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An intense caution overshadowed any sort of confidence Obi-Wan feigned as he looked down at the tiny bundle tucked against Satine’s chest.
Part of him still couldn’t believe it, couldn’t comprehend that with all his failures and mistakes, he’d ended up here, with his dear Satine and now, despite everything, they had a son.
He laid at the Mandalorian woman’s side, his fingers carding through her tangled blonde hair which had grown longer over the recent year. The original panic that Satine had expressed at the first thoughts of a child ( “on a planet like this!” ) took months to melt into acceptance, then into joy. Obi-Wan had simply held her hand or held her hair back - whichever the situation demanded, and promised, “A child will reinforce our cover, if anything.” He’d tried to reassure Satine as she’s paced through the kitchen, trying to rationalise that there had been a child growing inside her at that very moment. Obi-Wan had dutifully watched her belly grow without so much as a fearful word, but his own anxiety had been consumed by love each and every time.
Within months, Satine had become a round vessel for the life of their child, and after tiring hours of sweat and tears, their son had arrived, kicking and screaming, in the middle of the night. The early morning hours had passed in quiet bonding with the babe, until Satine had slipped into exhausted sleep. She’d nursed him and told Obi-Wan how to change him. With a combination of worry and elation, Obi-Wan had noted the force sensitivity of the baby.
A part of his heart understood Anakin’s fall more deeply than before, as Obi-Wan looked down at the sleeping baby. The love he felt was passionate, dangerous and so strong he knew nothing could overcome it. He decided in that instant that he’d protect the little life till his dying breath.
Obi-Wan traced the baby’s tiny nose with his fingertip, noting the soft, pink skin and the unique, newborn baby smell. Satine had fallen asleep counting his fingers and toes, obsessive of the fact that their son was absolutely perfect.
The twin suns would be up soon. The short beeping of a panel on the wall informed him that it was almost time to close the Vaporators for the day. There had been a sand storm in the night, but it had settled within the hour of their son’s arrival. The sunrise should be gorgeous.
“Welcome to your very first day, Korben Kryze,” Obi-Wan wished. The name had been chosen by Satine, at her insistence. Its Mandalorian meaning was an ode to the child’s heritage on both sides. Korben, she’d named the boy. The Ancient Mando’a Verb “Kor” roughly translated to being forced to come to a life changing decision out of love. Obi-Wan's Mando'a was rough, but he wasn't an idiot, though he'd been less than excited about a namesake at first. Maybe one day he'd not wonder if he'd even made the right choice.
But for the first time in years, the living force was singing.
The Force was wrapping the trio in warmth, dancing with an ebb and flow Obi-Wan could sense even without the concentration of meditation. It was flowing freely through them all. Obi-Wan had always been especially familiar with Satine's force signature, not only because of their history, but with the unintentional study of her over the years. With the addition of their child, she'd practically glowed to him, even after her labours ended and the child arrived, Obi-Wan was elated to find that the harmony of their distinct signatures remained in tune. The Force was strong with the child, and Korben would manifest the characteristics of his gift soon. Obi-Wan snapped to attention when the baby stirred, and he worked up his confidence for a minute or so before oh so carefully lifting the child off Satine’s naked chest. He hadn’t held a baby on his own since Luke and Leia, but something here felt different. Something that felt like home.
At the disturbance, Satine opened then squinted her eyes at him in question. He didn't know what to say, and Obi-Wan opened, then closed his mouth. His only exposure to the nuances of family life had been with clanmates as a Jedi Initiate, and the bits and pieces he'd picked up over the years of observing civilians. Was it stupid? Was this something he was not supposed to do? What was he even supposed to do? Would she think him silly? “I want to show him the sunrise,” Obi-Wan admitted. He tore his eyes momentarily from the baby in his arms to Satine, who looked amused at her Husband’s words.
“That is your first act as a Father?” Satine closed her eyes and hummed.
A Father.
He was a Father. How strange. Obi-Wan’s emotions hadn’t been this far out of control since he’d been nineteen years old and stepping onto a starship with Master Qui-Gon after a year of adventure and he was leaving Satine -and a million possibilities- behind to rule Mandalore on her own. How curious that something so small as a baby brought everything to the surface so intensely. The treacherous path of ‘what-if’s was not one he wished to frequent, and he did his best to focus purely on moving forward. But now the baby in his arms offered a new, foreign option; to simply stand still for a while.
Satine adjusted herself in the bed, and didn’t show a substantial enough reaction for Obi-Wan to guess her opinion. He waited for some clue, a hint at what she thought. “I think it’s sweet,” Satine suddenly told him, and she yawned. Obi-Wan tentatively reached one hand over to pull a blanket higher over her shoulder, giving her a lingering glance of concern for her remaining pain before noting her return to sleep. He then took his cloak from where it had been slung over the betpost, and wrapped himself and his tiny son inside.
