#and then carefully cradles obi-wan's face in his hand and does the who did this to you (about the bruise)

[tennessoui]

MR AND MR SITH I LOVE IT!!!😭😭😭

I’m just picturing them doing the Angelina and Brad pose and it’s sending me

ok i was thinking about this au this morning so here is 1.1k of a writing warm up set in the mr and mr sith au where the jedi have captured master skywalker to take him home (they think he's been held hostage this entire time), but they accidentally pick up sith obi-wan instead and no one is prepared........

(1.1k)

Ena frowns down at Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker, a bad feeling sprouting in her chest. This all feels wrong, but it isn’t. She knows it isn’t.

“He really fought back?” she asks Mal as soon as he enters the room. “But you told him we were Jedi, right? That we came to rescue him? That he was safe?”

Mal puts his hand on her shoulder. The touch is supposed to be comforting, but Ena isn’t sure how much she wants comfort right now. “I did,” he swears. “But he’s been held captive by the Sith for so long, Ena, who knows what they’ve done to his mind?” “He doesn’t…he doesn’t look tortured,” Ena says, looking over Master Skywalker’s bound figure. They’d had to physically tie him down with rope and chain once they’d subdued him, apparently. Apart from the livid bruise along his cheekbone, he appears uninjured. His hair—auburn and rather short—falls messily over his face.

“You and I both know that sometimes the deepest scars are ones we cannot see,” Mal tells her, squeezing her shoulder once.

“And the child?” Ena asks. “Has the med droid finished looking him over?” “Healthy,” Senaka reports as she comes into the room, montrals twitching at the change of Force, a heaviness in the air that they know comes from their captive even though they’re not sure why. “Five standard years of age, I believe, with a ridiculously high midichlorian count. He’ll be waking up within the hour, I’m sure.”

“Master Skywalker has clearly bonded with the boy,” Mal reports, hand rising to tug at a padawan braid that’s no longer there. “It was only when we separated them that he stopped fighting us. He didn’t even notice Senaka had a force collar until it was already on his neck.”

Ena feels a headache brewing behind her eyes. She knows what they’ve done is the right thing.

It doesn’t feel right though.

To tie a venerated, traumatized man to a chair, to win a fight against him by subduing a child…but they had had no other option. 

After six years of no information, the Jedi Council had finally caught a whisper about Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker’s location. Four Jedi Knights had been dispatched to follow this rumor to its bitter end, to track down Master Skywalker, rescue him from the clutches of the Sith who stole him away so long ago, and bring him home.

Their informant had confirmed that a man with yellow eyes was often seen on the same planet, in the same city. So they’d had to move fast.

And when Master Skywalker had not been receptive…when he’d killed Knight Avas…Ena knows they’d been forced into making a decision that felt wrong but must be right.

Mal squeezes her shoulder once, opening his mouth to say something. Before he can, Master Skywalker shifts slightly in his chair before he freezes completely. Awake.

His eyes flash open a second later, pale blue glowering right into Ena’s soul. “Where is he?” he spits, words spoken in an unexpectedly Coruscanti accent. “What have you done with him?”

“Master Skywalker,” Ena says, holding out a hand to try and soothe the fury thrashing in the man’s eyes. He snarls the moment she comes too close. “The boy is fine. I swear it, you know the Jedi would never hurt a child. We won’t hurt you either. It’s over. You’re safe.”

Master Skywalker rears back as much as he can in his current position. “I want to see him,” he commands. “Bring him to me.”

“We can’t do that,” Senaka shakes her head slowly. “You’re…volatile, Master. You could hurt him.”

“You will let me see my child,” Master Skywalker snaps, voice seeping with danger. “I—”

It is the patter of little feet that interrupts him now, and the three Jedi turn around immediately. Not before there’s a blur of movement from the door and the boy careens between their legs, running to throw himself onto Master Skywalker’s lap.

Though the man’s arms are bound tightly behind him, Ena can see the way he automatically tries to hold the boy, shoulders jerking forward before he sinks back with a snarl of frustration.

“Papa!” the boy is saying over and over again, rubbing over the Jedi Master like an affectionate tooka cat. “I can’t feel you! Papa, why are you gone?”

“I’m here, Luke, it’s alright. We’re alright,” Master Skywalker murmurs, voice becoming impossibly softer as he leans far enough down so that he can tap their foreheads together.

“Master Skywalker, we mean you no harm,” Ena tries to say, taking another step forward. Senaka is right. Master Skywalker killed a Jedi only a few hours ago. He’s unstable. He’s dangerous. 

“I don’t know who that is,” the man snaps as the child—his child?—hides his face in his neck. “Release me at once. I have no ties to the Jedi Order.”

“What?” Mal looks shocked then shaken. Ena understands. None of them ever knew Master Skywalker, but everyone in the Temple had heard of him. He was legendary. A perfect Jedi. To hear that he doesn’t even recognize his name…it shakes Ena to her core. “No—you—you are Master Skywalker. Do you—Anakin. That’s your name. Anakin Skywalker. You’ve been missing for six years. You were kidnapped by the Sith on an undercover mission to Nyrel. We never stopped looking for you.”

The man in front of them freezes again, face expressionless as the seconds tick on. Slowly, a red eyebrow arches its way up his forehead. “Oh,” he says like he’s suddenly realized a great mystery of the universe. “Oh, I see.”

The child on his lap tugs at the front of his robes before deciding to tug at the bristles of his beard instead. “Papa,” Luke says in that way children do when they are demanding attention. “I can feel Daddy though. He’s not feeling good.”

Skywalker’s nostrils flare at this, and he cuts his eyes from the far wall down to the boy and then up to Ena. “Did you hurt him?” he demands, voice like ice. “When you captured me. Did you hurt him?”

“The boy? No—you can see, he’s fine—”

“A man,” Skywalker shakes his head. “Golden hair. Blue eyes. Tall.”

“No, papa,” Luke tugs at Skywalker’s beard again. “No. He’s okay. But he’s not feeling good things.”

Skywalker’s attention is fully on his child. “What do you mean, Luke?” he asks, voice gentle and coaxing.

“Angry,” Luke says. “Daddy is angry and close.”

For some reason this makes Master Skywalker smile, lines around his eyes crinkling with the force of his joy. “That’s very good then, Luke Love. Do you know why?”

Ena feels Mal shift next to her, unease growing in the air around them as Master Skywalker turns his face up to them. “Why?” Luke asks.

“Because our friends here really want to meet your daddy,” he says. “And I think your daddy’s going to be absolutely charmed.”

[dreaminghour]

doMAYstic 14

Prompt: postcard in the mail Fandom: Star Wars. Characters: Anakin/Obi-Wan & Luke. Words: 513. Rating: G. SFW. A/N: Moving further into the future of my obikin coffee shop AU... I haven't introduced Padmé yet, but she is pregnant with the twins and Anakin is the father. They aren't ever together though. I like to imagine that even though Obi-Wan isn't particularly into motorcycles when Anakin meets him, he gains enthusiasm and Anakin teaches him a lot. Obi is called Ben.

Anakin stopped short outside the garage, the postcard pressed with its thin edge into his palm, and just watched the scene laid out before him. Luke was kneeling on the blue canvas beside Ben, who quietly explained something. Both of them had their eyes on a small item in Luke's hand, which he cradled as carefully as a robin's egg.

Anakin moved closer and heard Ben explaining to Luke the exact maneuver he had to pull off. He didn't speak, merely watched Ben pop the cover off of a panel and shift aside so he could point into the cavity.

"Just gently unscrew it and— Exactly, great work."

Luke's face was scrunched in concentration, but then he had the bulb out and was handing it off to Ben.

"Wonderful. Now please screw in the…" He trailed off as he watched Luke's tiny fingers gently turn the bulb into place.

"Does it work?" Luke asked anxiously.

"Here." Ben turned the key in the ignition without starting the car and the dashboard lit up. "Works perfectly."

Luke bounced on his feet happily before catching sight of Anakin and running around Ben toward him.

"Dad! Ben just taught me how to fix his motorcycle."

"Another mechanic, just what we need."

Luke collided heavily with Anakin's legs and hugged him tightly.

"I'm too young for a job," Luke said, voice muffled against Anakin's legs.

"That's also true. Ben, no more child labor."

"Right," came the quick reply.

"But Ben was teaching me!"

"Lessons are allowed." Anakin smoothed back the silky hair from Luke's face. "I have a postcard from mom and your sister, do you want to read it?"

Luke carefully took the postcard and flipped it over to the picture first, examining the collage of photos, not noticing as Anakin walked past him to where Ben was still kneeling.

"Need a hand up?" he asked, and wordlessly Ben took his hand and pulled.

It was easy to be wrapped in Ben's arms, even as he turned to watch Luke sound out the words in his mother's neat scrawl. The only word Leia had contributed was Luke's name, taking up the majority of the space.

"They all right?" Ben murmured.

"Of course," Anakin replied, because what else did one write in a postcard but pleasantries?

"They're having a good time!" Luke exclaimed, finally running toward them and waving the note toward Ben. "Do you want me to read it to you?"

It was an offer others had made to Luke a thousand times.

"That would be lovely," Ben replied, pulling away from behind Anakin and turning back to the motorcycle. "Why don't you read to me while I continue working?"

Luke nodded seriously. "Okay."

Anakin paused again, tossing junk mail into the recycling on his way into the house. Ben was on his knees again and Luke was standing beside him, carefully sounding out the words. Ben looked up and smiled, passing along a slow blink like a light kiss, and shooed Anakin back into the house. Anakin shook his head, smiled, and left them to it.

[satingrove]

the hours

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader

summary: obi-wan pays you a visit before leaving for kamino

content: uhh SOFTNESS, fluff, a cute obi-wan and youngling moment, steamy meditation, more fluff, aotc obi rights, no gender specification

wc: 3.136k :’)

Lost a planet, Master Obi-Wan has. How embarrassing... How embarrassing.

He had one important trip to make before seeking out said planet.

Obi-Wan nods to those who pass him by, walking briskly through the Temple with his hands clasped in front of him, thinking on Yoda's other (more helpful) words, go to the center of gravity's pull and find your planet, you will. It would still be a while before he did so.

He nears an opening of transparisteel, scratching his beard and peering out of it - as if Kamino would appear in the sky, knowing it was sought after. But it's not there, as expected.

Sighing, Obi-Wan closes his eyes, focusing on the surrounding energy, the swirls of air and the sound of quiet walking, trying to single out a presence by the trace of a Force Signature. He gets just a whisper of it when his attention is broken by two small hands tugging at his cloak.

"Obi-Wan!"

Katooni, a youngling Tholothian, starts to wrap her short arms around Obi's leg, who chuckles in return. His hand comes to rest on her head.

"Little one, are you supposed to be in the library with the others?" Obi-Wan doesn't take an accusatory tone - it's laced with amusement at the youngling petting at his calf.

Katooni turns shy, hiding her face and slowly trying to inch away. The taller of the two crouches, his cloak pooling generously around him at the floor. Obi-Wan meets her at eye level, ensuring her comfort.

"I'm not here to get you into trouble, Katooni. Is that where you're supposed to be?" He displays clear and attentive empathy, though not without a trace of austerity.

Slowly, delayed by gentle shame, the Tholothian's head nods up and down.

"I was just taking a walk for a break, Master Kenobi."

He smiles, rising to stand and extending his pinkie to her, "Then I suppose I'll accompany you back, young one?"

She takes it with a soothed giggle, and he realizes the words that stuck with him from so many months ago, ones you had uttered, were perhaps true - he was indeed favoured among the young ones of the Temple, and it's more evident now than it had been before - Katooni isn't fretting about going back to the library to read up on ancient texts; she's content holding his pinkie with her whole hand, skipping twice to each step he takes.

And Obi-Wan supposes that it isn't a bad thing; to be admired in such ways, yet he does worry about the influence he gives. Was it respectable enough? He never thought he'd earned the right to be idolized. Then again, the child grasping his finger does warm his heart.

The fretting about rightful heroism is soon behind him, what with the more pressing matters on his hands - a voyage to a (seemingly) non-existent planet, and before that, a visit to his dearest.

Obi-Wan crouches before Katooni a second time, just shy of the library.

"I need you to tell me something very important before you go," he sets up his question in an enthusiastic whisper - a secret from everyone else in the Temple. Lightheartedly, he pokes her shoulder, "Have you seen my friend?"

"Oh, I have!" Katooni starts, excited that she had an answer, "I last saw them heading that way, before-" and then she stops, ears starting to burn with the heat of embarrassment. But it's all Obi-Wan needs to know. You'll be in your quarters.

"Ah, before you ran into me and tugged my poor cloak?" His right eyebrow raises.

"Mhm!" She chortles, almost proud of herself. Obi-Wan gives her the warmest of smiles.

"It would be best to stay in there this time." He motions to the library, softly stern, "Although, I'm not exactly sure how you escaped in the first place." Winking, a final gesture to let her know that he's not mad, he makes to cross the hallway.

Obi-Wan hardly turns the corner before Katooni yells her sweetest "thank you!" to him, scurrying back into the vastness of history books. As he weaves his way through those high-ceiling corridors, he ponders the affection he's always given. Had the little ones seen him as a father figure? He wasn't even positive what that was supposed to mean - although, Qui-Gon was the closest he'd ever had to one. The thought stings him for a second, a brief pain in his chest, and he brushes it off with his well-known stoicism, ready to fall into your arms instead for one restoring night.

-

Hood drawn up, he ensures the space around him is empty, pressing the button to your door. Unusually, he hadn't knocked, yet he slips in as it hisses open.

A sigh of relief blows through his pursed lips at his successful venture to forbidden grounds; and like clockwork, his arms fold as he leans his side into the wall. He smirks when you finally see him.

"Maker, I wasn't expecting you-" Your hand on your heart almost worries him.

"Am I not welcome?" He asks quizzically, looking particularly regal, features made dark by the shadow of his hood. Jedi Knight was a rightfully chosen word.

He knew he was indeed welcome.

"Oh, don't be a fool." You kiss his lips in a short but sweet peck, tangling your fingers in the length of his auburn hair and taking his hood down. It's not enough for him.

"You'll have to kiss me longer than that." He talks low and deep against your lips, pressing them back together for a lingering moment. As it consumes your senses, it releases all of his pesky, pent up stresses. His whimper lights up your insides. 

As you come apart for the second time, his hand finds the back of your neck to cradle it delicately, eyes switching between your left and right. "What if I am a fool?"

You jab a finger into his side, "You're not", and he huffs.

"Coming here, I'd say so." He waits with an expectant look, one that makes his eyes crinkle with the smile he's trying to put off.

"Hey!" You swat at his shoulder and he takes it with exuberance, "we're careful enough about it."

Unwittingly, you try walking back to your notebook, in which you were scrawling details about deadly Felucian spore plants.

"Oh, are we?" His hands catch your waist, bringing your back swiftly to his chest. Hands creep under your clothing and caress your bare skin.

It instantly makes you weak against him, powerless to put any stop to it, and you let him continue his loving, handsy, research of your body. "Would you prefer we do this outside?" His mouth is dangerously close to nipping your ear.

"Obi-Wan..." You whine, only giving him extra incentive.

"I thought we were careful enough..."

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck, his head lazily falling into yours. Carefully, he places open-mouthed kisses all along your collarbone. He's not thinking about Kamino, nor how he'll get there. It's all forgotten as he adores you with his lips.

It feels so soft and elegant, he's so soft and elegant, but even as he's lost in his amorous deeds, the nature of his visit hasn't escaped you yet. Secrecy lead you to plan specific times to indulge in each other, although here he is, a doting surprise.

You reluctantly hum a pushy sound. He stops his movements but his lips stay connected to you. Obi-Wan hums a questioning hmm? in return.

"Did you have something to tell me?" You take him by the shoulders, all of a sudden worried that he most likely did and that it wouldn't be your favourite piece of news.

"Oh," he grumbles in slight annoyance, not at you but at the thought of leaving you in a few hours' time. "Yes, love, I did come to speak with you about something."

Your stomach drops, something he senses, and he hurriedly implores you not to panic. Taking both your hands in his, he leads you to your bed and sits down with you on its plush mattress.

He gets on with it, "I'll be leaving soon," starting slowly, gauging your reactions, "to look for a planet erased from the archives. I don't know what I may come into contact with."

The something he came to talk about doesn't startle you as much as you'd expected. Obi-Wan is a very capable Jedi, and he usually left little room for you to fret over his well-being. That said, you did anyway, all the time. His penchant for being mouthy at odds happened to cost him some blood, but this seemed as normal a job as any.

"I came to tell you," he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear, eyes following it, then meeting your gaze again, "and spend the rest of the time I have with you."

His lips envelop yours once more, this time with more bursting energy, eagerly as having an itch that couldn't be scratched. And then it all turns soft, his hair tickling your cheek as he rubs his face along your neck, taking in your scent and trying to memorize it to the best of his ability.

"How long is that?" You ask, ruffling his neat, long hair.

"Few hours." He mumbles into your skin, beard scratching against it but it's nothing you mind. "Almost the night." He adds.

The night.

"You know, I'll have to be very centered when I leave."

You do know, and it means he'll want to meditate for a while.

"Of course," your hand finds his cheek, the scruff soft under your palm, "take your time."

Obi-Wan is grateful for your constant understanding, but he has other plans - he never meant to come into your quarters to deny you his attention. You're glad to have him near regardless of what he does, yet his hand rests on your thigh and his eyes turn pleading.

"I thought you could join me." It's less of a question and more of an implication. An implication that it wasn't going to be a traditional meditation session.

You can't muster a proper response, a quiet oh coming out in its place. And as words fail you, you nod your head in agreement. Enthusiastically.

"Very well." He whispers hot against your skin, moving his head from it and standing up - except he starts to take off his cloak and utility belt. A breathy noise, and you earn yourself an amused look from him. "What? Would you rather do it for me?"

You smile charmingly, feet gently kicking at his shins, "Is that what you want?"

And he feels it again. The need to make his love known.

