Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anakin watched his body burn on the pyre Luke had constructed. He gazed proudly upon his son and his daughter, and beside him, Obi-Wan seemed to have a smile stuck on his face. Yoda had wandered off just a moment after Luke turned away from them, back into the Force. Obi-Wan stirred next to Anakin, robes rustling.

“You came back,” the old man stated, and Anakin turned to him, sheepishly, guilt weighing him down.

“I... don’t have the words,” the former Sith said, looking down at his ghostly blue feet, “I’m so, so sorry, Master...”

“I forgave you long ago, my wayward Padawan, as have the others,” Obi-Wan placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “but, if you wish it, there is something you can do to make it up to everyone.”

“Anything,” Anakin breathed, which was a sensation he hadn’t experienced in decades, and was still a surprise, being dead and all, “I’ll do anything, Master.”

“Very well,” Obi-Wan nodded, a peculiar shine in his eyes, “walk with me, Anakin. There is much to discuss.”

The Jedi Master lead his former Padawan away from the flames, out towards the dense forest of Endor.

“Anakin, the Force has shown me a way to go back in time,” Obi-Wan said plainly, as if it were an everyday type of thing.

“What?” Anakin’s jaw dropped, “Wait, how?”

“We can’t exactly go back and interfere directly, and it will not affect our own future,” Obi-Wan gave his former Padawan an amused look, “but we can warn our younger selves and save their timeline, through a vision.”

“I don’t know if that’ll work,” Anakin said, bitterly, “I mean, plenty of my own visions that turned out to be true were ignored.”

“That’s precisely the thing,” Obi-Wan nodded, “it cannot be a true seeing vision, at least, not at first.”

Anakin turned, giving his former Master a bewildered look.

“What I mean,” Obi-Wan smirked, “is we don’t show ourselves what will pass, visually, right off the bat. Too much could go wrong.”

“So... what do you suggest?” Anakin raised an eyebrow.

“Tell me, Anakin,” the Jedi Master folded his arms into his sleeves, “before anything else, what guides you?”

“The Force,” Anakin gave his standard reply, and Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Your heart, my Padawan.” The older man corrected, and Anakin’s shoulders came up to his ears.

“That’s not the way of the Jedi,” Anakin pointed out, and Obi-Wan shrugged.

“The way of the Jedi has been lost, many centuries ago.” Obi-Wan stopped walking, standing before a body of water. Anakin stared over the placid lake. The stars reflected on the mirror-like surface, twinkling beautifully. The noise of the celebration the two Jedi had walked away from was almost muted in the peaceful atmosphere.

“So, we’re going to send our emotions back to our younger selves, in a different timeline?” Anakin broke the silence, “How does that even work?”

“The Force works in mysterious ways, my Padawan.” Obi-Wan grinned mischievously, turning to face the Jedi Knight, “We must decide which moment was the beginning.”

“The beginning?” Anakin frowned, deep in thought, “Probably when we met? That’s really when everything started happening.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, his brows furrowing as he grasped the right threads of the Force, “Let’s start, shall we?”

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan noticed the presence the minute the body it was connected to barreled into the cockpit, shouting words about Qui-Gon and danger. The Padawan barely spared a moment to think, before he was shouting and pointing at where Qui-Gon was battling a cloaked figure. Adrenaline overpowered his Force sense as the ship swooped low, the ramp down, and then rocketed out of Tatooine’s atmosphere as soon as Qui-Gon was on board. He and the child rushed to the ramp, where Obi-Wan’s master lay, exhausted. The child and Qui-Gon spoke, and Obi-Wan asked his questions, and then, he looked upon the boy.

Blue eyes met him, and suddenly, it felt like he’d been kicked in the side of the head. The child stared back at him, eyes wide, and Obi-Wan could tell he felt the same way.

“Master?” Was the broken word that came from the boy’s lips, and Obi-Wan fell to his knees. Within milliseconds, the boy was in his arms, fists tangled firmly in his tunics, and a choking sound coming from his throat. Obi-Wan fared no better, confused, still, at who this boy was, but the insistent scream of the Force, and the emotions stuffing themselves in his chest kept him bound in place. Terror and grief were high on the list, along with guilt, love, and fierce, unshakeable pride in the boy in his arms.

Qui-Gon eyed the interaction with confusion. The waves of emotion sent roiling through the Force shook him in his boots, and the look on his Padawan’s face froze his blood. Little did the Padawan know, but his face had contorted into the very expression of anguish.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan gasped, like a drowning man, the name coming from absolutely nowhere, but the boy’s chokes turned into a sob, and Obi-Wan felt himself following suit.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin wailed, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Still horribly confused, the Padawan shook his head, clutching Anakin to his chest with an iron grip. Somehow, he knew he’d never done this enough for the child, and the way his chest ached, he’d never done this enough for himself, either.

It took some time for them to calm down, and Qui-Gon hardly dared to breathe, as Obi-Wan sat back onto his heels, releasing Anakin from his hold, but keeping his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“I... don’t understand what just happened,” the Padawan said, shakily, wiping tears from Anakin’s dusty face like he’d done it a million times for a million reasons, “You have nothing to apologize for, little one.”

“You don’t understand,” Anakin retorted miserably, “It’s all my fault.”

Qui-Gon was about to ask, but Obi-Wan’s feral snarl stopped him in his tracks.

“Like hell it is,” the Padawan hissed with surprising fervor, and then bit his lip, eyes wide. Something was... off. Anakin stared at him, watery eyes questioning, not seeming to notice anything wrong.

Obi-Wan stared back, lost. Qui-Gon took the opportunity to remind them of his presence.

“What happened?” The Jedi demanded calmly, and the two turned to him in unison.

“I-” Obi-Wan cut himself off, “The Force seems to have done... something. I’m not sure what.”

Anakin scrubbed his eyes with his sleeves, “I don’t know anything except Obi-Wan is my Master, and everything is my fault.”

Qui-Gon’s eyebrows rose in surprise. If the Council accepted the boy, he’s planned to submit Obi-Wan for his Trials, and take Anakin as his Padawan. It would be bad enough forcing his Padawan into Knighthood so abruptly, but forcing him to take a Padawan so immediately? Obi-Wan, who’d complained about the pathetic life forms Qui-Gon continued to pick up, didn’t argue with Anakin’s claim that the Padawan would be his master, though he did have a pained look on his face. Reaching out with his mind, Qui-Gon realized a training bond had snapped to life between the two before him. The Force certainly worked in mysterious ways.

“Whatever everything is,” Obi-Wan grated, suddenly sounding so much older to his Master’s ears, “It’s not all your fault, Anakin. You weren’t the only one making mistakes.”

Anakin shook his head, and Qui-Gon felt the depth of his guilt, overpowering and all-consuming. He was stunned. Just minutes earlier, the worst he’s sensed from the boy had been sadness at leaving his mother behind, and worry for Qui-Gon’s health. Now, it was like decades of suffering had been uploaded to the boy’s head. Obi-Wan didn’t feel much better, but his guilt was different. Qui-Gon knew it well. It was the guilt of a master who watched his Padawan Fall after years of clues, and refusing to see the inevitable.

“The Council needs to see this,” Qui-Gon said, and pushed himself to his feet. A sharp spike of fear startled him, and to his greater surprise, the emotion came from Obi-Wan, not Anakin.

“Master, all due respect,” the Padawan said, his words stilted and carefully chosen, “I agree that the Council should. But, I don’t want Anakin in there at first.”

“I can handle it,” Anakin protested, apprehensive but unwilling to let it show, “I...”

“And you can, Anakin,” Qui-Gon turned his gaze to his Padawan, “Obi-Wan, is there a specific reason?”

“Whatever happened with the Force just now,” the young man frowned, “the Council will not like it. As it is, they won’t like Anakin.”

Qui-Gon’s eyebrows raised, though he found he couldn’t argue. He still spoke, for Anakin’s sake, “Padawan, you don’t know that. Anakin is very powerful. They’re not likely to turn him away, despite his age.”

“His power’s just the thing they won’t like.” Obi-Wan continued, and Anakin shuffled his feet. Obi-Wan looked back to the boy, and closed his mouth.

“They won’t let you train me, now.” Anakin said, “I don’t... something had to... the Force showed me... it wasn’t your choice, Master. You never even wanted me in the first place, anyways.” The boy’s lower lip quivered, and Qui-Gon watched, helpless, as Obi-Wan replaced his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“Anakin...” Obi-Wan’s voice was raw and open, heartbroken , Qui-Gon’s brain supplied, “Anakin, that’s not true. I...”

“What do you mean?” Qui-Gon asked after Obi-Wan trailed off, and Anakin looked at him with sad eyes.

“He didn’t want to train me, but he had to. I don’t... there’s no vision stuff, only feelings.” Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan’s sleeve. A buzz from the commlink Obi-Wan wore interrupted the moment, and Obi-Wan stood reluctantly, answering.

“Yes?” He said.

“Is Master Jinn alright?” Ric Olie asked, and then, “We gotta get going.”

“He’s fine,” Obi-Wan replied, “We’ll be up in a second. Prep the hyperdrive.”

“Already done.” Ric said, and the comm went silent.

Qui-Gon watched as the two left, side by side, and imagined Obi-Wan, his braid gone and his hair down, and Anakin, with the Padawan’s cut. It startled him, how right it looked. The Force agreed, and Qui-Gon worried. What happened, that made Obi-Wan Anakin’s Master? The way Anakin was insisting that Obi-Wan didn’t want him left a cold feeling in Qui-Gon’s stomach. There were few things that would cause Obi-Wan to take a Padawan so soon after being Knighted. And there was the matter of the Knighting in the first place, Obi-Wan was still a Padawan himself.

After the ship entered hyperspace, Anakin ran off, and Obi-Wan disappeared to go meditate. Qui-Gon himself went back to the ramp, and settled himself down for a meditation of his own.

Padmé found Anakin huddled in a corner, or rather, Anakin found her while she watched Bibble’s holo. He shivered, and Padmé noticed tears in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” She asked, softly, and Anakin shook his head slowly, wrapping his arms around himself tightly.

“It’s very cold,” the boy said, and Padmé removed her jacket, kneeling and draping it around his body. Anakin gave her an appreciative smile.

“You’re from a warm planet, Ani.” Padmé smiled back, teasing, “Too warm for my taste.” Her smile dropped, “Space is cold.”

“You seem sad,” Anakin frowned, and Padmé was taken aback.

“The Queen is...” Padmé chose her words carefully, “worried. Her people are suffering, dying. She must convince the Senate to intervene, or... I’m not sure what will happen.”

Anakin took this in, and patted her arm comfortingly.

“I’m not sure what’s gonna happen to me, either.” The boy confided, “Something weird happened earlier, and... I don’t know. I, uh,” Anakin took a moment to dig through his pockets, “I made this for you. So you don’t forget me.”

He handed her a carved necklace, and Padmé ran her fingers over the design.

“It’ll bring you good fortune, too,” Anakin said after a moment of silence, and Padmé put it on.

“It’s beautiful, Ani.” Padmé smiled sweetly, “But, I don’t need this to remember you. My caring for you will always remain.”

Anakin grinned, sadly, “I care for you too. There’s just so much happening, and I miss...”

“You miss your mother,” Padmé watched as Anakin blinked back tears, and offered him a hug. He took it, and buried his face in her shoulder.

The flight to Coruscant ended too quickly for Qui-Gon’s taste. He was glad to be home, but at the same time, he still hadn’t discovered the root of the mysterious bond between his Padawan and his charge. The uncomfortable reaction to Senator Palpatine’s presence between the two was even more confusing. Before long, they were in the Council chamber. Qui-Gon said his piece, with Obi-Wan present, to the Council, and was met with everything he expected. The Padawan stayed silent, chewing his lip.

“Worried, you are, Padawan Kenobi?” Yoda pointed his gimer stick at the young man, who looked up in surprise, shaken from his thoughts.

“Um,” Obi-Wan took a moment to put his thoughts in order, and finally spoke, almost reluctantly, “the boy, Anakin Skywalker. On the way back from Tatooine, something happened. I-”

“A vision?” Mace interrupted, and Obi-Wan shook his head, glancing helplessly at Qui-Gon, who nodded, drawing the Council’s attention back to himself.

“Anakin, like I said, has the highest count of midichlorians we’ve ever recorded.” The Jedi restated, placing a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder, “It seems that the Force took a particular liking to my Padawan. Or dislike, depending on how you look at it.”

“Plainly, please.” Mace looked like he wanted to throttle Qui-Gon.

“Well, Anakin and Obi-Wan share a training bond.” Qui-Gon waited a moment for the surprised gasps to settle, “Anakin and my Padawan seemed to share a sort of recognition. They had never met previously, but Anakin called Obi-Wan his Master, and Obi-Wan seemed to know Anakin’s name.”

“Interesting, that is...” Yoda hummed, “Obi-Wan, what see in this vision, did you?”

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan said honestly, “There weren’t any images, just feelings.”

“What feelings?” Ki-Adi leaned forwards, his hands clasped in his lap.

Obi-Wan swallowed his nerves, and recalled the intense emotions the Force shoved upon him, “I was terrified, I felt like I just saw everyone die in front of me.”

The Council was silent, and Obi-Wan continued, “I was proud of Anakin. I also... I felt like I failed him.”

“In what way?” Mace’s frown deepend. Qui-Gon tightened his grip on his Padawan’s shoulder, and Obi-Wan took a deep breath.

“There was something I needed to do, for him, and I couldn’t.” Obi-Wan frowned, trying to parse the data in his mind, “He thinks it’s all his fault.”

“Is it?” Saesee asked.

“No!” Obi-Wan was quick to defend the boy, “I... we all failed him.”

“We?” Yoda raised his brows.

“Yes, Masters.” Obi-Wan steeled his nerves, “I’m not sure what it means, but I feel that the Council did its best to hinder Anakin, not help him.”

Qui-Gon turned a surprised look to his Padawan.

“A steep accusation,” Mace said, flatly, “considering we haven’t even met the boy.”

Obi-Wan said nothing, and Qui-Gon stepped forwards.

“You will meet him soon.” The Jedi stated, “If he can be tested.”

“Tested, the boy will be.” Yoda nodded, and took a moment to look between the men before him, “Padawan Kenobi, dismissed, you are.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan bowed, and gave Qui-Gon a look, before leaving the chamber.

As soon as the door sealed behind him, chaos broke out in the Council chamber.

“Kriffing hell, Jinn,” Mace growled, his face firmly planted in his palms.

“It’s the will of the Force for the boy to be trained, I knew that as soon as I met him.” Qui-Gon replied, “I’m as surprised as you about the rest of it.”

“Old, he is.” Yoda frowned, “In his future, danger, I sense.”

“What happened during their... experience?” Saesee inquired, curious.

Qui-Gon remembered the scene, and tried to put it into words, “One moment, they were both grilling me about the suspected Sith, the next, they looked at each other and a bond established itself. They were both crying, and embracing as if they knew each other, and had been separated for decades.”

The Council considered this, and Qui-Gon continued.

“Anakin kept insisting everything was his fault, and the guilt... There is no way a nine year old boy should ever have that much guilt.” Qui-Gon frowned, “Obi-Wan himself... I recognized the way he was feeling.”

Mace motioned for him to explain, and Qui-Gon looked down at the tiled floor.

“Whatever future their feelings came from, Anakin Fell, and Obi-Wan blames himself.” The Jedi said. The Council was silent as they remembered Xanatos.

“If Anakin Falls, why train him?” Eeth Koth crossed his arms, and Qui-Gon looked up at the zabrak blankly.

“Only one future out of many, that is.” Yoda closed his eyes, thinking, “Train the boy, Obi-Wan should, Master Jinn?”

“I believe so,” Qui-Gon said, “It was my original intent to take Anakin as a Padawan after submitting Obi-Wan for his Trials, but I doubt either of them would let me, at this point.”

“Not their decision, it is. Speak with them, we must.” Yoda frowned, and Qui-Gon shook his head.

“You’ll understand when you see them together.” He promised, and left. There was nothing more to say.

Obi-Wan stood outside, and the moment he saw Qui-Gon, he frowned at his master.

“What did you tell them?” He demanded, and Qui-Gon raised his hands, palms out.

“I told them you should be Anakin’s Master.” The Jedi replied, and Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing more. The two gazed out on the traffic of Coruscant, and Qui-Gon sighed.

“The Council wants to see both you and Anakin.” The Jedi frowned, “Where did that boy run off to?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, and shook his head, “He’s in the temple, somewhere. He’s lost.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to go collect him.” Qui-Gon said, and began to walk down the hall. Obi-Wan followed, absentminded.

They found Anakin standing, staring out a window. The boy turned as soon as Obi-Wan rounded the corner, and grinned ruefully. “Hi, Masters.”

“The Council wants to see us,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin’s expression faltered. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, as Anakin walked towards the two men slowly, dragging his feet.

“They aren’t going to bite. Or, they shouldn’t, anyway.” Qui-Gon joked, and Anakin covered his mouth with his hands, hiding a surprised smile. Obi-Wan’s lips twitched, though he found himself back within the Council chamber far sooner than he would’ve liked. Anakin was practically plastered to his side, not physically touching, but close enough.

“Masters,” Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s back, forcing the boy to take a few steps forwards, “this is Anakin Skywalker.”

The Councilors each took a moment to observe Anakin, keeping their thoughts to themselves, before Yoda spoke up.

“Nice to meet you, it is, Young Skywalker.” The little green Jedi nodded, and Anakin looked back at Obi-Wan, before replying.

“Nice to meet you too, Master.” Anakin said, nervously. Mace rubbed his chin in thought.

“Tell us what happened on the way here from Tatooine.” He said, and Anakin’s eyes widened for a moment, before he absently reached up as if to tug on a Padawan braid, a common nervous habit for Padawans. The Masters’ eyes watched his hand as it moved, curious. Anakin started as he realized what he was doing, and his hand fell to rest firmly at his side.

“Um, my Mas- uh, Obi-Wan and I were seeing if Qui-Gon was okay, since we got attacked by something on the way back to the ship.” Anakin explained, “After we made sure he was fine, the inside of my head felt kind of itchy, and I looked at my Ma- um, Obi-Wan. I never met him before in my life, but then something happened, and it’s like...” Anakin paused, looking for the right analogy, “Like when you upload software to a droid. All kinds of feelings and stuff.”

Mace motioned for Anakin to continue, and Anakin bit his lip, his fingers twitching.

“Uh, I felt like I did bad things,” Anakin frowned, and looked down at his feet, “awful things happened, and it was all my fault.”

“How bad?” Saesee asked, and Anakin shrugged.

“Anything else, was there?” Yoda cocked his head slightly at the young boy, who nodded slowly.

“I... Obi-Wan was my Master, and I was his Padawan. But, he didn’t... it wasn’t his choice, not really.” Anakin tucked his chin into his chest, “Something happened, and Obi-Wan had to.”

“Anakin...” Obi-Wan said, quietly, as the boy gripped the bottom of his shirt to keep his hands from fidgeting.

“Do you know what happened?” Mace asked, and Anakin shook his head. Yoda hummed, leaning back in his seat.

“Not yet a Knight, Padawan Kenobi is. Take a Padawan, he cannot.” The Grand Master said, and Anakin looked up, just as Obi-Wan opened his mouth. Yoda shut him up with a simple gesture, and Obi-Wan eyed the Jedi warily.

“Feel strongly about this, you do, Padawan Kenobi.” Yoda frowned, “Why?”

Obi-Wan refused to let his eyes wander, as he thought. He didn’t have a good reason, other than he felt it was the will of the Force, but he had no idea how the Councilors would take that. Of course, there was that Obi-Wan needed to teach Anakin. Though that was also a terrible reason. He had no facts, no hard evidence. All there was, was a gut feeling, and a confusing Force encounter.

“Master Jinn believes Skywalker is the Chosen One of prophecy,” Mace said, interrupting Obi-Wan’s ruminating, “what do you think?”

Obi-Wan felt a spike of panic from his Padaw- from Anakin, and frowned, “Quite frankly, kriff the prophecy.”

Eyebrows raised all around the Council at his harsh language, and Yoda seemed to be stifling a chuckle. Anakin himself gasped, scandalized, “Master!”

“My apologies, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, without thinking, and continued as if he’d said nothing at all, “Anakin has the highest midichlorian count ever recorded, yes, he’s extremely strong in the Force, yes, and I firmly believe he will do great things,” Obi-Wan explained, “but he’s just Anakin.”

The majority of the Council eyed Obi-Wan critically, while Yoda nodded.

“Ready for your Trials, are you?” The Grand Master asked, and Obi-Wan was taken aback. The other Councilors were as well, he found, as they turned to stare in confusion at the green Jedi.

“I...” Obi-Wan said, unsure, “I suppose so, Master.”

“Work in mysterious ways, the Force does.” Yoda said, as if to explain his behavior, tapping his gimer stick against the edge of his seat lightly, “Tested, the boy will be. Tried, you will be.”

“Really?” Anakin gasped, and then looked very much like he was willing the floor to eat him when all eyes turned to him.

“You are dismissed until further notice,” Mace frowned, and the two hurried to leave the Council chamber, Anakin almost tripping over his feet as he went.

This time, the arguing began before the door even finished closing. Mace Windu’s impressive vocabulary bid them farewell, as Qui-Gon looked up from a datapad.

“How’d it go?” The Jedi asked mildly, and Anakin wanted to say he felt like he needed a nap. Obi-Wan beat him to it.

“It felt like we were in there for years,” the Padawan complained, and Qui-Gon smirked.

“Why, Padawan, it feels like just yesterday you were singing the Council’s praises,” he joked, “what have they done to fall from your good graces?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Obi-Wan groused, “this whole situation is farkled, excuse my language.”

“Master!” Anakin squeaked, scandalized, and Qui-Gon looked down in surprise. “That’s a bad word,” the boy crossed his arms, and the Jedi Master bit back a laugh.

“I’m sorry, Anakin.” Obi-Wan replied, automatically, as if it were habit, and then continued without pause, “Normally, I’d agree with the council on this, but there are no possible benefits to Anakin going without training.”

Qui-Gon waited for Obi-Wan to explain, but the Padawan didn’t, instead placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and sighing.

“If you’re hungry, Anakin, we’ll get you food.” Obi-Wan said, gently, and the boy looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Just like that?” He said, and Qui-Gon was at once reminded of the living situation the boy before him had been in mere days ago.

“Of course,” the Jedi Master smiled, “though, the mess isn’t exactly the best food to be had on Coruscant.”

Anakin shrugged, “I’ve eaten bugs, Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon nodded, “You might prefer the bugs. And it’s Qui-Gon, Anakin.”

Obi-Wan glanced at his Master in surprise, and Qui-Gon mouthed, “later.”

Anakin found he did, indeed, prefer the bugs. However, food was food, and he was hungry. So, he ate his fill. Obi-Wan watched the boy eat with an odd look on his face, making sure to remind Anakin to drink water. Qui-Gon had wandered off to sit with the other Masters, and Obi-Wan had parked himself and Anakin at the nearest table, ignoring the looks he was given by the various Jedi present already.

The boy ate ravenously, taking small breaks to marvel at the amount of food he was allowed to take. Obi-Wan reminded Anakin that he would have to eat all he took, when the boy began to overfill his plate, and Anakin had nodded sheepishly. Obi-Wan needn’t of worried, Anakin was like a black hole.

Qui-Gon took Anakin to his testing shortly after the boy finished his meal, and Obi-Wan wandered back to his and Qui-Gon’s room, intent on meditating. Obi-Wan had a feeling that the Force had answers for what happened on the way back from Tatooine, and he was desperate for them. From the moment Obi-Wan tested the blood sample Qui-Gon sent him, he’d had an itchy feeling at the back of his mind, like something life-changing was coming. He wasn’t wrong.

Anakin went through the testing almost on autopilot. It was all so easy to him, which made sense, since the tests were geared towards children younger than him, not to mention with lower midichlorian counts.

“Good, good, young one.” Yoda nodded, “How feel you?”

Anakin startled gently, and looked at the old Jedi. Anakin wasn’t quite sure how he was feeling, and answered as truthfully as he could, “Cold, sir.”

“Afraid, are you?” Yoda pressed, and Anakin shrugged.

“I don’t know, sir.” The boy looked down for a moment, and Yoda hummed.

“Worried, you are. Confused.” The Jedi Master leaned forwards, his ears twitching.

“I miss my mom,” Anakin admitted, “and so much has happened...”

“Afraid to lose her?” Yoda asked, and Anakin thought hard.

“A little,” the boy shuffled his feet, “I left C-3PO to watch after her, though. He’ll take care of her.”

“A droid?” Mace raised an eyebrow, and Anakin nodded, lighting up at the opportunity to talk about Threepio.

“Yeah!” Anakin stopped shuffling, “I built him myself, out of scraps from Watto’s shop. He’s a protocol droid. He’s a worrywart, but he’s a good droid.”

“And your confusion?” Ki-Adi steepled his fingers, and Anakin bit his lip.

“I don’t know what the Force was trying to tell me and my Ma-, Obi-Wan.” Anakin frowned, “It feels... weird. Like, I’ve known him forever, but I’m only nine, and we met just a few days ago.”

The Council seemed to hum in unison, and Yoda tapped his gimer stick against the edge of his seat.

“Continue, we must.” The ancient Jedi announced.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open as soon as Qui-Gon entered the room, but the images the Force was thrusting at him didn’t cease. None of them made a lick of sense, the only common feature being Anakin. Anakin with a traditional Padawan’s cut, Anakin, a little older, his hair darker, Anakin, with a golden arm, Anakin, with a fresh cut across his right eye, just barely missing the eye itself, Anakin, his hair braidless and longer, the cut now a scar, his hand resting proudly on a young Togruta’s shoulder, Anakin, mad with the Dark side, swinging his blue saber with wild desperation. The images finally stopped when Qui-Gon lay a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder, the Force releasing its hold.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked, softly, and the Padawan blinked hard, almost blearily.

“Yes, Master?” Obi-Wan rubbed his forehead and stood, the afterimage of a much older Anakin burned into the back of his eyelids.

“Anakin’s testing has finished. The Council has summoned both of us to hear the results.” Qui-Gon explained, handing Obi-Wan his cloak, “You wouldn’t answer your comm.”

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan said, sheepishly, putting the cloak on. The walk to the Council chamber was mostly silent, aside from Obi-Wan’s brief explanation of the visions the Force subjected him to.

“He truly Fell?” Qui-Gon, despite already knowing, couldn’t keep the shock off of his face, and Obi-Wan’s own contorted into a frown.

“Not yet, and he won’t.” Obi-Wan’s voice was steely, “I will not fail him a second time.”

Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, their footsteps echoing in the halls, before he spoke, “His Falling was not your fault. He made his own choices, my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan grimaced, reaching up to his face as if to stroke a beard, before quickly redirecting his hand to tug on his braid, “I know, Master. I still feel responsible... if I only-”

“You did your best,” Qui-Gon repeated the words so many had spoken to him, “Anakin’s Fall was not your doing.”

Obi-Wan seemed about ready to tear his braid off, with the force behind his tugs, “That’s not true.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at his Padawan, and the young man explained.

“Anakin... needed more than I gave him. Up until this point, he’s had someone who loved him unconditionally. The boy thrives off of attachments. And we all expected him to behave like a Temple youngling, to let go of his mother, the one person who’s always cared for him. I knew better, and still, I thought he would conform.” Obi-Wan released his braid, and crossed his arms, “It destroyed him. In the end, I was not someone he could trust.”

The Padawan closed his eyes, and purged the anxiety into the Force, where it was whisked away into nothingness. Qui-Gon almost tripped on his own feet at the sudden aura of calm Obi-Wan projected. His Padawan had gotten pretty good at releasing his emotions to the Force, but he hadn’t yet achieved this level of tranquility. Suddenly, Qui-Gon got a strange feeling that the young man walking just slightly behind him was not the headstrong but capable boy Qui-Gon knew him as. In the space of a second, Obi-Wan had adopted the air of a Jedi Master, but as soon as Qui-Gon blinked, it was over. Obi-Wan was staring at the ground, the familiar roiling of emotions beneath the calm his Padawan wore like an ill-fitting cloak, subdued, but still present.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stood before the Council, Anakin between them, nervously picking at the edges of his shirt.

“Correct both of you were,” Yoda had an uneasy expression on his face, an unusual sight on the serene Jedi.

“His cells contain a high concentration of midichlorians.” Mace agreed, and Ki-Adi chipped in, “The Force is strong with him.”

“He’ll be trained, then?” Obi-Wan asked, suddenly, and the look on Yoda’s face grew more stormy.

“No.” Mace said, and Yoda’s ears twitched, “He will not be trained.”

“No?” Obi-Wan’s jaw dropped open, and Anakin looked firmly at the floor, his hands gripping tightly to the edge of his shirt. Qui-Gon himself was about to argue, but Mace’s frown, and Yoda’s conflicted expression stopped him short.

“He is too old,” Mace explained, looking directly at Qui-Gon’s Padawan, “There is already too much anger in him.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flashed, and the strange feeling Qui-Gon had earlier returned. It seemed the Council noticed, too, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat.

“What will you have us do?” The Padawan demanded, with all the authority of a battle-tried Jedi Master, “Return Anakin to Watto on Tatooine?”

Anakin jumped slightly at the man’s tone, and cringed at the mention of Watto. He didn’t want to go back, not even if it meant he could stay with his mom, again. He promised her he’d become a Jedi. He had to.

“Of course not,” Ki-Adi protested, but Obi-Wan wasn’t done.

“And if someone decides to take Anakin’s training into their own hands, say, a Sith Lord, perhaps?” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, as the Council startled, “The danger Anakin poses is uncertain. Throwing him to the wolves will tip the balance in their favor.”

“You will watch your tone, Padawan.” Mace said, sharply, and Obi-Wan folded his arms into his sleeves.

“My apologies, Masters.” The Padawan replied, not a hint of sincerity anywhere in his words.

“Clouded, this boy’s future is. Masked by his youth,” Yoda said, slowly, uncertainly, ears twitching incessantly as he stared at Obi-Wan.

“My own future is clouded,” Obi-Wan replied, and Yoda’s ears stopped moving, “as are all of ours.”

Qui-Gon fought back a smirk. If Yoda was in Obi-Wan’s corner, the rest of the Council would soon see sense. Or so he hoped.

“Determined to train young Skywalker, you are.” Yoda noted, “Willing to argue with the Council, to see this through.”

“I am.” Obi-Wan conceded, as murmurs of displeasure spread through the room. Anakin shrank back into Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s legs, and was met with two hands on his shoulders.

“What do you have to say for your Padawan’s behavior, Qui-Gon?” Mace leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

“It is the will of the Force.” Qui-Gon said, serenely, “Obi-Wan has changed very drastically in the past few days, and I believe he is ready for Knighthood. Anakin is very clearly a wellspring of potential, and it would be a waste to let him go untrained.”

The Council muttered, and shot each other looks, while Yoda closed his eyes, reaching out to touch the Force.

“Agree with you, I do.” The Jedi Master announced, and the Council hushed, Mace’s wide, incredulous eyes revealing how deep the disagreement between Councilors ran, “However, the time, this is not. More pressing matters, there are.”

Mace frowned, making no effort to hide his displeasure at Yoda’s explicit siding with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon, and Anakin, but elaborated on the Grandmaster’s words, “The Senate is voting for a new Supreme Chancellor. Queen Amidala is returning to Naboo, which will put pressure on the Trade Federation, and could widen the confrontation.”

“And draw out the Queen’s attacker,” Yoda said, and both Anakin and Obi-Wan felt like they’d had ice water poured down their backs.

Ki-Adi mumbled something to himself, and Mace continued, “Go with the Queen to Naboo and discover the identity of the Dark warrior. That is the clue we need to unravel this mystery of the Sith.”

“Young Skywalker’s fate will be decided later,” Yoda appended, and Qui-Gon frowned.

“We brought Anakin here,” the Jedi Master said, “he must stay in our charge. He has nowhere else to go.”

“He is your ward,” Mace looked like he’d tasted something nasty, “we will not dispute that. Do not train him.”

“Protect the Queen,” Yoda ordered, “If to war it comes, intercede, do not. Wait for the Senate’s approval, you must.”

“Of course, Masters.” Qui-Gon dipped his head, and Obi-Wan bowed shortly, not once taking his eyes off the ancient Jedi Master. Anakin followed suit, perfectly, as if he’d done it a million times.

“May the Force be with you.” Yoda said, and the three headed out.

Anakin was deathly quiet as they walked down the hallway, towards Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s shared rooms. He had a firm grip on the hand Obi-Wan had offered him as soon as the Council chamber’s doors closed, and was doing a hack job at trying to contain his emotions. As soon as Anakin crossed the threshold of the doorway and removed his shoes, as both Jedi had done, he made a strong effort at burying himself in the Padawan’s robes.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, while Qui-Gon silently walked over to the kitchen to make tea. Anakin sniffled gently.

“I knew it,” the boy whispered, “They won’t let you train me unless the thing happens.”

Obi-Wan grimaced, running a hand over Anakin’s hair, “Things are different this time, dear one. If all goes as planned, I will soon be Knighted.”

“But what if-”

“Anakin,” the gentleness of Obi-Wan’s tone forced Qui-Gon to pause, not quite eavesdropping, but listening carefully, “it is the will of the Force that I will train you. It will happen.”

Anakin shook his head, “What if the Council doesn’t let you?”

“So be it,” the Padawan replied, resolutely, and Anakin took a step back, startled. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding.

“You’d leave...?” Anakin gasped, and Qui-Gon was hard pressed not to follow suit. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.

“Yoda wouldn’t let you!” Anakin protested, and Obi-Wan shrugged.

“He is not all powerful, young one.” The Padawan stated, and knelt before the young boy, “Anakin Skywalker. I swear to you that I will be oversee your training, Jedi or otherwise.”

“You...” Anakin seemed torn, “You can’t, Master. You’re a Jedi!”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Anakin.” Obi-Wan said, “As for being a Jedi, you will be too, in all the ways that matter. I will make sure of it.”

Qui-Gon took that moment to walk back into the common area, a tray of tea in his hands. He set it down on the table, and sat on the couch, taking a mug in his hand and enjoying the warmth radiating from the ceramic. Anakin and Obi-Wan joined him shortly, sitting next to each other on the opposite couch, a guilty expression on Obi-Wan’s face and a forlorn expression on Anakin’s. Qui-Gon sipped from his mug, pleased with his choice of sweet peppermint tea. Anakin was pleased too, making a happy noise as he drank from his mug. Obi-Wan held on to his own tightly, but did not drink. The tea steamed leisurely.

“We will leave for Naboo in the morning.” Qui-Gon announced, taking a long drink from his mug, savoring the paradoxical coolness of the hot tea on his tongue, “Obi-Wan, after you finish your tea, would you mind running to the cafeteria for dinner?”

“Certainly,” Obi-Wan replied, and then proceeded to down his tea in one go, depositing the empty mug on the tray, and making it out of the doorway in the blink of an eye. Qui-Gon frowned, but continued to sip his tea.

“Qui-Gon, sir?” Anakin said, timidly, and Qui-Gon schooled his expression, focusing on the boy before him.

“Yes, Anakin?” The Jedi replied, and was met with steely resolve in the boy’s blue eyes.

“If the Council doesn’t let Obi-Wan train me,” Anakin’s grip tightened on the mug between his desert-rough hands, “Don’t let Obi-Wan leave the order, just to train me. He... being a Jedi is his life.”

