing more than an evening at the Temple having drinks with Quinlan, or sharing tea with Master Yoda, or meditating in the Room of a Thousand Fountains while Anakin ran wild. His Master who was thoughtful and steady, and would have resolved every conflict through diplomacy if he could have. His Master hated the war, Anakin could feel it in his bones, yet he fought it still, without Anakin to watch his back. And if Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of the greatest Jedi, a peacekeeper down to his very soul, fought in the War, was a High General, well then...

“They must have had a reason.” He grumbled.

“Undoubtedly. And it’s probably as scintillating as their reason for creating the Clone Army.” Shmi sniffed.

“Please! We all know it’s complete banthashit that the Jedi put the order.” Anakin threw his hands in the air. “Mace! You said there was no way they could pay for something that big without the Senate support!”

“And yet, they are not denying the claims. Like it or no, Anakin, the Jedi’s hands are not clean in this matter.”

“So we leave them alone to fight?”

“The GAR has access to millions of trained soldiers, and thousands of Jedi. If they can’t win this conflict without our handful of planets, they are in deeper trouble than we could get them out of.”

“But, Mom-”

“Skywalker, what is this really about?” Mace cut in, annoyed at his persistence. Anakin couldn’t even begin to imagine how heavy the war must weigh on his mind.

“I-” Anakin tried to push the words out, tried to make sense of all the noises bouncing around his brain, but trying to focus on any one of them was like trying to grab a Sky Wist with his bare hands. He started pacing around the room, breathing harder. “I don’t know. It feels wrong to stay on the sidelines. It feels like the Force is yelling at me to do something, but I don’t know what !”

Mace stepped forward, pressing a hand to Anakin’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks, waiting for him to relax and meet his eyes.

“The Force guides us all, and we must pay attention to its will. But there is no point in acting upon its warning before we have made sense of them.”

Anakin took a deep breath, then another, and a third, before he snorted.

“You’re going to make me meditate on this, won’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Kark.”

The alarms thundered through the base, and Anakin bolted from his cot, dashing to the hangar even before the rest of his senses could catch up to him. His mother was already in the middle of the room, tense in the way she only was when she hadn’t slept in over a day. Anakin skidded to a stop next to her as the rest of the battalion streamed in, Mace jogging around the corner a moment later. In the chaos of the base, his face was hidden by the Hosnian shawl he had adopted years ago.

“Ylesia just sent a message. It seems the Hutts have launched a large-scale invasion to try and retake the planet.” Shmi informed them tersely as the mechanics rushed to make sure all the fighters were ready for take-off.

“Shouldn’t Base 17Q be in charge of defending Ylesia? They’re much closer than we are.” Anakin asked, still adjusting his pilot gear. 

“Base 17Q have already deployed, but from the transmissions we’ve received, they won’t have the numbers to deal with the attack.”

“What? They’re one of our best outfitted outposts!”

“Yes, I know.”

“Where the kark did the Hutts find that many fighters? You said they’d pulled back half of their forces to defend the Nal Hutta space, and-”

“Yes, I know!”

He leaned back, pushing a hand in his bed-hair. The Force was a mess around him, responding to his unsettled mindspace, and he slammed his shields up, cutting himself off. It was too dangerous to leave himself exposed anyway. Too many new recruits, any of whom could be Force-sensitive. Deep breathes, relaxed shoulders, loose stance. He couldn’t afford to let his judgement get clouded over before jumping in a cockpit. 

“If the Hutts have been hiding troops from us,” Mace growled, eyes tracking the movements of the base personnel, “we need to know right away. All our plans have been made with their estimated resources in mind. 

“All the more reason for your battalion to get involved, Watt. Figure out where they got these new fighters from, and report back as soon as possible.” Shmi never used his real name around others. Any of their names really.  Just like Mace almost never showed his face in public.

“Yeah, fine.” He inhaled deeply one last time, straightening up. “Just make sure we’ve got a plan for the other bases’ priorities in case there are other attacks.”

Shmi’s sharp eyes turned to the both of them, peering at her Jedi. 

“Do you think there will be others?”

Mace and Anakin shared a look, before loosening their shields a fraction, risking that the chaos of the base mobilising would hide their Force signatures for a few moments. Closing their eyes, they both reached into the Force, trying to find any unexpected disturbances. Ignoring the pricks of pain and blurring edges that came with sinking into the Force, Anakin did find a dark tangle squirming around Ylesia, but the rest of the Outer Rim he could reach seemed calm. 

Both of them retreated at the same time, Mace already shaking his head.

“Didn’t find anything.” Anakin told his mother. “But that doesn’t mean this isn’t some kind of trick. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“It really doesn’t.” Shmi agreed. “Denon, you’ll have to contact the other bases, try to see if you can’t establish some kind of plan in case of other attacks.” She said, addressing Mace.

“Right away. Watt, fly safe.”

“Always do!” Anakin lied with a wide grin. Mace only smiled in answer, clapping his shoulder. 

“Do try not to damage your ship, we don’t have many others left  for you to cannibalise.” Shmi squeezed his arm before retreating further back into the hangar to coordinate the efforts of the Ylesian, the 17Q fighters and the Twilight Battalion.

The ride to Ylesia was longer than Anakin would have liked, which was exactly why they had installed a base nearby. But no, he had to come in and wipe up the mess. With his luck, the Ylesian had panicked over a bunch of newbies the Hutts had conscripted from their backwater swamp-holes. By the time he’d arrive, most of their buckets of bolts would probably already be disintegrating by themselves, and he’d have lost a night of sleep over nothing. Ylesia was on a major travel route, surely if the Hutts had additional fighters to spare, they’d have sent them out when the Slave Rebellion had first taken root on the planet, not over a year later.

At last, R6 beeped that they would be exiting Hyperspace, Anakin as always helming the Twilight Battalion’s formation. 

“Leaving hyperspace in 5, be ready to spread out and gather the fighters. We want to keep them away from the planet.”

“Yes, boss.”

Anakin prepared to switch the auto-pilot off as soon as R6 took them out, ready to dip and surround the fighters.

The lights of hyperspace faded and -

“Kriff!”

Anakin and his battalion found themselves face to face with a Separatist frigate.

“Scatter!” He yelled in his mic, already bursting past as the ship’s cannons started to light up.

“Boss, what the kark!”

“Thanks, Jonj! Twilight 2, 3, 4, and 5, with me, we need to take out those cannons. Rest of you, split into commandos 2 and 3, I need to know what the situation is around the planet.”

The battle seemed to stretch forever. The Separatists frigate hadn’t brought as many fighters with it as it probably could, but those that were there were decently competent and used tactics Anakin wasn’t familiar with. The frigate itself, thankfully, was too slow to deal with their well-rehearsed hit and run strategy, and had retreated into hyperspace after they had destroyed it’s most dangerous weapons.

By the time they had finished shooting down the luckiest of the Separatists fighters and the handful of Hutt ones that had accompanied them, they had lost almost a third of the 17Q ships, and half a dozen of Anakin’s. 

Staring into the graveyard of ship parts scattered in Ylesia’s orbit, blood pumping and exhaustion dragging him down, Anakin let his head fall back to his chair and screamed. 

The Separatist had found them.

He screamed louder, slamming his fist into the side of the cockpit.

“Boss?” His comm came alive with a burst of static. Communication array damaged, he noted absently.

“Let’s go back to base.” He said, voice rough and tired.

“Yes, Boss.”

“We can’t ‘stay out of it’ anymore!” Anakin whirled around, still itchy from the battle sweat he hadn’t taken the time to wash off. “Not if the karking Separatists are trying to bomb our planets.”

“If we panic and jump into an ill-advised decision-” Shmi answered, arms crossed.

“Panic? This isn’t panic, this is logic! We can’t fight the Hutts, the Zyggerians and the Separatists at the same time.”

“We’re not even sure what this was, maybe this was a mistake. The Separatist contacted us only a week ago.”

“Clearly they got tired of us not bending the knee to them, and made a better deal for themselves!”

“Anakin-” She sighed but Mace raised a tired hand.

“Anakin is right, Shmi. The Separatists have everything to gain from a peaceful Outer Rim, especially if it’s controlled by their allies. Since we wouldn’t negotiate with them, they seem to have decided we were less trouble gone.”

“A single frigate hardly makes an invasion.”

“A single frigate took two whole battalions to defeat, and now they know it. This was a test, and I’m not sure we passed.” Anakin said, slumping against the console.

“And what would you have us do?” Shmi sighed, suddenly ten years older, and Anakin shuffled over to wrap an arm around her shoulders.

“We need to contact the Jedi.” Anakin answered, still holding onto her.

“Mace?” She asked, peering at the man who had been her staunch ally for the past eight years every time Anakin found or created an excuse to contact the Jedi. Mace looked back at her, his worry-vein bulging in his forehead.

“We need allies, Shmi. If the Hutts are ready  to sell part of their independence, I’m afraid they’ll force our hand to do the same.”

“But the Republic?”

“The Jedi.” Anakin insisted.

“The Jedi are the Republic, Anakin. We can’t change that.” She said, grabbing his hand so he couldn’t move away.

“They work with the Republic, but they aren’t Palpatine’s pawns. They wouldn’t let themselves be used like that!”

Mace sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

“I guess we’ll have the occasion to ask them what the fuck they were thinking. We’ll need to send them an invitation to negotiate. Given how often they’ve contacted us, we probably have some leverage to choose who we want to speak with us.”

“Obi-Wan.” Anakin said right away, refusing to back down when his mom and Mace groaned in unison. “What! He’s the Negotiator, all the holos say so! If someone has to come and negotiate with us, it should be him!”

“And that’s the only reason.” Mace glared right into Anakin’s soul. 

“No.” He answered, squaring his shoulders. “There’s also that he’s trustworthy, and that he cares about people. Oh, and that he’s a great negotiator !”

“He’s also a High General for the Republic!” Mace spread his hands, exasperation obvious even without the Force. 

“Good! He’s probably got a ton of good tips on fighting the Separatists, then!” Anakin grinned sharp and wide at Mace's unimpressed stare.

“Anakin, even if Kenobi does agree to come and negotiate with us, you won’t be able to talk to him.” Mace said, gentle in a way he rarely bothered to be. Anakin deflated right away, breaking their eye contact to look down at the War Room’s console.

“I know.”

“We can’t afford for him to know you’re here. Or me.” 

“I know. ” Anakin turned to his mom, who had taken a step back from the conversation, leaving the decision to them. “Mom will be the one to meet with them. I’ll be a guard or something, I’ll wear a full helmet, I won’t talk to anyone, I swear!”

Eyes wide and pleading, he looked back at Mace, who had crossed his arms. He let himself be inspected, even stood ready to open himself in the Force if Mace requested it of him.

“Please.”

With one last, bone deep sigh, Mace closed his eyes and nodded.

“Fine. Kenobi it is.”

Chapter Text

Anakin did his best not to fidget as he waited for the ship to finish its landing procedures. Standing a few steps behind his mother, wearing the helmet he used to pass as a bounty hunter, he felt like he was about to vibrate out of skin. Obi-Wan was here . He was so close, Anakin could almost touch him. If he dared to open himself in the Force, he could feel him, feel the signature he swore he’d still recognize anywhere, fresh and luminous, like a morning trek through a forest. 

His mother was the picture of calm, eyes placid as she waited for the ramp to go down. In an effort to imitate her and hide his shaking hands, Anakin folded his arms behind his back. Mace and his mom’s countless warnings ran through his head again and again, a mantra centering him. Reminding himself of what he couldn’t have. Not yet, anyway.

Anakin, if you speak to Kenobi, you put the whole Rebellion in jeopardy.

Ani, he might not be the person you remember him to be.

He didn’t begrudge his mother for saying so. After all, she hadn’t met Obi-Wan, only Qui-Gon. She couldn’t know that Obi-Wan was the best of the Jedi, and that that wouldn’t ever change. Maybe Obi-Wan didn’t care about Anakin as he did eight years ago - he forced himself to breathe through the ache that thought brought - but he would always be an intrinsically trust-worthy person.

Maybe, if this meeting went well, he’d have an easier time convincing her in the future. Mace could be stubborn on the subject, but his mom trusted people. Once they earned her trust at least.

Oh Force, Anakin felt anxiety rise even higher in his chest. This meeting needed to go well, for so many reasons.

Finally, finally, the ramp of the non-descript ship started lowering. His mother took one last breath, shoulders squaring, ready to be the Face of the Rebellion. She hadn’t wanted the role, would have rather worked behind the scenes. But in the beginning, it had come down to her or Mace, and the Jedi Master was much too well-known for a man who was hiding from the Republic.

Three people were standing at the top of the ramp, surrounded by a dozen Clone Troopers. Anakin couldn’t make out the faces of the two smaller people, one of whom appeared to be wearing a hood, but the tallest one was wearing a brown Jedi cloak, and Anakin’s heartbeat kicked up another notch.

He checked over his own shields one last time, making sure they were airtight and that not even a whisper of the Force could slip by. As far as anyone could make out on the outside, Anakin would seem as Force-Null as a very boring rock. It had taken years for Mace to teach him the skill, and he’d never hear the end of it if he slipped now. Closing his eyes, he summoned the feeling of Mace’s hands on his shoulders, helping him find his center. 

The three people started walking down towards their small group, and Obi-Wan’s face finally came into the light of the early afternoon sun. 

In every memory he had of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the man had seemed a towering beacon of virtue, shining, pure. He was the goal Anakin could only ever fall short of, but who somehow never despaired of him. Every time he had chafed under Mace’s tutelage, it was reminding himself that Obi-Wan would have wanted him to learn and apply himself that kept him steady. It had been years since Anakin had been able to recall with precision the lines of his Master’s face, but he never forgot his light, his warmth. 

Anakin’s first thought when saw Obi-Wan after eight years, hidden behind his helmet, was that his Master was short. Not small by any means, and certainly not slight, but shorter than Anakin would have imagined. Should they have the occasion to stand-side by side, Anakin would be a few inches taller than him.

His second thought was that Obi-Wan was tired. He hid it well, stood straight and relaxed, his face the perfect picture of affability, but there was something in the way he held his head that seemed to accentuate the bag under his eyes.

Then the third thought, the most important, the one that knocked the air out of Anakin. 

Obi-Wan was here.

This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a warped memory, with the edges blurred from years of revisitation. This was Obi-Wan. If Anakin stretched his hand, if he found an excuse to bump into him, he’d be able to feel him. Only years of practice kept his excitement from exploding into the Force.

Anakin couldn’t take his eyes off Obi-Wan, grateful for the helmet that let him stare without being caught. Obi-Wan’s hair was shorter than when Anakin had last seen it, shining copper in the sun. A short well-trimmed beard accentuated the angle of his jaw. The back of Anakin’s neck warmed up as he found Obi-Wan’s eyes, clear and blue. Warm and gentle despite the fatigue. Anakin’s fingers twitched to reach out, to touch Obi-Wan. Would his hair be soft? Would his eyes light up if he realised Anakin was close? At the corner of his eyes, one of the companions pushed back their hoods, but Anakin couldn’t be bothered to care. Obi-Wan hadn’t been a hugger, but perhaps he would make an excep-

His focus was snapped back when his mother tensed. It was a small thing, too discrete for anyone to notice, but for Anakin, who had watched his mother’s back through countless dangerous meetings, it might as well have been a scream. Quickly, he cast his eyes around to find the source of her alarm, until he saw her.

The woman standing by Obi-Wan’s side was Padmé Amidala.

She was just as pretty as Anakin remembered, her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, her brown eyes shining with curiosity as she looked at all of them and at their temporary camp on the small moon they had selected for the meeting.

Oh no. This could be bad. Anakin and Shmi both held their breaths as Padmé gazed around, until her eyes fell back to Shmi. Anakin could swear there was a small pause in her stride, but that might have just been surprise. With her small stature and weathered face, few people would have expected his mother to helm a Slave Rebellion. Shmi’s hands slackened by her side, and Anakin exhaled in relief. 

Obi-Wan, Padmé, and their last companion, a thin Togruta girl who couldn’t have been more than fourteen, came to a stop in front of them. The three of them bowed in greetings, and Obi-Wan stepped forward to offer his hand to his mom.

“Miss Treb, thank you for meeting with me. I know the Republic had been eager to establish contact with the Freed Government.” His voice was smooth, his accent crisp, and his smile inspired immediate trust. The Negotiator indeed. 

“Master Kenobi.” His mom answered, her own voice a bit chillier, if not hostile, as she shook his hand. “I thought the Jedi Council had agreed you would come alone.”

Well, alone with his escort of Clone Troopers. His mother and Mace might be paranoid, but even they knew they couldn’t expect a High General to show up to talks with an unknown group in the middle of the war without any back-up.

“I apologize.” Obi-Wan grimaced good naturedly, before gesturing to Padmé. “This is Senator Padmé Amidala. She is a good friend of mine, and insisted that she be present for our talks, in case the Senate fusses about not being able to take credit for our success.”

Padmé rolled her eyes at Obi-Wan’s words, but stepped forward with a smile to also shake Shmi’s hand. Obi-Wan waited for a beat before he gestured to the Togruta girl.

“And this is my Padawan Ahsoka Tano. She is my trainee, and as such accompanies me everywhere.”

Anakin felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. Obi-Wan had a Padawan. Obi-Wan had taken another Padawan. Obi-Wan had replaced him. 

Anakin was distantly aware that the small Togruta, Ahsoka, was shaking his mother’s hand with a bright grin. He was distantly aware of the chain of beads shining between her montrals that he hadn’t noticed until now.

Sounds seemed to dim as his heartbeat echoed louder and louder in his head. The smell of the wet forest around them, and the sounds of the Clone Trooper’s armor boxed him in. Obi-Wan had forgotten Anakin, he had replaced-

Skywalker, get a hold of yourself!

Memory of Mace’s stern voice cut through his agitation. Anakin tried to inhale, tried to clear his head, but the helmet cut his access to fresh air. He wanted to curse, or punch a tree, or slap himself, but he- He couldn’t. They couldn’t afford for these talks to go wrong.

Anakin needed to calm himself. He needed to control himself. What would Obi-Wan think if his first time seeing Anakin in eight years ended in a tantrum? Anakin clenched his fists, digging his short nails into his palm.

Breath in, breath out.

Obi-Wan had taken another Padawan, which he was allowed. Anakin had been gone for eight years. Anakin had left Obi-Wan eight years ago, he had no right to be upset at his Master, or at his new Padawan. He wouldn’t be upset. He’d calm down, and he’d breathe, and no one would be the wiser. 

It was good that Obi-Wan had a Padawan. He wouldn’t be alone. Anakin had felt so guilty for leaving his Master alone, now he had Ahsoka. Ahsoka seemed like a nice kid. She had to be, for Obi-Wan to have chosen her. 

It was fine. It was fine. 

Anakin calmed himself enough to be aware of the world around him just in time to catch his mother inviting their guests to the tent they had set-up. Inside was a large table, with a chair on either side. With a quick word, Shmi sent one of their own crew running for two more seats. Anakin, and the Clone Trooper that had been chosen to accompany Obi-Wan stepped inside to stand behind their charges. 

Jonj and Strip came back quickly enough with seats, and hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave Shmi and Anakin at a disadvantage. One look from Shmi had them duck out, the tent flapping falling behind them.

“Well then.” Shmi announced as she seated herself, her perfectly polite smile firmly in place. She had decided to roll with the punches for the moment. “Let’s talk.”

“Of course, Miss Treb.” Obi-Wan answered, taking the lead. Anakin had no doubt Padmé could have done the same, but Obi-Wan had been the one invited. 

“Please, call me Simru.”

Obi-Wan blinked and nodded. As a General in the army, he was probably not used to people who asked to be addressed with less titles in an official capacity. Of course, it wasn’t her real name, but there was no way for the Jedi to know that. Mace had taught her long ago how to hide her emotions in the Force, her lies most of all. Shmi held far too many secrets to be open to any random Force-Sensitive that crossed her path.

“Very well. As the representative of the Republic, first I want to assure you that we have no intention of threatening the sovereignty of the Freed Government. We will not impose our laws on your systems, unless you choose to join the Republic of your own volition. We simply want an alliance of two equal but distinct partners.”

“That is very good to hear, Master Kenobi.” 

“Before we begin, might I ask what made you decide to meet us after all this time? The Freed Government seemed very insistent on their independence. With good reasons, of course.”

“The Freed Government had no interest in getting involved in another war while we were still busy fighting our own.” Shmi answered, hesitating for a moment. Neither her or Obi-Wan looked away, both still sizing the other up. “However, it now appears the Hutts have allied themselves with the Separatists in an effort to retake the planets we have liberated.”

Obi-Wan barely reacted, but his Padawan didn’t have his sabacc face. She leaned back with an alarmed look before she was able to school her features.

“I see.”

“I’m sure you do. We find ourselves dragged into your war against our wishes. We don’t have the resources to fight the Separatists as well as the Hutts, and I don’t think your army can afford to lose access to a significant portion of the Outer Rim.”

“That would be a… Difficult state of affairs indeed.” Obi-Wan agreed, voice low and troubled. 

Shmi nodded, satisfied that Obi-Wan understood the implications of an alliance between the Hutts and the Separatists.

Padmé gasped. All eyes turned to her, as one of her hands shot up to cover her mouth. She was staring right at Shmi.

“You’re Shmi Skywalker. You’re little Ani’s mother.”

Time ground to a halt for a second, one interminable second. 

Obi-Wan exploded in the Force. All his shields disappeared at once as he cast his senses as far as he could in every direction. Anakin was almost blown back as he felt his Master’s signature rush around him, his own shields the only thing keeping him from getting swept into the current. 

It felt exactly as Anakin remembered, to be wrapped in Obi-Wan’s aura. Fresh and crisp and soothing. Even the undercurrent of desperation wasn’t enough to taint the feeling, so strong and so close Anakin could taste it. He had to lock his knees so he wouldn’t sway dazedly as the torrent kept crashing against his shields.

Anakin blamed it on the rush of feeling Obi-Wan’s mind around him that he realised several seconds too late this wasn’t a wild outburst. Obi-Wan hadn’t lost control of his emotions like Anakin might have. 

Obi-Wan was trying to feel for something in the Force.

Obi-Wan was trying to find him.

It took all of Anakin’s willpower not to rip his helmet off there and then, to drop his shields and throw himself at Obi-Wan.

“You are, aren’t you?” Padmé, without any way to feel the maelstrom of the Force around him, was still staring at Shmi.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were on his mother as well, but they were distant. All his focus was on his search, not on the words hanging in the tent’s air. Ahsoka, almost forgotten in the turmoil, was staring at Obi-Wan in shock.

“I am.” Shmi finally answered, low and reluctant.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t- You may not remember me, but we met on Tatooine with Master Jinn.” Padmé seemed at a loss on what to do, looking between Shmi and Obi-Wan. 

“Of course I remember you.” Shmi assured, posture not loosening an inch.

“Is he with you?” Obi-Wan’s voice was rough, as if he had been screaming for an hour. Between one blink and the next, his eyes were as sharp as a raptor’s on Shmi. “Is he here?”

Yes, he was, Anakin wanted to scream back. He was right there, if Obi-Wan could only see. Obi-Wan still cared about Anakin. What other reason could there be for the anguish in his eyes?

“I can’t-” Shmi tried to say, but Obi-Wan threw himself forward, hands gripping the table.

“Please. Is he here? Can I see him?”

“Master Kenobi-”

“Knight.” Obi-Wan interrupted again with a muted rasp.

“I beg your pardon?” Shmi asked. Her own voice was as serene as it ever was, but Anakin could feel how eager she was to leave this conversation, to take him away from the tent.

“It’s Knight Kenobi, ma’am. A Jedi can only become a Master after they have raised a Padawan. And my first Padawan was taken away from me.”

He looked away for a few of Anakin’s thundering heartbeats.

“I don’t know why Mace Windu stole Anakin away, without telling me anything. I don’t know if I did something wrong, if I failed Anakin in any way.”

Shouts were trying to escape Anakin’s throat, his heart tearing itself in two as Obi-Wan’s voice dropped to a pained whisper. The Jedi seemed to realise how much vulnerability he was exposing, and collected himself, sliding a smoother, blanker mask over his tortured expression. Anakin stifled a sob when Obi-Wan’s Force signature retreated, pulling back slowly, reluctantly into himself. 

“You don’t have to tell me where he is.” Obi-Wan said, voice almost as smooth as it had been in the landing zone. Almost strong enough to fool the other people in the tent. “I swear I won’t force the issue. But please. Please. Tell me he is well.”

Shmi kept silent for a long time. Her back might have been to him, but Anakin knew her gaze never left Obi-Wan. He didn’t relent either, eyes steady and sharp, and just a bit brittle. 

His eyes were so clear. Not exactly blue, but not quite grey. Even in the dimmer light of the tent, even as they were all wound impossibly tight, they shone bright, almost crystalline. Had Anakin forgotten? Or had he never noticed before? He had hardly been at eye-level with his Master when he had fled Coruscant.

“He is well, Knight Kenobi.” Shmi spoke at last, voice firm but warm. Warmer than she was when negotiating. This wasn’t a trade, or a concession. This was a gift. “And I assure you, you had nothing to do with Anakin’s departure from the Temple. He spoke of you highly, and often.”

Obi-Wan remained still for a second before he nodded, and leaned back in his chair. His shoulders slumped, all fight sapped from him in an instant.

“Thank you.”

Shmi nodded back.

The silence stretched painfully over all of them. Even the Clone Trooper started shifting before Padmé clapped her hands once.

“Well, I think that was quite a lot for a first day. Shmi- Simru? We’ve had a long journey to get here, and I think all of us could use some space and time to settle a little bit.” Her voice was pleasant and light, as if nothing of consequence had occurred. She must be an excellent politician, Anakin recognized.

“I think you are right, Senator. Just one thing before we leave for the night.” Shmi got to her feet, pinning all four of their guests with her eyes. “I understand that this is a complicated situation, but you can’t tell anyone who I am, or anything about Anakin. Outside of this tent, I am Simru Treb, and Anakin hasn’t been seen since he left the Order eight years ago. Do we understand each other?”

“Of course.” Padmé swore solemnly. 

Obi-Wan sighed before nodding. Anakin was sure it was less because he wanted to tell anyone about him, and more because he wanted to ask more of Shmi. As soon as he had agreed, Ahsoka and the Clone Trooper were quick to give their words.

“Thank you.” Shmi moved from her desk, Anakin falling in step with her. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning at nine.”

“We need to talk to him!” Anakin said, pacing around the main room of their house. After Obi-Wan, Padmé and Ahsoka had retreated to their ship, Anakin had jumped on a speeder at his mother’s behest to reach their actual base on Lunk 4, a fair distance from their meeting site. 

“Anakin, we agreed on this!” Shmi argued, her blue holo form shaking ever so slightly on the table. 

“We agreed before Padmé recognized you! Obi-Wan knows I’m linked to the Rebellion now, it’s not like it’s going to make much difference if he sees me!”

“Suspecting you’re linked with the Rebellion is hardly the same as knowing where you are.”

“He knows you’re my mom! If he tells anyone that’s looking for me, how long do you think it’ll take them to find me?”

“You said he was trustworthy!”

“He is! I’m just saying that seeing me now won’t give him much more advantage to find me in the future!”

“It would drastically improve his chances of catching you now. ” Mace argued, stepping into the conversation for the first time since Shmi had called.

“Mace, you don’t mean th-”

“I don’t know, Anakin! I don’t know under what kind of pressure Kenobi is. Even if he is exactly the man we knew him to be, there are a thousand ways a good man can justify questionable actions.” Mace stepped forward, wrapping a soothing hand around Anakin’s arm, stopping him in his tracks. “What I do know is that if it is a trap, you wouldn’t fight him to save your life.”

Anakin looked away, not bothering to try and argue. 

“We need to tell him. About Palpatine.” Anakin did his best to squash the petulance in his tone, aware it wouldn’t convince either of them. His mother might be too stubborn about this, but Mace ... Mace could be convinced if he found logical arguments. He just needed to push down the emotions clawing at his ribs and think.

“What?” Mace asked, still not releasing Anakin.

“You said he might be under pressure, that he might be- that he might be misguided and try to capture me. So we explain the kriffing situation! We tell him about Palpatine!” Anakin turned to his mentor, eyes beseeching. “He’ll listen. You know he will. Especially if the two of us tell him.”

“Anakin, I don’t think Obi-Wan is going to be very receptive to anything I tell him.” Mace’s voice was soft, tinted with  something as close to guilt as he ever felt. “And there is a reason we never told anyone about the Chancellor.”

“Because I was a kid! I don’t need to be protected anymore!” Anakin took a step back, turning to his mother who had crossed her arms, mouth twisted. “People need to know what we know about Palpatine!”

“We don’t know anything concrete about Palpatine, Ani.” His mother pointed out. “We’ve been looking for eight years and we’ve barely found anything more than rumors. Certainly nothing the Jedi could use against the leader of the Republic.”

“Even more reason to tell Obi-Wan! He’s really good at researching stuff, he could help us!”

“Let’s be clear, here.” Mace groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Not only do you want to meet your Master, who you haven’t seen in eight years, trusting he won’t drag you back to Coruscant or reveal your existence to the Chancellor of the Republic, but you intend to ask him to commit treason against said Chancellor.”

As their tempers flared, both of them pulled their Force signatures tighter and tighter around themselves, lest one of them slip and alert their presence to the nearby Jedi. The house felt almost claustrophobic with the amount of power spinning around the two Force-users. 

“Obi-Wan will-”

“Skywalker, I understand you think the sun shines out of Kenobi’s ass, but you can’t-”

“This isn’t about me! The Jedi are fighting a war for Palpatine! They deserve to know what he is!”

“So does the Republic!”

All three of them whirled towards the entrance. Padmé Amidala was standing there, brows furrowed, shoulders squared. Under their incredulous gazes, she stepped in, closing the door behind her. Her eyes stopped on Shmi only long enough to nod in greeting, before landing on Mace, her chin raising regally.

“Master Windu, I presume.”

“Only Mace, Senator. I left the Order years ago.”

“So I heard.” Padmé answered, stiff and polite. Her expression melted into a smile as soon as she turned to Anakin.

“Little Ani!” She strode to him and engulfed his much larger frame in a strong hug. “Or not quite as small, I suppose.”

“Padmé.” Anakin whispered, his throat so tight he could barely push the words out. “It’s good to see you again.”

It really was. Though she hadn’t been as constant a source of longing and nostalgia as Obi-Wan and the Temple had been, she had crossed his mind often in the last eight years. If for no other reason than the efforts of the Rebellion often took them close to Naboo. Padmé was as vibrant as Anakin remembered, even in the dusty living room.

“As touching as this is, Senator, may I ask how you found us?” Mace was using his Councillor voice, one Anakin hadn’t heard since they had left the Temple.  Squeezing Anakin one last time, Padmé slid back her impeccable politician mask before  turning back to Mace.

“I followed Ani.” She raised her chin, folding her hands over her skirt.

“But I used the underground pathways!” Anakin protested at the same time as Mace asked “Why would you follow him?”

“This is hardly the first time I’ve tailed someone.” Padmé said placidly, as if following the trail of an expert pilot through a maze of old mining tunnels was a daily occurrence for a Senator. “And I followed him because I’m not an idiot. If his mother was to meet with a Jedi, with his old Master, I couldn’t believe that Anakin wouldn’t be somewhere nearby. When Shmi’s guard left the camp this evening, I figured he’d lead me to him.”

“You promised not to look for Anakin.” Shmi reproached, drawing Padmé away from her staring contest with Mace.

“Obi-Wan gave his word. I certainly didn’t.”

“You take a lot of liberties, for a person that wasn’t invited to these talks at all.” Mace muttered, glaring.

“Enough!” Anakin stepped forward, catching Mace’s gaze. “She’s here now. There’s no point in arguing on how and why she is. She knows.”

“And I have no intention of divulging any information about Anakin or you to anyone outside of this mission.” Padmé assured.

“Outside of this mission?” Mace asked.

“This isn’t something I’m comfortable hiding from Obi-Wan.” 

Mace groaned, pressing the heel of his hands into his eyes. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “Force, there’s two of them” under his breath.

“ And, Ani is right. If you know anything incriminating about Chancellor Palpatine, we must know. Obi-Wan and I can help you.”

“Why should we trust a member of Palpatine’s own Senate?” Shmi asked, not hostile but curious.

“Because I have attended every session Palpatine has used to award himself more emergency powers since the beginning of this war. The entire Senate is not Palpatine’s. There are many of us who have been looking for a way to restrain him for quite a while. Any information, any leads you have for suspicious dealings in regards to the War would help our case.”

For a moment, she hesitated, looking back at Anakin.

“Without mentioning whatever he might have done… Eight years ago?”

Mace sighed, looking past the two young people to Shmi’s holo. Anakin had long stopped trying to understand the long unspoken conversations his mom and Mace would have over his head, and simply tried not to twitch too much. Padmé, who was probably better at reading them already, kept quiet.

“I think we can trust her.” He blurted after a long minute, when the silence became too heavy on his nerves. There were a few more heartbeats before Mace turned back to them. His eyes were still inquisitive when they found Padmé’s, but the fight had leaked from his spine.

“We can’t stuff the loth-cat back in the bag. We’ll tell you what we know.” He said, the Councillor stepping back to leave only Mace again. Padmé smiled, her elegant placidness melting away in tandem. Anakin relaxed. There was a reason he didn’t involve himself in politics.

“Splendid. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” Padmé was already turning away from them.

“Be back?” Mace asked, startled as he was about to sit down.

“Of course. I have to fetch Obi-Wan! Surely this will be more efficient if you don’t have to repeat yourselves.” Without waiting for their answers, she strode to the door, disappearing back into the night.

Mace dropped himself into one of their old armchairs. Shmi, still on the holo, gave a long sigh that faded into a chuckle.

“I have to say, it had been a while since an entire day had gone wrong in so many interesting ways.” She said, smoothing down her skirts.

“All is as the Force wills it.” Mace answered in the tone of a man very much trying to convince himself first.

Stuck between the joy at having spoken to Padmé again and the stomach-churning excitement at the prospect of seeing Obi-Wan - in person, without a mask- in the very near future, Anakin shuffled to the couch. Should he be preparing a speech? It would be just his style to forget how to speak Common just as he had to justify eight years of absence to his old Master. 

A shadow moved in his peripheral vision, and before he could spring out his blaster, a small figure dropped on the couch beside him, and he had large blue eyes peering into his, mere inches away.

“So you’re Master Obi-Wan’s other Padawan!”

Anakin yelped and pushed himself backward into the arm of the couch to try and put some distance between him and the Togruta girl. To his right, Shmi swore loudly in Huttese, but Mace only sighed again, letting his head fall back on the back of his armchair.

“Why didn’t I feel you? ” Anakin demanded, staring at Ahsoka, who was still perched on the cushion next to his, seemingly trying to drill a hole through his skull with her eyes. “I was paying attention this time I swear!”

Mace only grunted in answer, which Anakin chose to take as a reassurance that he hadn’t felt Ahsoka coming either.

“I’m small, and I fit into places! Master Obi-Wan taught me how to shield so I could sneak around.” She explained brightly, dropping herself cross-legged on the couch.

“He never taught me that!” Anakin tried to quell his jealousy. Jealousy was an unproductive emotion. It wouldn’t be fair of him to be jealous. It wouldn’t be fair to Ahsoka. It wouldn’t even be fair to Obi-Wan. Anakin had left eight years ago, there were plenty of things Obi-Wan hadn’t had time to teach him. 

“That’s because even if you had been able to hide yourself in the Force, something that took you years to figure out, you were incapable of making less noise than a rutting bantha.” Mace answered, still looking at the ceiling.

“That’s okay.” Ahsoka told Anakin with a smirk. “I can sneak around better if I have someone to distract people.”

“When did I become the distraction?” Anakin asked indignantly. Ahsoka’s smirk widened, but Shmi cut her off.

“I suppose you followed Senator Amidala to find us?” 

“Yep!” Ahsoka finally turned away from Anakin to grin down at Shmi.

“I thought you were supposed to accompany your Master?” Shmi’s voice dropped into the firm but gentle scolding tone she usually reserved for Anakin.

“Yeah, but Master Obi-Wan has been moping in the ship for hours. ” Ahsoka’s voice was fond yet unimpressed the way only a teenager could pull off. “And Padmé always gets herself in interesting trouble when she sneaks off. I figured I might as well keep an eye on her, in case she needed back-up.”

“Did you tell anyone you were leaving the camp?”

“Well…”

Before Shmi could guilt Ahsoka into going back to her ship, something Anakin knew from experience was completely in her power, the sound of a speeder engine broke the night’s quiet.

Anxiety, excitement, longing, dread, happiness, and a dozen other emotions Anakin didn’t have time to identify punched him in the teeth, and he jumped to his feet. After a second, Mace followed suit, deciding this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have slumped into a faded armchair. 

Ahsoka slipped to Anakin’s side, and after a second of hesitation, she laid a gentle hand to his forearm and squeezed.

“Padmé, what in the Force were you doing all the way over here in the middle of the night!”

“It’s hardly the middle of the night, Obi-Wan. Will you stop complaining and follow me?”

Obi-Wan was here. Anakin would speak to Obi-Wan, and his mother and Mace wouldn’t stop him. Would Obi-Wan be angry with him? Anakin wouldn’t blame him if he was. He’d listen to what they had to say, Anakin knew it, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be angry. 

Obi-Wan strode in the small house, eyes finding Ahsoka immediately, twitching with a tender exasperation Anakin couldn’t have forgotten if he had tried.

“Ahsoka, what in the stars are you-”

Clear eyes swept over Anakin without pausing, taking in the room until he-

“Mace?”

Obi-Wan’s spine went rigid, and he spun back around, eyes searching desperately for the man he had dismissed a moment earlier.

The air seemed to seep away from the room as Obi-Wan took a stumbling step forward, time slowing down even as the world buzzed louder and louder around them.

“Anakin.”

Chapter Text

Anakin knew he was supposed to say something. Anything. Obi-Wan was standing in front of him, staring straight at him, why wasn’t Anakin saying anything? He had prepared something, he was sure of it… Why wouldn’t his brain cooperate for once in his life? Obi-Wan’s eyes were wide and liquid on him, drilling through his soul, and Anakin had to do something, anything to make Obi-Wan stop looking like he was about to fall apart.

Obi-Wan took another shaky step towards him, hand twitching up, not quite daring to reach out. Anakin snapped, dashing to engulf his Master in a crushing hug, burying his head into the side of his neck. Just like he had when he had been several feet shorter. 

Obi-Wan jerked into stone-like stiffness before crumbling, falling into Anakin with something that might have been a sob. “Anakin.” He whispered, fingers digging into the back of his shirt, as if afraid Anakin would melt away.

“I’m so sorry.” Anakin squeezed him even tighter, not caring that both of them would have trouble breathing soon, not caring about anything beyond that Obi-Wan smelled exactly as he remembered. “I’m sorry, Master. I missed you. I’m so happy you’re here. I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan didn’t speak, didn’t answer Anakin’s manic babble, but his grip on Anakin’s shirt tightened. Anakin could feel both their hearts beating in dialogue where their chests met. He was distantly aware of the other people in the room, but nothing mattered beyond this, now. Obi-Wan was here, he was holding Anakin, he still cared about Anakin. Would he want to know how his training was going? Obi-Wan had been so insistent about all of Anakin’s studies, they could find a discreet place for Anakin to show his lightsaber skills. Surely Obi-Wan had dozens of lectures about the Force or the Jedi Order’s history he could pull up at a moment’s notice…

With a trembling sigh that Anakin felt in his soul, Obi-Wan slowly released his white-knuckled grip. Panic spiked, and Anakin twisted his hands into Obi-Wan’s tabard.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, I’m really, really sorry.” He tried to explain, tried to make sure Obi-Wan really understood.

“I know Anakin.” Obi-Wan answered at last, low and raw, but still pulling away from him. The urge to apologize some more, or to drag Obi-Wan into another hug, anything to make this moment last longer, reared up, but Obi-Wan put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him far enough that he could look into Anakin’s face.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were distinctly damp. He seemed to be searching for something Anakin couldn’t fathom, so he simply kept himself open, letting his face speak for all the years of regret and longing.

Tearing his eyes away as he took another long step back, Obi-Wan’s hands fell back to his sides, disappearing into the folds of his sleeves. Obi-Wan Kenobi was once more the perfect picture of Jedi serenity. Turning his attention to Mace and Padmé, he tilted his head genially.

