Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The life of a Jedi Padawan is mostly annoying. (The greatest incentive sentient beings have in achieving knighthood is so that they can stop being a Padawan.) Everyone agrees according to a survey of me and me.

However guarding Padmé Amidala, Senator of the Galactic Republic, is not annoying. It is the best thing that has happened to any Padawan in the entire history of the Order. Highly recommend.

But wait! After a quick side trip to an entire battle where I acquired a new mechanical arm, the powers that be sent me off to guard her some more . Right now I’m in a kriffing mansion in the lake country of Naboo, and I absolutely need to send thank-you notes to so many people for this. They must really love me. Seriously.

After settling into the ridiculously fancy lakehouse (again, mansion) that’s on its own island estate, Padmé remarked to me, “You’ve gotten so tall!”

“Thanks, I did it myself.”

Her lips quirked and what did that mean?!

I quickly returned the compliment. “You’re also tall! I mean from a Senator point of view. You know, you’re... Senator-shaped. And height-ed. Um. You’re gorgeous!”

Padmé seemed very interested in what I was saying because she smiled and invited me into the lounge to look at some essays she wrote. She sat me down on a sofa next to a crackling fireplace and while there were no signs of any actual essays around, she did pour us some whiskey. 

I briefly thought maybe I shouldn’t be drinking on the job, but I’ve seen Obi-Wan drink this particular brand of whiskey from time to time, so you know it’s classy. And if there’s anything Obi-Wan has tried to hammer into my brain, it’s that Jedi should stay classy. So we cheersed each other (classy) and started drinking as she settled in next to me.

Everything was feeling warm and glowy and so it seemed the perfect time to say, “Padmé, you are a million times better than finely ground rocks. You’re so different from it.”

Padmé looked slightly startled by the statement (maybe no one ever told her that before which is a crime), but then grinned and inched closer. She took another sip of her drink. “Do you have strong opinions on rocks?”

“Yes! All forms of rocks. Especially tiny forms of rocks! They’re just so...so... ARG.” I waved my arms around to demonstrate the arg-ness, sadly splashing a bit of my drink in the process.

Padmé was starting to look flushed, and I could tell I’d found a kindred spirit. I stared into her lovely eyes, swallowing more whiskey. This was clearly a deep bond.

“Tell me more,” she insisted, petting my arm in the best way it has ever been petted before in its life.

“Sand, Padmé. Everything wrong...it’s all about sand,” I whispered urgently. 

“I’ll drink to that.” And she did.

I was briefly confused if she was drinking for sand or against sand, but I was starting not to care. The combination of the whiskey and being looked at like I was a snack was making me not care about a whole lot of things.

Padmé seemed to tire of the sand issue anyway because without preamble she asked, “Tell me about your family. How’s your mom?”

I had to think for a moment since it’d been a few months since I’d talked to her. Also the mentally gritty gear-shift from sand to Mom took a minute. “Mom’s on a moisture farm. Moisturizing.”

“And...I don’t know anything about your father.” Her hand on my arm stilled. “It’s not rude that I’m asking about him, is it?”

I could have made something up, like a deadbeat dad that was a navigator on a spice freighter, but I couldn’t imagine ever being anything but completely honest with Padmé. She is non-sand awesome.

"Did you know that Midi-chlorians are teeny tiny little living things that live inside you livingly?"

Padmé gave me a hazy blink. "What now? Midichlorians?"

"It has a hyphen."

"I've never heard that term before."

"Because it's a Jedi thing."

“And these things...live in people?”

“Yeah. It’s gross.”

“Hmm.” She sounded highly skeptical about it all but she did boop my nose which prompted me to say:

“And you know what’s even grosser?”

“What?”

“I think they’re my dad.”

I'm pretty sure I heard Padmé whisper "so stupid" before she jumped me. Midi-chlorians are so stupid.

⁂

“So Padmé and I got married.”

Obi-Wan stopped walking, swayed a bit, and then proceeded to swear for five minutes straight. I mean he just went on, right there on the Temple landing pad.  I’m fairly sure it was more than he has sworn in his entire life all combined.

After he settled down (slightly) I added, “We were a bit drunk, but I don’t regret it. I would have married her anyway.”

“Anakin. The Order will expel you.”

"I don’t know about that. I mean, we are in a cult and cults don’t exactly like giving up members."

"What? We are not in a cult."

"We sort of are, though."

Obi-Wan’s face got all scrunchy, like a headache was forming. “Kark it all. I came out here to tell you the Council wants to see you. You... you... I don’t even have the words!”

Normally he’s much more eloquent when he’s chewing me out, so I felt bad that I might have broken his brain a bit. I mean, not bad enough to divorce Padmé, but bad enough to give his shoulder a pat.

“I have such a good feeling about this,” Obi-Wan commented as we walked on towards the spire lift.

“That’s the spirit, Master! Maybe it’ll be an assignment on a vacation planet. I could use one of those.”

Obi-Wan eyeballed me.

⁂

“The Council has decided that you are ready for your Trials of Knighthood, Senior Padawan Skywalker,” Master Windu announced.

“Cool cool cool. And hypothetically would I be ready for my Trials if I was, say, married? Just as an example. Asking for a friend.”

Obi-Wan shuffled his feet slightly, which is the Obi-Wan equivalent of swinging a lightsaber wildly at anything that twitches while having a little scream.

“Hmm." Master Yoda gazed at me wisely.

Really the only response to Yoda is to "hmm" right back at him. Sometimes nodding is involved, but only if he nods first. To expect any sort of real conversation is madness. After many long moments of mutual “hmm”ing, one of the Masters behind me cracked. (Really, where are you supposed to look when standing before the Council?)

“This is forbidden! He’s betrayed the Order!”

“Have I though? Really?” I felt Obi-Wan radiating alarm, but more words fell out of me before anyone could cut me off:

“The way I see it you’re asking the Jedi to have less bonds than my newly-acquired astromech has, who, by the way, is my wedding droid since Padmé and I didn’t have any other tokens to give each other. Well, I didn’t have any tokens. I had to give her an IOU wedding droid since Threepio is with my mom right now, which reminds me I need to put that on my to-do list. Not that the droids are just things; they’re our friends too. Artoo insisted on being a wedding droid and he said he only met Threepio once but felt sure it’d be okay with him. But anyway, it can’t be healthy for people, even Jedi people, to have less bonds than Artoo because you’re afraid of something that could possibly happen. It’s like trying to get by on bread and water because you’re afraid if you really like a meal you might punch someone in the face.” I absolutely have a handle on this issue.

Obi-Wan shuffled a bit more.

“The subject of attachment is a deeply philosophical and theological matter about the ramifications of possessive love, and marriage can easily fall into this realm. It is a potentially dangerous area for a Jedi and it’s not your place to dispute that, Padawan,” Master Piell said sternly.

"From what I understand I’m the Chosen One, so it is, and I'm going to need you to get all the way off my back about it."

Obi-Wan sighed so loudly into the Force that it echoed, and he was also looking pinched again. He really should have someone check out those headaches of his.

In spite of what I thought was a brilliant argument, most of the Council didn’t look anywhere near convinced. In fact, things were starting to look consequence-y, so I brought out the metaphorical thermal detonator: if you ever need the High Council to stop caring about any kind of marital relationships or other questionable things, just mention you’re thinking about transferring your membership to the Green Jedi. 

The Council wouldn’t stop talking about those dicks for three hours while Obi-Wan and I continued to stand there, thank you very much.

<You’re not actually thinking about--> Obi-Wan mentally asked me.

<Force, no. The Green Jedi might totally be into marriage, but they’re super weird about dynasties and bloodlines. Padmé would absolutely not be into that. Or moving to Corellia. I just said that to get them to stop talking about my Code violations.>

<I can’t tell you what this is doing to my faith in the Council, my surprisingly still-Padawan,> Obi-Wan sent while watching the Council continue to discuss the Green Jedi at varying volumes.

<Hey, it got the job done.>

<Don’t count your gundarks before they’re hatched.>

Master Tiin was edging out of his chair, deeply involved in whatever Green Jedi argument he was having with Master Rancisis. Not that Master Rancisis even disagreed with him.

<They’d rather reproduce with rontos than lose people to the Green Jedi.>

<Ultimatums are a very high risk. They should be used-->

<Only as a last resort. I know, Master.>

<Glad to see some of my training has stuck.>

Even Masters Windu and Billaba had gotten swept up in the “debate,” having their own intense side discussion that mostly involved lots of glaring into the middle distance.

I glanced over at Obi-Wan who had been attempting to get his shuffling under control. I have to admit that if I actually got kicked out, he would worry me quite a lot.

<I...don’t really want to leave,> I thought at him.

<I believe you’ll be able to keep your lightsaber, if that’s what you’re concerned about.>

<No. You need someone to watch your back.>

I got the quickest flash of surprised/happy/pleased from Obi-Wan before he locked that away and put back on the air of a controlled Master who had zero shuffling issues. <Anakin, we may have to prepare for the worst. If you have to go, I’m thinking I-->

Suddenly Master Yoda broke through the noise of the room by announcing, “Meditate on attachments of the Jedi, we will.”

Yoda-to-Basic Translation: Get back to you never.

There were varying reactions by different members of the Council: Master Gallia and Master Ti were giving each other indecipherable looks, while Master Mundi didn’t roll his eyes, but he didn’t not roll his eyes.

Master Windu seemed to feel as if Yoda had closed the matter because he said, “In the meantime, prepare for your Trials, Padawan Skywalker.”

<See?>

<Brat.>

⁂

So imagine you’re completely high, in possession of a deadly weapon, and are forced to stare into a mirror for a day while shaaks sit around and mock you. Then take that feeling, smush it into a giant ball, and bounce around on it while totally different shaaks attempt to paddle your ass. That’s sort of what the Trials are like.

I really don’t want to talk about it. But I’m now a Knight.

And because I’m now a Knight, Obi-Wan got upgraded to an official Master instead of just an honorific one. (Don’t get me started on the overall weirdness of addressing a Jedi as “Master” in non-Master situations. That’s an entire Basic linguistic nightmare right there.) 

At the understated joint celebration (punch and cookies) of Obi-Wan’s and my promotions, I overheard Master (actual) Windu calling Obi-Wan not just a Master but THE Master for, and I quote, “dealing with Anakin’s hells-on-Corellia teenage years.” Do you see what I have to put up with? And it’s not even remotely true because I am a kriffing delight. A delight Knight!