"I couldn't say no, darling." It leaves his chest in a hum, body leaning down for his lips to touch your forehead. Your fingers hook onto his belt, tugging him towards you and threatening to make him topple onto the mattress. He grumbles in happy exasperation, the kind that leaves him feeling overwhelmingly fond of you as you pull it off of him and neatly lay it on the sheets. He smiles at the care you give to himself and his possessions.

His fingers trace the edges of his wrap. He gathers some of it and holds it out to you. Your eyes narrow.

"More?" Your hands slowly extend to the fabric.

"Won't you?" He asks, and you sense a trace of timidity in it that makes your cheeks burn. To have flustered Obi-Wan again, for who knows how many times it's been now - you feel precious. And to him, you were just that.

The back of his hand slips gingerly down your face as you pull, the fabric wrap starting to fall off his shoulders, leaving him in his undershirt. You ravel it around your wrists and lay it beside his belt.

"That's better, thank you." He pushes the sleeves up to his elbows, the fabric loose and airy on his body, and he's effortlessly handsome.

You feebly try not to ogle him, but he's loosened the collar and his chest peeks through the linen, the image romantic on its own. He feels your stare, chuckling sweetly at your enamoured face, "I feel warm when I'm with you," giving a reason to his lack of layers.

You feel warm, too. Obi-Wan guides you to stand - ever the gentleman - and doesn't let you go while he rolls out your intricate rug from Jakku that had been sitting in the corner. Then he does let go of you, sitting down with his legs in front of him, hair falling princely on his forehead.

"Sit, my love." He motions his head, tilting it towards the spot in front of him. You're not sure why he's not sitting cross-legged, but you follow his lead and sit before him with a straight back.

"No, no. Closer." You inch forward. He extends his cheek out to you with closed eyes, waiting for his kiss. It comes as second nature to you, without a second thought, giggling quietly as you peck his face and he joins the laughter when he feels it. "Now, turn around."

How was this going to go?

You throw him a look, to which he nods his head rigidly. Turning your body before him, everything then becomes a soft and serene blur, laced with every drop of love you held for the other. His arms pull you snug against his front, chin hooking onto your shoulder.

He inhales and exhales deeply along with you, chest firm against your back, bodies moulding.

"That's it," he coos, hands pressing against your stomach, "breathe with me, feel everything..."

All you can do is what he says. The act is new but the feeling isn’t foreign; Obi-Wan’s arrays of intimacy are common, but this is different, the anticipation aloft and the touches silken. 

There's the sound of air passing in through his nose. His head further lolls onto you, your lungs filling shakily, the feeling sweet and kind. Your wrists, your neck, seemingly everything has a throbbing pulse. Obi-Wan doesn't miss your wavering breaths, deft fingers making quick work of soothing your muscles.

"So tense... it's only me, darling."

His words surround you. Melodic and steady, "Let go."

You do, floating and falling.

You sense everything - the tide of his breathing, his gentle humming, the way he keeps you tight against him like he couldn't go without; the clement whispers, feeling perfectly flush with the man who brings you nothing but pure, good feelings - like it's the only thing he knows how to do - even as he does everything else with poise and taste.

This is no exception. The sensuality is tangible - the unknowing Jedi who roam the hallway outside could have felt it, should have felt it, if not for Obi-Wan's ability to be subtle about making you weak and entirely his.

"Trust me." He brushes up the column of your throat, cautiously bringing your head back into the crook of his neck as he cranes his own to make space. He notes the fluffy feeling of your hair, arm crossing your body. You murmur, "I always trust you."

Stars, if he didn't love to hear it.

"Tell me what you see when you close your eyes."

In the blackness, there comes nothing.

"I see- I don't see anything. I only feel you..."

And what did he expect?

There wasn't anything to see when there was so much to feel. His tender hand on your throat and his legs hugging yours, you stood no chance at finding an image in your mind.

"Good," he presses his face to yours, "nice, isn't it?"

You sigh, completely enveloped in him - it's physical and emotional. Obi-Wan groans lightly at your sound, further burying his face into your curve, trying to grapple that this wouldn't last forever.

And inevitably, the falling continues. The fog of slumber starts to cloud your head by Obi-Wan's effect, that which leaves you too calm to stay awake in his arms. Fighting it isn't of any use; his soothing energy had always been a mystery, what with its pleasant gentleness that is unassailable against your consciousness.

But the moment is too sweet to lose.

He exhales an ahh of acknowledgement for your perseverance in staying awake.

"Obi, I'm not sure how this is helping you clear your mind-"

He supposes he hadn't been clear himself - learning your body under the expanse of his palms, through the matching time of your breathing, was a meditation in itself.

"But it has, my love."

It all starts over again. The lush sensations and the rush of your heart. Your senses dialed with his fingertips pressed on your wrists, finding the rhythm of your aliveness; the only thing he would hope to be sure of in the coming years that neither of you expected yet.

You both reach a point of euphoric tranquility - two words you'd use to describe his company - chests expanding and deflating at the same, slow rate. It had come to an end.

"You did wonderfully for me." A lasting kiss on your neck as he savours it. His lips send you into pleasant, sunny rapture.

The occurrence leaves you in a hazy state, all that comfort pressed against you is taken away as you both rise, sleepily, happily, and stumble into your bed.

"I don't want to wake you when I leave," Obi-Wan says, considerately and kind, propped up over you on his elbows, "I'll be careful."

"Don't be," and he melts, "I'd hate to miss you."

It’s the saccharine pieces of time that made him whole. Without another word, he kisses you; conveying the completeness that he feels by your hand, discreetly hungry but overshadowed by a chaste and giving nature. It's light and loving and drawn out long.

Then he falls grandly into the sheets beside you, arm heavily draping across your stomach, your lips missing his but you know he needs the sleep. And as the morning came, he was already gone. A vague memory of his departure floods your mind, playing over your closed eyelids - you can see it - the way he had kissed your temples, both lazily and warm, your arm semi-consciously reaching out to him, which his lips had touched too, held by both his hands.

What you hadn't seen, was Obi-Wan looming in the doorway, overseeing you drifting back to dreaming, cloak not keeping him nearly as warm as you did. He blew a kiss that you didn't catch, but knew that had you been awake, you'd have thrown it back to him.

He hopes Kamino will be a simple, touch and go engagement.

[cross-d-a]

Morai appeared in the Clone Wars season finale and I’ve realized that she symbolizes Anakin’s connection to Ahsoka

As we’re all reeling from the Clone Wars finale, I’m struck by the lingering image of a convor circling above Vader as he holds Ahsoka’s lightsaber. Since the convor is so strongly linked with Ahsoka I can only guess that it’s actually Morai and that this is where she begins to guide Ahsoka personally.

I’m sure we’ve all read meta about Morai’s symbolism as the Light Side of the Force, more specifically the Daughter from the Mortis Arc (especially since they share the same colour scheme). After Anakin helps the Daughter transfer her lifeforce to Ahsoka, the convorees begin to appear whenever Ahsoka is being tested. Filoni has even said:

"In some ways, I could say that it's a messenger, it's an observer. It is definitely something. And... I would rather have fans debate—but I would suggest... that whatever that thing is an avatar of has actually appeared in the animated Star Wars universe before. So decrypt from there."

This symbolism continues throughout Rebels where Ahsoka calls Morai by name, actually acquainted with the bird. Morai even leads Kanan to the Bendu when he was in need of guidance.

Ahsoka is intrinsically tied to the convor and through it, the Light Side of the Force. This lingering scene at the end of Victory and Death is absolutely so important, helping tie in the episode, and Vader as we see him, to the rest of the Star Wars universe.

Vader finds the 501st ship at last. We don’t know how long it’s been, how can we? All we know is that snow has covered the ruins and the carefully dug graves. We don’t even know if the troopers with him are clones or normal men. Silent and alone, Vader steps into the ruins. Eventually he stops and observes the wreckage, only to notice a glint in the snow. He bends his knee and reaches down. Almost gently, he brushes the snow away and discovers:

Ahsoka’s lightsaber.

He cradles it in his hand, brushing the snow away again with the other. Then, inexplicably, he flicks it on and we see Vader wielding a blue lightsaber for the very last time onscreen. Who knows why he turned it on. Maybe he couldn’t quite believe it was Ahsoka’s and that she’d lost it once more. Maybe he was testing to see if it still worked or if the colour was still that brilliant blue he tweaked it into.

Maybe it was one last goodbye.

But his gaze follows the point of her ‘sabre and when he reaches the end he sees Morai, soaring high above. He watches her for a long moment and this is when we see his eyes. Darth Vader’s eyes.

Anakin’s.

It doesn’t matter whether they’re blue or a sick-sulfur gold. All that matters is that we see them. We’ve never seen Vader’s eyes through his mask. In this one little moment, in Ahsoka’s lingering presence, we see Anakin Skywalker again.

It’s a clear parallel to Twilight of the Apprentice when Ahsoka destroys the side of his mask with her ‘sabre and Anakin leaks through.

Vader leaves and takes the ‘sabre with him.

It’s so, so obviously clear that he still loves Ahsoka in this moment. That Ahsoka still brings out the good in him. That this is, awfully, their final goodbye as they knew each other.

We always read about how Ahsoka and the convor are linked and how it’s really Ahsoka and the Light Side of the Force that’s linked. But I don’t think we’ve ever really seen anything about how Anakin is linked to the convor and Ahsoka.

The thing is, I think the convor also represents the link between Anakin and Ahsoka.

During the Mortis Arc, Ahsoka essentially dies. The Son kills her, inadvertently mortally wounding his own sister in the process. As the Father grieves, Anakin rushes over to Ahsoka and pleads with the Father.

“You must help her!” Anakin says.

But the Father only replies: “I cannot undo what is done. There is no hope.”

Despite dealing with his own trauma and insecurity and then, of course, eventually Falling to the Dark Side, Anakin has always been a hopeful person. We see this from the very first time we see him: a bright and cheerful slave who only wants to help others.

So of course Anakin pleads again: “Yes, there is. There’s always hope!”

Through his hope and conviction, Anakin convinces the Father to help, and so Anakin becomes the conduit through which the Daughter’s lifeforce is transferred to Ahsoka. As this happens, the main Star Wars theme rises.

This is so incredibly essential to the Star Wars universe, which has always, always been about hope.

Obi-Wan and Bail sequestered the twins away because of hope. The Rebellion rose and thrived and eventually won because of hope.

Luke saved his father because of hope.

Every single goddamn movie is about hope and the perseverance it takes to continue on, one step at a time, no matter how hard it gets.

The Star Wars movies have also always been about Anakin Skywalker. He’s the overarching shadow and the brilliant light in every single one, whether he’s actually in it or not. It’s called the Skywalker Saga for a reason. The only reason Star Wars exists is because of him. He is both villain and hero. He leaves behind a legacy that we can’t shake.

Luke saved his father, but only because Anakin had that little bit of light left in him. That little bit of lingering hope.

And we see it in the finale, in those few moments where Anakin holds Ahsoka’s lightsaber and she points him towards the Light, towards Morai. And we see him for who he is, who he was, and who he will become.

Anakin Skywalker has always been about hope, and because of that Ahsoka survives Mortis. Because of him, she survives everything that killed all the prequel Jedi. She survives the entire original trilogy.

Right after the Mortis Arc, Ahsoka gets kidnapped. It’s the first time she’s ever really been alone and forced to fight to survive. But she manages it, despite the other Padawans on the island giving up or succumbing to their fate. Again, out of everyone, Ahsoka survives. This is also the first time we see the convorees.

During this arc, Anakin is left alone, as well. Fearful and lost, he worries for Ahsoka, but Plo, the Master who found Ahsoka in the first place, guides him.

“What is Ahsoka’s strength?” Plo asks him.

“She is fearless,” Anakin replies.

“That can also be a weakness. Is she a worthy apprentice?”

“No one has her kind of determination.”

“Except you.”

“I’ll find her.”

“This may not be within your power.”

“Whatever you’re trying to say Master Plo, just say it!”

“I am suggesting that perhaps if you have trained her well, she’ll take care of herself and find a way back to you.”

This, again, is so, so important. “Except you,” Plo says. No one has Ahsoka’s determination except for Anakin. No one has her hope except for him. Ahsoka was already a wonderful, resilient person, but Anakin brought it out in her. He taught her, guided her, and now those lessons must guide her as she faces the world alone. This is only reiterated when Anakin and Ahsoka reunite.

“Ahsoka, I am so sorry,” Anakin tells her, clearly very upset.

“For what?”

“For letting you go, for letting you get taken. It was my fault.”

“No, Master, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve tried harder. I…”

“You already did everything you could, everything you had to do. When I was out there, alone, all I had was your training and the lessons you taught me. And because of you, I did survive. And not only that, I was able to lead others to survive as well.”

This is, of course, a recurring theme throughout the Clone Wars and Rebels. Ahsoka perseveres and survives. She saves and guides people in kind. Ahsoka will always be Anakin’s Padawan, his legacy. She embodies all his best qualities, including, of course, his ever-lingering hope.

And that is one of the reasons why Ahsoka is so important: Anakin’s goodness lives on within her. Of course she is her own person, I wouldn’t love her as much as I do if she wasn’t, but being Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan shaped her into the woman we know today.

“You never would have made it as Obi-Wan’s Padawan,” Anakin told her in that very first movie so many years ago. “But you might make it as mine.”

That has never been more true.

If Ahsoka had been Obi-Wan’s Padawan, she’d be dead along with the rest of the Order. If she’d been Obi-Wan’s Padawan, yes she’d be skilled, and yes she would have learned to persevere throughout hardship— But there’s a certain passion for life and hope in Anakin that Obi-Wan simply doesn’t possess.

Ahsoka inherited that from him.

So now we circle back to the convor.

In various cultures owls represent death and wisdom. Filoni has even confirmed that in the Star Wars universe, it is the same. This isn't surprising when Anakin and Ahsoka are constantly facing off death and rising above it, becoming wiser because of it. And, horribly, I'm reminded that this finale is the death of them. They cannot be who they once were, and they cannot be to each other who they once were.

But owls can also represent luck and good fortune.

“Master Kenobi always said there’s no such thing as luck.”

“Good thing I taught you otherwise.”

All throughout her life, Anakin’s lessons and influence guide her, and after the Mortis Arc in moments of great struggle: a convor appears.

What I’m trying to say, I suppose, is that the convor not only symbolizes the Light Side of the Force. It also symbolizes Anakin Skywalker.

And maybe that’s because Anakin Skywalker does embody the Light Side of the Force. Despite everything he goes through and everything he does, Anakin Skywalker clutches onto that bit of hope and comes back to the Light. He brings Balance to the Force.

The convor lingers above Anakin at the end of the Clone Wars after Ahsoka has survived despite the odds. It appears again after their duel in Twilight of the Apprentice. Morai watches Anakin limp out of the Temple, and then returns to Ahsoka after guiding her back from the World Between Worlds.

After guiding her back to Anakin.

“I am suggesting that perhaps if you have trained her well, she’ll take care of herself and find a way back to you,” Plo told Anakin that first time Ahsoka was lost. And he’s right. Ahsoka does find her way back. Again and again and again.

She loves him. He’s her brother and he taught her everything he knew, and she survives because of it. Ahsoka won’t ever let that bit of Anakin go. She won’t ever lose sight of the good in him, or in anyone else.

“I won’t leave you,” she promises him. “Not this time.”

It’s more a promise of hope than anything else. A declaration of loyalty and determination and love. She still believes in him, and she wants, no needs him to know that.

So yes, we talk a lot about how the Daughter and Ahsoka are connected through the convor, but we never talk about how Anakin was that conduit in the first place. The Light and life flowed through him into Ahsoka and so she survived.

As she continues to.

And maybe the ending of the Clone Wars was unbearably heartbreaking. And maybe it’s still making me cry as I write this, but we know how this story ends, and we’re reminded when Anakin, not Vader, looks up into the sky, Ahsoka’s lightsaber in hand and watches Morai circle above.

Star Wars is about hope. It always has been. Despite everything they’ve gone through, there is hope for Anakin Skywalker. And there is hope for Ahsoka Tano, too.

[val-aquenta]

I’m on fire posting these fics. They have mostly been languishing in my drafts, so I really just have to spruce them up a tad to post them ahahah. 

Here on ao3

 Qui-Gon is the first to call him Ben. Obi-Wan is a name that is too long for him to yell, so he is nicknamed Ben. At least, that’s what he said. Obi-Wan thinks otherwise, obviously. 

“Why Ben? What’s wrong with Obi-Wan?” He wonders, not noticing he’s said it out loud until he hears Qui-Gon chuckle. “What?” He flushes, affronted by the cheeky grin on his Master’s face. It is a look that screams trouble.

“A little long, Obi-Wan, huh?” Qui-Gon pauses for a moment from where he is preparing for flight. “Not exactly perfect for yelling when I need your attention.”

Obi-Wan puffs up a bit, not dissimilar to a loth cat Qui-Gon notes with amusement. “Obi-Wan is a good name.” The boy defiantly tries not to pout while saying this. “It’s not like I call you… John.” He mutters softly, voice sounding put off.

“John?” The older man’s wrinkles crease around his eyes as he smiles. He shrugs. “Ben is a good name regardless.” He defends.

“Obi-Wan’s better.” He opposes tetchily, eyebrows furrowing. “What’s so special about Ben anyways?” He asks with curiosity, always eager for new information.

“Well, Ben technically means son of my right hand, a phrase from my homeworld’s main religion.” Qui-Gon murmurs, willing to try and satisfy Obi-Wan’s need for answers. “The religion is… complex. I don’t even understand it completely, but I do understand the meaning of the phrase.” He pauses.

“Well… what’s the meaning of the phrase?” Obi-Wan fiddles with his hands, eyes alight with interest. He flushes self-consciously when Qui-Gon lifts his eyebrows as though proving a point. He ducks his head, a hint of red on his cheeks. 

