Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello, the universe croons to him with the first breath Anakin takes. Hello-ours.

Perhaps overwhelmed, his damp and bloody face immediately wrinkles as he rests on his tired mother's bosom and lets out a loud wail.

Yes-awake-hello, the world repeats as if his screams are a returned greeting. Shh. Quiet-now.

Anakin only cries louder in protest, his eyes still tightly closed and nose scrunching up in discomfort. His limbs are not as full as a newborn baby’s should be, the fat lacking over his muscles with malnutrition, but nevertheless the slave that had taken the role of midwife offers his mother some water and tells her that he looks healthy despite him not breathing for the first few minutes of his new life.

Grow, the universe murmurs fondly, ours-safe-grow.

"He is?" Shmi Skywalker sobs weakly, her eyes brimming with tears that she doesn’t let spill. She cradles the small bundle of light in her arms closer and tucks away the unforgiving fear in her mind. This is her son- her unexpected surprise, the universe's gift to her. She has no reason to be scared, of course he is okay, he's alive, breathing and crying right in her arms. "He's okay?"

She knows deep in her heart that there isn't a world out there where he wouldn't be. The universe loves her boy, otherwise it wouldn't create him from nothing– and so, it won't let him wither away this easily, even under the cruel conditions of their slave quarters.

As the midwife helps her pull down the neckline of her shirt and show her how to nurse her boy for the first time, she absently wonders if that's a good thing or not. The shackles on her wrists weigh heavy, just a tiny bit too tight with the swollen joints her pregnancy has brought.

Hello, everything that does and does not exist whispers to Anakin, hello-fearless-ours. Hello.

Anakin continues crying his lungs out as if to prove to the galaxy that he is now here. Unaware of the invisible tendrils of something greater than her reaching and wrapping around her son, cradling his form as tenderly as she can with her trembling arms, Shmi hushes him and turns his head to her breast worriedly. Her son latches onto the food offered vigorously, abandoning his attempts at screaming the world into tameness for a greater treasure; A full tummy.

Shh, the stale air says again, rest-grow. Ours. Here.

Shmi loves him. The universe loves him more.

–

Their arrival to Tatooine is a quiet and painful affair.

Shmi is whipped whenever she stumbles from tiredness on her way to her new station, Anakin cradled close to her chest with a makeshift swaddle. They don't see their new owner, Mistress Gardulla, as their eyes are unworthy of getting a glimpse of the powerful Hutt. Following the rest of the slaves that got dragged onto the dustball that is Tatooine with her, Shmi finds the slave quarters of the planet and sets down her few belongings, a few threadbare clothes and such, on the dirty cot.

She is to start working right away. She tightens the swaddle's knot and starts looking for a good place to hide her more precious things in. She can let Anakin sleep a bit more before they are to serve their master– before Anakin will have to help her with whatever pieces of machinery his small hands can hold. His palms are already too rough for a child. Shmi mourns for the innocence lost in her little boy.

So yes, their arrival is silent and uneventful. It’s shameful, painted with new wounds and sunburns, thirst and sickness. It’s as calm as anything on Tatooine can be.

Too bad no one realizes that's often how the eye of the storm is.

–

Anakin learns early on that the world loves him.

He sees it in the way the wind playfully ruffles his hair, or when the sand solidifies under his feet as he walks, or when he finds himself really thirsty and suddenly there is a black melon barely buried in the sand next to his feet.

He dreams of the Dune Sea, but it melts and tints a blue so beautiful that he decides it to be his favorite color. Of a clearing that's full of green and yellow and purple trees, the kind that he's never seen before, chirps and chuffs of creatures hidden deep within the plants singing him a song he often delightedly hums along. Of a galaxy so vast and brimming with life and light, with stars and planets and nebulas, with laughter and joy and love. He sees everything that eyes can and cannot see in the darkest hour of the night, when his eyelids are shut tight and the shallow waves of sleep drags his mind into unknown waters.

He is so loved, so cherished that he sometimes forgets the visions he’s gifted aren't of here and now. He claps along with the melodic tunes of the galaxy and plays hide-and-seek with starlight, and it's almost like the weight of the collar on his neck isn't even there. In his dreams, he is bigger than any cuffs they can build.

Then, the trainers come as the twin suns touch the skyline– and he wakes up. There is sand in his shoes and he’s itchy. The sun blisters his arms and the back of his neck, his spine hurts from staying bent over at work. As she has been for months, his mother is still absent.

Anakin is alone.

Except he's not and there's a loving whisper of ours-ours-ours echoing in his ears. When he lifts his head, knowing that he isn't supposed to and will be whipped for it till he bleeds if the trainers catch him, he catches a glimpse with his countless eyes that aren't there, of a smile on a face that doesn't exist.

He’s not alone– he's never alone.

–

The first time Anakin finds himself kneeling on the floor in front of Jabba the Hutt, he’s not even four. His mother is next to him, hands clenched white by the hems of her skirt as she keeps her head bowed low.

"Gardulla Besadii the Elder has sent the slaves following the conditions of her greatness' bet with your excellence, Great Jabba."

Their tracking transmitters are offered to the Hutt on a cushy, blood-red pillow. Jabba doesn't even look at it, he waves a hand and the controllers are taken away.

Something so small yet so heavy with the lives depending on it– yet it doesn't even get a second look.

That’s another thing Anakin learns early on: To some, his life isn't even worth a second glance.

–

By the time he is six, he's one of the best repairmen in the Palace. He's better than his mother, than the other slaves, than all those experienced, old handymen that take care of the machinery that truly matters to Jabba.

There are many bets on him, he knows. When he’s done working well into the night, with blisters on his feet and calluses on his hands, ladies with round bellies and painfully-clean faces rub dirt on his face and sleep around his makeshift mattress. Don't speak, some of them say, just do what you’re told and keep your head down, sweetling. You shouldn’t get their attention.

But Anakin doesn't want that. When he bows his head, there is a tug on his hair; When he stills his tongue, whispers fill his ears. He’s not made to be small and quiet. He should fill the space he’s in, thrive off of the life thrumming around him. He’s meant to be everlasting.

Quiet, they tell him.

Speak, the world insists in return.

He learns what freedom means between one breath and the next. He dares to speak in front of one of the visitors the Palace gets– a bounty hunter, invited by Gardulla herself. They’re an old, ugly humanoid. They see him fixing up their ship and tell him, come here. The greedy glint in their eyes gets sharper as they look Anakin up and down.

In that hangar, waiting for a mercy that doesn’t come, Anakin learns what it means to fight for himself.