Qui-Gon observed the nearly ten year old boy on the couch opposite him, and got the same strange feeling he’d gotten when Obi-Wan wasn’t Padawan Kenobi anymore, rather, Master Kenobi. This was not Anakin Skywalker. The child before him, with hard eyes and a drawn brow, was Knight Skywalker.

Qui-Gon chose his words carefully, “When Obi-Wan finds a cause he believes in, that is all that matters, Ani. It would not be the first time he’s left the Order.”

“What?” Anakin’s eyes widened into saucers, and he was the innocent child once again. Qui-Gon resolved to speak to his Grandmaster about the changes he’d noticed, once they returned from Naboo. Currently, however, he was going to tell Anakin all about Melida/Daan and Mandalore.

When Obi-Wan returned, he found that Anakin had migrated next to Qui-Gon, and was listening with rapt attention to the Jedi Master’s every word, mouth slightly ajar. Not wanting to interrupt, Obi-Wan toed off his shoes as quietly as possible, walking to the kitchen with long, even strides. A greeting through his training bonds - stars, was that weird to think - alerted him that he did not go unnoticed, but was simply being ignored. Obi-Wan snorted, and began to arrange the food on the table. His Master and future Padawan joined him shortly, and they ate without talking. It was not uncomfortable silence, but they were all too tired to make proper conversation. Anakin, as soon as he finished, plate nearly licked clean, gave Obi-Wan a questioning look, waiting for a nod, before rinsing his plate and cutlery off, giving the cutlery a quick scrub with a sponge, and setting them on the side of the sink to dry. He then went off to Obi-Wan’s room without a word, seeming to know the correct room without having to be shown.

Qui-Gon set down his fork, “You would leave the Order for that boy.” It was not a question.

“I would.” Obi-Wan agreed, uneasily. Qui-Gon shook his head, and for a moment, Obi-Wan worried it was in disapproval.

“Well, we’ll have to make sure that doesn’t need to happen, then.” Qui-Gon’s eyes danced with amusement, and Obi-Wan felt his tension drain away. The two Jedi talked quietly for some time, before Qui-Gon stood, taking his plate to the sink and washing it.

“Good night, Obi-Wan. Tomorrow will be a busy day.” The Jedi Master smiled, and left for his room. Obi-Wan washed his own dishes, and headed to the more comfortable of the two couches to sleep.

The Padawan awoke to Anakin’s frantic patting, tap tap tap on his shoulder. Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan was met with a flushed and tear-stained face. The Force around Anakin was panicked and confused, and fear was shining in the boy’s eyes.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, blearily, sitting up. Anakin whimpered, rubbing at his eyes.

“I had a dream... Qui-Gon died.” Anakin explained, fresh tears falling from his blue eyes. Obi-Wan pulled Anakin up onto the couch, next to him, and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder.

“What happened?” Obi-Wan inquired, feeling the itch at the back of his mind.

“The thing from Tatooine,” Anakin said, between hiccups, “It got Qui-Gon alone, and,” the boy took a short break to sniff harshly, “It killed him.”

The itch at the back of Obi-Wan’s head grew in intensity. The Padawan pet Anakin’s head gently, “It was just a dream, Anakin. Qui-Gon isn’t going to die.”

Anakin shook his head, insistent, “It wasn’t a dream! I’ve seen things before, and they ended up happening! You gotta keep him safe, Master. He can’t die.”

“I will do my best,” Obi-Wan frowned, “however, death is inevitable for all living beings. If Qui-Gon dies, he dies.”

Anakin stared at him, horrified, and Obi-Wan backtracked, “That doesn’t mean I won’t keep an eye on him, or make sure we don’t get separated. He’s my Master. I don’t want to lose him. But, death is part of life, Anakin.”

“I know, Master,” Anakin grumbled, burying his face in Obi-Wan’s side, “but...”

“I know, my Padawan.” Obi-Wan replied, and Anakin muttered something into his shirt, before throwing an arm around the Padawan’s shoulder.

In the morning, Qui-Gon found Anakin and Obi-Wan tangled up in a blanket on the couch, both dead asleep. Anakin had Obi-Wan’s braid wrapped around his hand, holding on to it tightly, and Obi-Wan had a secure arm over the boy, keeping him from falling off the edge of the couch. Qui-Gon suddenly wished he had a camera, but dismissed the thought as he went into the kitchen to prepare a light breakfast. His Padawan had undergone a drastic change the past nights. Truthfully, the only thing holding Obi-Wan back from his Trials, besides Qui-Gon’s reluctance to let him go, was his stubbornness. Obi-Wan was argumentative and rigid, and while Qui-Gon appreciated those qualities, the Padawan was difficult to reason with. Once Obi-Wan had a few years as a Knight under his belt, Qui-Gon had been planning on saddling the boy with a Padawan in an attempt to mellow him out. The Force, however, had other plans. Obi-Wan wouldn’t know what it was to be a young Knight without a Padawan to care for, but it seemed he already knew what he was doing. Whatever the Force had shown both him and Anakin, whatever future their emotions came from, Obi-Wan was a wonderful teacher. As he fried the last of the eggs in the fridge, Qui-Gon smirked. Anakin must have been a difficult student, to wear Obi-Wan down so drastically.

Over the gentle sizzle pop of the eggs, Qui-Gon pricked his ears to the sounds of Anakin and Obi-Wan whispering, interrupted by a nervous giggle from the young boy, and a snort from the Padawan. Soon enough, both wandered into the kitchen, hair sticking up in all directions, Obi-Wan slightly more alert than the blond boy at his side.

“Good morning,” Qui-Gon greeted them, and received a mumbled reply and a yawn in response. Anakin slogged over to the table, throwing himself into a chair and laying his face on the cool surface. Obi-Wan set the table, before taking a seat next to Anakin, and Qui-Gon brought the fried eggs over, setting them down on the metal surface.

“We leave for Naboo in about an hour,” Qui-Gon announced, as Anakin and Obi-Wan grabbed a serving from the pan.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon battling the Sith warrior on the catwalk, eyes wide, and the itchy feeling intensified into a pain. As the zabrak Sith edged backwards, leading Qui-Gon towards the ray shields of the melting pit. Using the Force to power his leaps, Obi-Wan hurried after Qui-Gon. Just as the Sith began to run into the shields, Obi-Wan shouted, “Master, wait!”

Qui-Gon hesitated, allowing the Sith to escape six segments into the shields. Turning, the Jedi Master gave his Padawan a bewildered look.

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked, just outside the first segment of the ray shields, and the pain in Obi-Wan’s mind ebbed, returning to an uncomfortable itch.

“Anakin had a vision,” Obi-Wan hissed, “you were alone, and the Sith killed you. We do this together, Master.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes widened, and he mouthed a word Obi-Wan didn’t recognize. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to continue, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Very well,” Qui-Gon nodded, a hardness settling over his blue eyes, “I am proud of you, my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan stared at his Master, and then turned to the ray shields, which had began to fall. As soon as the one before the Jedi came down, they raced forwards, Qui-Gon slightly ahead of his Padawan, though Obi-Wan made sure that when the shields came back, they’d be in the same segment. Before them, the Sith made it into the melting chamber.

Just one shield away, the rays came back up. Obi-Wan felt the itch return to a mild annoyance, as he noticed Qui-Gon was on the same side of the barrier as he was. Beside him, his Master knelt, and fell into meditation. Looking down, bewildered, Obi-Wan felt himself being pulled backwards, not physically, and the itch turned into a blinding light, before a new scene was set before him.

Qui-Gon was far in front of him, the thin ray shield being the only thing keeping the Sith warrior from striking him dead. The zabrak stalked back and forth, which vaguely reminded Obi-Wan of a hungry beast. Suddenly, the barrier fell, and Qui-Gon leapt into action. The battle lasted only moments, but all too soon, the Sith gained the upper hand. Qui-Gon collapsed, a hole burnt through his chest. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to shout, and felt pain coursing through him. The fight that ensued once the shields fell was quick and dirty, neither Force user pulling punches. After losing his saber, and being forced to use Qui-Gon’s, Obi-Wan dealt a killing blow to the Sith.

Rushing to his fallen Master’s side, Obi-Wan cradled the aged Jedi in his arms, grasping at the slippery threads of Qui-Gon’s Force signature desperately.

“Master! Master!” Obi-Wan cried, as Qui-Gon’s sad blue eyes refocused on him.

“It is too late,” Qui-Gon rasped, “It’s...”

“No!” Obi-Wan protested, though he felt his Master’s life Force draining away, like sand through an hourglass.

“Obi-Wan... promise,” Qui-Gon took a small moment to collect his energy, “promise me you’ll train the boy.”

Obi-Wan blinked the tears from his eyes, “Yes, Master,” he said, obediently, as the final breaths worked their way through Qui-Gon’s body.

“He is the Chosen One... he will... bring balance,” Qui-Gon’s chest fluttered, and at Death’s door, he spoke his last words, “train him!”

Obi-Wan’s Master exhaled for the final time, and Obi-Wan let his tears fall freely. The Padawan wept bitterly, and suddenly found himself back in the present, Qui-Gon at his side, alive and well. The Sith sneered at him. The barrier fell.

Obi-Wan threw himself at the Sith. It was like he was going on autopilot. He seemed to know each attack the Sith would use, before the Sith even thought of using it. Qui-Gon parried and struck at the Sith, though Obi-Wan held the zabrak’s attention. In his vision, Qui-Gon’s wounding was the catalyst Obi-Wan needed to defeat the Sith, though, as the fight progressed, Obi-Wan felt himself faltering. Weakened, he was forced to leap across the pit, to regroup. Qui-Gon captured the Sith’s attention. Before his eyes, Obi-Wan watched his vision unfold. It was like he had never attacked, and the Force screamed in his ears as the zabrak knocked Qui-Gon on the chin, making to stab the Jedi Master in the chest. Obi-Wan leapt back, intercepting the strike, but was not quite fast enough to prevent the saber from slashing across Qui-Gon’s chest when he knocked the blade aside. The Jedi Master went down, and Obi-Wan stared in horror, before being forced to turn his full attention back to the Sith.

Anakin ran down the hallway, following his senses to take him to what he assumed would be the medical center. The boy had ducked the Queen’s handmaidens, taking off towards the origin of the distress signal his Master had sent through the Force as soon as he was able to get away. Turning a corner, Anakin found himself staring at a very unhappy Obi-Wan, and an equally grumpy Qui-Gon, camped out in a small room with a single bed. Definitely not the medcenter Anakin had been expecting.

“Masters?” The boy asked, taking a hesitant step into the room, and Obi-Wan turned, giving Anakin a clear view of Qui-Gon’s haphazardly bandaged chest.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s mood changed, a calm smoothing over him, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Anakin shifted his weight from side to side, “uh, Qui-Gon, sir, what happened?”

Qui-Gon grimaced from the bed, “The Sith.”

“The Sith?” Anakin parrotted, blue eyes wide, “He got you?”

“And Obi-Wan got him.” Qui-Gon nodded, this time a bit proud of his Padawan. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to speak, but cut himself off as Padmé, followed by several of her handmaidens, burst into the room.

“Anakin Skywalker!” Padmé crossed her arms, breathing heavily, “What on Naboo were you thinking?”

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan prompted the boy, who tried to melt into the wall behind him. Anakin smiled sheepishly.

“I was doing what I was told.” He shrugged, “It was on autopilot for most of it!”

Qui-Gon suddenly went pale. Obi-Wan turned to his Master in a panic, “Master? What’s wrong?”

“Anakin,” Qui-Gon said, slowly, “what did you-”

“I stayed in the cockpit, like you said,” Anakin cut Qui-Gon off, hurriedly, and Padmé huffed, crossing her arms.

“He blew up the Trade Federation ship. From the inside.” She ground out, “Which all of Naboo appreciates. However.”

Anakin jumped slightly at the tone of her voice. It reminded him of his mom, when she caught him doing something stupid.

“What possessed you to put yourself in danger like that?” Padmé demanded, “You were supposed to stay put!”

“I did! Kinda...” Anakin trailed off, “I didn’t mean to join the battle. It just happened! The ship went into autopilot, and it was too late to get out of dodge when I finally got control.”

Padmé frowned, and then turned her attention to the other occupants of the room.

“Master Jedi,” Padmé greeted, “why aren’t you in the medical center?”

“We have no need of it,” Qui-Gon said, placidly. Padmé raised an eyebrow.

“You are injured.” She pointed out, crossing her arms.

“And I have been disinfected and bandaged, milady.” Qui-Gon replied tersely. Padmé turned to Obi-Wan, who simply nodded.

“Fine.” Padmé sighed, “The Chancellor will be arriving soon, along with several Jedi. I must go prepare. I thank you for all you have done for Naboo, and invite you to attend a celebration, which will take place in a few days time. For now, goodbye.”

Then, she turned on her heel, and left. The handmaidens followed, after sparing the two Jedi and the boy a curious glance. Anakin turned to Obi-Wan.

“What now?” He asked, nervous at the mention of the Jedi.

Obi-Wan, for once, didn’t know what to say. He turned back to Qui-Gon, hoping his Master would have a solution.

“Obi-Wan gets Knighted,” Qui-Gon ran his hands over the bandages on his chest, “then, presumably, Master Yoda allows Obi-Wan to train you, Anakin, behind the Council’s back. Or, most of the Council, anyways.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, as did Obi-Wan’s.

“So I’m going to be a Jedi?” The boy’s excitement filled the room, and for a moment, Qui-Gon was taken aback. Temple raised children seldom let their emotions run free, and while non-sensitives did manage to project their emotions, it was never like what Anakin was doing. For half a second, Qui-Gon had the urge to tell Anakin to tone it down, and release everything into the Force, where it belonged, but he restrained himself.

“I made you a promise, didn’t I?” Obi-Wan said to Anakin, giving the boy a warm smile. “Now, don’t tell the Council I’m teaching you this,” the soon-to-be-Knight continued, his expression turning solemn, “if I’m allowed to train you formally, this will be a necessary skill.”

Anakin stood still and attentive. Qui-Gon listened, curiously.

“Close your eyes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said first, and waited for the boy to comply before continuing to explain, “Good. Now, how are you feeling?”

“Excited, happy,” Anakin said, immediately, “a little scared. And I’m glad Qui-Gon is ok!”

“Me too,” Obi-Wan’s lips twitched upwards, “I want you to take all of those emotions, and share them with the Force.”

“But...” Anakin’s eyes opened, apprehension coloring the deep blue, before he snapped them shut again. Obi-Wan said nothing, watching the boy before him carefully.

Qui-Gon stayed silent, his eyebrows rising when Anakin gasped.

“Oh,” he breathed, his eyes coming open as he spoke, “that felt different.”

“I think,” Obi-Wan’s hand twitched as if to stroke a beard, before settling on tugging at his Padawan braid, “that before, or, in the future, when I taught this to you, I did it wrong.”

“How do you mean?” Qui-Gon could hold his tongue no longer, and Obi-Wan gestured to Anakin.

“I... in the thing the Force did to us,” Anakin fiddled with his shirt sleeves, less nervous and more trying to put his thoughts into coherency, “one of the things I felt was like I was supposed to not have emotions. I listen to my heart, and Jedi weren’t supposed to do that.”

“I was not patient enough with you,” Obi-Wan frowned, crossing his arms, “the wording I used the first time around could’ve been better, I fear.”

“It’s not all your fault,” Anakin insisted, “the other Jedi told me the same things you did.”

Obi-Wan held silent, but shame and guilt were very clearly weighing heavily on his shoulders. Qui-Gon gave his Padawan a sympathetic nudge through their bond.

All too soon, the newly-elected Chancellor Palpatine and a good portion of the Jedi Council touched down on Naboo. Qui-Gon was unhappily laid up in the room Obi-Wan had originally deposited him in, leaving the Padawan and the boy to greet the Jedi Masters. While the Chancellor and the Queen spoke, Obi-Wan lead the Jedi to Qui-Gon.

After spending some time listening to them reprimand his Master, Obi-Wan felt a tug on his sleeve.

“Yes, Anakin?” Obi-Wan turned to the boy, who had an uneasy expression.

“Master Yoda wants to talk to us.” Anakin whispered, pursing his lips. The Padawan glanced behind Anakin, to the small green Jedi, waiting by the door with his eyes closed.

“Very well,” Obi-Wan nodded, and allowed Anakin to drag him over to the Grand Master. Yoda’s eyes popped open, and he hobbled out of the room, not waiting to make sure either Human was following him.

“Happen, what did?” Yoda inquired, as soon as they were out of earshot of the other Jedi, “The Sith, you killed. But how?”

Obi-Wan placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, “Anakin had a vision of Qui-Gon dying, at the hands of the Sith warrior. I believe, wherever our experience came from, his vision came true.”

“You think an alternate timeline, it is?” Yoda tapped his gimer stick on the stone floor of the palace halls contemplatively, “Meditate on this, I will. Explain your actions, however, this does not.”

“I myself had a vision,” Obi-Wan admitted, and Anakin threw him a surprised look, “my Master managed to get ahead of me, and we were separated by ray shields. Qui-Gon fought the Sith alone, and was killed. I watched it happen, unable to intervene, but I managed to slay the Sith. I swore to train Anakin as my Padawan, at the behest of my dying Master’s final wish.”

“I knew it,” Anakin said, quietly, and Obi-Wan’s eyes widened.

“Anakin-” the Padawan began, but Yoda cut him off.

“Trained the boy for Qui-Gon at first, you did.” Yoda observed, rapping on Obi-Wan’s shins with his walking stick, “Now, train the boy for the boy, you will.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth opened and closed, before he finally settled on a coherent reply, “Anakin will be my Padawan?”

“A Jedi Knight, you are. Happen when Qui-Gon is healed, the ceremony will. Defeating the Sith, your Trials were.” Yoda nodded sagely, and then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “Unusual to take a Padawan so soon, it is. Unheard of, it is not, if the will of the Force, it is.”

“Master Yoda...” Obi-Wan was speechless. Anakin, however, was not.

“I thought I was too old?” Anakin’s eyes were guarded, “In the other timeline, you didn’t like me at all.”

“In the other timeline, that was. Changed, things have.” Yoda’s ears twitched, “Listen to the Force, I do. And say you must be trained, it does.”

“Then... why did the Council say I won’t be?” Anakin bit his lip, aware of how rude he sounded. Obi-Wan’s hand on his shoulder tightened, but nobody reprimanded him.

Yoda hummed, “Clouded, your future is. Dangerous, you could be. As Obi-Wan said, the potential to be dangerous, we all have. Deny you training out of fear, the Council did. Reevaluate, we have.”

“Oh,” Anakin couldn’t stop the grin from coming to his face, as he gave the Grand Master a grateful bow, “thank you, Master Yoda!”

Yoda’s ears quirked in amusement, as the boy turned to grin at Obi-Wan.

“A great Jedi Knight you will be, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Much faith in your abilities, I have,” the green Jedi began to walk back towards Qui-Gon’s room, but hesitated a moment, “prove me wrong, do not.”

“I will not, Master Yoda.” Obi-Wan promised, bowing respectfully as the Grand Master left.

Qui-Gon healed rather quickly, with the help of some bacta patches and bed rest. The day before the parade would take place, Obi-Wan was Knighted, and Jar Jar managed to make a reappearance. Anakin didn’t mind the Gungan’s presence as much as Obi-Wan seemed to, but, he had to admit, Jar Jar did get annoying after a few minutes.

The parade was like nothing Anakin had ever seen before. It was almost overwhelming. Obi-Wan smiled down at his Padawan, who was fiddling with his short braid.

“What do you think, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin startled gently, looking up at Obi-Wan.

“I... don’t know,” Anakin admitted, “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s wizard!”

Obi-Wan nodded, “You’ll see many parades like this in your time as a Jedi, Padawan.”

“Whoa,” Anakin breathed, his gaze panning back to the confetti strewn street.

Obi-Wan found himself staring at the newly elected Chancellor of the Republic. There was a faint aura of unease connected to Palpatine. The new Knight hadn’t yet gotten a chance to meditate on that specifically, but he felt he shouldn’t trust the man, or let Anakin spend too much time under his influence. Luckily, Anakin seemed to have the same sentiment, and didn’t want to be near the man without Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon between them. Obi-Wan was glad for this, as it was one less thing to worry about.

The parade eventually drew to a close, and the Jedi made their way back to Coruscant. Obi-Wan stared out the viewport blankly, watching the lines of hyperspace fly past. Anakin was fast asleep, having worn himself out during the festivities. The new Knight sighed to himself, as he thought. By all intents and purposes, this would be his second time with Anakin as his Padawan, and thus, things would be easier. Qui-Gon still being alive and well was another factor in his favor. But, still, there was a strange sense of foreboding that trailed after him. The Dark Side was growing in strength, and the future was heavily clouded. All Obi-Wan had to guide him was the emotional memory of an alternate version of himself.The Knight worried that it would not be enough.

Qui-Gon approached his former Padawan quietly, a cup of freshly brewed tea in each hand. Obi-Wan looked up at him the moment he cleared his throat, giving his former Master a weak smile.

“Everything is happening so quickly...” Obi-Wan stated, accepting the cup with a grateful nod. Qui-Gon sat across from the Knight, taking a slow drink from the steaming cup.

“Just a few days ago, you were my Padawan. And now you have a Padawan of your own,” Qui-Gon mused, feeling himself get a bit sentimental, “you’ll always be my Padawan, Obi-Wan.”

“And you’ll always be my Master,” Obi-Wan replied, holding his tea with both hands, staring into the green liquid, “In the melting chamber, I had a vision.”

Qui-Gon said nothing, waiting for Obi-Wan to continue. The new Knight took a sip from his tea, frowning.

“You were ahead of me. We were separated by quite a few barriers, and you faced the Sith alone. He won.” Obi-Wan’s frown turned into a grimace, “You died in my arms, and your last words were asking me to train Anakin.”

“Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon was unsure what to say, and his former Padawan shrugged.

“In the other timeline, I believe it was your intent to train the boy, and I wanted nothing to do with him.” Obi-Wan felt a small twinge of shame as he admitted this, “Because of that, I probably didn’t do right by Anakin in the beginning, and our partnership suffered for it.”

Qui-Gon sipped his tea uneasily, searching for the proper words, “Though that may have been the way it happened in the other timeline, it is not how it will happen, now. I’m not dead, for one.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched into a smile, “That’s certainly true.”

Qui-Gon continued, “You have changed greatly the past days, Obi-Wan.”

“Have I?” Obi-Wan inquired, raising an eyebrow. Qui-Gon nodded.

“It’s odd, in a way,” the Jedi Master looked out the viewport, “I’m used to you being your headstrong, but responsible self. You are very much a brand new Knight. However, you have acted like a seasoned Jedi Master recently. Since the incident on the way back from Tatooine.”

Obi-Wan stared at his former Master, eyes wide. He hadn’t noticed himself acting any differently. The possibility he’d subconsciously adopted some of the behaviors of his alternate self, outside of being extremely protective of Anakin, hadn’t quite occurred to him yet. Now that he thought about it, though, he knew the instances his former Master was referencing. His argument with the Jedi Council was out of character, and for it to be so calculated and coherent, was even further from the norm.

“I am very proud of you, Obi-Wan.” The Jedi Master continued, interrupting Obi-Wan’s train of thought, “I was proud of you before, and I am proud of you now. You are becoming a fine Jedi Knight, my former Padawan.”

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan replied, his mouth suddenly dry. He took a quick drink from his tea, careful not to scald himself. Qui-Gon hummed.

“The form you used while fighting the Sith,” Qui-Gon changed subjects, “was not Ataru. You used it like you’d spent years mastering it, but as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never once used Soresu. Was it from your Youngling days, or, perhaps, the alternate timeline?”

“Um,” Obi-Wan racked his brain, remembering the fight, “in the vision I had, I fought with Ataru, but it didn’t work against the Sith. Somehow, I remembered a form that we were taught, Soresu, one I hadn’t used since my Youngling days, and with it, I defeated the Sith. I essentially copied what I saw in my vision.”

“Interesting...” Qui-Gon murmured, setting his emptied cup of tea down on the small table, “If you’re up for it, I’d like to spar with you when we return.”

“I can turn it into a lesson for Anakin,” Obi-Wan snorted, “the first thing he asked me after the ceremony was when he’s getting a real lightsaber.”

“It’s always the lightsabers,” Qui-Gon smirked, and Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

“That’s not true. Most Padawans have already made their proper saber by the time they get a Master.” Obi-Wan retorted, counting himself amongst that group. He certainly hadn’t had a typical Padawan experience, but his Youngling days had been standard fare.

Qui-Gon conceded the point, but continued, “True, but have you ever spoken to an Initiate fresh out of sparring class? It’s always the Force-forsaken lightsabers.”

Eventually, the Jedi retired to their rooms, settling down for the remainder of the flight. When they made it back to Coruscant, Obi-Wan’s first order of business was securing rooms for himself and his Padawan. He was reluctant to move out, but had no other choice. Anakin was nearly bouncing off the walls of his new room, words flying out of him a mile a minute, while Obi-Wan watched. Qui-Gon had insisted on helping the two move into their new home, and Obi-Wan was forced to accept.

“Master,” Obi-Wan called over his shoulder, “how does sparring sound?”

“Now?” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. Obi-Wan nodded.

“Anakin needs to work out some energy. I figure, after we spar, I can teach Anakin the first forms.”

Anakin immediately stopped jumping around, turning to Obi-Wan, “Can I use a-”

“Absolutely not.” Obi-Wan shut him down with a simple wave of his hand, “Techniques first. Then you can have the deadly glowstick.”

Anakin pouted, “But-”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan crossed his arms. Anakin sighed. Qui-Gon watched, amused. His former Padawan’s next words confused him, however. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, “You were one of the best duelists in the Order, Anakin. Once you master the techniques, you can use a saber. It’ll take you no time at all.”

Anakin perked up at this, “Wizard! You think I’ll remember it all? Like, muscle memory or something?”

“Apparently, I’ve been acting like a Jedi Master, so anything’s possible.” Obi-Wan’s right hand twitched upwards, as if to stroke a beard. The Knight frowned, and tucked his hand back under his arm, “That, for example. A habit from my alternate self, I assume.”

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon interrupted the conversation, “how do you know Anakin was one of the best duelists?”

Obi-Wan chewed on his lip, turning in the doorway to face his former Master, “I just do. I was immensely proud of him for his abilities.”

“You were?” Anakin squeaked, as if it were news to him. The Padawan continued, “You always told me to slow down and focus on the forms.”

“There is always room for improvement,” Obi-Wan justified, “and of course I was proud of you, Anakin.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Qui-Gon turned his attention to the boy, “Anakin, what sorts of things do you know?”

“Well,” Anakin frowned, thinking, “Padmé’s really important. Obi-Wan is really good at what he does. Oh! He hates flying when I drive.”

“That’s because it’s not driving,” Obi-Wan snorted, “it’s practically suicide.”

Anakin stuck his tongue out at his Master, before Qui-Gon continued with another query.

“What did Obi-Wan do?” He asked, curious. The emotional memories Obi-Wan and Anakin inherited from the Force had morphed into solid, actual memories, somehow.

“He was a negotiator,” Anakin said, and then smirked, “actually, I think he was called the Negotiator. With a capital N.”

“Really?” Qui-Gon turned his focus back to his former Padawan, who was shooting his Padawan a dirty look. It certainly explained the outburst in the Council Chambers, and Obi-Wan’s Masterly aura.

“Once I remember what they called you, Anakin, you’ll never hear the end of it,” Obi-Wan swore, and Anakin shrugged.

The walk to the sparring rooms was full of much of the same, with Qui-Gon needling both for more information about what they knew, and Anakin and Obi-Wan going off on small tangents every so often.

Qui-Gon took an opening stance, activating his saber in one smooth movement. Obi-Wan did the same, across the mat, while Anakin watched from the sidelines, eyes sharp and focused on his Master. There were a few other sparring pairs around the room, the sounds of sabers clashing filling the air.

Qui-Gon moved first, inviting Obi-Wan into action. Soon enough, they were saberlocked. Qui-Gon was making silent notes to himself every time Obi-Wan switched forms, going between Ataru and Soresu with fluid ease. The Knight’s strokes had more power behind them, and Qui-Gon could almost see the calculations taking place in Obi-Wan’s mind with each move. Every single move was planned several hits in advance, almost like Obi-Wan knew what Qui-Gon was going to do even before the Jedi Master himself did. Qui-Gon broke the lock, feinting to the side, while Obi-Wan dropped to sweep his leg, keeping his saber up to block any potential strikes. Qui-Gon leapt back, and smirked at his former Padawan. Truthfully, Qui-Gon had to work very hard to keep up with the younger man. He wondered, if Obi-Wan was suddenly this good, what would Anakin be like in a few years?

Eventually, Qui-Gon found himself at saberpoint, with no way to get out of it. He made eye contact with his former Padawan, who had a triumphant grin on his face. Up until that point, he’d never beaten Qui-Gon in a sparring match. Qui-Gon admitted his defeat, deactivating his saber. From the sidelines, Anakin cheered for his Master.

“Good match,” Obi-Wan said, lowering his saber and deactivating it in one move.

“Your fighting style is very interesting,” Qui-Gon complimented, “I can’t wait to see how Anakin turns out.”

Obi-Wan smirked, “He’s a terror.”

The Padawan ran up to the two Jedi, excitement bouncing off of him.

“Which forms do I have to do before I can spar you?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan, nearly vibrating with anticipation. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“Just the basics, and your preferred form, if you remember it.” Obi-Wan replied, “Though, you may want to wait to spar me properly until you’re in fighting shape. And maybe a bit taller.”

Anakin groaned, excitement replaced with exasperation, “I forgot I’m nine.”

“Almost ten,” Qui-Gon supplied, and Anakin shrugged.

“I’m still short.” The boy whined. Obi-Wan blinked, and the series of visions of Anakin appeared behind his eyelids.

“You’ll be taller than me soon enough,” Obi-Wan admitted, sighing as Anakin’s face lit up. The Jedi Knight clipped his saber to his belt, “Alright. Show me Shii-Cho, if you remember it.”

Anakin nodded, and squinted off into empty space for a moment, before he fell into the opening stance, palms open to do the variation of the form taught for when the user didn't have a lightsaber. Taking a measured breath, Anakin swept through the first form with practiced ease. Qui-Gon watched in something akin to awe. The boy before him had never attended a proper class before, but he moved like he'd spent years perfecting Shii-Cho. It was indeed a simple form, and most Younglings grasped it within a few hours, but it took much practice to be able to do the form flawlessly, without a single thought besides trying to remember it. Next to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan hummed in surprise, as Anakin quickly came to the closing stance.

"Do you remember your preferred form?" Obi-Wan prompted, and Anakin moved into the opening stance of Djem So. Qui-Gon looked around the room, to see if anyone was watching. What was about to happen, he felt, should not have many witnesses. He stopped the boy before he could move through the set.

"We should do this elsewhere," Qui-Gon suggested, and Obi-Wan's eyes widened.

"Of course. Let's return to our room, Anakin," Obi-Wan silently cursed, thankful Qui-Gon had interrupted. Anakin seemed to pick up on that, nodding without a word, and followed the two Jedi out of the sparring facility.

As soon as they returned to Obi-Wan's new quarters, the Knight used the Force to push the furniture to the edges of the common area, and motioned for Anakin to stand in the middle of the room.

"Djem So, huh?" Obi-Wan said, once Anakin had turned to face him and Qui-Gon, "Well, let's see it."

"Are you sure I can't use a saber?" Anakin shifted on his feet, and Obi-Wan frowned, turning to Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master raised an eyebrow.

"He's not particularly likely to kill anyone, is he?" Qui-Gon asked, and Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Alright,” the Knight unclipped his saber, tossing the hilt to the Padawan, “don’t damage anything.”

“I won’t!” Anakin grumbled, activating the saber and shifting into the opening stance of Djem So. The boy proceeded through the form with deadly accuracy, his eyes closed in concentration. Some stances were altered slightly, minute adjustments, like ear-markings where Anakin had changed the form to better fit his ability. Every once in awhile, the boy would flourish the blade between stances, readjusting his grip. Obi-Wan watched his nine year old, brand new Padawan execute the fifth form, as naturally as breathing.

Finally, Anakin came to the closing stance, opening his eyes with a frown. He deactivated the saber, and tossed it back to Obi-Wan.

“The balance is weird on your saber,” he pointed out, as if he were excusing sloppiness, “and I’m short. Give me a few years, and it’ll be way better.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan caught the saber, clipping it to his belt, and then crossed his arms, “that was nearly perfect.”

“I’ve done better,” Anakin pouted, and Qui-Gon stopped himself from bursting out laughing. Force, his life had grown exceptionally bizarre.

“Lightsaber techniques aside, it’s time for dinner,” Qui-Gon rubbed his hands together, “after we clean up, how does Dex’s sound?”

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin lit up at that. Obi-Wan’s excitement was explainable, for he knew Dex. Qui-Gon suspected Anakin did too, in the other timeline, but for now, it was safe to assume Anakin was just excited at the prospect of dinner.

“Wizard!” Anakin grinned, immediately running off to go shower.

To Obi-Wan’s great pleasure, training Anakin a second time around was infinitely easier. Though the boy was incredibly stubborn and wore his golden heart on his sleeve, he did what he needed to without putting up much of a fight. To Obi-Wan’s dismay, however, Anakin hit his growth spurt fairly quickly. Over the summer of his fourteenth year, he shot up to his final height of 6 feet. Obi-Wan spent more time requisitioning new, longer clothing for his weedy Padawan from the Quartermaster than going out on actual missions. The only thing Anakin needed to replace more frequently than his clothes was his lightsaber.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan stood next to his sixteen year old Padawan, as they watched the silver hilt fall into the chasm below, striking every outcropping on the way down. Across the abyss, poorly aimed blaster shots chipped away at the cliff face to the Jedis’ backs.

“Master,” Anakin replied, sheepishly moving to hide behind the Jedi Knight. Obi-Wan cursed under his breath, ignoring Anakin’s horrified gasp, as he deflected a few lucky shots.

“You were so excited to get a saber, and you can’t even hold on to one for longer than a few weeks,” Obi-Wan groaned, edging along the cliff towards the cave where they parked their shuttle.

“It’s not my fault!” Anakin protested, “I’m just unlucky.”

“There is no such thing as luck,” Obi-Wan quoted, as he managed to take out one of their assailants.

Once they safely made it back to Coruscant, and Anakin made another lightsaber, they ran into Qui-Gon on their way to the sparring chambers. It had been a few months since they were last in the Temple at the same time, long enough that Anakin had sprouted his final inches in between their last meeting.

“Master!” Obi-Wan called, flagging down the Jedi Master across the hallway. Anakin grinned as he saw the tall man, surrounded by a cloud of younglings around the age Anakin had been when he was found by Qui-Gon on Tatooine.

“Obi-Wan, Anakin,” Qui-Gon greeted, “this is the great Clawmouse Clan.”

Both Jedi bowed politely, and the Younglings mirrored them. Anakin found his eyes drawn to one of the Younglings, an orange-skinned Togruta with wide blue eyes, and pale blue markings on her montrals. She stared back at him, and smiled, the white markings on her face stretching, and the marks above her eyes rising. Anakin felt that he knew her, despite never once seeing her before. It reminded him of the time he met his Master, but there was no accompanying vision, simply an odd itch at the back of his mind. Anakin resolved to talk to Obi-Wan about it later, and possibly ask Qui-Gon what the young Togruta’s name was.