“Well, in the religion, there is an entity called God. And the phrase to be at the right hand refers to being in a space of special honour, the right hand, of God.” He explains, enjoying the way Obi-Wan seems to brighten with the new information. “Being the son of the right hand should mean that you will grow into this space of importance. Rather fitting, don’t you think?”

“Oh…” Obi-Wan flushes, freckles disappearing into the deep red colour. Qui-Gon swears the tips of the boy’s ears are red. “That is kind of you to say, Master.”

“It is the truth, my Padawan.” Qui-Gon smiles, clapping a large hand on his shoulder and tugging the boy in for a hug. Obi-Wan startles, tensing for a couple of seconds until he relaxes, shorter arms just barely managing to reach around Qui-Gon. 

::::

Satine was the next to call him Ben. You see, Bant never truly latched onto the name that Qui-Gon christened him with, preferring to stick to her shortened form, Obi. Therefore, Satine is the next. She hears it once when they’re getting shot at and Qui-Gon has a plan that has an 80% chance of ending up with all three of them dead, but it’s better than their current odds. Qui-Gon yells it at him to get the boy to pay attention. 

At first, Satine is startled, thinking a new ally has joined them but is surprised that it’s just a nickname for Obi-Wan. Granted, she doesn’t call him Ben for that long because she, like Bant, prefers to call him Obi.

She does call him Ben when they’re parting ways, and Obi-Wan’s chest aches something fierce. Qui-Gon watches, eyes somewhat sympathetic as they follow Obi-Wan. He pretends not to notice as they share one small, sweet, innocent kiss. It’s everything Obi-Wan wants, but he hesitates and glances back at his Master, and then pulls away from the embrace, head bowed. It is almost everything he wants, and that makes all the difference. If he stayed, he would abandon his Master and his family in the Temple. More than that, he would abandon his path as a Jedi. Even Satine, for all he cares about her, is not enough to sway him from his path. The Force whispers in his mind, sorrow and apologetic, thankful for his sacrifice. The choice cements and he lets go of Satine.

“Ben…” Satine whispers, the word almost lost in the wind. “I… good luck.” Her blonde hair, carefully arranged on her head, moves as she bows. “Thank you, Master Jedi, for your protection.” Obi-Wan bows back, though his head remains tilted down, not willing to look at the woman.

“It was our pleasure,” Qui-Gon responds, sending a little pang of comfort down the growing bond with his Padawan.

“Do be careful.” She says, deviating from her formal script. “Farewell, Master Jinn, Padawan Kenobi.” The names fall easily onto her tongue as though she hadn’t spent almost a year calling them something else with much more familiarity. 

“May the force be with you, Duchess Kryze,” Obi-Wan murmurs, and he walks away from Satine, from the comfort of that life, and into the Jedi transport, his Master, a steady and strong pillar in the Force, ahead of him.

“… Ben?”

“Yes, Master.” Qui-Gon looks as though he wants to say something, wants to spill some secret, but he thinks better of it, instead closing his mouth and opening his arms, catching Obi-Wan as he falls into them. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs into the pale ear, his hand stroking circles into Obi-Wan’s shoulders. The boy, because that’s what he is, does not respond, only tightening his grip and inhaling the comforting scent of his Master.

::::

Mace is the third Jedi off the transport ship. He is also the third to call Obi-Wan Ben, though that happened a while back on a joint undercover mission with Qui-Gon. He reverted to calling him Obi-Wan, but then he reverts once more. He’s older and wiser, and, has been a friend ever since Obi-Wan was a small young child of the creche. 

“Obi-Wa… Ben.” Obi-Wan’s heart cracks just a bit more. Never again will he hear that familiar voice whispering that name to him. The deep baritone voice rumbling it. It hurts worse than leaving Satine, Cerasi, or Siri, or losing Reeft had. “Sit down with me and let’s talk.”

“Yes, Master Windu.” The response is immediate, drilled into him with years of training.

“Tell me how you feel, Ben.” Mace rumbles, voice not as deep as Qui-Gon’s, but very close. Obi-Wan is certain that if he were to press his ear to the bald Jedi’s chest, he would feel the voice vibrating.

“Fine…” That response is nailed into him out of fear. Fear of not being good enough. 

“Really?” Mace murmurs disbelievingly, leaning forwards and taking in the red-tinged eyes. A hand reaches out and takes one of Obi-Wan’s hands, feeling the slight chill that seems to emanate from him. “You don’t look fine to me.” He says in a frank manner that only he can pull off without sounding overly rude. 

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Obi-Wan responds, more exasperated than he thought it was going to sound. 

“Ben… you’re not wrong to be sad. It isn’t wrong to feel loss or to grieve.” Mace says, voice closer to whispering than to speaking. The man scoots closer to Obi-Wan who, in the eyes of the Republic is also a man but, in reality, still feels like the thirteen-year-old being sent to Bandomeer, or the sixteen-year-old who left Satine, or the- “You’ve just lost a man who has been by your side for twelve years. It will hurt.” Obi-Wan laughs, but it is more cracked and painful than any laugh Mace has heard. He desperately scrubbing at his eyes as though he wishes to scour them away.

“I know it hurts, Master. Force, my chest feels as though I was the one who was run through with a lightsaber, not Qu-” His voice breaks around the name, and he devolves into small sobs. Mace observes the boy being thrust into Knighthood with something close to helplessness. He had lost Cyslin in a less brutal manner and yet it had hurt all the same. All Mace can do is offer some comfort to the man. “There’s a hole where he was and I can’t-” Obi-Wan's voice cuts off as he cradles his head in his hands. 

“Ben,” Mace says it curtly, as though fully taking advantage of how short it is. Qui-Gon dragged it out a bit, seemingly relishing the way the name made his mouth shape. Satine’s lips always made the name sound sweet. Short and filled with emotions. “Observe and release your emotions.”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan admits. He tries to look at his emotions. He can understand, but he can’t release and make them go away. There’s just too much. He says as much to Mace. 

“Let me help, Ben.” And it is as though Obi-Wan is a youngling once more, trailing behind Padawan Windu in cream coloured corridors. As though they’ve been transported to a time when Mace’s forehead did not have the stressed wrinkles it does now. As though Obi-Wan hasn’t just had a piece of his heart carved out with a sith lightsaber. Together they sink into meditation, aware of each other, and acknowledging one another. With a little flick from Mace, Obi-Wan begins to reveal his mind warped by guilt and self-loathing and anger and pain and… it’s too much, Mace admits to himself. So, he starts small. A small statement, I was too slow, is given to him, and they watch it together, understand it together, and accept it together. Then, he moves to another, unwanted. And to the dozens that remain. Mace does not judge, and his heart aches at the knowledge of the burdens Obi-Wan is thrusting upon himself, but he says nothing about it, only reaching for the boy… man after their meditation and bringing him into a hug that lasts a full minute.  

::::

Cody is a really good researcher. Sure, he’s great with a blaster, and hand to hand combat, and anything to do with the military really. He was trained under Jango Fett and the Kaminoans. But, one of his greatest strengths is his efficient diving into the Holonet. He can splice information from different databases, even the Jedi Temple’s database. Technically, he could just go to the Archives and find the information, but he could be seen there, so he doesn’t. Instead, he sits at the main console of his barracks and begins to get information regarding his new General. The Jedi, Kenobi, seems nice enough, but looks can be deceiving. In this case, however, it seems that they’re not. The little ginger seems to have a kind streak about the size of Ryloth. 

“What in the world…” He mutters as browsers pop up. Multiple mission reports that he skims through to reveal another thing. Apparently, the General has a penchant for injuries. A really bad one if the reports are not a joke. He digs through one that was co-written by one Qui-Gon Jinn, and he spots some errors. At least, he’s sure they are errors because he’s pretty sure the General’s called Obi-Wan… not Ben. However, he doubts that the General would let that slide.

“Ben.” He forms the name under breath, making some multi-syllable word from it. “Ben.” He says it curtly. It is more efficient than to say General Kenobi or, Force forbid, Obi-Wan. The Jedi have the oddest names.

“Commander…” He jumps, turning to look at the man in question as he walks into the barracks completely unannounced. “I was, ah, wondering if you would like-” He squints at the console’s screen. Cody flushes deeper than before, the crimson stain spreading around his neck and up to his ears. Caught researching his General by the General in question. Rex will never let it go. 

“General Kenobi, sir.” He plants his feet and straightens his back. Obi-Wan looks at the report and then at Cody and then back to the report. 

“Did you… hack into the Temple?” He questions curiously. 

“Well… I do have the access codes…” He trails off. 

“Is this… the mission to Joonta?” The General strokes his beard, leaning forwards to read his report. “Force, my diction was horrible back then. So was Qui-Gon’s.” He scrolls down.

“Sir…”

“Yes, Cody.” He seems oddly enthralled by the report, scrolling rather quickly through the pages. 

“Is your name Ben?”

“Sometimes.” Obi-Wan… Ben? Hums. Reading through the report absently. Noticing the silent prompting from Cody, the General shakes himself a bit. “Oh. It’s a nickname given by my Master. Almost no one uses it.” 

“Ah.”

“Cody… you can call me Ben if you’d like. I don’t mind.” He stops the frantic scrolling to look at Cody.

“The vod will better understand if I call you General Kenobi, sir,” Cody says while ticking the name onto the General’s name. General Obi-Wan ‘Ben’ Kenobi. Jedi and their names. 

“If that is your wish.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Now, I came here to offer you tea in my quarters. Would you like to come?” 

::::

Ahsoka’s always heard of the famous Master Kenobi or Padawan Kenobi or Knight Kenobi in pairs. Padawan Kenobi was always paired with Master Jinn, Knight Kenobi was paired with Padawan Skywalker, and Master Kenobi is paired with Knight Skywalker. Knight Skywalker is now obviously paired with Padawan Tano, so they're all connected. Contrary to what Anakin would think, Padawan Kenobi is the term she’s much more familiar with, and therefore is more familiar with the pairing of Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi. Even though she knows so much about Anakin and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are within all the stories that the Crechemasters say. She knows of the most interesting missions that the duo took and is somewhat embarrassed to admit the amount of hero-worship she has for the two.

“Master Obi-Wan, is it true that you had to drink pirates under the table to rescue Master Jinn?” She asks out of the blue one day, noticing the way Anakin’s hand tightens ever-so-slightly, blue eyes dashing to Obi-Wan’s pinched expression. She’s new to her apprenticeship and she still feels overwhelmed if she thinks too hard about the fact that she’s the Padawan of The Anakin Skywalker, and is part of the famous lineage. 

“… Yes. Where did you hear that, Ahsoka?” He frowns while stroking his beard, a habit he can’t seem to break. He doesn’t look too annoyed by the question. Instead, he looks amused and rather curious.

“Ages ago, Master, in the creche.” Obi-Wan shrugs and continues, waving off Anakin’s worried words. The smile on his face is nice to see. Ahsoka thinks it looks bad when the Frown is in place, and that is all that has been in place since the invasion of Ryloth began. She’s happy that she could coax a smile out of the typically austere looking man.

A few months later while they’re travelling through hyperspace on Obi-Wan’s ship, Ahsoka blurts another question. Obi-Wan had offered to teach Ahsoka some jar’kai during the hyperspace travel, and Anakin had assented, remaining on his ship while Ahsoka trained with her other Master. “Master Obi-Wan, is it true that you once were eaten by a large squid and then spat out?” She asks at the mess hall. Cody, who was rather peacefully eating his meal thank you very much, chokes on the ration’s he was chowing on. Stitches, the medic, appears to have swallowed water down the wrong pipe and is sending a concerned look at Obi-Wan. The man in question deflates, shrugs, and answers quietly. 

“Yes, Ahsoka. On Fuleya. Master Jinn thought I was dead for two minutes. Nearly screamed his throat raw trying to cut me from the beast's stomach.” He shrugs and then proceeds to tap on his datapad as though the clones in the immediate vicinity aren’t looking as though they’re having heart attacks. They’re very… protective of their General sometimes. Ahsoka shrugs as well, turning back to her meal. “Was this also heard in the creche?” He asks with the very amused glint in his eyes. The smile also seems to brighten his face. 

Ahsoka feels a warmth in her stomach at having brought another smile to the man’s face, especially considering the stress he seems to be under with the war. “Yes. I heard lots about you.” He shakes his head fondly. She thinks that the smile on his face is worth the possibility that the clones might wrap him in blankets and lock him on the ship. Not that that would be a bad idea thinking about it… 

“Master Obi-Wan,” She starts, her head tilted in wonder. This time, they’re alone. They are at the Temple, in Obi-Wan’s living room, sharing some tea. Anakin, ever the disliker of tea, had opted out, likely going off to see Padmè. “Is it true that your second name is Ben?” At this, Obi-Wan chokes on his tea, spraying the liquid around the room as he coughs.

Ahsoka startles, putting her own cup down and scooting closer to offer some assistance. “What?” He asks weakly, bringing a hand to his chest. This has been the most intense reaction so far. She rubs her hand softly on his back. Humans are ever so slightly warmer than togruta, and she delights in feeling the warmth through his Jedi robes.

“Barriss told me that Master Unduli told her that Master Windu told her that your second name is Ben.” Ahsoka chatters, looking curiously at the man who lies on the couch.

“Technically, Ben is not my second name. I don’t have one.” Obi-Wan runs a weary hand down his face. “Ben is a nickname given to me by my Master.” 

Ahsoka perks up. “Oh, really? Like I’m ‘Snips’ to Anakin?” She questions, excited to learn more of the rather mysterious Master. 

“Well, I suppose? Ben probably has more thought put into it than Snips.” He smirks playfully. 

“How so?” At this Obi-Wan flinches. Ahsoka casts him another worried look but he waves it off.

“It’s a name meaning that I‘ll be special, essentially. It’s native to Qui-Gon’s homeworld.” He smiles softly at Ahsoka. “Much better than ‘Don’t get snippy with me.’” She laughs, happy to once more bring another smile to his face.

“Maybe.” She concedes. “I like Snips though.” Obi-Wan lifts an amused brow.

“I like Ben too.” They smile at each other.

::::

Luke never knows Obi-Wan as Obi-Wan. The thing is, Obi-Wan is dead before Luke is even born. In his place, Ben Kenobi is there. He knows the rough and weathered hand of Ben, not the smooth hand of Obi-Wan. He listens to the voice of Ben, not Obi-Wan. Because of that, there is no need for Luke to call Ben anything but Ben. 

“Ben… why are you called Ben?” He asks one day. Owen is feeling in a more forgiving mood and Beru probably took pity on the sad old man, and they have allowed Ben to visit for a bit.

“The same reason you’re called Luke. I was named Ben.” He responds with a slight smile. 

“Your Mom named you Ben?” Luke asks head tilted in curiosity much like another youngling tilted her head while asking about the name Ben. He wonders where the young togruta is, or even whether she’s still alive.

“No. My… father named me Ben." He swears that there is the gentle hum of laughter in the deep rumbling voice of his Master floating through the air. He looks around, but just the typical homestead surrounds him.

“Oh. That’s cool.” And that’s that. The boy runs away to the deeper parts of the house, a smile on his face. In his hands, a soft blue blanket flies in the wind.

::::

Vader knows who Obi-Wan Kenobi is. He is the man who took everything from him. He took his unborn child, his wife, his limbs, and his potential. Vader is sure that most of his problems stem from this Obi-Wan. Vader, however, does not know who Ben Kenobi is. You see, Anakin never knew Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan together long enough to know of the nickname. He wasn’t there as Qui-Gon whispered the name softly before his death. He never listened to Master Windu sigh his name as the two were chatting as they walked the halls. He never listened to the now-dead Duchess whispering nicknames into the ear of his former Master. He never listened to Cody jokingly calling the ginger, Ben. He never noticed how Ahsoka would whisper to Master Ben sometimes. Because of this, he misses the Jedi Master in his hiding spot. 

“Darth Vader. Have you found your former Master as I asked?” Sidious sits on his throne of lies and steeples his fingers, wretched features obscured by his long, dark robe.

“No, my Lord.” The man bows stiffly at the waist, metal limbs not allowing anything truly graceful. “Kenobi is elusive, but he is old. Soon, he will be dead.” 

Unknown to the two, Ben Kenobi, not Obi-Wan because that man died alongside the thousands of Jedi in the Purge, watches as a boy, the son of his fallen brother, plays in the sand, a toy spaceship in hand. Ben sits on the tip of a dune, smiling at the happiness the boy unknowingly projects as he wooshes the ship around above him. Ben’s hands are busy, carving a new ship for the child. He plans to make a Nubian for the boy. 

“Ben!” The boy shouts across the desert, waving his hand. “Hello!” Ben smiles, and waves his hand in a silent greeting before he stands, joints creaking as he does, and turns back to his hut. Another day and the boy is safe. Cocooned in the silence of Tatooine, Ben takes comfort in the setting suns.

“Ben.” He hears the wind whisper, joining the deep baritone of Qui-Gon, the dulcet tones of Satine, the curt voice of Mace, the kind voice of Cody, and the young voice of Ahsoka. Luke’s toddler voice adds itself to the litany of voices, and Ben grins, watching the ever-changing dunes. Today was a good day. Seeing Luke usually makes his day, and this is one of those instances. A visit from his Master would do him good, he thinks. Soon, he will be too old for the lessons that the man has planned, but he plans to enjoy them while they last. Ben walks into the dunes, towards his hut. He might only have the ghost of one of the people who called him Ben, but he carries the other four close to his heart, carefully adding one more to that collection. The newest addition has a clear voice that is destined to deepen as he ages.  

“How was your day, Padawan?” Qui-Gon is standing in front of the hut, serene as he was in life. Perhaps even more so. 

Obi-Wan smiles wryly, feeling at peace for one of the first times in a while, “Quite nice, Master.”

Qui-Gon smiles indulgently, pleased that Obi-Wan still finds some joy in his life, “That is comforting to hear, Ben.”