⁂

Padmé insisted we have our own celebration of my promotion (and the death of my tiny braid), and so we ditched her security detail and headed out into the night. We didn’t have actual plans, but I’m usually pretty good at finding things to do.

Seeing Padmé twisting the head off a service droid with her bare hands made me wonder what life would have been like if she’d been a Jedi. She would have been feared. I imagine she would have handed me my ass every single day in the training salle. I am deeply conflicted because that is both extremely terrifying and the hottest thing in the world.

As the droid’s head went flying I asked, “Padmé, you’d still love me even if you could beat the hells out of me, right?”

“What do you mean ‘if’?”

Gods, she’s perfect.

I swung my lightsaber at another droid. “Duck!”

Padmé hit the floor and half the droid I skewered shot over her head. As the minor crime boss yelled at his minions to not let us get him, Padmé grinned at me a very devilish grin.

By the time we’d gotten back to her apartment (I guess it’s mine now too) we’d righted some wrongs, exercised a bit, and made out - all in all a successful celebration/date night, and an excellent start to knighthood.

Chapter Text

In a recent development, the Jedi now have a lot of clones. Like so many. Where did they all come from? Kamino, apparently. I go off on my own and come back with one singular spouse. Obi-Wan goes off on his own and comes back with hundreds of thousands of sentient beings. And I’m the one people raise an eyebrow at.

At least Obi-Wan reported that he didn’t get suckered into the optional inhibitor chip upgrade. A minor tiff had broken out when he said he didn’t want it. The Kaminoans tried to tell him that since some of the clones already had the chip they’d have to remove them, and then he wouldn’t be eligible for a “low cost” warranty. 

As everyone knows, warranties are a scam and Mama Créche Master didn’t raise a fool, so Obi-Wan insisted on having all his clones chipless. By the end of it everyone seemed to be on friendly terms, though, and he even got them to throw in a million and a half Kamino-branded ear muffs for free because he’s not called The Negotiator for nothing.

The clones come as completely trained soldiers, which is convenient since the Republic has decided to go to war with some other planets that no longer want to be a part of the Republic. But more critically, Great-GrandMaster Dooku is involved (or Darth Tyrannosaur, or whatever he’s going by now), who I am positive would like nothing better than to kidnap his GrandPadawan Obi-Wan to be on his side. I am definitely not offended that he doesn’t also want to kidnap me.

(Apparently I’m “mere insolent detritus” which is a bit much, Great-GrandMaster Dooku. Lineages, am I right?)

But anyway, now that The Clone Wars have gotten going (there really weren’t any other names, Master Yoda?), I have another new title: General. And Obi-Wan is High General. He started out as a regular General and I started as a Commander, but that lasted about a week before everyone realized I was super good at war. So they promoted me and then they promoted him (as well as putting him on the Council) because evidently Obi-Wan must always outrank me. 

Seriously. Mace Windu sent out a memo.

“Really, Master? ‘The Outranking of Skywalker and Other Critical Necessities’?”

Obi-Wan had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “Oh. You heard about that?”

“I was copied on it!”

In our latest skirmish against the Separatist droid army on yet another forest planet in the Outer Rim, the last of the droids were in the process of being picked off and it was basically turning into target practice. 

(By the way, have you ever met a B1 battle droid? They are kriffing hilarious. I would totally have one of my own if it didn't offend Padmé. And Obi-Wan. And the clones. And the Jedi. Normally I wouldn't care about offending people, but the battle droids have killed some people so it's probably not in the best taste.)

Suddenly a rollie shot off the top of the cliff behind us, quickly followed by Obi-Wan who sliced it down mid-air.

“Behind you!” I shouted.

Obi-Wan twisted and flung his lightsaber up into another droid that had followed him over the edge while I used the Force to cushion his fall. Obi-Wan winced a bit as he stood up, which meant there would shortly be a very pissed-off medic hovering around.

“That definitely counts,” I told him.

“Hmm. Debatable,” he said as he brushed himself off.

“Debatable?! You’d have been flat as a wafer if I hadn’t caught you! It counts.”

“General, you dropped this.” Commander Cody approached, handing Obi-Wan his lightsaber.

“Ah, thank you, Cody. What would I do without you?”

Now clones are not Force sensitive so we can’t mentally communicate, and Cody didn’t say anything out loud, but the impression of “die quicker” resonated strongly.

Obi-Wan coughed. “Yes, well. Carry on, Commander.”

Cody carried on, giving out instructions to the men for setting up camp, patrol rotations, and clean-up efforts. It was during Cody’s orders that a gaggle of 212th and 501st field medics descended on Obi-Wan. Again, clones are not Force sensitive, but their ability to sniff out Jedi injuries is downright scary. Especially if the Jedi in question is attempting to hide said injuries.

(The injury-hiding Jedi is always Obi-Wan, in case you were wondering.)

I’m never one to pass up dinner and a show, so I snagged a ration bar and followed my former Master and his herd into the recently-constructed medical tent. I was not disappointed as Kix in particular looked like he was having an aneurysm on finding out that Obi-Wan had intentionally thrown himself off yet another cliff.

“Anakin is far more reckless than I am. I suggest you yell at him for a while.”

I scoffed. “I’m not stupid enough to get hurt.”

“I don’t know. Minimal armor in the middle of full combat? You might well have injuries you’re not even aware of.”

Having injuries I’m not aware of is not possible, and Obi-Wan knows full well it’s impossible. But Kix was starting to eye me suspiciously.

“Stop trying to throw me under the speeder!”

“I’d start with the head,” Obi-Wan told Kix. “Force knows what’s going on in there.”

“Nice try, General,” Kix said, catching on to the fact he was being played.

Obi-Wan sighed and resigned himself to being slapped with bacta and observed, and I restrained myself by only saying “HA!” a couple of times.

⁂

At the first crack of thunder I shot up about 3 meters in the air, which was a mild issue given that my tent was only about 2 meters high. Stupid atmospherically turbulent planets without weather control, and stupid KRIFFING lightning.

“Oh HELLS NO.”

I shoved my feet in my boots, grabbed my bedding, and stomped over to Obi-Wan’s tent, thanking the stars it wasn’t actually raining at the moment.

Obi-Wan blinked awake as I threw my bedding down next to his. He seemed only mildly curious as to why I was kicking off my boots in his tent, but any confusion disappeared when another boom of thunder sounded.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said softly.

I huffed as I flopped down onto my bedding, crossing my arms and staring at the ceiling of the tent. So what if the first time I saw lightning it scared the hells out of me? I was only ten and Obi-Wan and I had gone on a barely-even-a-mission to another planet. Between living on Tatooine (rainless) and Coruscant (climate-controlled rain), I’d never witnessed a thunderstorm before. And then the whole Geonosis incident didn’t make a good case for lightning either.

Adult me should not be having this reaction. A General of the Grand Army of the Republic should definitely not be having this reaction. I could stand in the middle of a massive explosion and feel nothing (assuming I would live), but there’s something unholy about lightning.

“Do you want me to put you under?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No.” I rubbed at my eyes and sighed. “Yes.”

Obi-Wan reached over and began carding his hand through my hair, and I could already start to feel the Force suggestion taking hold.

“This is so stupid,” I said with slowly-dissolving irritation. “Why don’t you ever tease me about this?”

His hand didn’t stop moving. “It’s something that genuinely disturbs you, rather than being merely an annoyance or a quirk. I can feel it. What kind of person would I be if I made fun of something like that?”

In my remaining thoughts before sleep pulled me under, I had an idea that maybe Obi-Wan’s general goodness was why Great-GrandMaster Dooku wanted him. But Dooku proved he’s a massive dick when he cut my arm off, so that couldn’t be right.

⁂

Since there’s a war on, I'm spending much less time on Coruscant than before. It means when I am on the planet I need to make the most of my time with Padmé, even if I have to dig her out of her Senate office.

"How’s my extra lovely Naboodle today?"

"Na..boodle?"

So here's the thing. By the time you get married it is extremely important that you know the correct name for the entity your spouse is. Especially if your spouse happens to be a former monarch and current representative of that entity. Otherwise you have Very Concerning Conversations about how well you really know them and also about general knowledge topics they teach in the Jedi Temple. Oh, you might try and pass it off as a joke but they will know.

After ensuring that I’d remember that the proper term is Nabooian, she said, “Not that I don’t love spending time talking with you about Naboo, but should you be here? I didn’t think you had leave right now.”

“I always have time for you, m’lady.” I suavely winked at her.

Padmé crossed her arms, and I tried not to panic at the thought that she’d grown impervious to my suave. “Anakin, what’s our first rule in this marriage?”

“No marks above the shoulders.”

Padmé gave me a disapproving frown.

I quickly racked my brain. “Under no circumstances call you ‘babe’?”

“We are always honest with each other.”

“Oh. That first rule.”

“Yes.”

I flopped down on a chair with a groan. “All right, there’s this meditation retreat I’m supposed to be at right now. But sitting for thirty-six hours straight while reflecting on myself can’t be good for anyone involved.”

“Yourself? Aren’t you supposed to reflect on the Force?”

“The Force just tells me to blow things up. At least I think it’s the Force. It’s iffy.”

“But surely you’ve gone to these things before. What’s the real reason-- Oh. Obi-Wan isn’t there, is he?”

“No. He got out of going, the ass.”

Padmé is fully aware of my stance on participating in Jedi activities without Obi-Wan. Namely: I don’t. You’d think the Order would have caught onto that by now, but yet here we are.

Now Anakin, you might say, you go on military maneuvers without Obi-Wan all the time. And I would respond that while it’s not desirable, it’s entirely different. Even if we aren’t together every moment, we still have each other’s backs unconditionally. 

However I have learned the hard way that Obi-Wan will leave me to languish on my own in many non-combat situations. The last time I weakly told him that these were possibly the last words I would ever speak to him unless he came and saved me from my fate, he simply said, “Anakin, just kriffing meditate already.”

Padmé grabbed my hand and pulled me up from the chair. “How about you go back home and reflect on whatever you think you should reflect on, and I’ll join you for lunch?”

I wrapped my arms around her. Every day with Padmé is a very good day. “Can I reflect on you?"

“Always,” she said with a smile.

⁂

Over lunch Padmé mentioned that you generally cannot force people to do things even if you think those things are the right thing to do. She said this is fascism.