“How many lightsabers does this make?” Qui-Gon asked Obi-Wan, who immediately sighed, in a long-suffering sort of way. Anakin felt his face flush, as he looked to the floor.

“I lost count, honestly,” Obi-Wan admitted, and the Younglings tittered with laughter. Anakin grinned sheepishly, shrugging.

“How are you doing, Master Qui-Gon?” Anakin asked, politely, clasping his arms behind his back.

“Well. And you?” Qui-Gon smiled, folding his arms into his sleeves.

“It’s nice to be home,” Anakin replied, truthfully, and Obi-Wan nodded next to him.

“Master,” Obi-Wan mirrored Qui-Gon’s stance, “do you think Clawmouse Clan has enough time in their schedule to watch a sparring match between my Padawan and myself?”

Qui-Gon took a moment to pretend to think, scratching his chin while the Younglings clamored for him to say yes. After a moment, Qui-Gon relented, “I believe so.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows at his Master, who gave him a passive smile, “Time to test your new lightsaber, my Padawan.”

“You’re going down, old man,” Anakin replied, cockily, following the parade of Younglings towards an empty sparring chamber.

Anakin and Obi-Wan stood opposite each other, in front of the excited Clawmouse Clan, and the curious Qui-Gon. It wasn’t the first time that Anakin and Obi-Wan had sparred before him, but it had been quite a while since he’d last watched. The two Jedi saluted to each other, and took up their opening stances.

Almost as fast as Qui-Gon could blink, Anakin and Obi-Wan flew at each other, with Anakin making aggressive headway, and Obi-Wan skillfully parrying each blow. To Qui-Gon’s surprise, Obi-Wan spoke as he deflected a blow, ducking as Anakin leapt over his head.

“Watch Anakin carefully,” Obi-Wan addressed the Clan, “his style is suited for multiple enemies with blasters, but can also be used quite well against lightsabers.”

Anakin grinned, as Obi-Wan swung his saber in a controlled arc, leaving Anakin with a choice. He could either leap out of the way, as most Jedi in his position would, or he could do it the Anakin way. The Padawan brought his saber up, stopping the arc and redirecting it into the ground. Kicking out with a foot, Anakin aimed for Obi-Wan’s neck. The Jedi Knight brought up his free arm, grabbing Anakin’s ankle, and yanking him forwards. Anakin went with it, sending himself into a shoulder roll, and popping up behind his Master. The Younglings crowed.

“My own style is similarly suited,” Obi-Wan continued, blocking a strike from Anakin without even turning around. He faced the Younglings as he spoke, before being forced to shift to avoid a slice, “Anakin focuses on the attack, while I focus on defense.”

Obi-Wan dodged another blow, and hit Anakin with a Force push, sending the teenager sprawling for only a moment, before Anakin jumped back up, his saber in a defensive position.

“That’s cheating!” Anakin protested, an indignant look on his face, and Obi-Wan simply swirled his saber in his hand, readjusting his grip.

“Notice how Anakin immediately moved into a defensive posture after I knocked him over,” Obi-Wan said, instead, “if you ever find yourself fighting a Force user, they’re likely to use dirty tactics.”

Anakin leapt back towards Obi-Wan, in such an outright, foolish attack that Qui-Gon winced. As Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, moving to deflect it, Anakin changed his grip on his saber, and disarmed his Master, summoning Obi-Wan’s blue blade to his hand. The Knight grinned, weaponless, and dodged backwards. Clawmouse Clan stared, enraptured. Anakin took a split second to peek at the little Togruta that had caught his eye earlier. She had a wide grin on her face, as she watched him brandish both blades. He noticed her hands twitch, as if she were holding the sabers, rather than him.

“Well done, Anakin,” Obi-Wan complimented proudly, and Anakin smiled back. Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan dodged between the two blades, managing to get a few punches in before having to leap away. Anakin took each hit in stride, breathing with the impact. They continued like this for a few moments, before Obi-Wan shot Qui-Gon a sheepish look.

“If you don’t mind, Master,” Obi-Wan ducked a swipe, and then leapt over the second blade. The Younglings watched Qui-Gon curiously, as he understood what Obi-Wan was asking for. He unhooked his green saber from his belt, and tossed it to his former Padawan, much to the Younglings’ surprise. Obi-Wan caught it neatly, and the green blade lit with a hiss. The Knight proceeded to deflect each and every strike Anakin launched at him, turning their spar into a sort of choreographed dance. Anakin felt the eyes of the Togruta on him the whole time, as he spun about with both sabers flashing.

The fight lasted a bit longer, before Anakin found himself staring down the glowing blade of Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. Reluctantly, Anakin admitted his defeat, shutting down both sabers. Obi-Wan deactivated the green saber, and tossed it back to his Master, as Anakin tossed him his own saber back. The Master and the Padawan bowed to each other, before turning to the enamoured Younglings.

“You lasted much longer, this time,” Qui-Gon pointed out to Anakin, who shrugged. The Jedi Master looked to the Younglings surrounding him, “Can anyone tell me what Padawan Skywalker did incorrectly?”

The Younglings looked between each other, hesitant to admit they’d been occupied with marvelling at the sparring session they’d just witnessed, rather than paying attention to the specific forms. Suddenly, the Togruta that had been watching Anakin raised her hand.

“Yes, Initiate Tano?” Qui-Gon motioned for her to speak.

“Padawan Skywalker was using both sabers like they were one.” She said, and Anakin bit his lip. Her voice was familiar.

“How so?” The Jedi Master prompted, and Initiate Tano frowned, her eyebrow markings coming together. That was familiar too, that expression of frustration. Anakin definitely knew her, from somewhere.

“When Master Kenobi attacked, Padawan Skywalker used both lightsabers to block, instead of using one to block, and one to attack. Master Kenobi took advantage of that.” Initiate Tano explained. Anakin heard Obi-Wan make an impressed noise, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the Togruta. Where did he know her from? Why did it sound weird when she called him Padawan Skywalker, instead of Anakin?

“Very good, Ahsoka,” Qui-Gon smiled at the Togruta, who puffed up at the praise. Anakin blinked. Ahsoka Tano.

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to continue, but the bells that indicated the time interrupted him. It was the beginning of lunch in the cafeteria, and the Younglings immediately looked to Qui-Gon in excitement.

“Alright. Let’s go eat.” The Jedi Master gestured for the Younglings to go ahead of him, as Obi-Wan approached.

“So, you got stuck with Youngling duty?” Obi-Wan raised and eyebrow, and Qui-Gon sighed.

“Maybe I volunteered for it,” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow in return, “I happen to enjoy spending time with the Younglings. Teaching is a rewarding past time, between missions.”

“True as that may be, which Councilor did you piss off this time?” Obi-Wan snorted, and then waited for Anakin to gasp in horror at the profanity. Instead, there was silence. Qui-Gon frowned, looking away from Obi-Wan, to where Anakin was crouched in front of Initiate Tano. He could barely hear them, but Ahsoka was very clearly talking about lightsabers, with her hands waving all about. Anakin nodded at the appropriate moments, an engaged smile planted firmly on his face. The Padawan cracked a joke, and Ahsoka froze, before crossing her arms in indignation. Anakin pulled a face, and Ahsoka laughed. She launched back into her speech, and Anakin rocked back on his heels, listening intently. Obi-Wan blinked. Then, he put two and two together.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, plainly, “she’ll be his Padawan.”

“What?” Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan with an incredulous look, “Initiate Tano is eleven. Anakin is sixteen. Are you telling me he’s going to be Knighted before she either gets chosen, or sent to the Agricorps?”

“I suppose so,” Obi-Wan frowned, trying to remember the vision he’d had of Anakin’s life, years ago. Anakin was very clearly a new Knight when she was his Padawan, but she was definitely older than Obi-Wan had been, when he was facing being sent to the Agricorps. That spelled trouble. He continued, “The Force does indeed work in mysterious ways.”

“Well, I need to run off after the Younglings.” Qui-Gon said, reluctantly, “Dinner at Dex’s?”

“That sounds lovely,” Obi-Wan nodded, and watched as Anakin noticed Qui-Gon walking over to gather Ashoka. Anakin looked up, and stood, still bent to say goodbye to the Youngling.

“Bye, Skyguy!” Initiate Tano grinned, waving as she and Qui-Gon left the sparring room. Anakin waved back, silently. Then, he turned to Obi-Wan.

“It’s Snips.” The Padawan announced, “I can’t believe I didn’t-”

“Didn’t remember her?” Obi-Wan walked over to the teenager, “We never received memories, Anakin. Just emotions, and a few names.”

“I know,” Anakin grimaced, “but she was my Snips! Do you think I still get to teach her in our timeline?”

Obi-Wan considered his Padawan’s words. “Well, if I convinced the Council to let me take you as my Padawan, anything is possible.”

Anakin’s grimace turned into a grin, and then a pleased smirk, “By the way, Master, you used some foul language earlier.”

“Oh, hop off,” Obi-Wan grumbled, “I still can’t fathom how you were raised in that hellhole and managed to pick up an everlasting aversion to swearing, of all things.”

The Padawan contemplated for a moment, before replying, “My mom told me that swearing is for spacers and slavers.”

Obi-Wan was unsure of how to reply, so he said nothing. Anakin took the silence as an invitation to keep talking.

“I called her Snips by accident,” Anakin frowned, “when she asked me why I panicked and told her she was being kind of snippy.”

“She called you Skyguy,” Obi-Wan pointed out, and Anakin grinned wide and relieved.

“Yep! I don’t know if she knows me, too, or if she’s just that clever,” Anakin absently tugged on his Padawan braid, “I hope she doesn’t remember. I feel guilty about something relating to her.”

Chapter Text

Anakin bit back a laugh as his Master and Grandmaster were greeted with great enthusiasm by Jar Jar. Obi-Wan handled it admirably, giving the Gungan a friendly smile and immediately hiding behind Qui-Gon, who spoke shortly to the Representative. The distraction only lasted so long, however, as Jar Jar soon caught sight of Anakin.

“Noooo!” Jar Jar hooted, “ Ani ? No! Little bitty Ani? No! Yousa so biggen !” The Gungan yipped a bit, before continuing, “Ani! Meesa no believen!”

“Hi, Jar Jar,” Anakin greeted, and found himself at the receiving end of a rib crushing hug from the amphibian. Obi-Wan smirked over Jar Jar’s shoulder.

“Meesa ganna take yousa toda Senator Amidala,” Jar Jar announced, letting go of Anakin, and bounding towards a door. Anakin gave Obi-Wan a reproachful look, as the Jedi followed Jar Jar into the former Queen’s suite. Jar Jar loudly interrupted a conference between Padmé, one of the handmaidens, and Captain Typho, and both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan stepped out from behind him. Anakin lingered a bit behind his Master, nervous about meeting Padmé again. The strange vision both Anakin and Obi-Wan experienced, ten years ago, had included intense love towards the now Senator Amidala. To Anakin’s dismay, the feeling had not faded since then. When they both had first met, Anakin definitely had a crush on her, but that wasn’t unusual for him. Any pretty girl managed to capture his heart for a little while back on Tatooine. Anakin chewed on his lip. His ruminating was interrupted by Qui-Gon’s voice.

“It’s a great pleasure to see you again, milady.” The Jedi Master smiled, bowing as he spoke. Obi-Wan and Anakin copied him, automatically. Padmé smiled gracefully, warmly. Anakin stared at her.

“It has been far too long, Master Jinn, and Master Kenobi. I’m so glad our paths have crossed again,” Padmé’s smiled dropped a bit, like the time ten years ago, when she had spoken to Anakin in her starship, “but I must warn you that I think your presence here is unnecessary.”

“I’m sure the Jedi Council have their reasons.” Obi-Wan replied, smoothly. Anakin snapped to attention as Padmé walked forwards, coming to stand in front of him. She squinted for a moment, and then her eyes widened in surprise.

“ Ani ?” Padmé grinned, looking the Padawan before her up and down, “My goodness, you’ve grown!”

Anakin’s lips twitched, “So have you. Grown more beautiful, I mean,” he flushed, aware of the hole he was digging, but incapable of keeping himself out of it, “and much shorter... For a Senator, I mean...” Anakin trailed off awkwardly. Obi-Wan gave Anakin a disapproving eyebrow raise, while Qui-Gon covered his smirk with a hand, playing it off as a cough. Anakin decided to stare at his feet.

“Oh, Ani,” Padmé laughed musically, “you’ll always be that little boy I knew on Tatooine.”

Anakin’s face burned. Obi-Wan cracked a sympathetic smile as he rest a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder. Qui-Gon took ahold of the conversation once again.

“Our presence will be invisible, milady.” He promised, drawing the attention back to the pertinent topic.

“ I am very grateful you are here, Master Jedi,” Captain Typho glanced out of the corner of his eye to Padmé, who was watching Anakin curiously, “The situation is more dangerous than the Senator will admit.”

Padmé turned away from Anakin, a frown settling on her soft features as she crossed her arms, “I don’t need more security, I need answers . I want to know who is trying to kill me.”

Obi-Wan frowned, as another vision from the alternate timeline affronted him. It had been some years since the last one. He had said something, and Anakin had said the exact opposite. It had resulted in a minor spat, but in front of Padmé, who Anakin clearly had feelings for. That factor had probably added to the embarrassment and dejection Anakin felt, after making a fool of himself just moments before. Qui-Gon saved Obi-Wan from the fork in the road by speaking.

“We are here as protection, milady. We will do whatever it takes.” Qui-Gon smiled, and next to Obi-Wan, Anakin let out a breath, relaxing. The Jedi Knight gave his Padawan a worried look, wondering if the boy had also experienced a vision. Anakin tended to have them, but they almost never happened when he was awake. At moments that changed things from what their other selves had experienced, however, Anakin did tend to see things.

“Thank you, Master Jinn.” Padmé nodded, “Hopefully the threat will reveal itself soon, so you may return to more important matters.”

Anakin found himself hard pressed to think of any matters more important than keeping Padmé alive and well, but he held his tongue. The hand on his shoulder tightened, and Anakin realized that particular though had slipped through the bond to his Master. Anakin bit his tongue.

“At this point, maintaining your safety is our primary concern,” Obi-Wan inclined his head as he spoke. Padmé frowned, but uncrossed her arms.

“If you’ll excuse me, I should retire,” Padmé shot a look at her handmaiden, who immediately stepped closer to the Senator.

“Of course,” Qui-Gon bowed shallowly, “rest well, Senator.”

“Thank you, Master Jinn. Goodnight, Master Jedi,” Padmé smiled, turning her head to pin Anakin with her brown doe eyes, “Ani.”

She left, after that, followed by her handmaiden. Anakin stared after her, an almost painful longing in his heart. He had loved her fiercely, before, or, in the future. In the alternate timeline. And those feelings had carried over. He’d have to talk to his Master about that, later.

“I’ll have an officer on every floor, and I’ll be at the command center downstairs,” Captain Typho excused himself, leaving after giving the Jedi a polite bow.

“Meesa busten wit happiness, seein yousa again, Ani. Deesa bad times, bombad times,” Jar Jar said, and Anakin frowned.

“Why are they targeting Padmé, anyway?” Anakin wondered, turning to his Master.

“Politics,” Obi-Wan grimaced, “ someone doesn’t like what she has to say.”

“That’s dumb,” Anakin said, crossing his arms, and Qui-Gon chuckled.

“That it is,” the Jedi Master agreed. He squinted, then, looking around the room, “We should check the security here.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Obi-Wan’s lips quirked, “Anakin, you stay here and keep watch. Qui-Gon and I will go investigate the situation on the lower levels.”

Anakin hesitated to agree, “Actually, Master, I’d like to talk to you? It can definitely wait, though.”

Obi-Wan gave his Padawan a worried look, and turned to Qui-Gon, who waved him off, “I can handle it, my former Padawan. You are needed here.”

“Alright. May the Force be with you,” Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon left, and turned back to his Padawan. Anakin had an uneasy expression plastered on his face, and was tugging on his Padawan braid, toying with one of the merit beads absently.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan sat on the couch, and gestured for the teenager to sit next to him. Anakin did so, nervously hunched over.

“I...” the boy hesitated, but steeled himself, sure Obi-Wan would understand, “I loved her, in the other timeline. And I do here, too.”

Obi-Wan blinked. That wasn’t quite what he expected, but now that he thought about it, he should’ve put the pieces of the puzzle together far sooner. He placed a comforting hand on his Padawan’s back, radiating calm into the Force bond.

“I know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and the odd itch that plagued him when the Force decided something important was about to happen flared up in the back of his mind, “it’s hardly unusual for a Jedi to fall in love.”

“But the Code forbids attachment,” Anakin frowned, his blue eyes swimming with uncertainty. The Jedi Knight contemplated his next words carefully.

“That it does, but there is not a single Jedi who harbors no attachments.” Obi-Wan sighed, “Attachments are natural. The point where they become forbidden is when they become an obsession.”

“Oh,” Anakin nodded, not quite convinced. Obi-Wan continued.

“There is a line that should not be crossed,” the man took a moment to gather his thoughts, “if you would choose one life over a thousand, it’s gone too far.”

Anakin suddenly had a hunted look in his eyes, and turned to stare to the ground, “I... I think that’s... what I did .”

“ Anakin ,” Obi-Wan said, softly, and the Padawan turned back to him, with watery eyes, “It hasn’t happened here, and it won’t .”

Anakin was about to reply, when a small cough interrupted them. Turning his attention to the source, his eyes widened. Padmé stood in her nightclothes just outside her doorway, the light of Coruscant’s nightlife illuminating her face beautifully. She had a determined expression, and her arms were crossed. Anakin stood, followed by Obi-Wan, and waited for her to speak, absently wondering if she could’ve possibly heard what they were talking about.

“I have an idea,” Padmé announced, lifting her chin, “and I won’t have you talk me out of it, Master Kenobi.”

“Let’s hear it,” Obi-Wan frowned, folding his arms into the sleeves of his robes. Padmé uncrossed her arms.

“I’ll be bait for the assassin. You two will wait out here, and correct me if I’m wrong,” the Senator brushed a stray strand of curly, chestnut hair behind her ear, “but I do believe Jedi can sense disturbances. You will wait for the disturbance, and hopefully burst in just in time to catch the assassin.”

“Senator Amidala,” Obi-Wan said, diplomatically, “that is far too dangerous. What if we don’t make it in time?”

“Master Kenobi,” Padmé replied, using her Senator voice, “it may well be our only chance. It is an acceptable risk. I went through the same training as my handmaidens. I know my way around a blaster.”

Obi-Wan grimaced at the mention of the weapon, which Anakin knew he considered uncivilized very well indeed. “The assassin may not get within range for a blaster to be useful.”

“Then we must pray the famed Jedi reflexes live up to their reputation,” Padmé retorted, leaving no room for further argument. Anakin’s Master grumbled, unpleased, but did not press forward. Anakin shuffled on his feet, uncomfortably.

“Very well,” Obi-Wan relented, and Padmé grinned triumphantly.

“Excuse me, then,” she said, and returned to her room. Obi-Wan turned to his Padawan, exasperated.

“Honestly, Anakin?” The Jedi Knight raised an eyebrow, “ Her ?”

“I can’t explain it,” Anakin grumbled, defensively, and Obi-Wan sat back down on the couch, rubbing a hand over his beard in contemplation.

“We must be alert,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin settled next to him, stifling a yawn.

“Are you tired, young one?” Obi-Wan inquired, turning to face his Padawan, who shrugged.

“It’s the dreams about my mom.” Anakin admitted, “They started out normal enough, but now...”

“They feel like visions?” Obi-Wan guessed, and Anakin nodded, worried.

“Do you think we could maybe... go check on her?” The Padawan asked, and Obi-Wan sighed.

“It’d have to be off the record, or...” Obi-Wan trailed off as Qui-Gon reentered the apartment, looking around cautiously. Obi-Wan stood, “Master?”

“Captain Typho has more than enough men downstairs. No assassin will try that way,” the Jedi Master announced, stepping further into the room, “Anything interesting?”

“Not yet,” Anakin shrugged, and then paused, “actually, the Senator has a plan.”

“What plan?” Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, who rolled his eyes.

“The Senator is our bait, and we’re supposed to be keeping our Jedi senses trained on her room.” The Jedi Knight frowned, “She could not be convinced otherwise.”

Qui-Gon nodded, unbothered, “I suppose we better focus, then.”

The three Jedi sat on the couches, chattering absently. Anakin inquired towards the wellbeing of Ahsoka, who was nearing her fourteenth birthday. Qui-Gon was glad to tell the Padawan she was well, and in no danger of being sent to the Agricorps. There had been a decline of Jedi being trained to become Knights, and the Council had recently ruled to extend the age limits before an Initiate was shipped off.

“Do you know if she’s-” Anakin abruptly cut himself off, turning to the Senator’s room with a jerky movement. His eyes were trained on the door, and a split second later, both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon felt whatever disturbance Anakin had sensed. They were up, sabers out, and charging towards Padmé’s door a few steps behind the Padawan.

Anakin burst through the door, throwing himself between the Senator and the kouhuns, and sliced them in half before they could attack. Obi-Wan looked wildly around, and noticed a droid buzzing outside of the window. Before he even processed the thought, he was sailing out the window, and grabbing onto the droid. Qui-Gon muttered something under his breath, as Anakin told Padmé to stay put. The Padawan proceeded to race out of the room, leaving Qui-Gon alone with the Senator.

“I suppose I’ll stay and guard you,” Qui-Gon said, conversationally. Padmé pulled her nightclothes tight around her narrow shoulders.

“Shouldn’t you go after the assassin?” She asked, as Captain Typho, two guards, and her handmaiden entered the room in a wild panic.

“I admit, I’ve gotten a bit old for jumping out windows,” Qui-Gon smiled, “Obi-Wan and Anakin can handle this.”

“If you insist ,” Padmé frowned, and began to reassure her staff that she was well.

Anakin hopped into the first open-top speeder he found, starting it before he was even firmly in the seat. He pressed the pedal to the floor, following the homing beacon his Master was sending through the Force.

To his relief, he managed to catch up with his Master just as the droid he was hanging on to blew up. Pulling the speeder up alongside his freefalling Master, he waited just long enough for Obi-Wan to climb inside, before speeding off towards the bounty hunter.

“That was wacky!” Anakin exclaimed, “I almost lost you in the traffic!”

“What took you so long?” Obi-Wan grumbled, smoothing down his robes, and taking a moment to pick a few shards of glass out of his hair. Anakin reached over to brush a few pieces of shrapnel off of his Master’s shoulder.

“Oh, you know Master, I couldn’t find a speeder I really liked,” Anakin snarked, “with an open cockpit, and with the right speed capabilities...” the Padawan grinned, “And then you know I had to get a really gonzo color.”

Obi-Wan paled as the bounty hunter began shooting at them, and Anakin took to his infamous avoidance maneuvers.

“Oh, kriff, Anakin,” Obi-Wan squeaked, as the speeder they were in took a hit.

“ Master !” Anakin gasped.

“Sorry, Padawan,” Obi-Wan grasped the edge of the speeder, as Anakin did another maneuver, “ kriff !”

“ Master !” Anakin repeated, with the exact same amount of horror. Obi-Wan bit his tongue.

They continued like that for a bit, with Anakin pulling dangerous stunts and Obi-Wan squawking in displeasure. Finally, Anakin came to a stop.

“Well, you lost him,” Obi-Wan said, sarcastically. Anakin ducked his head, and then sat up straight, turning to focus on an incoming speeder, several lanes below them.

“Deeply sorry, Master,” Anakin said, absently, and counted to himself, “Excuse me.”

He proceeded to throw himself out of the speeder, and Obi-Wan cursed for the thousandth time, sliding over to the driver’s seat. Leaning his head over the side, he watched as Anakin landed on a speeder. Taking off after it, Obi-Wan watched his Padawan struggle with the bounty hunter inside, sliding underneath just as the bounty hunter disarmed Anakin. Obi-Wan swerved, managing to catch his Padawan’s lightsaber in the passenger seat of his speeder.

Obi-Wan kept pace with the speeder, as Anakin and the bounty hunter fought haphazardly, blasting off bits of the speeder every few seconds. Eventually, enough of the speeder was gone that it started a nosedive, and Obi-Wan got caught in traffic.

“Of course,” the Knight muttered, straining his eyes to try and see his Padawan, before giving up and looking for him in the Force.

He found Anakin outside of a club, dithering outside of the entrance.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan exited the speeder, hurrying over to the teenager.

“She went in the club, Master,” Anakin informed him.

“Patience, Anakin, she has no escape route,” the Jedi Knight calmed his apprentice, and held out the boy’s lightsaber, “Please try not to lose this one.”

“Sorry, Master,” Anakin reached for it, and Obi-Wan changed his mind, deciding to drive home his point.

“A Jedi’s saber is his most precious possession,” Obi-Wan lectured, and Anakin sighed.

“I know, Master. I must keep it on me at all times, and that weapon is my life. I know. It’s not like I try to lose them!” Anakin pouted, “I just have bad luck.”

Obi-Wan handed his Padawan the saber, “There is no such thing as luck.”

The Jedi entered the bar cautiously. The Force swirled around them.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me?” Obi-Wan joked, turning to the teenager with a fond look on his face. His demeanor fell as he noticed Anakin’s aghast expression.

“Don’t say that, Master,” Anakin frowned, quite upset, “you’re the closest thing I have to a father. I love you. I don’t want to cause you pain...”

“I know, Anakin,” Obi-Wan put a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder, radiating calm and fondness through their bond, “I love you too. You don’t cause me pain.” He thought for a moment, “Though, I have a feeling I may go gray before my time.”

Anakin’s seriousness returned to a sheepish grin at Obi-Wan’s tone, and the moment passed. Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the bounty hunter.

“You go check out that room,” Obi-Wan gestured to the back of the establishment, “I believe I need a drink.”

Anakin nodded, and headed off in the direction that his Master had indicated. Various patrons stared at him with all sorts of intent, but he ignored them. He kept his eyes firmly locked on his Master, as the man ordered a drink, and had a short conversation with a death stick dealer. The Force sang a warning alarm in Anakin’s ear, and Obi-Wan moved, slicing off the bounty hunter’s arm. Everyone shot to their feet, hands on blasters and knives, while Anakin leapt across the establishment to the Knight, eyeing the club’s patrons warily, “Easy... Official business. Go back to your drinks.”

The Jedi hauled the disarmed bounty hunter out of the bar, and into a dark alley. Obi-Wan immediately set about tending to her wound, while Anakin knelt before her.

“You were sent to kill the Senator from Naboo?” He demanded, and the bounty hunter grimaced.

“Who hired you?” Obi-Wan questioned, poking a bit at the exposed flesh of the bounty hunter’s arm.

“It was just a job,” she spat, and Anakin ran a hand over his hair in frustration.

“Yes, yes, but who hired you?” Anakin asked, and the bounty hunter sneered.

“The Senator’s gonna die soon anyway, and the next one won’t make the same mistake I did,” she said, hissing as Obi-Wan touched the cauterized flesh at the end of her arm.

“This wound’s going to need proper treatment,” Obi-Wan frowned, “Tell us who hired you.”

The bounty hunter sighed, “It was a bounty hunter called-”

She stopped, suddenly, and twitched. Anakin was already up, lightsaber drawn, watching as a Mandalorian bounty hunter flew off, by the time the bounty hunter died. Obi-Wan stood, a small dart in his hand.

“Toxic dart...” the Knight showed the device to his Padawan, and put it in a small pouch on his belt. “Let’s get back to the Senator.”

To say Padmé was unhappy with her orders was an understatement. She glared at everyone who crossed her doorway as she packed, and Anakin chose to avoid her wrath by hiding from her in the main room of her apartment. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had gone their separate ways once returning to the Temple, with Qui-Gon digging in the Archives for information, and Obi-Wan turning to his contacts on the streets of Coruscant.

Anakin had been left with guarding Padmé on Naboo. He didn’t mind the chance to spend some time with her alone, but he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and an itching at the back of his mind. The wheels of fate were turning, and Anakin wasn’t quite sure where they would lead.

“I do not like this idea of hiding,” Padmé fumed, indignant, startling Anakin out of his thoughts. The Padawan looked down at her, searching for the correct reply.

“Don’t worry. Now that the Council has ordered an investigation, Master Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon will get to the bottom of it in no time.” Anakin said.

Padmé huffed, “I haven’t worked for a year to defeat the Military Creation Act not to be here when its fate is decided.”

“I’m sure you’ll be leaving things in capable hands,” Anakin tried to calm her, but Padmé’s eyes flashed in frustration, and she burst.

“I shouldn’t be leaving at all! The capability of the hands things are in is not my concern. Ani, you’re young, and you don’t have a very firm grip on politics. I suggest you reserve your opinions for some other time.”

Anakin looked away, and began picking at loose threads at the edges of his sleeves, “My apologies, milady, I didn’t mean...”

“Ani! No!” Padmé interrupted him, sharply, and Anakin flinched. He didn’t want to upset her, but he couldn’t seem to manage that. He looked up from the floor, and into her doe brown eyes. Padmé’s mouth snapped shut.

“My name is Anakin,” the Padawan said, softly, “I don’t mind you calling me Ani, but it’s like you still see me as a little boy. I’m not.”

“I’m sorry, Anakin,” Padmé’s eyebrows creased, just a bit, and she reached out to take one of his hands in both of hers, “I’d also like to apologize for yelling. I’m just...”

“Frustrated,” Anakin finished for her.

Padmé nodded, continuing, “It’s impossible to deny you’ve grown,” she looked him up and down, releasing his hand, and Anakin smiled shyly.

“Hopefully returning to Naboo can offer some relief,” Anakin brought the subject of the conversation back to Padmé as subtly as he could, and Padmé sighed, running a hand over the silver headdress adorning her hair.

“Hopefully, indeed,” the Senator frowned, turning to stare wistfully out the window, gazing at the Coruscanti traffic. Light streamed in through the window, illuminating her in a way that truly made her seem like an angel.

Padmé turned to Anakin in surprise, and he realized he must’ve thought that aloud.

“You said that once before, on Tatooine,” Padmé said, watching Anakin with wide eyes.

Anakin stared back at her, “It’s true.”

They stared into each other’s eyes, for a few fleeting moments, before Anakin looked away, a blush dusting his face. He certainly always found a way to make a fool of himself in front of Padmé.

“I should finish packing.” Padmé said, abruptly, and turned away, walking back towards her open luggage.

Obi-Wan set a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, as Padmé laughed with her handmaiden. The Padawan turned to his Master, and found himself pulled into a hug. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around the shorter man, and his mind brought up the first time he’d ever hugged Obi-Wan.

“Anakin, Qui-Gon is going to Tatooine on an off-record mission to check on your mother,” Obi-Wan whispered in his Padawan’s ear, and Anakin nodded. Patting the teenager on the back twice, he stepped back, grabbing the boy’s shoulders with both hands. He spoke again, at normal volume, “Stay safe on Naboo, my Padawan. If you need help and I am unavailable, comm Qui-Gon.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin said, quelling his nerves. Obi-Wan smiled at him, proudly, and then turned to Padmé, releasing his Padawan.

“I will get to the bottom of this plot quickly, milady. You’ll be back here in no time.” He promised.

“I will be most grateful for your speed, Master Jedi,” Padmé replied, courteously.

“Time to go,” Anakin announced, and Padmé sighed, “I know.”

She turned to give her handmaiden one last hug, while Anakin turned to Obi-Wan.

“May the Force be with you, Master,” Anakin said, bowing politely, and then straightened, “Be careful, something’s not quite right .”

“I’ll keep my guard up,” Obi-Wan nodded, “May the Force be with you, Anakin. Good luck.”

“I thought luck didn’t exist?” Anakin cracked a smile, as he followed Padmé towards the starfreighter.

Padmé slowed, falling into step next to the Padawan. She glanced around nervously, and settled with staring at Anakin’s face, which was grim.

“Suddenly, I’m afraid,” she admitted, and Anakin tugged on his Padawan braid nervously.

“I’m kinda scared too. This is my first assignment without either Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon.” Anakin replied, keeping the true reason he was nervous to himself. Though this was his first solo mission, Anakin was a natural warrior, and he knew he was capable of protecting Padmé.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Padmé announced, and then a grin split her face, “we have Artoo with us.”

Anakin laughed, and Padmé giggled. She covered her mouth as she laughed, and Anakin was once again startled by how tiny she was. His heart ached as Padmé smiled, still looking at him as they walked towards the freighter.

“So, how have you been, milady?” Anakin asked, conversationally. Padmé raised an eyebrow.

“I believe you know how I’ve been,” she said, not unkindly. Anakin ducked his head, feeling the tips of his ears go red. Padmé continued, “How about you , Anakin?”

“I think my Master is getting ready to send me through my Trials,” Anakin confessed, “I still have much to learn, don’t get me wrong, but there’s something that... requires me to be a Knight sooner, rather than later.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what is it?” Padmé inquired, and Anakin felt a grin come to his face unbidden. Not that he minded. They boarded the freighter, and headed towards an uncrowded area.

“Snips,” Anakin stated proudly, and upon noticing Padmé’s confused expression, elaborated, “there’s a Togruta Initiate, nearing her fourteenth birthday, named Ahsoka Tano. I’m hoping to take her as my Padawan.”

This piqued Padmé’s interest, and she leaned forwards once they sat down, curiosity plain on her face, “Aren’t you a bit young to take a Padawan? And she’s only a few years younger than you.”

“Well, yeah,” Anakin shrugged, “it’s just... The will of the Force. Like how my Master knew I was supposed to be his Padawan.”

“Ah,” Padmé nodded, “how have Master Kenobi and Master Jinn been?”

“Master Qui-Gon has been splitting his time between the Younglings and going on missions recently. Obi-Wan and I are betting on whether or not he’s going to take another Padawan, eventually,” Anakin gave Padmé an amused look, and she smiled back. Anakin continued, “My Master and I have been going on missions a lot, the past year. I’ll be honest, as much as I love Obi-Wan, being around him constantly starts to drive me crazy after a bit.”

“I thought that love was forbidden for the Jedi?” Padmé said, and Anakin frowned. He had the same misconception, once, and still wasn’t quite convinced the Council didn’t think the same thing.

“Love? No. Attachments are, possessions are, but only when they become obsessions,” Anakin repeated the words his Master had said to him, “the moment when you sacrifice thousands for one , is the moment the Dark Side claims you. My Master is like a father to me.”

“You’ve changed so much ,” Padmé said quietly, then, and Anakin looked away.

“You haven’t changed a bit. You’re exactly the way I remember you from Tatooine and Naboo,” Anakin admitted shyly, and then stifled a yawn. Padmé leaned back, smiling.

“You should get some rest. Artoo and I will hold down the fort,” the Senator suggested, and Anakin wanted to protest, but knew he should be well rested once they arrived on Naboo.

“Alright. Wake me if anything happens,” he said, and laid down.

What seemed like a second later, Anakin’s eyes flew open. His mother was in danger. Looking around, his eyes settled on Padmé’s worried face.

“Are you okay?” She asked, and Anakin remembered where he was. He noticed she was holding something out to him, and he sat up, taking it from her small hands with a muttered thanks.

“We went into lightspeed a while ago,” Padmé told him, as he began to eat. Anakin nodded. He’d been asleep for a bit, then.

“I’m looking forwards to seeing Naboo again,” Anakin smiled, “It’s by far the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”

Padmé nodded absently, a troubled expression on her face, “Were you dreaming about your mother?”

Anakin blinked, and realized he’d probably been talking in his sleep, “Yes. I’ve been having disturbing visions about her... Qui-Gon went to Tatooine to check on her. I hope he finds her in time.”

