Chapter Text
The Force works in mysterious ways; of that, Obi-wan Kenobi had little doubt. Try as he might, he would never understand it as much as Yoda, or feel it in the same way a more naturally-gifted Jedi like Anakin would. Regardless, Obi-wan would’ve thought the hard-earned title of Jedi Master would give him the authority to say time travel was a preposterous notion, not unlike maintaining visage after becoming one with the Force.
And yet, here he was.
The Jedi Council chamber had never been so tumultuous. Not, perhaps, in a way visible to the naked eye—they were Jedi Masters, after all. But in the Force, the space was clouded in an aura of cold shock, incredulity, and the slightest hint of outrage. Obi-wan thought, hysterically, that at least it wasn’t his former Padawan's doing … this time, anyway.
“Master Yoda, you are the wisest and oldest of us all,” said Mace Windu, his brow creased in a rare penetration of his serene Jedi mask. “Do you sense that what they say is true?
One of the “they” in question—a dark-haired young man named Ezra Bridger—opened his mouth to undoubtedly speak indignantly, but was stopped by Kyp Durron, his stiff, brown-eyed companion that oddly, and a bit frighteningly, reminded Obi-wan of Anakin.
Yoda’s eyes were closed, chin upturned and ears twitching. The silence grew thick with anticipation as he resurfaced. “The truth, they speak.”
The Force’s dense aura seemed to explode with the reactions of typically-reserved Jedi Masters, although not a single sound nor movement was uttered.
After all, what could one possibly say to something like that? Not only to the possibility that time travel was real, but to Jedi originating just under thirty years into the future with Force presences clouded by darkness, who regarded the temple with shock and unfamiliarity, who seemed to know very little of Jedi protocol or the current state of the galaxy?
Kyp sighed heavily. “Look, I know this is a tough pill to swallow, but I promise we mean you no harm. We aren’t even sure how we got here.”
“As confusing as this situation is,” carefully began Ki-Adi-Mundi, “could this not be a gift from the Force? A means to end the Clone War and the Sith’s plans, whatever they may be?”
“Possibly,” reasoned Ezra. “But it is too soon to know. We were going to consult with the Skywalkers before—ouch!”
The pitiful glare Ezra sent Kyp, rubbing his wounded foot, might have been comical if Obi-wan had not been so focused on what he had said.
Skywalkers?
————
“Remember your second saber, Ahsoka,” cautioned Anakin Skywalker, deactivating his lightsaber and pulling his Padawan to her feet. “Your attacks become predictable and your defenses weak when you favor one of your blades. It’s like fighting with one hand tied behind your back.”
Ahsoka sighed heavily, wiping sweat from her brow. “Yes, Master.”
Anakin opened his mouth to propose an additional exercise, but was halted when his eyes caught the familiar form of his own master leaning against a pillar, arms crossed and hips pivoted with a bravado Anakin knew he would never admit to. Except … He frowned and clapped Ahsoka’s shoulder. “Go take a break, Padawan. We’ll finish later.”
Ahsoka, thankfully, was too tired to argue, bowing respectfully to her Masters before heading down the corridor—likely to the Mess Hall—leaving the two of them alone.
The longer Anakin beheld his former master, the more concerned he grew. Obi-wan was an annoyingly perfect Jedi, always maintaining a serene, emotionless composure that Anakin had failed to develop. So any change in expression or emotion was quite obvious and severe to those that knew him. His tight smile and wan face was a rare crack in those impeccable defenses.
“Master?” Anakin half-greeted, half-questioned.
Obi-wan answered with a rather pathetic excuse for a smile. Ever the Negotiator, even when it was just Anakin. “I always knew you’d be a good teacher. You and Ahsoka are lucky to have each other.”
Now Anakin knew for certain that Obi-wan was bearing bad news. It was an annoying tactic, dancing around the subject with politeness before effectively ruining Anakin’s day. He stifled down the unwanted spark of warmth at the rare praise, crossing his arms before leveling a look that he hoped said, Stop bullshitting and tell me what’s going on.
