Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had only been a week.

Seven days since he’d returned to the temple, seven days that had felt like a lifetime with how slowly they passed. It was strange to think how much could change in such a short amount of time – how one decision could destroy so much.

But then, that was the way it went, wasn’t it? One wrong word could topple an empire. One wrong move could kill millions.

His decision to accept the mission to protect the Chancellor – at the man’s insistence, mind you – had dragged him through the bowels of hell, undercover and alone, and his eventual return had been... well.

It hadn’t been a welcome home at all – more an outcasting.

Ahsoka had laughed at him for getting milk foam on his nose at Dex’s the day before he’d received the briefing – she wouldn’t look at him now.

Dex had given him a hug before they left the diner – he wouldn’t answer his call.

Cody had handed him his lightsaber after his last mission, complaining about Jedi not being able to keep themselves safe if their weapons were Force knew where because he’d used it as a distraction – there wasn’t even a look his way as his report was delivered on behalf of his new General, ever the professional.

Garen had hugged him tight before flying off on his relief mission a month ago – their pairbond was now silent and cold.

Reeft had stolen a muja fruit off his plate before shipping off to his homeworld to fight in the war – his communicator continued to say he was ‘unavailable at this time’.

Bant had cuddled up to him at the end of her shift two days prior to the briefing as they reminisced on the old days in the Room of a Thousand Fountains – she hadn’t come to see him in the Healers Wing when he returned.

He hadn’t seen Siri in almost a year, his friend running deep undercover work, trying to flush several high-ranking Separatists out. She’d taken the time to message him when he returned, well and truly making her ire known before disabling her communicator so he couldn’t respond.

Quinlan had kissed him long and slow after a night filled with passion and laughter and just being, before heading off on his own mission two weeks before Obi-Wan was given the Hardeen one – Quinlan’s comm went straight to voicemail before it disconnected on his third attempt to call.

Satine had teased him for the length of his hair the last time they spoke whilst worrying about the toll the war was taking on him – her Chief Advisor had told him, coldly, that the Duchess had a full schedule and wasn’t taking personal calls for the foreseeable future, but would he like to leave a message?

Bail had cooked him a warm meal the night his comm went off with the meeting notification, before taking him apart so slowly, so gently, he’d nearly forgotten his name – he'd refused to look at him over the holo call Yoda had made to the senate’s Security Committee and had afterwards ignored his request to talk.

And Anakin...

His Padawan, brother, best friend, son had been simmering with rage once he’d learned of the deception – and he'd let loose once the Chancellor was tucked safely away on his ship out of harm's way; hurling words like untrustworthy, arrogant, betrayed, disgusted -

And todays particularly pointed comment: we’d all be better off if you were dead.

That, he knew, was meant to cut deeply – just as deep as the shards he’d been sprayed with when the glass Anakin had thrown exploded against the wall behind his head.

Obi-Wan watched silently as his former Padawan stormed from the dining hall, his boots crunching through the broken glass as he shoved his way out the doors. At least Ashoka had been in class, rather than here to witness her master’s rant.

Not that he could confidently say she wouldn’t have done the same.

He waited until the doors slammed shut before slowly lowering himself to the ground, carefully picking up the shards and using the corner of his robe to deposit them in. One could argue that it was the job of the mouse droids to sweep up, but he’d been subjected to enough rants over Anakin’s padawanship to know that glass didn't mix well with their electronics, as the boy had spent countless hours over the years repairing them.

Once the anger had faded, Anakin would undoubtedly regret leaving such a mess for them, and it was the least Obi-Wan could do to minimise the damage as much as possible.

Piece by piece, he slowly cleaned up, uncaring of the blood left behind when it sliced into his hands. His life-force dripped onto the ground much like his grief, thick and heavy, and he noted with a vague sense of interest that it pooled much the same on the stones as it did in his heart.

What he’d done in the name of peace had almost been too high a price to pay.

Near silent footfalls dragged him from the stupor he’d fallen into as he worked, and he paused when the person stopped in front of him, but didn’t look up. He couldn’t bring himself to see yet another sneer of disappointment on the face of someone he cared for.

“Obi-Wan.”

The voice was unfamiliar enough that he blinked, confused, before braving a glance up to see who was speaking to him. It took a second to place her name, and when he did, he was surprised to see her. “Master Altaïr?”

The Master of Shadows crouched in front of him, worry lining her weather-worn face. “What are you doing, Obi-Wan?”

He grimaced as his finger slipped on the edge of a shard, slicing the pad wide open. “Cleaning up a mess my Padawan made.” It was the least he could do, given he was the reason for the outburst in the first place. “The mouse droids aren’t equipped to deal with glass.”

The older Tholothian master shook her head before getting to her feet and waving a hand over the debris pile. Using the Force, all the shards lifted off the floor and out of his robe, and were carefully deposited in a nearby trash compactor. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Frivolous use of the Force isn’t exactly encouraged around here.”

“How is protecting someone from harm a frivolous use?” she countered, smiling kindly and holding out a hand. Obi-Wan only hesitated a moment before taking the offered help. “It’s a worthy cause, in my book.”

His knees cracked at the sudden change in height, making him wince even as he hummed an agreement, for what else could he say to that? It was a bit of a grey area, for sure – but then again grey areas was what she specialised in. It seemed the Master of Shadows didn’t need a reply, simply smiling in acknowledgement of her victory in their verbal spar. “I was actually hoping to speak with you in private, if I may?”

“Of course.” They left the dining hall shoulder to shoulder, before he turned to the older master in invitation to lead the way. Altaïr turned down the corridor and led him to a part of the temple he was unfamiliar with, although it quickly became clear it was her office they were heading to.

Once they were inside, he felt a small change in pressure when the door shut. His confusion must’ve shown on his face, as Altaïr chuckled when he sat in the proffered chair. “Security measures,” she explained, taking a seat behind her desk. “No recordings, no listening devices, no eavesdroppers.”

“Here in the Temple?” He asked warily. Just what kind of conversation were they about to have that needed such excessive safety measures?

“You never know who’s listening.” Altaïr steepled her fingers in front of her, her expression sombre. “This is completely off the record and must stay that way. The only people who will know the full extent of this conversation are you and I.”

Obi-Wan straightened in his seat. Whatever it was she wanted to discuss, it had to be serious if she was bypassing the Council entirely. Altaïr dipped her head in thanks to his silent agreement, her white locks wavering with the gentle movement.

“I believe I know the identity of the Sith Lord,” Altaïr said calmly, as though it weren’t the explosive revelation it was. “However, I have no evidence to back up my claim, and getting it is going to be incredibly dangerous.”

“I...” he huffed an explosive breath, the ramifications of such a confession running rampant in his mind. He asked the only question he could think of. “Why are you telling me, and not the Council?” He was hardly the right person to talk to about something as significant as this. Mace and Yoda would have been the better ones, as they’d know best how to proceed with handling the situation.

They’d need to send someone, or several someones, to find the information they needed before facing the Sith head on. Given his friends had recently turned their backs on him, he wasn’t exactly the best candidate for a group mission which meant he'd be alone if it was him undertaking the assignment.

But then, perhaps that was what she wanted.

There was a knowing look in her eye; Altaïr knew he’d come to the same realisation she had. “I need someone to go deep undercover, to not only collect the evidence we need to bring the Sith down, but to learn everything they can so they have the means to stop them once and for all. You, Obi-Wan, are the only Jedi I believe capable of doing this.”

“You have plenty of capable Shadows,” he countered, eyes narrowing as he tried to work out her angle. “They’ve all trained in espionage; I haven’t.”

“You’re right, I do have plenty of Shadows; but I do not have any capable of doing what needs to be done without losing themselves in the meantime.” Altaïr tapped her finger against the desk once, twice, in a seemingly unconscious fidget. “Quinlan is the best of them; and yet his upbringing has made him susceptible to the Dark. Tholme warned me about it years ago, and you’ve seen what happened to him for yourself – you saved him from a fate that I very nearly brought down on him out of desperation. What I ask of you will be infinitely harder. You will delve into the dark side of the Force to learn what you can, while retaining your Light so that you can stop the Sith when the time is right.

“As for you not having trained in espionage, it’s not espionage I ask of you. I ask for you to learn; learn everything you can then learn even more. You have such a capacity for greatness, Obi-Wan; far more than being a General in this Force-forsaken war could let you explore, even with your already stellar track record.” The intensity of her stare faded to a soft smile. “Did you know, that if I had been on the planet at the time, I was planning on taking you as my next Padawan?”

Obi-Wan blinked, stunned. “No,” he murmured faintly, slumping against his chair as he tried to process the fact that someone had willingly wanted him after spending his entire apprenticeship thinking no one had. “No, I didn’t.”

When they’d first met, Qui-Gon had had a raft of issues stemming from Xanatos’ betrayal and had refused to take another Padawan because of it. He’d believed for years that his master had only taken him out of pity after he’d tried to sacrifice himself on Bandomeer, and it had only been years later that Qui-Gon had quickly dissuaded him of that notion when he’d learned of it.

While he’d found closure with that part of his life, the sting of believing no other Padawan-eligible masters back then had been interested in him still cut deep.

There was a soft, almost sad sigh from the other master. “Your time with Qui-Gon has helped mould you into a formidable Jedi, both in skills and words, and I don’t regret watching you grow from afar. Despite your rocky start you flourished under his care, and I know you loved him dearly, as he loved you. It also became obvious to me you were always destined to be his Padawan – it was why Yoda meddled so much when Qui-Gon decided to be a stubborn bantha about taking you on. I cannot, however, help but wonder what kind of Jedi you would’ve become if you had trained as both Shadow and diplomat.”

“I guess you’ll be getting an answer to that soon enough,” he replied dryly, bolstered by her revelation that he’d been wanted by another highly skilled Jedi – one who had been Tholme’s Second until his death the year before at Ventress’ hand.

Altaïr smiled, relieved. “I guess I will.” She leaned across the desk and placed a hand over his own. “Thank you for doing this. The fact you’re willing... it means more to me than you will ever realise.”

“As you said, I’m a Jedi. My duty to the Order and the Republic comes first.” Not that many others seemed to think the same these days. Perhaps his time away would be good for all of them. “Where will I find the Sith Lord when I’m ready to face them?”

“Here on Coruscant, although I don’t recommend confronting him here, as there’s an enormous risk of significant collateral damage.” Altaïr grimaced and seemed to brace herself. “The name I’m about to give you, it’s another reason why you were the only choice.

“It’s Chancellor Palpatine.”

Obi-Wan was seriously concerned his brain was short circuiting. Palpatine was the Sith Lord?! No, no there was no way that he could be the Sith. It was laughable, given he...

... had been given more and more control of the Republic and had been in power far longer than he should’ve been.

... was often making grand speeches about peace yet was getting very little done when one looked closer at his work.

... was murky in the Force when he shouldn’t be. Even some of the most self-absorbed politicians weren’t that hard to get a read on.

... was focused, somewhat unusually, on his Padawan’s wellbeing.

His Padawan. Anakin. The Chosen One. The one who had the highest Midi-Chlorian count the Order had ever seen, and a boy who had grown unusually close with the Chancellor because of Palpatine’s insistence on seeing him over the years.

It had worried him ever since the first request to see him came in, but he’d always squashed his concern because he believed those fears were unfounded, and visiting the man made Anakin happy.

He should’ve trusted his instincts.

“Oh Gods,” he choked out, thoughts whirling, his chest tight and making it hard to breathe as the severity of the situation hit him. “Oh Gods.”

“Breathe, Obi-Wan.” Altaïr was crouched in front of him now, her hands cupping his face. “Breathe, young one.”

She exaggerated her breathing, and he copied her; his chest rising and falling in time with hers. It took longer than he’d have preferred to calm down, but when he did, his head was quieter, and the path forward – the only path, because there truly was no other option – was clear.

Obi-Wan looked at her, rage simmering beneath the surface. He’d been blind he’d been over the years, but no longer. “I’m going to kill him.”

Altaïr nodded. “You see it, too.”

“I don’t know how more of us haven’t,” he growled as she drew away. “He’s been right under our noses this whole time. He’s had the Jedi under his thumb this whole time.” He’d often heard the phrase ‘Lapdogs of the Republic’ thrown around on planets where the hatred for the Senate and Jedi was strong, and thought it was as ridiculous as it was insulting when all the Jedi wanted was peace in the galaxy.

Now it was clear why such comments existed.

Not only was it horrifying that the Jedi had been played by the Sith since Naboo, if not before that, but it disgusted him to realise that Palpatine’s interest in Anakin had only ever been for his own selfish needs - there was no way it was anything but.

It wasn’t friendship and understanding the older man had offered Anakin over the years – instead he’d been whispering lies in his ears and sowing seeds of doubt about Obi-Wan and the Order.

Grooming Anakin, but for what?

Almost as soon as he thought the question, he knew. “He wants Anakin as his apprentice.” He looked at Altaïr, stricken. “Doesn’t he?”

“I believe so.”

Obi-Wan dropped his head into his hands, fighting the sudden urge to vomit. Anakin was not only his Padawan and best friend, he was also his son in every way but blood. He’d raised the boy since he was nine; holding him through his nightmares, nursing him through illnesses, celebrating his triumphs, and nurturing his curiosity. He'd helped Anakin navigate classes, hormones, friendships, and his place in the universe – and he was so kriffing proud of him and the Jedi he’d become, even with all the challenges he’d faced since arriving at the Temple.

But now? Now he feared what would happen to his bright little boy if Palpatine tried to claim him. He was downright terrified what it would mean for the galaxy. “What do I do?” For the man who was supposed to be The Negotiator or The Man With The Plan, he was surprisingly lost.

“Go to Ilum, first,” Altaïr replied. “Your current kyber crystal will not cope with what lies ahead, and I know you won’t forgive yourself if you corrupt its core. From there, I suggest you head to Naboo; gather everything you can of Palpatine’s life before he became a Senator and follow the leads from there.” She sighed heavily before adding, “I suggest you journey to Korriban and Malastare, as well.”

“They’re Sith planets.”

“They are,” Altaïr agreed. “But there are also Sith Holocrons in the tombs that I believe will provide you with a better starting point for taking Palpatine down.”

Obi-Wan sighed, ceding the point. “How do I get there?” he asked instead. There was no longer any question about whether or not he was doing this. For the Jedi, for the Republic, for Anakin; he’d sacrifice himself if he had to.

“I have an unmarked ship waiting for you.” Altaïr picked up a credit chit and handed it over. “There are enough funds on there to get you started. Let me know when you need more and I’ll top it up, but keep in mind there’s only so much I can give you without drawing attention. If you find other ways to make money to fund this, do that too.”

“When should I leave?” The Council needed to be informed he was going off world, and a replacement, if only temporary, needed to be voted in.

“An hour.”

He blinked. “But the Council...”

“I will take care of them,” Altaïr promised. “I don’t wish to drag up bad memories, but as your friends are unhappy with your recent mission, the sooner you go, the better. Leave your commlink with me as well; you need to be untraceable to those who might go looking and there’s a new one in the ship that will only link to me – I’ll pass on any urgent messages, and we’ll deal with others as things progress.”

“Understood.” He stood once more, as did Altaïr. Obi-Wan offered her a deep bow. “May the Force be with you.”

Altaïr returned the bow, her eyes shining with pride and tears. “And with you, Obi-Wan.”

Packing was a surprisingly quick, yet somewhat sorry state of affairs. After all, beyond the three sets of clothes that were non-Jedi issue – trousers, shirts, and jackets that would help him blend in with the galaxy – and a couple of pairs of boots, there wasn’t much else to take.

After a moment’s deliberation he packed his tablet in case he needed to do any research, and it also had photos of his friends and family. He suspected he was going to need them in order to keep the darkness at bay.

He also took the river stone Qui-Gon had given him on his thirteenth birthday, and it was tucked in a pouch within easy reach of idle fingers. There’d been a second of hesitation as to whether he should leave it behind – if the worst was to happen, at least it could be passed down to his Padawan or Grand-Padawan – but then, Qui-Gon had been like his father, and he suspected he’d need the memories of his old master to help ground him over the coming months.

There were a few boxes of his favourite tea added, a razor to keep him mostly clean-shaven and hair short to aid his disguise, and a data chip of different katas that he’d been working on for the Training Master in his ridiculously sparse free time. Hyperspace could be long and lonely – completing it would at least give him something to do. And if Altaïr was to be believed, then he’d possibly be learning new skills that could be passed on to the Initiates, or the new Knights if it was too advanced for the younger students.

Next, he gathered up the plants that had been looked after by one of the maintenance staff whenever he was out on assignment and did what he should’ve done from the start – he took them to the Temple Gardens. The plants were an eclectic variety, collected over the years by him and Qui-Gon and the only things he’d been unable to part from. They needed love and connection with Force sensitives, not to be locked away in a dark room, slowly wilting without another being to care for them; so what better way to give them that than in the Gardens where they could be tended to on a daily basis.

The Keeper of the Gardens wasn’t there, so he left them on their desk, giving each plant a farewell by way of a touch of his finger and the Force, before making his way back to his quarters for the last time.

As he entered his residence, he looked around the room with a heavy heart. Once, there’d been droid parts and books, robes and cups spread about the space. It had been filled with life and laughter, tantrums and tears, but most of all, love. It had looked lived in – now it was free of clutter, free of any sign that someone lived there save for his bag by the door and a few odds and ends that he, Qui-Gon, Anakin, and Ahsoka had collected over the years that he had no other home for, save the shelves they resided on.

Obi-Wan made his way to the living room, fetching a pillow off the couch and setting it on the floor before he knelt in front of it. He drew his lightsaber from his belt, and without allowing himself to think, he took the weapon apart to get to the crystal. He used his hands, rather than the Force to do this; aware that his crystal, the one that had served him well all these years, deserved his touch before he left it behind.

Nestled amongst the inner workings, the dark blue gem rung a mournful tune, as though it knew its time with him, albeit temporarily, was at an end.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” he muttered, using the Force to lift it free of the casing and settling the stone in his palm, his fingers curling over the top of it. He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, focusing on the crystal’s strength in the Force, its loyalty to him, and its sadness at their parting. “I must do this,” he murmured, lifting his fist to his lips. “I must see this mission through to the end, and I will not corrupt your heart to do it. Thank you for serving me well all these years.”

The crystal rung with a chime of understanding, and he gently placed the stone on the pillow. It would stay there until his return, or should he die, someone returned it to the Memorial Arch.

Finally, there was one last thing to do. Closing his eyes once more, Obi-Wan slowed his breathing and cleared his mind, letting the air around him fill his lungs and wash away all doubt. “If you can hear me, Master, I need your help. I’m about to embark on a mission that threatens to destroy the person I have become. I must tear myself apart, and put myself back together in a way that...” he hesitated, fear rattling his breath before he soldiered on ahead. “That I might not come back from.” He swallowed thickly once, twice, before admitting in a small voice: “I need you with me, Master. I need your guidance on this path.”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to happen. Nothing, really – although perhaps it was more a case of admitting his fears aloud where no one could hear him; pretending a dead man was there with him, protecting him as he once had.

He hadn’t expected there to be a surge in the Force, so strong it ruffled his hair and brushed warmly against his back. Obi-Wan opened his eyes, startled – and was left gaping at the words now scrawled in a neat, golden script on the bare wall opposite him.

Staring at them, there were two things he realised. The first was that the script was one he knew as well as his own. It was his master’s beautiful, if somewhat frustrating to read, cursive writing.

The second was that it was in Mando’a – the language they had become fluent in during their year on the run while protecting the Kryze family, and one they’d used when they needed to have a private conversation out loud.

Only when the eyes are closed can you truly see

His eyes traced every letter the Force had gifted him with reverence, searching for another meaning hidden within them and finding nothing.

Unsurprisingly, even in death it seemed his master enjoyed being as cryptic as possible.

“See what?” he asked softly, afraid there’d be no answer beyond what he’d been given. “See what, Master?”

“The Way.”

Obi-Wan whirled around, eyes wide and heart rabbiting in his chest. That had sounded exactly like; “Qui-Gon?”

There was no reply, save for another breath of wind seemingly from nowhere that ruffled his hair. The soft touch, whether it was a coincidental breeze from the air vents or something more was enough for him to believe he wasn’t as alone as he’d feared.

“Okay,” he said, rolling his shoulders back as he got to his feet, determination filling him. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

Nine Months Later  

“Tell me, how is that master of yours?”  

Anakin blinked, drawing his attention away from the window and back to the Chancellor. The man had disappeared into the neighbouring kitchenette to fetch a pot of tea – insisting it was best if he did these things, rather than have someone else in case of an assassination attempt – and had just returned. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t heard him enter the room. “Sorry?”  

“Master Kenobi,” Palpatine said with a small smile as he took a seat on the couch and poured his drink. Anakin shook his head when he held the pot out in silent question. “I know your latest mission has had you off planet for the last two months, but I’ve noticed he’s been unusually... quiet, shall we say, on the battlefield. The Republic do so like talking about you both, yet if several reporters are to be believed, no one has seen anything of your master for quite some time. His name hasn’t even been in any of the recent reports filed by the Council, and it’s got me wondering if he’s alright?” 

He shrugged, puzzled by Palpatine’s interest in his former master’s whereabouts. It wasn’t like he and Obi-Wan had ever been friends, so it wasn’t genuine concern that led him to ask. But, he supposed, if other influential figures within the Republic had noticed Obi-Wan’s absence and were talking about it, of course the Supreme Chancellor would want to stay informed; if only to appease anyone that was worried that The Negotiator might be out of the fight.  

As it stood, Anakin didn’t have anything to offer him. “I’m sorry, your Excellency, I haven’t seen him either.”   

While he was no longer angry with his former master about the Hardeen mission – in fact he’d begrudgingly accepted the need for it had been a valid one, even if he still didn’t like it – the lingering hurt had clung to him like a second skin long after the stardust had cleared; which of course had made it hard to talk about without getting angry at anyone who dared to bring it up.  

Padmé had helped him overcome that by giving him a safe space to talk about what he’d feared and felt during those horrid few days without judgement, and he was now at a point where he could talk about the mission without – as Ahsoka liked to call it – falling into a mood. He had no idea what she was talking about, though. He didn’t do moods. 

But since that chat with Padmé, he’d been so busy that he hadn’t had the chance to sit down with Obi-Wan to discuss the mission and how it had impacted him like he knew they should have right from the start. 

Palpatine frowned, so something of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face. “Is that normal?” He set the teapot aside, clasping his hands in front of him and giving him his full attention. Anakin couldn’t help but preen a little at that. It was nice to know the man truly cared about him; being told that was the case was one thing – seeing it was another. “I know Master Kenobi is busy with the war effort, but surely he’d put more of an effort in to make time for you, especially after how that nasty business with the bounty hunter affected your relationship.” 

That was putting it politely, but still, Anakin shook it off. Just because he’d made peace with what had happened didn’t mean the reminder wouldn’t briefly stir up those feelings of hurt; because of course it would – thinking someone you loved was dead was never easy, but it was easier to brush off now that he knew the reasoning behind it. 

Then the question sunk in properly, and made him pause. Was Obi-Wan’s silence normal? 

No. No it wasn’t.  

Obi-Was wasn’t someone who held grudges or blame – that was him, even if it shouldn’t be. Furthermore, Obi-Wan had tried to apologise time and again, and it had been him who refused to listen – so there’d be no reason for Obi-Wan to ignore him now, unless he was hurt by the constant rebuffs and had given up trying to fix what he’d accidentally broken. 

We’d all be better off if you were dead! Anakin flinched internally. Okay, so, not one of his finest moments, and definitely not a phrase one could view as an ‘I’m hurting because I thought I lost you but I’m so glad you’re alive and just need some time to process,’ comment. 

But Obi-Wan would know he didn’t mean it; that it had been anger and hurt that forced him to lash out when deep down it was because Anakin loved him like the weird Sibling-Parent combination most Master and Padawan pairings took on, and he’d thought he’d lost him.   

Right?  

But how would he know that? A traitorous little voice whispered in his ear. You chose to ignore what your words did to him that day because you were hurting, but your comments made something break inside of him. You saw it in his eyes and ignored it anyway. 

Anakin swallowed nervously. By the Gods, had he finally broken Obi-Wan for good? Had he finally broken the one person who had loved him unconditionally since he was a child, flaws and all? 

No. No it wasn’t possible. Obi-Wan hadn’t left him. Obi-Wan wouldn’t leave him no matter what hate and vitriol he threw his way – of that much he was certain. 

But then, when had he last seen Obi-Wan? Truly seen him face to face? 

He did a quick mental calculation, only to frown. If his math was right – and admittedly it was never wrong – then it was nearing, if not already past, nine months since he’d last seen his master. 

Oh.  

Oh no. 

Anakin knew he’d been busy, but had he really been so busy that nearly an entire year had passed since he’d seen Obi-Wan in the flesh? 