Obi-Wan stood outside of Dex’s Diner with a frown on his face. He held the Kaminoan Kyberdart in his hands carefully, thinking of how Qui-Gon had told him the Archives held no relevant information. That was troubling. He tucked the dart back into the pouch on his belt, and set off back towards the Temple.

Anakin felt the day go by in a blur. Padmé had declared exactly what they were going to do on Naboo, and Anakin momentarily felt frustration towards her, but... That was his Padmé, she was willful and stubborn, and incredibly clever. He could trust her.

Standing outside of Padmé’s childhood home was nerve wracking. Padmé had, earlier, mentioned she’d hoped to have a family by now, if she weren’t a Senator, and talked of her sister’s children, Ryoo and Pooja.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re shy!” Padmé grinned at Anakin, who shook himself out of his thoughts.

“No, but I...” he trailed off, as two little girls ran out of the front door, down the steps, shouting, “Aunt Padmé! Aunt Padmé!”
Padmé knelt to hug them, “Ryoo! Pooja! I’m so happy to see you two!” She released the children, who had excited grins plastered on their faces. Padmé gestured to Anakin, “This is Anakin. Anakin, this is Ryoo, and this is Pooja.”

“Hi,” Anakin gave them his Youngling-smile, the one that Ahsoka said made him look like he was one of the fun Senior Padawans. Ryoo and Pooja returned the greeting, before noticing Artoo.

“ Artoo!” They both shouted, running over to hug the droid, who beeped in greeting.

Padmé stood, dusting her dress off, and motioned for Anakin to follow her inside. As they entered the house, Anakin followed her through the hallways to the dining room, where a woman who Anakin assumed was Padmé’s older sister was saying something over her shoulder. Padmé grinned, rushing over to hug the woman. Anakin stood awkwardly in the doorway, waiting for the Senator to introduce him.

“Anakin, this is my sister, Sola,” Padmé smiled.

“Hello, Anakin,” Sola greeted him politely, and Anakin remembered the manners his Master had drilled into him.

“Hello, milady,” Anakin bowed. Sola gave Padmé a look, just as the girls’ mother walked in, carrying a heaping plate of food. Padmé’s father sat down at the table, briefly startling Anakin.

“You’re just in time for dinner.” Padmé’s mother said, setting down the plate in the middle of the table, “I hope you’re hungry, Anakin.”

“A little,” Anakin admitted, and Padmé snorted, sitting down at the table, as Sola moved to sit across from them.

“He’s just being polite, Mom. We’re starving.” Padmé rolled her eyes, and her father grinned.

“You came to the right place at the right time. Sit down, son,” he said to Anakin, who complied. He waited to start eating until everyone else had already taken a bite, and puzzled for a moment over which fork to use. Glancing at the one Padmé’s hand, he chose the smaller fork.

Padmé’s mother smiled at her daughter, “Honey, it’s so good to see you safe. We were so worried.”

Padmé sent her mother a glare, and her father intervened, “Dear...”

“I know, I know,” Padmé’s mother waved her hands, “but I had to say it. It’s done now.”

There was a momentary silence, and Sola took the opportunity to break it.

“Well, this is exciting! Do you know, Anakin, you’re the first boyfriend my sister’s ever brought home?” She smiled. Anakin’s face flushed, and he opened his mouth to correct her, but Padmé beat him to it.

“Sola ! He isn’t my boyfriend!” Padmé rolled her eyes, “He’s a Jedi assigned by the Senate to protect me.”

A little too late, Padmé noticed that was not the right thing to say. Her mother gasped, “A bodyguard ? Oh, Padmé, they didn’t tell us it was that serious.”

“That’s because it isn’t,” Anakin stepped in, finally, and Padmé sent him a relieved look, “my Master has the situation under control.”

“That’s right,” Padmé added, “this is practically a vacation.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Padmé’s father sighed.

“Anyway, Anakin’s a friend. I’ve known him for years. Remember that little boy who was with the Jedi during the blockade crisis?” Padmé waited for her family to nod, “He grew up.”

“Honey, when are you going to settle down?” Padmé’s mother implored, “Haven’t you had enough of that life? I certainly have!”

“Mom, I’m not in any danger,” Padmé frowned, and her mother shifted her gaze to Anakin.

“Is she?”

Anakin thought for a moment, “Not with me around.”

After they finished eating, Padmé, her sister, and her mother began to clear the table, while her father motioned for Anakin to follow him outside.

Sola pounced the moment the men left, “Why haven’t you told us about him?”

“What’s there to talk about? He’s just a boy,” Padmé replied airily, and Sola smirked.

“A boy ? Have you seen the way he looks at you?” She asked, satisfied when Padmé paused. To be truthful, she had noticed. Anakin was shy around her, but he looked at her like she hung all of the stars in the sky when he thought she couldn’t see. And even when he knew she could, there was still a strange awe in his eyes every time he looked at her.

“Sola, stop it!” Padmé grumbled, looking out the window, to where Anakin was talking to her father.

Sola did not stop it. “It’s obvious he has feelings for you. Are you saying, little baby sister, you haven’t noticed?”

Padmé held back a sigh, “Anakin and I are friends. Our relationship is strictly professional .” Sola pulled a face, and Padmé couldn’t stop the sigh this time, “Mom, would you tell her to stop it?”

The sisters continued to bicker, as Anakin and Padmé’s father chatted.

Eventually, Anakin found himself in Padmé’s childhood room while she packed.

“You still live at home,” he observed, and Padmé nodded, folding her clothes before placing them in a suitcase.

“I move around so much, I’ve never had a place of my own. Official residences have no warmth. I feel good here,” Padmé paused, looking around the room, before returning to her packing, “I feel home .”

Anakin walked along the perimeter of Padmé’s room, looking at the holos she had on the walls, “I used to move around with my Mom a lot, so home was always wherever she was. Now, it’s wherever Obi-Wan or Qui-Gon are...” he trailed off, stopping in front of a particular holo of a smiling, young Padmé, with a green creature on either side of her, “Is this you?”

Padmé looked up from her packing, and moved to stand next to Anakin, a grin falling over her face, “That was when I went with the Relief Group to Shadda-Bi-Boran. Their sun was imploding, and the planet was dying. I was helping to relocate the children,” she paused, pointing out one of the kids, “See the little one I’m holding? His name was N’a-kee-tula, which means sweetheart. He was so full of life. All those kids were.” Padmé frowned, sadness overtaking her voice, “I did everything I could to save him, but he died… They all did. They were never able to adapt, to live off their native planet.”

Anakin was silent, as Padmé pointed out another holo, where a slightly older, grim-faced Padmé stood in robes, “My first day as an Apprentice Legislator. Notice the difference?”

The Senator pulled a face, and Anakin let out a startled laugh. Padmé grinned at him, as she returned to finish up her packing. Anakin continued to stare at the holos.

Qui-Gon moved across the seemingly endless dunes of Tatooine towards the location Watto had supplied him with. According to the Toydarian, Shmi had been sold to a moisture farmer named Cliegg Lars, and he had apparently freed and married her. Anakin would be glad to know his mother was no longer a slave.

The apprehensive feeling of the Force worried him. Obi-Wan had told him about Anakin’s dreams, of Shmi being stolen away and tortured, and Qui-Gon had immediately decided he’d be more useful searching for her than going off on a wild bantha chase with his former Padawan, or tagging along with the Senator and Anakin to Naboo. By the time he reached the Lars moisture farm, the twin suns were setting in the sky. Outside, a protocol droid was bumbling about. Qui-Gon recognized him instantly.

“C-3PO?” Qui-Gon rushed over towards the droid, who turned to him in surprise.

“Good evening,” the droid was missing an outer covering, since Anakin was never able to complete him, “may I help you?”

“Yes, Threepio. I need to speak with Cliegg Lars.” Qui-Gon announced, and Threepio’s arms went up in shock.

“Master Qui-Gon? Oh, dear me, I can hardly believe it! How is Master Anakin?” Threepio’s eyes glowed in the rapidly descending night.

“Anakin is well. Now, I really must speak with Cliegg Lars.” Qui-Gon said, firmly. Threepio acquiesced, “Of course! Please, follow me inside.”

The Jedi followed the protocol droid indoors, who began calling out, “Master Lars! Someone to see you!”

Instead of the man Qui-Gon had been expecting, a boy around Anakin’s age, and a girl stepped out into the courtyard.

“I’m Qui-Gon Jinn,” Qui-Gon introduced himself, “I must speak with Cliegg Lars, about Shmi Skywalker.”

The boy’s eyes widened, “I’m Owen Lars. This is my girlfriend, Beru.” Beru smiled thinly, and Qui-Gon gave them a polite bow.

“You’re looking for my wife?” Cliegg Lars swung out from the shade awkwardly, and Qui-Gon immediately noticed the reason why. One of his legs was missing, and the other was bandaged heavily. The Jedi’s eyebrows rose, though he quickly schooled his expression.

“I am.” Qui-Gon nodded, “Is she around?”

“No...” Cliegg looked away, “Come inside. We have a lot to talk about.”

Qui-Gon listened carefully as Cliegg gave him the details of Shmi’s capture. It happened two weeks ago, early in the morning. A hunting party of Tuskens had taken her.

“Please, Master Jedi,” Cliegg said, quietly, “I can’t go back out after her until I heal, and even then... Tuskens are vicious. They walk like men, but they’re mindless monsters .”

“I will find Shmi.” Qui-Gon stood from the table, and then paused. If the Tusken Raiders were as dangerous as Cliegg claimed, then there was a chance he may not return, no matter how small. As his mission was off-record, and technically not even a mission, nobody but Obi-Wan, and probably Anakin, knew of his whereabouts. He set down his comm on the table, sliding it to Cliegg. “Cliegg Lars, if I do not return by morning, comm Obi-Wan Kenobi and inform him of my fate.”

Cliegg nodded grimly, “Of course.”

Qui-Gon left immediately. Every minute counted, if Shmi was still alive.

Ever since Anakin had left, the Force whispered warnings in Obi-Wan’s ear. Something wasn’t quite right, and the feeling of foreboding had grown worse ever since Obi-Wan discovered the planet he was looking for apparently did not exist. Anakin’s warning to be careful echoed in his head as he plotted his next move. Eventually, he decided to enlist the help of the wisest Jedi he knew.

Obi-Wan’s search for Yoda lead him to a Youngling class, where Yoda was instructing them in basic lightsaber combat. They struck out at training droids with blinders on. Yoda was speaking to them, giving the Younglings advice. Noticing Obi-Wan’s arrival, he paused, “Younglings, enough. A visitor we have. Welcome him.”

The children turned off their training sabers and removed raised the blinders on their helmets, staring at Obi-Wan in wonder.

“Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi, meet the mighty Bear Clan,” Yoda introduced, and the children bowed to him politely, saying, “Welcome, Master Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan bowed back, and turned to Yoda, “I am sorry to disturb you, Master.”

“What help to you, can I be?” Yoda asked, ears twitching, and Obi-Wan explained his situation.

“An interesting puzzle. Gather round the map reader, Younglings. Master Obi-Wan has lost a planet. Find it, we will try,” Yoda instructed, and the Younglings crowded the projection as Obi-Wan placed the galaxy bead on the holo projector.

“This is where it ought to be, but it isn’t ,” Obi-Wan pointed to the off empty spot, “Gravity is pulling all the stars in this area inward to this spot. There should be a star here... but there isn’t.”

Yoda hummed, observing the star map, “Most interesting... Gravity’s silhouette remains, but the star and all its planets have disappeared. How can this be?”

There was a pause, reminiscent of when Qui-Gon had quizzed his gaggle of Younglings on what Anakin’s sparring mistake had been. Then, one of the Younglings, a little boy who reminded Obi-Wan of Anakin, raised his hand.

“Because someone erased it from the Archive memory,” the child said simply, and the other Younglings clamored, echoing him. Obi-Wan blinked, and the strange feeling he’d had intensified.

“If the planet blew up, the gravity would go away,” another child nodded.

“Truly wonderful, the mind of a child is,” Yoda chuckled, “Uncluttered. To the center of the pull of gravity go, and find your planet you will.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath, and then bowed to Yoda, “Thank you for your time, Master.”

Yoda gave Obi-Wan an appraising look, a slight frown on his face, “Who erased the Archives, I will look into. May the Force be with you, Knight Kenobi.”

Chapter Text

Anakin followed Padmé up the steps to the front of her family’s waterfront lodge, looking about in wonder. Out of all the places he’d travelled to since leaving Tatooine, Naboo was still his favorite. Sunlight glittered on the water’s surface, golden. Padmé paused, smiling as she gazed upon to gorgeous view. Anakin stood next to her, silent. She was so beautiful, Anakin mused, it was clear to him that she was born of Naboo.

“When I was in Level Three, we used to come here for a school retreat. See that island?” Padmé pointed out across the shimmering lake, to a dense, green island, “We used to swim there every day. I love the water.”

“I do too,” Anakin smiled, “I guess it comes from growing up on a desert planet.”

Padmé turned her head, and caught Anakin’s gaze. “We used to lay on the sand, and let the sun dry us... and try to guess the names of the birds singing.”

“I don’t like sand,” Anakin admitted, “it’s coarse, and rough, and irritating. And it gets everywhere .” The Padawan smirked, and Padmé snorted. Anakin continued, “Maybe we could go swimming, later?”

“That would be lovely ,” Padmé grinned. Anakin had to look away, as his heart skipped a beat. Force, he loved her.

Qui-Gon grimaced as he slipped inside the tent that held Shmi Skywalker. Her battered form was tied to a wooden structure, and she was covered in fresh blood. She was conscious, but only just. Crouching, Qui-Gon untied her, removing his cloak to wrap her in. Shmi blinked at him a few times, to focus her eyes.

“Master Jinn?” Shmi asked, hoarsely, and Qui-Gon nodded. Shmi licked her lips, “Where’s...”

“Ani is on Naboo. He’s become a fine Jedi,” Qui-Gon whispered, “we need to get out of here.”

Shmi pursed her lips, and made to stand, but faltered. She was far too dehydrated to even keep her thoughts in order. Qui-Gon helped her up, and struggled to find a way to help her walk, before coming up with a better solution.

“Do you mind being carried?” Qui-Gon asked, and Shmi shook her head slowly. As gently as he could, Qui-Gon picked her up, one arm under her back, the other under her knees. She held on around his neck, rapidly blinking.

“How did you find me?” Shmi rasped, and Qui-Gon winced. He needed to get back to the Lars homestead as quickly as possible.

“Ani has visions, sometimes,” Qui-Gon edged carefully out of the tent the way he came in, looking about, “he saw you.”

Shmi hummed, softly, and Qui-Gon sent the suggestion of sleep into her mind, waiting for her to go limp in his arms. Then, he ran.

Padmé sat in front of the fireplace, staring at the flickering flames. Anakin stood silently, watching her sigh. He walked forwards, and sat next to her.

“Padmé, can I tell you something?” Anakin asked, softly, and Padmé turned to him.

“I don’t know,” she replied, and Anakin smiled.

“How can I tell you, then?” He joked, and Padmé covered her mouth with a hand, turning back to the fire.

“Maybe you should use your Jedi intuition .” She suggested, lightly. Anakin frowned, pretending to think very hard.

“Padmé, I need to tell you the truth ,” Anakin became serious, and Padmé looked at him, concerned.

“What is it, Anakin?”

“When I was nine,” Anakin reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind the woman’s ear, almost absently. Padmé stayed stock still, and he continued, “I had a sort of vision, of the future. Obi-Wan thinks it was us, from an alternate timeline, trying to stop whatever had happened to them.”

“What... happened?” Padmé’s eyes were wide, and the fire reflected in them warmly.

“The vision that Obi-Wan and I both had, we didn’t actually see anything until later. It was like our future, or, alternate, selves sent back only the emotions they felt over the courses of their lives. Up until that point, I’d never before met Obi-Wan in my life, and suddenly, he was one of the most important people to me. It was like I’d known him for years...” Anakin trailed off, looking away from Padmé and deep into the flames, “My other self did awful things. Unforgivable things. But Obi-Wan forgave me.”

“Ani...” Padmé said, quietly, and Anakin turned to her, shifting so he could lay a hand on her cheek, gently, so if she didn’t want him to touch her, she could move away, “My alternate self loved you, Padmé. Having those emotions in me... I don’t know what to do. It’s tearing me apart. I love you, I feel like I’ve loved you my entire life twice over.”

Padmé averted her eyes, but didn’t move away from Anakin’s touch, “I can’t... We can’t... It’s just not possible.”

Anakin brushed her cheek with his thumb, and removed his hand, “I know. You’re a Senator, and I’m training to be a Jedi... There’s too much risk. Too much to lose. But, I don’t think I can ever stop loving you.”

“ Anakin ,” Padmé’s voice sounded thick, “there’s no way the things you want can happen, no matter our feelings.”

“You do feel something?” Anakin stared at her, and Padmé frowned, “Ani, it doesn’t make any difference. Jedi cannot marry. You’d be expelled from the Order. I will not let you give up everything you’ve been working for, for me. Just like I will not give up everything I’ve been working for, for you.”

“I understand.” Anakin closed his eyes, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m sorry.” Padmé breathed, and turned back to the flames.

Kamino was water world, with cities built of cold steel rising out of the depths. Obi-Wan walked towards the closest tower, apprehension building with each step. A door slid open as he neared the building, and a blinding white light spilled out. Deep in his bones, Obi-Wan felt cold.

“Welcome to Tipoca City, Master Jedi,” a placid voice announced, startling Obi-Wan. He lowered his hood, wiping away the rain from his eyes. Before him, stood a tall, thin, pale Kaminoan. The Kaminoan blinked, and continued, “Everything is ready. The Prime Minister expects you.”

“I’m expected ?” Obi-Wan asked, warily, and the Kaminoan nodded.

“Of course! After all these years, we were beginning to think you weren’t coming. Now please, this way.” The Kaminoan gestured for Obi-Wan to follow him, and started walking down the sterile hallway. Worrying at his lip, the Jedi Knight followed. Soon enough, Obi-Wan found himself in a too-bright room, being introduced to the Prime Minister of Kamino, Lama Su.

“I trust you are going to enjoy your stay. We are most happy you have arrived at the best part of the season.” Lama Su said, serenely.
“You make me feel most welcome.” Obi-Wan replied, carefully, hoping the Kaminoans wouldn’t notice he had no idea what was happening.

“And now to business.” Lama Su blinked, “You will be delighted to hear we are on schedule. Two hundred thousand units are ready, with another million well on the way.”
Obi-Wan tried to process the words that the Prime Minister had said, but found he was just drawing blanks. The Jedi forced himself to speak, to keep up his charade, “That is... good news.”
“Please tell your Master Sifo-Dyas that we have every confidence his order will be met on time and in full. He is well, I hope?” The Kaminoan inquired, leaning his head forwards. Obi-Wan mentally groaned.

“I'm sorry, Master...?” Obi-Wan pretended that he hadn’t heard the name clearly.
“Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas. He's still a leading member of the Jedi Council, is he not?” The Kaminoan had a concerned expression. Obi-Wan backtracked.

“Oh, yes. Sifo-Dyas .” He said, and racked his mind for a face to the name. Nothing came up.

The Kaminoan continued, undeterred, “You must be anxious to inspect the units for yourself.”
“That's why I'm here.” Obi-Wan nodded, cautiously. He had a bad feeling about this.

Padmé absently picked flowers from the meadow they were picnicking in, twirling them between her fingers, “I don’t know...”

“Sure you do,” Anakin snorted, “You just don’t want to tell me.”

“Are you going to use one of your Jedi mind tricks on me?” Padmé scrunched her nose, and Anakin shook his head. Inwardly, he was horrified she’d even think he’d consider it.

“They only work on the weak minded,” he said, masking his emotion in a way that would make even the most uptight Jedi Master proud, “You’re anything but weak minded.”

Padmé grinned, “ Alright . His name was Palo. We were both in the Legislative Youth Program,” the Senator paused, and smirked, “he was a few years older than me... very cute. Dark curly hair, dreamy eyes-”

“Alright,” Anakin cut her off with a pout, “I get the picture. What happened?”

“I went into politics. He became an artist,” Padmé threw one of her flowers at Anakin.

“Maybe he was the smart one,” Anakin held back the urge to stick his tongue out, and Padmé rolled her eyes.

“You really don’t like politicians, do you?”

“I like two or three, but I’m not really sure about one of them,” Anakin gave Padmé a cheeky grin, and she laughed. Anakin continued, “I don’t think the system works.”

“How would you have it work?” Padmé asked, curiously. The Padawan took a moment to put his thoughts in order.

“Well, in theory , the way it is now is just fine,” Anakin remembered a talk he’d had with Obi-Wan, after his Master had gotten into a verbal sparring match with a Jedi who supported the Senate unquestioningly, “but in practice, nothing important gets done quickly enough, if at all.”

“Democracy is a process,” Padmé turned to Anakin, a flower loosely grasped in her small hands, “it may be slow, but it’s the only way for every planet to get a say.”

Anakin shrugged, “Sometimes I wish the Jedi were a little bit more like that, but then Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon wouldn’t have as much fun riling the Council up.”

Padmé raised an eyebrow, “ Obi-Wan ? A trouble maker?”

“In the other timeline, he was on the Council,” Anakin grinned, “I think sometimes he forgets he isn’t , here.”

Padmé stiffened slightly at the mention of the other timeline, and Anakin glanced at her. She spun the flower between her fingers absently, looking out to the shimmering lake, “What about you ?”

“In the other timeline?” Anakin’s eyebrows rose, and Padmé nodded. The Padawan rubbed his head, “Well, I was a Jedi Knight. Ahsoka was my Padawan. From there, it gets fuzzy.”

The Senator hummed, and suddenly, the Force sprung. Anakin blinked, hard, and before his eyes, Padmé had a frown on her face. Anakin said something, and her eyebrows rose in indignation, before she broke off into a laugh, throwing pieces of fruit at him. It was all very strange. There was a dreamlike quality to it, which, besides the lack of sound, was the only thing that marked it as a type of vision. Anakin almost never had visions while awake. The Padawan blinked, again, and saw his Padmé staring at him, concern on her face.

“Are you alright, Ani?” She asked, and Anakin nodded, running a hand over his face. Searching for a way to lighten the mood, he caught sight of a few shaak that were edging closer and closer to where he and the Senator were picnicking. Grinning, Anakin stood, running over to the closest one and waving his arms about, while shouting. He made a great fool of himself, until the shaak caught sight of him. It’s nostrils flared, and it started to run awkwardly towards him. Padmé’s giggles of delight echoed across the meadow, as Anakin ran in a circle, chased by the shaak. He leapt onto its back as it neared him, landing backwards, and he let out a barked laugh. Padmé had a hand over her mouth, barely covering her grin.

The shaak bucked, and Anakin felt himself go flying. He heard Padmé’s laughter cut off, abruptly, as he didn’t move. He couldn’t, he was laughing too hard, but he felt as Padmé grew concerned. To her, it looked like he might’ve been knocked unconscious. She ran to him, shouting his name in worry.

“ Ani ?” She grabbed his shoulder, rolling him over onto his back, and Anakin pulled a face at her. His ribs were aching, with how hard he was laughing, and barely a sound escaped him. Padmé glared at him, and whacked him hard on the chest. Her hand hovered over where she’d smacked him, as Anakin continued to laugh. Unable to keep a serious face on, Padmé grinned, and grabbed onto Anakin’s shirt with her hands, “Don’t do that! It’s not funny!”

“It’s plenty funny,” Anakin replied, cheekily, and rolled so that he was on top of her, instead. Padmé was having none of it, and rolled them over, again. They went on like that for a bit, belly-deep laughter and a few disgruntled shaak being their only companions. On one last turn over, Anakin quieted and remained on his back, with Padmé laying on him, her bright smile and dancing eyes being the only thing he could see. He removed a hand from her back, where both had ended up whilst they were roughhousing, and brushed a stray strand of hair from the Senator’s face. Padmé stopped giggling. Anakin licked his lips, reflexively, and Padmé bit her own, and suddenly, they were kissing.

Almost as soon as it began, it ended with Padmé pulling away, her cheeks dusted with red. Anakin stared at her, the light of Naboo’s sun framing her, as she moved off of him, sitting awkwardly in the grass.

Qui-Gon reached the Lars homestead just before dawn. Shmi had regained momentarily consciousness, and was looking around worriedly. She opened her mouth, to speak, but only a croak came out. Owen came running over, Beru on his heels, carrying all sorts of medical supplies.

“Shmi!” Owen gasped, horror in his eyes. Shmi blinked at him, dipping in and out of consciousness.

“Where’s her room?” Qui-Gon asked, and Beru told him to follow her into the homestead. Cliegg was awake, at the table, and hopped up as Qui-Gon walked through the courtyard to Shmi’s bedroom. Owen went over to help his father, and they followed the Jedi.

Qui-Gon lay her down on her stomach, since the majority of Shmi’s wounds were on her back, and stepped away as Beru began to inspect the woman’s injuries. Cliegg sat down hard in a chair next to the bed, as Owen rushed off to grab a basin of water.

“They were torturing her,” Beru spat, as Owen returned with the water and a washcloth. The girl took the cloth, and began to carefully clean the many wounds crisscrossing Shmi’s back. She worked quickly, debriding and disinfecting, while simultaneously instructing Owen to apply bacta and bandages. Qui-Gon stood back, with Cliegg. The man was radiating various mixed emotions, but relief lit up his eyes.

“Shmi...” Cliegg rasped, and the woman’s eyes opened. She smiled weakly at her husband. He leaned forward, and brushed a few strands of bloodied hair from her face, “I’m so sorry...”

“Not your fault,” Shmi protested, shifting so she could grab his arm. Beru bit her lip as the movement put strain on Shmi’s torn muscles, and Owen packed more bacta into the worst gashes without having to be asked. Shmi didn’t even seem to notice what was happening with her back. Her eyes were focused solely on Cliegg. Qui-Gon dithered beside the family, feeling as if he were intruding.

“I should’ve-”

“Cliegg,” Shmi cut him off, “it’s alright. I’m safe.”

Cliegg said nothing, instead rubbing Shmi’s forehead with his thumb. She closed her eyes. Qui-Gon lay a hand on Cliegg’s shoulder, startling the man slightly.

“My comm,” Qui-Gon asked, quietly, and Cliegg dug in his pockets with his free hand, before giving over the device. Qui-Gon glanced back at Shmi’s heavily bandaged back, and walked out into the courtyard.

He activated his comm, and, routing the call through his ship, contacted Anakin. It would be nearing nightfall on Naboo, and he hoped he wasn’t waking the boy.

“Skywalker,” Anakin answered his comm, voice crackling with static.

“Ani, your mother is safe,” Qui-Gon got right to the point, “she was kidnapped and tortured by Tusken Raiders, but I managed to get to her before it was too late. She’s going to be perfectly fine.”

Over the comm, Qui-Gon could hear Anakin’s shaky breaths. There was some time before Anakin spoke again, voice suddenly as ragged as his mother’s, “Thank you, Qui-Gon...”

“Of course,” the Jedi Master replied, “How’s the Senator?”

“Padmé’s fine. I don’t sense any danger, not on Naboo.” The Padawan said, and then, hesitantly, “I think my Master needs help.”

“Did you have another vision?” Qui-Gon’s brows furrowed. It had been slightly difficult for him, at first, dealing with the two being suddenly prescient. Obi-Wan had his famous bad feelings quite often, before Tatooine, but to Qui-Gon’s knowledge, he’d never seen things before. Obi-Wan always had his visions while he was awake, usually right before a pivotal moment, while Anakin always had prophetic dreams. While, not often, the nights that Qui-Gon slept on the couch of Obi-Wan and Anakin’s quarters tended to be interrupted by a tearful Anakin, or a haunted Obi-Wan, shaking him awake, just to make sure he was real. The first time, Qui-Gon had been rather confused, and a bit annoyed at having been woken up after such a tiring mission, but then he remembered in the other timeline, as the boys called it, he’d died on Naboo. That, alongside Obi-Wan pausing in his stride while walking towards a village where peace negotiations would take place, his eyes suddenly far away, or Anakin rushing into the cockpit in a panic, still bleary from sleep, had opened Qui-Gon up a bit to the idea of the future being established, in at least one timeline.

“No,” Anakin’s frustrated huff broke Qui-Gon out of his thoughts, “but I just... I have a bad feeling. He’s in danger.”

“Do you know where he went?” Qui-Gon frowned. Checking in with the Council before going after his former Padawan would be the correct thing to do, but they’d also probably try to send him somewhere else. Bad feelings seldom turned out to be a false alarm, in the Kenobi-Skywalker household. Anakin was quiet for a moment, “He didn’t say.”

Qui-Gon suppressed a groan. He’d have to speak to the Council, then. Hopefully Obi-Wan had told them where he was going, before he left. For all his former Padawan’s rebelliousness, he still kept the Council updated on his moves. He didn’t quite wait for confirmation before acting, but he at least warned the Council beforehand. Once, Anakin had told Qui-Gon it was probably because Obi-Wan was a Councilor, in the other timeline. Having been witness to many Obi-Wan versus the Council interactions, Qui-Gon believed it.

“Very well.” The Jedi Master sighed. Anakin made an inquisitive noise, and Qui-Gon ran a hand over his head, “Stay put on Naboo.”

“Yes, Master Qui-Gon,” Anakin replied, and Qui-Gon could practically hear the pout.

“May the Force be with you, Anakin,” Qui-Gon glanced up, as he saw Owen walking towards him.

“And with you, Qui-Gon,” Anakin replied, softly, and the comm went silent.

“That was Anakin?” Owen asked, and Qui-Gon remembered that this boy was his Grand-Padawan’s step-brother.

“Yes,” the Jedi nodded, “he had a vision that Shmi was in trouble, but couldn’t come here, himself.”

“Oh,” Owen said, “do you think he’ll ever be able to visit?”

Qui-Gon blinked in surprise. Then, he smiled, “I’m sure this will be his first stop, once he has a few days off.”

Owen wrung his hands for a moment, awkwardly, “Shmi said to take Threepio with you when you leave. He belongs to Anakin, and he’ll probably have more use for him than we do.”

Qui-Gon hesitated, and Owen continued, “Please, take him.”

“Alright,” Qui-Gon relented, “I must leave quickly, my former Padawan may be in danger.”

“Clear skies,” Owen nodded, and ran off to fetch Threepio.

Obi-Wan jumped as his comm went off, moments after the Kaminoan that had given him a tour of the facilities left him in his room. Quickly checking for bugs, he answered, “Kenobi.”

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon sounded relieved.

“Master?” Obi-Wan frowned, “What’s happened?”

“Anakin’s dreams were correct, but his mother is safe now. The protocol droid Anakin built, his mother requested that I return it to him.” Qui-Gon spoke quickly, the interference of Kamino’s storms fuzzing the signal, some of his words not quite making it through, “where are you?”

“Kamino,” Obi-Wan replied, and paused for a moment, trying to remember the droid that Qui-Gon spoke of, before returning to more serious matters, “Master, I need you to inform the Council of what I’ve found.” Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow as Qui-Gon groaned, and continued, “The Kaminoans claim that a Jedi Master named Sifo-Dyas placed an order for millions of Clone soldiers, to be an army for the Republic.”

There was silence from Qui-Gon’s end, for a moment, before a series of colorful expletives burst through the comm, “What?”

“The genetic host is a Mandalorian bounty hunter named Jango Fett,” Obi-Wan frowned, “I have a feeling he’s the assassin we’re looking for.”

“Ah,” Qui-Gon’s voice crackled, “well, that complicates things quite a bit.”

“I’m going to confront Jango Fett in the morning,” Obi-Wan stated, “Master, as soon as I sign off, you need to contact the Council.”

“I will, Padawan.” Qui-Gon sighed, “I already have the code prepared. May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, Master.” Obi-Wan clicked the comm off, and sat back, leaning against the wall.

Anakin watched his mother die in his arms. In her last breaths, she told him how proud of him she was, how much she loved him. Something in him broke, when her heart stopped beating. The Tuskens had done this to her, Anakin took a deep breath, and they would pay.

The first Tusken Anakin killed was a guard, standing outside of the hut where his mother had been tortured. The next Tusken was the same, but the third... The third was a child. It had come running over, drawing in the sand with a stick, carefree. Upon seeing Anakin, the child stopped, staring at him. Anakin lit his lightsaber.

Sitting up in his bed with a choking cry, he leaned over the side of the bed, and heaved painfully. Nothing came up, which Anakin was glad for, but the heavy ache in his stomach weighed on him like a Dark stone. Qui-Gon had saved his mother, and she was alive. Anakin never murdered the Tuskens, at least, not in this timeline. The terrible tapestry of what his other self had done began to unravel, and Anakin felt himself gag on the stench of blood that refused to leave him.

Hours later, he found himself meditating on the balcony of Padmé’s family’s summer home. Naboo mornings were quiet, peaceful. Much unlike the bustle of the Temple. The rising sun warmed Anakin, but the chill deep in his bones refused to leave.

“Don’t go,” Anakin said, as he felt Padmé’s presence appear, and then begin to leave.

“I don’t want to disturb you,” Padmé said, softly, and Anakin opened his eyes.

“Your presence is soothing,” Anakin replied, and suddenly, birds started singing. Anakin heard Padmé’s nightgown rustling.

“You had a nightmare last night,” Padmé announced, and Anakin sighed.

“I don’t have nightmares ,” he said bitterly, the visions that plagues his rest were not simple nightmares. They were warnings. Padmé continued, misunderstanding.

“I heard you,” she pointed out, and Anakin turned to her.

“I saw my mother. She died in my arms. The Tusken Raiders were torturing her for a month, at least,” Anakin’s voice broke, “I killed them. I killed them all. They were dead. Every single one.”

“Ani,” Padmé took a step towards Anakin, and he looked away, tearful.

“Not just the men. The women and the children too,” Anakin blinked hard, “They were like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals.”

Padmé watched silently, as Anakin lowered his head into his hands, “I hate them. I don’t want to hate them... it isn’t the Jedi way... but...”

He broke off with a harsh sob, and Padmé went to him, wrapping the Padawan in her arms, “You’re human , Ani. To be angry is to be human.”

“I’m a Jedi, I’m better than that,” Anakin wept, “I failed.”

Padmé ran a hand over his short hair, “Anakin, none of that has happened yet. You haven’t killed anyone .”

“But I did !” Anakin wailed, and Padmé realized he was speaking about the other timeline he kept mentioning. She sat back, and put on a stern expression, refusing to wilt under his forlorn gaze.

“Anakin Skywalker, the you in that other timeline you keep mentioning isn’t you .” Padmé crossed her arms, “His sins are not your own.”

Anakin looked away, but nodded, “Just the thought that I could’ve done those things...”

“I know,” Padmé softened, leaning back to embrace the Jedi again, “it’s alright, Anakin.”

Obi-Wan grimaced, checking over the systems of his starfighter. He’d taken a few hits from Jango Fett, but all systems were intact, it seemed. From his pit on the asteroid, he could see a large fleet of Trade Federation ships. Heaving a sigh, Obi-Wan commed Qui-Gon, hoping he wasn’t already on Kamino.

“Jinn,” Qui-Gon answered, then, “Where are you?”

“Hiding in the Geonosis asteroid belt,” Obi-Wan sighed, “I’m afraid there’s a bit of a situation.”

“A situation, hmm?” Qui-Gon hummed, and paused for a moment to presumably reset his nav, “Our bounty hunter got away?”