“What is this about then? From the late hour, I suppose we are not here to continue the negotiations?”

“I’m afraid not, Obi-” At Obi-Wan’s glacial look, Mace paused for a second before continuing, “Knight Kenobi. We have information Senator Amidala demanded be shared with the both of you.”

Mace and Obi-Wan stared at each other for a long while, to Padmé’s clear frustration, before Obi-Wan nodded tersely, dropping himself at one end of the couch. Anakin scrambled to take the spot beside him, as close as he dared. Ahsoka, who had decided to keep quiet and watch everyone with wide, curious eyes, curled up on the cushion next to him. When Mace dropped himself back into the armchair, Padmé dragged one of the dining table chairs over.

“Information?” Obi-Wan asked when everyone was settled. Most of his attention was still concentrated on Mace. In fact, he hadn’t looked at Anakin once since he had turned away from their hug. Mace hesitated again. Anakin couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the man so unbalanced.

“About the Chancellor of the Republic.”

Obi-Wan blinked, his eyes flashing to meet Padmé’s for just a second before settling back to Mace. Whatever suspicions she had about Palpatine, she had shared them with him.

“Why would the Slave Rebellion have any information about the Chancellor of the Republic?”

“Eight years ago, Chancellor Palpatine started taking a keen interest in the training of the Jedi younglings, as you might remember.” Mace started, gauging Obi-Wan’s reaction. When the other man nodded, he continued. “After one of those sessions, he approached me with ‘concerns’ about Anakin’s training. He implied that the Jedi were not able to guide him properly, and asked that he be sent to him for, um, counselling. I refused, of course, but he insisted. Far beyond what would have been appropriate for an outsider of the Order, let alone the Chancellor.”

Next to Anakin, Obi-Wan stiffened. He didn’t turn from Mace, but Anakin knew that his attention was on him, and he dared send a push of reassurance in the Force. He only met Obi-Wan’s shields.

“Is this why you took Anakin away? Because a politician made inappropriate overtures?” His tone was as smooth as ice, and Anakin twitched.

“I took Anakin away because when I refused, the Chancellor invoked the power of the Senate over the Jedi order to make me bend. If he had remained at the Temple, there would have been little we could have done to keep Anakin away from him.”

“I wouldn’t have let anything happen to Anakin if you had bothered to inform me of the situation. The Jedi are perfectly capable of protecting our younglings from dirty politicians.”

“Were we? We were servants of the Republic. We lived on Coruscant. You fight for the Chancellor’s army. Tell me, how safe is your current Padawan from the whims of dirty politicians?”

Ahsoka stiffened next to Anakin, and he put a soothing hand on her arm before he could think it through. 

“The situation is completely different! You can’t compare fighting in a war we didn’t start, to you overreacting and kidnapping my Padawan because a politician made insinuations .” Obi-Wan’s voice had dropped to a near-hiss, and Anakin could easily guess his fists were clenched inside his sleeves.

“You didn’t see the shatterpoints, Obi-Wan.” Mace was so tired, eyes dropping to the floor. “You didn’t feel how the Force was screaming.”

“So you abandoned your responsibilities in the Order, and kidnapped my Padawan because of a gut feeling.”

“No, I took Anakin away because we have a duty to protect our younglings from those who would hurt them, and we have a duty to protect the Republic from the damage someone as powerful as Anakin could do if a dirty politician swayed his allegiance.”

“You had no proof-”

“We got pretty decent proof when the bounty hunters started coming for Anakin.” Shmi stepped in for the first time. Padmé leaned forward, at once fully focused. Obi-Wan paled and blinked.

“Bounty hunters?” He asked in a low voice.

“About a month after we left, we started encountering bounty hunters that had been hired to find Anakin.” Mace explained. “They are to bring him back alive at all cost. The bounty on his head is over 400 000 credits. They still come around every few months.”

“Are we sure they were hired by the Chancellor?” Padmé asked crisply, looking between Mace, Obi-Wan, and Anakin.

“Who else could it be?” Anakin answered with a loose shrug. It had been years since the bounty hunters had been more than an occasional annoyance. “Even if the Jedi wanted to find me, they wouldn’t use bounty hunters. And the Hutts wouldn’t put that much money on a slave that had been legally freed for 3 years by that point. It has to be the Chancellor.”

“But you don’t have solid proof? Nothing to link them to Palpatine?”

“No. They were hired through a shell company. We haven’t been able to trace it back to him, but we only have limited access to Core networks. Maybe you would have more luck?” Anakin didn’t want to disappoint her with their meager evidence.

“Maybe.” 

“Those bounty hunters, what happened to them?” Obi-Wan asked, brows furrowed. Looking at the side of his face, Anakin unshielded their Teaching Bond, dormant for so many years, and tried to reach for his Master, wanting to both reassure him, and understand what he was feeling. Again, he only met impenetrable walls.

“Dead, mostly. A few of them joined the Rebellion, if you want to speak with them.”

“You let them join?” 

“Sure. They were ex-slaves, and we’ve kept them posted on our more remote bases. They’ve never even seen me.” Anakin explained, hoping Obi-Wan would look at him, at least. He didn’t.

Obi-Wan frowned deeper, raising one hand to brush his beard. “Why is the Chancellor so obsessed with Anakin?”

“Well, it’s probably not a weird sex thing after eight years.” Anakin quipped with a smirk, earning a disgusted look from both Padmé and Ahsoka, and even a horrified split-second glance from Obi-Wan.

“Thank you, Anakin.” Shmi sighed.

“Anakin is very strong in the Force. More than anyone in living memory.” Mace offered. “If Palpatine thought he could use him, that would be a strong motive.”

Obi-Wan pondered for a long minute.

“Do you think it could have to do with the..?” He let his sentence trail off, uncomfortable under all the gazes. Anakin doubted he had ever told Ahsoka or Padmé about the Chosen One ‘situation’.

“The prophecy?” Mace filled in with a shrug. “If there was a way for him to have learned of it, possibly. But I fail to see how a non-Jedi would have cared about that kind of nonsense. It speaks of the Force, not of politics.”

“Well, gentlemen, this is a matter of politics.” Padmé cut in, sitting very straight in her high back chair. The dusty cramped room might as well have been a throne room for her countenance. Anakin couldn’t help but smile in admiration. “Palpatine’s… interest in Anakin is definitely cause for immense worry, but even if it could be proven, I don’t think it  would be enough to discredit the man. Not at this point, not with all the power and influence he has amassed. Especially since, thanks to Master Windu, he has not been allowed to act on his interests. Do you have anything more we could use?”

Mace slumped in his armchair, letting Shmi take over the conversation. 

“Nothing we can prove with hard evidence, I’m afraid. However… We have welcomed a lot of refugees into the Freed Government. A fair amount of them were people dealing in the less legal businesses, who were eager for an alternative to the Republic’s justice system. Bounty hunters, spies, hired killers. None of them can be traced back to their actual employers, of course, just like the people who came after Anakin. Individually, they mean very little. Taken as a group, however, especially if we add the information we gained through their contacts, it forms a clearer picture.”

She paused for a moment, reaching for something off-holo, probably a datapad containing their notes.

“It seems that someone had been working to destabilise power in several key sectors for years, long before the War actually broke out. A lot of them joined the Separatists.”

“It could have been Dooku.” Obi-Wan argued.

“We thought so. But the kind of information necessary to execute this kind of highly minute, but efficient strikes wouldn’t have been available to anyone, even someone as well connected as the Count. Also, it didn’t explain the other worlds. In those, the chaos allowed the elections of new Senators and politicians who have come to be Palpatine’s strongest and most vocal supporters.”

They had gotten over their cloud of data a thousand times, had spent so many sleepless nights arguing about what it could mean to the moons and back. Still, having it spelled out never failed to send a shiver down Anakin’s spine.

“What are you saying, Simru?” Obi-Wan asked, even paler.

“We think the Chancellor is behind both sides of the war. We can’t prove it, we certainly don’t know why he would have wanted to create this conflict, but that seems the most reasonable explanation.”

At Anakin’s side, Ahsoka gasped, and grabbed at the hand he hadn’t removed from her arm, seeking comfort. On his left, Obi-Wan jumped to his feet to pace around them, crossing the entire room in four strides.

“This is a grave accusation.” Padmé whispered. Of the three, she seemed the least surprised, the least affected. 

“It’s not one we make lightly. But you’ve asked for what we knew.”

Anakin watched Obi-Wan as the man spun around the room. 

“Obi-Wan-” He tried, simultaneously stretching out one more time across their bond. To his joy, he found Obi-Wan’s shields partially down, but only had time to feel a brush of anger-fear-guilt-betrayal before he was pushed out.

“There’s a Sith, controlling the Senate.” He said, interrupting Anakin. Shocked silent feel in the room just in time for everyone to hear Mace’s low but heartfelt curse. “Dooku told me, just before the war began. He said there was a Sith controlling the Senate. If it’s Palpatine… I should have seen this coming. We all should have-”

He choked on whatever he was saying, and resumed pacing, frantically rubbing at his beard.

“So we have rumors that we can’t prove that Palpatine wanted something from Anakin, that Palpatine somehow created this war, and that Palpatine is a Sith Lord.” Padmé summarized with a small sigh.

“We’ll find proof.” Anakin spoke up, trying to bolster everyone. “Palpatine’s smart, but he’s still just human. If there’s rumors, there’s got to be something we can actually bring to the Council.”

“And to the Senate.” Padmé corrected.

“Sure. Them too.”

“The amount of foresight needed to not only engineer this large of a conflict, but also presumably control it,  without raising any kind of alarms for over a decade, is mind-boggling.” Obi-Wan hadn’t stopped, and Anakin was starting to worry he was going to wear out the old flooring. “He probably has dozens of auxiliary plans, and we have rumors. ”

“Well, he clearly hadn’t planned for me. ” Anakin snapped, and finally Obi-Wan turned to stare at him, a storm in his grey eyes. “He hadn’t planned for me to escape, and he hadn’t planned for the Freed Government to exist. Even the best built wall only needs a crack to fall down.”

“Ani’s right.” Padmé jumped in, determination shining in her eyes. “We don’t have a lot of people to help us, but three of us are basically invisible to the Chancellor. The other three have a lot of ways to access information relevant to the Republic. This isn’t a lost cause.”

Obi-Wan was still staring at Anakin, jaw clenching so hard the strain was visible through his beard. Anakin held his gaze, eyes pleading, and pushed faith and resolve into the Force around him, hoping Obi-Wan would feel it despite his shields. 

“We’ll do everything we can.” Obi-Wan agreed, turning away from Anakin again. “Your refugees, could we speak to them?”

“I’m afraid not.” Shmi answered. “We promised them safety from the Republic, and sending a Jedi to their houses would break that trust. We can send you all the information we got from them. Files, recordings, holos, everything.”

“Thank you, Simru.”

Ahsoka’s hand lifted from Anakin’s, and he turned just in time to catch her stifling a yawn.

“You should probably get back to your camp before someone notices you slipped away.” As reluctant as Anakin was to be separated from Obi-Wan again, he doubted they’d make any breakthroughs, exhausted as they were. If anything, they’d fall right into the well of tension between Mace and Obi-Wan that they had managed to side-step all evening.

Obi-Wan, catching on to his Padawan’s tiredness, bowed to Shmi and Mace as Padmé got to her feet.

“We’ll see you tomorrow at the negotiations, Shm-Simru.” She nodded at the holo. “Ani?”

“I’ll be there.” He smiled at her, and even wider after being pulled into another hug.

“Mace?” Padmé asked politely.

“Probably not. I’ll make sure to come around before you’re set to return to Coruscant.”

Stifling another yawn, Ahsoka got to her feet, shuffling to her master’s side, bowing her goodbyes in a less gracious imitation of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan didn’t look at Anakin before leaving the house.

The negotiations were torture. 

After the emotions and revelations of last night, Anakin would have expected something to be different. For the mood of the tent to be lighter, or tenser perhaps. For them to be strategizing on how to take down Palpatine or organize spy networks.

Instead, everyone but him seemed happy to continue as if nothing had happened. Padmé and his mother spoke of hyperspace lanes, Obi-Wan was concerned about fuel depots, and Ahsoka would pipe up sometimes to remind them of previous deployments in the region. No mention of the Chancellor, no indication that Padmé and Obi-Wan were here to represent a possible Sith Lord. 

And Anakin was stuck, standing behind his mother, hiding behind his helmet. Not that Obi-Wan had needed another excuse not to look at him, not to acknowledge him. Padmé had nodded to him when she entered, and Ahsoka had given him a bright smile, but he might as well have been a ghost as far as his Master had been concerned. Trying to reach for him across their bond had yielded no results either, just a rough brush against Obi-Wan’s shields. He didn’t dare try anything more in the middle of the camp.

He couldn’t make sense of it. Obi-Wan had been glad to see him again, not even Anakin could have read that wrong. Obi-Wan had hugged him, and Obi-Wan was not a hugger. He’d held Anakin just as tight as Anakin had him. It had  to mean something. But why wouldn’t Obi-Wan look at him? Wouldn’t talk to him?

Did he think they were lying about why they’d left the Order? Was he worried what Mace would say if he spent too much time with Anakin? Mace had stopped trying to scold Anakin about attachments about two months into their exile, he wasn’t going to start again now. 

Immersed in the negotiations, Shmi even called for lunch to be brought to the tent for them to eat while they talked. Unable to just stand aside anymore, Anakin ducked out and signaled for another guard to take his place. He wouldn’t be able to eat with his helmet anyway. 

He was sitting on a crate, chowing on some bread and chatting with a few of their crew about perimeter security, out of sight of the Republic’s guards, when he spied movement at the edge of the clearing. A slight shadow slipped between the trees, disappearing into the forest.

A shadow with white and blue montrals.

Quickly making his excuses, Anakin grabbed his bag and followed. Ahsoka was good at hiding her Force Signature, and she moved discreetly, but she was not used to the forest. Anakin, who had spent a fair amount of his time in the last years hiding in a variety of natural terrains for his guerrilla campaigns, had no trouble finding her tracks in the mulch of the leafy floor.

What was the Padawan doing in the forest? This moon was uninhabited beside their base, and she already knew the way to that. There was nothing of interest in this direction, let alone something that would justify Obi-Wan sending her away. Had she sneaked away from him too? For what?

“You took your time!” Ahsoka chirped, startling him. She was sitting on a branch a few feet over his head, looking down at him with a wide smile.

“You were waiting for me?” Anakin asked, uncomfortable that she might have lured him away from camp on purpose.

“Yep!” She pushed herself off the branch, falling to the ground in front of him with barely a sound. “You looked like you were getting pretty twitchy in the meetings, and I could really use a work-out.”

Her face was open and curious as she looked up at him, hands folded behind her. There was also a hint of mischief twitching in her brow, and Anakin had to smother his own grin before it gave him away.

“Don’t you have a Master you should be training with?” 

“Master Obi-Wan’s been meditating non-stop since last night.” She rolled her eyes, cocking her hips to emphasise her point, and Anakin couldn’t stop his mouth from curling this time.

“Yeah, he does that.”

“So, what do you say? Want to spar a little?” She was bouncing a little bit, eager to try her skills against his own. 

“You sure you want to do that?” Anakin asked, doing his best to pretend he wasn’t very tempted. “I haven’t sparred against anyone other than Mace in forever.” She, on the other hand, couldn’t have been starving for sparring partners. The Training Salles rarely held less than a handful of Master-Padawan pairs, even when Obi-Wan had dragged them out of bed at the crack of dawn.

“I promise I won’t kick your butt too hard then!” She quipped, jumping back a few paces, hand reaching for her sabers.

“Not here!” Anakin raised his hands with a helpless laugh. “Kar-Mn will kill me if we start chopping down trees for no reason. Come on, I know a spot.”

He spun around, trusting she’d follow him as he led to one of the nearby old mining tunnels entries. The tunnels themselves were narrow with low ceilings, but cross-roads were punctuated with decently sized rooms where the miners would live and store equipment. 

Anakin grabbed his lightsaber from his bag before dropping it in a corner, leaving Ahsoka to get a feel for the space while he started his warm-up. The young Togruta joined him, following his routine of stretches with ease. Her movements were smooth and precise. Her ease spoke of years of training.

Would she be more defensive, like Obi-Wan? His master had tried to entice him to Soresu often when he was younger, but Anakin had always been more attracted to the more powerful styles. Ahsoka was smaller, slighter, so perhaps Obi-Wan had convinced her to be more cautious than Anakin ever was.

Skipping to the middle of the room, Anakin ignited his lightsaber with a happy thrill. He so rarely had the occasion to use it, especially without Mace being present. Ahsoka seemed to feel his excitement and she grinned as she took out her own weapon.

Scratch that, Anakin did a double take. Her two weapons.

Jar Kai.

Oh, this was going to be fun. 

Anakin dropped into his starting stance, watching Ahsoka crouch down with both her blades vibrating, and he swung.

Ahsoka disappeared into a blur. 

Anakin had learned his basics from Obi-Wan, and continued his training with Mace Windu, two of the very best fencers the Order had to offer. One in defensive fighting, the other in offensive. 

He had never had to fight someone as fast as Ahsoka. 

Her strikes didn’t have anywhere near the strength Anakin or Mace could muster, but they whirled by so fast that it was irrelevant. Anakin had to expend all his focus on keeping her blades away from him, trying to find a rhythm in his parries and dodges. 

It seemed that Obi-Wan had found a second Padawan with little interest in Soresu. Anakin couldn’t help but rejoice in that for a split-second, before a swipe passed half an inch away from his nose and forced him back into the sparring session.

Ahsoka won their first bout, disarming him a couple of minutes in, her two sabers crossing around his neck. 

“Not bad.” He admitted ruefully, waiting until she had pulled her blades away to grab his lightsaber.

“Were you always this slow?” She crowed, skipping around.

“I told you I haven’t fought anyone other than Mace in years.” Anakin felt himself pouting, but he couldn’t help it. He had known his training wasn’t as thorough as it would have been in the Temple. Mace had made no secret of it. Still, it smarted a bit to be reminded that despite all his best efforts, and Mace’s, he would lose against a fourteen years old Padawan.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got me to practice with, then!” Ahsoka bounced back to the center of the room, smiling wide in anticipation as she found her stance again. Anakin stared at her for a few seconds, finding no pity, no contempt, just the same excitement at the idea of fencing that sparkled in his belly. He inhaled and exhaled, releasing his jealousy and resentment into the Force. If Obi-Wan had to have taken another Padawan, at least he had chosen a good kid.

Anakin twirled his lightsaber and swung low at Ahsoka.

It took him longer than he would have liked, but eventually Anakin learned to read Ahsoka’s patterns, found chinks into her double-bladed guard, got a feel for when and how to push back with his individual blade.

With only one saber to bother counter both of hers, it was a matter of precise timing to attack, rather than going all out with powerful strikes over and over again, hoping to overwhelm his opponent.

Mace and Obi-Wan would be thrilled by his new found restraint .

By the time two hours had passed, Anakin and Ahsoka were evenly matched, both winning as many matches as they lost. Ahsoka was the first one to relent, turning her lightsaber off and dropping to the ground. Wiping his sweat from his forehead and ignoring the way his shirt was clinging to his torso, Anakin folded himself into a cross-legged position next to her, poking at her nose. Ahsoka giggled and batted his hands away.

“You’re not how I expected you’d be.” She said, squinting at Anakin.

“How’d you expect me to be?” Anakin asked, taken aback.

“Younger, for sure. And, I don’t know, more like Master Obi-Wan?” She pushed herself to her elbows, shrugging. “You know, all about meditation and the Code.”

“Ha! No, it’s never really been my thing. Mace still makes me meditate though.” Anakin snorted. “Obi-Wan always had to hound me about minding my emotions and not being too attached, and all those things.”

“Uh.” Ahsoka tilted her head, as if she was working something out. “That’s nice to know. I’ll remind him the next time he scolds me for not focusing enough.”

“Focusing is important, Ahsoka, especially in combat.” Anakin couldn’t help saying, worry for the young girl spiking. No matter how he felt about it, she was involved in a war, she fought in battles. “If you lose concentration, you put your life-”

“And the lives of my men at risk! Force, now you sound like him.” Ahsoka protested with a smirk.

“He’s a very smart man. And a wise Master.”

“He is.” Ahsoka agreeds readily, pausing for a second before softening. “I’m glad we found you.”

“Oh?”

“If nothing else, he won’t drag me to Tatooine again this year.”

“Tatooine? Why did he take you to Tatooine?” Anakin couldn’t think why anyone would ever willingly go to that dustball.

“He didn’t take me to Tatooine. He went to Tatooine like he does every year, and he kinda had to take me with him, since we’d just been paired.” 

“But why would Obi-Wan go to Tatooine every year??” 

Ahsoka rolled to her knees, staring at him like he was a complete idiot.

“Looking for you?”

“He’s still looking for me?” Anakin leaned back, trying not to be crushed by the wave of warmth and hope that rose into his chest.

“Well, not anymore .” Ahsoka grinned when Anakin rolled his eyes. “But yeah, Master Obi-Wan has been trying to find you ever since you disappeared. The entire Temple knows about it.”

“The Council let him?” Anakin couldn’t keep the doubt from his tone. This kind of dedication to finding one boy that had left eight years ago reeked of attachment, and he couldn’t believe the Council wouldn’t force Obi-Wan to stop.

“He didn’t let it interfere with his missions, and Master Obi-Wan always follows the Code, so they let him be. Mostly.”

“Kark.” Anakin breathed, shoulders slumping. “Is that why you’ve only been together for… a year?”

“It took years for Master Yoda to wear him down!” She grinned, eyes far-away. “As far as Master Obi-Wan was concerned, he still had a Padawan.”

“And it doesn’t bother you?” Anakin doubted he would have taken it well if a Master who hadn’t asked for him was still hung up on another Padawan.

“Not really.” Ahsoka shrugged, shaking her head so her bead braid swung around. “Master Obi-Wan is one of the best, and it meant that he was still available to take me as a Padawan. I don’t mind sharing if it means I have him as a Master.”

Kriff, she was really a better person than Anakin was. And clearly a great Jedi with a bright future. And a good Padawan who cared about Obi-Wan. Which was good. Obi-Wan deserved good people around him.

“I don’t think you have to worry too much about sharing him right now. He can barely stand to look at me.” Anakin made sure his voice stayed bright and friendly. Ahsoka was good people. Ahsoka was one of his people now, since she was Obi-Wan’s Padawan. She didn’t deserve to deal with Anakin’s angst.

Snorting, Ahsoka jumped to her feet, offering her hand to help Anakin up.

“Give him a minute, Skyguy. The poor man wasn’t expecting you to just fall straight in his lap after all this time!”

“Well, Snips, I guess that means we’ll just have more time to work on our sparring.”

“Snips?!”

Obi-Wan slipped out of the tent, striding to the ship just in time to avoid being cornered by Anakin. His Padaw- Anakin had been trying to talk to him, trying to reach him through their still intact training bond relentlessly for the past two days. Obi-Wan knew it was just a matter of time before he got tired of asking permission and just demanded to be heard. Anakin had never been the most patient when denied attention.

Well.

Maybe he was now. Obi-Wan had no idea. Anakin might have become a master philosopher for all Obi-Wan knew, and he cursed himself for letting the thought drive a spike of pain through his rib cage. 

Obi-Wan just needed some more time. A little more. A little more time to make sense of everything. Except he couldn’t. He’d spent every waking hour trying to find balance within himself, and his nights had been little better. If Padmé hadn’t been present to keep him on track, he doubted he would have been able to sit through the negotiations with the Freed Government.

The Freed Government. 

He should have known that Anakin would be right in the middle of that. He had suspected, back when they’d started making waves, two years after Anakin had disappeared. But they had concentrated their efforts far from Tatooine, and Obi-Wan hadn’t thought Mace would humor Anakin’s revolutionary leanings.

He should have looked harder. 

“You look like shit.”

Obi-Wan didn’t jump. The War had trained the impulse out of him months ago. Still, there weren’t many people who could sneak up on him in an empty, silent ship.

“Mace.” He answered blandly, turning his head just enough to see the other man. Mace was wearing a light gray shirt tucked into sturdy looking dark blue pants. They were plain, practical, nondescript, yet completely removed from the Jedi garb. No one that crossed him in the street could have guessed that this man had once been the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, Yoda’s right hand man, one of the most respected men in the Republic. One of the few councillors Qui-Gon Jinn had genuinely liked, despite his devotion to the Code.

Mace Windu took his word as an invitation, stepping further into the ship so he could look at Obi-Wan’s face. 

“I hadn’t thought you’d be the first one to find me.” Obi-Wan kept his tone even, hiding his hands in the folds of his sleeves.

“Don’t worry.” Mace’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ll wear down whatever politeness me and Shmi managed to stuff into Skywalker’s stubborn head soon enough.”

Obi-Wan didn’t flinch, or look away. Whatever Mace wanted from him right now, Obi-Wan wouldn’t break. Not in front of Mace Windu.

The silence grew heavier in the hull. Mace would say his piece, whatever it was, and Obi-Wan would listen, because that was what a Jedi did. If he listened, then Mace would leave, and Obi-Wan could meditate. Or at least try.

“I’m surprised you haven’t punched me yet.” Mace said at long last, inspecting his expression, stoic and imperious as if he was sitting in the Council chamber rather than lost on a random moon in the Outer Rim.

Obi-Wan didn’t snort. He didn’t scream. He certainly didn’t lash out and try to punch Mace Kriffing Windu.

Because as long as he was calm, collected and conciliatory, as long as he could make himself pleasant and steady, he wouldn’t have to watch Anakin choose Mace Windu over him. 

Again.

If he behaved, if he was a perfect Jedi for a little longer, he wouldn’t have to confront the fact that, contrary to what he had convinced himself of, Anakin had left him to willingly follow Mace Windu into the farthest corner of their Galaxy. And he had been right to do so.

“Anakin seems well.” He said once he was sure his voice wouldn’t shake. 

“He’s reckless, unpredictable, and a pain in my ass most days.” Mace’s tone was rough and dry, but Obi-Wan still knew him well enough to hear the not-so-subtle fondness that swam under it. The same affection he had had for Depa when he would speak of her to Qui-Gon. That was good, Obi-Wan told his heart to soothe the stabbing pain. Anakin deserved a master who cared for him.

“Sounds like Anakin.” Obi-Wan had spent enough time around politicians to make his eyes smile despite his sadness. 

Mace didn’t buy it for a second. He swayed as if he was going to reach for his shoulder, but stopped himself when Obi-Wan braced himself.

“I know this must be hard for you.”

“Do you?” Obi-Wan whispered before he could help himself.

Even eight years later, Obi-Wan had never given hope on finding Anakin, on bringing his dear Padawan back to the Order, back to him. He knew of the concerned whispers behind his back, he knew the Council worried about his attachment, but he hadn’t cared. He was a model Jedi in every other way. He believed in and obeyed the Code, he took mission after mission for the Order, he helped raise the younglings when he was back at the Temple.

But he wouldn’t break his promise to Qui-Gon, or his promise to Anakin, or his promise to himself.

Even after he’d finally yielded to Yoda’s demands and accepted Ahsoka as his new Padawan, he would have idle daydreams of taking the both of them as apprentices, side-by-side. 

But the Anakin in his mind’s eyes had still been twelve, wild and energetic, running to Obi-Wan with a blinding grin, Padawan braid streaming in his wake.

Instead, he had found a man. Tall, strong, golden. And no matter what they called themselves, Obi-Wan had no doubt that Mace had finished Anakin’s Jedi training, far better than Obi-Wan could have. Ahsoka had told him of her sparring session with Anakin the day before, how effortless Anakin had been with his lightsaber, how quickly he had adapted to her style despite his lack of experience with Jar Kai.

Obi-Wan had seen himself how adept Anakin had become at hiding himself in the Force. He had sat mere feet away from his old apprentice for almost an hour, and had never even suspected. Obi-Wan would never have been able to teach him such a trick. He had barely been able to keep Anakin from projecting his emotions to the entire Temple.  Yet under Mace’s tutelage, Anakin had taken to the skill like a Gungan to water.

No matter, Obi-Wan told his cracked heart, he is well and healthy and happy.

No matter, Obi-Wan told his soul who had ached to be reunited with Anakin every day of those long eight years. Stop these selfish fantasies. Mace had taken Anakin where he had needed to be. Away from Obi-Wan.

“You’re not the only one who lost a Padawan, Obi-Wan.” Mace pointed out softly.

“Depa was an adult. She was a councillor. Anakin was a child, and my charge.”

“I know. It’s not the same. You’re too good a Jedi to hate me for what I’ve done, but I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“I don’t hate you.” Obi-Wan wished he could hate Mace. If he hated Mace, it would mean Mace had made the wrong choice.

“Like I said. A great Jedi. I’m still sorry I took Anakin away, so soon after Qui-Gon.”

Of course Mace knew how much Obi-Wan had relied on his Padawan, on the endless ball of energy Anakin had been, to drag him out of the depressive fog he had almost fallen into following his master’s death. He hadn’t been ready, not for any Padawan, but certainly not for Anakin. He hadn’t even wanted the kid at the beginning. Yet caring for Anakin had been the first step into mending the tear in his soul.

Until he was gone. Until he was alone again, without a master and without a Padawan.

“It was the right thing to do. Palpatine would have done terrible things to him otherwise.”

“Probably. Doesn’t mean it didn’t mess you both up. He had his mother to smooth the transition over. You didn’t.”

“This isn’t about me.” 

“Sure.” Mace seemed unconvinced.

“Was there anything else, Mace?” Obi-Wan didn’t want to be impolite, he really didn’t, but he needed some peace and quiet. And tea, even if Ahsoka hadn’t remembered to re-stock his favorites.

“You know, this whole fiasco would probably go a lot smoother if you let yourself be happy about seeing Skywalker again. The Force knows he can barely contain himself.”

Obi-Wan could only stare at him in disbelief, blinking. “Are you lecturing me about being in-touch with my emotions?”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, Kenobi, but I haven’t been a Jedi for a little while. Also, if I have to deal with Anakin moping around like a kicked puppy for much longer, I’ll lose whatever I’ve got left of my hair. If you don’t talk to him before you leave this kriffing moon, I’ll drag you back myself.”

Obi-Wan didn’t turn to watch Mace exit his ship. He went to the kitchen. He fixed his tea. He sat on his bunk, until Ahsoka came bounding in, babbling about the ‘super cool trick Anakin had shown her!’.

Anakin watched Ahsoka disappear into the ship, and for a moment, just a moment, considered following her.

No. If he was going to trap Obi-Wan into speaking to him, into looking at him, he wouldn’t do it while he was covered in sweat from sparring.

Raking his hand through his damp hair, he debated whether he had the energy to go back to the house, or if he’d just crash into one of the tents. There had to be a clean, empty bed-roll somewhere he could borrow for the night. But he did kind of want to talk to Mace. The man must have some trick to deal with Ahsoka’s spinning backflip thing. Jar Kai was such a pain in the ass.

“Watt?”

Padmé was sitting on a crate a bit to the side, one Clone Trooper standing at a respectful distance. 

“Hey, Padmé.” Anakin waved awkwardly at her.

“Do you have a minute? I could use the company.” The moonless night made it hard to see her expression, but her smile was unmistakable.

Anakin walked over, settling on the crate beside hers. She had her legs curled under her, hair loose, but her spine was straight and regal. Floundering for a moment for something to say, Anakin looked down at his hands.

“How are you doing, Ani?” Padmé asked, curiosity shining through the graceful tilt of her head. “Does it bother you that I call you Ani?”

“No! No, it’s fine. As long as it’s not Little Ani.” 

“Little Ani hardly fits any more, does it? You grew up well.”

Anakin was very glad the darkness hid his blush, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He blushed even harder when he realised Padmé probably only remembered him as a nine year old kid who had asked her if she was an angel.

“You too.” He mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment. Padmé, merciful woman that she was,  took pity on him.

“I wondered if you could tell me about the Rebellion? Nothing classified, of course, but the Senate gets so very little information about the Outer Rim.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess?” Anakin shifted into a more comfortable position. 

“You guess?”

“I mean, I’ll try, but mom and Mace are the brains of this thing. You know, looking at the big picture? I’m just the guy on the ground. Or in the fighter. Depends on the battle.”

Padmé huffed, rolling her shoulders.

“If I learned anything from Obi-Wan and Cody, it’s that the ‘guy on the ground’ usually knows a lot more than people would like to think.”

“Okay, what would you like to know?”

Chewing at her bottom lip in thought, Padmé leaned forward.

“What do the people think of the Republic? About the War?”

“Oh. Well, the war hadn’t really come this far yet, before the Separatists showed up on Ylesia. It’s just, you know, some Republic problem that only affects the Core and the Mid Rim. As usual.”

“I guess that answers what people think of the Republic too.” Padmé said, voice muted, twisting her fingers.

“Most people in the Republic don’t even know there’s still slavery in the Outer Rim. They don’t care about us. So most of us don’t really want to care about the Republic. We’d just like to be left alone.”

“But what-”

Padmé spent almost an hour drilling his brain. Anakin gave up on understanding why she cared about most of what she was asking about, from Slavery Pratices to Speeder Regulations on Freed Government Planets. Slumping on his crate, Anakin let himself relax and enjoy her presence. She had a remarkable gift for putting him at ease. He supposed that was a useful skill for a politician, but she felt genuine, and Anakin enjoyed being able to be fully open with someone that wasn’t his mother or Mace.

After everyone else in the camp had slipped into the ship or their tents to sleep, Padmé ran out of questions. The rustling leaves of the forest around them filled the silence for a while, but soon enough even the white noise wasn’t enough to keep the awkwardness from buzzing under Anakin’s skin.

“Bet you weren’t expecting all this for this trip.”

“No, I was most certainly not. But there’s rarely a boring mission around Obi-Wan or Ahsoka.”

“Oh?” Anakin did his best to appear disinterested, not raising his head. “You often work with them?”

“Not as often as I’d like. The Council seems to think we bring out the worst in each other.”

“The worst?” Ahsoka might be a bit fool-hardy, she was still a teenager, but Anakin couldn’t fathom what bad qualities the Council could find in Obi-Wan, or even Padmé.

“The first time I met Obi-Wan after I had become a Senator, he was assigned as my bodyguard, and jumped through the window of my apartment to catch an assassin.”

“He did what ?!”

“Then when he went to try and find who the assassin was, he got himself captured by the Geonoshian, and I, obviously, went to try and save him. Which started the War.”

“You started the War?”

“Of course not. The Jedi also showed up to free Obi-Wan. And Dooku had been working on his Droid Army for years. We just... Accelerated matters, I suppose. Still, the Council prefers to assign other Jedi to accompany me when they deem it necessary. Just in case.”

“So why are you here, then?”

“What the Council and the Senate don’t know won’t hurt them.” Padmé answered primly, flicking her hair, and Anakin’s burst of laughter echoed through the quiet camp. Padmé tried to stifle her own giggles behind her hand, slapping at Anakin’s shoulder to shush him.

“Ani, shhh! You’ll wake the clones and Cody gets grumpy when he doesn’t get enough sleep.”

“Sorry, Cody.” He whispered with a toothy grin in the direction of the tent. One last snort escaped Padmé, and she rolled to her feet.

“I should go, before we actually wake up the camp. Have a good night, Ani.”

“You too.” He answered, watching her slip into the ship before setting on the hunt for a bedroll.

“I have sent you the final version of the treaty, which has been looked over and approved by the Freed Government.” Shmi told Padmé and Obi-Wan on the third day of negotiations, the two of them nodding as they took out their datapads.

Anakin felt a weight of dread drop in his gut as they took their time reading over the document one last time. Soon enough, anytime now, they’d sign the treaty. They’d sign, and they’d be gone. Obi-Wan would leave, slip out of Anakin’s life again. He’d go, without speaking to Anakin once.

Maybe he deserved it. Maybe it was balance for leaving without a word. But Obi-Wan had to understand, right? Ahsoka had told him Obi-Wan had still been looking for him, and Mace said that Obi-Wan understood their point of view. Why wouldn’t he want to spend time with Anakin now? 

Should he apologize again? He was pretty sure he’d apologized, but maybe that hadn’t been enough?

No, Obi-Wan wasn’t a petty man, he wouldn’t need Anakin to beg for forgiveness on his knees or anything. But then Anakin couldn’t figure out why his Master kept avoiding him. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought Obi-Wan was afraid, but why in the Stars would he be afraid of Anakin? Nevermind that Obi-Wan was never scared. Jedi didn’t feel fear, and Obi-Wan was a great Jedi.

“Everything seems in order.” Padmé’s light voice brought him back to himself, watching as both of them lowered their pads in unison. “It’s a good treaty, the Senate will be happy with it.”

“As will the Order.” Obi-Wan’s smile was warm and charming, and Anakin’s guts twisted a bit more, wishing he was looking at him, not his mother.

It was a good treaty. Mom and Mace were satisfied, and they hadn’t needed more than an hour to convince the Freed Government to sign off on it the previous night. 

The Republic would help the Rebellion fight back the Hutts and the Separatists from the worlds they had already liberated, but they wouldn’t help them in freeing new planets. At least until the War was over.

On top of that, they engaged themselves to push the Clone Rights Bill, as well as a Bill to award full citizenship to the Clones after the War. 

In exchange, the Freed Government would give access to their planets to the Republic’s war efforts, and would assist in establishing bases of operations to support their troops in the Outer Rim. They would also have lower fees for using the hyperspace lanes controlled by the Freed Government.

Once the war would be won, the Freed Government would remain as an ally of the Republic, and would be open to negotiations to join the Galactic Government.

Unofficially, Obi-Wan had promised that any clone with a desire to leave the army would be sent to Shmi for asylum.

All in all, both parties had gotten what they wanted. It was a good deal, that they had reached quickly, and that would be essential for their future endeavours. 

Anakin wished they’d taken two weeks more to get there. He wished there'd been more arguments, that one of them had made some unreasonable demand so they had to stretch their stay. 

Tomorrow they would be gone, and Anakin felt anxiety creep up his throat. Closing his eyes behind his helmet, he tried to breathe, tried to snatch the emotions and release them into the Force, but he couldn’t. Obi-Wan was right there, had sat in the same tent as Anakin for the past three days, but he might as well still be on Coruscant for all that Anakin could reach him. 

Anakin didn’t dare stretch a tendril of Force along their bond. As long as he didn’t try, he could pretend he wouldn’t be met with opaque walls. Time slowed down to a syrupy drip as Anakin watched Padmé and Obi-Wan sign their copies of the treaty, entering all the codes that would make it official in the eyes of the Galaxy.

Now they could leave. Obi-Wan would probably want them in the air within the hour. It would be so much easier to avoid Anakin from the other end of the galaxy. 

The rushing noise in his ears cut him off from the world as everyone got to their feet, shaking hands and smiling pleasantly at each other. Only Ahsoka seemed a bit uncomfortable, sneaking glances between Anakin and Obi-Wan, but Anakin barely noticed. 

Obi-Wan was leaving, and he still wasn’t looking at Anakin. 

“Knight Kenobi.”

It was the first time Anakin had spoken in the tent. He wasn’t supposed to speak at all, not with the Clone Trooper present, but if he didn’t he might actually explode. Obi-Wan froze, turning to reluctantly acknowledge Anakin. His face was just a grain too tight to be truly serene, and Anakin’s anxiety ratched up another notch.

“Might I have a word in private?” He asked, proud of how steady he kept his voice. He didn’t sound at all like he was begging his Master to pay attention to him. Behind the helmet, he might even sound professional.

Obi-Wan’s mouth opened and closed a few times, hesitating. Obi-Wan never hesitated. Why was he so opposed to speaking to Anakin? He’d spoken to Mace , why not him? 

The Clone Trooper also twitched at the demand, taking a small step forward as if he intended to place himself bodily between the Jedi and the unknown guard, but Ahsoka, bless her to the Stars and back, dashed forward to grab his arm with a winning smile.

“Come on Cody, let’s go and make sure the brothers are ready for the flight.”

The Clone Trooper, Cody, had no choice to follow her, lest he be dragged out of the tent. Padmé and Shmi shared a knowing look and exited at a more sedate pace.

Suddenly they were alone in the tent, but it wasn’t lost on Anakin that Obi-Wan hadn’t actually agreed to speak to him. Slowly, waiting a few extra seconds to make sure no one was coming back to interrupt them, Anakin pulled off his helmet, dropping it on the table.

