Chapter Text
It had been almost six standard years from the moment that his former Padawan had resigned from the Jedi Order when the Council called Obi-Wan back from the frontlines of the war for a new mission. He cautiously welcomed the change of pace in hopes that it might keep him more occupied, keep his mind from drifting to the past as it had a tendency to do every year when the anniversary crept closer.
The war… Years ago it had seemed to be turning in the Republic’s favor until the Chancellor had been kidnapped by General Grievous. It had been only a few weeks after Anakin had left, and Obi-Wan had wondered a million times how it would have gone differently with Anakin there. Still reeling from the severing of their shared bond and struggling to center himself after half of his soul had been all but shuttered away, Obi-Wan admittedly hadn’t been at his best during the mission. Though he and Mace Windu managed to apprehend the elusive Count Dooku, somehow General Grievous had escaped with Palpatine in tow.
The Separatists had demanded Dooku be traded for the Chancellor, and their hands were truly tied. The Senate voted to approve the exchange, and it had only seemed to snowball from that point onward. The Republic lost its hold on several planets they had maintained for the first year or two of the war, and their forces were stretched incredibly thin in the effort to keep from losing even more ground. There was so much death and suffering, Separatist blockades and extreme rationing, and it was having quite a negative impact on public opinion of the Republic and the Jedi. It seemed every step forward was accompanied by three steps back, and part of Obi-Wan selfishly wished Anakin had still been at his side through it all. His presence might have softened the blow of repeatedly losing so many of their men, though he would never wish more of those horrors on his young friend.
His Padawan had seen enough in the early years of the war, and Anakin felt so deeply, it would have irrevocably damaged him, leaving lasting wounds deeper than the superficial ones on his skin—scars like the ones Obi-Wan tried to release into the Force with less and less success as the war took its toll. He was tired of fighting, tired of being constantly surrounded by death. But still, Obi-Wan tried to maintain the ideal Jedi image he had always projected despite how his frayed edges were becoming more and more difficult to conceal as the threads grew thin and worn.
For a moment, the end of the war had seemed possible when peace talks led by Senator Amidala were making progress. But before the opposing sides had reached an agreement, the young, steadfast senator passed away unexpectedly. Such a loss was a devastating blow to the effort to end the war, and the situation on the frontlines escalated once more as the peace talks were abandoned.
Though, the sudden loss was likely even more devastating to the senator’s husband. Their marriage had never been made public, but the holonet rumor mill speculated for years that the Naboo senator had secretly married the famed “Hero with no Fear.” Despite the eternal spotlight on her political career, Padmé had successfully kept their relationship and private life out of the public eye.
Regretfully, Obi-Wan hadn’t reached out to Anakin when he heard the news about Padmé. He worried that after not speaking to each other for years it would only burden Anakin even more in his time of grief. At the time, it hadn’t felt like the proper thing to do, even if parts of Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to be able to console his once dearest friend. Though, he couldn’t imagine Anakin would want to hear from his former Master anyway. Anakin had made his choice when he walked away from Obi-Wan and the Jedi Order six years ago, and Obi-Wan still respected that choice.
The halls of the Temple were quiet, save for the sounds of Obi-Wan’s footsteps echoing in the emptiness on his way to the Council Chamber. The days when the Temple constantly bustled with life seemed like a distant lifetime ago, his comparatively carefree days as a Padawan all but faded memories drowned in a churning sea of endless war. It would forever be Obi-Wan’s home, but with every return from the warfront to the hallowed halls, a fresh wave of sorrow washed over him at the sobering reminders of how their family had dwindled—the cost of their duty to the Republic.
As he passed by a few younglings congregated outside a training room, Obi-Wan mustered up what he hoped appeared to be a warm smile, nodding when he made eye contact with them. In return, the younglings quickly responded with respectful bows, a bit shallow in their haste to acknowledge the revered Master Kenobi. Though Obi-Wan hardly felt deserving of the wonder that twinkled in their eyes, the younglings’ reaction imbued a hint of genuine warmth in his smile. Their precious youth—their hopeful futures—served as a reminder of why they continued to fight.
When Obi-Wan entered the Council Chamber, it was nearly impossible to avoid noticing how many of the chairs sat empty, several of his fellow council members away from Coruscant and serving on the frontlines. The war had strained the Jedi Order to its limits and holding a meeting with the full Council was a rarity now. As it was, Master Yoda and Master Windu were the only two members physically present in the room aside from Obi-Wan himself. For reasons Obi-Wan could not pinpoint, a vague uneasiness began to creep up his spine, filling him with a sense of dread for what was to come.
Standing in the middle of the chamber instead of taking his own seat, Obi-Wan suddenly felt incomplete, as though a gaping hole had formed in his chest, leaving a void where there used to be a piece that fit so perfectly it had felt like a part of himself. There was—there was no reason for such emotions to spring forth unprompted. Anakin had stood by his side in this very spot for countless times over the years, but Obi-Wan had stood alone for almost as many at this point. He quietly tucked his hands away in his sleeves, feeling a bit too much like his nerves were as frayed as the singed fringes of the robes he hadn’t bothered to change out of before he reported to the meeting.
Of course, Obi-Wan had been sorely mistaken in thinking that his new mission would help take his mind off his thoughts of Anakin.