“Not quite. He’s flown down to Geonosis. I’m going after him.” Obi-Wan stated, and Qui-Gon made a weird noise.

“Not without me, you’re not,” the Jedi Master insisted, and Obi-Wan frowned.

“Master,” Obi-Wan paused for a moment, to gather his thoughts, “there is a disturbance in the Force, here. Something is going to happen on Geonosis.”

“And is the Force telling you I shouldn't be involved?” Qui-Gon’s tone was measured, but very slightly annoyed.

Obi-Wan was silent, and Qui-Gon continued, “Two Jedi are better than one, my Padawan. I’ll be joining you. Don’t leave the asteroid belt until I arrive.”

“Very well, Master,” Obi-Wan replied, and the comm clicked off. The Jedi Knight frowned, and stroked his beard contemplatively.

Anakin waded into the water of the lake almost suspiciously. It was cool, and felt strangely soft against his legs. Padmé was already swimming out in the deeper water, her hair pulled back into a simple braid. She laughed as he stepped into a dip, the water suddenly up to the middle of his thighs.

“Haven’t you ever swam before?” Padmé grinned, treading water. Anakin nodded furiously, “Of course! I’ve been on plenty of missions to water worlds.”

“I meant for fun,” Padmé stuck her tongue out, and splashed at him. The splash fell short by several yards, since Anakin was still so close to the shore, but he still pouted at her.

“No,” the Padawan admitted, taking a hesitant step to the deeper water. The water was cooler down at the sand, which puffed and settled with each step, and was surprisingly neither coarse, nor rough, nor irritating. Padmé swam towards him, standing, and reaching out to grab Anakin’s wrist, a mischievous look on her face. Anakin raised an eyebrow, and Padmé smiled at him sweetly, and then yanked.

Anakin rose out of the water with an offended sputter, wiping the rivulets of lake off of his face with a quick swipe, while Padmé giggled and leapt away.

Qui-Gon found Obi-Wan’s starfighter with ease, soon after dropping out of hyperspace. He’d not had the time to take Threepio either to Anakin Naboo or Anakin’s room at the Temple, so the protocol droid was awkwardly stowed in the space between Qui-Gon’s seat and the back of the cockpit. After only twenty minutes of travel, Threepio’s complaining had gotten so obnoxious that Qui-Gon switched the droid off. A voice at the back of his mind wondered if it was worth it to return the droid to Anakin.

Opening the comm line, Qui-Gon greeted his former Padawan, “Obi-Wan. What’s the situation?”

“Several Trade Federation ships are hiding in the asteroids,” Obi-Wan replied, voice crackling over the comm, “we can get past them to Geonosis without being noticed, and pursue Jango Fett from there.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” Qui-Gon looked out his viewport, to the Knight’s red and white starfighter.

“Try to keep as close as you safely can,” Obi-Wan warned, and then took off towards the planet.

Artoo came screaming through the open archways of the Naberrie summer home, startling both Anakin and Padmé as they came walking up the steps to the balcony.

“Artoo?” Padmé frowned, as the astromech ran into the railing with a clunk, before backing up and spinning to face the two Humans, beeping frantically. They rushed over, and Anakin knelt before the droid, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand.

“Anakin,” a hologram of Obi-Wan suddenly appeared, “my long range transmitter is knocked out. Qui-Gon is having similar luck. Retransmit this message to Coruscant.”

The holo Obi-Wan paused, and then continued, “The Trade Federation is behind the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala. The Commerce Guilds and the Corporate Alliance have pledged their armies to Count Dooku and are forming an-”

The Knight broke off, and the snap-hiss of a lightsaber being activated had Anakin’s blood running cold. The holo Obi-Wan turned to look over his shoulder, and Qui-Gon entered the picture. The sound of the clip was choppy, and Anakin strained to understand. Obi-Wan turned back, resolve set on his face, and the holo buzzed with harsh static, “ Attack ... We don’t... make it...” Anakin’s Master was cut off with a startled shout, and the hologram fizzed out.

There was a silence for a few seconds, before the Padawan leapt up, frantic.

“I have to go after them!” He shouted, wildly.

“I thought the first thing he said was to retransmit his message to Coruscant?” Padmé snapped him out of his panic, and Anakin calmed, just a bit.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a deep breath, “you’re right. You’re right.” Anakin rubbed his face with both hands, and sighed, “We better get dressed.”

They retransmitted Obi-Wan’s message from Padmé’s starship. The Councilor Anakin managed to contact happened to be Mace Windu, who watched the recording with a deep set frown.

“We will deal with Count Dooku,” Mace said, after the recording ended, “The most important thing, Anakin, is for you to stay where you are. Protect the Senator at all costs. That is your priority.”

“Understood, Master,” Anakin replied with his best I-am-obedient face, which immediately turned into a displeased pout the minute Mace disconnected.

“They’ll never make it in time to save them,” Padmé grimaced as she looked at the starmap, “From Coruscant all the way to Geonosis? That’s halfway across the galaxy. Look, we’re much closer.” She leaned forwards, and began to tap in the coordinates. Anakin reached out to stop her.

“ If they’re still alive,” he said, quietly, and Padmé whipped around, shocked.

“Ani, are you just going to sit here and let them die ?” She demanded, disbelief in her voice, “They’re your friends...”

“They’re family ,” Anakin replied, conflicted, “but you heard Master Windu. He gave me strict orders to stay here, Padmé.”

“He gave you strict orders to protect me,” Padmé corrected, and began to start up the ship, “and I’m going to rescue Masters Kenobi and Jinn, so if you plan to follow your orders, you’ll have to come along.” As she spoke, Anakin felt a grin growing. This was his clever Padmé. She had a smirk of her own spreading across her lovely face, and a twinkle in her eyes.

“Of course, milady,” Anakin nodded, and Padmé leaned back to let him at the ship’s controls.

Padmé scowled harshly at the treatment the guards afforded them, as they were thrown into a cart. They were tied to the sides, standing facing each other. The roar of a crowd echoed through the dark tunnel they found themselves in. Anakin had a contemplative expression, as he watched Padmé tug at her restraints.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, and Padmé looked at him. He could almost see the thoughts working their way through her head.

“I’m not afraid to die,” Padmé admitted, and then steeled herself, “I’ve been dying a little bit each day, since you came back into my life.”

“What do you mean?” Anakin was confused at her odd choice of words, and a little bit offended that she was implying he was killing her.

“I love you,” Padmé declared, softly, and Anakin’s eyes widened. That’s what she meant.

“You love me?” He blurted, and took a second to rein himself in, “I thought we agreed not to fall in love? There’s too much to lose.”

“We’re probably about to lose our lives , Ani.” Padmé smiled at him, but it was all wrong, “I can’t explain it, and I can hardly understand it, but I love you, truly. Maybe, we’re meant to be together. Before we die, I want you to know.”

Then, just like on Naboo, Anakin felt a magnetic pull towards Padmé. They leaned towards each other, straining against their restraints, and, just barely, could reach. Unlike on Naboo, however, Anakin was the first to pull away from their kiss.

“I feel the same way,” he said, smiling, “long or short, I vow to spend the rest of my life with you, Padmé.”

He leaned forwards again, and kissed her. They were interrupted by the cart they were tied into jerking forwards, and going through the dark tunnel to the arena.

Obi-Wan frowned as he watched his Padawan and the Senator be carted into the arena. On the pole next to him, Qui-Gon snorted.

“That boy never knows when to leave well enough alone,” the Jedi Master stated, as Anakin shot both Jedi a sheepish look. Padmé had a defiant grimace plastered on her face.

“You’re one to talk, Master,” Obi-Wan drawled, and as Qui-Gon shrugged, he continued, “I get the feeling this wasn’t all Anakin ’s idea.”

“Oh, almost certainly,” Qui-Gon agreed, watching as Padmé nearly growled at the guards chaining her to the pole.

“I was beginning to wonder if you got my message,” Obi-Wan shouted dryly to his Padawan, who had a put-out look on his face.

“I retransmitted it like you said, Master,” Anakin replied, “we came to rescue you both.”

Obi-Wan looked up at his cuffed hands, and turned his gaze back to his Padawan, “Good job.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, as the guards tugged the chain he was connected to, stretching his own arms high above his head.

“The felons before you have been convicted of espionage against the Sovereign System of Geonosis. Their sentence of death is to be carried out in this public arena henceforth.” One of the Geonosians declared from the archducal box. The crowd roared wildly, and then fell silent as a different Geonosian stood, “Let the executions begin!”

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Things quickly went South, as several monsters were driven into the arena and released. Padmé grew tired of the Jedi bickering over who would attack which, and slid a pin out of her hair, using it to unlock one of her wrist cuffs. She climbed the pole with the chain that had formerly kept her captive, and made it to the top by the time Anakin noticed she wasn’t trapped at the bottom anymore. Oh, she loved him, but he wasn’t the brightest star in the galaxy.

After a few tense moments, all hell broke loose in the form of two hundred Jedi lighting their sabers in the stands, and around a thousand battle droids flooding the arena. Anakin saw the droids marching towards him, and something unlocked in his brain.

“Clankers!” Anakin shouted to Obi-Wan, who nodded sharply, turning to locate Qui-Gon, who had acquired a lightsaber, and was working at deflecting blaster shots from Padmé, while the Senator shot at droids. Establishing that both Qui-Gon and Padmé were relatively safe, Obi-Wan turned his attention back to Anakin. The Padawan tossed him a saber, lighting up the one he borrowed, and turned to the droids.

The Team worked in tandem, cutting down clankers like it was their job. Anakin and Obi-Wan managed to clear a small portion of the arena, but slowly, they found themselves overrun. Forced backwards, they exchanged a series of looks, communicating silently. Anakin groaned, “Why haven’t droid poppers been invented yet?”

“Master Windu,” Count Dooku’s voice cut through the tense air of the arena, “You have fought gallantly. Worthy of recognition in the history archives of the Jedi Order. Now it is finished. Surrender, and your lives will be spared.”

“We will not be hostages for you to barter with,” Mace replied. Qui-Gon glared at his former Master. Dooku’s sudden resignation from the Order wasn’t all that much of a surprise to Qui-Gon, having been trained by the man. His utter betrayal of the Order, and his willingness to end Jedi lives, however, was like a cold bucket of water down Qui-Gon’s back.

“Then, I’m sorry, old friend,” Dooku said, not sounding a bit sorry, “you will have to be destroyed.”

The clankers began to raise their weapons, and Qui-Gon had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as his former Master looked over the crowd. Dooku made eye contact with his former Padawan, blinked and looked away.

“Look!” Padmé shouted, suddenly, pointing up into the sky. All of the remaining Jedi turned to stare at the incoming gunships, which began firing on the droids as soon as they were within range. Clone troopers flooded out of the gunships, and Anakin, again, felt a switch flip in his head.

“Padmé, go with Qui-Gon,” Anakin turned to the Senator, who looked at him in surprise, but nodded, taking off towards the gunship Qui-Gon boarded. He turned back to the clankers, and leapt over to where the clones were blasting the droids to bits.

“Skywalker! Kenobi!” Mace shouted from somewhere above, and Anakin turned to look up at the Councilor, startled. Then, he realized he and Obi-Wan were the last living Jedi not yet on a gunship. Turning to his Master, he nodded, and boarded the last gunship on the ground, unpainted clones loading up after him. Obi-Wan joined him moments later, and the ship took off once the last clone took a seat at the edge of the floor.

The gunship was rocked by a blast, and something caught Obi-Wan’s eye.

“ There !” He pointed to a Geonosian speeder containing Count Dooku, “Follow him!”

“Yes, sir,” the pilot complied, banking to follow the former Jedi. As they went, Obi-Wan felt an odd sensation at the back of his mind. Not quite the itch he’d gotten used to, more like a slimy, cold feeling. It was unnerving. He glanced at his Padawan, who had an expression that was similar to how Obi-Wan felt.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Obi-Wan muttered, and Anakin looked at him.

“Don’t jinx it, Master,” Anakin frowned, and fell silent as they drew towards a tower.

Finding Dooku was easier than either Jedi expected. The Count ordering his droid guards to leave him, however, felt strange. Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin.

“We’ll take him together,” Obi-Wan told his Padawan, “you move in slowly on the left, I’ll take the right.”

“Yes, Master,” Anakin agreed, and lit his saber. They moved together, advancing towards the former Jedi carefully. Obi-Wan leapt first, striking out at Dooku, and Anakin made his own move, towards Dooku’s unprotected back. Qui-Gon’s former Master parried both Jedi in one smooth movement, and then sent Anakin flying into the wall, stunning him. Obi-Wan grimaced as he felt the echo of surprised pain through the training bond, “You’ll pay for all the Jedi you slaughtered today, Dooku.”

“Kenobi, isn’t it?” Dooku gazed at the Jedi Knight imperiously, “As you can see, my Jedi powers are far beyond your own. Now, back down.”

“I’d rather not,” Obi-Wan squinted at the Count, who feigned a sigh.

“If I must ,” the former Jedi flourished his blade, and Obi-Wan held his saber up in a guarded stance. Dooku circled him, “I have spent the past ten years training in the use of the Dark Side. It gives me infinitely greater power.”

“You’ll have to prove it,” Obi-Wan replied, cheekily, as Dooku lunged at him. They parried back and forth for a bit, with Obi-Wan struggling to keep up against Dooku’s flawless Makashi. As masterful of Soresu as he was, Obi-Wan was certainly a talented duelist, but Dooku was better.

“Jedi Knight Kenobi,” Dooku sneered, “you disappoint me. My former Padawan held you in such high regard.”

“The former Padawan you were content to have executed?” Obi-Wan snapped back, just barely blocking an angry swipe.

Dooku narrowed his eyes, ignoring Obi-Wan’s comment, “Surely, you can do better?”

Obi-Wan dodged a blow, and sent a nudge to Anakin through the training bond. The Padawan stirred, rising to his feet slowly, as Obi-Wan was beaten back. Count Dooku took advantage of the Knight’s sudden distraction, and struck Obi-Wan in the shoulder and the thick, sending him down. Obi-Wan’s lightsaber skittered across the floor, out of reach. The Knight stared up at the former Jedi in shock, watching helplessly as Dooku raised his saber to strike the finishing blow. His saber was stopped by Anakin’s, the Padawan glaring at the Count.

“That’s brave of you, boy,” Dooku glared back, “but foolish . I would have thought you’d learned your lesson.”

“I’m a slow learner,” Anakin drawled, and struck out at Dooku managing to slice him on the arm. Leaping backwards, Dooku put a hand to his arm, drawing it away with a bit of blood glistening on his pale palm.

“You have unusual powers, young Padawan,” Dooku said, steel in his voice, “but not enough to save you this time.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Anakin spat back, and Obi-Wan caught his attention, tossing him his lightsaber with the Force. Activating his Master’s saber, Anakin squared up against Dooku, a saber in each hand. The fight was quick and dirty from there, Anakin doing his best to match up to Dooku, but still being driven back. Dooku sliced one saber in half, and then, quickly, took off Anakin’s right arm, just above the elbow.

“ Anakin !” Obi-Wan shouted, as his Padawan came flying towards him, shock radiating off of him.

And just like that, the Clone Wars had begun. The Jedi Temple was a mess of activity, though Obi-Wan spent most of the following week in the med center, of all places. Normally, he would've avoided the place like the plague, after getting his own wounds hastily treated. He had no choice, now.

Beside him, Qui-Gon and Padmé sat, each in a chair of their own, next to Anakin’s hospital bed. He was unconscious, fresh out of his second surgery. The first had been to prep the wound for cybernetic attachment, finding and marking nerves, debriding cauterized flesh, and closing veins and arteries properly. This second surgery had been to attach the actual cybernetic itself, connecting nerves to wires, anchoring the metal to the bone, and installing the gold and black metal skeleton that now comprised Anakin’s right arm.

“My Master did this,” Qui-Gon muttered, for the thousandth time. Obi-Wan reached out to lay a comforting hand on his former Master’s shoulder, but a commotion outside the room stopped him.

“Skyguy!” Ahsoka burst through the door, several Healers on her heels, and upon seeing her future Master prone and unconscious on the cot, “Oh, no, what happened?”

“He lost his arm in a duel against Count Dooku,” Padmé said, quietly, and Ahsoka deflated. One of the Healers moved as if to remove Ahsoka from the room, but Obi-Wan beckoned her towards him, closer to the head of Anakin’s bed. She came instantly, her blue eyes shining with worry.

“I have some news, for all of you,” Obi-Wan said, once the Healers left. The three other awake occupants of the room turned to him, curious. The Jedi Knight continued, “The Council considered the Battle on Geonosis Anakin’s Trials. He’s to be Knighted, once he awakens.”

“Really?” Ahsoka said, at the same time as Padmé.

“That’s not all,” Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes at his former Padawan, who grimaced.

“A Council member was killed on Geonosis,” Obi-Wan said, slowly, “I have been asked to take the empty chair.”

“That’s wonderful?” Ahsoka asked enthusiastically, and Obi-Wan frowned.

“I don’t know about that,” the Knight replied, “it’s certainly not unexpected.”

“Did you take the seat?” Qui-Gon inquired, and his former Padawan nodded tiredly. Silence fell back over the room, as Anakin began to stir.

Chapter Text

“General Skywalker, sir, are you alright?” Rex’s voice was barely audible over the ringing in Anakin’s ears. The artillery that had gone off in front of him had only given the Jedi enough warning to throw his troopers back with the Force, and attempt to leap out of harm’s way himself. He was still too close, the blast had disoriented him, dazzling his eyes and nearly rupturing his eardrums. As it was, his sense of balance was gone. He felt a liquid dripping down his face and into his eyes, and shut them tightly.

“I’m fine, Rex,” Anakin stood slowly, feeling the ground rolling under his feet, turning to where he heard his clone Captain’s voice, “what’s on my face?”

Rex spat something probably foul in Mando’a, and called for Kix. Anakin also heard Ahsoka’s voice, though he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying.

“ Snips ? Where’d you come from?” Anakin fought the urge to open his eyes and look around. He had no idea what was on his face.

“ Master !” was the only thing Anakin could understand, and someone came up to him, forcing him to take a seat on the ground.

“No, I’m fine , I just need a towel,” Anakin protested, and felt someone wiping the stuff off of his face. The someone, probably Kix, was saying something, but Anakin couldn’t quite understand, “What? Speak up.”

“You’re bleeding, sir,” Kix repeated himself, “shrapnel cut your face.”

He felt Ahsoka’s amusement at the spike of panic that rose up in him.

“Your face is fine, Skyguy, just a little cut,” Ahsoka snorted, and Anakin pouted in what he assumed was her direction. The sounds of blaster fire slowly filtered back in, as Kix poured water over Anakin’s face without warning. Suddenly, Anakin could feel the cut they were talking about. It stung badly.

“I’m fresh out of bacta,” Kix said, “here, hold this on it for now.”

The medic handed him a rough cloth, and Anakin complied, pressing it over his right eye tightly. He opened his other eye, and found himself in the middle of a battle. Of course, the fight hadn’t abruptly ended when the bomb went off, but it had certainly sounded like it. Looking around, Anakin saw Ahsoka nearby, deflecting blaster shots with her green saber.

“General,” Kix brought Anakin’s attention back to him, “I’m calling a medivac.”

“What? No, Kix, I’m fine ,” Anakin frowned, “go check on your brothers. We have a battle to win.”

“ Sir ,” Kix sounded like he wanted to strangle the Jedi before him, “you need bacta. I can’t give you the treatment you need in the field, and I need another shipment of supplies out here. I’m calling the medivac.”

Anakin found he didn’t have much of a choice. He tried to stand and get back into the action, but his balance was still significantly off. The world spun around him, and Kix jumped to his feet with a curse, reaching out to steady his General.

“ Fine .” Anakin groused, as Kix dragged him towards a pile of destroyed droids, leaving him behind the stack of metal.

“Stay here until the medivac arrives, sir,” Kix ordered, “or I’ll tell General Kenobi.”

“I can hardly stand , Kix, you don’t need to do that,” Anakin pouted, and the clone shook his head, before heading back into the fray.

Anakin waited for what seemed like eons, before the medivac showed up. A trooper Anakin didn’t recognize ran over to him, and helped him stand.

“General Skywalker,” the trooper greeted, as Anakin took a look around. There was simply carnage as far as his eye could see, through the rubble. Clones and droids littered the ground, and in the distance, he could see stray blaster fire.

“How long’s it been since the medivac was called in?” Anakin asked, confused. The trooper began leading him towards the medivac shuttle.

“It’s been four hours standard, sir,” the trooper said, and Anakin’s eye widened.

“ Four hours?” The Jedi repeated, jostling the bloodied towel over his other eye as he stumbled over a bit of uneven ground, and giving a little hiss of pain as the cloth tugged at his wound. The trooper slowed his pace, as they neared the shuttle.

“Yes, sir. The dogfight was a bit too thick to maneuver through until just a few moments ago,” the trooper explained, and helped Anakin up the ramp and into the hold, where a handful troopers in various states of wellbeing sat, or, in a few cases, lay. The clone stopped in front of an empty seat, and waited for Anakin to take a seat, before breaking out the disinfectant and the bacta patches, “Let’s see it, then.”

Anakin removed the cloth from his face with a grunt, feeling the fabric sticking to the raw flesh of his cut, before peeling away uncomfortably. The trooper whistled at the sight, and immediately set to work disinfecting the cut, and pasting bacta patches all over it.

“If the shrapnel that got you was a few millimeters closer, you’d’ve lost the eye,” the trooper said, as he turned to retrieve a hypospray, and injected it into Anakin’s neck without warning.

“ Sithspit ,” Anakin hissed, slapping a hand over the injection site. One of the 501st, Jesse, as Anakin recalled, looked up in surprise.

“Sir?” Jesse asked, and Anakin winced.

“Sorry, sorry, pretend you didn’t hear that,” Anakin said, quickly, and Jesse shook his head.

“No, sir, it’s just,” he paused, searching for the words, “I never thought I’d hear you say something like that.”

“I just really hate hyposprays,” Anakin admitted, “and surprises. ”

“Don’t we all, sir,” the trooper that had stuck Anakin said cheerfully, and walked over to one of the other troopers, who was laying on a cot, various pieces of armor removed to reveal blaster burns.

After the 501st returned to the Resolute, victorious against the Separatists, Anakin found himself abruptly cornered in his and Ahsoka’s shared quarters by his Padawan.

“Is it gonna scar?” Ahsoka asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. Anakin shrugged.

“Probably. Bacta’s good , but it’s not magic.” The Knight said, “How’d your first battle leading the troops by yourself go, Snips?”

Ahsoka smiled humbly, “I just did what you always do. Actually, Rex did most of the actual work, I was just there to yell stuff and cut down clankers.”

“Well, we won,” Anakin lay a proud hand on her shoulder, “I’m proud of you, Ahsoka. You did well.”

“Thanks, Skyguy,” Ahsoka grinned, and then her expression turned thoughtful, “I wonder what Obi-Wan’s gonna say when he sees your face?”

Anakin immediately groaned, and covered his face with both hands, “Stars, the lecture I’m gonna get... I can hear it now... Anakin, don’t be stupid. Anakin, don’t be reckless. Anakin, don’t do anything.”

Ahsoka moved further into the room to take a seat on one of the uncomfortable couches, “He just worries about you, like you worry about me.”

“Trust me, Snips, I know,” Anakin gave her a forlorn look from across the room, “it’s not like I ask to be a danger magnet! I just have bad luck.” The second those last words left his mouth, he pursed his lips, and glared at her. Ahsoka fought back a grin, as she said, “There’s no such thing as luck.”

“Don’t you start,” Anakin threw his hands up, and Ahsoka laughed.

As they began the journey back to Coruscant, Anakin received word that both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan would be on planet as well from Padmé, who insisted on inviting both men over for dinner. Anakin agreed, immediately. It’d be the first time he saw them in weeks, having been sent to aid planets on opposite sides of the galaxy from them. While Obi-Wan accepted his new rank as a High Jedi General with relative ease, since the title felt familiar for some reason relating to the vision, Qui-Gon had starkly refused to have any part with what the Order was becoming. He didn’t resign from the Order, and though he threatened to do so, he probably never would. He did, however, refuse to accept a military rank, and stated he would go on diplomatic missions only, spending the rest of his time teaching Youngling classes, or tending to the Gardens. He hadn’t waited for the Council’s approval before storming out, and hiding in the Temple Gardens. Obi-Wan eventually found him, surrounded by Younglings, and told him his request had been approved.

For Ahsoka, Padmé’s apartment was like her second home. Whenever they were on Coruscant, Anakin tended to spend most of his time with Padmé, when he could get away from the Temple, and Ahsoka would often follow him. She was almost never on planet at the same time as Barriss or her other friends, and spending time with the Senator was better than spending it with whichever Clan was in the Gardens at the same time she was. Anakin and Ahsoka still spent a fair bit of time in the Temple, training together, sparring, or meditating. Every so often, Anakin would pass her off to Qui-Gon, or Obi-Wan to take her out on a mission with them. Anakin said it was so Ahsoka could learn something from a more experienced Jedi, but she had a feeling he just wanted to spend some time with his wife without her snooping around. Not that she blamed him, he rarely got a moment alone with her when Barriss was off with her Master.

Walking into the front room of Padmé’s apartment was one of Ahsoka’s favorite things after returning from a mission. It was definitely Anakin’s number one, however. The minute he stepped inside, he practically ran through the room to his wife, who was walking out of her room.

“Ani!” Padmé grinned, immediately spreading her arms for a hug. Anakin picked her up, and spun her around, a pleased look on his face, and set her down, giving her a quick peck on the lips. Ahsoka wandered off into the kitchen to grab a snack, while eavesdropping on their conversation.

“ Ani ?” Padmé said again, this time in shock, as she reached up to touch her husband’s face. Anakin averted his eyes as she traced the angry red line across the side of his right eye, just barely missing the eye itself, “What happened?”

“Not much,” Anakin said, shrugging, and then grimaced as Ahsoka shouted from the next room, “A bomb exploded in front of him!”

Padmé frowned, “Did you get hit anywhere else?”

“No, just my face,” Anakin replied, “so, is it true?”

“What?” Padmé raised an eyebrow, and Anakin fought back a cheeky grin.

“That chicks dig scars?” He bit his lip to keep from snorting, as Padmé rolled her eyes. From the kitchen, Ahsoka was wheezing with laughter.

“Honestly, Ani,” Padmé patted him on the cheek, and then smiled, “it certainly doesn’t look bad . I just wish you didn’t get hurt.”

“I know , Angel,” Anakin removed his arms from around the Senator, and rubbed the back of his neck, “I just have bad luck.”

“There’s no such thing-” Ahsoka began, now from the archway to the kitchen, and Anakin cut her off with a glare.

“When are Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon going to get here?” Anakin turned his attention back to Padmé, who opened her mouth, closed it, and ran off to grab her datapad.

“They should both be here in a standard hour,” Padmé read from the screen, and then looked up, “Anakin, would you and Ahsoka like to help me prepare dinner?”

“I’d love to,” Ahsoka smiled, leaning against the doorway. Anakin rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He wasn’t the best at cooking, but he had to survive somehow as Obi-Wan’s Padawan. The man had no sense of flavor, neither did Qui-Gon, for that matter. And while Anakin wasn’t picky, he’d rather eat something that didn’t taste like dust and glue. Obi-Wan held no complaints, as Anakin’s cooking was better than the stuff they served in the cafeteria. They still tended to frequent the cafeteria, when they were freshly back from a mission, or Anakin didn’t feel like cooking.

“What are you thinking of having?” The Knight asked, and Padmé shrugged noncommittally, turning to walk past both Jedi into the kitchen. The Senator peered into her refrigerator, and frowned.

“I don’t have much... Anakin, what do you think?” Padmé said over her shoulder, and Anakin stepped up behind her to look. There were a few types of vegetables, and a package of shaak steaks. Gently pushing Padmé out of the way, Anakin grabbed a few of the vegetables and the steaks, and set them on the counter.

“I can make soup?” Anakin suggested, while Ahsoka went to grab a cutting board and a few knives. Padmé considered the things Anakin chose, and then nodded.

“I trust you,” Padmé closed the refrigerator, and turned to Anakin, “what should I do?”

“Can you wash the vegetables?” Anakin asked, and his wife nodded.

Anakin ended up doing all of the prep and the cooking. Ahsoka would chop something up every once in a while, but she spent most of her time sneaking bites from the cutting board, and listening to Padmé’s Senate gossip. The soup Anakin made tasted similar to his mom’s specialty, Tatooine Slop, as she called it. To Anakin, it was a comforting, familiar taste. Spicy, salty, and brothy. Ahsoka tasted the soup, and her eye markings rose.

“What’s in that?” She asked, surprised. She’d never had something like that, before. It’d been a bit since she last tasted her Master’s cooking, and that time, it was just some fried vegetables.

Anakin grinned, “The most important ingredient, Snips.”

“Which is...?” Ahsoka glanced at Padmé, who looked equally confused.

“Love.” Anakin crossed his arms, proudly, and Ahsoka fought back a startled laugh.

“The most important ingredient is love ?” She said, skeptically.

“Of course, why do you think the cafeteria food always tastes so sad?” Anakin replied, like it made all the sense in the world. Padmé leaned over to taste the soup.

“You know,” she said, as she considered the flavor, “this reminds me of the soup your mother served us, all those years ago.”

“Well,” Anakin looked shy for a moment, “it basically is. You had Tatooine spices in the cupboard.”

It was Padmé’s turn to look shy, “I figured you might like to cook some food from your childhood, one day. And if your mother ever gets the chance to visit, you two can cook together.”

Anakin smiled wide, his eyes shining. Ahsoka slowly edged out of the kitchen, to set the table before Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon arrived. Her Master and the Senator were in a world of their own, at this point. The Padawan smiled to herself, as she worked.

Anakin had sworn them all to secrecy, when he told them about his and Padmé’s relationship. The Jedi part of Ahsoka had recoiled slightly, in confusion, at the news that her Jedi Master was willingly breaking the Code. The rest of her, however, was curious, and happy for who she considered her older brother, and one of her closest friends.

She snorted quietly as she remembered the scene. Anakin had sat them all down in his and Ahsoka’s brand new shared rooms, wringing his hands nervously the whole time.

“Um,” he’d said, “so. I have something I need to share with all of you... but first, you can’t tell anyone .”

“ Anakin ,” Obi-Wan had said, in that voice, the I-know-what-you’ve-done voice, “what did you do?”

“Did you kill someone?” Ahsoka’d asked, jokingly. Anakin glared at her, pouting just a bit, while Qui-Gon didn’t even bother to hide an amused smirk.

“No, but do you all promise not to tattle?” The Jedi Knight looked imploringly at each of them. Obi-Wan stared back at Anakin, before he opened his mouth, closed it for a moment, and spoke.

“You’ve really gone and done it, haven’t you?” The new Jedi Master ran a hand down his face, and Ahsoka felt the hot spike of embarrassment through her fresh training bond from Anakin. He crossed his arms, and then nodded.

“Care to fill the rest of us in, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon spoke to his former Padawan with a raised eyebrow.

“The Senator,” Obi-Wan had clarified, and Qui-Gon’s other eyebrow shot up.

“Ani, that’s not exactly the kind of thing you need to share,” the elderly Jedi had said, and horror erupted on both Obi-Wan and Anakin’s faces, “you’re a young, healthy man, so that’s perfectly normal, but-”

“ No ! Not like that!” Anakin waved his hands frantically as he cut his Grandmaster off, and Ahsoka instantly understood what Qui-Gon had been implying. Her eyes widened, and Anakin shot her Great-Grandmaster a dirty look.

“Sweet Force , Master,” Obi-Wan said to Qui-Gon, scandalized, “that’s not what I meant at all .”

“Padmé and I got married on Naboo,” Anakin had said, quickly, and Qui-Gon smirked.

“So, if my understanding of Naboo marriage rituals is valid, my original assumption is still correct?” The Jedi Master was clearly trying not to burst out laughing, as the three younger Jedi stared at him in horrified embarrassment. Ahsoka was torn between wanting to laugh, and wanting to scoop her brain out with her lightsaber, and then paused, as her thoughts caught up with what Anakin had announced.

“Wait, you married Senator Amidala?” Ahsoka had turned back to her Master, who nodded. She turned to Obi-Wan, who just looked frustrated, and Qui-Gon, who looked amused. According to everything she’d ever been taught, Anakin being married and a Jedi at the same time was impossible, unless the Council had given its express permission for him to marry, like with Master Mundi. Judging by Obi-Wan not knowing, up until this point, Ahsoka knew he didn’t ask the Council first. But, there he was, sitting next to her on the couch in their shared quarters, lightsaber at his hip, hair just barely beginning to grow out from its short Padawan crop, in Jedi robes.

“How long?” Obi-Wan had asked, tiredly, and Anakin played with the joints on his metallic hand absently.

“Two weeks today?” Anakin had said, like it was a question. Obi-Wan sighed.

“What’re you laughing about, Snips?” Anakin interrupted Ahsoka’s reminiscing, carrying the large pot of Tatooine Slop into the dining room.

“When you told us about you and Padmé,” Ahsoka replied, grinning cheekily. Padmé made an inquisitive noise as she followed Anakin into the room, holding a bowl full of sliced bread. Anakin’s face turned bright red, instantly.

As Ahsoka was about to explain to Padmé, there was a polite knock at the front door. Anakin set the pot down on the table, and practically leapt out of the dining room to answer the door.

“Master! Qui-Gon!” Anakin greeted the two Jedi enthusiastically, pulling both men into a tight hug. Ahsoka sprinted out of the dining room to join them, throwing her arms around Anakin and Obi-Wan’s backs, and patting what she could reach of Qui-Gon’s arm in greeting.

“Ani, Ahsoka,” Qui-Gon smiled at them, and then, as Padmé entered the main room, “milady, how are you?”

“Well, and you?” Padmé adjusted her skirt, before joining the group hug.

“I’m also well.” Qui-Gon replied, and was about to continue, before Obi-Wan’s horrified gasp interrupted him. The group hug ended quickly, with Anakin being held at arm’s length from Obi-Wan, a hand on each shoulder.

“What happened ?” Obi-Wan demanded, and as Anakin tried to turn his head away, the Councilor stopped him, gently but firmly grabbing his face with both hands.

“ Nothing , I’m fine,” Anakin said, shooting Ahsoka a look . The Togruta ignored it.

“A bomb went off and shrapnel hit him.” Ahsoka said, the second time that night. Obi-Wan grimaced as he released his former Padawan.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, out loud, and then sent a request through the training bond, asking for permission to view the memory. Anakin allowed him, reluctantly, though it didn’t take much prompting. As soon as the memory of the artillery going off and Anakin learning what happened ended, Obi-Wan withdrew with a thin-lipped frown, not disappointed or upset towards Anakin for his actions, but unhappy that his former Padawan had been injured in the process. There was silence for a moment, before Padmé clapped her hands together.

“Dinner’s ready. Anakin cooked,” the Senator announced, and gestured for the Jedi to follow her back to the dining room. The mood changed to become lighter again, though as Ahsoka and Qui-Gon followed Padmé, Anakin and Obi-Wan hung back.

“What’s wrong, Master?” Anakin looked at the Councilor with worry, as the man ran a hand over his beard in thought.

“You did well, getting the troops out of danger,” Obi-Wan began, and paused, making sure Anakin understood, “I just worry about you, Padawan.”