Obi-Wan fixed his eyes on a spot over Anakin’s left shoulder, folding his hands behind his back. Even now, completely alone together, he still wouldn’t look at him. Anakin felt like his bones would vibrate hard enough to shatter, being so close to him, yet being refused any connection. Even in their early days, when Obi-Wan hadn’t wanted Anakin as a Padawan, when he was trying to explain the absence of attachments expected of a Jedi, Obi-Wan had allowed more contact between the two of them.

“Master.” Anakin wasn’t sure how to begin, how to put words to the feelings burning under his skin, not now that he had the occasion to do so. Not when Obi-Wan seemed so opposed to hearing them.

“I’m not your Master, Anakin. Not anymore.”

Anakin flinched, but made himself breathe through the lancing rejection. No. He remembered this, the bland tone, the stand-offish stance. Mace used to be the same, before his mom and he wore him down. 

“That’s not true.” Anakin took a step forward, trying to catch his eyes. Obi-Wan’s shoulders tensed,  and Anakin knew his fingers must be twitching. “You never broke our bond. You’re still my Master.”

“Master Windu-”

Anakin stepped closer again, almost within arm’s reach.

“Is not my Master. He taught me because you couldn’t, but he never wanted to replace you. I wouldn’t have let him.”

“Anakin, what is this about?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice rough enough to scrape against Anakin’s overheated skin. Gently, Anakin pushed at Obi-Wan’s shields through their bond.

“I miss you.” He whispered, finding Obi-Wan’s eyes at last. They were as raw as his face was serene, wide and pained and captivatingly clear. “I missed you so much. I’m sorry I left, but you found me again! I just want to feel you. I’ve missed feeling you in our bond ever since I left! Please, Master-”

“I am not your Master!” Obi-Wan snapped, stumbling backwards, sucking a deep shuddery breath. “I didn’t train you. I didn’t counsel you through your doubts, and support you through your journeys. I didn’t care for you, protect you or-”

Obi-Wan’s eyes fell to his right ear. Where his Padawan braid should have hung.

“I’m not your Master, Anakin, because I don’t deserve to be.”

Anakin jolted forward, grabbing Obi-Wan’s shoulders to cut off his escape.

“No! That’s not true, you were always with me. Mas-” He cut himself off as Obi-Wan tensed under his hands, wetting his lips. Fine. Fine, he could work with that. “ Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, please let me in. I can show you.”

“Anakin, this isn’t a good idea. I should-”

“You didn’t cut off our bond for eight years. You won’t now.” Slowly, inexorably, Anakin shuffled closer, one hand sliding to cup the back of Obi-Wan’s neck. Holding his breath, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest, he pushed their foreheads together.

“Please, Obi-Wan, let me in.”

A hand wrapped itself around his forearm, and for a second, Anakin was terrified Obi-Wan would rip his hand away, run away after all, run back to Coruscant where he couldn’t follow. But Obi-Wan dug his fingers in, holding on as if he would crumple otherwise.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan pleaded for mercy even as he pressed his forehead back against his.

“Obi-Wan.” Anakin Skywalker wasn’t a merciful man, not when he could feel the soft hair at the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck brushing against his fingertips.

A sigh fluttered against his cheekbones, and Obi-Wan dropped the shields he had built against their bond. 

Maybe Anakin had gasped, or maybe it was Obi-Wan, or maybe it was the Galaxy around them. It didn’t matter, not when he could dive into Obi-Wan’s mind at last. 

Obi-Wan felt like a summer rain, like crispy mornings and warm afternoon light. He was luminous and comfortable, and Anakin’s soul started to shed eight years of tension and longing as he basked in it. Clumsy with lack of practice, Anakin tried to wrap himself in Obi-Wan’s Force signature, to absorb all he could. He knew this wouldn’t last, so he had to make the most of the time he had. Even if Obi-Wan didn’t change his mind, eventually he’d have to leave, back to his War, back to the Temple and the Star Destroyers.

He nearly cried when Obi-Wan reached back, mind stilted and hesitant and gentle, brushing against Anakin’s. Anakin responded in kind, trying to keep himself soft, not to scare him. He would invent wells of patience within himself if it meant keeping Obi-Wan’s mind close to his. 

Obi-Wan didn’t pull back, just paused for a moment before winding himself as tight around Anakin as Anakin had him. Anakin felt whole, safe, home. He was where he needed to be, how he was meant to be. 

“Obi-Wan.” He whispered, laughing because he could.

“I’m here.” Obi-Wan answered, grabbing Anakin’s shoulder, perhaps to soothe him, perhaps to steady himself, perhaps because it felt right for their minds to be intertwined.

“So am I.” Anakin wanted to give back some of that safety and reassurance. In the bond, in their mind, he pushed all his joy-excitement-longing . Obi-Wan rose to meet him, his happiness at finding Anakin at last incandescent, but streaked with guilt, shame, and eight years of bitter anxieties. Anakin stretched, trying to catch all of the dark tendrils of emotions, trying to bring them back into himself and free Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan shouldn’t feel sad, or bitter, or guilty. Why was he guilty? Was that why he had avoided Anakin? “I am here. I won’t leave you again.”

“You will have to, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s grip on his shoulder and his forearm tightened as dread and sadness dropped heavier into his mind. Anakin surged to catch them, cradling them into his own Force signature.

“We’ll have to leave this planet. I won’t leave you .”

“Anakin...”

“We have encrypted comms, we can talk everyday.”

“I’m a General, Anakin.” Obi-Wan offered, brushing aching fondness against him as Anakin tried to burrow himself deeper into Obi-Wan’s signature. “I don’t have a lot of free time.”

“As often as you can then? I swear I’ll always answer when you call.”

Anakin expected hesitation, expected some attempt at a Jedi’s detachment, but Obi-Wan only fell, as if it was as easy as breathing.

“Of course, dear one.”

Chapter Text

“I’ll have Master Obi-Wan send you some of my Jar Kai treaties.” Ahsoka told Anakin as they stood in the middle of the Clone Trooper ballet. The soldiers were making final checks to their ship and supplies, making sure they hadn’t lost one of their own in the forest at the last minute, making sure they hadn’t lost one of the Jedi at the last minute. 

“You’d give me tips on how to beat you even more easily?” Anakin teased, elbowing her just gently enough not to hurt her.

“Please, I just want you to be more of a challenge. It’s getting so boring waiting for you to make any moves. Anyway, you need to work on your parries.”

Obi-Wan and Padmé were off to the side, speaking with Shmi and a holo of Mace, going over the last few details of their treaty and making what seemed to be perfectly proper and boring goodbyes. Anakin couldn’t help but notice that, despite losing some of his tension, Obi-Wan still held himself warily around Mace. 

Both because he wanted to help him relax, and because he could, he stretched a brush of warmth and reassurance across their bond, ghosting over Obi-Wan’s mind. Like a loth-cat, Obi-Wan pushed into the touch, shooting a delighted thrill down Anakin’s arms. He had half-expected Obi-Wan to shield their bond back as soon as Anakin let him out of his sight. Instead he had kept himself open ever since, though he had yet to initiate any contact. It was all Anakin could do not to keep the two of them constantly intertwined.

Better not to push too hard too soon. Better not to get used to soaking in Obi-Wan’s Force signature when they were minutes away from being separated again. 

“And you need to get stronger.” Anakin replied, looking down at Ahsoka. “Speed is all well and good, but you won’t always have the opportunity to kill your opponent by a thousand cut.”

“Yes, yes, defense and strength, I know. ” She grumbled, elbowing him back. “I’ll get right on that, Master Skyguy.”

“Don’t call me that in front of Obi-Wan, he gets touchy about ‘proper titles’ and all that poodoo.”

“Of course!” She agreed far too easily.

“You’re going to call me Master Skyguy all the time.” He sighed as she grinned, showing off her sharp canines.

“I’m changing your contact name the first chance I get.”

Anakin’s laughter took him by surprise, and suddenly, the thought of Ahsoka also leaving dropped at the bottom of his stomach. Without thinking, he drew her into a tight hug, barely loosening his hold when she tensed. Jedi were always so stiff around hugs. It had taken months to train Obi-Wan and Mace into accepting them gracefully. 

Oh well, he’d just have to make sure to meet with Ahsoka often enough to work on it. He could rope in his mother easily enough.

“Be careful out there, Snips.” 

“Don’t worry about me, Skyguy. I’ve got Master Obi-Wan and the Clones watching my back.”

“Just remember to also watch it yourself.” Anakin drew back to look her straight in the eyes. “Obi-Wan is going to get a reputation if he loses another Padawan.”

“Guess you’d just have to come back to fill the spot then!”

“They barely accepted me when I was nine, I think Yoda’d have a heart attack.”

The Force shifted around him, and Anakin took a step back as Obi-Wan and Padmé reached them. She grabbed him first, enveloping him in as tight a hug as Anakin could dish out, smoothing his shirt down when she released him.

“It was so good to see you again, Ani.” She smiled up at him, eyes large and wide in the afternoon soon. “Don’t be a stranger. I expect regular updates, or I’ll go through Simru.”

Anakin chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. She was really quite beautiful. Nine years old Anakin might have been unto something, only…

Obi-Wan stepped forward, hair shining copper and gold, and Anakin’s heart stuttered. He didn’t have time to consider grabbing him before Obi-Wan stepped forward, cupping the back of his neck. His eyes were soft as they stared right into his soul, and Anakin could only look back, belly twisting.

“Take care of yourself, Anakin. I’d be quite cross if something were to happen to you now.” He wasn’t quite whispering, but in the bustling camp, Anakin doubted anyone could hear. Unless Ahsoka was straining to do so.

“As if the Separatist have anyone who could outfly me.” Anakin smirked, sharper still as Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“All it takes-”

“Is one lucky shot, yes, Mas- Obi-Wan.” Anakin reached with his mind, pushing safety-promise-care at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered shut as he took it in, swiping his thumb against the side of Anakin’s neck.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He was definitely whispering now, pining Anakin in place with his bright eyes.

“I’ll send you a full report after every fight.” Anakin did his best to quip, cocking an eyebrow. “With a medical bill of health and all.”

“Please do.” 

Before Anakin had the time to gauge if Obi-Wan had been serious, he let his hand fall, stepping away from him with a shallow bow.

“May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, Obi-Wan.” The answer was still a reflex after all those years. Anakin didn’t move from his spot as they stepped on the ship, or when the ship lifted into the air, or even when they disappeared from view.

Obi-Wan faded from the other end of their bond. Anakin turned around and went back to the base.

Mace stepped to the side, twisting his blade up to disarm Anakin, titling the tip of it close to the young man’s throat before he had the chance to rearm himself. After a beat considering feinting to duck under Mace’s saber, he relented, raising his hands in surrender. Mace clicked off his own blace, watching in silence as Anakin grabbed his hilt off the ground.

“You’re faster.” He remarked, voice bland.

“Yeah, Ahsoka’s a little spinning devil when she gets her groove.”

“Hm.”

“Mace, if you have something to say, just say it.”

“Learning to fight faster opponents is good, just make sure you don’t start prioritizing speed above all else.”

Anakin pushed his sweaty hair off of his forehead, frowning at him. 

“Isn’t speed a good thing? The faster I get, the harder I’ll be to parry and dodge.”

“Speed at all costs means you’ll leave yourself less time to read and react to your opponent. And when not properly grounded, you’ll have more opportunities for footwork mistakes.”

“Are you calling me unbalanced, Mace?”

This wasn’t a new topic, and it was one Anakin had been expecting for days. Mace had insisted they take a few days for training after Obi-Wan’s departure, probably eager to assess the impact of that whole mess on Anakin. 

“No.” Mace answered, surprising Anakin. “You’ve… handled reconnecting with Kenobi more gracefully than I expected you to. But you are unfocused.”

Unfocused. Anakin supposed that was a good word for it. Sometimes, it seemed half his brain was trained on the bond he shared with Obi-Wan, hoping against hope it would flare to life. It was stupid. And pointless. The short notes Obi-Wan had sent him said they had reached Coruscant. But he couldn’t help himself. 

He wondered if Obi-Wan had kept the same quarters they had shared. If Ahsoka had taken over his old Padawan room. Probably. The thought didn’t flare jealousy in his chest. Better Ahsoka than anyone else.

“Yeah. Still thinking about all of it, I guess.” He shrugged. Focus hadn’t ever really been a problem for Anakin the same way balance had, and Mace seemed wrong-footed to address it.

“It’s understandable. But once you go back to the front, you won’t have the luxury of distraction. Lack of focus might not be as dangerous as lack of balance is for a Jedi, but it is deadly for a soldier.”

“Is this when you tell me I need to meditate on the subject?” Anakin asked, smirking wider when Mace rolled his eyes.

“Eight years of meditation hasn’t gotten you rid of your obsession with Kenobi, it’s not going to miraculously work now. But you’ll have to compartmentalize. Day-dreaming over his baby blues in the middle of a dogfight will get you and your squadron killed.”

“I don’t know what-” Anakin’s jaw clicked shut at Mace’s glare. Force. “I am perfectly capable of being professional.”

“Good. Kenobi knows how to contact me now, and I really don’t want to deal with him if he loses you a second time.”

“He won’t.” Anakin whispered roughly, looking away. He wasn’t going to get himself killed right as he finally got Obi-Wan back. “I’ll be careful.”

“Anakin.” Mace waited until Anakin’s eyes were back on him. “I do mean it. You’ve handled the entire situation very well. And I’m glad you got to meet him again. It’ll be good for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. If nothing else, there’ll be someone else to yell at you the next time you decide to self-destruct your fighter while you're still in it.”

“I said I was going to be careful!”

“Good. He would definitely find a way to punch me if you’re not. Now, starting stance. Let’s see what I can remember of Jar Kai.”

“Anakin?”

Anakin almost toppled from his perch on the edge of his bed, clutching at his comm. 

“Oh! Obi-Wan!” 

“Yes, that would be me.” Obi-Wan’s voice was faintly amused. “You sound very surprised for the man who called me.”

“I’ve been calling you for two weeks. I’d started to think we were doomed to miss each other.”

“I’m very sorry. We barely had time to breathe once we joined up with Master Mundi. I think if I had tried to do anything but eat and sleep in my downtime, Cody would have confiscated my comm.”

“Good man, that Cody.”

“Not you too. I have enough of him and Ahsoka fussing over me.”

“Okay, okay!” Anakin laughed, scooting to lean back against the wall. “Are you still with Master Mundi?”

“We’re about to split up. There’s only clean-up left, and his corps can take care of it. We’ll be leaving for Coruscant in the morning.”

“So you’ll get some downtime?”

“Sadly, neither me or Ahsoka got grievously injured, so we’ll probably just stay in the Temple long enough to get a new assignment.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“The War waits for no Jedi.”

“Ha ha. Yeah. Maybe you’ll be shipped far enough you’ll be able to catch up on sleep in hyperspace.”

“Maybe.” Obi-Wan couldn’t have fooled him even from light-years away. The man had no intention of using any free-time to rest. Anakin could only hope Ahsoka and this Cody person were more stubborn than him. 

Silence, just a bit too long to be comfortable. Should Anakin keep pushing for Obi-Wan to take care of himself? Or tease him for being a workaholic? He wanted to, but he didn’t want Obi-Wan to get irritated and hang up. Would he hang up? He had promised he’d talk to Anakin, but he hadn’t promised he’d welcome Anakin’s pestering.

“And you? Anything interesting happening in the Rebellion?” Obi-Wan asked, breezy and so much smoother than Anakin could ever be. He latched on the opening with fierce relief.

“Nothing much, to be honest. We’d already decided to work on consolidation before the Seps got their dirty asses involved, so it’s pretty much just endless meetings about ressources and waiting for the Hutt’s next move.”

“I’m sure your mother and the Government are glad for a chance to take stock.” Obi-Wan reasoned, voice gentle, like he knew exactly how grating this waiting game was to Anakin. He let his head fall back against the wall, shrugging.

“Yeah, probably. It still sucks to be stuck here, doing nothing, when there’s still dozens of planets with slaves waiting for our help.”

“Patience, Anakin. You’ve already helped the slaves of the Outer Rim more than anyone could have possibly expected.”

More than the Republic and the Jedi had ever helped, neither of them bothered to say. Anakin didn’t want to start a pointless argument, not when he had finally caught Obi-Wan. It wasn’t his fault anyway. Obi-Wan couldn’t understand slavery anymore than his mother could understand being a Jedi. Even Mace, who had been living amongst ex-slaves for years, didn’t really get it. Not in his bones.

Silence, again. Did Obi-Wan want to talk about the Republic turning a blind eye to slavery? He had always liked debating. Though Anakin wasn’t sure he wanted to treat this like a theoretical moral issue...

Why wasn’t Obi-Wan speaking?

Or maybe it was his turn? Obi-Wan had introduced a new subject last time, now Anakin had to do the same… But what? His life was hardly fascinating at the moment, especially compared to a Jedi General’s. 

“We went to do some recon on Ashas Ree?” He tried, fully aware of how desperate he sounded. 

“Ashas Ree?” Obi-Wan’s voice perked up. “I wasn’t aware there was a slave population on Ashas Ree.”

“There isn’t, just a trading post that’s kind of working with the Hutts, but they don’t really care either way. We figured it might be a good place for a base, or to install refugees.”

“Oh, of course. Well, it is a truly fascinating place! Were you aware there is an old Jedi Temple on the planet?” 

Anakin knew that tone. With a wide smile, he shifted to find a more comfortable position. “Yeah, we saw it when we were exploring. It’s really old.”

“It is! It was built on top of a Sith Temple, as was the tradition once upon a time. It was thought to be the most efficient solution to seal their dark influence, you know.”

Anakin hummed in ascent, closing his eyes to sink into Obi-Wan’s voice. His old Master would need very little encouragement to continue, dropping into a lecture that had always had a way of catching Anakin’s elusive attention better than any other teacher in the Order. Obi-Wan had made philosophy interesting, and Anakin truly couldn’t give two kriffs about philosophy.

“Some scholar believed- Well, did you stay long enough to see the planet at night?”

“Yeah, we stayed for a couple of days?” 

“Ah, you must have seen the Parvinoths? The Asha Rees strand is known for their peculiar patterns and specific bioluminescence wavelength, making them distinct from all other known species. Some scholars believe this is due to the dual influence of the Light and Dark temples. They might have mutated the genetic make-up of the fauna.”

“Really?”

“Yes! They tried to conduct some studies on other parts of the planet’s ecosystem, but by the time they had noticed the discrepancy, the affected individuals would have had the time to travel and spread their mutations to the rest of the population, so the results remained inconclusive.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, it was a bit of a disappointment. The influence of Sith Temples on the worlds they occupy is truly a fascinating topic, and one that hasn’t been explored in depth yet…” Obi-Wan trailed off, perhaps noticing he had essentially been monologuing at Anakin. Not giving Obi-Wan any time to overthink himself out, Anakin perked up.

“Why not?” He asked with little grace but a lot of enthusiasm. 

“Well, Jedi that are interested in Sith Temples usually only care about them in relation to us, and to the Force, rather than more mundane impacts it would have on the physical world around us. It’s an important angle, of course, to understand the Siths better as enemies, but we do the Galaxy a disservice if we ignore their impact on their day-to-day lives.”

“Of course.”

“You see…”

Anakin relaxed, letting Obi-Wan’s crisp accent sooth him into a calm, almost meditative state. It almost felt like an indulgence, to occupy so much of the man’s time, but well, if they were to install a semi-permanent post on Ashas Ree, they needed to know as much about it as possible, right? And it was so much more pleasant to learn it from Obi-Wan than from a dusty, dry old datapad. Obi-Wan, the nerd, had probably read all of them anyway. Did he still have time to read and research, these days? Or did he have to rely on other people’s intel? If he was anything like the Obi-Wan Anakin had followed on missions, it would irritate him to no end.

Maybe that was why he didn’t sleep enough. He kept trying to do everyone's job at the same time. Anakin really needed to talk to Ahsoka.

“Oh, listen to me.” Obi-Wan paused, presumably catching the time somewhere. His voice turned sheepish. “I’m sorry, Anakin, I didn’t mean to go on for quite so long.”

“No! No, it was all very interesting.” Anakin protested, straightening.

“Regardless, I doubt you called to be lectured about Ashas Rees’ geography and ecosystem.”

“I called to hear your voice.” Anakin couldn’t help his voice dropping, embarrassment flushing hot on the back of his neck. There was a pregnant pause at the other end of the comm.

“Well, I suppose you did.” Obi-Wan answered, and he sounded almost strangled. “Perhaps, next time, I might have the occasion to enjoy yours?”

“Yeah, sure.” Anakin laughed softly, cheeks burning. “I’ll make sure to have a pod-racing rant all ready for you.”

“Stars, no, Anakin, have mercy on me.” Obi-Wan protested, smooth and pristine once more. “I haven’t kept up with the pod-races in years.”

“Too late, old man. There this new engine they developed last year, that-”

“Good night, Anakin!” Obi-Wan cut in quickly, shifting noisily to warn he was about to turn off the comm.

“You can’t stop me now, Obi-Wan! I’ll corrupt Ahsoka if I have to!”

“ Good night, Anakin! ”

“Ma’am?” One of the base aids asked, popping their heads into the room Shmi had chosen as an office, nodding respectfully at Anakin when they noticed him. He had been looking over a datacache Padmé had sent their way, trying to make it fit in the cloud of rumors and intel they had gathered. With her contacts in the Nubian political sphere, she had managed to find interesting tidbits as to the origin of Palpatine’s fortunes and where they might be traced.

“We’ve got a scrubbed Republic fighter requesting permission to land. They say they were sent by Ben?”

Shmi and Anakin blinked in sync, before she gathered herself, jumping to her feet.  “Ah, yes, of course. Direct them to the secondary hangar, we’ll meet them there.”

Anakin followed as she strode out of the room, still puzzled. His confusion only grew when she stopped by the quartermaster’s office, asking her to prep one of their extra rooms and locate some new clothes. Whoever it was that was coming was apparently there to stay, which wasn’t uncommon, but why would his mother be taking care of the matter personally? 

“Who’s Ben?” He asked in a brief moment of solitude. His mother turned back to him with a frown before rolling her eyes, swatting his shoulder.

“Ani, do you ever listen to briefings?”

“I do when they’re about stuff that concerns me.” Anakin grumbled. So many of the meetings he was made to attend were about supply lines and personnel assignments. He did try to pay attention, but that was Mace’s purview. 

“I would have thought having your Obi-Wan involved would have kept your attention longer.”

“My Ob- Oh, Ben ! But why is he sending- It’s one of the Clones, isn’t it?” Anakin blushed, embarrassed it had taken him so long to connect the dots. He had been paying attention to Obi-Wan during the negotiations, but maybe not always to the logistics detail Obi-Wan had been laying out...

He really should work on not getting distracted. 

“Most probably.” His mother did another quick detour by the infirmary, grabbing a first aid kit. The aid hadn’t mentioned anything about injuries, but Shmi Skywalker hadn’t found herself at the head of a Slave Rebellion by being unprepared. “It had been long enough that I honestly wasn’t expecting anyone anymore, but it seems your Jedi has kept his word.”

“Of course he has!” Anakin protested on Obi-Wan’s behalf. “There’s probably just way less Clones who want to leave the GAR than you thought!”

“Or they don’t feel secure discussing desertion around their General.” Shmi pointed out.

The secondary hangar was almost empty at this time of the day. It was too small and badly outfitted to hold squadrons of fighters, so they just used it for supply drops. When the fighter slipped in, beat up and clanking ominously, only Anakin and Shmi stood waiting for it. 

The ship had barely landed before the pilot popped out, a dark skinned man with close cropped brown hair. He was smaller than Anakin, well-built and in good health in skin tight black clothes.

Millions of clones running around the Galaxy, fighting a war for the Republic, and until now Anakin had had no idea what they looked like under their helmets. The face that had been replicated millions of times was one that he wouldn’t think about twice if he crossed the man in the street.

Getting his bearings, the man walked over to them. He didn’t have the skittishness so common in recently freed slaves, but he moved warily. As if expecting a trap. What had Obi-Wan told the man? Had he told him only that the Freed Government offered asylum? Or that he himself knew its leaders? Was the ex-Clone trooper insulted to learn that a Slave Rebellion considered him one of their own?

“Simru Treb?” He asked, stopping when he got into polite speaking distance. He didn’t quite salute, but Anakin could tell from the lines of his shoulders that it was a close thing.

“I am she.” Shmi answered placidly, small and unassuming. Anakin was used to people overlooking her as the leader of the Rebellion, underestimating her as fragile. But the Clone didn’t pause for a second, nodding sharply. He stood with his spine straight, hands folded behind his back. 

“CT-4576, Ma’am. Reporting for-” He floundered for a second, before clenching his jaw. “Reporting to the Freed Government.”

“And your real name?” 

“Cut, Ma’am.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cut. We have prepared rooms here for you, until you figure out what you want to do next.”

The Clone’s eyes widened, jumping from her to Anakin and back.

“Next? I thought…” He looked around the hangar as if it was an explanation unto itself.

“We’re not going to make you fight our war just when you’ve escaped yours.” Shmi frowned at the very notion. Anakin himself wouldn’t have minded more soldiers to back him up, but not if they hadn’t asked to be there. Conscripted troops were the best way to get shot in the back.

“Oh. Um.” Cut shifted, still searching for his words. “I want to help, Ma’am. Freeing slaves, it’s a noble cause.”

“And there are plenty of ways to be of use that don’t necessitate holding a gun.” Shmi smiled gently up at him. “But there’s no need to worry about that today. Take your time, sleep, eat, talk to people.”

She turned to the door, gesturing for them to follow her. Cut didn’t hesitate, falling one step behind her, right beside Anakin. 

“General Kenobi…” Cut said, voice fainter as they moved back into the hallways and started to cross other people. “He spoke highly of you Ma’am.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Shmi paused for half a step, just long enough for Cut to catch up. The Clone didn’t have time to course-correct before she was patting his shoulder, keeping him level with her as they turned towards the barracks. Anakin smiled at the maneuver, and the helpless Clone. His mother had always hated speaking over her shoulder. “And I am glad to have proof that Knight Kenobi cares about his men.”

“He does, Ma’am. All of us. Him and the other Generals.”

Anakin didn’t need the Force to know of the doubt vibrating around his mother, but she kept her mouth shut. If nothing else, Cut’s defection proved that the Clones hadn’t been brainwashed into blind obedience. And that at least Obi-Wan cared about their free will.

There wasn’t much they could do for the Clones from outside of the Republic, in the middle of a war they wanted nothing to do with.

But they could do this. 

“Hey Obi-Wan. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I can’t sleep and… Hey, I guess if you didn’t answer that means you’re actually sleeping! That’s good, I’m proud of you, I’ll tell Ahsoka to cancel the Rylothian Bee operation. But yeah. I guess you’re contagious because now I can’t sleep, but I have a headache, so I can’t even get up and do something useful. So… I hope you don’t mind me rambling into the void for a little while.

“And yes, Obi-Wan, I have tried meditation. For like two hours. Didn’t work. Never works. I guess it works if I do it the non-Jedi way, but then it’s so boring. And not even so-boring-I-fall-asleep, because that would be useful. Just boring.

“But every time I do like you tried to teach me? Opening myself to the Force? I feel like my brain is going to explode. I don’t understand how anyone would find it relaxing, except I’ve seen you and Mace do it, and you always seem in a better mood after. 

“It must be nice. Being able to open yourself to the Force without feeling like you’re going to disappear into it. Every time I do, it’s like my skin starts to evaporate. The Force is everywhere, it’s everytime, and it’s so much . It’s scary. And it hurts. Obi-Wan, the Force hurts. And I don’t know how to make it stop.

“I’m supposed to be the Chosen One, one with the Force, and I can’t even meditate properly without feeling like ripping my skin off. 

“I’m glad it’s not like that for you. You love the Force so much, I’m glad you’re able to open yourself to it without hurting. It looks… nice, when you do it. Sometimes, when we meditated together, instead of opening myself to it, I’d just… stay with you, in your mind, quiet. I figured opening myself to you was just as good, I guess. It’s dumb, but it worked. 

“It’s been a long while though. And the Force is still there. It does almost anything I want it to, except let me be part of it in peace.

“I guess that’s the price to pay for being able to explode a Hutt’s palace with my mind.”

“I should probably stop talking before someone hears me. Good night, Obi-Wan.”

“Anakin, I just got your message.

“I’m sorry. I never noticed how painful it was for you to connect with the Force, only assumed you were an active child who couldn’t sit still. That was a terrible failing on my part.

“That being said, what you said makes sense. You are the Son of the Force, you are Of the Force in a way no other Jedi is, even beyond your Midichlorian count. It shouldn’t be surprising that you would have trouble keeping a clear boundary between you and It. Even in my deepest meditations, I never lost awareness of being distinct in body and mind from the Force and the world around me. I can’t even imagine how terrifying and painful it must be to lose that. To hear and feel everything in the Force as strongly as if they were happening to you.

“Perhaps there are some old accounts of Force-sensitives who had the same issue? It’s said that the Jedi were more powerful in the past, perhaps some of them had solutions for keeping themselves distinct from the Force. I could look into it, if you wish?

“Regardless, it saddens me that you might never be able to fully commune with the Force, to open yourself as we do. You said it looked nice, but there is truly nothing like it, like being accepted fully as we are by something greater than us.

“But maybe… You said you used to use me as a substitute. Maybe there would be a way for you to use me as a buffer between you and the Force, and that would help keep yourself separate enough from it to not lose yourself? I’d have to do more research, that would be a brand new kind of guided meditation for me, and you’d have to open yourself completely to me- I’d understand if that’s not something you’re comfortable with, you’re not twelve anymore- but if you want…

“I’d be honored to help you feel the Force, to release yourself into it, if it is at all in my power. Let me know what you think, I’ll try and do some research on my side.

“Also, you destroyed a palace with your mind? Was it the one on Klatooine? We’ve been wondering what the kriff happened to that for years ! Were  you alright? That amount of power must have drained you! You haven’t done it since, so I doubt it was a pleasant experience. I hope Mace was able to help you process it.

“I have to go, Anakin, but please, let me know what you think.”

“Twilight Battalion, report!”

Anakin growled as his fighters chimed in one by one, jerking his wheel to duck a volley of blaster shots from one of the Separatists fighters. They’d only lost one pilot so far, and the Frigate hadn’t been able to send its troops to the surface of the planet yet, but there was only so long they could keep up when outnumbered three to one.

Even Anakin Skywalker could only do so much.

“Alright, keep them spread out, and focus on keeping yourselves flying, and them away from the planet.”

“Aye Aye, Boss!” A chorus answered, and Anakin spun into a tight series of dodges and turns, managing to take down a fighter as he did.

A flash of light to his left had him dive down, and the three fighters on his tail were shot down, as dozens of Republic Fighters appeared out of hyperspace.

“Calling Twilight Leader, please respond.”

His comm crackled to life, and Anakin cackled in gleeful relief even as he reinforced his mental shields and made sure his aura was under wrap. There was no forgetting that voice. 

“This is Twilight Leader.” He answered as soon as he flicked his radio to answer the new signal.

“Twilight Leader, this is General Plo Koon with the 104th. We were deployed to support you against the Separatist attack.”

“Good to hear from you, General. We’ve been focusing on keeping them off the planet.”

“If you concentrate your effort on protecting the planet, we can work on getting rid of the fighters at the source.”

“Works for me. Good hunting, General.”

“And to you, Twilight Leader.”

Anakin grinned widely as he switched back to his battalion’s frequency.

“We’ve got new friends, people. Don’t shoot the nice white and grey ships, and focus on keeping the Seps from entering the atmosphere. We’ll go down to deal with the Hutts planetside when General Koon has dealt with the Frigate.”

The fighters whooped and cheered, already streaking to find their place in the defensive formation. Anakin stayed a bit behind, ready to bridge the space between his own people and the Republic troops. If it gave him a better chance of dancing with Master Koon, well, all the better.

Obi-Wan was a very good pilot, but he had never been a happy one. Plo Koon, however, had loved flying almost as much as Anakin. Every once in a while, the Master had joined him when he was training in the Flight Simulations, even if it was just a pod-racing sim, or had indulged him with a conversation about their favorite ships and maneuvers.

Plo Koon flew just as well as a General as he had as a Jedi Master, managing to be in sync with his squadron even as he outflew them, something Anakin had never quite mastered.  Spying a fighter that had been hiding in the Frigate’s shadow, Anakin dashed forward, pulling into a barrel-roll around Plo’s own ship to shoot it down. He grinned like a lunatic as he saw the fighter burst into pieces.

“That was a fancy bit of flying, Twilight Leader.” Plo’s muffled voice shone with something like admiration through the comm, and Anakin preened.

“I could say the same for you, General.”

“Hm, could you?” Plo mused, suddenly ducking to the side to execute a move almost identical to Anakin’s to destroy a couple of fighters. “Yes, I suppose you could.”

Anakin laughed, and only pouted a bit when he had to split from Master Koon’s side of the battlefield to intercept three fighters sprinting straight for an unprotected gap in Twilight’s defenses.

With support from the 104th, the Separatists were pushed back without many further casualties for Twilight Battalion. The Frigate tried to turn and run away, but Master Koon’s troops were merciless, and soon enough it fell to pieces. Anakin didn’t bother sending people to look for escape pods. Even if they could get help, they would be too late to support the Hutt’s attempt at retaking the planet.

“Twilight Squadron, go support the ground troops. You’re under Tryl’s command once you’re in atmo.” He ordered, dispatching them. Their voices were tired when they acquiesced, and he could only hope the ground battle would be short now that the Separatist reinforcements wouldn’t come. 

“Twilight Leader?” Master Koon’s voice was the same as ever, emotions losing themselves in the anti-ox mask. “Do you need our help down on the surface?”

Anakin was sorely tempted to say yes, but that would have been selfish. And foolhardy. Fighting in two different ships, without the Force, was one thing. Fighting on the ground meant they might meet face to face, and Anakin couldn’t risk being recognized.

“No, General, we’ve got it from here. Thanks for your help today.”

“It was the least the Republic could do for such a just cause. And it’s always a pleasure to learn new tricks. If you ever find yourself in need of assistance, don’t hesitate to contact me directly.”

“Thank you, General.”

“May the Force be with you, Twilight Leader.”

“Goodbye.” Anakin had to bite his lips to keep himself from parroting the phrase back to the Master, and watched the fighters disappear back into hyperspace.

Anakin threw himself into the cockpit of his fighter as soon as his comm started ringing, slamming the windshield down before answering, trying to flatten his hair in some kind of order. After spending most of the afternoon giving his ship some tender love and care, he was covered in sweat, oil and some unidentified dirt. If it wasn’t so rare for Obi-Wan to initiate a holo-call, he’d probably have taken a shower before-

“Hey Master Skyguy!” Ahsoka’s face appeared above his comm, greeting him with a large toothy smile.

“Oh.” Anakin tried his best to keep his disappointment from his face, rubbing at a patch of oil on his chin. “Hey Snips.”

“You look like a mess!” She chirped, taking him in. Maybe it was for the best that she had been the one calling, and not Obi-Wan.

“We don’t all have an army of mechanics to take care of our ships for us.” Anakin grumbled with a smile. “Is everything alright?”

“Why, can’t I just call my second favorite guy?” 

“Of course, you just never do. You don’t call, you don’t write, I never see you around!” Anakin slumped dramatically in his seat. “It’s like I don’t know you anymore, Snips!”

Ahsoka broke into giggles she tried to muffle with her fist, large eyes sparkling.

“Also, second favorite guy? Do I need to challenge Obi-Wan to a duel to claim the top spot?”

“Please, my favorite guy is Ahul’x, he used to give me his dessert when we were younglings.”

“And Obi-Wan?”

“Master Obi-Wan isn’t even in the top ten after the stunt he just pulled.”

“Ahsoka, is that my comm you’re using?” 

“Oh?” Anakin asked, leaning forward. “What did Master Obi-Wan do?”

“Is that Anakin? Why are you speaking with Anakin?”

“Well, you see,” Ahsoka said, smirking sharp enough to show her canines, “we were on Exulla Third to investigate a rumor of Separatist activity.”

“Padawan, there is absolutely no need for Anakin to hear any of this-”

Oh, this was punishment. Or some form of payback. Obi-Wan’s voice was getting closer to the comm, and Ahsoka had started to shift around, probably to keep him from taking it back from her.

“Isn’t Exulla Third known for its casinos?” He encouraged, grinning.

“Exactly! So the Council sent us, so Obi-Wan could charm the pants off the casino bosses. Except, turns out one of them was an old acquaintance of Obi-Wan, someone called Uuk.”

“Hey, I remember Uuk! Obi-Wan flirted with them to get us access to an illegal speakeasy, back in the days.”

“I didn’t flirt with them.”

“Yes, you did.” Anakin raised his voice to be heard properly, and Ahsoka bit her lips to keep herself from laughing.

“Well, they certainly thought so. Anyway, Uuk shows up, eager to reconnect with Obi-Wan, except they know he’s a Jedi. And we’re supposed to be undercover.”

“That’s a bummer.”

“I know, right? Anyway, so, Obi-Wan panics-”

“I most certainly didn’t panic!”

“And tells Uuk he quit the Jedi years ago to pursue his dream of being a travelling acrobat.”

Anakin violently snorted before he could slap a hand over his mouth.

“Of course, the first thing Uuk does is ask us to perform at his casino.”

“Of course, who wouldn’t?”

“Right? Except Master Obi-Wan doesn’t have a single showman bone in his body, and can barely go through a couple of flips before people start getting bored. So now, I have to go on stage to keep our cover.”

“I’m sure you did great!” 

“Kriff yeah, I did. I made a fortune that night!”

“We really need to talk about what to do with that money.”

“But then, of course, Master Obi-Wan takes the opportunity to go do some snooping. So now, not only do I have to be good enough to keep our cover, but also to keep the guards and Uuk occupied.”

“Did you?” Anakin could almost taste how desperate Obi-Wan was for him to stop encouraging Ahsoka, which was, of course, all the more reason to continue.

“Of course! None of them had ever seen a Togruta acrobat, let alone a Jedi Togruta acrobat. They couldn’t take their eyes off me. So I don’t hear anything, until there’s a big crash, and everyone goes crazy, and I have to disappear because Uuk is suddenly very angry with me.”

“Don’t tell me he-”

“He had thrown himself out of the window in Uuk’s office.”

“Of course he did.”

“I don’t appreciate either of your tones.”

“So I had to sneak back to our ship, and sneak back to Uuk’s casino to grab Master Obi-Wan, who was hiding behind a trash can.”

Anakin threw his head back and burst out laughing, not even bothering to cover his mouth. Ahsoka joined him, her giggles bubbling exuberantly.

“Well, I think that’s quite enough of this. I’ll call you later, Anakin.”

“Bye, Skyguy!”

“I don’t understand why every ship needs to have differently shaped and colored pieces. A hyperdrive coolant tube is a hyperdrive coolant tube, why do they have to be confounding?” Obi-Wan grumbled, reverberating weirdly with his head stuck in the ship’s engine.

“Something something capitalism.” Anakin answered absently.

“That cannot be your answer to everything, Anakin.”

“If you make all the pieces look the same, then people might realise they can salvage pieces from other ships, instead of having to buy them at the source, so the ship manufacturers lose profits. Capitalism.”

“Great. I’m so very glad we’ve figured that out. Is there a way around it?” 

“Of course, but you won’t need to. You said you had heard a clunking noise when you were priming the hyperdrive, right?”

“Yes.”

“Wizard. So that sounds more like one of the joints of the rotators is loose.”

“Anakin, the rotator is what keeps the ship stable. That sounds like a big problem.”

“Sure it is. But it’s a pretty easy one to fix too, lucky for you.”

“I am not mechanically inept.” Obi-Wan protested.

“How many spare parts do you have access to, right now?”

“Well-”

“Tape doesn’t count.”

“None.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Good thing it’s an easy problem then.” Anakin grinned at Obi-Wan’s put-upon sigh, scrolling through the datapad to the right section of the schematics. The Rebellion was equipped with a whole array of ships of all makes and models, so they had made sure to have documentation on all of them, including the model Obi-Wan was currently struggling to repair.

“So behind the hyperspace crown, you should see a panel with a star shaped key.”

“I see it.”

“Open it, and tell me what you see.”

“I see the rotator, with six connections, that seems to lead back to the core.”

“Yeah, they should. Can you test the connections to the rotator, see if one of them isn’t tight?”