“A disturbance in the Force surrounding your former Padawan, we have sensed.“ Yoda’s words made Obi-Wan tense up, but he awaited further explanation.
“As you’re aware, we’ve been keeping an eye on Skywalker since he left the Order,” Mace said, giving a slight nod towards Obi-Wan.
Even though Mace’s tone was even and his words didn’t indicate any danger, Obi-Wan’s heart plummeted. Had something happened to Anakin? When the Council had agreed to keep watch on Anakin for his own safety as an ex-general of the Republic Army, Obi-Wan requested to not be informed of anything unless Anakin was in danger. He couldn’t bear it at the time, to be checking in on his loved one from a distance, like some sort of voyeur privy to a life he would never be part of again. Even now, Obi-Wan’s heart ached at the mere mention of Anakin’s name—perhaps he still wasn’t entirely ready to deal with it.
“Senator Amidala’s death had a massive impact on the war efforts, and we’re still… reevaluating the situation. Though recently, I have sensed a shatterpoint that seems to be connected to your former Padawan and the twins,” Mace continued.
“I beg your pardon—” Obi-Wan couldn’t refrain from interrupting. “The twins?”
Yoda nodded. “Twins, Senator Amidala gave birth to.”
As if Obi-Wan needed yet another reminder that he truly didn’t know anything about Anakin anymore. He could vaguely recall hearing news of Padmé being pregnant when he had once found a moment to idly scroll through the holonet, but he never heard anything more than the vacuous gossip that always swirled around the popular senator. Anakin had never reached out to Obi-Wan to share his good news with his old friend—yet another indication that he didn’t seem to want Obi-Wan in his life or theirs. Even so, hearing it from Master Yoda instead of Anakin himself left Obi-Wan slightly off-kilter.
“Senator Amidala managed to keep them well hidden from the public eye, but now it would seem there are other eyes on them. We have reason to believe it may be the Sith Lord we have been looking for,” Mace said. “You are being assigned the mission of providing protection for Skywalker and his children on Naboo while investigating the potential threat against them.”
A sense of dread settled in Obi-Wan’s core, and he almost reflexively put up a weak protest to the idea. “If I was able to impart anything to him as his Master, surely Anakin is capable of defending his own family?”
“I have no doubt in Skywalker’s abilities, but as a citizen of the Republic and the surviving family of a Senator, it is our duty to ensure protection and safety until the threat passes.” Mace appeared to ponder his next words carefully before he spoke. “And I sense that if something were to… befall Skywalker or his children, it could mean dire consequences for the Republic—and the Order, as well.”
The gravity of Mace’s statement almost paled in comparison to the fear that had immediately begun to crawl up Obi-Wan’s spine like a dark, creeping vine. He couldn’t fathom why Anakin might have become the target of a Sith Lord now, aside from his supposed role as the prophesied Chosen One. It seemed the dangers of war were to follow Anakin into his civilian life, even after all this time, much like it had so many others throughout the galaxy.
He truly trusted in Anakin’s skills, but the gnawing fear in the back of his mind grew in intensity at the thought of losing another loved one to such evil yet again. With it, the pain of the past six years bubbled to the surface even as Obi-Wan worked to maintain his composure in front of his fellow Council members. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan gathered up what he could and released his fear and worries into the Force. He couldn’t allow his fear to drown him, to guide his response to this new threat. It would only cloud his judgment if these potential dangers came to fruition.
"I'm assuming you've already discussed this matter with Anakin?"
"Yes, we have. In fact, it was Skywalker who suggested sending you."
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at that statement. He found it difficult to believe Anakin would even want to see him after all this time with no communication, let alone request Obi-Wan be the one sent to Naboo.
"He felt your presence would dissuade the attention on him and his family. I'm inclined to agree with his analysis. He also pointed out that, should the Sith Lords or their Acolytes reveal themselves, there would be no better team to dispatch them. Though I am reluctant to involve him so actively, Skywalker always has been fiercely protective of those he holds close. I doubt he will give us much say over the matter."
"We haven't talked in some time, Mace. I would hesitate to consider him and I a team anymore.”
"Clearly time has not dwindled his trust in you." A faint hint of a smile graced the venerable master’s features for a moment—more than Obi-Wan had seen on his old friend’s face in years. “As I am certain it has not lessened yours in him.”
Mace’s words were clearly meant to be an offer of comfort to ease Obi-Wan, but they did little to calm the turmoil brewing within him.
“May the Force be with you,” the two masters ended the conversation with an air of finality that signaled to Obi-Wan that the discussion was over.
Before turning to leave, Obi-Wan gave a slight bow and responded, “And with you as well.”
Thankfully, Obi-Wan would have a couple days to rest and collect himself before heading for his mission on Naboo. Upon reaching his own quarters, he immediately set to making some tea. Though instead of meditating to recenter his mind as he should, Obi-Wan found himself drawn towards the two decorative wooden boxes he kept on the bookshelf. He took one from the shelf and set it on the table next to the steaming cup of tea. There was only a light amount of dust on the lid of the box—gathered in the weeks he was away from the Temple—and Obi-Wan carefully wiped it away with his sleeve.