Obi-Wan walked his modest Tatooine home by muscle memory, preoccupied with staring at his son.
His son.
How rare could this be? How did he let the Galaxy down and still manage to deserve this? A million questions he didn’t know he had seemed to resolve themselves each time he looked at the baby in his arms. His tiny hands gripped the edges of the Jedi cloak he was wrapped in. It was as if he knew it was his father’s cloak.
Obi-Wan toed on his shoes at the door, making a mental reminder to clean up the sand before Satine was healed enough to leave their bed for longer than a few minutes. She’d become quite the neat freak during her pregnancy, and had virtually declared war upon every grain of sand that dared find it’s way into their home.
With a flourish of his fingers, Obi-Wan dared to use the force to unlock the doors, then pushed with his back to break the seal of the door to the outside. He’d been right earlier. The sky seemed even more massive from their cliffside, and the binary suns hadn't yet broken the horizon, yet were painting the sands in deep hues of purple, red and orange. The sandstorm had left enough low-lying dust clouds that it seemed soft hazy hills had formed over the desert, and it reminded Obi-Wan of his home on Coruscant. “In another era, we would have lived on Coruscant,” The man told his son, “You would have grown up in a huge temple with lots of friends. I was trained in the Temple, you know. To be a Jedi Knight, but… well…” Obi-Wan trailed off, “You won’t have to worry about all that. You’ll get to be a moisture farmer like your parents.”
Obi-Wan walked from station to station, elbowing the switches and cranks to close the vaporators. Perhaps he and Satine should invest in some automated timers, as it was clear their sleep schedules were now kriffed for the impending future. He humphed, and looked back down to the baby, “Your mother was a Duchess. Bravest woman in the Galaxy -she put up with carrying you for nine months, so I should know.”
The baby huffed in his sleep, as if the sudden light were a grave offence. He waved one hand in the air, and began wigging as he woke up. Panic arose deep in Obi-Wan’s chest. Oh don’t cry, little one, He thought, and offered as much comfort as he could. “I’m sorry you had to end up with me as your father. I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do. But you won’t tell your mum I said that, right? It’ll be our secret.”
The baby pouted his little rosebud lips, and Obi-Wan accepted his answer. “I do know one thing. I love you very much. I am very much attached, you could say,” He laughed to himself. The first of the suns was up now, staining the sky with bright pastels that were quickly becoming the pure blue of the day. For the first time, Obi-Wan really looked at the blue. It was blue like Satine’s eyes. Now it was blue like Korben’s.
Obi-Wan didn’t believe in luck. Or Destiny. But he believed that perhaps everything in his life was always moving towards this. This moment. This child. This family he didn’t know he could ever deserve. He couldn’t fail Korben.
In that second, Obi-Wan swore to his son a promise of a thousand words. He’d do better. He’d be a man worthy to be the father Korben needed. He’d do everything to give his son a life better than his own. Korben would never know war. Korben would not face the strife of his parents. Obi-Wan couldn’t ensure that his son would never know pain or suffering, as such was the way of life, but the former Jedi resolved to shield his son from the inevitable to the best of his ability.
Obi-Wan committed to memory every tiny breath the baby took, as if he could make the moment last forever as he hung on to every little detail. There were several moments in Obi-Wan’s life which he could say with absolute certainty were completely, and irrevocably perfect. When Qui-Gon took him as an apprentice. Anakin’s knighting ceremony. The first time Obi-Wan saw a real life Quasar. His first dance with Satine at her coronation. A handful of Anakin, his, and Ahsoka’s successful post-mission flights home. The first time himself and Satine made love right and properly without the overhanging shadow of their lifestyles holding them back. And now, Obi-Wan could add this very moment with his son to that list.
So much of his life felt as though it had been behind a screen until now. It was as if things were so much clearer now, even with the anxiety of parenthood.
“For someone who isn’t even speaking, you sure are explaining a lot to me, Korben,” Obi-Wan observed softly. He looked out at the sunrise, with its swaths of painted colours and growing light. The second Sun was peeking over the horizon. The high temperatures of the Tatooine day would soon stifle the night-cooled air into an agonising dry heat.
As if Korben knew what was coming, that his comfort would soon be compromised, a small squeak left his mouth, quickly followed by high pitched wails. Obi-Wan reached out with the force to try to discern the issue, finding an all too familiar discomfort. “Alright, let’s head indoors. I know you're hungry.”
Obi-Wan made his way back to his home, and returned to his wife. At the sound of her son’s cries, the blonde had awoken, and beckoned him closer. Satine asked him to sit beside her with a single glance, and as Obi-Wan obeyed and handed their son over, he pressed a kiss to her hairline.
“How was it?” Satine sleepily asked, situating the child at her breast so he could eat.
Obi-Wan smiled, “Beautiful.”