Archive of Our Own ^beta

Obi-Wan sipped his tea and stared morosely out into nothing. “Become a force ghost, he said. It’ll be for the good of the universe, he said.”

“Are you talking to yourself again, my young padawan?”

The tea splattered on the floor, the cup breaking and spreading shards everywhere. In the next instant it was gone, leaving only a clean stone surface beneath Obi-Wan’s feet. “Qui-Gon,” he said, frowning at the place his tea had disappeared, “must you keep doing this? You could give some warning when entering a space.”

“Yoda never has any problem with my presence,” Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice said, now from Obi-Wan’s left, somewhere close to where there was a second, completely empty, chair. “Of course, that might be because Yoda never complains about me.”

“Not out loud.”

“I heard that.” Out of all Qui-Gon’s many skills, his ability to convey an eyebrow raise through only his voice was the most impressive by far.

“I know.”

A new cup of tea, complete with matching floral-printed saucer, sat on the table between the two chairs. Steam was rising from the liquid’s surface when Obi-Wan noticed it.

“Thank you,” he said, and sighed. “I apologise.”

Qui-Gon waited until Obi-Wan had taken a first sip and hummed appreciatively. “What is bothering you, padawan?”

That, for one thing. He had not been a padawan for years, despite his status when Qui-Gon had last known him when they were both alive. He did not mention it, however - this irritation was a minor thing, something he would have taken no notice of if he had felt fine otherwise. “I am unsure,” he confessed. “I have been feeling restless. A sense of foreboding, like something big is about to happen in the living world. Do you recognize this, master?”

“I have found that disembodied entities generally do not experience much feeling. Perhaps Yoda can offer more insight into the matter.”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan agreed, or at least he thought he did, because at the same time a sharp pain stabbed through him, head to toe. It was a flash, gone as quickly as it came.

When his vision cleared again and he carefully unclenched his hands, the second spilled cup of tea within the span of a single conversation was just fading into nothing, and there was a figure standing before him, too tall to be Yoda and too corporeal to be Qui-Gon. It was a man, blinking down at his own hand in complete shock. It was blue and glowing faintly, like all successful force ghost’s forms.

“I look like a lightsaber,” Anakin Skywalker said. “Wait, this is my own hand. What’s happening? Why is it still attached?”

Obi-Wan barely noticed that he toppled his chair with how wildly he jumped up. The sound drew the fourth ever jedi force ghost’s attention, however.

His mouth dropped open. “Master?”

Obi-Wan attempted to look calm and composed and like his ghostly blue heart wasn’t uselessly racing like it still did him any good. “Anakin,” he said, “we’re both dead. I really think it’s time you start calling me by my first name.”

-

Apparently, Anakin had not been consciously preparing to preserve his essence prior to his death. He just… died, which meant it took a little while to explain the concept of a force ghost heaven to him (purgatory? Obi-Wan had often wondered what the correct terminology would be). That was fine, however, as time was one thing they had in abundance in this place.

“Okay,” Anakin eventually said, looking around again. In the short span he had been there, the space around them had changed from shapeless, vaguely cloudlike around the edges, into something that seemed more solid, like an actual room with two couches. Qui-Gon had fetched Yoda from wherever he had been contemplating the secrets of the universe.

“So I thought I died, but I didn’t, not really. That’s starting to feel strangely familiar. What is it you do here?” Anakin likely meant to adress the room at large, but he was looking at Obi-Wan as he spoke. Obi-Wan would have been confused at how Anakin’s gaze seemed to unerringly end up fixed on him every single time, if he had not been having similar problems in keeping from staring at Anakin too intensely. It was so good to see him. He looked so healthy.

Obi-Wan realized he was expected to answer the question a few tics too late. “We bide our time until we are needed in the other dimension, mostly. I have taken up playing chess.”

“Huh,” Anakin said, as a table and chess board appeared between the two couches.

“How does this work?”

“Thanks to the force it is,” Yoda said.

“So nobody really knows?”

Yoda did an old, wise version of a shrug.

“I think I can get used to this,” Anakin decided. There was a bowl of cookies on the table next to the chess set. He took one. “I’ll be the dark side. You get first turn.”

And just like that, everything was okay. Obi-Wan felt more at ease than he had since he had died. Finally, things felt almost right again. It was a little foolish, he feared, but then, he had always been a bit of a fool where Anakin was concerned.

-

Life with Qui-Gon and Yoda, Obi-Wan reflected, had been very quiet and regular. Life with Anakin was less so.

Anakin came up to him not very long after his arrival. “We’re dead, right? Nothing can kill me now?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, slowly. “I would ask what inspired this curiosity, but I don’t think I would like the answer.”

Anakin grinned at him and got up from the bench they’d been sharing. Obi-Wan followed his movements across the space they were in. It looked a lot like a park, complete with something faintly like trees. There was an echo in the air that was reminiscent of ducks, but Obi-Wan was not entirely convinced Qui-Gon wasn’t amusing himself by practicing bird calls.

Yoda was on the other side of the space, meditating. Anakin stopped in front of him, casually leaning his elbow against the cloud Yoda was sitting on, hovering at human shoulder level. “So have you ever read an English grammar book, Yoda?”

The ducks cackled.

-

“Hey,” Anakin started, during their fifth chess match, “so I just, I was wondering -” He faltered. Obi-Wan took pity on him.

“Whether I remember how I died?”

Anakin crossed his arms. It somehow looked both defensive and sheepish. “I didn’t think mindreading was a jedi-skill.”

“It is not. I simply figured it would come up at some point.”

“Right,” Anakin said, and laughed. It sounded like he was choking. “So, sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan promised. “You’re here now. I have forgiven you.” He waited until Anakin met his eyes.