“I know, Master,” Anakin replied, pouting, and Obi-Wan cracked a smile.

“Let’s go enjoy dinner, shall we?” He said, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Anakin grinned despite himself, and the two entered the dining room together.

Dinner went about the same as it always did, with Ahsoka grilling Obi-Wan for Council gossip, Qui-Gon telling grand stories of misadventures in the crèche, and Anakin and Padmé being gross and in love. There was one difference, unfortunately. Halfway through the meal, Obi-Wan had to step out to answer his comm. Anakin withdrew from the conversation, as he watched the silhouette of his former Master pace on the balcony. Ahsoka briefly paused in her retelling of how her and Anakin’s most recent battle went to send an inquiry over the bond to her Master, and waited for him to respond that he was alright before she continued.

Qui-Gon also seemed apprehensive, his attention divided between the spikes of frustration coming from his bond with Obi-Wan, and the story Ahsoka was telling. Padmé, as Force-null as she was, could tell something wasn’t quite right. Having spent enough time with Force users since Anakin had told the three Jedi, she had gotten the hang of being able to tell when they were having mental conversations. Out on the balcony, Obi-Wan’s pacing stopped. He lowered his wrist, and came back inside, looking only slightly ruffled.

“What’s wrong?” Qui-Gon asked his former Padawan, who sighed, running a hand over his ginger hair.

“The Council expects you and Ahsoka at the Temple in the morning, for crèche duties and studying in the Archives, respectively,” Obi-Wan said to his former Master, who raised an eyebrow at the orders. Ahsoka herself crossed her arms in confusion. The Councilor turned his tired gaze to Anakin, “We’re expected in the Christophsis system.”

Anakin’s eyebrows drew together, stretching the skin of his fresh scar uncomfortably. Padmé lay a hand on his shoulder, a frown painted on her delicate features.

“When?” Anakin asked, sitting back in his chair, “And why is Ahsoka stuck in the Archives?”

“The Council believes we alone are the best options for this operation,” Obi-Wan replied, “our shuttle leaves at dawn, tomorrow.”

Qui-Gon declined the offer to spend the night, politely backing out of the door before Padmé or Anakin could convince him otherwise. Obi-Wan, for once, accepted without argument.

“Really?” Anakin’s eyebrows rose. Usually, it took a lot more needling and begging to convince the Councilor to stay the night on one of the bed-like couches in Padmé’s front room.

“We need to be at the Temple docking bay at dawn, Anakin,” Obi-Wan shrugged, “we may as well arrive together.”

Since Padmé’s residence in Coruscant had become more permanent, her handmaidens had mostly gotten apartments of their own, close by, but separate from their mistress’s. The leftover room which Dormé had occupied became Ahsoka’s.

As the night grew later, Anakin and Padmé went back to their room to sleep, after giving Obi-Wan a blanket and a few pillows to make the couch more comfortable. The two Jedi had conversed silently for a moment, before Anakin turned to Padmé, an uneasy expression on his face. Obi-Wan bid them both goodnight, and began to prepare himself for bed. Ahsoka had leaned out of her room’s doorway, to wish them all goodnight as well, before disappearing back inside and shutting the door. The Senator began to take her hair down of its elaborate style the moment Anakin shut the door behind them, setting the hairpiece on her vanity, before lifting her hair and leaning her head forwards, so Anakin could reach the zipper on her dress.

“Are you going to be alright?” Padmé asked, quietly, as Anakin helped her out of her ornate gown, unzipping the back and helping her peel herself out of the various layers. Slipping out of the heavy fabric, she walked over to the dresser which held her sleep clothes. The light of Coruscant’s nightlife fell against her bare back softly, through the haze of the curtains covering her windows. Anakin watched her silently, as she slipped a thin chiffon nightdress over her bare body, the light from outside showing her slender form through the shapeless fabric. Without Obi-Wan and Ahsoka both in the house, he’d of been all over her the moment the door closed.

“Yeah,” Anakin replied, his mouth dry, and Padmé turned back to him, a thoughtful look on her face. She crossed to room to the refresher, to wash off her makeup. Anakin set about removing his own clothes, digging through Padmé’s dresser to locate his sleep pants. While Padmé washed her face, Anakin went around the room, picking up discarded clothing and folding them, stacking them on top of his wife’s dresser. His own clothes, he set by the foot of their bed, his lightsaber and commlink both on top of the stack, gleaming in the relative darkness of their bedroom. The tap shut off, and Padmé returned, face glistening from the products she used. Anakin ran a hand over his hair, which, as he began growing it out, he was surprised to learn had a wavy texture. As a child, his hair had been stick straight, and it was just spiky while he was a Padawan. It was currently just a bit dirty. He’d wash when he woke up, he decided, as Padmé walked over to him, putting her arms around his neck.

“Ani,” Padmé whispered, “promise to wake me before you leave. I want to say goodbye properly this time.”

The Jedi remembered the last time, when he’d had to leave abruptly in the middle of the night, and had called Padmé from the shipyard. He winced, and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers, “I will, Angel. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You better be,” Padmé tangled her hands into his hair, “we’ll have to make sure we have the house to ourselves when you return.”

Anakin blushed, while Padmé laughed, leaning her head backwards to kiss her husband. It was sweet and short, as both were too tired for anything more rigorous, and very aware of the company that slept only a few thin walls away. Padmé leaned into Anakin’s chest, tucking her head under his chin, “Let’s sleep, Ani.”

Dawn came all too soon, and Anakin nearly sprinted to the fresher to get a shower in before he had to leave. Padmé slipped on a silken robe, and walked out to the kitchen to start a small breakfast. Obi-Wan was awake and dressed, sitting at the table reading a datapad with a furrow in his brow.

“Goodmorning,” Padmé greeted him, and Obi-Wan looked up in surprise as she headed straight for the kettle, putting it on to boil, before starting to take down ingredients for a simple porridge, “would you like some breakfast?”

“I’m alright, I can eat some rations during the flight,” Obi-Wan shook his head, and Padmé shot him a look over her shoulder.

“Well, if I’m already cooking, you might as well,” she replied, in a voice that brokered no arguments. Obi-Wan grumbled, but returned to his datapad. As the kettle began to heat, Padmé wandered over to peer over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” She asked, and Obi-Wan sighed.

“A dossier for the mission,” the Jedi explained, “Senator Organa is trapped on Christophsis by a Separatist blockade. Anakin’s to take a fleet of destroyers and lead the charge against the Separatists.”

“And you?” Padmé raised an eyebrow, heading back to the stove as the kettle began to whistle.

“I’ve been tasked with acquiring a new bit of engineering.” Obi-Wan frowned at his datapad, “I’ll be arriving in Christophsis space a little bit after Anakin.”

Padmé hummed, removing the kettle from heat and pouring a bit of hot water into four bowls she’d set out, reconstituting the porridge. She also prepared four mugs of tea, as Anakin stumbled into the kitchen, his robes undone, and his hair wet from the shower he’d just gotten out of. Obi-Wan greeted his former Padawan with a grunt, as the Knight walked over to his wife to give her a good morning kiss.

“Is Ahsoka up yet?” Anakin asked, eyeing the four bowls of porridge. Padmé handed him a mug of tea, and began moving the bowls and remaining mugs to the small kitchen table.

“Not yet,” Padmé shook her head, and Anakin nodded, grabbing some cutlery and distributing it between them. Obi-Wan set down his datapad, and turned it off.

“Thank you,” he said, to both Padmé and Anakin, and took a long drink from his mug.

“I’ll go get Ahsoka,” Padmé offered, squeezing her husband’s shoulder. She left before anyone could say anything, heading down the hallway to Ahsoka’s room.

“New orders?” Anakin asked, shaking his head and sending droplets of water flying. Obi-Wan grimaced as a few drops hit him, but explained the new plan.

“Well, it can’t be too bad if we’re not both going at the same time?” Anakin said, hopefully, taking a bite of porridge. Obi-Wan snorted, “Knowing us, it’s going to turn into a full-scale battle.”

“Don’t jinx it, Master,” Anakin groaned, as Ahsoka followed Padmé back into the kitchen. She looked chipper, and completely awake, already. Anakin envied her.

“Morning, Skyguy. Morning, Obi-Wan,” Ahsoka greeted, taking the seat across from her Master, and immediately digging into her breakfast. Coruscant’s sun began to rise, and both Anakin and Obi-Wan began shovelling the porridge into their mouths. Anakin tried to multitask, downing his tea while trying to tie his robes. Padmé ended up slapping his hand away, and tied the robes for him, and stepped back to let him put on his belts. Obi-Wan was already halfway out the front door, by the time Anakin was completely dressed.

“Sorry, bye, love you!” Anakin called to Padmé as he practically sprinted towards the front door, “Snips, be good, don’t break anything! See you!”

And then, they were gone. Padmé sat back down, next to Ahsoka. The Togruta snorted as the door closed behind them, and then turned to Padmé.

“Hey, where’s Threepio?” She asked, noticing the protocol droid’s absence. Padmé startled, and then shot to her feet, running off to wrench open a closet door. The golden droid spilled out.

“Oh, thank heavens, Miss Padmé! I thought I’d been forgotten!” Threepio waved his arms from the floor. Ahsoka burst out laughing, as Padmé knelt to help the droid stand.

“How long’s he been in there?” Ahsoka asked, while Threepio wandered off to go do whatever protocol droids did in their free time. Padmé hid her face in her hands.

“I have no idea,” the Senator admitted.

Christophsis, as far as Anakin was concerned, was one big giant trainwreck. The Galactic Republic was victorious, but he and Obi-Wan had gotten stuck on planet at one point, and Ahsoka had to be sent to aid them, and then they’d been sent on that Force-forsaken mission to rescue a Hutt, of all things. Returning to Tatooine was rough, but mostly because Anakin couldn’t quite carve out the time to visit his mother. Or, that’s what he told Ahsoka, at least. The nightmare Anakin had, the night after Qui-Gon had rescued Shmi from the Tusken Raiders, sat in the forefront of his mind the entire time on the planet. There was no escape, every time he blinked, he saw their corpses. Then, Dooku had showed up.

Whatever had happened to the former Jedi Master in the other timeline, Anakin had hated him for it. Of course, in his own current timeline, the Sith cutting his arm off and trying to kill his fellow Jedi was worthy of strong dislike in and of itself. But, something about Dooku was off. He didn’t quite feel Sith-like, not like Darth Maul had, his presence drenching Naboo in cold Darkness. Dooku felt conflicted, like his actions didn’t match his intentions. Anakin wanted to hate him, but couldn’t quite muster more than an exhaustion with the elderly Sith. Count Dooku being Anakin’s Great-Grandmaster possibly had something to do with it. The waves of sadness that rolled off of Qui-Gon any time he thought about what his Master had become were all Anakin could think of, while he dueled the Sith.

Ahsoka had questioned him, on the way back to Coruscant, on why he’d been acting so strangely while they were on Tatooine. Anakin hadn’t quite known how to answer, he’d never told Ahsoka about his and Obi-Wan’s vision, and didn’t want to. He’d have to, eventually, he knew, but not yet.

Padmé had, of course, managed to get her bit of the action. While Anakin and Ahsoka had been tracking down Rotta, the Senator had conducted an investigation on the Hutt Ziro, on Coruscant. Being her usual brilliant self, she’d uncovered the Hutt’s plot with the Separatists, and, though she was captured, she relayed a distress signal to Threepio, who contacted the Clone Guard on Coruscant.

After returning to Coruscant, Anakin disappeared to visit Padmé, while Ahsoka made a beeline for Barriss, who she saw at the far end of a corridor.

“Barriss!” Ahsoka shouted, waving her arms as she strode towards her best friend, the Mirialan Padawan turning to her in surprise. A smile soon slid across the Mirialan’s face.

“Ahsoka, it’s wonderful to see you,” she greeted her friend with a hug, and Ahsoka sighed into her friend’s shoulder.

“I’m so tired, the Council has us running ourselves ragged,” Ahsoka whined, and Barriss tried to hide a frown of agreement. Ahsoka smirked, and gently punched her friend on the arm, drawing a snort from the Mirialan.

“My Master and I just returned from a diplomatic mission,” Barriss fiddled with her headdress, adjusting the cloth. Ahsoka nodded, and crossed her arms, a proud smirk working its way across her face.

“Skyguy and I rescued a Huttlet.” She stated, “And we fought Count Dooku! And lived! Oh, and just wait until I tell you about-”

Barriss’s face soured for a moment, just like Qui-Gon’s did any time someone mentioned the former Jedi Master. Ahsoka snapped her mouth shut, blinked, and the expression was replaced with the usual pleasant openness that the Mirialan wore.

“Are you okay?” Ahsoka asked, and Barriss nodded.

“I’m just tired...” Barriss trailed off, “would you like to join me in the Gardens for meditation?”

“Sure!” Ahsoka nodded, making a mental note to try and talk to Barriss again, later.

Qui-Gon looked up from his tea as he heard a knock on his door, reaching out with the Force to identify his visitor, before standing and going to greet them.

Ahsoka grinned, “Master Qui-Gon, how are you?”

“Well, Ahsoka. And you?” Qui-Gon replied, stepping aside to invite the Padawan inside.

“I’m good.” The Togruta shrugged, heading straight for the couch. Qui-Gon’s lips quirked up, as she threw herself onto the broken-down cushions with a dramatic sigh.

“How is your Master?” Qui-Gon returned to his seat, picking his cup of tea back up. Ahsoka closed her eyes, her eye markings lowering.

“Something about being on Tatooine threw him off,” Ahsoka noted, “he wouldn’t tell me. I feel like he’s keeping secrets... I mean, of course he is, I keep secrets from him, too, but...”

Qui-Gon hummed, and Ahsoka looked at him, a bit like a lost puppy.

“Whatever his reasons are, for keeping things from you, he means well.” Qui-Gon pointed out, and Ahsoka nodded furiously.

“I know! Skyguy always tries so hard to protect me... I’m a Padawan now, not an Initiate. I appreciate it, and I know he only does it because he cares about me,” Ahsoka insisted, and crossed her arms over her face, “I feel like he knows something really important ...”

Qui-Gon sipped his tea, “It’s really Anakin and Obi-Wan’s story to tell,” he began, and Ahsoka sat up on the couch, intrigued, “but, when Anakin and Obi-Wan first met, they both shared a very powerful Force vision. They insisted they knew each other, and that Obi-Wan, who was still a Padawan at the time, was going to be Anakin’s Jedi Master.”

“Really?” Ahsoka’s eyes widened, and Qui-Gon nodded.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed Obi-Wan’s visions, and Anakin’s prophetic dreams,” the Jedi Master continued, and Ahsoka nodded, understanding.

“So, maybe Anakin saw something?” Ahsoka said, slowly.

“It’s possible. Next time you see him, you might try asking,” Qui-Gon suggested, and Ahsoka sighed dramatically.

“He always tells me he’s fine, even when I can tell he isn’t,” the Padawan frowned, frustrated. Qui-Gon smiled sadly.

Obi-Wan stepped out of Bail’s office with a tired huff. He’d spent the greater part of his time since returning to Coruscant ironing out issues concerning the Battle of Christophsis with the Alderaanian Senator, and was ready to return to his rooms at the Temple. He wasn’t ready for what he found, when he opened his front door.

Anakin, looking rough and exhausted, paced back and forth across the floor, in familiar patterns. The Force around him was filled with anxiety and unease. On any other occasion, Obi-Wan would’ve made a comment on how Anakin didn’t quite live with him anymore, and probably shouldn’t have the new keycode, but not today.

“Master,” Anakin turned to Obi-Wan the instant he realized the other man was there, “something’s not right about Dooku.”

“How so?” Obi-Wan inquired, stepping into his living space, and heading straight for the kettle. He’d need tea, to get through this.

“He doesn’t feel like a Sith,” Anakin explained, “on Tatooine, I fought him, and he doesn’t... He isn’t totally committed to his Sith Master.”

“He was willing to kill Qui-Gon, on Geonosis,” Obi-Wan countered, uneasy. Anakin stopped pacing, and began fiddling with the silver clasps of his glove.

“I just. I have a feeling.” Anakin shrugged, “But, besides that... Ahsoka keeps asking me about the vision.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose in surprise, “Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know,” the Jedi Knight bit his lip, “I... told Padmé. The entire Jedi Council knows. Qui-Gon, too... I don’t want to tell her, but at the same time, she deserves to know.”

Obi-Wan was silent, as Anakin ran his cybernetic hand through his hair.

“It’s stupid, but I’m worried that she won’t want me to be her Master, anymore, if she knows what I’ve done.” Anakin admitted, quietly. Obi-Wan frowned in sympathy, and walked forwards to lay a comforting hand on his former Padawan’s shoulder.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, softly, “ you haven’t done anything .”

Anakin lowered his head, his hair falling over his eyes. Technically, Obi-Wan’s words were true, it was his alternate self that had committed those sins against the Force. But, he was the one living with massacres behind his eyes. His dreams had grown more frequent, since the commencement of the Clone Wars, or, as Anakin thought of them when he was alone, the Slave Wars. The fact the clones were never given a choice to exist outside of being cannon fodder for the Republic, for the Jedi, wore on him like sand against the surface of Tatooine. They were slaves to the Republic, as Slick had said. The trooper had defected, betrayed the Republic, endangered his own brothers, but... Anakin couldn’t find anything to hold against the clone. The worst was that most of the clones didn’t even think of themselves as slaves. They thought they had a purpose to fulfill, and there was nothing else to life besides being sacrifices to a war.

Anakin ran his hands over his face. It seemed that every time he slept, another vision assaulted him with images of bloodshed and the Dark side. It was wearing thin on his nerves, and he was jumping at shadows. It was too easy to forget that he wasn’t his alternate self, forever a slave, to Watto, to the Jedi, to the Sith. And in his waking hours, he was tormented by the reality of what he was doing for the sake of the galaxy. Jedi General Anakin Skywalker, implicit slave master to an entire legion of clone troopers.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said again, and drew the Knight to his chest in a warm hug, “it’ll be alright. Ahsoka loves you. She rejected a Knight who wanted to be her Master, because she was waiting for you to be Knighted.”

Anakin took a shaky breath, as he remembered that particular occasion. The Council hadn’t been very happy about that. But, the nagging voice at the back of his mind refused to leave him alone. “Can you be there? When I tell her?” About the vision, Anakin added mentally, the rest had to wait.

“Of course , Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied, reaching up to smooth down Anakin’s hair, like he’d done ever since Anakin was nine years old, fresh from Tatooine. Obi-Wan felt his heart cracking, as Anakin muffled a soft sob in his shoulder. The young Jedi had been fighting horrific visions of another future for most of his life. It was easier for Obi-Wan to comfort his former Padawan when the boy was younger, and the visions were less intense, more vague. Quelling obscure fears of death and destruction was more simple than dispelling vivid scenes of murdering an entire village of Tusken Raiders. Anakin wore his other self’s mistakes close to his heart, and it killed Obi-Wan to watch his boy doubt himself so heavily. At times, Anakin walked through life like a condemned man, waiting for the axe to fall. If he could, Obi-Wan would lift that burden from his former Padawan’s shoulders in a heartbeat, even if it became his cross to bear.

Ahsoka found herself sitting on the couch of her and Anakin’s quarters, her Master and Grandmaster sitting across from her. Obi-Wan was serene, legs crossed, and one arm thrown over the back of the couch. Anakin was his usual self, projecting an aura of easy confidence.

“You keep asking me about the vision, Snips, so I figured it’s about time I tell you,” Anakin said, doing a good job at masking the anxiety eating away from within his ribcage, like a starved rancor, “so, here’s the story.”

He spoke, his mask slowly chipping away to reveal the nervous wreck he was. He told her about the soul-crushing guilt, the hatred, the anger, the Darkness within him, the Tusken massacre. He told her about the love, the pride, the fierce need to protect. He told her about the emptiness, the void in his chest that had opened at some point, and devoured everything that fell into it’s maw. He told her about the visions.

“So... you see things from another timeline, another version of you?” Ahsoka summarized, and Anakin nodded, refusing to make eye contact with his Padawan. He was almost afraid of what he’d see, if he did look. Every fiber in his body told him he’d be met with rejection. Next to him, Obi-Wan shifted to rest a hand on his shoulder, silently asking if he was alright. Anakin took a deep breath, and looked up.

Ahsoka was watching him with sad eyes, “I’m so sorry, Master. I... I knew your dreams were bad, but I never...”

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” Anakin shrugged, and Ahsoka frowned.

“I wish you didn’t have to see all those things you aren’t even going to do,” the Padawan declared, “it’s not fair.”

Obi-Wan gave her a small, sympathetic smile, while Anakin looked away. Ahsoka leaned back into the couch, and crossed her arms.

“The Force is showing me for a reason,” Anakin said, quietly, “no matter how low, there’s still a chance I might do those things.”

Ahsoka’s eye markings furrowed, “You could do anything , Skyguy. But you won’t.”

“How do you know?” The Knight replied, his voice sounding as small as he felt.

“Well, if you haven’t done anything up until this point, why would you?” Ahsoka said, like it was the simplest thing in the galaxy.

Chapter Text

“Anakin, my boy,” Chancellor Palpatine stood from his desk and clasped his hands in front of him as Anakin walked into the office. The old man had a kind smile on his face, and Anakin smiled politely back.

“Good evening, Chancellor,” Anakin greeted, “how are you?”

“I’m well, Anakin. How are you doing? It’s been such a long time since we’ve last been able to talk.” The Chancellor inquired, motioning for the Jedi to take a seat. Anakin complied, while Palpatine moved back behind his desk, sitting back down.

“I’m alright, this war is just draining me,” Anakin sighed. He’d been avoiding meeting with the Chancellor, for reasons he wasn’t quite sure of. Some voice at the back of his head told him not to trust the man, but whenever he was actually around the politician, he found he couldn’t quite help himself. He’d told Palpatine many things, things only Obi-Wan knew, and some even he didn’t. The Chancellor always offered advice, and when he didn’t have any, he simply listened and offered support. Obi-Wan and Anakin shared almost everything with each other, but there were some things Anakin just didn’t want his former Master to know.

“The war is draining us all, my boy,” the Chancellor agreed, his smile becoming tired, “I can only imagine how it must be, fighting on the front lines. You’re doing the Republic a great service, Anakin.”

“I do my duty, Chancellor,” Anakin replied uncomfortably, and Palpatine steepled his fingers on his desk, nodding.

“How are things with the Council ?” The Chancellor leaned forwards, curiosity shining in his eyes. Anakin held back a groan. For some reason or another, the Chancellor always wanted to know how things were with the Jedi. He was probably intrigued by the inner workings of the mysterious Jedi Order. How, after having been Chancellor for so long, Anakin had no idea. Palpatine had worked with the Jedi closely quite a few times, and had met with every sitting member of the Council.

“They’re actually sending me out on a mission tomorrow morning,” Anakin informed him, “I haven’t gotten the dossier yet, but they’re sending me and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.”

The Chancellor hummed, and his brows furrowed, “They always seem to send you with your former Master. Does the Council not trust your own abilities?”

“Well...” Anakin frowned, he’d never really thought of it that way. He was happy to have Obi-Wan on missions with him. Even though he had Snips, and he trusted her with his life, his teamwork with Obi-Wan was nearly flawless. They tended to work as one, enough that the people of the Republic called them the Team. The idea of the Council not trusting Anakin wasn’t new, he’d had to fight tooth and claw to convince them to let him take Ahsoka as his Padawan. But then there was the issue with the clones not having a citizenship that Anakin had brought before the Council before quickly being shot down, and if they were only sending Obi-Wan along to babysit him, however... “Not really , I guess.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to attend to the Senate,” Palpatine sighed suddenly, standing from his desk, “I look forward our next meeting, Anakin. Good luck on your mission.”

“Oh, of course,” Anakin stood up rapidly, and bowed to the Chancellor, “thank you.”

As he walked through the halls of the Senate, the Jedi Knight’s thoughts swirled like a Tatooine sandstorm. Every time he spoke with Palpatine, he left more confused than he’d been coming in. It was like the Chancellor planted ideas in his head, but that was silly. Palpatine just wanted the best for Anakin, like Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.

Ahsoka read over her copy of the dossier for the third time, her eye markings firmly pressed together in confusion. Anakin made a noise of disbelief and set his own copy down, the datapad landing on the caf table with a thunk.

“This code hasn’t been used in... 2,000 years?” Anakin said, leaning back over his datapad, “This doesn’t make any sense... we don’t even have an origin point from the transmission. We’re just supposed to fly out and see what we can find?” As he spoke, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Something about the mission wasn’t right, but Anakin couldn’t put a finger on it.

“I guess that’s why Obi-Wan needs to come,” Ahsoka shrugged, “he knows all about weird old stuff.”

Anakin nodded, mind going back to his earlier conversation with the Chancellor. Ahsoka set her datapad down, next to her Master’s, and stood, stretching, “Are we gonna eat at Padmé’s tonight, or Dex’s?”

The Jedi Knight bit his lip, “Well, I want to spend tonight in the Temple... Let’s just go to Dex’s. Do you know where Obi-Wan is?”

“I saw him in the Archives this morning,” Ahsoka replied, and Anakin’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh? My Snips, in the Archives of her own free will?” He teased.

Ahsoka pouted at him, “I was studying! Lessons apparently don’t stop for war. I need to know all about tooka mating habits by next week.”

“Tooka mating habits?” Anakin snorted, and then continued, “I wonder if he’s still there...”

“Why don’t you just comm him?” Ahsoka suggested, heading off to find her cloak. She never seemed to wear it unless it was cold, or they were going to Dex’s. Thusly, it was almost constantly wadded up in some corner, hidden under a pile of something, or stuffed ungracefully into a travel bag.

“Maybe I will,” Anakin rolled his eyes, and leaned into the back of the couch. Obi-Wan answered his comm on the third ring.

“Kenobi,” he said, refusing to tear his eyes from the text he was scouring, “what is it, Anakin?”

“Ahsoka wants to go to Dex’s. You in?” Anakin’s voice buzzed over the comm, and Obi-Wan blinked.

“I’m in the middle of some research right now, but I’ll be finished in...” he glanced down at the massive stack of books and datapads he’d collected, “actually, just go without me. Bring me something back?”

“The usual?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan hummed in confirmation. Anakin was silent for a minute, and then, “Alright. See you. Have fun with your books.”

“Say hi to Dex for me?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin mumbled something, before shutting off his comm with a click. Obi-Wan frowned, as he turned back to his research. Anakin was acting a bit testy, which probably meant he also had an off feeling about the mission they were given. Only time would tell, when they found what they were looking for, if their bad feelings were valid.

Alarms went off in Anakin’s head the moment the exited hyperspace. Ahsoka glued herself to the nav, looking down at the display, and then out the viewport. Obi-Wan hissed, recoiling from the viewport with a wild look in his eyes.

“Admiral, where are you?” Anakin asked, his voice only shaking a little.

“We’re at the coordinates we sent you, sir,” Yularen said, steadily, “are you sure you’re in the right location.”

“Nav computer says so,” Ahsoka frowned, and then her mouth fell open, as something blinked into existence.

“Oh, Force,” Obi-Wan gasped, as a vision hit him like a tidal wave. Ahsoka, Anakin, the Ones, Mortis, all of it flashed in front of his eyes. Obi-Wan sputtered, “Kriffing Sith hells , not this place!”

“Master!” Anakin gasped, “Please!”

From there, it all went downhill rapidly. By the time the three Jedi found themselves back in open space, Anakin was sure he was going to have nightmares for the rest of his life. Obi-Wan seemed to have it the worst of all of them, every step he took, another vision of what happened in the alternate timeline bombarded him. It was relentless. Obi-Wan’s only respite was sleep. Of course, Anakin had the opposite problem. The events that took place while he was awake were, for once, almost worse than the dreams. Ahsoka herself seemed shaken, both before and after the incident with the Ones, but far less so than the other Jedi. As it was, Anakin wasn’t quite convinced that the whole affair wasn’t an awful dream. The time lost on Mortis was logged, however, and they were missing for a few days.

Qui-Gon had somehow gotten the news, and bothered the Council relentlessly, until they told him where Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka had been shipped out to. Then, he proceeded to fly out himself and join the crew on the Resolute. As the Anakin followed his former Master and his Padawan off the shuttle they’d landed on Mortis with, everything began to swim together in front of his eyes. He could see Qui-Gon walking towards them with long, measured strides, Rex and Admiral Yularen on his heels. But at the same time, it was only the Admiral and his Captain.

“Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka,” Qui-Gon said, concern etched into his features. Simultaneously, Rex, in the world without Qui-Gon, snapped to attention, “Sirs?” As Ahsoka and Obi-Wan turned around to stare at him, Anakin stumbled, and the world exploded behind his eyes.

It was too cloudy, the fog was too thick for Anakin to see through, but he heard blaster fire and the stomping of clone boots on tile. Normal fare, as far as he was concerned. But something was wrong, a part of him screamed. Peering through the red glare, Anakin realized the problem with the picture his mind was painting. There were no droids.

He was in the Jedi Temple, and there were clones, and there was blaster fire. Anakin blinked, hard, and stood. All around him, the fog was too thick, too thick. And it was red, like blood, or fire. There was a scream, followed by blaster shots, followed by stomping, and lightsabers buzzing. Rinse, repeat. Anakin chose a direction, and ran.

All of a sudden, he found himself in the Council chambers. The fog was gone, but he couldn’t quite make out the other figures in the room.

“Master Skywalker, there are too many of them,” a child’s voice echoed, and there he was, standing before Anakin, “what are we going to do?”

Anakin found he couldn’t speak, couldn’t ask what was going on. Too many of who? And then, he felt the cold metal of his lightsaber in his hand, and-

The clones marched out of the Jedi Temple, leaving broken bodies in their wake, and the fog rolled back in. It was too thick to see through, but Anakin could hear blaster fire, and the buzz of many sabers reflecting the shots, and, “Commander Cody, the time has come. Execute Order 66.”

Anakin shot upright, looked around wildly, leaned over the side of the cot he’d been placed on, and emptied his stomach. Ahsoka leapt up from the seat she’d taken next to his bed and spat a curse, getting her feet out of his splashzone just in time. Glaring at her miserably, Anakin fought back another heave.

“Master?!” Ahsoka scrambled for the medic call button, and then perched back on the stool she’d been sitting on as a cleaning droid whisked in to tidy the mess. Anakin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grimacing. His Padawan handed him a glass of water, and Anakin shot appreciation through their bond. Ahsoka watched him owlishly, and asked, “What happened?”

“The chips,” the words leapt from his mouth without his brain even prompting them, and Anakin understood, suddenly. The chips, the clone’s chips. The Republic was keeping them like slaves, one false move from anyone, Jedi or clone, and boom . He lay back on his cot, and covered his eyes with the heels of his hands, tangling his fingers into the sweaty bangs stuck to his forehead. The Padawan recoiled slightly, as she felt his realization through their bond.

“What chips?” Ahsoka frowned, opening her mouth to continue. In the span of a second, Anakin was up, out, and running down the hall. He bowled past Kix, and followed the trail of Force to his former Master, on the bridge. Both Jedi Masters were giving a report to the Council, as Anakin burst through the door, Ahsoka and Kix on his heels. The hologram of Mace Windu paused in his speaking, and crossed his arms.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan turned around, confusion clear in his voice. Qui-Gon’s own concerned expression met the Jedi Knight, as Anakin took a moment to gather his breath, and then spoke.

“The chips,” Anakin repeated his earlier revelation, “in the clones’ heads. Masters, they must be removed.”

“Chips?” Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up, “I wasn’t aware the clones had chips?”

“What do the chips do?” Mace demanded, and Anakin swallowed back a frustrated growl.

“Mind control,” Anakin said, shortly, “they’re like slaver chips , but worse.”

“Anakin, there are far too many clones to remove the chip from each of them, if they’re in their heads. It’s a sensitive surgery, even with our technology.” Qui-Gon frowned, “Perhaps there are-”

“ No !” Anakin interrupted the Jedi Master, and shot him a panicked look of apology, before continuing frantically, “If we don’t we’re going to die!”

“Anakin, what did you see?” Obi-Wan asked calmly, but urgently. His eyes were hard, and Anakin took a deep, calming breath. Mace’s holo self remained still, listening carefully. Behind Anakin, Ahsoka and Kix stood, curiously listening. Qui-Gon folded his arms into his sleeves.

“There’s an order programmed into the chips, that forces the clones to assassinate all Jedi.” Anakin recalled, “Somehow, the Sith lord has access to it. The... my boys lead the assault on the Temple. I could feel the deaths in the Force, all across the galaxy.”

“Oh, Anakin ,” Obi-Wan said, quietly, and Anakin looked down and away. He really, really didn’t want to tell the next part of his vision.

“The Council room was empty, except for a group of Younglings. One,” Anakin swallowed down his horror, “told me there were too many of them , and asked what we were going to do. I didn’t see what happened next, but ... They all died.” Anakin decided to leave off the part where he was pretty sure he was the one killed them.

“I agree the chips should be removed, but,” Mace Windu spoke up from the holocomm, “I don’t believe surgery will be the most effective route. Perhaps deactivating the chips, rather than removing them all together? Multiple clones could be worked on at once, rather than one at a time.”

Silence reigned for a moment, as the Jedi considered the Councilor’s suggestion. Anakin, however, ground his teeth, “Even if the chips are deactivated, they’re still there .”

Obi-Wan’s face pinched, minutely, as he remembered finding Anakin holed up in the fresher, 9, almost 10 years old, stitching up a jagged wound in his leg. He’d dug out his own slaver chip after the healers only deactivated it, cutting deep through muscle, clean to the bone, where the chip had been imbedded in his fibula. He’d used some combination of a scalpel and the Force to yank the chip itself out, and then immediately began sewing the wound back up. Obi-Wan had found him about halfway through, and tried not to panic, as he dragged his Padawan to the healers to get a bacta treatment.

Mace frowned, and his gaze flickered to the other Councilor, clearly on the same wavelength. He sighed.

“Report to the full Council once you return, Skywalker. Feel free to get a head start on chip removal.” Mace said, and the comm deactivated before anyone could say anything.

Anakin and Obi-Wan walked through the Council chamber’s doors side by side, before Obi-Wan went up to take his seat. Anakin stood in the center of the room, and clasped his arms behind himself, in a loose parade rest. Yoda nodded for him to begin speaking, and the young Jedi took a deep, calming breath.

“I believe my Master has already explained what happened on Mortis,” Anakin began, waiting for a murmur of confirmations, before continuing, “ever since my Master and Master Jinn found me on Tatooine, I’ve been regularly having visions while I sleep. They’ve been getting darker and darker since the beginning of the Clone Wars, and I fear that they may come true.”

“Just dreams, they could be,” Yoda frowned from his seat, “hidden from us, the future is.”

Anakin hazarded a nervous look at Obi-Wan, before continuing. “Technically, yes, they could only be dreams. But too many have either come true, or come close, for me to believe that.”

“An example, please?” Saesee Tiin folded his hands in his lap, and the young Jedi Knight bit his lip.

“Shortly before the Battle of Geonosis, I had dreams of my mother being tortured, and dying.” Anakin explained, hoping Qui-Gon wouldn’t get in too much trouble, “Master Jinn was nearby, so he offered to make sure she was alright. He found her, being tortured by Tusken Raiders. If he hadn’t shown up in time, she would’ve died.”

The Council clearly wanted to comment on his attachment to his mother, but Obi-Wan saved him, redirecting the topic back to his visions.

