Chapter Text
He’d once said that he couldn’t kill Anakin. That was still true.
Obviously.
Even though it was true, that version of himself – the one from ten years earlier who’d insisted he could never kill Anakin – he had been naive. It was hard to imagine that a man who’d been called both General and Jedi Master could be that naive.
But that was the only word that fit. He’d had no idea what was in store. Not for himself, not for the Jedi Order, and not for the entire galaxy. He had no idea the depths of the misery that could be wrought.
But the fact remained, even with the horrors that he’d seen, that he could not kill Anakin.
Was there a whisper in the Force that told him not to end Anakin’s life? Or had he used that as an excuse?
He’d never be sure. If it existed, it was subtle. It was a slow, winding tendril that threaded itself through the back of his mind. But it was enough. Enough to stay his hand.
Had he killed Anakin ten years ago, Obi-Wan would have let the Force consume him. Had he caused Anakin’s death, Obi-Wan wouldn't have survived it. Not in any way that mattered.
Yes, his former Padawan had still been Anakin at that point. Petulant, stubborn, and intractable. And brave. Some would argue with the word brave. Certainly it was not brave to kill younglings. But Anakin had been committed to his cause. He’d gone all in for the Emperor, and he’d thrown his whole self into it.
His actions were reprehensible. There was no excuse. And yet, in some ways, it was not so very surprising. Anakin had needed so much from him; from all of them. They had not always delivered. His background left him with a gaping wound, and as much as it pained Obi-Wan to admit it, Palpatine had filled that void.
Before Leia was kidnapped, Obi-Wan had spent the last ten years going over every moment of his life from the moment he’d first laid eyes on Anakin until the last. He’d cataloged what he’d done wrong. He’d made a list of everything the Jedi had done wrong too, based on Anakin’s particular circumstances. The list was… extensive.
For a while, he’d wondered if that introspection had done any good at all.
But at the moment when he saw Anakin’s face, he knew then that all of his self-reflection had been worth it. Obi-Wan was ready. He could apologize, and say the words – “I'm sorry, Anakin,” and he could mean them, to the depths of his soul and beyond.
They’d gotten that moment, just the two of them. To connect, even through the anguish. And for a split second, his Anakin was there, visible to him.
It would have to be enough.
And now he had gotten to meet Luke. It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d expected.
Now that Obi-Wan was back on Tatooine, he was trying to let go of the past. He was trying to quit dwelling on his mistakes.
Thanks to Owen and Beru, Luke had what Anakin never had – his freedom, and a family. The same thing Anakin had been so desperately trying to recreate with Padme.
And Leia had two parents, two devoted, loving parents.
Obi-Wan could move on. He could keep an eye on Luke, and he could meditate, and he could stay connected to the Force, and to Qui-Gon.
And all of that had worked out really well for the first few weeks back on Tatooine.
He’d felt settled. Not happy. Not content, but settled. Leia was safe. Luke was safe. There were Jedi out there, and allies. People who would fight the Empire.
For thirty nights, his sleep was unbroken.
Then it all fell apart.
He had a nightmare, and the fragile peace he’d found crumbled to ash.
He hoped to any God that was listening that it was not a vision.
The dream had shown him Anakin, ten years from now. Then twenty. Then thirty. In each moment, Anakin was still serving Palpatine, still doing his cruel bidding. How long would the Emperor live? The carnage could go on and on.
Endless.
Had Obi-Wan failed again by not striking Anakin down? Had Obi-Wan failed the galaxy? Surely the weight of the world could not rest on his shoulders alone?
He stumbled from his bedroll. His knees hit the ground. “Qui-Gon, if you can hear me, then please, grant me wisdom. Give me guidance. I need it now, more than ever.” After returning to Tatooine, Qui-Gon’s appearance had been a comforting balm. Now Obi-Wan’s need for him was absolutely unrelenting.
The air in front of him shimmered. A voice rumbled. “Padawan.”
He reached out with one hand, grabbing the wall to stay upright. “Master.” His throat stung. It had been a few days since he’d seen Qui-Gon manifest. But it felt like a lifetime. An eternity.
An eternity of dealing with the self-doubt that wound its way through every waking moment. <i>You found Anakin, Master. You left me with him. I loved him, but it wasn’t enough. </i>
He did not say those words.
“You have given up,” Qui-Gon said. He stood there, serene, even in his admonishment.
Obi-Wan did not have that luxury. He would never be serene again. Not as long as he lived. “Because there is nothing left to hope for.”
“It may feel that way,” his former master said.
“I’m not in the mood for platitudes. I require help. Real, tangible help. Did I make yet another grave error?” He left the details unspoken. He knew Qui-Gon would understand his meaning.
“And I will provide it.”
He said nothing else, which did not surprise Obi-Wan. He felt his answer through the Force: Qui-Gon would never condone killing Anakin Skywalker.
“Please. I am lost,” Obi-Wan said.
Qui-Gon moved to sit on the ground. “There are universes out where this did not happen. Universes where Anakin does not join Palpatine.”
“Other universes?” There had been a time in his life where he’d have wanted to know every detail. He’d have sat up straight and quizzed his Master. Now, he wasn’t sure if he cared.
“Yes. They are infinite.”
Obi-Wan wanted to lie down. His arms were heavy. His head was heavy too. “How does that help us?”
“I can show you a glimpse into those lives.”
He shook his head. “Unless it will give me some insight, then I will respectfully decline. What good will it do, unless I can affect change here?” He had no desire to see what might have been. If he was shown a path not taken, it would only serve to torment him.
Qui-Gon folded his hands together. “It will give you perspective. A new point of view.”
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he could handle any more perspective.
But he would accept. What choice did he have? He’d asked for help. Qui-Gon was offering. “Then let’s proceed,” he said. He couldn’t keep the defeat from his voice. But some action was better than none.