He frowned harder as he thought back on what had occurred since the incident in the dining hall. There’d been four missions since the Hardeen incident; Bothawui, Kessel, Corellia, and Ord Mantell, all of them different lengths but taking... six and a half months, if he remembered the start date for the first mission rightly. There was a two-week stint in medical after a rather foolish attempt to stop the Separatists on Kessel which he’d pulled off – quite spectacularly, he might add, even if he had ended up in a medically induced coma until Kix could get him to a Bacta tank on an aid station because of it – and another two weeks of being Temple bound for his recovery. 

That made seven. 

Then there was the travel time between missions which would have been another few weeks by themselves, even with hyperspace, and he’d also had shore leave for two weeks. Add in a couple of escort missions for Padmé and Senator Organa which had been several days each, not including the travel, and an aid mission to a mid-rim planet that had actively done it’s best to shake itself to pieces with a devastating earthquake that had been two weeks on the dot... 

He blanched, horrified, when he realised that absolutely nine months could’ve gone by without him realising it. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard from Obi-Wan at all; there’d been the occasional text-based message to him, and one voice message – but never any live video calls, despite his best efforts to do so when he needed help with something. Even when he’d demanded urgent help, he’d not received anything back until days later – and that was usually after another master had helped him or he’d resolved it himself. 

And each time, he’d cussed Obi-Wan out in the privacy of his quarters, frustrated by the stupidly slow response times his master currently had. 

Ahsoka had tried to contact Obi-Wan a few times, but hadn’t heard much back, either. When he asked if she was okay one time after receiving a very short missive back, she simply squared her shoulders and gave him a falsely chipper smile while telling him the brief response was likely because Obi-Wan was busy in the field, but even she hadn’t spoken with much conviction. Not that she’d ever say anything, but she was clearly missing her Grandmaster. 

So. Ahsoka hadn’t heard from Obi-Wan. He hadn’t heard from Obi-Wan – and if Palpatine was to be believed, no one in the Jedi Council was talking about him. 

So where the kriffing hell was he? 

Before he had a chance to lose himself in a spiral of panic that he’d possibly pushed his master away for good without even realising it, there was a hurried knock at the door. Neither he nor Palpatine had a chance to move before the doors were shoved open to reveal Mas Amedda on the other side. 

“Chancellor, my apologies for the interruption,” the Chargrian said, inclining his head, a small roll of what looked to be real parchment in his outstretched hand. “But I’m afraid you have an urgent message.” 

Palpatine sighed and rose to meet the Vice Chancellor. Anakin stood too, hands hanging uselessly by his side as he watched man read the slip. “Everything okay?” 

The Chancellor’s brows furrowed, his lips pursing thoughtfully. “I’m afraid not, my boy. It seems there’s an urgent situation on Mapuzo I need to attend to in person.” 

“Mapuzo, your Excellency?” The name rang a bell, but he couldn’t place it. It certainly wasn’t a planet he’d been to, but given how widespread the war was these days, it must’ve come up in conversation at some point. 

“Yes, a mining planet located in the Mid Rim Territories, and politically in a very precarious situation. Without the help of the Republic, I fear it will fall to the Separatist invasion.” 

That didn’t sound good, especially not if Palpatine had to deal to it himself. It was rare for the Chancellor to put himself on the frontline, but it did happen from time to time if it was going to make that vital piece of difference. “Do you need a Jedi escort? Or any help?” 

Palpatine waved him off. “No, no, nothing so severe as to need the Order’s intervention. Politics, you know how it is,” he added with a roll of his eyes, before turning to his second in command. “Prepare my ship -” 

“Already done, Sir. It’s ready when you are.” 

“Excellent.” Palpatine pocketed the note and re-joined him at the couch. “I’m afraid I need to pack a bag and get underway immediately. It was good seeing you, dear boy. Once I’m back, we’ll finish our morning tea, yes?” 

Anakin bobbed his head, recognising the dismissal for what it was. “Of course, your Excellency. Safe travels.” He gave Amedda a shallower bow – not enough to be rude, but certainly not enough to show any respect, because he truly didn’t like the man – before he let himself out. 

Out in the foyer, Anakin chewed his bottom lip uncertainly. On the one hand, he ought to visit Padmé, given he hadn’t seen her since he’d returned the day prior – but the Chancellor’s questions on his master’s whereabouts niggled uncomfortably in the back of his head, demanding it be investigated further. 

Before he fully registered he’d moved, Anakin was in a speeder and on his way back to the Temple. “Alright then,” he muttered, finally paying attention to his surroundings and seamlessly weaving through the traffic. He landed in the hangar, nodding at the requisitions droid that bustled over to record the ship’s return, and made his way to the lifts – only to change direction when he spotted Garen Muln sitting on a nearby crate, legs swinging side to side and looking at a data pad. 

Garen and Obi-Wan were best friends, so perhaps the other master would know where to find his wayward one. “Hey, Garen,” he greeted when he got closer, “you got a minute?” 

“Skywalker!” The older pilot said, grinning widely. “Welcome home, kid. Heard you had a long mission.” 

Anakin sighed and dropped onto the crate next to him, briefly leaning into the side hug he was given. At the speed they were losing Jedi, it was nice seeing someone he’d known from his own childhood. “It was, yeah. I’m glad to be back.” They’d won, but not without serious casualties. The Separatists were defeated and had fled the system with their tails between their legs, so it had been worth it – he just wished so many clones hadn’t had to die in the process to get them there. “When did you get home?” 

“Couple of weeks ago, but I’m heading out again – Toydaria this time.” Garen powered down his tablet and idly spun it between his palms. “You need something?” 

He nodded, suddenly nervous. “Have you, uh...” kriffing hells, what was the matter with him all of a sudden? And why was this so hard? “Have you heard from Obi-Wan lately?” 

Garen frowned, an odd expression crossing his face that Anakin couldn’t quite place. “No, sorry. You?” 

Anakin shrugged, that seed of worry growing a little bigger. “I’ve had a couple of messages from him but only in response to one of mine, text only and usually days after I sent it. But I haven’t actually seen him, not since...” 

“The Hardeen mission?” 

Anakin braced himself before nodding. “Yeah, since then.” 

“Shit.” Garen ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands in agitation. “Shit, I’d hoped it was just me.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Garen hopped off the crate and started pacing, one hand still in his hair, the other waving his tablet about as he spoke. Anakin kept his eye on it in case it was sent flying. “I was devastated when I heard he’d died, and I... I wasn’t in a good place. I couldn’t even come home for his damn funeral. But then he was suddenly alive again, and our pairbond reopened, and I was just so angry with him, and really hurt. I shut him out, kid. I didn’t mean to,” he added quickly, “it’s just the mission had been long and hard, and losing Obi made things so much harder only for him to come back again, and -”  

“I get it,” he interrupted, wanting to stop the other man before he could work himself up too much. It was clear this wasn’t the first time Garen had talked about the fallout of that deception, and it was also clear how badly it had affected him. “I was hurt too.” He’d also said some awful things, but he wasn’t ready to admit them aloud, and especially not to someone he respected a hell of a lot. “I’m worried though; I haven’t heard from him in months, and even the Chancellor’s noticed his absence.” 

Garen’s expression twisted again, but this time it was barely veiled contempt. Anakin didn’t understand it, but then he knew most Jedi had issues with politicians in general, so it was likely the same thing here. “Why does he care?” 

“Maybe because Obi-Wan is known by like... everyone in the galaxy,” he pointed out dryly. “The Chancellor said people are starting to notice his absence in the field; and if our people have noticed then I’d say the Separatists have too – and you know as well as I do that they’ll claim they had something to do with it if it goes on for much longer.” 

“Good point.” Garen ran a hand down his face tiredly. “I’m honestly not sure, kid. Maybe go to his chambers, see if he left a note as to where he was going. Or ask the Council.” 

It was a good idea. He’d just hoped his worries had been for nothing and he could go about his day. Once again it seemed he was wrong. 

“Alright.” Heaving a sigh, he got to his feet and made his way to the lifts once more. “Thanks, Garen.” 

“Hey, Ani?” 

He turned, walking backwards as he looked at the older Pilot – the man’s face was pinched in concern. 

“Let me know when you find him? I... I should talk with him, too.” 

“Sure.” He turned back to the lifts, determined to get to the bottom of it. 

The first thing Anakin noticed when the door to Obi-Wan’s quarters slid open was the stale air. 

The second was that the space looked deserted. In fact, he wouldn’t have known they were the quarters he’d grown up in if it weren’t for the name plate on the outside wall. 

A bead of something uncomfortable trickled down his spine as he moved further into the room, eyes raking over every inch of the space, and a tightness settling in his chest because of what he saw. 

Or rather, what he didn’t see. 

There were a few bits and pieces that had been there as long as he could remember, mostly belonging to Qui-Gon, but there was also the occasional knickknack he or Obi-Wan had picked up during their apprenticeship. Now, they were covered in dust and dull in the Force where they’d once been bright with memory. In fact, the dust was coating the surface of everything, and the room looked and felt... grey. Empty. Abandoned. 

There was still something that was out of place, that didn’t sit quite – a breath lodged itself in his throat when he realised what was missing. 

The plants. 

The room had been filled with cuttings of different plants Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had picked up during their time together, and others he and Obi-Wan had collected before the war. They were all treasured by his master, and tending to them had always brought him peace in a way not much did these days. 

Now, they were all gone. 

Even on missions, Obi-Wan had someone tending to the plants so they wouldn’t die while they were away, and when he returned, he took his time greeting each of them, weaving more of his Force signature into them to bolster their spirits – or so Obi-Wan always told him. But now, they were missing. 

For an apartment that had sung with the Force through the plants and the love they received, the life seemed to have drained out of his former home, leaving it an empty shell; and the panic he’d been holding back rose to the surface with a vengeance – too many things were stacking up and painting a terrifying picture that was impossible to ignore. 

“OBI-WAN?!” He yelled, aware it was pointless, but he didn’t know what else to do. 

That’s when he saw it. 

He had his comm link in his hand and at his lips faster than he could blink. “C’mon, c’mon, please answer.” 

“Skywalker?” 

“Vos!” he yelped, eyes never leaving the dull blue crystal resting on the pillow in the middle of the living room floor. “Are you in the Temple?” 

“Arrived this morning. What’s up, kid? You sound –” 

“I need you to come to Obi-Wan’s quarters. Now. Please,” he added in a broken whisper. “I... I need your help.” 

“Be there in two,” was the brusque response. The line clicked off, and Anakin dropped to his knees in front of the pillow, hands hovering but not touching its surface. He knew full well that Quinlan needed everything untouched if he was to get a clear reading, and his emotions were too scattered to not accidentally affect whatever it was that he’d see. 

Before the two minutes was up, the door hissed open and Quinlan, Garen, and Aayla entered the room. He didn’t care why the pair were there, although it was likely Garen had gone and sought his other childhood friend out to confess his own guilt to someone who wouldn’t judge him. 

“What the kriff?” Garen muttered, eyes wide in alarm as he took the place in. “This place feels so...” 

“Wrong,” Aayla finished for him, giving her master’s wrist a gentle squeeze as Quinlan took a long, slow look around the room, his fingers flexing unconsciously by his side. “It feels wrong.” 

“Anakin.” Quinlan pulled away from his padawan and knelt next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on?” His eyes landed on the crystal, widening slightly. “Is that what I think it is?” 

He nodded, hands fisted in his lap. “There’s also that on the wall.” He waved at the words that he knew were Mando’a, but couldn’t read. Despite Obi-Wan’s best efforts over the years, Anakin hadn’t bothered to learn the language like his master had hoped he would, thinking it was pointless. He’d put a bit more effort in once the war started, but even then it was barely enough to say ‘hello’, ‘goodbye’, and ‘where’s the closest droid, please?’ Well, those and swear words – those had been equally important to learn. 

Rex and Kix were great teachers. 

Quinlan glanced at the words, but stayed silent which told Anakin he didn’t understand them either. Instead, the Kiffar gently plucked the kyber crystal off the pillow, cradling it in his hand. 

“Hello my friend,” he greeted quietly, and the crystal gave a mournful chime that echoed loudly in the otherwise quiet room. “We’re worried about him too. Will you show me where he’s gone?” 

The sharp intake of breath was the only sign they had that Quinlan was now in a memory. Garen and Aayla joined them in the lounge, Garen placing a hand on his shoulder while Aayla settled on Anakin’s other side, leaning into him. 

It seemed like no time at all between Quinlan entering the memory and leaving again. “Kriff,” the dark-haired master croaked, three shades paler than he had been as he carefully set the kyber on the pillow. “He... uh, we need to talk to the Council. Now.” 

“They won’t tell us anything,” Garen retorted, shoulders slumping in defeat. Anakin knew the war was wearing them all down, but knowing what he did about them, he knew losing Obi-Wan would undoubtedly break the older masters; it very nearly had during the Hardeen mission. He knew their entire friend group had been lucky enough to survive the war so far – Obi-Wan dying would shatter the rest of them, and they’d all been through too much for one of them to fall now. “What did you see, Quin?” 

“Obi-Wan’s... uh,” Quinlan’s hands were visibly shaking, which only served to ramp up Anakin’s panic further. “He was sent on a mission by the Master of Shadows.” 

“The Master of Shadows?” Anakin repeated faintly. The Shadows were an elite department within the Jedi that he’d always admired, and even dreamed of joining when he was younger. As a child, he’d seen them as the coolest group of Jedi, and the few stories Quinlan had been allowed to share, he’d listened to with reverence. 

Having seen the toll such a life had taken on Quinlan, and eventually Aayla over the years, what had once been hero worship quickly morphed into a deep-seated respect for what the Shadow’s did, while admitting to himself he was too hot headed to be any good at it. To hear that the Master of Shadows was behind Obi-Wan’s disappearance spelled serious trouble. “What do they want with Obi-Wan?” 

“She... uh... she sent Obi-Wan to hunt the Sith Lord.” 

“What the kriff,” Garen breathed, his knees giving way and dropping him heavily to the floor. Anakin was only just able to steady him, startled as he was by the pilot’s reaction and Quinlan’s revelation. “She sent him after the Sith? What the kriff is wrong with her?!” 

Quinlan shrugged, and Anakin couldn’t think of a time when the Kiffar Jedi had looked more terrified. “Obi-Wan left his crystal behind so he didn’t corrupt its core during his hunt.” He swallowed thickly. “He... I got the feeling he wasn’t expecting to come back from this.” 

Anakin covered his face with his hands. “Oh gods,” he breathed, on the verge of hyperventilating. “Oh gods. Please tell me he had at least one person with him.” 

The silence spoke for itself. 

“When did he leave?” Garen asked desperately. “Quin, we need to find him -” 

A single tear tracked its way down Quinlan’s cheek – Anakin watched it with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. Based on everything he’d seen since the door opened, he knew his master had been gone for some time. 

“Garen... he left a week after the Rako Hardeen mission.” 

Horrified silence filled the room. Anakin stared at the crystal numbly. 

Nine months. His master had been kriff knew where in the galaxy for nine months, all alone, with no one knowing where he was, what he was doing, or looking out for him. 

Anakin knew he wasn’t dead; he would’ve felt their bond snap if that had happened, but when he tugged on it desperately, there was no response on the other end. Just a staticky silence that made his skin crawl. 

We’d all be better off if you were dead! 

“I did this,” he breathed, terror and grief ripping through his veins like an uncontrollable wildfire. “I pushed him away after that mission. Told him he’d betrayed me, that... that I was disgusted by the deception, what he did to Snips -” 

“Anakin,” Aayla said softly, but he didn’t hear her; too caught up in the awful words he’d hurled at his master that day in the dining hall. 

“I... I told him we’d all be better off if he’d actually died,” he confessed in a broken whisper. “I pushed him away when he tried to apologise, again and again.” Shame made his eyes sting. If his mother were still alive, she’d be so disappointed in him. “I pushed him to do this.” 

“It wasn’t just you, kid,” Quinlan muttered, his face screwed in pain. “I refused to answer his calls.” 

“And I shut him out,” Garen added, running a hand through his hair and sighing heavily. “You’re right, we need to talk to the Council, see if they’ve heard from him.” 

Anakin nodded, only to pause when his eyes fell on the foreign words on the wall. “Quinlan, any chance that memory showed you what he wrote?” 

Quinlan massaged his temples, not bothering to spare the words more than a cursory glance. “He didn’t write them. They just... kinda appeared.” 

“‘They just kinda appeared’,” Aayla repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. “Words don’t just randomly appear out of nowhere, Master.” 

“I’m aware of that, my very perceptive Padawan,” Quinlan retorted tiredly, giving her a weak smile when she muttered that she wasn’t a padawan anymore. “But does Obi-Wan believing Qui-Gon wrote them make better sense?” 

“Qui-Gon?!” the three of them yelped simultaneously. “What?” Aayla added, staring at her master with wide eyes. “But... but Master Qui-Gon is dead!” 

“Another point for perceptiveness.” Quinlan smirked at her before turning back to the golden script scrawled across the wall, eyeing the words warily. “All I know is Obes was asking Qui-Gon to watch out for him, then they appeared. He even heard his master’s voice; but that could’ve just been his memory playing tricks on him; making him hear Qui-Gon like he wanted.” 

If there was anyone Obi-Wan would ever want guidance from for something like this, Anakin knew it was Qui-Gon Jinn. He couldn’t help but wonder if it had truly been the older master, or if it had been Obi-Wan’s imagination, as Quinlan had said. 

Garen looked at the wall curiously. “Well what does it say?” 

The Kiffar heaved a breath before letting it out slowly. “Only when the eyes are closed can you truly see.” 

He, Garen, and Aayla shared a perturbed look. That was... foreboding. “See what?” he eventually asked. It wasn’t a Jedi saying, and it was unlikely to be a Mandalorian one, given they preferred to do things with their fists and eyes open – not closed for thoughtfulness. 

Quinlan stared at the wall a moment longer before turning back to them, his dark eyes shining with an emotion Anakin was struggling to put a name to. 

“The Way.” 

On the way to the Council Chambers, commlinks were working furiously; the four of them double checking if anyone had heard from Obi-Wan in the last few weeks; or, hells, even in the last nine months. 

Rex hadn’t heard anything – not that Anakin had expected him to – and hadn’t heard any gossip amongst the ranks of the 501st that he could recall. He promised to make some discreet enquiries with those he trusted to see if they’d heard anything, and would report back. 

Cody hadn’t heard from Obi-Wan since the holo call a couple of days after the Hardeen mission, which was when he was calling in with an update of the 212th’s movements. He was horrified when he learned Obi-Wan had been sent after the Sith by himself, telling them that he was planet side and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice to rescue his General. 

Dex hadn’t heard anything from Obi-Wan for two months, which was as surprising as it was a relief that Obi-Wan had been in touch with someone he trusted during his mission. What was slightly more concerning was the contact had been message-based only, and Obi-Wan had paid Dex for the information – an insistence on Obi-Wan’s part, not Dex’s – which indicated it was viewed as a transaction between strangers, not two friends. The Besalisk had sounded rather put out, telling Quinlan that he didn’t hold Obi-Wan’s actions against him anymore and had tried to apologise, but had been shut down. Quinlan had reassured him that Obi-Wan was under a lot of stress, as well as under cover – which was likely why he hadn’t responded beyond what was needed. 

Satine had seen Obi-Wan five months ago but hadn’t been able to talk to him. He’d been on Mandalore hunting Maul who was doing his best to terrorise her, her people, and the wider Mandalorian system for reasons still unknown. She’d spotted Obi-Wan chasing the Zabrak through the streets and had followed, but Obi-Wan had ignored her and her guards, his focus solely on Maul and protecting innocents where he could. Satine had chased the pair all the way to the spaceport, yelling for Obi-Wan to stop and talk to her, but hadn’t been able to reach him before the door of his ship shut and he took off in hot pursuit of the Sith Acolyte. Anakin added the Duchess to the growing list of friends to update once he found his former master. 

Neither Reeft nor Bant had heard anything from Obi-Wan since he’d left. They’d tried reaching out a number of times but never got an answer. Anakin knew that for Bant especially, Obi-Wan’s silence was hurting the empathetic Mon Cal, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She sure seemed to think she deserved it, no matter what he said. 

Siri had the most recent sighting of Obi-Wan, but like the others, she hadn’t spoken with him. She’d spotted him at the bar in a spaceport cantina on Cato Neimoidia, but by the time she made it to where he’d been sitting, he’d vanished – leaving a fresh drink with a small card next to it that said he was working and couldn’t be seen talking to her. He left a tip on where her own target was, helping to bring an end to her three-month mission. She, like the others, asked to be updated as soon as he returned home.  

The only ones they couldn’t get a hold of in the end were Ahsoka, Bail, and Padmé. Ahsoka was likely asleep or out with friends, so he left a message for her to call him when she could. Anakin knew she wouldn’t be able to shed any light on her Grandmaster’s whereabouts – if she’d heard from Obi-Wan recently, she would’ve said something – but he wanted to keep her informed.  

Bail and Padmé were likely doing important Senator things, so they were left with the same request to call him as soon as they could.  

When they reached the Council Chambers, they were admitted immediately thanks to Quinlan contacting the Duty Padawan before they left Obi-Wan’s quarters, calling for an urgent meeting. 

They entered, and Anakin stumbled a fraction when he realised that not only was the full Council in session – either physically there or calling in via holo – but Ahsoka, Bail, and Padmé were also in the room. 

“Senator Organa, Senator Amidala,” he greeted, praying he didn’t sound as confused as he felt by their presence. “We were just trying to get a hold of you.” 

“Master Skywalker,” Padmé greeted, but there was none of her usual strength in her voice. If anything, she was clearly shaken. He wanted to bundle her in his arms and make sure she was alright, but now was not the time, nor the place, for such affection. “It’s good to see you and your Padawan are safe after such a long mission away.” 

“What is it?” Quinlan asked, pushing to the front of their group and cutting off the pleasantries as he moved to the centre of the room, eyeing the Councillors warily. “What’s going on?” Anakin wasn’t as good at reading body language as the Kiffar, but even he could tell something was wrong by the way the Force trembled around them. 

To have shaken the Council, as well as two Senators and his padawan, it had to be big. 

“Fortuitous timing, your request for an audience was,” Yoda replied, his ears drooped and shoulders hunched. “Received an urgent missive we did just moments ago, while discussing with the Senators the bill on Clone Rights.” 

Mace, who was staring at his lap and massaging his temples, looked up, his expression pinched. “Not to mention Padawan Tano got here just before you did, distressed by a dream she had that has some similarities to the message.”  

His Padawan was standing by Plo’s chair with her arms wrapped around her torso, as though trying to hold herself together. “It was about Master Obi-Wan,” she whispered brokenly at his questioning look. “Master... Please. I... I can’t lose him again.” 

Anakin went cold at the soft plea. “What does it say?” he asked, eyes whipping to Mace – dread filling his lungs and making it hard to breathe. “Who was it from?” 

“It was from Obi-Wan. The shatter points surrounding his message are... very strong. Whatever happens from here on out will affect us all.” 

“Get to the point, Windu,” Quinlan snapped, his entire frame coiled like a spring, ready to explode as he stared at the Korun master. “What did it say?” 

Windu waved a hand, and a single line of text appeared above his chair – short and to the point. Anakin could sense the horror emanating from his companions, and grief from those who had already read it. 

THE WAR ENDS TODAY. MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU, ALWAYS   

- KENOBI   

“It’s a suicide run,” Garen breathed, speaking for the first time since entering the chambers, green eyes glued to the flickering words. “We have to stop him.” 

“Intend we do, to join him in his fight. Ensure we must that the Sith Lord is stopped, once and for all,” Yoda replied quietly. “Fear I do for Obi-Wan; fear I do for what could happen to him, if with him, we are not.” 

“What exactly have you asked of him?” Bail asked, his voice wavering yet filled with the durasteel strength he was well known for in the Senate. Anakin wondered if the man was reliving his and Obi-Wan’s time on Zigoola, or if it was something else. He knew the Senator and Obi-Wan had grown close since their time on the Sith Planet – he’d just never bothered to ask how close. “What mission did you give him?” 

“They didn’t give him this task.” Anakin whirled at the unfamiliar voice and found an older Tholothian woman standing just inside the doors, her hands clasped in front of her. He hadn’t even heard her come in. “I did.” 

“Why?” Quinlan snarled, his hands clenched at his sides as he visibly reined himself in. “Why him? He’s the best of all of us – he shouldn’t be out there drowning himself in the dark side!”  

The woman cocked her head as she stared at the angry Jedi. “It’s for that very reason he was the only one capable of doing what needed to be done. You are a formidable Shadow; as are you, Aayla. But your history leaves you susceptible to Falling, Quinlan; you’ve been on the verge once before and we were lucky to get you back before you went too far. As for Aayla, she is far too young, and far too inexperienced to stand a chance against the Sith Lord for long. 