There was silence for a minute, with only some shifting to keep him company. Eventually, Obi-Wan picked up his comm again.

“One of them was loose.”

“You can tighten it, then!” 

“Yes, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, shifting some more.

“You had already tightened it.”

“Yes, Anakin. Like I said, I am not technologically inept, just because I can’t diagnose a ship only on a clunking noise.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You were a great help.” Obi-Wan’s voice was closer now. He had probably crawled out of the engine. Anakin did his best not to imagine him in just his tunic, ruffled and messy with engine oil. 

At least not while Obi-Wan was still on the line.

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t tested the fix yet. You should go and do the hyperdrive prep, see if the noise comes back.”

“Of course. Can I call you back if there’s another issue?”

“You can call me whenever you want, Obi-Wan.” Careful, Anakin, don’t be too needy. 

“Goodbye, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and fond, and Anakin relaxed.

“Talk to you soon!”

Anakin didn’t even have the time to drop the comm on his night table before hurried footsteps stopped right outside his door.

Shmi burst in the room, eyes blazing as if preparing herself to take down an entire enemy fleet by herself. Anakin jerked straighter at her incendiary expression, and barely noticed when Mace slipped in the door behind her, closing it.

“Are you talking to Obi-Wan?” Shmi demanded, jerking her chin to the comm he was still cradling.

“We just hung up.” Anakin answered automatically, growing worried. “What’s the matter? What happened?”

“We had a medic run a series of tests on Cut and the other clones that joined up with us.” Mace spoke softly. “She didn’t know they weren’t slaves, so she ran the full testing regimen.”

“Did she find something? Are they sick?” A simple disease wouldn’t justify this level of anger in his mother. Did the Clone have a genetic defect? Had they found marks of past abuse? The Clones were soldiers, it would be hard to see the difference between scars from the battlefield and scars from mistreatment, wouldn’t it?

“She ran the full slave testing regimen, Anakin.” Shmi held herself very stiff. “The Clones have chips. In their brains.”

Chapter Text

Shmi Skywalker had stood in front of the full Hutt Council and demanded freedom, and that had been nothing compared to the coldness with which she greeted Obi-Wan Kenobi in the War Room. 

There were only five people in the room, late enough at night that this section of the base would be all but deserted. Anakin, Shmi and Mace on one side, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka on the other.  Obi-Wan, to his credit, had come the second Shmi and Anakin had called him citing an irregularity with the Clone deserters. Shmi had barely had time to tell the Jedi it wasn’t a matter she felt comfortable discussing over comms before the man diverted his and Ahsoka’s ship back to the Outer Rim.

“Simru, it’s good to see you again.” Obi-Wan was as affable as ever under his billowy robe, if faintly confused. A gentle tendril stretched across their bond to brush a welcome to Anakin’s mind, but he kept his shields tight. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Shmi’s eyes tracked him around the room.

The Jedi paused, taken aback at the barely hidden hostility in her voice, at the way both Mace and Anakin were holding back into the shadows, giving the floor to the smaller woman. Taking their cue, Ahsoka ducked to the side, leaving her Master alone to bear Shmi’s displeasure.

“What’s the matter? Is something wrong with Cut?” Obi-Wan asked, worry seeping into the lines of his forehead.

“No need to play dumb, Jedi.” Shmi answered, crossing her arms. Anakin knew his mother had taken Obi-Wan's swift response to her summons as an admission of guilt, an attempt to control the damage done by finding the chip.

“I beg your pardon?” Obi-Wan blinked at her. “Simru, I swear I have no idea what this is about. Did something happen to the Clones we sent you? Were they intercepted? I thought we had taken every precaution to assure they’d get to you safely.”

“Yet you chose to leave that chip in their head.”

Pause.

“What chip?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin couldn’t stop himself and dropped his shields, racing across their bond to demand entry to Obi-Wan’s mind. There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation. Obi-Wan welcomed him with what felt like relief, and Anakin dove in, refusing to be distracted by the luminous touch of Obi-Wan’s signature against his. He rummaged through the whirls of confusion-concern-fear, looking for anything else, any guilt, any secret corner Obi-Wan might be hiding from him.

He found none. Obi-Wan held himself bare, letting Anakin delve as deep and far as he wanted, and Anakin found nothing. After a minute, Anakin shifted to retreat, pushing an apology at Obi-Wan. The other man let him, but followed him across the bond. He didn’t ask to be welcomed into Anakin’s mind, simply let his presence soak the space between them, inviting Anakin to do the same.

“He doesn’t know anything.” Anakin spoke up for the first time. At the edge of his vision, Mace relaxed, leaning against the console.

“Anakin.” Shmi wasn’t as convinced by Anakin’s judgement as the ex-Jedi, frowning back at him.

“He’s not hiding anything, Mom. He couldn’t have.” He leaned forward, trying to make her understand. The bond still rang with Obi-Wan’s confusion-fear . She couldn’t understand how he knew, what he’d felt, but she could trust him. He knew he wasn’t always the most objective person when it came to Obi-Wan, or most other things, but surely she knew he wouldn’t forgive even him for putting slave chips in his soldiers’ brains .

“Simru, I assure you,” Obi-Wan said, spreading his arms, “if the Clones have a chip in their head, I had nothing to do with it.”

She glared back at him, fists bunching in the sleeves of her tunic.

“What kind of chip?” Ahsoka asked, stepping forward in the light of the central console. “What does it do? Does it explode?”

“Ahsoka is right.” Obi-Wan added, not breaking eye contact. “If it’s anything like a normal slave chip, it would have been completely irresponsible of me to encourage deserters. And imbecilic to send them to the one group in the Galaxy that would have the means and expertise to find it.”

Still, she said nothing.

“Shmi, if there’s a bomb in the brains of my men, of my friends , I need to know.” He implored, hands dropping at his sides. 

Tension leaked out of Shmi all at once, the fighting anger leaving only fatigue in its wake. She rubbed at her forehead, breaking the staring contest between her and Obi-Wan.

“We don’t know what it is, exactly.” She nodded at Anakin who pulled up the picture they’d taken of the Clone’s brain scans, as well as the scans of the chip itself. “It’s a sort of bio-chip, meant to camouflage itself in brain tissue. It’s not a bomb, but it does have the capability to send electrical impulses to the brain. To what end, we don’t know.”

Nothing showed on his face, but Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s confusion-fear drop into terror-fury for a second before he reined himself in. Softly, he pushed a soothing wave against Obi-Wan’s signature in the bond. Obi-Wan hesitated before sliding closer, pulling on Anakin’s, for once, calmer presence to center himself. Thank the Stars he had had a few days to compose himself.

“You extracted the chip already?” Obi-Wan asked, looking over the images. “Isn’t that dangerous with its placement in the brain?”

“We have good medical droids who are used to slave chips placed in terrible spots. And the Clone troopers were desperate for them to be removed, once they were aware they had them.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Obi-Wan murmured.

“What I want to know, Knight Kenobi, is why the Council thought it not an abomination to have their soldiers chipped this way.” Shmi asked, circling the Jedi.

“What?” Obi-Wan jolted, staring at her. “I told you already-”

“You have told me you didn’t know about the chip, and I chose to believe you. But you are not on the Council.” Shmi Skywalker was a good woman, and a kind woman whenever she could afford to be, but she wasn’t a merciful one.

“Mace, surely you don’t believe the Council could do this!” Obi-Wan asked, spinning to the ex-Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

“I didn’t believe the Jedi would be Generals in a war, Obi-Wan.” Mace’s voice was rough from exhaustion and years of watching the Order he loved fall farther and farther from what it should be. “What I want to believe is irrelevant in this case. The Clone army the Jedi Council commissioned have slave chips in their brains.”

Obi-Wan stared at his old friend in utter disbelief, fists clenching. Across the bond, he tried to reach for support from Anakin, but well... As much as Anakin had loved being a Jedi, he had never been a fan of the Council, even before they decided to join the GAR. 

“The Council didn’t commission the Clones.” Obi-Wan slumped as if all the strings that held him up had been slashed at once.

“What?” Ahsoka cried out.

“The entire Galaxy knows the Jedi made the Clones, Kenobi.” Mace growled. Anakin knew how much sleep he had lost over that fact 

“The Clones were commissioned for the Council.” Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes with his left hand. “But not by them. We only discovered their existence by accident, shortly before the Battle of Geonosis.”

“I knew it!” Anakin shouted. “ We knew it, the Council doesn’t have that kind of money!”

“Who would ever commision millions of soldiers for the Jedi and not tell them about it ?” Shmi asked, skepticism painted over every inch of her face.

“According to the Kaminoans, Master Sifo-Dyas did.”

“Sifo-Dyas died years before I left the order!” Mace’s forehead vein was visible even across the room.

“So we thought. It’s possible he survived long enough to have visions of the War and wanted to make sure we were ready.”

“Possible? The Jedi Council was satisfied with a ‘possible’ explanation?” Shmi looked like she wanted to throttle someone, and in the absence of a better target, had set her sights on Obi-Wan. Anakin shifted closer, ready to intercept her if the need arose. 

Obi-Wan himself was a mess of confusion, fear, and frustration, and Anakin did the only thing he could think of, wrapping him in a mental hug.

“The contracts and agreements were all in order, and once the Chancellor passed a law to integrate them into the GAR, there was no time to launch a covert operation.” Obi-Wan tried to reason.

“So the Council decided to take credit for an unknown army that might have been a giant time-bomb commissioned by someone who might have been the enemy of the Republic.” Mace growled.

“You weren’t there.” Obi-Wan whirled to storm up to him. “You don’t know how it was. The only reason the Republic didn’t turn against the millions of armed Clones suddenly running around in Star-kriffing-Destroyers was because they thought they were the Jedi’s. If we had told them the truth, there would have been mass panic, and the Clones would have borne the brunt of it!”

“And you never thought to run some tests on them?” Mace snapped back.

“The Kaminoans’ contract forbids anyone else to treat or run tests on the Clones!”

“Well, that’s not suspici-”

“The chip can be removed, right?” Ahsoka’s high voice cut right through the agitation of the room, and everyone turned to stare at her, blinking sluggishly as their anger seeped away.

“Yeah, we managed to take them out from the four clones we had on base.” Anakin decided to step in, worried the other might turn this into a new argument that didn’t resolve anything.

“So, can we start to remove them from our troops?” She asked, jutting her chin out. “Rex and Cody, and the others?”

“The operation was very long, even with our droids.” Anakin explained, trying to calculate. “The placement makes it difficult to get out without damaging the brain.”

“We could at least get started!” Ahsoka insisted. “Any Clone without a chip is better than all of them with them!”

“Starting to remove the chips is all well and good,” Mace stepped in, more composed, “but as long as any Clone still has them, they’re in danger, and possibly a threat.”

“Especially since we don’t know what they do.” Shmi added, placid as if nothing had happened.

“Seems to me we’ve got two problems here.” Anakin looked at each of them in turn. “First, getting the chips out, and maybe finding more efficient ways to treat the Clones. Second, finding what the chip does and who asked for it.”

“We can’t ask for help.” Obi-Wan said, stroking his beard. “Not until we’re sure who’s responsible.”

“Good point. So we need two teams. Two people go to Kamino to look into the chip, the others stay here and work on removing the chips.”

“I should go to Kamino.” Obi-Wan sighed, folding his hand behind his back. “I’ve been there before, I have some knowledge of the installations and the Kaminoans’ process.”

“Ahsoka should remain here then.” Shmi said, laying a gentle hand on the Padawan’s shoulders. “If we’re going to be working with the Clones and operating on them, there should be someone they know and trust around.”

Ahsoka seemed ready to protest for a moment, but relented without anyone adding a word. Anakin couldn’t help wondering how close she was to the Clones to be worried enough about their well-being that she’d agree to be separated from her Master.

“I can’t go to Kamino.” Mace groused. “Especially not with a Jedi, they’d recognize me right away.”

Elation burst in Anakin’s chest when he realised what this meant. Obi-Wan startled in the bond at the sudden onslaught of light.

“I guess that means I have to go with Obi-Wan.” Anakin said, trying his best to keep his face neutral. He doubted he fooled anyone, especially Obi-Wan, given how the man was trying to unwrap himself from the mental hug, all the while pushing fond-welcome-relief at Anakin.

“How terrible for you.” Mace didn’t roll his eyes, but the temptation was palpable. “Very well, so be it. You two should leave at dawn, before people notice Kenobi is on-base. Padawan Tano can easily be passed as a new recruit, but he’s too well-known.”

It was as good as a dismissal, and Anakin didn’t feel like hanging out the powder keg long enough for it to find another fuse. With a snappy salute for Mace and a toothy grin to Obi-Wan, he dashed out of the room. His mom would be around later for private goodbyes. Right now, he needed to pack. And take a shower. It was only polite, if he was going to be sharing a ship with Obi-Wan, after all. Hopefully his good pants were clean. 

“Skyguy!”

Anakin stopped and spun just as Ahsoka caught up to him, her big eyes drilling into his soul.

“I’m trusting you to keep Master Obi-Wan safe.” She told him, crossing her arms. She managed to look imperious despite her montrals barely reaching his chin. “If he gets one scratch on him, I’m taking it out on you.”

“We’re going to a medical facility, Snips. If anything, he’ll come back with fewer injuries than he has right now.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” She growled, before relaxing into a small smile, bowing at him. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you.”

Anakin heard the cockpit door slide open as the ship exited hyperspace. He pushed a greeting into the bond, because he could. Obi-Wan had disappeared into his room to try and catch up on sleep almost as soon as they had set up the coordinates for Kamino. As pleasant as it was to simply feel his presence in the ship, it was nothing compared to having him arch into Anakin’s mental probe, sending back a fond welcome. 

Obi-Wan dropped into the co-pilot seat, watching as Anakin lowered them into the atmosphere, following the coordinates he had given earlier. Once he was decently sure he was on the right path, Anakin extended his feet to kick at Obi-Wan’s ankle.

“So, what can I expect? Mad scientists? Greedy businessmen? A bunch of tubes full of clones, bubbling ominously?”

“None of that, I’m afraid. The Kaminoans’ facilities ran on the more… sterile side.”

“Alright, what about the Kaminoans? I don’t remember seeing any of them around.”

“They are a very isolated people, on purpose. Their planet had been erased from Galaxy Maps before I found it, searching for Jango Fett. They are… tall. With long necks. And very secretive. As some of the best cloners in the Galaxy, they are wary of their trade secrets getting out.”

“They sound charming.” Anakin raised his arms, arching in his seat to crack his spine. There was a weird thrill in the bond, and Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan was remembering his previous experience in the cloning facilities. “Who’s Jango Fett? Sounds Mandalorian.”

“He was. He was the bounty hunter the Kaminoans had hired to be the Clones’ template.”

“Why were you looking for him?”

“He had been hired to assassinate Senator Amidala.”

“Oh, yeah, she told me about that. Did the Kaminoans hire him?”

“No, as far as I could tell, they had no idea he still worked outside of his contract with them. After tracking him here, I followed him to Geonosis, and found out he was working for Count Dooku.”

“Dooku.” Anakin felt unease ripple in the bond between them, and cursed that he couldn’t turn to watch Obi-Wan’s face, now that they had gotten close enough to the cloning facility that he had to initiate the landing procedures.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Dooku, the Sith Lord who’s the Leader of the Separatists army.”

“That one, yes.”

“So, Jango Fett, the clones’ ‘father’, employee of the Kaminoans, was also hired, by Count Dooku, to kill Padmé, which led you to find the clones in the first place.”

“Well, if you say it like that, it sounds suspicious.” Obi-Wan protested, trying to pull back defensively from the bond, but Anakin chased him.

“If I say it any way, it sounds suspicious! Didn’t you think it was worth investigating?” He asked, curling around Obi-Wan’s Force signature. Not tight enough that he couldn’t easily close off the bound, but enough to make a point. Through their connection, Obi-Wan’s defensiveness started to raise even Anakin’s hackles.

“Jango Fett was a bounty hunter. We didn’t see the point of holding the Kaminoans accountable for his shifting allegiances.” Despite the fact that Anakin could feel his frustration, Obi-Wan’s voice was kept as casual as if they were discussing the dreadful weather.

“And you needed bodies to throw at the War.” Anakin hissed.

“And that.” Obi-Wan relented, folding his hands in his sleeves.

“Fantastic.”

“Anakin…” He sighed, untangling himself from him in the Force

Anakin let him, indulging in his own irritation for a few seconds before slumping in his seat, flicking switches as they touched down on the landing pad.

“You were right before.” Anakin non-quite-apologized. “We weren’t there.”

“I’m glad you weren’t.” Obi-Wan answered, faint. “This war, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Least of all you.”

“I’m fighting in a war too.” Anakin pointed out, finally able to look at Obi-Wan now that the ship had stopped moving.

“You fight for liberation, alongside people who have chosen to fight. You have clarity of purpose. The Jedi have lost so much of themselves fighting in this War, for increasingly obscure reasons. Even if Palpatine isn’t masterminding this whole thing, I don’t know how we’ll ever make up for all the mistakes and compromises we’ve made.”

Obi-Wan’s mind sank into a deep sadness, tinged with grief for what the Jedi should be, and Anakin slid out of his chair, reaching with both the Force and his hands. Grabbing Obi-Wan’s shoulders, he shook the man gently until he looked back at him, his eyes crystalline in his sorrow. Anakin would have folded him into a hug if he thought he would have welcomed it.

“Well, looks to me like the first step is finding out what the kriff is up with those Force-Damned chips.”

Obi-Wan stared back at him in what seemed almost like wonder before he smiled. It was a small thing, still frayed at the edges with sadness and nostalgia, but shining in the cockpit. Anakin was helpless not to echo it.

“Right you are, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, composing himself, yet not pulling from Anakin's grasp. 

“Always am.” 

“I wouldn’t go quite that far.”

Obi-Wan left the ship first. As far as the Kaminoans knew, he had come alone, to confer with Master Shaak Ti and discuss an issue he had encountered with one of his troopers. Anakin waited ten minutes in the ship, taking the time to hack into the security systems monitoring the ship to cover his exit, before slipping out, finding a service door a little farther along. He might never have visited this facility, but no matter how high-tech someplace was, the workers’ tunnels were always the same. 

Pulling the Force tight around himself, becoming almost completely unnoticeable to anyone not trained to find him, Anakin walked into the tunnels, following the pipes towards the center of the facility. Given the lengths they had gone to conceal its existence from the Jedi, the Kaminoans had to keep all their information about the chip in the most secure part of the building. Which was always, predictably, in the middle.

Anakin got deeper in the tunnels without meeting anyone, or raising an alarm. At the other end of the bond, Obi-Wan felt still as an iced pond. He always had been unflappable on missions. If he were to push deeper in his mind, Anakin suspected he’d find less tranquil emotions, but Obi-Wan was proficient at compartmentalizing and not infecting his padawan with his own feelings.

Anakin turned the corner, and had barely the time to scramble on top of the pipes before a droid came barreling through, scrubbing the floors with gusto. Good. As long as all the support personnel were droids, he could breathe easier. People were much harder to deal with.

Waiting a few seconds, he came back down and jogged farther in. If his mental map was accurate, and they generally were, he should be approaching the structure’s core. More and more pipes were crowding around him, steering towards the center, and Anakin slowed down, taking a chance to expand his senses. Obi-Wan was supposed to be meeting with the only other Force-sensitive in the vicinity, and he was far enough away not to detect this small use of the Force.

Parsing through the usual brain-scrambling amount of sensory information, he didn’t sense anybody around, biological or otherwise. He skulked forward until he reached the end of the tunnel, closed by a small hatch. Cracking it open, Anakin peeked into the large room he’d found. It was circular, with a high ceiling and no windows. On the floor were multiple terminals hooked to a large central console, the blue glow of their screens the only light in the room.

Pulsing his senses one last time to make sure he was alone, Anakin pulled back the Force tight, erasing himself before dropping to the floor. The nearest terminal was locked, but he barely paused, taking out a datastick and pushing it in the socket. 

It contained a code created by a member of the Rebellion, an ex-slave that had been highly prized by the Zygerrian for her ability to break into almost any network. Once plugged in, it would pick every lock in the terminal and scrub any trace of his presence after it was removed. 

The screen flashed to life, and Anakin grinned. So much for the Kaminoans protecting their secrets. Quickly, he rushed through the data, looking for the files on the Clones, and started downloading everything. Just because they’d only found the chip didn’t mean it was the only failsafe or means of control the Kaminoans had implemented. If the Jedi were going to break their confidentiality agreement with the cloners, they might as well get all the information.

The room’s light flashed on, and Anakin barely stifled a curse. A door opened on the opposite side of the large space. With his presence erased, Anakin could easily get back to the service tunnel, but he’d either have to leave the datastick behind, with the terminal turned on, which would immediately attract attention, or he’d have to take the stick without running the cleaning protocol. Anyone checking on the system would be able to detect the intrusion. 

Anakin regretted not having taken a Clone armor as a disguise, despite how much harder it would have made moving discreetly, but he dismissed the idea. He doubted the clones were any more welcome to this area than he was.

Footsteps echoed in the room, followed by low voices. Two voices. Good. If they were focused on their conversation, they’d pay less attention to their surroundings.

Making a decision, Anakin clicked on the datastick to initiate the scrubbing. While his presence was erased, people’s attention would slide off the spot where he stood, and he could only hope that would be enough to hide both himself and the terminal. 

Seconds seemed to tick by at a snail’s pace as Anakin watched the process on the datastick’s gauge. The other people in the room shuffled along, speaking too low for him to catch. They didn’t seem alarmed, always a good sign. Out of the corner of his eyes, Anakin caught a glimpse, careful not to look for too long. Even non-Force-Sensitives had a tendency to feel when they were being watched. 

Obi-Wan hadn’t done them justice when he had said they had “long necks”. With their stretched out limbs and their large eyes, they were nothing like any other species Anakin had encountered.

The datastick’s light turned a cheerful if muted blue just as the two Kaminoans stepped behind Anakin. If he hadn’t been holding himself so deep into the Force, they would have looked right at him. 

But erasing oneself wasn’t a perfect science, especially not for Anakin. If he faltered for even a second right now, there would be no time to hide, and no way to explain his presence. Breathing carefully, Anakin stood stock still, ignoring the anxious sweat that was starting to pearl and prickle at the back of his neck.

Why were they walking so slow? Didn’t they have better things to do, like breeding more slave soldiers? Surely there were more interesting places to have a conversation than an information hub.

Careful to keep his back to them, Anakin felt them pass him by, none the wiser. Holding a sigh of relief, he very slowly reached to unplug the datastick, wincing at the screen turned off. Noticing the change in lighting in the room, the footsteps stopped, but Anakin didn’t hesitate. Before either of the Kaminoans had the time to turn around, he dashed across the room, squeezing back into the tunnel.

Spinning, he lowered the hatch, leaving only a crack open to watch the two Kaminoans turn around, confused. One of them walked to the terminal Anakin had just left, unlocking it with a swipe of their comm. Anakin waited with baited breath until they shrugged, having found nothing, and switched it back off.

Grinning, Anakin slid the hatch closed and skipped back down the tunnel, sending a wave of victorious feelings towards Obi-Wan, to let him know it would be safe to retreat to the ship soon.

Obi-Wan strode out of his ship with all the quiet confidence expected of a Jedi. Arms folded in the sleeves of his cloak, he took a moment to look over the landing bay before finding the door. He had had to comm in advance to be given clearance to land, but his arrival wasn’t expected. But then, it hadn’t been expected the last time either. How peculiar to be back. Could it possibly only have been a year? A year of war and hardships, and it seemed like it had all started here. As if sensing his unease, Anakin cracked his shields open to brush a reassurance across their bond, retreating in a flash in case Shaak Ti was close. 

And wasn’t this even more peculiar, to be on a mission with Anakin again? No matter how impermeable his shields were, his presence was a weight Obi-Wan didn’t want to ignore. With Anakin so close, Obi-Wan could breathe deeper than he had in years, and he feared he might get addicted to the sensation.

The lobby was well lit, white, and so pristine Obi-Wan was oddly worried about tracking in dirt. Sensing a ripple of movement, he rolled his shoulders then settled, patiently waiting for his welcoming committee. Soon enough, Anakin would find a way in the building. To keep him safe, Obi-Wan had to attract as much attention as he could without arousing suspicion.

Master Shaak Ti and a Kaminoan he was mostly sure he hadn’t met turned a corner to join him.

“Knight Kenobi!” Shaak Ti greeted, bowing to him.

“My apologies for my unannounced visit.” Obi-Wan bowed in welcome to the both of them, smiling politely. He could feel Shaak Ti’s quiet confusion, but nothing from the Kaminoan. “There were matters that couldn’t be addressed over comms.”

“There is no need to apologize, General.” The Kaminoan assured him, bowing her long neck respectfully. “Jedi are always welcome to Kamino. I am Nala Se, Chief Medical Scientist. May I ask what the matter pertains to, so I can summon the appropriate personnel?”

Obi-Wan straightened out, and gave her a warm pleased smile. “As a matter of fact, I think you might be the one with the answers I need. Perhaps we could discuss this in private?”

“Of course, follow me.”

Nala Se walked out of the lobby, and the two Jedi fell in step behind her. Master Ti threw an inquisitive look his way. Careful to keep his fingers out of view, Obi-Wan asked her to follow his lead, and watched her nod from the corner of his eyes.

The Chief Medical Scientist led them away from the cloning facilities he had visited on his previous visit, and towards what looked like more administrative rooms. They ended up in a middle-sized conference room that was as sparklingly clean and impersonal as every other part of the complex Obi-Wan had seen.

At the back of his mind, something, a long dormant instinct, told him that Anakin was on the move. Now everything depended on how fast he would be in finding the information they wanted.

“Please, take a seat.” Nala Se gestured to the humanoid sized chairs at one end of the table. “Now, General, has there been an issue with one of the units?”

Units. Obi-Wan had to resist the urge to snear, and he could feel well-worn unease radiating from Master Ti. It must be a difficult position, to be in charge of the well-being of every clone being trained for the GAR, to get to know and care for each of them, yet to have to deal daily with the Kaminoan scientists who still saw them as nothing but products.

“I’m afraid so.” Obi-Wan craned his neck to look into the Kaminoan’s eyes. He had spent a decent part of his travel-time to Kamino meditating on how he planned to not-lie to this person. It wouldn’t do to undersell it. “It appears one of the troopers under my command has a tumor in his brain.”

“A brain tumor?” Shaak Ti asked, tensing. Nala Se’s eyes widened and she sat even straighter in her chair. The Clone Troopers weren’t supposed to have physical defects, certainly not defects that might affect their performance. For some of them to get sick was to be expected. They were still human. But an illness that might be attributable to their genes, or to their ‘fabrication’, was a much larger cause for concern, and everyone in this room was very aware of it.

“I’m afraid so. It was fairly deep in the brain tissue as well, from what we were told.” Obi-Wan explained further, keeping a careful eye on Nala Se. He wasn’t used to Kaminoan body language, and she was still frustratingly absent from the Force. Had she received training to hide her emotions from Force-Sensitives?

“And how did you find this tumor in the first place?” She asked, splaying long fingers on the table.

“One of our Clones had managed to run from an attack on his squad and was taken by locals to a medic. I’m afraid she wasn’t aware of your exclusivity clause on Clone Healthcare, and she ran a lot of tests. Of course, we made sure the results were wiped from her system. But she had found the tumor, and was, rightfully, worried about the risk it posed to the trooper’s health.”

“I see.” Nala Se said, voice even, staring right back at Obi-Wan. No matter what she was looking for, he made sure she wouldn’t find it. “Why wasn’t the trooper sent to this facility as soon as you were told of these results?”

“I’m afraid he is in critical condition. The Clone medic that took over said it would be a while before he was stable enough for hyperspace travel.”

Nala Se blinked slowly at him, letting the pregnant silence in the room stretch. “That is concerning news, indeed.”

“Is that a condition you were aware of?” Shaak Ti asked, frowning. 

“I’m afraid not.” Nala Se denied, looking away from Obi-Wan to try and appease Shaak Ti. Still no emotion in the Force. She had definitely been trained. Was that a general trait of the Kaminoans? They seemed to take secrecy to a truly staggering level.

“Is it a condition that could affect other troopers? If it’s a genetic condition, how widespread would it be?” Master Ti insisted.

“Jango Fett didn’t have any such defects.” Nala Se answered, with something like displeasure tightening the corners of her large eyes. By casting doubts on the health of the clones, they were casting doubts on her work, and she did not appreciate it. “So it is highly unlikely  that the Clones would exhibit them.”

“Yet, at least one of them does.” Obi-Wan insisted, careful to keep any blame from his tone. “The Clones are frequently put in highly stressful situations, and in very inhospitable conditions. Sometimes, genetic conditions only appear when the proper triggers are encountered, don’t they?”

“I assure you, General Kenobi, we are very aware of how genetic disorders present themselves. And Jango Fett’s genetic code was scoured to make sure no such irregularities appeared.”

“How could one trooper have a tumor then?” Master Ti asked.

“Perhaps it was caused by non-genetic causes, like exposure to dangerous radiation, or nocive chemicals. Or perhaps the medic that ran the test got a bad reading. Regardless, it is imperative the Clone trooper in question be sent here as soon as he is able to travel so we can shed light on the situation.”

“Of course, he’ll be on his way as soon as his health allows.” Obi-Wan assured with another bow. After all, it wasn’t as if there was a penury of critically injured Clones with chips in their brains. He’d just have to make sure to select one who could obfuscate, and to thoroughly brief him.

After he’d told the larger clone population about the chip, of course. That was a series of conversations he was very much not looking forward to. The small group they’d chosen to be dechipped first had been unpleasant enough.

“Very well. Was there anything else, General?” Nala Se asked.

Before he could conjure an excuse to prolong the meeting, Obi-Wan felt a swift series of taps against his shield, so quick he barely had time to register Anakin before he was gone again and he relaxed. He would be on his way back to the ship, and Obi-Wan could retreat from this fruitless conversation.

“No, that was all.” Obi-Wan assured, forcing his politician’s smile. That was all . His Clone troopers, his men, his friends had chips in their brains that might do a million things they didn’t know about, and that was all. There was no way Nala Se, the Chief Medical Officer of this Force-Damned place didn’t know all about it, and yet here she stood, lying to me. Like she didn’t care. Like he shouldn’t care.

And he had to do the same, sit pretty and smile, while Anakin ran away trying to find the information they needed to help the Clones. Anakin who had no reason to care for the Clones, who had probably never talked to one of them before the first deserters came to the Rebellion, who had volunteered himself without a second thought to help them. Because they were people, and that meant Anakin cared if they were hurt and enslaved.

Anakin cared more about millions of Clones he had never met than Nala Se, the person who had brought them into the world, ever could. 

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to reach back to Anakin, to bask in the torrent of light the younger man would flood through their bond when he wasn’t careful. It wasn’t safe, not with Master Shaak Ti sitting right next to him. Yet... Yet, in this cold clinical room, staring at this cold clinical woman, Obi-Wan craved comfort. 

“Then I will take my leave. I need to inform my colleagues of this situation.” Nala Se pushed herself from her chair, bowing one last time.

Obi-Wan and Master Ti followed her at a more sedate pace.

“Do you really think it’s an isolated event?” She asked in a low voice as she guided him back to the lobby. 

“I think we’d be very lucky if it was, and luck hasn’t been on our side in a long time.” Obi-Wan sighed, looking at his sideway. “Why, do you have reasons to believe Nala Se was hiding something?”

“The Kaminoans have never been forthcoming on information regarding the Clones. Even if it was a widespread defect, I fear they would try to hide it until they couldn’t possibly do so.” In a less composed Jedi, the frayed edge to Shaak Ti’s words would be true frustration.

“If it’s the case, and that information falls into enemy hands…” Obi-Wan didn’t have to fake the quiet horror in his voice. Someone had control over the chips, and they had no idea who they were. Was it the Kaminoan themselves, as a fail safe? Had it died with Master Syfo-Dyas? Or were the Clones at the mercy of the Sith?

“I’ll do my best to keep an eye on the Kaminoans, and their studies of your trooper once he comes.” Shaak Ti promised, laying a gentle hand to Obi-Wan’s arm as they found the front door.

“Thank you, Master Ti. I have to admit, this is causing me some worry.” Understatement of the year, but she didn’t know the full extent of the danger in front of them.

“I understand, Obi-Wan. I would hate to lose any of the Clones to something as unfair as a brain tumor we could have treated.”

Obi-Wan nodded, looking out into the gray skies outside. Anakin was back on the ship, he was sure of it. He could only hope he’d found what they needed. “I’m afraid I must go, Master. The war awaits.”

“It always does.” She sighed one last time. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you.”

Of course, to crown this unpleasant visit, it had started to rain. It wasn’t proper for a Jedi to run away from such harmless elements, so Obi-Wan was soaking wet by the time he slipped on board. 

He found Anakin already sitting in the cockpit, a datapad in his lap as he sprawled in the pilot’s chair. As soon as he heard the door slide open, he turned and beamed up at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had to stop and balance himself. 

Anakin hadn’t caught enough of the rain to flatten his golden curls, or to dampen his golden skin. He was radiant in the drab light of Kamino. Even hiding his Force aura, Obi-Wan could have sworn he shined.

Force and Stars, they had barely been separated an hour, how could his presence hit Obi-Wan this hard? Anakin had grown into a breathtaking man, and the last few months had been too short for Obi-Wan to purge that unfortunate, insidious, attraction from his system. Could he ever get used to seeing Anakin? Not only get used to the thrill of Anakin reappearing  in his life, but reappearing  as a brilliant, funny, sharp, principled, beautiful, adult man that would be exactly his type if the circumstances were different? 

Would he ever have the chance to get used to it? Or would they be doomed to orbit at the edge of each other’s life, with Obi-Wan only escaping to the Outer Rim for a rare moment in Anakin’s actual presence?

Scolding himself for his melodramatic thoughts, Obi-Wan dropped into the copilot seat, already initiating the take-off checks. The sooner they were off this planet and in hyperspace, the sooner they could talk freely and look into the information Anakin had clearly found. 

‘And the sooner Anakin would be able to drop his shields,’ a treacherous voice whispered in his mind’s ear. He ignored it with only a twinge of guilt. True, it was highly unusual for the two of them to still cultivate their bond, let alone actively share their mentalscapes with one another. And he would never allow himself to initiate the melding. But Obi-Wan had yet to find the strength to deny Anakin. To deny himself the connection he wouldn’t admit to craving. As infrequent as their meetings were, he reasoned with himself, there was little chance they would become overly-reliant on it. It could be a treat. A sporadic reprieve. 

If the Council had been willing to turn a blind eye to his dogged, eight years long search for his Padawan, he could indulge himself this far. He could. As long as Anakin still reached for him, he would answer. And when the day came that Anakin didn’t, well, he’d deal without the golden warmth. As long as Anakin didn’t disappear completely from his life again, he could deal with a lot.

Anakin took his lead, not saying a word yet as he took the wheel and smoothly guided the ship into the atmosphere. The shining streaking lights of Hyperspace welcomed them, and Obi-Wan relaxed in the padded seat. Almost immediately, Anakin dropped his shields, and Obi-Wan had to blink at the sudden surge of his brilliant aura in the Force. It took a few moments until he could see Anakin’s physical body, beyond the supernova that swirled around him.

“So, you’ve found something?” He asked, watching as pride painted itself on Anakin’s face, the younger man pushing curls from his forehead. 

“I found a kark-ton of something.” Anakin grinned at him, stretching into the bond. “I downloaded everything they had on the clones, which is a lot. I’m sure there’s a lot in there you’ll want to know, but the real juicy parts are encrypted.”

“Your decoder can’t decrypt them?” Obi-Wan was a decent mechanic, but slicing was beyond him, and he had been quite happy to let Ahsoka take care of it until now.

“Different kinds of encryption. The decoder gives us access to files so we can download them, but it doesn’t help with making them readable.” Anakin shrugged, like this was an issue he had encountered before. “We’ve got some codebreaker contacts, but this looks like a complicated encryption. I don’t know how quickly it can be broken.”

“Send it to me.” Obi-Wan said, pushing gratitude-pride-determination into the bond. “I know people who owe me favours.”

“My my, Master Kenobi.” Anakin waggled his eyebrows ridiculously at him, leaning closer. “Why would a proper Jedi like you ever cross paths with codebreakers?”

“The same way you did, I suppose.” Obi-Wan answered breezily. “Codes needed to be broken.”

“Surely, the Jedi have people to do those things for them.” Anakin was so obviously fishing for a story, Obi-Wan considered denying him, if only because Anakin would surely pout.

“I never said they were my codes.” Obi-Wan arched a distinguished brow at Anakin as he packaged the files he would need decrypted by his contact.

“Obi-Wan, stop teasing.” Anakin whined, stretching out a leg to kick his shin.

“Stop needling, dear one, and I’ll consider it.”

“Hey Kenobi!” The terrible signal compounded the vocal modular Roxx-Y used to hide their identity, and Anakin could barely make out the words. Obi-Wan didn’t seem bothered, standing far enough from Anakin that he didn’t risk showing up on the feed by accident. “Good news, managed to solve your little puzzle.”

“That was faster than I expected.” Obi-Wan praised.

The figure on the feed shifted dismissively. “It was a new code, but it seems heavily inspired by the W-2 code used by the Florians a few years back. Wasn’t too wizard to whip up a program to run  through the possibilities. But, I won’t bore you with the details!”

Even with his head mostly turned away from him, Anakin could tell Obi-Wan’s eyes had started to glaze over, and he covered his mouth to catch his huff of laughter. Obi-Wan always made sure to be competent with most forms of technologies, but it had never been his preferred field of study. 

Anakin wondered if he could get a hand on the W-2 encryption, try his hand at the documents himself. You never knew when some slavers would get too smart for their own good.

“I’ve sent back the decrypted files, as well as the key I’ve used, in case you encounter this specific code again.” 

“That is very much appreciated. And have you been able to identify the files with the information regarding the chips?” Obi-Wan asked without a flinch, despite Anakin’s spike of agitation he must have felt through the Force. 

Roxx-Y, whoever they were, now had access to a truly terrifying amount of information about the Clones. Whatever the chip did, they couldn’t afford for anyone else to know.

“Yeah, I have. Gotta tell you, Kenobi, that wasn’t a very reassuring piece of reading. Clones I can deal with, but mind controlled clones? No kriffing way.” 

Anakin barely bit down his shout of alarm, gripping the seat’s hand rests to keep himself from springing out. 

"Mind Controlled?" Even in the Force, Obi-Wan had frozen.

“Uh. You really didn’t know.” The voice modulator made it hard to tell, but Roxx-Y seemed reassured. “Well, I’ll let you read about it, but… There’s some nasty stuff in there, man.”

“And have you managed to track down who had control of the chip?” Obi-Wan’s already crisp accent crystallised, turning his words into carefully cut diamonds.

“Not exactly. The comm frequency was registered through shell-corporations, but I was able to trace its footprints, and it seems to spend a large amount of time in the Coruscant Senate Building. Which wouldn’t help much, except... The genetic code associated with it doesn’t exist on any Galactic database, but a few of the closest matches came from old dead members of the Palpatine Family.”

Palpatine. Of course, it was Palpatine. He had been the unspoken number one suspect ever since they had established the Jedi hadn’t been responsible for the chip themselves. Of course, it all went back to Palpatine. He had put a mind control chip in the Clones, without anyone’s knowledge, for Force-knows-what reason. 

“Oh.” 

Anakin wanted to claw his skin off. What did the chip do ? Roxx-Y had found out. He could read about it, if he only found Obi-Wan’s datapad. Yet the thought of actually knowing, of learning what Palpatine thought worth taking away the basic freedom of thought f or , made him nauseous. 

“Yep.”

Palpatine, the man who had wanted him since he was twelve. If he was fine with enslaving the thoughts of millions of sentient beings, with turning them into mindless machines bent to his will, what would he have done with Anakin? Would he have been chipped? Or would the old man have found another way to worm inside his brain?

“Roxx-Y, you-”

These were Obi-Wan’s men. What would happen to him if they turned on him in the middle of a battle? Or Ahsoka? Or the rest of the Jedi? What would happen to the Clones? Would they become prisoners in their own bodies? Would it be kinder for them to forget completely?

“Oh, don’t you worry your little Jedi bottom, Kenobi, I am not getting involved in this. I scrubbed all the datapads that were even in the same room as this thing, and I’m already finding myself a nice little hole for the next few months.”

“You did a great service for the Galaxy, Roxx-Y. We’re more than clear now.”

