Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a biting chill in the air as the sky above Tatooine stretched out before him, the desert frigid in the midnight stillness, devoid of life as ice crystallised on every available surface.

There was a ringing in Obi-Wan’s head, as he trudged across the sands. He had no transport, no clothes, little money and slightly less water than would be enough to get through the next day.

And he wasn’t even sure he cared.  

He had held himself together the last few days by the heavy responsibility Yoda had thrust upon his shoulders, even as he watched a good woman, his friend, Anakin’s wife, die. Two small, precious, beautiful lives were brought into the world all alone, and without the parents who deserved the chance to see them as Obi-Wan had seen them – alive, perfect and a hope for the future that, perhaps, had now been destroyed. Anakin and Padme had deserved the chance to love their children, and love each other in the way that Obi-Wan had never allowed himself to.

And they had deserved to be loved in return.

It was then, right there in the birthing room, that Obi-Wan realised he had never told Anakin he had loved him before that day. He had never expressed how much he cared for him, and how even though they had not chosen each other, he would never change what had happened because Anakin meant something to him. He had said nothing, until Anakin had lay burning on the lava fields of Mustafar, in agony, a spark of hope that his master would save him still in his eyes. And then Obi-Wan hadn’t saved him, and the tiny hint of blue flicked back to yellow which was quickly circled by red, and the eyes he had loved were gone.

As Yoda commanded him and those around them, Obi-Wan had wrenched himself away from his pain, and instead he had to walk away as they took Padme’s body without so much as a word.

Their time was short.

They were hunted.

He was for the first time in his life, totally powerless. 

He had simply had to keep walking, out of the building, through the centre of Coruscant, past hundreds of bodies that littered the streets on the way to the spaceport. 

Many were clones but too many – far too many were his brothers and sisters. The force resonated with the agony of their deaths, their senseless deaths, and he had to keep walking because Luke had slept peacefully in his arms, his tiny hand grasping a fold of Obi-Wan’s robe, holding on as though even then he had known his life was in danger. Obi-Wan’s heart was shattered but it didnt seem to know any better, it constricted at the sight, and it kept beating, painful, and sharp, and with every beat it had brought a fresh wave of grief.

But there had been no time to grieve.

The space port had been a heaving mass of panic when he had arrived. 

He had swaddled Luke, held him closer and somehow, had managed to buy passage onto a rusty cruiser, using the chaos that reigned over Coruscant and the galaxy to slip through the shadows by the grace of the force alone, because the clone army was everywhere, and actively searching even as he passed the checkpoints.  

Leia was already gone, far away now, with a family who would have the chance to love her and raise her.

Obi-Wan knew that no matter what Anakin would have wanted, no matter how much he wanted to hold this child close and take him far away, to raise him as his own, he knew that he would only bring danger to the child if he tried to raise him. 

So instead, Obi-Wan had held him, and fed him and kissed his forehead as he cried, with a knife in his ribs, twisting and tearing with every distressed sound Luke made, and with every thought Obi-Wan had. He looked to the world like a doting father, but it hurt, it hurt so much, and the force didn’t take the pain this time. There was no help. The code was broken. There was no peace. There was no knowledge, there was no serenity or harmony. There was only the force and Obi-Wan felt abandoned because the force was empty.

He was alone.

Then they had landed in the port town of Mos Eisley, Luke shaded from the sun by his own robe, and quiet ever since they had emerged into the dry desert heat. A short trip later brought them in front of a small home, curved rooves and mud walls slotting into the desert landscape as though it had grown out of the ground. It was dirty as all things in Tatooine tended to be, but obviously well cared for, a farm linked to it – a life of safety and prosperity practically guaranteed.

A life Obi-Wan couldn’t provide.

Owen Lars was waiting, and glaring at him, even as he smiled at Luke, the baby reaching out to his last living family, friendly and approachable in a way Anakin had never been.

For a moment, Obi-Wan wanted to snatch him away, but then common sense restored itself and Obi-Wan handed over the only reason he hadn’t collapsed into a pile at Yoda’s feet, begging for mercy, as though it was easy.