"That doesn't sound right."

"No, it really is."

"Wouldn't me agreeing with you because you told me it was fascism itself be fascism?"

"Telling someone facts is not fascism."

"That's not what Vulptex News says."

Padmé left and was gone for a long time. When she came back she set up a holoprojector and there was a fifty-four slide presentation with references. I know Padmé loves me because she included lots of pictures.

Fascism is very bad.

⁂

Padmé was off to her job again and I had nothing much to do, so I surfed through the HoloNet to pass the time.

Did you know there are extracurricular things you can do with an intimate partner? This is groundbreaking. I have questions now! Does Padmé want to be spanked? Maybe she wants to spank me? Do I want to be spanked? And choking? Not to be a space monk but choking someone does not sound fun at all.

<SHIELDING, ANAKIN.>

Whoops. I clearly did not mean to broadcast that… 

Hold on!

<Where are you? Please tell me I didn’t send that all the way over to the Temple!>

The door chimed and I breathed a sigh of relief. Accidental long-range Force communication would have been an Issue. I am a married man, after all.

“Anakin, it would be helpful if you answered your comm once in a while,” Obi-Wan said by way of a greeting.

“I was busy with Padmé.”

“Apparently. I really don’t need the details.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” I said, thinking about presentation slides twenty-six through thirty-one in particular.

“Well, we have new assignments, so you no longer need to avoid the meditation retreat.”

Wow, I had completely forgotten about the retreat! I need to congratulate myself on being so productive.

Obi-Wan was making herding motions so I said, “Hang on. I need to leave Padmé a note.”

The site I’d been reading had all kinds of useful tips for married people, and it was very fortunate I’d read it just now. I jogged into the ‘fresher off the bedroom, quickly grabbing one of Padmé’s lipstick tubes. Obi-Wan wandered in after hearing me jump up on the counter in front of the giant mirror. With the lipstick I wrote:

I LOVE U
- ANAK

Tragically I ran out of lipstick before the “IN” but no doubt Padmé will get it. I chucked the empty tube in the bin as I hopped off the counter.

“There. Romantic, right?”

“If you’re going for a serial killer kind of aesthetic.”

It’s sad how Obi-Wan has no taste.

⁂

Quinlan Vos is such a weirdo. All the Jedi are odd in their own ways, but some are definitely weirder than others. Take for instance just now when Obi-Wan and I were walking in the main hall of the Temple on our way to pick up our next assignment, only to have Vos run up to us.

“Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan!”

“Quin?”

“You’re not going to believe me, but I’ve seen the future!”

“Quinlan...what?” Obi-Wan gaped.

I blinked at him. “What the hells, Vos?”

“I’ve come to warn you! The future is horrible! It’s full of darkness! It’s full of pain! It’s full of,” and he whispered, “updog.”

“What’s--”

“No, Master! Don’t!”

“--updog?”

“Ahhhhhhhh ha! You said it! Later!”

I think I got a mark from slapping my forehead so very hard. Obi-Wan just looked confused, and I had to explain it.

I’m convinced I am the only thing standing between Obi-Wan and being an entire old man. It’s a very good thing I’m around because he needs help.

A lot.

Just... so much.

Chapter Text

Apparently I now have a Padawan. Ahsoka Tano and I traded nicknames, which meant we’re off to a good start. And while nothing was specifically stated, clearly Obi-Wan is a co-Master to her as well. However Obi-Wan didn’t get a nickname, so I’m feeling like I’m the senior Master in this situation. (Even though I’m not actually a Master but a Knight. Stupid confusing titles.)

The excellent nickname start to our relationship was quickly sidelined by our first actual mission together after Yoda’s getting-to-know-you Hutt babysitting job. And I would like to state up front that the prep for our first mission was not my fault.

The Resolute was orbiting around Coruscant while we loaded the last of our supplies and equipment to investigate a reported droid incursion in the Mid Rim. Rex had things well in hand so I was chatting over comms to Obi-Wan who was back on the planet. We’d finished discussing mission details and now he was half paying attention to me while doing something on a datapad. On my end I was watching shuttles zoom past my view and listening to Artoo.

After an excessive amount of beeping, Obi-Wan looked up. “Does your droid always need to be so noisy?”

“Leave Artoo alone. He’s singing.”

“Singing.”

“Pre-mission tradition.”

“And must he do this within sentient earshot?”

“Otherwise what would be the point?”

I didn’t mention that while it was a jaunty little tune, it had completely filthy lyrics. It’s probably best for everyone that Obi-Wan doesn’t know Binary.

The comm flashed up a notice. "Looks like Snips wants to conference in. Hey, Snips."

"Hey, Master. Where are you?"

"The tower Ready Room. Where are you? In Command?"

"The Temple," she replied, befuddlement in her eyes.

My senses shot out to confirm that Ahsoka was absolutely not on the Resolute. "KRIFF."

Obi-Wan coughed. "Hmm. Forget something, Anakin?"

Ahsoka perked up. “I’m coming with you? And the clones?”

“Of course you are! Obviously you forgot because you’re so excited. I forgive you.”

“Master, I didn’t--”

“Off you go! Be ready at the landing pad for the shuttle in thirty minutes.” I disconnected her before she could reply.

Obi-Wan was giving me that Disapproving Master look. “You realize you can’t expect Ahsoka to magically appear places. And you need to communicate with her in ways that don’t make her question her own sanity,” he said with a sigh.

"This really isn’t my fault! I'm just not used to having an actual Padawan yet.”

“I’ll admit the learning curve is larger than I expected.”

“Hold on, here’s an idea! You could do teaching-type things with her while I go on by myself. We’re supposed to rendezvous in a week anyway.”

“Absolutely not. You were scheduled to take her with you and so you shall. In fact, you should really be on that shuttle to collect her. Show her that you do actually care.”

"I care! I just forgot that I cared there for a moment.” Another idea popped into my head. “She should move into Padmé’s and my apartment! That way she’ll be right there.”

"That’s one way to combat your porg-like attention span.”

“Oh! Or better yet, some kind of tracker! Obviously not the evil slave kind, but the helpful kind.”

“Yes, you should definitely mention that to Ahsoka.”

I groaned and flopped back in my chair. “Whoever thought that me training a Padawan was a good idea?"

Obi-Wan began to look shady as hell, and signed off.

⁂

Obi-Wan was waiting on the landing pad with our Padawan, and I told them about my ideas. Snips was not very keen on a biosensor.

"You could wear it like a fashion statement," I helpfully suggested. “Obviously you won’t need it after our training bond is fully established and it will be easy for me to keep tabs on your exact location every moment of every day. But until then, cute bracelet?”

"Right,” Ahsoka replied, staring at me. “So you're intense and have issues."

I didn't see what that had to do with anything so I brought up the living arrangements.

"Do you care what color your room is? Padmé's third bedroom is beige, but that can be changed."

"Skyguy, let me be clear. I have a perfectly good room at the Temple, which is where I'll be staying, and I'm going to need you to get all the way off my back about it."

Master Smirky-Wan McSmirkbi just smirked. What have I done to deserve this?

⁂

Over the next few months Obi-Wan kept trying to tell me that Ahsoka is solely my responsibility. “You are her Master.”

"Sure she can learn some pretty kick-ass stuff from me, but that can’t be good for her impulse-control-wise. Honestly sometimes I think you're the physical manifestation of my conscience that needed to be born sixteen years before me just to get a head start on things."

“Sometimes I think you might be right. Not right now, though. Right now you’re just being an idiot and you know you’re being an idiot. Having co-Masters isn’t actually a thing.”

"I feel that our Padawan would be slightly put out at you repeatedly trying to disown her,” I replied.

That was either the right or the wrong thing to say, because Obi-Wan got very quiet and thoughtful. Then he nodded once with a look in his eyes that said he was going to train the ever-loving heck out of something. Other than directed at me, I've only ever seen it directed at a tooka. I like to think I turned out better than the tooka.

(We don't talk about the Tooka Incident.)

(Ever.)

(Even though it was hilarious.)

⁂

Recently it's come to my attention that faking your own surrender just to get close to an enemy to attack them might be some kind of war crime. Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and I talked it over and thought it was highly unbelievable that the Senate would declare such a thing. Really the only war crimes I know of are things Hondo gets up to, and whenever Hardcase tries to blast his band's music over the Resolute's P.A. system. Just horrible.

We briefly thought about comming Padmé, but decided that Padmé has too much on her plate as it is.

"I have the feeling we've used that ploy one too many times anyway," Obi-Wan mused, petting his own face.

"We could do Get Help?" I asked.

"We're not doing Get Help," Obi-Wan replied, wrinkling his nose.

It's not because Get Help doesn't work against battle droids, it's because it takes at least a day for Obi-Wan and me to sort out who gets to do what. It typically involves dueling and, on one occasion, quite a fair amount of slapping. But in our defense, it’s way more satisfying to be the one doing the flinging than the one being flung.

Although...

"Master, I just remembered that we now have a Padawan of our own,” I suggested.

"Yes," he said as his eyes swiveled to Ahsoka.

Ahsoka just looked alarmed. "What? NO."

"Cheer up, Ahsoka. The second you're knighted you can slap us for it."

"Oh trust me, I'm keeping a list."

⁂

I felt so flat. So very flat. The flattest I’ve ever been in my life. Just a thin line. It was sort of fine because I was in a bed in the medbay with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. (And by that I mean we were all in different beds that were in the medbay.) I assumed they were busy being flat too, and if one needed to be flat, it was probably best done in a bed.

“Looks like you’re finally coming around,” Cody said flatly.

“Urk,” said one of us, but I’m not sure who.

“Generals. Commander. You three took quite a hit from the spores of a mylone plant.”

“Urk?”

“The medics said you’re lucky you’re Jedi. Anyone else and this would have knocked them sideways for at least a standard week. Maybe two.”

“Urk.”

“Right, well, I’ll let you get back to metabolizing.” 

Apparently Cody had little interest in our flatness.

Rex came along a bit later and seemed slightly disappointed we were now aware of our surroundings.

“Any chance you Sirs will be finishing your little acting production?”

We blinked at him. Flatly.

He sighed the sigh of disappointment. “You put on quite a show before we were able to round you up. It was better than a holodrama! It was a great story about these characters called the Father, the Son, and the Daughter.”

This was not ringing any kind of bells.