Klicks later, overseers arrive to a scene that Anakin pays dearly for: The bounty hunter lying unconscious in a heap of limbs cracked and damaged beyond use. No one pays close enough attention to notice that the damage on the wall they’re crumpled down next to is resembling their guest’s form as if molded in their shape. Like someone, something, had thrown them hard enough for the stone to dent in a perfect copy.

But what they do notice is Anakin, standing next to their ship, frozen in place, with a handprint slowly marking the skin of his wrist a blotchy pink.

It’s the first time that someone tries to lay their hands on him in a way that isn’t fully with the intention to hurt, not entirely– yet it is the one that hurts the most. It’s not the last either. However, it is the only time Anakin regrets fighting– because he may be too young for proper punishment, but his mother is not.

It’s as simple as that. Shmi is dragged away to be sold off, and that’s the last time Anakin sees his mother in many, many years.

–

Time passes in a slow agony on a planet as hopeless as Tatooine.

Loneliness clings to his psyche crueler than the marks left on his skin, but it leaves Anakin stronger for it. He knows that this isn’t the end– that he will see his mother again. The universe tells him so.

When he is told to work, he works. But his hands are faster than they know, and he has his pockets full of things no slave should own. He never sleeps a full night’s sleep, staying well past lights-out to build machines under starlight that’ll never be touched by his master’s malevolent hands.

In the end, it's a fleeting comment that births Tatooine’s freedom. Kick a pebble, and an earthquake follows.

If only I had your controller, a bounty hunter laments unhappily, watching over him as Anakin repairs the damaged hyperdrive of her ship. She keeps her hands to herself, but her eyes, her gaze itches on Anakin’s skin. Maybe Jabba will award me a copy if I get my next job done quick enough.

A copy.

It takes ninety four standard rotations. On the 94th night, Anakin lifts his head up from the chunky, makeshift remote and presses the button on it without hesitation.

Nothing happens, but the next time he scans his neck, the signal his chip’s supposed to be emitting doesn’t show up on the readings.

It’s turned off.

–

He fulfills his duties perfectly. The days are for a slave who doesn’t dare to lift his head up and only has eyes for his work. The nights however…

Those are for Anakin. For Kit, who he pulls into his plot next, or the pregnant women that always sleep huddled around him, or palace minders that barely get any time to rest between their duties.

It’s not a quick rebellion, the one they’re building up, not when Anakin has to painstakingly replicate the individual signals outputted by each chip one by one into his remote that becomes sleeker and smaller over time, but that doesn’t matter. It is not a rebellion that is born with the intention to become one either. This is loneliness, and desperation, and longing that becomes something bigger to bring meaning to all the life that gets wasted needlessly on Tatooine.

He finds quicker methods as nights pass on, then automates some of the work, showing others how his theory is coming to life. Some freed people try to escape the moment their chip is lost to their masters, and they very nearly cost everyone else their lives. Yet the others pick up the slack and slowly, plots are made, an intricate dance is followed step by step to build up something that Tatooine will never forget.

In the end, it is not Anakin that frees his people. He is the spark that starts the fire, but he only brings an end to the chips, evens the playing field. The rest are all the people that get underestimated by their masters.

My little sandstorm, he sometimes dreams of his mother whispering lovingly against his ear, hugging him close, combing the thin strands of his hair behind his ears. She hasn’t seen him in years now. He wonders if she would recognize him now. My starlight, my darling son.

One night, he lifts his head to call the next person with an active chip to his side and finds the space empty. Then, he notices the loose circle the people he’s lived with for the last few years have formed around him, all quietly sitting down watching him avidly. The twi’lek he’d been working on the chip of is looking up at him with bright, hopeful eyes, and asks, is it done?

Anakin nods. As tears start to trail down her cheeks, Kit reaches to clasp a hand against Anakin’s shoulder and tells him the very thing Anakin had never thought he’d be hearing– there are no slaves left in the Palace.

That’s when it dawns on Anakin, what all of this has been building up to.

A true revolution.

Chapter Text

“You’re a Jedi,” a voice says from behind.

Obi-Wan startles, hand twitching to the lightsaber hilt hanging off of his hip. When he turns, an unfamiliar face, somewhat hidden, stares back at him. Sharp eyes, thick brows, frown lines etched onto tanned skin of the man’s forehead while a cloth mask hugs the rest of his features and– ah. That’s the sigil of Lady Shmi’s people.

The lack of warning from his senses is surprising. While some people can learn to hide their presence in the Force, there are few that are capable of doing it this well. But now that his eyes confirm the presence of this man, Obi-Wan maps the space where he’s standing and there, plain as day– a subtle light, brighter than any other he’s ever seen, chaotic, friendly.

How unusual. Perhaps Obi-Wan was simply too lost in thought to notice.

Obi-Wan eyes the crest on the mask intently as he steps closer to the man, but it’s hard to tell what kind of a mark it is– while many cover themselves all-over on Tatooine, few dare to wear the sigil of the First Freed unless they are also one, and fate would have it that this man’s outfit has it sewn onto each piece of clothing as far as he can tell. But Obi-Wan finds himself unsure on which house this specific one belongs to.

“Ah, yes. I am indeed a Jedi, my dear,” he says warmly. “Please forgive me, but I’m afraid I’m still adjusting to the different house crests on Tatooine and don’t recognize yours.”

“You’re the one Republic sent?” The man asks instead, ignoring Obi-Wan’s poor attempt at asking his identity. His brows are furrowed, but he doesn’t look so stoic in the light of the setting suns shining from the window of the Palace hall they’re in.

Obi-Wan nods without missing a beat, “Indeed. I’m Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The silence stretches a tad too long, just enough to brew up some tension. Perhaps a tough person to befriend, Obi-Wan considers, but that’s to be expected on a planet like Tatooine. Simply giving the man a smile, he tests the waters with a teasing lilt, “I’ve already admitted I’m not overly familiar with most customs of this system, but I do believe offering your name back is the universally polite answer to an introduction.”

That prompts a snicker from the stranger at last, “And what makes you think I care about that?”

“Well, you haven’t abandoned me to my own company yet, dear.”

That gets him a lifted eyebrow. “Yet,” the man emphasizes.

“Yet,” Obi-Wan echoes back with a small grin tugging at his lips.

In the brief, expectant quiet that falls between them, with Obi-Wan’s hands finding each other at his front to hide in the sleeves of his robes, he gets the feeling of something shaping up beyond his grasp. A shatterpoint maybe, but Master Windu has always been better at reading those, and all he has to go off of is the considering look in this stranger’s face before that leaves its place to a tentative friendliness.

There’s something more to be discovered here, Obi-Wan thinks. He doesn’t know what, but it exists, just beyond his reach.