Owen didn’t even let him talk. Didn’t let him say he was sorry, so sorry, I failed him, I failed him I failed - before he turned and left him standing there in the sun, a stranger now, unwanted. 

Obi-Wan felt breathless as he realised he wouldn't look into Luke's face ever again. He'd never see his eyes again. He had Anakin’s eyes. 

He had stood there for he didn't know how long. He must have looked a pathetic sight because Beru came to him with a small bag of supplies and turned him in the right direction, pushing him gently, even though he could feel the undercurrent of anxiety that his being there was creating. 

So, finally, he stopped resisting her, and had simply started walking.

Now, as the wind whipped up minute particles of sand into his mouth, the taste gritty and dry, Obi-Wan stumbled, staring at the ground below him, the dune shifting with his weight, grains tumbling over each other and down into the valley on either side. His robes tangled around him with the force of the gale, but still there were tiny pinpricks of pain as the sand found gaps and scratched against his chilled skin. The pain served a purpose however, and he used it to ground himself as he stood swaying.

Force, what was he to do?

“Master, I cannot go on alone,” he mumbled then, and felt a moment of shame.

He had not reached out to his master since he was a brand-new knight himself, still grieving the sudden and traumatic loss of Qui-Gon. Before he had a chance to make peace with it, to let his anger and pain go into the force, Anakin had set an entire classroom on fire in the west wing of the temple, and it had set the tone of their relationship. Anakin had taken over his life, and it was never easy to forget Qui-Gon, but he could see his master smiling even as Anakin wilfully disobeyed him, eight years old, stubborn and fierce.

He had remained stubborn as he grew but his gentler side came out in his teenage years and Obi-Wan found that in the end, adult Anakin was nothing like the child he had left behind. 

A sudden and vibrant memory of Anakin sprung up and Obi-Wan indulged himself it in, remembering Anakin, now a knight himself, lounging on the balcony of their shared quarters, though he had a right to moveut. He had been enjoying a few quiet moments in the midst of the war and Obi-Wan remembered the peace of the moment as he had joined his padawan on the outdoor couch - a gift from the senate from their last mission. They did't speak. Anakin had looked over to him and smiled, and they spent a glorious afternoon in meditation together, as though it were the early days, as though they were still master and padawan. 

But Anakin was gone now too.

Obi-Wan’s anguish flared anew and he heard the sound of pain from himself, but he forced himself to keep walking, pushing away the memories and letting the emptiness take its place.

This was no place for memories. 

Hours passed and Obi-Wan no longer allowed any stray thoughts, but continued walking through the night, stumbling over dunes and struggling as he sunk into the deep sands while the stars twinkled innocently above, as though out there among them, Obi-Wan’s world hadn't just been destroyed. 

Finally, dazed and aching, Obi-Wan looked up to find the mountain range he was heading for looming in front of him, a dark craggy mass breaking out of the curved sand dunes and rearing up into the starlit sky, its windswept and sand smoothed outcrops a fixed point in a shifting landscape.

Exhausted, Obi-Wan staggered the final few metres towards it and then dropped to the ground at the entrance of a cave, letting his head fall back onto the cold stone, shivering slightly, his breaths fogging in front of him as his eyes slipped closed.

He didn’t know where he was going to go. He didn’t know what to do.

All he knew, is that less than fifty clicks that way, Anakin’s child was sleeping now, safe, loved and alive.

He would do what it took to protect his boy.

Anakin’s eyes. Anakin’s hair. But already his personality was different. He was not Anakin. 

Obi-Wan had failed Anakin in every way possible.

He would not fail Luke. He would never fail Luke.

He would die for the boy, if it was the last thing he ever did. 

Chapter Text

Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure how he ended up inside the Lars’ home, holding six-month-old Luke for the very first time since he had brought him here.

The last few months had been a terrible haze of going through the motions to simply stay alive.

In this moment, however, the ice that had gripped him was melting now as he gazed into the light blue eyes of Anakin’s chubby little son.