Anakin looked away first.

“Now that that’s out of the way, could you please stop letting me win? This is not much better than when I was playing against myself.”

“I have not been letting -” Anakin spluttered, and Obi-Wan allowed himself a smile. It took him a while to realize that it felt strange on his face because it was the first he could remember since coming to this place.

-

Anakin leaned into Obi-Wan’s space. “I thought Qui-Gon Jinn only managed to preserve his voice when he died?”

“That’s true.”

Anakin gently took one of the cupcakes. “Then… how?”

“The force works in mysterious ways, young padawan-padawan,” Qui-Gon almost sing-songed. He sounded very pleased to have a new taster for the products of his favourite hobby.

Obi-Wan took a cupcake of his own and bit into it. “He has never given me any other answer,” he said, after swallowing. “I have stopped asking.”

“How are they?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Good. They are a little on the dry side, perhaps. The texture is rather, well, sandy?”

Anakin, about to bite into his own cupcake, blanched. Very carefully, he put it down again. “I’m not very hungy,” he said, and proceeded to keep as large a distance as possible from the baked goods until eventually they vanished. Qui-Gon insisted he was not mad, just disappointed.

-

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“I do. You are good at answering them.”

“I suppose it’s a little like old times, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Anakin said. “This time I’m actually listening to what you’re saying.”

Obi-Wan laughed so hard he almost spilled his tea.

-

Technically, force ghosts did not require sustenance or rest. Obi-Wan, however, liked enjoying both of these things, which was fine, except for those moments where he woke from a perfectly agreeable nap and was immediately nearly convinced he was still dreaming.

“What are you doing, Anakin?”

Anakin, sitting on a unicycle and juggling active lightsabers with surprising skill, did not look his way even once. “I am bringing balance to the force.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan said, and promptly went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, Anakin was assembling a sandwich. The unicycle was never mentioned again.

-

For the first time ever, it seemed like Anakin might be beating Obi-Wan at chess, when the wave of wrongness washed over them. Anakin looked at Obi-Wan.

“Did you feel that?”

Obi-Wan nodded sagely and moved one of his knights. “A disturbance in the force.”

“Qui-Gon should really learn to set a timer.” Anakins hand hovered over his remaining bishop, before moving his own knight. “This is the third time this week he has killed all of his cupcakes.”

“There is no concept of time here.”

“I know, but it feels like a week.”

“If you have complaints about my baking skills,” Qui-Gon’s voice interrupted, “I kindly request you tell me to my face.”

A dead silence followed, only interrupted when Anakin could not swallow down his giggles anymore. “Interesting word choice.”

A loud sigh was heard.

-

“There is one thing I still don’t understand.”

“That sounds like a lie,” Obi-Wan said mildly.

Anakin didn’t rise to the bait. He looked oddly serious for once. “How did I end up here?”

“You always were special. Perhaps the force was so strong with you that you did not need any further preparation.”

“Yes,” Anakin said, but he still looked troubled. Obi-Wan waited him out. “But I was a sith,” he eventually said, the first time any of them had acknowledged the fact out loud since dying. “That’s not the light side of the force. It’s not even close to twilight.”

“You switched. There is always a choice.”

“Right.” Anakin nodded. “Right. Luke saved me.”

It did not take a force sensitive person to pick up on the heavy atmosphere. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. “I must confess I have wondered a couple of times whether my wishing to see you again had anything to do with it.”

Anakin looked at him for a long time after that. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say that he did not think it would be reasonable to assume Anakin’s presence in this place was really any of his doing, and that it was merely an almost wishful thought he had had, but then he closed it again. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe Anakin felt simply being wanted here now was enough to be thankful for, just as Obi-Wan still thanked the force for bringing Anakin back to him.

-

“You know what might be more interesting than chess?” Anakin asked, one afternoon-like moment when they were simply sitting on something that felt like grass, even though it was purple. They were shoulder to shoulder, their knees almost touching, and the closeness was unnecessary, probably, but it did not feel that way. It felt like it made it easier to breathe.

Obi-Wan smiled, just because. “Three dimensional chess?”

“No,” Anakin said, and kissed him.

He was right. It was definitely more interesting than chess in whatever dimension.

-

Obi-Wan, Anakin, Yoda and Qui-Gon were gathered around a holovid device. In the air above the coffee table, a man in all black with a dangerous-looking mask was wielding a red lightsaber.

“I still can’t believe they called him Ben,” Obi-Wan said for the fourth time, by his own count. He may have missed a few due to pure delighted surprise.

Anakin took advantage of Obi-Wan’s distraction to move closer to him. Obi-Wan’s arm was casually resting on the back of the couch. “I still can’t believe he’s worshipping my helmet. He had such a smart mother.”

“He does appear to be taking after his grandfather in certain respects,” Qui-Gon mused. “No offense intended.”

A bowl of popcorn had materialized in Obi-Wan’s lap. Anakin took a handful, stuffed some in his mouth, and then changed his mind and threw the rest at the screen when Ben did something particularly dramatic. “Booh, you idiot! There’s a reason you weren’t named after me.”

Even Obi-Wan was starting to pay attention to what was actually happening. He was looking faintly concerned. “Maybe some of us should go down there and talk some sense into him?”

“Time you should give the young padawan,” Yoda said. “Find his own path he must.”

A minute later, ‘Kylo Ren’ ran his own father through with a lightsaber. Anakin turned to look at Yoda, who wiggled his ears in a wisely embarrassed manner. “A path he has found, however.”

“Well,” Anakin said philosophically, “at least death’s not all bad.”

Obi-Wan’s arm dropped from the back of the couch to rest on Anakin’s shoulders.