“Anakin,” the man offers.

It’s an easy decision then, with a name to pair those eyes with. Obi-Wan gives a knowing smile at him, nodding, “A pleasure to meet you, Anakin.”

–

“I take it the meeting could’ve gone better,” Anakin says with a subtle grin, watching Obi-Wan jerk back to life as his eyes lift to find him. His steps stall, coming to a stop next to the tiny alcove Anakin had been waiting for him to pass by.

“You could say that.” Despite his initially down mood, the corners of Obi-Wan’s lips curl up the tiniest bit. “You’re lucky you don’t have to sit through one of these, darling.”

Anakin crosses his arms over his chest, casually leaning against the wall. “No arguments on that. So, what’s next on the schedule?”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rise, but his eyes spark with interest. He shrugs nonchalantly, “Nothing fancy, I’m afraid. I was planning for a visit to the chow hall, then spare the rest of the day for meditation.”

“Well,” Anakin says deliberately, “I think I have a better idea.”

“Oh? Pray tell?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Standing up straight once more, Anakin nods at him to follow, “Come on, you’ll like this.”

As he turns around with his loose desert-wear fluttering behind his steps, Obi-Wan shakes his head fondly. They’ve only bumped into each other a handful of times, but look how he’s already sure of his place in Obi-Wan’s routine on Tatooine.

But, well, it’s not like Obi-Wan is doing anything to prevent him from acting this way. Without any protest, his footsteps start to trail after Anakin.

After visiting a festival of some sort, they end up digging up black melons and snacking on street food from the vendors of a part of Mos Espa that Obi-Wan had never been to before. Even when Anakin turns away to stuff his share beneath his mask, Obi-Wan doesn’t let it sour the moment. It’s a nice night, filled with copious jokes and laughter.

He goes to his quarters with a smile that night, skin still tingling in the spots where Anakin’s body had pressed up against his while they were riding on Anakin’s speeder.

It’s the kind of a night that Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

–

“–the cooling line wouldn’t be able to handle the strain, so a weaker design works better with P-16 models.”

“Mhm.”

“They do need more time to initialize and can’t take you nearly as far as other versions, but it’s not like a non-commercial unit needs to travel from one end of the universe to the other. And they have a more compact structure too, so that offers wider cargo space. You might as well have it compared to one of the S-series.”

“Are you trying to sell it to me, Anakin?”

Anakin’s head whips up from the hyperdrive he’s leaning over to fiddle with, eyes wide, “What? No!”

Obi-Wan chuckles, “Good, because I already told you that I don’t need a personal ship.”

“Well. I’m not trying to sell it,” Anakin mumbles, his eyes darting back down guiltily. The tool in his hand gets set down the hyperdrive as he straightens up, “but you would be better off with a ship of your own.”

Humming knowingly, Obi-Wan says, “So that’s why you’ve been listing all the different types of ships on Tatooine right now?”

Anakin lets out a sigh of defeat.

The thing is, Obi-Wan knows all this is coming from a good place. Anakin isn’t trying to pressure him into buying an overpriced piece of junk, he doesn’t even want to sell things from his own workshop. He probably just thinks Obi-Wan would appreciate having a ship of his own.

He changes the subject on a whim, “How about you, my dear? What do you use?”

That gets Anakin to pause. Hesitantly, he tucks his hands into his pockets and rocks in place. “I… don’t have a ship.”

Eyebrows drawing high up in surprise, Obi-Wan repeats dubiously, “You don’t?”

Anakin shakes his head.

And that– well, that explains some things. Like why Anakin wants Obi-Wan to have a transport of his own. Of course, as a First Freed, he never would’ve gotten the chance before, and now… It’s not like there are hidden riches on Tatooine. Without its crime syndicates and hyperlines, Obi-Wan knows that Tatooine is nothing but a poor, barren dust ball.

He asks, “Have you ever been in one?”

“Once.” Looking back at him, Anakin’s eyes curve in a facsimile of a smile. It’s not a happy expression. “When I was first taken to Tatooine. I don’t really remember it.”

There’s a story there, Obi-Wan guesses– a long, painful one. Nonetheless, he doesn’t want Anakin to go back to his quarters with those old memories unearthed in his mind. Instead, he decides on something he’s not supposed to do at all.

“Well then, would you like to visit one? A real ship, a Star Destroyer?”

The disbelieving look he gets makes it worth all the risk he’s taking by offering this. Anakin’s eyebrows rise higher by the second, “Are you serious?”

He smiles, “As much as I can be, my dear.”

Slowly, that fake smile turns into a genuine one on Anakin’s face. It’s nothing like his previous expression– the excitement brimming in his eyes is more than enough to echo the same feeling in Obi-Wan. “What do you think? A kriffing Star Destroyer? Of course I want to see it!”

Extending a hand out to him, Obi-Wan nods, eyes crinkled at the corners, and says, “Come on then. Let me introduce you to the Negotiator.”

Anakin takes his offered hand. Callused and warm, to Obi-Wan, it feels like it’s exactly where it belongs now.

–

“That’s unbelievable!” The senator exclaims, pushing himself up to his feet in a moment of anger. “Frankly, Tatooine has nothing to offer to the Republic. This entire visit was out of pity, and you still dare to speak of your own terms? You’re shameless!”

Lady Skywalker stays seated, calmly standing her ground. “Similarly, the Republic has nothing to offer that we want, Senator. We don’t want nor need your pity, and we are only allowing your presence here out of goodwill.”

There is steel in her voice, but her hair is frazzled where it’s framing her face. She has dark, prominent eye bags beneath her eyes, and there are wrinkles of stress on her forehead. She is at the end of her rope, Obi-Wan knows without a doubt.

“Senator, please calm down,” he says for the nth time since the start of this meeting, knowing it won’t start to help now. This is a losing fight. “Tatooine was voted to be invited to have a seat in the Senate, you must remember that. It is their right to set their own conditions for their participation–”

He gets cut off, “–nonsense! I will hear no more of this!”

With his robes fluttering behind his steps, the senator storms out of the makeshift meeting room they’ve been using in Jabba’s old Palace. In his wake, the room falls silent.

After a moment, Lady Skywalker breaks it with a quiet sigh. “Maybe I was being too optimistic to hope that the Republic would send a sensible ambassador.”

Obi-Wan glances at her, surprised to be addressed so casually, but Lady Skywalker’s eyes are turned to one of her guards. The moment Obi-Wan’s eyes find that silhouette, covered in sandy robes and a mask, he knows who he is.