He ran his fingers over the smooth wood of the box before opening it and gently picking up Anakin’s lightsaber from the soft cushion inside. Obi-Wan took a moment to admire the skilled craftsmanship of his former apprentice, remembering the long hours Anakin had spent designing the hilt and reworking every last detail until it felt perfect in his hands. Anakin had been so immensely proud of it, and Obi-Wan knew it had hurt deeply when the knight had relinquished it to him the day he left the Order. It was like parting with a piece of himself…
To which Obi-Wan could relate all too well.
That day had hauntingly played over and over in his mind for the past six years. It had started as just any other day, yet another tedious Council meeting to discuss the war, until Anakin marched straight into the room and resigned from the Order with little to no preamble. In a manner that demonstrated Anakin wasn’t making a rash decision, that he had truly given it great thought, he expressed his remaining trust in the Order had been shaken by the Council’s failure to protect Ahsoka. He also confessed his secret marriage to Padmé, citing that he could no longer serve as a Jedi Knight while having a duty to his wife.
Oh, how Obi-Wan had wanted to plead with Anakin to not leave, words on the tip of his tongue to assure Anakin that he didn’t have to leave the Order simply because he had made vows to another. But to do so would have been unbecoming of a Jedi Master, of a Council member. Obi-Wan had still been grappling with the mere concept of Anakin’s departure when his former Padawan placed his lightsaber in his hand. The revelation of his marriage to Padmé opened Obi-Wan’s eyes to the reality that he could have never fathomed—that there were secrets between them, that Anakin hadn’t trusted him as deeply as he had believed all these years.
Though, Obi-Wan supposed he also had never entrusted his most intimate secret to Anakin—the one that made Anakin’s resignation all the more painful. It was a clear sign that Obi-Wan needed to re-evaluate his… attachment to his friend. For some time, it had been veering towards a level of dependency that could lead them both down the path of fear and darkness. But there was no use in asking Anakin to reconsider, to stay by his side. Even with all of the eloquence of the Negotiator, Obi-Wan’s words would have fallen flat against Anakin’s determination.
So Obi-Wan said nothing as the cool metal of Anakin’s saber hilt was pressed into his palm.
You are the only one he still trusts. He almost scoffed at the Council’s idea that Anakin trusted him—the same man who apparently had no qualms about keeping his marriage a secret from Obi-Wan for years. He hadn’t even known Anakin was considering leaving the Jedi Order until the moment he resigned in front of the Council. How much trust could possibly be left between them when they hadn’t spoken in years? When Anakin’s wife passed away, Obi-Wan hadn’t even had the courage—or the decency—to reach out to the person who had supposedly been the most important person in his life, but Anakin’s decision had revealed the truth Obi-Wan should have known all along—that the feeling was far from mutual.
He continued to steadfastly ignore the datapad that was on the table—and with it the briefing the Council had sent him about Anakin’s family. All he had bothered to look at was their names: Luke and Leia. The thought of learning about his charges in such a manner felt incredibly invasive and impersonal to Obi-Wan, as though they were strangers instead of the children of the person who he had long considered his own family.
Before heading to bed, Obi-Wan carefully packed the wooden box to take with him to Naboo.
A couple days later when Obi-Wan set out for Naboo, his emotions were still all over the place, and no amount of meditation had done him any good in terms of centering himself. Nervousness about their reunion and eagerness to see Anakin after so long apart were conflicting inside of him, like turbulent waves churning in a storm. Underneath it all, there laid the thinnest vein of a lasting bitterness—a remnant born from the feeling of abandonment Obi-Wan had yet to fully reconcile with. As shameful as it felt to simply admit it to himself, it was among the reasons Obi-Wan had never reached out to Anakin.
After setting the ship’s coordinates and making the jump to hyperspace, Obi-Wan decided to meditate again in an effort to compose himself before his arrival. The familiar blue and white streaked past the ship’s viewport as Obi-Wan focused on finding balance in the Force, releasing the lingering emotions as he repeated the Code quietly. So deep in his meditative trance, it seemed the ship had reached its destination in hardly no time at all. Obi-Wan re-engaged the controls to guide it into Naboo’s atmosphere, heading towards the location from the only part of the mission briefing he had read.
The Amidala-Skywalker residence was nestled into the breathtakingly beautiful countryside, right on the banks of a gorgeous and clear lake and just far enough from the capital and hidden away in a lush grove of trees to paint a quaint illusion of being removed from city life. Obi-Wan entered the security clearance code he had been given and maneuvered the ship onto the landing pad next to what appeared to be a garage of sorts along the side. As he took in the sight of the house and surrounding property, Obi-Wan could already faintly sense Anakin’s achingly familiar and brilliantly bright signature nearby. He fought back the instinctive urge to reach out for him, already finding himself falling back into the years-long habit. Obi-Wan had just gotten out of the ship when the front door of the house opened, and Obi-Wan ignored the sudden flip his stomach did in anticipation.
What Obi-Wan didn’t expect, though, was an even tinier version of the boy he met what seemed like a lifetime ago on Tatooine running straight for him as quickly as his short legs could carry him. Unsure of the reason for such an enthusiastic welcome, Obi-Wan readied himself for the potential impact. But the child bypassed him entirely and headed straight for the starship, his blue eyes practically twinkling as he investigated it. If there had been any question about whose child he was, that sure answered it.