“Obi-Wan, however, is the embodiment of the Light side of the Force. We have all seen it, time and time again, even if he doesn’t believe himself to be a good example of a Jedi. We’re all familiar with these doubts he’s had since childhood, and despite them we’ve seen him achieve great things in the hardest of times.” 

Anakin had no idea what she was talking about. What doubts was she referring to? Obi-Wan was one of the few people he knew that was sure about anything, all the time. It was actually really annoying. 

Although, when he looked around the room it seemed that he was the only one who shared this sentiment. Based on the reactions of the Council, as well as Garen, Quinlan, and even Aayla, they knew the doubts the unnamed Master was referring to. 

Just how much had he misunderstood, or better yet ignored, of Obi-Wan over the years? 

“If anyone can defeat the Sith Lord and not lose themselves in the process, it’s him.” 

Quinlan slumped, the fight going out of him. “He was supposed to be safe.” 

“And thanks to him, we will all be safe.” The Master of Shadows waited a moment for any other comments, of which there were none, before inclining her head. “I do however agree that you should all be there as witness to the fight, for I believe he will need you if he is to make it through. There is a ship waiting in the hangar, large enough to carry us all.” 

“Then delay no further, we will.” Yoda thumped his gimer stick on the ground as he hopped out of his chair. “To Obi-Wan, we must go.” 

The Councillors who had holo-called in wished them well before ending their transmissions, likely to make arrangements to join them wherever they landed, or to start getting their troops to safety until new orders were received. The rest of them started for the doors, and it was only then that Anakin realised he had no idea where this showdown was going to take place. “Uh, Master?” He asked, still in the dark as to the woman’s name and hoping someone would tell him sooner rather than later. “Where are we going?” 

“Mapuzo.” 

Anakin missed a step and walked into Garen, who reached out to steady him. “Sorry?” 

“Obi-Wan has summoned the Sith Lord to Mapuzo.” 

Was it suddenly noisy in the Chambers, or was it just him? There was a sound thundering incessantly in his ears, but he wasn’t sure if that was just in his head, or somewhere else that only he could hear. 

Thumpthumpthump the noise went. THUMPTHUMPTHUMP 

A hand touched his elbow, and he turned – finding himself staring into Padmé’s worried eyes. “-kin? Anakin, are you okay?” Clearly, she’d asked him more than once, and he’d only just heard her. “What is it?” 

“Just...” he cleared his throat; well aware he sounded like he’d swallowed a Sorgan frog with how badly that one word was croaked. “Mapuzo. Are you sure that’s where they are?” 

“I’m positive.” The Master of Shadows eyed him thoughtfully. Or perhaps it was knowingly – her expression was impossible to read. “Is there something you wish to say, Skywalker?” 

He opened and closed his mouth three times before he managed to force the words careening around his head out into the open. “I... uh... I k-know someone who received a missive, today, s-summoning them to... to Mapuzo,” he stuttered, the planet’s name leaving his lips on a breathless exhale. 

Everyone was staring at him with an intensity he wasn’t used to, and it made him feel all of nine years old again. 

Everyone except Ahsoka. 

She was at his elbow, her eyes shining with worry. “Who was it, Master?” she asked softly, her hand settling on his flesh arm, fingertips gently digging in and keeping him firmly on the floor – not wildly spinning into space alongside his thoughts like he expected to happen at any moment. “Who is Obi-Wan fighting?” 

“Chancellor Palpatine.”

Chapter Text

I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, his hands resting on his knees, palms turned upwards, legs crossed neatly beneath him as he connected with the Force; sinking deeply into its waves and feeling the spark of life in everything and everyone on the planet. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Hold. Deep breath out. 

The Force drifted though him, its vast eddies showing him the past, present, and different iterations of the future; each decision fracturing off into a kaleidoscope of possibilities instigated by the tiniest of changes. Living, Cosmic, Unifying, and Physical; all four manifestations that were separate for so many were now all the same to him – pieces of a puzzle that he’d struggled to make sense of as a Padawan now complimented one another and painted a beautiful picture. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Hold. Deep breath out. 

The ease with which he channelled the Force was nothing like it had been at the start of his mission. Looking back, it was like he’d been a toddler learning to walk in the grand scheme of things. He’d always had a good understanding of the Unifying Force, but his connection to the Living Force had been woeful at best, much to Qui-Gon’s chagrin, even though he’d slowly gotten better over the years. But frustratingly, it had always felt like there was something holding him back; an invisible barrier that wouldn’t let him through – it was as though the Force didn’t think he was ready to see what was waiting for him on the other side. 

Now the connection was as easy as breathing, each gentle pulse greeting him like an old friend and following his every whim while maintaining its own essence; both of them separate yet living in harmony as one. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Hold. Deep breath out. Connect with everything around him. 

The earth was brittle and sending up mini dust clouds with every gentle puff of wind. The trees were sparse and sad looking; a poor attempt by the planet at hosting life amongst its otherwise barren landscape. The grass, what little there was, was limp and dull; the colour bleached out by the constant exposure to the unforgiving sun whose heat beat down through the cloudless sky. The worst part was the air; sticky with heat and the humidity clinging to him like a second skin as though desperate for something other than the endless sea of dirt. 

Perhaps closer to the settlements there was something attractive about Mapuzo, but where he was now, in the middle of nowhere, was less than appealing. But it was why he’d chosen Mapuzo to confront the Sith Lord in the first place; the planet was scarcely populated so no one would be in danger, and the environment so bland that it couldn’t be used against him. 

His ship was miles away, the automatic pilot taking it there once he’d disembarked in the area that was well away from any innocents that could be used against him if the situation deteriorated as badly as he expected it to. There was a cliff that ran north to south just behind him, as far as the eye could see, but it was the only geographical feature to note – the rest of the landscape was an open plain with no chance of his opponents sneaking up on him. 

Not that that had stopped them from trying, of course, and he commended them for their efforts. Grievous, Maul, Savage, and Dooku had done their best to use the environment to their advantage when they arrived, but the whole point of them coming to such an exposed place was that it was... exposed. If they wanted to confront him – and they had, very much so based on the three different monologues he’d been subjected to – then the various meetings were to be face to face as he’d long since tired of their subterfuge tactics. 

His opponents had never stood a chance. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Hold. Deep breath out. Allow the knowledge of the past to fill him, but not burden him.  

Grievous had been the first one he’d summoned; the droid that had taken great delight in slaughtering innocents and torturing Jedi was now nothing more than a crumpled heap of metal – crushed with the Force and destroyed before he’d even had a chance to finish his usual speech of how he was going to give him a long, slow death as the life was squeezed out of him. 

The irony hadn’t been lost on him when Grievous’ joints popped and whined as he folded in on himself like a tin can under a shoe, the thick yellow liquid that helped support his organs seeping out of the ruptured seals like the blood of so many of the droid’s victims. It was a small retribution for those who had fallen, and he hoped that the payback would bring them comfort in their eternal rest. 

Savage and Maul had arrived next, and there were now gaping holes in the Force where the Zabraks had once resided; even now, he could feel the darkness oozing off their bodies. He knew it would take time for that dark energy to dissipate completely, and the Force to recover, but it was time they finally had. The most important thing was that they were finally gone, and he no longer had to look over his shoulder for his long-time nemesis and his freakishly large brother. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Hold. Deep breath out. I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me. 

“Was spiking their heads really necessary?” 

Even though his eyes were closed, he rolled them. He’d known this would happen. Expected it, yes – but part of him had hoped nothing would be said about his... extreme insurance methods. “When one cuts someone in half, they expect that to be the end of it,” he retorted wryly, finally opening his eyes and looking up at his master’s Force ghost. “Except Maul has a particularly annoying habit of finding ways to stay alive, so forgive me if I wanted to make sure that didn’t happen this time around.”  

Qui-Gon was standing before him once more; his ever-familiar, ever-present and see-through blue companion staring down at him, bemused. “Given the choice was killing them or having one of them turn up in another ten years with an even bigger vendetta than the last one, it was an easy choice.” 

He glanced over at the bodies and the pikes beside them. As unsavoury a move as it had been, it was necessary. How else did one show a Sith Lord they meant business than by putting their old apprentice and his brother on display? 

“Fair enough. And what of Dooku?” There was no judgement in his master’s voice, only curiosity – although after what they’d been through together the last nine months it was unsurprising. “I’m impressed that you allowed him to keep his head after what he’s done to you.” 

The last part of that statement was filled with disdain. Qui-Gon had made it very clear what he thought of his former master’s choices over the last few years, and as much as Obi-Wan had wanted to end the Count’s life – both for the Jedi, and for Qui-Gon – his Grandmaster’s final sentence wasn’t his to make. “I’ll leave him for the Council. After what he’s done, they must decide his fate.” 

“I wish they’d hurry up. I’d feel much better if he was in their custody before he woke up.” 

Dooku was unconscious in the hold of his ship, heavily drugged and wearing a Force suppressing collar and electro-cuffs that would shock him if he so much as twitched while waiting for his verdict. His former Grandmaster had arrived on schedule – six hours after Grievous, three hours after the Zabrak brothers – and had given his usual spiel about joining him to rid the galaxy of the Sith Lord and Senate’s corruption. 

Obi-Wan had simply rolled his eyes and used the Force to immobilise the man before subduing him and finally putting an end to Darth Tyrannus’ reign. The horror in his Grandmaster’s eyes as he was left helpless had been satisfying to see. 

“Between the collar and the cuffs, even if he wakes up, he’ll be powerless to do anything.” He gave Qui-Gon a one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe he’ll wake in time to see me take out his Master. Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

“Hmm.” 

“Perhaps you ought to remove his head as well. He’s as pathetic as the other two and it would please me greatly.” He rolled his eyes as Darth Zannah appeared, materialising on Qui-Gon’s right with a sneer strong enough to curdle bantha-milk. “It’s a fitting fate, given how much they’ve embarrassed their lineage.” 

“They were good opponents,” he sighed. “Misguided though they were.” 

Zannah snorted derisively. “Misguided? They were weak. They should never have been taught the ways of the Sith. It was clearly wasted on them, and you know it.” 

“Standards have been known to drop in most things over time,” Qui-Gon said wryly, hands folded in front of him and smiling serenely at the seething woman. “I guess the same can be said for the Sith.” 

“Just as it can be said for your pathetic Jedi!” 

“Zannah, I thought you said you had better things to do than watch me complete my mission.” The argument between the pair had become a near weekly thing, and he’d long since grown tired of it. When Sidious was dead, they were more than welcome to snipe at each other to their heart’s content in the Force where he couldn’t hear them. For now, he’d prefer it if they both shut up. 

“She just didn’t think you’d make it this far.” That was Ulic, who appeared between Zannah and Qui-Gon grinning widely, his materialisation effectively silencing the bickering pair. “Now that you have, she’s curious as to how the fight will play out.” 

“My line is supposed to be more powerful than what he’s fought,” Zannah snapped. “I expected more from them.” 

“Well then. I’m sorry to have disappointed you.” He couldn’t help but smirk at the dead Sith’s irritation, dark amusement bubbling to the surface. “Maybe your Sith Lord will provide me with more of a challenge than the others, although I doubt -” He groaned, clutching his head at the sudden, explosive stabbing pain behind his eyes. “Kriff.” 

“Breathe, Padawan,” his master said softly, his ghostly hand cupping his cheek and bathing him in a warmth that shouldn’t have been possible. “Keep your focus.” 

Deep breath in. Hold. Hold. Deep breath out. 

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, tamping down the dark side’s flare of primal excitement. That was the problem with being so open to the Force; emotions could grow and form a feedback loop that would sweep an unsuspecting person away. He wanted revenge against Sidious. Payback. The Force knew it, and so was feeding into that feeling to the point he couldn’t find his centre, and therefore the right counterbalance, which was why his head hurt. A sharp yet unmistakable warning to stop that train of thought before it got away from him completely. Qui-Gon nodded, pleased, as the pain dissipated. “Better?” 

“Thank you.” He breathed deeply twice more before giving Zannah a disappointed frown. “After all we’ve been through, I had hoped you had more faith in me, my dear.” 

Ulic sniggered none too quietly. Qui-Gon managed to contain himself, but the Force was pinging around him in his mirth. 

“I would gut you if I could,” Zannah retorted, but the corners of her eyes were pinched which meant she was fighting a smile and wasn’t actually angry with him – simply trying to maintain her image. 

“I know you would, dear.” 

They made an unlikely foursome. Three Force ghosts; Light, Grey, and Dark – and then there was him; the embodiment of all three. All joining forces for one common goal. 

The nine months he’d been away from the Temple had been long and arduous, filled with impossible challenges that he’d expected to fail time and again but had, by some miracle, passed instead; coming out the other side far stronger than when he’d entered. 

His research had led him all over the galaxy; to Qui-Gon’s home planet of Rishi, to Zannah’s tomb on Korriban, Ulic’s on Rhen Var, and everywhere in between. His time on Korriban had been even worse than Zigoola and Rattatak combined, if that were even possible, because it was there in the heart of the Sith’s Academy that he let the dark side in. Broken, battered, and on the verge of going insane, for the first time ever he accepted its teachings rather than rejecting them.   

It had been torture, and it had left his soul a charred, broken mess. After barely surviving those trials, he – for whatever reason – found himself crawling to The Valley of the Dark Lords and straight into Darth Zannah’s tomb, delirious with pain and ready to die. 

She’d laughed at his crumpled form. Mocked him. Told him he stood no chance against the Sith Lord he hunted, let alone her, and he was going to have to watch as the galaxy was torn apart by someone he loved; that the death of billions would rest solely on his shoulders. 

It was him, after all, that had trained the Chosen One. Failed the Chosen One. And now the Chosen One with his knowledge and his powers would unleash his fury on so many innocents. 

Her laughter echoed around the chamber, filling his ears until he couldn’t hear anything else except his impending insanity as she taunted him with his darkest fears. He covered his ears, desperately trying to block the sound out, but he could feel it resonating in his bones. 

Her laughter, her goading, was the reason he finally snapped. “If you will not help me, then you are useless,” he snarled at her ghost. The Darkness flooded him and drowned out Qui-Gon’s frantic calls of his name, his master’s ghost flickering out; once again hidden from him which only served to anger him further. They wanted him to Fall? Then Fall he would. Raising a hand and wrapping the Force around her tomb, Obi-Wan’s feral sneer was all teeth when the stone structure began to crack. “Your time in this galaxy ends today.” 

“You are weak, little Jedi,” Zannah cackled, waving a hand dismissively. “You’re not powerful enough to do anything but throw dust in the air!” Obi-Wan merely raised an eyebrow at the blatant challenge before releasing her statue. With a flick of his fingers, the monument to Lord Pall at the other end of the Valley exploded; stone flinging itself across the landscape and tearing holes in the dusty earth. 

The Force wrapped around her tomb once more, and Zannah was no longer smiling. “You were saying?” 

Tear himself apart, Altaïr had said. Well, he’d certainly done that. 

He’d been to Dathomir to see the Night Sisters, Malachor for the Holocron – which was now in Altaïr’s possession for study – and once he tracked her down, he went to Jabiim to force an aging Jenna Zan Arbor into getting him answers on the true purpose of the clones inhibitor chips. He’d been to the Force Planet Qui-Gon had been researching just before his death to learn more about the light side of the Force and to rebalance himself, before heading to Naboo to search for answers on Palpatine’s origins and rise to power; chasing the leads halfway across the galaxy and back again until he’d built a complete yet horrifying picture. 

Little by little he’d destroyed and rebuilt himself with knowledge of the dark side and how to wield it, whilst using the new knowledge of the light to avoid falling completely. 

It was a fine line to walk, a path Altaïr was right not to send anyone else on as he’d barely stayed on it himself. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Hold. Deep breath out. 

“How’re you feeling, kid?” 

Ulic was the only one of the three who truly understood what he was going through. The long dead Jedi-turned-Sith-turned-Jedi once more knew how much energy it took to wield both sides, and how much mental strength was needed to not be overwhelmed. Ulic was able to offer suggestions for maintaining balance when the Dark started clawing at his mind, or the Light threatened to drown him in its efforts to burn the darkness out. 

“Good,” he said after a moment, taking stock of his body and finding he wasn’t wrong. The fights with Maul and Savage had been quick and fast; barely taxing on a physical level, and the Force expenditure used against them, as well as Dooku and Grievous, had taken a moment or two to recover from but it wasn’t anything dire. “Ready to end this.” 

“That’s good,” Qui-Gon said quietly, peering up at the sky. “Because a ship has just dropped out of hyperspace.” 

Obi-Wan followed his line of sight. He couldn’t see it yet, but he’d also felt the shift in the Force signalling the new arrivals. 

Unconsciously, his fingers drifted to the two lightsabers that were clipped to his waist, the leather grips and metal shafts cool to the touch despite the exposure to the sun’s heat. His trip to Ilum, the first stop on his expansive mission, had resulted in the discovery of two crystals; one a pale pink, the other a beautiful gold.  

Unlike his previous crystal, these two were unfazed by the varying eddies of the Force they were exposed to. If anything, they welcomed the challenge he gave them; the strength and power within their small forms far greater than he could have hoped. They had both served him well, flawless extensions of the new... thing... he’d become. 

He just prayed the three of them were up to this one final task. 

Obi-Wan stood, brushing his fingers against the saber hilts once more before rolling his shoulders and offering each of the ghosts a deep bow. “You have been my dearest companions, and my greatest teachers. No matter what happens, thank you for everything.” 

“You’ll survive this, kid,” Ulic said, unusually sombre. “I can feel it.” 

“Surviving is not the same as winning,” Zannah pointed out, but there was no bite to her words. It was the first time she’d truly shown she cared; or as much as a dead Sith could. “Sidious has perverted the Force for decades, child. While the dark must continue to exist, the way he has wielded it is wrong. You must give yourself over to the Force entirely if you wish to win this fight.” 

Obi-Wan dipped his head in acknowledgement. She hadn’t said to give into the dark, or the light, but the Force. 

It was an important distinction, and perhaps it was the one lesson the Jedi still had yet to learn. If they did, then maybe they would find the balance they had been searching for from the very beginning. 

“Obi-Wan.” He turned to his master, swallowing thickly at the pride and love being directed at him. “My dear Padawan, I want you to know that I am beyond proud of you. You have done what no other being has done before; united the Force. You are stronger than any of us, and I know you will stop Sidious once and for all.” 

“But what if I fail?” he asked, a sliver of the fear he was feeling slipping into his voice. “What if I fail them all?” 

“You won’t.” Qui-Gon moved closer until there were scant inches between them, and Obi-Wan stared at him, shocked, when he felt very real hands grip his shoulders. “I know you won’t, my dearest Padawan. Sidious may be able to wield the dark side of the Force, but he has no idea how to use the Light. That will be your biggest advantage.” 

He nodded, briefly closing his eyes as he let his master’s unwavering faith fill him, before giving Qui-Gon a soft smile. “Thank you, for staying with me.” 

“There is nowhere else I would rather be.” 

“He’s here.” Obi-Wan looked up at Ulic’s warning, eyes narrowing in on the ship that was descending rapidly. “Remember, kid. You won’t be able to see us in the fight, but we’re here, and will continue to be until the very end.” 

“Use everything we have taught you,” Zannah added. “Don’t hold back. Even the slightest hesitation will spell your demise.” 

“If something goes wrong, listen for my voice,” Qui-Gon said, almost urgently, squeezing his shoulders once more before letting go. Obi-Wan immediately missed the warmth they had provided. “Listen for my voice, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon reiterated when his attention lingered on the heat dissipating from his shoulders, rather than his master’s words. “I will catch you. I will not let you cross the grey place without me.” 

He nodded, and the three ghosts vanished, leaving him alone. Obi-Wan pulled the left sleeve of his black spacer jacket up and tapped at the buttons on the wrist controller he’d strapped to his forearm, activating the camera droids he’d set out earlier and sparing a sliver of his attention to mask the sound of their electronics with the Force. Their reflector camouflage was already active, which meant that they were entirely invisible to his guests senses. 

One last button press connected the droids to Altaïr and gave her a live recording of the events about to unfold. The Master of Shadows would need every scrap of evidence she could get her hands on to ensure the Sith Lord no longer held power in the Senate – regardless of whether he died or not – and he was determined to make sure she got it.  

Satisfied he’d done all he could, Obi-Wan clasped his hands behind his back, waiting patiently for the ship to land. As he did, he gathered the Force around him like a cloak – allowing both sides to bolster his strength for the fight ahead.  

Whatever happened, this was it. Every decision he’d made since the day he was born, no matter how small, had led him to this. 

Deep breath in. Hold. Hold. Deep breath out. 

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” he whispered as the landing struts hit the dirt, before begging one last thing of the Force and, in some ways, his own body and spirit.  

“Please, don’t let me fail them.” 

Obi-Wan expanded his senses towards the ship to see how many people were on board. He needed to know if there was going to be collateral damage if they were loyal to Sidious, or to ensure the Council knew of any witnesses if they weren’t.  

Somewhat surprisingly, there were only two. Sidious’ ever loyal guard dog Mas Amedda was there, and there was the thrumming, sickly pulse of the corrupted dark side beside him. Sidious may have hidden himself, but he couldn’t hide the impact he was having on the Force. Not anymore. 

Zannah hadn’t been wrong when she said he’d perverted it for his own means. 

The ramp lowered, and the pair strode out to meet him; a sickly-sweet smile plastered to the Sith Lord’s face and his expression open. 

Ah, so he was maintaining the charade of Senator Palpatine. 

How cute. 

“Master Kenobi!” Palpatine greeted, coming to a halt and leaving a significant gap between them. Amedda stayed two steps behind and to the right, fingers clenched around his staff. While his expression gave nothing away, he was doing a poor job concealing his feelings. ”It’s good to see you. I was saying to Anakin just yesterday that I hadn’t heard much about you recently and was growing concerned something might have happened to the infamous Negotiator!” 

If he was trying to get a rise from him at the mention of his former Padawan, Palpatine would have to do better than that. Obi-Wan gave the man the smallest inclination with his head, hiding his smirk at the flash of irritation from Amedda. “Your concern was clearly unnecessary.” 

“You ought to be more respectful!” Amedda snapped, pointing his staff at him. “You are talking to the Supreme Chancellor and would do well to remember that!” 

As though that was supposed to be intimidating. “And you would do well to shut your mouth before I do it for you,” he retorted sharply. The Chargrian’s irritation morphed into fury, but Obi-Wan’s eyes never left Palpatine. There was no flash of emotion, no irritation or excitement. 

It was no wonder he’d been able to hide his presence all these years. His control was iron-clad.  

Obi-Wan looked forward to ripping that to pieces. 

“Gentlebeings, please,” Palpatine said, putting on a good show of being concerned by the outbursts. “There’s no need to fight. I imagine Master Kenobi is merely worn out from his recent battle.” Ah, so he’d seen the bodies, then. “Tell me; who is it you’ve defeated?” 

Hands now by his side, Obi-Wan flicked his fingers and sent the bodies and spiked heads soaring; driving them into the ground mere feet from Palpatine’s own. 

...And that right there was the Sith Lord’s first mistake. He didn’t flinch. Any non-sensitive would have at least jumped backwards at something coming their way without any visible warning. 

“Goodness!” the man gasped, as though he didn’t know exactly who they were before they landed at his feet. “Oh my, is this... is this the Sith you were hunting? Darth Maul?” 

“And his brother, Savage.” The ball of scrap metal landed beside the bodies a second later. “General Grievous, too. Count Dooku is in my ship, bound and awaiting trial.” 

At last, a small crack. 

Disbelief slipped beneath the iron shields before being hastily reeled back in. It was like a sudden blare of a siren before it vanished, it was so loud in the Force, and Obi-Wan knew he had him. “Well,” Palpatine said after a pause. “You have been busy.” 

“Yes, well, frankly it’s astonishing what one can do with so much free time when they’re not running all over the galaxy, fighting a pointless war,” he replied glibly. “But then, that’s what you wanted to happen, isn’t it? You wanted to send the Jedi out on missions that you claimed were vital for defending the Republic, when really they were just another part of your overall plan for butchering as many of us, and the clones, as possible.” 

“Watch your tongue!” Amedda snapped. Obi-Wan ignored him. 

“Given you were conspiring with Dooku this entire time, planning what planets would fall, which ones would survive the Separatist invasion and so on, it’s no wonder the Jedi were dying en-mass. Truly, it’s a miracle you didn’t try find a way to kill us all in one go.” He sneered, then, allowing the fury at what Sidious had planned to tint the edges of the Force and reflect on his face. “Oh, wait. You did.” 

“Master Kenobi, I truly don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kriffing hells, but he was a good actor. The confusion on his face and in his voice was spot on. It was no wonder everyone had believed him for so long, when he could put on such a convincing charade. 

It was infuriating. 