“I was just being pessimistic, mom,” Anakin says dryly, “but not even I could’ve anticipated that guy. Who does he think he is?”

Mom?

Oh dear. Anakin is Lady Skywalker’s son?

That… brings a whole different layer of depth to their short escapades until now. Obi-Wan hides the tightening of his lips behind a vague gesture to stroke his beard.

Lady Shmi shakes her head unhappily, “No, you knew it and warned me. This was a waste of time.”

At that, Obi-Wan leaves behind the implications of Anakin’s family and steps forward to offer consolation. “My Lady, don’t beat yourself up over this. There are many who support your cause on Tatooine, and while Senator Taana doesn’t show the same interest, this is only the beginning of Tatooine’s interactions with the rest of the Republic.” His eyes dart to Anakin’s bright eyes, seeing the awe in them, and escape back to the familiar distant politeness of Lady Skywalker’s right away. When he speaks again, his voice sounds a tad hoarse. “Please, don’t lose hope.”

Lady Skywalker gives him a thin smile. She doesn’t look like she believes him in the slightest, but she lowers her head in acceptance nonetheless. “Thank you for your wisdom, Master Jedi. I guess we can only see what will happen with time.”

“It’ll be alright, mom.” Anakin says with conviction, “I know it.”

When his eyes meet with his mother’s, there is a moment in which Obi-Wan thinks there’s a live wire buried under his skin. There’s something he doesn’t know happening here, like they’re speaking a language he doesn’t know with their eyes– but then Lady Skywalker blinks, and it’s gone. When she turns to look at Obi-Wan, the feeling has long since slipped past from Obi-Wan’s fingers.

“I’m aware of your attempts to support our case against Senator Taana’s wishes, Master Jedi. You have my thanks for it, as well as for keeping my son company all this time.”

“Ah…” So she’s aware of Obi-Wan’s… trips, with Anakin. Obi-Wan finds himself unsure on what this exactly means for him. “It was my pleasure, Lady Skywalker. You owe me no thanks.”

“Which is all the more reason to feel grateful for your presence.” Then, she waves a hand dismissively, “But either way, I believe the time to bid you and your party goodbye is drawing closer. Senator Taana has nothing more to say that I’m interested in hearing, and I’m sure you’ve been away from the war efforts long enough. You will have your quarters for as long as you decide to stay, but the peace talks are over.”

The loss of such a possibility is worth mourning over. What Tatooine’s people have achieved here, the things they’ve built up to, it’s admirable. There is much to be learnt from them, and they deserve to live their days easier after all those hardships, but life is no more easier for the wounded. Thus, she is right. Obi-Wan no longer has a reason to stay on Tatooine, and has all the more to go back to the frontlines.

Bowing his head deep in respect, he says, “Thank you for your hospitality, my Lady.”

When he looks back up, Lady Skywalker looks a lot older– but either way, the kindness in her eyes is not a drop less than any other time. She is an admirable leader. “You have friends here, Obi-Wan Kenobi. If you are ever in need of aid, know that the Skywalkers will be happy to offer you theirs.”

Obi-Wan bows again. When he lifts his head, she is already on her way to leave the room.

“Let me walk you out,” Anakin says into the empty space of the meeting room, his gaze boring into Obi-Wan’s face with an indescribable spark in it.

It is not a question. So with a pit of void pooling in his stomach, Obi-Wan simply nods.

“I know you tried to help,” Anakin says quietly as they start to walk towards Obi-Wan’s rooms. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, “I failed. Tatooine won’t be receiving any aid supplies.”

“We have no need for it.” Bumping a shoulder against his, Anakin throws him a weak grin. “We survived by ourselves until now, we don’t need any help now either.”

It’s not about needing it, though– it's about deserving it after everything they’ve been through. People bled on these sands, they died with rags as clothes and collars digging into their throats. Anakin was born to this life, he spent his childhood working with no reward in sight until his hands were left scarred and callused, the kind of marks that he’ll carry on his own skin for the rest of his life. Where’s justice in that?

But Obi-Wan is only a Jedi. Who’s he to tell the Senate how to work their system?

“I am sorry regardless, my dear.”

Anakin takes a shaky breath as if he knows exactly what Obi-Wan is thinking. In a quiet voice, he replies, “I am too.”

They walk the rest of the way quietly, knowing their time together is coming to an end. From now on, they may never see each other again. Obi-Wan may die fighting a war bigger than him, or Anakin may be lost in his pursuit for the freedom of many. Or maybe, the Force may simply never let them cross paths again– but Obi-Wan doesn’t even entertain that thought.

There is something to Tatooine– to Anakin. Something that his eyes can’t see, but it’s there and he can nearly taste it in the air, in the way the Force clings to the hems of Anakin’s robe like a little kid asking for attention. He doubts he’ll ever find out what it is but he knows that one day, they will see each other again.

He comes to a stop next to the entrance of his quarters. It's time for him to pack up, but when he turns to Anakin with the intention to bid him farewell, the Force is prickling against his senses, more alive than it has ever been since he stepped on Tatooine.

The blue of Anakin’s eyes is changing hues, crackling like lightning. What’s visible of his features over his mask are soft and relaxed, and there’s a gentle curve to his eyes. An askew curl is hanging off at his forehead, clinging to his skin from leftover sweat from a busy day. When he blinks, the shadows of his eyelashes dance over his cheekbones.

“I’ll miss you,” Anakin says quietly.

There are a thousand words Obi-Wan finds, but none really convey what he wants to say. I’ll miss you too, his lips long to form, and you’ll be alright, or even we’ll meet again.

With his heart squeezing tight in his chest, he discards them all and instead leans closer before hesitating, his eyes darting over the dips and rises of Anakin’s features. But he’s not alone in his thoughts, because it barely takes a moment before Anakin closes the distance between them himself– his lips, hidden beneath the fabric of his mask, press lightly against Obi-Wan’s own. His beard catches against the rough material, and Obi-Wan reaches a hand to curl around Anakin’s waist, holding him gently like he may shatter into a thousand pieces if he’s not careful. Anakin’s breath meets his own through the cloth barrier.

There are some moments, feelings in this life too important, too sacred to be shared, tainted with anything else. Similarly, Obi-Wan thinks that the world could’ve ended in that very moment and he wouldn’t have noticed it.

But as all good things, this too comes to an end. As Anakin draws back, his shaky exhale fans Obi-Wan’s face through his mask.

“I’ll see you again,” Anakin lets him know with conviction. “When that day comes, you better welcome me the same way.”

Obi-Wan finds a smile stretching his lips without his permission. He lets it form without a fight. “You have my word, darling.”

“Good.”