Before he could properly speak to the small boy, another child emerged from the house. Her braided hair was dark like Padmé’s, and the glint in her brown eyes made it clear that unlike her brother, she was beelining straight for Obi-Wan. A familiar golden protocol droid quickly wobbled after her, calling out for the children exasperatedly. “Master Luke! Master Leia! Oh, where in the galaxy are your manners? Please do not crowd our guest!”
The little girl came to a stop in front of Obi-Wan, her chin held high and her posture straight and serious, though it all came across as rather… adorable. She acknowledged him with a firm nod. “General Kenobi.”
“And would you happen to be Leia, little one?” He bent down to address her.
“General Leia Skywalker,” she corrected him with an air of dignity that no five year old should have.
“My apologies, General.” Obi-Wan played along. “May I ask, what forces do you lead?”
“The…” Her act wavered for a moment as she pondered his question, and Obi-Wan hid a grin behind his hand. “The Droid Squad of Naboo, units Artoo and Threepio.”
“Ah, yes. I do believe I am familiar with them.”
Apparently having lost interest in the ship, or rather, gained interest in their conversation, Luke rushed to his sister’s side and chimed in, “And I’m Naboo’s greatest pilot!”
“It seems pilots are getting younger and younger these days,” Obi-Wan acknowledged the enthusiastic boy. “Your skills must be truly remarkable.” Luke absolutely beamed at the praise, and his bright smile reminded Obi-Wan so much of the boy’s father when he was younger.
It was at that moment Obi-Wan realized someone was watching them, and he looked up from the children to see their father leaning in the doorway. Even from this distance, Obi-Wan could plainly see the hint of a small smile on Anakin’s face and a twinkle dancing in his eyes. Just the sight of him again caught Obi-Wan’s breath in his throat, and any words he was about to say died on his tongue, though the children were still chattering away at him, unaware.
As Anakin began to walk towards them, Obi-Wan felt rather foolish for the way his heart hammered in his chest. He looked… good. It seemed his taste for darker colors hadn’t changed, but his civilian clothes didn’t conceal his lithe figure in the way his Jedi robes always had. Anakin’s hair was just a bit longer than he had worn it during the war, and the dark golden, wavy locks framed his face in such a lovely way that Obi-Wan found it difficult to look anywhere else. He’d hardly aged a day, but his face was fuller, his war-worn edges softened by peace and happiness.
Without their Force bond, there was no way to skim Anakin’s emotions aside from blatantly reaching out for him, so Obi-Wan focused inwardly on fortifying his mental shields to prevent his swell of emotions from inadvertently broadcasting his reaction to seeing Anakin again. When Anakin came to a stop a few feet away from him, Obi-Wan hoped he had succeeded in schooling his expression into something a little less awestruck than how he felt.
His former apprentice stood silently, his face unreadable as he stared at Obi-Wan for a moment long enough for him to instantly regret that he hadn’t insisted the Council send someone else on this mission. But then Anakin’s face broke out in a huge grin, and he rushed forward, pulling his former Master into a crushing hug that knocked out what little air remained in Obi-Wan’s lungs.
When Anakin didn’t let go, Obi-Wan cautiously brought his arms up to return the embrace. Much to Obi-Wan’s surprise, Anakin tucked his face into the crook of his neck, showing absolutely no signs that he planned to release his hold anytime soon. Obi-Wan found that he didn’t want him to either.
“Force, Anakin. It’s been far too long,” Obi-Wan whispered into the soft curls tickling the side of his face. He could sense a nearly imperceptible hint of their old bond humming gently in the Force, a familiar, old song calling out for him. Obi-Wan resisted stoking it back to life for fear that he missed their connection itself more than the one who had made the choice to sever it.
The embrace was a bit different from how they had often hugged one another in the years before the war and entirely unlike their grounding physical contact as the galaxy felt it was crumbling around them. Obi-Wan lost track of time as they stayed there, firmly interwoven as if nothing would ever separate them again. But the reverie was broken by reminders of reality—tiny, insistent voices wanting attention and the gentle tug of one of the twins pulling at the sleeve of his robes.
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan released Anakin and took a half-step back from him. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but Anakin’s touch seemed to linger for a moment longer than strictly necessary as they disentangled themselves. Obi-Wan pushed away the thought as merely wishful thinking on his behalf as old feelings came rushing back like a torrent threatening to drown him. For his own well-being as much as Anakin’s, Obi-Wan pretended to not notice the way Anakin’s eyes were glistening before he turned away quickly and scooped up Leia, who burst into giggles as her father spun her around.
The Jedi Master was fighting back his own tears and quietly cleared his throat before speaking again, hoping that his voice wouldn’t betray his emotions by wavering. “Do you always let them rush out and greet strangers?” He teased his former Padawan.
“Obviously it was just you, Master,” Anakin answered rather flatly as he began heading back towards the house. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in his friend, though a wave of something akin to homesickness washed over him at Anakin’s use of the old title.