“Riveting stuff watching the General and Commander pretending to be carried off by...birds I guess it was? And all those dramatic monologues about destiny!”

Ahsoka was giving Obi-Wan and me pointed looks that questioned our ability to be the legal guardians of a minor. Obi-Wan just looked pained.

“Oh! The best part was how you all ran back and forth, playing multiple roles each! You’ll be happy to know that the men gave you a standing ovation.”

I’m looking into the eradication of the mylone plant.

⁂

It had been a while since I’d last seen Great-GrandMaster Dooku, so we were overdue for a reunion when we ran into each other in the middle of a skirmish in the Outer Rim.

“Skywalker,” he stated with as much verbal venom as sentiently possible before igniting his lightsaber.

“Count Dookula.” I ignited my own.

I ran at him and we clashed with each other, slashing and swiping our way into some sort of warehouse/bunker/depository. (I wasn’t paying that much attention. Crates. Levels. Your basic Padawan training course.)

“To think my line has come to rot. Your Master would do well to start over,” he sneered.

“Yeah? Well! Roses are red, ryoos are blue, you have no Obi-Wans, sucks to be you!”

Dooku looked like he’d bit into a gruffle. I quickly swung a blow, knocking him out of his stance.

Dooku’s Makashi form is admittedly more classy than my Djem So, but I did have an advantage: while Dooku has obviously kept up his fighting proficiency since last we met, I’ve gotten better.

I made a successful feint, and clipped him on his arm. Sadly it didn’t do any serious damage, but there was now some fear in his eyes along with the disdain.

Good.

He jumped up onto a walkway, and I gave my lightsaber a twirl as I stalked after him.

“So does all this mean you’re not bringing a salad to this year’s Republic Day picnic?”

“I’d sooner perform a mating ritual with a bogwing,” he replied, staying out of my reach.

“Hey, whatever does it for you.” And people say I’m dramatic.

In the end Great-GrandMaster Dooku escaped by sealing a maglock door between us, which is definitely cheating. Seconds after his departure Ahsoka crashed through a window on the other side of the room, roaring and lightsabers blazing, with absolute murder in her eyes.

I’m so kriffing proud of Ahsoka. We just need to work on her timing.

Chapter Text

Leave is always great because it means lots of Padmé Time. However Padmé has a substantial life outside of me, so often Padmé Time means interacting with her friends. And also interacting with people who may have been something other than friends, but I am absolutely not thinking about or acknowledging any type of other-than-friends possibilities.

Take, for example, the non-entity known as Rush Clovis.

Man, I hate that guy. You have no idea. Padmé says that sometimes we aren't able to help feeling jealous, but I can't (and these are her words) be a bag of dicks about it. Who knew former queens used such language? Me, that's who.

“Stop staring,” Padmé whispered, giving me a nudge with her elbow.

“I’m not staring, I’m just looking in one general area.”

“You’re standing there, staring at him.”

“I’m a Senator’s very magnificent arm candy at a cocktail party. Of course I’m going to look at the people that are here.”

“You’re also rubbing your lightsaber hilt suggestively.”

“Just suggesting to certain people that it exists and I have immediate access to it.”

“Anakin, I’m pretty sure Rush is picking up a different kind of suggestion.”

I blinked. “What?”

I now have Clovis’ personal comm frequency. I do not want his personal comm frequency. Even if I was in a hundred-person marriage, he would not be one of those people. Yes, I know the galaxy record is thirty-two, but I need you to understand how committed I am to not being in a relationship with Rush Clovis.

⁂

Sometimes quality time with your spouse involves romantic candle-lit dinners with soft music. Other times it involves escaping from a makeshift cell through ventilation ducts with your Padawan in tow after some negotiations have gone wrong. (Honestly there are very few times that negotiations seem to go right.)

“See anything yet?” Padmé called from behind me.

“Whoever built this was insane. It’s just more vent ducts as far as the eye can see with a light-stick.”

“Well, at least you’ve got a view.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve got a great view!”

“Anakin, all I can see is your butt.”

“Exactly!”

Padmé made a noise that sounded like a snort.

“Better you than me,” Ahsoka called to Padmé. “Stars, I’m going to have such a sore neck after all this.”

“I’m sorry I’m all you have to look at,” Padmé said consolingly back to Ahsoka.

“It’s fine. You’ve got a very nice backside, Padmé. I mean that in a very non-creepy and not-hitting-on-you way.”

“Thank you, Ahsoka.”

“But was it rated the Best Ass in the Galaxy by Coruscant Magazine?” I asked as we all continued crawling.

There were two groans behind me. Two very jealous groans from what I reckoned.

“Anakin, that magazine is trash and you know it.”

“You’re just mad you were 124th. Behind, and I absolutely mean that pun, Roron Corobb.”

Padmé sniffed. “They were very slanted towards male-presenting beings.”

“Okay, so even if you ignore the magazine, you have to admit I at least have the best butt in the Order.”

“Hmm. Are you including Obi-Wan in this?”

“What? Yes! What the hells, Padmé?”

“Just determining the parameters.”

“He barely made the top ten! Way behind, and yes I am still using that pun, me. The magazine has spoken!”

“I’ve always thought Master Che’s was quite nice,” Ahsoka commented.

I had to stop crawling, which caused a mini pileup. “Wha...? How? Why?” 

“Master, move already! Sorry for bumping into you, Padmé.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Padmé replied, and gave my bottom a push.

I started crawling again but said, “Seriously Snips, my brain hurts now. Vokara Che??”

“You and Master Obi-Wan spend enough time in the Halls of Healing.”

“Not by choice. I can’t think of a time that I haven’t been actively trying to get away from Master Che. I don’t know how old she is but she’s way too old for you! And completely scary! And you are entirely too young! I may be pro-relationship in the Order, but I absolutely forbid that.”

“Yeesh, calm down, Master. I said her butt was nice, not that I’d found my soulmate.”

Padmé snickered as we headed to the right at a fork in the ducting.

“Master Ti should be up on the list,” Ahsoka commented. “It’s not just because she’s a Togruta.”

“No, I completely agree,” Padmé replied.

I gave a “hmm” of mild approval. 

“Kit Fisto?” Padmé asked.

Ahsoka decided, “He’s alright.”

“I can’t help but notice neither of you have come up with a viable contender.”

“We haven’t actually discussed Obi-Wan yet.”

“No ! I mean, oh! I see an opening! Thank the Force.” Cheers came from behind me as I punched through the grate into what looked like a storage cupboard.

After climbing down, I helped Padmé out of the vent. “A decent way to spend your time, wouldn’t you say? Following such a magnificent ass?”

“Anakin, you’ll always be my magnificent ass.”

I grinned at her before I parsed her words. “Hold on.”

Padmé kissed me, which was very lovely even with Ahsoka trying to shove us out of the way of the vent opening. Ahsoka was half out of the vent when the door slid open, and I reached for my lightsaber before recognizing Obi-Wan.

“I’m sorry, I was looking for a Galactic Republic Senator and two Jedi, but it would appear I’ve stumbled across some younglings who are gossiping about people’s backsides.”

Both Padmé and Ahsoka were looking slightly sheepish and Snips asked, “Um, how much did you hear?”

“The funny thing about metal ducting is that it tends to carry sound. Every little thing. Everywhere. All of it. To everyone. I should thank you since it distracted the remaining droids so thoroughly that the troops were easily able to take them out. I’ve never before seen droids attempting to rate each other’s posteriors, so congratulations on that.”

I pointed a finger at Obi-Wan. “Tenth.”

“To my forever shame, yes I know.”

I slung my arm around Padmé’s shoulders and grinned at her. “Not even close, right?”

Padmé gave my bum a pat.

⁂

A few months after the Great Debate, Ahsoka and I were on the bridge of the Resolute when Ahsoka looked down at her datapad.

“Master, it’s really not necessary to copy me on your weekly ‘Reflections on Padmé.’”

Lies. It was very necessary.

I was about to explain this to her when suddenly we both felt deep annoyance coming towards us on the ship. Sparks of surprised happiness trailed along with the annoyance, indicating that some of the men had spotted The Annoyed One, which was the point to begin with. Ahsoka and I grinned at each other.

I might have altered the code on a mouse droid or three. It started with programming them to like Obi-Wan. I mean really like him. That’s it. But the coding evolved and spread (*cough* predictably *cough*), and now I’m pretty sure every last one of them see him as a mouse droid deity. Not that I’d ever clue him in on that.

<Force’s sake, Anakin, there’s something deeply wrong with the droids on this ship.>

<Hmm?> Let me tell you, a sabacc face through a Force bond is super hard.

Ahsoka and I sprinted into the corridor to watch him arrive, and with the Resolute’s honor guard of mouse droids flanking him, everywhere Obi-Wan goes he Arrives. His cloak billowing behind him and a chirping soundtrack beneath him, he looked like a delegation from the planet Mouse/Droid coming into port. Even Cody, who was trailing well behind Obi-Wan, had an actual quirk to his lips. It’s the single best thing for morale on this ship.

I’ve been tempted to alter a code or two over on the Negotiator, but Obi-Wan would just get rid of the droids. Probably through a mag field at high velocity.

The droids parked their little selves outside the Briefing Room, where Cody, Rex, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and I went to discuss our upcoming mission. (It was something that could have been done over comms, but Obi-Wan said he had fancied a walk.)

In short order we had a plan, reports were filed, and orders to squad leaders were transmitted.

Before anyone could leave the room, Obi-Wan spoke up and said, “Oh look.” He pointed out the transparisteel. “It’s updog.” He looked at Cody expectantly.

Cody gazed back at him, unblinking.

Ahsoka and I gave each other raised eyebrows, while Rex looked like he didn’t quite know if this was really happening.

“Commander Cody, aren’t you going to ask? About...the thing I just said?”

Cody uncomfortably cleared his throat. “Sir.”

If I was a better man I might have thrown myself onto that grenade, or at the very least changed the subject. But it was like watching a pod wreck and my greater urge was to get snacks.

“You’d think you’d be curious and want to question…” Obi-Wan left that suggestion hanging in the air like a dangling womp rat. One that was super dead.

Cody cleared his throat again, and Ahsoka was practically vibrating next to me, undoubtedly thinking of the fact she’d be telling this story for the rest of her life and how she was truly blessed to be here at this moment.

“The thing I was pointing at? Hmm?”

I was fairly sure Cody’s soul was in the process of leaving his body.