[jasontoddiefor]

MTTT AU chapter 8: A Place - Room of a Thousand Fountains

Read on AO3

Anakin Skywalker had always been an energetic and vibrant child. He drew your attention whenever he was in the room, even when he was holding himself back. It was one of the reasons Plo had agreed so readily to send little Ahsoka Tano to him. His opinion didn’t count for much, but he was still her Finder and had spent quite a lot of time with her since she had been brought to the temple. She had the same kind of spirit as her Master, and with Ahsoka around, Anakin wouldn’t be able to let his own fire burn as much, burn out, or risk hurting her.

Plo was sure that Anakin would keep her safe, be a light that would guide her.

Even now, Anakin was almost painfully bright in the Force, but he was also hurting to a degree Plo had encountered not once before. Shadows and doubts were clinging to him, stifling him. Only ashes remained of the bonfire and, beneath that thick dead remnant, new saplings grew only slowly.

The pain they had felt in the temple after Skywalker’s arrival was had been intolerable even in its contained form. It should be no surprise that Anakin was still in such a bad condition, yet Plo was taken aback when he came face to face with him.

“Anakin,” he greeted the young man. Plo was the first Council member to arrive at their chosen meeting place, had he caught Ahsoka just the day before and listened to her worries. He had hurried to catch the young Knight on his own, gain insight into how he acted when he wasn’t questioned by the whole Council.

“Master Plo,” Anakin said and inclined his head towards him.

He moved to stand up, but Plo raised his hands to stop him. The action obviously caused him further pain and Plo was not going to add another weight to the many burdens the boy was already carrying.

“I will join you on the ground, Anakin,” Plo said and sat down right next to Anakin.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had simply taken a few moments to rest in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He knew it certainly hadn’t been since the war had broken out. Plo decided to follow Anakin’s example and took off his shoes. Feeling the grass beneath his feet was soothing; did it remind him of more peaceful times. In the distance, he could hear some younglings playing, and the water of one of the many rivers and waterfalls in these halls rush downwards.

This was certainly a calmer and a kinder place to meet than the Council chambers. Plo could understand why Anakin had asked to assemble here instead of the Council room.

Not that Anakin had asked.

Obi-Wan had directed the Council to this place, the very heart of their temple and the place the furthest away from the busy world outside.

If the report Anakin was to deliver was really as earth-shattering as Obi-Wan words had alluded to, it was probably for the best.

He still wasn’t ready to believe the bits of information Obi-Wan had let slip. Perhaps Plo was clinging to the fickle hope that Anakin’s revelations would clear them up, reveal that they hadn’t allowed a Sith Lord to gain control of the entire Republic.

Plo knew that Obi-Wan had no reason to lie, but hope always died last.

Glancing towards his left, Plo found Obi-Wan was standing in some distance, typing away on his datapad. Plo wasn’t fooled for even a second. He had raised more than one Padawan and he knew that Obi-Wan’s attention was entirely on his student.

It was as adorable as it was reassuring, even if the price for their closeness was high. Over a decade ago, the Council hadn’t been quite sure what they thought Obi-Wan and Anakin would become. When they had let the young Knight take on the boy, it had been accompanied by many worries over their mental health, but the two of them had surprised everyone positively. They had grown up to bring out the best in each other, so much that Kenobi-and-Skywalker was a set expression in everyone’s mouth.

Even now, when both were hurting so obviously, they were holding onto one another.

“Ahsoka has learned well from you,” Plo said. He thought it would be for the best if he tried to ease Anakin into a conversation. Ahsoka seemed like a safe topic to start with, especially given how devoted she was to her Master. Seldom had Plo seen a Master and Padawan pair become attuned to each other so quickly.

Then again, most of the training bonds weren’t forged during wartime.

“She is strong and capable,” Anakin replied, avoiding Plo’s gaze and keeping his own fixed on something in the distance. “I don’t think I taught her anything she couldn’t have figured out on her own.”

“Little ‘Soka was always a smart one, if a bit of a wild card,” Plo agreed.

It was the reason Plo hadn’t picked her to be his Padawan though he currently didn’t have one. Ahsoka deserved a Master who was more similar to her. With Kenobi keeping oversight of them both, she and Anakin had seemed like a good fit.

“She deserves better.”

Anakin sounded so similar to the Obi-Wan from ten years ago that Plo wished he could let the lost young man from back then meet this one now, show them both how far they could go despite insecurities.

“Every Padawan does. A teacher can never be good enough. This is why we have to try.”

“But I wasn’t good enough,” Anakin stated matter-of-factly. “She-“He shut up immediately, mouth pressed in a thin line, as if only now noticing what secrets were escaping him. The Force around them shifted, cradling Anakin like a child and making it seem like he wasn’t quite there, but more a blurry image.

Plo debated pushing, learning what he wanted to keep quiet about, what had happened to little ‘Soka in that vision of his. He couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine anything happening to the sweet girl who had clung to his robes with wide eyes and excitedly babbled to him in the language of her people.

“Ahsoka is very worried about you,” Plo decided to say instead, take their conversation in a different direction. “Apparently, she is quite vexed that you won’t spar with her anymore.”

If Skywalker had tried to fade into the background before, now he was positively trying to disappear in it entirely. What happened that had made him fear every possible topic Plo could bring up? The silence between them was almost oppressive, heavy on their shoulders. Plo decided to stay silent, give Anakin time to come out of his shell again. He didn’t know who much time passed until the heavy feeling lifted and he began to speak.

“I- I forgot how beautiful it is in here.” Anakin curled his toes and spread his fingers so that the grass could get in between them. “I didn’t visit this place in years. I don’t know if it was still standing.”

“That is quite a shame,” Plo commented. “We could take another look around if you feel capable of walking.”

Anakin looked up from the ground, eyeing Plo with confusion and suspicion.

“The others won’t be here for a while,” Plo elaborated. “It would be unwise to let the time go to waste, wouldn’t it? I was told that one of the youngling clans remodeled one of the gardens. I think we have the time to look at it and pass our congratulations on to them.”

Anakin looked torn between desire and fear. Like a child, he looked back to Obi-Wan, who, indeed as Plo had predicted, had been paying close attention to the conversation and was now staring at them. When Obi-Wan nodded, Anakin hesitantly bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t offer it otherwise, Anakin.” Plo rose to his feet and held out his hand.

Tellingly, Anakin took it with his flesh hand. He held onto it perhaps for a moment longer than necessary, but then he let go and buried his hands in the sleeves of his robe, hiding them and their trembling away.

“I believe the youngling garden is a level up. Is there any place you’d like to see on your way there?”

Anakin didn’t reply at first, then he turned to look towards the right. Plo had never been the most knowledgeable about the room, preferring to spend his time with mathematics and not plants, but Anakin knew exactly what laid there.

“The yellow gardens,” he finally replied. “I’d like to see the yellow gardens.”

Plo nodded and then, with Anakin by his side, still barefoot leaving their shoes behind, they walked into the direction of the garden. Plo kept his eyes closely on Anakin the entire time, observing his reaction to the Jedi passing them; they had agreed for a meeting here for a reason after all. There weren’t many people passing them, but they crossed paths with another once in a while, though they never noticed Anakin. Perhaps his idea of wrapping himself up in the Force indeed had merit. Plo wondered whether he had learned that during the war, folding himself so much into his surroundings that he was overlooked unless he wanted to be seen. It was definitely a clever trick.

When they reached the yellow gardens, Anakin ore or less walked past all the bushes and trees without paying them any mind, straight up until he reached the very end where yellow flowers grew in small bushes.

Anakin crouched down in front of them and so very carefully traced over the petals with his fingers.

“Are they your favorite?” Plo asked.

Anakin shook his head. “No, my favorite was- there is a flower I inherited from Qui-Gon. It should bloom in a few months. These flowers are from Naboo. I hate- dislike them.”

Anakin fell silent again, still not looking away from the delicate flowers.

“What do they mean?”

“Grief,” Anakin replied, “for a life lost too early.”

The way Anakin spoke about it, Plo could feel the Force around them start to weep. It wasn’t just grief for a life lost, but Anakin’s grief. It was thick and palpable, so thick in the air, you could almost choke on it. With Anakin’s back turned to him, Plo gently raised a hand to his throat, wondering if there was a malfunction in his mask. Calming himself, he gently reached out himself, running warm fingers over old wounds torn open again.

“I will fix it,” Anakin spoke up suddenly. “I promise you that. I won’t let it happen again. You will all be safe.”

You will all be alive.

Anakin didn’t have to say it, but Plo heard it anyway.

It was, at that moment, all the confirmation that he needed. The broken bits of Obi-Wan’s statement had all been true after all and the future, even if it was one just envisioned, had been darker than all periods of the past.

“We shall do the same,” Plo promised as Anakin stood up again.

As they walked back to the meeting point, Plo quietly tried to think of who was currently on Senate duty, and how quickly he could let them know that the Chancellor was to be considered a threat.

And how much longer they could refuse Palpatine’s inquiries to talking to Anakin.

[morganas-pendragons]

Warmth | Echo

finding gifs of echo is so hard holy crap 

this is part ii to ice - which you’ll probably want to read first // tagging @kill-the-feels​ 

this also features my clone!commander OC named cain

***

The first thing he thinks of whenever Rex pulls him out of that stasis chamber is how warm it is. Echo can’t remember the last time he actually felt his heart beat or saw people - real breathing people - much less felt warmth. 

Then he starts looking for you. Rex sees it too. The wanting, the desperation for someone familiar. Someone who loves him.

  “Don’t worry, vode. I’m going to get you back to your cyar’ika.” 

Rex grabs his hand and Echo latches on because he, just like his other brothers, craves touch. The ice that’s spent the last two years building up in his chest starts to crack as the warmth bleeds through. 

The warmth of a brothers love. 

Echo knows without a doubt that Anakin Skywalker will get him off of Skako Minor. That Rex, his Captain and his ori’vod, will keep him away from the steel grasps of the Separatists who saw him as nothing more then a machine. 

He follows the other clones, the ones who call themselves The Bad Batch, through the ventilation system in the route that’s been mapped inside his head. It was the only logical means of escape. That unfortunately meant calling on the Keeradaks, which Rex later comes to tell him that they’d used the creatures upon arriving on Skako Minor and meeting the locals. 

Echo isn’t paying attention to the droids that can suddenly fly and are pursuing them as they make course for the village. His blaster fits into his flesh hand like it’s meant to be there, and the air is flowing by him and he’s surrounded by his brothers and for the first time Echo feels like he’s alive and on top of the world. 

That’s when he start laughing. Oh, how it felt to be alive. 

Now he just needs to get back to Anaxes. Back to you. 

Cyar’ika. 

*** 

Rex had the good graces to inform you before he left for Skako Minor with the Bad Batch that he was following a lead that would probably lead him to Echo. You hadn’t believed him at first because Fives had told you himself. He’d been the one to see it. He’d seen Echo die. 

The Clone Captain hadn’t expected you to believe him. He did, however, take your hand in his own and wish you the best. He made another promise to bring your cyare home to you. 

CC-1614 is the one who actually manages to convince you that Rex is telling the truth. He’s the one who gives you hope. 

Cain is well built as many of the other clone commanders are, a sole survivor of Reaper Squadron who had all died on Jabiim in a battle that had nearly claimed Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life. His general is a good friend of yours, one of the few Jedi who had the ability to Force Heal. You hadn’t exactly intended on breaking the Code whenever you fell for Echo. It had just happened. 

Cain and Kix, along with ARC Trooper Jesse, are three of your closest friends. You haven’t been on the front lines in months and Cain prefers to stick close to his General, who is elbow deep in blood and bacta and desperately trying to calm down the clones who are the most frantic and the most critical. 

    “You’re doing that thing again.” Cain gently nudges your hip with his own and crosses his arms over his chest. The Commander usually plays a stoic facade as he has a reputation of stern authority to maintain, but Opal Stone has impacted him deeply enough that he feels it necessary to be himself when he’s not on the front lines.  “The I’m going to look off longingly into the horizon and if I stare hard enough, Rex will bring my cyare home look. You look like a love-sick teenager.” 

His jibes fall on deaf ears. You’re not hearing it. 

  “Hey.” Two different colored eyes meet your own. “I’ve been a POW. I’ve been where your cyare has been. It won’t be easy for him to reintegrate back into the GAR but if you’re gonna be there for him like General Stone was for me, I think he’ll be okay. He’s strong.” His head dips to his chest. “Stronger then I was.” 

There’s alot surrounding Cain’s time as Dooku’s slave that Opal did not tell you. You don’t need to know the gritty details of his time as a prisoner of war because all you have to do is look at Cain to know what he went through. His arms are marked with sleeves of tattoos as a remembrance to his fallen brothers - Abel, Funsize, Viper, Killshot - and the Mark Of Cain sticks out like a brand against his temple. 

But for someone who’s seen so much death and so much cruelty, he seems oddly at peace. 

  “You’re a good man, Cain.” You murmur, beaming back at him as his face splits in that rare smile he almost never lets anyone see. “A good man also brings his favorite Jedi caf. I’m exhausted.” 

  “Sure thing.” He winks at you and kriff him - it’s enough to make you blush like a schoolgirl. “General.” 

You don’t have enough time to banter with Cain because then your comm starts going off. 

  “Hello?” 

  “General, this is Anakin Skywalker. We’re enroute back to Anaxes with Echo.” The world stops moving. There’s no dying soldiers or harsh realities or fear or feeling. There is only you and Anakin who has just delivered a truth you’d long denied yourself accepting. These men - these good, brave men - were not meant to come home from the front lines. They were there in service of a Republic that did not care about them and so you did, you'd allowed yourself to be submersed in love and light and laughter that The Order didn’t give you. 

Memories flash behind your eyes like the scenes of a holodrama. Echo is there, Echo is always there, but now instead of being too far out of reach for you to hold he is light and laughter and everything your life had been lacking since Fives had told you about the Citadel. 

Echo was coming home. 

Your breath catches in your chest and your throat knots and Force, you can’t breathe- “He will need treatment. Have Kix help you. I’d recommend a closed off room.” 

  “Right-Right away, Skywalker-” 

Your comm shuts off and hands are resting on your shoulders, slowly traveling down your arms until fingers are lacing with yours and someone starts speaking in a string of Mando’a that’s mostly incomprehensible to your ears. You don’t have to turn around to know it’s Kix. 

  “Kix-” 

Then you hear it. The unmistakable hitch of his breath and the cry building up in the back of his throat reminds you that Echo is so vastly loved by both you and his brothers. The same brothers who’d once thought him dead and are singing their rejoice in their mother tongue upon finding out that a brother long lost is coming home. 

You and Kix set to beginning the preparations for Echo’s treatment. Kix gives stern orders to the other medics that no one will be allowed inside of this room except the two of you, Rex, Jesse, Cain and Anakin. You want him to feel safe, to be safe, which means limiting the number of visitors. 

   ‘’GENERAL SKYWALKER HAS LANDED!” 

Cains voice resounds across the medbay and before Kix can stop you, you’re taking off through the base to where Anakin’s gunship has just landed. Wide eyes follow each member of the Bad Batch until Rex finally leaves the gunship, and cradled in his arms is presumably the man you love. 

He doesn’t look like Echo. Not until you see his eyes. 

And then you crumble. You really try not to, you do, and it’s a good thing Kix followed you because Jedi are supposed to be cool and composed. They’re supposed to have a control over their emotions. 

Too bad you never had control over yourself, over feeling like the way you felt for Echo, because if you did you’d never have had a chance for warmth. 

For love. 

*** 

Echo sees a familiar face, then two, and then his arms are reaching out on their own accord because that is his cyar’ika cradled in the arms of his brother Kix and he wants you- 

But then he’s injected with an anesthetic that knocks him out cold. 

You and Kix work diligently, along with Tech (who proves to be remarkably useful for all the cybernetics that Echo is now implanted with) to ascertain the extent of his injuries. He’s definitely dehydrated and malnourished, but it seems that the extent of what he’d endured at the Citadel had been dealt with by the Separatists. 

Except the memory loss. 

After injecting a fluid IV into his arm, you allow yourself to ease into the chair beside Echo’s bed and take his flesh hand into your own. There’s so much of him that’s metal now that it’s almost impossible to see the man beneath it, but if weren't for those eyes and that heart that pounds proudly beneath your hand, you wouldn’t even know it was him to begin with. 

  “He’s safe for now.” Kix handed you a ration pack and water before wiping his forehead with the back of his hands. “I think you can take it from here.” The clone medics bends down enough to brush a kiss against the crown of your head - an action he only does when the two of you are alone because he trusts you - and you thank him with a soft smile and a nod before he parts from the room. 

Your eyes travel up and down his body as you slowly drink the water and chew on the ration cube. 

  “Echo, cyare.” The words come before you can stop them. Your hand is still linked with his, thumb carefully rubbing back and forth in the same way he’d used to do when he’d held yours for the first time. It was a nervous habit. “I’m.. I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know what to say.” You don’t. You’d been too preoccupied by the war to even mourn him. Fives had been your anchor, the one who reminded you of the good you’d had, and then he’d been ripped away from you too. “There’s so much I left unsaid before the Citadel.. and I didn’t-I didn’t think you’d ever survived that-I gave up, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed you, cyare.” 

His eyes start fluttering. At first you think he’s waking up, but then you feel the way he grips you and then he starts moving, starts whining - Oh. 

Oh. 

His head tilts back and his speech is slurred, but you catch a few words before each strangled breath - “No, no, cyare-” and your overwhelming desire to hold him overtakes your rational judgement, the one that blares a warning in your mind to stay away, so you climb behind him and prop your knees on either side of the ARC trooper before wrapping your arms around his middle. 

The metal doesn’t bother you. 

  “Come back to me, cyare.” You whisper. Your fingers trail along the cybernetics on his chest and around his abdomen. The gesture is familiar. Comforting. Warm. “Come back to me.” 

Echo snaps awake and the ice that has enveloped his entire being since The Citadel shatters. It’s a foreign feeling learning what it means to be warm again but then he remembers he’s on Anaxes, he’s in the base with the other 501st, and he’d seen you before Kix had injected him with the anesthetic. He’s safe. He’s safe. 