“I’ve never -” 

“LIAR!” he roared, before tamping down on the fire that exploded like molten lava through his veins. It wasn’t time. Not yet – but it was getting closer. “You tried to slaughter us on Geonosis -” 

“YOU WILL CEASE THESE BASELESS ACCUSATIONS RIGHT THIS INSTANT!” Amedda thundered, storming forward and jabbing his staff in his direction in what was likely meant to be an attempt to intimidate him. “THE SUPREME CHANCELLOR -” 

As far as Obi-Wan was concerned, Amedda was no more significant to him than a bug on the bottom of his shoe. He rolled his eyes. “That’s quite enough out of you.” With little more than a twitch of his fingers and a flare of well-deserved vindictiveness, Amedda was Force-tossed far across the barren landscape and out of sight. 

Should he survive the landing, Obi-Wan didn’t expect to see the Chargrian again even if he ran at a full sprint in an attempt to re-join them. If and when he made the long trek back, the fight would be well and truly over. 

Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the Sith Lord, the Force flowing through him. Light and dark were nothing more than an idea, now; a concept created by those long since dead who had refused to look at the Force and see it for what it truly was. Only what they wanted it to be. 

To him, it was simply the Force; the mysterious power of the universe simmering beneath his skin, and every fibre of his being humming in anticipation. Almost. Almost. 

“As I was saying,” he continued, as though Force-tossing people vast distances without batting an eye was an everyday occurrence, “you tried to have us slaughtered on Geonosis, and while many died it wasn’t the eradication you hoped it to be. But that was okay, wasn’t it? It wasn’t the end of the world, simply an irritating delay, because you’re planning on using the clones to finish your dirty work. You had the inhibitor chips programmed with a command fail-safe that removed their free will entirely. The Jedi, who trust the clones just as much as we trust each other would be caught wholly unawares when their friends, their brothers in arms turned on them and cut them down with no warning. And while the clones carry out your orders to wipe my people out, you plan to be in the Senate building, spouting nonsense and defending your actions about how you saved the Republic from the threat of the Jedi scourge. Does that ring any bells?” 

“Master Kenobi,” Palpatine said, glancing in the direction his Second had disappeared; tension settling onto his shoulders like a thick cloak. “I don’t know what it is you think I’ve -” 

The dagger Obi-Wan had buried in the sand went hurtling at the Sith Lord, no outward action made that could give him away, so attuned to the Force as he was – 

- and the knife came to an abrupt halt, hovering scant millimetres from the creature’s throat. Obi-Wan smirked as Palpatine carefully wrapped his fingers around the hilt and plucked it out of the air. 

“Congratulations,” Sidious sneered, eyes bleeding to yellow and the temperature plummeting so much that Obi-Wan could see whisps of his breath on each exhale. “So this is what you’ve been doing all this time. Hunting me. I must commend your efforts.” 

“That, amongst other things.” Obi-Wan dropped the final barrier, that last small resistance he’d held before the Force swamped him completely. It crashed over him like a tidal wave before quickly settling into place. He could feel the change happen in his soul, and his lightsabers thrummed in anticipation at his waist.  

There was a flare of excitement from the Sith Lord as he watched. “Well, well. It seems I’m not the only one to have Fallen,” he rasped. “All that time and energy I’ve spent trying to kill you over the years, when I really should have considered what use you could be to me, instead.” 

He palmed his lightsabers, gripping them lightly. “I have not Fallen.”  

“Your yellow eyes say otherwise.”  

Obi-Wan grinned fiercely. Trust a Sith to make such a mistake. “Then you are blind, Sidious, for they are not yellow. They’re gold. And do you know what else gold represents?” The twin blades sprung to life, humming excitedly in his hands, ready for battle. He shifted his foot back and dropped into Ahsoka’s favoured stance - a small homage to his Grand-Padawan. “The Jedi.” 

“The Jedi are not strong enough to stop me!” Sidious spat, activating his own lightsaber, the blood red blade thrumming with its own dark energy, the kyber crystals screaming in agony in the Force. The poor things had been tortured beyond belief, and their pain was like a vibro-knife slicing through his back. “They are all pathetic. Weak. Easily defeated and even easier to corrupt; just ask your former Padawan.” 

Obi-Wan snarled, the mention of Anakin making the anger curl in his gut. “You’ll never touch him again.” 

“I’d like to see you try stop me.” 

“Very well.” Drawing on the Force, Obi-Wan launched himself across the vast space between them, moving too fast for the eye to see; his kyber crystals singing out their own war cry as they raced towards their opponent. 

I am one with the Force, he thought as the sound of their blades clashing ripped through the air, the strength of the blow sending shockwaves ricocheting across the landscape. And the Force is with me. 

Chapter Text

There was an undercurrent of urgency that dogged their steps down to the hangar bay, their group moving with a single-minded focus that forced anyone in their path out of their way lest they incur somebody’s wrath for slowing them down.

Anakin followed along in a daze, catching the odd snippet of conversation as they went, but given the sound of his heart beating overly loud in his ears, he missed most of it. As it was, he was doing his best to keep pace with the others, his mind swirling at dizzying speeds from the one too many revelations that had been dumped on him in such a short amount of time, and it was all he could do to keep up.

He had a billion questions; each one more complicated than the last, and every one of them enough to make his head hurt. If it hadn’t been for Padmé and Ahsoka pressed against his sides, their fingers laced with his and tethering him to the here and now, he was convinced he would fracture into a million tiny pieces and drift away in the breeze.

Palpatine, the man who was his mentor, friend, confidant - was the Sith Lord.

But... it couldn’t be true.

Could it?

No. No it wasn’t. There had to be some kind of mistake -

But then... Obi-Wan had summoned the Sith Lord to Mapuzo and... Palpatine had received a note that he was needed on Mapuzo...

None of this made any sense.

Palpatine was his friend. His mentor. He was an ally of the Jedi. He was trying to keep the Republic from being overrun by the Separatists by ending the war as quickly and as peacefully as possible.

Palpatine cared about him. He’d always asked about his training in the Temple, and under Obi-Wan. He’d always made sure he was happy and did his best to help when he wasn’t. He’d always offered advice when things got so difficult that he had no one else he could turn to, because he knew no one else would understand.

Palpatine was his friend. He wasn’t a Sith. To be a Sith, he had to be filled with so much evil and hatred that it consumed him to the point it was impossible to miss, yet Palpatine was nothing but warm and kind and generous whenever he was with him.

He just... he didn’t understand. It didn’t make any sense...

But then... why else would Palpatine go to Mapuzo? From what he'd overheard Organa telling Mace, Mapuzo wasn’t even involved in the war because it was too far away and too poor in resources for it to be of any interest to either side –

– Which meant the precarious political situation Palpatine had claimed he’d been asked to assist with... was a lie.

But then, maybe Obi-Wan was lying to him as well? Maybe his master had a vendetta against the Chancellor because he was bitter about how long the war had dragged on, and he was using this as an excuse to remove him from the picture?

But how could he lie, a disproving voice that sounded exactly like his mother when he’d stayed out too long because he’d been watching a podrace, challenged, when Obi-Wan didn’t contact you?

The voice was right. Obi-Wan hadn’t contacted him about Mapuzo. In fact, Obi-Wan hadn’t contacted anyone about anything he was doing, except for Master Altaïr. The only reason the rest of them knew something was going on was because of his note to the Council, telling them the war was ending.

There’d been no names or locations given, no details that suggested anything of what he was doing or how. If anything, the lack of information made it clear Obi-Wan didn’t want them involved.

It was Altaïr who had confirmed Obi-Wan had been hunting the Sith Lord, and even then, she made no mention of who it was his master was confronting, only where. It had been him that put a name to their adversary.

Was it a coincidence, then, that Palpatine was going to the same planet that Obi-Wan had summoned the Sith Lord to? Or was it…

“Skyguy? What’s wrong?”

He blinked, only to startle when he found himself face to face with the unending lines of streaking stars as they hurtled through hyperspace. He hadn’t even registered them boarding the ship, let alone taking off.

A quick look around the ship showed him everyone had settled in for the long flight ahead of them. Padmé was across the hold with Bail, Plo, and Mace, deep in conversation. Kit and Altaïr were with Master Che and Kix having their own discussion; the Master of Shadows talking while the brows of the medics and her fellow Jedi dropped further with every word. Garen, Aayla, and Quinlan were seated on the edge of a table in the corner; Aayla standing in front of the two masters with a hand on each of their shoulders. He couldn’t tell if they were talking or simply sitting in silence. He couldn’t begin to imagine what the pair were thinking, given their relationship Obi-Wan.

Through the Force, he could sense Rex, Cody, and another clone that he thought he’d overheard Plo introduce as Wolffe when the trio arrived, in the cockpit. Rex was at the controls with Wolffe acting as his copilot, and Cody standing at the helm, the three of them laser-focused on their tasks.

Yoda was nearby, perched on a crate and watching the stars, seemingly lost in thought, while his padawan was pressed shoulder to shoulder with him in silent support, but it was hard to say who was bringing who comfort. Their closeness meant he could feel the tension running through her frame, and he realised she was looking at him, still waiting for an answer.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

“I just... I don’t understand,” he whispered hoarsely, shoulders hunching up around his ears, conflicted by what he’d been told, and what he believed. “Palpatine is my friend. Our friend. How... how could he be the ...” his voice failed him, his throat catching around the word Sith because it felt disrespectful to say that of the man, and yet...

“Friend of the Jedi? Or friend to you?”

Anakin blinked, startled by Yoda’s question. He turned and found the diminutive master nodding thoughtfully. “Hmm, yes. Friendly to you, Palpatine has always been. But friend of the Jedi? Before today, uncertain, I was. Now certain I am, that he is not.”

It was the first time he’d ever looked at Yoda and seen every one of the master’s nine hundred years. The troll’s shoulders were hunched, near curling in on himself, his pointy ears drooped low, and his gimer stick clutched tight enough that the wood creaked in protest. Normally the master was the picture of serenity, confident and sure in everything he did – but such emotions were absent now; instead taken over by sadness and hurt, anger, and so much worry that he knew it could only be centred around Obi-Wan.

For all the times he’d disagreed with Yoda, seeing him looking so small was gut-wrenching.

Anakin released his hold on his padawan’s hand and joined Yoda at the window, dropping to his knees as he looked to his Great-Great Grandmaster for guidance. Knowing that he wasn’t alone with such feelings, that the Grandmaster of the Order was just as unbalanced by the revelations as he was, was in many ways a great relief as it meant they could explore their way forward together.

A first for him, given how often he’d felt so alone when it came to his place within the Order.

“For too long, blinded by the Dark Side, the Jedi have been. Even harder to see, that which they wish to hide. Your fault it is not, young Skywalker. Misled, we have all been.”

Misled? Perhaps they had been, but the question remained - were they so sure that it was Palpatine who was responsible for the deception, or was someone else using him as their decoy? He, at least, still had his doubts that this wasn’t a big mistake. “I just don’t understand how it could be possible, Master. There are so many of us who are strong in the Force – surely one of us would have sensed something out of place if Palpatine was the Sith Lord, given how often we’ve been around him.”

“A broken protocol droid, I fear I’m soon to become if repeat myself, I must,” Yoda sighed. “Difficult to see, the Dark side is. So hard would it be, to use it to hide one’s true intentions?”

That gave him pause. Anakin frowned thoughtfully, thinking back to all the Sith or other Darkside users he’d encountered over the years. For each one, he’d felt them in the Force long before he confronted them; able to see the shade of light that surrounded them no matter where they sat on the Force’s scale.

Even Force Nulls, like the Senators and the Clones registered to him as pinpricks of light. But Palpatine? Try as he might, he couldn’t remember the Chancellor’s signature, and not for a lack of trying, either. It was like his mind couldn’t latch onto it, sliding right past as though it were a game of Notice-Me-Not, which shouldn’t be possible, unless…

“I think I need help,” he blurted, looking at Yoda with wide eyes. It felt as though he were standing at a crossroads, wavering over which path to follow. On the one hand, Palpatine was a friend and he trusted him. But on the other, Obi-Wan was the only father he’d ever had; and despite all they’d been through over the years, if there was one thing he believed, it was that when it came down to it, Obi-Wan didn’t make mistakes.

If his master was accusing someone of something, there was a kriffing good reason for it. “I’m conflicted, and I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

It was at times like these that he would seek out Obi-Wan for guidance. If there was one person he knew would offer their thoughts without trying to influence his own, it was his master – but right now his master was on some backwater planet, alone, and unintentionally at the centre of his conflict.

Yoda hummed thoughtfully, and Anakin braced himself; fully expecting a reprimand or comment about how disappointed he was that Anakin couldn’t decide if his friend was more honest than his family. When the green troll spoke, however, there was nothing of the sort. “Yes, yes. Much conflict I sense within you.”

The words were warm and sympathetic, and full of an acceptance he’d never expected; a thought that made him duck his head further in shame. Before today, he would’ve been too uncomfortable to confide in the older master, or ask him for help – now, he couldn’t help but wonder why he’d ever believed that. “Protective you are of the Jedi. Loyal you are to your friends. These qualities, an important part of who you are. Use them to find answers, we will.”

He peered up at Yoda, confused. “Emotion isn’t the Jedi way,” he challenged, faintly accusing, then winced when the gimer stick rapped him sharply on the head. “Ow.” 

“Dense you are being, Grandpadawan of my Grandpadawan. Ruled by emotions, the Jedi are not. But experience emotion, all of us do. A stronger connection to your emotions, you have always had. Follow your way, you must, if answers you wish to find.” 

“But you always told me -”

“When get to be nine hundred years you do, perfect I expect you to also be, if hold me to this same standard you do,” Yoda scolded, waving his gimer stick in warning and Anakin snapped his mouth shut, leaning away warily in case the troll decided to take another swing. “Mistakes we made with your training. Denied parts of who you are, we did. Understand this now, I do.”

Anakin shot Ahsoka a look to confirm she’d heard Yoda admit he was wrong – just in case the blow to the head was harder than he’d thought, and that he’d only imagined the whole thing – and based on her stunned expression, she hadn’t missed a word. “Deal with that later, we shall. Focus now you must, to find your answers.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. Close your eyes, young Skywalker. Listen to the Force. Listen to your heart. Listen to your instincts. Guide you to what you seek, they all will.”

“Yes, Master.”

Breathing deeply, the tension left his shoulders as he sunk deeply into the Force. The sounds of the ship faded into white noise, and a dusky sky blossomed into life before him; the inky pinks, blues, and blacks smeared with endless stars everywhere he looked. In many ways, it reminded him of Naboo, somewhere that was beautiful and peaceful, and currently a direct contrast to his tumultuous emotions.

Anakin gave himself a small shake and refocused, listening to the Force and letting it guide him on his journey. For too long he’d tried to control the Force and what it showed him – today, it was time to let it take the lead and guide him to where it wanted him to go.

It was hard to say how long he drifted amongst the stars as he followed the eddies of the Force, only that he did. He wasn’t entirely alone, he was surrounded by threads of gold, silver, copper, and faint blues; each one a direct connection to his family and friends, old and new. Any time he brushed against one, there was an echo of past conversations that had been had, and flashes of the emotions that accompanied them.

From all those threads, he could feel love and trust, exasperation, happiness, fondness, annoyance, and joy. There were so many emotions that the threads were overflowing, suffusing him with a warm energy, and it was then that it hit him, really hit him, what Obi-Wan and Yoda and all his teachers over the years had been trying to get through to him.

The Jedi did experience emotions – all the time, in fact, and if anything, they experienced emotions more than non-sensitives did; the Force magnifying those feelings tenfold in a way few could understand.

But unlike the non-sensitives, the Jedi didn’t, couldn’t, let their emotions influence their actions.

They accepted them, experienced them, but always separated themselves so they were impartial when difficult decisions had to be made. That was the true meaning behind the no attachment rule, and what made them different from everyone else; the ability to put themselves last.

The Jedi weren’t the heartless mystical monks that many accused them of being. If anything, they were the most selfless beings in the galaxy because they would give their lives if it meant saving countless others. More than that though, the Jedi were a family; and with that came all the laughter, bickering, in-fighting, fears, grief, and love that accompanied it.

Hell, he’d seen – more than he wanted, admittedly – Obi-Wan's relationships with Garen and Quinlan grow and strengthen over the years. But always, always, his master and pseudo-masters had put their duty to the Jedi and the Republic above their dedication to each other. 

He’d seen this for years, accepted it for what it was, and yet for a reason he couldn’t explain, he’d convinced himself that his situation was unique; that no one could know of him and Padmé because if they did, he’d be banished from the Order.

Thinking on it now, when he was so deep in the Force and everything was so much clearer, he couldn’t for the life of him understand why he’d ever thought anyone would want to prevent him from being happy in the first place.

You know the reason why, a different voice whispered in his ear, one he didn’t recognise but felt familiar all the same. It had the same strength and warmth as the Force, and he wondered if the words were in fact guided by the mystical energy that bound them together. You didn’t come to this conclusion by yourself.

No. No he hadn’t.

The question now was how had he, and what else had he been led to believe that wasn’t true?

Anakin jolted in surprise when his drifting was brought to a sudden halt. Looking around, he couldn’t see anything except an endless sea of stars – but when he reached out, his hands went flat against a barrier. It was invisible, or perhaps reflecting the stars around it to hide its presence – but either way it was solid, and more importantly, it wasn’t letting him go any further.

“Master Yoda?” he called, running his palms across the smooth surface as he looked, and failed, to find the edge of it. Drumming his fingers, flesh and metal, elicited no sound; but ripples rolled never-ending across it and there was a chill that clung to the tips of his fingers, making them numb. “What is this?”

“Hmm.” The green troll popped into existence beside him, a clawed hand curled around his jaw as he studied the barrier. “Curious, this is. Natural, it is not.”

He frowned down at the master. “How is that possible?”

“Placed here long ago, this was. Overlooked, it was intended to be.” Luminous green eyes turned on him – piercing, but not intimidating. “Led you to it, the Force has. Find your answers behind it, you will.”

Nodding, Anakin used the Force to probe the wall for any weaknesses – only to stare, baffled, when he realised he couldn’t even sense it. A quick brush of his hand confirmed it was right in front of him, but try as he might, the Force was unable to touch it, sliding off the barrier like water from a rock.

That explained why he’d never noticed it before. It was like Yoda said; it was hard to see that which was deliberately hidden.

“How do I get rid of it?”

“Difficult, I suspect this will be. Built with nefarious purposes, this barrier was.” Yoda tapped a claw against its surface, and Anakin flinched when the wall zapped the diminutive master in retaliation. Thankfully he was unfazed by the strike; simply staring where it had struck his hand with interest. “Protect you I can, but assist in its destruction, I cannot. Built using dark emotions this was; anger, fear, hate – destroy it with the opposite, you must.” His ears twitched as he looked up at him. “Understand, you do?”

Combat the Dark by using the Light? That part he understood, but if the wall was as big as it appeared, how was he supposed to bring it down? Hug it so it felt those Light emotions? “I… think so,” he said slowly. “But how do I actually do that?”

He didn’t even see him move. All he knew was that he was now sporting a gimer stick-shaped bruise on his shin and he was desperately trying to avoid swearing at the Grandmaster who started chunnering irritably. “A Jedi you are, thick though you sometimes may be. Possess you do, a Jedi’s weapon, hmm? Or misplaced it again, have you?” Yoda’s ears twitched in disgruntlement. “Unsurprised by this, I would be. Grow on trees, lightsabers always have in your lineage.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, deliberately not commenting on the fact that they were of the same lineage and therefore if anyone was to blame, it was Yoda. In his defense, he hadn’t even realised he had his lightsaber here, let alone that he could use it. “Y’know, I’m not as bad as... as…”

The thought of his master had the quick retort dying on his lips, shame curling in his gut and making him shiver. Obi-Wan was out there, alone, because of him – with no one like Yoda to guide him, and no one like Ahsoka to support him.

He was just… alone... 

“Help Obi-Wan soon, we will,” Yoda said gently, having sensed where his thoughts had gone to. “But help you first, we must.”

He nodded. To help Obi-Wan, he needed to find the truth about the Sith Lord - and to do that, he needed to see what was behind this blasted obstruction. With that in mind, Anakin palmed his lightsaber and ignited it, the crisp blue of the kyber crystal reflecting off the wall and into the stars behind him, its light cast far and wide.

Yoda jumped on his back, and he waited for the old master to guide him. “Focus you must on the Light,” the master instructed, a clawed hand patting the top of his head once before settling in his hair. It was strangely comforting – but more than that, the strength of Yoda’s connection to the Force was incredibly grounding. “Allow it to fill you. Allow it to guide you.”

The Force chimed an agreement around him like soft bells in his ears, the sound filling him with surety and bolstering him as he prepared to strike.

There'd been so many good memories over the years it was impossible to think of them all. Closing his eyes, Anakin focused on a select few; like his love for his wife and his friends, and the joy he felt when he was with them; the pride he felt when he thought of Ahsoka and Obi-Wan; the laughter he’d always shared with Quinlan, Garen, and Aayla growing up when they’d decided to prank Obi-Wan; the contentment he felt when tinkering with droids in his spare time; the awe he’d felt when he stood in snow for the first time, and the shocked delight of the snowball fight Obi-Wan instigated that ended with the pair of them huddled around a fire, shivering, but unable to stop laughing.

He focused on those memories, let them fill his heart, mind, and soul, and swung his lightsaber; slashing it across the wall’s surface as quickly and as powerful as he could make it.

As soon as he struck, there was a bolt of lightning that snapped out at his blade in an effort to deflect it, while the wall shuddered but stayed standing; ripples cascading outwards across the surface as it absorbed the impact. Yoda extended his free hand, and there was a surge of power from the small master that beat the lightning back. He could feel the battle between them, but Yoda didn’t flinch. “Again,” the master instructed just as he spotted minute crack where he’d hit; practically invisible to anyone not looking for it, but it was like a beacon calling out to him. “Easy, this will not be, but together, destroy it we shall.”

“As you say, Master.”

With Yoda shielding him, and the Light filling him, Anakin struck the wall again and again and again – never pulling his attack, and each time making the crack larger; web-like fractures racing across the surface, its strength unable to stand up to his own – the Dark quickly overwhelmed by the Light.

He was so close, but still it stayed standing; the lightning jumping out at him from all directions like a power coupling with a faulty connection. “New plan,” he growled, drawing his arm back and stabbing his lightsaber into the center of the cracks like he’d done to so many blast doors before – and as expected, the heat from the lightsaber speared through.

The wall shone bright white and gave a roar as it came crashing down. He yelled as the lightning slammed into him and Yoda both, sending them flying, and –

Peace is a lie. There is only passion.

…The Sith are more powerful than the Jedi, Sidious...

...The Force can be bent to your will...

Through passion, I gain strength.

...Because we are not afraid to feel…

…Often there is a cost…

Through strength, I gain power.

…Deception begins with bureaucracy…

…Powerful rituals of the Darkside…

Through power, I gain victory.

...They fear you. In time, they will destroy you...

…Exact a toll few are willing to pay…

Through victory, my chains are broken.

...We shall be watching your career with great interest...

The truth of you, now and forever more, will be Sidious…

The Force shall set me free.

“Kriffing stupid Jedi with their kriffing stupid, karked up magic!”

“Kix -”

“No! How the hell am I supposed to treat something I can’t even see!”

The person complaining sounded like he was arguing with himself. It was hard to tell though, given he could hear them, but not see them.

Anakin wasn’t sure where he was, or what he was doing, but what he did know was that he hurt everywhere – more so his head than anything else, but even his limbs felt like they’d been weighed down by duracreet. Pain wasn’t unusual, it was a constant most days in some way or another – but right now he ached so much that he was scared to move, because doing so would undoubtedly make everything worse.

“C’mon Master, it’s time to open your eyes.”

He thought he recognised the voice, but it was hard to tell. Female, most definitely, but beyond that he wasn’t sure. Besides, had they not listened to what he just said? He was quite happy lying here doing nothing, thank you very much.

“He’s awake?” the male that had been arguing with himself, asked.

“Well, he’s not unconscious,” the woman amended, just as cool fingers drifted over his forehead. “But whether he’s actually awake or just vaguely aware of what’s happening is harder to say.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I can fix that.”

“Kix no -!”

Anakin jolted upright with a gasp, eyes flying open when someone slapped him hard across the face. His trip upwards was quickly aborted in favour of curling in on himself, whimpering and clutching at his aching head. Everything was suddenly too loud, and all he could see was a blur of colours that spun so quickly, he was seriously concerned he might throw up.

Everything came flooding back to him, the suddenness of the blow smacking his brain back into gear and bringing with it names, places, and memories – each one slamming into him like a ton of bricks, and he whimpered again.

“Your bedside manner is terrible,” Ahsoka scolded, gentle hands curling around his shoulders and guiding him back down. “Take it easy, Skyguy. There’s no need to sit up just yet.”