Luke lingered behind, staring up at Obi-Wan with his big blue eyes. As Obi-Wan hefted the singular bag he brought with him over his shoulder, he noticed the boy was holding his little hand up, waiting for something. Gently, Obi-Wan took the offered hand with a warm smile, and apparently that was what Luke had been hoping for as he immediately attempted to start dragging Obi-Wan towards the house. Leia wiggled around in her father’s arms to turn and watch the Jedi Master with curiosity sparkling in her eyes. She looked so much like her mother, but that inquisitive glint only reminded him of her father when he was younger.
Things were not quite tense between Anakin and Obi-Wan, but the distance of their time apart was truly felt in the awkward stiffness as Anakin showed him around the house in a manner that came across as if it had been rehearsed beforehand. The twins became bored after only a few minutes of tagging along and disappeared somewhere with C-3PO, leaving Obi-Wan alone with Anakin. Despite their affectionate embrace earlier, Anakin now seemed distant and guarded. His mental shields were erected like a durasteel wall, the faint trace of their past bond nowhere to be found now. Obi-Wan supposed it would have been naive to expect them to perfectly slot back together as though there weren’t a chasm of years dividing them.
The house was—warm. Golden rays of the afternoon sun stretched across the floor through the large windows, but even without the beams, the home exuded a familial comfort. Every room Anakin guided him through was spacious, but not in a way that came across as hollow or opulent. Where others would probably make some fastidious attempt to hide evidence of their existence for guests, Anakin had clearly made no such attempt. There were little signs of life in plain view: toys and mechanical parts scattered here and there just waiting to be tripped over like they had been in their shared apartment at the Temple.
Finally, Anakin led Obi-Wan to the guest room where he would be staying. Obi-Wan took a moment to appreciate the decor—the typical refined elegance of Naboo, but simple and tasteful in a way that still achieved a feeling of welcoming homeyness, though obviously no one resided in this room. There were a few potted plants in the windowsill, looking as though they may have been forgotten for a few days, and some storage boxes stacked in the corner, collecting dust. As Obi-Wan turned around, taking everything in, his eyes landed on Anakin standing awkwardly in the doorway, watching him.
“Sorry—I uh, didn’t get around to cleaning out the closet or anything, but the dresser’s empty if you need it,” Anakin said before gesturing in the general direction of the kitchen. “I’m gonna go… start dinner. You can just, uhh, do whatever until then.”
“Can I be of any assistance?” Obi-Wan offered.
“I don’t think Dex’s diner delivers to Naboo.” Anakin laughed a little, and Obi-Wan hadn’t realized how badly he had missed the sound of Anakin’s laughter until that moment. “So unless cooking is a skill you decided to work on in the past few years, I think I’m better off on my own.”
Before Anakin left the room, he added, “Just make yourself at home, and Threepio will come get you later.”
Obi-Wan took a moment to settle in, unpacking the small bag of things he’d brought and putting his extra change of robes in the dresser drawer. After a moment of consideration, he carefully placed the wooden box containing Anakin’s lightsaber underneath his robes—just in case—and shut the drawer. Obi-Wan sent a message to inform the Council he had arrived on Naboo and then puttered around the room as he waited.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading some reports on his datapad when the protocol droid appeared in the doorway to politely inform him it was time for dinner. Already, Obi-Wan could smell something delicious wafting down the hallway; even as a young Padawan, Anakin had always been a better cook than he was.
Dinner went about as well as Obi-Wan would expect with two young children, especially considering those children belonged to Anakin Skywalker. Unsurprisingly, having a guest made it a bit more difficult to keep Luke and Leia’s attention on their plates where it belonged. After some fussing that was quieted by a stern look from their father, the twins did finally calm down enough to eat their food. Though they managed to keep up their excited chatter, too, a bit more quietly than before.
As Obi-Wan watched Anakin with his children, a strange sense of melancholy began to set in. Despite what others may have thought only knowing of Anakin’s brash tendencies, Obi-Wan had always known him to have observant and gentle qualities as well. It seemed fatherhood only amplified those in him further—how he kept an eye on his children and cut Luke’s food into smaller bites when he couldn’t quite get it himself. The way Anakin gently brushed the loose strands of Leia’s hair away from her face whenever it threatened to fall into her plate.
The expression on Anakin’s face as he took care of his children was so loving and patient, it made Obi-Wan’s heart ache to see how much Anakin had truly grown in the past six years. It also felt as though Obi-Wan was encroaching upon an incredibly intimate moment—something he shouldn’t be privy to after missing so many years of his best friend’s life. The moment was yet another reminder of the distance between them now; a reminder that Obi-Wan did not belong in this part of Anakin’s life.
“Master Kenobi,” Luke looked up from his food to direct a question at Obi-Wan. “You taught Daddy when he was a Jedi, right?”
“Yes, your father was my Padawan.”
“What was he like?” Leia excitedly chimed in. “Tell us a story!”
“Well, there was this time your father had been working quite hard to prove he was ready to go on solo missions...” Obi-Wan leaned in conspiratorially, as if he were telling the kids a secret about their father. “We were sent on a mission to a foreign planet, and Anakin spent weeks practicing their formal greeting.”
Anakin interrupted by groaning exaggeratedly as Obi-Wan began the story, clearly remembering where it was going. Undeterred by Anakin’s put-on annoyance, Obi-Wan only grinned at his former apprentice and continued anyway.