The point seemed to get across, because Obi-wan released a heavy sigh that lifted the pointless front, slumping forward and taking a slow step towards Anakin. When he looked up again, he looked older than he had ever seen him. “I—I didn’t want to have to do this, Anakin, but current … circumstances have left the Council with little choice.”
Oh, fantastic. Anakin’s day was definitely about to be ruined. “Master?”
Obi-wan stroked his beard almost shyly. “We’ve never really talked about your … past. And I’ve always tried to respect your boundaries. I’m sorry to have to invade them now, my dear friend. But there are some vital questions the Council needs answered about your … childhood. On Tatooine.”
A sharp stab penetrated his chest, as it did anytime that Force-forsaken dust ball was brought up. His stomach roiled as he saw his mother, beaten and bloody, staring up at him with blank eyes. “Why? What’s it to the Council now?”
“I’m afraid I am not authorized to tell you. Not yet.”
Anakin choked, humorless laugh forced its way out of his chest. “Typical.”
Obi-wan winced. “Trust me, Anakin, I would tell you in a heartbeat if I could, especially with the … sensitive nature of this information being shared. But I promise you, it’s for the greater good and whatever you tell me will not leave this room or the Council chambers. You have my word.”
Anakin rubbed at his face, not comforted in the slightest. Beyond the anger was that familiar sting of hurt, of betrayal. But he knew Obi-wan wouldn’t ask this of him unless it wasn’t necessary. He swallowed back the bile. “Okay, what do you need to know.”
Obi-wan nodded once, his grey-blue eyes tight with regret and apprehension. “You had mentioned before that, when she was pregnant with you, your mother was sold to Gardulla the Hutt at an auction, then when you were very young, you were gambled off to Watto in Mos Espa. Is that correct?”
“Yeah.” Why the hell would the Council need to know that?
“But do you know anything about her history before that? How she ended up in the slave trade in the first place?”
Anakin blinked. “Uh … not much. She didn’t really like talking about it. I don’t know what planet she was originally from, but I know that when she was a little girl, her and her parents were captured by pirates and sold to all sorts of masters in the slave trade before she was sold to the Hutts by the Zygerrians. And that’s around the time she got pregnant with me.”
Obi-wan nodded again, his expression pensive. “Did her parents have any other children? Did she have any extended family?”
What in the Force? “I—don’t think so. She didn’t really talk about her parents, but she would’ve mentioned anyone else. She never said if she knew what happened to her parents, but something must have separated them. They were either killed or split up.”
Obi-wan’s face was pinched as he asked, “Are you positive? There was no one else that had the Skywalker name?”
Anakin’s belly and face burned hot as his inner dragon snapped its jaws. “Force, Obi-wan, yes, I am sure. I am completely fucking alone. Is that all you and the Council wanted to know, what was so important? Wanted to make sure there were no other Skywalkers running around to have to deal with? Or was it that you wanted to make sure I didn’t have any other potential attachments?” He spat the last word so harshly he was surprised spit didn’t come flying out.
Obi-wan closed his eyes and sighed tiredly—his Anakin-is-overreacting-again-and-it’s-embarassing face. Of course he didn’t fucking care.
The wound in Anakin’s chest was rotted, aching, burning. He was going to regret this outburst later, he knew. But in this moment, as in so many others, everything was subservient to the flames. “Is that all? Or does the Council have more invasive questions about my family?”
Obi-wan shook his head, in answer or disappointment, Anakin didn’t know.
And as he turned on his heel and stormed off, Anakin pretended he didn’t care.
————
“So we know that, whoever these Skywalkers are, they would have to have come from Anakin’s direct bloodline?” implored Mace Windu with a hint of weariness.
Obi-wan stroked his beard as he thought over that less-than-pleasant conversation with Anakin. He hated to use Anakin’s trust like that, but the greater good must come first. He hoped Anakin would one day mature enough to realize that. “Given the ambiguity of the family history, there are a few slight possibilities that they could be cousins of Anakin’s, but given the facts and the circumstances being decades into the future … Yes, I would presume so.”
“So, there’s a high possibility that there is at least one time-traveling offspring of Anakin Skywalker roaming the galaxy right now.”
“That was my conclusion, yes.”
“Force help us all.”