Obi-Wan finally read the room with all its awkwardness. “Oh, you know what? FINE. Never mind. Forget my attempt at levity in these trying times.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t often go for tantrums, but when he does it is a thing of beauty. The way he flounced out of the room, only to be immediately surrounded by mouse droids escorting him away, is something I want a wall mural of in my home.

⁂

In battle sometimes you’re on offense, sometimes on defense, and sometimes you’re just holding a line as a distraction. The third is very dull since the point is to not move, really. And it means you’re not off doing the fun stuff that you’re being a distraction from. But it did give Obi-Wan and me a chance to chat.

"Oh, stop showing off.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at me.

"As if you can't deflect blaster fire behind your back too. Also it's much easier to have a conversation this way."

Obi-Wan deflected a bolt with his lightsaber back onto a droid. "So what's our topic for today? Anything specific or just the general state of things?"

"I'm worried about Ahsoka," I said as I blocked more bolts behind me.

"She seems to be doing just fine over there with that droid squadron. Bit of a brutal form, but effective."

I shot a glance over to her. "Nine hells. Reverse grip!" I shouted at her. I have no idea where she picked up such a filthy habit.

Ahsoka growled, but changed her hold on her lightsabers, and then proceeded to take out what appeared to be her supreme frustration on more droids.

I swung my glare back to Obi-Wan. “What do you mean, ‘effective’? You of all people should not be letting her form slide.”

“Anakin, you know Jar'Kai involves a different method.”

“There’s nothing in Jar’Kai that needs to involve a reverse grip! It’s a good way to slice off your toes, and I’m pretty committed to Ahsoka being knighted with all of her body parts intact. I can’t believe how mellow you’re being about this.”

“Well maybe I’ve--”

To this day I cannot fully explain what happened. I’d like to blame the reverse grip, although that would be a lie since I've been distracted by far more distracting things and nothing's happened. But I could only stare in horror as a giant chunk of my wavy hair flew away from me, carried off by a blaster bolt.

"MOTHERKRIFFER."

"Did...did you just miss a shot from a battle droid?" Obi-Wan gaped.

"NO."

"The smoking line in your hair says otherwise."

"Excuse me, Master. Some droids ARE GOING TO DIE NOW."

I turned to face the field and several of the closest battle droids threw their hands in the air and screamed, running away. Normally this would be amusing because like I've said, battle droids are hilarious. Until they aren't . I don't think I want a battle droid anymore.

⁂

“Stop looking at me.”

“Avert your gaze, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan instructed as we held onto our straps, standing in the open-air transport. 

We were skimming along the planet’s surface, hurrying our way towards Master Plo’s squadron who were trying to stop a shipment of tactical droids from leaving the planet. (The thing we were meant to be a distraction from, but had gone a bit pear-shaped anyway.)

“I think you look great!” Ahsoka cheered at me. “Well...maybe not great . I mean it’s not bad. Right?”

“You did fine,” Obi-Wan told her, which was a tad presumptuous. “Anakin, you can get a proper haircut once we’re back on the ship.”

“I don’t see why we have to meet up with Master Plo. He’s got this.” I mentally folded my arms since physically doing so would have made me fall out of the ship.

“Anakin, surely you’re not suggesting we abandon a mission because of your hair.”

“No. Obviously,” I grumbled.

Ahsoka was not averting her gaze. “I’ve never cut a Human’s hair before.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call that cutting,” I muttered.

“Why didn’t you let Master Obi-Wan quick do it?”

I glared at him. “He would have given me a Padawan Special, which would have resulted in him calling me ‘Padawan’ about ten times as much as usual because I can only assume it’d be confusing for him in his old age.”

Obi-Wan’s lips curled upwards. “Ah, but you’ll always be my Padawan, Anakin.”

That was...surprisingly sentimental, in spite of his teasing tone. In my current mood I didn’t feel like examining that. Fortunately I didn’t have to think about it too long before I had to think about a Separatist droid landing craft attempting to make a getaway. 

“Stars, we’re too late,” Obi-Wan exclaimed, watching the ship leaving the valley. “This will compromise--”

“Is there anyone below it?”

“No, but--”

I grabbed the landing craft mid-air with the Force and smacked it to the ground, sending up a dust cloud for kilometers.

Obi-Wan’s mouth hung slightly and he stared at the smoking wreckage before saying faintly, “Well done.”

“Holy kriff, Master!”

“Now can we get back to the ship?”

⁂

Word had gotten back to the Council of my ship crushing ways, which resulted in them deciding I absolutely needed to relax and find my center. To them that meant another conveniently available meditation retreat back at the Temple. And I think you know where I’m going with this.

Padmé was very happy to see me and thought my hair was extremely sexy. So much so that we had our own retreat at home, which I’m sure did way for my mood than some meditation retreat. The Council could stand to take notes. (Although not literally. That would be creepy.)

My second day on Coruscant I woke up to discover that Obi-Wan had absconded with my wife. (She left a non-lipstick note.) So I filled my time with giving Artoo a tuneup while I waited for them to get back from whatever they were doing.

It turned out Obi-Wan had been teaching Padmé how to drive a speeder.

“Really, Obi-Wan? Really?”

Padmé didn’t see any issue with it, but then she doesn’t know him as well as I do. “I think it’s very nice of him, Anakin. I can pilot shuttles and cruisers well enough, but I’ve never bothered with any kind of speeder.”

“Everyone should know how to drive a speeder,” Obi-Wan said with way too much guile.

Here’s what you need to know about Obi-Wan: he believes all sentients and higher-functioning droids were put into this galaxy in order to drive and pilot him places. He’s actually a great pilot, but he can’t stand doing it. I, on the other hand, love it as well as being the best in all known civilization at it. 

So you’d think that would be a problem solved, since I can drive us everywhere. But no . He can’t stand my driving for who knows whatever reason. So he’s grumpy when he has to drive and he’s grumpy when I have to drive, and therefore he’s grumpy in most small transportation situations when he can’t hijack one of the troopers. And forget about Ahsoka. Apparently she went to “the Anakin Skywalker School of Driving and SITH HELLS, Ahsoka, watch where you’re going!”

“So what,” I asked, “are you going to take Padmé with us whenever we have a cloneless mission?”

“Non-military missions do tend to be of a diplomatic nature.”

Padmé perked up and was looking way too interested in going on Jedi missions. Normally I would love to have Padmé along on missions (non-dangerous ones, that is), but this wasn’t about that. This was about:

“Just admit you have a problem.”

Obi-Wan did not admit he had a problem, which is why he changed the subject. “Aren’t you supposed to be finding your center?”

“Yeah, and you made off with my center.”

Obi-Wan was looking at me speculatively.  Even Padmé seemed a little concerned at the reference to what I was supposed to be doing right now, which meant it had probably been a driving lesson and a chat.

After a few moments of pondering whatever he was pondering, Obi-Wan asked, “Meditate with me?”

Obviously no one was going to be happy until I sat on my butt for a while, and being with Obi-Wan would be infinitely better than whatever was happening over at the Temple.

“Fine.”

Meditating with Obi-Wan wasn’t horrible, and he seemed fairly convinced I wouldn’t go off the deep end by the time we were finished. In fact he was rather chipper and suggested we collect Ahsoka for some sparring, which was by far the best idea he’d had all day.

Information spread that I was actually in the Temple and a healer who had “Meditation Retreat Organizer” written all over her descended on me. In a surprising move, Obi-Wan told her in an extreme amount of polite words to bugger off.

I think I might have to revise my beliefs about Obi-Wan having my back in non-combat situations.

Chapter Text

Apparently the High Council wanted a word, which was good because I’ve been meaning to talk to those guys. When I walked into the Chambers, Obi-Wan was perched on his tuffet, chatting with Master Fisto. He wasn’t radiating any extra stress, so the reason I was called in couldn’t have been too bad.

Master Windu cleared his throat, calling the Council’s attention to him. “Let’s get on with it. Knight Skywalker, did you tip the Temple Guards?”

I nodded. “They do good work.”

By the dead-eyed stares, I could tell I needed to elaborate.

“They’re very underappreciated. They possibly have the most boring jobs in existence and deserve to get little treats for themselves. Also my wife is ridiculously loaded. At least I think she is. I’ll be honest, money is not my thing.”

“That…” Master Windu seemed to be having difficulty putting words together. “...is not something you should do.”

“Right, okay. Well, in the spirit of full disclosure, I also tipped the maintenance crew, and the control tower staff, and I’m going to be a father.”

I hate it when Obi-Wan loses consciousness. It tugs weird on our bond.

⁂

I carted Obi-Wan off to his apartment and dumped him onto his sofa. I knew he’d want to talk and it was pointless to leave, so I settled down on a chair next to him. It wasn’t long before he started muttering and tossing slightly, saying things like “Skywalkers!” and whimpering. 

I gave his arm a kick.

Obi-Wan’s eyes shot open and they darted around the room. “That wasn’t a dream.”

“I don’t know which “that” you’re referring to, but probably not. You did, in fact, faint in the middle of a Council meeting, crashing dramatically out of your cushioned Council seat.”

He groaned and slumped an arm over his eyes. “There goes my dignified reputation.”

“I’ve never known why you care about that anyway.”

His arm came off his face and he looked at me. “So am I to assume they swept under the rug the fact that you’re now literally creating a new attachment?”

“Meditate on it, they will.”

Obi-Wan stared at the ceiling. “Green Jedi?”

“I had pamphlets with me this time. Padmé’s sold me on visual aids.”

Obi-Wan huffed a bit. He was shielding pretty heavily, but I could see a number of different emotions cross his face. After seemingly being lost in thought, he finally sat up.

“Congratulations, though. I do sincerely mean that in spite of everything.”

“It’s pretty amazing. But...it’s not something we planned? So honestly I’m half scared I’m going to screw something up.”

Obi-Wan gave me a genuine smile. “Trust in yourself, Anakin. Or failing that, trust in Padmé.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll stop in and congratulate her soon.”

“Only if you can handle it and won’t faint again,” I replied with a smirk.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “More of you. Dear Force.”

⁂

Childbirth, for Humans, is quite possibly one of the most horrifying things ever. Padmé and Obi-Wan were sitting around our apartment, drinking tea, and having a discussion about things . Just all matter-of-fact. Things Padmé was apparently expecting to happen to her actual body . Things that evidently Obi-Wan knew about and was giving suggestions on, and how had that happened ? I mean, I just… I can’t.