“When we arrived, he perfectly executed the greeting…” He paused for impact. “To the Queen’s pet.” The twins burst into gleeful laughter as their father huffed in embarrassment.
Luke and Leia listened with rapt attention, entranced by Obi-Wan’s stories as he kept them occupied while Anakin cleared the table. When Anakin returned from putting the dishes in the sink, Leia immediately climbed onto her father’s lap the moment he was seated. Occasionally Anakin would chime in to add a detail to Obi-Wan’s recounting of a mission here and there, or defending himself whenever his old Master shared something particularly embarrassing. At some point, Obi-Wan noticed Anakin’s posture began to relax, no longer on whatever edge his friend had been teetering on since the tour of the house, and there was warmth in Anakin’s gaze as he listened along with the children.
Eventually, the twins hit the limit of their attention spans and wandered away to entertain themselves—and most likely pester the droids—before they’d have to go to bed. Slightly bothered by being relegated to nothing more than a useless house-guest, Obi-Wan decided he would take a shot at helping with clean up.
“Am I allowed to help with the dishes at least?” He asked wryly.
Anakin waved him off, hardly sparing Obi-Wan a glance over his shoulder as he continued to wash a pan. “You think I’m not used to doing this by myself? You’ll just slow me down, old man.” His words came across a bit dismissive, but his tone still held a hint of fondness that almost led Obi-Wan to push the offer again.
But Obi-Wan knew better than to do so. He was already enough of an interloper in Anakin’s life without inserting himself into every single moment of his day.
Regardless of his feelings on the matter, Obi-Wan’s time was better spent doing something that pertained to the actual reason why he was there: to keep Anakin and his children safe. It wouldn’t do to get distracted mooning over his former best friend, dwelling on regret and lost chances.
As Obi-Wan did a lap around the property and inspected the security system, he reached out through the Force to get a feel for anything that may have seemed out of place or unusual, any trace of Darkness—but he found nothing. Before returning to the house, he took a moment to bask in the quiet of the lakeside and the way the last light of the setting sun reflected off the calm surface of the water. Briefly, Obi-Wan spared a thought about how it was truly a lovely place for the twins to grow up, so much natural beauty for them to explore. The lakeside felt like a world so far away from the realities of the galaxy at war—a shelter for their innocence.
By the time Obi-Wan finally returned to the house, it was nightfall. As he made his way towards the guest room, Obi-Wan could see soft light coming from the twins’ bedroom down the hall. He could barely make out a gentle murmur of voices emanating from the open door, presumably Anakin tucking Luke and Leia into bed. Not wanting to intrude or disrupt whatever routine Anakin had with his children, Obi-Wan retired to the guest room for the night.
“You haven’t changed much.”
Anakin’s voice broke through the quiet of Obi-Wan’s early morning meditation. The Jedi Master had found a spot on the veranda overlooking the lake where it was mostly shaded apart from the soft light breaking through the leaves of a few overhanging trees. Apparently Anakin still knew exactly how to find him in the mornings.
“I don’t think I can say the same to you.” Obi-Wan opened his eyes to watch as Anakin sat down next to him.
Unkempt, wavy curls framed Anakin’s face, looking as though he hadn’t bothered to even run a hand through his hair yet. He was already wearing the usual leather glove over his mechanical hand, and Obi-Wan couldn’t even recall the last time he had seen Anakin without it on. The collar of Anakin’s loose shirt dipped down just a little too far, and Obi-Wan averted his eyes, redirecting his attention out to the lake—it was far too early in the morning for such things.
A comfortable silence settled between the two, neither of them speaking for a moment. It was so quiet that Obi-Wan turned toward Anakin, half-expecting for his friend to have fallen asleep. Instead, he was met with clear, blue eyes studying him as though Obi-Wan’s face held the answers to his unasked questions.
“I wasn’t sure what to think when Master Yoda and Master Windu contacted me. I was—apprehensive,” Anakin began without prompting. “At first it felt like it was the Council’s way of questioning my abilities even now. But they considered my thoughts about the situation and agreed to send you, so…” Anakin trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.
“So?” Obi-Wan encouraged.
Anakin shook his head, as though casting aside whatever thought he decided to no longer share.
“I’ve missed you, Obi-Wan.” Anakin seemed to be the one avoiding eye contact now, instead staring out at the lake. His eyes were as blue as the depths of the gorgeous waters.
Obi-Wan’s heart was suddenly lodged in his throat upon hearing those words. His thoughts became but a jumbled mess of emotions, and before he could parse a proper reaction, Anakin continued.
“But I—I don’t think I’ve missed the Order.” Despite the hesitancy in his words, his tone itself was firm, as though he were finally voicing something he’d been holding in. “After everything with Ahsoka and how the Council handled it, everything with the clones and the war, and just—Leaving was the right choice.”
Obi-Wan didn’t interrupt to defend the Order’s past actions, the war, or anything. He quietly listened as Anakin worked to release the words he had likely been suppressing since the day he walked away. Obi-Wan worried that anything he could add would only cause Anakin to clam up like he had in the past, and he didn’t want to discourage his former Padawan from actually discussing his emotions for once. Perhaps their time apart had made this easier for Anakin; there weren’t any expectations for him to meet anymore.