Anakin leans in again and their lips meet once more. Obi-Wan hopes that when that day comes, there won’t be a barrier between them.

Chapter Text

“General?” Obi-Wan’s comm crackles into life. Cody sounds stoic from the other side, if a tad hesitant.

Frowning, Obi-Wan lifts his head from the datapad that lists the details of the droid army’s initial attack on Kinyen. “Yes, Commander?”

“We have a problem.”

Well. That’s unlucky. It hasn’t been long since he’s retired back to his temporary room as he hasn’t even gotten a chance to sleep at all, but it seems trouble needs no rest. Setting the datapad down on the table he’s sitting on, he turns his attention to his comm. “What’s wrong?”

“We found the leftovers of an ambush in the forest, sir.” There’s a short pause before Cody adds, “Our last patrol through this area was a standard hour ago. Nothing usual.”

That’s not good. An ambush this close to their temporary base, and seeing as they aren’t missing any soldiers, an unknown 3rd party who got caught in it. Obi-Wan hums thoughtfully, “Any news from the locals?”

“None. The Mayor denied any involvement.”

With a sigh, he pushes himself up to his feet. The tea he prepared when he’d gotten to his rooms nearly an hour ago and forgot the existence of with the aid of all the reports he’s been going through, looks at him sadly next to the datapad. “I’m on my way.”

“I’ll keep the site secure for your arrival,” Cody answers immediately.

While securing his outer robe on his person, his hand lingers on the crest sewn into the inner stitching of the left sleeve. It feels like it’s starting to come loose. With a sigh, Obi-Wan calls, “And Commander?”

“Yes sir?”

“Increase the patrol teams. We don’t want an ambush this close to our base.”

“On it, General.”

–

The support of the local governing bodies had been a part of the aid request Kinyen’s senator had made in Coruscant, and Obi-Wan makes use of that. He grabs one of the speeder bikes amongst many other supplies the Mayor had offered to them to help push out the CIS from their planet, and sets out with a quick pace.

It takes a short time to arrive at the forest Cody had been talking about– two hours of walk from their base with plenty of plantlife to use as cover. He passes by a couple of patrol teams on the way, searching for further disturbances in the thick forestry that slowly climbs up in height. They salute him while he rides past.

He doesn’t see any signs of this so-called failed ambush until he gets close enough to spy Cody’s squad scattered in a small opening, chatting with each other quietly. They snap to attention at the sight of his speeder, one stepping forward as he draws closer.

“Wooley,” Obi-Wan calls out as he comes to a stop next to them. “Any news?”

“General Kenobi, sir,” Wooley takes off his helmet and salutes him. “Nothing new so far. The Commander asked me to take you to him.”

Getting off of the speeder, Obi-Wan nods at the clone that steps up to grab it off his hands for safekeeping, and says, “Then let’s get going.”

Wooley leads him deeper into the woods, giving a quick report on the way. “It was Trapper’s team who found it. Looked like the droids tried to set up an ambush. There were explosives and smoke traps laid out along a line,” he turns to look at Obi-Wan, shrugging, “but none of them ever got triggered.”

“So their ambush was ambushed?” Obi-Wan lifts an eyebrow bemusedly, stepping over a thick root in his way.

“Something like that, sir.”

Pushing away a branch obscuring their way, Wooley allows him to step past the treeline first. The scene that greets them makes Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rise even higher.

The grassy ground is littered with scorch marks, droid parts thrown around left and right. It reminds him of the ship of a poacher he’d caught with Qui-Gon back when he was but a padawan, who had a pet massiff she’d snatched off of Tatooine. The poacher’s personal quarters had been covered in the soft innards of plush toys that suffered from the massiff’s unforgiving jaws. Wherever Obi-Wan had looked, there was another chewed off foot or head of cute toys, with their soft, white innards spilling out from the rips and tears on the fabric like the toys’ seeping blood.

He steps closer to the center of the destruction. There is a metal sheet laying at the side, who knows what it could’ve belonged to originally, that looks like a crumpled up flimsi. The earth is disturbed at some parts, dug out to reveal mines.

“Any idea on what could’ve caused this?” Obi-Wan asks absentmindedly, crouching down to grab a ripped-out, misshapen droid head. He remembers the saliva dripping down the massiff’s muzzle, those wild, beady eyes tracking him as it was prowling in its cage.

“None,” comes from Cody a few feet away, who steps over what presumably was another droid’s torso, to reach to his side. He nods in greeting, helmet firmly on and his own blaster ready in his hand, “General.”

Obi-Wan throws him a crooked grin. “Not a single day passes without some excitement, right, Cody?”

“We could do with some,” Cody sighs before turning to Wooley. “We have it from here.”

“Indeed.”

He’d been scared of massiffs for the longest time after that mission. The next time he’d found himself on Tatooine, he’d avoided exploring into the Dune Sea as his assignment hadn’t led him out there either. Yet it had taken him only a mere day to beat that memory– with Anakin leading him up to a Tusken tribe one morning, showing him how to pet their hunting massiff to make it huff in happiness.

… now, there are no massiffs out here. Nor Anakin, as much as that thought stings. He’s gone, Lady Shmi’s voice from that final holo she’d sent his way from years ago echoes in his ears. I don’t know where. I am sorry, Master Kenobi. Anakin is no longer willing to live the life he was born into.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan sets the droid head back down and hauls himself up to his feet, “Thank you for keeping me company, Wooley.”

Wooley salutes again, “My pleasure, General.”

As he turns around to leave, Obi-Wan looks back to the clearing and puts his hands on his hips. “So what’s your theory, Commander?”

“Theory?” Cody’s helmet tilts towards him before he also turns, taking in the scattered droid parts. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this before, sir. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said there was an explosion.”

“But there are no blast marks.”

Cody nods once, his hand tightening on his blaster.

“Nothing was caught on our sensors?”

A head shake. “Not even a blip. There are signs of a transportation vehicle off that way,” he gestures the opposite of where their main base is, “which must’ve belonged to these droids, for when they brought out all these mines here, but that’s all we’ve found so far.”

Obi-Wan hums.

“Actually…” After a pause, Cody exhales slowly and goes to take off his helmet. His expression is blank, but his eyes are sharp as ever when he glares at the droid parts around them. “In my personal opinion, sir,” he starts before trailing off.

“Yes?” Obi-Wan prompts him.

That gets him a glance. “I’ve only seen something like this once before,” Cody says decidedly, eyeing him up with a faint wrinkle between his brows, “with you, sir. Back in Metalorn, when we were sent undercover.”