His voice cracks as his flesh hand takes your own and bring it to quivering lips. You can feel the tears that fall on your skin when he says, “Cyar’ika.” 

  “Hello Echo.” You muse lightly. Laughter bubbles in the back of his throat as he leans back against your chest, turning just enough on his side that his face is buried in the crook of your neck. Your eyes meet his, and they’re full of tears but they’re his. “Cyare. I missed you.” 

  “Beloved.” He hums in reply. Echo may not remember what happened whenever he was in the ice, but he remembers you - your eyes and your heart and your soul - and so he remembers what it’s like to love and be loved in return. “Ni ru'akaanir par gar, ner kar'taylir darasuum.” 

Now, you’re no expert in the Mando’a tongue, but you catch the end of the sentence. My love. 

Your fingers trail over the nape of his neck and down his spine. He’s limp in your arms, head against your shoulder and breath ghosting over your neck. That’s the only way you know he’s even there. 

And oh. 

He’s warm. 

  “What does it mean?” 

He’s reminded of a similar conversation years ago, when he’d been with his vode in the mess and Fives had asked you to visit to ‘’boost his morale.’’ Maybe his brother knew before he did. Maybe his brother knew he loved you and wanted Echo to be happy. 

  “You asked me to fight for you.” He whispers. Your eyes burn with unshed tears as he lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze, and you can tell he means it. Which means when he was imprisoned by the Separatists you had been the thing that had kept him alive. “You asked me to fight for you, and I did. I fought for my beloved.” 

He falls asleep again, wrapped up there in your arms, in warmth, and you allow yourself to weep again because oh.. oh stars- you love him. 

[silver-and-stars]

Okay fix it pseudo-fic cause I can’t handle this.

It takes place just after the kiss.

I’m too tired and lazy to do a full epilogue on the Resistance.

So it’s only about Ben and Reylo.

Also I’ve never written a fic before, English isn’t my native language and I’ve only reread it once, so yeah, the language may be so-so.

Let’s call this therapeutic writing. 

Ben smiles brightly at Rey and she didn’t think he could have that sort of happy expression, but suddenly it fades and so does hers as he starts falling backward, eyes closed. She tries to grab him but before he could touch the ground two hands reach his back and hold him. It’s the force ghost of Luke and Leia who is cradling her son. Behind then stands another ghost, a young man with mid-long curly hair and something in his face that seems familiar. He has Luke’s eyes and Leia’s mouth. Their father. Vader, no Anakin Skywalker, she realizes.

“Palatine has token too much from this family, and the jedi, already.” says the man.

He puts his hands on his children’s shoulder and close his eyes. Leia and Luke do the same, concentrating. Rey can both see and feel the light, the force, he adds to their and send to Ben. 

They forehead crease as their frown in concentration. It’s not enough. Rey touches Ben’s leg and adds her energy. Still not enough. She tries to stay calm, to control her energy. It has to work.

She looks up when she feels another presence. A small green creature is standing beside Luke, its three-finger hand on his arm. Master Yoda! On each side of Anakin are two older and bearded man. One with white hair, whose picture Leia had shown her before. It’s Master Kenobi. The other has long grey hair. Maybe Master Jinn?

They all gathered here, in this place tainted by the dark side. They are pooling their energy, gathering the Force and passing it into Ben, trying to save the last member of a tragic family that, in their own way, each tried and, at some point, failed to protect. 

Ben eyelids flutter, then open. Rey lets out a small relieved laugh. Confused he meets Rey’s eyes before looking up and seeing the ghost of his mother. He looks behind them trying to understand what happened. Master Jinn and Yoda ghosts’ have already faded but he meets Obi-Wan eyes and then Anakin’s, who gives him a small nod before disappearing too. Only Luke and Leia are left. He sits up and look at the later.

“Mom...”

She shushes him with a loving smile, and take his hand in her. In this moment, he knows she loves him and forgives him.

“What you did for Rey and against the Emperor, it was the right thing. We’re proud of you for it.” 

She gives an encouraging look to her brother who puts his hand on Ben’s shoulder.

“You have a second chance, a chance for a new life, Ben, don’t waste it in the past. Focus on the future.” 

Saying this, his eyes falls on Rey and he gives her a knowing smile.

Leia helps Ben stand up and Rey comes to hold him steady, he is alive but still injured and tired.

Standing before them, the twins slowly fade away.

“Wait!” says Rey. “Leia, Lando told me to give you his love.”

Leia and Luke both smiles.

“Tell him- tell them, we are always with them.”

“See you around, kids.”

–

The X-Wing isn’t meant for two and though it’s design so some pretty big non-human species could fit in it, it’s really uncomfortable. Ben tries to make himself as mall as possible between the seat and the metal wall while Rey pilots the thing. She is receiving many triumphing calls, the first one from Finn who welcome her back warmly.

The fleet divides, going back home or to other planet in need of help during the insurrections. While the Resistance fleet, in dire need of a break, goes back to base with a few more ships that they had come with. 

Rey lands the X-Wing away in a meadow near a cave and Ben gets off to hid in there.

“I’ll come back!” she swears.

Then she flies off, lands in camp and happily reunites with BB-8, Finn and Poe.

–

The night had past and the sun is rising and with him Ben is waking up slowly. Suddenly he hears movements in the bushes and jumps on his feet, wincing as the movement tears on his wounds. He hopes it’s not a member of the Resistance. Most people don’t know his face as he used to wear a mask most of the time but he has no doubts the Resistance knows the face of one of their worst enemy, of their general’s son.

He is already thinking about what he should do if they find him when the bush beeps and R2-D2 comes out of it.

“R2 ?!” 

The droid beeps happily and advances toward him without hesitation. It has always been around Luke, and friendly with his parents but he never got to interact with him since he was a child.

“What are you doing here?”

The droid stomps and beeps. He wants him to shut up and to show him something.

“Alright, alright, go on.” Ben replies sitting back down.

R2 projects a hologram and it’s Leia, sending a call for help to Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ben’s namesake. Then it switches to Leia her long hair undone, wearing a fluid dress, her arm around Han’s and smiling at Luke and Chewie. They look so young and Ben can hear Ewok celebrations. This must be Endor, after the Emperor was vanquished. Then it’s a young Luke, training with a remote. Then old Ben Kenobi talking to R2. 

It switches to unfamiliar face. A young man, a padawan judging by his hair cut and his robes, with an artificial arm and a woman wearing a veil, kissing. A wedding. C3PO stands near them. Were they Ben’s grand-parents?

“You’ve been with my family for that long?” wonders Ben.

R2 shows him another one. The droids is in a fighter, piloted by a blond child. Then it’s the same blond boy activating what seems to be C3PO without plating. Then a table in a small house made of sandstone, around which are sitting the boy - Anakin he realizes -, a woman who must be Anakin’s mother, Padmé, a jedi master and his apprentice that he recognizes with some difficulty as young Obi-Wan.

“Why did you registered all that ? Why are you showing me?”

Before he could answer C-3PO complaints arise in the calm morning air.

“R2 where did you go?”

R2 cuts off the holograms and beeps angrily at the protocol droid.

“Don’t be rude! If you hadn’t run off... Oh my! Kylo Ren! R2 what are you doing, we have to warn-” R2-D2 beeps coarsely “Fine? What to you mean? It’s-”

Rey voices cuts him off.

“Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry. He is one our side now.”

She enters the cavern and drops a bag beside Ben.

“Sorry I couldn’t slip away sooner. Everybody wanted to talk to me… and then I felt asleep.”

“Well, so did I and of course they want to talk to you, you are a hero after all.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you” she responds with a smile, holding his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Also someone wants to see you...”

He hears Chewbacca roaring before he sees him. The Wookie comes striding toward him and Ben is quite certain he is going to be at least punched. But R2 comes between them and projects another hologram. It’s Han and Leia around Chewie, looking at what the Wookie is carefully holding in his arms. A baby.

“Don’t drop him again.” says Han’s voice.

“I’d catch him again if he did.” replies Leia’s.

“It’s fine R2, we’ve talk.” explains Rey.

“Yeah, we’re cool” adds Lando as he joins them in the cavern.

“We are?” ask Ben clearly doubtful.

“Did you know I once sold your parents to Darth Vader? Han ended carbon-frozen and Leia sold to Jabba the Hutt as a slave.”

“You did what ?!” exclaimed both Rey and Ben.

“What I mean is, I made some pretty bad decisions in my life. It’s nothing compare to yours. Although it helps that Palpatine wasn’t whispering in my head I guess. My point is I turned over a new leaf, I wanted to be a better man, to do the right thing. So I did. And So should you kid. You should right your wrongs, that’s how you’ll can redeem yourself in the eyes of others. In your own eyes.”

“I think so too” adds Rey, while Chewie shouts his approval. “I think we need time away from all this, to find ourselves. What do you say?”

She smiles encouragingly at him and extend to him Luke’s lightsaber. 

“You won’t tell the others?”

"I... I thought Chewie and General Calrissian deserved to know that Han’s son came back. And I’ve already told the truth to Finn and Poe. But I don’t think the other needs to know."

“People need time to heal and forgive. And if you want them to accept you one day you should earn their forgiveness” adds Lando.

Chewbacca’s rumbles fill the cave again.

“Ha yes, you’re right.” says Lando

“Indeed, the name Ben Solo is not unknown of several First Order’s enemies.” mentions C-3PO.

Looking at the saber in Ben’s hand R2-D2 beeps a suggestion.

“Yeah...” mutters Ben. “That’s a good idea.”

–

The Falcon is away from the camp, ready to take off. Rey hugs Finn and Poe goodbye. The two of them plan to keep helping the Resistance rebuild the planets freed from the First Order.

“If you ever need my help, you know where how to find me.” declares Rey.

“Yeah, same goes for you. Take care of yourself will, you.” says Finn, casting a disapproving look toward Ben who chooses to ignore him and to instead watch D-O bidding farewell to BB-8 and rolling into the ship toward R2-D2 and C-3PO.”

BB-8 beeps sadly. 

“Don’t worry buddy, we will see them again soon.” affirms Poe. 

Rey and Ben join Lando and Chewie in the cockpit, standing behind the seats.

“So where to children?”

Rey and Ben exchange a look.

“Naboo” he says.

“and then Tatooine” she adds.

-

They spend a few weeks on the lush world of Ren’s grandmother. There they rest, laying low for a while, enjoying the water and the greenery. They build themselves new lightsabers. Rey picks a yellow kyber crystal and Ben a blue one.

After a while, they leave the planet to go somewhere that carries a lot of meaning for the Skywalkers. For the landing Lando gives the pilot seat to Ben, who accepts only after a few grunts and gestures from Chewbacca. 

C-3PO and R2-D2 chose to keep going on some adventures with Lando and Chewie, so on the sandy planet Rey, Ben and D-O alone find the farm in which Luke had grown up.  It had been abandoned for quite a while, but it could be restored, it could become a home. 

Near Shmi, Owen and Beru Lars’s grave then bury together the lightsaber of Luke -of Anakin- and Leia. 

As the suns are setting, an old woman passes by and wonder who they are.

“There hadn’t been anyone here for a long time.” she comments.

“I’m Rey, and this is Ben.”  

She takes his hands in her, smiling peacefully. 

In the corner of her eyes she notices Luke and Leia’ ghosts watching fondly other them as Ben declares “Rey and Ben Skywalker.”

[inqorporeal]

WIP Wednesday

I don’t do these a lot because I don’t like to spoiler my stuff. But here’s the opening chunk of that still-untitled Post-66 Pirate AU idea I tossed out there a while ago. 

If anyone had asked Hondo what he had thought when news of the Jedi purge reached his ears, he would have laughed and denied interest.

“There are so many more interesting things to worry about, after all, and I have only rarely had dealings with the Order.”

Behind closed doors, where he could scour the shredded, fragmented remains of the HoloNet -- mostly pirate (ha!) datanodes run by independent operators, who had protected their investments from the new Empire's grasp -- for the lists of confirmed dead, it was quite a different story.

Knightfall, they were calling it. Hondo had been familiar enough with certain Jedi to know the double-meaning held real truth; the war might be declared over, but the galaxy felt darker. Colder.

Hondo Ohnaka was not one to openly mourn -- as with his crew, he preferred to celebrate the memories than weep over the loss -- but seeing young Katooni's name on the list had left him feeling speared through the chest. Granted, he had only lured the children back in hopes of ransoming little Ahsoka for the kyber crystals, but Katooni had surprised him with her ingenuity. Ah, she would have made such a fine scoundrel! If he'd had more to drink than usual that night, no one had dared to comment on it.

It was a guilty relief to not find Ahsoka's name also on the list. She was a smart girl; she would be fine.

He kept telling himself that, anyway.

The day he found Skywalker's name on the list was the same day they abandoned the base on Florrum. Some Imperial twit had decided they couldn't tolerate the presence of honorable pirates and had chosen to flatten the base with an orbital bombardment rather than engaging in a proper fight. Too many of Hondo's crew failed to make it past the blockade to hyperspace; they had been forced to scatter and regroup at an old deadspace outpost nobody used anymore.

Because the Empire had shot it to pieces.

Hondo stared out the viewscreen at the broken station -- its hull deeply rent with charred gashes, surrounded by a haze of wreckage and void-frozen corpses -- and for the first time wondered if a future was even possible anymore.

From then, they were forced to remain mobile, never overstaying in a particular area. Pickings were growing slim, now: too many refugees with nothing worth taking, too many Imperial operations groups lurking the major exchange points. The wealthy increasingly remained in well-policed sectors like the Tion Hegemony and the Corporate Sector -- their private security forces blessed by the stinking Emperor in exchange for slavish loyalty.

Hondo was in his cabin running through the navigation charts -- painstakingly created over years, with new routes that bypassed the trade lanes -- about two months after Knightfall, when his comms specialist poked her head in the open door.

“Got a signal, Captain. It's a weird code, dunno where it's coming from.”

“Ho?” Hondo hopped up from his desk -- anything for a distraction from the increasingly depressing prospects of finding a sector in which they weren't (yet) known -- and followed her to the bridge. “Let us see what we have here.”

It took some time -- and some costly flying, breaking the remains of his fleet into smaller groups -- to triangulate the signal's source: a beacon dropped in an asteroid field on the outer reaches of an uninhabitable system. The code, however… oh, Hondo knew that code. He was one of perhaps only a handful of sentients entrusted with it, and assembling a response took the better part of a day. Their patience was rewarded when a small ship, barely more than a shuttle, emerged from its hiding place on one of the larger asteroids and made its cautious way out.

As hiding places went, it was a surprisingly effective one. One would have to be quite the pilot to make it through. Hondo commanded the hangar bay be opened and rushed down in time to see the battered craft settle in the tiny space between the other ships.

When the ramp finally opened, Hondo could have wept with relief. He restrained himself from running to the man who emerged warily, instead walking forward with his arms outstretched in welcome.

“My friend! It relieves me greatly to see you alive!”

General Kenobi -- oh, who was Hondo kidding, he had long since landed on more familiar terms with the Jedi -- cast nervous eyes around the hangar. “Hondo. I… had hoped that was your ship I'd spotted.”

Pressing a hand to his chest, Hondo gasped, “You truly hoped it was me? Obi-Wan, I'm touched!” Now in range, he reached out and grasped the human's shoulders. “You look dreadful, my friend. And, not to put too fine a point on it, but you smell dreadful as well. Does that tiny craft have only sonics? You must have been hiding there for some time! Come, come, we will find you something less, eh, aromatic to wear--”

Obi-Wan was protesting and finally raised his voice over Hondo's relieved babble. “Please! I need to talk to you first.” He pulled Hondo up the ramp into the shuttle, which was most definitely going to be stripped for parts and tossed back among the asteroids before they left this system.

Given the events of the past few months, Hondo could forgive his friend's paranoia. “What is it, Obi-Wan? How did you end up out here?”

The Jedi sagged into one of the few seats in the cramped lounge/galley. “I was trying to reach Tatooine, but there was an unexpected Imperial presence in the system. I got as far away as I could, but I'm almost out of fuel. And supplies.” He gave an exhausted laugh and scrubbed his hands over his unshaven face. “It's been a very long week.”

“So I imagine!” There was an additional smell in the air that Hondo couldn't quite place; he glanced around without being too obvious about it. “But why would you want to go to Tatooine, of all the dustballs? There are many more pleasant worlds to choose from.”

The Jedi ceased his fidgeting long enough to give the pirate a measuring look. “I was… on a mission, I suppose. But the Star Destroyers made me reconsider. You're not being pursued, are you?”

Hondo had to laugh; it came out sounding more cracked and fragile than he liked. “Us? No, no more than any other pirates now. We cannot stay in one place too long, you see.”

Obi-Wan was nodding as he spoke. “It might be for the best,” he murmured, more to himself, but Hondo tilted his head in curiosity. The Jedi shook himself and offered a small, half-hearted grin that didn't quite reach his exhaustion-bruised eyes. “Do you remember all those times you invited me to join your crew?”

Hondo’s heart leaped at the question, but he could play the cagey game, if that would set Obi-Wan at ease. “Of course! Your skills would be an invaluable asset -- and if I may say, you are every bit as conniving as a pirate should be, my friend. The life would suit you.”

The other man's mouth twitched with actual humor. “If your offer was in earnest, then consider me speculating. However, I have a… complication.”

“There are always complications.”

“Indeed.” Obi-Wan gestured for Hondo to wait as he went into the closet-sized cabin; he emerged a moment later with a blanket-wrapped bundle cradled in his arms. “This is my complication.”

Hondo stared at the sleeping… infant? He had never before seen a human so young or tiny. Carefully, he tugged part of the blanket back so he could see the chubby pink face. Something about the way Obi-Wan held the child suggested much more than simple protectiveness.

“Obi-Wan,” he said softly, “who is this?”