“I can’t believe you just struck the General!” That was Rex, indignation clear in his voice. Ah. So Kix hadn’t been arguing with himself, but his captain. “What is the matter with you?!”

Kix sounded far too smug when he said, “It worked, didn’t it?”

He knew he should be mad that his medic had struck him without a good – he swatted blindly at the man when his thigh was stabbed with something sharp; the pain sudden and wholly unexpected. “Stop that.”

“I swear to all that’s holy, General, your attempts to outdo General Kenobi in the dramatics department are not something to be proud of,” Kix continued, having effectively silenced Rex for the time being, and completely ignoring his own protest. “I only briefly served under that man, but it was enough to know that he can be a loose cannon at the best of times, and it would be within your best interests if you modelled yourself after someone who wasn’t chaos-incarnate.”

Anakin cracked his eyes open to glare at the medic. “’m not dramatic.”

There were multiple snorts at that.

“Why don’t you try that again,” Ahsoka snickered. There was something slightly off about the sound, but with how awful he felt, he couldn’t place what it was. “If you’re lucky, you might eventually convince someone.”

“’m not dramatic,” he grumbled again, swallowing against the bile that was determined to make itself known. “Kix, what did you give me?”

“Something to help with the nausea,” his medic replied, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead. “You’re also running a fever, so it should help with that as well. For now, stay down and let the medication kick in. You’ll feel better in a few minutes. Sir,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Given his medic had just slapped then stabbed him, Anakin felt the formality was a bit pointless.

He closed his eyes again as the sounds of the ship and those within it washed over him, surprisingly soothing despite how noisy it was, and it took everything in his power to stay awake. Already, he was beginning to feel better – the churning of his stomach slowing, and the spinning sensation coming to a gradual stop. When he opened his eyes, the inside of the ship was no longer a blur of colours, instead they were fuzzy outlines that were slowly sharpening with every breath he took. Padmé’s coat was tucked around him, the material soft and warm with a hint of her favourite perfume clinging to the fibres, and someone had been thoughtful enough to place him on a thin sleep mat, rather than leave him on the metal floor.

His head was still stuffy, but with the way Ahsoka was carding her fingers through his hair and the gentle scoop-pull of the movement, he figured that pain would fade quickly. “What happened?” he asked, peering up at her and frowning when he saw she was massaging her forehead with her free hand. “You okay?”

His padawan sighed shakily, her fingers leaving his hair and coming to rest on his shoulder instead. He missed the sensation immediately. “You were unconscious,” she admitted softly. “Whatever it was you and Yoda did, it was enough to knock you out.” 

“With all due respect, Commander,” Rex interrupted, shooting Ahsoka an unimpressed look, “but why don’t you try that again?” He turned to Anakin next and said, “Whatever it was that you and General Yoda did, Sir, knocked all of you out; including the Senators.”

That had him jerking upright, lingering nausea momentarily forgotten as he stared at his captain and padawan in alarm. “What?!” he squeaked, eyes darting around the ship’s hold. Sure enough, it was only the clones that weren’t showing visible signs of pain; a few of the older masters rubbing their foreheads or wincing as they spoke, while Bail and Padmé were looking decidedly green. 

Yoda was perched on the crate above him, but he looked even more weary and worn than he had at the start. “Master, what happened?!”

“Found much, you did,” Yoda replied, clearly exhausted. Vokara was hovering over him, but staying out of the way. “Yes, yes. Much indeed. More perhaps, than expected, but still important, it was.”

With Ahsoka and Kix’s help, Anakin shifted onto his knees, and he was silently relieved he didn’t keel over again when his stomach protested the movement. Whatever he’d been injected with, it was already working wonders.

“Well hidden, the darkness in your mind was. Stubborn it was, in its removal, but succeeded, you have.” Yoda waved a hand around the hold at their fellow Jedi. “Blinded by the dark side, the Jedi have been, but how true that was, even I did not know. A conduit you were; your strength in the Force magnifying the influence, slipping past us unnoticed. When removed the darkness from your mind you did, ripped its effects from ours, you did also.”

It was like he’d been dumped in a Hoth snowdrift. He was the reason the Jedi had been suffering under the effects of the Dark side of the Force for so long? 

“Your fault, this was not,” Yoda grunted, gently poking him in the chest with his gimer stick. Clearly, he'd not done as good a job at keeping the horror off his face as he’d thought. “Betrayed you were, just as we were. Ask you now, I do - questions you had before; but answers, you have now found, hmm?”

The Sith’s words came back to him in a rush; each of them laced with darkness and a hatred so strong, it made him shiver involuntarily. That wall had been planted in his mind years ago by a Sith, he knew that now. It had been placed there so that they could control him by messing with his sensitivity to the Force and corroding his trust in his family.

Every happy memory he had, had been tainted with darkness in order to manipulate him – and all of it had been done without him noticing a thing.

But it wasn’t just any Sith that had done this. It was the Sith.

The Sith Lord.

Palpatine.

No, not Palpatine. Darth Sidious.

“I’m going to kill him.” All conversation around him ceased, everyone’s attention turning to him. Whether they were with him or against him, he didn’t care. No one would be able to sway him from this; not after everything that sleemo had done.

Anakin got to his feet, Ahsoka and Kix a steady presence at his side. “I’m going to kill him for what he’s done to us.”

“Normally I’d say murder isn’t the Jedi way,” Windu replied, lips pinched at the corner, and his tone telling Anakin the man was barely keeping a rein on his temper. “In this instance, however, I’m more than happy to make an exception.”

“I’ll be in the front row seats with snacks,” Garen snarled. 

“I’ll hold him down while you do it,” Quinlan added, his face like thunder.

Anakin could only begin to imagine what the older Shadow was thinking. To learn that all the pain and suffering Quinlan had put himself through a year ago, to come so close to Falling in order to find the Sith Lord but fail – then learn that Sidious had been on their doorstep the entire time, had to be a torture of the worst kind. 

“We can plan Palpatine’s well-deserved execution later,” Mace told them. With nothing else mentioned on his plans, Anakin figured that meant the Head of the Order would be the one supplying the drinks. “What we need to know now is what is his end goal, and what does Kenobi plan to do to stop it?”

“Well then, I guess it’s time I filled you in on the rest of Obi-Wan's mission.”

They all turned to Altaïr; the Master of Shadows standing in front of the holo projector with a data chip in hand. The Tholothian’s expression was grave, and Anakin felt his heart skip a beat. Honestly, Palpatine’s betrayal was already enough of a bitter pill to swallow – he wasn’t sure he could handle anything else.

Chapter Text

Anakin staggered away from the group, head spinning and his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He’d known it was going to be bad, but Altaïr’s report had struck with the strength of a proton torpedo, leaving devastation and horror in its wake. 

Mind control. 

Loss of autonomy.  

Their friends turned against them.  

The complete execution of the Jedi Order. 

He’d been right – he wasn’t ready for what Altaïr had to say; and based on the shock reverberating loudly through the Force, no one else had been any better prepared. 

The inhibitor chips that were supposedly designed to reduce the aggressive nature of the clones weren’t really for that purpose at all. Instead, the Sith had gotten involved with their programming and had added a line of code that when verbally activated, would turn the clones into mindless slaves, all at once, and obedient to every order given by Sidious without question. 

Ever since the clones had been introduced to the Republic, comments had circulated amongst senators and civilians alike that these men – these bright, shining individuals in a sea of identical faces – were nothing more than meat clankers made for the Republic; designed to be cannon fodder and easily replaceable. Even the senators and civilians whose planets had been saved by the clones willingly slandered them; turning a blind eye to the fact that it was the clones who’d bled and died to protect their freedom, not themselves. 

But to the Jedi – the ones who served and bled alongside these men just as often as they joked with them, they were their own people with their own personalities, their own thoughts and dreams. They’d always been aware of the slave stigma that was attached to their troopers, and along with the support of planets like Naboo and Alderaan they were doing what they could to change that – to have these men identified as real people, and therefore treated as such. 

So to learn that the chips in their heads would wipe away all autonomy with a single phrase, turning them into the mindless soldiers they were accused of being, it hurt. 

And as if that wasn’t enough, to learn that the clones were to be turned against the Jedi, used to slaughter them all... he had no words. 

They had come close, so close, to losing everything they held dear at the hands of the people they’d trusted and fought beside for years; a betrayal instigated by another they’d trusted for even longer. 

By that point, the nausea that had faded from his stint of unconsciousness had returned with a vengeance, but before he could do so much as think about finding something to vomit in the briefing had come to a grinding halt as they’d had to physically restrain Cody, Rex, and Wolffe who wanted to execute themselves in order to protect the Jedi on the ship. 

That had been horrifying to witness, and it had only been Vokara and Kix’s panicked shouts that they could deactivate the chips that stayed the trio’s overly sensitive trigger fingers. 

Apparently, Altaïr had approached the Jedi Healer in the dead of night to debrief her on the chip situation. She in turn had contacted Kix, as the pair had secretly been investigating the true cause of Tup’s erratic behaviour and Fives’ belief there was something more to their chips after their deaths a few weeks before. Neither Vokara nor Kix had believed the Ringo Vinda parasite to be the cause, which was why they’d already been looking into the situation between their other duties. Altaïr’s information on the true purpose of the chips was simply the final piece of the puzzle to their investigation. 

Armed with the new knowledge, Vokara had successfully deactivated Kix’s chip prior to boarding the ship. It was why the pair were able to talk the other clones down and drag them off to do the same to them using the equipment they’d brought with them. 

Someone had thrown up as the small group headed to the medbay. Anakin wasn’t sure who it was, but he’d been about two seconds away from following suit – and would have, if it wasn’t for Altaïr’s next words. 

Amongst the ever-growing horror she delivered, so too did she give them a glimmer of hope. It wasn’t just the four Clones on the ship whose chips were being deactivated, but it was also every Clone on Coruscant – ground-based or in orbit - thanks to Vokara and her team of medics. They’d called the Clones into the Medical Bays under the guise of completing post Ringo Vinda inoculation checks, when they were in fact using the same programming software the Kaminoans had used to deactivate Tup’s chip when they were looking into the ‘malfunction’. 

It had been a tough decision not to remove the chips entirely, but in the end the Healer and Master of Shadows had decided that mass deactivations were the priority over surgeries that would take ten times as long to return the same results. Once the Sith was dealt with and the threat gone, they’d start the removal process for the entirety of the garrison – without the Senate’s knowledge, and much to Bail and Padmé’s emphatic approval. 

Mace had asked earlier what Sidious’ end goal was, and Altaïr had told them. It was terrifying to see how close they’d come to losing everything and everyone, and more so that without Obi-Wan, they wouldn’t have even known about it until it was too late. 

Altaïr finished speaking, and Anakin muttered that he needed a minute before he left the room, not bothering to wait for an answer or dismissal. There was a crate in a secluded part of the ship that he dragged over to the windows to watch the stars streak past as he tried to wrap his head around everything he’d been told while fending off the panic, fear, grief, and anger that was threatening to overwhelm him. 

One of the biggest lessons he’d learned from Obi-Wan over the years was that it was important to have a clear mind before entering a difficult situation. Whether it was troubled thoughts or conflicting emotions that had a person off-kilter, it was always crucial they were worked through so they wouldn’t influence the new problem. 

There was a lot for him to work through before they made it to Mapuzo. 

According to Altaïr, so much had happened to his master in the nine months he’d been gone. So much more than any one person should’ve dealt with alone. It didn’t matter how the Master of Shadows framed the reasoning behind the mission; Anakin knew in the deepest parts of his soul that Obi-Wan had willingly chosen to put his body and soul on the line not just to save the Jedi and the billions of innocents in the galaxy, but to save him. 

If he’d ever needed proof that Obi-Wan cared for him like he’d always wanted, yet always believed wasn’t the case – well, he had it in abundance now. 

Obi-Wan had been tortured on Malachor. He’d been tortured on Korriban. He’d barely made it off Dathomir alive after a trip to see the Night Sisters. He’d allowed the darkness to tear strips off his soul, over and over again, in exchange for the answers he needed to defeat the Sith while somehow clinging to the Light. 

And he’d done it all alone. 

Even if Obi-Wan had undertaken the mission on his own but told him what he was doing, he could’ve been there to help piece his master together when he was too broken to do it himself and protected him as he recovered. He could’ve taken some of the heavy burden from his shoulders and been the sounding board they’d always been for one another. 

Instead, Obi-Wan had marched into the depths of hell to save their people all on his own.  

He just couldn’t understand how their relationship had corroded so badly that Obi-Wan was convinced he was better off without backup. Without him. 

You know how it happened, that insidious little voice whispered in his ear, eliciting an involuntary shudder. Don’t pretend you don’t. 

Shame threatened to choke him despite knowing he wasn’t the only one to blame for his master isolating himself. They’d all been hurt when Obi-Wan had faked his death, had ignored him when he tried to apologise for it – and now because they’d refused to listen, Obi-Wan believed he’d been abandoned by those who loved him.  

His mother would be so ashamed of him for doing what he’d done to the only parent he had left. To make things worse, he wasn’t sure how to fix this, or if he even could.  

“Master?”  

“Not now, Snips,” he mumbled, shrinking in on himself further. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting there, but it was long enough that his legs were starting to go numb. “Go see... Aayla, or something.” 

A cup was shoved in front of his face, and he found the woman in question on the other end. He shied away from the sympathetic smile she gave him. The last thing he wanted, or deserved, was anyone’s sympathy. “She did come see me,” the Twi’lek said, giving the cup a small shake in encouragement. The aroma wafting from it reminded him of his master’s favourite tea; woody, with a hint of spice and fire-berries. Anakin had never been a fan, but the smell brought him comfort. He took the cup as he figured that was why she was offering it in the first place. “And now we’re here to draw you out of your moping.” 

“I’m not moping.” 

“Would you prefer we said you’d fallen into one of your moods again?” Ahsoka countered, rolling her eyes before squeezing herself into the non-existent gap at his side and nearly knocking him off the crate in the process. He only just managed to catch himself and his drink, glaring at her unrepentant grin. “Much better,” she chirped. 

“My... for kriff’s sake, I don’t have moods!” he groaned, exasperated. Whoever had started that rumour needed a kick up the exhaust pipe. “I--” 

“Would you prefer we called it ‘Anakin’s self-pity party’, then?” Aayla asked, crossing her arms over her chest. He glared up at her and she glared right back. “Because they both sound about right, to me.” 

He opened his mouth to argue, only to slump his shoulders. “How could I have been so blind?” he asked morosely, hanging his head in shame. “He’s been trying to turn me against you all for years.” More than that, he’d been trying to turn him against Obi-Wan. For so long, he’d been convinced his master was constantly disappointed with him, or resented him, or wished he wasn’t there – but how much of that had been a normal teacher’s exasperation with their student magnified a hundred times worse in his mind because of Palpatine’s machinations. 

How much damage had he done to his bond with his master, brother, best friend – unknowingly – because of manipulative comments disguised as concerns and sympathy from the man instigating the tension between them in the first place? 

By the gods, but he’d been ignorant – and Obi-Wan had suffered his anger time and time again because of it. He knew he owed his master the galaxy’s biggest apology the second he had a chance to give it. 

“That’s because it’s what that sleemo wanted you to think,” Aayla said softly, crouching in front of him and giving his flesh arm a squeeze. “He’s been manipulating you since you were a child, Ani. You were a little boy far from home, scared and confused, and upset over leaving your mum, then Qui-Gon’s death. He took advantage of that.” 

“And Master Obi-Wan didn’t try interfere, because he knew what that friendship meant to you, even though he didn’t like it,” Ahsoka added, as though she’d been there during his Padawanship and had seen it all for herself. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged. “I may or may not have heard him muttering under his breath about it a time or two after you left our quarters to go see him. He really did care about your happiness, Master.” 

Did. Not does. 

Was that because Ahsoka believed Obi-Wan was already lost to them? 

No. No, he refused to believe it. 

Anakin bowed his head, trying to regulate his breathing. If he didn’t, he was convinced he’d end up having a full-blown panic attack – not what he needed when half the Council and Padmé were about. 

Palpatine had always said he believed Obi-Wan was trying to hold him back by smothering his potential with rules and regulations. But now that that poisonous influence had been torn from his mind, he could finally see what everyone else had. 

Everything Obi-Wan had done for him since taking him as his Padawan, everything he’d done after he was knighted – every blind eye he’d turned and every faith he’d put in Anakin, was because he believed in him, had cared about his wellbeing, and wanted him to have the best education he could. 

Everything a caring master should want and provide for their student. 

“I’ve been a fool,” he croaked, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. “And now Obi-Wan could die because he’s trying to protect me.” 

“The duty of all Jedi Masters this is, to protect those under our charge.” 

Anakin looked over at Yoda who was leaning on his gimer stick, watching him sadly. The older master’s ears were still drooped, and Anakin could practically feel the weight of the galaxy on the small shoulders. “He wouldn’t have had to protect me if I hadn’t been blind to what Palpatine was doing.” 

There was the sharp tap-tap-tap of the gimer stick thumping the metal floor as Yoda joined them, and Anakin was given no time to protect himself before the stick was jabbed into his shin. Hard. “Again?!” he exclaimed, clamping his hand around his leg. It was the same blasted spot as before. 

“Idiot, you are being, Grand-Padawan of my Grand-Padawan, if believe stronger than a Sith Lord, nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker should have been!” 

“But-- no, that’s not what I--” 

“Protected you, we should have!” Yoda continued, ignoring his spluttered attempt to interrupt. “Protected you, we did not. Blinded we were, by the Dark side, and therefore failed to protect you, we did. Failed, you did not.” 

Then, gentler, he added; “love you as his brother, his best friend, his child, Obi-Wan does. Sacrifice himself to save you, he would always have done; the prerogative of a master to sacrifice for their student, it has always been. But doing this just for you, Obi-Wan is not. Doing this for the Jedi, and the galaxy, Obi-Wan is. A cause greater than himself, he knows this to be. Therefore, his decision...” Yoda blinked, eyes shining, and the sight rattled Anakin to his core; it was the first time he could ever recall seeing the Grandmaster close to tears. “Respect it, we must.” 

Anakin wasn’t sure if he could. Not because he didn’t trust Obi-Wan, but because respecting his master’s decision meant he would lose him. He didn’t care what the Code said about attachment; right now, losing Obi-Wan was a reality he just wasn’t ready for. 

“To hell with that!” 

He was saved from responding to Yoda by the outburst. Quinlan was standing in the doorway of the cockpit, his hands balled into fists at his side. The Kiffar was openly devastated, and Anakin didn’t have the heart to call him out on it when it reflected his own feelings. “I may respect his decision to hunt Sidious, Master Yoda, but I will not respect the fact it could take him away from us. We’ve lost too much already in this war, and I won’t let him join that list. Garen!” 

The Shadow whirled and disappeared back through the doorway. Sharing a look with the other three, Anakin hurried after him; Aayla and Ahsoka on his heels, with Yoda jumping onto Aayla’s back so he wasn’t left behind. 

“We’re trailing too far behind Sidious,” he heard Quinlan say as he rounded the corner. The Kiffar was pacing the length of the cockpit like a caged Nexu waiting to be unleashed when they joined him. “Tell me you know a way to shorten the gap.” 

Garen swiped away tears on his cheeks, his red eyes darting around those gathered before he nodded, almost hesitantly. Anakin perked up. There was only one thing shortening a gap meant to pilots. “You know a shortcut.” 

The older pilot nodded again. “If we drop out of hyperspace in ten minutes, there’s an old hyperspace lane we could take that would close the gap between us and Sidious’ ship to just minutes.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Windu asked, faintly disapproving yet more than a little hopeful as he too joined them. In fact, it seemed everyone was migrating to the cockpit – the possibility of doing something enough to draw them all in. 

“Because it goes through an extensive asteroid belt and is not something I’d navigate in a ship I’m not familiar with.” 

“But you’ve navigated it before,” Plo pointed out. “You must have, to know what it’s like.” 

“Yes, Master. A year ago, but my ship was a lot smaller, and a lot more manoeuvrable than this.” 

Finally, there was something he could do to help. “Good thing you’ve got me as your co-pilot, then.” He turned to Ahsoka. “C’mon, Snips. I need you on asteroid deterrent.” 

His Padawan let out a whoop of excitement, throwing herself at the gun turret with the newly returned Rex and Wolffe positioning themselves behind her. There was a shift in the atmosphere of the ship; the shame and anger that had been permeating the air quickly melting away to be replaced by hope and determination. 

Cody followed him to the helm, back ramrod straight; Obi-Wan’s ever reliable Commander. His master would be proud. “Anything I can do, Sir?” 

He clapped the clone on the shoulder. “You’re going to be my eyes when I use the Force to shove the bigger asteroids out of the way.” 

“I--” 

“Obi-Wan said you’ve done it for him in the past,” he interrupted, grinning widely at Cody’s not so silent groan. “Chin up. We’ll be fine.” 

“That’s what General Kenobi said last time, right before another asteroid clipped us and put him in the medbay for two days when he overexerted himself trying to reduce the damage,” the Marshal Commander retorted, indignant, before folding his arms across his chest and sighing again. “Fine. Let’s get it over with.” 

“Alright everyone, find a seat and buckle in,” Garen ordered, already fiddling with the navi-computer. Anakin dropped into the copilot seat and secured his harness. “It’s about to get rough.” 

“No wonder Obi-Wan hates flying with you, Anakin!” Padmé screeched as they swooped around an asteroid, her eyes squeezed shut and clinging to the seat armrests for dear life. “You’re a kriffing lunatic!” 

“Ahsoka! Asteroid three o’clock!” 

“Got it!” 

“Barely.” 

“Shut it, Wolffe! The Commander is a great shot!” 

“Says you.” 

“Naw, thanks Rex!” 

“EYES ON THE KRIFFING ASTEROID FIELD!” Wolffe roared, knuckles white against the back of Ahsoka’s seat. 

“Aayla, I hope all complaints about my flying no longer exist after this!” 

“Don’t worry, Master. You fly like you’ve still got your learner plates – these two fly like they stole something!” 

Quinlan whipped his head around, offence radiating heavily into the Force. “The kriff did you just say?!” 

“MULN! IF WE MAKE IT OUT OF THIS, I AM GROUNDING YOUR ASS!” 

“If you insist, Master Windu.” 

“OF COURSE I INSIST, YOU--” 

“Anakin! Bank right!” 

“FOR THE LOVE OF – YOU’RE GROUNDED TOO, SKYWALKER!” 

“What did I do?!” 

“This reminds me of my own racing days,” Bail said to no one in particular, watching the asteroids whip past them with interest, holding onto a railing rather than being strapped into his seat like Windu had ordered him to do, twice. 

“Triggering the need to go out for a fly yourself, Senator?” Kit asked, sprawled in his own chair and bouncing his lightsaber hilt on his knee, seemingly unbothered by the panic surrounding him. If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the chaos. 

“Something like that, yes.” 

“You race, Organa?” Garen asked, turning in his seat to look at the Senator with interest and making more than one person panic. 

“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE FIELD!” Windu snapped, greener than the Nautolan on his left. 

“Perhaps we should table that discussion for a later time,” Bail chuckled. 

Surprising everyone except Anakin and Garen, they made it out the other side in one piece. 

“I don’t care that you’re one of our best pilots,” Mace snarled, hunched in his seat and fingers dug into the arms in a white-knuckle grip, his face scrunched and dripping with sweat. “You are grounded for the next year.” 

“Fine by me,” Garen retorted, a fierce grin on his face as he quickly ran his post jump checks to ensure nothing had overheated. “We’ll be on the ground in fifteen minutes.” 

Anakin stared at the screen, stunned to see the small numbers on the navi-computer blinking back at him. The trip through the asteroid field had only been thirty minutes, which meant they had managed to close the gap to practically nothing. “Kriffing hells,” he swore softly. They were going to make it in time. “Engines to full power.” 

The ship shot forwards, stars blurring past the windscreen as they rocketed the final stretch towards the planet. While Anakin knew next to nothing about Mapuzo, the one thing he did know about it was that his master was there and needed all the help he could get. 

Silence settled around them like a thick cloak, near suffocating with its presence. Despite the distance between them Anakin tried to get a sense of Obi-Wan through their bond and what he might be feeling, but he couldn’t detect anything beyond an unusual roiling within the Force that reminded him of the wild seas of Kamino; surging and receding with every breath, thundering and violent and threatening to sweep an unsuspecting person away without warning. 

It almost felt like the Force was waiting with bated breath – it’s normally warm currents laced with electricity as they crept closer to whatever was waiting for them. 

An electronic chirp broke the silence several minutes into their short journey. Everyone turned to the sound, which was coming from the communicator that Altaïr held. 

“Master?” Aayla was the only one brave enough to ask when the Master of Shadows did nothing more than stare at the device. “What is it?” 