Obi-Wan remembers that mission. He’d been with Quinlan, Cody and a few more troopers from the 212th. No armor, no lightsabers, nothing that would point towards them being with the Republic. Just two Jedi, a bunch of clones and blasters. And when that wasn’t enough…

“When we were discovered and cornered in the hangar, the way you and General Voss fought with the hunter droids… the aftermath had looked like this.”

…the Force.

Obi-Wan tugs at his beard, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You think this is the work of a Force-user?”

“One without a lightsaber,” Cody confirms.

Obi-Wan looks around one more time. He can see it too, in the crumbled up durasteel and droid parts ripped out from their sockets, mines discovered and dug out without any proper tools. But a fight to this degree, with only the aid of the Force while keeping the fight itself shielded enough to hide it from Obi-Wan’s senses… Obi-Wan doubts even Master Yoda is capable of it.

Well. Only one way to find out.

He lets his eyes flutter shut, taking a slow, deep breath. His senses reach out, dancing around the individual sparks of Cody and his brothers’ existence in the Force, past the unaware and wary wildlife, through the net of information that spreads across the forest in a beautiful symphony of life.

He senses no darkness, no veils that hide away the truth from his gaze, no threats. Unsure if he’s glad or displeased about the lack of discoveries, his lips tug down. But just as he goes to pull his shields back up, he feels it.

His eyes snap open, “Get down!”

Cody follows his lead without hesitation as he throws himself to the ground, and not a moment too soon. A thick tree root, freshly ripped out of the ground, goes flying right over their heads, barely missing them. As it falls down behind them with a loud thump, Obi-Wan scrambles up to his feet to see a lithe figure jump down from the tree branches up high.

He’s covered in dark fabric, face set unhappily. Light skin, pouting lips, thick brows, brown hair. As he starts running towards them, Obi-Wan faintly notices: Blue eyes.

“Stay behind,” he hisses to Cody, leaving him where he’s pushing himself up to his feet as he grabs at his lightsaber, but it’s not there.

With a quiet curse, he quickly takes a defensive stance just in time for the unknown man to leap at him with fists drawn, going straight for Obi-Wan’s gut. He redirects the punch to the side, then another one. His attacker drops down to sweep him off his feet, but Obi-Wan leaps back. He gets ready to dodge again, but a blaster bolt interrupts the man’s lunge– he jumps up high, and Obi-Wan feels the displacement of the Force as the man ends up leaping farther up than a standard humanoid physically can.

A Force-user.

Wait.

Kriff. That’s the Chancellor’s Force-user.

He yells out, “Shoot to capture!” as more troopers run past the treeline, quickly taking a defensive formation at the edge of the clearing to provide him with supporting fire.

The man keeps dodging them all skillfully, presumably using the Force to sense their trajectories even before the troopers fire their blasters. His attention turns back to the woods, and Obi-Wan hisses out, ‘not so fast–’ and throws himself back into the thick of things before their target manages to flee back into the forest to never be seen again.

He gets a punch straight into his gut for his trouble just as he hears Cody yell, “Hold! Don’t hit the General!”

The blaster shots trickle down to a stop as he manages to grab the man’s robe, and Obi-Wan goes to pull him close to trap him, but the man goes pliant against his tug and tackles him down. They grapple on the ground, kicking up dirt and dust. The dismembered droid head Obi-Wan had inspected after arriving ends up in the man’s hands as he tries to mash it against Obi-Wan’s head and Obi-Wan shamefully goes to grab a handful of the man’s hair to tug his head back, barely avoiding getting his head caved in in time.

“–let me,” his attacker grunts, elbowing him between his legs, and ow! But Obi-Wan pulls his hair tighter and the man’s arches up to follow his hand with a pained hiss, “let me go!”

“You were the one who -stop trying to gouge out my eyes!- who attacked me first!”

“Yeah!” Raking his nails over Obi-Wan’s cheek and leaving pink, raised trails behind, the man gasps out, “And I’d do it again!”

He tries to knee Obi-Wan where he’s already been wounded once, but Obi-Wan traps him by wrapping his legs around him and then it’s the world’s worst hug as they punch and pull whatever they can reach of each other, rolling in the dirt. Obi-Wan lands a punch at the man’s side and hears air leaving his lungs in a rush, but then gets an elbow to his chin for his troubles. It leaves him seeing double, but he keeps grappling, twisting to avoid another elbow, this time aimed right into his face.

There’s barely even a moment to breathe as he finds himself sitting on the man’s chest, and he manages to free one hand and attempts to choke his opponent out but the man bucks and rolls them over again to climb on top of him, trapping his hand between their chests. He turns the tables by pulling the hold Obi-Wan has on both of his wrists, and leans even closer, choking Obi-Wan with his own forearm.

Obi-Wan gasps, tries to suck in fresh air, but it’s impossible and he feels his face flushing red as his mouth opens and closes helplessly. His feet find purchase on the floor, bucking and trashing, but the man only moves with him and keeps their bodies pressed together. The expression on his face is a gleefully bloodthirsty one as he watches Obi-Wan’s eyes grow wider at the lack of air, a wide grin with blood trailing from the corner of his lip, teeth covered in red, one eye bloodshot, his hair falling over his face in messy strands.

Just as Obi-Wan’s sight blots up with black dots, there’s the sound of a shot and a gasp on top of him, and the pressure on his windpipe eases up significantly. He wheezes loudly, taking in deep, quick breaths with his lungs aching in relief as the man’s body crumbles on top of him, going completely limp.

“General! Are you okay?” He barely hears past the sound of his own blood rushing past his ears. He tries to push away the body on him, and another pair of hands help him. “Sir?”

“Yes,” he croaks out, coughing wetly. His eyes are too teary to see clearly. “Just alright, Commander. Thanks for the assist.”

Cody looks at him from behind his helmet, which he must’ve replaced back on his head at some point. He sounds relieved when he says, “My pleasure, sir.”

He helps Obi-Wan sit up before turning his attention back to the troops to direct them into doing another perimeter check, this time paying attention to the treetops as well. Still trying to catch his breath, Obi-Wan looks at the ground next to him and sees the unconscious body of his attacker.

The man doesn’t look nearly as dangerous as he was just moments ago, with his features this soft and relaxed. There’s still blood and dirt marking his face, but he breathes easily.

Unlike me, Obi-Wan thinks bitterly. Thankfully, no one but his men saw this little scuffle. If Quinlan ever learns of this, Obi-Wan knows he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Commander,” he says, and barely holds back a wince at how gravelly his voice sounds.

Cody turns back at him, “Sir?”

“I’ll trust you to secure our captive if it’s all the same to you.” He looks down at himself, grimacing, “I believe I am in need of a change of clothes.”