“No problem, Kenobes. And hey, once this bullshit is taken care of, don’t hesitate to ring if you need help. I could use a Jedi owing me a favor or two.”

“I will keep it in mind.” How could Obi-Wan remain so composed when Anakin felt the Force vibrating higher and higher around him? 

“And you will, right?” Roxx-Y’s silhouette glitched. “Take care of it? This whole thing, it’s not right, man.”

“We will. You have my word. May the Force be with you, Roxx-Y.”

“Get his wrinkly ass, Kenobi.”

The second the transmission ended, Anakin sprung from his seat, desperate from something, anything to anchor the maelstrom of terror-anger-inevitability that tore through his brain. Without a thought, he crushed Obi-Wan to his chest, already reaching with his mind across the bond, lapping at his shields. Fingers clutching at the back of Obi-Wan’s tabards, Anakin begged for access, ready for Obi-Wan’s fears, anxiety, and sorrow, anything he had if only he could have connection. Except for his mother’s embrace, there was nothing that could soothe Anakin as well as Obi-Wan’s mind, and he needed it, needed help to make sense of his thoughts.

He needed his head cleared. He needed the panic to stop clawing at his throat. He needed-

Obi-Wan’s hands clamped on his shoulders, and for a stomach churning moment, Anakin thought he would be wrenched away. Except he wasn’t. Obi-Wan clung to him, and dropped all his shields.

Stillness.

Void.

Fury.

Anakin gasped as the depth of Obi-Wan's terrible anger swallowed him whole for a moment. It seemed unending, far-reaching, and it erased all the softness Anakin had always found in Obi-Wan. 

Except it hadn’t. The anger hadn’t destroyed Obi-Wan’s love, it was made of it. It hadn’t washed away his compassion, or his will to help people, or his desire for peace, it was fueled by them.

“It’s always him.” Obi-Wan rasped in Anakin’s ear, sending helpless shivers down his spine. His fingers were digging bruises in his shoulder blades, and Anakin already knew he would be cherishing them until they faded. “It was always him. Everyone I’ve ever- He tried to destroy them.”

Overwhelmed by Obi-Wan’s anger, Anakin could barely registed his own panic. It would be intoxicating if Anakin didn’t know that Obi-Wan would hate his lapse in control, and would hate himself for it. Obi-Wan couldn’t help him in his state, but maybe-

Anakin gathered himself inside Obi-Wan’s mind, pulling all the parts of his consciousness that had been blown apart by the strength of Obi-Wan’s rage, and he dropped himself like a lead ball to the center of Obi-Wan’s mentalscape. His Master had done the same for him when he had tried to teach him meditation, offering an external focus point for the mind to use as an anchor. 

His presence’s retreat startled Obi-Wan enough that even through the storm he understood what Anakin was attempting.

“ Anakin. ” He whispered, a twinge of gratitude and wistfulness peaking through the anger. Inhaling raggedly, the whirlpool of disjointed inflamed emotions started to slow. 

Pulling Obi-Wan even closer, Anakin started carding his fingers through his short hair in gentle rhythmic motions, doing his best not to enjoy the softness of it. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t what Obi-Wan needed. Obi-Wan needed him centered, and Anakin could manage that, at least for now. At least for Obi-Wan.

“Don’t worry, you can make it up to me when I have my own freakout in about twenty minutes.” He quipped as Obi-Wan’s death grip on his shoulders relaxed, little by little. He was finally able to start pushing some of his anger to the Force, and Anakin expected him to pull away. Obi-Wan just slumped heavier and heavier against him, trusting Anakin to take his weight.

“We need to talk to the Council.” Obi-Wan mumbled, face squished against Anakin’s shoulder.

“We need to read what Roxx-Y sent.” Anakin answered, anxiety roaring back, even stronger for having been pushed aside. Before he could try to squash it, Obi-Wan wrapped a cloak of exhausted certitude around it, soothing it into nothingness. Anakin didn’t moan at the sensation, but it was a close call.

“I don’t want to.” Obi-Wan admitted, his faint shame easily shooed away by Anakin’s trust.

“You’ll be reading everything they sent the second I let you go.” Anakin snorted, brushing his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair one last time. 

“Regardless-”

“If you need a break to hit something, I think I have a few old out-of-order droids in the back.”

“Anakin…”

“None of that. If you still let me have ice cream after I threw a fit over homework, you get a free pass for being upset that someone is trying to mind control your friends.”

“You were ten. ” 

“Just means you’re way overdue for your own tantrum.” Anakin released Obi-Wan. His eyes were red rimmed and exhausted, but they were clear and determined. If Obi-Wan got any sleep before he was done scouring the Clones’ data, Anakin would eat his hat.

“What about you, dear one?” Obi-Wan asked, brushing a tendril of calm concern against Anakin’s still balled up consciousness.

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll work myself up while you’re doing your homework, don’t worry.” He laughed, opening himself enough that Obi-Wan could tell he was mostly under-control for the moment.

Obi-Wan seemed a bit skeptical, but didn’t push, taking a step back out of Anakin’s reach. “Very well. But do tell me if you do.”

“Subtle’s never been my style.”

“You would find ways to be unexpected at the worst possible time, Anakin.”

Chapter Text

“Grave news, that is.” Master Yoda, for all his small size, had always been a towering figure in Obi-Wan’s life. His earliest memories were of Yoda guiding him and his crechemates through their discovery of the Force, as eternal as the stars around Coruscant. Now, his chair seemed poised to swallow his brittle frame, like his centuries of life had caught up to him all at once.

Where the thousands of lifes wasted on a senseless war at the whims of the Sith had stoked fury in Obi-Wan, it brought only sorrow to the Grandmaster. How would he react if he learnt that Palpatine had cost Yoda not one, but two of his former Padawans? That the Chancellor had been the reason his fellow Grandmaster had disappeared without a trace eight years ago? 

Obi-Wan was glad his promises to Anakin and Mace allowed him to spare Yoda additional pain. At least for the moment. 

“Could the Chancellor have been framed?” Master Mundi, one of the more composed members of the Council, asked.

“Given the evidence I’ve gathered, and how they match with movements we’ve observed in the Galaxy’s politics for the past decade, I think the chances are slim, Master.” Obi-Wan offered carefully. 

“Agree with Obi-Wan, I do.” Yoda sighed, claws curling around the handle of his gimmer stick. “Reviewed, the evidence will have to be, but for a long time, have we been growing suspicious of the Chancellor.”

“Suspicious of him as a corrupt politician,” Master Gallia interjected, pale and drawn, “Not that he had orchestrated the entire war!”

“We can’t just ignore the evidence!” Master Billaba raised her voice, commanding silence with the same effortlessness Mace had, once upon a time. It had only been caution not to show favoritism that had kept Yoda from asking her to take up her old Master’s position years ago. “Certainly not because it’s inconvenient for us. Knight Kenobi has always been one of our keener investigators. If he believes that Chancellor Palpatine is in fact responsible for the War, believes it strongly enough to stand before us to present his findings, then I have little doubt it is so.”

The entire Council turned back to him, their eyes demanding to know if he was certain of what he was presenting. Fingers twisting unseen in the folds of his sleeves, Obi-Wan stared back.

“There is no doubt in my mind that Chancellor Palpatine has been orchestrating this conflict. Sadly, that is not the only troubling discovery I have made.” The Force seemed to thicken the air around the Council, held still with the Jedi’s bathed breaths. “For years, we’ve been looking for the Sith Master who first took the Sith who killed Qui-Gon, then Count Dooku as an apprentice. Dooku’s words might be doubtful, given his actions, but he did tell us years ago that the Council was controlled by a Sith.”

“You can’t accuse Palpatine of being a Sith on the word of a crazed Darksider!” Master Tiin shouted.

“The Chancellor is Force-null, he couldn’t be a Sith Lord anymore than a Bantha!” Master Koth scoffed.

“The Senate is full of terrible, corrupt politicians, but we’d know if there was a Sith!” Master Rancisis’ frown pulled his eyebrows over his eyes.

A twack of a gimmer stick on the marble floor cut through the protests. Yoda didn’t speak. He just looked at Obi-Wan.

“The chip in the Clone’s brain is meant to control their actions.” Obi-Wan had already explained the existence of the chip but now he had to lay down all the cards. “To do so, it was programmed with a series of orders that would be activated by the person in control. In this case, the Chancellor. Most of them seem standard for such a purpose. Erasing loyalties and individual experiences, forcing a stand-down, rendering the Clone unconscious... But the first one to have been coded in, the one at the core of the chip, is called Order 66.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders to face Yoda’s eyes. “Kill all the Jedi. Down to the last youngling.”

Obi-Wan had been in enough meetings with the Council during the war that he had thought he knew what to expect. He had expected immediate loud arguments. He had expected to be grilled from multiple sides at once. He had expected disbelief and outrage.

He got silence.

Dead, oppressive silence, even in the Force. Twelve of the most powerful Jedi in the Order, stunned into utter stillness. Except for him. Obi-Wan, who had lost control of himself for the first time since he had been a teenager when he had received undeniable proof of Palpatine’s treachery, but who had also had days to gather himself. Who had had to stand in front of Ahsoka, Anakin, and Mace already, the three of them almost as daunting as the Council. Would Anakin and Mace be removed enough from the Order to be spared  the Clones’ blaster fire, if the Order came? Would he be able to protect Ahsoka, if their men turned on them against their wills?

Anakin, who had impressively handled his own simmering panic after they had first learned of Palpatine’s control of the Clones, had refused to let Obi-Wan out of his sight for the three days they had stayed on the Rebellion base. Even days of hyperspace later, here on Coruscant, Obi-Wan could still sometimes feel the phantom remnants of Anakin’s anxiety buzzing at the base of his skull.

“Order 66 wasn’t put in as an accident. As far as I can tell, it’s the main reason the chips, and perhaps the Clones themselves, were made. As a weapon to destroy the Jedi Order.”

“Is there a way to remove the chip?” Master Shaak Ti asked, her hologram waving. It was the first time the Togruta Jedi had spoken since Obi-Wan had presented his results, but she had been watching him like a raptor. The Clones were her responsibility first, and she had the most experience with the Kaminoans. Obi-Wan wished she was here in person so he could get a better read on her state of mind. She had been disturbed enough when Obi-Wan had confronted the Kaminoans about the ‘tumor’. How distressing must it be to know her wards were created to be weapons in a Sith’s games?

“Yes. The Slave Rebellion had removed a handful of chips before they summoned me to share their findings,” Shmi had summoned him to interrogate him, but the Council didn’t need to know how suspicious she was of them, “and after we discovered more information about the implementation process, Ahsoka and I found ways to accelerate the procedure. I’m sure if some Jedi with actual healing training worked on the subject, they’d find even better processes. We’ve been able to dechip about a quarter of our men so far.”

Of course, part of that had been due to the expertise of the Rebellion’s medics in removing slave chips and also Mace and Anakin’s assistance. Anakin wasn’t the most skilled in Force healing, but what he lacked in finesse, he made up for in sheer power and stubbornness. The only reason he hadn’t driven himself into exhaustion operating on Clones was his obsession to follow Obi-Wan when he left to eat or sleep, too anxious not to be close to him at all times.

It should have annoyed Obi-Wan, the clinginess clashing with years of solitude. Even Ahsoka was remarkably independent for an apprentice. Yet, whatever nerves Anakin frayed with his fussing, he soothed with his presence, his care, and the Force blanket he kept wrapped around Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan bundled the thought, pushing it in a corner of his mind to be inspected later. 

“Master Che must be summoned immediately.” Depa said, waiting until Obi-Wan turned to her before continuing. “She’ll need to be briefed by you and Padawan Tano about your full findings in chip extraction so her and the healers can hit the ground running.”

“Of course.” Obi-Wan bowed shallowly. “The Rebellion’s medics have also prepared a report about their expertise in dealing with slave chips in the past, and have offered to consult with the Temple healers if they wished.”

“This Slave Rebellion, how trustworthy are they?” Master Tiin asked.

“On this matter? Absolutely.” Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Secrecy is imperative, Knight Kenobi.” The Jedi Master pressed. “If the Chancellor learns that we know of the chip, he will activate Order 66 right away.”

“I understand, Master. And I assure you, if there is one group that is as committed to seeing the Clones dechipped and free from Palpatine’s control, it’s the Freed Government.” It wouldn’t have been proper for Obi-Wan to scold, but Master Tiin was chastened anyway.

“Master Tiin still has a point.” Master Mundi leaned back stroking his chin. “As long as some of the Clones are still chipped, he can’t know that we suspect him. We can’t bring forth accusations against the Chancellor.”

“We’ll simply have to make sure we have as solid a case as we can to present to the Senate the second the Clones are safe.” Master Fisto answered. “We need to keep investigating Palpatine. Perhaps Dooku would be more cooperative now that we know his master’s identity.”

“Be sent to investigate, some Jedi will be.” Yoda nodded, raising a hand to stop Obi-Wan just as he had shifted forward, ready to volunteer himself and Ahsoka. “Knight Kenobi and Padawan Tano, it can not be. If kept away from the War much longer the Negotiator is, suspicious Dooku and his master might become.”

“What do I do, then?” Obi-Wan asked, his gut rebelling against the Grandmaster’s sound logic. Going back to the War meant losing more of his men for no good reason while he did nothing to fight the actual problem. Palpatine.

It also might be months before he had the chance to see Anakin again.

It would be a futile effort to stretch across the bond, the delicate strands connecting him to Anakin too faint at this distance to communicate anything more than alive. The urge still flared for a second, before Obi-Wan breathed it out in the Force. 

Anakin was safer if Obi-Wan stayed away. Anytime he found his way to the Rebellion, he risked drawing the Chancellor’s eyes to it, and he would rather die than be the reason Palpatine got his hands on his- on Anakin.

“To re-inforce Master Unduli, you and Padawan Tano will be assigned. Leave for Malastare in the morning, you will.” Yoda pronounced, and Obi-Wan bowed.

Coruscant used to be quieter. Anakin would have sworn to it. True, after spending three years in the Temple, 12 years old Anakin had probably gotten used to the noise of a giant city-planet, but surely he would have remembered this wall of sound. Sometimes, when the traffic eased around him for a few moments, he was sure he could hear the planet’s core buzzing.

It was almost enough to drown out his restlessness. Almost. Anakin growled, and shifted around to try and find a more comfortable position, gathering the Force tighter around his form, making sure his aura was masked. He couldn’t remember the last time he had Erased himself this thoroughly, outside of training. However, perched on the roof of a building close to the Jedi Temple, he couldn’t afford any slip up. 

Even a single camera picking up his face would be a problem, and he’d have enough people pissed off at him as it was. His mother, Mace, Obi-Wan when he realized Anakin had stowed away on his ship and followed him to Coruscant.

Anakin squirmed again, barely resisting the urge to reach across the minuscule distance to the Council Room and check that Obi-Wan was unharmed. He would know if he wasn’t, there was no way the bond wouldn’t tell him, no way it wouldn’t ripple through the Force. 

But what if the Chancellor had spies in the Council? What if Palpatine already knew that Obi-Wan knew? What if the Kaminoans had told him of Obi-Wan’s visits, and he decided the Jedi was too much of a liability? There were Clones in the Temple, all of them still chipped. A lucky shot could kill the best of the Jedi, even Obi-Wan. 

Flashes of almost a week worth of nightmares flashed through his mind. Obi-Wan laying dead in the Room of a Thousand Fountain, Obi-Wan being shot down as he approached the Council Chamber, Ahsoka being injured and Obi-Wan fighting to his own death to defend her, Obi-Wan’s ship being shot down from afar.

No. Anakin growled, digging his fingers in his palms to re-center himself. No, he wouldn’t let it happen, not to Obi-Wan, or to his Padawan. If they wouldn’t hear reason and stay in the Outer Rim, away from the Chancellor and the still chipped Clones, then Anakin would come with them. He wasn’t going to let Obi-Wan walk to his death alone.

The Temple shone in the dying light of the afternoon. Nostalgia and longing washed over him, dulling the edges of his anxiety for a moment. Should he have gone in with Obi-Wan? Even if he had to Erase himself from his old Master’s perception, Anakin wished he could walk the halls with him at least once more. The Temple was Obi-Wan’s home, it was where he felt the safest, and Anakin wanted to know who Obi-Wan was when he was allowed to just exist. He wanted to see Obi-Wan sleep ruffled and comfortable. He wanted to see Obi-Wan relaxing in his room, without a care in the world. He wanted to see Obi-Wan at peace with himself and the Galaxy. He wanted the chance to bask in Obi-Wan’s domesticity. He wanted it so bad he ached.  At the periphery of his mind's eyes, he could almost see soft hair turning to copper under the sun, could almost hear the languid tapping of fingers on a datapad, could almost smell a warm cup of tea.

Perhaps it was a good thing he’d remained outside. Whatever the Temple was in the middle of a Galactic War, he doubted it would be the oasis of peace Obi-Wan or he wished it was. He also wasn’t a hundred percent sure his Erasing would stand up to the scrutiny of dozens of Jedi.

At this distance, he couldn’t tell what was going on in the Council Chambers, despite all of the room’s windows. Was Obi-Wan still testifying? Council sessions could run intolerably long on the best of days, and he didn’t doubt they’d be squabbling over the news. How long until Obi-Wan was released? How long until he left Coruscant? The Council would reassign him quickly, if for no other reason that he was one of their best Generals. In a day or two, he’d be gone, and Anakin could go back to the Rebellion.

Or... He could take care of the problem himself. 

The Senate building wasn’t that far, and unlike the Temple, it wasn’t protected by hundreds of Force Sensitive individuals trained to see through Erasing. Why shouldn’t he go there, and get rid of Palpatine himself? He might not have been Temple trained, but he had learned fencing from two of the best duelers alive, and Palpatine had probably not been in an actual fight in years. With the element of surprise on his side, there was no way Anakin couldn’t take him down.

Anakin let himself enjoy the fantasy for a long moment before he let it be spoiled by his mom and Mace scolding him about failsafes. Palpatine may not be a proficient fighter at his age, but he was evidently still a proficient schemer. If he had a dead man switch on Order 66, the Clones would have all the time in the world to kill their way through the Jedi, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka included, before Anakin could make his way back from the Senate.

Scoffing in frustration, Anakin leaned back. If all went well, and for the sake of Obi-Wan’s safety Anakin was unable to hope for anything else, he was in for a couple of boring days. He really should have brought one of his projects to tinker with. Or a datapad with something to read. Or anything to distract himself. His decision to follow Obi-Wan to Coruscant had been somewhat spontaneous, which meant he had the clothes on his back, including the pouch on his belt where he kept his lightsaber and his blasters, enough credits to buy himself a return trip, and little else. Even his comm was still back at Base, something he was sure his mother had been thrilled to discover.

For lack of anything better to do, Anakin started rehearsing ways to convince his mother and Mace not to ground him for the foreseeable future. Maybe if he made a detour on his way back and picked up some spice mixes she liked? Mace would be harder to bribe, but maybe could be convinced if Anakin reminded him of the danger the Jedi were under.

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” A soft, kindly voice asked behind his back. Anakin jumped to his feet, his hand already halfway to his blaster. Even as focused on Erasing himself as he was, no one should have been able to sneak up on him.

The stranger was on the small side, shoulders hunched where he stood a little ways away from Anakin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recognized it as a safe sparring distance, and he crouched lower to the roof of the building, ready to bolt. Hidden as they were in a hooded dark robe, he couldn’t make much more than a chin. Whoever they were, they seemed old and frail. What in the stars were they doing on a Coruscant roof?

“Now now, there’s no need to be so worried.” They had a masculine voice, one Anakin could almost remember. Were they a Jedi? If so, why bother hiding their face in spitting distance of the Temple? “I simply want to talk.”

“Talk?” He asked, not relaxing his stance as he frantically inspected his shields and his cloaking. They were all intact. This person should not have been able to see him, but there was little doubt, even hidden by their hood, that they were staring right at him. “About what?”

“Well, about the Jedi  I suppose, my boy.” 

Anakin bristled at being addressed like a daft slave. The other person didn’t move, and Anakin felt anxiety rise from the soles of his feet. He needed to go. He wasn’t supposed to be seen by anyone. If this person called the Jedi, or the Coruscant guard, or Force Forbid anyone connected to the Senate, he might be recognized. 

The fall from the roof was steep, but maybe if he timed it right, he could break it halfway on a speeder.

“What about them?” He asked casually as he started to prowl to the side, trying to get closer to the edge without alerting them to his escape plan.

“About how they rejected you, Anakin.” They said, voice soft as if to soothe him. As if Anakin hadn’t frozen in terror.

They knew his name. This was bad. This was very bad. He needed to get out of here. But he also needed to know who they were. Who else knew? He’d been so careful. No one on Coruscant should have seen him, not even cameras or droids.

“It was a dreadful mistake on their part.” The man continued, daring to take a small step towards Anakin. It was only panic that kept Anakin from scrambling away from him. “I should have known you would come back here eventually. You must be desperate for answers.”

“Answers?” He asked. If he kept the man talking, maybe he’d learn what he needed to know, and he could leave. Had he been half as skilled with mind tricks as Obi-Wan was, he might have been able to erase himself from his mind. But then, he was seeing through his Erasing without an issue.

He had to be a Jedi. Or at least an ex-Jedi, from the way he spoke.

“About why they sent you away. They barely agreed to teach you in the first place, then they expelled you from the Temple anyway.” They said, and Anakin barely caught his hysterical laughter. What in the Force were they talking about? Anakin hadn’t been expelled, he left with Mace. “They got scared when they saw your true potential, my boy. The Jedi have never known what to do with real power.”

“What?” Obi-Wan would have had a witty retort, something charming and just a bit sharp. Anakin felt like he was thinking through molasse, like his tongue was too big for his mouth.

“But I can see all that you could be, Anakin!” The man took another step forward, and Anakin could swear he felt something against his shield, something… oily?

“You shouldn’t be able to see me at all!” He hissed back, stumbling back. He would give anything to whip out his blaster and shoot an opening for himself, but he really couldn’t afford to attract more attention.

“Oh, dear boy, it’s a very good trick you have, I’m sure it would fool anyone else. But I’ve been looking for you for eight years . I could teach you how to improve it, though. Teach you so that no Force user, no matter how powerful, could ever find you.”

“You’ve been looking for me?” Anakin’s panic was now firmly wrapped around his neck, cutting his airflow. “For eight years?”

“Yes, my boy, after the Jedi-”

Clarity broke in Anakin’s mind like a cold shower, washing away all sensations, pushing him out of his body to see the world through frigid waters.

“You’re Palpatine.” He said. His hand went from his blaster to the pockets containing his lightsaber parts. The Chancellor had found him. 

For the first time since he had appeared on the roof, the smaller man paused, knocked off-balance.

“Yes, I am. Now, whatever you’ve been told about me, Anakin, was doubtlessly exaggerated lies.” He tried to soothe Anakin.

“You’ve been sending bounty hunters after me!” Anakin growled, snapping pieces together.

“To bring you where you belong!” Palpatine corrected. His tone wouldn’t have been out of place for a kind grandfather talking to his grandson. “The Jedi were too scared of you to train you, but I would have taught you everything I know, everything you would have needed to fulfill your destiny!”

“You would have made me a Sith!” Anger flushed through him, mingling with the panic and sticking in his throat. Wasn’t this exactly what he had wanted minutes earlier? To kill Palpatine? Now he had a chance to dispose of the man, without ever stepping foot in the Senate! Anakin would finally be free of him, the War would end, Obi-Wan would be safe.

“I would have given you what the Jedi have refused to teach you! You deserved to know who you are and what you are capable of, my boy.” 

Anakin felt another oily push against his shield, and growled, sadness and longing welling up in his gut. The grief that his dream of being a Jedi had been taken from him. Except it hadn’t been taken away by the Jedi, but by this man. This man who was trying to turn him away from the Jedi. This man, who was the one responsible for twisting the Jedi from what they were supposed to be.

“The Jedi gave me all they could!” Obi-Wan had taken him as an apprentice despite his crippling grief, and had never given up on him. Mace had left his entire life to keep him safe and watch over him. 

“Your own master replaced you, my boy!” Palpatine answered, voice full of sympathy that felt as greasy and tainted as his mind’s touch. “He cared so little, he took another apprentice as if you were dead!”

Another dark push, yet no jealousy reared to meet it. Ahsoka deserved a master like Obi-Wan, and Anakin was too old for a master anyhow. He didn’t want Obi-Wan as a Master. He wanted Obi-Wan as a friend, as a confidante, as a partner, and if the man ever was willing, as a lover.

Could Palpatine even begin to understand the awe of feeling Obi-Wan bloom when he allowed Anakin to sink into his mind? That Obi-Wan never refused him, even when he was exhausted, even when Anakin exhausted him?

No. No Sith could ever understand. No one who loved could fall as low as this insect had.

“You don’t know anything about Obi-Wan!” He yelled, flicking his lightsaber to life as he bounded forward, cutting at Palpatine’s neck.

Moving so fast Anakin almost lost track of him, Palpatine jumped over his head, igniting his own blood red blade as he landed behind Anakin. Spinning around, Anakin’s saber connected with the Sith’s long before he could make contact with flesh. Palpatine twisted his saber to break the contest, pushing Anakin away and entering a series of tight and lightning fast strikes.

Anakin did his best to deflect most of them, dodging out of the way of the few he missed. Somehow, despite his frail frame and pallid skin, Palpatine was as strong as Mace and as fast as Ahsoka. Anakin found himself stumbling back, trying to recall the Soresu basics Obi-Wan had taught him years ago. 

Yet there was a restraint in his movements. Palpatine never aimed for the lethal strikes, nor swung with enough force to cause real damage. This was a demonstration in lightsaber mastery, a point for Palpatine to make. But he always stopped short of a killing blow. Palpatine wanted Anakin alive.

Cold fear dripped from the back of his neck down Anakin’s spine.

“This is the power of the Dark Side, Anakin!” He crowed, not even a tad out of breath as he forced Anakin on the defensive. “Come with me, and I’ll make you the greatest fighter the Galaxy has ever seen! I’ll give you the power to do whatever you wish in the world! I’ll make your dearest dreams come true!”

Power. Anakin had seen what Palpatine’s power, what the power of the Republic could do. Nothing good. The Outer Rim was a lawless land run by the Hutts and whatever warlords could afford enough mercenaries to kill their competitors. The Galaxy was full of slaves, and the Republic either couldn’t, or didn’t care to free them. Anakin had freed them, without the help of the Republic, and certainly without Palpatine. 

Once this man was gone, the Jedi could go back to helping people, and good senators like Padmé could make the Senate hear sense. Anakin didn’t need to get power from Palpatine to make his dreams come true. He just needed to kill him.

Anakin snarled, slamming Palpatine’s blade far enough away that he could pounce, bringing his saber down on the man’s head with a powerful overhead swing. The Chancellor jumped back, barely avoiding the swing, and Anakin charged in, carving the opening in the man’s defenses wider and wider with each strike. The hood still hid Palpatine’s eyes, but there was tension running through his stances, and he abandoned his earlier flourish in favor of parrying Anakin’s onslaught. 

Feinting another cut to the left shoulder, Anakin twisted his saber at the last second, swinging upwards towards the chest. An inch from being bisected, Palpatine threw his right hand forward, and Anakin was catapulted back by a wall of Force, barely catching himself before going over the edge.

“Anakin, my boy, this is all so very unnecessary. I am not your enemy. I only wish the best for you, for you to flourish as you ought to.” Palpatine was shuffling around Anakin, deceptively non-threatening. Trying to make himself small. Did he think Anakin was that stupid? That Anakin would ever be swayed to his side? Anakin, who had been trained by two of the greatest Jedi to ever live? That he could corrupt Shmi Skywalker’s son?

Anger coursing through his mind, lending new strength to his limbs, Anakin cried out and jumped, farther and longer than he had thought he could, thrusting at Palpatine’s neck. He attacked again, and again, and again, his swings implacable, stronger and faster than ever before. Lost in the aggressive rhythm, it felt like the whole word had shrunk to the two of them. Anakin had to kill him. Anakin would kill him. For his own life, and for Obi-Wan, and Mace and the Clones, and everyone this man had ruined. Anakin would kill him, rip his despicable corpse apart so that no one could even recognize him. He would destroy the Chancellor with his bare hands if he had to. He would-

Suddenly Palpatine wasn’t at the end of his lightsaber, and Anakin spun to catch his strike with his blade, but Palpatine feinted .

Agonizing pain wiped Anakin’s mind. 

Time slowed as he watched his right forearm falling to the roof. His lightsaber clanked as it met the hard tiles, still ignited. Knees giving out, Anakin crumbled. Was he screaming? He couldn’t tell through the tempest of white noise in his ears. 

Palpatine appeared in his peripheral vision, red lightsaber still buzzing. He might have been talking. Would he kill Anakin now? No, he didn’t want Anakin to die. What would he do? 

He would try to take Anakin away. He couldn’t take Anakin with him. Anakin had to move. Had to get to his feet. He needed help. The Temple was too far away now. He tried to reach Obi-Wan through their bond, but the pain made everything slippery. He couldn’t even feel Obi-Wan at all. Was Obi-Wan okay? He had to be okay. Anakin couldn’t defend him now. Anakin couldn’t defend himself now. 

Anakin, tears of agony pearling at the corner of his eyes, tried to push himself to his feet, but Palpatine extended a dismissive hand and slammed him back down. Gathering all the Force he could grasp, Anakin pushed out, freeing himself of the oppressive pressure, and managed to get one of his feet under himself. He could do this. He just needed… He just…

Two strikes of light, one yellow and one green, appeared, blurry with speed, and Palpatine barely turned away from Anakin in time to intercept the lightsabers. The small silhouette didn’t pause, flowing into the next attacks. 

“Anakin!” 

He knew that voice. He knew those lightsabers. He knew those white and blue lekkus and white face markings. He knew them, why wouldn’t his brain work? Everything hurt so much, he could barely resist the urge to give into the darkness.

“Skyguy, come on!” His savior begged. Skyguy? Snips. 

“Ahsoka?” He moaned, clutching at his arm right above the smoldering stump. He could see his hand a few feet away from his. His hand. Oh Force.

“Yes!” She cried, ducking under Palpatine’s strike, and Anakin’s heart jumped to his throat. Unlike Anakin, the Sith had clearly no intention of capturing Ahsoka alive, and only the Togruta’s speed kept her alive. “We need to go! ”

“You are not going anywhere you little rat!” Palpatine snarled, cutting at Ahsoka and missing her montrals by a whisper. She yelped, and backflipped away from him, deflecting  his blows all the while. 

Ahsoka. Ahsoka was going to die. Palpatine was going to kill Ahsoka because she had tried to help Anakin. Shaking through his lancing pain, Anakin pushed himself to his feet. He needed to get Ahsoka out of here. 

Bending his knees, Anakin caught Ahsoka’s eyes for a second. They would get out of here. Ahsoka nodded, dashing to the side to put herself between Palpatine and the edge of the roof. 

Pushing his pain into a corner of his mind, Anakin flicked his remaining hand, using the Force to send his still ignited saber straight at Palpatine’s head. The Chancellor spun, blade ready to intercept the lightsaber, and Anakin’s attack, except Anakin barreled right past him. He wrapped his one good arm around her waist, and used all his remaining stamina to push Palpatine away from them. The pushback propelled the two of them far away from the edge, towards the traffic lane twenty meters down. Anakin clutched at Ahsoka, trusting her to steer their fall as he watched the roof get farther away. 

They impacted the roof of a speeder, and Anakin’s mind whited out. All he could feel was his right arm’s agony reverberating through every single nerve ending in his body. Anakin disappeared, leaving only a blur of pain behind.

“Anakin, come on! I can’t carry you, you’ve got to get up!” Small hands grabbed his shoulders, shaking him roughly. 

Ahsoka.

He couldn’t leave Ahsoka alone. Palpatine would find her.

Anakin’s eyes fluttered open. They were still on the speeder, zooming away from the Jedi Temple. Through the windshield, he could see the driver, a Bothan, clutching at the wheel, but they didn’t seem to be trying to shake the two of them off. Ahsoka was kneeling above him, her face pale and drawn.

“He’ll take us to a second level spaceport.” Ahsoka told him, glancing worriedly at his stump. “We need to get away from Coruscant, right now.”

Anakin couldn’t argue with that. Palpatine was probably already sending people after the two of them. The faster they could lose themselves in hyperspace, the safer Ahsoka would be. Ahsoka...

Ahsoka would be fleeing Coruscant with him. Ahsoka, who was just a Padawan…

“Obi-Wan-” Anakin gasped as he tried to push himself to a seated position with her help.

“He doesn’t know.” Ahsoka answered, tone grave. “As far as he knows, I’m still at the Temple. We’ll have to send him a message once we’re safe.”

The Bothan dropped them to the spaceport, taking off as soon as they jumped off his speeder. 

“How did you find me?” Talking distracted from the pain, and Anakin needed to stay focused. They needed to find the oldest piece of junk Anakin was certain could still achieve hyperspace travel, and he needed to stay sharp enough to keep it together until they could get… Somewhere else.

“I thought I saw someone sneaking off our ship when we arrived at the Temple.” Ahsoka answered, walking so close to him she might as well have been actually helping him stay up. “I figured it might be a spy that had followed us, so I tried to trail you.”

“Tried?” Anakin asked through gritted teeth, tugging her towards an old J-33 ship with paint peeling off it’s wings. 

“I lost track of you about thirty minute in, and only found you again when you started waving your lightsaber around.” Ahsoka pushed him to lean on the side of the ship while she hotwired the door commands. 

The interior of the ship was dusty. Perfect. It was unlikely someone would come looking for it anytime soon. Ahsoka looked around with a skeptical moue, but followed Anakin to the cockpit, intercepting him when he tried to sit in the pilot’s chair.

“Do you think this’ll fly?” She asked as she took the seat herself, turning on the engine.

“If it doesn’t, we’re karked.” Anakin groaned, shifting to relieve pressure on the right side of his body.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Ahsoka pushed the joystick, and the ship hiccuped forward, before shooting out of the hangar. Soon they were piercing through the Coruscanti atmosphere. Hopefully, they had been fast and discrete enough to escape whoever was already mobilizing against them.

“Thank you, Ahsoka.” He mumbled, exhaustion and shock sinking his brain into a cottony numbness.

“What else are friends for, Skyguy?” Ahsoka’s quip was somewhat ruined by the worried glances she kept throwing his way. Whatever portrait Anakin painted at the moment, he doubted it was a pleasant one.

“I’ll repay you one day.”

“You can repay me by being the one to call Master Obi-Wan.”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan fell to his knees in the Council’s Chamber, screaming in agony. He was being boiling alive, pain lancing somehow both from the right side of his body and from outside the Temple. The edges of his vision darkened, and he clutched to consciousness with the very tip of his self-control.

Vaguely aware of the Council devolving into chaos around him, and of multiple sets of hands grabbing at him at the same time, Obi-Wan curled on himself. Blindly, he grabbed at his right elbow. For some reason, he was surprised to find his forearm intact, and not a smoldering stump

The pain. It wasn’t his own. He was feeling someone else’s pain, someone who had lost their arm.

Bile twisted in his guts. Obi-Wan barely stopped himself from throwing up, pain and fear stoking his nausea. There were only two people in the world with whom he was sufficiently connected to feel this degree of pain. Not paying any mind to the increasingly frantic Jedi Masters around him, he cast his mind to Ahsoka. What had happened to her? Obi-Wan had seen her a few hours earlier, and even she couldn’t find significant trouble in the Temple-

Ahsoka was fine. She was shielded tight, but even through her walls Obi-Wan could feel that his Padawan was healthy, if very stressed. But if Ahsoka hadn’t lost a limb…

Anakin’s mind was a lancing, blurry mess of pain, terror and anger. Obi-Wan dry heaved as Anakin’s agony coursed through him again, and he clawed at his right arm to reassure himself that he hadn’t lost it. This wasn’t possible. This far from the Outer Rim, he should barely have been aware of Anakin’s existence. Anything less than death should have been beyond his senses!

Had Anakin been captured? Was he being tortured? Had someone found a way to amplify their bond so his suffering could reach Obi-Wan on Coruscant?

He needed to find Anakin. Anakin had lost an arm. Someone had taken Anakin’s arm. Force, his right arm. Could Anakin defend himself without his dominant hand? If someone had unsettled him enough to take one of his limbs, surely they wouldn’t have any issue finishing their work.

Oh Force, no. He couldn’t lose Anakin. Not now. Not again. Anakin, his precious Anakin, not again. He would have to lay here, prone on the Council Chamber’s cold hard floor and feel Anakin Skywalker disappear from the Galaxy.

Obi-Wan sobbed again, bracing himself for the death blow, waiting for the bond he’d nurtured for all those long years to snap like Qui-Gon’s had. 

“Obi-Wan!” A hand grabbed his chin and forced him to look up into Master Billaba’s large, worried eyes. “What is happening, are you hurt?”

The blow wasn’t coming. Anakin was still alive. For a few moments more, Obi-Wan could breath, and hold himself together.

“No.” He whispered, fingers still digging in the meat of his forearm. “It’s not me.”

“Little Soka?” Master Koon asked, his alarm strong enough to be heard through his mask. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” With the pain fogging up his brain, Obi-Wan probably would have had difficulty feeling Ahsoka if she had been standing right outside the door. “But she isn’t…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. To reassure the Kel-Dor Master about Ahsoka’s well-being would lead to questions about Obi-Wan’s second bond. Would lead to questions about Anakin. 

Anakin. He was still there, boiling on the other end of their bond. Obi-Wan tried to focus and glean any more information, but the fear and hurt were as opaque as any shield had been.

“Find Padawan Tano, we must.” Yoda barked, hitting the floor with his stick. “To all the Temple Guards, send a message.”

Master Mundi and Master Tiin were already talking into their communicators.

“Come.” Depa told Obi-Wan, trying to tug him upright, keeping a careful hand on him all the while. “Let’s get you to the Halls of Healing.”

“No!” Obi-Wan swayed on his feet as he pushed himself away. He needed to find Ahsoka before anyone could notice that she hadn’t been grievously injured, and slip away to find Anakin. 

As far as Obi-Wan could tell, Anakin didn’t share a bond with Mace, which meant Obi-Wan might be the only one who knew Anakin had been harmed. He needed to find him, needed to make sure his- Anakin was safe.

“Knight Kenobi, you might not be physically injured, but you still need care!” Master Gallia protested.

“I’ll be just fine.” Obi-Wan answered, voice much steadier than his balance. “I simply need to find my Padawan.”

“The entire Temple will be looking for Ahsoka by now. There is little you could add to the search.” Depa said, still standing close enough to him to catch him when he fell. 

Flashes of Anakin, his handsome face contorted in pain and covered in his own blood, raced through Obi-Wan’s mind, and he straightened his back. If he was going to be of any help to Anakin, he would need to be able to walk out of the Council Chamber of his own power.

“And I am able to sense her where others could not.” Obi-Wan argued, walling off his panic from the front of his mind. Jedi didn’t respond well to a hysterical argument. 

“I will accompany him.” Master Koon offered, stepping forward to lay a gentle hand to Obi-Wan’s shoulder. It wasn’t ideal, but Obi-Wan would have to find a way to lose Plo when they got closer to Ahsoka.

“Master Yoda?”

Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed the doors of the Chamber opening, but a Guard was standing just inside the doorway, holding what looked like a datastick.

“This is not a good time.” Master Koth said, not unkindly, but the guard didn’t move.

“This concerns Padawan Tano.” The guard answered, their back straight. 

“Found her, have you?” Master Yoda asked, shuffling closer to the guard.

“Not exactly, Master.”

That was the moment both Ahsoka and Anakin disappeared from Obi-Wan’s mind, and his knees buckled again. Only Depa and Plo’s hands kept him from sprawling on the floor. He frantically grabbed at his two apprentices, trying to find them, waiting for their bonds to snap. 

They didn’t. His awareness of them was dimmer, but not gone. With the sudden absence of pain, Obi-Wan recognized the feeling. It was awfully similar to going in hyperspace without his Padawan.

But how? How did Ahsoka and Anakin jump to hyperspace at the same time? And if Anakin was already at the other end of the Galaxy, why would going into hyperspace make any difference?

“Show us.” Plo demanded, guiding Obi-Wan to his chair, settling the Knight. 

The Guard moved to the center of the room, and plugged in the datastick, fiddling with the controls until a holofeed appeared, showing what looked like the roof of a Coruscant building. Obi-Wan could make out two silhouettes. One tall looking away from them, too strongly backlit to make out any feature, and a smaller one wearing a deep hood.