“One of the last Jedi younglings, rescued from the purge of the Temple.” It wasn't entirely true, from the way Obi-Wan's eyes shifted, but Hondo would let him keep the story. No wonder he clutched the bundle like it was priceless. “He must be kept safe from the Emperor. We had thought Tatooine would be beyond his notice, but it seems not. But it is very difficult to locate a ship in space….” He trailed off, glancing up at Hondo with cautious hope, even as Hondo filed the mysterious ‘we’ away for later questioning. “Staying with you might be safer.”

Hondo genuinely liked younglings. Oh, he would play the role of gruff disapproval, as expected, but in truth, he loved children. The thought of raising a Jedi child on his own ship was rather daunting, true, but…

He remembered little Katooni's youthful energy, her pride at her success in assembling that precious lightsaber. Her determination to absolutely show Hondo up. Having another determined little one, to teach, to nurture in these dark days after Knightfall… it sparked a little warmth in his chest. Or perhaps that was the result of the miniscule hand with its impossibly small fingers which had fumbled to grip Hondo's index finger. “He is as welcome here as you are, my friend. Does he have a name yet?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “It's Luke. His name is Luke.”

[astudyinimagination]

The Gentleness That Comes not from the Absence of Violence, pt. II

Hi, guys!

NaNo is moving too fast for me to keep up with it and I could use some Validation (TM), so here’s the next part of my Padmé Lives AU. :D

Padmé returns to the land of the living from a brush with death, and starts to navigate her new life as a first-time single mother in hiding with twins, not to mention relationship issues and developing PTSD.

She rises slowly to consciousness, and there’s a light behind her eyelids strong enough to make her feel uncomfortable without also making her feel she has to wake up sooner than she wants to. She drifts for a while, returning to the waking world gradually, and there’s a strange weight on her face when she does. She panics for a moment, but Obi-Wan is right there, assuring her that everything is all right, she is fine… and his blue eyes are bright with tears. He’s been crying. Poor Obi-Wan. Maybe he should have told Anakin he could cry. Maybe that would have helped.

“Padmé? Thank the Force you’re still with us.” He gives her a weak grin. “It would have been a tragedy if I’d had to raise these twins by myself.”

Padmé rasps a faint chuckle, and realizes that she’s wearing an oxygen mask. Oh. So that’s how close she’d been to dying.

Then she realizes what’s missing. “Where are the twins?” Her voice continues to rasp, painfully.

“The meddroids have them — cleaning up and feeding and testing and putting to sleep. I’m told it’s standard procedure, even if the birth is a perfectly normal one.”

And this one was not. “Oh.”

Obi-Wan takes her right hand in both his hands and opens his mouth to speak, but Padmé frowns at what she feels. “How did you hurt your hand?” Then she remembers: he had held her hand throughout the contractions, and she blushes. “I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan blushes, too. “It’s nothing, Padmé, really. It will heal quickly.”

She gives a minute nod. The silence begins to drag out uncomfortably, so she asks, “How long was I out?”

His lips compress into a thin line before he answers. “Nearly three hours. You flatlined. Bail claimed he was next of kin and told them to get you breathing again.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Bail did that? And they went with it?”

Obi-Wan shrugs. “We’re far enough out here that they barely know the Clone Wars is — ” he stops, pain and grief flashing across his face for a moment, then continues — “was happening, let alone that you two are esteemed Senators from different planets.”

“Where is here?”

“Polis Massa. Archeological base on an asteroid field, Subterrel sector.”

“That’s… pretty far.”

“Yes.”

They lapse into silence again. There’s too much between them now to converse easily; their friendship will never be the same again, if they even stay friends.

But there’s one thing Padmé still doesn’t know, and she needs to. “What happened, Obi-Wan? To Anakin? Where is he?”

The grief returns to the Jedi’s face in full force, and Padmé feels a pang of sympathy for him. Perhaps Obi-Wan didn’t do the best job of it, but he did raise Anakin, and he loves him, she knows that.

Apparently, she knew that when Anakin didn’t.

“He…. he’s dead, Padmé. I’m sorry.”

“No…” Anakin couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t, Padmé isn’t Force-sensitive but she would have felt that, she knows she would have, she would know…

“I saw him.”

“How…?” Her voice cracks.

He shakes his head, and she recognizes the look in his eyes — it’s a look she’s seen more times than she can count: what those eyes have seen is too horrible to give voice to.

She doesn’t know what to say, or how to feel. Anakin is dead. But he couldn’t be. I’d know.

Just like you knew about what he’d become?

She can’t hold back a whimper, and Obi-Wan’s face twists again. “I still love him,” she whispers.

“I know,” he whispers back. Does Obi-Wan still love Anakin? Does Anakin’s betrayal of him run deeper than his betrayal of Padmé? Can you quantify something like that?

Into the silence, Padmé speaks again. “Obi-Wan… would you take this mask off, please? I can breathe on my own.”

“Oh.” He suddenly looks awkward. “I should probably go ask…”

“Please?” She gives him her best pitiful eyes, which she has to imagine are only enhanced right now by her appearance — she’s sure she looks like a fright.

He sighs and moves forward to carefully disengage the apparatus, and Padmé sighs in relief at fresh air filling her lungs. Well, as fresh as air can be in a medcenter that’s on an atmosphereless asteroid.

“Thank you.”

Obi-Wan smiles weakly. “Let’s just hope the meddroids are — ”

Bail bursts into the room. “Obi-Wan, I need to — Padmé!” He rushes to her side, and she struggles to sit up. “You’re awake!”

“I’m fine,” Padmé rasps, unconvincing to her own ears. “I think I owe you my life.”

Bail blushes and looks down. “Yes, about that… I’m sorry, Padmé, but I couldn’t just — ”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to interrupt. “Senator, you needed to speak with me? Beg pardon, but you looked rather urgent just now.”

“Yes…” Bail looks awkwardly between Obi-Wan and Padmé. “It’s… it’s Master Yoda.”

Padmé manages to support her weight on her elbows. “Master Yoda is still alive?”

Bail nods. “He… I’m sorry, Padmé… He wants to have the twins separated. For their own safety.”

Padmé’s vision darkens for a moment, and then she slips into an icy calm, the internal body armor she needed as Queen and continues to use as a Senator. “I see.” Both men just visibly flinch. Good. “Bail? Would you be so good as to take me to him? I’m afraid you’ll have to help me walk.”

Bail hesitates, then bends down. “I can carry you, it will save time.”

Obi-Wan steps forward. “I can — ”

“Obi-Wan, if you’ll forgive my saying so, you hardly look like you can carry yourself,” Bail says dryly but not unkindly.

Deciding to forgo whatever dignity she’d find in hobbling along while leaning on Bail’s arm, Padmé reaches up for him, and he lifts her easily into his arms.

Obi-Wan clears his throat, and Padmé turns towards him. “May I… may I come with you?”

It’s going to get ugly, Padmé know it’s going to get ugly, but she can see that he already knows that, and he wants to come anyway. She nods. “Of course.”

He bows his head in return, and Bail sets off. They’re met with a few stares from passers-by in the corridor, and one of the meddroids who has been taking care of Padmé notices her out of bed and begins to make a fuss. Almost immediately, she hears Obi-Wan using the tone he employs for soothing tempers — they don’t call him The Negotiator for nothing — and she tunes out. The droid is a distraction, and she needs to focus.

But her heart rises into her throat when Bail carries her into the nursery center, and there are two human babies side by side in their own medical cradles, snuggled into blankets and fast asleep, her babies…

And there is Yoda standing in front of the cradles, watching them.

The diminutive Jedi Master turns towards them as they enter, blinking placidly. Padmé has to fight for calm as she murmurs to her friend, “Thank you, Bail. Would you please set me down?”

He grimaces in concern but complies, keeping an arm around Padmé’s shoulders to help her stay upright, and she gives him a glance of gratitude.

“Senator,” Yoda says in greeting. “Glad I am to see you still alive. Concerned, we all were, to lose you.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda,” Padmé says evenly with a tilt of her head. “But I wonder why you need me at all if you wish to split up my children.”

Bail’s arm tenses beneath her, and she can feel rather than see Obi-Wan’s shock.

Yoda is hardly fazed. “For their own safety, it would be. On them, everything depends.”

Padmé frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Shielded from the Emperor, they must be, until old enough, they are, to stand against him.”

“I agree completely, but they will not be standing against him on your terms, Master Jedi. They are my children, not yours.”

“My judgment, you must trust, Senator.” Padmé could almost laugh aloud — so this is where Qui-Gon had gotten it from! “Strong are your children with the Force. To the Jedi, would they be entrusted.”

It’s true — under Republic law, the Jedi had the right to take Force-sensitive children into the Order, and Padmé feels a sudden rush of shame for never thinking to question that law until she had discovered her pregnancy. She’d known there was an even chance that her child would be Force-sensitive thanks to Anakin, and she had, in her off hours, been preparing to fight for custody of the baby once they were born. Selfish, and blind, of her, not to give that law so much as a second thought until she was in the position of the people being harmed by it.

“Under Republic law, you’re right,” says Padmé, an edge to her voice. “But the Republic no longer exists, thanks to Palpatine. Who, by the way, now has unrestricted access to the system you put in place to find Force-sensitive children.” She hears Obi-Wan’s sharp intake of breath, and Yoda’s eyes widen — neither of them had thought of this yet. Her voice cracks as she continues. “How many children are now in mortal danger because of it?”

“And there’s no way to stop it,” Obi-Wan murmurs in horror. “Every medcenter in the Republic — the Empire — has the technology to test for midi-chlorians, and all healers and meddroids know they have to run those tests.”

Padmé looks over her shoulder at him. “I’m sorry,” she says softly, sincerely. Then she turns back to Yoda, slipping back into her political persona. “There are thousands of children out there at risk as of the moment Palpatine declared all Jedi enemies of the state. I recommend that you focus your efforts on helping them, and leave the responsibility of protecting my children, who are at far less risk, to me.”

The Jedi’s large ears droop. “Lost, those younglings may already be.”

Padmé shakes her head. “They remain your responsibility.”

“As do your younglings.”

Padmé bursts out laughing. She can see the men around her looking at her in concern — her laugh sounds high and bitter and tinged with hysteria to her own ears — but she can’t help it. Still laughing, she looks Yoda in the eye. “Forgive me, Master Jedi, but it’s really rather amusing. It’s astonishing, frankly, the depth of your presumption regarding the welfare of my children or anyone’s children, really.” The laughter fades, and her voice hardens. “You have no right to Luke and Leia or to any other child in this galaxy, anymore. The best you can do, at this point, is save as many children as you can from a man who already knows they exist. I will keep my babies, and raise them, and you will have absolutely no say in how I do that.”

Yoda’s shoulders hunch, and Padmé almost pities him, burdened as he is by responsibility and… guilt. Guilt is the emotion she’d picked up from him at the start of this conversation that she couldn’t identify until now.

Anakin made his own choices, but she doesn’t doubt for one moment that Yoda and the Jedi Order helped him towards those choices. And she will not allow that same person to have a hand in the raising of her children.

“Skywalker’s stubbornness, you share. Need my help, you may, before long — my comm channel, I shall leave you. Right are you about one thing: protect the younglings I should, if possible it is.”

Senator and Jedi Master exchange bows, and Obi-Wan steps forward. “Shall we brainstorm, then, Master?”

Yoda snorts and jabs his cane at his colleague. “Brainstorm, I shall. Sleep, should you, for no sleep have had you in too long.”

Obi-Wan hesitates, glancing at Padmé, then gestures for Yoda to follow him out into the hall. The door shuts behind them, and Padmé breathes a sigh of relief.

Bail also sighs, shaking his head. “Padmé…”

She arches an eyebrow. “Did I say anything wrong, Bail?”

“No…” He sighs again. “No. But you’re going to have to spend a lot of time in bed to recover from all the energy you expended just now.”

“It was worth it.” She can, however, feel her legs weakening further, her heart beating rapidly, her body chilled now that it is no longer warmed by adrenaline. “I want to see them first, though.”

He nods, and leads her to the cradles. She leans down and stares back and forth between her babies — her babies, her own children — red and clean and tiny… and so beautiful they take her breath away. She presses her hand to the transparisteel of Luke’s cradle, and he stirs without waking.

“Bail,” she breathes reverently, “they’re perfect.”

“Yes. Yes, they are.” He draws her back to him, and she has to wipe away sudden tears. “They’ll be safe, Padmé. Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I don’t want to leave them. I know they’re safe… I just… don’t want to leave them.”

“I know.” His voice is gentle, and kind, and Padmé feels warmth bubbling up inside her, gratitude for his friendship and for his help. He rubs her arms soothingly. “Come along, Senator Amidala. Your babies will still be here when their mother has had a rest.”

Her dreams, however, are far from restful. She’s running — Theed Palace morphs into the Galactic Senate into Varykino into Geonosis into… she’s not sure. A ship, she thinks, maybe a Star Destroyer. And Anakin’s voice is calling her name, sometimes vengeful, sometimes pleading, but she can’t stop, she can’t let him catch her, she can’t let him know about the twins…

Padmé wakes to find the meddroids fussing around her again, the only other occupants in the room. Where are Bail and Obi-Wan? Getting sleep, probably.

She turns to the nearest droid and clears her throat. “Excuse me?”

The droid pauses in processing a readout and looks up at her. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Could… could my babies be brought in, please? Or could I go see them?”

The droid pauses. “We have to finish running some tests, but afterwards, that should be possible.”

Padmé relaxes back into her bed. “Thank you.”

Once the droids are done with their readouts, Padmé has to be helped to the ’fresher — why oh why does pregnancy involve so much fluids?! — and cleaned up and given a fresh medcenter gown, after being informed that she has already had a gown replaced on her while she was unconscious and hooked up to the oxygen tank. Given the amount of… well, she really doesn’t want to think about it, but the gown she gave birth in must have been messy, and she can’t find it in her to be more than a little embarrassed about having her clothes changed on her like that.

Not long after she’s back in bed (and grateful for it, between muscle fatigue and… postnatal ickiness), the door hisses open, and two very familiar figures enter the room. “Dormé!” Padmé gasps. “Captain Typho!”

“Milady!” Dormé rushes to Padmé’s bedside, then hesitates. Padmé stretches her arms out in invitation, and her handmaiden embraces her fiercely. “Milady, we were so worried!”

“I’m sorry,” Padmé whispers, looking over Dormé’s shoulder at Typho, who stands back respectfully. He nods to her, his face grim, and her heart sinks. “How did you find me?”

“Senator Organa commed me,” Typho replies. “He gave me the coordinates, and I decided to bring Dormé with me.”

“I’m glad he did,” says Dormé, releasing Padmé at last and perching on the edge of the bed. “What in the galaxy happened to you?”

Padmé opens her mouth, then closes it and shakes her head. “That has to wait for the moment.” She turns to the droids. “Pardon my impatience, but are you nearly done yet?”

“We are,” says the droid she spoke with earlier. “Do you wish for privacy?”

“Yes, please. Give me half an hour, and then you can bring my babies in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The droids take their leave, and Dormé stares after them, wide-eyed. “Babies?”

Padmé smiles ruefully. “Twins.”

Dormé shakes her head. “Trust you not to do anything by halves!”

Padmé chuckles faintly, then returns her attention to Typho, sobering again. “Captain, you could be in danger just being here… I need to go into hiding — I can’t imagine that Palpatine will want me at liberty, or even alive.”

Typho’s expression grows even more grim. “No, he doesn’t. The majority of the Delegation of Two Thousand has been rounded up and imprisoned on charges of treason.”

Padmé’s hand flies to her mouth, her chest constricting. She should have thought… “We made it so easy,” she whispers. “A petition with the names of the Senators who opposed his power… we made it so easy for him.”

Dormé shakes her head. “Milady, you couldn’t have known things would get this bad.”

Typho nods. “No one could have suspected what Palpatine was really up to until it was too late. The fault does not lie with you or Senator Organa or anyone else on that list.”

“Bail! What about him — are they going to arrest him, too?”

“From what I can tell, no. I’m no politician, but despite the fact that Palpatine just declared himself Emperor of the known galaxy, I don’t think even he would try to imprison the consort of the monarch of a Core World. At least, not this early in the game.”

Padmé nods weakly. “You’re right, I’m sure. Still, Bail needs to be cautious.”

Dormé turns to Typho. “And what do we do, Captain?” Because, of course, they have on their hands one of the leaders of the Two Thousand, who has also just given birth to a Jedi’s children.

Typho sighs and looks to Padmé. “Milady… I think that for once we might be in agreement concerning your safety.”

Padmé smiles ruefully. “I think so, Captain. I know what I should do.” She closes her eyes, shame welling up inside her. “But I have to let my people down to do it.”

“You’ll find a way to continue to serve our people, I have no doubt. But you cannot help them if you are in prison or dead.”

Padmé bows her head, bites her lip, and nods. “I know,” she whispers, opening her eyes. “I can’t keep the twins, either, unless I go into hiding. Master Yoda says they’re strong in the Force — Palpatine will go after them once he knows about them.”

Typho nods solemnly. “I think, Senator, it’s time to use the doll.”

Dormé shudders. “That awful thing?”

Padmé sits up straighter — she’d forgotten about the doll! “We had it made for this exact reason, Dormé. If there was ever an extreme circumstance in which I needed to fake my death.”

Typho’s one eye is fixed on her. “You agree, then?”

Padmé almost says yes, then hesitates. Mom… Dad… Sola… the girls… Grandma Ryoo… what will this loss do to them? Exactly what it will do if Palpatine finds you. She sighs heavily and nods. “Yes, Captain, I agree.”

He bows his head. “Thank you, milady.”

Dormé turns back to Padmé. “But what will you do, milady? Where will you go?”

Padmé shakes her head, beginning to feel overwhelmed. “I’m not sure, just yet.”

“You don’t need to decide right now,” says Typho, “but you do need to make a plan soon.”

“I will,” she nods wearily, “I will. I do, unfortunately, need a little time — you would not believe how the past… how many days? three?... have played out for me.”

Typho pulls up a chair for himself. “We do have a little time.”