“Of course, General. Take your time.” The blank stare of Cody’s helmet doesn’t imply much, and neither does his perfectly level voice, but Obi-Wan feels like he’s being laughed at regardless.

–

He freshens up as quick as he can. He’s been awake for two standard days so far, but it’s far from the worst thing he’s experienced. He takes a moment to meditate and center himself after his visit to the refresher, and the Force boosts his steps as he gets ready for the meeting he knows is waiting for him.

As he’s on his way to step out, his eyes catch onto the outer robe he’d left abandoned on the couch. It is now dirty and stained. He hesitates for a moment before going to check it over. The stitching in the sleeve has come undone.

He turns the arm inside out to inspect the faint puncture marks on the fabric. He can barely tell apart the signs of the crest that had once been there. He’s gone. I am sorry, Master Kenobi.

He sets it back down. Maybe he can try to sew it back onto the sleeve once he’s finished with this meeting.

With a sigh, he straightens and steps back into the role of General Kenobi. It’s not nearly as easy as it once had been, not after… well. After.

Once he steps outside his quarters, he finds his way to the meeting room they’ve been using to plan their steps while on Kinyen. The troopers that salute him in the hallways receive a nod back, but he doesn’t find the strength to smile at them in him. The scratches on his cheek feel tender, and the lack of stitching on his sleeve feels off.

“General,” Cody says once he steps inside.

The Mayor is already there, along with him and one of the medics amongst his men, Crash. At the first sight of him, Crash quickly sets down his kit to take out bandages and a bacta spray while the Mayor says, “Ah, Master Kenobi! It is a relief to see you here.”

“Hello, Mayor Thana,” Obi-Wan diplomatically greets back even though the last thing he wants to do is to dodge political landmines. His everything still hurts– that man had surely known how to fight dirty.

“Your Commander was just telling me about that filthy outsider you caught.” The Mayor says, her snout wrinkling up in distaste. She eyes him up-and-down, “I hear it was a ferocious battle, which is certainly… evident.”

At that, Obi-Wan glances at Cody. His Commander is already looking back at him, his eyes bright and telling at that description. The scratches on Obi-Wan face throb painfully at the reminder.

With a quiet sigh, he lets Crash tug him closer to the table and nods. “You could say that.” Before they can get into too much detail, he quickly adds, “But let’s focus on more urgent matters, like what we’re going to do with our new guest.”

“Yes, indeed,” The Mayor nods emphatically, “let’s.”

–

A knock interrupts their discussion. Obi-Wan lifts his head up, leaving the Mayor mulling over the battleplan they have drawn out in response to the failed ambush the droids had planned on the holomap hovering over the table, and calls out, “Enter!”

It’s Wooley. He leans into the room from the doorway with a strange expression on his face. “General? The prisoner woke up.”

“I see.” Obi-Wan glances back at the Mayor, “My apologies. I believe I am needed elsewhere.”

“Of course, Master Kenobi. And please remember what we spoke of– I don't want any unnecessary violence under my roof.”

He bows his head in agreement, “I gave you my word, Mayor Thana. Rest assured, I will do no such thing.”

“Then I believe our meeting has come to an end.”

Crash has long since left to go back to his station, the medical bay. Obi-Wan bids her goodbye before nodding at the only other person left in the room, Cody, to follow him out. The moment they step out, he reaches to pat Wooley on the back, “Good timing, Wooley.”

Confusion marrs Wooley’s face. “Sir?”

Cody lets out an amused huff, “The Mayor is a pacifist trying to fight a war. I was sure the General was about to ask Crash to take him to the medical 10 minutes into the meeting.”

“I would never,” Obi-Wan sniffs. Then, side-eyeing Cody, he adds, “I would prefer to mention a meeting with the Council that I had forgotten about.”

“But you had a meeting with the council just yesterday, sir?” Wooley blinks dubiously.

Obi-Wan grins, “I have.”

Cody gives him the barest hints of a smile. “Good thing Wooley came, then.”

“Good thing indeed, Cody.”

–

Their guest makes himself known before they arrive at his cell. He’s cursing up a storm in what Obi-Wan deems to be Huttese– and what a curious crumb of information that is.

But as they draw closer to the barred door, his voice falls silent. Then, a disgruntled, “Back for more, backstabber?”

A Jedi is above the petty comments and bragging, Obi-Wan tries to remind himself. The scratches on his face throb in disagreement.

They stop in front of the bars. There, the interloper sits on the ground with his wrists restrained using a Force-suppressing cuff despite the perfectly good bed and table his cell is decorated with. He still has dirt and grass clinging to his black robes, and there’s dried blood at his chin. His eye is all better, though– a bright, clear blue that glares up at them daringly. Interesting, how fast the injury has cleared up.

“What are you looking at?” The man grunts out.

“No need to antagonize us, my dear,” Obi-Wan says pleasantly. “There’s no shame in losing a fight.”

Well. While any other Jedi may be above petty comments, it seems that Obi-Wan certainly is not.

That gets him a hateful “E chu ta!” spit out with the conviction of someone who would not hesitate to gouge his eyes out of his skull if given the chance. Considering the marks on his face, Obi-Wan does not doubt that the man would’ve done it already if he could.

Cody momentarily leans a tiny bit closer to his side, nudging Obi-Wan, before stepping aside to stand guard at his back. Wooley copies him without the nudge, his brows lifted slightly in disbelief and bottom lip chewed on carefully as if he’s biting back a smart remark that really wants to be uttered.

Taking Cody’s action as the message it is to leave behind this childish contest of pointy comments, Obi-Wan sighs and takes a step closer to amicably offer, “I am Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. And who might you be?”

The man's lips draw tight to expose his teeth. Suddenly he looks angry, a lot more than before. The look in his eyes nearly say, personal, this is now personal. But he simply hisses out, “The man these locals asked to get you outsiders off of their world.”

That makes Obi-Wan draw short. “The locals?” he echoes dubiously.

“Surprised? What, did you expect the infamously peaceful Gran to be tripping over their feet to have you fighting droids on their own homeplanet?”

… admittedly, Obi-Wan hadn’t. But the Senator of Kinyen as well as Mayor Thana had promised the support of their people on the reclaiming of their world against the droids numerous times. All the Gran they had seen while on the planet had shown them goodwill as well.

Obi-Wan leaves that line of questioning for later. “What is your name?”

The man grins, a vicious thing dripping with arrogance, “Haven’t you heard? They call me the Hero With No Fear.”

The Chancellor’s Force-user indeed. He’ll need to keep this man captured and secure all the way to Coruscant, all while fighting the droid army off this planet and keeping an eye out for any Sith that may follow them to get a hold of this man.