“Hi,” Obi-Wan breathed, bouncing the baby, who reached up for him and smiled back, no doubt taking in all the differences his face had from Owen’s and Beru’s.

Luke’s family got many visitors, but none were altogether interested in the boy, and he was mostly left alone in the day, a care droid doing its job while Owen and Beru were out doing theirs.

The care droid in question was currently de-activated in the corner and Obi-Wan felt mildly guilty about erasing its memory, but not enough that he wasn’t going to enjoy every second with little Luke while he had him.

The baby was calm, and alert, and allowed Obi-Wan to carry him over to the sitting area without anything more than a new noises of contentment. Obi-Wan lowered them both into the couch, his aching body and soul going limp for the first time in months as Luke settled in his arms, pressing closer to him, and continuing to stare with that rapt attention only babies could give.

He knew full well that the reason he was not allowed anywhere near the boy was because he brought grave danger to him. He knew the child was not to be linked to the jedi, that any force powers he does have must be hidden at all cost. He knew that if the Lars’ caught him here, Owen would shoot first and ask questions later.

But it had been a lonely six months.

And every night brought pain. It was either pleasant dreams of the world before order sixty-six that led to crushing disappointment as inevitably, the morning sun filtered through the dusty cave he called home, or horrific nightmares with every mistake and doubt and fear, usually warped into the events preceding the fall of the order.

He screamed himself hoarse on those nights.

He went days without eating, sometimes forgetting to drink until his lips cracked and his head ached like it was being beaten into the sand around him.

Then he would wander towards the settlements, and watch Owen and Beru, and sometimes they brought Luke out into the sun for a few minutes, and it would be better.

Last night was one of those nights.

He wasn’t entirely sure what happened this morning, but clearly, in his exhausted daze, he must have trudged onwards until he came here, dodged the simple security droids and then shut down the care droid with the single minded purpose of searching for peace.

He ran a hand over Luke’s head, the hair still so soft and the skin so smooth, untouched by the world of hardship that existed just outside these walls. He was once again transported back to Coruscant, a different time, a different baby, inside the creche.

There was a little eight-month-old Togruta that had started showing force powers at six months and her parents had brought her to the local jedi outpost, not wanting to keep a child with force powers. The order had taker her, of course, though she was very, very young. She had needed a lot more care than their usual recruits, and Obi-Wan had to fill in for one of the minders. He had loved holding her and playing with her. There was something so intrinsically sweet about little children.  

Luke was much the same, albeit without the force powers. Obi-Wan ran the back of his index finger across Luke’s cheek and a fat little hand reached up to grasp it. His hand was warm, and it sent a jolt through the force that Obi-Wan quickly suppressed, surprised as he had cut himself off almost completely. Luke’s hand looked so small, and vulnerable, yet the grip was strong, and he allowed Luke to shake it like it was a plaything.

“I wish you could have met your dad,” he whispered then, a longing that had not subsided since the moment Luke and Leia had been born, “I wish you could have met your mum, and seen your sister grow with you,” he took a deep breath, settling back against the couch, Luke tucked into his  right arm, his left resting on Luke’s belly, moving in soothing motions that the baby responded to by curling up and kicking his covered feet.

“You know there was a time when your dad and I were trapped on a planet, far outside of the outer rim, completely by accident,” he started, the memory of that week still bright in his mind, “we were just released from our duties to the temple, Anakin was maybe seventeen, and were sent on our first mission by Yoda himself. It was to collect a precious artefact which had been lost in the Jungles of Raouimy II. So, we hired a fast charter, and were off,” he glanced down and Luke, and found the boy’s bright eyes were fixed on him, clearly interested.

