Chapter Text
There is no emotion, there is peace.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was at the end of his journey.
How poetic, that the apprentice eventually triumphed over him. He had grown weak, terribly so in the past 10 years, and the last time he even felt a semblance of his former power felt like a lifetime ago. Was it not a lifetime ago? Before the Empire, before tyranny and darkness reigned in the Galaxy, a time where Jedi still existed and the Sith did not, where smiles and laughter echoed in the gentle ripple of the Force. It felt like forever ago.
Darth’s eyes were hidden from him, the windows to the remnants of Anakin’s soul closed and shuttered off, hiding behind black and metal, evading him. Darkness had never felt more apparent, it closed around him and choked the rest of his spirit away, trying to wipe away what made him Obi-Wan Kenobi. It did not succeed, as Obi-Wan died ten years ago, when the reality of the consequences of Mustafar had hit him, when the monster wearing Anakin’s charred face spoke damning words to him, words that burned and words that wrecked him apart. That he was not at fault for killing Anakin Skywalker, that Vader himself was. The words he’d spoken after allowed Obi-Wan Kenobi to die alongside Anakin. Then my friend is truly dead.
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
Old and weary, his bones were, and he knew that he would not miss them. No, his failing body was to be expected, but he would not enjoy having such a body, when once upon a time he was young and energetic. When he could casually do flips and acrobatics, when he could jump from building to building, when he could slice through droids like cutting through paper, the Force singing in his veins and aiding his every move. The Force was still with him, he could feel, albeit weaker, as his connection to the Force had severely reduced over the past decade, but this kept him standing, holding his ignited blade before him and facing down his greatest nightmare, his worst sorrow.
If only his past self could see him now! Obi-Wan, as a young man, had never been particularly vain, even if he knew that he was decent-looking. He remembered, with amusement, that he would flirt and flaunt his looks at every occasion that called for it, and sometimes, when the occasion did not call for it. Flirting with Ventress was fun, although he knew that Quinlan Vos would have probably stabbed him twice over if he had heard him say that. Were either of them alive now? Oh wait - Ventress died even before the Clones turned against them. And the last time he heard about Quin, was 10 years ago, when he’d been trying to get Leia home.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
“I've been waiting for you, Obi-Wan. We meet again, at last. The circle is now complete,” Vader’s voice, modulated and distorted through the helmet, reached Obi-Wan’s ears. He did not respond to that line, trying not to pick out any sign of his old friend in that voice, and slipped into Ataru, or tried to, at the very least. He probably did something right, as Vader’s form stiffly arranged itself into… Soresu? That was rather contradictory of the Sith, wasn’t it? No matter, their final dance was about to begin, and this time, he knew how this would end, not like their tango above flames and fiery lava years upon years ago.
“When I left you, I was but the learner; now I am the master.”
“Only a master of evil, Darth,” was Obi-Wan’s weary reply. And he leapt forward with a striking blow.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
The Death Star would be his grave. This monstrous machine, capable of committing atrocities upon atrocities, would be where his spirit will be put to rest. He had been disgusted at the sight and the concept of this weapon-ship, used to extinguish millions of lives within five seconds, but he realised that this was something that no longer concerned him. This was no longer his fight, he had retired his fighting affinity all those years ago and there was no reason to continue on.
He had faith that Luke would carry on the Jedi’s legacy, stop the tyranny of the Empire and destroy the threat of the Sith once and for all. It could take him years, decades until the hypothetical final fight between Dark and Light, Sith and Jedi, but Luke was a Skywalker, the heir of the Skywalker mantle, and the true Chosen One who would bring the Light back, victorious. Just like his father, and no, he never did stop believing that Anakin was the Chosen One.
There was so much of Anakin in Luke. So much of his fighting spirit, his determination, his stubbornness, and his presence in the Force was not unlike a supernova, so similar to Anakin’s once upon a time, when he was embracing a young desert slave boy as they watched his master’s body go up in flames. Obi-Wan had promised then, that he would try his very best to train Anakin the best he could, that he would fulfil Qui-Gon’s final wish, and now, when he thought about it again, perhaps he had unknowingly resolved to teaching Skywalkers for the rest of his life. He was tied to them… Wherever Skywalker is, there would always be a Kenobi close behind. How true had this sentiment been.
There is no death, there is the Force.
“Your powers are weak, old man,” Vader’s mechanical voice taunted him. He let the mocking insult wash over him and accepted it, knowing it to be the truth. He was weak, and there was nothing he could do about it.
“You can't win, Darth. If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine,” Obi-Wan tried, preparing for his final move that would decide the outcome of this duel. He turned back to Luke, the wonderterror son of the Chosen One Anakin Skywalker, and a serenity fell over him. The Galaxy was in good hands. He could finally join the Force, guide Luke along the way of the Jedi, and see all that he dearly missed once more. Turning back to Vader, he let a grin spread across his face, and he truly felt like Obi-Wan Kenobi once more as he raised his lightsaber and allowed Vader to cut him down.
He passed into the Force even before the blade hit his body.
~
In a plane between existence and non-existence, the Force exploded in a wonderful show of Light and Dark, and all those who had joined the Force watched in awe and knowledge as time was turned inside out.
~
And Obi-Wan gasped awake, feeling clean air enter his lungs and promptly falling out of whatever he had been lying in.
The Force was an orchestra around him, singing and thundering and harmonising. He could not help but let out a yell of terror as he flailed wildly, expecting to feel the burn of Vader’s lightsaber cut through him, slicing him into half and leaving him like he left Maul once upon a time, in two pieces and a ticket to certain death, only he did not die, he turned into a monster far beyond his understanding-
“Padawan!” A voice called out, sounding parsecs away.
Padawan? It had been so long since he had even thought about that word. Decades, at the very least, it was an outdated word from an outdated time, and the fact that someone other than him knew of the word? Obi-Wan’s thoughts were in a whirl, and so were his emotions, painful raw feelings that burned at the inside of his skin and threatened to boil out. He wanted to shout again, he wanted to stand in the middle of Tatooine deserts and scream until his voice went hoarse, he needed to release it before it all boiled over and caused him to explode…
A warmth enveloped his shoulder.
Obi-Wan startled.
And for the very first time in a very long time, he looked.
A man towered over him. He looked familiar, oh so familiar, his facial hair and his pointed features and broken nose and-
“Padawan, are you alright?” Master Qui-Gon Jinn looked down on him with concerned eyes, and Obi-Wan could not help but let out a guttural cry.