Padmé’s face twists. “I’m not sure… I’m not sure I can…”

Dormé takes her hand in her own, her lovely features full of concern. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Padmé takes a shaky breath. “No… no, I should. I know I should.” She looks between her loyal bodyguards and continues, “Please, don’t be angry with him.”

Typho shakes his head. “With Kenobi?”

“No… well, yes, actually, him, as well — don’t be angry with him either.” Her voice drops to a whisper again. “I meant Anakin.”

Dormé is speechless at the end of Padmé’s halting account of Mustafar. Typho, however, has gone into complete lockdown, no trace of emotion in his expression… which Padmé knows from previous experience means he is well and truly furious.

“How could he?” Dormé asks finally.

Padmé hangs her head. “I don’t know.” It’s not quite the truth, but she doesn’t know how to untangle in her own mind the things she knows about Anakin that might have brought him to the point where he could make such horrific choices, much less give voice to them. “Obi-Wan —” her voice cracks — “Obi-Wan says he saw Anakin… he saw Anakin die. He won’t say how.”

“Good,” Typho says shortly, and Padmé flinches, bracing herself for the storm. Her chief of security stands. “I know you loved him, Senator, but there is nothing in the universe that can justify what he did — to you, to anyone.” He half-turns away, lip curling in disgust. “And I trusted him with your safety.”

Padmé shakes her head, heart beating rapidly. “Captain, please, you can’t blame yourself. You… he…” She can’t think straight, her head feels light, and her heart won’t slow down, her pulse throbbing in her ears. Distantly, she feels arms wrap around her, and Dormé’s voice soothing her, telling her to calm down, she’s okay, just breathe, just breathe, she’s going to be all right, just breathe…

As Padmé regains awareness, she finds her handmaiden glaring at Typho. “That’s enough, Captain. She’s been through too much to deal with this right now.”

“She has to deal with it, Dormé!”

“Yes, but not right now. You’re a soldier; you’ve seen people suffering from trauma. If you don’t want to lose her, you’re going to be gentle with her and not force her to deal with anything before she’s ready to.”

“My hero,” Padmé murmurs, giving the older woman a faint smile.

Dormé gives her a watery smile in return. “My pleasure.”

There’s a knock on the door, and a voice calls, “Padmé, are you awake? May we come in?”

“Bail! Yes, come in!”

The door hisses open to reveal Bail and Obi-Wan, and… she hears Dormé’s sharp intake of breath, but Padmé only has eyes now for the bundles in the men’s arms, and stretches her arms out for them… Then they’re being placed carefully in her hold, one on either arm, and she doesn’t realize that she’s been holding her breath until she’s holding them both, warm and sleeping and utterly perfect.

And for one moment, there is no pain, no grief — only the joy of holding her babies at last.

She drags her gaze away from her children and looks up at her friends past her tears. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan looks more on the verge of tears than she’s ever seen him, even while grieving for his master, and he nods wordlessly.

Bail smiles and murmurs, “You’re welcome,” then looks up at Typho. “Captain, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thank you for contacting me, Senator. We were all worried.”

Bail turns to Dormé. “Ah, and Dormé.” He takes her hand and bows over it, ever the consummate gentleman. “A pleasure to see you, though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“As do I.” Dormé glances back at the babies, eyes full of wonder. “Thank goodness there is some light left in the galaxy.”

“Luke and Leia,” says Padmé, and then she chuckles ruefully. “I don’t know right now which is which.”

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “Luke is on your left, Leia on your right.”

She smiles in thanks, and bends over to lightly kiss each small, soft forehead, inhaling their sweet scent. “You are so beautiful,” she whispers.

Dormé rises from the bed. “All right, you lot,” she says to the men, “out with you now.” She makes shooing motions, her tone brooking no argument. “Let the mother have her privacy.”

The three men obey, shuffling awkwardly out of the room, Typho casting dark looks at Obi-Wan, and Dormé sighs as the door hisses shut behind them. But when she turns to Padmé, she smiles in satisfaction.

“Aren’t you going to let me have my privacy?” Padmé teases.

“Not unless you want to try breastfeeding twins entirely on your own when they rouse up.”

Padmé’s eyes widen. “Oh, right.”

Dormé nods. “Now, I’ve never seen a woman nurse twins, but I remember well enough my mother nursing my little brother. I think we can manage.”

Padmé smiles, tears pricking her eyes again. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d have three men trying to help you nurse your children instead.”

They burst out laughing the awkward mental image, and it feels so good to be laughing again. Padmé can’t remember how long it’s been since she laughed, and tears start to mingle with the laughter.

“Oh, milady, no, I’m sorry.” Dormé’s expression is instantly full of remorse. “I should be helping you keep your emotions stable right now.”

“No… no, I needed this. I’m all right, I promise.” Still, Padmé struggles to stop the tears, and the twins begin to rouse.

Dormé comes forward and lays her hands on Padmé’s shoulders, rubbing them gently. “Shhhh. It’s time to see what your babies want.”

As it turns out, Luke and Leia just want to go back to sleep. Padmé swallows the disappointment of not seeing her children’s eyes open and rocks Leia in bed while Dormé rocks Luke.

“Don’t worry, milady,” Dormé murmurs. “They’ll wake soon enough, and often, especially at night, and then you’ll wish they were sleeping.”

“I know… It’s just that I’ve barely seen them since they’ve been born.”

Dormé nods in understanding. “Would you like me to leave you alone with them?”

Padmé hesitates. On one hand, she has not had a single moment alone with her children, and on the other hand, there are two of them, and Dormé’s original point remains: she hasn’t nursed them yet and she’s not sure how to feed both of them. “If… if you don’t mind staying…”

Dormé smiles and sinks into the chair Typho used earlier. “Of course not — that’s what I’m here for.”

Padmé has to blink back tears again, and she gives a self-deprecatory laugh. “I’m sorry, my emotions really are all over the place right now.”

Dormé smiles sympathetically. “One of the joys of new motherhood, unfortunately. It won’t last forever, milady; you don’t have to be hard on yourself.”

Of course, that only brings fresh tears to Padmé’s eyes, and she groans even as she smiles back. “I’ll try to remember that.”

When Luke and Leia finally start to rouse again, both in their mother’s arms now, it’s Leia who wakes first. Padmé holds her breath as her daughter looks up at her with dark marble-blue eyes, tiny lips puckering, brows furrowing… Luke opens his eyes, the same shade of blue, and Padmé wonders whether they’ll share eye color in the future and whether they’ll look more like Anakin or more like her…

Leia starts to fuss, and Dormé comes forward. “It might be feeding time now. Let me take Luke — I’m not sure you can nurse more than one at a time.”

“Okay.” Padmé reluctantly lets go of her son, who is echoing his sister only half-heartedly, thank goodness, and works to open up her gown, this one thankfully opening up in front as well as in back. Leia continues to fuss, and Padmé murmurs, “It’s all right, little one, I’m working on it.” Heart pounding, she moves Leia up and close, and the baby quickly latches on. Padmé gasps at the sensation, and Dormé winces.

“Are you all right, milady?”

“I’m sure… I’ll be… fine,” Padmé grits out, eyes wide. “Dammit, Leia, can you please take it easy on your poor mother?”

Luke starts to fuss in earnest now, and Dormé rocks him, sighing. “We should probably try to set up feeding schedules, have some formula on hand… I need to do some HoloNet research on how to handle human twin babies.”

Padmé hisses as her daughter feeds quietly now, content and blissfully unaware of her mother’s discomfort. “You’re talking like you’re going to stay with me when I go into hiding properly.”

Dormé raises both eyebrows. “Forgive me, milady, but… you were planning on doing this alone?”

Padmé blushes. “I don’t know. I don’t have a plan just yet.”

Dormé nods as she rocks Luke more energetically, somehow managing to keep him from crying outright. “That’s what I thought. Milady, you need more help than Threepio can provide.”

Threepio! Padmé’s eyes widen in guilt — she’d completely forgotten about her faithful companion — but Dormé is still speaking.

“You can’t — you shouldn’t — do this alone. Besides which, I took an oath, Senator — an oath that I would serve and protect you. And help you in any way I can when you need it.” The older woman looks at Padmé pleadingly. “I want to help.”

Padmé shakes her head slowly, having to swallow tears again. “I can’t… I can’t ask that of you.”

“You don’t have to!”

“Anybody who comes with me and my children is going to be in danger.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want you to end up like Cordé!” Leia breaks off from her feeding, and both twins start to cry.

But Dormé holds Padmé’s gaze steadily even as she tries to soothe Luke. “I’ll do my best not to. But that’s my choice to put myself in that kind of danger, just as it was hers.” As Padmé opens her mouth, Dormé cuts her off: “I miss her, too, Padmé!” She softens her voice. “After all this time, I still miss her. But she would have been offering to come with you, too, if she were here, knowing the risks, knowing the whole galaxy would be against her. It’s going to be difficult, I know that. Lonely. But I made a promise, and, Padmé, you tell me how I’d be able to look my reflection in the eye if I broke that promise now, because I don’t know how I would, knowing that I’d allowed the most important person of my life to go off alone into danger when she needed someone to have her back.”

Padmé tries to speak, but no words come to her, just an ache and also a relief that washes from her tense shoulders on down her body that she doesn’t have to face the next few years, however they pan out, alone. She lost her husband, but she’s not going to lose one of her dearest friends. Her vision blurs fiercely, and she doesn’t resist when Dormé puts Luke back in her arms and takes Leia.

“You’re stuck with me, milady,” Dormé says quietly, warmly, “whether you like it or not.”

[tennessoui]

I am so happy you are back!!!

Also; 54 and 19 for the tropes mash up if you don’t mind?

hi hi!! thank you for sending this in <3 i actually got TWO 54 + 19s so let's see if i can come up with different aus for

54. summer camp + 19. secret relationship

ok so i'm immediately thinking this is a same age au where obi-wan and anakin are camp counselors in their early twenties and they absolutely hate each other. it started back when they were kids, attending the same sleepaway camp, and obi-wan gave anakin his contact info to call after the summer ended so they could stay in touch over the school year, but then he moved and lost the number which really hurt baby obi-wan's feelings because he waited for tht call for like half the school year because he had a tiny lil baby crush on anakin

plus once it was summer again, obi-wan was not acting warm and friendly to anakin and did not give him a hug so now anakin's baby feelings are hurt

and they just never make up and they come back as camp counselors. obi-wan teaches fencing and glee club, and anakin is the director of the waterfront, which mostly means he's a lifeguard but also he'll cover canoeing and sailing if need be.

and they do they do hate each other and it's really very well-known how much they hate each other because they'll try to have their cabin beat the other's cabin, and they're always saying small mean things to each other and pulling pranks on the other (mud in the shampoo bottle, itching powder in the bathing suit, etc etc)

BUT then when they're both graduated from college, they end up moving to the same town for work and loving the same coffeeshop. one day obi-wan walks in and it's super crowded but he needs to work, so he looks around to see if he could share a table and who does he see but anakin skywalker himself, sitting alone at a sizeable table.

anyway so they meet outside of summer camp and carefully figure out how to get along and then they accidentally fall in love but both of them know they'll never hear the end of it if the campers find out they're dating, so they make a ridiculous plan to try and keep up the hatred while at summer camp

but like they're obsessed with each other so it's really hard because they don't want to be mean to the other they want to cradle their face in their hands and press gently kisses to their foreheads.

send me 2 tropes from this list and i'll tell you how i'd put them together in a story.

[star-whores-a-new-hoe]

A Painful Discovery//Obi Wan X Reader Forever Series: Part 8

Summary: You discover the truth about who you ended up on Courscant.

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Whole lotta angst! like, alot. tiny bit of fluff, typos, messy plot.

A/N:So.....This is the last official chapter in the series! There will be an epilogue wrapping everything up and I know that this is kinda....messy? idk. I’ll make a longer post about this but writing this series has been a wild ride and my writing has improved SOOOOOO much! Also, the name of the series is finally gonna make sense! Thank you to everyone who as been reading this!

Your hands laid tightly clasped in your lap as you looked out the ship’s window, into a world of seemingly endless stars. The sound of your foot tapping against the metal floor echoed through the otherwise silent ship. Your wide eyes stared at the book that sat in a nearby seat. It looked unassuming, as if someone dropped it there without a second thought, but truth be told it was the most honored and feared passenger aboard the ship. 

Your mind wandered back through time. To ignorantly picking up that book a lifetime ago, finding yourself in a strange space place, learning, growing, falling in love. Realizing that there was a possibility of going home again and knowing, deep in your heart that you had to figure it out what happened. 

Behind you, you heard the heavy footsteps of Obi Wan retreating from the cockpit. 

“Hi.” You said quietly, eyes still focused on the blue glow of the  window.

“How are you feeling?”  You bit your lip as you contemplated your answer. 

“Scared.” You decided finally. “I know that’s not very...Jedi of me.” 

His warm reassuring hand found its place on your shoulder.  “There is no shame in ‘scared,’ darling.” 

You looked up at him with grateful eyes. He moved to sit next to you, letting his hand come to rest protectively on your thigh. “We, um, we haven’t talked about some stuff yet.” A thick tension crawled between the two of you. It had a name, but you could place it at the moment.

“I know.” The two of you both had been regretting this conversation. You took a deep breath, before diving headfirst into the difficult. 

“If I figure out how I got here, figure out… how I can get home. What do we do?” You stared up at him, tearful, “I love you Obi Wan, but I also have a home. I...I know I can’t have both.  If I leave, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find my way back. I can feel that this is my only chance.” 

“Do you truly want my advice?” You nodded. “When the time comes, let go. Feel the force run through you, be one with it. You'll know what the right choice is.” 

Without a word you wrapped your arms around Obi’s neck and pulled him in a tight embrace, letting your tears dampen the shoulder of his robes. He cradled the back of your head, praying to whatever was out there that he would get to hold you like this a thousand times more. A lifetime more. But he wasn't going to hold you back if it was what you desired.

“I am very concerned for your safety, you know. The book's warnings seem...quite dire.” In unison, your eyes fell on the ever ominous book.

“I have to try.” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. A silence once again filled the ship. “Whatever happens, I am so fucking glad I met you.” Obi Wan smiles before placing a gentle kiss on your head. 

“I love you too.”

The fear of saying goodbye. That was the name.

                                                           ***

Your limbs felt heavy as you walked off of the ship onto the planet, the book dragging you down as you cradled it in your arms. The planet was lush and green with mountains, fields, and a never ending downpour of rain assaulting from above. Obi walked down the ramp to meet you, carefully placing his cloak upon your shoulders.

“Thank you.” He nodded solemnly.

“I’m hoping that you have read about what we are to do?” 

“Yes, you see that hill.” You pointed towards a small hill a mile or so off. Even from where you stood you could see that it was surrounded by mammoth trees in a perfect circle. “We go there.”

“The book said this?”

“No. I did.”

The quiet trek towards your destination was grueling. The two of you were soaked to the bone when you arrived at the top. It was the best you could do to keep from shaking, from the cold or nerves, you knew not which. You stood there next to him for a moment, taking in the sight of the perfectly symmetrical circle of trees that towered above you, the branches reaching out, covering up any type of light with the exception of the center, which was clear, allowing the rain to pour down  in sheets.

“What does the translation say now?” You looked back down at the book in your hands, slightly damp from being hidden under your soaking robes. Pulling it close to you, you flipped through the pages to find the translation note.

“Meditate. Just sit wherever I’m drawn too, here, and meditate” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, seems a little anticlimactic.” You laughed nervously. You turned on your heel to look up at Obi, unsure of what to say. He softly brought his hand down to stroke your check before leaning down to press your lips to him. You closed your eyes and let yourself be enveloped in the tender embrace. It seemed that no words were needed. Reluctantly, you pulled back, staring up at him and his breathtaking blue eyes, wondering if it was the last time you'd ever see them. 

Pushing that thought from your mind, you turned and walked out into the center of the clearing, letting the rain pour down on you as if it didn't exist. You sat yourself down on the grassy floor and let yourself simply be. You closed your eyes and tried your hardest to let everything go, to connect with everything and be one with it all. Instead it felt like you were standing on the edge of an empty void. Calling out impossible questions that it refused to answer. 

After an eternity, or at least several hours spent in the chilling outdoors, you broke your concentration to look at obi who was silently watching you from where he sat by the base of one of the trees. 

“This is taking a lot longer than I expected.” You said sheepishly.

“That's quite alright. I am very familiar with the difficulties of meditation.” You smiled.

“You can wait with the ship if you want, it is pretty nasty out here.”

“Darling, don't think for a second that I’ll leave your side.”

“I could be hours, and I might not actually find out anything today.” You told him playfully. “You say you’ll wait but how long are you actually willing to stay out here with me?”

He looked at you with a gaze that pierced right through your heart. “Forever.”

***

A few more hours had passed. The grey light that had once barely lit the sky transformed into an all-consuming black that even with the rain was somehow laced with the gentleness of the shining stars. Your fingertips lightly rested on the soft grass, letting you feel your energy connect with them, channeling it all the way down through the planet and up to the sky where it danced with the stars. Once again you were faced with that infinite void looming over you, holding the answers you so desperately needed. But instead of yelling, of trying to force your way in as you had been trying to do for hours, you tried something different. You took a deep breath and simply let it in as opposed to fighting it. 

It was as if a switch had been flicked. With that simple action everything was unveiled to you. You gasped out in pain as it all flashed through your head, almost too fast to comprehend. Obi Wan jumped up, knowing, feeling through the force that something had changed. You stood up as images filled your mind, overwhelming you. Destruction, chaos, and you? You were saved, by what, from what? There was something missing, a piece the universe still had to show you. 

“No, no no no.” You cried under your breath. It was too much. It hurt, it couldn't be possible, it wasn't. Tears streamed down your cloudy eyes as you screamed. Obi Wan ran towards you. He caught you as you collapsed under yourself, your eyes a strange milky white as if you were in some kind of trance. Or nightmare. 

You slowly recovered in his arms, wailing and clinging to him, unable to believe what you had witnessed. 

“What is it, What’s wrong?” 