“Darth Sidious has arrived on Mapuzo.” Altaïr was far too calm for what was happening as she plugged the unit into one of the consoles and brought up a video with the flick of her fingers.  

“We have a live feed?” Rex asked, blond eyebrow arched at the Shadow in disbelief, prompting Padmé and Bail to hurriedly activate their recorders. They needed every scrap of evidence they could get for the Senate to ensure no one could defend the Sith Lord’s actions, and visual proof of his Fall was one of the best ways of doing it. “Won’t Sidious see the camera?” 

Altaïr smiled slyly. “Obi-Wan has contingencies in place to ensure evidence is gathered without needing anyone’s help. Sidious won’t have any idea the camera is there.” 

Anakin huffed a silent laugh at that. Obi-Wan was well-known throughout the Temple for his contingency plans, a by-product of his own apprenticeship with Qui-Gon and the countless times their missions went awry. His master had been forced to think outside the box so often as a teenager that it had become second nature to him, and it was one of the many reasons he’d been elevated to the role of High General at the start of the war – if Obi-Wan was involved in a plan, it was practically guaranteed to succeed because it had been analysed inside and out, back to front, top and bottom, and from some other obscure angle that only he could see and yet was crucial to mission success. 

As the signal connected, Anakin left the co-pilot chair and drifted closer; eyes glued to the startlingly clear video they were receiving even though they were so far away. The camera was trained on Obi-Wan; his master waiting for the descending ship to land with his hands clasped behind his back, expression peaceful despite the looming confrontation. 

Obi-Wan had always been lean, his frame lithe and wiry yet unbelievably powerful – but since the start of the war his time at the front meant he’d often survived on a hearty combination of rations, caff, and stubbornness, much to Kix’s constant frustration. 

He had no idea what his master had been living off the last nine months, but it honestly wouldn’t have surprised him if it was nothing more than determination and willpower as he looked thinner than Anakin could ever remember him being. Kix and Vokara’s grumbles of displeasure confirmed that Obi-Wan hadn’t been taking care of himself; at least not in the way he should’ve been, in their eyes. 

“I am force-feeding that man every ration pack we have when this is done,” Kix grumbled. 

“I know he’s thin, but damn,” Quinlan muttered, but he didn’t sound upset; if anything, he was in awe. Garen, who currently had his back to the controls, murmured an agreement – just as transfixed. 

Anakin took another look at his master and suddenly saw what the other two had. Gone were the Jedi tunics and brown cloak; in their place was a dark-caramel pilot jacket, the size big enough to hide a blaster or lightsaber but not so small as to hinder movement, with a black shirt and a couple of gold chains around his neck. His cargo pants were a dark brown, bordering on black, and the look was finished with his Jedi-issued knee-high boots. Given how comfy and practical they could be, it was understandable they were the one thing that survived the makeover. 

But his face... gone was the thick beard and slicked back hair – now he was sporting a close-cropped goatee, and his hair was just short enough to style back, but not so long that it went flat. He cut a stunning figure; sharp yet dangerous and completely different to what he’d grown up with. 

He’d always known that underneath the Jedi robes and hairstyle his master was considered attractive by most species, but that he preferred to keep it hidden so it wasn’t a distraction on missions. Seeing it out in the open this way… If one was to ignore the current state of his health, it was easy to see why Quinlan and Garen were so enamoured. 

“For Force sake, you two,” Mace groaned. “Please keep your focus on what’s happening and not on what Kenobi’s wearing.” Just past the exasperated man, Anakin saw Padmé elbow Bail who had gone bright red. 

“Yeah,” Quinlan replied absently. “Sure, Master Windu.” 

He valiantly beat down the urge to shudder. That was way too much information on his master’s private life, certainly more than he needed. Two long-term romantic partners had been hard enough to get his head around when he was a kid, but now Obi-Wan had something going with the Senator as well? 

Recent interactions suddenly made a kriff-load more sense.  

Thoroughly traumatised by this new revelation, Anakin shook his head and turned his attention back to the video in time to see Sidious’ ship touching down. There was no visible reaction from Obi-Wan as the occupants disembarked, his master’s expression barely shifting when they started talking. 

With the veil of the Dark Side now removed from his mind, he could see what the others had caught glimpses of over the years. For all that Palpatine was wide smiles and friendly words, his eyes held a cold rage that he hid very, very well. Even to someone who didn’t know him as well as Anakin did – or thought he did – there was something about the way Palpatine held himself as he greeted his master that just... didn’t match what he was saying. 

The Chancellor sounded confused. He even said he was confused by the accusations; yet it was obvious by his body language that he wasn’t as confused as he was making himself out to be. 

You could fake a voice and words, but you couldn’t fake subconscious movement. 

If he’d had any lingering doubts about Sidious before, he certainly didn’t now. 

A brief exchange of words took place, with Mas Amedda doing his best to resemble a puffer–pig when he challenged Obi-Wan. His usually warm master’s response was chillingly polite, bordering on a snarl but not quite reaching that point – but all that meant nothing when the bodies of Maul, Savage, and Grievous appeared out of nowhere and landed at Palpatine’s feet. 

Anakin gaped, both at the footage and at his master who seemed unbothered by the mutilated remains of the Jedi’s greatest enemies. 

“He did it,” Ahsoka breathed as their ship started to descend through the upper atmosphere. “He killed them all.” 

“He didn’t kill Dooku,” Windu pointed out, his expression giving nothing away even as he massaged his temples. Anakin winced in sympathy. The shatterpoints this confrontation had to be creating must’ve been horrendous. 

“But he did capture him,” Bail pointed out quietly. “That’s just as important.”  

It was a statement he wholeheartedly agreed with. Three of the biggest threats in the Galaxy, and specifically to the Jedi, had been rendered to little more than decaying husks, wasting away on the sands of some backwater planet. Unsurprisingly, relief flooded the ship; no one had been left unscathed by the machinations of the Zabrak brothers or the blood-thirsty rampages of the droid General, and knowing that they no longer had to look over their shoulders everywhere they went in case of a potential ambush was incredibly freeing. 

For so long, the trio had been responsible for the deaths of so many of their kin, and it was almost impossible to comprehend just how peaceful their lives might be now that they were gone. 

Good riddance, sleemos, he thought with a surge of joyful vindictiveness before promptly banishing the recently deceased from his mind.  

More words were exchanged, including from Amedda who apparently didn’t know when or how to keep his mouth shut, and then, quite suddenly: everything changed. 

Mas Amedda went flying - 

Obi-Wan was yelling - 

Palpatine was denying - 

A knife went flying - 

And then time. Stopped. Moving. 

“Congratulations,” Sidious sneered, and Anakin felt his heart stop at the utter evil in that one word. There was no mistaking the yellow eyes that were doing their best to burn a hole through his master’s head. “So this is what you’ve been doing all this time. Hunting me. I must commend your efforts.” 

Gone was the smiling, friendly man Anakin had known and trusted since childhood. The one he’d gone to for advice when he thought that no one else was listening to him. The one he’d confided in when he thought that no one else would believe him or understand what he was going through. 

The one he’d ranted to, time and time again about how Obi-Wan never listened to him, or understood him – and after the Hardeen incident, never trusted him. 

Gone was the man he’d laid his soul bare to for so long, the only one who seemed to have his best interests at heart – and in his place there was a snarling, smirking creature who’s very being oozed vile, destructive power. 

“That kriffing snake,” Padmé hissed, fingers flexing by her sides as though fighting the urge to wrap them around Sidious’ throat. “For everything he’s done, death would be too good for him.”  

Bail snarled an agreement, just as incensed. 

“That, amongst other things.” 

The proverbial knife was shoved into his chest further as the camera circled around – which he was still trying to work out how it was still present without the Sith Lord having destroyed it yet – and gave him a perfect view of Obi-Wan’s face.  

“Oh no,” he practically whimpered. “Not him. Please.” 

“He’s Fallen,” Kit breathed in disbelief, confirming he wasn’t imagining the yellow shine of his master’s eyes. “I... he...” 

Obi-Wan had Fallen. It didn’t matter what Yoda had said before; he knew full well Obi-Wan would never have allowed himself to succumb to the Dark unless it was what was needed to defeat the Sith once and for all. 

“Well, well. It seems I’m not the only one to have Fallen,” Sidious rasped, echoing their fears. “All that time and energy I’ve spent trying to kill you over the years, when I really should have considered what use you could be to me, instead.” 

“I have not Fallen.” 

...What? 

Hope blossomed in his chest, a miniscule bud that was so fragile a mere wisp of thought could shatter it irrevocably. 

“Your yellow eyes say otherwise.” 

“Then you are blind, Sidious, for my eyes are not yellow. They’re gold. And do you know what else gold represents?” Obi-Wan activated his lightsabers and dropped into a stance similar to Ahsoka’s own. The blades were beautiful, the pale pink and gold a startling contrast to the bold blue he’d known for his entire Jedi life. 

But it was the next two words that made Anakin’s heart skip a beat – that confirmed his belief and absolute trust in his master’s plan, whatever it was. 

“The Jedi.” 

“The Jedi are not strong enough to stop me! They are all pathetic. Weak. Easily defeated and even easier to corrupt; just ask your former Padawan.” 

Anakin’s snarl left his lips the same time as Obi-Wan’s. “You’ll never touch him again.” 

“I’d like to see you try stop me.” 

“Garen,” Quinlan called, eyes wide and terrified. “If there is even a sliver of extra speed to be found in those engines, now is the time!” 

“Don’t do it, Obi-Wan,” he begged out loud and through their bond, willing his master to hear him. It was too soon. They were too far away, but they were coming. They just needed a little more time to reach him. “Just wait -” 

“Very well.”  

“Kriff!” Anakin threw himself at the co-pilot’s chair while Garen’s fingers flew over the controls and they both tried to coax all possible energy into the engines, supplementing it with a bit of the Force for an extra push. “Everyone hold on tight!”

Obi-Wan’s signal led them over Mapuzo’s main settlement and into the middle of nowhere where there was nothing but dust as far as the eye could see. The only sign of life that wasn’t manmade was the odd patch of green that broke the otherwise lifeless brown.  

As they approached, they could see the vibrant blurs of red, gold, and pink in the distance and moving at a fast pace as the two duellists traded rapid blows. “You are far more powerful than I believed,” the Sith rasped, the words echoing around the hold and Anakin couldn’t help but shudder at the ice that slid down his spine. To think he’d once trusted him...  

The sound of whirling lightsabers filled the cockpit followed by an immediate clash. “Perhaps it was you I should have focused on from the start.”  

“Well, the Sith are known to regularly make poor life choices,” Obi-Wan taunted, and Anakin grit his teeth, biting back the curse that threatened to break free. When this was over, he and his master were having words about unnecessarily provoking the bad guys. 

“Muln, get us above the fight and hold at three thousand feet,” Plo ordered. “Then engage the autopilot and keep the ship at this altitude until we need it on the ground.” 

“Yes, Master.” Garen pulled on the yoke and the ship banked sharply, climbing quickly even as it covered the final distance to the two fighters. 

“Alright, listen up!” Mace called as the ship began to slow, and everyone’s attention turned to the Korun Master. Padmé, who was standing beside Anakin’s chair, took his hand and gave it a squeeze in silent support. “This fight is not just to save our people, but the entire Galaxy. The Sith’s tyranny and genocide of planets that oppose him has gone on long enough – this ends today. No matter what happens down there, do not give him an opening to target you for the sake of saving someone else’s life.” 

Anakin flinched. He’d been involved in plenty of fights during his apprenticeship, and even more since the war began. Too many for one lifetime, that was for sure, but not once had he feared the outcome like he did now; because now it wasn’t just the fate of the Jedi on the line, but everyone he loved as well.  

Here and now, his wife, his padawan, his friends, his beloved master-brother-friend could have their lives cut suddenly, horrifically short, and there was nothing he could do to stop it because Mace was right – Sidious couldn’t be allowed to survive. If he did, the galaxy was doomed.  

He just prayed the price of their success wouldn’t be so high. 

“We’re going to freefall in pairs: Skywalker you’ve got Senator Amidala; Tano, you’ve got Captain Rex; Muln, you’ve got Commander Cody; Kit, you’ve got Senator Organa; and Plo, you’ve got Commander Wolffe. Skywalker and Kit, when we’re on the ground your sole purpose is to protect the Senators. They cannot be harmed -” 

“Now wait a minute,” Bail protested, but the Korun master cut him off with a look. 

“This is not up for negotiation, Senator. You and Senator Amidala must make it out of this alive. You two are part of a very small group of politicians that truly care about the Republic’s survival and are not driven by greed. Even if Sidious is killed, the Republic will not make the changes it desperately needs to repair the damage that’s been done without you both. Your safety, whether you like it or not, is paramount.” 

Organa nodded, shoulders slumping and radiating resignation and displeasure into the Force. Padmé was doing much the same, and even he was hard pressed not to be upset by the decision. It was a hard thing, being told to not involve yourself in a fight that had the fate of everything hanging in the balance – but he knew that at least where he was concerned, it was the best choice. How often had he let himself believe what Sidious had said? How often had he fallen victim to whispered lies and half-truths that had unknowingly pushed him ever closer to the Darkside.  

At least at a distance Sidious couldn’t try to manipulate him again; and better yet, he would be in a far better position to help his family and friends if he wasn’t directly engaged in the fight. 

“Tano, Muln, and Plo; you, Commanders Cody and Wolffe, and Captain Rex are our secondary line of attack. While I appreciate the fact we all want the opportunity to take the Sith out, there are far too many of us to all be safely involved. The Clones will be our long-range attack; do not try box Sidious in – i want blaster bolts coming from one direction only as it will make it easier for Yoda, Vos, Secura, Altaïr, and I to assist Kenobi. The only one who truly has any chance at defeating the Sith Lord is Kenobi himself, however we can work to wear Sidious out and give Obi-Wan the opening he needs to end the fight. Just make sure you pace yourself, and don’t be afraid to pull back and act as defence when it’s needed. 

“When we hit the ground, Palpatine will be given one chance to come peacefully. Regardless of our history with the Sith, we are Keepers of the Peace and must give him the chance to surrender.” 

“And if he doesn’t?” Ahsoka asked, arms folded across her chest. 

Mace’s eyes glinted dangerously in a way that reminded Anakin of an apex predator circling before the kill. “Then he’s fair game.” 

“At the back, Master Che and Healer Kix will stay,” Yoda concluded, bright green eyes fixing on the pair in question. “Safe, they must remain. Feel, I do, that crucial their help will be at the end.” 

Vokara inclined her head while Kix nodded seriously, blaster in hand and his overfull medical bag strapped securely to his back. 

“Alright, any questions?” Mace looked for any comments, found none, and waved at Garen to activate the door. “Good. Let’s go.” 

They all headed to the ship’s exit where the humid air was flooding into the hold – muggy enough even at this altitude that Anakin felt the sweat immediately beading on his brow. He walked down the ramp and came to a stop at the base, Padmé wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face between his shoulder blades. For someone who wasn’t used to freefalling from ships, this would be downright terrifying – and he knew that from experience having felt the exact same as she did when he did it the first time. 

“Hold on tight,” he warned, before stepping off the edge. 

They plummeted towards the ground, Padmé’s arms squeezing to the point of being painful and her barely contained panic blaring loudly in the Force. Reassuring her was impossible given the wind was rushing loudly in his ears, so he instead focused all his energy on controlling their decent and trying to make it as smooth as possible, while also watching the way the lightsabers repeatedly tangled and broke apart down below. 

He shoved downwards as they closed the final distance to the ground and felt the Force surge around him as the others did the same. They were the first to land, a small cloud of dust billowing upwards as their boots hit the packed earth, and he immediately reached out to steady Padmé when she staggered. His wife gave him a nod of thanks, but her attention was on the fight – her holo-recorder up and going already so as not to miss a second of it.  

The others all landed mere seconds after they did, which was good because no sooner had they done so than Sidious let out a roar and there was a sudden, explosive surge of power as he Force-shoved Obi-Wan, blasting him towards the nearby cliff and well away from the rest of them. 

“OBI-WAN!” 

Padmé’s hand on his arm was the only thing that stopped him from launching himself across the clearing. He glared at the man he’d once called his friend, barely containing his fury. “You’ll pay for that.” 

“Stand down, Skywalker!” Mace barked before he could follow through on his threat, igniting his lightsaber and pointing it at Sidious. The rest of the Jedi did the same, all of them falling into a line - their weapons bright against the bland landscape. There were ten Jedi – eleven, with Obi-Wan or twelve with Vokara – against one Sith. It should have been a decisive victory with all of them there, but this was the Sith Lord. The fact that Sidious wasn’t already dead was a clear indication of just how difficult this was going to be. 

“Chancellor Palpatine; you are under arrest and charged with treason against the Galactic Republic,” he continued, his purple lightsaber held at the ready. “Surrender now, peacefully, and you will be taken into custody to face a fair trial.”  

What would happen if he didn’t surrender went unsaid. 

“Ah, the Jedi,” Sidious sneered, the words oily and dripping with malice as they left the Sith’s lips. “Always so righteous.” Yellow eyes flashed in manic glee. “And soon, you and your kind will be so very dead.” 

Dread settled in Anakin’s stomach as he watched the Sith touch something on his wrist, which triggered a very familiar mechanical whirring that echoed through the bowels of the nearby ship. He tugged Padmé behind him to put as much distance between the ship and himself as he could as he roared, “BATTLE DROIDS!” 

No wonder he hadn’t been able to sense anyone else with Sidious – why bring sentient beings that could be reasoned with and ordered to stand down when droids were only loyal to the one that controlled their programming. 

Everyone scattered as six MagnaGuards came running out of the hold and charged towards them, electrostaffs ablaze and their glowing red eyes promising death. They were followed by a dozen Droidekas rolling down the ramp, and Anakin had the split second it took their legs to extend to register they were in serious trouble before the Destroyers activated their shields and open fired.  

“TAKE THEM OUT!” Mace roared, lightsaber whirling as he sent the blaster bolts back at the Destroyers only for them to fizzle out against the shields. “DON’T LET THEM ISOLATE YOU!” 

“I could use some help!” Kit yelled back, his own lightsaber a blur of green as he deflected the fire of the three Droidekas targeting him. He was fending off a barrage of bolts that were coming too quickly for him to leap to safety without getting Organa killed in the process, leaving the Nautolan with limited options; while he was drawing heavily on the Force to keep them alive, without help it wasn’t something that would last for much longer. 

“Over here!” Anakin shouted at the older master, already guiding Padmé closer. Bail was sheltering behind the green-skinned Jedi, sweat on his brow and expression grim as he took pot shots with his blaster at any droid he had a clear line on without exposing himself. Aayla and Windu were the closest to assist and slid in front of the pair, their boots kicking up dust as they deflected the bolts which gave Kit the opening he needed to grab Bail around the waist and Force-jump them right next to Anakin and Padmé. 

Anakin slammed the bolt that had chased Kit into the ground. “You okay?!” He asked, glowering as he sent another bolt back where it had come from. Kriffing droids. 

“Fine.” The other master rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as the three Destroyers locked on them again. Anakin cracked his own neck and raised his ‘saber defensively, ready for the next assault. 

Around him, the others were all engaged in their own battles. Cody, Rex, and Wolffe were firing on whichever droid passed their crosshair to keep them distracted and give the Jedi an opening to dismantle them while Garen, Plo, and Ahsoka parried the blasts back at their opponents, doing their best to get within striking range so they could bypass the shields and destroy them. 

Quinlan and Aayla were tag-teaming two of the MagnaGuards off to his left, and Altaïr and Yoda each fought one on his right. Even Vokara and Kix were fighting; despite hanging back as ordered, there were two Destroyers firing on them which Mace raced to intercept at Vokara’s yell for help. 

With several bolts coming his way and seeing an opening to use them, Anakin redirected them towards Sidious who was hiding behind two MagnaGuards. The Sith cackled madly, flicking a lazy wrist and sending one of the bolt’s at Ahsoka who barely avoided getting hit thanks to Plo yanking her out of its path. “Now now, Anakin,” Sidious goaded. “Is that any way to treat your dear friend and confidant?” 

He snarled openly at the reminder. “You lied to me. Used me. Believe me, dear friend,” he spat, pouring as much vitriol into the word as he could muster, “I’m well aware of what you tried to do to me and my family, and I’m confident you won’t live to see another sunrise because of it.” 

“Oh my boy, you stand no chance against me!” Sidious purred – only for his taunt to turn into a shriek of fury when the two MagnaGuards that had been protecting him collapsed into a smouldering pile of slag. 

Startled by his master’s sudden appearance – where he’d literally stepped out of thin air, lightsabers whipping around in a tight arc and reducing the droids to little more than scrap – he grinned at Obi-Wan’s evident disgust.  

“I should’ve known,” his master sneered. “You’ve always been a coward, using others to do your dirty work.”  

Sidious snarled and charged at Obi-Wan who met the attack smoothly. Each swing he took was calculated and precise; years of training in the various ‘saber forms shining through against the sloppier handywork of the Sith. But what Sidious lacked in finesse he made up for with raw, unbridled power that forced Obi-Wan to repeatedly disengage and move back in, trying to find a weak spot to slip past his guard. 

Anakin jolted in surprise when Ahsoka crossed his path, and suddenly his attention was entirely on the MagnaGuard that was right behind his padawan, electrostaff whirling as it tried to take off her head. "Snips! Swap!” he ordered. Ahsoka executed a perfect side flip away from the staff that came within a hair’s width of her, landing between him and Padmé with her lightsabers held at the ready, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.  

His lightsaber was humming loudly, the kyber singing in excitement as he charged the droid. He ducked the strike that was aimed at his head, slamming the bottom of the electrostaff back down as it snapped up and twisted behind the droid; driving his lightsaber through the back chest plate before it had the chance to turn around. The electronics began to whir and spark even as the heat of his ‘saber melted them, so he slashed upwards on a diagonal and took the head clean off. 

The droid collapsed in on itself, but he had no time to celebrate as a glint of sparking purple flashed in the corner of his eye. Turning, Anakin bit back a curse as he saw three Destroyers and a MagnaGuard racing towards his master who had his back to them. “Master! Droids incoming, six o’clock!” 

Obi-Wan wrenched himself away from Sidious and leaped backwards – only to vanish into thin air. “What the kriff?!” Ahsoka gasped as her Grandmaster reappeared behind the droids, his lightsabers slicing two of the Destroyers in half. He ducked the electrostaff that swung towards his head, clipped his deactivated lightsabers to his belt and raised his hands, crushing the Destroyer and MagnaGuard with a generous application of the Force. 

Anakin blinked at the sparking metal that dropped to the ground. 

Huh. 

“Nice trick, Obes!” Garen yelled, flinging an arm out and clenching a fist, Force-Crushing the nearest MagnaGuard as though it were a tin can under his boot. “This would’ve saved us a lot of time and effort if we’d been doing this at the start of the war!”  

Anakin swallowed the comment he wanted to make because Garen was right: how many people had died because none of them had thought to use the biggest advantage the Jedi had to its full extent?  

He mimicked the older pilot, as did those currently fighting the remaining droids, and there was the distinct sound of screeching metal that surrounded him followed by an overwhelming sense of relief flooding the Force when their enemy was suddenly reduced to a single being.  

Sidious snarled at the loss of his droids and spun, thrusting his lightsaber at Quinlan who had tried to creep up behind him and it was only thanks to his reflexes that the Shadow avoided being impaled as he wrenched himself out of the way. 

“Vos!” he shouted, panicked – Sidious cackling as lashed out again, and the sudden burst of speed he used would’ve resulted in him decapitating the Kiffar if not for Obi-Wan reappearing between them, knocking Quinlan out of the way with the Force and well away from the fight. 

“Dammit, Obi-Wan!” Quinlan snapped, boots kicking up dust when he landed. “Let me help!” 

“Stay out of this!” 

Sidious’ next strike was blocked by Obi-Wan’s pink ‘saber with a reverse grip while stabbing the gold one forward. The Sith parried before slashing his lightsaber in a wide cross-arc, but Obi-Wan sidestepped and shifted in closer to meet it – parrying with his gold ‘saber and striking low with the pink and forcing Sidious back when he tried to block the move, scorching a long slash across the black robes. 

There was a furious snarl as the stench of burned fabric hit the air, Obi-Wan smirking as he stepped up his attack. The pair exchanged a rapid series of blows between them, each one stronger than the last and the strength behind them was enough to rattle Anakin’s teeth.  

There was so much power behind the strikes that the Force was surging around his master, driving him forward and giving him strength while also keeping anyone back that tried to approach. Never, not even in battle, had Obi-Wan been as powerful or as aggressive as he was being now – in fact, if it weren’t for the brilliant gold of his eyes there to remind him, Anakin would have believed his master had finally Fallen. 