He wasn’t sure why he was even telling stories of a time long gone, but somehow…somehow, it made the pain lessen,

“So your dad, being who he was, decided that he was going to get the job done twice as fast. ‘Trust me, Master!’ he said, pointing down a ravine surrounded by trees and a path that was dark and difficult to see even in the daytime, ‘this is a short cut!’. Now the thing is, Luke,” Obi-Wan paused as Luke suddenly made a loud ‘bah!’ and tapped him lightly on his arm,

“Oh yes, sorry,” he said, bouncing Luke once or twice until he settled again, “anyway, as I was saying, the thing is, that I did trust your dad. More than anyone else in the world. Even if I had a bad feeling about most of his plans. So, follow him I did. We started the climb down, but naturally, we couldn’t keep our footing, it became too steep to keep walking on, and both of us ended up rolling to the bottom of the hill, like a sack thrown from the transport carts. Your dad snapped his left ankle, and I broke my right arm. Neither of us could move, neither of us could walk, and we didn’t have any supplies because we weren’t planning on going far in the first place. It was completely devastatingly embarrassing to have to send out an SOS signal to the temple,” Obi-Wan felt himself smile at the memory,

“We had to endure a day in pain at the bottom of a lost jungle, because of course neither of us had managed to hold onto our belts, and the little med kits they contained, and your dad and I had to find a way to pass the time. We played a game your dad made up called ‘ugly masters’, where we describe the worst traits about some of the jedi we knew and the other person had to guess who we were talking about,” Obi-Wan shook his head,

“Obviously, not a very nice game if you’re the one being described,” he chuckled, “your dad always did have the worst influence on me. Anyway, the day passed, and a shuttle appeared, blowing back the trees and descending to our little clearing. It wouldn’t have been too bad, except it was Quinlan who had been sent to get us, what with his expert tracking skills. To this day, he never let me forget,”

Obi-Wan sighed then, tracing Luke’s features, as the baby’s eyes drooped, and he mumbled to himself.

It hurt a lot to think about Quinlan, and where he might be. If he was even still alive.

It hurt to think back on that day and the following week. It caused the wound of order 66 to ache as he remembered that Anakin had tried to force heal him, before himself, even though he had always been completely rubbish at it, because Anakin had been the kind of man to always put his loved ones first. Anakin had then forced Obi-Wan to eat what little rations they had and refused to have any for himself. Once they had finally gotten back to the temple, Anakin had spent the next week trying to make up for his bad scouting plans by not so subtly giving Obi-Wan little presents.

A bunch of Obi-Wan’s favourite sweets turned up in the pantry. A new pen for his desk. A new set of writing equipment, and a padd to go along with it. It was sweet, and Obi-Wan knew the other masters thought he was far too indulgent with Anakin, far too lenient. He had never shouted at Anakin, nor had he punished him with fasts, repetitive exercises or extra service duties. He had always tried to reason with Anakin and found that it actually worked much better than their traditional disciplinary methods because there was nothing traditional about Anakin – not the age they found him at, not his aptitude for the force, and not his sheer force of will.

And he knew that Anakin had cared for him very deeply because of that.

How did they end up here, he wondered, rocking Luke gently in his arms.

How did he miss all the signs, how did he not see Anakin’s anger, how did he not realise that his padawan had turned away from him and found a new master?

It was that which hurt the most, somehow. Anakin had done terrible things as Darth Vader, and yet the one that Obi-Wan felt the most was that Anakin had a new master now, and it wasn’t him, he wasn’t wanted anymore. Which is extremely self-centred of him, but he has never been a perfect man.

The jedi had not wanted him, Qui-Gon saving him from that agri-corps transport in the nick of time. He had never been able to chose a padawan himself, and be chosen in return. He had never been chosen first by anyone or anything.

And now, Anakin, the one person who he had given most of his life to, had chosen to turn away from him.

A loud thud from outside jerked Obi-Wan out of his musings.

The slant of the sun told him he had been sitting here for much longer than he had meant to. Gently, but quickly, he returned Luke to the cradle, and switched the care droid back on, getting out of the room before it could register his presence.

Sneaking through the kitchen, he exited and hurried back to the scooter he had cobbled together from scrap.

Thankfully, no one was outside.

Without a look back, Obi-Wan started the engine and took off for his new home.

It wasn’t much, but he did have something to live for now, and damn it, even as the sand cut into him and the suns he hated burned above him, he was going to keep trying.