"Anakin, didn't you pay attention in your sentient reproduction class?" I heard Obi-Wan ask, somewhat muffled by the fact that my head was between my knees.

I looked up and stared at him with as much blankness as I could muster.

"The standard course at... oh. Age eight. Well. This is awkward."

I think I mooed at him. Padmé came over and pet my back.

Annoyingly Obi-Wan had not lost the power of speech and continued, "No, hold on! As I recall, back when you were nine and we went over your list of potential remedial classes, you said you didn't need it because you were familiar with the material! You wouldn't stop talking about banthas!"

"They mate and then a standard year later one of them lets out a single howl and shoots out a baby bantha! What else do you need to know?!"

Padmé stopped petting and said, "This explains just so much."

No, it didn’t explain much at all. 

“Ignorance can be remedied,” Obi-Wan offered. “Quite frankly I’d be more concerned with the open landing pad little more than ten meters away from where we’re sitting with the kilometer drop.”

Padmé and I stared at each other. The baby hasn’t even been born yet and we are the WORST parents EVER. 

⁂

The Chancellor is a very odd duck, but I don’t think he has many friends, so I’ve kept up the habit of visiting him over the years. He always wants to talk about the strangest things, but for once I had something exciting I could share with him. However before I could mention the baby, he said:

“Ah, my boy, you look tired. Nothing’s the matter, I hope?”

“Not really, in fact--”

“Are you sure? I know sometimes bad dreams will keep me awake. You wouldn’t be suffering from something like that, would you?” He leaned forward in his chair.

“Well, now that you mention it, I did have a nightmare last night.”

“Do tell!”

“It was about eopies.”

The Chancellor blinked at me. “Eopies.”

“Yeah. They sat on me.”

“Right.” The Chancellor looked as if he was trying to stare straight into my brain. He started to speak, then stopped. After a bit more staring he asked, “No dreams about anything else? Nothing about a loved one? Death? Things like that can be so concerning.”

“Nope.”

“How about pain? I do worry about you.”

What a nice guy. “I guess it sort of hurt when the eopies sat on me.”

“For crying out loud!” He slumped, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Chancellor?”

The Chancellor apologized and said he suddenly remembered a meeting he was supposed to be at, so we’d have to cut our visit short. As I was leaving he gave me a pamphlet on some bloke called Darth Plagueis and all about the Sith lifestyle. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t have time for another cult. I’m thinking I’ll give the pamphlet to Obi-Wan since he’s very into cults in general, although I doubt he'll be interested in joining either.

⁂

Apparently Sith pamphlets are Alarming and require Emergency Meetings with the entire High Council.

⁂

I don't know why anyone would want galaxy-wide domination. I've seen the galaxy and I don't exactly want it? It sounds like way too much work to run. What would you do with it? It seems very needy.

⁂

I really feel some of this could have been avoided if the Order had its own pamphlets.

⁂

I’m now meant to spy on the Chancellor, although we’re not calling it “spying,” but “letting the Council know about anything worrying and are you sure you’ve got this, Skywalker, seriously tell us if you don’t.”

They also told me it was fine to do things that the Chancellor wanted me to do as long as they weren’t Evil things. Going to the opera with him? Fine. Torturing a political opponent? Not fine.

Please. Stealth is my middle name. 

(Not true. It’s Throckmorton.)

⁂

So when the Jedi Council said I could do whatever the Chancellor wanted except for Evil things, I never imagined dressing up in a black pleather suit would factor in in any way. It seems harmless? I mean, I’m not physically hurting anyone so why not?

“It’s all about image, my boy,” the Chancellor said kindly. “The people deserve to see a figure of strength right by my side. To know they are protected. I’m afraid I just don’t give off that strength.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

“You’ll simply need to stand near me while I give a speech in front of the Senate Building. Nothing huge. I’ve merely invited a few hundred dignitaries, all the Senators, your Jedi Council, the media, and so on. Really, very low key.”

“Do you want me to talk?”

“NO!” The Chancellor coughed. “Pardon, sleen in my throat.”

The Chancellor went on to describe his ideas for this “Vader” persona, which involved being covered in the aforementioned black pleather.

On the day of the speech I discovered that the helmet even came with its own sound effects. The mechanical "breathing" goes along with the Chancellor’s whole wild backstory, but it's quite soothing. It's like a white noise machine. 

So as the Chancellor prattled on about the absolute trustworthiness and benevolence of the Office of the Chancellor, I really couldn’t be blamed for falling asleep while standing next to him on the dais. 

Fortunately I caught myself before I completely fell over, and the vocoder interpreted the startled snort I made as a roar. The Chancellor paused, but then continued on so I doubt it was too noticeable.

<Anakin?> Obi-Wan’s voice sounded in my head.

<Yes, Master?>

<Is...is that you in that suit?>

<Uh...what suit?>

<Oh, Force help me.>

After yet another High Council meeting I can safely say that tools of propaganda are a bit in the Evil column. Although I'm really tempted to wear the mask at home. I've never felt so relaxed.

You’ll be sad to know, though, that I’ve been relieved of my spy duties.

⁂

It was Loaf Night at the Temple, and it’s long become a tradition for Obi-Wan to turn up on our doorstep looking all hungry and pathetic on those nights. (No one enjoys Loaf Night except for Ahsoka who hasn’t met a mystery meat she didn’t like.)

Sitting at the dining table, Obi-Wan and I were in the process of trying to decide dinner. We could get delivery (we couldn’t remember which restaurants we’ve been blacklisted from), try and cook something ourselves (sketchy at best), or have Threepio make something (not as delicious as delivery). It was during our debate that Padmé came home.

“Well, we have a new Chancellor.”

“WHAT?”

“Anakin, I know you were his friend, but he had to go. I’m sorry but he was, as we say in political circles, a dick. That whole dark enforcer nonsense he tried to pull? Unreal.”

I squirmed a bit and Padmé’s sharp mind immediately picked up on it.

“Oh Ani, please tell me that wasn’t you.”

“It was a favor! I just stood there!”

Padmé sat down with a sigh. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. He would have just gotten someone else if you hadn’t done it. Besides, it ultimately led us here and we’ve already started up talks with the Separatist Alliance. This war may be over by Republic Day!”

Obi-Wan was still attempting to process the information. “And you voted him out? Just like that? No...fires? Bodies?”

“Bodies?”

“He’s a Sith Lord!”

“He’s a what now?”

“Embodiment of evil? No one mentioned that?” Obi-Wan shot me a look.

“I thought it was secret spy business!” I quickly defended.

“As if you’ve ever kept a secret from Padmé in your life.”

“Fine. I forgot about it.”

“Well then it’s good we voted him out,” Padmé declared.

“I can’t believe he went quietly.” Obi-Wan seemed stuck on that point. “He must have something even bigger planned. But how’s that possible? What’s bigger than the government of the entire galaxy?”

Padmé shrugged. “I heard he was starting up a big-box chain/delivery service.”

The Jedi among us let that sink in. I’m not sure how that fits into Palpatine’s Sith religion, but it sounds more like a Banking Clan Problem than a Me Problem. But I’m going to warn my kid away from retail in general, just to be on the safe side.

Padmé brought us around to more immediate concerns by asking, “Have you ordered dinner yet?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat sheepishly. “We can’t quite recall which restaurants we’ve been banned from.”

Padmé retrieved a list from a drawer and slapped it down on the table.

“Girm’s? What did we ever do to Girm’s?”

“Oh.” It was Padmé’s turn to look sheepish. “That assassination attempt of mine that Captain Typho stopped last year? It was there and there was debris.”

“Ah.”

“Well wherever we choose, I’d really love some rotisserie nuna and neka nut butter,” Padmé said with a longing in her voice.

So one thing they never tell you in Jedi teachings (at least in the classes I’ve actually been to), is that in a quirk of whateverness, pregnancy cravings tend to be broadcast loudly through the Force. It’s like the weirdest Force suggestion ever to Force sensitives.

We had rotisserie nuna and neka nut butter for dinner and it was damned good.

⁂

To some people’s surprise, no longer having a Sith Lord in charge of the Republic basically put an end to the war. Most beings threw “no more war” parties, but some... 

I’m not sure what Great-GrandMaster Dooku is going to do now, so I sent him a sympathy bouquet of roses and ryoos. I’m sure he appreciated it.

⁂

If the end of a war wasn’t exciting enough for you, try being told you’re going to have twins. Padmé said that while having twins definitely seemed like something I would do, biologically speaking it’s her fault there are two of them. I wouldn’t use “it’s Padmé’s fault” to describe this. I’d use “Padmé has superpowers.”

Chapter Text

We have babies. Actual babies. Two of them.

First off, Padmé is a literal goddess. I will fight anyone who says differently. Seriously. Fight.

And secondly, I was there for it (both ends of it and some of the middle) and I still don’t know how they’re possible. Two living beings and I helped do that. This right here is my greatest achievement. Winning the Boonta Eve Classic doesn’t even come close. But don’t misunderstand: Padmé did all the work. (Again, goddess. Fight.)

If these tiny little beings had the ability of speech and asked me to walk into lava I would do it right now. I told Padmé this and she said she knew what I meant and that she would too.

And then.

Then they connected to me. Right through the Force. Without planning or focusing or anything, it was just there. I have a bond with my children and it's the most humbling thing I've ever felt in my entire life. Two bright connections to Luke and Leia Skywalker.

(We decided on my last name because Padmé has all sorts of issues with her names. “Amidala” is what has defined her entire career, but she says that deep in her heart she sometimes feels like Amidala is more of an image than is truly her. She hasn’t gone by “Naberrie” since she was thirteen years old, and it seemed silly to have our kids with a different last name than both of us.

Honestly I would have been fine with whatever she wanted. I’m just happy to be here.)

Obi-Wan turned up all smiles at the medcenter after I commed and told him the news. "Congratulations! How are you feeling?"

"Sort of bloated."

"I wasn't talking to you, Anakin."

I introduced Obi-Wan to the twins. I currently had Luke and Padmé had Leia. The med droids gave us bins to put them in (Padmé said they’re not bins even though they kind of are), but I really had no desire to not be holding a baby anytime soon. 

"Beautiful. They obviously take after their mother."

"I'm in much too good a mood for that to irk me."