“Anakin, explain the vision on the way back from Mortis.” The Councilor requested, and Anakin sighed in relief. Then, he remembered what he would have to tell the Council.

“It was really foggy, I couldn’t see clearly,” Anakin toyed with his thumbs behind his back, “But I could hear trooper feet on tile, and blasters, and lightsabers. There were screams, every once in awhile. And everything was red.”

Anakin glanced nervously at the Council, before continuing, “All of a sudden, I was in the Council chambers. They weren’t empty, but I couldn’t see who was there. Until a Youngling came out of the fog, and asked me what we were going to do.” He swallowed, deciding to come clean, “I don’t know what happened, but I lit my saber.”

The Council was dead silent, as they listened to Anakin’s tale. He told them the rest of it, right down to someone ordering Obi-Wan’s Commander to execute Order 66.

“When I woke up, I knew it was the chips. The clones have slaver chips in their heads, which can be used as a mind control device. Order 66 is the code that tells them to kill all Jedi.”

Yoda rubbed his chin, and stared at Anakin with ancient eyes, “Siege the temple, they will?”

“Only if the chips aren’t removed and destroyed.” Anakin answered, “We should have some time.”

“Troubling, this is.” The Grand Master steepled his fingers, glancing to Mace, who had a deep frown etched into his face.

“Have the chips been removed from your men?” Mace asked Anakin, who nodded. He thought for a moment, “Are there any left intact?”

“A few,” Anakin said, watching the Jedi Master suspiciously.

“If the orders are stored in the chips, we may be able to track down who can effect the orders.” Obi-Wan finished for Mace, understanding where the Councilor was going. Anakin turned to his former Master, who had a thoughtful look on his face.

The chips, as it turned out, just lead Anakin and Obi-Wan in circles. The orders were indeed there, from 1 to 67. At several points, Anakin had to leave the private research room, sick to his stomach. Order 1, termination. Order 23, mind wipe. Some orders were electronically activated, while others were voice commands. Order 66 was both.

Who could put the orders into effect, however, was vague. It mentioned commanding officers, but there were so many in the GAR. And there was no telling if the commanding officer even had to be GAR, there was the possibility, no matter how minute, that a Separatist general could turn the troops against the Republic.

Anakin knew he knew who it was, who the commanding officer the orders spoke of happened to be. But there was something in the Force preventing him from seeing it. Obi-Wan expressed similar frustration, but something sat heavy in the pit of Anakin’s stomach. He felt like the answer was right in front of them, but he wasn’t strong enough to find it.

Qui-Gon spilled tea down the front of himself in his surprise, as Ahsoka burst through his door, dragging Barriss Offee behind her. He quickly set down the cup, and tried to mop his robes dry, before giving up and standing to greet the two Padawans. Or, the Padawan and the brand new Knight.

“Ahsoka, Knight Offee,” Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at his Great-Grand-Padawan, who held Barriss’s wrist with an iron grip.

“Barriss needs to talk to you, about stuff.” Ahsoka announced, releasing her friend’s wrist, and then walking out. The Togruta closed the door neatly behind herself, and left without another word. Barriss stared at the floor, rubbing her wrist absently.

“What can I do for you, Knight Offee?” Qui-Gon gestured for her to sit down on a couch, “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Barriss said softly, going to take a seat without looking up. Qui-Gon frowned. She was acting a bit like Anakin, when he’d had an awful vision and felt guilty about it. The Jedi Master prepared a second cup of tea, and topped off his own, moving to sit on the couch across from Barriss, handing her the tea. She took it gingerly, took one sip, and set it down.

“What’s troubling you?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I dislike the direction the Order is headed in,” Barriss admitted, “something doesn’t feel right, about the Jedi being generals and commanders in a war. We’re supposed to be peace keepers.”

Qui-Gon hummed, downed his tea in one go, and leaned forwards, “You don’t have to serve in the GAR if it goes against your beliefs, Barriss. I don’t.”

“You’re a respected Jedi Master,” Barriss retorted, “I’m just a new Knight.”

“I wouldn’t say respected,” Qui-Gon mused, “you don’t need credentials to babysit the Younglings, or help out in the Archives.”

“Yes, but...” Barriss trailed off, uneasily, “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“Perhaps a talk with Master Yoda would yield more insight than I have to offer,” Qui-Gon suggested, “or a meditation session in the Temple gardens.”

“Perhaps,” Barriss replied, and stood, “I should go. Thank you for the hospitality, Master Jinn.”

“May the Force be with you, Knight Offee,” Qui-Gon said, as she left.

Padmé looked up from her notes in surprise as her office doors clicked open. Her expression morphed into a pleased smile as Anakin walked through the arches, and then to a worried frown as she noticed his own expression. Her husband’s face was downcast, and he looked haunted. Like he’d just woken up from a dream, or seen a ghost of the future. She stood to greet him, and he buried his face in her shoulder, hunching to reach. Padmé stroked his back comfortingly, “Ani? What’s wrong?”

“The clones,” Anakin said, muffled by Padmé’s gown, “the visions are all about the clones, now.”

“What happens?” Padmé asked, and Anakin sighed, withdrawing from his wife, to take a seat on one of her chairs. Padmé went back to sit behind her desk, watching Anakin carefully. The Jedi ran his cybernetic hand through his hair, tugging through knots and tangles haphazardly.

“The clones have chips installed in their heads, slaver devices that can control their actions,” Anakin explained, “we’re working on getting them removed, but...”

“Oh, Ani,” Padmé instantly understood. Anakin had always felt guilty about being the general of a slave army, as he’d called it. And he was right, the Senate refused to extend sentient rights to the clones. They were viewed as products, like flesh battle droids.

“Angel, I know this is a lot to ask,” Anakin looked up at her, his eyes clear like glass, “the clones need citizenship. The war might be coming to an end, soon... we’ve uncovered some information... and they’ll need a place to go.”

For a moment, there was silence, as Padmé processed Anakin’s request.

“It’s within my power to grant citizenship,” Padmé nodded, and immediately began sifting through her datapad, opening a correspondence with the Queen of Naboo, “I can speak to Bail Organa and Mon Mothma as well, and perhaps some other Senators may be willing to extend citizenship to clones.”

Obi-Wan looked tiredly out of the Council chamber’s windows as the tone shifted from frustrated to exhausted. The entire Council was in agreement that the Senate shouldn’t control the Order, but how to go about implementing that was a mystery. Combined with the vague orders on the chips, and the looming threat of a Sith Lord, things were rapidly spiraling out of the Council’s control.

Obi-Wan and Yoda were currently the only Councilors on Coruscant, the rest were holoing in from battlefields. The Temple halls were the emptiest he’d ever seen them, but what scared Obi-Wan the most was all the empty beds in the crèche. Most of the Jedi in charge of search were generals, leading battalions and legions against the Separatists, rather than hunting down Force sensitive Younglings to bring back to the Temple. For the first time in thousands of years, the Archives were reporting negative population growth. Too many Jedi were dying in the field, and not enough Younglings were being brought in. Already, the maximum age to be a Padawan had been raised, to accommodate the shrinking numbers of Jedi Knights. Padawans were being Knighted in battle, forgoing the traditional Trials. There was talk of raising the age limit of acceptable Younglings, as well. Anakin was proof that a Youngling’s age didn’t necessarily act as a detriment to their ability to become a Jedi, but there were those on the Council that argued Anakin was a fluke. Obi-Wan had to agree with that. Anakin was one of the best Jedi Obi-Wan knew, but that was because of the vision they both shared, years ago.

It was unlikely a normal Jedi would allow their own Padawans the comfort of attachment, which would lead to a feeling of alienation between the Younglings accepted as older children and their Temple-raised peers. That was part of what lead to Anakin’s Fall, in the other timeline. He was an outsider, too warlike, too passionate. Too eager to please. Anakin required affection to live, and sought it out wherever he could get it.

As Anakin’s Padawan, Ahsoka’s unconventional Jedi training would better suit her to training any child brought to the Temple above the current acceptance age. Qui-Gon had once mentioned he could see the future of the Jedi Order in his line, and Obi-Wan had originally brushed him off, not quite believing his eccentric Master. But now, as he listened to the Council bicker, he too could see it. Quite literally, too.

Luke Skywalker, Padmé’s son right down to the core of his being, but Anakin’s child in appearance and everything else. In the other timeline, Obi-Wan had been watching him on Tatooine. Where Anakin was, at that point in time, was a mystery to Obi-Wan. Where Padmé had ended up was a mystery as well, but Obi-Wan knew that if she wasn’t raising her son, something terrible had happened to her. Obi-Wan vaguely foresaw Luke’s very rudimentary training, wielding Anakin’s lightsaber, his refusal of the strict Jedi codes in favor of compassion and doing what he felt was right. Luke Skywalker was a remarkable Jedi, and Obi-Wan wondered if he’d ever exist, in this timeline.

“Kenobi,” Mace’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, “Were you listening?”

“My apologies,” Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it, shifting to face more inwards. Mace sighed, his hologram flickering slightly with the motion.

“Conflict on Mandalore, there is,” Yoda summarized, “needed, you are. Qui-Gon, as well.”

“Mandalore?” Obi-Wan asked, frowning, and then the too-familiar chill raced down his spine. In his arms, he felt a shaking, weak body, dying of a lightsaber wound. He looked down, and saw Satine. As soon as he made eye contact with her, he was back in the Council chambers. The cold stone of dread settled firmly in his stomach, and he absently stroked his beard, “Very well. I’ll let him know.”

If they were including Qui-Gon in the mission, then it wouldn’t require military presence. However, taking his and his former Master’s track record into consideration, they’d likely start some sort of civil war before they left.

Earlier in the war, he and Anakin had gone to escort Satine, and had run into a bit of trouble. As soon as Anakin realized his former Master still harbored feelings for the Duchess, there had been nonstop teasing. Obi-Wan was glad Ahsoka hadn’t joined them on that mission, because she would’ve joined Anakin’s tomfoolery. On the battlefield, Ahsoka and Anakin were a maelstrom of destruction. They were both talented warriors, and used their natural abilities to gain the upper hand whenever possible. On investigation or diplomatic missions, they more often than not got themselves into some kind of trouble, but generally ended up solving more problems than they created, and quickly, at that. However, when they were not being Knight Skywalker and Padawan Tano, they were Skyguy and Snips. And that meant they cracked terrible jokes, pulled hideous faces at each other while Obi-Wan’s back was turned, and teamed up to make Obi-Wan’s life a bit more interesting .

If he were being quite honest with himself, his feelings for Satine hadn’t changed in the years since he met her. Of course, they’d both grown more mature and responsible, but Obi-Wan had a new sense of urgency, to not let the people he loved slip through his fingers. He was walking dangerously close to the line, and he could not deny his attachments any more than Anakin could. But split between the recent losses of the war, and the visions he was forced through, seeing everyone he cared about die or be lost, one by one, Obi-Wan was tired. If the opportunity to save as many lives as possible presented itself, he would take it, the code be damned.

Ahsoka shot out of her bed, her heart in her throat, and stumbled out into the main room of her and Anakin’s shared quarters. Her Master was on one of the couches, both of his gloves off, and was working on his cybernetic arm. Bits and bobs of wires and other mechanical components were scattered all over the low table, and the inner workings of his right arm were exposed. Ahsoka froze, staring blankly at him, and watched as he fiddled with the wires controlling his fingers.

“What is it, Snips?” Anakin asked, startling Ahsoka out of her trance. The moment she looked away from his arm, and into his eyes, she remembered why she’d run out into the main room in the first place.

“I had a dream,” Ahsoka began, and Anakin stopped what he was doing, immediately closing the panel to his arm and setting down his tools. A look of concern covered his face, and Ahsoka crossed her arms, almost defensively.

“What happened?” Her Master prompted. As Ahsoka tried to put her thoughts into words, the memories of her dream became too much, and she began to cry frustrated tears.

“Barriss betrayed me,” Ahsoka spat, as Anakin stood up in alarm, miscellaneous mechanical components spilling out of his lap on to the floor. He took great bounding strides over to Ahsoka, and waited for her to nod before hugging her tightly.

“Did it feel like a vision?” Anakin asked, as Ahsoka tucked her face into his shoulder. She shook her head, paused, and then shrugged.

“I don’t know, I mean, I know she disagrees with the Council. I got her to talk to Qui-Gon about it, and she told me it helped...” the Padawan admitted, “but it felt so real ... Skyguy, did anything...?”

“It’s different this time, Ahsoka,” her Master said quickly, inadvertently answering Ahsoka’s question. The Padawan made a small noise, and Anakin sighed, “I’m so sorry... I hoped you wouldn’t get any bleed-over.”

Ahsoka hummed in question, and Anakin frowned.

“Sometimes, if I have a vision involving Padmé, she’ll have a similar dream.” The Knight explained, “This morning, I... Barriss was lost, Ahsoka. She had nobody to talk to. And she made terrible choices.”

“So she really...?” Ahsoka whispered, more to herself than Anakin.

“I will never let anyone hurt you, Ahsoka,” Anakin swore quietly, just loudly enough so that the Togruta could hear, “not this time.”

Qui-Gon grimaced as the buzzer on his door went off in the midst of his packing for the mission he and his former Padawan were being sent on. He could already sense Mace Windu's signature outside, and he didn't seem up to a friendly chat about the weather. Standing with a sigh, the Jedi Master wandered slowly towards the entrance to his dwelling. As he grew closer, he could hear the tapping of Mace's foot. Qui-Gon stifled his surprise, Mace wasn't this agitated often, particularly outside of a Council meeting with one of his line.

The door opened, and Mace nodded in greeting before pushing his way inside, and shutting the door behind himself. Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing, instead waiting for Mace to announce his visit's purpose.

"You've been pulling for the Jedi Order to withdraw from the Senate's control," Mace said flatly, "I agree."

"Excuse me?" Qui-Gon replied, confused, and then, "Mace, what happened ?"

"There's been talk of the Chancellor taking control of the Order," Mace sighed, "what's far more disturbing is how the Senate, for the most part, agrees."

"And you've come to me because...?" Qui-Gon asked, innocently, and Mace narrowed his eyes.

"Qui-Gon, we both know you've written drafts for appeals to remove ourselves from the Senate's oversight since the beginning of this damned war," the Councilor crossed his arms, "I don't need them now, or any time soon. But once the Chancellor moves for another power grab, we're all going to need your best appeal."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to get started," Qui-Gon smiled wryly, but then again grew serious, "Mace, I've been meaning to talk to you about this. The incoming rate of Force sensitive children is far, far too low."

"With so few Jedi able to Search, this is the best we can manage," Mace frowned, "until the war ends, we don't have enough Jedi to spare for Search."

"I disagree," Qui-Gon carefully chose his next words, "there are those who prefer to be Jedi, rather than Generals."

Rather than the snappy reply Qui-Gon was expecting, Mace seemed to consider his words, before nodding.

"If you know of anyone, send them my way." Mace said, and then left without another word.

Obi-Wan made it in time to save Satine's life. Maul had managed to escape from both Jedi, but as far as Obi-Wan was concerned, he didn't care. It wasn't exactly like Maul had enough power to cause significant trouble, and the Councilor was far more concentrated on being relieved that Satine survived. Qui-Gon didn't comment on the fact they left Mandalore a bit later than originally intended, seeming to pick up on the fact that Obi-Wan had seen something awful concerning the Duchess, and wanted to make sure she was really alright.

On the way back to Coruscant, Obi-Wan was surprised to receive a comm not from Anakin or Ahsoka, but Padmé. The Senator had generally never commed him without Anakin present, and when she had, Anakin had usually gotten himself into some trouble.

"Padmé?" Obi-Wan frowned as the holo of the Senator appeared, "How are you?"

"I'm well, and you?" She didn't seem particularly distressed, which was odd.

"I'm well myself. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Obi-Wan asked, politely, and Padmé shrugged.

"How is Satine?" She inquired, "And Obi-Wan, how are you really ?"

"I'm sorry?" Obi-Wan was confused, "Satine is alive and well."

"I don't mean to pry, but," Padmé sat back from the holo, and Obi-Wan noticed she had a sort of scheming look on her face, "I know you care for Satine, and I know she was in considerable danger. Of course, she's alright, but I just want to make sure that you're okay too."

Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, as he processed her words. Then, "Did Anakin tell you?"

"Perhaps," the Senator said loftily, "but I am good friends with the dear Duchess. And we both do love a good gossip ."

"Oh," Obi-Wan caught on immediately, and cursed, "She already spoke with you, I see?"

" Perhaps ," Padmé repeated, a wry smile trying to work its way on to her face, "you'll have to invite her over for dinner sometime. I'm sure it would be a lovely night."

"Would you look at that," Obi-Wan pretended to check the time, "it seems that I must go. It was nice speaking with you, Padmé. Wish Anakin well for me, will you?"

"Of course. And Satine for me, next time you see her." Padmé couldn't keep the cheeky grin off her face this time, as Obi-Wan hung up. The Councilor buried his face in his hands, and sighed loudly. He'd not even considered the fact that Padmé might find out what had happened on Mandalore. To be quite honest, he had been expecting either Anakin or Qui-Gon to tease him. But it seemed the best he could hope for was the gossip not to extend to the clones. If Cody heard what had happened, he'd never live it down. Eventually, Anakin and Padmé would leave him alone, but the clones never forgot. If they had a metaphorical leg up on their General, they valued the opportunity.

Padmé returned to her work with a sigh. After Anakin told her of his dream, about the clones, she'd gone into overdrive writing draft after draft of proposals to extend citizenship to the clones. Technically, the clones were Republic citizens, as they were sentient, living, and served in the Grand Army of the Republic. Legally, however, they were considered units. Products, not people. They were given numbers at birth, rather than names, and were created to fulfill a task.

The task, as it appeared to be, was to eliminate the Jedi Order when the time came. Of course, in the debate for clones to be given sentient rights, that part had stayed unsaid. Anakin had been very particular about who became privy to that information, Padmé only knew because she and Anakin kept no secrets.

Checking her schedule, she tapped absently at her datapad's screen until the timer ticked down to her appointment with Bail and Mon. The datapad let out a small beep, in time with the door of her office sliding open.

The Senator stood, greeting her colleagues, "Bail, Mon, thank you for coming. We have much to discuss."

"Certainly, Padmé," Bail nodded, and Mon gave her a thin lipped smile.

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan announced he’d need to peel off while Anakin grimaced as Ahsoka’s fighter disappeared into a cloud of vulture droids. He knew they’d be perfectly fine, but it almost felt like some outside force was splintering them, herding the three Jedi away from each other. Opening the comm channels, he said as much. Obi-Wan agreed, unease settling in his stomach like a stone.

Ahsoka emerged, and was forced to pull a Skywalker maneuver to avoid blasts from the main cannons. Then, Obi-Wan took a hit.

“Oh, fuck me,” the Councilor hissed, “Anakin, I’ve got a wing down.”

“Language, Master,” Anakin chided, trying to keep the panic from his voice, “I’m on it. Snips, see if you can get us all into the docking bay without getting shredded.”

“Sure thing, Skyguy,” Ahsoka replied, before pulling in front of Anakin, shooting out the droids between them and the rapidly closing bay door. Obi-Wan made a small, panicked noise, as Anakin tried to gently lift the damaged wing with his own.

“Coming in hot, crash-style,” Anakin warned, as Ahsoka spun through the bay door, swerving around to blast the droids tailing the two older Jedi.

“When isn’t it a crash with you involved?” Obi-Wan grumbled, as they careened through the door just as it slammed shut. Anakin huffed in mild offense, but focused on landing his fighter as Obi-Wan’s skidded to an abrupt halt, a flurry of sparks in its wake.

“Now what?” Ahsoka ran over to her Master as he climbed out of his fighter.

“Uh, we find our way to the Chancellor, and rescue him.” Anakin levitated Artoo out of the fighter before the droid could use his thrusters, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“ Master ,” Ahsoka whined, “don’t jinx it!”

Obi-Wan lay unconscious on the floor, and Ahsoka and Anakin stood facing Dooku. Anakin could feel the former Jedi’s confliction, as clear as day. The Sith, or more accurately, Dark Jedi didn’t want to hurt them, not really. It was odd. Obi-Wan had been on the wrong end of a Force shove, and the moment his back made contact with the wall, Dooku paused, his eyes widening in shock. Anakin’s own panic prompted him to move, and he did. But his strikes weren’t as deadly-precise as he knew he was capable of. Ahsoka was fighting with every fiber of her being, she’d always had a hard time separating Dooku from the soulless Sith lord he seemed to be, but wasn’t.

Everything happened so quickly, Ahsoka had gotten herself zapped, and Anakin found himself standing with sabers crossed, Dooku kneeling before him. The former Jedi glared up at him, and Anakin stared back dumbfounded. Then, Palpatine spoke.

“Well done, Anakin.” The Chancellor smiled, “Now kill him.”

“Excuse me?” Anakin felt his blood run cold, as he turned his head to stare at the Chancellor. Palpatine looked momentarily confused, but kept on.

“He’s committed crimes against the Republic, my dear boy,” Palpatine said slowly, “He’s a Sith. Kill him.”

Anakin shook his head slowly, much to the surprise of both Dooku and Palpatine, “No... No. He deserves a trial, at least.”

“Anakin,” Palpatine’s voice was icy, “The only thing Count Dooku would receive was an execution sentence.”

The Jedi looked at his Great-Grandmaster, and for a moment, the Force was still. The universe seemed to hold its breath, as the Knight made his choice. He deactivated the sabers, clipped them to his belt, and without turning around, lifted the debris off of his former Master. On the opposite side of the room, Ahsoka shifted, beginning to regain consciousness.

Dooku stayed silent, as Anakin closed his eyes. Ahsoka stood soon after, and made a beeline for Obi-Wan, without even casting either of them a glance.

“As a former member of the Jedi Order, Count Dooku is bound to the Council’s trials, not the Senate’s.” Anakin declared, not caring for the validity of his statement. The Chancellor opened his mouth to argue, but Anakin kept talking, “The Sith are the responsibility of the Jedi, regardless. Now... we should find a way out.”

Obi-Wan still couldn’t believe how drastically different the events that had occurred while he was unconscious were. Rather than being slung over his former Padawan’s shoulders, he was shaken awake by Ahsoka, and witnessed Anakin throw a spanner into whatever the Chancellor’s plans had been. Dooku was still alive and retained both hands, as well.

Ahsoka kept her mouth shut for what felt like the first time in her life. Mostly, she had no idea what to say. The sudden tension between her Master and the Chancellor was disturbing. She had a vague idea what had happened, and resolved to meditate upon it later. But for now, she had a Sith to watch. Count Dooku, disarmed and beaten, was the opposite of everything she knew about the man from her various encounters with him over the course of the war. He held his head high, and made an effort to maintain his pride, but there was an odd sense of relief surrounding him as well. What was stranger, was both Obi-Wan and Anakin were dead silent as well. Dread hung in the air like the stench of rotting flesh, as the Jedi, Sith, and Chancellor strode through the hallways of the destroyer.

Anakin was almost on autopilot. The moment the alarms went off, something snapped together in his head, and he went straight for the controls. One minute, he was dwelling on what the Chancellor had said, the next, he was stumbling out of half a ship, towards the Temple. As he trailed after the Chancellor, his former Master, and Dooku, Ahsoka tugged on his sleeve.

“Skyguy, Padmé’s here...” the Togruta trailed off, “something’s different ... she’s weird.”

“Huh?” Anakin looked around, before his eyes settled on the cloaked figure of his wife. She was pale and seemed nervous, but her eyes with alight with excitement. Anakin turned back to Ahsoka, “Snips, you go ahead with Obi-Wan. Be careful around the Chancellor.”

“Got it,” Ahsoka smirked suddenly, and her eye markings rose in surprise, “congratulations, by the way. Oh man, Obi-Wan is gonna skin you alive .”

“What?” Anakin frowned, as Ahsoka scampered off. Padmé came up to him, and Anakin grinned at her, leaning down to embrace her. Padmé smiled weakly, and brushed some hair back from his face.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Anakin asked, and Padmé shook her head.

“Nothing, nothing, I just missed you,” the Senator said quietly, “you’ve been gone for so long... it’s been very hard for me.”

A thousand thoughts ran through Anakin’s head, before he spoke, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Padmé insisted, and then took both of Anakin’s hands in her own, clutching them tightly. Her brown doe eyes stared up at him, alight with excitement, and a tiny bit of worry, “Something wonderful has happened... Ani, I’m pregnant.”

Anakin felt like someone plunged him into a bacta tank. His wife’s words almost refused to register, as she gazed into his eyes, silently waiting for a reply. Then, it clicked.

“That’s...” Anakin struggled for an appropriate word to convey his feelings, “that’s wonderful!”

“What are we going to do?” Padmé asked, and Anakin shrugged, incapable of keeping the manic grin off of his face.

“Angel, let’s worry about that later,” the Jedi announced, “right now, I’m going to take you back to your apartment, and we’re going to celebrate.”

Dooku stared blankly back at the Council from his place in the middle of the Council Chambers. Temple Guards stood alert at the entrance, while Yoda appraised the sight before him. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka stood on either side of the Sith, uneasily glancing at each other, while Dooku loomed over them. Anakin was nowhere to be seen. After a split second of silent communication between the Grand-Master and the Grand-Padawan, Obi-Wan ascended to his seat, and Ahsoka stepped forwards.

“As my Master is currently otherwise occupied, I will give the report,” Ahsoka announced, and told the tale of their battle with and subsequent capture of Count Dooku, who remained silent and still the entire time.

“Ordered to kill the Count, Skywalker was?” Yoda frowned, “Deeply troubling, this is. That he did not do as told, not surprising, but a relief nonetheless.”

Ahsoka bit her tongue to stop herself from defending her Master’s reputation. Though Obi-Wan had many allies in the Council, and Anakin had a few on his side as well, the overwhelming conclusion was that something wasn’t right about him. Though he was treated with respect as a Knight of the Order, sometimes it seemed like the Council was just waiting for him to snap and go Darkside. It was absurd.

“Masters,” Dooku’s voice startled everyone in the room, and their attention turned to him in shock, “I am afraid I mustn’t give the game away just yet, but I am willing to offer a hint.”

“This is not a game, Count,” Mace sneered, “You are clearly not the Sith we’re looking for. Who is your master?”

Count Dooku sneered right back, “He’s right under your nose.”

Anakin grinned at Padmé as she shed her heavy outer layer, revealing the small rise of her stomach. His goofy expression was mirrored on his wife, who scurried over to him after depositing her cloak on a chair.

“I missed you so much, Angel,” Anakin wrapped the Senator in his arms, sighing. Padmé pouted at him, running her hands through his hair, “I missed you too, Ani. It’s been such a long few months...”

Anakin’s eyes twinkled in the Courscant night as he continued, “But now we’re together again. And we’re going to be parents!”

“I want to have the baby on Naboo,” Padmé smiled, “in the lake country, where we stayed all those years ago.”

The Jedi imagined living back in the summer home on Naboo by the lake where they’d fallen in love, with their child. He still hadn’t fully processed the fact that his wife was pregnant with their very own baby. Anakin listened as Padmé thought out loud, a grin still firmly etched on his face.

Ahsoka found herself cornered by Obi-Wan on her way back to her and Anakin’s shared rooms.

“Master Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka frowned, concerned at the harrowed expression on his face. Obi-Wan pursed his lips, before speaking quietly.

“I’m worried about Anakin, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan informed her, “the Force is converging around the next few months. It’s too vague for me to make out exactly, but there is a large shatterpoint forming around him.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” the Padawan promised, keeping to herself her own worries for her Master. He’d been awfully quiet and sad when he thought she couldn’t see him, always staring out windows like there was something else staring back. It was unsettling, because before they’d shipped out five months ago, he’d longed for Padmé melodramatically. It was something Ahsoka teased him about. But what had started about halfway through the sieges wasn’t him missing his wife. Her Master was too careful about keeping his shields up when he was in a mood, so she couldn’t get a read on what was making him so melancholy. When she caught him sulking, it was nearly like there was a vacuum in the Force, like he wasn’t there at all.

Only once had she ever gotten some sort of clue about what was affecting him. In his sleep, Anakin tended to project his dreams. They were always simple, just feelings or blurred images. But one night, Ahsoka had shot upright in her bed, her heart aching so terribly that she could hardly breathe. In that one moment, Ahsoka had come the closest to fully understanding what her Master went through on a day to day basis. In her head, the base emotions of not-good-enough, just-a-slave, nobody-understands, and I’m-a-terrible-person ricocheted around wildly. That morning, Anakin had greeted Ahsoka like nothing had ever happened, making some joke about the last planet they’d been on.

It was dark in Padmé’s apartment, and Anakin lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. Ahsoka had shown up a few hours before, just in time for dinner, which consisted of takeout from Dex’s. The minute the door had opened, Padmé had rushed off to try and find her coat from earlier, but Anakin stopped her, since Ahsoka already knew. His Padawan gave him the shittest grin, telling him she’d never let him live it down in one look. Anakin had shrugged back, still too happy to be embarrassed. Of course, he dreaded when Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon found out, but that was going to be in the future.

For now, Anakin turned slightly to catch a glimpse of his beautiful wife, and closed his eyes to sleep.

“You were the Chosen One!” Obi-Wan’s voice was ragged and hoarse, full of grief. Anakin blinked to try and clear his eyes of the fog that so often clouded his visions, and Obi-Wan kept on, “It was said you would destroy the Sith, not join them! It was you who would bring Balance to the Force, not leave it in Darkness!”
Anakin’s heart stopped. Join the Sith...? What? He struggled, and felt sharp rocks grind through the front of his clothes. At his feet, there was only pain. He moved his flesh arm to pull himself up the slope, and fell short. The fog cleared for a moment, and he saw nothing. Looking to his right, his cybernetic arm was intact, but filthy, covered in ash and dirt. He looked back up to where Obi-Wan’s voice had come from, and his eyes widened when he saw his former Master bending over to pick up his lightsaber. His mind quickly put the dots together, and suddenly, his mouth moved without his prompting.

“I hate you!”

Almost immediately, Anakin wanted to claw the words back down his throat. The look of utter heartbreak on Obi-Wan’s face was too much, too similar to the original mire of emotions that brought them together so long ago on Tatooine. However, no matter how hard he tried to call out to his brother, his father figure, he couldn’t speak. There was some sort of lock on him, as was the usual in his visions.

“You were my brother, Anakin,” Obi-Wan shouted, his voice raw, “I loved you!”

As Anakin’s own heart broke at the past tense his former Master had used, something roared, and he was suddenly burning. He could feel the fabric of his robes melting into his skin, and smelled his hair burning away. He screamed, but even the pain of being burnt alive could hardly rival the soul-deep agony of the realization that, in another world, he was capable of hurting those he cared about so terribly. And Force, he was only seeing Obi-Wan in this vision. Where was Ahsoka? Padmé?

As he thought, the Force pulled away from him sharply, and something else took its place, leaving behind an oily black stain. He could hear Padmé screaming in pain, shouting his name, but he couldn’t see her. It was all so confusing, and his wife’s panicked expression appeared to him, but like he was seeing through a hundred panes of glass. It occurred to him that he was watching her die. Somehow, he knew it was his fault; he was the one killing her.

Anakin shot out of bed, caught one look of Padmé’s blearily concerned expression, and bolted out of their bedroom and down the hall. His frantic heartbeat drowned out his wife’s panicked inquiries, and as he rounded a corner and nearly ran over Ahsoka, the Jedi fought back a startled shout, twisting around the Togruta to dodge her form, but she stopped him with a firm grasp on his wrist.

“Skyguy?” Ahsoka demanded, “What happened?”

“Ahsoka, let me go,” Anakin hissed, anxiety swallowing his rational thought, the knowledge he could snap his dear Padawan in two - by accident - throwing itself against his mind. Ahsoka frowned, and her hand twitched, though she held firm.

“Do you want me to get Obi-Wan?” Padmé asked quietly from the hallway, her pale face glowing in the Coruscant night. Anakin rounded on her with wide eyes. Obi-Wan’s words to him as he slid into the burning river echoed in his ears, and bone-deep terror consumed him. What if it was already too late? What if this was the pivotal moment, when he snapped and killed his dear Padawan and beloved wife? He had to escape, but he couldn’t without hurting Ahsoka. He’d sworn to her that he’d never let anyone hurt her.

“Padmé,” Ahsoka didn’t take her eyes off of her Master, “get Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, please.”

“Okay,” Padmé rushed off to grab her commlink, and Anakin stood stock still. He was being ridiculous, but Padmé’s screams of pain, and Obi-Wan’s of heartbreak, slammed against his eardrums like tidal waves. The Jedi’s head swam, and before his eyes, Ahsoka slid in and out of his vision. One minute, she was there, grasping his wrist tightly, the next, she was gone.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin’s voice cracked, “I can’t- ... Please, Snips. I can’t stay here. You’re all in danger.”

“Master? Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are coming. They’re going to keep us safe.” Ahsoka replied, confused, her grip tightening. Padmé stood in the end of the hallway, a hand delicately placed on the frame. Anakin squeezed his eyes shut, and flinched as he saw his beautiful wife, heavily pregnant, and dangling in the air before him. Her face was tear-stained and agonized, and she sobbed even as she was... as he suffocated her. He opened his eyes, and Padmé frowned in concern at him, her loose curls falling over her shoulders like water.

“They can’t,” Anakin turned back to his Padawan, his brilliant, resourceful, wonderful girl. This Light in his life that had been taken from him, likely by his own hand. All that had gone wrong was his doing, he understood now. Even the remote possibility that he could mess up that badly was too close for comfort. Her eye markings creased, and Anakin continued, “They can’t keep you safe from me.”

“Skyguy, you’d never hurt us,” Ahsoka insisted, and as she spoke, the front door to Padmé’s apartments buzzed open, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon spilling in. Padmé belatedly hid behind the door frame, as Qui-Gon stared at her. Obi-Wan cast her a cursory glance, before turning his attention to Anakin.

Obi-Wan immediately knew what was happening, as he reached out to his former Padawan through their unsevered bond. Anakin physically recoiled from him, even though there were several yards between them. The young Knight turned his gaze to the floor, and unbidden, tears welled in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin’s voice was small and resigned. Obi-Wan blinked, and for a moment found himself back on Padmé’s starship, staring at a tiny blond boy whose blue eyes held a galaxy’s worth of sorrow.

“Anakin, I won’t let anything happen to you this time.” Obi-Wan swore, and his former Padawan squeaked in an odd, heartbroken way.

“It wasn’t your fault,” the Jedi Knight protested, “if I only listened to you, or didn’t...”

He trailed off, and brought a hand up to his face. An odd silence settled over the apartment, and a heavy Darkness seemed to worm its way in. Immediately, all of the Jedi straightened, even Padmé seemed to notice the disturbance.

“We must return to the Temple.” Qui-Gon stated flatly, and Anakin flinched.

“What about Padmé? I can’t leave her alone with that... thing... after us!” Anakin protested.

“What thing?” The Senator demanded, and Ahsoka’s eyes widened to saucers as she caught the look between her Master and Obi-Wan.

“We’ll tell you on the way, milady,” Obi-Wan said, and leapt into action. Within minutes, the four Jedi and the Senator were rushing through the traffic of Coruscant back to the Jedi Temple. The Dark presence had lifted, but Anakin still felt uneasy. Hunted, almost.

“Ani,” Padmé hissed, grabbing her husband’s hand tightly, startling him out of his brooding, “what are we supposed to tell them?”

“Um,” Anakin’s confusion quickly turned into horror, “oh. Oh.”