“You cannot save them,” Sidious taunted as their lightsabers tangled together, his tone so cold and filled with malice that the hairs on Anakin’s arms stood on end. “I will kill them one by one, and you will be helpless to do anything but watch. Commander Cody!” The Clone Commander jolted in surprise, tensing at the bark of his name. “Execute Order 66!” 

The clones powered up their weapons, but their rifles weren’t pointing at the Jedi.  

“The only thing being executed here today, Chancellor,” Cody spat, Rex and Wolffe flanking him and all three with their guns raised and powered up, “is you.”  

“Did you really think I didn’t know about the chips?” Obi-Wan hissed as he struck out with his ‘sabers. “Did you really think I didn’t warn anyone?!” 

Sidious shrieked wordlessly, his fury at his army being stolen from him making the Force roil around him. There was no Force shove this time, or an attempt to attack. Instead, the earth began to tremble; the vibrations closely followed by a horrific roar that echoed across the plains as the ground fractured, gaping crevasses opening where they stood and the weakened earth collapsing inwards as it tried to drag them with it. Anakin swore and dove towards Padmé, tugging her against him and he jumped them to safety, Ahsoka leaping to Rex’s side to do the same. 

“You think that will stop me from tearing your pathetic Order to pieces?!” Sidious cackled, tearing large boulders from the earth and hurling them about, interspersing those attacks with blasts of lightning, the Jedi either catching the bolts on their lightsabers or twisting out of the way altogether. “You think I don’t have the power to exterminate your kind without the Clones?!!” 

Sidious gathered the Force around him before it exploded outwards in a powerful blast, the strength of it smacking into them like a tidal wave and knocking everyone off their feet – everyone, except for Anakin. He instead found himself pinned in place with the Force; his oxygen quickly disappearing as the pressure around his throat grew. He clawed helplessly at his neck, feeling the pressure building behind his eyes and in his nose as spots started to dance across his vision. 

“ENOUGH!”  

The Force surged around Obi-Wan as he raised his arms, dozens of boulders lifting into the air; each one suspended for a breath of a second before pelting towards the Sith Lord with a twist of the wrist. Anakin dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut as Sidious fended off the attack, gasping and coughing frantically as he tried to regain his breath.  

Padmé, Ahsoka, and Rex were at his side in an instant, gentle hands helping him upright. “Are you okay?” his wife asked frantically, aborting her attempt to touch his throat as she and Ahsoka helped him to his feet, Rex standing guard over them. “Ani?” 

“Fine,” he rasped, wincing at how awful he sounded. Kix was going to have a fit when he got his hands on him. 

“You’re powerless, Sidious!” Bail yelled. The Senator was no longer hiding behind Kit but standing next to him – his shoulders back and head held high, his usually cheerful expression marred by the barely contained fury rolling off him in waves. “You will never be able to return to the Republic! Admit you’ve lost and surrender!” 

“Lost?” Sidious repeated, his laughter crazed and unhinged. “Oh, my dear Senator, I have only just begun. The Galaxy requires order, and with Anakin by my side, I shall ensure that happens!” 

Anakin straightened involuntarily, his lip curled back at the reminder of all the lies and grooming he’d been subjected since childhood. The fact that Sidious thought he’d willingly join him... “I would never join you!” 

Yellow eyes flashed dangerously. “You won’t have a choice!” 

Suddenly, Obi-Wan was there; stepping out of thin air behind Sidious and driving his gold lightsaber through the Sith’s back and clear through the front of his chest. 

The blood red lightsaber twisted and was shoved backwards, the blade driving through Obi-Wan’s gut at almost the exact same instant. 

Time froze, and Anakin felt his heart stutter. There was no hesitation, no flash of surprise or pain in his master’s expression or through the Force – Obi-Wan simply shifted his pink blade into a reverse grip and drove it upward, decapitating the Sith. 

As Sidious’ body toppled to the ground the Force exploded; collapsing in on itself and creating a vacuum of dark energy that paused, as though taking a breath before blasting outwards and sending them flying once more. 

Quinlan and Garen gathered the Force around themselves, using it to launch across the clearing, fighting the power doing its best to fling them away and catching Obi-Wan before he hit the ground, cradling him between them. 

The Dark energy petered out, and Anakin was on his feet and racing to join them, his heart sinking when he realised his master wasn’t moving and the two Jedi were calling their friend, their voices broken and thick with distress. “No,” he breathed, putting on a burst of speed to reach them. “No.” 

“Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan come on, open your eyes,” Quinlan called, the Kiffar gently jostling the redhead while Garen tried to rouse him by lightly tapping his face. There wasn’t even a twitch in response, and Quinlan roared over his shoulder, “VOKARA! KIX! HELP!” 

Anakin dropped to his knees near Obi-Wan’s waist, tears blurring his vision as he grasped his master’s hand in both of his. “Hang in there, Obi-Wan,” he begged, squeezing it tightly and trying not to focus on how those strong, warm fingers were limp and ice-cold in his grasp. “Please, please don’t give up. I need you.” 

The others joined them, the Jedi reaching them seconds before Bail, Padmé, and the Clones. Kix gently shuffled him to the side for better access to Obi-Wan’s injury, and Anakin was helpless to do anything but watch. 

“Damn it all,” Vokara muttered as she carefully examined the charred, gaping hole left in Obi-Wan’s side with her fingers and the Force, before consulting the med-scanner Kix was using. They’d torn Obi-Wan’s tunic away, not that there’d been much of the smoking mess to begin with, to see the extent of the damage. “That lightsaber eviscerated him.” 

“What does that mean?” Padmé asked, her question thick with barely suppressed tears. She and Ahsoka were a solid presence at his side, bracketing him between them. It was support that Anakin desperately needed, as he feared he’d drift away in the breeze without it. 

“Vokara?” Mace prodded when the healer refrained from answering. The Korun master’s expression was pinched in a way that was all too familiar. He was bracing for the worst. “Please.” 

“I don’t know if we can save him,” she admitted, measured and calm against the roiling Force around them. “From what I can tell, his wounds are extensive. The affected organs have suffered severe trauma; several are missing pieces if they’re not gone altogether. Kriff’s sake, any further to the middle and it would’ve destroyed his spine as well!” Vokara took a deep breath and drew on the Force to settle herself, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “The pain Obi-Wan is in... it will be unbearable for him, and he might shock out before we can get him into bacta. Even if we do, I can’t guarantee he’ll pull through.” 

“He should already be dead,” Kix growled, eyes wet as he dug through his medical supplies. 

“He’s strong,” Garen choked out, fingers stroking Obi-Wan’s sweat soaked hair back from his pale face. “He’ll make it through this like he does everything else.” 

In the Force Anakin could feel what the healer could. Obi-Wan was in agony; writhing and burning at the pain ripping through his body, his nerve endings alight where organs had been pierced, and he was completely unaware of anything around him. 

To make matters worse, his Force signature was flickering; a worrying, erratic thrum that was growing fainter with every ragged breath he managed to draw. “No more.” The words trembled in the Force, so weak and broken that they made his heart hurt. “I can’t. No more.” 

“Don’t give up,” he thought back desperately; linking their fingers together and throwing himself down their bond to his innermost thoughts. “I’m here, Obi-Wan. I’m right here. Hold on.” 

Their bond was a line of fire, and he did what he could to soothe it as he went with the hope that it would bolster Obi-Wan long enough for them to get him into the bacta tank. Preoccupied as he was with trying to soothe the pain, the shields he slammed into took him by surprise. 

Wounded as he was, Anakin had expected Obi-Wan’s mental shields to be non-existent, the pain overpowering his ability to maintain them which meant he could get to his master’s subconscious and help anchor him. Instead they were ironclad, pulsing with agony but as impenetrable as he’d ever seen them. 

Startled, Anakin slammed his fists against them, desperate to pass, but they held strong. He’d already been up against one wall today; he knew he didn’t have the strength to deal with another.  

Changing tactic, he started throwing his full weight at them, only to freeze when a faint movement caught his eye. On the other side of this barrier, curled in on himself, was a younger version of Obi-Wan – roughly the same age he’d been when they’d first met on Padmé’s ship a lifetime ago. 

It was as though time had not yet scarred his master; the stress lines were gone, his hair – which had been peppered with white streaks was once again the brilliant copper shade it had previously been, and a long braid dangled past his right shoulder, decorated with various beads marking a rather impressive number of achievements. 

But all that paled in comparison to the person there with his master. There, hugging Obi-Wan tightly as though trying to hide him from the world and soothe his hurts, was none other than Qui-Gon Jinn. 

At least, it looked like him. He was glowing, as well as blue and slightly see-through which made him ethereal in appearance. He couldn’t help but wonder if this Qui-Gon was real or a hallucination conjured by Obi-Wan; a hurting man seeking comfort from his master in what could be his final moments. 

The Order taught them that when they died they became one with the Force; their spirits dispersing and becoming a part of the Cosmic Energy that surrounded them. The theory supposedly brought comfort to those left behind, but Anakin’s – thankfully limited – experience with loss within the Jedi meant he didn’t believe that teaching as much as others did. 

But the Order also taught that when they joined the Force they became matter, unable to retain their essence of self and therefore couldn’t maintain a corporal form after death. But here in front of him Qui-Gon look exactly as he had before he died. It was almost like... he was real. That he was there. So that made him... what? A Force Ghost? 

Perish the thought, but Windu was about to have a minor meltdown over this. Yoda too. 

Probably the entire Council, if he were being completely honest. 

“You did so well, Padawan,” Qui-Gon rumbled, his lips pressed against Obi-Wan’s temple, his long arms cradling the wounded man against his chest. He could see Obi-Wan’s tunic was scorched black, his hands clasped around his abdomen where his physical body was so grievously wounded, and his face twisted in pain, wet with tears. “I’m here with you.” 

“Master?” 

“It’s me. I’ve got you.” 

“He doesn’t have a lot of time, Jinn.” Two other Ghosts appeared beside the pair – he would focus on the fact there were multiple of them later – but for now he pounded his fists against the shield as he tried, and failed, to break through to get to his master’s side. “If you’re going to take him, it has to be now.” 

“NO!” He pleaded, trying to push his love for his master and his desperation to reach him through to those on the other side. “Don’t take him, I’m begging you! He can survive this!” 

The woman glared over her shoulder, her disdain for him clear in her eyes. “You do not know what you have, weakling. You do not deserve him.” 

“I know,” he agreed, because by the Gods, did he know that now. “I know I don’t deserve him. But he’s my brother. My family. I can’t lose him.” Then, quieter, almost helpless, he added; “please don’t take him. He’s the only parent I have left.” 

“Ani...” 

Pain filled blue – blue, not gold or yellow! – eyes turned to him, pinning him in place. Anakin pressed his forehead against the barrier, pouring every bit of love and pride for the man into it that he could, trying to convey how much he needed him. 

He’d never thought to tell Obi-Wan what he meant to him before. At first it was childish pride, then it was teenage attitude, then it was awkwardness tinged with anger, grief, and betrayal – all joined into a single ball of misery that meant he’d taken Obi-Wan’s love and dedication to him for granted, never once returning the same emotions his brother had shown him for one reason or another. 

Those reasons meant nothing, anymore – and he certainly wasn’t going to hesitate to show Obi-Wan the same now or in the future. 

“Don’t leave me,” he begged. “Obi-Wan, please. I need you. We all need you.” 

“It... hurts...” 

“I know, but we’ll get through it together. I’ll be there every step of the way, I promise.” 

The unknown male Ghost vanished from Qui-Gon’s side only to reappear in front of him – the barrier the only thing that separated them. The Ghost was only a head taller than him yet Anakin felt tiny in comparison. “You realise what you’re asking, don’t you?” he asked, an intensity burning in his eyes that made Anakin want to shy away, but he held strong. “Obi-Wan is dying. The kindest thing for him would be to let him go.” 

Anakin shook his head, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan who was growing fainter with every passing breath, Qui-Gon whispering something in his ear. “He’s strong. He’ll make it through this.” Then to Obi-Wan he said; “Master, let me in. Please.” 

The shield didn’t fade – it shattered, exploding into a thousand pieces and Anakin grit his teeth as he was swamped by pain so strong, he was convinced his skin was on fire; the nerve endings screaming in agony as though they were being stabbed by a lightsaber over and over again. 

His shields hadn’t been there to keep him out, but to keep the pain in. 

He hurried to his master’s side, skirting around the two Ghosts that were guarding his fallen brother like silent Sentinels before dropping to his knees, nodding at Qui-Gon in greeting even as he turned his attention to Obi-Wan. “A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into once again, old man,” he teased half-heartedly, dread filling him at the feverish heat he could feel radiating off Obi-Wab without needing to touch him. “As usual, I have to pull you out.” 

“Can’t...” 

The word was quiet, barely there, and Anakin could feel Obi-Wan weaken further to the point he was almost gone. He curled around him, mindful of Qui-Gon’s arms and the injury. “Obi-Wan, listen to me.” He cupped his master’s face, forcing him to turn those blue eyes on him. “I know it hurts, but you can recover. You will.” His breath hitched in his chest when Obi-Wan’s eyes slipped away from him, the pain so great that he could hear the weak plea to no longer suffer through their connection, quiet as it was. “I need you. We all need you. You’re loved Ob-Wan Kenobi. By me, by the Clones, Vos and Garen, Bail and Padmé and Ahsoka. The Council. Your friends. Kriff, I could list everyone you know if you needed me to. We’ll help you through this, but you must fight.” 

“I’m tired of fighting.” 

He bit back a sob even as he gentled his voice even further. “I know.” By the Gods did he know. Obi-Wan had been through so much in his life, more than anyone could begin to imagine, yet he’d kept going, kept fighting, for a purpose greater than himself. “I know you’re tired of fighting. But I need you to do it one more time, and I swear I’ll never ask it of you again.” 

“It won’t be easy, Padawan,” Qui-Gon murmured, stroking a gentle finger down Obi-Wan’s cheek, almost reverently. “It will be a long, difficult battle, but you can survive this.” 

“You’ll... stay wi...with me?” Obi-Wan was struggling to keep his eyes open, pressing closer to Qui-Gon as though afraid to let go. 

“Always.” 

Obi-Wan nodded, the slightest bob of his head, and Anakin was weak with relief. “‘kay.” 

Taking that for the signal it was, he carefully held Obi-Wan’s hand in his own, turning his attention to the Jedi who had changed his life irrevocably. “Help me save him.” 

It wasn’t a question, or a plea. It was simply a request from a Grand-Padawan to his Grandmaster about the one person they loved most. 

Qui-Gon inclined his head. “I will help him hold on until you get him into the bacta tank Vokara brought with her. The rest will be up to you and him.” 

“Thank you.” With that, Anakin slowly started to withdraw back up their bond, his hands wrapped around Obi-Wan’s as he oh so carefully pulled him back to the surface, stopping whenever Obi-Wan’s spirit flickered out. The closer they got to consciousness, the stronger the pain became the fire he’d soothed reigniting. Their bond blazed and burned and Anakin was in agony, but he held strong. He needed Obi-Wan to hold on that little bit longer, and he knew it wouldn’t happen if he didn’t ride it out with him. 

When he opened his eyes, it was to find himself flat on his back and looking up into the worried eyes of Padmé and Ahsoka. “Hi.” 

“You utter bastard,” Ahsoka all but sobbed, tear tracks lining her narrow face. “Don’t you ever do that to us again!” 

“Huh?” He turned his head, only to find Vokara and Kix bent over Obi-Wan who had a breathing tube sticking out of his mouth, while Garen carefully squeezed the bag the tube was connected to, pumping air into Obi-Wan’s lungs for him. “What...?” 

It hadn’t worked. Oh Gods, it hadn’t worked. 

“Relax you must, young Skywalker,” Yoda chided gently. The master was seated by Obi-Wan’s head, a clawed hand carding through the ginger hair while he looked at Anakin. “Long, Obi-Wan’s battle will be, but ended it has not. Brought him back from the brink, you have.” Yoda’s ears drooped, and his bright green eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you, I do, for giving us the chance to save him.” 

Anakin exhaled heavily, squeezing his eyes shut as he sent a fervent thank you to Qui-Gon in the Force. Impossibly, he felt the Jedi Master squeeze his shoulder before the sensation vanished as quickly as it had come. 

“Anakin?” 

He turned to Padmé, fumbling blindly for her hand. When he found it he pressed the back of it to his lips, uncaring of who might see them – just grateful they were both here and alive. “Are you okay?” 

Padmé scoffed, the sound broken and wet with tears. “I’m not the one who slumped unconscious the moment he took Obi-Wan’s hand,” she scolded, swiping at her eyes. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded, then grimaced when the movement made him light-headed. “I will be,” he said instead. “Help me up?” Together, Padmé and Ahsoka eased him upright, and seconds later Anakin found himself with his head between his knees, breathing deeply as he waited for the world to stop spinning. 

As the blood rush faded Anakin took a deep breath, then another, and another, and finally looked up to see what was happening around him. He had no idea how long he had been out, he doubted it had been all that long, but their group had splintered off, each with their own tasks. 

Altaïr, Aayla, and Kit were examining Sidious’ body, while Plo and Wolffe were next to the Zabraks. Rex and Cody were hurrying back from the ship, each holding a portable stretcher, and there was a bag of medical supplies slung over Cody’s shoulder. Bail and Mace were standing nearby, bent over what appeared to be a comm device, their brows furrowed as they talked – but it was hard to tell if it was to each other, or someone somewhere else. 

Quinlan was on the opposite side of Obi-Wan, pressed shoulder to hip with Garen. But where Garen was helping Vokara and Kix, Quinlan was focusing on something in his hands. 

“It’s linked to Obi-Wan’s ship,” Padmé said when she saw where his attention had drifted to. “Quinlan’s bringing it to us.” 

“Dooku is on that ship,” he said, swallowing back the bile that shot up his throat unexpectedly. Whether it was due to the thought of the man, or the fact he turned his head, he still wasn’t sure. It left a sour taste in his mouth regardless, and he was desperate for water. 

“We know.” Quinlan’s expression was hard, but his fear flickered across his face when his eyes landed briefly on Obi-Wan. “We are not leaving him behind. Obi-Wan has sacrificed too much to end this war; Dooku doesn’t get to slip away because our attention was elsewhere.” 

Anakin decided nodding wasn’t worth the risk of passing out again, so flicked a finger instead. At least that didn’t hurt. 

“Alright, he’s as stable as I can make him,” Vokara announced, nodding her thanks to Cody who handed her the med-bag when he and Rex joined them. “As soon as he’s on the ship, he’s going into bacta; it’s the only hope we have of saving him.” 

“Where do you want the stretchers?” Cody asked. 

“Next to Obi-Wan. We’ll load him first, then you two can help Skywalker onto his.” 

Anakin bit back the whine that tried to escape. “I don’t need a stretcher.” 

“You’re suffering a strong case of Force Exhaustion from the stunt you just pulled,” Vokara retorted, her tone brooking no arguments. “You couldn’t even sit up without help.” 

“I’d do as she says,” Garen told him, eyes never leaving Obi-Wan. “She’ll carry you over her shoulder if you don’t listen.” 

Ahsoka tilted her head curiously. “Speaking from experience, Master Muln?” 

“He never made that mistake again, that’s for sure,” Quinlan answered for Garen, a small smile tugging at his lips when Padmé giggled. “None of us did. You either do as she says, or make sure she can’t find you.” 

“As Obi-Wan knows well from all those years of practise.” 

Anakin sighed dejectedly. Even though he wanted to go to the ship under his own power, Vokara was right. The chances of staying conscious as he stood was slim to none, not to mention he doubted that his legs would bear his weight – and certainly not over the uneven ground that surrounded them; the crevasses were going to be enough of a challenge to navigate, let alone anything else. “Okay,” he said instead. “Let’s go.” 

Scattered though they were, it took very little time for them to board the ships and take off. Mace, Plo, Kit, and Wolffe had piled themselves into Obi-Wan’s Nubian starship – Anakin, Padmé, and Ahsoka were still trying to work out how he’d gotten his hands on one in the first place given they weren’t exactly cheap – and Anakin had been settled in the med bay, a permanent guardian for his master who was floating motionlessly in the bacta-gel, his injuries magnified for all to see by the curved shell of the tank that housed him. 

The breathing regulator had been secured to Obi-Wan’s face, and numerous wires were connected to his fingers and chest so Vokara and Kix could monitor their patient constantly, even from afar. Not that there’d be a change without anyone knowing about it, given most of the ship’s occupants had crammed themselves into the med bay to watch over their friend. 

Anakin knew his master would be mortified by the attention when he learned of it. 

Bail and Padmé were occupying the two chairs in the room, heads bent together as they discussed the ramifications the revelation of Palpatine’s true identity would bring to the Republic, as well as the impending fallout, with Yoda and Altaïr offering their own insights when required. 

More than once, their eyes would stray to the tank; Bail’s expression in particular impossible to read, but Anakin knew the man, much like Padmé, was grieving for his friend’s weakened state. Rex, Cody, and Aayla were piloting the ship, with Garen occasionally checking in on them in case they needed a break, but otherwise the man was curled up next to Quinlan, the pair sitting on the end of Anakin’s bed, watching over the last of their trio. 

Seeing his master suspended as he was, oblivious to those around him and barely identifiable in the Force broke his heart. Obi-Wan had been there for him ever since that day on Padmé’s ship; and sure, they hadn’t had the best start, but when Anakin thought of safety and home, Obi-Wan was in the centre of it all. They’d been through so much together, and no matter the outcome Obi-Wan had always stood beside him. Strong. Proud. Unbreakable. 

But here, in this tiny medical bay surrounded by those he loved, the one person Anakin had always expected to be there for him possibly wouldn’t be for much longer. 

He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to break free. Whatever happened now, was up to his master. It was selfish, he knew, but he prayed that Obi-Wan would choose him one more time, if so he didn’t lose him. 

Chapter Text

“OBI-WAN!”  

“BATTLE DROIDS!”  

I see you.  

“...You’ve always been a coward...”  

“Let me help!”  

Come to me.  

“Stay out of this!”  

“...Helpless to do anything...”  

I can help you.  

“I would never join you!”  

“You won’t have a choice!”  

Come to me, Child who is Both.  

“...Please don’t take him....”  

“Help me save him.”  

Come to me.  

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, it wasn’t the all-encompassing, pulsating waves of the Force waiting for him like he’d expected, nor was it the dull, muted grey of a ship’s medbay or even the creamy, off-white ceiling of the Healing Halls. 

Instead, he found himself kneeling on the packed earth of a planet he didn’t recognise. Rather than the lush, rolling hills of Naboo, or the snow-capped peaks and vibrant green forests of Alderaan, or the towering buildings of Coruscant and Corellia, or the water laden landscapes of Mon Cala and Kamino, he was on a planet that reminded him of the endless, sandy plains of Tatooine, just without the blistering heat of the twin suns bearing down overhead. 

The ground was hard beneath his knees, smooth in large patches, uneven in others, and the orange of the earth mimicked the colour of the sky above it; the only thing separating the two were the purples and pinks smeared across the horizon like a painter’s lazy brushstrokes – but it was impossible to tell if it was preluding sunrise or sunset. 

There were no buildings, no trees, no grassy fields or large oceans that he could see – instead he was surrounded by gigantic coral-like formations that towered far above him, their massive branches jagged and dangerous looking. Certainly not something he’d want to fall on from a great height. 

At their base and further out there were large rocks that stuck out from the ground, their edges smooth, and their numbers plentiful. Scurrying amongst them were odd little creatures, no bigger than his shoe with rounded white shells and eyes that wavered on the ends of stalks. They were sticking to the shadows; curious of his presence but not brave enough to venture closer. 

Scattered amongst the corals and the rocks were giant holes, groups of three or four all in a perfect line and large enough to fit three people side by side within them. There was something hidden just beneath the surface, something that could bring him harm if he wasn’t careful near them – an unusual thought, given he was alive when he shouldn’t have been. 

He prodded the spot where Sidious’ lightsaber had struck and was surprised to find that instead of the gaping, charred hole he’d expected there was smooth, unblemished skin in its place. There was no pain, not even a lingering echo of the evil that clung to the kyber powering the blade; just smooth, healthy skin. 

“Curious.” He scratched his chin idly, the all too familiar brush of his beard against his fingers and the pressure of the ground beneath his knees assuring him that this was real and not some figment of his imagination. 

He was definitely alive, and he was definitely unharmed. 

But how? 

As though summoned by the question, Qui-Gon materialised at his left shoulder, hands on his hips and his head tilted as he looked around. “Where are we, Padawan?” 

“That... is a very good question.” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smirk a little. “And here I was thinking this might be your doing.” 

“Excuse me?” Qui-Gon spluttered in shock. “What have I ever done to make you ask that?” 

Given his apprenticeship had been filled with all sorts of adventures that were a result of his master’s curiosity, and even in death he’d managed to drag them all over the place with little explanation, it wouldn’t have surprised him in the slightest if his master had been responsible for his current whereabouts. 