"Oh. Erm."  Obi-Wan took a step back, looking somewhat confused and slightly embarrassed. "I believe they've established a bond with me? This is odd. I'll just..."

I could tell the moment he started to gently disconnect it, because the upset that I felt from two tiny beings was more than I could handle. They started whimpering and it was utterly heartbreaking.

"STOP." I tried to rock Luke very gently, while Padmé shifted Leia onto her shoulder.

Obi-Wan looked panicked. “I’ve stopped!”

“Just...don’t do that!”

“I won’t try that again, I swear!”

Obi-Wan was frantically shielding his anxiety and I was quickly trying to shield my own before we could all spiral out of control. After a fair bit of shielding and projecting calm, the twins started to settle down.

I studied Obi-Wan with some concern. This might be a permanent thing. “Do you mind that you have a bond?"

"Do you mind?" 

It was obvious Padmé didn’t know exactly what was going on, but some tension left her body at the same time that the twins had quieted. “What just happened?”

Obi-Wan was still looking slightly mystified. "They established a very low-level bond with me. It’s extremely mild. A fraction of the bond Anakin and I share, really.”

"Do Force sensitive babies normally do this?" Padmé asked curiously as she rubbed Leia’s back.

"Not in my experience, although I've not had much experience with Force sensitive infants. This was completely unexpected. But when I mean mild, it really is. It's the equivalent of smiling at someone through the Force."

Padmé’s expression grew soft. "It sounds very sweet. And not something you would need to break? I really hope you don't mind."

"I'm more concerned if you mind--"

"Let's not play another round of Who Minds." I quickly interrupted.

Obi-Wan thinks that they might have connected to him because he and I have an existing bond. They just followed it from me to him. My children are completely brilliant. I can't wait for them to meet Ahsoka. I should probably warn her though.

⁂

The fact that you can leave a medcenter with babies without having proven any competency for taking care of said babies is deeply concerning. There should at least be a written test.

⁂

One of the droids wished us well and to "come back soon." Padmé stared at it and, without blinking, commed for a renewed supply of suppressants. 

⁂

My mom and Padmé’s family came and stayed for a bit, which was nice and helped out a lot. But soon it was just back to the four of us, and when two of those people aren’t really into things like sleeping through the night and want everyone to be aware of that fact, it’s rough.

I walked into a table twice and Obi-Wan was straight-up giggling at me, which is so undignified for someone with facial hair.

"Why are you even here?" I asked, flopping down on the sofa.

"I came because you asked me to, remember? But I'm staying for the entertainment."

"Entertain this."

"Are you meant to be doing something right now?"

Apparently not.

Padmé melted down next to me, Luke in her arms. She's still the most beautiful being in the entire galaxy, but the most beautiful being who has been run over by a metaphorical speeder. I'm sure I'm the only one who can tell though, due to me knowing her so well.

"Caraya's soul, Padmé, you look like death," the silver-tongued dipshit spouted.

Padmé threw her head back and laughed. I deliberately ignored the unhinged edge to it. Look, we're all a little unhinged these days.

Unfortunately Luke did less ignoring and sounded like he was gearing up for a really good cry. I thought about joining him. But then Obi-Wan leaned over all casual, held out his hands, and did something . The air shifted and so did Luke. 

Obi-Wan is a Baby God.

"What did you do?” I gaped at him.

“We haven't been able to do anything when they get like this,” Padmé added.

"On a particularly long mission Qui-Gon and I were forced to board with a woman who had a baby about two months into our stay. He taught me this little trick out of necessity. Where he learned it from, who can say?”

“But a mind trick doesn’t work,” I insisted. Trust me, I tried.

“You can't suggest in the normal way because babies aren't weak minded per se, but rather they lack the capacity for higher thought at this point in their life."

It took all of a second for the light of my life to reply, "Obi-Wan, I say this with all respect, but I am kidnapping you." Even sleep deprived she is so brilliant.

Obi-Wan laughed as if she was telling a good joke. Apparently he forgot exactly who he was talking to.

⁂

Obi-Wan has been staying with us for three days now, but refuses to call it being “kidnapped.” Padmé conceded it was only light kidnapping so he’s really more of a forced guest. Obi-Wan insisted that he could definitely leave whenever he wanted to, but Padmé just smiled and handed him Leia.

Sometimes I wonder at the amount of kidnapping that goes on in this galaxy.

⁂

"And then your father landed flat on his face even though I warned him. Yes, I did. I warned him and he didn't listen."

"Hey hey hey! None of that!" I exclaimed, steering myself into the living room while holding Leia.

Obi-Wan gave me a look like blue butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth before turning back to Luke. “He didn’t, did he?”

I sighed and sat down across from the two of them.

“You know, Anakin, I’m surprised you don’t have anyone helping you.”

I stared pointedly at the baby in his arms.

“I mean other than completely willing houseguests,” he quickly added.

My eyes wandered towards the bedroom where Padmé was getting some sleep. “Padmé didn’t want to take advantage of her Senatorial staff.”

“I would have thought at least one of her handmaidens would have offered. Hmm. Are they even called handmaidens now that she’s no longer a queen?”

“No one knows. And she said she has issues in using subordinates who did not sign up for something like this, so she put her foot down and that’s why none of the És are here except for friendly visits.”

That wasn’t really a big hardship for me. Whenever the És are around I feel like I’m being managed.

“A nanny then?”

“A stranger coming in with us? Absolutely not. And before you suggest a droid, the only droids I would trust with my kids are ones I’ve either built myself or I’ve been in a dogfight with. We’re already using Artoo and Threepio for things but it’s not like either of them can hold a baby. Very well, at least.” 

A practice attempt had been made using a rolled up towel. It was not successful. There were flames.

“It’s just with two of them it seems like a lot.”

“So I don’t get sleep for, what, eighteen years? I can do that.”

Obi-Wan gave me a wry smile. “I’m sure you can.”

I looked into Leia’s eyes that were shaping up to be as dark as Padmé’s. Leia smiled at me, which she’d just recently started doing, and that could definitely power me for eighteen years. Her little hand was grasping around my finger, and I played along our bond, tugging it gently and getting soft touches back. Suddenly a stray thought hit me.

"I think the galaxy could benefit from my memoirs."

Obi-Wan bounced Luke in his arms and made a noncommittal noise that showed an appalling lack of interest. Honestly. 

"I feel it's very important that no one ever gets any wrong ideas about me and builds their entire life around trying to finish my work."

It was critical that Obi-Wan know this. I could sense it deep in my soul.

"Your work currently involves changing nappies, and presumably there will be no need to continue it after you're gone. In fact you probably should warn your children against anyone who would try something like that. That would be alarming."

I thought about that one holovid I stumbled onto that one time. 

Obi-Wan shot me a startled look.

⁂

Sometime during Obi-Wan’s captivity Ahsoka turned up and attached herself to the twins.

“And then your dad stepped in something he shouldn’t have stepped in even though Master Obi-Wan and I had just told him to watch out. Yes, he did.”

“Hey hey HEY! Everyone needs to stop trying to make me look uncool to my kids!”

“Master, you made very adorable and very smart little blobs. They’re going to figure it out.”

“Just for that you no longer get a say in the color of the third bedroom. It stays beige.”

In spite of Ahsoka trying to turn my children against me, it has been good to have our Padawan around without having to worry about a battle or an assignment. It’s given us time to give her advice about the Trials, which she should be ready for soon.

I told her all about my shaak-based experiences and only got very flat stares. (Which I have to say were deeply offensive.)

“Anakin, it’s not helpful to Ahsoka to joke about this,” Obi-Wan reproached.

“I’m not! You wouldn’t even know! You didn’t have a preplanned Trial!”

Ahsoka’s nose was wrinkled. “Master, you have to admit that’s sort of...deeply weird.”

“The Order is deeply weird!”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Ahsoka, just trust in yourself. We believe in you and I know you do too. Rely on that, and the rest will come.”

“And don’t let the shaaks paddle your ass.”

⁂

Obi-Wan has finally departed and taken Ahsoka with him, claiming a mission. Fortunately before he left he bestowed upon me his Baby God ways. It doesn’t work all the time since many times babies actually need something when they cry, but it has reduced the number of meltdowns. Both infant and adult.

⁂

We have managed to survive to the point where the twins are mobile. But now that they’re crawling, they are so devious. When Padmé is around, they’re little angels, relatively speaking. When it’s just me they become Master Escape Artists. One minute they’re where they should be and the next minute they’re just GONE. I spend most of my time chasing them throughout the apartment. It no longer matters that Padmé is five years older than me because at this point I’ve aged about ten.

Luke has taken to flopping about dramatically, which is fine if he’s just sitting on the floor. It’s even a bit adorable. But it’s very much not fine if he’s SITTING ON TOP OF A TABLE AND HOW DID HE GET UP THERE?

“LUKE, COME TO DADDY,” I yelled, sprinting across the room.

Luke just stared at me and promptly flopped backwards over the edge. Thank every being in existence that I caught him with the Force!

Meanwhile Leia is using that baby brain of hers to plan heists. Never let anything you value near her because it will disappear.

“Now’s not the time for games, sweetie. Show Daddy where you put the datastick.”

Leia just giggled at me, while across the room Artoo beeped suspiciously.

⁂

Obi-Wan took me to the Créche Master and we had a chat about Force sensitive infants. Not that the Order typically takes them in quite that young, but sometimes there are situations involving rescues, sometimes there are orphans, and so on.

The Créche Master was overjoyed to learn about Obi-Wan’s Baby God knowledge, and they gave some useful tips in return. Some of it sounded like it should help, but basically it boils down to simply having to deal with highly Force sensitive beings unless we wanted to give care of them over to the créche.

I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear that there is no way in any of the nine Corellian hells or all twenty-seven of the Sith hells that that will ever happen.

⁂

“Anakin, pacing will not help,” Obi-Wan said as if he hadn’t been doing some shuffling of his own.

“What if she doesn’t pass? I mean, she definitely will, but what if she doesn’t?!”

“She will.”

“Is this what you felt like when I was going through my Trials?”

“At the time I was just happy we were still in the Order.”

“Wait, we ?”

“I meant you, naturally. Your whole marriage bombshell with its raining debris. All that.”

Before I could dig a little deeper into that suspicious slip of the tongue, Ahsoka emerged from the testing chamber with a far-off look in her eyes.

“Well?”