“This was taken from a camera close to the Temple, about ten minutes ago.” The guard explained, starting the holo.

The smaller figure seemed to be talking, although they couldn’t hear what they said. Obi-Wan could not figure out what this had to do with Ahsoka. Clearly, neither of the people were Togruta. 

The taller figure started to back away, body language turning defensive, as they reached for their blaster. More talking. Obi-Wan wanted to jump to his feet, run out of the Temple and find a ship, any ship. But Ahsoka and Anakin were in hyperspace, and he had no idea of their destinations.

The smaller person remained still, even as the taller one started to fiddle with something. He wished they would turn around. Were they one of their informants that Ahsoka had gone to find? 

The taller person crouched, igniting a lightsaber, and pounced on the other one. A blue lightsaber that met, at the last second, a very red one. 

Gasps erupted around the Council Chamber as the two fighters clashed, blades whirling soundlessly on the holo.

“A Sith.” Someone gasped. “A Sith on Coruscant!”

Obi-Wan knew that fighting style. Even after eight years, there was little that could mask the single minded storm that was Anakin Skywalker with a lightsaber. Eventually, the combatants spun around and Obi-Wan saw Anakin’s wild curls, his brows furrowed deep in concentrated aggression, his mouth twisted in a snarl. Anakin had been on Coruscant. Anakin, the brilliant, stubborn, stupid man, had followed him to Coruscant, and had found a Sith to duel on a rooftop.

“Palpatine.” Obi-Wan whispered, and Plo tensed at his elbow.

“Surely, the Chancellor wouldn’t expose himself this way.” Plo answered, claws twitching with nerves.

For Anakin Skywalker, who hadn’t set a foot on a Core Planet in almost a decade, Obi-Wan had no doubt that he would. What had Anakin been thinking?

Well, Obi-Wan knew what Anakin had been thinking. Anakin had made little secret of his worry for Obi-Wan’s, and Ahsoka's, safety and well-being. He had probably been scared about Obi-Wan being too close to Palpatine!

It was quickly apparent that Anakin was not the better fighter of the two. Palpatine, Darth Sidious , was fencing circles around him, never putting himself in real harm’s way, but also never directly threatening Anakin.

Palpatine wanted Anakin alive. Palpatine had always wanted Anakin alive. Obi-Wan felt rage surge up, but mercilessly pushed it into the Force. Anakin wouldn’t be there to guide him back to self-control if he lost himself this time, because Anakin had been too busy sneaking into Coruscant and picking fights with Sith Lords!

As the fight progressed, Anakin’s movements became more and more powerful until he managed to turn the tides. Less and less controlled too, and Obi-Wan felt cold dread pearling at the back of his neck. Anakin was angry. Fighting angry was never a good idea, much less against a Dark Side user. No matter how powerful he was in the Force, no matter what Mace might have taught him of Vaapad, Anakin would never be as skilled at using anger as Sidious was.

Almost in slow motion, Obi-Wan watched Sidious push Anakin away, and without a moment of hesitation, cut off the arm holding the lightsaber. Anakin fell to the roof, wracked by the same pain Obi-Wan had felt. It made sense now, that Anakin hadn’t been killed. Of course, it had been Sidious. Obi-Wan should have known, just like he should have known that Anakin was on Coruscant the second he had felt his pain. 

Obi-Wan could have helped. Anakin wouldn’t have had to face Sidious alone. 

A third person appeared on the roof, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help the hysterical laughter that burst out of his mouth. Of course. Of course, both his Padawans wouldn’t hesitate in picking fights with a kriffing Sith Lord.

Ahsoka, to her credit, didn’t seem to be trying to hurt Palpatine, simply to keep him engaged. She was trying to buy time so Anakin could escape. How she had known Anakin was on Coruscant when Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed, he didn’t know. The Masters around him were brimming with tension as they watched Anakin get to his feet, and throw both him and Ahsoka over the edge of the roof, away from Palpatine.

Somehow, they must have found their way to a spaceport and out of orbit. 

“The Sith, do we know where he went?” Obi-Wan asked. If Anakin and Ahsoka had been followed, he would need to act fast to try and intercept their tail.

“We lost his track about three blocks away from the building.” The Guard answered. “It seems he attempted to follow the two fugitives, but couldn’t find their trace.”

“Do we know where they went?” Master Tiin asked.

“And do we have any idea who the second person was? He has clearly received lightsaber training, but I didn’t know his face.” Depa asked, crossing her arms. Obi-Wan wondered if she had recognized some of Mace’s fencing in Anakin’s technique.

“They are in hyperspace.” Obi-Wan said, steeling himself. There was no point in secrecy anymore. Not when the entire Council had seen Anakin, and especially not when Palpatine had caught his scent.

“They? Know this man, you do?” Master Yoda asked, seeming unsurprised. He had probably put some of the pieces together when Anakin had lost his arm, the same arm Obi-Wan had been clutching when he had fallen to the floor.

“Yes.” Obi-Wan admitted. Breathing in deep, he looked around the room, offering a particularly apologetic look at Depa. “That was Anakin Skywalker.”

Silence.

“Obi-Wan…” Of course Depa was the first one to speak, voice gentle in a way he didn’t deserve. 

“It’s him, Depa.” Obi-Wan sighed, fishing his second comm from the folds of his robe. “I found him months ago, when I went to negotiate the treaty with the Freed Government.”

“Months ago?” Master Koth asked, indignantly. “And this is the first we have heard of it?”

Obi-Wan didn’t even bother to answer. He hadn’t owed the Council any news about Anakin, not after they had given up on his former Padawan years ago. He hadn’t owed any of them news about Mace, except for Depa. They had mourned their loss together when Mace and Anakin had first disappeared, and if anything good would come out of today, it would be this.

Obi-Wan’s comm came to life, the small silhouette of Mace Windu appearing in his hand. 

“Kenobi!” Mace barked. With the angle of Obi-Wan’s comm, he couldn’t see any of the other Jedi in the room, or even much of the room itself. “If this is about Skywalker sneaking off to follow you to Coruscant, tell the boy I-”

Obi-Wan had never heard such a dead silence in the Council Chamber, even when it was empty. Depa had frozen, halfway out of her chair, staring at her former Master.

“Mace.” Obi-Wan said, and something in his face stopped the other man mid-tirade.

“What happened?” He asked, brows knitting together in belligerent concern. “Obi-Wan, what’s going on with Anakin?”

“He followed me to Coruscant.” Obi-Wan didn’t bother explaining more. Mace had clearly already come to the same conclusions he had. “And Palpatine found him.”

“WHAT!” Mace shouted, leaning forward as if he wanted to jump through the stream. “Kenobi-”

“He’s alive.” Obi-Wan wished he had the energy to be gentle. Mace had spent more time at Anakin’s side than Obi-Wan had, he had as much right to be worried as he did. But Obi-Wan couldn’t block only part of his emotions, and his compassion for Mace was held back just as much as his desperation to find Anakin, hold him and never let him go again. “He was able to run away from Coruscant, with Ahsoka’s help.”

“Ahsoka.” Mace relaxed a bit, still frowning at him. “Obi-Wan, I’m sorry.”

“We don’t know what Palpatine’s next move is going to be.” Obi-Wan said, brushing away Mace’s concerns. They didn’t matter anyway. Obi-Wan was going to find both his Padawan and Anakin, alive and mostly well. The rest, the echoes of pain he still felt in his right arm, they could be dealt with at a later date. “Someone needs to prepare for him.”

“Of course.” Mace crossed his arms, unknowingly mirroring Depa. “But I’m not sure what I can do.”

“I need to go find them.” Obi-Wan answered. “Palpatine is going to send as many hunters after Anakin and Ahsoka as he’ll be able to find, and they’ll need help. Ahsoka is my Padawan, I can offer assistance without casting irrevocable doubts over the whole Order.”

There. Rational, steady arguments. Without a second of hesitation, Obi-Wan stood up, walked to Depa, dropped the comm into her hands and walked to the Chamber door. He wasn’t a Council Member, and Mace knew as much about this whole clusterkriff as he did.

If it allowed Depa to reconnect with her Master, and allowed him to turn the Galaxy upside down looking for Anakin and Ahsoka, all the better.

“Obi-Wan.” Yoda’s voice echoed softly in the deadly silent room, stopping him just as he was about to leave. “Until more information, we have, at the Temple, you must remain.”

“Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan barely made it to his room, messaging Cody to send him all the outgoing ship logs he could find for spaceports near Anakin and Ahsoka’s last known location, before his emotional walls started to fall apart.

He crumpled to the couch, clutching at his hair, tugging hard enough to send sharp pain down his scalp. Anything to center himself.

How many Padawans would he lose? How many could he bear to lose before it broke him? How many people would Palpatine take from him? First Qui-Gon, then Anakin, now Ahsoka. What would Palpatine do with Ahsoka if he found them first? Kill her right away? Torture her and use her to bend Anakin to his will? Try to turn her as well?

Ahsoka, his bright Padawan, turned away from the light by a madman. Anakin, his brilliant something standing at Palpatine’s side.

And Obi-Wan, sitting uselessly on his couch. He needed to get a karking grip. Anakin and Ahsoka needed him to get a grip.

After striding to the fresher for an ice cold shower, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, greeted Cody and his best analysts when they knocked on his door.

If Ahsoka and Anakin could be found, he would be the one to do so.

The trill of Obi-Wan’s comm jerked him awake. Pushing himself away from the dining table he had been sleeping on, he struggled to re-orient himself. Cody was napping on the couch. Ahsoka and Anakin were far away. He had a nasty crick in the neck. It was night time. Why was he feeling so queasy?

Ahsoka and Anakin. Palpatine.

Cursing, he dove for the comm on the kitchen counter, flicking the transmission on. The feed fritzed before stabilizing into an image of Satine, of all the possible people. 

“Obi-Wan.” She greeted delicately, no doubt taking in the dark circles under his eyes and his ruffled hair.

“Satine! It’s good to see you.” Obi-Wan dragged some confidence into his voice. “I’m afraid this isn’t a great time for me, would you mind if I called you back?”

“Of course, Obi-Wan, I wouldn’t mind reporting this purely social call I made in the middle of the night without warning.” 

“What?” Obi-Wan rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear the sleep fog away.

“However, I thought you might like to be informed that a certain Padawan of yours has landed on Mandalore an hour ago, asking for my protection.” Satine didn’t react even as Obi-Wan jolted straight.

“Ahsoka?” He gasped. “Was she-” He stopped himself from asking about Anakin. The Temple was supposed to be safe, but who knew what surveillance Palpatine would throw his way now that his current Padawan had run away with his former one.

“She is doing well, Obi-Wan, if a bit shaken. Our top people are taking care of her right now.” She tilted her head in that way Obi-Wan knew too well, and her fingers twitched around signals only the two of them knew. Anakin was with Ahsoka, and he was getting treatment. Thank the Force and Satine. “Should we be expecting your arrival soon?”

“As soon as I can manage without attracting undue attention.” Obi-Wan promised, already reaching for his and Ahsoka’s bags. If Palpatine wasn’t listening to them, there was no reason to attract his attention to Mandalore, and if he was, well, it didn’t hurt to be cautious.

Mandalore. Ahsoka had to have suggested it. It would be too dangerous to remain in Republic Space with Palpatine looking for them, even more so to go to Separatist controlled territory, and Anakin would never allow them to endanger the Freed Government or his mother. Mandalore was the only neutral planet Ahsoka had had any contact with. Thank the Force for Satine.

“Very well, I’ll make sure to have someone ready to take you to Ahsoka as soon as you land.”

“May the Force be with you, Satine.” Obi-Wan stopped long enough to look her straight in the eyes, pouring out all the gratitude he didn’t feel safe expressing at the moment.

“I am hardly the one of us in need of guidance and luck at the moment, my dear. I will see you when you arrive.”

Barely pausing to shake Cody awake and send a message to the Council, Obi-Wan summoned all his Jedi decorum not to run to the hangar.

After the slight hitch of commandeering a ship in the middle of the night without prior warning or a Council authorization, the trip to Mandalore was mind-breakingly boring. Obi-Wan only managed to meditate for half-hours at a time. The loneliness and silence of the ship seemed to emphasise Anakin and Ahsoka’s absence. 

They were fine. They would still be fine by the time Obi-Wan got to Mandalore. Satine was fond of Ahsoka, and would make sure that any friend of hers would be treated with the utmost care. Anakin might even be out of surgery by the time Obi-Wan reached them.

What had Ahsoka told Satine about Anakin? The Duchess was aware that Obi-Wan had lost a Padawan years ago, but she had never actually met Anakin. Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure if he had told her Anakin’s name. He had learned to avoid speaking of the boy after a few years, when patience for his continued search had started to run thin in the Temple.

Obi-Wan stretched his mind across the bond he shared with Anakin, finding relief in the faint presence at the other end. In hyperspace, at this distance, he wouldn’t have felt anything significant even if Anakin wasn’t under anesthesia, but just this tiny spark of life was enough to settle him. 

Ahsoka was just as faint and alive across their connection, and Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair. With both of their connections open, he was finally able to sink into a meditative trance.

As promised, one of Satine’s aids was waiting for him on the landing pad, briskly sweeping him away to a nearby care facility. The hallways were as pristine as any he’d seen on Kadavo, but with large wrought durasteel and stained glass windows to bring in light. 

He was shown to a private waiting room, and was barely a foot in the door when Ahsoka ran into him, clutching at his middle. Feeling a planet’s worth of worry draining from his shoulders, Obi-Wan sighed and wrapped his arms around his Padawan. Ahsoka almost disappeared into his robe, her thin arms squeezing him like a vice.

“Ahsoka.” He whispered as he rubbed at her shoulders. “Thank the Force, you’re alright.”

“Master, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to run away, but I didn’t know what else to do! Anakin was hurt, and I didn’t know if he was going to come after us. I swear there was no time to send you a message!” She babbled into his chest. 

“It’s alright, dear one.” He laid a hand on the top of her head, keeping her close to him for perhaps longer than decorum would have suggested. “You did well. Making sure you and Anakin escaped the Chancellor was the most important thing.”

He felt her deflate against him. Had she been worried that he would scold her? For not notifying him, of all things? Obi-Wan had a lot of opinions on both his Padawans picking fights with a Sith Lord on their own, most of which could only be expressed through panicked keening, but he would never rebuke Ahsoka for protecting Anakin. 

“How is Anakin?” He asked, gently pushing pride and reassurance in the Force.

“Still in surgery. They say he’ll be fine but they’re still prepping him for his-” She cut herself off, suddenly hesitant. 

“For his prosthetic?” 

“You know?” Ahsoka asked, pushing her forehead into his shoulder one last time before taking a step back. Her eyes were red, and Obi-Wan could see a few tear tracks on her cheeks. Sometimes he forgot how young she was.

“As soon as it happened.” Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing at his own forearm, and Ahsoka’s eyebrows shot up in consternation. Good, if she had forgotten about his bond with Anakin, she hadn’t had to deal with pain echoes through their own connection. “But a camera also caught the fight with Palpatine. The Council saw the whole thing.”

“So the Council knows..?”

“About Anakin and Palpatine? Yes. And about Mace too, I’m afraid, but that was mostly my fault.” Obi-Wan shuffled to a chair, patting the seat next to him. Had it been only up to him, he would have stayed up, maybe paced around, after too much time stuck in a tiny cockpit with only his worst fears for company, but Ahsoka looked as if she was about to drop.

“This is bad.” Ahsoka folded her knees up to her chest beside him, eyes cast downward.

“It’s not ideal.” Obi-Wan offered blandly, and Ahsoka rolled her eyes at his understatement. “But it’s not as bad as it could have been.” When she frowned at him, he folded his hands in his lap. “Both you and Anakin fought a Sith Lord, and survived. As far as we know, Palpatine has no idea where Anakin is, or, unless Anakin told him, how much of his plan we know.”

“But he knows we know something .” Ahsoka pointed out.

“He did reveal himself to Anakin, who ran away with a Padawan of the Order. At the very least, he’ll be aware that we suspect him of being a Sith Lord.”

“So this is bad.” She dropped her forehead on her knees. 

“But at least we are aware of how dire the situation is.” Obi-Wan shifted closer to lay a hand on her arm, squeezing when she didn’t pull away. 

For a moment, she remained silent, until she mumbled into her knees. “If I’d found them sooner, Anakin might still have his arm.”

“No.” Obi-Wan’s voice turned to tempered durasteel. “If you had found them sooner, you would be dead, and Anakin would have been captured.” She raised her head to protest, but he shushed her with a stern look. “No matter how gifted the two of you are, Ahsoka, you are still a Padawan, and Anakin never finished his Jedi training. The only reason you survived fighting a Sith Lord is because Palpatine didn’t want to kill Anakin, and you were focused on deflection. You did everything you could have done, and you made me proud.”

“Thank you, Master.” She whispered, covering his hand with hers.

“Knight Kenobi? Padawan Tano?” A medic stepped into the room, arms folded behind their back. “The patient is out of the operating room.”

“Can we see him?” Ahsoka asked, jumping to her feet.

“We are keeping him sedated for the night, so we can monitor the success of the surgery, but you can see him.” They gestured for Ahsoka and Obi-Wan to follow them, and led to the end of the hallway, into a cosy individual room.  “If all goes well, we’ll be able to install the prosthesis in a day or two. Then, it will simply be a matter of rehabilitation.”

There was a large window, a couple of comfortable looking armchairs and, laying pale and drawn in the bed, Anakin. Obi-Wan strode over to him, grabbing Anakin’s left hand and folding it between his. He barely noticed Ahsoka pulling one of the armchairs over before she was tugging at him to sit down. Without a word, she did the same one the other side, folding herself into the plush cushions.

“Someone will come by later to show you to your accommodations.” The medic said, not batting an eye at them reorganising the furniture. Ahsoka’s eyes shot up to Obi-Wan, jaw already stubbornly set to protest.

“That won’t be necessary.” Obi-Wan answered, brushing a thumb over Anakin’s knuckles. “We’ll be fine here.”

The medic hesitated, but must have seen something in their faces to realise there would be no convincing them otherwise. They could hardly be the first people on Mandalore, of all places, to refuse to be separated from a lov- from a friend.

“Very well. I’ll have the kitchens send you something to eat. If you see any sign of the patient waking up, please notify us.” The patient again. 

“How much did you tell them?” Obi-Wan asked Ahsoka after the door closed behind the medic, never looking away from Anakin’s face. He was paler than usual, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced. Yet, he still shone like a beacon in the Force, his light reaching deep into Obi-Wan’s core to chase the last of his anxiety. Anakin was alive and warm, and he would wake up soon.

“I told Satine he was a dear friend of yours.” Ahsoka said, scooting her chair closer to the bed so she could reach Anakin’s shoulder. “I didn’t give her a name, and she didn’t ask.”

“She’s probably waiting to interrogate me. She already likes you better.” He joked weakly.

“Maybe she thinks he’s an old flame of yours and doesn’t want me to get uncomfortable.” She quipped right back with a tight smile.

“If she’s worried about making you uncomfortable, she definitely likes you better than me.”

An old flame. Stars help him and Anakin if Satine was taken by the notion they had been lovers. The last thing Anakin needed right now was to feel awkward around Obi-Wan because Satine implied such outlandish notions. He needed to focus on himself, not coddle Obi-Wan’s feelings.

“Maybe we should call for some Temple Healers?” Ahsoka asked, fiddling with Anakin’s sleeve, dragging Obi-Wan out of his flustered thoughts.

“There are some injuries that aren’t better treated by Jedi Healers than by anyone else, Padawan mine.” Obi-Wan slumped into his seat, still holding Anakin’s limp hand. “Master Che couldn’t heal Anakin’s arm any more than bacta could, and Mandalorian technology is as good as anything you would find in the Core.”

“But…” 

“Sometimes, all we can do is wait. You know that.”

“But this isn’t a field medic tent.” Ahsoka protested.

“But a body is still a body. It needs time.”

“Yes, Master.”

Sighing at her dejected tone, he pushed a soothing tendril across their bond.

“You should try to meditate, Ahsoka. This has been a very difficult day.” He doubted she’d taken any time to rest, let alone meditate since they had arrived at the Temple the day before. She nodded, crossing her legs on the armchair cushion. 

Across the bond, he felt her settle into peace, and turned his focus back to Anakin. Even in a medically induced coma, his shields were holding tight. Obi-Wan couldn’t feel anything from his side of the bond, not even pain. How long it must have taken for Mace to teach that kind of control to Anakin, of all people.

He closed his eyes, trying to draw Anakin’s Force signature around him like a blanket. Surprisingly, it complied, wrapping around his shoulders. Anakin was all around him. Without thinking, Obi-Wan brought Anakin’s hand to his mouth, brushing his lips across the knuckles.

Coming to his senses, he put Anakin’s hand back on the bed, and went to grab Ahsoka’s comm from her bag. With his still presumably with Depa, it was the only means to make the calls he owed. 

Shmi Skywalker appeared, as regal as ever, arms crossed over her chest. Not a trace of worry showed on her face. Obi-Wan pitied whoever had to go against both her and Mace in a meeting. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” She greeted. “Where is my son.”

“On Mandalore, with me and Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan didn’t bother beating around the bush. Shmi wouldn’t appreciate it as kindness. “He lost an arm fighting with Sidious, but he’s been treated.”

“Will he make a full recovery?”

“His doctors think so. He should be fitted with a prosthesis in the next few days, once his injuries have been appropriately treated.”

“Good.” For the first time, she relaxed, her arms falling at her side. “Thank you, Obi-Wan. Is there anything we can do?”

“Not for the moment. When he wakes up and we have a better understanding of what happened, we can come up with an action plan.”

“Kenobi!” Mace popped into view, multiple veins popping out from his smooth forehead. “I’m used to melodramatic antics from Anakin, but I expected better from you!”

“Good evening, Mace. How was Depa?” Obi-Wan wished he had the energy to enjoy Mace’s flustered frustration.

“Shocked and upset, what did you expect?” Mace grumbled, leaning back. 

“The Council needed to know about Anakin.” Obi-Wan rubbed at his beard. “And they would have taken far too long to believe me.”

“Well, they certainly believe it now. How’s the boy?”

“He’ll be fine. He’ll be exceptionally well for a man who fought a Sith Lord.”

“Says the man who killed a Sith.”

“I killed an apprentice, and lost my Master in the process. Anakin losing a hand is a small price to pay.”

“I’m sure he’ll see it that way.”

“I’m sure Anakin will handle this with the same grace and dignity he does anything else.” Obi-Wan agreed, stretching one hand to wrap it around Anakin’s fingers again.

“I’ll message the Council to let them know you are all safe.” Mace sighed, leaning back as Shmi stepped forward again.

“And tell Anakin we expect a call as soon as he wakes up.” She added as the feed closed.

The room fell back into silence, and Obi-Wan dropped the comm on the side-table. Letting his head fall back to the back of the chair, he swept his hand to open the door.

“You could have called out.” Satine protested as she stepped in, but Obi-Wan waved to Ahsoka, still meditating.

“How much did you hear?” He asked softly.

“I was not eavesdropping.” Her voice was as low as his. She spared one glance at Anakin before walking up to him, cupping his jaw. “How are you, Obi-Wan?”

“I’ve been better.” He admitted. “But I’ve been much worse.”

She stared at him, as if trying to read the truth in the lines of his face. If anyone could do so, it would be Satine. “Can I ask, who is he?” She was hesitant in a way she rarely was. She understood better than most the need to protect people through anonymity. “Ahsoka said he was a dear friend?”

“He is that.” Obi-Wan whispered, his grip tightened around Anakin’s hand. “Thank you, for taking care of him.”

“Of course. Anything to help you, darling.” Dear Satine, willing to let him change the subject.

“He was my Padawan.” Obi-Wan told her after a long moment. “The one who disappeared years ago.”

“You found him!” Satine’s voice was wrapped in happy wonder, as if she truly understood what seeing Anakin again had meant to him.

“Through very little merit of my own.” Obi-Wan admitted. “Padmé and Ahsoka actually found him before me.”

“Well, I hardly see how that matters.” Satine moved to the head of the bed, looking down at Anakin’s peaceful face. “He did seem a bit… young. ”

“Satine!” Obi-Wan sighed, glaring weakly at her.

“You could do much worse, darling.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Tall, young and handsome? Unless you tell me he has the charm of a Sarlacc.”

“It’s not like that.” Obi-Wan’s argument might be stronger if he wasn’t clutching at Anakin’s hand like an anxious husband.

“No, I suppose not.” Satine said after inspecting him for a moment. “Because of you, or because of him?”

“It does not matter.” Obi-Wan felt blood rush up his ears.

“Doesn’t it?” She asked. “I never knew you to be bashful in the affairs of the heart, Obi-Wan.”

“There is no affair of the heart. You know what being a Jedi means.”

“I know you would have left the Order for me.” She pointed out, not unkindly. “And you told me you would have also left the Order if they had stopped you from searching for him. What will you do if he asks what I couldn’t?”

If the war was over and Ahsoka was knighted? Anakin wouldn’t even have to ask for Obi-Wan to join him. There could be much worse lives than freeing slaves at Anakin’s side.

“What use would he have for a boring old man who hasn’t worn anything that wasn’t brown in years?” He said instead, with a wry smile. 

“Self-deprecation doesn’t suit you anymore than the beard does, darling.” Satine rolled her eyes at him, straightening her dress.

“So you keep saying.” 

“Perhaps in another decade, the lesson will stick.” She sighed, squeezing his shoulder. “I have a dinner with some of my ministers, but I expect at least an evening of your company once he’s awake.”

“Of course, my dear.”

“And do remember to get some rest beforehand, Obi-Wan. I’d rather you didn’t fall asleep in the soup course.”

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin’s voice snapped him out of his light doze, and he reached out to catch his hand before he had even opened his eyes properly. “Obi-Wan, what- Where are we- My arm- Obi-Wan, what happened to my arm!”

Jumping from his armchair, Obi-Wan tangled their fingers together, pressing his other palm to Anakin’s cheek to catch his attention. Anakin’s eyes were wide with confusion and burgeoning panic, and he squeezed Obi-Wan’s fingers hard enough to hurt.

“You’re safe Anakin. We’re on Mandalore, with friends of mine.” He whispered, staring right back at him.

“What happened to my arm?” Anakin asked again, trying to turn his head to look at his stump, but Obi-Wan held his chin firm.

“Anakin, what do you remember about Coruscant?” He kept his voice gentle. Anakin didn’t need his help to work himself into a frenzy.

“Coruscant? I came with you to protect you, and then Palpatine- Palpatine!” Anakin cried out, throwing his aura out so fast, it left Obi-Wan dizzy after it passed through him.

“He’s not here, Anakin. He doesn’t know we’re on Mandalore, we’re all safe.”

“What about Ahsoka? Where is she? Is she okay?” Anakin was panting by now, short nails digging into the back of Obi-Wan’s hand.

“She’s fine, she went to look for some food.” Obi-Wan explained, and Anakin settled a bit, leaning into the hand holding his jaw. Obi-Wan swept a thumb over Anakin’s cheekbone. “What about you, dear one? How do you feel?”

“Numb.” Anakin answered after a long moment. “I can’t feel my arm at all.”

“The doctors say your wound is almost fully healed. Even after the painkillers run out, you shouldn’t feel more than mild discomfort.” Obi-Wan did his best to keep his explanation short and clear.

Anakin tried to turn his head again, and this time, Obi-Wan let him. He would have to face the situation eventually, there was little use delaying the inevitable.

“I’ll need parts to make myself a new arm.” Anakin whispered after a small eternity, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh. Of course, Anakin, barely out of surgery, was already planning how he was going to build himself a limb.

“The medics have already designed you a prosthesis, Anakin. You’ll be able to modify it, if you want, but you certainly won’t build one from scratch.”

“Oh.” Anakin slumped into his pillows, fingers twitching into Obi-Wan’s hold. 

“Anakin-”

“I’m sorry.” Anakin blurted out. “I went to Coruscant without telling anyone, and now Palpatine’s going to be looking for Ahsoka, and you’re stuck on Mandalore.”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed, and Anakin flinched. “Anakin, look at me.”

It took a long moment, but Anakin slowly twisted to meet his gaze.

“You put yourself in danger. I’m not upset that I had to come to Mandalore for you, I’m upset that you came to Coruscant despite knowing the risks, and I’m upset you lost an arm because of it.”

“I’m sorry.” Anakin whispered again, clutching at Obi-Wan’s fingers as afraid he was going to leave. As if Obi-Wan could bear to be anywhere else. “I was so scared Palpatine would figure out you were suspicious of him and attack you, except now he knows you know.”

“I know, Anakin. But you have to understand that me potentially being in danger is not a good reason to put yourself in harm’s way! You knew Palpatine was looking for you!”

“But I-”

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan leaned forward, pining Anakin down with his eyes, begging for him to understand. “You lost an arm because of me. How do you think that makes me feel?”

Anakin’s eyes blew wide open, and he jerked his hand away from Obi-Wan’s so he could grab at his tabard, struggling to sit up.

“No! This was my fault, my mistake!” As he protested, Anakin sent a strong wave of regret-worry through their bonds, pushing at Obi-Wan’s shields to be let in.

Obi-Wan was half of his chair at this point, trying to push Anakin, who was still pulling on his tabard, back down on the bed. “Peace, Anakin!” He sent back a wave of calm, cutting through the emotions lapping at his shields cleanly enough that Anakin actually slumped into his pillows. Once he was sure Anakin wasn’t going to resist again, Obi-Wan lowered his shields, letting Anakin dive into his mind. 

They sighed in synchronised relief as they finally connected, finding and soothing each other’s darker emotions. Obi-Wan took in Anakin’s fear, anger and guilt, breathing through them and releasing them into the Force, and felt Anakin curl around his own helplessness and worries.

“I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan.” Anakin whispered again, softer, and deeper somehow.

“Sorry enough not to throw yourself in great danger to protect me from potential problems in the future?” Obi-Wan asked. As expected, heavy silence was his answer, and he could only sigh as Anakin sent worry-affection-determination his way. “Next time, do let me know in advance. Losing Padawans is not a pleasant experience.”

“I’m sorry about Ahsoka. You trained her well.”

“How I keep training padawans that throw themselves at Sith Lords, I’ll never know.”

“Yes, it’s truly a mystery how the Sith Killer set an example about fighting Sith.”

“I’m fairly sure I’ve lectured the both of you about what an unpleasant experience that was- Anakin, what are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked, as Anakin, who had never let go of his tabard, was once again tugging at them. Except this time, instead of trying to get out of bed, he seemed to be pulling Obi-Wan in.

Anakin looked back at him, eyes so wide and clear they were almost liquid as he wrapped his mind around Obi-Wan’s. 

“Please, Obi-Wan. I could really use a hug, and you won’t let me out of the bed.” Anakin kept tugging at Obi-Wan’s clothes, gaze beseeching. 

Obi-Wan hesitated for a second more before rising out of his seat and wrapping his arms around Anakin’s shoulders, burying his nose into his wild curls. He smelled like antiseptics and hospitals and spices. Anakin let go of his tabards to grab at his waist, soaking in the contact. His right arm was held away, behind his back. 

Obi-Wan waited until Anakin’s breathing stopped shaking before releasing him. Anakin let him take a step back, falling back on the bed listlessly. Even in the bond, Anakin retreated, untangling himself from Obi-Wan.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes before he looked back down at his stump, fingers picking at the sheet. Obi-Wan stood over him, useless, with his hands hanging at his sides. 

He had never been any better at comforting people than he was at being comforted himself. Except there was no one else for Anakin at the moment. Except he wanted to comfort Anakin, make him feel safe. Make him feel loved.

Oh, Stars and Moons.

“Scoot over.” He sighed, and Anakin’s head snapped up to stare at him. “Come on, give me some space.”

Confusion radiating into the room, Anakin did as he asked, and Obi-Wan settled gingerly into the bed at his side. It was much too small for two grown men, but there was a simple solution to that. Wrapping an arm around Anakin’s shoulders, he drew him closer. Anakin, catching on to what Obi-Wan was offering, shifted quickly, as if worried he was going to change his mind. In a few seconds, Anakin was half sprawled over Obi-Wan, his head resting against his shoulder. 

“Obi-Wan..?” He whispered, not quite daring to find words, in case it broke the spell.

“I haven’t seen a proper bed in a few days, dear one, I could use the rest.”

“Of course.” Anakin’s ears were pinker than before, but he pushed overwhelming gratitude at Obi-Wan. 

With a put-upon sigh neither of them believed, Obi-Wan tangled their fingers together again and closed his eyes. If he managed to fall asleep before Ahsoka came back, he wouldn’t have to deal with whatever comments his Padawan would surely have at finding him in Anakin’s bed.

“Palpatine knows I recognized him, and he’s aware that I’ve had some contact with Ahsoka, at the very least.” Anakin stood tall at Obi-Wan’s side, in a conference room Satine had graciously provided for them. 

“Thank you, Anakin.” Shaak Ti answered as he finished his report. The rest of the Council kept silent, and Obi-Wan could tell they were trying to size up Anakin. The lost Padawan, the one Palpatine had chosen to take as a Sith Apprentice, the man who had fought the Sith Lord they had been searching for. 

With his arms folded behind his back to hide his still healing stump and a stoic expression that he had to have learned from his mother, Anakin didn’t make himself easy to read. Only Obi-Wan could feel the uncomfortable feelings at being pinned under the Council’s gaze again that Anakin was releasing into the Force. Anakin had always had a complicated relationship with the High Council, and memories of being picked apart for weaknesses for three years of his life wouldn’t have just gone away simply because of Mace’s tutelage.

“Good news, that is.” Yoda said, peering at both Anakin and Ahsoka, who was standing on his other side, in turn. “Unaware that we know of his plan for the Clones, the Chancellor remains.”

“Regardless, Palpatine will likely accelerate his plans, to make sure we don’t have the time to find out more of his secrets.” Obi-Wan sighed. By now, most of the 212th had been dechipped, but the rest of the GAR was still under Sidious’ unseen control.

“And he’ll be making increased efforts to put his hands on Anakin.” Mace grumbled. Somehow, his hologram was standing between Depa and Yoda. “We’ve already intercepted four bounty hunters sniffing around Freed Territory.”

“That seems like a lot of effort to be spending on catching one person.” Master Tiin pointed out. “No offense, Mister Skywalker.”

“None taken.” Anakin answered, and Obi-Wan could feel how much he agreed with the Jedi. “But as long as he’s working to find me, he’s less focused on acting against the Jedi.”

“I agree.” Master Koon said, leaning back. “We need to take the time we’ve been given to minimise the possible damages the Chancellor could cause.”

“I assume you have a plan?” Obi-Wan asked evenly.

“The Clones battalions will be re-assigned to work under non-Jedi officers, and as many of them as possible will be sent on a stabilizing campaign in the Outer Rim. The 212th, as the only de-chipped battalion, will be assigned to Coruscant security.”

“Won’t Palpatine be suspicious right away if all the Jedi disappear from the army?” Anakin frowned.

“Not if we have a reason to pull back all the Jedi to Coruscant.” Plo answered.

“What would ever be important enough to leave the front?” Obi-Wan asked. He’d been gone from the battlefield for less than a week, and already he was feeling increasing pressure from his commanding officers to rejoin.

“The death of a Grand Master of the Order.”

Except for Plo, Depa and Master Tiin, everyone in the Holocall turned to stare at Yoda, who was looking down at the floor.

“Master Yoda?” Shaak Ti asked softly. 

“Worried for my health, the Chancellor has been.” He said, voice even more croaky than it usually was. “Unsurprised by my death, he will be.”

“Even if the Chancellor believes the deception,” Master Mundi stepped in, “this will only buy us so much time! We will never be able to mount a case convincing enough for the Senate to depose him in such short notice.”

“We can’t afford to wait to depose him.” Depa said, setting her jaw when Mundi twisted to stare at her. “We need to take action, for the good of the Republic. We must apprehend him.”

“And what if he doesn’t come willingly?” Mundi asked, his voice high and affronted. “We are Jedi, we can’t just execute people, let alone the Chancellor of the Republic!”

“We’re not all Jedi.” Anakin said, dread seeping through his signature.

“Mister Skywalker!” Master Gallia snapped, taken aback. “You can’t-”

“He’s right.” Mace interrupted. Anakin and they shared a long, charged look Obi-Wan couldn’t begin to comprehend, despite being intertwined with Anakin in the Force. “The Order can’t be seen responsible for the murder of a Chancellor. But me and Anakin have not been part of the Jedi Order for years.”

“Mace, you’re not thinking this through!” Master Mundi protested.

“This isn’t the first time Palpatine has forced me into a decision I didn’t want to make, Ki-Adi.” Mace said, his tone even but resolute. “But I can make sure it’s the last.”

“This is not the way of the Jedi!” Master Yaddle was looking at Yoda, as if waiting for him to intercede in the matter.

“I am not a Jedi!” Mace raised his voice enough to be heard over the buzz. 

“Mace, you left to protect a youngling, not to commit murder!” Master Gallia spoke again, now standing. “Would you renounce everything you once stood for?”

“For the sake of the Order and the Republic?” Mace rolled back his shoulders, turning to stare directly into Yoda’s eyes. “Yes, I would.”

Silence fell in the room as everyone waited for Yoda’s answer. All knew he was the only one who could change Mace’s mind. Obi-Wan might have been able to sway Anakin, had he been acting alone, but Mace was just as much of a force of nature. One he was powerless against.

“Young Skywalker, agree with Mace, do you?” Yoda asked, looking up at Anakin.

“Yes, I do.” Anakin swore, wrapping a frantic tendril of Force around Obi-Wan’s mind. 

He was asking for forgiveness, Obi-Wan realised. To go against Palpatine, to set out with the express purpose to kill the man, he would go against Obi-Wan’s teachings, against his values and beliefs.

There wasn’t a second of hesitation before Obi-Wan pushed back not the forgiveness Anakin had asked, but absolution and confidence and worry. Worry that Anakin would be hurt or killed, and worry about what he would have to do to defeat a Sith Lord.

He also pushed a promise that no matter what, Obi-Wan would be there to pick up the pieces afterwards, no matter what Anakin did. Anakin would do what needed to be done to save them all, and he would do the same to care for Anakin.

“Done, it shall be.” Yoda’s words dropped like a stone. Even if they were not the ones to do the deed, the Jedi High Council had just condoned the assassination of the Head of the Republic. “In a few days, when young Skywalker has healed, we will meet again.”

“Yes Master.” Over a dozen voices echoed before disappearing, leaving Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka standing in dizzying silence.

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin spun his borrowed saber around, getting used to the feeling of his new prosthesis. The medic had recommended at least a week of lighter use, but Anakin had gone straight to the building’s roof and started working on his katas with one of Ahsoka’s saber.

With the threat of having to move against Palpatine at any point hanging above their heads, Obi-Wan hadn’t had the heart to reprimand Anakin for overexerting himself. Instead, he had handed Anakin his own weapon, closer to Anakin’s old one, and had stayed with him to correct his form. 

As with anything else related to lightsaber fencing, Anakin adapted to fighting with his new limb at an alarming speed. In the last hours, he had gone from dropping the handle every few minutes to moving through the familiar motions with a grace that would put some fully trained Knights to shame. Still, the lines of his face were drawn with an unusual tension, and Obi-Wan could tell he was holding himself back for some of the wider attacks.

Only when Anakin’s movements started to run sluggish and unfocused did Obi-Wan step in, wrapping the young man in as much serenity as he could muster. Between one cut and the next, Anakin’s shoulders slumped. Even from meters away, Obi-Wan could see he was still clutching at the saber hilt hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“I need to keep training.” Anakin hissed, swaying slightly. Now that he had stopped moving, he was probably fighting to stay upright at all.

“Practicing while tired-”

“Only leads to bad habits.” Anakin finished for him, pushing his sweaty hair away from his forehead.

“So you were paying attention.” Obi-Wan mused as he approached. Without needing to be asked, Anakin extended the saber hilt back to him, but didn’t let go when Obi-Wan took it.

“I always pay attention.” Anakin let his hand drop, still not looking at Obi-Wan. Not in the mood to offer a list of counterexamples, Obi-Wan laid a hand to the back of Anakin’s neck.

“So if I were to tell you that meditating would help you with finding balance right now?” He tried instead.

“Obi-Wan, I can’t…” Anakin began, but trailed off, finally looking up at him. His eyes, rimmed with fear and fatigue, still shone.