He hums, “The holonet does love its flashy names, doesn’t it?”

The man shrugs unapologetically.

Obi-Wan can see it, the savior the people across the galaxy had seen in him. The rumors and holos of his escapades all across the Outer Rim tells a pretty picture, one that stands for people who have been wronged and suffering.

A good samaritan who travels from planet to planet, simply to offer his help. One would call him a good person, except that the Chancellor had taken one look at his holos and ordered him to be brought in for his crimes against the Republic as an ‘evil Sith’. Considering he had been recorded while robbing several shipments of the Trade Federation while blatantly using the Force, few in the Senate had dared to disagree.

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan focuses back on the subject. “If you’re so set on helping the locals, why did you attack us?”

He gets a scoff in return, “Why do you think? To the Gran, you’re no different than those droids. None of them would care if both of you disappeared one day.”

Wooley shifts unhappily at his back. Obi-Wan feels his own good mood shriveling up as well– being compared to a droid is not the worst thing his troopers have had to face, but it never gets any easier.

“The difference is that they are the ones trying to take over Kinyen and steal its resources while we are trying to stop them.” He realizes he sounds a lot more steely this time around, but he continues nevertheless, “I know there are many arguments taking place about this war, my dear, but I’m not here to discuss them. Now tell me, what was your purpose in that forest?”

The man purses his lips, unhappy. He looks no more willing to part with any information he has than the start of their conversation, but surprisingly, he does.

“I took down the droids’ communications center a few days ago. They were talking about the Republic’s new post on the planet– of Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The way he emphasizes Obi-Wan's name sounds like an important detail. Like Obi-Wan is supposed to know why his presence here matters to him.

Unfortunately for him, Obi-Wan has no clue. He prompts the man to keep talking, “And that’s of importance?”

“Well, yes. I just had to come and see the worst Bantha-brained Jedi the Republic had for myself.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me,” The man throws him a shameless grin. He looks proud of his insult.

Obi-Wan remembers that angry look on his face during their fight. Personal, this is personal.

He frowns, “Well then, have I met you before to nourish such thoughts, darling?”

“I don’t know, have you?”

Well, this conversation isn't helpful at all. Obi-Wan tries again, “What is the reason you dislike me to this degree?”

That gets him a look. One that says how are you this thick without actually using any words.

“Maybe because you’re occupying this planet without its residents’ blessing? I knew you would’ve changed, Jedi, but I didn’t think it would be to this degree–”

A massive explosion in the building cuts the man off. The room shakes with the force of it, as the alarms start blaring. Obi-Wan barely keeps his balance with the aid of the Force.

“Sir!” Cody yells from where he’s crumbled onto his knees after the initial explosion. Wooley is right next to him, holding onto his arm for support as they climb back onto their feet.

Obi-Wan calls out, “I’m alright!” His eyes dart back to their prisoner, who’s still on the ground without even a strand of hair out of place, looking at home if not for the cracks on the walls around him. Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow down, “Was this you?”

The man snorts, “What do you take me for? I’m not one to bomb people who get forced into fighting a war that has nothing to do with them.”

That… is a loaded response. Ignoring him for a moment, Obi-Wan lifts his arm guard and opens his comms. It’s silent.

He turns his head back to Cody. “Commander, find out the damage!”

Finally back at his feet and already fiddling with his own comms, Cody gives him a sharp nod. “On it, General.”

Leaving him to it, Obi-Wan glances at Wooley to make sure he’s alright before turning to rush to the hallway leading up to the cells, trying to see if there’s anyone around. It’s futile.

When he gets back, it’s to hear Cody say, “Copy that, Rex. We’ll be there in a few.”

“What's the situation?”

Cody snaps to attention. “Sir, the droids are attacking. They’ve broken through our line of defense, Rex and his men need immediate back-up.”

Pursing his lips, Obi-Wan nods. “Alright. I’ll take point. You two, cover my back.”

“Yes sir,” they echo each other.

“Hey, don’t forget about me!” Their captive interrupts them, now at his feet and clinging to the bars of his cell as much as his cuffs allow. “You can just take these off and I’ll be off my way.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, “Not gonna happen, dear. You’ll be staying right here while we figure this out. I do hope you enjoy your new quarters in our absence.”

“What– you can’t be serious!”

Ignoring their captive’s protests, Obi-Wan nods at Cody and Wooley to follow him out the door. Just as he’s about to step out, he hears an angry, “Obi-Wan!”

He doesn’t know why, but his steps stall. He turns his head to glance at the man over his shoulder. There’s a different look on his face now, one that speaks of unease. “...just,” he says, the words slow and deliberate, “don’t leave me here.”

There’s something else to his plea, Obi-Wan realizes with a start. Something beyond wanting an opportunity to escape. It’s written in every line decorating his face, on the serious, steely look in his eyes, but beyond that, his presence in the Force– it speaks of urgency.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Where you’re going, you’ll need me.”

“And how do you know that?”

That gets him a shake of the man’s head, “That doesn’t matter. Just let me out of these cuffs– what if the droids come here after you guys leave? I can’t protect myself if they do.”

That’s true. Still, Obi-Wan hesitates. He doesn’t know why, but this man’s presence in the Force, it’s significant. Powerful. He doesn’t want someone like that walking around freely when he might be going after Obi-Wan’s men.

“Come on,” the man insists. “I wouldn’t do anything to anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

At that, Obi-Wan shakes his head. Just as he goes to turn away once more, the man surges forward again, “You promised!”

He stops again. This is a waste of time, but it’s like the Force is tugging at his hand, asking him to face the man. He doesn’t know what this means.

“You promised you’d welcome me the same way. Did that mean nothing?”

And that…

Oh.

That’s Anakin.

That’s Anakin.

He rushes to the cell door with hurried steps, waving a hand to open the door with a loud creak. The Force jumps at his touch in a way it never had before, helping him crumble the Force-suppressing cuffs around Anakin’s wrists with the kind of viciousness he’d never experienced before. Then, Obi-Wan has Anakin in his arms, and all is right.

“It’s you,” he whispers out, burying his nose against the crook of Anakin’s neck.

“Took you long enough to notice,” Anakin grumbles quietly. “I’m still furious at you. Why would you come here without the Gran's approval?”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, “It’s complicated.”

“It better be.” Then, he falls silent for a moment before quietly adding, “I missed you.”

After dreaming of those last moments he had with Anakin for so long, wishing he’d said all he wanted to say… Obi-Wan has long since learnt his lesson.

This time around, he gives the right response: “I’ve missed you too, darling.”