“I passed,” she said, still in a daze. Then shaking herself a bit, Ahsoka strode up to me and said, “I understand about the shaaks now. I’ll never doubt you again.”

I put my hands on her shoulders. “And that is the greatest lesson I can ever teach you.”

Obi-Wan made a noise of complete bewilderment.

⁂

In short order Ahsoka was knighted, I was officially promoted to Master (after a heated week-long debate), and Obi-Wan was promoted to High Master, a title that had never before existed but one the Council was looking excessively smug about.

But now that Ahsoka’s an actual Knight, that means she gets solo missions. She was practically bouncing off the walls when she left, and I am happy for her, but it also means she’s not here.

It helps a bit that she didn’t seem interested in dissolving our bond. After all, many Padawans do decide to dissolve it when they’re knighted. (Obi-Wan brought up the possibility of dissolving our bond exactly once in an awkward conversation that involved several moments of panic, and I’m pretty sure the panic wasn’t only on my end.) 

I would absolutely respect Ahsoka’s decision if she’d wanted to, but thank kriff, is all I have to say.

⁂

It was about a week after Ahsoka went on her way that I walked into the bedroom to find Padmé dumping clothes into her suitcase.

“Why are you packing?”

“You’ve been moping since Ahsoka left.”

“So you’re taking off on me too?” That didn’t sound right, but in my current mood I was feeling peevish.

Padmé shot me a look. “Of course not. Pack your things for at least a week. This is official Senate and Jedi business.”

“What about the twins?”

“Coming with us.”

“Uh. Really? Padmé, this may come as a shock, but I don’t have the best safety record on missions.” Before the twins I don’t think I would have admitted that, but now it’s something I think about a lot.

Padmé stopped packing and came over to smooth down my tabards before stilling her hands on my chest. “Trust me?”

I’ve learned that Padmé is always right. Always. All I need to do is whatever she says, and things will work out. (I mean obviously I don't need to do what she says. I do have free will and all and we are both against fascism, but it's like having cheat codes to the galaxy.)

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as we can pack up and pick up Obi-Wan. I’m not leaving your equally mopey counterpart behind.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

⁂

On seeing clones staffing the spaceport where we landed, Obi-Wan looked like Boonta Eve had come early. We’d arrived at Imvur: the planet given to the troopers as part of a retirement package. Padmé had come out of family leave a few months after the twins had been born specifically to get it passed in the Senate, so we were all invested.

The five of us organized ourselves in a speeder, which involved Padmé giving kisses to the twins (they were delighted), and then settling herself at the controls (Obi-Wan was delighted). We took a mini tour, seeing construction projects mixed in with temporary structures. There were even a few finished buildings already. Never stand between a clone and completing a mission. 

“Are you two sure you don’t want to come with me?” Padmé asked as if she didn’t have meetings lined up for days to advise on forming a new government. “It should be fascinating!”

It’s like she’s never met us. Seriously.

We stopped in to say hello to Commander Cody who’s been put in charge of the whole thing. They haven’t exactly settled on a new title for him yet though, or anyone else in “command.”

“Senator. Generals. I’d prefer it if you just called me Cody.”

“Then you’re required to call me Padmé,” she said with a smile.

“Anakin,” I said. “I’m not a General anymore.”

“And Obi-Wan, please,” Obi-Wan added.

“Uh, it might take some time to get used to that, Sirs.”

“That’s fine, King Cody,” Obi-Wan said with a quirk to his lips. “Yes, I quite think that rolls off the tongue.”

“Sure does,” I agreed.

Cody stared at Obi-Wan. “That’s going to stick until I start using your name, isn’t it?”

“Possibly.”

Padmé then started talking about things like constitutions and elections while she was outside of the safe confines of a scheduled meeting, which resulted in Obi-Wan quickly pushing the hoverpram with the twins in the opposite direction of all politics. I gave Padmé a kiss and then scurried after him.

⁂

“HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?” I yelled while in the middle of hurtling myself into the trash compactor.

Obi-Wan called down the chute to me. “Anakin, for the last fourteen years I’ve been more surprised when things like this don’t happen.”

“Luke, get that out of your mouth! Yucky!” I grabbed some sort of tube out of his hands and he gave me a dressing down in a word or two of Basic and lots of nonsensical noises.

Obi-Wan landed with a whump. “Where’s Leia?”

“Oh, you mean Queen of Trash Mountain over there?”

“At least this is the recyclables. It could have been far worse.”

“It’s bad enough. I looked away for literally a second!”

“They slipped past my notice as well,” Obi-Wan admitted as he scaled Leia’s domain. “Hello there, your Majesty.”

Leia babbled at him, punctuated with a “no!”, and grabbed his nose.

“Yes, I quite agree,” he replied, scooping her up.

Muffled shouting could be heard beyond the lower hatch, and hands began to pry the door open. A frantic Kix jumped in as soon as there was space enough to squeeze through, followed by Fives.

“Anyone hurt in here?” Kix demanded.

“No one’s in any pain, just a little dirty,” I reassured him (and myself.) “Isn’t that right, stinky boy?” I asked Luke.

“The cadets are okay!” Fives yelled and there were cheers from the other side of the hatch. “Blast, we’re going to have to push safety regs to the top of the list.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that it wasn’t like your average former trooper would go jumping into a trash compactor, but Obi-Wan spoke first:

“Might I assume there’s a pressing need to babyproof the planet?” he asked with a knowing smile.

I’m an idiot. Of course some of the clones would start having children. Naturally, adoption, other means, it didn’t matter. I’d even registered the fact there were some non-clone sentients around, but hadn’t really thought too much about it. The clones had non-military lives now, even if they were still clinging to military structure.

“The first baby born on Imvur is expected in about three months.” Fives grinned with a bigger grin than I had ever seen on him.

With over a million uncles, that should be the best cared-for infant in the galaxy, trash compactors and all.

Everyone was thoroughly cleaned and put into fresh clothes, and the twins were looked over by Kix with an almost literal microscope. I did have to derail two “Anakin Skwaylker is very uncool” stories being told to Leia and Luke, but Kix praised them saying they were far more cooperative than Obi-Wan and I ever were, which is probably true. When he finally let us go, the twins were still extremely excited about their adventure and the fact that they were on a new planet and that there were so many new friends.

Obi-Wan suggested we try some of the meditation exercises we learned when we visited the créche, which had to be better than the high-pitched shrieking currently coming from the Overstimulated Ones.

We found a purple-ish tree to sit under and Obi-Wan sat Luke in his lap while I situated Leia in mine. We learned that with kids this young the idea is to float along in the Force next to the baby’s Force signature so that you sync up and become like two gentle streams.

Leia and I were not streams. Oh, we may have started out as somewhat large-ish streams, but we quickly became fast-moving rivers after a snow melt with hordes of gooberfish jumping between us. I tried to keep Leia sitting down, but I was having squirming issues of my own.

Obi-Wan cracked an eye open to look at me. “Hmm.” 

I stopped trying to be a stream and said, “I’m starting to think the Créche Master was completely lying about not having any suppression collars.”

Obi-Wan lifted up Luke and set him down in front of me. Then he pulled Leia from my lap and onto his own. “Let’s try it this way.”

I shrugged, pulled Luke onto my lap, and tried to stream again.

It was different.

Not only was I able to slow Luke down, he slowed me down as well. I took a minute to relax into the moment, feeling Luke softly touching the clasps on my glove. He then started slowly petting it, while his mind stayed calm and relaxed. To me everything seemed a bit clearer and sharper, while at the same time soft and warm. I had an epiphany that this is what meditation should actually feel like. I could get into this.

But even with this success, I couldn’t help worrying about Leia. What if she couldn’t calm down? Did that mean she was out of control? What if she’d never be able to meditate at all, even when she was older? And if not, what did that mean?

Obviously I didn’t need to worry too much because when I looked over, Leia had face-planted onto Obi-Wan’s leg, completely out.

“Did you do your Baby God thing?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “No. We were streams together.”

“Showoff.”

⁂

We’d all been invited to dinner with about twenty of our former troopers. In a room that looked like it was normally some kind of meeting room, we sat around a large table that was clearly newly constructed. Situating Luke in Padmé’s lap and Leia in mine, we waited for dinner. Talk around the room was relaxed, with the twins babbling to each other at an actual normal volume. Before long, plates were brought out which caused a general hush to the conversations.

In front of us were ration bars.

Was their infrastructure so bad that they needed to be eating ration bars? That was troubling. Or worse yet, maybe the clones actually preferred ration bars? In which case maybe we should bring in some mind healers?

Luke grabbed a bar in front of him and shoved it in his mouth. Then with the look of someone who has been deeply betrayed, shouted, “Yucky!” and threw it where it landed in the middle of the table with a wet plop.

“Oh so that you take out of your mouth,” I said to him.

Laughter erupted and multiple voices broke out.

“I said it would become a projectile!”

“You said General Skywalker would throw a ration bar. Cadet Skywalker doesn’t count.”

“It counts!”

“I knew General Kenobi would be too polite to say anything.”

“Damn, I thought sure we’d get a sarcastic quip first!”

Obi-Wan chuckled and said to me, “I think we’ve been pranked.”

“At least they didn’t try to serve us updog.”

He gave me a flat stare.

⁂

After a dinner of actual food, we let the twins roam free who proceeded to charm everyone in their radius.

I got into a discussion with Appo and Fives, and volunteered to lend a hand with their support equipment and droids. There would be enough to work on that I could probably stay busy the entire time I was here, if I wanted.

Off in another corner Obi-Wan seemed to be making plans for projects of his own, so at least he wouldn’t be getting into too much trouble. Probably.

A little later Padmé grabbed my attention, telling me that some of the men wanted to babysit the twins as “practice.” That was fine with me as long as she or Obi-Wan or I would be nearby. Then I wished the troopers “luck” with a smirk.

The room fairly hummed with positive energy, and it was easy to see that Padmé had been right again. This had been exactly what I needed.

Padmé put her arm around my waist. “What are you thinking about?”

Jessie was giving Luke a ronto-back ride while Kix was making sure Luke actually stayed on his steed. Rex was trying to teach Leia how to salute, but she seemed more interested in babbling gibberish commands at him which were punctuated with pats to his knee. And Obi-Wan’s actual laughter rang out as Waxer told a story to him and Cody.

I put my arm around her and kissed her forehead. “I’m thinking about thank-you notes.”