“I do believe I offered to help you, dear one.” Obi-Wan offered, letting his hand fall before he did something ill-advised like reaching for Anakin’s face. 

“I- That sounds nice.” There was something almost hungry in Anakin’s voice. How long had he wished he could commune with the Force like the other Jedi did? Inviting him to follow with a tilt of the head, Obi-Wan walked back towards the end of the roof where people had left blankets and seats. Stretching a couple of the mats out, he sat down, crossing his legs. Anakin followed, settling so close their knees brushed anytime they shifted. 

Obi-Wan reached out, palm up, and Anakin laid his hands down in his. After a second, he pulled back, and tore off the leather glove he had taken to wear over his prosthetic arm. Jaw set, he let it fall back on top of Obi-Wan’s palm.

It was only the second time Obi-Wan had seen the prosthesis, a marvel of Mandalorian engineering with delicate, almost seamless joints, and the first time Anakin had allowed him to touch it. The metal was warm from hours handling a lightsaber, and Obi-Wan couldn’t resist brushing against the skin, marvelling in the slight give in the metal surface. Anakin inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away.

“How much can you feel?” Obi-Wan asked, looking back at his face. Anakin’s expression seemed bewildered, of all things.

“The fingers are the most sensitive, but I can feel pressure anywhere.” Anakin explained faintly. “Can’t feel temperature or pain though.”

“It’s probably still a bad idea to stick it in lava.” Obi-Wan mused, leaning back to assume a meditative stance.

“Better I do it now then, before I start modifying it.”

“Let’s not test the limits of Satine’s generosity, dear one?” Obi-Wan smiled, quieting his jittery nerves. He was used to both guiding meditation and sharing a mindspace with Anakin, but what they were about to try was another level of intimacy entirely. “Ready?”

“Always.” Anakin grinned back, almost as bright as his Force Aura.

“You’ll have to sink into my signature first, so you can use me as a buffer when I open myself to the Force. Don’t try to force the connection, just follow me.”

“Okay.” Anakin whispered.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and lowered his shields. Anakin joined him almost immediately, as eager to slip into Obi-Wan’s mind as he ever was. Instead of letting Anakin intertwine them, Obi-Wan expanded his consciousness, wrapping it around the core of Anakin’s mind. He heard Anakin gasp, but the presence in his mind didn’t waver. 

Making sure to keep Anakin shielded from direct contact, Obi-Wan opened himself to the Force, melting into the warmth that flowed around him. The Force welcomed him, washing away his stresses and pains. He felt Anakin mirror him within his mind, and all was light. It was one thing to see Anakin’s power from the outside, but to hold even a fraction of it from inside his own being felt like he had turned into energy himself, into the radiating heat of a new sun.

Obi-Wan’s first reaction was to recoil, to fight the new sensation. It felt like he was going to be crushed between the twin immensities of the Force and Anakin. Anakin, sensing his agitation, tried to clam down, retreating on himself, shame streaking through their joined mind.

“No.” Obi-Wan called out, closing his fingers around Anakin’s hands. “Give me a moment.”

“I understand if it’s too much.” Anakin whispered, twitching in Obi-Wan’s grip. “Trust me, I get it.”

“Anakin. Give me the time to get used to it.” Obi-Wan’s voice was unwavering.

“Okay.” Anakin relaxed and stretched again in Obi-Wan’s mind.

This time, Obi-Wan didn’t resist, but opened himself to Anakin the same way he did the Force. Slowly. He felt himself evaporating into the world around them, only anchored by Anakin’s hands in his.

The soothing awareness of the living beings surrounding him that accompanied his usual meditation was washed out by Anakin’s radiance. Instead, Obi-Wan lost himself in the mesmerizing currants of the Force as it danced for its Son and in Anakin’s overwhelming awe. It rolled out in waves, soaking into Obi-Wan’s very cells. For Obi-Wan, the Force had been a fact of life, a constant companion he could turn to for guidance and comfort for longer than he could remember.

Filtered carefully through his consciousness, Anakin met the nurturing light of the Force for the first time on a Mandalorian roof. Clinging to his awareness of the physical world through only the very tip of his fingers, Obi-Wan let himself be swept in their waltz, trusting Anakin not to push too deep.

Night had fully fallen by the time Obi-Wan floated back to awareness. He could feel Anakin still open, if less expansive in his mind, and pushed a warning before starting to collect himself. Building back the boundary between him and the Force was less of a steady process than it usually was, but eventually he was able to close himself and coax Anakin to do the same. They didn’t break contact with each other, Obi-Wan didn’t think he could bear it just yet, but they separated their essences.

Only then did Obi-Wan open his eyes. At some point during their session, Anakin had reached up to clutch at his wrists, and Obi-Wan made no move to release himself. Anakin’s eyelids fluttered open only a moment after his own, noticeably red and damp, yet in the silver light, he seemed more settled than Obi-Wan had ever known him.

“I don’t think we can do that every day.” Anakin whispered, his bashful smile beautiful enough to break Obi-Wan’s heart.

“No, I wouldn’t think so.” Obi-Wan murmured back. “We’ll have to find another way to get you to sit still for a few minutes.”

“But we can do it again? Sometime?” Anakin let go of Obi-Wan’s wrists, trailing his fingers down his palms to gently hold Obi-Wan’s. 

“Of course, dear one.” Obi-Wan squeezed back, glad the experience hadn’t been special only to him. 

“Thank you.” Anakin whispered fervently, leaning forward to press his lips to Obi-Wan’s. 

It was barely more than a brush, dry and brief, yet it turned Obi-Wan to stone. Anakin’s lips were a bit chapped, but they yielded against Obi-Wan’s, soft and pillowy. Before he even had a chance to understand what was happening, mouth falling open, Anakin was already pulling away, rolling to his feet.

“Good night, Obi-Wan.” He kept his voice quiet enough not to disturb the night air. Just as Obi-Wan felt like he was regaining his footing, Anakin pushed a wave of affection so strong into their bond it rooted him in place again and twisted his heart into an aching, pulsing mess.

Anakin left the roof, and Obi-Wan, still gaping, watched him go without a word.

Chapter Text

Guard up. Spin. BlockParryThrustDodge.

Anakin tried to lose himself in the motions, to focus on Ahsoka’s attacks and acrobatics, but every time he found a rhythm, he would pull on a still tender muscle and trip out of it. His control and dexterity were improving with every spar, but if he couldn’t find the mindless flow soon, there was no way he’d be able to face Palpatine, even with Mace’s help.

Ahsoka, to her credit, didn’t coddle him the way Obi-Wan or Mace might have. She struck as fast and unpredictably as ever, forcing him to trust his reflexes. And unlike everyone else on the ship, she didn’t mind giving Anakin a facefull of lightsaber, training setting or no. It actually felt good, to have the dull ache of lightsaber bruises to distract from the tight not-quite-pain in his right arm.

With the improved mechanical strength of his prosthesis, he didn’t need to worry about power, a good thing given how difficult wide motions were. Instead, he could never let himself stand still. He would never be as lithe as Ahsoka and Palpatine, but he swept around the cargo hold, never giving his opponent an easy shot.

With barely a twitch of warning, Ahsoka hooked her shoto under his guard, wrenching his saber from his grip as she shoved the point of her main weapon under his chin.

“You’re thinking too hard!” She said, frowning up at him.

“I’m relearning a whole new way to fight, Snips. I have to think about it.” He grumbled, walking over to grab his saber, furrowing her brow even further.

“I don’t think thinking about things is your style, Skyguy.” She snipped back, tossing her second saber in the air over and over. “More like rushing in and ‘letting the Force guide you’.”

“Don’t know if we can really rely on the Force when we’re going against a Sith Lord.” Anakin fiddled with the guard of his saber, clenching his jaw. He could still feel the oily touch of Palpatine’s Force Signature against his shields. Palpatine might not have succeeded at manipulating Anakin’s emotions the way he had wanted, but Anakin remembered the bitter, coppery tastes of the fury and fear that had taken over just before Palpatine had cut his arm.

Could he be trusted to use the Force, which had been growing darker and darker for years, in the presence of a Sith Lord? Anakin had always had issues keeping himself distinct from the Force, what would happen if he lost himself when it was saturated by the most powerful Dark Force user in the Galaxy?

The edges of his vision started to blur, the walls of the cargo bay pulsing closer and closer. Even if Anakin hadn’t been able to use the Force openly since he was twelve, even if he could never fully connect to it like the other Jedi could, it had been a constant companion and a guide since before he had known what it was. Anakin was a great pilot because of the Force, he had taken to fencing like a fish to water because of the Force. He was the Chosen One because he was the Child of the Force! Going into a battle without trusting the Force felt more crippling than losing his arm had been. There wasn’t a prosthesis to replace a connexion to the universe and all that lived within it.

Could he even afford not to trust the Force?

Maybe if Obi-Wan was the one fighting at his side. Maybe if the Force that surrounded him was the same one he had found when meditating through him. The Force that was light and love and complete acceptance, that felt like his mother and Obi-Wan and home, but wasn’t trying to swallow him whole.

He wanted to go find Obi-Wan and grab him for another meditation session. He wanted to grab Obi-Wan and kiss him until the burgeon of panic in his chest faded away, until all he could think about was Obi-Wan, the spring rain freshness of his Force signature and the warmth of his lips.

Obi-Wan hadn’t exactly avoided Anakin since yesterday. It would have been impossible in the small ship while planning a political coup/assassination together. But he hadn’t let himself be caught in a room alone with Anakin, and had refused to open up his side of the bond.

Anakin didn’t push. Well. Not exactly. Not on purpose. However, Mace had glared at him often enough since they had boarded the ship to know he was projecting more than he should have been. At the very least, Obi-Wan would know he had meant the kiss. Had meant the almost endless warmth and longing, and how much he wanted to wrap himself around Obi-Wan and not let go for a week, and-

A screw hit the side of his face, and he jerked, staring down at Ahsoka’s unimpressed face. In the cockpit, Mace’s and Obi-Wan’s voices had fallen silent.

“Oops.” He tried to grin.

“Next time, I’m throwing a whole crate.” Ahsoka warned, rolling her eyes. “Come on, more training, less pining.”

“I’m not pining!” Anakin whispered harshly, raising his eyebrows at her as he gestured for her to keep her voice down. He really wasn’t. It was only a matter of time before Obi-Wan worked through whatever was going in his head, and then they could have a talk -because Obi-Wan would certainly want to talk about it - and find a private corner-

“Skyguy!” Ahsoka hissed.

“Would you rather I was thinking about Palpatine?” Everytime Anakin did for too long, he worked himself up into a jittery mess, setting everyone else on edge.

“Would I rather have you thinking about fighting an Evil Sith Overlord than how much you want to kriff my Master? Right now? Yes.” 

“Ahsoka!” 

Anakin barely ignited his weapon in time to catch hers, parrying frantically as she spun around. Parry, parry, feint, cut through the opening, turn around. Breath in. Breath out.

Attack, parry, dodge.

Push. Pull.

“Kark!” Ahsoka yelled as Anakin twisted her wrist behind her back and pushed his saber across her throat.

“You’ll have to work harder to distract me, Snips.” Anakin smirked, blood pumping fire-hot right under his skin.

 “Guess I’ll have to stop going easy on you!” 

Anakin and Mace swerved through the crowds that moved around the Senate Plaza, dressed in traditional Nubian mourning garb, dark purple cloaks with deep hoods. A Grandmaster of the Jedi Order hadn’t died in centuries, and the Upper Levels of Coruscant were going all out to show their sympathy for Yoda’s passing. Symbols of mourning from thousands of worlds could be seen all around, and the two ex-Jedi slipped in unnoticed.

Obi-Wan’s set time to speak in front of the Senate was fast approaching, and they needed to be in position before he started addressing them. Padmé had done her best to arrange Obi-Wan’s appeal to the Senate at the busiest hour, at which the most Senators, and the Chancellor, were guaranteed to be present. The draw of having the High General of the GAR speak in front of them at such a critical time in the war effort and in the Order’s history would attract the last few who had thought to skip the daily session.

Anakin, who hadn’t ever been in the Senate, did his best to follow Mace once they entered the building. Only years of practice allowed Anakin to catch the edges of Mace as he strode carefully through the large hallways. Erasing oneself wouldn’t keep people from running into them or feeling their physical presence, and they couldn’t afford any suspicion. Palpatine’s attention had to be on Obi-Wan, and only Obi-Wan.

Palpatine’s office was at the top of the building, only steps from the door leading to his personal repulsorpod. Using the keycard one of Padmé’s handmaidens had cloned for them, they entered the Chancellor’s suite. The office itself was large and empty, and Anakin frowned at the waste of space. His mother would have been able to fit at least six additional desks if she had access to this much space for her personal office. Walking over to the large ornamented desk, Anakin crouched down to slip in a small microphone in a crook of the wood.

It was one of the Rebellion’s designs, almost impossible to detect, especially for people from the Core who didn’t have the appropriate hardware. It couldn’t transmit what it recorded very far, but it didn’t need to. Anakin had the other half of the gizmo, and he’d be well within range to catch the data.

Once he nodded at Mace that the bug was in place, the man led them to the hallway adjoining the room, and they settled.

Less than five minutes. Last Anakin had seen Obi-Wan, the man had been pacing around the ship, practicing his speech over and over again. Mace and he had worked on the text all the way back to Coruscant, compiling every shred of evidence anyone had found against Palpatine, from the Rebellion, to the Jedi Shadows, to Padmé’s investigations, and trying to organize it into a coherent narrative.

It wasn’t an airtight case, and neither Obi-Wan or Mace thought it would hold in front of a Jury unless they found hard, admissible proof, but they weren’t trying to convict Palpatine. They were trying to turn the Senate against him.

The Senate, Padmé had said over holo, with as close to a sneer as she would ever allow herself, was a fickle, cowardly beast. And Obi-Wan Kenobi, against his will and better judgement, was very good at talking at politicians.

Padmé, Force bless that gentle hurricane of a woman, had also made sure the speech would be broadcasted not only live in the Senate Plaza and on all Republic controlled planets and bases, but also in the Neutral Systems and a few of the more sympathetic Separatists worlds. Whatever High General Kenobi had to say, Senator Amidala, staunch opponent to the War, wanted it heard as far and wide as she politically could.

Even carefully gathered in the Force as he was, Anakin could feel Coruscant vibrating with curiosity, with the epicenter at the heart of the Senate building.

“Anakin.” Mace said softly. 

Anakin looked up from fiddling with the replacement saber Satine had found in the Mandalorian vaults. Mace was checking his own weapon, one last time. It had been years since Mace had used the blade for anything other than training Anakin. Did he feel relief? Or did he feel the same guilty grief Anakin had trouble breathing past?

“I’m fine.” Anakin answered, as if there was any chance in hell Mace would believe him. 

“Hm.” Mace hummed, staring deep into his eyes. For the first time in years, Anakin wondered what Mace saw when he looked at him. A dangerous, uncontrolled variable, like he had been as a child? A Padawan in all but name? A friend? “You are not alone, Anakin. As long as we can rely on each other, we are strong.”

“Mace…” Anakin trailed off.

“I trust you Anakin. With my life, and with yours. If you can say the same, we can prevail.”

“Is this where you tell me not to be a kriffing idiot?” Anakin tried to joke, neck burning against the weight of Mace’s confidence. 

“If you do decide to behave like a foolhardy nerfherder again, do try not to lose a leg. I don’t want to have to drag you out of the Senate.”

“I’ll try my best to get hit in the arm, Mace.” Anakin’s smile got stronger, if only for a second.

“Please do. Remember which one of us Kenobi will exact his revenge on, if you get yourself killed.”

Obi-Wan, who was in the building, but wouldn’t be able to help them. Who had to stand and speak to the Senate while they fought the Sith Lord. Anakin couldn’t help but think he had the hardest task out of any of them.

Would Palpatine try to have Obi-Wan assassinated before he even had a chance to speak? The Chancellor was a smart man, he had to know that whatever Obi-Wan had to say wouldn’t be favorable to him. Even at such short notice, and with some of his ressources already hunting for Anakin, he had to have enough contacts on Coruscant to order a kill order on a lone Jedi Knight.

Obi-Wan wouldn’t allow Ahsoka to come with him, both to spare her the possible public backlash and because the Chancellor’s hunters might still be looking for her scent. Anakin and Mace were obviously out of the question. But someone else, surely, could have been assigned to protect him? Vos was a Shadow, if anyone could have kept a discreet eye on Obi-Wan, he could. Or a Clone escort, from the 212th Battalion? Force, Anakin would have felt safer with a couple of Padmé’s handmaidens to watch his back. But Obi-Wan had insisted on going alone. Anakin wanted to hit him and kiss him both. Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a noble Jedi Knight to the end. Anakin couldn’t imagine how it costed him to know that all his efforts only served as a smokescreen for murder, no matter how righteous. 

Would Obi-Wan hate him after tonight? When Anakin offered him undeniable proof that he wasn’t the Jedi they had once both hoped he could become? 

At least he would be safe. At least they would all be safe. And if it took years before Obi-Wan was capable of looking Anakin in the eyes again, well, it meant Obi-Wan would have years to live in front of him. 

Two minutes. Silence had fallen. All the Senators must have been already seated, waiting like them for the presentation to commence. Anakin breathed in deeply, pulling at the Force cloak around him. Palpatine had seen through it last time, but they just needed a few minutes. They just needed Palpatine to be distracted enough .

Mace shifted one last time, rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms the way he would before a sparring session with Anakin. If he was uncomfortable with what they were here to do, he didn’t let it show. But Anakin knew he had to be. Mace had always done his best to live according to the Code, following the Jedi way with more alacrity than some Jedi who still lived in the Temple.

Anakin would have to be there for him. After all was done, even if Mace didn’t want his help, he would have to be there to support him. The Jedi might not be able or willing to help them, Shmi and the Freed people wouldn’t understand. Mace had spent years protecting Anakin from Palpatine, Anakin would do the same a hundred times over for him. Mace had promised Anakin he wasn’t alone. Anakin would make sure Mace never would be either. 

Outside the doors of the office, a noise rose. Distant and too muted to make up the exact words, but Anakin would have recognized Obi-Wan’s voice anywhere. A twisted ball of emotions swept down in his guts. They were officially in motion.

Shortly, Obi-Wan would tell the Senate and the Galaxy ten years worth of Palpatine’s dealings. Everything, from Palpatine’s predatory interest in Anakin, to his involvement in starting the war from both sides, to his creation of the Clone Army, to his relationship with Jango Fett and Count Dooku, to his identity as a Sith Lord. Everything but the existence of the Clone Chip. 

Sometimes, Obi-Wan had said, the best way to deal with a trap was to spring it.

Anakin’s heart beat like a runaway train in his chest. How long had it been? One minute? Ten? Obi-Wan’s speech was fairly long, organized to present every piece of evidence they had clearly as to make the case against the Chancellor seem crushing and irrefutable. Would Palpatine wait for the end of Obi-Wan’s time, or would he storm out as soon as he was aware of how much the Jedi knew, how much of his plan was in jeopardy?

Would the Senate insist that he be taken into custody immediately?

The front doors banged open, and Anakin jerked straight, his eyes finding Mace’s. Two sets of footsteps, one heavier and slower, one faster and accompanied by the shift of fabric, moved into the office on the other side of the doors.

“Chancellor, should we call for more reinforcements? The Coruscant Guard was deployed to oversee the crowds gathered for Master Yoda’s funeral, but we can summon a few squadrons back.”

“No need.” Palpatine answered, voice grating with anger.

“But sir-”

“If the Jedi had an attack planned already, they wouldn’t have sent Kenobi for such a pathetic display. They want to play by democracy’s rules. They won’t act directly against me unless the Senate fails them.” The Chancellor snapped.

“Even if Kenobi can prove half of what he is accusing you of, Sir, the Senate might well ask for your immediate removal and turn back to the Jedi for protection.”

“We’ll just have to make sure they don’t have the option anymore.” Palpatine’s voice dropped lower, almost sinister. Even through the rustling of fabric, Anakin heard the sound of a comm turning on. “Commander, execute Order 66. Kill all the Jedi.”

“Yes, sir.” Dozens of Clones’ voices rang out in answer, and Anakin felt certainty and nausea settle in his bones. Taking out the second half of the microphone, Anakin turned on the long distance transmitter that would send the recorded audio to Padmé’s datapad, the High Council’s and his mother. 

The proof Obi-Wan and the Order would need.

“Chancellor, something’s being transmitted out of-”

As one Anakin and Mace stepped into the office, pushing the hoods off their heads. The second alien, a tall blue skinned Chagrian, gasped, backing himself into a chair as they appeared. Anakin stalked around the walls of the room, careful to keep both Palpatine and the unknown man in his sights. Mace stepped directly in front of Palpatine’s desk, the Chancellor still holding the comm he’d used to order the mass execution of the Jedi.

“Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker.” Palpatine grated, sneering at the two of them. “I didn’t think Kenobi had the stomach for deception and murder. Or does he not know that you intend to make his Padawan into an assassin on top of a runaway?”

“There is no need for anyone to die, Chancellor.” Mace answered as if discussing a mildly bothersome weed. “If you surrender yourself to the Jedi Order to be tried as a Sith.” 

“Come now, Mister Windu. I am no more a Sith than you are a Jedi.” Palpatine didn’t move from the desk, his hands disappearing into the folds of his robe. 

“In which case, I am sure the Order will be glad to release you once your innocence is proven.”

“Your Order is already dead, Windu. They’ve been dead for years, without having the decency to take notice.” Palpatine took a step back, flicking his lightsaber out. Mace didn’t move, but Anakin grabbed his own hilt, ready to block any incoming blows. “But I thank you for bringing dear Anakin back to me, it would have been a tedious endeavour to track him in the backwaters of the Outer Rim.”

“Eh chu ta!” Anakin spat, igniting his blade and springing forward. Mace cursed, and barely turned on his own saber in time to deflect the blaster bolt the Chagrian had aimed at Anakin the second he had taken his eyes off him. Sending one of the bolts back at the Chagrian’s leg, knocking him down to his knees, Mace swept out his left hand to send him flying into the opposite wall, knocking him out.

“Skywalker!” He snapped just as Anakin reached the Chancellor. The Sith Lord’s red blade hissed to life to intercept the strong blow, and Mace jumped over the desk to reach them.

“Such lack of discipline!” Palpatine croaked, easily fending off Anakin’s attacks. “What a poor Jedi you would have made! Don’t you agree, Master Windu?”

“Shut up!” Anakin yelled, rolling down to swipe at Palpatine’s legs just as Mace thrusted at his head, but stumbled as the too-wide movement pulled at his wound. Palpatine parried Mace’s blow and used Anakin’s arm as a stepping stone to jump over the two of them, landing at Mace’s back and beyond Anakin’s reach.

“Anakin would have been a great Jedi if you hadn’t intervened.” Mace growled, spinning just in time to redirect Palpatine’s blow to cut through his desk.

“What a comforting lie! Does the boy know that you took him away from the Jedi to protect the Order from him just as much as to hide him from me?” Palpatine goaded again, launching a series of attacks, dodging around to make sure he always kept Mace between him and Anakin.

Mace didn’t even bother answering the jab, ducking to the side to give Anakin an opening to thrust at the Chancellor’s torso. Dodging the blow, Palpatine fell right into the path of Mace’s upward cut and barely caught it in time, somersaulting over the desk to gain some distance.

“Anakin was doomed the second you trusted him to Kenobi, of all the weak willed Masters.” Palpatine spat. “But all the better for me to break him to my hand. The Chosen One will fulfill his destiny at my side!”

“I would die before joining you!” Anakin cried out, rage at hearing Sidious insult Obi-Wan burning through his brain. He sprung off the desk to attack the Sith with a crushing downward blow to the head. Even Palpatine buckled under the strength of it, stumbling long enough for Mace to slash a deep cut in his flank.

Roaring in rage, Palpatine exploded in a wave of Force that sent both Anakin and Mace flying backward. Head cracking against the wall, Anakin crumpled to his knees, trying to blink stars from his eyes.

“But you won’t die.” Palpatine hissed, clutching at his side with one hand, throwing the other one out. Struggling to push himself to his feet, Anakin watched helplessly as lightning flared out of Palpatine’s fingers, catching Mace. The ex-Jedi arched off the floor, screaming in pain. “I will find every single person you care about in the Galaxy, and I will rip them apart in front of your eyes until you beg me to take you on as an Apprentice.”

Snarling, Anakin clumsily threw himself at Palpatine. The Chancellor dodged his strike with infuriating ease, but he had to stop electrocuting Mace to intercept Anakin’s next blows. Palpatine’s parries and counter-attacks came slower now, the older man curled ever so slightly around his injured side. He was also still trying to spare Anakin’s life. Head faintly ringing from the hit against the wall, Anakin almost managed to slip by his guard a few times.

“The Jedi are dead, boy!” He cried out. “I am the only one who can teach you now!”

“Teach me the Dark Side!” Anakin panted, not allowing himself to stop moving. Keep moving. Keep moving or everyone he cared about would die.

“Teach you power! I can show you how to defeat anyone, even death!”

A purple saber appeared at Anakin’s right, and Palpatine had to backflip away to avoid being caught between their blades.

“You talk a lot for a Sith.” Mace grunted, flanking Palpatine, giving Anakin a chance to slow down. His right arm was on fire, he could feel blood trickling down at the edge of his prosthesis and his vision was still floaty. Mace’s neck was covered in faint lightning shaped wounds, but his eyes were as sharp as ever.

Palpatine growled, but couldn’t help getting backed into a wall from their combined assaults. His movements were becoming erratic, his cuts rising too far over his head, his momentum twirls twisting for too long behind his back.

Anakin’s exhilaration curled his lips into a feral grin. Even Mace seemed to be digging into his last reserves, attacking the Chancellor relentlessly, perfectly in sync with Anakin’s blows. Mace’s thrust almost caught Palpatine’s ear. Anakin’s cut glanced at his calf. 

Anakin caught and locked Palpatine’s blade with his as Mace’s saber swung in a perfect arc for Palpatine’s neck and-

Anakin and Mace flew backward once again. They rolled back to their feet right away and saw the hole in the wall Palpatine had propelled himself through, the edges still smouldering from the lightsaber cuts.

Sidious hadn’t been growing sloppy. He’d been carving himself an exit.

Fury bursting up his throat, Anakin snarled and ran through the opening in the wall. The room was another smaller empty office, it’s occupant probably still listening to Obi-Wan. Palpatine was nowhere to be seen, but the front door was wide open. Mace at his heels, Anakin burst out, throwing his senses away from him, looking for the dark whirlpool that would lead him to the Sith Lord. 

Palpatine was moving, much faster than anyone would have expected from an aging, injured politician. Anakin had to pull strength from Force to keep pace with him, tearing through the Senate hallway. He bypassed the elevators, jumping down entire landings in the staircases. Mace, still reeling from Palpatine’s lightning, was lagging a few stories behind him. Anakin tried to push some energy at him, but Mace pushed it back, pressing Anakin to go faster.

By the time Anakin burst out in the Senate Plaza, he was a few hundred meters behind Palpatine, close enough to see the man’s dark red robes when the crowd shifted the right way.  

Pushing himself through the densely packed Plaza with all the grace of a Bantha in a Corellian tu-Brikar, Anakin watched Palpatine run to a group of Clones standing at the edges of the square. The Chancellor finally stopped his mad dash to gesture wildly back at Anakin, and Mace who had just exited the Senate building.

“-they attacked me, in my own office! Shoot them before they kill me!” He was screaming at the Clone, whose armor was marked by the orange paint of the 212th battalion. At the edge of his peripheral vision, Anakin saw other clones move to block the exits of the Plaza.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir.” The Clone answered, voice as bland as a desert dune.

“What do you mean?” Palpatine snapped, taking a step back.

“Those were not our orders, sir.” The Clone didn’t hesitate for a second. How much had Obi-Wan told his troopers? Did the man think he was simply committing treason against the most powerful man in the Galaxy, or did he know he was facing down a Sith Lord?

Mace was arching around Anakin, ready to flank the Chancellor whenever the fight started again. But not yet. They couldn’t start a fight with the Chancellor of the Republic out in public. Obi-Wan’s speech was echoing through the Plaza, broadcasted on enormous screens on the Senate Building.

 “These men are ex-Jedi, you imbecile!” Palpatine screeched, drawing attention from the crowd around him. “Fine! Execute order 27, attack the belligerents!” 

“Darth Sidious!” Anakin shouted, startling the people around them. “I thought the Sith were meant to be powerful!”

Palpatine whirled around, pointing a crooked finger at him. “Attack him! He’s trying to kill me!” 

Again, the Clones didn’t obey, but spread out all around them. Anakin knew they were under strict orders not to attack anyone, and certainly not to do so under Palpatine’s orders. Panicked by the Chancellor’s accusation, the crowd between him and Anakin rushed away.

“Are you really going to beg other people to do your dirty work for you?” Anakin snapped again, looking down at the smaller man, hands twitching at his sides. His lightsaber was stashed out of view in his back pouch, and Anakin felt terribly exposed without it. 

“Stupid boy! You know nothing, nothing of what I’ve done!” Palpatine shouted back, shuffling away from the Clones, eyeing them warily for a second. Anakin could almost feel the effort of not pressing against his side, not attracting attention to his injury.

By now, with the Clones’ help, there was a large, almost circular empty space around Anakin and Palpatine, with Mace prowling the edge.

“Nothing?” Mace asked, only a little out of breath. “Nothing like the Chip you put in the Clones’ head?” 

“How-” Palpatine blanched and almost tripped in his haste to distance himself both from the Clone and Anakin. “Kenobi.” He growled, snarling up at Obi-Wan’s giant likeness splashed on the Senate Building.

“Technically, that one was our fault.” Anakin grinned wickedly when Palpatine turned back to us. “Not a very solid plan, if it was discovered by a bunch of slaves in the Outer Rim.”

“Obi-Wan was instrumental in finding the evidence for it, of course.” Mace added, placing himself across Anakin, forcing Palpatine to face away from one of them at all times. “He has always had a rapport with the Kaminoans.” 

“They wouldn’t!” Palpatine’s head was spinning from one to the other, and Anakin could taste the oily stormcloud of the Force gathering around him, darkening the whole Plaza. It made him want to vomit and scream and tear the Chancellor limb from limb.

Almost. Almost there.

Obi-Wan was speaking about Palpatine’s involvement with the Separatists, the Senate’s boos loud enough to be heard in the Plaza, and Anakin jerked a thumb at the screens.

“Wonder how long it’ll take for Dooku to turn against you? He’s got to have some pretty nasty secrets, no?”

“I have nothing to do with Dooku!”

“Of course not.” Mace said, eyes never leaving the Chancellor. “Which means the Count will have no opinion on the fact that you planned on taking Anakin as an apprentice.”

Palpatine threw his shoulders back, trying to look down at Mace.

“What did you promise him to keep him under your control?” Anakin spat, glowering at Palpatine, forcing himself to remain still. He could hear Obi-Wan’s voice demanding patience and poise. “A place as your court jester?”

“It doesn’t really matter now.” Mace’s voice fell like a sentence. “You will never take over the Galaxy. Your plans failed.”

“You arrogant, idiotic Jedi, you could never understand my plans!”

“You don’t even have an army anymore!” Anakin shouted back, waving at the Clones. 

“I AM AN ARMY!” Palpatine roared. “AND I WILL TEAR THE JEDI APART MYSELF IF I HAVE TO!”

Palpatine threw up his arms, and Anakin’s world fell into blinding light and pain. He barely registered his knees hitting the hard marble of the Plaza, his screams losing themselves into the crowd’s, washing over him. All his muscles were locked up, the lightning coursing freely through his body. Lightsaber. He needed his lightsaber. To stop the lightning. He needed to stop-

Anakin felt back to the ground, spasming with agony. His prosthesis was sparking, and twitched uncontrollably when he tried to push himself up. Ahead, a bright red and a bright purple blur were dancing, colliding and twisting again.

Mace. Mace had stopped Palpatine, and the lightning. Trying to blink away the foggy film troubling his vision, Anakin swayed to his knees. Mace was injured. He needed Anakin’s help. 

“No!” He shouted as Clones stepped forward to get a clear shot at Palpatine, a few others trying to grab at him and drag him away from the fight. Instead, he used them to push himself back to his feet.

Gagging at the oily touch of the Force, he used it to catapult himself toward the fight just in time to deflect a thrust aimed for Mace’s neck. Clarity flowed back with honey-thick slowness as he and Mace took turns throwing unrelenting attacks against Sidious’ guard before falling back into a more defensive stance. 

He couldn’t think about the pain. He couldn’t think about Mace’s slowing movements. He certainly couldn’t think about Palpatine stepping over their corpse to kill the Clones. He needed to flow. He needed the Force. 

Anakin stepped back in, brushing past Mace, aiming a cut at Palpatine’s temple, and sunk into the Force.

Immediately, the oily, sticky film on the Force wrapped itself around his soul, and Palpatine crowed in desperate victory as he pushed a dark torrent at Anakin. Anakin barely avoided getting his arm cut again when he stumbled back, and watched in distant horror as Palpatine whipped his lightsaber from his hand.

“Anakin!” Mace shouted, something almost like fear peaking in his voice as he stepped in, forcing Palpatine’s focus back on him.

“You have failed your student, Master Windu! Just like you have failed the Jedi!” Palpatine kept trying to dart around Mace, eager to dispose of the weakest of his opponents.

“Anakin is stronger than you could ever imagine.” Mace answered, keeping pace with the Sith. “Him and every Jedi that has ever refused the pull of the Dark. A Sith will always be inferior to those who resist the anger and the fear, who chose a life of sacrifice, not because it’s easy, or rewarding, but because it’s right.”

“Your principles won’t save your precious youngling when I choke the life out of them!”

His lightsaber was too far for Anakin to reach. Mind still swirling from the lightning and the dark touch of Palpatine’s Force Signature, Anakin pulled out his blaster, falling to one knee.

Breath in, Breath out. 

Anakin pulled the trigger, watched the bolt shoot right for Palpatine’s head before being slapped away at the last second. Not giving Palpatine the time to think, Anakin shot again and again.

He just needed one shot. He just needed Mace to hold out a little longer. His vision tunnelled tighter and tighter with every pull of the trigger. He needed one shot.

“No!” Anakin screamed, as one of his bolts crashed back into his hand, snapping his blaster out his hands, fuming. In slow motion, he watched Palpatine push Mace away and cut, slicing deep into his hip. Mace crumbled to the ground, struggling to keep his saber upright.

“Do not worry,” Palpatine hissed, shuffling forward, “I’ll make sure no one hears of your failure today. In fact, I’ll make sure no one in the Galaxy ever remembers Mace Windu was ever alive!”

He raised his blood red blade above his head. Powerless horror clawed up Anakin’s torso as the saber started arching downward. He was helpless, disarmed of both saber and blaster, too far and too weak to throw himself between Mace and the killing blow.

He was helpless, except-

Screaming out in denial, Anakin dropped all his shields, all his barriers, and let himself sink into the Force.

First, there was the nauseating taint of Palpatine’s corruption, so dark and oily it seemed to seep under his skin and congeal around his bones, block his pores and obscur his vision. Anakin wanted to trash, wanted to free himself and retreat. Instead, he dove further. There had to be some Light left, some hope for him to find. 

The Force appeared between one heartbeat and the next. It was a brilliant sunrise that burned away Palpatine’s touch in an instant. Anakin wanted to cry in relief and in agony. Already he could feel his edges fraying, the Force melding with his mind. He felt every spark of life in the Plaza as if they were of his own being, he could hear the stars sing, he was the monsters crawling at the edges of the Galaxy. The Force was everything, the Force was him, the Force was too much for him to bear.

The Force was reaching back to him, welcoming him. Just like it had when he had meditated with Obi-Wan. It was mind-destructively overwhelming without Obi-Wan’s steady, gentle presence to filter it, but it still had the taste of home. The Force was of him, and he was of the Force.

So, just like he had through Obi-Wan, Anakin opened himself to the Force down to his very cells and his soul.

Opening his eyes, the world around him shone with colors the Force Son had never imagined. The brightness of the energy dancing around the Plaza’s occupants contrasted harshly with the waves of darkness pulsing from the Sith.

This wasn’t right, thought the Force Son. With barely a twitch of his fingers, he sliced through the roiling clouds of Force, dispelling them back into the universe, where they could find balance again. 

The Sith, who had been inches away from killing the Jedi, stumbled, gasping in pain and horror. He turned to stare at the Force Son, clawing at the Force to bring it back to him. The Force Son denied his efforts, blinking slowly down at him. The Sith was angry and afraid and dangerous. The Force Son could see it just as he could see hundreds of lives where the Sith had corrupted him, made him into a weapon.

No. The Force Son couldn’t allow this suffering.

“What are you doing?” The Sith screamed, scared for himself and the Empire he hadn’t managed to grasp.

“Anakin, no!” The Jedi screamed, scared for the Force Son, even as the Sith’s blade was aimed for his throat.

The Force Son didn’t speak. Raising his hands, he cast his mind towards the Sith, found his core, as dark and corrupted as his Force Signature had been. The Force Son twisted his fingers and snuffed out the tempest and ripped the flesh apart.

The Sith fell without a sound.

The Force Son didn’t notice, for he had no use for corpses. The Force Son could feel the Force pressing closer and closer to his own center. 

“Anakin!” The Jedi had struggled back to his feet. He was determined light, and the Force Son loved him for it. The Jedi had felt the appeal of the dark again and again and had refused it always. 

The Force swirled around the Force Child. They could lose themselves in it. It would be simple and beautiful and… bad. It would be bad? That made no sense. The Force had made the Force Child, had nurtured them and guided them through the world. Now the Force Child could return to it, and they could know peace.

“Anakin!” The Jedi grabbed the Force Child’s shoulders, turning them towards him. “Look at me!”

Anakin? Anakin. That was the name of the Force Child. Was that why they couldn’t join the Force? They had a name, so they had to be distinct? Anakin…

The Jedi shook him gently, and the Force Son frowned, clutching back at him for support. The world was so bright. There were so many people around them, and they were screaming and running. The Force Son wanted peace, he wanted to run away from this.

“Anakin, please, you need to pull out.” The Jedi grabbed his face with both hands, forcing the Force Son to look back at him. “You need to come back!”

The Jedi was scared and worried. The Jedi was named Mace. The Jedi had a name. The Jedi wanted the Force Son to come back, but he couldn’t. He had killed the Sith. He had brought balance to the Force. He wanted peace.

He was Anakin.

Anakin screamed, falling into Mace. His body felt like an asteroid belt, particules blasted across space. He didn’t even have the pieces needed to feel panic. All he felt was pain. The Force was calling for him, and he couldn’t pull himself back. He couldn’t- His name was slipping away from himself again, the Force calling for him to come home.

His soul hurt from being blown apart. He could go. He could live without Anakin Skywalker. He could live without anything if he could be without this pain.

Anakin.

Fresh rain water washed over his mind, soothing some of the agony. Worry-love-relief wrapped around Anakin in a warm embrace. Home. It felt like home, even more than the Force. With a tenderness like a spring sunshine, the presence started gathering the pieces of Anakin, cradling every grain of sand of his essence back to his core. Anakin tried to help, weakly reaching back, but the feeling of a crisp forest in the morning brushed back, pacifying.

The more of Anakin that came together, the fainter the Force was, the stronger the presence was.

Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was with him, pulling in the last of Anakin’s consciousness. Obi-Wan would be with him soon, Anakin could feel him growing closer.

“Shields, Anakin.” Mace’s voice was low but insistent, and he was still clutching at Anakin’s face. Mind sluggish, Anakin complied, joined immediately by Obi-Wan, building up a rickety mental barrier.

The Force pulled away, beyond his shields, leaving blessed peace behind. Peace. Finally.

Only him and Obi-Wan.

Only love.

Only…

Darkness

Chapter Text

Anakin was floating. Was this the Force? It didn’t feel like it, didn’t feel overwhelming and self-effacing. He was just good, cared-for and safe. Wherever he was, he would be content to remain for as long as he was allowed. 

Allowed? 

Why would he be forced to be anywhere else? Who would want him to leave? This was peace and… love. His love, and another’s. Another…

Anakin wasn’t alone. Of course he wasn’t. Anakin had never been comfortable being alone. This kind of peace only came when he was wrapped in someone else. His mother’s hugs in the morning, Mace’s comforting presence when he taught Anakin, and… And… Obi-Wan.