“Would you like that listed alphabetically, or by date?” he asked, giving the older man an innocent smile. 

“Brat,” was the grumbled, but no less fond, retort. 

Zannah appeared on his other side, cackling in delight. “So the All-Mighty Qui-Gon Jinn isn’t as perfect as he likes to believe,” she sneered. “Do tell, Youngling, what mishaps your sorry excuse for a Master has put you through all these years.” 

“Oh wonderful,” Qui-Gon sighed, pursing his lips as he glared at the Sith in displeasure. “And here I was thinking we’d finally managed to lose you.” 

Obi-Wan bit back a smile as Zannah retorted in a language he didn’t recognise, but had no doubt was something insulting; to which Qui-Gon pulled a face and retorted in what he suspected was the same unknown language – and undoubtedly just as uncomplimentary. 

He’d never admit it out loud, but Qui-Gon’s irritation at the Sith’s continued presence amused him greatly.  

The way she challenged his every decision reminded him of how his master did the same to the Council when he was a padawan, and secretly he felt it was well-deserved justice for his fellow Councillors who had suffered his master’s petulance many a time over the years. 

While Qui-Gon would’ve been happier with Zannah gone, he happened to find the Sith Lord fascinating. She was difficult to please and could be a right witch at the best of times, but her wealth of knowledge and unique take on the universe had triggered many riveting debates that had been hard hitting, introspective, and downright infuriating; but he’d enjoyed them all wholeheartedly. 

It was easy enough to let their bickering become background noise as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to settle himself, listening to the Force’s call.  

It washed over him and through him; its chime a melodic whisper in his ear. He followed it closely, drifted amongst its currents and discovered that while the planet was abandoned, it was very much alive.  

The Jedi taught that the Force was in all things, but more often than not it was perceived as a background hum; comfort taken in its presence but otherwise easy to tune out. But here? Now that he was listening to it the Force was like a surging tide; shifting and roiling and pounding relentlessly against the shoreline. 

Once, he would have been afraid of such power; fearful of what it could make someone do. But that was before he’d opened himself fully to the Force and listened to what it had been trying to tell him. 

There was no Light. There was no Dark. There was just the Force. 

The Force was in all things, but the Force controlled nothing. It just was. Just like it was the intentions of the person that defined whether the Force was used for good or evil, not the other way around. 

Well done, Youngling.  

His eyes snapped open; the unfamiliar voice whisper quiet in his ears. “Did you hear that?” 

Zannah and Qui-Gon stopped their bickering and Ulic popped into existence in front of him, one eyebrow quirked sceptically. “Hear what? These two arguing again? Because yeah, kid, it’s all anyone can hear.” 

Zannah smirked. “Just because you’re a pathetic debating partner, Qel-Droma, doesn’t mean the rest of us are.” She turned her attention to him and added, “If you’re hearing things then perhaps you’ve finally lost your mind.” 

“I’d prefer he lost you instead,” Qui-Gon muttered, and Ulic didn’t bother to smother his snigger. Cutting the Sith Lord off before she could get another word out, he added, “hear what, Padawan?” 

Come to me.  

The voice was as familiar as it wasn’t; like he’d heard it in passing but couldn’t place when or where it happened. 

“There’s someone else here,” he told his companions quietly as he pushed to his feet, scanning the horizon for signs of the mysterious speaker and finding nothing. A gentle tugging in the Force led him down the slope and towards one of the corals, reaching the shadow of its branches long before the actual thing. 

As he got closer he discovered that despite their shapes they weren’t corals at all, but trees. What he’d mistaken for large spindly branches morphed into giant leaves now that he was underneath them, and now that he was closer he could see they were thick and bulky, a pale almost translucent pink that was riddled with meaty veins and large enough that you could park several troop transports on side by side. Possibly even more.  

On the ground there were more leaves that looked like they’d broken away during a storm, the wind driving them into the earth and creating the very looking strange forest that the Force was insisting he go through. 

He reached out and touched the leaf closest to him. To his surprise it was soft, almost delicate despite its size. “Fascinating,” he murmured, more to himself than the others, but he noticed his master was just as intrigued by the new discovery. Obi-Wan turned away to hide his smile. It was of little surprise his master’s green thumb had lasted even after death. 

Come to me  

“The voice is calling me again.” He changed his path as the tugging grew more insistent, turning to his right, his feet moving of their own accord. The leaves shifted under his palm as he brushed them aside, and they bounced back into place as though he’d never been there. “You really can’t hear it?” 

“No,” Zannah retorted. While she sounded annoyed, her eyes were darting all over the place, suspicion clear on her face. “We can’t.” 

“Hearing voices isn’t exactly reassuring, Padawan,” Qui-Gon agreed quietly, and even he appeared unsettled. “And don’t look now, but we’re being followed.” 

He nodded. He’d already spotted the shadows of creatures far larger than the little ones running around. He paused in front of a leaf, staying well out of arms reach as he used the Force to shift it aside. 

The creatures on the other side had him swallowing the gasp of fear that wanted to escape. They were a mix of a spider and octopus; their bone-white bodies twice his height with spindly legs, large black eyes, and long pincers around the mouth that were clicking angrily. They hissed quietly, but through the Force he could sense it wasn’t as a threat, instead it was a warning not to come any closer. 

An easy enough request to grant. 

He angled himself sideways and slipped past, eyes trained on the creature whilst following the tugging he could feel through a large cluster of leaves and out into an area that sloped down towards a flat clearing, a large boulder with multiple leaves protruding from its surface in the middle. There was no obvious sign of where the boulder had come from, so he suspected that it was either the result of erosion – unlikely, given how flat everything else was – or it was a chunk of meteor that had crashed years ago and eventually become a part of the planet’s ecosystem. 

“There’s something here,” Zannah murmured, drawing his attention back to the situation at hand. The Sith was glaring as she looked around, piercing eyes scanning the horizon for whatever it was she was sensing. “Something powerful, and far older than me.” 

She wasn’t wrong. While the planet was strong in the Force, it was particularly intense here – vibrant and bright as it swirled and danced around him; powerful yet graceful, dangerous yet gentle. He recognised the way it moved, had experienced similar surges within the Force in specific places – the Temple on Coruscant, the old Jedi Temple on Rishii, even the Night Sisters Coven on Dathomir, – but he’d never felt it encompass an entire planet before. Not like this, unless... 

“The planet is a Force Nexus.” 

“Well done, Youngling.” 

The words boomed around the clearing, his companions all startling violently at the unexpected voice. The earth began to tremble; pebbles and loose rocks bouncing across the surface, dust billowing into the air as the boulder that had been out of place shifted and grew, growing larger and larger – and then uncurled as it stood up. 

Obi-Wan took a step back as he looked up at the largest being he had ever seen. 

The being towered far above him, vaguely reminding him of a Rishiian steer but much, much bigger. Its outer shell was hard and unyielding, the many armoured plates and the large leaves jutting out every direction so it blended with its environment. By contrast its face was smooth, long and rounded with antlers that protruded from its temples and a large orange beard that was a shade or two darker than the earth at its furred feet. 

He’d come across many species over the years, sentient or otherwise, but he’d never come across this one; in person, and not even in any of the history books. 

“Hello,” the Being greeted, lips curling in a smile as it peered down at him. 

“Kriffing hell,” Ulic blurted, eyes wide. “You’re a big one.” 

His shock evaporated in the face of the ghost’s blunt declaration. He turned to Ulic, exasperated. “Really?” 

“Am I wrong?” Ulic countered indignantly, flinching when Qui-Gon swatted him with the Force. “What?” 

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think I understand why you were never a negotiator in your time,” he muttered, shaking his head fondly at the ghost’s splutters. He turned back to the Being, plastering an apologetic smile on his face. “Hello there,” he greeted. “I apologise for my companion; his manners appear to have died the same time he did. My name is--” 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Child of Stewjon.” The Being’s smile grew wider when he cocked an eyebrow in question. He knew his name? “And your companions; Qui-Gon Jinn of Rishii; Lady Zannah of Somov Rit; and Ulic Qel-Droma of Alderaan. Welcome to Atollon.” 

“Atollon?” He’d never heard of it, but given the vast expanse of the galaxy it was unsurprising. What was surprising was how he’d ended up on this mysterious planet, when the last place he remembered being was in the middle of the dusty plains of Mapuzo as he faced down Sidious.  

“It is a tiny planet hidden on the edges of the Outer Rim,” the Being replied, its pale white eyes that seemed to hold a galaxy worth of stars within them gleaming brighter as he spoke. “Many years from now it would have been known as Chopper base. A safe haven for the few that resisted the Empire.” 

Ice flooded his veins. He’d failed? Despite everything he’d done, Sidious was still out there wreaking havoc unchallenged? He could have sworn he’d killed the Sith, removed him from the galaxy permanently – but could he be wrong? Was his mind showing him what he wanted to see, rather than what had really happened?  

Breathlessly, terrified, he uttered, “What Empire?” 

“In another time, it was the Empire the Sith Lord Darth Sidious created after eradicating the Jedi.” The Being waved a large hand and Obi-Wan’s own shot to the lightsaber at his waist in anticipation of an attack; instead, ghost-like figures materialised around him, the nightmares that had plagued him for months bursting to life in front of his eyes. 

Mace struck down by a cackling Sidious, his friend toppling out the shattered window of the Chancellor’s office and into the traffic below.  

The Jedi Temple on fire, smoke billowing from the spires that had once been symbols of peace and hope but were now symbols of oppression and death.  

Sidious sitting on a throne in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the water that was once in abundance gone, the plants dead, and the few stone features reduced to mounds of rubble. The skeletons of those that had fallen there were strewn at his feet. It had been one of the most sacred places within their Temple, and now it was a monstrosity; a mockery of everything the Jedi had once stood for. 

Imperial Palace his mind whispered, the knowledge enough to nearly make him vomit. They’d come close, so close to losing everything...  

“The galaxy was destined to tear itself apart under the Emperor’s rule; those that resisted were hunted like animals, always living in fear, always looking over their shoulders. Those that couldn’t fight were doomed to decades of subjugation and starvation, or outright annihilation if they tried to stand up for themselves, and all of this you were forced to watch from afar, helpless to do anything.” 

Horror surged like a tidal wave, the strength of it leaving him breathless and trembling. He didn’t want to believe it because how could such a thing be possible – but the Force chimed in his ears, the sound so mournful that he knew the Being was telling the truth. 

It meant that the nightmares that had plagued him since the start of the war weren’t the result of a twisted imagination; rather, they were glimpses of what the galaxy would have been subjected to had Sidious survived. 

Evidence of what would’ve been his fault if he’d failed to stop him. 

His first thought was that even in death he wouldn’t have let Sidious win, that he’d have fought tooth and nail until the Sith’s blood was pooling on the ground and his tyranny finally over. But there was one person, one weakness he had that would’ve stayed his hand, even at the cost of everyone else. 

“Anakin,” he breathed, choking on the inhale, tears burning his eyes. He knew with every fibre of his being that the galaxy would have suffered because he failed to protect his apprentice from the insidious clutches of the Sith. 

“Indeed,” the Being agreed, nodding slowly. “Your destiny was to watch helplessly as your student slaughtered the Jedi in a misguided effort to save the woman he loved, when his decision to Fall was what killed her. Your destiny was to watch the galaxy burn around you because your student could not see the manipulations of the Darksider for what they were.”  

Gentler, it added, “This was your destiny, but not anymore.” 

Hope fluttered weakly in his chest; the feeling so fragile that it was at risk of being snuffed out in an instant. “What do you mean?” 

“You no longer walk a shadowed path. Defeating the Sith Lord as you have, you have brought a peace to the galaxy that it was not meant to see for many years.”  

The ghosts disappeared, their forms dissipating like smoke in the wind and taking the terror that had gripped him with them. 

The confirmation that he had succeeded in stopping Sidious left him weak with relief. He sunk to the ground, head bowed as he breathed deeply to calm his thundering heart. Everything he’d put himself through, every fibre of his being that he’d torn apart to save those he loved had been worth it. The nightmares that had plagued him, the what if's that had lurked within their depths were no more. Horrific imaginings banished before they could become reality. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, throat clogged with relief. “Knowing that is no longer our fate... it brings me comfort greater than you could ever know.” 

“But how do you know all this?” Ulic asked, head tilted thoughtfully. “Knowledge of a future that no longer exists is--” 

“Because he’s a Force wielder, you idiot,” Zannah snapped, cutting him off. “An ancient one. Anyone with half a brain and a sliver of Force sensitivity can tell that. Although it’s unsurprising you didn’t pick up on it, given you lack both.” 

“Force wielder?” The Being echoed, lips curling in amusement at the face Ulic pulled when Zannah turned her back. “Jedi and Sith wield the Ashla and Bogan. The Light and the Dark. I’m the one in the middle. The Bendu.” 

Bendu’s eyes flicked back to him, and Obi-Wan straightened under the scrutiny. “And so are you.” 

When Altaïr had given him the mission, he’d accepted that the person he was at the start wouldn’t be the same one that remained at the end. He’d seen nearly every thread that held the Obi-Wan Kenobi of old together unravel to the point only a few strands remained – and even those had been stretched to their breaking point. 

But a Bendu? No, that wasn’t right. He was a Jedi and always would be – the only thing that was different about him now was that he knew more about the Force than anyone in the Temple. More than even Yoda. 

“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” he countered politely. “I am, and always will be, a Jedi.” It was one of the few truths he’d had left to cling to when everything else had threatened to destroy him. 

“And yet the life of a Jedi no longer suits you.” 

Bendu turned to Qui-Gon, who had been surprisingly quiet as they talked. His master had an air of thoughtfulness around him, but as always Obi-Wan couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through that mind of his. “Your pupil is unable to see what is in front of him; blinded by the belief that all can be as it was when everything has changed. Do you agree?” 

Much to his surprise, Qui-Gon smiled. It was a small, secretive thing that Obi-Wan wished he knew the meaning behind. Usually, it meant he was up to something; but he had no idea what it could mean this time around. “I do.” 

“You see it too,” Bendu mused, his smile growing wider. “Good! Tell me, Light Wielder; what is the Code of the Jedi?” 

“There is no emotion, there is peace,” his master dutifully began, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but mouth along with him, the words as familiar as his own name. The first time he’d heard it was in the crèche - a toddler who was starry-eyed and filled with wonder as the crèche-master taught it to their clan, and it had been what guided him ever since. 

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. 
There is no passion, there is serenity. 
There is no chaos, there is harmony. 
There is no death, there is the Force.” 

Next to him, Zannah rolled her eyes so hard Obi-Wan was convinced it could’ve been seen from the next solar system, and even Ulic was unimpressed. He huffed an exasperated laugh at the pair, well aware of their feelings on the Code; Ulic had a very different view on what it meant to be a Jedi, and Zannah thought the Jedi didn’t deserve to exist altogether. 

“Hmm,” Bendu rumbled, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “Master Simikarty had an interesting take on the original Code, strange as it may be to me. Tell me, Youngling. Does this Code still feel right to you?” 

He opened his mouth to say of course it does – only to pause, bewildered, because it didn’t. 

Not anymore. 

As a child, he had always found strength and serenity in the Jedi Code, had turned to it for guidance when things got hard or he was unsure of what to do. But now? Now, it no longer sat right with him; like sliding into his favourite set of robes only to discover they were one size too small.  

He had evolved, changed in a way the Code couldn’t accommodate. His knowledge was of all sides of the Force, not just one part, and unfortunately it meant the Council would demand he forsake part of himself to remain among them – something he refused to do. 

As things stood, he no longer belonged amongst his people. 

“Well?” Bendu asked, one bushy eyebrow lifting in question when he didn’t reply straight away. 

“No,” he admitted quietly. “It doesn’t.” 

“Unsurprising, given it’s a steaming pile of bantha shit,” Zannah muttered in disgust. 

His first instinct was to defend it, but knowing what he did now, he couldn’t. It hurt to admit, but the Jedi Code was, unfortunately, far more narrowminded and unaccommodating than he’d ever realised. 

“Hmm. Perhaps a different one would be better suited to you, then.” Bendu turned to Zannah, and the Sith Lord lifted her chin in challenge. To anyone that didn’t know her, such an action would have been deemed arrogant; but he knew better. Zannah was nervous. Possibly even frightened of Bendu, although she did an excellent job of covering it up. “And you, Daughter of the Dark. What is the Code of the Sith?” 

She sneered in derision, but when she spoke there was clear reverence in her voice. He knew without needing to ask that she believed the words wholeheartedly. 

“Peace is a lie, there is only passion. 
Through passion, I gain strength. 
Through strength, I gain power. 
Through power, I gain victory. 
Through victory, my chains are broken. 
The Force shall free me.” 

“Hmm, yes,” Bendu replied, nodding slowly. “An interesting Code it is. While the intentions are similar to those of the Jedi, this one takes its followers down a vastly different path. Tell me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Does the Code of the Sith feel like something you can follow?” 

He shook his head immediately. The Sith Code may have allowed for more freedom, but it also invited more chaos and destruction at the expense of others. None of which he would ever want. 

“I see.” Bendu turned his attention to Ulic. “And what of you, Son of Both? Do you know what your Code is?” 

As expected, given he and Ulic had a similar conversation a few months earlier, the ghost shook his head. “I didn’t even know there was another Code,” Ulic confessed quietly. 

Through the Force, Obi-Wan could feel his friend’s tentative hope at the suggestion there was something more. During his life, Ulic had been an outcast; a Jedi turned Sith turned Jedi again. He’d been the anomaly, the dark spot on both teachings with no one to help him – not like he’d done for Obi-Wan. During his life, and likely into his death, he’d been just as adrift as Obi-Wan felt now. 

To learn that there was nothing wrong with him, that there really was a place for him in the universe and in the Force had to be overwhelming. 

To be given the chance to learn what it meant had to be even more so. 

“Ah, I see,” Bendu mused, leaning down to peer at the ghost before drawing back again. “You have had no one to help you on your journey. A shame indeed. Never fear, Younglings; for you have me to guide you! Listen, if you will, to the Code of the Bendu. 

“Flowing through all, there is balance. 
There is no peace without a passion to create, 
There is no passion without peace to guide, 
Knowledge fades without the strength to act, 
Power blinds without the serenity to see, 
There is freedom in life, 
There is purpose in death, 
The Force is all things, and I am the Force.” 

He gasped softly as he felt the Code settle into the empty space between his ribs, filling his chest with a gentle flame that warmed him to his soul. Where the codes for the Jedi and Sith were too rigid for everything he’d been through, the code of the Bendu encompassed both and melded to his soul like a second skin. 

Bendu smiled, as though sensing his thoughts. “I am the Bendu. The in-between. You are the Bendu, also. You see the Force for what it is, not what it can do. You feel all, and yet are ruled by none. 

“You are the hope for true balance and peace within the galaxy. Just like the Jedi of Old long ago.” 

Obi-Wan knew deep down that in order for the Jedi to survive the new galaxy they found themselves in, they would have to change. Through their insistence to stay neutral, the Sith had come within a hair’s width of destroying them and if their people didn’t do something about it, it would happen all over again. 

He huffed a laugh. The older members on the council were not going to like what he had to say. But then again, he was the Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn – and if there was one skill his master had passed on to him, it was how to make those that didn’t want to listen do so anyway. 

“What are you smiling about, Padawan?” Qui-Gon asked, settling a warm hand on his shoulder. “I recognise that spark in your eye. You’re up to something.” 

“I’m just thinking of how well the Council are going to take the news of my new status, and how much worse their reactions will be when I push for this path for the rest of the Temple.” 

Qui-Gon barked a laugh. “You know as well as I do that they won’t like it. Convincing them will not be easy.” 

“No, it won’t be.” He smirked at the four Force users – and were Bendu’s eyes glowing brighter? “But I’ve always liked a challenge.” 

“Good,” Bendu rumbled, drawing up to his full height, his gigantic hand reaching towards him. “I wish you luck, Youngling.” 

Obi-Wan took a step back, startled, as the hand filled his vision, an endless darkness swallowing him whole faster than he could blink. “What--” 

His world exploded in a kaleidoscope of colour, an endless nebula extending as far as the eye could see. 

Images flit past like star dust caught in a violent breeze, particles twisting and clashing together to show him what would have been. 

He and Anakin facing down Dooku, Sidious cuffed to the chair behind them with malicious glee bright in his eyes.  

Anakin fighting Dooku, disarming him in a fight before beheading him at Sidious’ encouragement and the regret that flooded him as soon as he did so.  

Padmé waiting patiently behind a pillar and embracing Anakin when he snuck off to see her, the Force swelling with happiness as she told him of her pregnancy.  

He and Anakin exchanging farewells as he boarded a transport, both smiling, the love and trust between them clear.  

Anakin sitting with Sidious in a dark room, the Sith’s eyes trained on something else as he spoke nonchalantly of the dark side and how it could save Padmé. Anakin’s swirling, conflicting thoughts over saving the woman he loved and doing what was right visible on his face.  

Mace standing in the Chancellors office, Kit, Agen, and Saesee flanking him – all drawing their lightsabers and demanding Sidious surrender seconds before he attacked.  

Anakin again, this time kneeling before Sidious, his head bowed, missing the perverted, triumphant sneer on the Sith’s face.  

Younglings scattering in terror, Masters doing their best to defend their people against the clones as they laid siege to the Temple. Anakin at the lead, his black hood up, his eyes a sickly Sith yellow and the bodies of his friends discarded at his feet.  

Lava. Anakin at the base of a slope, his body on fire, his limbs missing. Him on the slope above, his heart breaking as he turned away, unable to watch his beloved padawan-brother-son burn to death.  

Padmé again. The joy of her pregnancy replaced with the nothingness of death; the monitor above the bed confirming the fiery, passionate senator was gone. Another death threatening to break him on top of all the others. Movement from the bundle in his arms. The baby, along with the one in the nearby crib giving him a glimpse of hope. Anakin wasn’t the balance so many believed, but perhaps one day his children would succeed where the rest of them had failed.  

Saying goodbye to Bail, knowing he’d likely never see his lover again. He’d give anything to accept the offer to go to Alderaan, regardless of Yoda’s insistence the children be raised separately, and stay with him and Breha. But the children were more important than his happiness, and given how badly he’d failed, he deserved the isolation no matter what Bail said.  

Grief. So much grief and anguish, heartbreak and anger. Loneliness. By the gods, the loneliness was crippling most days. But he persevered; did the mindless work required to keep his belly fed, his hands busy, and his mind empty. He’d failed them all so badly. The loneliness was the least he deserved.  

The flashes came faster then. A young girl watching him suspiciously – “Are you a Jedi? You’re kinda old and beat up,” – a young boy lying on the roof of a hut, staring up at the stars – “one day I’m going to get out of here,” – another young boy with dark purple hair and vibrant blue eyes, sitting on the ramp of a ship as an older human male joined him – “I just wanted you to have the best teacher,” the older one sighed, the air of a Jedi Knight around him even though his path there wasn’t quite complete. “I don’t want the best teacher, I want you!” the boy countered before flushing in embarrassment, but the Force sung in joy at how right it felt.  

While the boy may have been embarrassed by his declaration, hope filled him to the brim; while everything he’d ever loved and held dear had been destroyed, these four were the promise of a better future for those yet to come.  

“They will get a better future,” Bendu promised, his voice booming through the nebula, the images exploding into dust and leaving a blank canvas in their wake. It was a clean slate for everyone. A space to start afresh. “You will get a better future. It is as the Force wills it.”  

Seven weeks after suffering what should have been a fatal injury, Obi-Wan Kenobi opened his eyes for the first time. 

Chapter Text

So I lied. Turns out I can't leave well enough alone. Okay, for those who have already read the last chapter and have come back wondering "WTF, wasn't there more to this end?" there was.

Here was me thinking when I first started that it would be a quick fic, one I didn't want to spend too much time on but wanted to smash out. Then my usual need for making my stories as good as they can be struck, and combined with the incredible feedback I fleshed this out more than intended and created something that I'm actually really proud of. But because I was stuck on the mindset of 'this is to be a short fic' I wrapped it up the way I did last chapter.

In hindsight, I really should've put more thought into it - specifically the apologies and the 'make up' between Obi-Wan and those he cares about as I know a lot of people were waiting for that. Then I was thinking about it post publish and was like, well they could be standalone chapters, then decided fuck it, I'll just add them in and make it a longer story that's actually in order. So that's what's going to happen. It will still end the same and shouldn't change (I put way too much time and effort into making that as good as I can get it so it's staying, dammit!) but there's going to be a fair bit more to come :)

I'm one of those people who hate's having authors notes like these, but I figured it was better to throw it in there now, rather than later on. Also, let's all laugh together over the fact that the previous chapter, which has just been split in half, is now probably the shortest one I've written in years. Although that's still 5700ish words. Ha.

This will be deleted when the next chapter is read so it's not stuck in the middle like a sore thumb :)