Not that Anakin could have ever truly disappointed his Master, especially not by voicing his own thoughts and emotions. Obi-Wan had always hoped that he had managed to cultivate an environment and a relationship where Anakin felt comfortable sharing anything with him, even after being knighted, though the past six years had proven otherwise.
“But part of me still trusts you…” Anakin said, a little to Obi-Wan’s surprise. “And will probably always trust you, no matter what has happened between us.”
Even though Anakin’s words were meant to be reaffirming, Obi-Wan’s heart sank. Anakin didn’t have to call the deception by name, Obi-Wan knew full well what he was alluding to. It would be a lie if he ever said he hadn’t wondered if the Hardeen deception had played a role in Anakin leaving the Order. Obi-Wan felt he could never ask for Anakin’s forgiveness for the deceit—he certainly didn’t deserve it after hurting his friend in such a way.
“I wasn’t meant to stay with the Order. This is where I’m supposed to be, I know it. I can feel it in the Force.” Anakin hesitated before quietly adding, “The Force wanted me to choose them.”
Obi-Wan had only been around the little family for less than a day, but the children were already wriggling their way into his heart—much in the way that a certain nine year old had done years ago. As much as it had hurt when Anakin left, Obi-Wan was proud of him for choosing what he felt was right for himself and for his family; if only their happiness hadn’t been shaken by the grief of loss. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must have been for Anakin—how difficult it probably still was—to have to carry on, shouldering the weight of parenthood by himself. In the short time Obi-Wan had been their guest so far, he could feel the way the family’s home radiated love and warmth, like a soft and comforting embrace, and he almost wished he could have experienced it when they were whole.
From what Obi-Wan had seen already, Anakin was doing an excellent job of raising Luke and Leia himself, but that was unsurprising considering how well he had adjusted to training his own Padawan even while fighting a war. He had quickly taken on the responsibility of Ahsoka’s safety and wellbeing, becoming someone she could rely on without hesitation.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started, knowing these words were something he needed to say. “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been through.
“And I apologize for not reaching out to you.” There wasn’t need for Obi-Wan to cite his reasons—the excuses he came up with to selfishly justify the distance to himself. But he hesitated a moment before softly adding, “I have missed you, too.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ve... managed.” Anakin’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the pain he was attempting to conceal was still clear. Anakin had always had a difficult time dealing with loss. “Padmé's sister helped a lot in the early days. It was—it was really hard at first.
“I’m—I was so lost without her.” He continued, eyes downcast. His curls fell forward, blocking most of Obi-Wan’s view of Anakin’s face. “I didn’t think I could be as good of a parent they deserve. I can never fill the hole she left behind.”
Anakin was still heavily shielding as he had the day before, and through it, the remnant of their bond felt like nothing more than the ghost of a faded memory. Obi-Wan wished he could reach out and offer his friend comfort through the Force as he had in the years before their relationship became strained, but instead he refrained, waiting patiently to see if Anakin would continue.
“We’re managing.” When Anakin finally looked up and met Obi-Wan’s gaze again, his eyes were shining with unshed tears, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “They miss her terribly, some days it’s harder than others. Sometimes Artoo plays old holovids for them—that usually helps. But I think they’re learning she’ll never truly be gone as long as they keep her in their hearts.
“I finally figured out how to braid Leia’s hair after watching like five hours of holonet tutorials.” Anakin laughed a little, and Obi-Wan pretended to not hear that it sounded like he was trying to cover a sob. It helped that the mental image of Anakin trying to braid his daughter’s hair was more endearing than it had any right to be.
“Did you learn nothing as my apprentice?” Obi-Wan joked, hoping to make his friend laugh for real.
His joke at least earned a trace of a genuine smile from his friend as he shook his head. “It’s way more complicated than a Padawan braid.”
Even the smallest of smiles from Anakin had always made Obi-Wan feel lighter, as if Anakin could literally lift the nearly ever-present pressuring weight off Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and that hadn’t seemed to change in their years apart.
“Did you know about the twins?” Anakin asked suddenly.
“I knew there was potentially a child at some point,” Obi-Wan’s words sounded a bit silly even to his own ears. “I recall hearing about Padmé's pregnancy from the holonet. I—I should have congratulated you two when I heard.”
Instead, Obi-Wan had outright avoided checking the holonet for a few months after finding out the news.
“Oh. No, it’s okay,” Anakin answered awkwardly, fidgeting a little before his expression shifted, growing serious. “Padmé wanted to keep them a secret in order to keep them safe. She didn’t want them to become targets during the war because of who their parents were.”
Anakin lightly scoffed, and his next words were dripping with self-deprecation. “Though apparently I’m not doing as well at keeping them safe as she was, seeing as the Council was concerned enough about the threat to actually send you here.”
“My being here has nothing to do with your ability to protect your children, Anakin,” Obi-Wan countered. “This is an evil no one should face alone. And perhaps someone needs to protect you, as well. I seem to recall having to do that quite often on the battlefield.”
His defense of Anakin’s capabilities earned him an endearingly familiar eye roll, but Anakin dropped the subject at least.
“You know,” Anakin began. “I figured you’d hate me for abandoning the Order during the war.”