“It's gone, it's all gone! I-I don’t know how.” You shook in his arms, the rain pouring down on the both of you. “Oh my god, I’m alone.” It was as if you simply broke. He held you, (For what else could he do?) as you fell apart in his grasp, your sobs blending in with the pitter patter of that rain.

Obi Wan could feel it too, In the force that surrounded you. He pieced it together as he held you tightly. He figured out that all this time, everything you knew, everything you fought to get back in your life, had been gone, obliterated, simply lost. And that you, by some miracle were different. He didn't know if it was the book or your force sensitivity but something had saved you. But could it really be called “saved” if everything you knew was gone? 

His heart ached for you as everything inside you collapsed. it was all he could do to hold you as the rain poured down. 

[darthrevaan]

Obikin Week 1 - Darkness Calling

Summary: Obi-Wan picks up a strange but rich passenger in an attempt to pay off his debt to the Hutts, and gets much more than he bargained for.

A/N: Somewhat late, but I’ve been having to do fic at work while my home internet is broken (ssshhh, don’t tell my boss haha). This is for Obikin Week 2018, for the day one prompt “Never Found AU”. This is a quick idea for an AU where neither Anakin or Obi-Wan were found by the Jedi, and end up on very different paths...

The boy is strange; young, but self-assured, oozing confidence in a way Obi-Wan rarely sees even in those twice his age. He lounges across his chair, a drink cradled in one hand, and smiles at Obi-Wan through the dim light.

Obi-Wan feels a thrill of unease run through him.

"You can accommodate my request, then?" he asks, his voice low and smooth.

Obi-Wan nods. "So long as none of the terms have changed."

"They haven't."

"Then we have a deal."

A slow smile spreads across the young man's face. "Good."

There's a moment of tense silence, and Obi-Wan sips his drink, waiting for his companion to break it. When he doesn't, Obi-Wan asks carefully, "Will you give me a name, now we're doing business?"

"It's Anakin," the young man says.

/

Obi-Wan can't say he's happy  about the job; but he needs it, needs it desperately, so he doesn't really have much choice. Part of him is sure that's why Anakin approached him in particular; with a few whispers in the right ears, someone with half a brain could easily learn who owed a big enough debt to the Hutts that they'd be desperate enough to take Anakin's dubious job offer.

"Getting into this much debt was incredibly stupid," Obi-Wan says aloud, sitting in the Night Cat's cockpit.

If BT-9 had eyebrows, she would have been lifting one. "Did that realisation just come to you?"

"Ha ha, BT." Obi-Wan sighs, putting his face in his hands. "Have you received the coordinates yet?"

"Not yet. You should remind our passenger that we can't schedule a flight plan without them - and without a flight plan, we can't take off."

"I'm sure he knows," Obi-Wan says; still, he gets up and goes aft.

The Night Cat isn't a large ship, especially not in her crew quarters. Obi-Wan has optimised her to carry as much cargo as he can cram into the extended hold, and as a result the crew lounge, galley and cabin are incredibly small. There is only one bed, which Obi-Wan has given up for his passenger, settling for the thin, lumpy lounge sofa.

Anakin is sitting at the lounge table, scrolling through a datapad; he glances up when Obi-Wan walks into the room. "Problem?"

"Well, we've come to the somewhat sticky part of our little venture," Obi-Wan says, "We need to register a flight plan with space traffic control; consequently, we need a destination."

Anakin's mouth twists. "I'm afraid I can't have anyone following us."

Obi-Wan doesn't need any more than that to understand. A small pit of cold worry forms in his stomach, but he only says, "You need me to spoof the plan?"

Anakin smiles. "You've done it before."

"I work for the Hutts; it's not always entirely legitimate." Obi-Wan pauses, then ventures, "If you give me an idea what quadrant we're really going to, I could pick a false destination on the opposite side of the galaxy. Throw our pursuers off the scent, so to speak."

Anakin's smile grows a little wider. "I don't see the harm in that," he says. "We'll be heading to a planet in the galactic north-east."

Finally some information, even if only the tiniest sliver. "I'll log a flightplan to Bespin, then," Obi-Wan jokes, "Presuming you want to leave right away?"

"In three hours," Anakin says, "There's still one more contact I need to meet with; then we can be on our way."

"He's creepy," BT-9 says when Obi-Wan returns to the cockpit.

"You shouldn't pass judgements on people so quickly, BT," Obi-Wan says, sitting down in the pilot's chair.

"I know creepy when I see it," BT-9 huffs, turning to the ship's computer. Reluctantly she adds, "Logging a flightplan for Bespin, to leave in three hours."

/

Obi-Wan takes the Night Cat through a short jump first, making it look as if they're headed to Bespin; then he calls Anakin up to the cockpit.

"Something tells me you still don't want to give away our destination," he says as his passenger enters.

Anakin smiles; Obi-Wan would say he looks pleased. "You would be correct."

"I don't usually let anyone but BT touch our navicomputer, you know."

"I feel priviledged," Anakin smirks.

Everything in Obi-Wan's gut is screaming at him that this is a horrible idea, but the price tag of this job keeps flashing before his eyes. With that much money, he can pay off his entire debt to the Hutts in one hit, and still have something to spare. He motions for BT-9 to move away from the navicomputer.

She beeps and hums with irritation, but obligingly scoots away from the console, leaving the space free for Anakin to step up. "I promised you wouldn't be in direct danger, so long as you follow my instructions," he says as he sits down in front of it, "And I want to reconfirm that commitment."

"That's comforting," Obi-Wan says, watching Anakin's fingers begin to tap in a destination. "You're not going to read the coordinates off your datapad?"

Anakin smiles. "I could recite these coordinates asleep, drunk, beaten to hell..."

Obi-Wan snorts. "I get the picture."

The cockpit falls quiet for a minute as Anakin taps in more numbers, checks them over, and then hits enter on the console. "You should be good to go," he says, standing.

BT-9 jealously zips back into her place as soon as Anakin vacates it, which he allows with an amused grin. Cautiously, Obi-Wan turns to the controls. "Prepare for lightspeed," he tells BT-9. She hums a confirmation.

The navicomputer flashes up an estimated time of arrival, but doesn't show any information on planets at their destination point. Obi-Wan can only assume that wherever Anakin's aiming to go, it's not on your average galactic star chart.

Another shot of nerves twists through his stomach, but he pushes the joystick forward anyway, thrusting them into lightspeed.

/

Soon after he sets up the navicomputer, Anakin disappears into the lone crew cabin, leaving Obi-Wan with his thoughts.  ​It should take less than twelve hours for them to reach their destination - enough time to catch some sleep, have a meal, and prepare himself for whatever mystery lies ahead.

Blasters, Obi-Wan thinks, I’m going to take lots of blasters.

BT-9 whistles softly as he makes to leave the cockpit. "I'm going to try and figure out where we're going," she says.

He won't be able to stop her, so Obi-Wan just shrugs. "Go ahead."

Back in the crew lounge, everything is quiet, so Obi-Wan lies down on the lounge bench seat and tries to get comfortable. He's slept in alleyways, on street corners, in cargo holds, and just straight on the cold hard ground, so compared to that, this is luxury; but compared to his bed in the other room, it's cramped and lumpy.

Obi-Wan lies back and closes his eyes, willing himself not to feel the bumps sticking into his back. Thoughts swirl round his head and nerves churn in his gut, but he does his hardest to ignore those too. Keep focusing on the paycheck, Kenobi; that's why you're doing this.

He must have dropped off at some point, because when he comes to the ship's lights have been dimmed, probably a result of BT-9 putting her into night cycle. He checks the chrono on his wrist; about eight hours have passed. Good.

He potters around for a while, preparing a mealpack and eating it, hearing nothing from the crew cabin. Anakin is probably asleep.

After his meal he goes down into the cargo bay - depressingly empty at the moment - and over to the back wall, where a tall, locked cabinet of reinforced steel serves as his makeshift armoury. Inside, two rifles and several blasters compete for space with bags of grenades, flashbangs and smoke bombs, along with the huge Thrassian harpoon he got half off in a sale on Outlander Station three months ago. "That seemed like a much better deal at the time," Obi-Wan mutters to himself, removing it from the cabinet and setting it aside.

He slings one of the rifles over his back, straps two blasters to his hips and loads up with as many explosive devices as he can carry, then returns upstairs to the cockpit.

"We're nearing our destination," BT-9 informs him.

"So soon?" Obi-Wan asks, dropping down into the pilot's chair.

"Yes." If droids could scowl, BT-9 would be giving him a most ferocious glare. "If we crash into a planet, I'm blaming you."

"If we crash into a planet you won't have time to blame me; you'll just be space dust."

The opening cockpit door cuts off BT-9's sharp reply. "We must be close," Anakin says, slipping into the small space behind Obi-Wan's chair.

"We're coming up on our destination now." Even as he says it the navicomputer begins to beep, signalling that they're about to be automatically dropped from hyperspace.

Obi-Wan feels the familiar lurch-tug in his stomach, and the viewport displays the disorienting view of the starlines pinging back into their proper places as the ship slows down - and Obi-Wan spots their destination.

The planet hangs directly in front of them, a dusty red-orange ball, and to Obi-Wan's eye, completely unremarkable. It looks like it has a fifty/fifty chance of being habitable, though by its colour, it's probably a miserable dust bucket if it does have a breathable atmosphere. The reason why it might be important to the mysterious man behind him is not immediately apparent.

"This it?" he asks.

"This is it," Anakin breathes.

He sounds...reverent.

Obi-Wan feels a shiver go up his spine, but he suppresses it again. "Has it got a breathable atmosphere?"

"Yes." Anakin leans forward over Obi-Wan's shoulder, staring fixedly at the planet in the viewport. The look in his eyes makes something in Obi-Wan's stomach curdle. "Take us down there."

He can feel his fingers cringe away from the controls; but he forces the reaction down, forces down the sickness in his stomach, and brings them in closer to the planet.

They swoop in uncontested, no challenge from space traffic control or any other authority; when BT-9 scans the planet for communication signals she finds nothing, and a scan for lifeforms reveals very few.

"I'm surprised you've asked so few questions," Anakin says as they move closer to the planet's surface.

"A smart man knows when to keep his mouth shut," Obi-Wan says, quoting his father's favourite addage. Even now it makes him feel a twinge of nostalgia.

It makes Anakin laugh. "Land at these coordinates," he says, handing Obi-Wan a piece of flimsi; and then he disappears aft again.

"I don't need to tell you what I think," BT-9 mutters.

"That we should turn back?"

Her silence is answer enough.

Obi-Wan hesitates for just a second; but he knows what Jabba does to debtors who can't pay. He plugs the coordinates into the computer, and the Night Cat sets a course for him to follow.

The coordinates Anakin gave him lead to signs of civilisation. A small town carved from the rock; square, blocky buildings, and several lumps of concrete shaped like upturned bowls - long-abandoned hangars, designed to protect ships from the elements. The natural surface of the planet is uneven, rock-strewn and crisscrossed with cracks and holes, so Obi-Wan decides the hangars will be safer, no matter how ramshackle they are. He lowers the Night Cat down into the hangar entrance.

Anakin doesn't reappear until Obi-Wan has landed, powered down the engine, locked the controls and gone aft to the top of the ship's ramp. He's about to press the opening button when Anakin is suddenly beside him, silent, his stare intense. Obi-Wan tries to cover his startle with a question. "You are armed, aren't you?" he asks, his hand hesitating on the operating mechanism.

Anakin just nods, his eyes locked on Obi-Wan's hand. It's somewhat disturbing; uncomfortable, Obi-Wan depresses the button.

The air that rushes in from the opening door is stale and thick with dust. Obi-Wan grabs his dust scarf from the rack above the door and wraps it around his face, then eyes Anakin, who has started walking down the ramp while it's still descending. He presses the comm button to the cockpit and says, "Be on your guard, BT."

"Always, master," BT-9 replies.

With his fears only somewhat mollified, Obi-Wan follows Anakin down the ramp.

Outside, the air is close and still. The silence is absolute, not even broken by the sound of wind. The walls of the hangar rise above them, cracked, paint-peeling, dull permacrete. Empty crates and other random detritus litter the floor; a door stands half-open in one wall, leading into darkness.

Anakin is standing stock-still, eyes closed, just breathing in and out. Obi-Wan stands next to him, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, wondering. Where the hell are they?

Eventually Anakin opens his eyes, and locks his gaze on the half-open door. "You've served your purpose," he tells Obi-Wan, then lifts his arm and taps on his wrist comm. "Your payment should have just transferred. You can go now, if you wish."

Obi-Wan blinks. "Then how will you get off the planet?"

Anakin just turns a smug, self-satisfied smile on him. "I have my ways."

They stand there silently for a few seconds, staring at each other. Obi-Wan doesn't know what makes him ask it, but he says, "And if I don't wish to leave?"

The corner of Anakin's mouth quirks. "I'm sure some use could be found for you." He nods towards the Night Cat. "You should probably wait on your ship, however. This is not a place for the uninitiated."

The uninitiated into what? Obi-Wan wonders, but Anakin has already turned and walked away, ghosting across the ground and slipping through the half-open hangar doors.

Well then.

All Obi-Wan's senses are saying leave. He has his money; he can pay Jabba back.

But Anakin's words intrigue him. If he paid this much for a job this easy, what might he pay for something more risky? How much might Obi-Wan be able to make?

And there's something more than that; something stirring in him, awakening, calling out in answer to something buried here on this strange planet. He's felt it growing ever since he stepped off the Night Cat's ramp.

This place feels dead; and yet, somehow, it is undeniably alive.

"This is stupid; absolutely non-sensical," Obi-Wan says to himself, shaking his head and turning to climb the ramp of the ship. He has what he came for; there's no need for more danger.

And yet his hand hesitates over the ramp button. He's always been curious, and now it's manifesting at the worst possible time, like a siren call trying to lead him back down the ramp and further into the strange mystery of this place.

"It's not worth it," he whispers to himself, but something deep inside whispers back, Oh, but it is. It is.

He hears BT-9 say something over the comms, but he ignores her; almost without thinking about it, his feet walk him back down the Night Cat's ramp.

/

The other hangars are all as empty as the one they landed in; the buildings have the look and smell of a town long abandoned, the miscellaneous goods left in dark corners so rotted and fallen apart as to be unrecognisable. Clearly many people once lived here; but there hasn't been anyone here for a long, long time.

There's no sign of Anakin.

Obi-Wan wanders through the deserted streets, peering into buildings, hand on the blaster at his waist. The streets are mostly enclosed on all sides, with only rare breaks to the air; the sky above is a poisonous yellow-orange, with small clouds scudding lazily across.

He searches without really knowing what he's looking for, finding old residential homes, shops, cantinas, but nothing to explain the curiosity, the calling he can feel like an itch under his skin.

Then he finds the doors; and outside, a long path of red rock, worn smooth under the passing of many feet.

The abandoned city sits atop one tall mesa; the path runs along the top of a ridge of rock, a natural formation linking one mesa to another. On the mesa opposite, Obi-Wan can see structures; a huge building that reminds him both of a temple and a fortress.

The path leads up to a set of massive, beautifully carved gates - and the gates lead inside the temple-fortress.

Without conscious decision, Obi-Wan lets his feet draw him along the path, down to the gates.

Invisible from a distance, when Obi-Wan gets close he can see that the gates stand a little open, just enough for someone to squeeze through. A burst of nerves spark in his gut when he touches the metal of the gate, but he can't stop now. Pushing through, he enters a dark passage.

The room it opens out onto is tall and dark and echoing. Some kind of audience chamber, or a main hall, illuminated by small shafts punctured through the thick rock, letting in weak sunlight from above. In the dim light, Obi-Wan can see many passages leading out of the room, away into shadows. The largest, directly opposite the passage he entered through, is the only one showing any sign of light, so he goes that way.

This corridor leads to another set of doors, through which Obi-Wan finds himself under the sky again. He knows this is the right path as soon as he steps onto it. The calling grows louder the further he steps along the path, growing until it feels like a physical ache in his chest. The passage he's in winds and curls under tall cliffs, punching straight through the rock, until it suddenly opens out.

He finds himself looking out over a wide valley, shaped as if someone had taken a rectangular chunk out of the edge of the mesa. On all sides, huge statues tower above him, shaped like humans swathed in robes, their hands clasped around the hilts of what might be vibroswords, their heads bowed as if praying. Tall carved plinths and columns, some collapsed or broken, litter the landscape around the statues' feet. In the distance, Obi-Wan can see stone ramps leading to dark openings in the valley's walls.

He knows it instantly. Years ago he'd taken a date to some carnival attraction, where they'd been shown "The Most Frightful Planets In The Galaxy". This had been one of them - he'd know those statues anywhere.

This is the Valley of the Dark Lords.

This is Korriban.

Hands land on his shoulders and tighten like steel vices. "I did say I might have some use for you," Anakin's voice breathes in his ear. "And now here you are. It was more than reckless curiosity that led you here, I'll bet."

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

Back in the stupid carnival show, Korriban had seemed nothing more than a spooky story, the home of old ghosts and ancient evil, long lost to history.

Now, standing here with the Valley of the Dark Lords spread before him, real and in the flesh, it doesn't seem so funny.

"You see that opening there?" Anakin whispers, his breath brushing Obi-Wan's ear. A hand on his cheek turns Obi-Wan's head to the left, where he can see one of the dark openings he noticed before. "That's the tomb of Ajunta Pall. Incredible things are said to lie within." He can almost hear Anakin smile. "Perhaps you'd like to come tomb-raiding with me?"

There's no possible way he can say yes. This is madness. He should have run the second he recognised where he was.

But that call is still there inside him, a fire of curious longing that he can't suppress. "What's in there?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Dreams," Anakin whispers, "And power."

Obi-Wan should not say yes.

Then again, he shouldn't have said yes at the beginning - but he did. He's here now.

It's calling to him. He has to know what's in that tomb.

"I'll come."

Anakin lets out a soft, breathy laugh. "How lucky I am," he murmurs, "that the Jedi didn't find you first."