“ Ani .” Pamdé sighed, and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Her stomach was just barely hidden by the thick fabric, and Anakin was once again reminded he was going to be a father. But the vision he’d had dampened his excitement, and he hung his head.

“Angel, maybe if we just pretend-” Anakin started, but his wife cut him off with a shove. Her glare told him everything he needed to know.

“Anakin, Pamdé,” Obi-Wan interrupted the couple, who looked up sharply as he continued, “the Sith Lord is trying to... well, I’m not too sure. The Temple is the safest place for us at the moment. Now, Anakin... The Council will not be happy, but the most important thing is Padmé’s safety.”

“I know, Master,” Anakin replied, avoiding eye contact. Ahsoka nudged him with her elbow.

“If they kick you out, I’m coming with you.” The Padawan said, matter-of-factly. Obi-Wan oddly felt his mood lighten at the Togruta’s declaration, his mind taking him back to when he promised Anakin if the Council expelled him, they’d be losing not one, but two Jedi. Though, truthfully, at this point the Order would lose four. Qui-Gon’s stable presence in the Force pulsated slightly as they neared the Temple. Just inside the hangar’s doors, Mace Windu stood tall, and his presence seemed to form the steep wall of a fortress. His arms crossed as the Jedi and Senator exited the craft.

“Senator Amidala?” Mace’s expression contorted slightly as he took in the sight before him. The tiny Senator stuck out her chin at him, subtly, much like she would do when making a point in a speech, one arm linked with Anakin’s, and the other clutching her obviously pregnant midsection. Ahsoka stood to Padmé’s other side, rather than next to her Master, and had a perfectly neutral expression. Said Master was making quite the effort to imitate his Padawan, but was clearly too... emotional, to maintain a calm façade. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon stood side to side, each with a grim look on their face.

“Good evening, Master Windu,” the Senator greeted, “I believe Master Jinn has some news of the utmost importance.”

Qui-Gon stepped forwards before the Councilor could respond, and spoke swiftly, “The entire Republic is in grave danger, and the Senator is at the center of it as best as we can tell.”

A silent communication between the three senior-most Jedi led Mace to a conclusion. He nodded firmly, and turned, gesturing for the party to follow. He could hear a soft whisper between Anakin and Padmé, and a headache began to form somewhere behind his eyes.

“Closing in, the Sith is.” Yoda declared as the group entered the Councilor’s chambers. Most seats were empty, but one by one, Councilors holo’d or walked in. Dooku was lead in to the chamber in cuffs, Force inhibitors to prevent him from lashing out. Anakin winced as he caught sight of the old man, and Qui-Gon held his tongue as his former Master turned Sith stood silently to the side.

“Who is it, Dooku? We are running out of time.” Mace demanded, and the Count’s lips twitched. He roved over the assembled with his dark eyes, pausing on Padmé for a moment, before returning his gaze to Mace. He licked his lips, and opened his mouth to speak.

Anakin and Obi-Wan hit the floor like sacks of bricks, without warning. Padmé yelped in alarm, and sabers were out and pointed towards Dooku before he could blink.

“Wait-” Ahsoka started, in unison with Qui-Gon’s, “No!”

Kit Fisto turned his head to the two, but did not relax his grip on his saber. His tentacles twitched, “What has he done?”

“A vision, it is.” Yoda sheathed his saber as he spoke, not removing his eyes from his former Padawan.

Anakin hissed in pain as he drew himself upright. He wasn’t quite sure where he was, but it was dark, and cold, and incredibly uncomfortable. He heard his former Master making similar noises of discomfort, and as he turned his head, he caught sight of something eerily familiar.

“Hello, Anakin,” a blue copy of himself greeted, “kriff, that’s weird to say.”

Disregarding the foul language, Anakin frowned, “Who are you?”

“I’m the you who made bad choices. Really bad. Catastrophically, galaxy-endingly bad. I’m here to tell you how to stop the galaxy from ending.” The ghostly Anakin declared.

“Truly, Anakin,” a familiar, exasperated voice sighed, “The galaxy didn’t end. It just went to shit.”

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin rubbed his head.

“Yes?” An old man appeared next to ghost Anakin, all in blue. Somewhere next to Anakin, the alive Obi-Wan grunted eloquently in confusion.

“What the fuck?” Obi-Wan asked, and the old man Force ghost smiled. Anakin bit his tongue again at the cursing, preferring an explanation.

“The Chancellor is the Sith Lord you’re looking for.” The ghostly Anakin said without preamble, “He must die. He cannot be arrested.”

“But-” Anakin frowned, and the Force Ghost Anakin cut him off.

“We are not the same Anakin. We haven’t been since the day Qui-Gon found us. You will not make my mistakes,” the Force Ghost said, “Darth Sidious, however, is the same. He will not surrender.”

Anakin was glad he was still sitting. The Chancellor... Darth Sidious? He’d always gotten a strange feeling off of the Chancellor, like he was more than he seemed, but he’d never thought...

“We have to get back,” Obi-Wan said, strangely calm, “the Council will have questions.”

“Very well,” the older Obi-Wan nodded, and just like that, the two awoke. They were still in the Council chamber, and the action had settled since they’d both been accosted by their alternate selves. Anakin glanced around blankly for a moment, before his mind cleared. He sat up, pushed himself to his feet, and helped his Master stand, before turning to the Council. He dusted himself off absently, before he spoke.

“Darth Sidious is Chancellor Palpatine.” Anakin announced, and turned a glance at Dooku. The former Jedi had a plain look on his face, but there was the spark of surprise in his eyes. The Council erupted.

“What?”

“It can’t be!”

“Impossible!”

“Him? How?”

“Silence!” Mace roared, and the clamor stopped immediately, “Skywalker. What is your proof?”

“A vision,” Obi-Wan spoke before Anakin could, “Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith lord we’ve been looking for.”

“I.. we saw it,” Anakin hesitated, and then seemed to think better of his next words, instead turning to Dooku, “Dooku, am I incorrect?”

“No,” Count Dooku allowed, and everything seemed to fall still. Padmé cleared her throat.

“Masters Jedi, if I may,” she took a step forwards, her cloak falling taut around her and trailing its length along the floor, “this is not only a matter for the Council. Though the Chancellor is a Sith, he is also the head of our Senate. I, and others, have been gathering evidence of his corruption. I believe exposing his political malpractice to disrupt his control over the public would aid in his overthrowing.”

“He will not hesitate to kill anybody in his path,” Kit warned, “he is a Sith. You put yourself in danger, Senator.”

“I am aware, Master Jedi, but as it is, we all are,” Padmé nodded, and turned slightly to look at her husband. Anakin bit his lip, as Padmé turned back to the Council, “I must speak with the others, is it possible for them to meet me in the Temple?”

“Possible it is,” Yoda spoke, and gestured towards Ahsoka, “Padawan Tano, to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, take the Senator. Assist in her work, you will.”

“Of course, Master Yoda,” Ahsoka bowed, and then stepped forwards to escort Padmé out of the Council chamber. After a bit of discussion, Dooku was ordered back to his holding cell, and Qui-Gon was asked to assist Ahsoka and Padmé. Obi-Wan took his seat, and Anakin stood before the Council.

“Skywalker.” Mace Windu said, sounding exhausted, and Anakin steeled himself. He’d known ever since Padmé had brought it up on the way that the Council was going to eat him alive.

“Master Windu,” Anakin replied, focusing all of his nervous energy into the Force, channelling it away to the best of his ability.

“Please, pass our congratulations on to Senator Amidala,” Mace continued, and then, “How long?”

“Excuse me?” Anakin asked, playing dumb, but an exasperated sigh from Obi-Wan stopped him in his tracks. The Jedi took a deep breath, spent a quick minute counting the years, and then spoke, “I’ve loved her since I met her on Tatooine. The minute I knew Obi-Wan would be my Jedi Master and Ahsoka Tano would be my Padawan, I knew Padmé Amidala was the love of my life. We married shortly after the first Battle of Geonosis.”

Silence reigned for a hot minute, before Kit Fisto exclaimed, “Married?!”

“Broken the Code, you have.” Yoda frowned, “Exceptions, made for you there were. But this?”

“I know, Master... And I will gladly turn in my lightsaber and my rank, as soon as the Sith is dealt with.” Anakin explained.

“Unfortunate, that is,” Yoda sighed, and turned to Obi-Wan, “Known how long have you?”

“The beginning,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“And tell us you did not. Why?”

Obi-Wan turned his gaze out to the busy Coruscant traffic, closed his eyes, and spoke, “In the other timeline... there are siblings. Skywalkers. The Princess and Senator of Alderaan, and the last of the Jedi. Their very existence is woven into the fabric of the Force. Even if I, or anyone else for that matter, had forbidden Anakin from seeing Padmé, it would have stopped nothing.”

Anakin felt like his head was about to explode. Siblings? And from the sound of it, a son and a daughter. He quickly reeled himself back into focus, as Mace Windu cleared his throat.

“The last of the Jedi, you said. What does that mean, Kenobi?” Mace frowned, and Obi-Wan mirrored his expression, but there was a darker thing behind his eyes, and weariness seemed to settle upon his shoulders like a worn cloak.

“Darth Sidious had each and every Jedi destroyed.” He announced, and the temperature seemed to fall. Anakin blinked, and spoke without prompting, “Every Force sensitive, not just Jedi.”

“What?” Kit Fisto’s uneasy confusion seemed to fall away into horror as Anakin turned his gaze to a spot on the floor. Kit gasped, “The younglings?”

“We can prevent it from happening here, too.” Anakin shivered as he recalled his vision of the younglings hiding away, only to be culled like livestock.

“Prevent it we must.” Yoda agreed, “Stop Darth Sidious, we will.”

“He cannot be arrested, unfortunately,” Obi-Wan grimaced, “he is far too strong to be held captive.”

“We have the proper facilities,” Mace crossed his arms in frustration, “we can’t just kill him. It goes against everything we practice.”

“Everything you practice,” Anakin interrupted, steeling his resolve. He didn’t want to kill the Chancellor, but he was no longer the odd old man Anakin had known as a child. If Palpatine was a Sith Lord, the Jedi Knight had no qualms about ending his life. “Darth Sidious must die if we want to live out our lives in peace.”

Chapter Text

“Something’s not quite right. I’m worried,” Padmé admitted to Ahsoka as they waited for Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, and Satine Kryze to arrive in the Temple. Ahsoka hummed thoughtfully, and then nodded.

“Me too,” the Padawan frowned, crossing her arms and hunching slightly, “I have a really bad feeling about all of this. Anakin’s in a really rough spot, I can feel it through our bond.”

“I didn’t want to tell Ani, since he’d just worry, but...” the Senator sighed, resting her hands on her stomach, “I’ve been having odd dreams, ever since I found out I was pregnant. I can’t really make them out, but I get the feeling that I lived through them, whatever they were.”

“Visions?” Ahsoka’s eye markings rose high, and Padmé shrugged, frowning.

“I’m not sure... I don’t know that much about the Force and how it works, but maybe... you know...” Padmé trailed off, and Ahsoka nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, that does make sense. Ugh! Now I want to ask Obi-Wan about it. He usually knows these things.”

“What things?” Qui-Gon’s voice startled the two women out of their thoughts, and they stood, turning to him.

“Nevermind that for now,” Padmé smoothed the front of her dress as best she could, and exhaled heavily, “How’s Anakin doing?”

“Well enough,” the Jedi Master frowned, “he seems off, however. Whatever he and Obi-Wan foresaw... Well, he has quite a lot to think about now. Are the others on their way?”

“Yes,” Padmé nodded, before growing quiet, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach, “Qui-Gon, would it be possible for me to see Anakin before he has to go?”

“It should be,” Qui-Gon frowned, “I doubt the Council would send him off without having proof of Sidious’s treason prepared.”

Padmé raised a hand to her face, absently rubbing her eyes. She was exhausted. After being woken up so abruptly and then rushed off to the Jedi Temple without much of a break, the Senator longed for her bed. But she had work to do. Her years of collecting evidence over the course of the Clone Wars were finally coming to fruition, but the pressing circumstances, combined with the ever-ticking time bomb that was her pregnancy made the whole thing leave a sour taste in her mouth. To her side, Ahsoka was muttering quietly to herself as she sorted through files, mentally cataloguing the data as quickly as she could.

“Senator Amidala?” A familiar voice made Padmé jump in surprise, and she looked up to see Bail Organa standing before her, arms tucked into the sleeves of his robe. Padmé lay a hand over her chest to quell her heart and stood, smiling at her dear friend.

“Bail, it’s wonderful to see you,” the Nabooian Senator greeted her ally, “we are in dire straits.”

“That we are. Mon and Satine should be arriving shortly, the traffic is just terrible tonight.” Bail grimaced. Padmé nodded, and sighed.

“Well, let us begin without them.”

Anakin stared blankly out of the window. Everything in his room at the Temple felt off, like it wasn’t his at all. He knew it was, the wires and droid parts lying in the corner, and the stack of datachips with backups of his mission reports scattered about the table. There were a few holos of his mother as well, tucked away in the clutter. But, it all felt alien to him in the Force. Something had changed during his and Obi-Wan’s vision. Seeing himself dead, so affected by the Dark side, yet still convinced there was hope...

The Jedi Knight sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He was running on fumes, barely managing to scrape by day-to-day. Padmé’s news of pregnancy had been a momentary relief of the pressure he felt, as they daydreamed together of raising their children on Naboo by the water. But of course, it was too good to last, with the Sith lord being revealed to be the head of the Republic. He toed at a pile of junk with his booted foot, the soft screech of metal rubbing against metal ringing in his ears. Anakin blinked, and fire burned behind his eyes. It had been since he’d woken up from the vision he’d had that night, fire mixed with the hot, pungent blood of countless Jedi, slaughtered at his hand. His beloved wife lay, dying, dead, in a sterile hospital room somewhere far away from him, and his infant children screamed alone.

Palpatine had to die, he knew. Deep within the very core of his being, he longed to spear the Sith upon his lightsaber, extinguishing the great source of Darkness from existence. Adjacent to this part of him, he felt sick with himself for even wanting to kill the Chancellor. They had never been too close, as he’d always had a slight aversion to the man, but he was kind to Anakin. In retrospect, the Jedi Knight knew that it was a ploy to sway Anakin to the Dark side, to corrupt him and reform him into a Sith apprentice.

It is who you are , something entrenched within Anakin whispered, the Chosen One. It is who you are meant to be.

“No!” Anakin gasped aloud, and stumbled backwards, falling hard onto the couch behind him. The Force seemed to curdle around him, souring as something touched it. The thing hissed, give in to the Darkness, Anakin. You are mine. We shall rule the galaxy together, as Master and Student.

“Never,” Anakin growled, squeezing his eyes shut as he realized who was invading his mind, “I am no one’s but my own.”

Focusing his strength, he found the root of Palpatine... of Sidious’s corruption, and pushed. Hard. The Sith Lord was expelled from his mind in an instant. Anakin shot to his feet, and took off towards the Council Chambers.

Obi-Wan grimaced absently, as he forced himself back to attention. The Council hadn’t stopped bickering since Anakin had left, every time they had grown close to a sort of consensus, the fires of debate had been stoked by some side comment or suggestion. The fate of the Jedi, and the Republic, lay before them, and they could hardly keep in line.

“We cannot send Skywalker,” Mace frowned, “he is too close...”

“Bring balance, he must,” Yoda disagreed, “Chosen by the Force, he was.”

“Is he not a hair’s width from Falling?” Ki-Adi interrupted, crossing his arms, “He has broken the Code many times over the years. He is susceptible.”

“Anakin will not Fall,” Obi-Wan spat, surprising himself slightly, “I do not think he should be the one to kill Sidious, but he is nowhere near being overtaken by the Dark side.”

“You are biased, Kenobi,” Mace replied, “you care for the boy, and your judgment is clouded.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows rose in offense, and though he could not argue with the Jedi’s statements, he was surprised by the implications being thrown his former Padawan’s way.

“Master, you have witnessed Anakin’s Force signature as clearly as I have. He is a blinding Light.” The Jedi Master frowned, leaning back into his seat, “Our Anakin and the Anakin from my vision are two different people.”

“Even so, perhaps-” Mace began to retort, but was cut off by the Council Chamber’s doors slamming open alarmingly, and Anakin Skywalker running into the center of the room.

“He knows I’m here, and he knows we know.” Anakin said sharply. “We must strike before he does.”

There was silence, until a single word echoed throughout the room, “What?”

“Master, please,” Anakin looked to Obi-Wan, whom sighed, stood from his seat, and stepped towards his wayward Padawan.

“Skywalker.” Mace said flatly, “You will stay behind while we take care of this.”

“You don’t understand,” Anakin shook his head, “he’s more powerful than you can imagine. I know what he’s capable of, I... You will not succeed.”

As Anakin walked through the halls, his heartbeat played a dirge in his ears. The Force stood still, like it was holding its breath. Behind him, he could feel the static building in the Council members who had elected to go confront Sidious. Obi-Wan was next to him, footsteps silent, and their Force bond was similarly calm, like the eye of a storm. Anakin felt the Dark deep within him bubbling towards the surface as they neared the Chancellor’s office; the sheer hatred he felt towards the Chancellor made his stomach turn. He was conflicted. Anakin knew that Palpatine needed to die, as it was the only way to prevent what had happened to his other self, but he didn’t feel right wanting to kill him. And yet, he still thirsted for the Chancellor’s blood. Anakin stopped in front of the Chancellor’s door, and drew in a short breath.

Mace put a hand on his shoulder, and Anakin stepped aside, allowing the Councilor to take the lead. The door opened.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sidious frowned behind his desk, hands clasped in front of him. Open on his screen was a flashing report reading, “Breaking news! Chancellor corrupt! Senators reveal cold hard evidence!”

“You are under arrest,” Mace announced, and Sidious raised an eyebrow. The Sith shifted his eyes from Mace, so focus on Anakin. The Jedi’s skin crawled as the old man stared at him.

“Anakin,” Sidious smiled, “I have always sensed great power in you. The Jedi do not appreciate it, they fear you for it.”

“I don’t care,” Anakin retorted, hand inching towards his saber.

“Oh, but you do,” Sidious sneered, rising from his chair. With a flick of his hand, Mace, Obi-Wan, Kit Fisto, and Saesee Tiin dropped to their knees.

The air felt harsh against Ahsoka’s skin, like she was not welcome. There was a breeze through the shattered window of the Supreme Chancellor’s office that seemed to slash at her like shards of glass. But worse yet was the sight of her Master crumpled in on himself, and next to him, Obi-Wan Kenobi lay out on his back, wheezing with each breath. Mace and the other few who had come along for the attack on the Sith Lord were haphazardly strewn about, alive, but injured. Their Force signatures were placid, somehow. They were not in any sort of immediate danger, though they would have their aches and pains in the following weeks. From her Master, however, the Force seemed to be boiling with conflicting emotions.The Padawan ran forward, dropping into a crouch next to Anakin.

“Master?” Ahsoka reached out a hand and lay it on his shoulder. He barely reacted, save for a sharp intake of breath. The Force rippled around the Jedi Knight, and the room smelled like ozone, sharp and metallic. From the way her Master looked, Palpatine had zapped him a handful of times. As she thought this, the Force pulsed slightly.

“Ah-” Obi-Wan interrupted himself with a cough, “Ahsoka, need medical...”

“Oh, yes! Of course!” Ahsoka stood sharply, activating her comm unit, “Kix, we need a medivac, now. The window’s blasted out already.”

“On my way, sir,” Kix’s voice crackled over the comm, and Ahsoka turned her attention back to Anakin and Obi-Wan. She reached out through the Force to her Master, and fell back into a crouch. It was overwhelming, the sheer energy radiating from him. Dark and Light, contorting against each other in a vicious dance. The whole thing made her skin crawl, and she withdrew.

“Master, what happened?” Ahsoka asked, and Anakin finally moved, reaching up with his flesh hand to rub at his face. He was shaking, Ahsoka noticed worriedly, and he refused to look at her.

“He escaped. I... I hesitated, and he got away.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan uttered raggedly, but there was a lightness to his voice, “you did it.”

“Not yet.” Anakin’s hand remained over his eyes, and suddenly, his Force energy retreated, leaving a sort of vacuum in its place. Ahsoka shivered.

Slowly, Anakin removed his hand from his eyes, and sat up. He moved stiffly, and steeled himself as he stood.

“Mustafar,” Anakin declared, and turned to face Ahsoka.

“Mustafar?” The Padawan frowned, confusion painting her face.

“Oh, kriff,” Obi-Wan hissed, and Anakin’s lips twitched as he quelled the urge to chide his former Master’s language.

Padmé rushed through the halls of the Senate, her skirts swishing violently as her escort of troopers followed closely behind. In front of her, Bail strode with purpose, clutching their compilation of evidence tightly in his arms. Dread settled firmly on her shoulders, as they grew closer to the pod entrances. She had a very bad feeling about all of this, but smoothed her frown. This was a new beginning, a thing to be celebrated, and by the Force, she wouldn’t let a feeling ruin the opportunity for reformation before her.

Qui-Gon sat across from Dooku, hands steepled as he rested his elbows on his knees. The Count sat back in his seat, legs crossed, frowning.

“You’re telling me that he’s on Mustafar?” Qui-Gon’s forehead creased, and the Count nodded.

“It’s curious... Your Grand-Padawan spared my life, when I surely felt I was going to be executed,” Dooku crossed his arms, the chains around his wrists rattling, “Things are going differently than they should. Not that I’m going to complain about living.”

“Ma-” Qui-Gon cut himself off, “Dooku. Mustafar. Why?”

The Dark Jedi’s lips twitched in amusement, “Always to the point, Padawan. It’s a nexus of the Dark side. Secure, as well. Not for the faint of heart, though I suppose Kenobi, Skywalker, and Tano are all foolishly brave.”

“Does Darth Sidious have any reinforcements?”

“Oh, absolutely not. The fool never realized his Clone army was being de-chipped. How, I’m not sure, though it works in our favor.”

“Our?” Qui-Gon frowned skeptically at his former Master. Dooku shrugged.

“I grow tired, Padawan. I long to retire to my wealth, or mind the younglings,” the former Jedi sighed, “Had I less faith in your Grand-Padawan, I would freely share all of Darth Sidious’s secrets with the entirety of the Order. But, you can feel him.”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply, blowing the air out of his mouth in a thin stream, “Very well. The prophecy at work, I suppose.”

The air of Mustafar was acidic, and the heat seemed to leech the strength from Anakin’s exhausted frame. He was glad that Obi-Wan had agreed to stay with the other Council members. The Master had taken quite the beating, and was in no shape to withstand the soon-to-be battle. However, Anakin would miss his Master’s support. Fortunately, or unfortunately, his Padawan had accompanied him to Mustafar. Ahsoka worried at her lip as the they marched through the halls of the fortress on the red planet. The Dark side was oppressive, filling every nook and cranny of the planet, and laying heavy like a blanket across Ahsoka’s shoulders.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” The togruta watched her Master’s stride, trying to match his pace.

“He is,” the Jedi Knight nodded as he walked, hand firmly gripping his saber. To Anakin, the air was electric, and crackled with each step. This was the great divergence. Every alteration in the timeline had lead him to this very moment. In another life, he had failed. His grip tightened on his saber. He would not fail again.

Padmé’s breath caught as a jolt of pain rippled through her abdomen, and Bail steadied her with a hand on her mid-back as she stiffened. Her eyes widened, as Bail continued his speech. Next to her, Satine gave her a look, curious. The Naboo Senator’s mind was racing. Of course, she knew she had been cutting it close, but now?

“Once Darth Sidious is apprehended, I propose that we hold a vote to appoint select Senators to repair the damage that has been done to our Republic,” Bail nodded to Mon Mothma, who straightened her posture, and cleared her throat. As Mon picked up where Bail left off, Padmé felt another stab of discomfort, and held her breath as the pain worked through her.

“Padmé?” Bail turned to the Naboo Senator, concern painted upon his features.

“I...” Padmé considered her words carefully, “I believe I am experiencing contractions.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, panic spread across Bail and Satine's faces. The trooper escort began chattering quietly, and Padmé grimaced.

“It’s not urgent, necessarily,” she began, and was cut off by Bail.

“We’re leaving. Satine, where’s the closest hospital?”

“Not too far, Bail, stay. I’ll take care of her.” Satine placed a placating hand on Bail’s shoulder, and turned to the pregnant Senator.

“Padmé, shall we?”

Anakin threw his arms out as he used the Force to push the door before him open. In the center of the room, Sidious perched on a decrepit throne, Darkness leeching off of him. Ahsoka recoiled at the wave of Dark that poured out of the throne room.

“Ah, Skywalker,” Sidious creaked, sneering, “and Tano.”

“It’s over, Sidious.” Anakin snarled, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He moved without thinking, absorbing the bolts of Force lightning with his saber. Ahsoka dropped into a fighting stance, igniting her own blades.

“Is it?” Sidious grinned, “They’ve been lying to you, dear Ani. They Jedi don’t care about you. They want to use you. You’re a tool to them.”

“Be that as it may, I refuse to be your tool.” Anakin replied, and leapt forward. Sidious’s blood red saber blocked Anakin’s blue, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. Every move Anakin made, Sidious matched him. Similarly, Sidious was not able to make any ground on Anakin. After a few stalemates, Ahsoka joined the fray.

The fight was vicious. Somehow, Sidious was able to fend off three sabers at once. Anakin felt his blood pounding in his ears as he leapt back to try and analyze the situation.

He quickly realized his mistake, and Sidious turned his full attention to Ahsoka. The togruta Padawan screamed out in shocked pain as one of her sabers clattered to the floor, and most of her left arm with it. The Sith Lord grinned with sick glee as he swung his saber back around, this time aiming for Ahsoka’s neck.

“No!” Anakin bellowed, Force pushing Sidious back into his throne with enough force to shatter the ancient stone. The Force seemed to explode from the Jedi, and Anakin felt something within him click. He held Sidious down with his newfound strength, and turned frantically to see the togruta girl crumpled upon the floor.

“Master!” Ahsoka clutched her now-stump with her hand, both of her lightsabers on the ground. Anakin ran over to his Padawan, dropping to his knees before her. He desperately tried to remember what triage he had been given when he was a Padawan, and settled for attempting to knit together the fibers of Ahsoka’s charred but still bleeding wound. He only barely managed to stop the bleeding before his control over Sidious faltered.

As the Sith Lord rose, Anakin stood, spinning on his heel, and summoning Ahsoka’s longer saber to his free hand.

“You’ll pay for all you’ve done,” Anakin promised, coldly, and sprinted towards the Chancellor.

Sidious fought with fervor, deflecting each of Anakin’s strikes with ease, but Anakin could tell the Sith Lord was growing tired. And Force, Anakin himself was exhausted. He ached down to the very core of his being. But the pure, fiery rage he felt drove him past his limits. Remembering the wretched noise Ahsoka had made as her arm was severed, Anakin felt a new burst of energy. Sidious cackled.

“Yes! Give in to the Dark side! Use your emotions!” The Sith wildly slashed towards Anakin, who deflected the blow.

The Jedi ignored the Sith’s exclamations, and instead channeled all of his energy into hitting harder, faster, and more precisely. After what seemed like eons, the Sith finally stumbled.

Anakin sunk Ahsoka’s saber deep into Darth Sidious’s side. The Chancellor let out a demonic screech, and dropped like a sack of tubers.

“Oh, Force,” Anakin gasped, as he stumbled backwards. It was almost anticlimactic. There were no fireworks, no great struggle, no bursts of Force. Just the feeling of the Dark retreating as Sidious gasped for air.

“I’ve...” Sidious breathed raggedly, the hot Mustafar air searing his lungs, “still... won...”

Anakin frowned, and deactivated his lightsabers. He didn’t feel any different. Still tired, still sad, still angry. He hadn’t fallen, or at least, he didn’t think he had. As Sidious heaved his last breaths, the Jedi turned to his Padawan.

Ahsoka was staring at him with wide eyes, “Master...”

“Ahsoka?” Anakin stumbled towards his Padawan, hesitantly coming to a stop as he noticed her recoiling. He felt his heart drop in his chest.

“No, Anakin,” Ahsoka shook her head, and frowned, “I’m not scared. You’re too loud.”

“I’m what?” Anakin furrowed his brows.

Too loud. Ahsoka poked him through their training bond. Like, supersonic loud. It’s almost like there’s another one of you, all shields down, yelling through the bond.

Oh. Anakin frowned. Then, feeling Obi-Wan’s curious poking as well, he realized what his Padawan meant.

“Oh!” Anakin yelped, and yanked hard on his Force presence, drawing it all back within his shields. It almost seemed not to fit quite the same, but inspecting exactly why would have to wait. Now quieted, Anakin hustled over to Ahsoka, and scooped her up.

“Master, I can walk...” Ahsoka argued, nonetheless gripping tightly to Anakin’s shoulders as he began to run back to the ship they flew in on.

“She’s what? ” Anakin felt the blood drain from his face as he tried to process Satine’s words.

“In labor. We’re at the Temple.”

“Oh Force...” Anakin’s mind was racing. He was going to be a father. His children were going to be born in the Temple. Temple... Jedi... “Ahsoka! She’s injured! I’ve applied bacta. Tell the medics to prepare for our arrival!”

“Will do. Fly safely. Master Yoda is on his way to Mustafar to collect the corpse.” Satine smiled, “Congratulations.”

Anakin swallowed, and ended the transmission. Punching in the coordinates, Anakin sank into his seat, and took a deep breath. Manually flying the small ship out of Mustafar’s atmosphere, he activated the autopilot as soon as he was able, and promptly leapt out of his seat to go find his Padawan.

Ahsoka was staring at the ceiling, laying on her back on one of the rickety bunks. The bacta bandages Anakin had applied were now covered in another layer of wound dressings, and there were a handful of empty pain suppressant packages littered around the togruta.

“How are you feeling?” Anakin asked, standing awkwardly in the doorway. He was wracked with guilt at having allowed his Padawan to suffer the same fate he had. If only he had fought harder, and not lost focus, and...

“I’ve been worse,” Ahsoka shrugged, “Skyguy, we’ll be matching.”

Anakin snorted, taken aback, “Really, Snips?”

The Padawan huffed a laugh, closing her eyes, “You’re gonna be Skydad... Dadguy...”

The Jedi groaned, and Ahsoka grinned.

“I’ll be Auntsoka. Don’t worry, Skyguy, I’ll make sure your kids have a sense of humor.”

Anakin’s lips twitched upward, as he imagined Ahsoka trying to teach babies humor. Then, he felt a great upwelling in his chest as the realization he was going to be a father with real actual children, with his gorgeous, loving, angel of a wife.

Anakin felt like he was full to the brim with happiness, as the past events finally registered to him. Sidious was dead. He didn’t fall. His wife was alive. His Padawan was alive. He had his three remaining limbs. In this timeline, he was going to be able to be the father he had not been able to be in the doomed timeline. Things were going to be ok.

Chapter Text

“So, just twist it a liiiiiittle bit to the left,” Ahsoka squinted, ignoring the crick in her back as she contorted herself around the children sitting in front of her, squinting into the open droid torso before the three, “now it should be working. Boot ‘em up, Skyguy Junior.”

Luke closed the casing, and pressed the power button. The droid sputtered to life, before sputtering back out.

“Awwww,” Luke whined, sitting back and huffing in frustration. Leia, in contrast, leaned forward, popping the case back open.

“You connected the wrong wire,” she said, matter-of-factly, and reconnected the wires. As she began to close the case, she paused, turning back to peer at Ahsoka over her shoulder curiously. “You didn’t stop him?”

“I can’t really see back here, Princess,” Ahsoka grinned, “besides, I’m not your dad.”

“You’re still really good with droids, Auntsoka,” Luke shuffled around to look at the togruta, and gave her a hearty pat on the shoulder.

“Aw, thanks Skyguy Junior!” The Jedi laughed, and pointed the children’s attention back to the droid, “Now, give it a try again.”

Anakin smiled from the doorway. He’d been loitering for a bit, watching his former padawan interact with his children. Affairs at the Temple had been running long and late recently, with all of the lingering questions about the Jedi Order and all of its rules and regulations, as well as whether or not the Jedi should become involved in the crime rates rising in the Outer Rim. As such, he’d had to rely on Ahsoka to watch the twins. Padmé had similarly become embroiled in political troubles at the Senate. Trade agreements were falling apart as a result of piracy, and the Senate was looking at war with the criminal empires. Clone integration, however, had been going relatively smoothly since the end of the Clone Wars.

The Jedi Order, after much pushing from Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon, as well as others, had agreed to offer employment within the Temple for clones that had worked in highly specialized roles directly under Jedi Generals. Other clones who were specialized in administrative or guard roles found easy employment by the Senate, and others still opened restaurants, worked in hospitals, became artists, and flourished. There were some clones who couldn’t as easily integrate, those who missed the life of a soldier, who were formed into special operations units and sent on highly classified missions.

While the militarization of the Jedi was being slowly undone, Anakin quite often found himself restless for battle as well. He was part of the push towards taking action against the crime rings in the Outer Rim, partially because of the abuse he and his mother had suffered when he was younger on Tatooine, but also because, even after a decade had passed since the end of the Clone Wars, he found himself falling into old wartime habits.

But, as he watched his children, his Luke and Leia, playing with the decrepit old droid he’d dragged back from a survey mission for them, he knew that he didn’t want to go be General Skywalker again. Not all the time, at least. If anything happened to him on the front lines...

“Dad?” Leia’s clear, soft voice broke him from his daze.

“Yes, Leia?” Anakin pushed his hair out of his face, pulling himself back to the present. His daughter studied him carefully with her brown eyes, so much like her mother’s, and then scrunched up her nose, just like he did.

“You’re being loud again.”

“Sorry, Leia,” Anakin laughed, “all those boring old Masters wear me out. Can you guess what we spent three hours arguing about?”

“Oh! Oh!” Luke thrust his arm up into the air, nearly punching Ahsoka in the face on the way. The togruta leaned aggressively out of the way, as Luke waved his arm back and forth.

“Hmm?” Anakin crossed his arms, smirking. Luke, according to everyone, looked so much like him. It was true, they shared the same light hair and light eyes, but Luke had so much of Padmé in him as well, from his mannerisms to his facial structure.

“Boring stuff?” Luke grinned, and Leia rolled her eyes.

“Obviously, Luke,” she said sarcastically, her pout morphing into a grin as her brother turned to her with a sour expression.

“Nah, let’s get more specific,” Ahsoka stood, dusting herself off, “I guess...”

Master, gimme a hint, Ahsoka poked Anakin through their bond, and Anakin fought the urge to burst out into laughter.

That’s cheating, Snips.

Oh, you’re no fun! Ahsoka stuck her tongue out at him, and guessed wildly, “What kind of plants to add to the gardens?”

“Close,” Anakin snorted, “what kind of clothing we should provide clone employees with.”

“Arguing?” Ahsoka cringed, “What’s there to argue about? Just give them the usual!”

“I know!” Anakin agreed, “That’s what I’ve been saying. But... some... don’t want clones wearing ‘traditional Jedi garb.’”

Ahsoka’s lip curled as she sneered, “Oh, I see. Just say the word, and I’ll sneak the kids into their chambers... let them wreak some havoc...”

Luke and Leia both lit up at the suggestion of material carnage, and Anakin had to bite his tongue.

“I’d rather not use my children as weapons of mass destruction,” Anakin stepped away from the doorway, smirking, “anyways, let me see that droid.”