Something about that cut deeply—how could Anakin ever think Obi-Wan hated him? Such a thing was unfathomable.
“Jedi weren’t meant to be soldiers. We’re peacekeepers—were, at least. I don’t blame you any more than I can blame anyone else who has tried to escape the horrors of the war. We weren’t meant to endure this level of suffering.” Obi-Wan offered Anakin a smile, though even he knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He only needed for Anakin to believe him when he said, “I don’t believe I could ever hate you, Anakin.”
I’m simply not capable of it, he left unspoken.
Anakin didn’t return the smile and averted his gaze instead, very obviously trying to look anywhere but at Obi-Wan. He had fallen silent and his uncomfortable fidgeting was growing worse, to the point that Obi-Wan was about to ask Anakin what was wrong when he spoke again.
“I don’t understand why I’m the one who’s still here. All the times I nearly died during the war, and yet Padmé is the one who’s gone.” His words spilled out in a rush, as if a dam had broken. “All the destruction caused by my hands… while she fought so strongly for peace. It doesn’t seem right—it doesn’t seem fair.”
Tears threatened to spill from Anakin’s eyes, and the twisted expression on his face was one of anguish and guilt. Obi-Wan almost reached out to put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, wanting desperately to comfort his friend, but that was hardly his place anymore.
“Few things in life are, Anakin,” he answered sadly instead.
Suddenly, there was the sound of the soft patter of feet across stone and hushed giggles. Apparently the twins were awake now and had come running out to the veranda, almost as if they’d sensed their father’s distress.
The children playfully tackled Anakin from behind, latching onto him as their laughter filled the quiet morning air. Leia was hanging on his arm, and Luke had wrapped his little arms around his father’s neck. As though a heavy cloud was lifted, the pained expression on Anakin’s face was replaced with a grin, much to Obi-Wan’s relief.
“Daddy, it’s time for breakfast!” Leia announced as she clung to her father’s arm.
“Already? But I just woke up,” Anakin asked in mock surprise as he pretended to yawn. He gently swayed back and forth as the twins giggled and tried to hold on tighter. The sight of the three of them laughing together made Obi-Wan’s heart swell.
“I want waffles,” Luke said as Anakin moved to stand up. He had to let go of his father’s neck, but he simply latched onto Anakin’s free arm once he was upright.
Anakin Skywalker with a small child dangling from each of his arms was quite an amusing picture, and Obi-Wan couldn’t fight back a smile as he watched them.
“Will you be joining us?” Anakin asked before they left the veranda. Obi-Wan noticed his eyes were still a bit red and watery, but his posture seemed lighter, despite the adorable extra weight holding onto him.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” Obi-Wan answered.
Once they were gone, he turned back to the lake. The sun was high in the sky now, and the water was shimmering in its golden light. Obi-Wan sank back into something of a meditative state for a few more minutes, pondering the conversation he’d just had with Anakin. He was relieved that there was still enough familiarity and trust between the two of them for Anakin to begin sharing such things with him, and his traitorous heart was elated at the potential of what that could mean. He quickly pushed those thoughts away and joined the family for breakfast.
Anakin even allowed Obi-Wan into the kitchen to make some tea, though not without playfully teasing him about his “leaf water” addiction first. Apparently some things never changed.
As the days passed by quite uneventfully—aside from a few disasters Luke and Leia got into with R2-D2, much to C-3PO’s dismay—Obi-Wan couldn’t help but question the necessity of his presence on Naboo. He had yet to sense a single disturbance in the Force since his arrival.
The closest there had been to a disturbance thus far had been the confirmation that the twins were Force-sensitive after one of the aforementioned “disasters,” in which a tantrum Leia threw resulted in a broken vase—on the other side of the room. Obi-Wan knew he needed to discuss the matter of training Luke and Leia properly sometime with Anakin, but part of him dreaded the thought of approaching the subject, worried Anakin might believe Obi-Wan was questioning his capability of teaching them himself.
Obi-Wan continued to keep the Jedi Council updated on the lack of alarming activity, but any time he questioned if he should return to the warfront, it was insisted that his mission had priority. Though Obi-Wan trusted the judgment of his fellow Council members, it seemed superfluous for him to be peacefully meditating by the beautiful lakeside while his men and fellow Jedi continued to fight in the ceaseless war.
At least the chance to meditate more frequently in a peaceful environment had allowed Obi-Wan to become more in tune with the Force than he had felt in the past few years. Perhaps this mission could serve as a respite from the war, the long-needed break that none in the Order had the luxury of taking.
That being said, Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to settle in fully, plagued by the constant feeling that he was an intruder in Anakin’s new life. He wasn’t sure where he and his former Padawan even fit into each other’s lives anymore—or if they even could.
Not wanting to be any more of a bother than he already was, Obi-Wan mostly kept to himself and tried to stay out of Anakin’s way. Though, occasionally he did allow himself to sit with Anakin in the garage while he was doing some freelance mechanic work. Watching his brilliant friend work was always fascinating, and it was much more enjoyable without the hazard of tripping over droid parts in their living quarters.
The days turned into a week, and Obi-Wan could feel himself becoming a bit complacent, lulled into a false sense of security and peace—until a very unexpected visitor dropped by the quiet family home.