Stretching slowly, Anakin brushed against Obi-Wan’s mind as it surrounded him. Obi-Wan jerked like a startled loth-cat at his touch, surprised out of his serenity. Just as quickly, he tightened his grip around Anakin’s signature, exploding with relief-care-happiness . Anakin arched into the feelings, sending back joy-comfort-love back at Obi-Wan. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder... Why was Obi-Wan so relieved? Had Anakin lost another limb? Even curled this deep in Obi-Wan’s mind, he was pretty sure he could count his remaining arm and his two legs. But then what?

Anakin’s eyes flew open and he sat up with a gasp. Palpatine! He had been fighting Palpatine! He had… killed the Sith? With his mind?

“Anakin?” A gentle voice asked behind him, and he turned back, blinking with blurry franticness at Obi-Wan. The Jedi was sitting at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. He was rumpled, his hair messy and his clothes wrinkled, but his eyes were as bright and clear as ever. If anything, his face seemed smoother, as if decades of worries had been lifted from his features. Judging from their position, Anakin had been using his thigh as a pillow.

“Good morning?” Anakin tried, still sluggish, and Obi-Wan huffed a tight laugh.

“Not quite.” He answered, gesturing for Anakin to come back. “You need to rest.”

Anakin considered protesting. He didn’t feel tired, just confused. But then, Obi-Wan was right there .

Instead of laying down, Anakin scooted until he was sitting next to Obi-Wan. He curled himself around his side, resting his head in the crook of his neck. To his surprise, Obi-Wan didn’t even pretend to protest, wrapping his arm around Anakin’s waist, pulling him even closer. Anakin sent gratitude through the bond. Obi-Wan brushed it aside gently, pressing his cheek to the top of Anakin’s head.

“Where are w-” Anakin started, expanding his senses, but stopped short as he recognized the Force around him. The comforting melting pot of millenia of Force-Sensitives, soaking the very walls and floors with a vibrant energy. “The Temple?”

“The Halls of Healing.” Obi-Wan confirmed, rubbing circles between Anakin shoulder blades. “We brought you here straight from the Senate Plaza. Mace was worried about the consequences your, uh… Peculiar use of the Force might have on your body.”

“Mace, is he..?” Anakin trailed off, frowning, fear spiking through his foggy mind. Mace had been with him, before all went black. He’d been helping Anakin, hadn’t he? He remembered  phantom hands on his face, anchoring him...

“Mace is perfectly well.” Obi-Wan caught Anakin’s flesh hand with his free one, tangling their fingers. “Master Che kept him for a night to treat his lightning wounds and the cut to his hip, but he was free to go afterwards. He checks up on you every few hours.”

“Force and Stars.” Anakin swore, relaxing back into Obi-Wan’s warm embrace. “A night? How long have I been here?”

“Four days. We’ve commed your mother to let her know the situation.”

Anakin winced, toying with Obi-Wan’s fingers. “How did she take it?” 

“She had some choice words for Mace and I, and made Ahsoka swear to keep all of us in line until she could get her hands on us. I’m sure she’s got a speech prepared for you too.”

Anakin doubted that. His mother had never been one for lengthy rebukes, not like Mace or Obi-Wan. If anything, she’d stare deep in his soul, let him apologize for being a reckless idiot, then hug him.

“Anakin?”

Anakin hummed in answer, and turned his head, tilting his chin up just enough that he could press his lips gently to Obi-Wan’s. The kiss was easy and dry, almost a greeting. It was Anakin reassuring both of them that he was still there, that he was fine. Breathing shallowly, Anakin braced himself for Obi-Wan to pull away. Instead, Obi-Wan sighed, tilting his head to allow easier access, his fondness, his love swelling even further in the bond.

After a few minutes of simple kisses, gentle and faint, Anakin was the one who pulled back, nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s neck. He was flustered, as if he had had his tongue down Obi-Wan’s throat, instead of having shared some of the chastest kisses he’d had since he was fifteen. Obi-Wan let him go, fingers rubbing at Anakin’s knuckles.

“Palpatine?” He asked, muffling himself into the swell of Obi-Wan’s throat. 

“Quite dead.” Obi-Wan answered, a hint of steel Anakin wasn’t used to sharpening the edges of his accent. “We managed to cancel Order 66 before any true damage could be dealt.”

“Good.” Anakin brought Obi-Wan’s hand to his mouth.

“Very good. Medics are inspecting the body. Apparently, they’re having issues determining the cause of death.” Obi-Wan preemptively pushed reassurance at Anakin.

“ I barely understand how he died. I don’t know if I could explain it, let alone do it again.” Memories of the moment were faint, hazy and spotted, as if there were parts of the picture he couldn’t even see.

“All the better for it.” Obi-Wan sighed, fingers curling in the fabric of Anakin’s loose sleep shirt. “I don’t know how much more time I can spend at your bedside.” 

“Slave liberation does tend to lead to injuries.” Anakin quipped, burying his anxiety under his fondness and happiness. With the war over, or about to be, Obi-Wan would have more free time to visit him in the Outer Rim. He’d have other work of course, other planets to save, other politicians to charm, but it wasn’t as if he would disappear from Anakin’s life again.

“Right back into combat.” Obi-Wan’s voice rang with a quiet but profound grief. Anakin squeezed his hand. “Always on the move.”

“I just finished your war for you, old man. Now I gotta go back to mine.” Anakin shifted to press a kiss to Obi-Wan’s pulse. The Slave Rebellion was nothing like the Clone Wars. Obi-Wan’s war had been an endless, senseless slog that only yielded more blood. Anakin’s brought freedom across the galaxy. 

“Perhaps you’d receive less injuries if you didn’t insist on running headlong into every danger.” Obi-Wan’s small, effortful smile was audible, and Anakin could work with a lot less.

“So you do have a lecture for me!” He poked Obi-Wan’s stomach playfully, laughing at the wheezy grunt.

“Several.” Obi-Wan huffed before leaning down and catching Anakin’s lips, his hand holding Anakin’s jaw. As if Anakin would ever pull away.

The Council Chamber was smaller than Anakin remembered. In the still sharp memories of the first time he had been brought up there by Qui-Gon Jinn, the vastness of the room dwarfed him. Or maybe it had been the wary stares of the Masters. 

But the Chamber was just a room. An impressive one, he supposed, but just a room nonetheless, surrounded by a dozen seats. Some of them were filled, some only held holos, and a handful were empty. It was a bit disconcerting that he couldn’t look at all the Masters at once. 

Eight years later, they were still a bit wary of him. Well, of him and Mace. They were both Jedi and not. They used the weapons of the Order, but the Council only had as much sway over the two of them as they allowed. They had killed a Sith, on purpose. Anakin had killed a Sith with his mind. 

Yet beneath the unease there was relief and gratitude. Mace and Anakin had attacked the Supreme Chancellor in blatant disregard of the Code, but the War was ending. A well-known ex-Jedi had raised his saber against the Leader of the Republic for all the Galaxy to see, but thousands of lives would be spared.

As far as Anakin was concerned, the Council should have been dancing with joy, not fretting over morality issues, but he had sat through enough lectures from his mother about ‘winning the right way’ to know not to roll his eyes. 

Obi-Wan unfurled from his tightly wound stance on the other end of their bond long enough to push patience at Anakin. He was standing to his left, Mace on his other side. Bracketing him, shielding him from the Council. Maybe, from the Council’s perspective, in perfect position to keep him from doing something stupid.

Anakin didn’t think he was about to do something stupid. All he wanted at the moment was to get off Coruscant to find his mother, and drag Obi-Wan somewhere they could kiss some more. Probably not in that order. Unless Obi-Wan was amenable to a vacation in the Outer Rim.

“A great debt, the Galaxy owes you, young Skywalker.” Yoda said at last, looking up at Anakin. Just like the room, the Grandmaster looked so much smaller than in Anakin’s memory.

“I didn’t do it alone.” Anakin resisted the urge to roll his shoulders. He should be proud, he thought. He had defeated a Sith, something only Obi-Wan had done in a thousand years. But whenever he tried to remember what had happened in the Senate Plaza, he could only feel a sort of relieved emptiness. He had almost died. Mace had almost died. They had almost failed, and condemned everyone else in the Plaza, if not the Galaxy.

“No. Help you had. Without Master Windu and Knight Kenobi, your opportunity, you might not have had.” Yoda’s gaze never wavered, and Anakin’s skin started to crawl. A knot was tangling itself in his gut. “But the last blow, yours it was.”

“I don’t know what I did.” Anakin’s defensiveness rose to his mouth, sinking into his teeth, and he fought to keep them covered. “I don’t think I could do it again, and I certainly don’t want to.”

Obi-Wan and Mace both shifted towards him. He knew neither of them had met with the Council in the week he had spent in the Halls of Healing, though Mace had spent time with some of the Masters he had been close to. For the full meeting, they had waited until Anakin could be present. So he could face Master Yoda’s judgement. The attention of the Council grew heavier, settling on the back of his neck, but he refused to yield. 

“Believe you, I do.” Yoda’s voice felt like absolution on a wound Anakin hadn’t even noticed he had. “The work of the Dark Side, it was not. Trust in the Force, I do. Trust in you, the Force did.”

Yoda didn’t think Anakin was dangerous. Almost lightheaded, Anakin swayed on his feet before he could steel himself. Obi-Wan didn’t open their bond again, not when they were under the Council’s scrutiny, but Anakin could still feel his steady warmth in the Force between them, offering support.

“However,” Master Mundi spoke up for the first time since they had entered the room, “even Force Nulls can tell that Mister Skywalker was the one who killed Palpatine, though they do not understand how.”

“So?” Mace asked, frowning at Yoda and Mundi.

“So, the Chancellor of the Republic was just murdered on holo, Mace.” Master Mundi answered, his voice tired. “They want Mister Skywalker to be put on trial.”

“He was a Sith!” Anakin cried out in the leaden silence that fell over the room. “He was trying to take over the Galaxy!”

“He wasn’t convicted of anything.” Master Tiin said. “If they don’t act, the Senate would be seen as endorsing the its leader’s assassination by vigilantes.”

Anakin felt himself take half a step back, eyes going wide. They were going to put him on trial. He wasn’t even really a citizen of the Republic, and he’d killed the Chancellor. They were going to rip him apart!

“Surely, we aren’t really considering this?” Obi-Wan’s voice was as smooth as ever, clear and crisp, but Anakin felt indignation brewing under his skin. “We’re not going to let Anakin and Mace be condemned to the butcher’s block for a plan we all condoned?”

“The Senate is worried about Mister Skywalker’s power. Condemning him for murder would be the perfect way to keep him where they can watch over him.” Master Mundi sank back into his seat.

“Or to kill him and make sure it won’t ever be an issue anymore.” Mace growled. Palpatine’s chancellorship had left a bitter taste in his mouth when it came to the Senate’s integrity. Anakin tried to back away some more, but Mace reached out, grabbing his shoulder. Obi-Wan took a step forward, looking slowly over all the seats.

“Again, are we really considering condemning Anakin for saving us? For a power we trust he will never use again?”

“Of course not.” Master Koon spoke at last, and Anakin relaxed a bit under Mace’s palm. “But it’s important for all to be aware of the delicate position we are in.”

“Okay.” Anakin folded his hands behind his back to steady them and himself. “So, what now?”

“If that is what you wish,” Master Billaba spoke, looking only at him, not Mace, “we will offer you the use of every ressource the Order has to help you disappear back in the Outer Rim. It would be a little more difficult, now that everyone has seen your face, but there’s little doubt that you could succeed.”

He could leave, be free from the grasp of the Senate. Except he wouldn’t. He and Mace had fled Palpatine into the Outer Rim before, and still his bounty hunters had found them. How fast would the Senate locate him, when it wouldn’t need to be secretive about it’s search? Anakin would need to be on the move his entire life, looking over his shoulder. Anyone who got close to him would be at risk from the Senate’s ire.

“If I wish? Is there another option?”

“Immunity from the Senate’s tribunal, the Jedi Order has.” Yoda took back the reins of the conversation.

“I’m not a Jedi.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Yoda hummed, claws tapping on his gimmer stick. “But never removed from the records, your name was.” He sent a wry look at Obi-Wan, who didn’t even pretend to look chastened. Anakin had to smother the rising wave of love before it could distract the Council.

“So… We just tell the Senate I never really left the Order? They’d accept that?” The only reason the Council had begrudgingly agreed to Mace and Anakin moving against the Chancellor was because they weren’t Jedi. Would they really take on the blame for his actions now?

“No. Not if alone, you were left. But accept that our responsibility, you are? Maybe, maybe.”

“So instead of being kept in the Senate’s prison, I would be kept in the Jedi’s?” Anakin’s voice rose. Mace’s hand on his shoulder tightened. Whether in warning or in sympathy, Anakin couldn’t tell. 

“Better than a cell, the Temple would be, hm?” Yoda tilted his head, claws still tapping. “But no. Only supervision, you would need. And stay away from Coruscant, you should.”

“Supervision?” Anakin would frankly not mind never setting foot on Coruscant again, as long as Obi-Wan and Ahsoka could visit him. 

“Stay at your side, a Jedi Master would. The Senate’s peace of mind, they would assure. Continue your training, they could.”

A babysitter. Anakin chafed at the thought, at the idea that he needed to be minded. But if the other alternatives were prison or being hunted for the rest of his life, he supposed he could deal. Whoever Yoda had chosen, because surely the Grandmaster had someone in mind, Anakin hoped they were fine with the Slave Rebellion. Anakin would have to ask Obi-Wan about them, make sure they-

“I’ll do it.” Mace’s voice cut through his racing thoughts like a hot knife. “I’ll go with Anakin.”

Go with him? Of course Mace was coming with him? Unless he- Unless he had been offered a chance to return to the Order. Without Palpatine’s threat, there was no reason for Mace not to come home. He wouldn’t have to watch over Anakin anymore. He could leave. He could leave. He could leave Anakin.

Except he wouldn’t. Not if he was trapped into being Anakin’s babysitter again. Not if he sacrificed himself again to protect Anakin. Gave up what he wanted, just for Anakin Skywalker, again.

No. Anakin turned to gape at Mace who was staring at Yoda, not meeting his gaze. No! Mace wanted to rejoin the Order. Mace had never been one for regret, and he had made a home of the Rebellion, but now he had the chance to find his way back to his family. They’d take him back with open arms, they had to! They had already offered, before the Chancellor’s body was even cold. And Mace- Mace couldn’t give that up to look after Anakin once more, maybe forever. He had already sacrificed enough for him. Anakin wouldn’t allow it. 

“No!” Anakin strode forward until he was level with Mace, startling him enough to draw his stare away from Yoda. “Mace hasn’t been an actual Jedi in eight years. Even if the Senate doesn’t realize he ran away with me, they’ll never accept him as proper supervision.”

“The Senate was never told of Master Windu’s departure.” Master Tiin protested.

“He went from being the Grandmaster of the Order to being completely absent from Coruscant for eight years. Surely, even the Senate is smart enough to realise something’s off.” Anakin argued, and tried to push fondness-support in the Force between him and Mace. The last thing he wanted was for Mace to think Anakin didn’t want him to come. 

“Skywalker!” Mace hissed.

“Hm. Right, young Skywalker might be.” Yoda nodded slowly. “Someone beyond reproach and well-liked in the Senate, we should send.”

“I would like to volunteer.”

All the eyes turned to Obi-Wan, who was rubbing his fingers over his beard. He didn’t flinch at the attention, his gaze rising to meet Anakin’s. His clear eyes were brimming with too many emotions for Anakin to parse, and he couldn’t resist reaching for him across their bond, desperate to know what in the Force Obi-Wan was thinking. He met only opaque shields.

“Knight Kenobi?” Master Mundi asked.

“My appeal on the subject of Palpatine’s crimes was as good a show of trust and respect that the Senate received from any Jedi since the beginning of the War. And for some inexplicable reason, a lot of them seem fond of me. They should accept me as the one to supervise Anakin.”

“You may well be right.” Master Tiin conceded. “But this would likely be a permanent assignment. You and Mister Skywalker could not come back to the Temple. You would, for all intents and purposes, be leaving the Order. Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate. Anakin’s jaw dropped, and he barely kept himself from catching Obi-Wan’s arm and protesting. Obi-Wan loved being a Jedi. He loved the Temple, and being part of the Order, and helping people! 

Had he known of the Council’s decision? He had to. Surely, he had to? Obi-Wan was a man who pondered when he had any opportunity to, considered all the aspects of a problem. Yet here, now, he seemed to be ready to leave his life without a second thought.

All to follow Anakin. 

Force. If Yoda agreed, if Obi-Wan didn’t come to his senses, then Anakin wouldn’t have to satisfy himself with visits whenever Obi-Wan had time. Anakin would be able to spend the rest of his life with Obi-Wan. They’d fight in the Rebellion together. They’d built a fairer, safer life for themselves and for the Outer Rim. They’d be able to make-out whenever they wanted.

Obi-Wan wouldn’t have any reason to get weird about the Code, whenever this quiet euphoric mood dissipated and he remembered all the reasons he had had to be conflicted about pursuing Anakin before.

Was that what Obi-Wan wanted? Did he see the same future Anakin did? 

“The War is over, Kenobi.” Master Tiin said. “There is no need for you to throw yourself on another sword for the sake of duty.”

Duty. Did the Council only see duty when they saw Obi-Wan stand at Anakin’s side? Did they think that duty had kept Obi-Wan searching for him all these years? Anakin straightened further, indignation running up his spine.

“It’s not duty, Master Tiin.” Obi-Wan’s voice was almost sharp. “I already planned to follow Anakin once the War was over. This is only one more reason to do so.”

“One more, hm?” Yoda asked, tilting his head again. “What the other reasons are, I wonder.” 

Obi-Wan turned back to him, and for a long moment, the chamber was silent. Anakin ached to know what was being shared between Obi-Wan and Yoda. What did Obi-Wan mean, he already planned to follow Anakin? Would he have left the Order for real, fully? Just for Anakin? 

“Hm. Yes. See, I do.” Yoda sighed. “Go with young Skywalker, Master Kenobi shall.”

The air in the Chamber hung with resignation, and no one other than Master Tiin bothered to protest. After having watched Obi-Wan spend years searching for Anakin regardless of their concern and disapproval, Anakin supposed they weren’t shocked by this outcome. And yet… Obi-Wan had been one of their brightest young Knights, a High General in the GAR despite being in his thirties and not a Master, and now they were losing him. 

“What about Little ‘Soka?” Master Koon, of course, asked. “Unless she also wishes to leave the Order, she will need to finish her apprenticeship?”

“I am not actually leaving the Order.” Obi-Wan frowned. “I’ll be perfectly capable of finishing her training.”

“Remain your Padawan, Ahsoka Tano will.” Yoda reassured him. “Some assignments, however, with other Masters she will take. Too long been at War, our Padawans have.” Yoda levelled a knowing look at Anakin, clearly aware he intended to return to the Rebellion as soon as possible. “Learn to be peacekeepers and to find balance, they must.”

Anakin watched as Obi-Wan mulled the proposal over from all angles, before relaxing into a crisp nod. “So it shall be, Master Yoda. Though I would like to retain the right to look over my Padawan’s missions.”

“Yes, yes. Your responsibility, Padawan Tano will remain.”

“Thank you, Master.” Obi-Wan bowed, deeper than necessary for a Knight, or even a newly minted Master. “When should we plan to leave for the Outer Rim?”

“Only when permission, Healer Che has given.” Master Che had been insistent that she would keep watch over Anakin for any after-effects of his duel with Sidious for at least a week. Obi-Wan would have a few days to say his goodbyes. “Get between her and her patient, I will not!” Yoda cackled, and the Council relaxed at the sound. No matter the melancholy of losing one of their own, there would be healing.

“Young Skywalker!” Yoda turned back to him, eyes twinkling mischievously in the light. “To become a Jedi again, I do not think you wish?”

Nine years old Anakin had dreamed of being a Jedi, and he had been raised in accordance with most of their principles, first through Obi-Wan then Mace. But Anakin had wanted to be a Jedi to help people and free slaves, and he had done quite well at both of those on his own. And, well, he didn’t think Obi-Wan would approve of him taking the vows afresh when he planned on attaching himself to Obi-Wan quite thoroughly in the near future.

“No, Master.” Anakin almost smiled when Obi-Wan pushed support, curiosity and something that wasn’t quite nostalgic. Longing not for the past, but for what could have been. Anakin only had joy-love-freedom for an answer, but he doubted the Council would appreciate the display of affection.

“Made for freedom, you were. Yes, yes. Remain in the records, your name will, as a friend of the Jedi. Now!” Yoda tapped his stick on the floor. “Mace Windu, forward come.”

Without any pause, Mace stepped in front of Yoda, kneeling gracefully, eyes lowered. Anakin had never known Mace to be demure, but no other word would come to his mind.

“Long lost, you were.” 

“I wasn’t lost, Master. I always had the Force and your teachings to guide me.” 

“Hm. Flattery, below you it is.” Yoda gripped, fondness radiating in the Force around him. “But the truth you speak. Follow the Way of the Jedi you did. Protected the Order and young Skywalker you have. Lost you were not. Yet come back to us you have.”

“I have always followed the Code, and done my best to uphold the ideals of the Jedi. The Order will be needed to help the Galaxy heal, and I would stand amongst my siblings as they do.”

“Justify yourself, you must not. Welcome back, you will always be. Rise, Master Windu.” Yoda punctuated his edict with a sharp click of his stick that was swallowed by the Council’s excited congratulations. Depa Billaba actually stood, grabbing Mace’s hands in hers. Soon, most of the Council surrounded the returned Master.

Standing to the side, awkwardness twitching in his fingers, Anakin wondered if he should congratulate Mace. Would he be welcome, now? This wasn’t a part of Mace’s life that Anakin would ever share again. Relief washed over him when Obi-Wan caught his eye, tilting his head towards the Chamber door. 

“Think they’ll make him a Councillor again?” Anakin asked as they slipped out of the room.

“Not right away, I wouldn’t think. He missed a lot in the years he was away, especially during the War. I don’t doubt Yoda will rope him in as soon as he’s found his footing.” Obi-Wan led them towards the large windows overlooking the city. They settled on either side, leaning against the walls as reality caught up. The air itself felt more potent around Anakin, as if he could float away if he breathed deep enough. Obi-Wan seemed much the same, his hair turning to flaming copper in the bright sun. Mouth stretching into a giddy smile, Anakin let his eyes dance along the lines of Obi-Wan’s face.

“So I’m getting a couple of passengers back to the Outer Rim.”

“Mace and I are the only ones in the Order with any experience keeping you out of trouble.” Obi-Wan’s voice was Tatooine dry, only to be betrayed by his own helpless grin. Anakin called his bluff, throwing all the love-happiness-excitement he had bottled in front of the Council at Obi-Wan, flooding the man’s already wavering shields. Eyes fluttering shut with a sigh, Obi-Wan slumped back against the wall.

“I give it a month before I have to break you out of a Hutt’s cell.” Anakin teased, resisting the urge to crowd against Obi-Wan and lick inside his parted mouth. It wouldn’t do to be greedy when he’d have Obi-Wan all to himself soon enough.

“Master!” Ahsoka’s voice rang in the hallway before the Togruta rounded the corner, her lekku flying behind her. 

“Easy, Padawan.” Obi-Wan chidded with a fond smile. “The Council is still in session.”

“So, what’s happening now?” Ahsoka ignored him, looking between the two of them. “Is Skyguy going back to the Rebellion?”

Obi-Wan threw a brief glance at Anakin, but he only arched an eyebrow, leaving the duty of explaining to Ahsoka why she would spend a large portion of her time exiled in the Outer Rim to her Master.

“Yes, he is, and we are being sent with him as babysitters.”

“Hey!” Anakin couldn’t help but protest. Ahsoka was several years younger than him! 

“Yes!” Ahsoka crowed, pumping her fists in the air.

“Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan asked, taken aback at her excitement.

“Oh, Bariss is going to be so jealous!”

“They will?” Anakin frowned down at her, as confused as Obi-Wan.

“Of course! I’ll have both Sith Killers to spar against me!”

She jumped into Anakin’s arm, hugging him much tighter than he would have ever thought she could.

“I can’t wait to kick your ass again!”

Anakin wasn’t surprised to find Mace in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He was a little surprised to find him alone. His mentor had been flocked by at least a handful of Jedi every time Anakin had seen him around the Temple, chief amongst them Master Billaba and her young padawan. 

“Anakin.” Mace greeted him, not opening his eyes. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground in a remote corner of the room. A small, delicate fountain was twinkling beside him. In the dusky light, Anakin found him more relaxed than he had been since the Clone Wars started. 

“Hey.” Anakin shifted, looking down at Mace. He was back in his beige and brown Jedi robes, and he felt too distant from him somehow. Mace the Freedom Fighter had been one of the most important and closest people in his life. Mace the Jedi… Anakin was not part of his world anymore, not really. He was free from his duty of looking over him. Sure, Mace was fond of him, Anakin wasn’t quite that dense, but maybe he should give the man some space? Let him reconnect with his friends and his actual padawan?

“Are you going to sit?” Mace smiled, and Anakin dropped himself to the ground in front of him.

“Didn’t want to intrude.” He shrugged with a self-conscious smile. Only then did Mace’s eyes open.

“Like you didn’t want to intrude the other ten times you came looking for me?” Mace stared back at him, understanding shining deep in his dark eyes, and Anakin could only shift.

“You were busy.” 

“Depa and Caleb would have loved to be introduced to you properly.” Mace arched a wry brow at him.

“Why?”

“You might not have ever officially been my padawan, if only for Kenobi’s peace of mind,” Mace drawled, the tone he used when he felt Anakin was being obtuse, “but I have trained you for eight years.”

“Oh.” Anakin’s head dropped. Raking his fingers through the grass, he could feel the weight of Mace’s eyes on him.

“Hm. I’m sure Depa will be thrilled to have someone else to share stories with.” 

“It’s probably a good thing for you that she hasn’t met mom.” Anakin grinned, peering up at Mace through his lashes.

“Unfortunately, she has informed me that she will accompany me when I go back to the Rebellion. Apparently, she admired Shmi’s tactical prowesses.”

“Going back?” Anakin’s head snapped back up, frowning at Mace in confusion.

“Of course.” Again, with the drawl. “I certainly can’t let the Rebellion fall apart before I have time to train someone to take over my networks. And Force knows your mother needs someone to rant at.”

“ Oh. ”

“Skywalker, really?” Mace sighed. “ You were the one who argued against me going back with you.”

“You should be a Jedi.” Anakin’s shoulders crept up to his ear, and he went back to picking at the grass.

“That- Thank you. I am glad to be part of the Order once again. But even if I wasn’t the one to strike the killing blow, I also attacked the Chancellor in public. It’ll do everyone some good if I make myself discreet until minds settle a bit.” Mace paused for a second. “And, most importantly, the Slave Rebellion is just as much a part of my life as the Jedi are.”

Anakin looked back at his mentor, and almost laughed at the tense lines of his shoulders.

“Mace, that sounds almost sappy.” He teased.

“Skywalker...” Mace growled in answer, frowning.

“Sorry, sorry.” Anakin leaned back, breathing in the damp air. “I guess if we’re being emotional… ” Mace snorted at the notion that Anakin Skywalker was ever anything less than an emotional downpour. “I wanted to thank you. For saving me from Sidious. And teaching me.”

“Anakin, it’s fine. You don’t need to-”

“And for helping us build the Slave Rebellion, and making sure I always had new clothes when I ruined mine, and for fishing me out of that pond that one time…”

“Skywalker, this really isn’t necessary-”

“And for distracting mom when I had broken her favorite Nubian bowl, and-”

“Enough!” Mace barked, and Anakin cracked up, his laughter harmonising with the fountain’s twinkling. “Maybe some peace and quiet will do me some good.”

“You’ll be bored to tears in a month, tops.” Anakin slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“I’m sure Yoda and Ki-Adi will keep me busy enough for at least two.” Mace huffed.

“I’ll tell mom to expect you in a month and a half, then.”

Mace smiled again, a little softer perhaps. Tilting his head, Anakin startled when he felt Mace reach for him in the Force. Mace almost never did except to teach Anakin something. Without a bond between them, the presence was hazier than Obi-Wan’s, and he kept himself more distant, but there he was.

“I am proud of you, Anakin.” 

“Well, I did kill a Sith Lord…”

“I’m proud that you lived. And I’m proud that you didn’t lose yourself.”

Anakin looked off to the side, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. People kept being proud of him all of the sudden. Breathing deep, he stuck his hand in his pocket.

“Still a bit-”

“Force preserve me, if you say sappy…” Mace frowned.

“Fine, fine. But if we were being sappy, then I’d want you to have this.”

Pushing his hand forward, he waited until Mace reached back before he dropped his padawan braid into his palm. It was a bit unkempt after a couple of days in his pocket, and the cut side was still frayed from his awkward attempts at sawing it off himself. The bead at the end was glinting in the faint light. 

Mace blinked slowly at the braid, not pulling his hand back as he looked back up at Anakin, confusion floating around him.

“Are you sure?”

“Like you said. You were my teacher for years. And I think Obi-Wan might have a breakdown if I gave it to him. So yes. It should be yours. I wanted to give it to you, before we left.”

Mace’s fingers closed gently around the braid, covering them with his other hand. Cradling it like it was a precious, delicate thing. 

“Then I am honored. May the Force be with you, Anakin Skywalker.”

“And with you, Master Windu.”

Obi-Wan was pulling at Anakin. It was a discrete thing, as polite as the man himself ever was, but it tugged at Anakin’s very core. A small smile dancing on his lips, Anakin let himself be guided by their bond through the Temple. 

The hallways were dark, dusk falling hours ago. They were due to leave early in the morning, and Anakin would have expected Obi-Wan to be long asleep. Instead, his footsteps led him deep into the residential floors, until he was staring down at a familiar door. 

He hadn’t gone back to his old quarters, even after Healer Che had given him leave to roam the Temple. It had felt… intrusive. Not to Obi-Wan or Ahsoka, who had taken his old room when she’d become Obi-Wan’s apprentice, but to himself. To his old self who had made a home there, who still dreamed of being a Jedi.

But Obi-Wan was calling out to him, and Anakin doubted he’d ever have it in himself not to answer. He could already feel Obi-Wan’s Force Signature through the door, soothing the knot that hadn’t fully untangled in his gut until now.  Anakin leaned forward until his forehead rested against the door frame, breathing in fully. Deep into the wood, he found a little spark of himself. A flash of excitement-determination-energy . This had been his home, once upon a time, and under layers of Ahsoka and Obi-Wan , it still remembered him.

Anakin closed the door quietly behind him. It took him a moment to find Obi-Wan, standing in front of the window, facing away from Anakin. The Coruscant night lights shone around him, draping themself over his shoulders. He had removed his belt and tabards, leaving himself both fully dressed and somewhat indecent. 

Obi-Wan knew he was in the room, but Anakin kept his steps silent as he approached. The peace felt light and precious and refreshing. It felt like Obi-Wan. He wanted it to sink into his bones, so he’d carry Obi-Wan around in him at all times.

“Do you want tea?” Obi-Wan offered him, turning his head enough to smile up at Anakin. 

“You’ve got caf?” He knew full well Obi-Wan only ever kept caf under duress. “Or did you not have enough space around all your tea tins?”

“I might have plundered some of Quinlan’s stash.” Obi-Wan brushed past Anakin with a cheeky grin. Anakin swayed towards him as Obi-Wan walked into the kitchen, turning on the kettle and the caf maker he must have also brought over from Quinlan’s apartment.

“You did?” Anakin asked, trailing behind him. “Why? Did my loth-cat die or something?”

Obi-Wan threw a fond look over his shoulder, shaking his head. Still confused, but willing to trust in Obi-Wan’s serene disposition, Anakin leaned on the counter and watched him putter around. He pushed his mind across the bond, and Obi-Wan dropped his shields as soon as he brushed against them. Anakin sunk into his mental-scape with a happy sigh. Obi-Wan didn’t even pause as he prepared their cups and wrapped himself around Anakin’s mind.

“Maybe I wanted to enjoy the evening?” Obi-Wan mused and offered Anakin his mug, watching him adding sugar and cream until the caf turned a light brown. 

“Sounds ominous.” Anakin took a small sip. He would have to find out where Vos got his caf, this was good stuff . “Aren’t we wearing too many clothes for that?”

“I meant conversation, dear one.” Obi-Wan sighed, but brushed affection against Anakin’s mind. “I wanted to enjoy your company and have the chance to talk.”

“Oh. We’re having a conversation ?” Anakin took a large gulp before setting the mug on the table and shuffling to Obi-Wan.

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan sighed again but didn’t step away as Anakin crowded him against the counter. “We do need to talk.”

“A kiss for the road?” Anakin whispered. Obi-Wan arched a dry eyebrow at him, unimpressed by Anakin’s grin. Even so, he leaned up, catching Anakin’s lips in a dry but firm kiss. “Thank you.”

“You hardly need to thank me, Anakin.” Obi-Wan stepped back far enough Anakin wouldn’t be tempted to duck down for more just yet. “This isn’t- I-” At loss for words, Obi-Wan pushed a wave of happiness-love and something that felt like… desire? 

“Oh. That’s…” Anakin did his best not to let his own lust rise up to meet Obi-Wan’s.

“Please don’t say wizard.”

“Nice?” Anakin tried with his best smile.

“Nice?” Obi-Wan’s unimpressed look drew a snort out of him.

“No, it’s really hot, but you said you wanted us to keep our clothes on and talk.”

“So I did.” Obi-Wan’s ears turned pink, but he didn’t look away from Anakin. “Anakin, is this-”

“Are you really going to ask me if I’m sure?” Anakin asked incredulously, opening his mental valves and flooding Obi-Wan with his longing-love-desire-joy . The older man stumbled back under the strength of them, and Anakin pulled back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no. You’re right. That would have been an unfair question. You’ve made very little secret of your feelings.” Obi-Wan started brushing down his beard, looking down at his half-full mug.

“Do you want this, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, gesturing between the two of them, nerves clawing their way up his spine. Had he forced Obi-Wan? He hadn’t asked Obi-Wan before kissing him. Sure, Obi-Wan had kissed him too, but Anakin had been injured, maybe he’d felt bad? Force, had he kissed Anakin out of guilt?

“I was ready to leave the Order for you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan swerved around the question with his usual flair.

“Mace did leave the Jedi for me, and I’m pretty kriffing sure he doesn’t want to stick his tongue down my throat.”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan cried out, turning bright red. 

“What?”

“Please don’t bring up Mace right now!”

“Please answer the question!”

“Yes! Yes, Force gives me strength, I want to be with you in every way you’d let me.”

“You want me.” Anakin murmured, shuffling a little closer to him. Obi-Wan caught his arm, keeping him just beyond kissing distance just as he trailed his hand down to tangle their fingers together.

“I do.” Obi-Wan dropped his confession like a rock in a still pond. “But Anakin, you were my Padawan.”

“You can’t refuse for me to call you Master and get weird about having been my Master.” Anakin scoffed, bringing Obi-Wan’s knuckles up to his mouth.

“If only it were that simple, dear one.” Obi-Wan’s eyes followed Anakin’s lips as they brushed across the back of his hand. Anakin gasped as want rose in the Force between them, only for a second before Obi-Wan got himself under control.

“Isn’t it?” Anakin answered, cradling Obi-Wan’s hand in his. “What are you worried about? The Code?”

“No. No, I’m leaving the Order in all but name. The Code- It’s not...” Obi-Wan felt a bit unmoored for a second, and Anakin drew him into a mental embrace. Obi-Wan was leaving not only his physical home, but his entire way of life. Little wonder he felt lost.

“Then what?” Anakin kept his voice gentle.

“I- I don’t know. ” Obi-Wan whispered back. “I’m- I’m scared I’ll fall back into lecturing you, or trying to boss you around, or I’ll overstep myself in some way and you won’t tell me.”

“What if I want you to boss me around?” Anakin waggled his eyebrows at Obi-Wan, relishing in the eye-roll he received.

“I wasn’t speakin about sex, Anakin.”

“Fine. I’ll tell mom to make sure your rank in the Rebellion is lower than mine, what’d you think? If you get too… whatever… I’ll make you wash the bathrooms.”

Obi-Wan leaned back, taking Anakin in. He tugged at the hand Anakin was still holding, and stepped forward so he could hold Anakin’s face.

“You trust me.”

“Of course.”

“You will tell me if I get overbearing? If I treat you as anything else than a partner?” Obi-Wan’s eyes were crystal embers, trapping Anakin in place.

“When did I ever not complain about people treating me like a kid?”

Obi-Wan’s hands tightened around Anakin’s jaw, and he dragged him down into a kiss. Anakin gasped, and barely had time to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan’s shoulders before he was licking at his lips. 

Unlike the few dalliances Anakin had had in the past, Obi-Wan kissed him like he wanted to devour him, and knew exactly how to go about it. In a matter of minutes, the only thing keeping Anakin vertical was Obi-Wan’s steady hold, framing his face. The room felt like a sauna around him, and every breath intoxicated him further with the clear woodsy scent of Obi-Wan’s skin. 

Obi-Wan wrenched himself away from Anakin with a groan, panting against the side of his mouth. His hands dropped so he could snake his arms around Anakin’s waist, pulling his tighter against his body. Anakin tilted his head to rub his overheated cheeks against Obi-Wan’s prickly-soft beard, shivers running down the back of his neck. At the edge of his consciousness, Anakin could feel the Force dancing around them. 

Mindful of his reaction, Anakin slipped his fingers under the collar of  Obi-Wan’s undertunic, running them over the burning skin between his shoulder blades. Obi-Wan tensed for a moment before biting at Anakin’s jawbone.

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan growled in warning as he arched into his more and more confident touch.

“Is this the part where we get to take off our clothes?” Anakin grew frustrated with how little he could reach through Obi-Wan’s collar, and started hiking his undertunic up instead. With much easier access to Obi-Wan’s back, Anakin raked his short nails up his spine.

“Dear one, we don’t have to...” Despite his words, Obi-Wan trailed kisses up Anakin’s jaw and down his throat.

“Hm. I wasn’t kidding, you know.” Anakin sank his hand into Obi-Wan’s thick, soft as flower petals hair. Keeping him in place, he arched his neck to offer more skin to explore and mark.

“About what, my darling?” Obi-Wan’s low voice rumbled right into Anakin’s chest.

“I would like it if you bossed me around.”

Obi-Wan hissed, tensing both against Anakin’s skin and Anakin’s mind. One breath. Two breaths. 

A sigh.

“Anakin, take off your clothes.”

Post-Scriptum

“The most important thing to bring to a negotiation is a very clear understanding of what you will not leave without, what you are willing to compromise on, and what you are willing to offer in exchange. Coming to the table with uncertain terms will only lead to you leaving having given more than you had to spare to gain less than you needed.” Shmi explained, taking a delicate sip of her tea. Her new office was a cramped but cozy little space, crammed in the corner of their newly acquired Tatooine base. Nine years in, the Rebellion had finally reached the desert planet, and despite Anakin’s grumblings, Shmi had gleefully made it their new base of operation. The Hutts had made her Of Tatooine, now they would have to live with their mistakes. 

“What if the others aren’t willing to cede on the things you need?” Ahsoka asked, perched on her chair and surrounded by a handful of datapads and a flimsi pad. A year out of the Clone Wars, the teenager was finally settling into herself, and into relative peace. Of course, spending a significant portion of her time in the middle of a Slave Rebellion might have slowed the process somehow. But Shmi and Obi-Wan made sure she was sent on outreach and relief missions as often as she was allowed to assist Anakin’s guerilla efforts.

“If there is no way to find a compromise that works for both parties, despite negotiations? You leave. Be sure to be reasonable, and present clear arguments for the few points you will not budge on, but if they won’t do the same, leave. It sets a dangerous precedent to be willing to cede on your values and your people’s well-being for the sake of a treaty.”

“Uh.” Ahsoka took down a few more notes, frowning.

“This is not how you were taught?” Shmi asked with a knowing grin.

“No. Jedi are trained to find a diplomatic solution no matter what.” Ahsoka admitted, crossing her arms.

“We don’t all enjoy the Jedi’s… reputation in the Galaxy. Coming to a negotiation as a Jedi means you start with a standing and a respect most of us don’t. Negotiation strategies will change to reflect that.”

“Master Obi-Wan’s negotiating strategy is to be very pretty.”

“Well, I suppose it works with some people.”

“Like Anakin.”

“Regrettably.”